Though the Chinese ambassador has called the UK’s decision on Hinkley Point C nuclear plant a “crucial historical juncture” for bilateral ties, it barely registers in the long sweep of the relationship. As any schoolchild in China could tell you – but probably rather fewer adults here – the nadir came a couple of centuries ago, when Britain sent in gunboats to protect its drug sales. Those events colour Chinese perceptions of the UK to this day.
To the British, it was a necessary but not terribly grave imperial move, putting a decaying power in its place (“Albert is so amused at my having got the island of Hong Kong,” Queen Victoria blithely wrote). For the Chinese, it was a deep and abiding shame. The opium wars kicked off what Beijing terms, and promotes relentlessly, as the “century of humiliation” at the hands of foreign powers, ended only by the Communist party’s triumph.
The Chinese authorities’ claim to legitimacy rests upon their ability to provide economic wellbeing, which is proving increasingly tough, and this idea of renewed national pride, seized and amplified by Xi Jinping since he took power. It is one reason he wanted his people to see his red carpet welcome in London last year: the former aggressor was now bowing its knee. It also increases Beijing’s sensitivity to the 11th-hour halt on Hinkley Point and the public airing of suspicions about China’s behaviour and intentions. The undiplomatic handling will be almost as unwelcome as the decision.
But the Chinese are pragmatic and the real lesson from history is that remembering the days when Britannia ruled the waves accentuates its decline. The UK is a waning power, especially since voting for Brexit, which “show[ed] a losing mindset”, in the words of one populist state-run Chinese newspaper. Beijing might, in fact, describe the UK somewhat as Lord Macartney, the first British envoy to China, described China: “An old, crazy, first-rate man of war, which a fortunate succession of able and vigilant officers have contrived to keep afloat ...”
China, of course, has no need to force open our economy, because we begged for its cooperation. Engagement and trade has never been the kind of political issue in the UK that it is in the US, where China-bashing is a regular feature of the electoral cycle. The Osborne Doctrine went much further. It looked like business at all costs. And as plenty of diplomats have observed, Beijing does not respect weakness.
We are useful, rather than important, thanks to the hangover from our imperial heyday: that permanent seat on the UN security council, for example, and our ability to set an example to others. We are less valuable outside the European Union – no longer China’s gateway to the EU, or its voice in discussions there – but canny investors may relish the prospect of Brexit bargains.
China envies our soft power, too, which they have sought without success to buy or manufacture. Yes, we may seem quaint or entertaining – the country of Harry Potter, Downton Abbey and David Beckham – but the Chinese know far more about us than vice versa, even if they don’t always understand us. Their leaders have read Shakespeare and Adam Smith; you’d struggle to find British politicians who could identify Du Fu or Liang Qichao.
Meanwhile, under Xi’s leadership, the talk of international friendship has gone hand in hand with increasing domestic stress on the idea that “hostile foreign forces” from the west want to contain China and unleash its disintegration. Talk of human rights is just another way to undermine the country, they say.
What the UK and other western countries want most, as the former chancellor George Osborne’s strategy highlighted, is a stable China with which they can do business. Whether or not Theresa May decides Hinkley Point should go ahead, that is unlikely to change.
