The anti-Japan protests that continue to roil China are just another indication of the rise of a potent Chinese nationalism. After a century slowly fomenting among Chinese intellectuals, national sentiment has captured and redefined the consciousness of Chinese people during the last two decades of China’s economic boom. This mass national consciousness launched the Chinese colossus into global competition to achieve an international status commensurate with the country’s vast capacities and its people’s conception of their country’s rightful place in the world.
Rapidly, visibly and inevitably, China has risen. Indeed, this era will likely be remembered as the time when a new global order, with China at the helm, was born.
Competitive national consciousness — the consciousness that one’s individual dignity is inseparably tied to the prestige of one’s “people” — worked its way into the minds of China’s best and brightest between 1895 and 1905.
In 1895, China was defeated by Japan, a tiny aggressor whom the Chinese dismissively called wo (倭,“dwarf”). China was already accustomed to rapacious Western powers squabbling over its riches, but had remained self-confident in the knowledge of these powers’ irrelevance. However, the assault from Japan, a speck of dust in its own backyard, shattered this self-assurance and was experienced as a shocking and intolerable humiliation.
Japan’s triumph in 1905 over “the Great White Power,” Russia, repaired the damage to China’s sense of dignity. From the Chinese point of view, Russia was a formidable European power, one feared by other Western powers. Its defeat, therefore, was seen as a successful Asian challenge to the West, in which China, its intellectuals felt, was represented by Japan.
Japan thus became the focus of Chinese attention. Gentlemen-scholars, who would reform and staff the Chinese army and civil service in the early decades of the twentieth century, went to study in Japan. The Revolution of 1911 in China was inspired by the example of Japan’s Meiji Restoration; and, because early-20th-century Japan was stridently nationalistic, the new China that emerged from its image was constructed on nationalist principles as well.
Thus, Japan became the significant “other” for China, the model that was imitated and the anti-model that was resented. Chinese nationalism borrowed from Japan its concept of the nation, including the very word by which it was expressed (kuomin (國民) from the Japanese kokumin). The Kuomintang (the Chinese Nationalist Party, or KMT) was explicitly inspired by Japan and fueled by repeated Japanese aggression.
Paradoxically, but not unexpectedly, former Chinese leader Mao Zedong’s (毛澤東) struggle against the KMT was inspired by anti-Japanese nationalism as well. As was the case virtually everywhere else, communism in China was nationalism incarnate. Mao’s speech on the establishment of the People’s Republic plainly expressed the nationalist agenda behind it. Calling the nation “communist” assured the new People’s Republic of China of the Soviet Union’s support, which was viewed by Mao as more reliable than that of the US.
However, neither the Russian nor the Chinese communists were ever unclear about the nationalist nature of their respective projects.
The upper echelons of the bureaucracy and intelligentsia in Russia and China were self-consciously nationalist and, throughout Communist rule, shrewdly pursued the supreme nationalist goal: prestige — the power, naked and otherwise, to impose the nation’s will on others. However, national consciousness, particularly in China, was limited to a narrow elite, leaving the masses almost untouched.
This changed dramatically with the Chinese government’s restoration of a capitalist economy. Much like in Germany in the 1840s, when the appeal to private enterprise converted the entire middle class to nationalism, the explicit definition of economic power as the central pillar of China’s greatness awakened ordinary Chinese to nationalism’s appeal. Hundreds of millions now see themselves as sharing in the nation’s dignity and are eager to contribute to it, as well as to defend it from insult.
Competition for prestige, even when the contest is economic, is not a purely rational undertaking. So it should be no surprise that old injuries are likely to resurface. Some Chinese, especially those who are not economically successful, harp bitterly on Japan’s past depredations. Despite China’s embrace of capitalism and Japanese investment, Japan remains China’s reviled other. A professor in Beijing told me not long ago: “Two in every 10 Chinese dislike the US, but nine in every 10 hate Japan.”
For the West, there is a silver lining in this nationalist rivalry: Neither China nor Japan is a rogue state, and, so long as their quarrels do not lead to the use of unconventional weapons, the West may treat the friction between them as an internal Asian quarrel. Moreover, Japan is likely to let today’s passions over disputed islands in the East China Sea cool down, despite the anti-Japanese outbursts in Chinese cities.
However, the West — and the US in particular — is new to dignity games a la Chinois. If it gets carried away and presumes to talk down to the 5,000-year-old culture of the Sages, the West could become the next object of China’s nationalist resentment.
Liah Greenfeld is a professor of sociology, political science and anthropology at Boston University.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
Taiwan’s higher education system is facing an existential crisis. As the demographic drop-off continues to empty classrooms, universities across the island are locked in a desperate battle for survival, international student recruitment and crucial Ministry of Education funding. To win this battle, institutions have turned to what seems like an objective measure of quality: global university rankings. Unfortunately, this chase is a costly illusion, and taxpayers are footing the bill. In the past few years, the goalposts have shifted from pure research output to “sustainability” and “societal impact,” largely driven by commercial metrics such as the UK-based Times Higher Education (THE) Impact
History might remember 2026, not 2022, as the year artificial intelligence (AI) truly changed everything. ChatGPT’s launch was a product moment. What is happening now is an anthropological moment: AI is no longer merely answering questions. It is now taking initiative and learning from others to get things done, behaving less like software and more like a colleague. The economic consequence is the rise of the one-person company — a structure anticipated in the 2024 book The Choices Amid Great Changes, which I coauthored. The real target of AI is not labor. It is hierarchy. When AI sharply reduces the cost
The inter-Korean relationship, long defined by national division, offers the clearest mirror within East Asia for cross-strait relations. Yet even there, reunification language is breaking down. The South Korean government disclosed on Wednesday last week that North Korea’s constitutional revision in March had deleted references to reunification and added a territorial clause defining its border with South Korea. South Korea is also seriously debating whether national reunification with North Korea is still necessary. On April 27, South Korean President Lee Jae-myung marked the eighth anniversary of the Panmunjom Declaration, the 2018 inter-Korean agreement in which the two Koreas pledged to
I wrote this before US President Donald Trump embarked on his uneventful state visit to China on Thursday. So, I shall confine my observations to the joint US-Philippine military exercise of April 20 through May 8, known collectively as “Balikatan 2026.” This year’s Balikatan was notable for its “firsts.” First, it was conducted primarily with Taiwan in mind, not the Philippines or even the South China Sea. It also showed that in the Pacific, America’s alliance network is still robust. Allies are enthusiastic about America’s renewed leadership in the region. Nine decades ago, in 1936, America had neither military strength