In response to the threat from the People’s Republic, Taiwan has taken action and extended conscription from four months to one year. The extension has just come into force. However, the extension will probably not significantly affect Taiwan’s defense capability, as Fabian Peltsch analyzes. Many young soldiers have doubts about the quality of the training they receive and the equipment they use. Apparently, longer does not necessarily mean better.
Among other countries, Germany has discussed its economic dependence on China extensively in recent years. However, there is not enough precise data on the German economy’s dependence on the People’s Republic. As a newly appointed professor at Goethe University in Frankfurt, Philipp Boeing aims to improve China research from an economist’s perspective. Marcel Grzanna spoke with him about why this is urgently needed.
In response to the growing threat from the mainland, Taiwan’s government announced an extension of mandatory military service from four months to one year in late 2022. Last Thursday, the first recruits began their training under this regulation. According to Army Command Headquarters Chief of Staff Chen Chien-yi, 9,127 new recruits have been enlisted. 7,514 are divided between the North, Centre, South and East regions. The remaining 1,613 will begin their military training in February and March with Navy and Air Force units.
The reform of Taiwan’s compulsory military service will increase the country’s troop strength by 60,000 to 70,000 men. According to estimates by the security statistics website Global Fire Power, Taiwan has a total of 2.58 million military staff, including 215,000 soldiers on active duty and 2.31 million reserve soldiers. This would make the democratically governed island the 24th most powerful army in the world.
The conscription reform goes hand in hand with a “plan to restructure the armed forces,” which outgoing President Tsai Ing-wen has already approved. Her successor, William Lai, has also declared that he will continue strengthening the military, including increasing defense spending by 2.5 percent of the country’s gross domestic product. None of Taiwan’s leading parties opposed an extension of military service during the election campaign.
But longer does not necessarily mean better. Su Tzu-yun from the Institute for National Defence and Security Research (INDSR) explained that Taiwan based its conscription systems and realigned training methods on those in Singapore, Sweden, Switzerland, Israel and the United States. And, of course, the start of the Ukraine war played a special role. “The situation in Ukraine has strongly influenced the understanding of invasion scenarios in Taiwan and sensitized the population as a whole,” Zsuzsa Anna Ferenczy, assistant professor at the National Dong-Hwa University in Shoufeng and former political advisor in the European Parliament, told Table.Media.
Conscripts now spend more time in basic training – eight weeks instead of the previous five – before moving on to specialized assignments in various military areas. During basic training, hand-to-hand combat training replaces bayonet drills. Increased training includes using modern weapons such as Stinger anti-air missiles and drones. Simulated stress situations, such as caring for the wounded while under bombardment, are aimed at strengthening psychological resilience and making the training more realistic.
Strong troop morale is the be-all and end-all for Taiwan’s self-defense. And this has often been a problem in the past, explains Ferenczy. “Internally, there is still mistrust of the military’s ability to defend Taiwan at all, which has also characterized society’s view of military service.” The negative image of military service was partly because conscripts used to spend most of their time on tasks such as cleaning instead of live-fire exercises.
Immediately after Russia invaded Ukraine, there was strong support for strengthening Taiwan’s defensive capabilities. In May 2023, polls showed that 71.9 percent of the population would be willing to defend the island. But young people, in particular, have mixed feelings about conscription. A poll from December 2023 showed that 35.6 percent of 20 to 24-year-olds supported conscription, compared to 56.4 percent in March. Support is thus lowest in the age group affected by the extension of military service – not surprising, but also not a good sign for the reform.
According to a report by the Taiwanese news service CNA, many young soldiers still doubt the quality of the training and the equipment used. The government aims to improve the mood by enabling recruits to better balance their studies with the military and reducing financial pressure, for example, through student loans. The conscription age in Taiwan is 18, but conscription is usually postponed for university studies, or as many say, delayed. Conscripts who refuse to serve in the armed forces can be sentenced to up to five years in prison. In practice, however, there are usually only fines.
Taiwan’s military needs to balance conventional warfare technology, such as ships, and mobile weapons, such as drones and mobile air defense systems, Lin Ying-yu, a defense expert at Tamkang University, told Table.Media. While he believes that extended military service is an important measure for national defense, he also expressly points out that Beijing does not have to resort to a direct military invasion to conquer Taiwan.
“The mainland will use what I call hyperwarfare. The first step is disinformation, the second is cybercrime, such as attacks on websites. Another step is military exercises around the island,” says Lin. The aim is for Taiwan’s citizens to slowly lose trust in their government’s ability to defend Taiwan. “This will, in turn, cause panic, which will make it much easier for the People’s Liberation Army to attack Taiwan. We will have to learn to pay attention to all this. That is our biggest challenge for the future.”
Ferenczy agrees: “Beijing’s priority is still to influence the narrative in Taiwan and to interfere in Taiwan’s domestic democratic processes, but also in its global relations,” says the political scientist. Influencing the mood in the country sometimes is more and sometimes less subtle. After Taiwan’s President Tsai Ing-wen announced the extension of conscription in 2022, China accused Taiwan of wanting to use the young Taiwanese population as “cannon fodder.“
What is the state of China expertise in Germany?
The urgency to better understand China’s actions in this country has increased. However, we are only tentatively building up China expertise. Current interest in China-related studies is comparatively low, and the euphoria about going to China as a manager has also waned. However, it is difficult to acquire the relevant knowledge without in-depth access to China. Simply put, There is more attention for China in Germany, but not to the same extent more expertise.
What are the consequences?
Without an understanding of China’s control mechanisms and strategies, German politicians and entrepreneurs will find it difficult to make informed decisions. The design and implementation of Chinese economic policy is very specific. This makes it all the more important to understand these particularities. China is a significant trading partner, technological competitor and geo-economic rival that deserves the greatest attention possible.
With the professorship for Empirical Innovation Research with a focus on China at Goethe University in Frankfurt, you want to boost economic China expertise in Germany through evidence-based research. What does that mean?
We are pursuing an approach that is still rare in Germany: China research from the field of economics, not from sinology or regional studies. With its Department of Economics and the Interdisciplinary Center for East Asian Studies, Goethe University offers a favorable environment. In addition, the co-operating Leibniz Center for European Economic Research (ZEW) focuses on research and policy advice.
What does this approach specifically look like?
The research focus is on the innovation and global competitiveness of companies in China. We are interested in the effectiveness of Chinese industrial policy and its impact on international technology competition. On the one hand, this requires an internal analysis of Chinese economic processes and, on the other, an analysis of the external impact, for example, on German companies’ innovation behavior.
How does this work in practice?
The approach is based on the use of large data sets. For example, patent specifications are quantified, combined with company characteristics and empirically analyzed. In quantitative research, it is also necessary to be able to read Chinese texts in order to understand the processes of data generation in China and to be able to categorize them institutionally. Some examples: Subsidies lead to patent inflation in China, or the misappropriation of subsidies leads to a reduced effectiveness of innovation policy. Such specific phenomena must be recognized in terms of content and methodologically adequately considered.
Where is the knowledge gain?
The main question here is whether the Chinese government is promoting economic growth or if its influence is having a distorting effect. The analysis is an ongoing process because the national and international framework conditions and, therefore also, the public interest are constantly changing. In the past it was steel, then solar and wind energy, today it is AI, electromobility and surveillance technologies. By analyzing China’s technological sovereignty compared to Europe and the United States, we provide an initial spotlight: How is the interdependence, who is more sovereign, and does this vary depending on the technology?
The feedback of Chinese politics on Germany’s own economy has been discussed for decades. Why did it take until 2024 for a German university to take a concrete look at these connections?
In Germany, China as a research subject has for a long time only been localized in sinology or regional studies. The economic sciences in Germany are comparatively conservative. A professorship with a focus on China is very specific. The question might be: Will it still be relevant in five years’ time? When budgets are tight, academic decision-makers are reluctant to put the money where their mouth is.
Because they believe that China will have lost its economic relevance in five years?
At least that’s the argument you hear when it comes to long-term funding. In addition, there is a general uncertainty when dealing with China, as is currently being discussed again by the German Academic Exchange Service. There are certainly economists in Germany who do publish papers on China. But a university professorship that systematically takes up China as a research focus from an economic perspective is rather rare. This has so far meant that countries like the US are well ahead of us and that there is room for improvement in Germany’s economic China expertise.
You want to work with Chinese partners. Does this harbor the risk of you unintentionally spreading information in the interests of the Chinese government?
We aim to gain reciprocal knowledge. There are competing narratives about China’s economic and technological development potential. Our basis is empirical research. It provides an objective, evidence-based contribution which, in case of doubt, also corrects existing narratives.
How do you plan to organize cooperation with Chinese researchers?
Through involvement, but without one-sided dependence on Chinese partners. We analyze processes and want to make this information available to both the scientific community and political decision-makers. We generally work with co-authors who primarily contribute institutional expertise and access to data. Unlike national publications, international publications also offer Chinese colleagues more freedom when choosing topics. While the economic discourse in China is increasingly politicized and primarily emphasizes positive aspects, our studies also regularly highlight potential areas for optimization.
Philipp Boeing, 41, is a Senior Researcher at the ZEW – Leibniz Centre for European Economic Research in Mannheim. He has taught as an assistant professor at Peking University and has advised the World Bank and the German Expert Commission on Research and Innovation (EFI), among others. On 1 February 2024, he will take up the professorship for Empirical Innovation Research with a focus on China at Goethe University in Frankfurt/Main.
Until the last rally, Zheng Qinwen fought against defeat in her first Grand Slam final at the Australian Open on Saturday. Her entry into the final of the first of the four most prestigious tournaments in the annual tennis calendar was a big surprise in itself. Ultimately, however, it wasn’t enough to beat the experienced and cool-headed Aryna Sabalenka from Belarus. The number two in the tennis world won easily in two sets 6:3, 6:2.
Zheng then looked a little lost at the joint winners’ ceremony. But when she thanked the numerous Chinese-speaking fans in Melbourne for their support in her acceptance speech, she beamed with joy to huge applause. The crowd had carried Zheng through the tournament with their shouts during the two weeks in Melbourne: “Jiāyóu” – 加油 – Let’s go! At the closing press conference, Zheng urged herself to be calmer in the future: “Màn man lái” – 慢慢来 – Take it easy.
At the age of 21, Zheng Qinwen has already come a long way. She started playing tennis at the age of six in her hometown of Shiyan in Hubei province. Her parents soon drove her to the provincial capital of Wuhan for training. She said she only found out that she would attend a sports boarding school when the decision had already been made. Three years later, Zheng attended the sports academy of star coach Carlos Rodriguez in Beijing on a scholarship. At the age of 15, she followed him, accompanied by her mother, to Barcelona, where she still lives today.
Coaches who have trained with Zheng speak of her irrepressible will. On the court she appears focused, off the court she usually exudes a youthful lightness. But the attention paid to Zheng is growing. She is now often compared to her role model, Li Na, the most successful Chinese tennis player to date. After her, Zheng is only the second Chinese woman to reach a grand slam final. After the Australian Open final, the sports commentator on Chinese state television CCTV ranked Zheng alongside Li and other Chinese tennis giants. Only one name was missing from his list, as with all reports from China: Peng Shuai.
In a post on Weibo at the beginning of November 2021, the most successful Chinese tennis player in recent years, after Li Na, accused the former Vice Premier of China, Zhang Gaoli, of sexual assault and taking advantage of her. The post only remained on the platform for around 20 minutes. Peng Shuai disappeared from the public eye for weeks after the accusations. None of Peng’s subsequent meetings with officials from the International Olympic Committee, the Women’s Tennis Association (WTA) and international journalists were able to allay any fundamental doubts that she was put under pressure following her statements.
In solidarity with Peng, the WTA temporarily removed all tournaments in China from its tour calendar and only lifted the ban for the 2023 season. There has been no official investigation into Zhang Gaoli in China to date. When Xi Jinping was elected General Secretary of the Communist Party for another five years at the 20th National Party Congress in October 2022, Zhang sat in the front row.
The only information about Peng Shuai that can be found in Chinese media is from the time before the scandal. Its background highlights a system of entanglement between male political power and sexual coercion that presumably runs through large sections of the political elite in China. It seems that despite her fame and resistance, Peng fell victim to this system.
Zheng Qinwen did not comment on Peng. Zheng will also have drawn the invisible lines of what can be said and will have to do so again and again. Perhaps she is lucky that, unlike Peng, she managed to create physical distance from China early in her career. But she will probably never be able to completely free herself from the ties between sport and politics, between personal success and projected national pride.
Zheng still seems largely unaffected by the hype surrounding her. When she needs to take a breather, she sings karaoke or writes in one of her diaries. When making public statements, she shows personal maturity and sometimes courage. For instance, after being defeated by world number one Ashleigh Barty at the French Open 2022, she spoke openly about the period cramps that hindered her during the match. She received much attention and encouragement for this, both internationally and in China.
Female tennis constantly produces new stories of meteoric rises and sometimes quiet or dramatic downfalls. Perhaps Zheng was also lucky that she lost her first major final, allowing her a little more space to develop an inner balance. “Jiāyóu!” one might call out to her, and also: “Màn man lái.” Leonardo Pape
What has the head of a camel, the ears of an ox, the horns of a stag, the neck of a snake, the abdomen of a clam, the claws of an eagle, the paws of a tiger, the scaly body of a fish and the fiery eyes of a devil? That’s right, a dragon, at least in Chinese mythology.
The dragon is practically a centuries-old brand ambassador of Chinese culture. For example, it is not only ubiquitous in the Forbidden City in Beijing – the Imperial Palace – but also stomps through souvenir collections throughout the country all year round. Especially now, as China prepares to enter the Year of the Dragon on the night of February 9th to 10th, the zodiac sign is winding its way on and over all kinds of Taobao finds. From dragon door handle crochet covers and dragon suits to wear at home (not just for pet dragons) to dragon toothbrushes and even dragon pants, everything is available. Even the Olympic mascot, the panda Bing Dundun, has squeezed himself into a dragon costume for the Chinese New Year.
The Chinese traditionally have a special relationship with the scaly mythical creatures, and not just in the year of the dragon. In China, they are not viewed as hissing, evil and hostile, but as humanity’s ancestors. As friendly beasts, they symbolize wealth, luck, goodness and intelligence even today.
Such dragon mythology and cultural symbolism don’t really grab you and only remind you of dusty travel guides? Then you’d better hold on tight! Now, it’s time for a devilish dragon ride through everyday Chinese life and language. In China, dragons are literally on everyone’s lips, and not just during the Dragon Year. And they can sometimes be found in places nobody would expect to find them – for example, on zoo tours, menus, and city motorways, sometimes in the weather forecast, and even as a “house dragon” in every bathroom!
In Chinese zoos, for example, you might come across “dragon cats” (龙猫 lóngmāo) – better known as chinchillas – as well as “color-changing dragons” (变色龙 biànsèlóng – chameleons) or the spindly “sea dragons” (海龙 hǎilóng), which do their name no justice. Extinct are “fear dragons” (恐龙 kǒnglóng), i.e., dinosaurs, and above all, the “brute dragon” (暴龙 bàolóng) alias Tyrannosaurus.
The most well-known culinary dragon varieties in the West are two liquid dragons: the green “dragon fountain tea” (龙井茶 lóngjǐngchá) and the “black dragon tea” (乌龙茶 wūlóngchá), the latter of which we know as oolong. But perhaps you have also unknowingly eaten “dragon’s eyes” (龙眼 lóngyǎn), i.e., longan fruit, or wrestled with a “dragon prawn” (龙虾 lóngxiā), i.e., a lobster, on your first restaurant date.
The Chinese like to feast on “mini dragon prawns” (小龙虾 xiǎolóngxiā) – the cute little brother of the fiery red creature, the crayfish. Those who now flee to the world of vegetables are unfortunately not spared in China and sooner or later fall into the clutches of the tasty, jagged “dragon bean” (龙豆 lóngdòu). Fancy a “horse clip dragon” for dessert? Luckily, it has nothing to do with clasped horses or hoofed dragons, but is simply the pleasant phonetic translation of sugary French macarons. Not to be confused with the (sweet?) French President Emmanuel Macron – his name in Chinese is “Makelong” (马克龙 Mǎkèlóng), which is also just a phonetic borrowing, but could be translated quite literally as “horse-dragon-conquerer.”
Many Chinese emperors supposedly saw themselves as direct descendants of dragons. This is, of course, refuted today. Nevertheless, the idea that unique individuals have dragon-like abilities has become firmly established in the Chinese dictionary. 成龙chénglóng “to become a dragon” still means “to achieve something” or “to make it big.” This saying once inspired a young Hong Kong martial artist with the surname 成 to adopt the pseudonym 成龙 (Chéng Lóng). The name served its purpose, and the rest is history. Today, the West knows him as Jacky Chan.
Looking at other everyday terms also reveals that dragon metaphors are on the tip of the Chinese tongue. Where the English language sees mere lines, the Chinese see dragons. For example, waiting lines (in Chinese 人龙 rénlóng “human dragon”) or lines of cars (in Chinese 车龙 chēlóng “wagon dragon”). So when Chinese people complain about endless traffic jams on their way home or crowded streets, they call it 车水马龙 chē shuǐ mǎ lóng – loosely translated: “cars like water and horses like dragons,” in other words: heavy traffic or chaos.
And in China, water does not flow from the tap, but from the “water dragon’s head” (水龙头 shuǐlóngtóu). Perhaps this association was logical because the Chinese consider the dragon the ruler of water. It determines the seasons and the harvest and is said to live in bodies of water in winter and ascend into the sky in early summer. And there, according to Chinese meteorologists, it wreaks havoc as a “dragon whirlwind” (龙卷风 lóngjuǎnfēng) – the term for a tornado.
The dragons have even clawed their way into the economic vocabulary. No wonder, the dragon is seen as a symbol of prosperity in Chinese culture. Putonghua therefore honors industry and market leaders as “dragon heads” (龙头 lóngtóu) and speaks of “market dragon heads” (市场龙头 shìchǎng lóngtóu = market leader), “dragon head products” (龙头产品 lóngtóu chǎnpǐn = leading products) and “dragon head companies” (龙头企业 lóngtóu qǐyè = leading companies). And if you still remember the once up-and-coming East and Southeast Asian economies as “tiger economies,” the Chinese will prove you wrong here, too. Because in China, South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore have always been called 亚洲四小龙 Yàzhōu sì xiǎolóng – the “four little dragons.”
Verena Menzel runs the online language school New Chinese in Beijing.
In response to the threat from the People’s Republic, Taiwan has taken action and extended conscription from four months to one year. The extension has just come into force. However, the extension will probably not significantly affect Taiwan’s defense capability, as Fabian Peltsch analyzes. Many young soldiers have doubts about the quality of the training they receive and the equipment they use. Apparently, longer does not necessarily mean better.
Among other countries, Germany has discussed its economic dependence on China extensively in recent years. However, there is not enough precise data on the German economy’s dependence on the People’s Republic. As a newly appointed professor at Goethe University in Frankfurt, Philipp Boeing aims to improve China research from an economist’s perspective. Marcel Grzanna spoke with him about why this is urgently needed.
In response to the growing threat from the mainland, Taiwan’s government announced an extension of mandatory military service from four months to one year in late 2022. Last Thursday, the first recruits began their training under this regulation. According to Army Command Headquarters Chief of Staff Chen Chien-yi, 9,127 new recruits have been enlisted. 7,514 are divided between the North, Centre, South and East regions. The remaining 1,613 will begin their military training in February and March with Navy and Air Force units.
The reform of Taiwan’s compulsory military service will increase the country’s troop strength by 60,000 to 70,000 men. According to estimates by the security statistics website Global Fire Power, Taiwan has a total of 2.58 million military staff, including 215,000 soldiers on active duty and 2.31 million reserve soldiers. This would make the democratically governed island the 24th most powerful army in the world.
The conscription reform goes hand in hand with a “plan to restructure the armed forces,” which outgoing President Tsai Ing-wen has already approved. Her successor, William Lai, has also declared that he will continue strengthening the military, including increasing defense spending by 2.5 percent of the country’s gross domestic product. None of Taiwan’s leading parties opposed an extension of military service during the election campaign.
But longer does not necessarily mean better. Su Tzu-yun from the Institute for National Defence and Security Research (INDSR) explained that Taiwan based its conscription systems and realigned training methods on those in Singapore, Sweden, Switzerland, Israel and the United States. And, of course, the start of the Ukraine war played a special role. “The situation in Ukraine has strongly influenced the understanding of invasion scenarios in Taiwan and sensitized the population as a whole,” Zsuzsa Anna Ferenczy, assistant professor at the National Dong-Hwa University in Shoufeng and former political advisor in the European Parliament, told Table.Media.
Conscripts now spend more time in basic training – eight weeks instead of the previous five – before moving on to specialized assignments in various military areas. During basic training, hand-to-hand combat training replaces bayonet drills. Increased training includes using modern weapons such as Stinger anti-air missiles and drones. Simulated stress situations, such as caring for the wounded while under bombardment, are aimed at strengthening psychological resilience and making the training more realistic.
Strong troop morale is the be-all and end-all for Taiwan’s self-defense. And this has often been a problem in the past, explains Ferenczy. “Internally, there is still mistrust of the military’s ability to defend Taiwan at all, which has also characterized society’s view of military service.” The negative image of military service was partly because conscripts used to spend most of their time on tasks such as cleaning instead of live-fire exercises.
Immediately after Russia invaded Ukraine, there was strong support for strengthening Taiwan’s defensive capabilities. In May 2023, polls showed that 71.9 percent of the population would be willing to defend the island. But young people, in particular, have mixed feelings about conscription. A poll from December 2023 showed that 35.6 percent of 20 to 24-year-olds supported conscription, compared to 56.4 percent in March. Support is thus lowest in the age group affected by the extension of military service – not surprising, but also not a good sign for the reform.
According to a report by the Taiwanese news service CNA, many young soldiers still doubt the quality of the training and the equipment used. The government aims to improve the mood by enabling recruits to better balance their studies with the military and reducing financial pressure, for example, through student loans. The conscription age in Taiwan is 18, but conscription is usually postponed for university studies, or as many say, delayed. Conscripts who refuse to serve in the armed forces can be sentenced to up to five years in prison. In practice, however, there are usually only fines.
Taiwan’s military needs to balance conventional warfare technology, such as ships, and mobile weapons, such as drones and mobile air defense systems, Lin Ying-yu, a defense expert at Tamkang University, told Table.Media. While he believes that extended military service is an important measure for national defense, he also expressly points out that Beijing does not have to resort to a direct military invasion to conquer Taiwan.
“The mainland will use what I call hyperwarfare. The first step is disinformation, the second is cybercrime, such as attacks on websites. Another step is military exercises around the island,” says Lin. The aim is for Taiwan’s citizens to slowly lose trust in their government’s ability to defend Taiwan. “This will, in turn, cause panic, which will make it much easier for the People’s Liberation Army to attack Taiwan. We will have to learn to pay attention to all this. That is our biggest challenge for the future.”
Ferenczy agrees: “Beijing’s priority is still to influence the narrative in Taiwan and to interfere in Taiwan’s domestic democratic processes, but also in its global relations,” says the political scientist. Influencing the mood in the country sometimes is more and sometimes less subtle. After Taiwan’s President Tsai Ing-wen announced the extension of conscription in 2022, China accused Taiwan of wanting to use the young Taiwanese population as “cannon fodder.“
What is the state of China expertise in Germany?
The urgency to better understand China’s actions in this country has increased. However, we are only tentatively building up China expertise. Current interest in China-related studies is comparatively low, and the euphoria about going to China as a manager has also waned. However, it is difficult to acquire the relevant knowledge without in-depth access to China. Simply put, There is more attention for China in Germany, but not to the same extent more expertise.
What are the consequences?
Without an understanding of China’s control mechanisms and strategies, German politicians and entrepreneurs will find it difficult to make informed decisions. The design and implementation of Chinese economic policy is very specific. This makes it all the more important to understand these particularities. China is a significant trading partner, technological competitor and geo-economic rival that deserves the greatest attention possible.
With the professorship for Empirical Innovation Research with a focus on China at Goethe University in Frankfurt, you want to boost economic China expertise in Germany through evidence-based research. What does that mean?
We are pursuing an approach that is still rare in Germany: China research from the field of economics, not from sinology or regional studies. With its Department of Economics and the Interdisciplinary Center for East Asian Studies, Goethe University offers a favorable environment. In addition, the co-operating Leibniz Center for European Economic Research (ZEW) focuses on research and policy advice.
What does this approach specifically look like?
The research focus is on the innovation and global competitiveness of companies in China. We are interested in the effectiveness of Chinese industrial policy and its impact on international technology competition. On the one hand, this requires an internal analysis of Chinese economic processes and, on the other, an analysis of the external impact, for example, on German companies’ innovation behavior.
How does this work in practice?
The approach is based on the use of large data sets. For example, patent specifications are quantified, combined with company characteristics and empirically analyzed. In quantitative research, it is also necessary to be able to read Chinese texts in order to understand the processes of data generation in China and to be able to categorize them institutionally. Some examples: Subsidies lead to patent inflation in China, or the misappropriation of subsidies leads to a reduced effectiveness of innovation policy. Such specific phenomena must be recognized in terms of content and methodologically adequately considered.
Where is the knowledge gain?
The main question here is whether the Chinese government is promoting economic growth or if its influence is having a distorting effect. The analysis is an ongoing process because the national and international framework conditions and, therefore also, the public interest are constantly changing. In the past it was steel, then solar and wind energy, today it is AI, electromobility and surveillance technologies. By analyzing China’s technological sovereignty compared to Europe and the United States, we provide an initial spotlight: How is the interdependence, who is more sovereign, and does this vary depending on the technology?
The feedback of Chinese politics on Germany’s own economy has been discussed for decades. Why did it take until 2024 for a German university to take a concrete look at these connections?
In Germany, China as a research subject has for a long time only been localized in sinology or regional studies. The economic sciences in Germany are comparatively conservative. A professorship with a focus on China is very specific. The question might be: Will it still be relevant in five years’ time? When budgets are tight, academic decision-makers are reluctant to put the money where their mouth is.
Because they believe that China will have lost its economic relevance in five years?
At least that’s the argument you hear when it comes to long-term funding. In addition, there is a general uncertainty when dealing with China, as is currently being discussed again by the German Academic Exchange Service. There are certainly economists in Germany who do publish papers on China. But a university professorship that systematically takes up China as a research focus from an economic perspective is rather rare. This has so far meant that countries like the US are well ahead of us and that there is room for improvement in Germany’s economic China expertise.
You want to work with Chinese partners. Does this harbor the risk of you unintentionally spreading information in the interests of the Chinese government?
We aim to gain reciprocal knowledge. There are competing narratives about China’s economic and technological development potential. Our basis is empirical research. It provides an objective, evidence-based contribution which, in case of doubt, also corrects existing narratives.
How do you plan to organize cooperation with Chinese researchers?
Through involvement, but without one-sided dependence on Chinese partners. We analyze processes and want to make this information available to both the scientific community and political decision-makers. We generally work with co-authors who primarily contribute institutional expertise and access to data. Unlike national publications, international publications also offer Chinese colleagues more freedom when choosing topics. While the economic discourse in China is increasingly politicized and primarily emphasizes positive aspects, our studies also regularly highlight potential areas for optimization.
Philipp Boeing, 41, is a Senior Researcher at the ZEW – Leibniz Centre for European Economic Research in Mannheim. He has taught as an assistant professor at Peking University and has advised the World Bank and the German Expert Commission on Research and Innovation (EFI), among others. On 1 February 2024, he will take up the professorship for Empirical Innovation Research with a focus on China at Goethe University in Frankfurt/Main.
Until the last rally, Zheng Qinwen fought against defeat in her first Grand Slam final at the Australian Open on Saturday. Her entry into the final of the first of the four most prestigious tournaments in the annual tennis calendar was a big surprise in itself. Ultimately, however, it wasn’t enough to beat the experienced and cool-headed Aryna Sabalenka from Belarus. The number two in the tennis world won easily in two sets 6:3, 6:2.
Zheng then looked a little lost at the joint winners’ ceremony. But when she thanked the numerous Chinese-speaking fans in Melbourne for their support in her acceptance speech, she beamed with joy to huge applause. The crowd had carried Zheng through the tournament with their shouts during the two weeks in Melbourne: “Jiāyóu” – 加油 – Let’s go! At the closing press conference, Zheng urged herself to be calmer in the future: “Màn man lái” – 慢慢来 – Take it easy.
At the age of 21, Zheng Qinwen has already come a long way. She started playing tennis at the age of six in her hometown of Shiyan in Hubei province. Her parents soon drove her to the provincial capital of Wuhan for training. She said she only found out that she would attend a sports boarding school when the decision had already been made. Three years later, Zheng attended the sports academy of star coach Carlos Rodriguez in Beijing on a scholarship. At the age of 15, she followed him, accompanied by her mother, to Barcelona, where she still lives today.
Coaches who have trained with Zheng speak of her irrepressible will. On the court she appears focused, off the court she usually exudes a youthful lightness. But the attention paid to Zheng is growing. She is now often compared to her role model, Li Na, the most successful Chinese tennis player to date. After her, Zheng is only the second Chinese woman to reach a grand slam final. After the Australian Open final, the sports commentator on Chinese state television CCTV ranked Zheng alongside Li and other Chinese tennis giants. Only one name was missing from his list, as with all reports from China: Peng Shuai.
In a post on Weibo at the beginning of November 2021, the most successful Chinese tennis player in recent years, after Li Na, accused the former Vice Premier of China, Zhang Gaoli, of sexual assault and taking advantage of her. The post only remained on the platform for around 20 minutes. Peng Shuai disappeared from the public eye for weeks after the accusations. None of Peng’s subsequent meetings with officials from the International Olympic Committee, the Women’s Tennis Association (WTA) and international journalists were able to allay any fundamental doubts that she was put under pressure following her statements.
In solidarity with Peng, the WTA temporarily removed all tournaments in China from its tour calendar and only lifted the ban for the 2023 season. There has been no official investigation into Zhang Gaoli in China to date. When Xi Jinping was elected General Secretary of the Communist Party for another five years at the 20th National Party Congress in October 2022, Zhang sat in the front row.
The only information about Peng Shuai that can be found in Chinese media is from the time before the scandal. Its background highlights a system of entanglement between male political power and sexual coercion that presumably runs through large sections of the political elite in China. It seems that despite her fame and resistance, Peng fell victim to this system.
Zheng Qinwen did not comment on Peng. Zheng will also have drawn the invisible lines of what can be said and will have to do so again and again. Perhaps she is lucky that, unlike Peng, she managed to create physical distance from China early in her career. But she will probably never be able to completely free herself from the ties between sport and politics, between personal success and projected national pride.
Zheng still seems largely unaffected by the hype surrounding her. When she needs to take a breather, she sings karaoke or writes in one of her diaries. When making public statements, she shows personal maturity and sometimes courage. For instance, after being defeated by world number one Ashleigh Barty at the French Open 2022, she spoke openly about the period cramps that hindered her during the match. She received much attention and encouragement for this, both internationally and in China.
Female tennis constantly produces new stories of meteoric rises and sometimes quiet or dramatic downfalls. Perhaps Zheng was also lucky that she lost her first major final, allowing her a little more space to develop an inner balance. “Jiāyóu!” one might call out to her, and also: “Màn man lái.” Leonardo Pape
What has the head of a camel, the ears of an ox, the horns of a stag, the neck of a snake, the abdomen of a clam, the claws of an eagle, the paws of a tiger, the scaly body of a fish and the fiery eyes of a devil? That’s right, a dragon, at least in Chinese mythology.
The dragon is practically a centuries-old brand ambassador of Chinese culture. For example, it is not only ubiquitous in the Forbidden City in Beijing – the Imperial Palace – but also stomps through souvenir collections throughout the country all year round. Especially now, as China prepares to enter the Year of the Dragon on the night of February 9th to 10th, the zodiac sign is winding its way on and over all kinds of Taobao finds. From dragon door handle crochet covers and dragon suits to wear at home (not just for pet dragons) to dragon toothbrushes and even dragon pants, everything is available. Even the Olympic mascot, the panda Bing Dundun, has squeezed himself into a dragon costume for the Chinese New Year.
The Chinese traditionally have a special relationship with the scaly mythical creatures, and not just in the year of the dragon. In China, they are not viewed as hissing, evil and hostile, but as humanity’s ancestors. As friendly beasts, they symbolize wealth, luck, goodness and intelligence even today.
Such dragon mythology and cultural symbolism don’t really grab you and only remind you of dusty travel guides? Then you’d better hold on tight! Now, it’s time for a devilish dragon ride through everyday Chinese life and language. In China, dragons are literally on everyone’s lips, and not just during the Dragon Year. And they can sometimes be found in places nobody would expect to find them – for example, on zoo tours, menus, and city motorways, sometimes in the weather forecast, and even as a “house dragon” in every bathroom!
In Chinese zoos, for example, you might come across “dragon cats” (龙猫 lóngmāo) – better known as chinchillas – as well as “color-changing dragons” (变色龙 biànsèlóng – chameleons) or the spindly “sea dragons” (海龙 hǎilóng), which do their name no justice. Extinct are “fear dragons” (恐龙 kǒnglóng), i.e., dinosaurs, and above all, the “brute dragon” (暴龙 bàolóng) alias Tyrannosaurus.
The most well-known culinary dragon varieties in the West are two liquid dragons: the green “dragon fountain tea” (龙井茶 lóngjǐngchá) and the “black dragon tea” (乌龙茶 wūlóngchá), the latter of which we know as oolong. But perhaps you have also unknowingly eaten “dragon’s eyes” (龙眼 lóngyǎn), i.e., longan fruit, or wrestled with a “dragon prawn” (龙虾 lóngxiā), i.e., a lobster, on your first restaurant date.
The Chinese like to feast on “mini dragon prawns” (小龙虾 xiǎolóngxiā) – the cute little brother of the fiery red creature, the crayfish. Those who now flee to the world of vegetables are unfortunately not spared in China and sooner or later fall into the clutches of the tasty, jagged “dragon bean” (龙豆 lóngdòu). Fancy a “horse clip dragon” for dessert? Luckily, it has nothing to do with clasped horses or hoofed dragons, but is simply the pleasant phonetic translation of sugary French macarons. Not to be confused with the (sweet?) French President Emmanuel Macron – his name in Chinese is “Makelong” (马克龙 Mǎkèlóng), which is also just a phonetic borrowing, but could be translated quite literally as “horse-dragon-conquerer.”
Many Chinese emperors supposedly saw themselves as direct descendants of dragons. This is, of course, refuted today. Nevertheless, the idea that unique individuals have dragon-like abilities has become firmly established in the Chinese dictionary. 成龙chénglóng “to become a dragon” still means “to achieve something” or “to make it big.” This saying once inspired a young Hong Kong martial artist with the surname 成 to adopt the pseudonym 成龙 (Chéng Lóng). The name served its purpose, and the rest is history. Today, the West knows him as Jacky Chan.
Looking at other everyday terms also reveals that dragon metaphors are on the tip of the Chinese tongue. Where the English language sees mere lines, the Chinese see dragons. For example, waiting lines (in Chinese 人龙 rénlóng “human dragon”) or lines of cars (in Chinese 车龙 chēlóng “wagon dragon”). So when Chinese people complain about endless traffic jams on their way home or crowded streets, they call it 车水马龙 chē shuǐ mǎ lóng – loosely translated: “cars like water and horses like dragons,” in other words: heavy traffic or chaos.
And in China, water does not flow from the tap, but from the “water dragon’s head” (水龙头 shuǐlóngtóu). Perhaps this association was logical because the Chinese consider the dragon the ruler of water. It determines the seasons and the harvest and is said to live in bodies of water in winter and ascend into the sky in early summer. And there, according to Chinese meteorologists, it wreaks havoc as a “dragon whirlwind” (龙卷风 lóngjuǎnfēng) – the term for a tornado.
The dragons have even clawed their way into the economic vocabulary. No wonder, the dragon is seen as a symbol of prosperity in Chinese culture. Putonghua therefore honors industry and market leaders as “dragon heads” (龙头 lóngtóu) and speaks of “market dragon heads” (市场龙头 shìchǎng lóngtóu = market leader), “dragon head products” (龙头产品 lóngtóu chǎnpǐn = leading products) and “dragon head companies” (龙头企业 lóngtóu qǐyè = leading companies). And if you still remember the once up-and-coming East and Southeast Asian economies as “tiger economies,” the Chinese will prove you wrong here, too. Because in China, South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore have always been called 亚洲四小龙 Yàzhōu sì xiǎolóng – the “four little dragons.”
Verena Menzel runs the online language school New Chinese in Beijing.
