China turns members of its diaspora into spies
AMONG EXILED Chinese dissidents, Tang Yuanjun was well known. He had participated in the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989 and landed in prison as a result. He later defected to Taiwan, swimming to one of its outlying islands from a fishing boat. America granted him asylum and he settled in New York, becoming the leader of Chinese pro-democracy groups. But in August 2024 he was arrested by the FBI. He admits to having used his position to collect information for the Chinese government and to report on his fellow activists. He did this so that the government would allow him to return to China to see his ailing parents.
China’s hacking of American computer networks and its efforts to steal Western military and trade secrets have made headlines in recent years. But it has also been pursuing a more subtle campaign, one that involves bribery, blackmail and secret deals, and which uses people such as Mr Tang and other members of the Chinese diaspora to carry out surveillance, information-gathering and influence operations around the world. Britain recently got a taste of all this when the authorities there accused Yang Tengbo, a Chinese businessman, of cultivating ties with Prince Andrew, the king’s brother, as part of an influence operation.
America, though, is China’s most important target. These types of activities fall under the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA), an American law that requires those engaging in political projects on behalf of a foreign actor to register and disclose what they are doing. In recent years the Justice Department has ramped up its enforcement of the act. The department conducted 25 FARA inspections in 2023, the most since 1985. This year there have been several high-profile cases involving China. By publicising these investigations, the American government is sending a warning to would-be agents, say experts.
One big case involves Linda Sun, a former aide to the governor of New York who was arrested in September for working as an “undisclosed agent” of China and its Communist Party (CCP). Ms Sun allegedly blocked meetings between Taiwanese officials and state leaders, removed references to Taiwan from state communications and stood in the way of efforts to publicise China’s persecution of the Uyghurs and other ethnic minorities. In return, she is said to have received millions of dollars in kickbacks and gifts, including several deliveries of Nanjing-style salted ducks to her parents’ house.
The accusations against Ms Sun are straightforward. But China’s influence operations often occur in a grey area. Take the diaspora groups called tongxianghui, or hometown associations, which bring together immigrants from particular parts of China. They are ubiquitous in American cities—and increasingly under scrutiny by the Justice Department. Association leaders often mobilise voters before elections in America and build relationships with local officials. Some also make trips to China and meet with officials from the United Front Work Department, the Communist Party branch with the job of boosting China’s influence abroad. Association leaders organise political activities in America, such as rallies in support of Xi Jinping or protests against visits by Taiwanese officials.
These activities are legal, so long as the organisers are acting independently. But the line between voluntary action and work as an agent is fuzzy. Many overseas Chinese are genuine supporters of the Communist Party or, at least, willing to further its interests because it will help their businesses back home or keep their families in China safe.
It is only when they receive covert funding, instructions or supervision from Chinese officials that they cross the line into being foreign agents. In 2022, for example, the FBI arrested the head of a Shandong hometown association—not because of his frequent trips to China and friendliness with Chinese officials, but because they suspected him of working with Chinese police to forcibly repatriate another immigrant. Similarly, in 2023 two Chinese men were indicted for allegedly working with Chinese police to operate a “clandestine police station” inside a Fujian hometown association in New York. One of them pleaded guilty on December 18th.
American authorities have struggled to combat these efforts without alienating the Chinese diaspora. An anti-espionage programme launched in 2018, called the China Initiative, aimed to stop the country from using “non-traditional collectors”, such as academics and scientists, to steal America’s trade and technology secrets.
Nearly 90% of the defendants charged under the initiative were of Chinese heritage, according to a database compiled by the MIT Technology Review. Many of the cases involved questions of “research integrity”, with academics accused of failing to fully disclose their Chinese affiliations (whether that was deliberate is highly contested). Only a quarter of all the cases brought under the initiative ended in conviction.
America’s counterintelligence efforts are meant to make the Chinese diaspora feel safe, says a former official who worked on the China Initiative. “You’re signalling to them: we’ve got your back,” he says. “What you don’t want to do is over-rotate to a situation where being Chinese equals being a spy.”
But the initiative left many academics feeling that the government viewed them with suspicion simply because of their Chinese heritage, says Gang Chen of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. In 2021 he was charged with failing to disclose connections to Chinese educational programmes when submitting a federal grant application. The indictment was heavily criticised (such disclosures were not actually required). A year later the charges were dropped.
According to a survey in 2022, more than 60% of Chinese-American academics have thought about leaving America. More than 70% said they felt unsafe there. “This is not just shooting ourselves in the foot. It’s shooting ourselves in the brain,” says Mr Chen, who has stopped applying for government grants or working in potentially sensitive areas.
Other members of the Chinese diaspora welcome efforts to stymie Communist Party influence. Zhou Fengsuo of Human Rights in China, an activist group in New York, praises the arrests of people like Ms Sun. But he warns that the heavy-handedness and inconsistency of America’s approach has led to distrust of the government in the diaspora. And he complains that exiled Chinese dissidents receive little protection from the authorities, making them easier targets for Chinese coercion.
In 2022 the Justice Department ended the China Initiative, admitting that it led to a “harmful perception” of racial profiling. But in September the House of Representatives passed a bill to revive it under a new name, the CCP Initiative, with all Republicans voting in favour. Such efforts seem likely to intensify under President-elect Donald Trump, who has given China hawks important jobs. The risk is that in its efforts to counter the Communist Party, America drives more members of the diaspora into its hands.
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