In a development that signals deepening paranoia at the highest levels of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), Beijing has intensified its calls for ordinary citizens to report suspected foreign “spies.” 

This latest push, couched in patriotic terms and framed as a defence of national security, coincides with mounting political and economic pressures that have left the ruling regime increasingly vulnerable. 

Rather than address the underlying issues—sluggish growth, unemployment, and political discontent—the CCP appears to be weaponising nationalism and fear, redirecting public attention toward a manufactured external threat.

On May 29, China’s Ministry of State Security, the country’s top intelligence agency, issued a statement urging the public to be “vigilant” and to report any foreign individuals or organisations that may be engaging in espionage. 

The statement, disseminated widely through state media and social platforms, was part of an ongoing propaganda campaign that has escalated over the past year. 

But the timing of this latest announcement is hardly coincidental—it arrives just as the CCP grapples with what may be its most serious domestic legitimacy crisis in decades.

A faltering economy behind the curtain

China’s once-unstoppable economic engine has slowed dramatically in recent years. 

Youth unemployment hit record highs in 2023 before the government simply stopped publishing the data altogether. 

Real estate giant Evergrande’s collapse symbolised the deep rot in China’s property sector, which had been a pillar of the country’s growth for two decades. 

Meanwhile, consumer confidence remains low, foreign investment is retreating, and private companies face an increasingly unpredictable regulatory environment. The notion of a “Chinese economic miracle” now seems a relic of the past.

Instead of pursuing substantive reforms to stabilise the economy, the CCP appears to be falling back on time-tested but dangerous tactics—namely, stoking nationalism and directing public frustration toward foreign scapegoats. 

By reviving the ghost of the “foreign spy,” Beijing seeks to create an atmosphere of external threat, one that conveniently diverts attention from its domestic mismanagement.

Manufacturing the enemy

The renewed emphasis on public reporting of espionage fits into a broader pattern of tightening state control over civil society and the flow of information. 

In July 2023, China expanded its already draconian counter-espionage law, broadening the definition of what constitutes “spying” to include the transfer of any documents or data deemed related to national security. 

In practice, this means that even academic research, business transactions, or conversations with foreign colleagues could now be construed as threats to the state.

This ambiguity is the point. By keeping definitions vague and threats omnipresent, the regime cultivates a climate of fear and suspicion—one that compels self-censorship, stifles dissent, and undermines any attempt at independent thought. 

Encouraging citizens to report each other mirrors tactics used during the Cultural Revolution and other darker chapters of Chinese history. 

The message is clear: loyalty to the Party must supersede all else, including truth, reason, and trust.

Political vulnerability

At the heart of this campaign lies a political calculus. 

Xi Jinping’s unprecedented third term as president has not brought the sense of stability that was expected. 

Instead, it has been marked by a wave of top-level purges, rising internal dissent, and a conspicuous absence of policy innovation. 

The abrupt disappearance of former Foreign Minister Qin Gang and Defence Minister Li Shangfu raised eyebrows globally, suggesting internal factional struggles within the opaque leadership.

By casting a wide net for “foreign spies,” the CCP not only diverts scrutiny from these domestic fissures but also signals to Party cadres that loyalty will be measured by vigilance against outsiders—real or imagined. 

This strategy has echoes in Maoist-era campaigns that prioritised ideological purity over governance, often to disastrous effect.

Chilling effects on academia and business

The consequences of this campaign are already being felt. 

Foreign academics, NGOs, and journalists operating in China report increasing harassment, surveillance, and visa difficulties. 

Multinational companies are caught in a vice, navigating both increasing geopolitical tension and a regulatory regime that treats transparency as a threat. 

The message is unmistakable: foreign presence in China is tolerated only insofar as it serves the regime’s interests.

This suspicion extends even to Chinese citizens with foreign connections. 

Students who have studied abroad, dual nationals, and those working for international organisations are now viewed with growing scepticism. 

The public encouragement to report “spies” further isolates these individuals and places them under a cloud of potential suspicion. 

It erodes the very human and professional networks that once facilitated China’s integration into the global system.

Nationalism as governance

Xi Jinping’s China has increasingly relied on nationalism as a primary mode of governance. 

With ideology replacing pragmatism and repression substituting for reform, the Party has abandoned Deng Xiaoping’s cautious opening in favour of a muscular, isolationist posture. 

Foreign “spies” become a convenient trope—stand-ins for a world that Xi portrays as fundamentally hostile to China’s rise.

But the overuse of this narrative risks backlash. As ordinary citizens become ensnared in Kafkaesque investigations or are encouraged to report on neighbours and coworkers, social trust diminishes. 

Paranoia is not a sustainable substitute for policy. Nor does it inspire the kind of creativity, openness, and resilience that China’s economy now desperately needs.

International ramifications

Beijing’s spy-mania also has significant global implications. 

It deepens the chill between China and Western democracies, particularly the United States, Australia, and parts of Europe. 

It discourages cultural exchange, scientific collaboration, and educational partnerships. And it feeds into the growing perception that China is retreating from the world, more interested in constructing walls than building bridges.

Diplomats and analysts recognise the strategic logic at work, but few believe it is wise. 

The more China embraces internal suspicion and external hostility, the harder it becomes to maintain even a modicum of normalcy in bilateral relations. 

This could have a cascading effect, from trade and investment to security cooperation and climate diplomacy.

The bigger picture

The CCP’s renewed call to report foreign spies is not just a security measure—it is a political statement, a cultural signal, and an economic barometer. 

It tells us more about the state’s fragility than its strength. When a regime asks its people to peer over their shoulders, it is because it fears they might look ahead—and see something it cannot control.

In today’s China, the bogeyman of the foreign “spy” is doing heavy ideological lifting. 

It justifies surveillance, silences dissent, and shores up a Party that is increasingly insecure in its own skin. 

But it also betrays a deeper truth: a regime that needs to manufacture enemies is already losing control of its own narrative.

[The opinions expressed in this article are of the author. Europeantimes.org takes no responsibility for the same.]

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