Wolf warrior diplomacy

Based on Wikipedia: Wolf warrior diplomacy

In July 2019, a Chinese diplomat got into a Twitter fight with a former United States National Security Advisor. Within weeks, he was promoted.

Zhao Lijian's heated exchange with Susan Rice marked something new in the world of international relations. Here was a Chinese government official, operating not in the hushed corridors of embassies or behind closed doors at summits, but on social media—trading barbs, calling out perceived hypocrisy, and doing so with a combativeness that would have been unthinkable for Chinese diplomats just a decade earlier. By February 2020, Zhao had become an official spokesperson for China's Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Chinese media celebrated him as an "Internet celebrity" and, more revealingly, as a "Wolf Warrior Diplomat."

The term comes from a pair of Chinese action films—Wolf Warrior from 2015 and its even more successful 2017 sequel. These movies feature a Chinese special forces soldier who single-handedly defeats foreign enemies while delivering patriotic one-liners. The films were massive box office hits in China, tapping into a new current of assertive nationalism. When observers began noticing Chinese diplomats adopting a similarly combative style, the label stuck.

The Doctrine of Hiding Your Strength

To understand why wolf warrior diplomacy represented such a dramatic shift, you need to understand what came before it.

When Deng Xiaoping rose to power after Mao Zedong's death in the late 1970s, he articulated a foreign policy philosophy captured in the Chinese phrase taoguang yanghui. The literal translation is poetic: "to conceal one's light and cultivate in the dark." More practically, it meant: observe calmly, secure your position, hide your capabilities, bide your time, maintain a low profile, and never claim leadership.

This wasn't timidity. It was strategy.

China in the late 1970s was emerging from the chaos of the Cultural Revolution, economically devastated and technologically backward. Deng recognized that China needed decades of peaceful development to modernize. Picking fights with the West—particularly the United States—would only invite the kind of attention and opposition that could derail that project. Better to keep your head down, focus on economic growth, and wait until you were strong enough that your strength couldn't be ignored.

For roughly three decades, this approach defined Chinese diplomacy. Chinese officials emphasized "win-win cooperation" and avoided controversy. They worked behind the scenes rather than making public demands. When disagreements arose, they downplayed them. The contrast with Soviet-era communist diplomacy was deliberate and pronounced.

Cracks in the Low Profile

The shift didn't happen overnight. Scholars began noticing changes around 2009 and 2010, particularly regarding the South China Sea.

China increased its fishing activities, sea patrols, and military presence in disputed waters. It began developing tourism infrastructure on contested islands and filing claims with the United Nations. When neighboring countries like the Philippines pushed back, China maintained a relatively diplomatic tone. But when the United States weighed in, the response was sharper. American statements were dismissed as "flatly inaccurate" and "sheer lies."

This asymmetry was telling. China was willing to be patient and measured with its neighbors, but increasingly unwilling to accept what it viewed as American lecturing on matters in its own backyard.

The election of Xi Jinping as General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party in 2012 accelerated this trajectory. Sentiment analysis of official Chinese statements about the United States shows a clear pattern: during the leadership of Xi's predecessor Hu Jintao, the tone improved and peaked in positivity around 2011. Under Xi, negativity steadily increased, reaching its lowest point after 2018.

Xi Jinping Thought on Diplomacy

In 2017, the Chinese Communist Party codified "Xi Jinping Thought on Diplomacy," which legitimized a more active role for China on the world stage. Crucially, this included engaging in "open ideological struggle with the West."

That phrase deserves unpacking. For decades, Chinese leaders had avoided framing their relationship with Western democracies as an ideological contest. The whole point of Deng's approach was to sidestep such confrontations. But Xi's formulation made ideology central again. The implication was that China and the West represented fundamentally different—and competing—visions of how societies should be organized.

This wasn't just about foreign policy. It was about identity. Xi promoted the idea of a "national rejuvenation"—China reclaiming the great power status it had held for most of recorded history before the "century of humiliation" inflicted by Western and Japanese imperialism. Being lectured by the United States on human rights or democracy was, in this framing, not merely annoying but an insult to a civilization that had existed for millennia before America was founded.

The Pandemic Accelerator

When COVID-19 emerged from Wuhan in late 2019 and early 2020, Chinese diplomats found themselves in an unprecedented position. Internationally, China faced intense criticism—questions about the origins of the virus, accusations of initial cover-ups, and anger about the global devastation that followed.

But domestically, many Chinese citizens felt their government had handled the crisis well, especially compared to the chaotic responses in the United States and Europe. This created what Bloomberg News reporter Peter Martin described as "a new mixture of confidence and increasing insecurity."

Feeling under attack but also vindicated, Chinese diplomats went on the offensive. Zhao Lijian promoted conspiracy theories suggesting the U.S. military had brought the virus to Wuhan. Spokespeople aggressively pushed back against any criticism. The wolf warrior style, which had been emerging for years, went into overdrive.

When China's Foreign Minister Wang Yi was asked about this confrontational approach in May 2020, he framed it as defensive: China would "never pick a fight or bully others" but would "push back against any deliberate insult" and "refute all groundless slander."

His colleague Hua Chunying was more pointed. At a press conference later that year, she asked: "How can anyone think that China has no right to speak the truth while they have every right to slander, attack, smear, and hurt China? Do they think that China has no choice but the silence of the lambs while they are unscrupulously lashing out at the country with trumped-up charges?"

The Cast of Characters

Wolf warrior diplomacy has a recognizable roster of practitioners.

Zhao Lijian became the public face of the phenomenon, his Twitter presence and combative press conferences making him internationally notorious. Hua Chunying, who gave more than four thousand press conference responses between 2002 and 2020, combined sharp rhetoric with a tireless work ethic. Wang Wenbin continued the style. Liu Xiaoming, China's longtime ambassador to the United Kingdom, brought wolf warrior tactics to London.

Lu Shaye, China's ambassador to France, took things further than most. In comments that caused an international incident in 2023, he questioned the sovereignty of former Soviet states—suggesting that countries like Ukraine didn't have proper legal existence as nations because they were created within the Soviet Union. This went beyond aggressive defense of Chinese interests into territory that alarmed even countries with no stake in China's disputes.

Outside the formal diplomatic corps, Hu Xijin, editor of the Chinese Communist Party-owned tabloid Global Times, became an influential voice. His newspaper and social media presence amplified wolf warrior themes, often going further than official spokespeople could.

Why Did It Happen?

Several explanations have been offered for the rise of wolf warrior diplomacy, and they're not mutually exclusive.

The most obvious is simply that China's power grew. Deng Xiaoping's strategy was premised on hiding your strength until you were strong. By the 2010s, China had the world's second-largest economy, a modernized military, and increasing technological capabilities. At some point, hiding no longer made sense—and perhaps was no longer possible.

There's also a generational dimension. A younger cadre of diplomats has risen through the ranks, people who grew up during China's economic boom rather than the Cultural Revolution. They're more comfortable with social media and less shaped by memories of Chinese weakness. Some analysts see this as a natural generational shift in style.

Domestic politics matter too. Chinese social media has its own ecosystem of nationalistic voices who criticize the government when they perceive it as being too soft. Diplomats who take a hard line online are praised; those seen as accommodating are mocked for their "flaccid tone." In a one-party state where public opinion is carefully managed, these pressures still influence behavior.

Remarkably, there's also an HR explanation. At some point, China's Ministry of Foreign Affairs added a public relations section to internal employee performance reports. Suddenly, being active on social media and giving interviews—even controversial ones—could help your career. Zhao Lijian's promotion after his Twitter fight with Susan Rice sent an unmistakable signal.

Finally, some analysts point to perception. Chinese officials believed the West was interfering in China's domestic affairs and orchestrating a campaign of hostility. From this perspective, wolf warrior diplomacy wasn't aggression—it was self-defense. As one official put it: "They are coming to our doorstep, interfering in our family affairs, constantly nagging at us, insulting and discrediting us. We have no choice but to firmly defend our national interests and dignity."

An academic study of over 4,500 press conference exchanges found that aggressive questioning by foreign journalists was more likely to elicit wolf warrior responses—suggesting the phenomenon was at least partly reactive.

The Costs Become Clear

By 2021, evidence was mounting that wolf warrior diplomacy was backfiring.

International surveys showed China's reputation declining, particularly in developed democracies. Countries that had maintained relatively positive views of China were becoming skeptical. European nations that had tried to chart a middle course between Washington and Beijing were tilting toward the American camp. Australia, which had been careful to balance its security alliance with the United States against its economic ties with China, hardened its stance dramatically.

Xi Jinping himself seemed to recognize the problem. In May 2021, he called for improvements in China's international communication at a Politburo study session. The message to wolf warriors appeared to be: tone it down.

Several signals followed. Hu Xijin stepped down as editor of the Global Times. Chinese officials began moderating their public statements. Social media accounts connected to the foreign ministry became less confrontational. In January 2023, Zhao Lijian—the original wolf warrior diplomat—was reassigned from his spokesperson role to a position dealing with maritime boundary issues. Academics interpreted this as a deliberate signal that China was stepping back from the approach.

Research by The Economist tracked the aggressiveness of foreign ministry statements over time. Belligerent responses had spiked sharply after 2019, but by early 2025, they had declined to 2018 levels—before the wolf warrior era began.

Economic Coercion: The Other Claw

Wolf warrior diplomacy wasn't just about rhetoric. It was accompanied by economic coercion—the use of trade and investment as weapons against countries that displeased Beijing.

Victor Cha of the Center for Strategic and International Studies counted sixteen nations and over 120 global companies subjected to Chinese economic coercion between 2008 and 2022. The tools included trade boycotts, punitive tariffs, and what Cha called "weaponizing trade interdependence."

Australia provides the clearest example. When Prime Minister Scott Morrison called for an international inquiry into the origins of COVID-19, China responded with unofficial embargoes on Australian coal and prohibitive tariffs on Australian barley and wine. The message was unmistakable: criticize us and you'll pay an economic price.

Even private companies weren't immune. When Daryl Morey, general manager of the National Basketball Association's Houston Rockets, tweeted his support for pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong, China suspended broadcasts of Rockets games. The NBA—hugely valuable to China and dependent on Chinese viewership and merchandise sales—found itself caught in a political dispute it never sought.

Tourism served as another lever. Chinese tourists represented enormous spending power, and Beijing demonstrated willingness to use that power coercively. When South Korea agreed to host an American missile defense system called THAAD (Terminal High Altitude Area Defense), China informally prohibited group tours to South Korea. The economic impact was immediate and painful.

A Story About Dogs

One curious detail illustrates how personal grievance and national narrative can intertwine in wolf warrior diplomacy.

Wu Jianmin, who served as China's ambassador to France, had a childhood memory from Nanjing: the French Embassy setting dogs on him as a boy. This story—whether entirely accurate or embellished through memory—circulated as a kind of justification for aggressive diplomatic language. If Western powers had humiliated China even in its children, didn't China have the right to strike back rhetorically now that it was strong?

The emotional logic was compelling even if the geopolitical logic was questionable. Personal experience of humiliation, collective memory of national weakness, and contemporary assertiveness all wound together.

The Retreat

By 2023 and 2024, the retreat from wolf warrior diplomacy was unmistakable. Leaked United States Joint Chiefs of Staff briefings noted that China was transitioning to a "more measured approach," partly in an attempt to divide the European Union from the United States.

International relations scholar Shaoyu Yuan argued that the shift was primarily motivated by domestic economic challenges. China's economy was slowing. The property sector was in crisis. Youth unemployment was soaring. In this environment, picking fights with trading partners and potential investors made even less sense than usual.

Foreign Minister Qin Gang (before his mysterious disappearance from public life in 2023) criticized the "wolf warrior" label itself as a "narrative trap" created by people who knew nothing about China. This suggested both defensiveness about the term and a desire to move past the approach it described.

What Remains

The wolf warrior era revealed something important about Chinese diplomacy: its primary audience isn't always foreign. As Peter Martin observed, "during previous periods of assertive diplomacy from China, the primary audience is domestic politicians. Therefore, the reaction of foreigners and outsiders is not a top motivator for Chinese diplomats."

This created a paradox. Diplomats knew that wolf warrior tactics were damaging China's interests abroad. Many had private misgivings. But they also knew that expressing those misgivings could bring political repercussions at home. The incentives pointed toward aggression even when the costs were clear.

The retreat from wolf warrior diplomacy suggests those incentives have shifted. But the underlying conditions that produced it—rising nationalism, competition with the West, the sense of historical grievance, the one-party system that rewards ideological conformity—haven't disappeared. Whether the wolf warriors have truly been leashed, or merely put back in their cages temporarily, remains to be seen.

What's certain is that for a few years in the early 2020s, international diplomacy was transformed by diplomats who saw themselves not as cautious bureaucrats managing relationships, but as fighters defending their nation's honor—one Twitter battle at a time.