Death from the skies of Libya, part II: arming the Silk Roads
An analysis of the trade in deadly weapons between China and the United Arab Emirates, and its devastating consequences in Libya.
An MQ-9 Reaper flies above the Nevada desert. Photo by Anthony, CC-BY-ND 2.0
When the Emiratis bombed a military academy in Tripoli on January 4, they used a Chinese Wing Loong II drone. This particular model, though evidently deadly, is by all standards a budget version of the American-made MQ-9 Reaper. The Reaper can fly higher, range farther, and carry a larger weapons payload, in addition to being extensively “battle-tested” in Afghanistan and Iraq. So, given the Emiratis’ continual enthusiasm to splurge on the best weapons available, why did they settle for the Wing Loong, and not the Reaper?
The quick answer would appear to be that the Reaper was beyond their reach. In 1987, the United States joined the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR), an informal pact among several nations to limit exports of missile-related technology, including unmanned drones. Until the Trump administration’s characteristic “re-interpretation” of the pact this July, it had effectively curbed the sale of U.S. drones abroad, including the MQ-9 Reaper.
But why would they choose a Chinese drone? It does seem fair to argue that there are no other options, at least in the top tier of drone-manufacturing countries. Turkey backs an opposing side in the Libyan Civil War, and Iran has long had an uneasy relationship with the Emirates, especially Abu Dhabi. Israel’s protectiveness over its “qualitative military edge” in the Middle East meant that it was even hesitant to approve of American sales of advanced weapons to the UAE.
However, Chinese weapons sales to the UAE may also have been seen in the context of China’s expanding security cooperation with partners in its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI).
Weapons Along the BRI
The “Belt and Road Initiative” is a trillion-dollar program of international investment aimed at connecting the Eurasian landmass through an array of ports, railways and other infrastructure in dozens of countries. Since its proclamation by Chinese President Xi Jinping in 2013, the BRI has been officially portrayed in tones of “win-win cooperation” and “peaceful coexistence”, masking the geopolitical benefits that would come China’s way.
Among these benefits are energy and trade. Since the late 1970s, China’s economy has expanded dramatically, with oil demand almost trebling over the past two decades. This rise in consumption will almost certainly continue, despite the short-term shock triggered by Covid-19. Moreover, China is by far the world’s largest importer of crude oil, bringing in almost twice as much as the United States in 2019. This reliance makes China especially vulnerable to disruptions in the supply of oil.
This focus on energy is reflected in China’s areas of interest under the BRI. One of its most important projects is a port in the Pakistani city of Gwadar, which would greatly facilitate Chinese access to the oilfields of the Persian Gulf by providing a shortcut around Southeast Asia. Similarly, China’s interest in Central Asia is premised on its potential as “an important source of the energy resources required to meet the needs of the rapidly growing Chinese economy”. Central Asia also plays a role as “a critical transportation hub and a bridge to other lucrative markets, including Western Asia, the Gulf Region, Russia and the European Union.”
However, perhaps the most important region in terms of energy and trade is the Middle East. This region, from which China derives almost half of its oil imports, also serves as a strategically important crossroad for trade routes linking Asia, Europe and Africa, tying together the world’s economic powerhouses. Consequently, China has increased its economic engagement with the Middle East, becoming an important trade partner and also its largest investor, earning major infrastructure contracts in the Gulf monarchies. In short: the Middle East is central to China’s visions of the BRI.
What also unites Pakistan, Central Asia and the Middle East is that they are all major destinations for Chinese arms exports. Weapons sales to Pakistan began in strength in the mid-1960s and have remained robust ever since, with Pakistan accounting for 30 per cent of China’s arms exports in 2019. The arms relationship with Iran is similarly longstanding, beginning in the early 1980s and only halting with the agreement of the Iran nuclear deal in 2015.
As for the Arab Gulf states and Central Asia, Chinese weapons imports only really picked up over the last decade. Arms sales to the UAE began in earnest in 2013, the exact year that the BRI was announced. As for Saudi Arabia, large transfers were made in 1987 and 1988 – the height of the Iran-Iraq War – and again in 2008 and 2009; yet sustained sales began only in 2015. We see a similar trend for the Central Asian states of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, where the arms relationships began in 2017, 2014 and 2016 respectively. As such, China provided a full 18 per cent of Central Asia’s weapons imports between 2015 and 2020, a boost from 1.5 per cent between 2010 and 2014. It therefore seems that arms sales and BRI participation are related in some way.
“Wings Along the BRI”, a paper by LSE’s foreign policy think tank, further explores this relationship in the specific case of armed drones. Noting that Saudi Arabia is the largest recipient of Chinese drones, followed by Egypt, the UAE and Pakistan, it asserts that “export patterns of Chinese UCAVs [unmanned combat aerial vehicles] reflect a turn towards the Middle East and Africa … [with] the key drivers of this engagement relat[ing] to Beijing’s interests to protect Chinese citizens and overseas investments in potentially volatile markets, and potentially consolidate diplomatic relationships.” So there we see the rationale for all these arms sales: protecting the Chinese presence abroad and strengthening diplomatic relationships. These drivers emerge from the novel threats ushered in by China’s expansion along the Silk Roads.
New Roads, New Risks
The Chinese economy’s recent meteoric growth, and the outward investment that has accompanied it, have exposed China to new vulnerabilities. One is the risk to Chinese personnel and infrastructure in countries where there is enmity against them. For example, the Gwadar port is located in Pakistan’s province of Baluchistan, wherein rages a separatist insurgency that has “focused [attacks] on Chinese nationals and Chinese-funded projects” in recent years. Indeed, since the early 2000s there has been a spate of car bombings, shootings and suicide attacks against Chinese engineers in Pakistan.
In Central Asia, the issue is similar. Beijing is alarmed by the abundance of jihadist militant groups in countries like Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. China’s repression of Muslims in its western province of Xinjiang has earned the ire of these groups, exposing the Chinese presence in Central Asia to further attacks like the 2016 suicide bombing of the Chinese embassy in Kyrgyzstan. Most worryingly, these attacks may target infrastructure projects related to the BRI. In response, China has “made significant investments in security” in the region, conducting bilateral military exercises with Tajikistan and enlisting private security firms to protect railways in Kyrgyzstan.
The threat that faces the BRI in the Gulf region may be more indirect. Jonathan Fulton, an Assistant Professor of Political Science at Zayed University, makes the point that “given the Gulf monarchies’ close ties to the United States, Beijing is concerned that Washington could put pressure on them to disrupt the flow of oil into China”. Oman and the UAE both sit astride the Strait of Hormuz, through which flows about a fifth of the world’s total oil supply. Gulf states such as the UAE are also vital to Chinese trade, with about 60 per cent of China’s exports passing through Emirati ports. The United States’ military presence in the Gulf gives it significant leverage over these monarchies, and if it could orchestrate a squeeze on China’s trade or oil supply, the consequences could be devastating.
There is an additional reason why the Gulf matters to China. In recent years, international attention has been drawn to the plight of the predominantly Muslim, minority ethnic Uighur population in Xinjiang. China has reportedly built, and continues to build, hundreds of internment and indoctrination camps in an attempt to quash any Uighur resistance to the imposition of Beijing’s control over the region. As such, “people have been targeted for ‘offences’ as trivial as owning a Qur’an, or abstaining from eating pork … [suffering] arbitrary detentions, torture and medical neglect … and coercive birth control”. The spotlight on these abuses has endangered the BRI in places like Central Asia.
However, many Muslim-majority states who would traditionally criticise the mistreatment of Muslims abroad have remained curiously quiet over Xinjiang. For instance, Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan has consistently refused to raise the issue in light of China’s economic aid for Pakistan: “they came to help us when we were at rock bottom, and so we are really grateful to the Chinese government.” Similarly, Middle East expert Giorgio Cafeiro remarks that “[the Arab Gulf] states have deep economic ties with China that could, potentially, be jeopardized if they shine a spotlight on human rights violations in Xinjiang.” Of course, security ties could be jeopardised as well.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Trump administration has attempted to interfere with these tacet “money-for-silence” agreements. In late October, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo gave a speech in Jakarta to the young wing of Indonesia’s largest Islamic organisation, urging the country’s Muslims to take a tougher stance on Xinjiang. He accused the Chinese Communist Party of “[trying] to convince Indonesians to look away” from torments such as “forcing Uighur Muslims to eat pork during Ramadan or destroying a Muslim cemetery”. But of course, Indonesia’s important trade and investment relationship with China – not to mention its receipt of Chinese arms – may insulate it from such exhortations. However, who’s to say the Biden administration won’t try something similar with other Muslim-majority countries?
For all these reasons, China has an interest in forging and maintaining strong political ties with the Gulf states. If China could somehow make itself more indispensable to them – by trade, investment or arms sales – it may hedge against the possibility of the Gulf turning against it in a way that could be very damaging, due to its position as a source of energy and a transit hub along the new Silk Roads.
China’s sales of armed drones to the UAE can be understood in this larger picture. Mohammed bin Zayed, the de facto leader of the UAE and architect of its foreign policy, has taken a predominantly security-based approach to regional turmoil since 2011, preferring armaments transfers and military coups to diplomatic initiatives. As such, Chinese weapons would be a sure-fire way to curry the favour of the UAE’s ruling elite. Once in their arms, however, it would be up to the Emiratis to decide how to use these tools of war on the battlefields of Libya.