SAEDNEWS: Analyses indicate that, contrary to Iranian public expectations, China avoids direct alliances. By favoring silence over firm commitments, it risks weakening its global credibility in moments of crisis—costs that may surface in the future.
According to Saed News’ political desk, the newspaper Shargh wrote: If one day a war were to erupt between Iran and the United States, many Iranians—and even people in other countries—would instinctively expect China and Russia to stand firmly behind Iran. This expectation does not stem from complex geopolitical analysis but from a historical instinct: the belief that every hegemon must consolidate its line of allies to confront a rival.
Yet recent years have shown that China—and to some extent Russia—often step back at critical junctures, as seen in Syria and Venezuela, preferring observation over direct engagement. This “calculated retreat” is precisely what distinguishes China’s model from that of previous hegemons and raises important questions about its future global role.
History offers clear examples of the costs of hegemonic behavior. When ancient Athens forcibly incorporated the island of Melos into the Delian League and responded to its plea for neutrality with massacre, it sent a message to the Greek world: “Power creates right.” But this approach eroded trust and alliances, ultimately leading to Athens’ defeat in the Peloponnesian War and even threatening its survival. The lesson was clear: tactical victories can lead to strategic defeat.
China understands this lesson—but interprets it differently. Beijing neither seeks to impose allies nor is it willing to offer firm commitments even to voluntary partners. The question becomes: what should a rising hegemon do with an ally that actively seeks its support?
Today, Iran occupies the position of such a voluntary partner. Iranian public opinion, guided by a historical reading of hegemonic behavior, asks: “If China is the hegemon of tomorrow, why does it not stand beside us today?” Beijing’s response, however, is either silence or cold calculation: “We do not formally ally with anyone—even at the cost of losing them.”
This approach may be seen as prudent cost-saving—or as a form of voluntary isolation that may one day prove more costly than any formal alliance. China avoids alliances partly because of its bitter experience with the Soviet Union in the 1950s. That unequal partnership taught Beijing that alignment with a greater power could mean conditional independence and limited sovereignty. China vowed never again to be the “junior partner” in any alliance.
But Iran today is not yesterday’s China. It is a voluntary partner expecting support from an emerging hegemon. To avoid repeating its Soviet experience, Beijing has chosen a model in which it provides economic support without political commitment: it buys oil but remains silent in crises; it invests but does not appear at moments of danger. Such strategic nuance is not easily grasped by public opinion. People understand “standing together”—and the absence of it is perceived as betrayal.
The American model of hegemony is built on reciprocity: every move by a rival must be countered to preserve spheres of influence. The Chinese model suggests something different: “Every move by a rival carries a cost; I will advance on another front.” When the United States expands NATO, China establishes a foothold in places like Samoa. When America maintains a military presence in the Persian Gulf, China signs long-term oil agreements with Saudi Arabia. On the geopolitical chessboard, this is precise strategy. But its blind spot lies in the “cost of symbolic silence.”
If Iran feels abandoned at a critical moment—even if trade continues—it sends a powerful message worldwide: “China is not a partner in times of crisis.” This gradual erosion of credibility is the same poison that ultimately weakened Athens.
History shows that solitary hegemons rarely endure. Napoleon conquered Europe with an unmatched army but lacked genuine allies; his satellite rulers were resentful subjects. In contrast, Britain built a broad coalition and prevailed at Waterloo. Nazi Germany entered war with ineffective allies; Italy was more burden than asset, and Japan pursued its own interests. Meanwhile, the Allies forged a durable coalition that lasted until fascism was defeated. The conclusion is clear: hegemony without alliance is fragile.
After Napoleon’s fall, Europe established the Concert of Europe, a cooperative framework among great powers that delivered four decades of relative peace. The message for China today is evident: a wise hegemon builds order by making others partners, not subordinates. The United States, too, once avoided binding alliances in the 19th century, but two world wars and the Cold War taught it that isolated hegemony is vulnerable to major threats. The result was a formal network of allies that today makes the cost of confronting America nearly incalculable. This network is expensive—but it functions as insurance.
China sees these precedents yet draws a different conclusion. Beijing argues: “We experienced the unequal Soviet alliance and observe the burdens of America’s alliance network. We will not bear the cost of coalitions, even if it means accepting isolation in moments of danger.” This is a conscious choice. China understands that with each NATO expansion and each moment of silence during crises such as Iran’s, its influence may narrow—but it considers this the price of its model.
History, however, suggests that hegemony without allies remains stable only until a fundamental crisis erupts. China today resembles a 19th-century rising power: growing, trading, and avoiding political commitments. But if a Taiwan or South China Sea crisis escalates into direct confrontation, Beijing may face a cohesive network of Western allies while standing largely alone.
The United States maintains bases in the Persian Gulf not solely because of raw power, but because of treaty networks. China buys oil in the same region—but no one is obligated to fight for it. Worse still, if Iran concludes that China abandoned it at a critical moment, it may not pivot toward the West but toward a “bitter neutrality”—a stance whose effects could last generations.
Ultimately, China understands that today’s non-commitment grants freedom of maneuver. The real question is whether that freedom guarantees tomorrow’s security. History records hegemons that built coercive alliances and fell, and others that transformed defeated states into equal partners and endured. China has chosen a third path: neither Sparta’s imposed alliances nor America’s equal coalitions, but “self-imposed detachment.” This model works only as long as crisis does not reach home.
When that moment comes, a list of trading partners cannot substitute for military bases. Today’s symbolic silence may become tomorrow’s real isolation. Many Iranians grasp this logic instinctively. Their expectation of China is not idealistic but transactional: “If you are tomorrow’s hegemon, stand beside me today—so that tomorrow I may stand beside you.”
Conclusion
The historical question remains: when China is inevitably drawn into irreversible confrontation, will it face a network of genuine allies—or merely a long list of trading partners who flee at the first shot? Solitary hegemony is unstable. Athens, Napoleon, Hitler—all fell at the price of isolation, while the United States, supported by a broad alliance, still stands.
China appears to prefer silence over commitment today. But history judges harshly. The cost of symbolic silence today may be real isolation tomorrow—an isolation from which no hegemon, not even Beijing, may easily escape.
