How China turns members of its diaspora into spies

AMONG EXILED Chinese dissidents, Tang Yuanjun was well known. He had taken part 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 2024 he was arrested by the FBI. He admits to having used his position to collect information for China and to report on his fellow activists. He did this so that officials in Beijing would allow him to return to China to see his ailing parents.

China’s hacking of Western computer networks, such as its alleged breach of America’s Treasury Department, has made headlines in recent years. So too have its efforts to steal military and trade secrets. But China has also been pursuing a more subtle campaign, one that involves bribery, blackmail and secret deals, and which uses members of the diaspora to gather information and further China’s interests. Britain recently got a taste of 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. (Mr Yang has said the suggestion he is a spy is untrue and has denied doing anything unlawful.)

America 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 strengthened its enforcement of the act. The department conducted 25 FARA inspections in 2023, the most since 1985. In 2024 there were several high-profile cases involving China.

One involved 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 communications and hindered efforts to publicise China’s persecution of ethnic minorities. In return, she is said to have received millions of dollars in kickbacks and gifts. She has pleaded not guilty.

The accusations against Ms Sun are straightforward. But many of China’s influence operations occur in a grey area. Take the diaspora groups called tongxianghui, or home-town associations, which bring together immigrants from particular parts of China. They are ubiquitous in American cities—and under scrutiny by the Justice Department. Association leaders often mobilise voters before elections in America and have ties to local officials. Some organise political activities, such as rallies in support of Xi Jinping or protests against visits by Taiwanese officials.

This is all legal, so long as the organisers act independently. But the line between voluntary action and agent work is fuzzy. Many overseas Chinese support the CCP or, at least, are willing to help it because they have businesses or family back home. Only when they receive covert funding, instructions or supervision from Chinese officials do they cross the line into being foreign agents. In 2022 the FBI arrested the head of a Shandong home-town 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” in a Fujian home-town association in New York. One of them pleaded guilty in December.

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. But many of the cases involved questions of “research integrity”, with academics accused of failing to fully disclose their Chinese affiliations. Only a quarter of all the cases brought under the initiative ended in conviction.

America’s counter-intelligence efforts are meant to make the Chinese diaspora feel safe, says a former official who worked on the China Initiative. “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 targeted 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 widely criticised; the charges were later dropped.

Many members of the Chinese diaspora welcome efforts to stymie CCP influence. But Zhou Fengsuo of Human Rights in China, an activist group in New York, warns that the heavy-handedness of America’s approach has led to distrust of the government. He complains that exiled dissidents receive little protection, making them easier targets for Chinese coercion.

In 2022 the Justice Department ended the China Initiative, saying it led to a “harmful perception” of racial profiling. But in September the House of Representatives passed a bill to revive it as the CCP Initiative. Such efforts may intensify under Donald Trump, who has nominated China hawks for important jobs. As America tries to counter the CCP, it may risk driving more of the diaspora into its hands. ■