(Brahma Chellaney’s article from the STRATEGIST on 24 November 2022.)
The contract not only imposed virtually all risk on
the borrower (including requiring binding arbitration in China to settle any
dispute), but also raised those risks to unmanageable levels (such as by
setting an unusually high interest rate). With terms like that, it’s no wonder
that multiple countries around the world have become ensnared in
sovereignty-eroding Chinese debt traps.
Over the past decade, China has become the world’s largest single creditor, with loans to low- and middle-income countries tripling in this period, to US$170 billion at the end of 2020. Its outstanding foreign loans now exceed 6% of global GDP, making China competitive with the International Monetary Fund as a global creditor. And through loans extended under its US$838-billion Belt and Road Initiative, China has overtaken the World Bank as the world’s largest funder of infrastructure projects.
To be sure,
since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic, China’s overseas lending for
infrastructure projects has been on the decline (until 2019, it was rising
sharply). This is partly because the pandemic left partner countries in dire
economic straits, though growing international criticism of China’s predatory
lending has likely also contributed.
One might hope
that this downward trend augurs the end of colonial-style lending by China. But
the decline has been offset by an increase in bailout lending, mostly to BRI
partner countries—including Kenya—which were already weighed down by debts owed
to China.
The scale of the bailout lending is massive. The top
three borrowers alone—Argentina, Pakistan and Sri Lanka—have received US$32.8
billion in rescue lending from China since 2017. Pakistan has been the biggest
borrower by far, receiving a staggering US$21.9 billion in Chinese emergency
lending since 2018.
This highlights
the self-reinforcing debt spiral into which China thrusts countries. Because
Beijing, unlike the IMF, doesn’t attach stringent conditions to its loans,
countries simply borrow more to service outstanding debts, thus sinking ever
deeper into debt.
Crucially, China’s loan contracts are typically shrouded in secrecy; Kenya’s revelations, for example, were technically in violation of its agreement’s sweeping confidentiality clause. In many cases, the loans are hidden from taxpayers, undermining government accountability. China also increasingly channels its lending not to governments directly, but to state-owned companies, state-owned banks, special-purpose vehicles and private-sector institutions in recipient countries. The result is crushing levels of ‘hidden debt’.
Consider Laos, where hidden debts to China eclipse
official debts. To stave off default following the pandemic shock, the small,
landlocked country was forced to hand China majority control of its national
electricity grid. And it may find itself with little choice but to barter away
land and natural resources.
There is ample
precedent for this. Already, several of China’s debtors have been forced to
cede strategic assets to their creditor. Tajikistan has surrendered 1,158
square kilometres of the Pamir mountains to China, granted Chinese companies
rights to mine gold, silver and other mineral ores in its territory, and
approved the Chinese-funded construction of a military base near its border
with Afghanistan.
Sri Lanka’s debt crisis first attracted
international attention in 2017. Unable to repay Chinese loans, the country
signed away the Indian Ocean region’s most strategically important port,
Hambantota, and more than 6,000 hectares of land around it, by granting a
99-year lease to China. In Sri Lanka, the port transfer was likened to a
heavily indebted farmer giving his daughter to an unyielding money lender.
Despite this sacrifice, Sri Lanka defaulted on its debts earlier this year.
Near Gwadar,
China plans to build an outpost for its navy—a move that follows a
well-established pattern. Debt entrapment enabled China to gain its first
overseas naval base in Djibouti, strategically situated at the entrance to the
Red Sea. China is also now seeking a naval base on the West African coastline,
where it has made the most progress in Equatorial Guinea, a heavily indebted
low-income country.
This is the result of a lending strategy that is
focused squarely on maximising leverage over borrowers. As one international
study showed, ‘cancellation, acceleration, and stabilization clauses in Chinese
contracts potentially allow the lenders to influence debtors’ domestic and
foreign policies’. China often exercises this policy leverage by reserving the
right to recall loans arbitrarily or demand immediate repayment.
In this way,
China can use its overseas lending to advance its economic and diplomatic
interests. If China can dim the lights in Laos, for example, it has a certain
ally in multilateral forums. If it can drive a country to debt default, it can
secure all the trade and construction contracts it wants. And if it can control
a country’s ports, it can strengthen its strategic position.
The details of
China’s loan contracts with developing countries have not yet come fully to
light. But it is already clear that China’s creditor imperialism carries
far-reaching risks, both for the debtors themselves and for the future of the
international order.
A practically-useless Chinese-built railway in Kenya. |