This year marks the 75th anniversary of China-Myanmar diplomatic ties—an event wrapped in orchestrated celebrations, symbolic rhetoric and photo ops filled with slogans like “paukphaw friendship” and “win-win cooperation.” But behind the spectacle lies a harsher reality: deepening asymmetry, transactional politics and fragmented sovereignty. Rather than celebrating enduring friendship, the anniversary masks a pragmatic power arrangement rooted in geography, necessity and cold pragmatism.
The official statement on the anniversary released by the Chinese Embassy in Myanmar and China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs strikes a ceremonial tone, reinforcing mutual respect and historical continuity narratives. Messages exchanged between Chinese President Xi Jinping, Chinese Premier Li Qiang and junta boss Min Aung Hlaing serve to legitimize the junta both domestically and internationally. Invocations of the “Five Principles of Peaceful Coexistence” and the “Bandung Spirit” paint the partnership as principled, while references to Xi’s “historic visit” sidestep global condemnation and signal China’s steady backing.
Strategically, the message promotes cooperation under the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) and China’s broader schemes—the Global Development Initiative, Global Security Initiative and Global Civilization Initiative—framing China as indispensable to Myanmar’s development. A softer tone appears in Min Aung Hlaing’s thanks for China’s earthquake aid, aiming to humanize the relationship amid rising criticism. But ultimately, the tone masks China’s calculated support for the regime, backing the junta just enough to secure its interests while leaving room to legitimize a future military-run election as a step toward “stability.”
The myth of ‘paukphaw’
At the center of this diplomatic theater is the word “paukphaw,” a uniquely crafted term suggesting civilizational kinship and emotional closeness. Its frequent use in ceremonies and state coverage tries to evoke an image of fraternal harmony. Yet in practice, the China-Myanmar relationship has never been one of equals. It has always been one of calculated asymmetry.
Since the 1950s, China has acted as the indispensable lifeline for successive regimes in Myanmar—whether socialist, quasi-democratic or authoritarian. In return, Myanmar’s rulers, now increasingly cornered since the 2021 military coup, have turned to Beijing for survival: diplomatic protection at the UN, financial injections for crumbling infrastructure and the symbolic recognition that comes from appearing beside a global power.
China, by contrast, plays the long game. It holds court not only with the junta in Naypyitaw but also with powerful ethnic armed organizations (EAOs) like the United Wa State Army (UWSA), the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA) and the Arakan Army (AA). These actors control key strategic terrain and safeguard billions of dollars’ worth of Chinese investments. In effect, China has created a parallel diplomacy—one that hedges across factions, ensuring that whoever holds the gun or the gate gets a seat at the table.
Symbolism vs. sovereignty
Official narratives emphasize peace, mutual trust and shared development. The deep-sea port at Kyaukphyu, the oil and gas pipelines stretching across Shan and Rakhine, and the grand slogans of the BRI are paraded as evidence of mutual progress. But these grand gestures mask a more uncomfortable truth: Myanmar’s sovereignty is being hollowed out.
More than 50 percent of the value of Chinese projects in Myanmar now falls within areas controlled by non-state armed actors. Following the Operation 1027 offensive, much of northeastern Myanmar—including vital border checkpoints and infrastructure corridors—has slipped from the junta’s hands. Yet this seismic shift is conspicuously missing from both countries’ official discourse.
The Myanmar military continues to raise toasts to sovereignty, even as it cedes control of territory to ethnic armed organizations. Meanwhile, China celebrates regional “stability” while its strategy quietly entrenches fragmentation and fuels contested authority on the ground.
China’s parallel tracks
Chinese state media, particularly Xinhua and CCTV, have worked overtime to frame Beijing as a responsible and neutral partner. Carefully crafted messages highlight “regional harmony” and “mutual development,” often citing the China-Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC) as a model of cooperation. But behind this curated image lies a pragmatic strategy rooted in risk aversion and influence maintenance.
Beijing’s dual-track engagement—cultivating ties with both the junta and powerful EAOs—is no accident. It reflects a deliberate calculation: in a country where governance is contested and conflict is endemic, China’s best bet is to invest in influence wherever it can find it. Whether through cross-border trade deals with armed groups along the borders, silent tolerance of arms flows, or back-channel diplomacy with de facto authorities, China ensures its strategic assets are protected, not through long-lasting peacebuilding, but through power balancing.
This is not diplomacy in the traditional sense. It’s crisis management through entanglement, a hedge that buys China leverage in a country increasingly splintered by armed conflict.
Diplomacy ignores the ground
Perhaps the most glaring omission in the 75th anniversary fanfare is the voice of the Myanmar people. For the displaced workers of Chinese-backed hydropower projects, the farmers whose land has been confiscated for infrastructure schemes, and the ethnic communities trapped between junta offensives and Chinese-funded corridors, the word paukphaw rings hollow—if not insulting.
Since the 2021 coup, anti-China sentiment has surged—especially among youth, activists and civil society groups who see Beijing’s silence on war crimes and its material backing of the junta not as neutrality, but as complicity. This growing frustration is not fueled by xenophobia or blind nationalism. It’s rooted in a lived reality: that China has prioritized pipelines over people, profit over protection, and regime sovereignty over democratic self-determination.
This disconnect is now dangerously clear in China’s quiet but persistent push for a military-led election in Myanmar—an election that is neither free, fair nor reflective of public will. Rather than addressing the root crisis or supporting inclusive political dialogue, Beijing is betting on a controlled vote to restore a semblance of order and give the junta the facade of legitimacy.
But this approach doesn’t bring peace—it deepens the divide. By endorsing a roadmap designed by generals, China risks further alienating the people of Myanmar and entrenching a system that rewards repression over representation.
While state media beams out images of harmony and celebration, the reality on the ground is one of disenfranchisement, disillusionment and exploitation. The people are missing—not just from the narrative, but from the decision-making that will shape their future.
Crisis of legitimacy
The 75th anniversary of China-Myanmar diplomatic relations was staged to project stability—a choreographed performance designed to mask the disintegration unfolding behind the curtains. But beneath the official slogans and photo ops lies an inconvenient truth: this is not a celebration of shared values, but a cynical pact built on transactional power, strategic ambiguity and mutual convenience.
For the junta, China is political oxygen—each handshake a lifeline to fake legitimacy while the regime wages war and blocks aid. For Beijing, it’s about securing pipelines and influence by playing all sides—generals, ethnic armed groups—and posing as peacemakers. But China’s coercive mediation backfires: it yields only short-term ceasefires that let the junta regroup and fuel the conflict economy, with no real political solution or inclusive dialogue. Supporting the regime’s rigged election plan only entrenches military rule, deepening instability and sidelining the people’s will.
What’s being celebrated is not peace—it’s paralysis. Sovereignty has become a bargaining chip. Mediation is code for control. And elections are framed not as a reflection of the people’s will, but as a rubber stamp for authoritarian continuity.
In truth, the only thing “fraternal” about China-Myanmar relations today is their shared dependence on illusion: optics over accountability, symbolism over substance. These anniversaries don’t mark trust—they expose a hollow diplomacy that sidelines the public and props up power.
Until China listens to the people as much as it flatters the generals, these anniversaries will remain celebrations of failure—honored by elites and rejected by the public.
Athena Awn Naw specializes in analyzing ethnic conflict dynamics in Myanmar, focusing on China’s expanding influence across economic sectors. Her expertise includes the socioeconomic impacts of China’s involvement, its role in Myanmar’s armed conflicts and peace processes, and its participation in regional initiatives.
