Washington says China will not let US government employee leave country
WASHINGTON (Reuters) -- The U.S. State Department said on Monday that the Chinese government had blocked a U.S. Patent and Trademark Office employee visiting the Asian country in a personal capacity from leaving.
"We are tracking this case very closely and are engaged with Chinese officials to resolve the situation as quickly as possible," a State Department spokesperson said.
The U.S. Patent and Trademark Office is part of the federal Department of Commerce.
The individual's name and whether the person was detained were not disclosed.
The Chinese embassy in Washington and the U.S. Commerce Department did not immediately respond to requests for comment.
The Washington Post reported on Sunday that a U.S. citizen who works for the Commerce Department had traveled to China several months ago to visit family. The man was being prevented from leaving the country after he failed to disclose on his visa application that he worked for the U.S. government, the newspaper said, citing sources.
Beijing has used exit bans on both Chinese and foreign nationals in connection with civil disputes, regulatory enforcement and criminal investigations. Analysts say the tactic is at times used to crack down on local dissent and also as diplomatic leverage in disputes with other nations.
Washington and Beijing have had friction for years over tariffs, the origins of COVID-19, Taiwan and other issues.
Chenyue Mao, a Wells Fargo banker, has also been blocked from leaving China. Beijing's foreign ministry said on Monday she was involved in a criminal case and obliged to cooperate with an investigation.
Mao was the latest of several executives from foreign corporations to be stopped as they tried to depart China.
The U.S. bank suspended all employee travel to China after Mao's exit ban, a person familiar with the matter told Reuters last week, saying Mao was a U.S. citizen.
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US Foreign Aid With Chinese Characteristics
The dismantling of USAID is the culmination of a decade-long realignment of Western approaches to development, inspired by China's Belt and Road Initiative. The GSEZ Mineral Port in Gabon, one of the projects supported by public-private partnership via the U.S. International Development Finance Corporation. As President Donald Trump takes a chainsaw to U.S. foreign aid programs, it would be easy to attribute such extreme measures to MAGA isolationism or DOGE zealotry. While anti-globalist and anti-government ideologies certainly played a role, the shift away from traditional foreign aid is not limited to the U.S. and does not represent a full-scale abandonment of development finance. Indeed, Trump's moves represent the culmination of a decade-long realignment of Western approaches to development, inspired by China's Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). The retreat from traditional foreign assistance cuts across the Western world. By 2026, estimates hold that foreign aid budgets will have fallen by over one-quarter in Canada and Germany and by close to 40 percent in Britain, compared with 2023 levels. Overall, G-7 countries, which account for 75 percent of foreign assistance, spent 28 percent less in 2025 than in 2024. Yet even as Trump's Big Beautiful Bill cut foreign aid, it also provided new funding – a $3 billion revolving fund – for the International Development Finance Corporation (IDFC), which was created by the 2017 BUILD Act. The IDFC is up for renewal this year, and the House Foreign Affairs Committee has already voted in support of authorizing its operations for another seven years with a lending cap of $120 billion, double the initial level. The IDFC was intended as an answer to China's BRI, which represented an alternative to traditional Western approaches to aid. The Development Assistance Committee (DAC) – a club of Western donor countries – defines Official Development Assistance (ODA) as concessional finance directed toward developmental projects in low- and middle-income countries. The DAC encourages transparency and discourages the tying of aid to purchases of goods and services from the donor country. Most DAC countries emphasize 'soft' aid, focused on health, education, and humanitarian assistance. ODA typically draws upon budgeted funds that must be renewed annually. Very little of Chinese development finance meets these criteria. Instead, China's development finance is commercial in orientation. Most loans are initiated by policy banks – the China Development Bank and the China Export-Import Bank – that raise funds by issuing bonds to investors. Loans carry near-market interest rates and must be repaid in full. Much of Chinese development finance has been channeled through the BRI, which focuses on infrastructure construction. Loans through these policy banks and others have amounted to well over a trillion dollars over the past decade. Western countries have followed China's lead both in commercializing development finance and in driving more resources toward infrastructure development. The latter move has transpired under the guise of various initiatives: the BUILD Act (U.S.), Build Back Better World (U.S.), the Global Gateway initiative (European Union), the Blue Dot Network (U.S., Australia, Japan), the Quality Infrastructure Investment Initiative (Japan), and the Partnership for Global Infrastructure and Investment (G-7). The competitive ambitions of the West have been limited by a paucity of available public funds, which makes it difficult to match the scale of China's BRI. This problem gave rise to efforts to leverage public money to mobilize private capital for development purposes through blended finance initiatives. At the multilateral level, a group of multilateral development banks issued a planning document titled 'From Billions to Trillions: Transforming Development Finance' in 2015. This paper outlined a vision for mobilizing private financial resources toward Global South infrastructure and other developmental needs. This was followed by the World Bank's 'Maximizing Finance for Development' initiative and the United Nation's 'Global Investors for Sustainable Development Alliance.' These projects and those discussed below constituted what Daniela Gabor characterized as a 'Wall Street Consensus.' Many types of infrastructure take the form of public (or semi-public) goods. Public goods, by their nature, are underproduced relative to their social utility because producers cannot exclude consumers from benefiting once the goods are produced. The Wall Street Consensus aims to make infrastructure projects 'bankable' or attractive to private investors by shifting the risk of unprofitability to the state. If successful, private money is pooled with public funding through blended financing models such as syndicated bond issues. In this 'development as derisking' model, private capital is 'escorted' into the process of financing infrastructure through the creation of new asset classes freed of investor risk. In 2018, the G-20 declared support for a Roadmap to Infrastructure as an Asset Class. Two types of risks must be minimized for private investors: regulatory risk and financial risk. Reducing regulatory risk includes lower environmental and safety standards, guaranteed grid access, legal protections against nationalization, and liability limits. Financial risk is managed through guaranteed toll revenues, preferential credit, loan guarantees, tax relief, or subsidies. Multilateral Development Banks (MDBs) or DAC donors help build state capacity in project identification and development, provide expertise in securitizing infrastructure assets for the market, and offer partial financing or loan guarantees. The necessity for subsidies and other forms of state support arises from the fact that more than half of infrastructure projects in emerging economies do not promise sufficient cash flow to attract private investors. Even projects with dedicated revenue streams often carry demand risks, meaning they turn unprofitable if demand for the service declines. Governments may be compelled to include contract provisions that promise to cover revenue shortfalls with public funds when demand falls below certain thresholds. Seth Schindler, Ilias Alami, and Nicholas Jepson noted that what Gabor referred to as the 'derisking state' becomes both more dependent upon global finance and increasingly interventionist in shaping market outcomes. This contrasts with the Washington Consensus, which counseled state neutrality vis-à-vis the market, but also differs from the East Asian development model, where state intervention sought to shape the behavior of national capital rather than global capital. By relieving private investors of risk, states aim to amplify the capital that can be mobilized toward critical development needs beyond national savings or the resources of MDBs and bilateral donors. The trade-off is the acceptance of risk by the developing state, a danger highlighted when the COVID-19 pandemic and rising interest rates threatened the solvency of many highly indebted countries. The U.S. International Development Finance Corporation fits this model. The BUILD Act described its purpose as to 'provide countries a robust alternative to state-directed investments by authoritarian governments and United States strategic competitors.' With a financing authority of $60 billion, the IDFC seeks to 'crowd-in' private capital with a flexible toolkit that includes nonconcessional loans, loan guarantees, export credits, political risk insurance, equity investments, and technical assistance. Largely due to IDFC activity, nonconcessional development finance flows jumped from 4 percent of overall U.S. aid spending in 2020 to 36 percent in 2021. Among the major projects funded by the IDFC are investments related to the Lobito Corridor in Southern Africa, which aims to create transportation links allowing Western firms to access critical minerals that are presently monopolized by China. 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A 2019 study by ODI Global reached similar conclusions. In low-income countries, on average, each $1 in public development financing mobilized only $0.37 in private finance. Blended finance was constrained by the low risk tolerance of both public and private actors in the face of environments hampered by poor governance and few profitable investment opportunities. Since most blended finance flowed to middle-income countries and to 'hard' sectors, such as transport and energy, as opposed to social sectors, the report suggested that the increased priority given such investments came at the expense of programs that more directly targeted poverty in low-income countries. Indeed, the proposed doubling in the funding cap for the IDFC cannot substitute for the human costs that follow from the cuts to U.S. Official Development Assistance, which one study suggests will lead to 14 million deaths over the next five years. Traditional aid may have drawbacks, whether evaluated as a tool of U.S. foreign policy or in terms of development effectiveness, but abandoning it in favor of the privatization of development finance is neither wise nor humane.
The Diplomat
an hour ago
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China's New Mega-Dam Raises the Stakes for Sino-Indian Hydrodiplomacy
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Arunachal Pradesh chief minister Pema Khandu openly described the proposed dam as a potential 'water bomb.' Chinese authorities, for their part, have sought to allay downstream concerns. Chinese diplomats have emphasized that the project is designed as a run-of-the-river facility that will not significantly alter water volumes flowing into India. In addition, China insists that it 'has always acted responsibly' when developing transboundary water resources. But such reassurances – though consistent in tone – have not always sufficed to calm regional unease. For downstream countries, what matters is not only hydrological facts, but also a sense of inclusion and institutional trust. That trust remains limited. At present, the only formal cooperation mechanism between China and India on water issues is a hydrological data-sharing agreement first signed in 2002. Under this memorandum, China provides India with real-time flood season data on the Yarlung Tsangpo to aid disaster preparedness in Arunachal Pradesh and Assam. However, the mechanism has proven vulnerable to geopolitical strain. In 2017, during the Doklam standoff between Chinese and Indian forces, Beijing temporarily suspended data transfers – a move widely interpreted as political signaling. Although data-sharing later resumed, the episode revealed just how fragile functional cooperation can be in the absence of deeper institutional guarantees. At the heart of the issue lies a legal and diplomatic vacuum. Unlike India's water treaties with Pakistan (the Indus Waters Treaty, which India suspended following a terror attack in April) and Bangladesh (the Ganges Water Sharing Treaty), there is no binding bilateral framework governing river management between China and India. China has generally opted for flexible, bilateral memoranda rather than formal legal agreements, citing the principle of upstream states' sovereign rights to develop internal water resources. This divergence in legal philosophy – combined with mutual mistrust – has left the Yarlung Tsangpo without the kind of institutional architecture that could help prevent escalation. That absence is all the more concerning given the broader regional context. South Asia is already among the world's most water-stressed and conflict-prone river basins. Climate change is accelerating glacial melt, intensifying floods, and shifting monsoon patterns, all of which amplify the stakes of upstream interventions. Bangladesh has long expressed frustration over upstream diversions affecting its dry-season flows. Nepal has sparred with India over hydropower projects along the Ganges tributaries. In recent years, India itself considered reviving a major dam project in Arunachal Pradesh – widely viewed by analysts as a geopolitical counter to Chinese activities upstream. It would be shortsighted for China and India – Asia's two most populous nations – to allow water to become another theater of strategic rivalry. The potential for cooperation is far greater. Establishing joint monitoring mechanisms, expanding early warning systems, and launching basin-level dialogues could foster transparency and confidence. Strengthening the existing data-sharing agreement and insulating it from political disruptions would be a good first step. But building true water cooperation will require more than technical fixes. It demands institutional imagination – and political will. That kind of institutional breakthrough will not be easy. Neither China nor India has signed the 1997 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses, the only global treaty governing transboundary rivers. And while India has signed binding water-sharing treaties with some neighbors, its approach remains similarly bilateral and interest-driven. In other words, both governments have historically rejected the idea that upstream development should be subject to international constraints. In this sense, their stances mirror each other: each sees itself as a regional hegemon, wary of legal obligations that might curtail sovereign decision-making. As a result, both countries have become status quo powers in a region that desperately needs rule-making. This mutual caution reflects deeper realities. In both Beijing and New Delhi, water is not just a resource – it is a symbol of authority, sovereignty, and developmental legitimacy. That makes compromise politically difficult, especially amid rising nationalist sentiment and hardening border disputes. But the absence of cooperation carries its own dangers. As climate change and geopolitical risk compound each other, what is now an institutional vacuum could easily become a vacuum of control. A shift will not come easily. But the risks of inaction are real. The Yarlung Tsangpo will continue to flow across borders, indifferent to geopolitical lines. Whether it becomes a source of contention or a channel for collaboration depends on the choices that China and India make today.
The Diplomat
an hour ago
- The Diplomat
India's Dalai Lama Reincarnation Dilemma
The strategic implications of the Dalai Lama's reincarnation have been well known for years, but the changing international context has complicated India's plans. The 14th Dalai Lama announced his reincarnation plans on July 2 – and, in doing so, confronted India with the prospect of a huge crisis in its relations with China after his passing. For India such a prospect is hardly new. What is new, however, is the international context. It is this context that is likely to make New Delhi's policy choices after the Dalai Lama's reincarnation more difficult. The Dalai Lama's reincarnation plans, presented in his July 2 statement, and their strategic implications have long been expected. Despite years of public musings that he might not choose reincarnation or identify an external emanation to succeed him, there was little doubt that the Dalai Lama will be reincarnated. All other options would have undermined both the institution of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan movement he leads. His public musings about alternative plans likely sought to disorient Beijing and pressure it to negotiate. The only surprises in the Dalai Lama's announcement were its mildness, compared to his 2011 statement, and the fact that it did not say that he will be reincarnated outside China. These surprises might be part of an effort to seek a negotiated agreement with Beijing but are unlikely to change the big picture. Two claimants are likely to emerge after the passing of the current Dalai Lama: one supported by Beijing in China's Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) and one supported by the Tibetan movement and the Central Tibetan Administration (CTA) in Dharamsala, India. This prospect presents New Delhi with a huge dilemma. If two Dalai Lamas emerge, the Indian government will have to recognize one of them, either officially or in practice. And India will have to choose the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala for moral, domestic, and strategic reasons. Not only is the Dalai Lama deeply revered inside India, with many Indians feeling that their country has a moral obligation to help both him and the Tibetan movement, but New Delhi likely recognizes that the Dalai Lama represents an important lever vis-à-vis China, India's so-called 'Tibet card.' However, supporting the Dalai Lama claimant in Dharamsala will be perceived by China as a direct challenge to Chinese sovereignty over Tibet. China's retaliation is likely to be severe and might involve provocations along the disputed border, increased support for separatists in India's unstable Northeast, or shifts in Beijing's position on the Kashmir dispute. Hence, the reincarnation dilemma for India is not which Dalai Lama to choose but how to support the one in Dharamsala without provoking a huge crisis in relations with China. Behind this dilemma lurk the bigger questions about the future of the CTA and Tibetan movement in India as well as the role of the Tibet issue in China-India relations. Fortunately, India has long prepared to confront the reincarnation dilemma. New Delhi has likely drawn plans or at least carefully considered how to handle the complex politics of the reincarnation, the possibility of mass instability in Tibet after the Dalai Lama's passing, and Beijing's policy responses to these and to India's positions. Unfortunately, the changing international context has complicated India's plans. There are four ways in which the international context of the Dalai Lama's reincarnation in recent years has shifted and, hence, made New Delhi's reincarnation dilemma more difficult. First, the rivalry between China and India has greatly intensified, raising the likelihood of conflict. While even in the best of times, the Dalai Lama's passing would have produced tensions, at present it might provoke a crisis that will deliver a heavy blow to the shaky foundations of the China-India relationship. In the worst-case scenario, it might even be the straw that will turn the two sides into full-blown adversaries. Second, the territorial dispute between China and India has escalated in recent years, particularly after the deadly Galwan clash of 2020. As there has long been an intimate connection between the Tibet issue and the territorial dispute, the reincarnation dilemma might easily scupper any chance for progress on the dispute or reignite military tensions. Importantly, as Beijing has historically used the territorial dispute to pressure India on Tibet-related issues, it is likely to do so again after the Dalai Lama's reincarnation. Third, the ongoing China-U.S. Cold War has reshaped the international environment. This environment has made Beijing more sensitive to external challenges, with the reincarnation likely to be one, and more willing to respond harshly to them. As the United States has consistently been a leading supporter of Dharamsala, the reincarnation might easily turn into a flashpoint in the China-U.S. Cold War, which would reduce New Delhi's ability to manage tensions around the reincarnation. The fallout of these tensions will affect India as Beijing retaliates against New Delhi, which it will suspect of colluding with Washington. Finally, the international position of the Dalai Lama and the CTA have weakened in recent years. Internationally support for them has declined under Chinese pressure, in tandem with the weakening of the Tibetan community on Indian soil, and the strengthening of Beijing's position in Tibet. Admittedly, this has slightly reduced Beijing's great sensitivity on the issue. But it also means that New Delhi will have to play a much bigger role in sustaining the CTA and establishing the Dharamsala Dalai Lama in the difficult times after the passing of the current one. This increased Indian role will antagonize China even further and invite its response. In sum, the Dalai Lama's reincarnation presents India with an old and very consequential dilemma, put in a new context which makes it harder. This does not mean that the reincarnation will certainly produce a huge crisis in China-India relations. After all, if the two sides communicate and manage the reincarnation carefully, tensions will remain within tolerable limits. Nevertheless, it means that New Delhi's reincarnation dilemma will be more acute and its policy responses to it will have to be more skillful. A version of this piece was previously published on the website of the Institute of South Asian Studies (ISAS), National University of Singapore (NUS).
