Made in China’ no longer means cheap plastic knockoffs. By 2014 Xiaomi, with its sleek smartphones, was seen as the “Apple of China”. Photo: File
Not long ago, the words “Made in China” conjured up images of flimsy plastic toys, dodgy electronics and counterfeit designer handbags. For much of the world, it was shorthand for cheap, low-quality goods that generally labelled China as the factory floor of the world, not its innovation lab.
Today however, that label appears on drones filming Hollywood blockbusters, smartphones that are increasingly competing with the iPhone and electric vehicles rolling on roads globally. Even the apps we scroll, from Shein to Temu to TikTok, are Chinese creations that have woven themselves into the fabric of everyday life around the world.
Somehow, between counterfeit products and next-generation gadgets, China stopped copying the future and started building it. The result? As China’s products advanced and improved, so did perception. Not only of Chinese goods but of China itself.
China’s rise from mass producer to global tech giant did not happen overnight. In the 1990s and 2000s, the country was viewed as a producer of inferior knockoff products, which were mass produced in unregulated sweatshops. The perspective was largely driven by “Shanzhai culture”, which is basically the imitation of proprietary brands, such as electronics and fashion products.
Although this market thrived in China and globally, foreign firms were frustrated by intellectual property theft. Chinese authorities, too, were concerned about the effect of the Shanzhai phenomenon, fearing that the country’s global reputation would be permanently tarnished.
But, by the 2010s, a subtle revolution was starting. Chinese firms began investing heavily in research and development of innovative industries, shifting from the typical low-end manufacturing to high-value tech industries.
In 2013, Time magazine ran an article titled Why China Can’t Create Anything reflecting global scepticism. The author, Michael Schuman, argued that “The country can no longer rely on just making lots of stuff; China has to invent things, design them, brand them and market them. Instead of following the leaders of global industry, China has to produce leaders of its own.” Schuman goes on to add, “Few emerging nations in modern times have made the leap from assembler to inventor, copycat to innovator.” China did exactly that.
By 2014, Xiaomi was commanding headlines as the “Apple of China”, delivering sleek smartphones at a fraction of the cost of its Western counterparts. In 2015, Beijing launched the “Made in China 2025” initiative aimed at securing the country’s position as a global powerhouse in high-value technology, as well as heavily investing in domestic companies, allowing them to compete both locally and globally.
Consumer drone company DJI, which makes drones used in Hollywood blockbusters like Shogun and Dune: Part Two, emerged as a global leader in cutting-edge hardware.
Today, Huawei smartphones can compete toe-to-toe with Apple on camera benchmark and network performance tests. BYD and Geely are outselling Western EVs like Tesla in parts of Asia, Latin America and Europe, largely because of their innovative and affordable vehicle models.
And, perhaps most significantly, ByteDance’s TikTok has revolutionised social media engagement with a powerful recommendation algorithm that Western platforms are struggling to recreate.
Dominance in other fields, such as high-speed rail, 5G and solar technology infrastructure, shows that China is no longer catching up. It is setting the pace. The evolution, however, has not come without geopolitical tensions.
As Chinese products become increasingly used and trusted by consumers globally, they generate soft power for their nation that very few governments can match. One does not need to subscribe to Beijing’s ideology to rely on its ever innovative and reliable technology and that directly translates to influence.
The rise of China in these industries means different things to different people. In the Global South, Chinese technology evokes the opportunity, affordable connectivity, renewable energy and mass transport that Western firms have largely been unable to fulfil. Countries across the Global South are becoming more reliant on Chinese-made infrastructure and devices, not out of ideology, but because of their affordable nature and reliability.
In the West, however, a strange contradiction unfolds. Citizens continue to embrace platforms like Shein and TikTok, while policymakers are increasingly hostile because of dependency and national security concerns. In some cases, fearing the ideological influence of China through these platforms, Western governments have responded accordingly.
Concerns over possible espionage in Huawei’s 5G hardware led several states, including the US, to ban the company from critical networks. Increasing fear over national security concerns, data privacy and possible influence fuelled efforts to curb TikTok’s operations in the US, despite overwhelming youth support. And now new tariffs and export controls on electronic vehicle components and advanced chips aim not to punish poor performance, but rather slow down China’s progress relative to more established suppliers.
This tension highlights a crucial reality that is happening in front of us — China’s technological ascent is no longer just a commercial success story; it is a geopolitical one.
As perceptions of China evolve, so will the strategies of nations. The next frontier of geopolitics will not be decided in summits or trade sanctions. It is happening in cyber ecosystems, in the global showrooms of app stores and online platforms. The more the world relies on Chinese tech, the more China’s sphere of influence expands.
The West may fear ideological influence and data breaches. The Global South may welcome the chance for connectivity and participation. But what is undeniable either way is a perception shift has taken root. Global consumers today, knowingly or not, are casting votes of confidence in China’s technological future, and in doing so, are helping shape the map of global influence as we know it.
Orefile Babeile is a second-year master’s student of international relations at North-West University.