Today, China casts itself as Africa’s partner in development, while embedding itself in the continent’s economic and political life.
In 1962, the British historical epic Lawrence of Arabia depicted an English soldier fighting a colonial power — the Ottomans. In 2017, the hero is Chinese, the film is Wolf Warrior II, and the enemies are US mercenaries.
Much has changed between these two films, yet the parallel is also remarkable.
TE Lawrence, played by Peter O’Toole, appears to fight for Arab liberation, but in doing so, he clears the way for British dominance in the Middle East. Similarly, as People’s Liberation Army soldier Leng Feng rescues Africans from foreign mercenaries, he advances the image of China as Africa’s protector.
Both films centre on a foreign saviour, supposedly superior, whose triumph benefits his homeland as much as those he claims to help.
In Lawrence of Arabia, a British officer assures King Faisal that “British and Arab interests are one and the same”. In Wolf Warrior II, the same logic applies — Chinese and African interests align. Indeed, an illusion of benevolence is a common denominator in imperial discourse.
Lawrence echoes Rudyard Kipling’s poem White Man’s Burden, a defence of European imperialism. China has yet to produce a similar literary justification but its rhetoric of “development” mirrors Europe’s “civilising mission”.
Both Britain and China emerge victorious on screen. Off-screen, however, the future of China’s global role is less certain.
European empires annexed territory. China avoids this, preferring dominance through economic power. Beijing insists it does not “interfere” in domestic affairs.
The sensitivity is rooted in its own history of humiliation by the West, and yet China is hardly hands-off. Its foreign policy increasingly adapts to its rising global responsibilities. Wolf Warrior II dramatises this shift — the protagonist’s mission is not to defeat rebels but to evacuate Chinese nationals, echoing Beijing’s 2015 rescue operation in Yemen.
Another difference lies in the balance of power. European colonialism often relied on the economy of power — a minimal military presence combined with indirect rule through local institutions. China, by contrast, emphasises the power of economy—trade, loans and investment.
Europe’s imperialism was polycentric, directed from London, Paris, Brussels, Lisbon and Rome. China, despite its rhetoric of multipolarity, seeks a uni-centric order, positioning itself at the hub of global commerce.
European empires justified rule through racial hierarchies.
China, at least in official discourse, emphasises a “developmental mission”. Where Europe claimed to civilise, China promises to build.
There is also the question of accountability. Formal colonialism meant direct responsibility — if a colony failed, the ruling power bore the blame.
By contrast, China’s “empire of control” avoids direct governance.
Beijing exerts influence but disclaims responsibility when things go wrong. Its strategy resembles that of a causal empire —shaping outcomes without overtly assuming ownership.
Like Britain in India, China is training an increasing number of African students, building cultural bonds alongside technical expertise. Graduates often return home with skills — and loyalties — shaped by their years in China.
Infrastructure, too, links China with earlier empires. Railways and ports were central to European colonialism, designed to move raw materials from Africa’s interior to the coast.
China’s projects follow roughly the same logic. Sometimes exactly so — in 2017, the century-old French-built line from Addis Ababa to Djibouti was replaced with a Chinese-built electric railway. That same year, the British-built Nairobi–Mombasa railway gave way to a Chinese version. These parallels are striking — once again, Africa exports primary commodities and imports manufactured goods.
European colonisation of Africa was driven by expedience, competition and greed. Slogans such as “civilising mission” or “white man’s burden” often rationalised expansion after the fact.
China’s approach seems more deliberate. The Belt and Road Initiative is a carefully designed strategy to bind Africa, Eurasia and beyond into a Sino-centric economic system.
Yet appearances deceive. China’s model may resemble less the territorial empires of 19th-century Europe and more the informal global empire of 20th-century America — an empire without colonies — but with far-reaching influence through markets, institutions and strategic control.
The cinematic shift from Lawrence of Arabia to Wolf Warrior II reflects broader transformations in global power.
Britain once projected itself as the liberator of oppressed peoples, even while tightening its imperial grip. Today, China casts itself as Africa’s partner in development, while embedding itself in the continent’s economic and political life.
Both narratives cloak ambition in altruism. Both equate the empire’s interests with those of the “liberated”.
And both remind us that even as empires change their form — from territorial conquest to economic entanglement — the underlying patterns of domination, justification and self-interest remain strikingly familiar.
Seifudein Adem is a visiting professor at the Institute for Advanced Research and Education, Doshisha University, Kyoto, Japan.