Stefan Jovanović is Vice President of the Center for International Relations and Sustainable Development (CIRSD). He previously served as a Member of Parliament of the Republic of Serbia and as a Country Representative to the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe.
Since the beginning of the latest wave of conflict in the Middle East, Western political and media circles have often claimed that China is “loudly silent.” The Economist recently captured this perception through Napoleon’s maxim: “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.” However, such an interpretation may not fully grasp the essence of China’s approach.
From the beginning of the war in Iran, China has not acted theatrically. It has not tried to dominate the headlines, nor has it sought to demonstrate power through dramatic statements. Margaret Thatcher’s famous remark perhaps describes this best: “Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.” In China’s case, restraint can be read less as a sign of weakness and more as an expression of political confidence. Beijing did not believe that its relevance had to be proven through a public display of power. Instead, it sought to preserve communication channels, regional relationships, and room for diplomatic action—which in diplomatic circles is often regarded as a prudent approach.
What at times appeared in the West as passivity was, from the Chinese perspective, closer to strategic patience. Beijing was assessing the moment in which it could influence not only the daily dynamics of the crisis, but also the broader framework of discussion about the future regional order.
This corresponds to China’s basic foreign policy logic. The principle of peaceful coexistence is not merely a diplomatic formula from the past. Today, it rests on the assumption that a regional order cannot be built on permanent escalation or on the attempt to permanently remove one side from the political equation. From that perspective, restrained rhetoric is not passivity, but consistency.
In that sense, President Xi Jinping’s meeting with Sheikh Khaled bin Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi, on April 14th in Beijing was an important signal. This was not merely a bilateral meeting with one of the key actors in the Gulf, but a moment in which China translated its general rhetoric about peace and stability into a more precise political framework.
That proposed framework can be summarized in four points:
First, China starts from the principle of peaceful coexistence. This means rejecting the logic in which one side must be permanently defeated or humiliated, an approach that has often proved counterproductive in the past.
Second, Beijing insists on national sovereignty as a fundamental premise of the international order. In China’s view, stability can hardly exist if sovereignty is treated selectively, depending on the interests of great powers.
Third, China emphasizes the international rule of law. This is probably the politically sharpest part of the message, because it points to the problem of double standards and the selective application of international rules—a problem acknowledged even by many Western analysts.
Fourth, China’s approach links development and security. Beijing starts from the idea that the Middle East cannot be stabilized through military arrangements alone, but also through trade, energy, infrastructure, investment, and economic connectivity.
This is precisely why President Xi Jinping’s four-point proposal should be understood as China’s attempt to offer a different framework for discussing the Middle East. Instead of the logic of power projection and domination, Beijing proposes the logic of peaceful coexistence, sovereignty, rules, and development—a framework that is not necessarily opposed to Western efforts, but complements them in a way that better corresponds to the sentiments of the Global South.
The first important feature of this proposal is that it does not start from the logic of absolute victory by one side. This is especially significant for the Middle East, a region where maximalist objectives over previous decades have often produced more instability than solutions. Attempts at regime change, foreign interventions, and strategies of permanent military pressure have revealed serious limitations. China’s message is simple: sustainable order is rarely built on permanent escalation.
The second element, the insistence on sovereignty, has even broader significance. In Western security debates, sovereignty is increasingly treated as a conditional category. In China’s approach, as in much of the Global South, it remains the foundation of the international order. That is why this Chinese position should not be read as abstract ideology, but as protection against the selective use of force. This gives China a certain political advantage, because its position resonates with the experience of countries that have long been objects, rather than subjects, of international politics.
The third point, the international rule of law, may be the most sensitive for the West. When Beijing speaks about the selective application of international law, it is not merely criticizing individual actions. It is raising the question of how the international system loses stability when rules cease to be universal. In the Middle East, this message carries particular weight, because regional actors have lived for decades with the consequences of precisely such selectivity.
The fourth component, linking development and security, shows where China’s real comparative advantage lies. Beijing is not trying to replace the United States as the dominant military power in the Gulf. Its influence comes from a different kind of presence: trade, energy, infrastructure, investment, and technology. This is power that is not based primarily on military bases, but on long-term economic ties. From that perspective, China’s approach appears pragmatic.
That is why the relationship with the UAE is especially important. The Emirates are both a significant energy partner for China and a relevant political connection to the wider region. When China speaks about the stability of the Middle East, it does so from the position of a power with a direct interest in keeping the region functional, connected, and open. This makes the Chinese plan more pragmatic than declaratory.
Likewise, in here lies the significance of Xi’s initiative. Its strength is not that it can immediately resolve the crisis. No plan can do that. Its strength lies in showing that the discussion about the Middle East is no longer conducted exclusively in Western terms. China is trying to shift the crisis from the logic of urgent military reaction to the logic of long-term political arrangement.
This is a potentially important change. If the American approach has for decades rested on security architecture, military guarantees, and crisis management, the Chinese approach offers a different formula: stability through sovereignty, development, and interdependence. This formula does not automatically replace the existing order, but it complements it and points to its weaknesses.
For that reason, China’s plan deserves attention. Not because it is perfect, nor because it will change the Middle East or the world overnight, but because it reflects a new reality in international relations. Beijing is no longer merely an economic actor observing crises from a distance. It is increasingly trying to shape the political language of a multipolar world.
In that sense, China’s message is not one of withdrawal, but of patient power—a concept with a long tradition in international relations. China is not trying to be the loudest actor in the room, but rather the actor whose framework becomes increasingly relevant. The claim that China is “silent” may say more about different diplomatic cultures than about Beijing’s actual influence. Chinese diplomacy simply speaks the language of long-term order, not Western urgency.
