China’s foreign joint venture universities face increased scrutiny amid tightening political controls

Students and faculty at these institutions, once celebrated for their liberal campus culture, are now seeing tighter restrictions on clubs, curriculum, and classroom discussions. Richard Li, a 21-year-old student and president of a Japanese culture club at a Sino-foreign university in China, found himself in an unexpected situation after a club meeting. A faculty supervisor pulled him aside, warning that none of his proposals for club activities would be approved.

He was stunned. The reason? His plans promoted Japanese culture at a time when tensions between China and Japan had risen due to Japan’s discharge of radioactive water into the sea. “Our club has never faced such restrictions before,” said Li. “I didn’t expect this at a Sino-foreign joint university.” The clampdown came from the university’s Communist Party Youth League committee, which oversees student activities. According to Li, the committee has become far stricter since June of last year, particularly affecting clubs focused on foreign cultures, LGBTQ+ issues, and feminism.

Li’s experience reflects a broader trend across China’s universities, where political control is tightening. Sino-foreign joint universities-partnerships between overseas institutions and Chinese counterparts-are feeling the chill too. These universities, 15 in total, collaborate with institutions from countries like the U.S., Britain, and Hong Kong. For Chinese students who want an “international” education without leaving the country, these schools offer a unique blend of globally recognized degrees and a more liberal campus atmosphere. But lately, that freedom is being eroded.

At Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University, a partnership between the University of Liverpool and Xi’an Jiaotong University, the campus environment has changed. With more than 17,000 students, around 10% of whom are international, this university once fostered a freer, more open atmosphere. A civic education instructor, who has been teaching at a Sino-foreign university for over 15 years, recalls the protests in 2011 when students spoke out against anti-LGBT remarks by a staff member. Rainbow flags filled the campus, and the administration didn’t interfere. “That kind of open protest would never happen today,” he reflected. “The times have changed.”

Xia Ming, a political science professor at the City University of New York, attributes the recent clampdowns to Beijing’s growing concerns over ideological control on campuses. “The government is increasingly paranoid about maintaining control over what is taught and discussed at universities,” he said. This shift in governance is evident in several ways, including an increase in military training for students at joint universities.

“I chose this university because I heard the military training period would be short,” said a fourth-year student. “But now, we have to do two weeks of it.” The training periods have grown longer each year, signaling the government’s aim to instill discipline and control in students.

John Chen, a recent graduate, shared how the university’s initial appeal was its apparent distance from politics. “When I applied, we were told there wouldn’t be any mandatory political courses,” he said. “But suddenly, they introduced ideological and political education, and we had to make up for it.”

For some faculty, the growing restrictions are even more troubling. A Taiwanese lecturer, who has taught at a Sino-foreign university for five years, recalled how he was once warned by the head of faculty after making critical remarks about Chinese politics in class. Since then, he’s been cautious, fearing he might lose his job.
“I used to discuss ideas like freedom and democracy because they are technically part of China’s core socialist values,” he explained. “But now, those conversations are risky, and I feel the pressure every day.”

Many professors, particularly Chinese nationals, have become more careful about what they say in class. While some foreign instructors still try to give students broader perspectives, most are aware that teaching in China comes with limitations. Xia, the political science professor, pointed out that Chinese faculty members, especially those who have studied abroad, are more cautious because they likely won’t be able to secure teaching positions outside of China if they leave.

At the same time, China’s Sino-foreign universities are aligning more closely with traditional Chinese institutions. According to Xie Maosong, a senior researcher at Tsinghua University, the state’s educational reforms are aimed at fostering national identity, which means aligning these joint universities with local ideological standards.

This doesn’t mean academic freedom has been entirely stifled. Some students report that outside the classroom, they can still explore non-mainstream topics, like LGBTQ+ issues, in their research. “We can usually choose whatever topic we want for our essays,” said Zhao, a third-year student. “And our teachers don’t grade us lower if our arguments don’t follow the official narrative.”

However, the campus atmosphere has undoubtedly shifted. The COVID-19 pandemic saw an exodus of foreign faculty and students, which many say has made these once-vibrant campuses feel a bit dull. “It’s rare to see foreign students singing or organizing events now,” Chen said. “Without them, the campus feels more rigid.”

Despite the challenges, some Sino-foreign universities maintain a good relationship with local governments, which allows them a bit more flexibility in how they operate. Still, for lecturers like Wang, who now feels constantly under scrutiny, campus life is no longer what it used to be.
“I feel like I’m being watched all the time,” he admitted. “The atmosphere keeps getting tighter, little by little.”

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