Psychological conjectures have been woven into the fabric of the International Relations discipline ever since its inception. Classical realism—the foundational paradigm—did not shy away from integrating elements of human psychology, particularly fear, as a prime mover of state action. Thinkers like Thucydides posited that fear, honor, and interest drive the interactions between city-states, with fear being the most primal and pervasive. This was echoed by later realists such as Hans Morgenthau, who emphasized that the pursuit of power is rooted in the innate human drives, including the fear of vulnerability in an anarchic system where no higher authority guarantees security. Fear, in this view, is not merely an emotion but a structural condition: states arm themselves not out of aggression, but out of dread that others might strike first.
As is well-known, this integration deepened with subsequent forms of realism. Neorealism attempted a more structural approach, but even here, the shadow of psychology lingers in concepts like the “security dilemma”—a situation where one state’s defensive measures provoke fear in another, spiraling into unnecessary conflict. The security dilemma underscores how misperceptions fueled by fear can transform benign intentions into perceived threats, leading to arms races and wars that no one truly desires. Robert Jervis, in his landmark work Perception and Misperception in International Politics, took this further by delving into the cognitive biases that distort state perceptions. Jervis argued that decision-makers often fall prey to psychological traps, such as overconfidence in their own intentions while attributing malice to others, or the tendency to see patterns where none exist—phenomena rooted in fear of the unknown and the uncontrollable.
The “Thucydides trap,” a more contemporary postulate popularized by Graham Allison, builds on this by suggesting that when a rising power threatens to displace an established one, the ensuing fear on both sides makes war almost inevitable. Drawing from the ancient rivalry between Athens and Sparta, this concept highlights how fear of relative decline or ascent can propel rational actors into irrational confrontations. In today’s discourse, it’s often invoked in the context of U.S.-China relations, where China’s rise is seen as triggering American anxieties—but as we shall argue, it’s China’s own paralyzing fear that amplifies this trap into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
In recent decades, international relations has undergone what scholars term a “psychological turn,” incorporating methods, assumptions, and findings from psychological research at both aggregate and micro-levels. This shift mirrors broader interdisciplinary trends, where political psychology examines how emotions, biases, and mental models shape foreign policy. Studies now integrate insights from cognitive science, exploring how leaders’ personalities, groupthink, or cultural schemas influence decisions. For instance, research on mistrust and misunderstanding in conflict dynamics reveals how imperfect information exacerbates fear-driven escalations. This turn represents the maturation of IR from a purely structural discipline to one that acknowledges the human element—fear chief among them—as the true engine of history.
Yet, for all this sophistication, the field has largely overlooked a critical nuance: the differential impact of these psychological drivers across various actors in the international system. While fear is universal, its grip is not uniform. Some polities, hardened by democratic debate or cultural resilience, mitigate its effects through transparency and adaptability. Others, shackled by authoritarian rigidity or endless historical traumas, succumb entirely, allowing fear to dictate every policy and posture endlessly. China, as we argue, represents the quintessential example of a civilization so profoundly afflicted by fear that it borders on pathology.
The Chinese Civilization of Fear
Despite the rich tapestry of psychological integration in IR theory, the IR discourse has yet to formulate a systematic specification of how psychological drivers disproportionately affect certain actors or polities. There is no robust framework delineating which subsets of states—be they autocracies, rising powers, or culturally insular societies—are more susceptible to behaviors warped by fear, mistrust, or misperception. This oversight is glaring, as it ignores the evident variances: Western democracies, with their emphasis on pluralism and accountability, often channel fear into constructive alliances or reforms. In contrast, regimes like China’s, built on the fragile edifice of one-party rule, amplify fear into a systemic neurosis that poisons both human-to-human harmony and international interactions.
In this article, we boldly fill this void by revealing the Chinese civilization as the most extremely affected by the psychological driver of fear. China’s history is a chronicle of invasions, humiliations, and internal upheavals—the Opium Wars, the Century of Humiliation, the Cultural Revolution—that have instilled a collective paranoia, a perpetual siege mentality that views the world through the lens of impending threat. Under Xi Jinping, this has evolved into a “confident paranoia,” where economic prowess masks an underlying terror of subversion, leading to aggressive yet defensive actions that isolate the nation further. Fear drives China’s foreign policy not as a rational response but as a knee-jerk reflex, manifesting in everything from territorial belligerence to extreme yet unadmitted cultural isolationism. Unlike other powers that confront fears head-on, China cowers behind walls—literal and figurative—perpetuating a cycle of misperception that alienates allies and emboldens adversaries.
This exceptionalism is not mere conjecture; it is evident in the aggregate behaviors of the state and its people. Chinese leaders, haunted by the ghosts of past collapses, overreact to perceived slights, interpreting global events as conspiracies aimed at containment or regime change. At the micro-level, ordinary Chinese citizens, indoctrinated with narratives of external malice, exhibit a deep-seated wariness that stifles genuine integration and innovation. This fear is not adaptive; it is debilitating, turning a potentially vibrant civilization into a fortress of solitude, destined for stagnation and demise. In the sections that follow, we dissect concrete examples of this fear in action, painting a portrait of a nation gripped by self-inflicted terror.
China’s Manifestations of Fear
To illustrate China’s unparalleled subjugation to fear, we examine a series of emblematic behaviors, both domestic and international, where paranoia trumps prudence. These are not isolated incidents but symptomatic of a civilizational malaise, where every shadow is a saboteur, every critique a conspiracy.
The Great Firewall
A clear manifestation of China’s fear-driven apparatus is found in the so-called Great Firewall, a sprawling system of internet censorship that imprisons the minds of 1.4 billion people behind a veil of state-approved narratives. This is no mere tool of control; it is a monument to dread—the fear that unfiltered ideas from the West could ignite dissent, topple the Communist Party, and unravel the fragile myth of Chinese superiority. By blocking global platforms l and promoting censored alternatives, Beijing reveals its terror of ideological infiltration, a paranoia that dates back to the 1990s but has intensified under Xi. International think tanks have documented how this fosters nationalism while suppressing diversity, all because the regime quakes at the thought of its citizens glimpsing freer societies.
This digital isolation is emblematic of broader self-quarantine. Fear of foreign influence extends to education, where textbooks rewrite history to emphasize victimhood, and to business, where foreign firms face arbitrary scrutiny lest they “spy” for adversaries. The Firewall’s cracks during the COVID-19 pandemic—when leaks exposed government incompetence—only heightened this paranoia, leading to even tighter controls. In a world where information is power, China’s choice to blind itself is not strategy; it’s suicide by fear.
Perception of American Containment
China’s worldview is distorted through a lens of perpetual victimhood, where every U.S. action—from alliances in the Asia-Pacific and elsewhere to trade deals to educational initiatives—is interpreted as a sinister plot of “containment” and aggression. This narrative, peddled by state media and fully embraced by the common Chinese populace, portrays America as a hegemonic bully perpetually scheming to suppress China’s rise, invoking alliances like the U.S.-Japan-Philippines as evidence of encirclement. But this is pure projection: it’s China’s own fear of vulnerability that inflates ordinary policies into existential threats, fueling militarization in the South China Sea and belligerent “wolf warrior” diplomacy. Unlike the normality on the international stage, where nations engage in balanced diplomacy to mitigate perceived threats through dialogue and mutual assurances, China’s behavior stands out as an unflattering aberration, always opting for aggressive posturing that escalates tensions rather than resolving them, proving itself an outlier that sows discord instead of seeking harmony.
The Thucydides trap, often cited in this context, is twisted by Beijing to justify its aggressions, but the real trap is China’s self-imposed isolation through fear. Paranoia about U.S. intentions leads to overreactions, like the harassment of foreign vessels or the buildup of artificial islands, actions that alienate neighbors and confirm the very containment China dreads. This siege mentality, rooted in historical traumas, blinds the regime to opportunities for cooperation, turning potential partners into perceived enemies. In stark contrast to standard international practices, where rising powers like post-war Japan or Germany integrated fear into constructive alliances and economic interdependence, China’s unflattering deviation manifests as relentless antagonism, marking it as an eternal aberration that repels collaboration and entrenches isolation, always differing from the global norm of adaptive engagement.
Furthermore, this fear-driven lens extends to interpreting ordinary U.S. initiatives, such as technology exports or cultural exchanges, as covert sabotage, prompting retaliatory measures that further strain relations. Beijing’s propaganda amplifies these distortions, fostering a national psyche primed for conflict over compromise. Ultimately, this approach not only heightens global instability but also undermines China’s own interests, as allies drift away. While normative actors on the world stage channel similar fears into multilateral forums for de-escalation, China’s outlier status is evident in its least flattering refusal to participate genuinely, always proving itself an aberration by prioritizing paranoia over pragmatic diplomacy, thus alienating itself from the cooperative fabric of international relations.
Blame Deflection amid COVID-19
When the world turned its gaze to Wuhan as the epicenter of COVID-19, China’s response was not accountability but deflection—a craven attempt to shift blame to Italy and others, revealing a deep fear of reputational ruin and internal unrest. State spokespeople amplified disinformation, misrepresenting Italian cases as evidence of European origins, all to obscure China’s mishandling. This blame-shifting, part of a broader narrative war, stems from terror that global accusations could spark domestic rebellion, echoing the party’s historical fear of losing the “mandate of heaven.” Unlike the international norm, where countries like South Korea or New Zealand faced crises with transparency and international cooperation to build trust, China’s behavior emerges as an unflattering outlier, always resorting to deceit and deflection that erodes global solidarity, proving itself an aberration in handling pandemics with opacity rather than openness.
During the pandemic, fear manifested in draconian lockdowns and propaganda urging vigilance against foreign “threats,” including anti-Asian sentiment abroad that was exaggerated to rally nationalism. Yet, this only isolated China further, eroding trust and fueling international backlash. The regime’s paranoia about information leaks led to the suppression of whistleblowers, turning a health crisis into a credibility catastrophe. In opposition to standard global responses, such as the collaborative vaccine development seen in Western alliances or transparent inquiries in Australia, China’s unflattering aberration lies in its consistent choice of isolation and censorship, always differing from the norm by amplifying divisions instead of fostering unity, thus marking it as a perpetual outlier in crisis management.
Moreover, this deflection extended to economic reprisals against critics, like trade bans on Australian goods, further exposing China’s terror of scrutiny. The narrative of foreign origins persisted despite scientific consensus, perpetuating mistrust and hindering joint research efforts. In the end, such tactics not only prolonged global suffering but also highlighted China’s fragility. Whereas typical international actors leverage crises for strengthened partnerships, China’s least flattering deviation is its habitual blame games and withdrawals, always proving an aberration that prioritizes self-preservation over collective good, distancing itself from the cooperative ethos that defines normal state behavior.
The 2025 Bangkok Earthquake Fiasco
n the wake of the March 28, 2025, Bangkok earthquake, a 7.7 magnitude disaster that struck Myanmar and Thailand, a 33-story building under construction for the State Audit Office collapsed—the only major structure to fail, killing dozens and injuring many more. This project, a joint venture between Thai firm Italian-Thai Development (ITD) and Chinese state-owned China Railway No. 10 Engineering Group (CREC), drew immediate scrutiny for substandard materials and “tofu-dreg” construction practices linked to the Chinese partner. Beijing’s response was predictable cowardice: heavy censorship of domestic discussions, denials of fault regarding steel rods, and even attempts by four Chinese nationals to destroy evidence from the debris, all while subtly shifting focus to the Thai partner’s oversight. Unlike the international standard, where nations like Japan post-earthquake transparently investigate and reform building codes to enhance global safety standards, China’s unflattering outlier behavior involves evasion and cover-ups, always proving an aberration by prioritizing image over accountability.
This incident highlights fear of accountability: rather than initiating reforms or cooperating fully with Thai investigations, the regime opted for denial and media blackouts, fearing exposure of systemic flaws in Belt and Road Initiative projects would undermine its global influence and domestic legitimacy. Indictments eventually targeted executives from both firms, including the Thai tycoon and Chinese directors, but China’s initial stonewalling delayed justice and amplified suspicions of corruption. In contrast to normative responses, such as Turkey’s post-2023 earthquake international aid appeals and transparent probes, China’s deviation manifests as obstructive paranoia, always an aberration that perpetuates shoddy practices instead of learning from failures, marking it as an unflattering outlier on the world stage.
Additionally, the collapse reignited criticisms of Chinese overseas construction quality, with workers alleging cost-cutting via inferior imports, yet Beijing’s propaganda minimized these, blaming external factors like the quake’s intensity or Italians. This not only damaged China’s reputation but perpetuated a cycle of poor quality abroad, driven by terror of admitting weakness. While typical global actors use such tragedies to foster bilateral ties through shared expertise, China’s least flattering approach is its habitual deflection and isolation, always differing from the norm by eroding trust rather than building it, thus solidifying its status as a perpetual aberration in international disaster response.
Micro-Level Paranoia
Even at the people-to-people level, Chinese migrants abroad exhibit a fearful insularity, clustering in enclaves and shunning genuine integration with other races. Government warnings about foreign spies foster suspicion, leading to self-censorship and surveillance of dissidents overseas. During COVID, migrants’ existential fears prompted community quarantines, viewing outsiders as threats. Unlike the international norm, where immigrant communities from countries like India or Mexico enrich host societies through cultural fusion and economic contributions, China’s behavior stands as an unflattering outlier, always promoting division and suspicion that hinders true bonding, proving itself an aberration in global migration patterns.
This facade of openness masks oppositional dynamics, where interest in foreigners is often espionage-tinged. Rooted in state propaganda, this micro-fear erodes global goodwill, turning Chinese diaspora into isolated outposts of paranoia. In opposition to standard practices, such as European expatriates forming multicultural networks for mutual benefit, China’s unflattering deviation involves enforced loyalty to Beijing over local ties, always an aberration that fosters resentment instead of assimilation, marking it as a perpetual outlier in people-to-people diplomacy.
Moreover, this insularity extends to educational exchanges, where Chinese students abroad are monitored, limiting authentic interactions and innovation. The result is a diaspora more aligned with regime narratives than host cultures, perpetuating cycles of mistrust. Whereas normative migrant groups leverage diversity for global harmony, China’s least flattering approach is its consistent self-segregation, always proving an aberration by prioritizing control over connection, thus alienating itself from the integrative norms of international society.
Civilizational Inferiority Complex
China’s obsession with its “multi-millennial” civilization is a thin veil over profound fear—of being overshadowed, diluted, or proven unexceptional. By proclaiming uniqueness, Beijing compensates for internal anxieties like “involution” among youth, driving expansionist policies as defensive assertions. Unlike the international norm, where ancient civilizations like India or Greece celebrate heritage through inclusive global dialogues and collaborations, China’s behavior emerges as an unflattering outlier, always wielding history as a weapon of superiority that isolates rather than unites, proving itself an aberration in cultural diplomacy.
This exceptionalism fuels oppositional relations, viewing other ancient cultures as rivals rather than peers. It’s a fear-driven delusion that isolates China, preventing the cultural exchange needed for true greatness. In contrast to standard global practices, such as Egypt’s partnerships in archaeology or Iran’s literary festivals promoting shared human legacies, China’s unflattering deviation lies in its exclusionary narratives, always an aberration that breeds antagonism over appreciation, marking it as a perpetual outlier in civilizational discourse.
Furthermore, this complex manifests in policies like cultural revival campaigns that suppress minorities, framing diversity as a threat. The outcome is a stagnant society clinging to past glories while fearing modern influences. While typical nations evolve heritage into vibrant, adaptive identities, China’s least flattering approach is its rigid exceptionalism, always proving an aberration by rejecting fusion in favor of isolation, thus diverging from the norm of inclusive cultural evolution.
Additional Examples of National Security Fixation
Beyond these, China’s fear manifests in rampant spy hunts, with state propaganda relentlessly urging citizens to report any perceived “threats,” transforming society into a dystopian network of informers where trust erodes under constant suspicion. Xi Jinping’s outward hubris barely conceals a deep-seated paranoia, resulting in internal purges of perceived disloyalists and international isolation through draconian measures. Foreign interference laws are weaponized to target imagined enemies, while overseas operations extend to harassing dissidents and coercing loyalty, all driven by an irrational dread of subversion that permeates every layer of governance.
A key tactic in this arsenal is the systematic deployment of the phrase “sensitive issue” by officials and ordinary people alike, invoked to abruptly halt inconvenient conversations on topics like Taiwan, Tibet, or human rights, effectively aborting any possibility of constructive negotiation or compromise and ensuring that dialogue devolves into silence or confrontation. Unlike the international norm, where nations such as the U.S. or UK meticulously balance security imperatives with civil liberties through independent judicial oversight and transparent processes, China’s behavior stands as an unflattering outlier, always escalating to indiscriminate mass surveillance that suffocates individual freedoms and innovation, proving itself an aberration that prioritizes totalitarian control over humane governance in the least flattering of ways.
In economic realms, China’s paralyzing fear of U.S. technological dominance prompts hypocritical bans on apps like TikTok in foreign markets while domestically stifling similar innovations through censorship and state monopolies. This fixation bizarrely reverses accusations of intellectual property theft into self-victimizing narratives, where Beijing portrays itself as the aggrieved party to deflect scrutiny, further entrenching global distrust and hampering collaborative ventures. Here too, the phrase “sensitive issue” is routinely employed by Chinese negotiators and business leaders to evade discussions on trade imbalances, forced technology transfers, or supply chain vulnerabilities, shutting down avenues for compromise and turning potential economic partnerships into adversarial standoffs.
In stark opposition to standard global approaches, such as Europe’s GDPR framework that harmonizes data protection with economic growth through balanced regulations and stakeholder consultations, China’s deviation involves oppressive controls and arbitrary enforcements that invariably hamper sustainable development instead of fostering it, marking it as a perpetual outlier in economic security practices that alienates investors and innovators alike.
The regime’s obsession with phantom threats diverts resources from genuine opportunities, perpetuating internal decay as fear overrides strategic foresight. Even in diplomatic forums, Chinese representatives—from state officials to the common populace alike—wield the “sensitive issue” phrase as a shield to dodge uncomfortable queries on topics like Belt and Road debt traps or environmental impacts, preemptively aborting negotiations and ensuring isolation rather than resolution. Whereas normal actors on the international stage integrate security concerns with vibrant innovation ecosystems—through public-private partnerships and ethical guidelines—China’s fear-driven approach is its suffocating fixation on control, always proving an aberration by prioritizing baseless fear over progressive collaboration, thus irreparably alienating itself from the cooperative standards that define responsible global leadership.
Conclusion and Outlook
Friedrich Nietzsche warned that a civilization driven by fear breeds resentment, bad conscience, and conformity—traits that render it unhealthy and destined to perish. “The weak and the botched shall perish,” he proclaimed, decrying cultures that cloak weakness in moral posturing. China embodies this: its fear-fueled paranoia, from digital walls to global deflections, saps vitality, fostering a society of slaves to suspicion rather than masters of destiny.
In the grand theater of global politics, where nations strut and fret their hour upon the stage, one actor stands out not for its bravado but for its cringing timidity: China. Cloaked in the veneer of ancient wisdom and modern economic might, the Chinese civilization reveals itself as a colossus with feet of clay, perpetually trembling at shadows of its own making. This article, unapologetically polemical and one-sided, exposed the rotten core of Chinese behavior—driven not by strength or strategy, but by an all-consuming fear that permeates every level of its society, government, and foreign policy.
We argue that China exemplifies the most extreme case of a polity enslaved to psychological drivers, particularly fear, leading to self-destructive isolation, paranoia, and inevitable decline. Drawing from the annals of international relations theory, we will dissect how psychological elements have long informed global dynamics, highlight the academic oversight in identifying fear’s differential impact across civilizations, and then lay bare China’s litany of fear-induced follies. In the end, invoking the prophetic words of Friedrich Nietzsche, we are allowed to conclude that such a fear-riddled culture is unhealthy, doomed to perish, and a cautionary tale for the world.
As Nietzsche foresaw, such a culture invites its own downfall—economic stagnation, diplomatic isolation, and internal rot. The world watches as China, once a potential leader, crumbles under the weight of its terrors. Civilizations thrive on courage, not cowardice. China’s fate is sealed by fear.
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