The lesson is delivered not in a lecture hall filled with students, but in the sterile, silent exchange between two of the most powerful men in the world.
The first scene of instruction is set deep within Shanghai's Public Security Bureau, in a vast, cold chamber known as the 'Smart City Brain' Command Center. The only light comes from a colossal, wall-to-wall screen that casts an electric blue glow on the faces of Xi Jinping and his guest, Vladimir Putin. On the screen is not a map, but a living, digital twin of the city of 25 million people, every car, pedestrian, and transaction rendered as a pulsing data point in an orderly, algorithmic flow.
Xi, his expression a mask of serene, almost placid pride, gestures towards the screen. Putin, his posture rigid, watches with a reptilian stillness. He is a student, and a deeply discerning one. At a subtle nod from Xi, an operator zooms in on a university campus where an AI-driven system has flagged a small group of social science students for "pre-criminal intervention," their profiles flagged for showing an "unhealthy interest" in the Hong Kong protests. On the screen, they also see a different map: a global network of undersea cables and satellite data links, all being built by Chinese companies. It is a vision of total information dominance, not just for China, but for a new global order where data, and thus power, flows not through Silicon Valley, but through Shanghai and Beijing. Putin says nothing, but his eyes reveal a deep appreciation. This is not mere surveillance; it is omniscience, a system where dissent is predicted, managed, and engineered out of existence before it can form.
The scene then cuts to a different kind of darkness, the heavy, tsarist gloom of a private briefing room deep within the Kremlin. Putin sits alone, his face illuminated by the flickering light of a projection screen showing grainy footage from the cold Kyiv winter of 2014. A sea of protestors on the Maidan surges forward, toppling a bronze statue of Lenin. He sees not a popular uprising, but a "technologically-assisted subversion." He remembers his time as a KGB officer in Dresden, watching the Berlin Wall fall, the feeling of impotence as the crowd surged past, dissolving the empire he had sworn to serve. For him, the Maidan is not a foreign event; it is a personal nightmare on repeat.
The chapter culminates in a fictional but symbolic "masterclass" that welds the Chinese solution to the Russian fear. Inside a sterile conference room at the CCP’s Central Party School, a senior, silver-haired theorist—Professor Qiao—is lecturing visiting officers from Russia's FSB and SVR. His tone is that of a calm, intellectual surgeon.
"You must understand," Professor Qiao says, "the primary threat to state stability in our century is not a tank army. It is an idea. Therefore, the state's first duty is to control the informational battlespace."
"Lesson one," he continues, "the internet is not a public square. It is a battlefield. You must occupy its every commanding height. Censor, yes, but that is rudimentary. The goal is to create a sealed information ecosystem, to flood the zone with your narrative so thoroughly that counter-narratives are not just banned, but become psychologically inconceivable to the average citizen."
"Lesson two: You must treat Western NGOs, independent media, and concepts like 'universal human rights' not as arguments to be debated, but as invasive pathogens. Label independent journalists as 'foreign agents.' Use tax audits and opaque laws to shut down critical media. They are not designed to improve your country; they are designed to disintegrate it."
He pauses. "Finally, the ultimate goal of your surveillance architecture. It is not to punish dissent, but to atomize your society. You must make your population so transparent to the state, and so opaque to each other, that the very concept of organized, collective opposition becomes a psychological impossibility."
A Russian general, a veteran of the Chechen wars, takes a slow, deliberate note. He finally understands. The immaculate digital panopticon in Shanghai and the muddy, chaotic virus on the screen in the Kremlin were not two separate things. They were the disease and the cure. The lesson confirmed that their alliance was no longer one of mere convenience. It was now one of deep, shared, and terrified conviction.
39.1 Sovereignty Above All
Beyond pragmatic geopolitics, the Sino-Russian partnership is anchored in a deeply shared ideology: a belief in the absolute supremacy of state sovereignty and a mutual hostility towards liberal democracy. They champion a 19th-century, Westphalian concept of sovereignty, where a state's internal actions are completely immune from external scrutiny. This is a direct assault on the 20th-century liberal concept of "sovereignty as responsibility," which underpins norms like the Responsibility to Protect (R2P). They are not just defending their own sovereignty; they are trying to dismantle the entire legal and moral framework of international human rights law that allows for external judgment of a state's behavior toward its own people. This shared worldview is based on a mutual defense which they wield as a shield to reject any international criticism, be it for Russia's conduct in Chechnya or China's mass internment of Uyghurs in Xinjiang. See [citation 1].
39.2 A Shared Fear: "Color Revolutions"
The core psychological driver of this alignment is a shared, obsessive fear of "color revolutions"—the pro-democracy, popular uprisings that overthrew dictatorships in places like Georgia (Rose Revolution) and Ukraine (Orange Revolution). Both Vladimir Putin, haunted by the collapse of the Soviet Union, and Xi Jinping, a student of its disintegration, view these events not as genuine, grassroots movements, but as sophisticated, Western-backed subversion campaigns designed to ultimately topple their own regimes. This shared paranoia informs their joint foreign policy. For example, in the UN Security Council, they have repeatedly worked in concert, issuing joint vetoes to shield fellow autocrats like Syria's Bashar al-Assad from international sanctions and accountability for human rights abuses. This is not just a pragmatic overlap of interests, but the operational output of a shared ideological commitment. See [citation 2].
39.3 The "Techno-Authoritarian" Model and Authoritarian Learning
This shared fear has led to a shared solution: the development of a sophisticated "techno-authoritarian" model of governance. This is a textbook example of "authoritarian learning"—a process by which illiberal regimes systematically study and adopt one another's strategies and technologies of repression. China is the primary innovator in digital authoritarianism, and Russia is an eager student. China has perfected the model on an industrial scale with its "Great Firewall" and its pervasive, AI-driven social credit and facial recognition systems. Both regimes see technology not as a tool for liberation, but primarily as an instrument for social control and surveillance, and they actively export these tools and tactics to other authoritarian states. See [citation 3].
39.4 A Pact Against Democracy
This deep ideological alignment was formally codified in their February 4, 2022, joint declaration. This document is an act of "semantic warfare"—an attempt to capture the language of democracy, strip it of its liberal meaning (elections, free press, human rights), and redefine it to mean "effective governance" or "stability." In a direct assault on the idea of universal democratic standards, they jointly declared that "democracy is a universal human value... and it is only up to the people of the country to decide whether their State is a democratic one." See [citation 4]. This was a coordinated attempt to legitimize their own repressive, single-party systems by calling them "democratic," forming the ideological foundation upon which their geopolitical "no-limits friendship" is built and transforming a partnership of convenience into an alliance of conviction against the liberal democratic world.