China did not become a clean energy superpower for recognition. It did so because it could no longer afford vulnerability.
I have spent more than a decade watching China’s sustainable development story from within – not as a faraway analyst, but as a neighbour living through its transitions: wastelands morphing into green townships; “kuaidi” couriers racing on electric two-wheelers; dusty western provinces now flanked by strips of green forests stitched over deserts. To understand China’s place in the global energy transition, one must first understand that it did not set out to become “leader”. It set out not to be cornered again.
The west tends to read China’s climate pivot as opportunism. In my view, it was resilience engineering. The major turning point came when China found itself locked out of critical technologies: if chokepoints in semiconductors could immobilise a nation of 1.4 billion, what more the chokepoints in food, fuel and critical minerals? China’s Five-Year Plan drew a clear narrative – national survival in this century would be one powered by renewable energy and underpinned by localised industrial ecosystems.
Call it geopolitics, or trade wars. “Green” in China may be synonymous with its investments in low-carbon, but it has been more about self-reliance. China’s industry policy took a systems view – it rewired manufacturing, bolstered finance and strengthened local technologies. When survival drives strategy, climate ambition becomes China’s winning formula.
Today China produces 70 per cent of electric vehicles (EV), at least 80 per cent of the world’s solar panels, and more than 90 per cent our rare earth magnets. As the US reverses direction and reopens drilling lines, China doubles down on renewable build. Yet it is not simply the scale that matters, but coordination. From rolling out its transmission lines, to growing storage capacity to EV adoption, China’s state-driven efficiency means it could compress decades of policy into years of unwavering progress.
The Belt and Road was never charity - it was a lifeline network
Critics often cast the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) as geopolitical ambition. In reality, it is rooted in China’s oldest playbook: infrastructure. Where the western world exported liberal governance and global financial systems, China exported what it knew best – railways, ports, power lines and new energy. Solar modules, hydropower equipment, and EV buses now travel the same routes once used to ship coal and steel. Whether it was by design or consequence, this belt is now the backbone of the Global South’s own transition journey.
The part the world is underestimating: China’s social transition
Energy systems may experience change at “China speed”. In reality, societies cannot. Across Asia, structural realities quickly fog our planned decarbonization pathways: uneven digital access, skills gaps, and an informal sector often resistant to policy changes.
The next great test for China – and for the developing south – is whether technology can help deliver social stability in this transition.
Beijing’s heavy investments in automation and artificial intelligence hint at a long-term answer. If humanoid robotics become affordable enough, they could reduce worker exposure to extreme heat, mining hazards or logistics fatigue - hazards that will intensify under climate stress. Yet technology can also amplify social anxiety: when machines displace more jobs than they create, it may spark new forms of unrest. The China government knows this balance is delicate, and more has to be done to keep its citizens abreast of this uncomfortable change.
2025: The year China let the world back in
In 2025, China surprised the world with a series of unusually open gestures: visa-free travel for dozens of nations, and viral stories of “TikTok refugees” from curious foreigners discovering the country first-hand after years of digital polarisation. I personally witnessed the unusual interest in the airports: a genuine desire to discover what China really is, not what their regular media say it is.
From my viewpoint, this was more than a tourism policy. This was an intentional narrative shaped by diplomacy – designed to complement the country’s success in building infrastructure – with the building of trust.
By welcoming more foreigners to personally witness its own environmental transformation – from urban air quality to futuristic delivery services – China is betting that the Gen Zs and Gen Alphas will form their own opinions. After all, this demographic will have to live with climate stresses at unprecedented levels. Their loyalties have yet to be shaped, but as social media natives, this generation will likely understand our East-West trajectories very differently from their parents.
The fading monopoly of Western leadership
As uncomfortable as it may be to speak about, the elephant in the room today is who will assume leadership in sustainable development in the 21st century.
While the US shaped the 20th century industrial order, its inward-looking policies and inconsistent climate commitments are warning signs of a faltering leadership. The impact of 90% of US Aid being cut off – estimated at US$60 billion – is just starting to be felt around the world. Ripple effects across developing nations are likely to amount to millions of lives at risk.
Who takes the helm in this century will depend on a major economy who can address these chokepoints: 1) Clean energy infrastructure; 2) Industry manufacturing capacity; 3) Connecting the heterogenous tissues of global infrastructure. As I wrote in a previous Op-Ed, detaching supply chains from China does not remove dependence – it merely makes it harder to decarbonise.
China’s influence in the world will inadvertently play a critical role in addressing these conditions. Tapping on China’s strengths will not only prevent fragmentation, it will spur competition to help nations reach their decarbonisation goals.
A notable fulcrum: Asean’s quiet lesson to the world
Yet, as much as China shapes Asia’s hardware of transition, the soul of that transition may lie in Southeast Asia itself.
Singapore’s former diplomat Kishore Mahbubani once observed that one of the rarest phenomena in modern history is Southeast Asia’s peaceful development. In a region as wildly diverse as ours – multiple religions, languages, histories, and governance systems – peace was not a given; it was a political priority. Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean)’s strength lies in consensus, not coercion. It works in slow alignment, not rapid assimilation.
If China is to become the indispensable energy transition partner for Asia, it must understand this distinctive Southeast Asian tempo. Asean does not move at “China speed”. It moves at relationship speed. Agreements here are shaped as much by casual connections as by treaties. Trust is earned through patience, not dominance.
China may be the world’s largest supplier of clean energy solutions, but Asean is arguably the world’s largest testbed of it. Whether those solutions can coexist with social cohesion, inclusive development, and political legitimacy will be China’s test of its new global strategy.
The recent Asean and Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (Apec) meetings both highlighted a growing expectation that China’s decarbonisation leadership should help generate stronger regional alignment – from cross-border carbon markets to supply-chain transparency – to ensure a just and lasting energy transition.
And if China gets this right – if it can pair its technological scale with Asean’s peaceful modernisation – then Asia’s clean energy transformation could be a rare blueprint for the world: a race without war, and a lasting transition for all.
