Quotes of the Day

As any australian diplomat will admit, managing the bilateral relationship with China is a relentless, high- energy task. The volume of issues that are in play at any time - for instance, trade and investment, uranium sales, human rights, tourist visas, students, intellectual property, military exercises, official delegations and Taiwan - makes for a great deal of bureaucratic and political work. Factor in the increasing intensity of engagement across the board (as well as the pace of globalization more generally) and it's clear that Canberra's China nannies are a busy bunch. A single incident or issue - hardball iron-ore price negotiations, the persecution of the Falun Gong spiritual movement or the defection of a Chinese diplomat, such as Chen Yonglin, the senior consular official in Sydney who has sought political asylum in Australia - is not likely to bring about an irreversible deterioration in relations. The diplomatic game quickly moves on.

But the episode involving Chen is worth a pause and exploring, if only to be reminded of the cultural and political gulf between the two countries; to take a reality check on the diplomatic dynamic; and to get a sense of where the relationship is heading. For some, Chen's lurid allegations about kidnapping, a vast system of espionage involving Chinese nationals in Australia, and the harassment of Falun Gong, seem out of kilter with a China making its reputation on the fecundity of its factories and new millionaires. The wonder of China's economic progress has tended to blot out other considerations about that country's present. Chen has restored some of the balance; not by making China out to be an ogre, but by reminding Australians exactly what China is and how the Beijing elite is trying to orchestrate its transition.

China's communist regime is encouraging go-go people to make loads of money, but continues to repress those same individuals while denying the rest of its citizens basic rights. Without a hint of irony, a few months ago Defence Minister Robert Hill remarked that China is not "a democracy of our type." Quite. The so-called "peaceful rise of China" is a global brand; it has been marketed as such to Western consumers, who don't think long about China's prisons, its taste for capital punishment or its scant regard for workers' rights. Just keep the cheap stuff coming! Like most countries, China has a spy network. Big deal. Nevertheless, it's good for the Australian public occasionally to see beyond the twaddle of "special friendships" and to enter, for a moment, the less congenial world inhabited by Chinese dissidents - and even by ordinary Chinese migrants. Australia would rather not contemplate the alternative to a friendly China. (It's Howard Government policy: "There will be no conflict between the U.S. and China over Taiwan, so Australia does not have to choose.")

The charming purveyors of the China brand in Australia - officially and unofficially - have been very successful in massaging the minds of the powerful and those yet to be burnt on a business venture in China. So much so, that the idea of "not wanting to offend the Chinese" (whatever that means) is routinely heard in private among business leaders and those with privileged access to Beijing's facilitators. Of course, peddling the notion of a China whose feelings are fragile is a brilliant negotiating tactic. Why fault the Chinese for trying it on? But such spinelessness debases Australia, its traditions and its pride in speaking truth to big powers. Australia loses face when its leaders fail to robustly denounce human-rights abuses or to show a semblance of support for an individual such as Chen (to at least hear his story, investigate his claims, and make a prompt decision about his status: Chen first wrote to the Immigration department on May 25; he and his family remain in hiding.)

Chen's case has attracted so much mealy-mouthed comment among Australia's political leaders, you wish they would speak less and do more. Not so long ago, it was clear where Australia's leadership stood on such matters. The Australian public is less equivocal. Already there is strong support for Chen's claim for asylum; ordinary people can readily identify a (crazy) brave act and seem grateful for Chen's heads-up based on his allegations of an army of Chinese informants operating in their country. Ambassador Fu Ying offers the idea that Chen is an opportunist who has chosen to remain in Australia for lifestyle reasons. It's more plausible, however, to see Chen as someone taking an enormous personal risk, acting out of conscience and rejecting life and work under an authoritarian state. Whatever his motives, Chen has given one regime a slap in the face, while presenting the other with a highly visible test of its values, humanity and independence. You can bet the political pragmatists are working overtime in Canberra and Beijing to flatten out this bump in the road.

• Tom Dusevic
• A Chinese diplomat's asylum claim puts a "special relationship" to the test