In a move that has startled international observers and raised eyebrows among domestic critics, China’s Ministry of State Security (MSS) — the country’s powerful yet traditionally opaque civilian spy agency — has begun issuing public warnings about alleged foreign espionage threats. 

Through a series of statements, online campaigns, and even hotline appeals, the MSS has pivoted from operating in the shadows to publicly shaping the national narrative about foreign influence, surveillance, and subversion.

This rare public-facing campaign has grown increasingly visible over the past year, culminating in a torrent of social media posts, public advisories, and television features warning Chinese citizens to be on high alert for foreign spies. 

College students, scientists, businesspeople, and even restaurant owners have been singled out as potential targets for foreign intelligence services. 

The messaging is alarmist, theatrical — and, according to critics, deeply political.

What was once an elite security apparatus known only to insiders and policy watchers has begun inserting itself into everyday discourse. 

The change signals a new era of state propaganda, one in which national security is not just a policy concern but a daily preoccupation — a shared national burden.

MSS steps into the light

For decades, the Ministry of State Security was perhaps the least understood arm of the Chinese government. 

Unlike the military-run Second Department or the political police of the Ministry of Public Security, the MSS operated quietly, rarely mentioned in official media. 

Founded in 1983 and modelled in part on the Soviet KGB, its remit includes domestic surveillance, counterintelligence, and international espionage.

But in recent months, the MSS has launched a new strategy: going public. 

Its WeChat channel, launched in mid-2023, has gained millions of followers and features stories ranging from foiled spy attempts to patriotic appeals to report suspicious behaviour. 

Some posts read like Cold War thrillers; others resemble morality plays where vigilant citizens help foil cunning Western agents.

The ministry’s slogans — “Everyone is responsible for national security” and “Report suspicious foreigners” — have been plastered across public buildings, subway stations, and university campuses. 

In one widely circulated campaign, the MSS alleged that a foreign NGO had attempted to extract satellite imagery from a Chinese graduate student through academic collaboration.

This campaign coincides with a raft of new laws expanding the legal definition of espionage, raising the stakes for foreign companies, academics, and journalists operating in China. 

Even routine activities — data sharing, interviews, or academic exchanges — may now be interpreted as potential espionage under China’s broadened state security laws.

Critics see a propaganda play

While the MSS frames its outreach as a national security necessity, critics — both inside and outside China — argue that it serves a deeper political purpose. 

To them, this campaign is not about thwarting real threats, but about manufacturing a culture of suspicion that reinforces loyalty to the Party and discourages foreign engagement.

By dramatising foreign threats and casting ordinary citizens as the front line of defence, the Party reasserts its legitimacy and binds national identity ever more tightly to state security. 

That message resonates deeply in today’s China, where President Xi Jinping has made “comprehensive national security” a cornerstone of governance.

Observers also point out the timing. 

China faces increasing diplomatic strain abroad and economic stagnation at home. Foreign investment is down. Academic and cultural exchanges have cooled. 

In this context, the public face of the MSS is not just a security measure — it’s a political signal.

In an era where public trust must be carefully managed, state security becomes a tool not only for control but for consensus. The more visible the threat, the more necessary the state becomes.

Impact on civil society and business

The broader implications of the MSS campaign are profound. 

Foreign journalists and scholars in China now face an even more treacherous environment. 

Academics are increasingly reluctant to engage in research that may be deemed sensitive. Fieldwork, interviews, or data collection can easily cross into forbidden territory.

Multinational corporations are also reassessing their presence. 

Several business executives have been detained or questioned over alleged data violations, and the expanded espionage law has triggered alarm within the foreign business community. 

The American and European Chambers of Commerce have issued multiple advisories warning members to exercise extreme caution when handling data or engaging in routine government meetings.

A chilling effect is spreading through civil society as well. 

Chinese scholars and journalists fear that any contact with foreigners — a Zoom call, a co-authored paper, a conference abroad — could attract the scrutiny of state security agents. 

Whispers of “MSS interest” are enough to derail careers and isolate individuals.

Ironically, the very openness that once allowed China to flourish as an economic and academic hub is now undercut by a security doctrine that treats engagement with suspicion.

A climate of suspicion

More than anything, what the MSS campaign fosters is a pervasive sense of mistrust. 

University students are told to watch their classmates. Scientists are reminded not to share research. Private citizens are urged to report “unusual behaviour” among foreigners, or even fellow citizens.

This culture of suspicion recalls the political campaigns of earlier eras — the Anti-Rightist Movement of the 1950s, the Cultural Revolution, or the Tiananmen purge of the late 1980s — when ideological conformity was policed not only by the state, but by society itself.

But this version is subtler. Instead of loud denunciations and mass rallies, it unfolds through official press releases, social media posts, and televised re-enactments. 

It is a digitised, sanitised form of ideological mobilisation — modern authoritarianism with a slick interface.

The social cost is significant. Academic collaboration dwindles. Cross-cultural friendships are strained. 

Even internal solidarity erodes, as people second-guess their neighbours, friends, and colleagues. 

In this environment, trust becomes a casualty of the state’s effort to securitise everything from spreadsheets to scholarship.

A strategic shift with global implications

The implications of China’s public-facing security strategy are not limited to domestic concerns. 

Globally, it signals a recalibration of how Beijing manages foreign perception. 

Rather than deny or downplay its surveillance apparatus, the state now wears it openly — as a badge of vigilance, strength, and sovereignty.

This pivot reflects broader geopolitical shifts.

In a world increasingly defined by competition between major powers, China is no longer content to defend itself silently. 

It seeks to redefine the global narrative on national security — one where every citizen must remain on guard, every foreigner is a potential spy, and the Party is the ultimate guardian of peace.

Whether this approach succeeds in bolstering China’s internal cohesion or deterring foreign interference remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the veil has been lifted. 

The MSS, once a hidden force, is now part of China’s public theatre — a symbol of a state that no longer sees espionage as a covert threat, but as a spectacle to be displayed, dramatised, and deployed.

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