The world has watched Russian dictator Vladimir Putin’s actions in Ukraine with a mixture of alarm and déjà vu.
Moscow has a history of looking enviously upon its neighbors. Just as the Czars of old harbored visions of an ever-expanding empire, and used their military might to seize, colonize, and absorb lands that were once sovereign, Putin has long sought a revival of those imperial dreams.
The dictator’s brand of nationalism, wrapped in historical revisionism and lies, has painted Ukraine as an inseparable part of Russia’s spiritual, cultural, and political heritage. The propaganda has ignored the fact that Ukrainians have fought time and again to preserve their own distinct identity.
It is important to place Putin’s brutal and unprovoked aggression in the broader context of how Russia acquired large swaths of territory from weaker neighbors, including China. From the late 19th century to the early decades of the Soviet era, Russia forced unequal treaties onto the Qing Dynasty and seized territories that remain in Russian hands to this day.
The desire to assimilate Ukraine follows an older pattern for the East Slavic state. Ukraine was central to the ambitions of the Russian Empire long before the Bolsheviks founded the Soviet Union in 1922.
Through the centuries, various Czars imposed their rule over Ukrainian lands, violently purging the expression of the Ukrainian language, culture, and religious practices in an attempt to mold it in the Russian image. That force historical bond provided an emotionally charged backdrop for Putin’s full-scale invasion in 2022.
He framed his campaign as a “liberation,” contending that Russians and Ukrainians are one people artificially divided by happenstance and Western meddling. That narrative grossly oversimplified a complex historical relationship in which Ukraine fought to maintain autonomy. And that justification was undermined quickly by Putin’s first move, which involved slaughtering the very Russian-aligned Ukrainians he was supposedly there to free.
During the Soviet era, Ukrainians never fully resigned themselves to Russian authority. The dissolution of the USSR finally presented Ukraine with a chance to chart its own course, a right it has fiercely defended ever since.
Yet Ukraine is not the only neighbor from which Russia wrested territory over the centuries. In a less discussed chapter of its empire building, Russia coerced China into giving up large stretches of its land.
During the mid-1800s in particular, a period in which the Western powers of Britain and France imposed humiliating demands on a weakened Qing Dynasty, Russia seized the opportunity to expand its own dominion.
By signing a succession of so-called “unequal treaties,” such as the Treaty of Aigun (1858) and the Treaty of Peking (1860), Russia effectively annexed territories north of the Amur River and built up outposts along the Pacific coast that would cement its foothold in Asia. In that way, Russia acted like other imperial powers that capitalized on China’s internal strife and outdated military capabilities.
The result was the acquisition of vast swaths of territory, including regions that form part of Russia’s Far East today. That history underscores the fact that Russia, while bristling at what it views as Western encroachment, took advantage of China’s vulnerabilities in a manner not unlike the colonial practices it condemns in other nations.
One major flashpoint that highlighted Russia’s expansionist impulse was the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905. At the heart of that conflict were two key motivations, control over Manchuria and influence in Korea.
Manchuria, rich in resources and strategically crucial, became a coveted prize for Russia which sought year-round warm water ports. Port Arthur, modern-day Lüshunkou, was especially appealing for its strategic position as a naval base on the Liaodong Peninsula.
Meanwhile, Japan, emerging as a rapidly modernizing power in Asia, viewed Russia’s incursion into Manchuria as a direct threat to its own growing interests in the region. The resulting war famously culminated in a decisive Japanese victory, marking the first time an Asian power had defeated a European empire in modern warfare.
The outcome sent shockwaves around the globe, revealing the fragility of Russia’s military might. It also set the stage for future conflicts in the region. Despite losing to Japan, Russia did not relinquish its overarching appetite for land, as it continued to assert dominance in areas it had already extracted from China. Those expansions into Asia were motivated by both economic and strategic considerations, echoing earlier Western patterns of colonial expansion.
That history has driven modern China to recover its lost territories. From Beijing’s perspective, the “Century of Humiliation,” a term used to describe the period from the mid-19th century to the mid-20th century when foreign powers intruded upon Chinese sovereignty, remains an unresolved trauma.
As the People’s Republic of China (PRC) gained strength throughout the second half of the 20th century, it repeatedly asserted claims over border regions and islands in the South China Sea, framing those demands as part of a broader mission to rectify historical wrongs. Among its most emotive claims is the one over Taiwan.
Beijing argues that Taiwan is an inalienable part of China and should be reunited with the mainland, by force if necessary. However, critics point out the flaws in China’s legal case for Taiwan.
The island has been ruled by the Republic of China (ROC) government, also known as the Nationalists, since 1949 when they retreated there after losing the Chinese Civil War to the Communists. Although the United Nations recognized the ROC as the sole representative of China for a time, that international recognition eventually shifted to the PRC in 1971.
But the fact remains that Taiwan has been governed under its own constitution, legal system, and democratic framework, entirely separate from the PRC for decades. When Beijing makes the claim for Taiwan, it relies on historical arguments that highlight earlier Chinese dynastic holdings and the island’s brief periods of subjugation under various Chinese regimes.
Yet those claims conveniently ignore the political reality on the ground, which is that the government in Taipei never consented to a union with the PRC. It also overlooks the glaring difference that the PRC itself was established only in 1949, and did not exist as a direct extension of past dynasties in a strict legal transition as a successor state.
China’s narrative of having been wronged by world powers and losing precious territory shapes its domestic and foreign policy. The idea is continually broadcast to rally public sentiment around the Communist Party’s mission of restoring the nation’s professed historical boundaries.
Such nationalistic fervor has found resonance among many Chinese citizens who are taught a version of history that frames the country as perpetually victimized by imperialist aggression. Beijing fervently condemns the West and Japan for taking advantage of China’s weakness in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The matter of Taiwan is lumped into that larger story, contending that the island’s separation is an extension of that era of humiliation.
Conspicuously absent from China’s catalog of injustices, however, is any substantial demand for the return of territories taken by Russia under those same “unequal treaties.” Vast areas once governed by the Qing Dynasty are still in Russian hands.
If China was sincere and consistent in its claims, it would seek to recover all lost lands and put pressure on Moscow to relinquish those territories. Yet Beijing has rarely raised the subject with any vigor, nor has it launched any meaningful international campaign to that effect.
The omission stands in stark contrast to its heated rhetoric on Taiwan. The reason behind that is Russia today, while economically suffering, remains a nuclear power. China also recognizes that an outright territorial dispute with Russia would be counterproductive to its strategic objectives, especially as Beijing seeks to challenge American influence.
Sino-Russian relations have also warmed in recent years, driven in large part by shared antagonism toward Western powers. Yet that situation may be changing.
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has revealed glaring weaknesses in Moscow’s strategic planning, military logistics, and economic defenses. International sanctions have battered the Russian economy, and prolonged conflict has drained its resources. Despite initial proclamations of a swift 3-day victory in 2022, Russia has faced stiff Ukrainian resistance.
By becoming embroiled in a drawn-out conflict, Putin exposed his vulnerability on the global stage. The shift in power dynamics inevitably raised questions about how China might exploit the moment. While Beijing has officially adopted a somewhat neutral or vaguely pro-Russian stance on the Ukraine crisis, it is not inconceivable that Chinese strategists could see an opportunity to assert leverage over Russia.
The notion that China might suddenly turn around and demand the return of its historically claimed territories from a weakened Russia is not without precedent. Nations often reevaluate their strategic positions when their neighbors falter.
Beijing could use economic pressure, diplomatic arm-twisting, or even veiled military threats to compel Moscow into concessions. Even without a direct invasion, the vast Sino-Russian border could become a pivot for further expansions of Chinese influence.
With Russian forces bogged down in Ukraine and Western leaders aligned against Putin, it might be difficult for Moscow to sustain a confrontation with China on its eastern flank. The impetus for Beijing to do so would hinge on domestic political calculations and whether reclaiming these lands would garner enough support to outweigh the risks of global condemnation or fracturing their delicate alliance with Russia.
At present, China is not locking itself into any course of action. It continues to build its economic strength and expand its global influence, confident that its position with Taiwan will eventually prevail through intimidation or negotiation. Meanwhile, Russia has fewer resources to devote to its eastern borders.
The entire scenario underscores a longstanding truth in international politics, that alliances formed out of convenience are often short-lived, especially when shifts in power balance enable one partner to reassert old claims.
In the end, Putin’s brazen move into Ukraine is reminiscent of the expansionist fervor that would bring down the Russian Czars. Striving to emulate imperial conquests might have satisfied his ambitions as a Strongman in the short term, but prolonged warfare has revealed cracks in his foundation that could ultimately cause Putin’s fall from power.
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Chiang Ying-ying (AP), Ng Han Guan (AP), Alexander Vilf (AP), and Alexander Zemlianichenko (AP)
