China Faces a Changed Middle East: Can it Adapt?
Non-interference is a liability in times of crisis
By: Salman Rafi Sheikh
The geopolitical shockwaves of the brief but dangerous Iran-Israel war continue to reverberate, nowhere more acutely than in Beijing. For China, the conflict was more than a distant regional flare-up, it was a direct threat to its energy lifelines, a test of its diplomatic weight, and a moment of truth that exposed the stark limits of its influence in the Middle East.
Despite years of economic inroads and high-profile diplomatic overtures, China was effectively a bystander as missiles flew, alliances shifted, and the future of the region’s balance of power was recalibrated—largely by Washington, not Beijing. The conflict should have been the perfect opportunity for China to step forward as a credible global stabilizer. After all, Beijing has long portrayed itself as a champion of multipolar diplomacy, non-interference, and peaceful conflict resolution. It was only a year ago, in 2023, that China basked in the glow of a historic diplomatic achievement: brokering a rapprochement between Iran and Saudi Arabia after decades of hostility and proxy conflict.
That deal was lauded as a masterstroke, not just for its regional impact but for signaling China’s readiness to supplant the United States as a diplomatic heavyweight in the Middle East. Yet when the real crisis erupted—when oil routes were threatened, missiles were launched, and states teetered on the brink of full-scale war—Beijing’s tools of influence proved not just inadequate, but largely irrelevant.
The Illusion of Influence
China’s primary vulnerability in the Middle East is its dependence on oil. Nearly half of its imports pass through the Strait of Hormuz, the narrow maritime chokepoint now increasingly unstable due to tensions between Iran, Israel, and various US allies. Any sustained disruption in this corridor could cripple Chinese energy security and economic stability. Yet despite this vulnerability, and despite its decades-long efforts to build partnerships across the region, China had almost no meaningful role in containing or shaping the conflict.
Chinese officials issued their standard calls for “dialogue and restraint,” but these statements, devoid of enforcement mechanisms or diplomatic leverage, did little to influence the course of events. Compare this to the US, whose intelligence prowess, arms shipments, and strategic partnerships not only influenced but defined the trajectory of the conflict. US military support ensured Israel could continue its military campaign against Iranian proxies such as Hezbollah and Hamas. American presence in bases across the region, especially in Qatar and Iraq, was not merely symbolic—it was decisive.
Beijing’s sidelining during the crisis is made more glaring by the contrast with its earlier success. The 2023 Iran-Saudi Arabia normalization marked a watershed moment. At the time, it appeared that China was positioning itself as a regional kingmaker, countering US-brokered deals like the Abraham Accords. China’s diplomatic maneuver was widely seen as a response to Washington’s attempts to encircle Iran and solidify an anti-Iran axis led by Israel and supported by Gulf Arab states. For a brief moment, China’s brand of quiet, trade-driven diplomacy seemed poised to challenge America’s legacy of military interventionism.
But that illusion evaporated once missiles began to fly. When Iran struck a US base in Qatar, it wasn’t Israel or the US that Riyadh condemned—it was Tehran. Saudi Arabia’s reaction was a quiet but profound repudiation of Chinese hopes for a new regional balance. The fact that Beijing’s carefully cultivated ties with both Riyadh and Tehran couldn’t even prevent verbal fallout, let alone conflict, reveals how shallow those ties may be.
The Pitfalls of Non-Interference
To understand why China failed to matter in this crisis, one must consider its long-standing policy of non-interference. This principle, rooted in Beijing’s post-colonial worldview and its emphasis on sovereignty, has often been touted as a distinguishing feature from the West’s interventionist approach. It allows China to do business with democracies and dictatorships alike without moral entanglements.
In the Middle East, where military alliances and hard power are often the currency of influence, moral neutrality translates into political impotence. Beijing's non-interference may help avoid backlash, but it also prevents the kind of strategic intervention that might protect its interests or secure its allies. As the Iran-Israel conflict showed, influence is not won through trade agreements alone. China may favor peace and stability above all else, but it lacks the tools to enforce either. In a region defined by hard choices and harder consequences, a preference for stability without a means to ensure it amounts to little more than wishful thinking.
Meanwhile, Washington continues to dominate the region’s security architecture. US forces were central in helping Israel contain Iranian advances. US diplomatic and military support enabled Israel to act decisively not only against Iranian proxies but directly against Tehran. While Beijing offered vague statements about respecting sovereignty, the Trump administration dictated outcomes on the ground, although admittedly some of those outcomes now appear to be less decisive than claimed by Washington.
In fact, Donald Trump’s recent statement that “Iran was allowed to sell oil to China” may seem hyperbolic, but it carries symbolic weight. While Iran and China maintain a strategic partnership, including a much-publicized 25-year cooperation agreement, Beijing has yet to back Iran in any meaningful military sense. There are no Chinese arms flowing to Tehran on a scale comparable to the US-Israel defense relationship. Israel, for its part, has shown no fear of any Chinese reprisal for targeting Iranian assets.
Contrast this with South Asia, where China’s deep military ties with Pakistan proved consequential during the recent flare-up with India. Pakistan relied heavily on Chinese weapons systems including fighter jets and missile technology to hold its own against India’s superior conventional military. India, in turn, watches Beijing’s support for Islamabad with deep concern. There, Chinese power projection has real strategic consequences.
The Road Ahead: Soft Power Is Not Enough
If Beijing wants to truly protect its interests in the Middle East – especially its energy security – it must move beyond symbolic partnerships and reconsider its aversion to hard power. While geographic proximity makes its deep engagement in South Asia more feasible, the Middle East is too critical to China’s economic lifelines to be left in the hands of other powers, especially when those powers are not always aligned with Chinese interests.
This doesn't mean China must mimic the US model of permanent military bases and endless wars. But it does mean rethinking the limits of soft power and considering calibrated, strategic use of military assets. Strengthening its strategic pact with Iran—perhaps by including formal military cooperation on a scale similar to Pakistan—would be a logical first step. China must show that it can protect its interests when peace fails.
With Russia’s retrenchment in Syria, Beijing’s reliance on US-maintained stability is only growing, an irony for a country that seeks to dethrone American unipolarity. If China continues to outsource regional peace to the very rival it seeks to displace, its Middle East strategy risks becoming not just ineffective, but dangerously self-defeating. The Iran-Israel war was not just a regional conflict. It was a stress test for China’s ambitions as a global power. The results were sobering. Beijing must now decide whether it will continue to pursue influence through soft power alone or develop the tools necessary to defend its interests when diplomacy fails.
Dr Salman Rafi Sheikh is an assistant professor of politics at the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS) in Pakistan. He is a long-time contributor on international affairs to Asia Sentinel.