When Xi Jinping unveiled the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) in a 2013 speech at Nazarbayev University in Kazakhstan, he promised a program that would dwarf the Marshall Plan and usher in a more equitable global order. Thirteen years later, that vision has largely faded, replaced by a more transactional approach that prioritizes China's commercial interests over the developing world's uplift.
Beijing initially pledged up to $1 trillion, with some estimates reaching $8 trillion, for roads, railways, ports, and other infrastructure across Asia, Africa, and beyond. The initiative, originally called One Belt, One Road, was meant to counter what Xi described as Western exploitation of the Global South. But many analysts now view the BRI as a liability rather than an asset in China's bid to reshape the post-American world order.
A pivot to 'small and beautiful'
In November 2021, Xi recast the BRI as “small and beautiful,” signaling a shift toward smaller, less costly projects in clean energy and technology. This pivot did not end the initiative but transformed it. BRI projects have become more transactional, aimed at securing energy and minerals, acquiring equity stakes in natural resources, and finding overseas buyers for China's surplus industrial output amid rising Western protectionism.
For many developing nations, BRI loans have become a financial albatross. Countries like Laos and Sri Lanka have struggled to repay debts incurred under the initiative, often at high interest rates. In December 2017, Sri Lanka handed a 70% controlling stake in the Hambantota port to China Merchants Port Holdings under a 99-year lease after failing to service the loans. Laos, already one of Asia's poorest countries, agreed to give majority control of its state power utility to China Southern Power Grid Company to manage its debt crisis.
The financial strain extends to Chinese institutions. China Development Bank and China Eximbank, the two main policy banks, carry high exposure to non-performing loans in low- and middle-income countries, according to AidData, a research lab at William & Mary University. AidData estimates that 55% of these loans have entered their principal repayment periods, a share expected to rise to 75% by 2030.
Structural weaknesses and haphazard execution
The BRI's shortcomings are not just financial. From the start, no central government body has overseen the initiative, and it remains unclear which ministries are responsible. Yuen Yuen Ang, a political scientist at Johns Hopkins University, wrote in 2018 that the BRI's modus operandi was “typical of China, where the central government often issues broad directives and expects lower-ranking officials to figure out how to fulfill them.” This communist-style mass campaign, she argued, leads to frenzied enthusiasm but little coordination.
Early BRI projects included fanciful schemes like an indoor ski slope near Australia's Gold Coast, a spa in the Czech Republic, and cultural centers in the Philippines, Indonesia, Vietnam, Italy, Hungary, and Serbia—none of which were ever built. There was even a BRI coloring book for children, underscoring the enterprise's haphazard nature. Italy, the only G7 nation to join, withdrew in 2023, with Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni calling its participation a “mistake.”
As China's economic growth slows—the IMF projects expansion of about 4.6% in 2026 and 4.1% in 2027, down from the 5% target—Beijing's ability to fund grand projects diminishes. The BRI's evolution reflects this reality, but the initiative's legacy is mixed: it has built vital infrastructure in some regions, but it has also left a trail of debt and unmet promises. For the Global South, the dream of a more just world order remains as distant as ever.
Related: China's model under scrutiny as its economic example fades, and US-China AI rivalry tests ASEAN's neutrality, highlighting the region's complex dynamics.
