9 April, 10:10
When two Chinese nationals were captured on the battlefield in Ukraine—fighting for Russia, no less—it triggered a diplomatic scramble and a censorship frenzy that only an authoritarian alliance could execute so efficiently.
The news didn’t make headlines in China. In fact, it barely existed at all. Within hours, posts about the captured Chinese fighters vanished from Weibo. Even a carefully worded statement by Hu Xijin, the former editor-in-chief of Global Times and Beijing’s unofficial spokesman-with-a-smile, was memory-holed by the censors.
Hu’s post was hardly subversive. He acknowledged that Chinese nationals had joined both Ukrainian and Russian forces as individual volunteers. He insisted that Beijing had nothing to do with it. And he even offered a polite diplomatic suggestion to Ukraine: treat the captured men well, as “this would earn goodwill among Chinese citizens and benefit long-term relations between China and Ukraine.”
Still, the censors weren’t taking chances. Beijing hit delete—and fast.
A Comedy of Censorship and Propaganda
While China buried the story, Moscow did what Moscow does best: improvise badly.
Pro-Kremlin outlets like Ukraina.ru claimed the footage had already been “circulating for days” on Chinese social media. Of course, no links were provided—because the video didn’t exist publicly until Ukrainian sources released it. Meanwhile, Russia Today (RT) took a different route entirely: silence. Best not to poke the panda.
Russian Telegram channels tried to spin the news through their usual playbook of distraction and denial. One popular Russian blogger even accused the footage of being a “Ukrainian fake”—a difficult position to maintain given how quickly Beijing moved to erase it.
“Neutrality” With Chinese Characteristics
The most telling part of the affair was not the capture itself, but how the Chinese internet reacted—or more precisely, didn’t.
As Russian blogger Roman Alekhin dryly noted, “The captured soldier’s uniform looked so new it practically crackled, like it had just come off the shelf.” He went on to question why Russian narratives suddenly denied the presence of Chinese fighters, when Chinese media has long acknowledged the existence of such mercenaries.
“In Chinese cyberspace, there are plenty of articles about Chinese nationals fighting abroad,” Alekhin wrote. “This has never been hidden—until now.”
And therein lies the real game. According to Chinese-language sources analyzed by independent Telegram channel Kytayska Ukraina, Beijing’s propaganda strategy is shifting. Not to hide involvement, but to maintain a carefully crafted posture of neutrality. As relations with Kyiv remain delicate, and China’s diplomatic ambitions in Europe persist, the last thing the Communist Party needs is a PR disaster involving its citizens fighting for a state committing war crimes.
So instead of denial, Beijing simply puts the issue on pause.
The Silent Diplomacy of Saving Face
China’s “neutrality” in the Russia-Ukraine war is less a geopolitical position than a communications strategy. On the surface, Beijing opposes the war and calls for peace. Behind the scenes, it trades with Russia at record volumes, supplies dual-use technologies, and tolerates the flow of Chinese volunteers into Russian ranks.
When these contradictions surface—say, in the form of captured Chinese fighters—it triggers a swift containment effort. The goal is not to protect policy, but to preserve narrative.
Beijing doesn’t want to be seen as backing Russia. It wants to be seen as not not backing Russia—a Schrödinger’s diplomacy that’s neutral until opened.
The Takeaway
The incident of the Chinese POWs is more than a strange footnote in the war. It’s a glimpse into the new axis of post-truth geopolitics, where authoritarian regimes coordinate not only supply chains, but storylines.
China censors. Russia lies. Ukraine films. And the rest of us watch—wondering how many more cracks will appear in this brittle performance of “neutrality.”ʼ