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New Zealand, explained.

New Zealand members of parliament, from left, Laura McClure, Maureen Pugh, Duncan Webb and David Wilson posing for a photo in Taipei airport on 4 May 2026 (Taiwan Ministry of Foreign Affairs)
China’s coercion follows a familiar pattern that India already knows well, and that middle powers can learn to resist.
China last week “surprised (Opens in new window)” four New Zealand MPs, banning them from entering not just mainland China but also Hong Kong and Macau. The Chinese embassy in Wellington accused the local politicians of crossing a “red line” having made a visit to Taiwan a month before. Beijing’s move had no precedent and was viewed as an escalation in its attempts to isolate Taiwan diplomatically, coming soon after China pressured (Opens in new window) Indian Ocean island countries to deny Taiwan’s president clearance to travel their airspace.
China then indicated the ban could be shortened or waived if the MPs apologised. The ACT Party’s Laura McClure called China’s action a form of “foreign interference” and refused to back down.
So why did Beijing ask for an apology at all?
India’s experience offers clues. In his recent book (Opens in new window), Vijay Gokhale, India’s former foreign secretary and ambassador to China, argues that Beijing has never viewed India or any middle power as an equal. The objective of Chinese policy has been to keep India in a neutral posture – neither a friend nor a determined foe. Gokhale describes methods that vary with circumstance. When China feels constrained, it accommodates. When it feels stronger, it applies pressure to pull countries back toward neutrality – a coercive framework that extends beyond India.
Viewed through that lens, the ban on the Kiwi MPs, the demand for an apology, and the implied costs of non-compliance are each instruments designed to shape behaviour. They are applied bilaterally, in isolation, and carefully calibrated steps below the threshold likely to trigger a collective response.
If Beijing believes recent international developments (the Trump-Xi summit for example) demonstrate that pressure works, there seems little prospect for a show of restraint. The demand for an apology should be read as a calibration test: a measure of how much resistance democratic societies are prepared to offer.

China's President Xi Jinping (Daniel Torok/Official White House Photo)
The escalation against Taiwan may be new, China’s toolkit is not. India has endured multiple versions of it.
In August 2025, after External Affairs Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar met his Chinese counterpart Wang Yi in New Delhi, Chinese state media claimed India had reaffirmed Taiwan as part of China. New Delhi corrected the record (Opens in new window). China called the correction “surprising” and accused unnamed Indians of undermining its sovereignty. The tactic was familiar: push a false narrative, force the target to expend diplomatic energy rebutting it, leave behind uncertainty for external audiences.
Later that year, an Indian woman from Arunachal Pradesh, an Indian state claimed by China as “south Tibet”, was detained for 18 hours (Opens in new window) while transiting Shanghai Pudong, after officials declared her valid passport invalid. She was told the region was “part of China” and prevented from continuing her journey. India’s response was not just a rejection of China’s claims. Delhi reframed the incident as a violation of multilateral international civil aviation conventions, denying Beijing the opportunity to dismiss the incident as a “domestic matter”.
Ahead of the May 2026 swearing-in of Sikyong Penpa Tsering as President of the Tibetan government-in-exile in Dharamsala, China urged India to “refrain from providing any platform” for Tibetan political activities. India did not respond but did not comply either. The ceremony went ahead (Opens in new window) with the Dalai Lama present along with international dignitaries.
These three episodes reveal different levers used by Beijing to induce compliance.
Coordination among democracies is achievable, but it need not mean identical policies.
So what can middle powers do? At the Shangri-La Dialogue, Australian Defence Minister Richard Marles warned that grey-zone coercion now extends well beyond military manoeuvres. He mentioned shadow fleets and disrupted subsea cables, but travel bans on foreign MPs or confiscated passports could all qualify as part of the same toolkit – applied below the threshold of open conflict.
This is precisely why maintaining the rules-based order matters to middle powers. It provides agency in a world where raw power seeks to dictate terms.
Coordination among democracies is achievable, but it need not mean identical policies. India will not abandon its position on Taiwan, nor should it be expected to. Australia too will have its sovereign outlook. The goal should instead be coordination on process: documenting patterns of coercion so no country faces pressure alone, developing habits of visible solidarity when partners are targeted, and using international legal frameworks to transform bilateral harassment into questions of international norms. The Quad has moved in this direction. Australia’s Foreign Minister Penny Wong also spoke up in support (Opens in new window) of the New Zealand MPs. The need is to ensure that the pushback is consistent, not piecemeal.
The test is not whether China can impose costs. It is whether the targeted democracy refuses to accept the norm of might makes right. For Indo-Pacific democracies, consistent refusal accumulates. Over time it alters Beijing’s calculus and denies it a veto over sovereign decisions.
About the author
Shruti Pandalai
Shruti Pandalai is the inaugural India Chair at the Lowy Institute.