Australia is Tonga’s largest aid partner but on the ground in the capital Nuku’alofa it certainly doesn’t feel that way. “China Aid” logos adorn trucks and public buildings, airport x-ray machines and high schools.
A trip from the airport to the central business district passes two major China Aid funded infrastructure projects – a stadium for Tonga High School, handed over last week, and an upgrade to the Royal Family’s tomb complex. Chinese flags fly on high poles from behind the temporary walls that surrounding both construction sites.
The projects broke ground with fanfare in early 2024 and are fully funded by China’s government. Oversized ceremonial keys marked the hand over with bright ribbons cut in front of Tonga’s Royal family and political elite. The combined costs for the two multi-year projects are estimated at US$70 million – no small sum for a country with an annual GDP of US$460 million.
Yet even with the high price tags of recent projects China’s annual aid spending invariably falls short of support from Australia. But rather than flag draped infrastructure, Australia has largely funded reform programs, health systems support and capacity building.
The different approaches to aid have led to a gap in visibility and in turn, public perceptions of the respective development partners.
A preference for pageantry
China’s choice of projects in part reflects its strengths. Low build costs, cheap labour and a fleet of easily subsidised state-owned construction companies. However, the conspicuousness of China’s aid in Tonga, both in its project selection and the pageantry it employs, also speaks to an enduring element of Beijing’s aid strategy – high project visibility.
Increased geopolitical tension is continually dragging focus away from development outcomes to strategic ones.
Heavy branding of projects is its own communication strategy. What better way to demonstrate partnership than by printing your flag on the side of a major piece of public infrastructure? Even better is the billboard-like function of a multi-year construction site. Many Australian officials cringe at this kind of heavily branded aid, viewing it as emblematic of a bygone era.
Yet China Aid shows no timidness in heavily marketing its works – and to good effect. Polling by the Tonga Tertiary Institute showed that Tongans rank China above Australia when asked who is Tonga’s “best friend in the world”. The response, best interpreted as the public’s view of who is the government’s closest partner, shocked many.
Pacific sociologist Steven Ratuva, argues that China’s deployment of political symbolism is more attuned to Pacific practices of “visibility” and “loudness” – culturally comfortable demonstrations of patronage common across much of the Pacific. Here demonstrating patronage, rather than patronising, appears to be the key.
While public perceptions matter, how this translates into influence is less clear. Public opinion has to matter to political elites for it to impact decision making. On this front, China’s project “loudness” appears similarly attuned.
China Aid’s refurbishment of the Royal Family’s tomb complex is characteristic of another thread that runs through China’s project selection – the targeting of political elites. China has sought to place (and polish) the bricks and mortar that surround the country’s political elites, having over the past decade built a wing of the Tongan Royal Palace, paved the sidewalks around the royal residence and built the St George Palace – the office that houses most government workers. This model of engagement is repeated across the Pacific, from Presidential Palaces, to Parliamentary Complexes and state media facilities.
Some of these Royal-adjacent projects, while coming from China’s aid agency, have dubious development credentials. It is certainly hard to see the development impetus behind trucks for Tongan princesses or music halls for His Majesty’s Armed Forces. China Aid’s slogan is “Shared Prosperity”. Who exactly is sharing in the prosperity here?
But these projects are nonetheless effective in strengthening the China-Tonga relationship. China’s embassy officials extend their popularity at the grassroots level with a high volume of small grants, typically in response to requests from local leaders. Many Tongan politicians are frank about this dynamic, saying that the Chinese embassy offers quick and politically helpful solutions to funding gaps. Australia conversely is associated with high project quality, but red tape and slow delivery.
Does the visibility differential matter?
Australian officials working in the Pacific often express frustration that the aid program is not delivering expected political dividends. On the other side of the relationship, a common question asked by Pacific officials is “where does the money go?”. Low visibility aid explains part of this dynamic, but the pressures behind the aid performance frustration speaks to broader issues.
Increased geopolitical tension is continually dragging focus away from development outcomes to strategic ones, which necessary or not, obscures the view of what a successful aid program looks like. While Australia provides extensive technical and policy-based support, this type of assistance lacks the “visibility” and “loudness” that China’s high-profile projects generate. Australia’s is also comparatively constrained, for good reason, in its project selection. Domestic accountability and transparency requirements for Australian officials are vastly different to those constraining Chinese counterparts.
Ultimately Australia doesn’t need to emulate China’s aid model to be more competitive. A solution lies in adjusting its aid mix around harder outputs and projects with clear, measurable results. Building sports stadiums might not be the answer, but shifting the goal posts will help.
