Manus is the latest example, and the cleanest break yet. As I explained in this post, most of the conversation around China-shedding focuses on the companies themselves. What structure did they use? Where did they relocate? How did they cut ties? But what Manus did right was understand the power of influence.

What was the communication strategy that made it credible? Because even with the perfect legal structure, if the narrative doesn’t hold across different stakeholder groups, the structure doesn’t matter.

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So I wrote a field guide on how to build global trust. Effective global communication is built on reputation, market trust, and geopolitical context. For this one, I’m focusing on Singapore as the destination for companies with Chinese roots.

This guide is written for investors, financial and operating partners, and legal, compliance, and advisory firms working with companies with China affiliations. The deck is not a thought piece and focuses on how those relationships are communicated, including how due diligence is articulated without sounding defensive and how exposure is credibly explained.

A China affiliation is a variable most stakeholders evaluate upfront. It is not necessarily a dealbreaker, but something that needs to be understood and managed.

You can download the full Field Guide by becoming a supporter of Calling the Shots.

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In the recent WSJ Exchange front-page feature, “Arc’teryx Won Over China With a $1,000 Jacket. Now It’s Popping Up Everywhere,” the brand essentially gets a beautifully packaged replay of its own talking points:

• China is the growth engine.

• Arc’teryx can charge 20% more in China than in the U.S., even in a deflationary economy.

• The Cai Guo-Qiang Tibetan Plateau outrage “hasn’t stopped its growth in China,” and “a widespread boycott didn’t materialize.”

• Amer Sports’ stock is up 28% this year.

  

This is exactly the investor thesis from Amer, Arc’Teryx’s parent company: Greater China as the growth engine, Arc’Teryx as the hero asset, differentiated from luxury names like LVMH and Kering that are supposedly struggling to unlock Chinese demand. The WSJ piece doesn’t interrogate that story; it reaffirms it, at length, with some colorful anecdotes layered on top.

If you don’t follow the brand or the crisis closely, you walk away thinking: Arc’teryx is one of the rare brands winning in China while the Chanels and Guccis sputter; the Tibet thing blew over; management knows what it’s doing.

The piece misses the mark in a few areas:

1. Contradictions within the WSJ narrative itself

2. A very confident conclusion about Tibet and “no boycott” built on pre-crisis numbers

3. Missing ownership context, and what that implies for Arc’teryx’s future

4. A misleading portrayal of the Chinese consumer

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“High value is the new high end” – on whose terms?

One of the article’s core claims is that Arc’teryx has nailed the mood of the Chinese consumer, and “high value is the new high end.”

At the same time, the piece gives you this line from Stuart Haselden, Arc’teryx’s CEO:

“We sit in between sport and luxury,” he said in an interview. “It’s helped us to do well as the consumer environment has been challenging in China.”

And right alongside that, WSJ tells you that:

• Arc’teryx prices its products about 20% higher in China than in the U.S.

• China delivers wider profit margins than other regions.

High value for whom? The Chinese consumer—or Amer’s gross margin line?

The implied picture—that logo-conscious Chinese consumers are now trading LVMH and Gucci for Arc’teryx as their new expression of “high end”—is a big stretch. More likely, a thin upper slice is simply adding Arc’teryx to an existing roster of aspirational logos, not graduating from luxury to a higher plane of performance virtue. Wealthy Chinese shoppers haven’t “pulled back” from flashy luxury at all; they are buying Arc’teryx for the logo, as most of the Chinese consumers cited in the piece make clear. And if those same consumers are paying roughly 20% more than Americans for the privilege, it’s hard to argue that “value” is accruing anywhere except on Amer’s margin line.

2. “Boycott didn’t materialize” – based on a mostly pre-crisis quarter

The strongest reassurance in the WSJ piece is this: Arc’teryx’s sponsorship of a Cai Guo-Qiang fireworks display on the Tibetan Plateau “hasn’t stopped its growth in China,” and “a widespread boycott didn’t materialize.”

The first problem is simple: Q3, by definition, cannot fully reflect the aftermath of the Tibet event.

The WSJ piece leans on Amer’s Q3 results to argue the crisis passed with little impact on Amer’s earnings. To back that up, it notes that Amer reported Q3 results on November 18, with revenue up 30% to $1.76 billion and Greater China sales up 47% year over year. On the surface, that sounds like proof.

But the timing makes those numbers a poor test of the claim. The Cai Guo-Qiang × Arc’teryx fireworks event took place on September 19, followed by days of condemnation and calls for a boycott on Chinese social media. Amer Sports runs on a calendar fiscal year; Q3 2025 covers July 1 to September 30, 2025.

Those Q3 numbers are real—but they are overwhelmingly pre-crisis. Q3 tells you Arc’teryx was on fire in China before the event; it tells you almost nothing about the long-term consequences of the outrage that followed.

For the period where any real impact would show up—Q4—the article relies on a single piece of management guidance: Amer’s CEO acknowledges an “initial slowdown at the start of the fourth quarter,” but says sales growth has since rebounded “as the weather has cooled.”

A more balanced approach would have been:

• Q3, mostly pre-Tibet, was very strong.

• Management claims that Q4 is recovering after an initial dip.

• It is too early to know what the longer-term effects on the brand, pricing, and community will be.

Instead, the piece moves quickly to close the loop: Tibet happened, there was outrage, an apology, a cancelled academy, some restoration payments, and then sales and stock bounced back. End of story.

What’s missing is any real curiosity about what Chinese online outrage actually does over time—how it can erode moral authority, push core outdoor users toward other brands, or leave a lingering sense that something about the Arc’teryx story no longer rings true, even if that doesn’t show up as an immediate collapse in quarterly revenue.

3. Who owns Arc’teryx, and what future is it optimizing for?

The article does at least name the key players behind Arc’teryx: Anta, Amer, and Lululemon.

What it doesn’t do is connect those dots to Arc’teryx’s risk appetite and long-term direction.

Public filings show that entities affiliated with Anta hold an effectively controlling stake in Amer, making Anta its dominant shareholder. Under that structure, Amer’s ties to China have deepened—operationally, commercially, and strategically—and the reasoning in the piece why Arc’teryx can still win in China while the LVMHs and Kerings of the world struggle.

The WSJ piece conveniently replays and refreshes this thesis for a broader readership.

But to tell a whole story about how Arc’teryx is a “conquering China” case study, you can’t stop at “Anta owns a big chunk.” You also have to ask:

• How does Anta’s China-first priority shape the kinds of risks Arc’teryx takes—like a high-profile fireworks spectacle on the Tibetan Plateau for publicity?

• When the aforementioned controversial stunt blows up, what guardrails, if any, does Amer put in place to make sure it never gets that far again?

• How does the brand reconcile those pressures with the values Arc’Teryx claims—mountain respect, technical integrity, and environmental stewardship?

On that last question, the WSJ piece actually hints at another future: Amer wants North America to “catch up” to China in sales by 2030. That’s a big ambition. It raises some apparent tensions that the story doesn’t even poke at:

• If the most significant growth so far has come from logo-loving, wealthier Chinese consumers paying a premium, and the brand's founding story is about hardcore outdoor athletes, what will Arc’Teryx’s product assortment and production system look like in 2030?

• How will Arc’teryx prioritize R&D, store locations, and marketing when Anta-style volume growth in China and “salvaging the outdoor sporting community” in North America may not always pull in the same direction?

They aren’t theoretical governance questions; they go to the heart of what Arc’teryx becomes over the next decade. In such a long feature that positions itself as a look at Arc’teryx’s future, the absence of these types of questions is conspicuous.

4. The fantasy civil servant and teacher Arc’Teryx consumers that are so NOT the Chinese middle class

The most revealing part of the WSJ story is the closing anecdote.

We meet Zhao, a 28-year-old civil servant, and Lu, a 28-year-old teacher. Ahead of their first “outdoorsy” vacation to Iceland, they walk into an Arc’teryx store, and each buys an approximately $800 waterproof jacket. One reason they choose Arc’teryx: “everyone can recognize the logo.”

On the page, it’s a charming little scene. In the piece's structure, it does much heavier work: it serves as the image of the “new Chinese middle class” on which the China growth narrative rests.

Anyone with a realistic sense of what teachers and civil servants earn in China will recognize this as an exception rather than a representative snapshot of the middle class. Two $800 jackets plus an Iceland vacation is a major financial event even for many private-sector professionals.

What their story actually demonstrates is something much narrower: that a thin, relatively affluent slice of young Chinese can and will buy Arc’teryx as a status symbol, alongside other global luxury brands, when the brand’s story and social signals align.

But by presenting this couple as emblematic, the piece doesn’t just generalize about “Chinese consumers”; it elevates them into an aspirational fantasy that flatters Arc’teryx’s investor story. They become the emotional proof point that a 20% China premium is reasonable, twenty-somethings are spending thousands on jackets, and that investors can rejoice.

The missing step in all of this

If I put on my PR consultant hat for a second, I can almost see the sequence inside Amer and Anta. You watch the Tibet outrage run its course. You ride out the first wave of anger and boycott calls. You see that Q3 is still strong. By late autumn, you decide the worst is over, and it’s time to repair confidence. You line up a WSJ Exchange feature, put forward an eloquent CEO to talk China growth and global ambitions, acknowledge the controversy briefly, show contrition, and make sure two lines land clearly:

“A widespread boycott of Arc’teryx didn’t materialize.”
“The stock is up 28% this year.”

As a communications strategy, it’s solid. I’d advise a version of it myself.

What’s missing—and what the WSJ piece never really pushes for—is the step in between: a strong, specific commitment that foreshadows real change. Something closer to:

“As a mountaineer brand by DNA, we will protect the mountain and the brand at all cost. Here is how we will make sure a Tibet-style stunt never gets green-lit again.”

Instead, the closure is a short paragraph in passing: the academy was cancelled, a GM stepped down, and local authorities ordered restoration payments. There’s no real discussion of how decision-making has changed, what internal guardrails are now in place, or how Arc’teryx plans to rebuild trust with the outdoor and environmental communities it offended.

From a PR standpoint, timing a big WSJ Exchange hit to a strong Q3 and using it to underscore “no boycott” and “stock up 28%” is a textbook way to stabilize sentiment. No PR team gets punished for reassuring the market. But for a company that constantly invokes its “mountain DNA,” this was also a rare chance to say something concrete about values and the future—and that chance was mostly spent proving that Tibet didn’t dent the quarter.

That may be comforting for investors, but it is a narrower story than the brand is capable of telling. If Arc’teryx truly wants to sit “between sport and luxury” and still be taken seriously by climbers, hikers, and mountain towns, it has to show that a Tibetan Plateau fireworks stunt is more than a footnote that happened to leave Q3 intact. The brands that endure treat moments like this not as blips to wave away, but as chances to prove their DNA is something deeper than a logo and a line on an earnings slide.

Since I wrote this, XPENG has deleted both the LinkedIn posts and videos I mentioned below. That, in itself, is a case study in what not to do. When a CEO has already posted something publicly, pulling it down later doesn’t erase the message — it just makes you look like you’re trying to walk it back. If it’s out in public, deleting it from your own channels is about as effective as hiding a screenshot-era mistake.

When I first saw Chinese EV brand XPENG CEO He Xiaopeng’s LinkedIn post about flying an unhappy customer from Australia to Guangzhou, I thought: this is exactly what happens when crisis PR is reimagined as influencer content.

“When I learned about Vanessa’s unpleasant experience at one of our stores, I was determined to invite her to Guangzhou, China from Australia. This time, I stepped in as her sales consultant to create a brand-new, exclusive experience for her personally.”

On paper, it sounds heartfelt and almost humbling. But the video tells a different story.

A “dissatisfied” customer from Australia, Vanessa, is flown all the way to Guangzhou. The CEO personally greets her. Cameras are already rolling. She’s all smiles. There is an entourage that looks like press, XPENG employees, and a polished production setup.

Vanessa also happens to be a fashion blogger, which means she fits neatly into the “influencer for hire” template. On camera, she looks slightly nervous, but goes along in that eager-to-please way you see when someone knows they are part of a brand shoot. She mentions that she owns a Tesla, but cheerfully adds that XPENG’s full self-driving feature is included, “which is great!”

She then asks what should have been a queue-up question: “How many stores do you have globally?”

That is where the mask slips a little. Instead of answering directly, the edit cuts to b-roll of the XPENG model gliding down the road. The CEO’s voiceover in Chinese (he had been speaking English up to this point) comes in, boasting that XPENG is number six in the global sales ranking and that the G6 accounts for most of those sales. The shot snaps back to the CEO as he speaks to (probably) his colleague.

From there, the “apology tour” unravels and drifts over to flying cars, XPENG’s IRON robot (like, as in Iron Man?), and the high-tech showroom XPENG really wants the audience to see. The CEO never actually answers the question about store count.

The Comms Playbook that wasn’t

The original “unpleasant experience” barely exists in the video narrative. It functions as a pretext, a hook. The story is no longer “we heard you and fixed it,” but “look how impressive our ecosystem is.”

Founder-led communications are all the rage these days, but in the XPENG CEO’s case, this is almost a textbook example of how not to do it:

• The hero of the story is the CEO, not the customer.

• The arc is not “here’s what went wrong and how we fixed it,” which is how a brand builds trust with the most critical audience: potential customers watching.

• The tone is not one of accountability, but a self-promotion show-and-tell with a human prop.

XPENG in Australia

All of this would be strange enough if it were just a one-off human interest story. But the context matters. Why a customer from Australia specifically?

Australia is not a random sideshow for Chinese EV brands. It’s a right-hand-drive, high-income, safety-conscious market where Chinese brands like BYD and MG are already gaining share and trying to prove they can match or surpass Japanese and European incumbents. For XPENG, Australia is supposed to be a credibility market: a place to demonstrate that the brand can deliver reliable cars, functioning after-sales service, and basic service in an English-speaking environment, to gear up for other right-hand-drive markets like the UK and Singapore.

On Whirlpool, one of Australia’s big tech and EV forums, the comments on XPENG’s local rollout are not about flying cars. They are about basic execution: long waits for cars, confusion about delivery timelines, lack of clarity on parts and servicing, and a messy website.

One comment calls out the problem:

“XPENG has made a lot of announcements, but doesn’t seem to be too good at following through on the basics.”

It’s a brutal line because it captures the asymmetry so cleanly. On LinkedIn, XPENG is showing off a CEO flying customers across continents, humanoid robots, and dramatic robot demos. On forums, real customers are asking whether spare parts are available in-country and why their car hasn’t arrived yet. And XPENG has been courting Australian consumers with incentives like lowering deposits, and offering zero-percent financing or cashback.

Which leads to an obvious question that the LinkedIn post never acknowledges: Out of all the customers in Australia who have complained, how did XPENG pick Vanessa? By the end of the video, I still don’t know what her complaint is. How was she chosen? To be the one flown to Guangzhou, given the CEO treatment, and turned into content.

Was she picked because her case was the most serious, or because she was the most on-brand—a camera-friendly, English-speaking fashion blogger whose presence reinforces XPENG’s aspirational image in Western markets?

Good crisis work, when something actually goes wrong, is boring on camera. It is about listening, acknowledging the problem, and explaining in concrete terms what broke in the system. The company shows what has changed for everyone, not just for one person flown in on a sponsored trip. It empowers frontline staff, changes incentives and processes, and monitors whether the fixes work.

“Blind driving” without a real third party

Less than a day after the Guangzhou–Vanessa reel, XPENG’s CEO posted a second video, this time to showcase XPENG’s AI driving capabilities.

The video shows a car with its windows fully covered, running what is described as a “blind driving” test. A host—clearly not Chinese, not once named, positioned as an international voice—narrates the experience and jokes about his “dangerous” job riding along. There’s a playful dig at Tesla, and he says on camera that Xpeng’s system is “probably better than Tesla’s FSD.”

On the surface, this looks like a third-party endorsement: look, a foreign host is saying our system is safer and better than Tesla’s. But again, the fundamental questions any serious viewer would ask are never addressed:

• Who is this host? What is his background?

• Why should we care about his opinion?

This “international host explainer video” format only works if the person comes in with independent credibility: a CNBC anchor, a BBC correspondent, a well-known safety tester, or a YouTuber serving as a trusted third-party voice.

The test itself is conducted in a closed, controlled area on a track Xpeng has built, with prearranged obstacles laid out in front of the vehicle. As a proof-of-concept demo, that setup is reasonable; companies have to start somewhere. But the way it is framed (“100% safety,” “full confidence”) asks the audience to make a leap from controlled environment to real-world safety without evidence.

Even the “dangerous job” joke undermines the seriousness of what they are supposedly proving. If the whole point is that the system is trustworthy, why is everyone still half-treating it like a stunt?

Earned influence vs. paid influence

Both posts share the same underlying confusion: mistaking paid or controlled influence for earned authority.

Hiring influencers to do a segment about your AI driving safety is, structurally, an advertisement. Putting a fashion blogger who had a bad experience into a glossy “VIP redemption” storyline is also, structurally, an advertisement. An ad is not PR.

There is nothing wrong with paid or staged content. Brands do it every day. The problem comes when companies expect these pieces to be received as fair and objective third-party opinions—as if the audience will treat the influencer like a neutral journalist or a safety authority.

They won’t. People see the “hard sell” and recognize when a “host” is there to deliver talking points rather than to interrogate claims. They notice when, at the end of the video, he is essentially reading out a recap that sounds like the brand deck.

Earned influence works differently:

• In crisis: you earn trust by being specific about what went wrong and what you changed.

• In product and safety: you earn trust by working with credible third parties—engineers, testing agencies, researchers, skeptical reviewers—and letting them design or at least seriously interrogate the tests, even if the results are not purely flattering.

Paid influence can create awareness, reach, and a short-term boost. But it is not the strategy for building a long-term reputation. The moment the audience senses that what they are seeing is over-produced, over-managed, and under-explained, the credibility falls off a cliff.

The algorithm vs. the audience

If these two LinkedIn posts are XPENG’s way of “getting a head start” and being aggressive in external comms—one emotional, one technical—they should probably rethink how they deliver the strategy.

Looking at the comment sections reveals a familiar pattern: waves of positive but hollow support, the kind of generic praise that reads more like people trying to ingratiate themselves with the CEO than offering genuine engagement. That is not a measure of real persuasion; it is a measure of internal power dynamics and LinkedIn politeness.

The danger for any company, not just XPENG, is that leadership begins optimizing for the wrong audience. The stories are crafted to play well inside the company and within the executive’s own social graph—the visionary CEO, the fearless AI, the human-like robot—rather than to build durable trust with the people whose lives and safety are actually affected by the products. Even Chinese media 36Kr has called on Chinese EV brands, including XPENG, to stop “avoiding problems” in a piece aptly titled: “Domestic brands are still one 'recall' away from foreign brands.”

Earlier this month, Xpeng showcased a new humanoid robot and discussed its self-developed Turing AI chips. The rebrand as an “AI company” is timely. The humanoid robot’s eerily human-like gait went viral, and Xpeng even cut it up live on stage to prove there was no real person inside.

XPENG Co-President Brian Gu told CNBC that the “company has been developing some technology before Tesla but has not been as vocal in promoting it.”

It sure is now.

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Instead of the what and how, I’m focusing on two things:

1. why Chinese netizens are furious (hubris, status signaling, a conquer-nature posture) and

2. how Arc’teryx’s global vs. China messaging split made the crisis worse, compounded by Cai’s lack of an English statement on his own channels.

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Quick recap

The fireworks display, “Ascending Dragon,” was staged Friday by Arc’teryx and Cai Guo-Qiang at roughly 18,000 feet in the Himalayas—an extremely fragile alpine ecosystem in southwest Tibet (NBC News). After footage of the activation spread, backlash in China centered on sacred land and environmental risk. Local officials first said the materials were eco-friendly and no environmental impact assessment (EIA) was needed, then quickly announced a task force to investigate.

On September 21, both the brand and the artist apologized. Public expectations hardened around verifiable process, transparency, and honest disclosure of long-term impact.

Why are Chinese netizens so angry?

Ecology and sacred-land norms reduced to commercialization. High-altitude reserves are sensitive both environmentally and culturally. A gunpowder spectacle presented as a “tribute to nature” reads as using nature, not respecting it. In many such zones, access is tightly restricted; even holiday fireworks are often banned. This isn’t about everyone suddenly becoming environmentalists; it reflects a shift: consumers are no longer buying thinly veiled eco-marketing to sell more product.

Luxury posture vs. stewardship. Arc’teryx is positioned as a luxury brand in China on price, but its brand DNA is hardcore outdoor credibility. Founded in 1989, and now under Amer Sports (with Anta acquiring and taking Amer IPO last year. Anta is now the largest shareholder).

In China, Arc’teryx evolved from technical performance to status symbol. It still makes technical outdoor gear, but it has expanded beyond its core base to status-seeking consumers. As one widely shared online joke puts it, “the three treasures of middle-aged men are Moutai, fishing, and Arc’teryx.” Marketing spectacle without robust safeguards alienates the purists who built the brand’s credibility; courting a broader audience who buy for the brand prestige risks diluting the core brand value.

Tone and hubris. Many read the activation as a man-versus-nature, conquer-nature message—self-importance dressed up as tribute to nature. A big brand budget doesn’t make an activation relevant; here, it backfired. A younger audience increasingly rejects staged “representation,” whether it comes from corporate power or artistic authority. Arc’Teryx X Cai Guo-Qiang is getting all the bad press and backlash because they fundamentally misreads the current mood of “emotional capitalism,” which rewards connection and substance over grand gestures.

Fragmented comms: dual narrative at the core

Here is how the affected parties all responded:

Arc’teryx

The global response on Instagram (“A message from Arc’teryx”) effectively frames this as a project executed by “a China team and a local artist.” The signal: a rogue act over there, not us over here. That framing lands badly in China. It echoes a familiar trope—enjoy the China business, outsource the blame—and suggests the brand is defying or distancing itself from its Chinese parent owner. The ripple effect was swift. The drama remained on Weibo’s top search throughout the weekend.

• Overseas (e.g., Instagram): just a note casting the incident as an isolated deviation from values—“we spoke to the artist and our China team; we’ll change how we work to avoid it from happening again.” That is distancing.

• Domestically (Weibo, Red Note, Wechat official account): framed as an “apology,” much longer explanation promising process remedies—regulator-guided reviews, third-party assessments, and remediation based on findings. That is make-good homework.

Across China and the United States, the strategy reads as a double standard, and consumers and reporters take notice. U.S. and Chinese coverage flagged the communications gap, which in turn amplified anger inside China.

Cai Guo-Qiang

Cai apologized on his studio’s WeChat and Weibo, but not on his personal Instagram in English. His international footprint is significant—for instance, just this month an anonymous donor gave his 1991 work “Bigfoot’s Footprints: Project for Extraterrestrials No. 6” to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Yet apologizing only inside China intensified backlash on international platforms. His Instagram filled with protests and comments citing from China’s Wildlife Protection Law and the Regulations on Nature Reserves. On Chinese platforms, the questions echoed: Was there an assessment? By whom? When will results be public?

Chinese reporting indicates that staff at Cai’s Beijing studio said other departments executed the event; they reiterated that materials were “environmentally friendly,” could not speak to flora-fauna impact, referred inquiries to the New York studio, and ended the call.

Cai’s value to Arc’teryx is his blue-chip credibility: recent collaborations with Saint Laurent (Tokyo exhibition and daytime fireworks) and Lancôme; long-term support from the Asian Cultural Council, Fondation Cartier, the Getty Foundation/PST ART, the U.S. National Endowment for the Arts, the Museo del Prado, and P3 Tokyo. With that pedigree, Arc’teryx helped him “realize a dream” on a high-risk project. The same prestige that once helped win core enthusiasts can flip quickly when the narrative breaks.

Amer / Anta

Anta’s social accounts were flooded with negative comments; its official Weibo restricted follows and comments, and multiple Douyin videos were hidden. As of publication, there was no public statement from Anta. Amer Sports has not issued any media statements.

According to Chinese reporting, Anta told reporters to refer to Arc’teryx’s releases. Amer Sports’ share price fell more than 5%. Arc’teryx is Amer’s flagship and the engine of technical-apparel growth; China provides both the highest premium and incremental growth. Anta is the largest shareholder and, post-listing, still holds about 43%.

Arc’teryx’s brand health and China performance flow directly into group profits—turning a brand–artist PR mess into a bigger governance question: can Anta operate overseas high-end brands well and unlock long-term value?

In February 2024 when Amer listed on the NYSE (Yaling and I wrote about it last year)

Following the Yuan

Unpacking Amer Sports IPO 📦 | Calling the Shots x Following the yuan

Today, Anta-owned sporting goods company Amer Sports (NYSE: AS) is officially listed in the U.S. on an initial public offering of around US$1.37 billion…

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2 years ago · 7 likes · Ivy Yang and Yaling Jiang

touting “leading ESG performance,” which attracted sustainability-focused funds. The stock wobbled afterward, and the group leaned into high-profile environmental marketing—Arc’teryx ReBIRD™, Salomon’s “zero-waste factory,” and similar campaigns clustered around the listing window. The Tibet fireworks fit that pattern: marketing-led environmentalism—a spectacle to juice exposure while underestimating ecological risk. An expensive mistake.

Global communications: the baseline and the fix

The takeaway is straightforward. First, consistency is the starting point for global communications: one brand, one incident, one narrative. Local execution can adapt; the storyline cannot. Second, cultural fluency is non-negotiable. In sensitive natural or cultural settings, aesthetics give way to process and evidence that can withstand outside scrutiny. Third, credibility requires compliance from day one—and a promise to publish. Build the environmental assessment, material-residue testing, wildlife-disturbance thresholds, monitoring cadence, and disclosure channels into the brief; name the third party; set a timetable and milestones; and keep reporting while protecting legitimately sensitive information. That’s how you create durable public oversight—and the fastest path to rebuild trust.

The same bar applies to the artist. If the work and its impact cross borders, the explanation and accountability should, too. Even a concise English post laying out the facts and timeline would meet the baseline expectations of a global audience.

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That’s the current vibe check as we brace for tariff escalation. The new U.S. tariffs on Chinese imports—and the end of the de minimis exemption that once allowed shipments under $800 to enter duty-free—have sent Chinese platforms scrambling. E-commerce giants like Temu and Shein are pulling back, and the ripple effects are already hitting digital ad markets and consumer behavior.

Temu spent heavily on U.S. digital advertising after its 2022 launch—but that phase is likely over. According to Adweek, its share of Google Shopping impressions dropped to 0% last week. The company, which previously claimed 1 in 5 Google Shopping ads, slashed its daily average ad spend by 31% from March 31 to April 13. Shein reduced its spending by 19% in the same period.

Whether this is a temporary recalibration or the start of a longer retreat is TBD. But with their most important overseas market now facing steep friction, Temu and Shein are under pressure to pivot and stop its spending sprees.

The impact goes beyond Temu and Shein, touching every major retailer built on low-cost Chinese manufacturing and a value-for-quality model—Amazon, Walmart, and Target included.

Shein and Temu have long relied on low prices, viral marketing, and little to nonexistent communications to just focus on GMV growth. But that playbook isn’t built for moments like this.

In response to the tariff changes, both companies issued almost identical statements announcing price hikes.

As of now, these announcements are the only official public-facing updates. There hasn’t been a broader press outreach, consumer education campaign, or direct pushback to the narrative forming around them. Perhaps more is to come—but in this moment of reputational risk, the absence of deeper engagement (and identical statement!!) is notable.

Reposition Around Value—Not Just Price

Shein and Temu can no longer compete on ultra-low prices alone. What they can compete on—what they must compete on—is operational efficiency, speed, and differentiation from its competitors.

Here’s something they could include in their messaging playbook:

• We control our supply chains. That’s how we stay nimble, cut waste, and keep prices competitive—even with tariffs.

• We are deeply integrated with Chinese manufacturing. That’s why we can scale trends faster and smarter than anyone else.

• We iterate faster than anyone. That speed means less unsold inventory and better alignment with what consumers actually want. We do this better than our competitors.

Tariffs raise costs. But efficiency, focus, and smart logistics can still deliver value—and that’s the positioning that can win.

Don’t Let Billions in Customer Acquisition Go to Waste

Billions have already been poured into acquiring American customers. Now is not the time to pull back or let lesser-known platforms swoop in to fill the vacuum. DHGate is already surging in the App Store rankings, buoyed by the TikTok-fueled wave of "factory direct" content.

Because American consumers are not sitting idle ahead of higher expected prices. They’re actively looking for alternatives. Factory tours, warehouse hauls, sourcing agents—all framed as ways to bypass traditional retail markups—are flooding social feeds. If Shein and Temu go quiet now, they risk being sidelined by nimble upstarts with looser governance and nothing to lose.

The Bottom Line

Nothing unites Americans more than the fear of losing access to whatever we want, whenever we want it. This moment isn’t just about finding a bargain—it’s about maintaining what feels like a birthright: cheap, endless choice, delivered on demand.

Shein and Temu don’t need to be perfect. But they need to be present. They need to move past the vague, formulaic statements and start telling a real story. A story about resilience, adaptation, and why they’re still the best value in the market—even when the market changes.

Because if they don’t tell that story, someone else will. And it likely won’t be in their favor.

When I checked on January 12th, 2026, the Substack Tenchnology has been deleted.

The collapse of legacy media, rise of solo journalism, and shrinking newsroom budgets have prompted companies to build their own platforms and speak directly to their audiences. Enter: the corporate Substack.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Substack is changing the game for corporate communications. Whether it’s The RealReal channeling Gossip Girl nostalgia, Polymarket delivering newsy data-driven updates, or A16Z getting it right with Speedrun, companies are leaning into content and storytelling and reaching their audience directly.

With a built-in audience, room for long-form content, and a social feedback loop, Substack is the new Wild West, where companies can plant their flag and control their own narrative.

Last week, however, I came across Exhibit A of how NOT to Substack. 

came through on my feed, and I started reading. Did not take long for me to realize that this was likely coming straight from Tencent HQ.

, the widely respected China observer and writer of Sinocism, was more direct than I. A day later, he asked pointedly: 

“Hello Tenchnology, are you affiliated with Tencent? If so you really should disclose that here, can’t find any mention of it in your Substack presence.”

Tenchnology responded the same day, sounding a bit sheepish: 

“Thanks, Bill, for the reminder and for your interest in this little unknown newsletter. I'm new to Substack—lots to learn! Just a heads-up: the About page has been updated.”

Tenchnology’s About page soon read:

“Tencent employee by profession, tech news junkie by obsession. I share bits and bytes from China’s tech scene—some translated, some straight from my keyboard. Hit follow if that sounds even mildly interesting. All content reflects my personal opinions.”

A Substack run by someone openly affiliated with Tencent—but with content that, until Bill Bishop’s intervention, made no mention of the connection? As someone who closely watches how Chinese companies communicate (and often miscommunicate) with global audiences, I had to dig deeper.

What I found was both intriguing and cringe-inducing.

First Impressions: A Mysterious About-Face

My first stop was Tenchnology’s Substack itself. The name alone – Tenchnology – feels like a cheeky wink at Tencent (Ten-chnology, get it?). Initially, the site offered little about who was behind it. No names, no bios, just a tagline. The lack of affiliation disclosure was glaring for an outlet writing so much about a single company.

After Bishop’s public call-out, Tenchnology's revised blurb essentially says Tenchnology is an independent newsletter run by an individual with deep experience and insights in China’s tech industry who, by chance, is also on Tencent’s payroll. They insist all content represents their “personal opinions” and is not on behalf of any organization. In other words, their polite but defensive response was intended to reassure Bishop and other readers that the content constitutes personal opinion, not an official Tencent mouthpiece.

The Tencent Corporate Spirit

From the very first paragraphs, Tenchnology’s content has a corporate tone that’s impossible to ignore. Each piece reads like it was drafted by a PR team enamored with Tencent’s greatness. The coverage is unfailingly positive, often effusive in its praise of Tencent’s products, strategy, and financial performance. There’s nary a critical nuance or outside perspective – a stark contrast to the vibrant, opinionated voices one usually finds on Substack.

Take, for example, a recent post gushing over Tencent’s advances in AI. It opens with a series of “Did you know?” bullet points that feel like a copy-and-paste from an internal brag sheet:

These factoids set the tone: Tenchnology is here to sing Tencent’s praises. The article goes on to marvel at how Tencent has “gone full throttle” on AI, “pushing all its chips in, rolling the dice, and playing to win,” with its ambitious investments already “boosting its bottom line.” This isn’t objective analysis – it’s cheerleading. As I read, I half-expected a Tencent stock ticker to start rolling at the bottom of my screen.

Another piece – a recap of Tencent’s Q4 2024 earnings – might as well have been copied from Tencent’s own press release. It dutifully reports revenue and profit figures (all up, of course) and applauds “the acceleration of its transformation into a high-quality growth company.”​ The phrasing “high-quality growth company” rang a bell; it’s precisely the kind of self-congratulatory language companies use about themselves. The post continues with more glowing commentary on how AI has revitalized Tencent, driving “positive results across the board.” In Tenchnology’s hands, Tencent can do no wrong – every initiative is visionary, every metric points upward.

I kept looking for any hint of skepticism or even a mild critique. Instead, I found sentences like “aggressive stock buybacks have cemented its status as the most shareholder-friendly Chinese tech company” and then proceeded to ding Alibaba.

One article breathlessly recounts how Tencent’s new AI chatbot overtook rivals in download charts in just two weeks. Another lists “10 Highlights” from Tencent’s earnings, all of which just highlight how well Tencent is doing.

Even when discussing other people's work—such as Jeffrey Ding's conversation about diffusion with Azeem Azhar (Plug: Jeffrey’s ChinaAI is a must read)—Tencent inserted itself into the conversation by offering "context" stating that "Yuanbao AI is merging with Deepseek, aligning with China's broader AI adoption strategy," despite the fact that Tencent and Yuanbao AI weren't mentioned once during the entire livestream.

Even nominally mundane news gets a pro-Tencent spin. It’s a relentless drumbeat of positivity. For readers accustomed to the frank analysis and occasional cynicism on Substacks, Tenchnology’s tone is a giveaway that this is unadulterated corporate comms in disguise.

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with being positive about a company. I am in the PR and comms business, and building a positive reputation is what I do. But the rules of the game are changing.

Substack is not like traditional media because journalistic etiquette and norms don’t necessarily apply here, and there is no legacy of reputation to rely on. Credibility is earned post by post, not through affiliation. Substack is a place where writers succeed by cultivating trust, often through candor, personality, and, yes, sometimes by airing unpopular opinions. 

Tenchnology offers none of that. It’s blandly on-message, as if afraid to deviate from a script. The result? Reading it feels like eating a spoonful of sugar. It’s sweet for a moment, but ultimately, it’s empty calories. 

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Don’t Take Your Audience for Granted

Tenchnology can certainly rebut what I stated above by saying:

“There are posts about Bytedance and made-in-China short dramas” that do not mention Tencent at all.”

Yes, that’s true. And maybe Tenchnology is just another very pro-Tencent blog that parrots talking points from the company’s internal newsroom. But patterns emerged that suggest a concerted PR effort.

First, Tenchnology’s earliest subscribers are suspiciously tied to Tencent’s communications orbit. Including a comms officer from the Tencent Foundation (now it makes sense that there is a post about snow leopards for a tech-focused Substack). Even one actual Tencent employee publicly called out Tenchnology on X, writing: “Pretty sure this article is Tencent prop(aganda)...”

There is also some questionable cross-promotion happening. This past January, Tenchnology “cross-posted” an article with Geopolitechs, which ended with a conclusion so convenient for Tencent that it read like a friendly pat on the back:

“The removal of Tencent’s WeChat from the Notorious Markets List may indicate, to some extent, that the DoD’s inclusion of Tencent on the CMC list is an isolated incident, and that Tencent is not a key target of sanctions by the U.S. government—at least not in a systematic, ‘whole-of-government’ manner. For Tencent and its investors, this certainly qualifies as good news.”

Just as Geopolititechs used quotes from several Chinese outlets (自媒体 influencer accounts) as supporting evidence for its thesis, some Tenchnology posts are direct translations of Tencent’s Chinese releases.

Check out the piece below for a deep dive into how the Chinese media landscape works.

For the Game Developers Conference recap post, for example, Tenchnology cited details verbatim from its Chinese release (Tenchnology even included one of the hyperlinks!), including the stat that 52% of developers use AI tools, Tencent’s participation, and examples.

Tenchnology

GDC 2025 — AI is Reshaping the Future of Gaming

With more than 1,000 speakers, 750 sessions, and 400 exhibitors, the event was a hotspot for game development trends, AI advancements, and cutting-edge technology. This year, three topics dominated discussions: AI, game design & development, and user…

Read more

a year ago · 1 like · Tenchnology

Add it all up, and you get an unmistakable sense that Tenchnology’s glowingly pro-Tencent drumbeat isn’t just a case of one employee sharing personal passions. Instead, it is clearly an extension of Tencent’s corporate news page.

How to Go Direct on Substack

So, what’s the takeaway here (besides giving us all a good chuckle and an eye-roll at yet another attempt at corporate astroturfing)? Am I saying companies shouldn’t use Substack or that any positive coverage of a company is propaganda? Not at all. In fact, I applaud companies trying new ways to engage audiences directly. Substack can be an excellent medium for that – if it’s done right. The problem with Tenchnology is not that it’s a company trying to tell its story; the problem is that it’s doing it in an opaque and ultimately counterproductive way.

For any companies – especially those in China tech – looking to “go direct” and communicate on platforms like Substack, here’s my advice, from one Substack writer to (aspiring) others:

• Be Transparent from Day One: If your newsletter is company-affiliated or written by employees, say so upfront. You don’t have to shout it in every sentence, but disclose affiliations on your About page or in an introductory post. Transparency builds trust. Hiding or obscuring who you are will inevitably destroy trust when readers figure it out (and they will). It’s far better to say, “We work at Tencent and here’s our insider take” than to pretend you’re objective when you’re not. It also gives reporters the confidence to quote directly from Substack as a credible source in their pieces.

• Provide Value Beyond Self-Promotion: Ask yourself, why should a reader spend time on your piece? If the content is purely promotional, only the most die-hard corporate fans will care. To appeal to a broader audience, share insights or stories that readers can’t get elsewhere. Tap into your unique perspective – maybe you have great data, firsthand anecdotes, or technical knowledge – and use that to inform and enlighten. It’s fine to highlight your company’s achievements, but contextualize them, critique them even, and offer takeaways that aren’t just “Tencent is great.” In other words, have editorial integrity. Curate and edit your content as a real publication would, not just as a marketing channel.

• If you're anonymous, you better be brilliant. Sharp voice, consistent posts, real engagement. And that requires leaning into the Substack subculture in authentic and genuine ways. Understanding what the target audience is interested in and making editorial decisions based on that will go a long way.

• Substack is not the low-budget version of a corporate news site. Don’t confuse formats. Substack is not a PRnewswire dupe or a low-effort comms channel. It demands more. And just because you can write the unequivocally positive article PRs wish reporters could write, does not mean one should. Substack is about building a foundation and reputation worthy of respect through the number of people who subscribe. Because you can’t “lend” the reputation of outlets and journalists who investigate and report on the validity of points made, you have to earn the traffic. Again, this is why anonymity is hard to make work, and even harder when you decide to write that softball release masked as a Substack post. 

To put it simply, credibility is earned the hard way – through openness, originality, and authenticity. There’s no shortcut, not even for one of the world’s biggest tech giants.

Tenchnology serves as a cautionary tale. Readers today are savvy; they can sense when content is just corporate PR wrapped in Substack skin. They’ll respond with a collective shrug or call it out for what it is.

As for me, I’m glad Bill Bishop’s note led me down this rabbit hole. It reaffirmed why I love writing Calling the Shots in the first place – to shine a light on the nuances of how Chinese tech companies communicate their stories to the world. Consider this a friendly nudge to Tencent and any other company experimenting in the Substack arena: If you’re going to “call the shots” directly, think more like a reporter, and less like a PR flack, or your audience will call your bluff.

So let’s keep the conversation going. Corporate substacks are here; no one minds a company joining the chat, as long as you speak like a human and not a press release. You will win hearts and minds, not to mention subscribers.

What's the PR playbook for 2025 with a fragmented media landscape and black swan events? Let's start with the challenges, perfectly summarized by Biden's outgoing Communications Director:

1. It's harder than ever before to break through

2. Most Americans under 35 have moved away from traditional news sources.

3. There's a global anti-incumbent, anti-institution wave.

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These points deeply resonate with me. I see a widening schism between what serious, top-tier media wants to cover and companies’ expectation of coverage. But when the media interest is there, there is often reluctance to share–this is typically a duel between legal and PR, but also perception of the risks associated with engaging with media. RedNote is probably swimming in media inquiries at this point, yet it has not officially said anything about the scale and impact of the TikTok refugees moving over to its app. Whereas Duolingo has jumped on the trend and driving the conversation.

RedNote’s X account seems to have been taken over by its China PR team, with the rigidly translated “letters to Lihua” phenomenon that the Chinese state media is also promoting across its channels.

But if RedNote has taught us anything, it is that 2025 will be volatile as the public tries to make sense of all the competing narratives around them.

Communications with the public and relevant stakeholders will need to evolve, and that’s the topic of discussion I had with Eddie Tabakman, AKA Eddie the Media Trainer. Below is a summary of our observations and predictions for 2025.

What is Media Relations Anyway?

Building a relationship with the media so you are top of mind—that's how I'd define it. But the core challenge isn't just securing coverage, it's understanding the media ecosystem.

There are some common misconceptions that we both see way too often than not:

Binary thinking: Many founders swing between two extremes—believing media exists either to promote or to tear down their business. The reality is more nuanced: media serves its audience, not companies.

What’s Newsy: There's frequently a disconnect between what companies consider newsworthy and what actually interests journalists. An app update affecting 5,000 users rarely interests publications with millions of readers. However, framing it within broader trends increases coverage chances and builds credibility with reporters.

The relationship myth: This is particularly common among international companies entering the U.S. market—believing media coverage is purely relationship-based and can be "managed" through personal connections. Let's be clear: earned media comes through diligent and relevant pitching; it can't be bought.

Given these misconceptions, let's explore several key trends reshaping the U.S. media landscape:

• Individual journalists leaving legacy media for Substack

• Changing incentive structure as writers need build personal brands to stand out

• Corporate Substacks emerging as an owned communications channel

• Traditional news and social media influence becoming increasingly intertwined

And Eddie and I both agree that it all comes down to audience development. Instead of relying on paid advertising and buying traffic and impressions, building an audience means developing a direct relationship with your readers, which leads to the next point:

How do you stand out in this media environment?

Authenticity is Key

The corporate communications game needs a revamp in 2025. Think about Joe Rogan's raw, marathon conversations crushing it while Meghan Markle's overly polished podcast flopped. People crave authentic dialogue and unfiltered opinions. For companies, this means abandoning PR-speak and finding their authentic voices and positioning.

Speed trumps perfection–forget about taking a week to craft the perfect statement and navigating bureaucratic layers and internal debates. Having the right voice for platform-specific content is essential—what works on TikTok won't in the Wall Street Journal. But the key is you give the reporters what they want when they want it.

How are brands and companies preparing for those unexpected moments when they get pulled into X storms or political debates? Think Donald Trump walking into a McDonald's. How you respond will be how the public remembers you. With journalists building personal followings, editors more and more dictating the direction of coverage, and everyone chasing the next big breaking news with less time, the traditional media playbook has become obsolete.

Owned Channel Strategy

Eddie and I explored the pros and cons of this because going direct is having a moment in the comms world. And here are our thoughts on this:

• Choose platforms aligned with your natural communication style (video, writing, or audio) and maintain consistency, and develop it thoroughly before moving on to a new format.

• Focus on where your target audience genuinely spends time.

• Adopt a hybrid approach combining direct channels with earned media and influencer strategies.

• Recognize platform-specific purposes: discovery (TikTok, Instagram, X) versus relationship-building (Substack, podcasts), and build a strategy around it and stick with it.

Writing about PR after the whirlwind of the RedNote craze is also giving me food for thought about crisis communication.

If anything, the TikTok and RedNote migration exemplifies how black swan events will likely become more frequent, given the volatile news cycle under an administration making swift, significant changes.

Companies need to understand that with social media, a fad could quickly become a movement, and a tweet could be turn up on national news. You're managing multiple audiences simultaneously, and any internal memo could surface on X.

The new rules: assume everything goes public, recognize that influencers operate outside traditional media rules, move quickly while maintaining accuracy, and be prepared to manage crises across all platforms simultaneously.

Saying this again: speed trumps perfection—for reporters, timing is critical. Once the news cycle moves on, a company's power to shape the narrative vanishes.

I do hope RedNote will seize the moment and spin the media interest to its advantage.

Parting words:

Simply put: it’s showdown time.

In a recent Wired article, I weighed in on TikTok’s defense strategy during its recent court hearing. The piece, aptly headlined “TikTok’s Defense Strategy Involves Throwing Shein and Temu Under the Bus,” captures the heart of TikTok’s legal gambit—deflecting scrutiny by pointing out that other Chinese apps, like Shein and Temu, collect far more personal data than TikTok. TikTok's legal counsel focused on the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act (PAFACA), arguing that the “law exempts other Chinese apps that could be doing worse in terms of data security protection.”

“There are very significant e-commerce sites based in China and other places that collect much more data than TikTok does—very sensitive data,” TikTok’s lawyer said. He even narrowed the targets to “two Chinese e-commerce sites that would certainly meet all of the other criteria in the law.”

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However, this tactic could backfire. By aligning itself with Shein and Temu, TikTok risks undermining its long-held stance of being a global, rather than a Chinese, company. As I noted in the piece,

"TikTok, in its defense, may be weakening its narrative that it’s not a Chinese company by grouping itself with Shein and Temu."

This might make for a sound legal strategy, but from a reputation management perspective, it complicates TikTok's positioning in Western markets. By focusing on its competitors’ practices, TikTok inadvertently ties itself to them, reinforcing the perception that it belongs in the same category of Chinese-origin companies.

With The Wall Street Journal, I got to explore how Shein and Temu are navigating the proposed de minimis tariff ban. This exemption, which has allowed these companies to send low-cost goods to the U.S. with minimal import duties, has been central to their explosive growth in the U.S. market. In the WSJ piece titled "How a Tariff Rule Aimed at China Could Affect U.S. Ad Spending,"

I pointed out that “Shein and Temu are downplaying the political risk by either minimizing the importance of this loophole or focusing on how it levels the playing field for all players.”

This narrative, while providing temporary cover, won’t hold for long—the game of musical chairs is coming to an end. Both companies have built their business models on cost and operational efficiency, but they must now face the reality that the regulatory landscape is shifting beneath them. By focusing on efficiency and exploiting every loophole available, Shein and Temu have achieved unprecedented success, but the existential danger they face in the U.S. is something they can no longer afford to ignore.

Legal Strategy vs. Reputation Management

TikTok’s courtroom defense and Shein and Temu’s response to tariff scrutiny highlight the delicate balancing act China-affiliated companies must perform. Their legal strategy is in direct conflict with their long-term reputation. TikTok’s decision to deflect attention toward Shein and Temu may help in court, but it risks blurring the line between TikTok’s narrative of being a global company and its association with other Chinese-origin platforms. The more TikTok invokes Shein and Temu in its defense, the more it undermines its efforts to distance itself from the "Chinese company" label.

Similarly, Shein and Temu are walking a fine line. Their efficiency-driven business models, while highly successful, are being questioned by both regulators and the media. The de minimis tariff exemption has been crucial to their growth—despite the PR efforts to minimize its importance—allowing them to undercut competitors on price and rapidly expand in the U.S. However, this loophole is closing in fast.

As WSJ also reported, Shein has been on a charm offensive, “spending on lobbying and allocating more than $50 million to ensure it and its thousands of suppliers comply with regulations where Shein operates.” Yet in the context of Shein’s purported $32 billion in sales in 2023, that’s a mere 0.15%—so much for talking a big game.

Legal and reputation strategies are often at odds because they serve different audiences and objectives. As seen with TikTok’s U.S. court defense, legal arguments that shift blame onto competitors may work in court but can backfire in the court of public opinion. By aligning itself with Shein and Temu, TikTok weakens its long-standing narrative of being a global, non-Chinese company, complicating how it’s perceived by Western audiences. Moreover, legal strategies that focus on minimizing blame or shifting responsibility often clash with public expectations for accountability, potentially eroding trust.

There’s also the risk that legal talking points can be used by critics in the public realm, further damaging a company’s reputation. TikTok’s defense, designed to win in court, could be framed by opponents as evasive or even dishonest, undermining the company’s credibility outside the courtroom. While legal strategies aim for short-term victories, reputation requires long-term, consistent, values-based communication. In TikTok’s case, winning in court may come at the expense of eroding trust with its global audience.

Dual Narratives and the Global Scrutiny of Chinese Companies

These examples underscore two central challenges for China-affiliated companies operating in the West. First, their legal strategies often clash with long-term reputation goals. Second, they must balance the demands of U.S. regulatory frameworks with the expectations of their domestic Chinese audiences.

These companies must juggle dual narratives—one for Western regulators and consumers, and another for their domestic Chinese audience. In China, these companies are celebrated for their efficiency and competitiveness in overseas markets, partly due to the favorable (often pay-for-play) media landscape. However, in the U.S., they are increasingly viewed with suspicion, seen as potential threats to national security and economic stability. Navigating these conflicting narratives is no easy task, especially as regulatory pressure mounts.

The U.S. media is also starting to consider the broader implications of these companies' operations. Beyond immediate concerns about data privacy and regulatory compliance, questions are being raised about their broader impact on the U.S. economy, competition, and global commerce. More importantly, the companies’ rise could reshape the competitive landscape from impact on retail and supply chain security, to effects on tech innovation and the advertising industry.

The Road Ahead: Reputation and Stakeholder Engagement

As China-affiliated companies face growing regulatory and public scrutiny in the U.S., the need for thoughtful reputation management and stakeholder engagement has never been more critical. Legal victories alone will not secure their future in Western markets; they must also win over public opinion and navigate a complex web of narratives that transcend national boundaries.

For TikTok, Shein, and Temu, the road ahead will be defined by their ability to reconcile their global ambitions with the regulatory realities they face in the U.S. and beyond. How they manage this balancing act could very well determine their future—not just in the U.S. market, but in the global economy.

The Baidu PR department has probably been working 24/7 since the drama unfolded a week ago. CNN, the Financial Times, and all major U.S. media outlets have written about it, and the discussion in China is ubiquitous on social media and in the news.

“A lot of what she said really struck a nerve, because people feel that in their own workplaces very often. The fact that she said it in a way that’s so direct and in your face, it just generated this kind of emotional response,” I shared with CNN and FT.

So, in this post, instead of recounting the one-week old tale, I will analyze the aftermath of the bizarre turn of events, Baidu’s crisis PR responses, and what it says about Baidu’s corporate culture.

For starters, the PR incident caused Baidu's stock prices to tumble, the PR Chief to lose her job, and discussions around how executives' personal brands affect their companies on Chinese social media.

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A day after the PR chief deleted all her previous videos, she apologized on her social media, stating,

"Before posting the videos, I did not seek company approval, did not follow the appropriate procedures, and did not represent the company’s stance. I apologize for this."

From a comms perspective, her statement came across as forced and too late for redemption. It was clearly crafted from Baidu’s standpoint to frame her actions as those of a rogue employee, thus absolving the company of any blame. But let’s not forget that Qu Jing was a top executive, leading all external communications, and even though her social media strategy backfired, it was intended to expand Baidu’s direct communication channels with the public. Posting the statement on her personal social media account (Wechat moment) weakened the apology’s effect. Baidu is not off the hook, but the attempt to sever ties and shift blame onto Qu Jing reflects a desperate effort to land a scapegoat.

And then, in less than a day of her apology, she was fired.

As part of the crisis cleanup, Baidu’s founder, Robin Li, and Cui Shanshan, Baidu’s HR head and Secretary-General of Baidu’s Culture Committee, called a small-scale employee townhall, during which Robin applauded the “excellent employees” (优秀员工). Instead of Robin, the HR head addressed the recent controversies. She reassured employees that Baidu’s core values, which are simplicity and reliability (简单可依赖), are worth upholding despite any external noise. “The noise of public opinion will eventually subside, but our commitment to self-improvement will never stop” (舆论的喧嚣总会过去， 而我们的自我革新永不止步) she said during the internal meeting which was allowed to be reported by a (likely friendly) Chinese news outlet.

The #李彦宏内部评璩静风波 （#Robin Li comments on Qu Jing crisis) was a trending topic on Chinese social media, and the same message was reposted across channels (Ivy: typical. It’s called 铺稿). However, the Baidu founder’s response that “excellent employees represent the real Baidu” （优秀的员工才代表真实的百度) is a weak rebuttal compared to the magnitude of the troubles.

Allow me to play the devil’s advocate for a second: wasn’t Qu Jing trying to be excellent by putting herself out there spewing controversy to drive traffic and reach her own short video viewership KPIs? What is Baidu’s definition of “excellence” anyways? Robin did not directly comment on the Qu Jing incident and instead let HR have the final say. Questions remain: how did someone like Qu Jing rise to the company's top echelon if the internal culture a culture of meritocracy?

Qu's firing is rumored to have been executed by Robin’s wife, which adds another dimension to Baidu’s internal governance snafu. An excellent article analyzes the aftermath here (in Chinese).

The incident unleashed a wave of critical response on Chinese social media. The comments broadly fall into one of the following sentiments:

1. There is no shortage of executives, just like the fired PR chief at Baidu; they are the source of Baidu’s organizational decay.

2. Baidu has always been aggressively profit-first, and the culture drives the toxic internal dynamic.

3. Baidu’s dominant market position is a result of monopoly power, because companies like Google cannot enter.

4. Baidu has “big company disease” 大公司病 that is prevalent in Chinese big tech. (See exhibit A)

With these sentiments in mind, And then Baidu did another thing.

On May 11, Baidu released a meme-ridden video titled "The Breeze of Simplicity Blows Everywhere." (简单之风吹满地). It’s a hopeless attempt to be self-deprecating and poking fun at Baidu’s culture. The video attempted to show Baidu's commitment to eliminate "big company issues" like bureaucratic inefficiency and sycophancy. The video urged employees to uphold Baidu's culture and help the company improve. The proposed solution, according to the video, is “do the right thing.” Very specific, indeed.

Baidu’s official WeChat account stated that the video had been in production for a month, but the release date also happened to be the day after Qu Jing was fired. The WeChat post tried to downplay the significance of the PR crisis. In the released speech, the HR head said: “I think it's not surprising for a company that's nearly 25 years old to encounter problems. What's not OK is unable to view these issues clearly and rationally." (我觉得，公司已经快25年了，出现问题不奇怪，无法清醒和理智地看待才是不对的).

If the intention behind the video was likely to use self-deprecating humor to demonstrate Baidu's commitment to reform those "big company problems" and emphasize its "simple and reliable" corporate culture, the result was, at best… meh.

The video did not make much of an impact online, with those who viewed it expressing indifference and skepticism. Some netizens pointed out that the video itself was a product of "big company problems," with language and imagery tailored to please higher-ups rather than addressing and solving issues.

The backlash against Qu Jing's statements and the lukewarm reception of the crisis-control corporate video reflect a disconnect between management's vision and the basic needs of employees. The complicated internal structure of large corporations like Baidu makes “simplicity” and “reliability” goals almost impossible to achieve. For executives, "The Breeze of Simplicity Blows Everywhere" symbolizes a hopeful future, but for regular employees, it feels like another instance of leaders indulging in self-congratulatory behavior.

I will end the piece with a quote I shared with CNN’s Nectar Gan:

“When companies demand complete loyalty, time and energy from their employees, employees feel there’s no reciprocity or reward for their sacrifice or contribution, especially when things are slowing down. That becomes the central conflict.”

And no amount of good PR can solve that.

With the media industry facing significant changes and ongoing U.S.-China geopolitical tensions, strategic PR and reputation management have become increasingly important for Chinese companies aiming for overseas markets. This piece offers some perspectives on the current state of Chinese companies' reputation management and recommended strategies for navigating these challenges and enhancing brand influence in international markets

Recently, many American media have been making drastic layoffs. For example, Timemagazine laid off about 15% of its union-represented editorial staff; the Los Angeles Times also launched the largest layoff in the newspaper's 142-year history. According to Pew Research, employment in the U.S. media industry fell by 26% from 2008 to 2020; in 2023, the number of layoffs in the U.S. news industry was close to 2,700, the highest annual number since 2020.

Why now? Simply put, the channels through which people obtain information have changed. With traditional media and cable channels losing audiences, their advertising revenue has shrunk, leading to these mass layoffs.

Despite this turmoil, PR continues to rely on the media to win trust. Regardless of size, many Chinese companies have enhanced their global strategy to grow. Therefore, reputation management in international markets is becoming increasingly important.

Faced with the potential uncertainty of U.S.-China geopolitical tensions, Chinese brands must adopt a more strategic approach to maintain and expand their influence in the United States and other international markets. This geopolitical tension may cause brands to encounter increased doubts from reporters, media organizations, and consumers. Against this context, some Chinese companies have adopted a more strategic approach to media relations to objectively present their brand's story and achievements to win greater trust in these key markets.

In addition, advertising expenses of Chinese companies in overseas markets such as the United States are rising. According to CNBC, digital advertising spending in the United States will reach $ 201 billion in 2023, almost double the $108 billion in 2018. With rising advertising costs, companies may use PR strategies to establish contact with local authoritative media, resulting in positive word-of-mouth essential to reputation management.

With the significant contraction of the U.S. media industry, how should those companies and brands that need to expand their reputation and influence through the media lay out their plans? According to the 2023 Global State of the Media Report released by Cision, a media software and services company, here's what journalists are on the lookout for:

• 40% of journalists said they increasingly rely on data to decide what topics to cover.

• 68% of journalists said they want more research data, such as industry trends and market insights.

• When asked what journalists hope PR professionals could do, 66% answered, "providing data and third-party experts."

• Another 37% of journalists said they would only consider publishing a corporate press release if it included a specific analysis of trends and how the product/project could help consumers solve their problems.

• Increase engagement rates by up to six times compared to text-only press releases.

The PR focus of many companies can be classified into product and reputation management. Product PR seeks to make the public pay attention to the product through media reports. As for reputation management, the scope is even broader. When companies develop PR strategies, they tend to focus on three key questions: "Who are we (or why should the media trust us)?" "Why should the media write about us instead of our competitors?" "How do we demonstrate our core differences?"

Based on Cision's survey report, journalists favor data and industry trends when reporting. Companies could adjust our PR strategies accordingly. For example, they could convey these key messages to the media: "XX brand has won more than ten global innovation awards," "XX company's global consumer research report reveals the three major needs of [product category]," and so on. By conveying this information, the media can better evaluate how products and companies impact consumer experience.

In addition, new restrictions, tariffs, and policies may be introduced in international markets at any time (just ask TikTok), so companies cannot rely solely on PR strategies but must also continue to optimize corresponding operating structures. For example, a cross-departmental legal and information security team can be established to review corporate strategic risks and ESG policies while actively obtaining corresponding third-party certifications. More importantly, for market regulators and the media, the efforts made by the company prove the company's commitment to the underlying concerns of the local community and making positive contributions.

Although media relations and corporate communication are integral to reputation management, internal communication and collaboration must also be strengthened. In the early stages of going global, the company's PR team may coordinate with other departments to formulate a risk management plan and detailed response plans, such as tallying third-party certifications related to the company's key business areas, which may win more trust in times of crisis.

Reputation management is more critical than ever for Chinese companies, especially today when operating in an ever-changing environment. Companies can establish a strong international brand image by utilizing research data and media relations, actively responding to external policy changes, and demonstrating brand value and differentiators. PR serves to strengthen connections between companies and global consumers by growing, managing, and defending their brands.

About the authors:

JX Tan, Author of The Tao of Communications newsletter, head of international communications and PR at BGI Genomics, and former head of content (APAC) at PR Newswire. Leveraging data to produce original reports, he has helped brands gain broader trust amid an increasingly unpredictable international environment. (LinkedIn)

Ivy YangAuthor of theCalling the Shots 话语权时代, a newsletter and a columnist for FT Chinese. Her insights are widely recognized by international publications, including the Wall Street Journal, Bloomberg, Le Monde, The Wire China, Vogue Business, The Guardian, Wired, and Rest of World. She runs Wavelet Strategy, a reputation management PR agency in New York.(LinkedIn)

I wrote an FT Chinese column story on how Alibaba communicated the Cainiao news and the differences in the U.S. and China. My thesis：

Alibaba's domestic communications strategy in China focuses on creating a positive image of Cainiao’s overall operational growth and bright future ahead. Overseas, it takes on the "investor perspective," emphasizing capital returns. However, it's challenging to cater to both Chinese and English-speaking audiences, and it also raises more questions than answers for Alibaba's attitude towards Cainiao and the real reasons behind the withdrawal of Cainiao's IPO.

The full piece below is translated and edited for clarity.

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As of now, all IPO plans for Alibaba's subsidiaries have been put on hold.

On March 26, Alibaba announced withdrawal of Cainiao's IPO in Hong Kong and purchase from Cainiao's minority shareholders and employees' vested equity. This isn't the first time Alibaba has withdrawn anticipated IPO plans. In its 2023 third-quarter financial report, Alibaba disclosed that it was postponing a the. Freshippo IPO. In November 2023, Alibaba Cloud Intelligence Group announced it would "no longer pursue a separate listing."

With the precedents of Freshippo and Alibaba Cloud's IPO plans shelved, Alibaba announced the withdrawal of Cainiao's IPO application with a great deal of PR effort through official announcements and media reports to justify this decision.

To understand this context, one must start from March 28, 2023, when Alibaba initiated the largest organizational restruturing since its establishment 24 years ago - the "1+6+N" reform.The six business groups are the Cloud Intelligence Group, Taobao Tmall Business Group, Local Services Group, Global Digital Business Group, Cainiao Smart Logistics, and Digital Media and Entertainment Group. According to the plan at that time, business groups and companies that meet the conditions could pursue independent financing and listing in the future.

Now, a year after Alibaba's "1+6+N" reform, the postponements or cancellations of its subsidiaries' planned listings suggest that the Alibaba idiom "Together we are a blazing fire, apart we are brillant stars scattered across the sky" (聚是一团火，散是满天星) has not come true.

Moreover, the domestic and international PR tactics of the Cainiao announcement, and the discrepancies of the messaging, do not adequately reassure investors.

Domestically in China, Alibaba Group's announcement stated, "To better strengthen synergy with Alibaba's e-commerce business and continue supporting Cainiao in expanding the global logistics network investment, we decided to withdraw Cainiao's IPO application and propose to purchase the equity of Cainiao's minority shareholders and employees' vested equity." (“为更好加强与阿里电商业务协同，以及继续支持菜鸟扩大全球物流网络投入，决定撤回菜鸟上市申请并要约收购菜鸟少数股东的股权和员工已归属的股权”)

In essence, the statement expresses that Alibaba views Cainiao as a strategic business that can continue to grow and expand its global logistics network. Also, Alibaba's investment in Cainiao will likely be more substantial than the resources Cainiao would achieve from an IPO. The Chinese narrative emphasizes that listing is not the only criterion for success, and Cainiao's vision is to become the infrastructure for global e-commerce. The equity purchase is a temporary measure under the current market conditions. And it goes as far as saying Cainiao's employees feel "a stronger sense of gain, [and their morale] further boosted.”

The emphasis in Alibaba's domestic statements and reports slightly differs from the the English SEC routine disclosures.

Internationally, on the morning of March 26, Alibaba called a last minute conference call to discuss Cainiao's IPO update and the share purchase offer. Alibaba Group's Chairman, Joseph Tsai, stated, "Valuation does not reflect the real strategic value. In times of market downturn and lack of liquidity, forcing a transaction that does not release shareholder value is meaningless." (“估值无法反映真正战略价值，在市场低迷、缺乏流动性的时候，硬要推进交易而不能为股东释放价值，没有意义”。)

At the same time, US media reported on the news with different tones. Reuters closely followed the official talking points, focusing the reporting on that the downturn in Hong Kong's capital market as the main reason Cainiao decided not to list at this time, and the move is "investing in Cainiao’s global infrastructure." Bloomberg explores Alibaba's decision in the context of the restructuring and provided more context: “the objective now is to combine operations to drive the mainstay commerce arm, while selling off non-core assets such as stakes in social media platform Bilibili Inc. and EV maker Xpeng Inc.” (Disclosure: I was quote in the Bloomberg piece.)

Alibaba's PR strategy in China focuses more on creating a positive image of the company's overall operational soundness; overseas, it takes the “investor perspective," emphasizing capital returns.

However, it's challenging to cater to both Chinese and English-speaking audiences. This also brings more questions than answers about Alibaba's attitude towards Cainiao and the real reasons behind the withdrawal of Cainiao's IPO application.

Two months ago, Alibaba Group's Chairman Joseph Tsai responded to inquiries about Cainiao and Freshippo's IPO plans during an earnings call, stating that the goal of last year's company reorganization was to reflect the intrinsic value of each business unit in the group's valuation. Whether to proceed with or cancel spin-offs and financing transactions depends on market conditions, and the current market conditions do not reflect the value of these businesses.

According to Chinese business news outlet Yicai, based on the offer price for Alibaba's purchase of employee shares at this time, Cainiao's valuation is $10.3 billion (approximately 74.35 billion RMB). On the call, Alibaba's board confirmed that the price reflects fair value. It's worth noting that in May 2023, the Hurun Global Unicorn List valued Cainiao at 185 billion RMB. The gap indicates that Cainiao’s valuation has plummeted by over a hundred billion RMB in less than a year.

When Alibaba announced the withdrawal of Cainiao's IPO, it did not delve into the reasons for why "valuation does not reflect the real strategic value" and skirted around the issue, attributing all the blame to market conditions. Moreover, the sentiment conveyed in this assessment seems inconsistent with the "stronger sense of gain" mentioned in the Chinese narrative. With the valuation plummeting by nearly a hundred billion RMB, is Cainiao employees’ share value truly gives them a “strong sense of gain”?

Alibaba's insistence on justifying the withdrawal of Cainiao's IPO stems from the need to maintain investor confidence. Cancelling Cainiao's IPO would further weaken investors' confidence in the results of Alibaba's restructuring and raise doubts about its ability to create value for shareholders, and impact the capital market's judgment on whether Alibaba Cloud eventually will be listed.

External communication addresses potential reputation issues for companies and helps establish a positive corporate image. There are many PR tactics, and beating around the issue is not the way to go.

I got to bounce ideas with my friend Shu Hu, who has worked for several high-profile tech companies in China in the past decade, and we are going talk about the following "tabooed topics":

• How vital is WeChat as a medium for news and PR in China?

• Can one buy positive coverage in China?

• In China, can negative articles be retracted if companies asked?

• What are some of the Faux Pas when working with US media and reporters? 

She graciously offered her insights and translated her thoughts below, with my edits and additions. 

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A Brief History of Public Relations

The industry of public relations is both ancient and modern. In 1903, Ivy Lee, the father of modern PR and best known for his work with the Rockefeller Family, started his consultancy. Theories of public communication based on persuasion and identity can be traced back to ancient Greece and Aristotle's "Rhetoric."

Public relations targets not just potential consumers but a broader range of stakeholders, including investors, employees, and government agencies. PR ‘s goal is media coverage through producing and showcasing newsworthy content, setting it apart from advertising and marketing efforts that lean heavily on paid media and conversion. Today, PR includes owned media and integrate paid media as well. Yet, the core approach is to establish and uphold the brand's favorable reputation over the long run. 

Public relations is grounded in effective communication between businesses and the public. Media plays a vital role as the gatekeeper of mass communication and reaching stakeholders.

Media and environment with Chinese characteristics and the role of PR

From "world factory," to the first generation of companies going abroad, like Lenovo, Huawei, Alibaba, Baidu, and Tencent, to rising stars like TikTok, Temu, and Shein, these companies are serious about succeeding in overseas markets. However, they face cultural barriers and challenges in being accepted as global brands. 

Therefore, to discuss similarities and differences of the PR function in China and the United States, we first need to understand the differences in the media landscapes and how the public in China and the United States access, share information, and create group identities.

Marshall McLuhan's "The medium is the message" is the cornerstone of modern communications studies. To understand China's media landscape and relationship to PR, we must look at one crucial medium: WeChat. 

WeChat: the super information hub

WeChat is a messaging tool, news aggregator, and social media sharing platform that trickles down into every aspect of work and personal life. In Q3 of 2023, the combined monthly active users (MAUs) of WeChat is >1.3B—contrast this number with China's 1.4B population. WeChat's MAUs are equivalent to China's two other super apps, Douyin and Weibo, combined. 

WeChat subscription account (公众号) is a hub for media outlets and individual publishers (自媒体) and a primary platform for news and information in China. According to industry research firm Xinbang, in 2023, WeChat subscription accounts hosted 448 million articles—that's over a million pieces of content daily. Of the total published articles, a quarter-million received over 100K reads each, and 31 million are tagged as original articles. WeChat enables widespread content distribution, high traffic and readership and viral (and re-posted) articles that can spill over into other social sharing platforms in China. WeChat has helped to create more centralization and homogeneity within China's information landscape. 

This is hard to imagine in markets like the US. A single platform like Wechat can can drive such volume of information flow. In comparison, the US' information channels are much more diverse and fragmented.

One explanation is that media in the United States is mostly privately owned and managed, grown through long-term market competition, and is supported by a robust (though shrinking) professional journalist community. The Chinese media industry underwent more rapid digitalization and operates on a mix of government-run and commercial models. As highlighted in the 2021-2022 China Media Industry Development Report, one of the emerging revenue streams for Chinese print media involves operational services for government new media initiatives, such as managing WeChat official accounts and other digital platforms for government bodies.

While internet platforms are upending traditional media advertising revenue worldwide, the US market lacks a super app equivalent to China's WeChat. For instance, readers of The New York Times may opt for its digital version or print edition, and regional media outlets reach audiences that care about local issues. Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, Facebook, and TikTok cater to different information consumption patterns and how information is spread across demographics, starkly contrasting the centralized dissemination with WeChat in China. 

Comparison of doing PR between China and the United States

In China, media outlets distribute company press releases but have varied editing requirements and could reject them or request revisions. Chinese media favor topic suggestions from known PR contacts over cold emails and some outlets operate on a pay-to-play model, or at least expect"车马费," or transportation stipend.

In the US, journalists seek exclusive stories and are less receptive to the mass distribution of identical articles, a common practice in China. These identical articles are different from press releases, which reporters can repost, or take parts from. These are articles already written as a story and reposted across platforms in its entirety. This system allows for quick dissemination, buzz, and volume—metrics used to measure PR success. The rapid growth of companies in China has led to a PR focus on immediate business needs and short-term metrics, prioritizing quantity over quality.

US media prefer pitches tailored to their specific interests and beats, valuing detailed research that shows industry trends and understanding of reporters’ prior work. Such personalized pitches foster relationships with journalists who also seek connections with industry insiders.

Article retraction requests—unless there are egregious factual errors—are generally rejected by media outlets in both countries. However, in China, companies can and will negotiate revisions or retractions based on their media relationships and company stature. It is common PR practice in China to review articles and sign off before publication. For large companies with power, this is a standard process in China, and have outsized power in defining the story. In the US, such content review is rare; even making such a request can potentially burn bridges. 

Ivy: there is literally a Chinese romcom 《以爱为营》that captures the dynamic between company and media, and the role of sponsorship dollars play in molding the coverage. Just kidding, the show is not that deep at all, just a 霸总love story. But the scene where the reporter goes to the CEO’s home to edit and securing approval to publish, though, is gem. (starts at 18:06)

Chinese companies have less leverage in the US and often lack an understanding of American media practices, making negotiations harder.

For Chinese companies in mature markets like the US, adapting to diverse audiences requires a shift towards a comprehensive, long-term public communication strategy with all stakeholders, including the media. 

Some parting words from two PR people

Public relations in the United States boasts a history spanning over a century, whereas mainland China has experienced rapid growth over the last forty years. In turn, also led an accelerated development the PR industry. Despite the significant progress and the alignment of large companies' PR practices with global standards in China, Chinese companies are still grasping the importance of PR and its integration with long-term business strategies, in contrast to the more established PR landscape in the United States.

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Following our recent substack collab, and I recorded a podcast episode unpacking Amer Sports’ (Nasdaq: AS) IPO in this piece here.

In the podcast, we also delved deeper as to what could’ve been prepared from the corporate PR side, and whether the China shedding strategy works.

Listen to our conversation that includes:

• Factors affecting Amer Sports IPO

• Changing narratives in Chinese IPOs in the U.S.

• The China shedding strategy for overseas-based China companies, does it work?

• Messi’s controversial matches in Hong Kong and

  Tokyo

• Good VS bad statements from Hong Kong official Kenneth Fok

• Our takes on the Messi mess

You can stream this full episode on Spotify ⚽.

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Last week,’s Helen Davidson reached out to me for a Temu story she’s writing. (The full piece is live now, and you can read it here!) In the same week, I was invited to participate in a one-hour panel discussion about cross-border commerce on Pheonix TV and contribute to an upcoming story in the Rest of the World. And in thinking about what I wanted to say, I went down the rabbit hole on all things on cross border e-commerce, and came out of these experiences thinking more about “PR best practices.”

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Temu’s PR dao of non-action 无为而治

I set out to answer these questions:

1. How does Temu benchmark against other cross-border e-commerce platforms?

2. Does Temu care about sustainable growth? And if it does, how will it ever achieve it?

3. What is the platforms’ relationship with customers and suppliers?

   Refer a friend

And in doing my research, I couldn’t help but notice Temu’s “do-nothing” approach to its external comms despite no shortage of attention from both the regulatory side and media. Granted, it’s not an easy environment to do corporate communications in this U.S.-China geopolitical climate. But that never stopped Temu from making bold moves. (remember its “Shop like a Billionaire” Super Bowl ad?)

Now, Temu is staying out of the limelight for good reasons. Temu’s Chinese parent company has been on a tear and its stock has doubled in the past 12 months. The last time a Temu spokesperson commented in the news was in July when it addressed its lawsuit with Shein, a fellow Chinese cross-border e-commerce platform. While Shein is not immuned to many, if not all, of Temu’s woes, it has started investing in lobbying in response to lawmakers' calls for increased supply chain transparency. Temu has remained notably quiet on both the PR and lobbying fronts.

Not getting ahead of the issues, however, will likely backfire. Temu is facing growing supplier dissatisfaction about the platform rules and operations. On Chinese social media platforms like RED小红书, a quick search reveals U.S.-based Chinese consumers complaining about receiving mini-sized products instead of what they expected and suppliers voicing frustrations over stringent rules that eat into their already narrow margins.

Moreover, Temu currently has 1091 complaints on Better Business Bureau. In just one year Temu’s been in the U.S., it has managed to get almost as many complaints as Shein in almost three years. While BBB does not have legal enforcement powers, it can trigger further investigations that result in legal consequences if unlawful activities are uncovered.

Given that Temu is taking the proverbial “lie flat” route to PR, lobbying and consumer complaints, does Temu care about sustained growth in the U.S., and if so, how will it achieve it?

Temu is heavily investing in social media campaigns, display ads, and paid searches to grow its customer base aggressively. This marketing strategy mirrors the initial approach of its parent company, Pinduoduo (PDD): an unyielding focus on customer acquisition, viewing competitors and the market through a winner-takes-all lens, and incentivizing purchasing behaviors to boost sales in specific product categories.

Temu reportedly allocates $500 million quarterly for marketing and promotions, which is a staggering $2 billion annually. To put it in context, Amazon shelled out $20.6bn on marketing and promotion in 2022, which made up just 4% of its net sales revenue (a cool $514bn in 2022). In stark contrast, with an annual revenue estimated at $6 billion, Temu's marketing budget is off the charts.

Temu, of course, is in its early days versus Amazon. But Temu’s aggressive marketing spend on social media ads has inadvertently driven up the costs of ads inventory for everyone. And it’s not a very sustainable way to grow the business.

Cross border e-commerce companies’ relationship with suppliers

This growth-at-all-cost approach has its downsides, and the losers in this are the small and medium-sized suppliers. Shein and Temu are moving toward a “full-service model” （全托管). Under this model, sellers relinquish the right to pricing which gives the platforms an outsized power to decide the profit margin of the goods sold. If the platform can’t sell the items, it can (and does) lower prices, or threaten to remove the listing. And since sellers might have prepared inventory in advance, and would have to pay for the return shipping costs from Temu warehouse, sellers will often take the loss instead of the hassle.

As a result of these unpredictable platform risks beyond suppliers' control, they optimize where they can. This might mean compromising on product quality, “creatively” navigating de minimis custom duties, or even shrinking the size of the products.

The way forward for Chinese overseas cross-border companies…

…was the question my fellow panelists and I attempted to answer during the close to two hours discussion on Phoenix TV’s 一虎一席谈 (show airing in end of November).

The eventual pivot for these new e-commerce platforms like Temu, Shein, and new entrant, TikTok shops, will center on boosting conversion rates. Both Shein and Temu have around a 5% conversion rate, lagging considerably behind the market leader, Amazon, which boasts a rate close to 12%.

As U.S.-China geopolitical tensions escalate, Chinese ecommerce firms are poised to encounter intensified scrutiny. As they complete the initial customer acquisition stage, sustainable growth becomes imperative for both their parent companies and investors. Beyond reaching break-even, a solid corporate reputation is key. This “reputation” 声誉 is anchored in their dealings with suppliers, communication with external stakeholders, and balance aggressive KPIs with sustainable growth. With their expanding influence, it becomes imperative for these Chinese cross-border platforms to nurture enduring trust and consistently meet market norms and standards.

(Yes, I absolutely preached the above on Chinese TV, and channeled my inner Elle Woods while I was at it.)

PR Takeaways from doing my own “PR”

Though I’m not a journalist, since starting this substack and writing an op-ed column, I have a newfound appreciation for the craft. Running Wavelet Strategy means doing reputation management for my own professional brand, so here are some recent key learnings:

Think Like a Journalist: PRs write from a different logic—it’s about sounding professional and covering all bases. But when responding to inquiries, consider the story from the journalist's viewpoint. How do they want to tell it? What angles might they be interested in? What is your value-add to the conversation?

The Triad: The reporter’s job is to synthesize different views, string a story together, and probe the reader to think deeper about a company, an issue, or an event. You have to do more than just presenting facts; reporters do not need information they can google themselves. Three words: Facts, context, insights: provide data sources, engage in analytical discussions, and present a narrative with original thoughts.

Depth Versus Brevity in Corporate Communications: There's a tendency in corporate communications to gravitate toward succinct, risk-averse responses. A prepared statement might be the default for large corporations, especially when stories break before all the information is available. However, enriching the on-the-record answers with context and detailed insights can make a big difference. It not only simplifies the journalist's task by providing them with a fuller background but also showcases the interviewee’s ability to offer well-researched perspectives. Reporters want sources that don’t waste their time. The more “meat” there is to the argument, the less back and forth during the process, the more of your words will likely be included in the piece.

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I’ve written a lot of TikTok because it really has all the elements of intrigue. Here are a few reasons:

1. It found success in the social media and culture arena, a feat none of its Chinese peers have managed to conquer.TikTok has taken hostage of American millennials and Gen Z's short attention span, boasting an engaged user base that spends an average of over 90 minutes daily on a platform that started with silly dance videos.

2. TikTok has an internet-famous, heartthrob CEO who gives you advice on the millennial pause. (“Don’t do it,” and here’s to know your meme.)

3. TikTok is the poster child for Chinese companies expanding to US markets. The policy and regulatory treatments it receives will set the precedent for others and be the likely fate of many after it. Amid ongoing political debates about Chinese firms, it's set to be a key issue in the upcoming U.S. presidential election.

   

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TikTok’s American Reality

TikTok is redefining what it means to be a 'global company' in an era marked by geopolitical rivalry. It’s still trying to figure out how to be Chinese and American at the same time, and faces an insurmountable challenge to prove its compatibility with “American values.”

TikTok’s parent company Bytedance is pouring millions into lobbying to address negative perception, building Project Texas, an initiative to work with American software company Oracle to store all American user data in the U.S., and even a X account called TikTokComms to give updates on the PR they are actively doing.

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This week, Forbes published an article titled “A Draft of TikTok’s Plan to Avoid a Ban Gives the U.S. Government Unprecedented Oversight Power” by long time TikTok critic and a journalist who has consistently broken stories (including the one that TikTok spied on journalists) and exposed issues that lawmakers are now actively investigating. The article is largely favorable and provides some supportive points to TikTok’s argument:

1. The year-old draft outlines TikTok's negotiations with the Biden Administration and its impact on U.S. operations, casting the company almost as a victim due to the strict terms.

   “The draft agreement would make TikTok’s U.S. operations subject to extensive supervision by an array of independent investigative bodies, including a third-party monitor, a third-party auditor, a cybersecurity auditor and a source code inspector. It would also force TikTok U.S. to exclude ByteDance leaders from certain security-related decision making, and instead rely on an executive security committee that would operate in secrecy from ByteDance.”

2. The article features expert opinions suggesting that some draft language may border on U.S. government overreach.

   “Ama Adams, a managing partner and CFIUS expert at Ropes & Gray, said that some of the government powers in the draft agreement were somewhat typical — including the right to inspect a company’s facilities and materials, and the use of a third-party monitor. But “setting up a structure that has allegiance to the United States — I’ve never seen language, per se, to that extent.”

3. The piece even acknowledged the potential regulatory double standards TikTok is up against, a point I argued in a piece back in March.

   “If finalized, the draft agreement would mean TikTok is subject to significantly more government oversight than domestic competitors like Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and Twitter, which operate largely free from government intervention in their policymaking, contracts and internal affairs — so long as they avoid violating existing U.S. laws.”

4. The government agencies' statement lacked groundbreaking details, leaving room for TikTok to offer its take. Also opens the door for TikTok to address the five demands below:

The draft agreement, as it was being negotiated at the time, would give government agencies like the DOJ or the DOD the authority to:

1. Examine TikTok’s U.S. facilities, records, equipment and servers with minimal or no notice,

2. Block changes to the app’s U.S. terms of service, moderation policies and privacy policy,

3. Veto the hiring of any executive involved in leading TikTok’s U.S. Data Security org,

4. Order TikTok and ByteDance to pay for and subject themselves to various audits, assessments and other reports on the security of TikTok’s U.S. functions, and,

5. In some circumstances, require ByteDance to temporarily stop TikTok from functioning in the United States.

TikTok Comms’ Missed Opportunity

The piece sets the stage for a substantive statement from TikTok, offering the company an opportunity to redefine the issue and potentially reset the narrative. The main point of rebuttal should zero in on the demanding nature of these conditions and question the practicality of execution. TikTok should forcefully reiterate that this isn't just about privacy or data access anymore; it's about governmental oversight to an extent that could tip the scales against TikTok's business operations.

TikTok should have crisply outlined its position on 1) the U.S. government's approach to the TikTok issue and 2) its stance on the five unrealistic demands.

However, in its public statements to Forbes, TikTok straddled both sides and said much ado about nothing.

“It is inappropriate and completely unfair to be asked to comment on a document that we cannot validate.

As has been widely reported, we've been working with CFIUS for well over a year to implement a national security agreement and have invested significant resources in implementing a firewall to isolate U.S. user data. Today, all new protected U.S. user data is stored in the Oracle Cloud Infrastructure in the U.S. with tightly controlled and monitored gateways. We are doing more than any peer company to safeguard U.S. national security interests."

Let’s dig in on the language.

The phrase "completely unfair" evokes a whiny victimhood mentality without offering solutions, and shifts the focus to an emotional appeal than rational discussion. It sets a negative tone and undermines the authority of anything TikTok has to say afterward.

It's true that TikTok has been working with CFIUS, but the absence of recent public updates is also noteworthy. Highlighting CFIUS would refocus attention on the progress—or lack thereof—and the unresolved question of whether TikTok is on the path to being sold or banned.

“Implementing a firewall” doesn’t quite capture Project Texas’ ethos of “safeguarding, safety and security.” The main objective of doing any of this is to distance TikTok from its Chinese ties. And if anything the word firewall evokes is China and the Great Firewall. Google agrees.

And Oracle Cloud can’t be bothered, especially if the relationship between Oracle and TikTok/Bytedance is as contentious as described in the follow up reporting:

“The relationship between ByteDance and Oracle has become deeply untrusting and adversarial, according to five sources. One source with knowledge of the companies’ actions characterized Oracle’s stance toward ByteDance as a “counterintelligence operation,” rather than a normal customer relationship. Meanwhile, some ByteDance employees wonder if Oracle just wants to run up their bill. The TikTok contract, known internally at Oracle as Project Telesis, has made ByteDance one of Oracle’s most lucrative customers.”

Last but not least, comparing TikTok with peer companies misses the point entirely. The real issue isn't how TikTok's efforts stack up against those of Facebook or Snap; it's that the logic governing TikTok's regulation is rooted in national security considerations. Making the comparison is equivalent to Google telling China that because they do search better than Baidu, they should get to stay in China. (Google left China in 2010). Both scenarios ignore the distinct regulatory environments they operate in and the geopolitics they can’t ignore.

Key PR learnings

The second piece that followed,“As TikTok Ban Looms, ByteDance Battles Oracle For Control Of Its Algorithm,” is as much a PR miss as the first one. Putting back on my comms person hat, here are some universal key takeaways:

1. Be as transparent as you can, and provide as much context and background to frame the optimal story. It’s a terrible look if you have to backtrack and provide more statements AFTER the piece is published.

The company at first did not answer questions about when it last met with CFIUS for negotiations, or when the government last updated the draft agreement. After this story was published, Haurek said: “Conversations are ongoing.”

2. Make sure your allies are on board to support your statement. Without it, it’s weak and open for interpretation.

TikTok spokesperson Alex Haurek initially did not comment on the relationship between TikTok and Oracle or the draft agreement, nor did he answer a detailed list of questions. Instead, he provided this statement: [redacted]…”We have reached a working-level agreement with Oracle on camera placement and usage and, importantly, Oracle will have complete freedom to conduct its code review and its other work confidentially.”

Oracle and the U.S. government declined to comment.

3. Avoid contentious debates with reporters at all cost. Because they have every right to be snarky and publish something that makes the process the story. It’s rare a spokesperson’s name is mentioned 5 times in one article, and it negatively impacts TikTok’s corporate reputation by association.

4. Own up to the reality. For TikTok, increasing protectionism and politics will affect its future in the U.S. That is the macro reality TikTok is dealt with. As CEO Shou Zi Chew remarked during the congressional hearing: “ I don’t think ownership is the issue here.”

Maybe TikTok should take a page out of Nio CEO William Li’s strategy, calling out the U.S. government to grant equal access for Chinese electric vehicle makers. “The world should be more open and stop politicizing business.” A broadly applicable zinger.