A 20th-century invention rooted in nationalism and cartographic errors.

By Lisa Peryman for Probe International

China’s territorial claims in the South China Sea, which encompass roughly 90% of the strategic waterway via the so-called nine-dash line, rest on a surprisingly modern and error-prone foundation rather than ancient, unbroken sovereignty, according to seasoned analyst and author Bill Hayton.

In a recent lecture examining the modern origins of these “historic” claims, Hayton traced China’s territorial narrative back to early 20th-century events shaped by nationalist fervor, flawed cartography, and mistranslations, rather than centuries of undisputed Chinese control. The narrative of immutable sovereignty, he argued, became deeply embedded in Chinese education and public discourse, rendering it resistant to scrutiny and fostering a sense of entitlement that has repeatedly escalated tensions with neighboring countries.

The claims began to take shape around 1909 amid a dispute over guano—nitrogen-rich seabird droppings prized as “white gold” fertilizer—on the coral island of Pratas (Dongsha), prompted by Japanese mining activities. In the 1920s and 1930s, competing assertions arose involving France, China, and Japan. The Republic of China sought to formalize its position through maps that mistakenly treated underwater features, such as James Shoal and Vanguard Bank, as islands. These cartographic errors, compounded by translation issues from Western maps, entrenched inaccuracies into China’s national story.

Post-World War II developments, including Japan’s wartime occupation and later oil discoveries in the 1970s, intensified rival claims. China took military action in the Paracel and Spratly islands, building on earlier assertions. The stakes grew further with the 2016 ruling by an international tribunal under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), which overwhelmingly favored the Philippines. The Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague determined that China’s nine-dash line and associated “historic rights” have no legal basis under UNCLOS, that many disputed features are not islands capable of generating exclusive economic zones (EEZs), and that Beijing had violated Philippine sovereign rights while causing environmental harm through island-building and other activities.

Despite the binding nature of the award on parties to UNCLOS—which China has ratified—Beijing dismissed the ruling as “null and void,” refused to participate in the proceedings, and has continued to expand its presence. This includes militarized artificial islands, coast guard harassment of Philippine and Vietnamese vessels, interference with fishing and resource exploration in other nations’ exclusive economic zones, and the construction of outposts that defy the tribunal’s findings on features like Scarborough Shoal and Mischief Reef. Reports into 2025–2026 confirm ongoing activities inconsistent with at least several key aspects of the 2016 decision.

Hayton, the author of works including The Invention of China, contextualizes the emotional intensity of these claims within China’s 20th-century nation-building, marked by a deliberate effort to “inculcate a sense” of historical humiliation and a drive to restore territorial pride. While all nations rely on constructed national stories, he notes that open debate is far more constrained in China than in democratic societies, limiting flexibility. He advocates pragmatic management of the status quo, resource-sharing under UNCLOS rules, and informal understandings among claimants to prevent conflict—approaches complicated by the disputes’ deep nationalist roots.

Yet the South China Sea stands out as a stark illustration of China’s selective approach to international law. Having joined UNCLOS, Beijing routinely rejects or ignores elements of the convention and its binding dispute mechanisms when they conflict with core interests in sovereignty, resources, or domestic legitimacy. This pattern—evident in the rejection of the 2016 arbitral award, sustained militarization, and repeated interference in other states’ maritime rights—highlights China’s disregard for the international rules-based order it has formally endorsed, perpetuating instability in one of the world’s most vital waterways.

In his assessment of China’s pursuit of global hydropower dominance, German-based hydrology expert Wang Weiluo described these ambitions as a deep-rooted “extreme nationalism” derived from ancient Confucian hierarchy, which viewed China as the superior central civilization. In its modern form, he said, this nationalism manifests as a drive for supremacy that disregards others’ welfare, international law, and cooperation—evident in the displacement of over a million people for the Three Gorges Dam—and extends beyond hydro projects to territorial aggression in the South China Sea, as well as worldwide political warfare through espionage and influence operations.

In the end, Xi Jinping understands the oldest rule of power: he who controls the past controls the future. Orwell warned us. Beijing has taken the lesson to heart.