There is a logic to maritime empires. They usually emerge by accident or, it has been said, in a fit of absence of mind, unlike land empires, which come about through the wilful, premeditated subjugation of borderlands. In the modern era, the British Empire was a typical maritime empire; the Russian Empire, a typical land empire. The Habsburg Empire was, for a time, a hybrid, as were the American and French Empires, both of which began as land empires and became maritime ones. The short-lived Japanese Empire was a rare example of a maritime empire that behaved at the outset like a land empire.
It is not surprising that today people are asking questions about one of the oldest land empires, China. Will it build a hybrid maritime empire like the others? It appears so. Its economic interests now extend to the far corners of the earth; it is busy extending its ‘soft power’ there as well; and also, increasingly, its ‘hard power’. That’s because interests usually demand protection and when protection is not easily forthcoming, prestige enters the picture, and so, before you know it, you’ve entered the discursive realm of civis Romanus sum. The scholars Robinson and Gallagher, who made an academic cottage industry from this obvious point, were merely restating what every empire builder knows.
There is another aspect of imperial logic which the Chinese appear to realise at this early stage of their entering into maritime empire-building: all empires fall, eventually. So they are proceeding carefully, particularly in the Middle East and Africa. But they may have less of a choice as the years go by. Great powers are sucked into an imperial logic not by choice but by what their leaders and their people perceive to be necessity. How they respond to that challenge varies greatly, however.