If Xi moved too decisively toward Russia, he risked fracturing the very organization
On the eve of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit in September 2022, Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping prepared to meet face-to-face for the first time since Russia's invasion of Ukraine — a encounter freighted with the weight of two civilizations calculating their place in a fracturing world order. Xi's willingness to be seen with an isolated Putin carried the force of a statement, even as Beijing sought to avoid being drawn into a war that threatened the very regional stability China depends upon. The meeting posed an ancient question in modern dress: how deeply can one power commit to another before the alliance becomes a burden rather than a shield?
- Xi broke nearly three years of self-imposed diplomatic isolation to attend the summit, making his physical presence beside Putin an unavoidable signal to the watching world.
- Russia's war in Ukraine had already stalled into a grinding stalemate, and Putin arrived at the summit diplomatically severed from the West and quietly desperate for Chinese solidarity.
- Central Asian SCO members — Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan among them — had already refused Russian military requests, exposing a fault line running through the heart of the alliance Putin and Xi hoped to showcase.
- Beijing faced a compounding dilemma: lean too far toward Moscow and fracture the regional relationships China has spent decades cultivating; pull back and signal weakness in its rivalry with Washington.
- Analysts expected Xi to thread an almost impossible needle — reaffirming the strategic partnership while privately urging Putin toward restraint, offering alliance without entanglement.
When Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping prepared to meet at the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit in mid-September 2022, the encounter carried a significance that went beyond the agenda. It would be their first face-to-face meeting since Russia's invasion of Ukraine, and the Kremlin had already telegraphed the themes: the war, and the broader project of building an alternative to Western-dominated global order.
For Xi, the trip itself was remarkable. He had barely left Beijing in nearly three years, conducting diplomacy through screens while China's zero-COVID policies sealed the country inward. Choosing to emerge — and to emerge beside Putin — was a statement. The Russian president was isolated from the West, fighting a war that had ground into stalemate, and quietly seeking support wherever he could find it. Xi's presence would read as an endorsement, and Beijing understood that.
The dilemma, however, was genuine. The SCO was not simply a Russia-China vehicle. Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and other Central Asian members had already demonstrated their limits — when Russia sought military supplies and support from these neighbors, they refused. These nations had their own interests and their own relationships with the outside world. If Xi aligned too visibly with Moscow, he risked alienating the very countries China needed to maintain its regional influence, and potentially fracturing the organization meant to showcase an alternative model of cooperation.
Pressure ran in both directions. The United States was intensifying its competition with China across technology, trade, and military presence, giving both Xi and Putin reasons to signal solidarity. Yet analysts expected China to pursue a careful middle path: reaffirming the partnership to send a message to Washington, while privately urging Putin toward restraint and away from further escalation.
The meeting would offer the first real indication of how China intended to navigate the deepening contest between great powers — whether it would commit fully to Russia's orbit or preserve the strategic ambiguity that had, until now, kept its options open. The answer would shape not just the SCO's future, but the contours of Asian geopolitics for years to come.
Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping were set to meet for the first time since Russia's invasion of Ukraine, their encounter scheduled for the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit beginning September 15. The Kremlin had already signaled what the two leaders would discuss: the war itself, along with the broader architecture of global power. But the real conversation happening in that room would be wordless—a calculation about how far China was willing to lean into its partnership with Russia, and at what cost.
Xi's presence at the summit, and his willingness to sit across from Putin, carried unmistakable weight. The Chinese leader had barely left Beijing in nearly three years, locked behind the country's zero-COVID restrictions that kept him conducting diplomacy through screens. This trip abroad marked a significant reopening. But it also meant something else: that Xi was choosing to be seen with Putin at a moment when the Russian president was isolated from the West and fighting a war that had turned into a grinding stalemate. The optics alone would read as an endorsement, and Xi knew it. Everyone would be watching.
The dilemma facing Beijing was real and multifaceted. Russia and China had positioned themselves as an alternative to Western dominance, a counterweight to American power. That partnership had genuine strategic value for both sides. Yet the SCO itself—the organization hosting this summit—was not simply a Russia-China club. Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and other Central Asian nations were core members, and they had already made their position clear. When Russia had quietly asked these neighbors for military support and supplies to sustain the Ukraine campaign, they had refused. These countries had their own interests, their own relationships with the West, their own calculations about how far to follow Moscow.
If Xi moved too decisively toward Russia, he risked fracturing the very organization that was supposed to demonstrate an alternative model of regional cooperation. He would alienate the Central Asian states that China itself was trying to cultivate and maintain relationships with. The math was unforgiving: deeper commitment to Putin could mean a weaker hand in the region that mattered most to Chinese interests.
Yet there was another pressure working in the opposite direction. The United States had been steadily escalating its competition with China across every domain—technology, trade, military presence, diplomatic influence. Putin, for his part, was seeking an unprecedented third term as president while his standing in the West had collapsed entirely. Both men had reasons to signal solidarity. The Kremlin had already framed the meeting as a chance to present a unified front against Western hegemony.
Xi faced a narrower path than either leader might have preferred. Analysts expected China to offer Russia diplomatic support and to reaffirm the strategic partnership—moves that would signal to Washington that Beijing was not abandoning Moscow despite the Ukraine war. But Xi was also expected to push Putin toward restraint, to ask for peace in the region, to suggest that endless escalation served no one's interests. It was a delicate ask: support without endorsement, alliance without entanglement, partnership without being dragged into a conflict that could destabilize the very region China depended on.
The meeting would reveal how China intended to navigate the next phase of great power competition. Would it be a full-throated alignment with Russia against the West, or a more cautious hedging strategy that kept options open? The answer would shape not just the SCO's future, but the entire architecture of Asian geopolitics in the years ahead.
Notable Quotes
The Kremlin signaled the two leaders would discuss the war and present an 'alternative' to Western influence— Kremlin statement
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does it matter so much that Xi is meeting Putin in person, rather than over video like he's been doing for three years?
Because presence is a statement. Xi showing up in Samarkand, sitting across from Putin—that's him saying to the world that China hasn't abandoned Russia. But it's also him saying something to his own people and to the Central Asian neighbors: I'm still here, I'm still engaged, I'm not hiding.
But you said China risks alienating Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. How does showing up with Putin do that?
It's the degree of embrace that matters. If Xi looks too cozy with Putin, if he seems to be endorsing the war or the strategy, those countries start wondering whether their own relationship with China is conditional on supporting Russia. They've already said no to Putin's requests for troops. They're watching to see if China will punish them for that.
So what's Xi actually trying to do at this meeting?
He's trying to walk a line that probably doesn't exist. He wants to tell Putin, I'm with you against the West. But also tell Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, I'm not abandoning you. And tell Washington, don't assume I'm your enemy. It's a lot of contradictions to hold at once.
Can he actually pull it off?
Not cleanly. Someone's going to feel shortchanged. The question is whether the damage is manageable or whether it cracks the whole structure. That's what makes this meeting so tense—it's not really about what Putin and Xi say to each other. It's about what everyone else reads into it.
What happens if he leans too hard toward Russia?
The SCO becomes a Russian-Chinese bloc, and the Central Asian states start looking elsewhere for partners. China loses influence in its own backyard. That's the nightmare scenario.