Robots need open doors, not visas

Beijing's Yizhuang will become a global shop window for robots this August. At the 2026 World Robot Conference, a dedicated procurement day will bring buyers from Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Latin America looking for machines that can solve real-life problems. A Thai farmer may want a robot that can spray crops. A Saudi engineering contractor could size up robotic dogs for project inspections. A Latin American plantation owner may ask the price of a harvesting robot. The questions will be refreshingly practical: How can this machine make the job easier?

The United States, however, is asking a very different question. The US Federal Communications Commission has updated its "Covered List" of communications equipment and services that can threaten the "national security" of the country to include new Chinese-made humanoid and quadruped robots. While buyers are asking what robots can do, policymakers in Washington want to know where they come from.

Caution about new technology is understandable. When the power loom first appeared, textile workers feared the iron machine would devour their livelihoods and stormed factories to smash it. When cameras arrived, some people avoided the lens, worried that a flash might somehow steal their souls. Nearly every invention that changed the world has passed through a period of suspicion. Security concerns are real and deserve to be taken seriously.

But caution is not the same as closing the door. Robots have eyes, legs and internet connections. Smartphones, electric cars, and robot vacuums in millions of homes also use sensors and internet connections.

A better approach to new technology might look more like airport security: Every passenger is screened, but no one is denied boarding simply because of their nationality. Robots can be tested, certified and held to common standards, while their data and cybersecurity can be scrutinized. That is far more effective — and more reassuring — than simply turning them away at the gate.

The need for robots around the world may be greater than many realize. Populations across much of the world are aging, while the supply of young workers is shrinking. Factories in Vietnam struggle to fill vacancies. Construction sites in the Middle East can become dangerously hot in summer. Plantations in Latin America face labor shortages during the harvest season.

Robots are not necessarily here to take jobs. Often, they fill gaps where there are too few people willing — or able — to do the work. A robot sent down a mine can spare a human being from taking a potentially fatal risk. A machine working in a furnace room can take on work that the human body cannot safely endure.

This raises a larger question: How can a country build a complete robotics industry? An industrial supply chain is like a forest. It does not grow overnight. Upstream companies make motors and joints; manufacturers assemble complete machines; downstream users find tasks for them to perform. Along the way, an industry needs engineers, customers and a market large enough to allow companies to make mistakes and learn from them. Building all of this takes decades.

On the other hand, a wall can be built overnight. But no matter how high it is, a wall cannot grow a forest behind it. Forests need sunlight, rain and time. The same is true for industrial ecosystems, which need policy support, open markets and supply chain integration to grow and flourish.

China's experience illustrates the point. Its robotics industry was not built by shutting itself off from the world. It was built through openness. Over the decades, foreign companies have established factories in China, components from around the world have flowed into the country; and intense competition has forced Chinese companies to learn, step by step, how to make — and then improve — everything from robotic joints to intelligent control systems.

Chinese companies now account for more than half the humanoid robot models in the world, while roughly eight out of every 10 quadruped robots sold come from China. The cost of producing robots has fallen so sharply that automation is no longer a privilege reserved for wealthy economies. Factories and farms in developing countries can afford it too.

Openness did not destroy China's industrial ecosystem. Instead, it helped nurture one of the world's most complete industrial ecosystems. China is now willing to share that experience — and those robots — with the rest of the world.

Ultimately, robotics is a global creation. Japan may provide precision joints; Europe may supply motors; the US may contribute chips; and China may produce complete machines and offer a vast range of application scenarios. Remove any one of these elements, and the system will not function as smoothly.

When a river is blocked, the water does not just stand there but finds another route. The detour costs more, and eventually someone has to pay for it. Preserving the networks that make cooperation possible is therefore not an act of charity. It is in everyone's interest.

Robots do not need visas. They just want to go where they are needed and get to work. Security can be safeguarded through standards. Competition can be settled by asking who can build a better, cheaper machine that solves a real-world problem. That kind of competition does not produce losers but can benefit the whole world.

So, the next time a robot arrives at the door, perhaps the question should not be where it came from. It should be what it can do for us.

The author is the director of the Maritime Silk Road Institute at Huaqiao University.

The views don't necessarily reflect those of China Daily.

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