Ai Weiwei, the 68-year-old Chinese dissident and globally renowned artist, has long been synonymous with defiance against the Chinese state. Yet in a recent interview with The Times UK, Ai offered a surprising defense of aspects of China’s policies, including its stance on Taiwan, censorship, and global influence, while reflecting on the growing gap between East and West.
Meeting Ai at his Portuguese estate, a sunlit retreat he purchased during lockdown, the artist appeared calmer and healthier than in previous encounters. Gone is the embattled figure once monitored by surveillance cameras in Beijing; here, Ai walks freely with his assistants and two Alentejo mastiffs through a vast studio that evokes the grandeur of the Shanghai space China destroyed. Marble floors, wooden pillars, and vaulted ceilings surround a central temple courtyard, blending Chinese architectural tradition with Ai’s signature artistic sensibilities. The space, he says, is meant for solitude and reflection rather than social events—a “folly” in the classical sense.
Despite his exile, Ai remains deeply engaged with the question of China’s global role. He told The Times UK, “China is never a hostile power. Not militarily. If you look at history, England has invaded China three times.” He argued that the West, having profited from globalization and benefited from cheap Chinese labor and manufacturing, is now in a reactive position. “You cannot compete with China, so you blame it,” he said, adding that Western societies have grown softer over generations compared with China’s intense work ethic.
Ai’s comments extend to Taiwan, which he describes as “territorially part of China” and “a little puppet of the western establishment,” and Hong Kong, which he views as never having been fully democratic under British rule. Yet he continues to champion human rights in specific instances, supporting the release of activists like Jimmy Lai, while maintaining that censorship operates similarly in authoritarian regimes and so-called free societies. “In China, the power is state power. But here it can be huge companies, business, even cultural institutions,” he explained to The Times UK.
Reflecting on his art, Ai emphasized process over product. From the 100 million ceramic sunflower seeds at Tate Modern to his Forever Cycles installation in Rio de Janeiro, Ai’s work often uses repetition and mass-produced objects to evoke human labor, loss, and memory. He described his lifelong approach as “little acts of mischief,” designed to provoke thought and humor rather than confront authority directly. Even the camouflage net above his Portuguese studio table, featuring hidden images of cats, exemplifies his playful, intricate attention to detail.
Ai also shared personal reflections on family and solitude. His 16-year-old son, Ai Lao, remains central to his life, providing perspective and joy, while Ai downplays material wealth and legacy. “On my tombstone it will say, ‘I’m such a failure,’” he said. For Ai, the act of creating, questioning, and understanding human experience outweighs recognition or financial gain.
Though the conversation traversed politics, art, and personal history, Ai’s remarks reveal the complexity of a figure who was once a relentless critic of the Chinese government yet now speaks candidly about its strengths. As he told The Times UK, China’s global influence is a product of history, work ethic, and determination, and the West must reckon with its own vulnerabilities. His nuanced perspective challenges simplified narratives about dissidence and loyalty, leaving audiences to wrestle with the paradoxes embodied in one of the world’s most influential contemporary artists.
