China says its ports are the busiest in the world. The People’s Daily, the Chinese Communist Party’s outlet, proudly announced that in 2024, the country’s ports handled a whopping 17.6 billion tons of cargo and 330 million containers. Shanghai’s port, they added, has led global rankings for 15 years straight.
But behind the big numbers, a very different story is leaking out — sometimes literally — from the docks.
A veteran Chinese ship captain told The Epoch Times that the official figures are less about reality and more about political prestige. “We’ve been inflating the numbers for years,” he said, speaking anonymously for fear of reprisal. His claim isn’t isolated. Industry insiders, port workers, and even casual observers say the problem runs deep.
Shipping insiders describe a scheme where empty containers are shuffled from port to port, racking up “throughput” without actually moving goods. Social media posts from dock workers hint at the game: empty vessels moving back and forth between southern ports like Chino and northern hubs such as Tianjin, earning bonuses with every fake “shipment.”
A first mate working the Pearl River Delta described how it works: “Every docking gets counted. So you make more trips, even if you’re just carrying air.” Some captains, he said, are earning an extra 80,000 yuan a month this way — a hefty sum compared to the average salary.
The stakes are high. Ports set monthly quotas promising lucrative bonuses, sometimes reaching tens of millions of yuan, if throughput targets are hit. Even when the goals are impossible, managers demand compliance, fueling a web of falsified paperwork, phantom cargo, and doctored manifests.
“It’s not just about port statistics,” said an executive at a foreign shipping firm operating in China. “It’s the whole ecosystem — shipping, trade numbers, foreign exchange flows. Everything’s built to look better than it is.”
The deception isn’t hidden from the top. It’s actively protected. Captains who tried to protest were told, flatly, that the image matters more than honest numbers. “They know. Everyone knows. But admitting it would mean admitting weakness,” the ship captain said.
Meanwhile, ordinary observers catch glimpses of the charade. A resident near a large northern port noticed that activity seemed to spike only when inspections were announced. “Most days, it’s dead,” he said. “Then when an official shows up, suddenly there’s traffic, trucks, ships — all for show.”
The smoke and mirrors extend beyond ports. China’s customs data and its foreign exchange agency reports have shown growing discrepancies. In early 2025, the State Administration of Foreign Exchange reported a $594 billion trade surplus for the first half of 2024. Customs data? $823 billion. A $230 billion gap — over 1% of China’s GDP — that Washington isn’t letting slide.
At a press conference last June, a Chinese customs official dismissed the concern, saying it was all a matter of “different statistical methods.” But U.S. officials aren’t buying it. The Treasury Department called for more transparency, especially as discrepancies have exploded in the last three years, far beyond historical averages.
Back in Shanghai, daily traffic jams caused by container trucks — many reportedly carrying empty boxes — show how far the charade extends into everyday life. What looks like a booming trade hub is often just congestion and paperwork.
All this effort — moving empties, faking data, building Potemkin ports — burns cash that could otherwise be spent elsewhere. Some dock workers grumble that the wasted money could pay farmers’ pensions or rebuild crumbling schools. But in China’s state-driven economy, appearance often wins over substance.
At the center of it all is the story China wants to tell the world: that it’s not just growing, but leading. For now, at least on paper, the ports are full, the ships are sailing, and the trade surplus is massive. But numbers, as always, only tell part of the story.