In a stark warning that cuts to the core of U.S.-China tensions, Republican Congressman Scott Perry has accused the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) of waging what he calls “unrestricted warfare” against America—not through bullets and bombs, but through the subtle and strategic manipulation of democratic systems.
His focus is particularly unusual: Shen Yun, the world-renowned New York-based performing arts group that blends classical Chinese dance with original music and storytelling rooted in traditional Chinese culture.
To many theatregoers, Shen Yun is an artistic marvel—a colourful, acrobatic, and emotionally stirring production that revives a China “before communism.”
But for the CCP, Perry contends, Shen Yun is more than just a cultural showcase; it is a threat to the regime’s ideological stranglehold, a powerful reminder of a spiritual and cultural identity that Beijing has spent decades trying to erase.
Perry, who chairs the House Freedom Caucus, made these claims in a series of public remarks and congressional briefings, expressing alarm over the Chinese regime’s persistent and insidious campaign to silence and sabotage the artistic troupe.
He pointed to a pattern of harassment, propaganda, and covert operations aimed at suppressing Shen Yun’s global reach and influence.
For Perry, this is not simply about art—it is about freedom, sovereignty, and the very nature of warfare in the 21st century.
The term unrestricted warfare was popularised by two Chinese military colonels in a 1999 book of the same name.
It described a form of conflict that transcends traditional battlefield engagements, employing legal warfare, economic manipulation, cyber infiltration, and propaganda as legitimate tools of statecraft.
According to Perry and other lawmakers, this concept is now being operationalised with unnerving precision—and Shen Yun is one of its victims.
The dance troupe, which is affiliated with the spiritual discipline Falun Gong, has long been a target of the Chinese regime’s ire.
Falun Gong, a meditative practice combining qigong exercises with moral teachings, was banned in China in 1999 after gaining tens of millions of followers.
The CCP labelled it a “heretical cult” and launched an expansive and brutal campaign of suppression, involving mass detentions, forced labour, and widespread torture, as documented by human rights groups.
Since its founding in 2006, Shen Yun has become a cultural ambassador for Falun Gong’s values—truthfulness, compassion, and tolerance—and a living protest against the CCP’s persecution of the group.
This has made Shen Yun a major thorn in Beijing’s side, especially as the company’s performances regularly sell out in prestigious venues across Europe, North America, and Asia.
What alarms Perry is the Chinese regime’s response to this soft power counteroffensive.
He cites documented efforts to pressure local governments and theatres to cancel Shen Yun performances, cyberattacks against the company’s websites, and disinformation campaigns designed to tarnish its reputation.
Even more troubling, Perry suggests that the CCP is manipulating the U.S. judicial and media systems to achieve its aims.
Over the years, theatres in several cities—including in Germany, South Korea, and Sweden—have reported receiving pressure from Chinese diplomats or agents to cancel Shen Yun shows.
Some have complied, sparking outcry and debate over foreign interference in cultural affairs.
In the United States, attempts have been more covert, often involving anonymous complaints, sudden contractual issues, or unexplained disruptions.
Perry’s warning is not just about protecting an arts company. It is, at its heart, a call to recognise the broader battlefield of modern geopolitical rivalry.
In his view, the CCP is not content with military posturing in the South China Sea or economic coercion in global markets—it is actively undermining the ideological foundations of liberal democracies.
This aligns with a growing consensus in Washington that views Beijing not merely as a strategic competitor but as a revisionist power seeking to reshape the global order.
From TikTok’s alleged data privacy violations to reports of Chinese “police stations” operating on foreign soil, there is a deepening concern that the regime is using every tool at its disposal to project influence and suppress dissent abroad.
Shen Yun represents a unique threat to Beijing’s narrative control.
It is an unapologetic celebration of a China that the Communist Party has tried to erase—one that reveres the divine, honours moral integrity, and finds beauty in spiritual expression.
In many ways, the performances stand as a living rebuke to the regime’s Marxist materialism and authoritarianism.
Perry’s remarks also underscore the uncomfortable reality that democratic openness can be exploited by authoritarian actors.
By appealing to Western values like free speech and legal due process, the CCP can cloak its suppressive tactics in legitimacy.
When venues cancel Shen Yun, citing “security concerns” or “contractual misunderstandings,” it often masks a darker reality of foreign intimidation.
Congressman Perry’s call to action resonates with a growing segment of U.S. policymakers who believe that the country must take seriously not just China’s military ambitions, but its ideological warfare.
While the Pentagon plans for potential flashpoints like Taiwan, the war of ideas is already being fought in theatres, courtrooms, and newsrooms.
The case of Shen Yun—beautiful, nonviolent, and deeply rooted in traditional values—may seem like an unlikely frontline in this conflict. But as Perry emphasises, that is precisely what makes it so powerful. And so dangerous—to the CCP. In the unfolding narrative of U.S.-China relations, the battle over Shen Yun is a microcosm of something much larger. It is a test of how far authoritarian regimes can go in manipulating open societies—and how long those societies will tolerate it.