What election objectors could cost their corporate donorsAny remaining notions that the presidential transition would go smoothly were shattered this weekend when 11 Republican senators announced that they would not certify Joe Biden’s Electoral College victory during a joint Congressional session on Wednesday. At the same time, President Trump pressured …
Chinese regulators on Sunday ordered the financial-technology giant Ant Group to fix what they described as a litany of business failings, escalating a pressure campaign that has been building since the government abruptly halted the company’s plans for a record-breaking share listing last month.The Chinese government has begun taking a harder line toward big internet companies, which have come to wield vast influence over segments of the economy much like Facebook, Google and other tech giants have done elsewhere. China’s market regulator recently opened an antimonopoly investigation into Ant’s sister company, the e-commerce behemoth Alibaba; Alibaba …
Mr. Xi made no secret about what his ideal capitalist should be like. Ten days after the Ant I.P.O. debacle, he toured a museum exhibition devoted to Zhang Jian, an industrialist who was active more than a century ago. Zhang helped build up his hometown, Nantong, and opened hundreds of schools. Business figures in the Xi era, the message went, should also put their nation ahead of business.In a July meeting with the members of the business community, Mr. Xi pointed to Zhang as a role model and urged them to rank patriotism as their top quality. ( …
“This is an important step in strengthening antimonopoly oversight in the internet sphere,” said the article, which was published on the paper’s website Thursday morning. “This will be beneficial to regulating an orderly sector and promoting the long-term healthy development of platforms.”Political insiders and investors in China have speculated for years that the national leader, Xi Jinping, would be tempted to move against Alibaba and Mr. Ma, worried that their influence was an increasing affront to the Communist Party and that it could undermine control of capital markets and the internet. But until recently, Chinese regulators had moved …
As the Chinese government tracked and persecuted members of predominantly Muslim minority groups, the technology giant Alibaba taught its corporate customers how they could play a part.Alibaba’s website for its cloud computing business showed how clients could use its software to detect the faces of Uighurs and other ethnic minorities within images and videos, according to pages on the site that were discovered by the surveillance industry publication IPVM and shared with The New York Times. The feature was built into Alibaba software that helps web platforms monitor digital content for material related to terrorism, pornography and other …
In 2015, the chairman and controlling shareholder of the luxury goods group Richemont, Johann Rupert, took to the stage at an industry conference in Monte Carlo and issued a rallying cry to some of his biggest rivals.“I invited the other big groups to create a singular, dominant neutral platform for the luxury goods industry in which we were shareholders,” Mr. Rupert, a blustery South African, recalled this month. “I was talking to Mr. Arnault of LVMH and Mr. Pinault of Kering,” he said, referring to the heads of two major luxury conglomerates, Bernard Arnault and François-Henri Pinault. “I told …
Post-pandemic China was supposed to be good for Fang Guobao. As lockdowns loosened and online shopping soared, the package courier in the eastern city of Nanjing was delivering about 250 parcels a day, up from 200 before the pandemic.
Then his paychecks stopped. His boss asked for more time twice. Then she stopped answering her phone.
So Mr. Fang and several colleagues resolved to stop working. Even though the outbreak had made jobs scarcer and willing workers more plentiful, they joined a string of other strikes and protests by couriers that is resonating through China and drawing greater attention to their low wages and grueling working conditions.
“You’re supposed to pay us. That’s only right and proper,” Mr. Fang, 50, said. “If there were no personal profit, who would want to be a part of this kind of thing?”
The unrest accelerated in the weeks before Singles’ Day, the online shopping event created by the e-commerce giant Alibaba, on Wednesday. The value of merchandise sold on Singles’ Day, which is like Black Friday and Cyber Monday rolled into one, is likely to shatter last year’s record $38.3 billion as China continues to rebound economically after bringing its coronavirus cases under control.
But the worker complaints leading up to it also suggest that, even as China has posted promising macroeconomic numbers, low-income workers in particular have continued to struggle. Express delivery orders of the kind Mr. Fang ferries have surged, buoyed by increased spending among the middle and upper classes. Yet that boom has not trickled down to the couriers, known as kuaidi, the mostly male and unskilled workers who zip around on electric bikes feeding the country’s online shopping obsession.
As a result, couriers are going missing and packages have gone astray. Workers in Hunan Province went on strike last month for more than $45,000 in back wages, leaving orders of hairy crab to rot in their boxes. In Shenyang, a city in the northeast, abandoned packages were dumped in an empty field last week. Internet users have joked that their packages are going on vacation, posting screenshots of tracking details that show their orders meandering across the country as they are redirected to functioning courier stations.
The hashtag “What do you think of the courier strikes?” has been viewed more than 1.5 billion times on Weibo, a Twitter-like platform, and was a trending topic on Wednesday.
Dissatisfaction is common in the courier industry, as are sporadic protests. But the courier strikes now, when the pandemic has left many other low-income workers unemployed, underscore both their dissatisfaction and their desperation.
The pandemic may have lent the strikes more public support, said Aidan Chau, a researcher at China Labor Bulletin, a Hong Kong-based labor rights organization. Many commenters on Weibo said they were willing to wait longer for their packages.
“After the coronavirus, everyone knows that workers are having a hard time now,” Mr. Chau said, adding that some people who had been in the formal economy had themselves been forced to pick up gig work.
Many of the workers, who are mostly men from rural areas seeking better jobs in the cities, are not employed directly by the country’s major shipping companies. Instead, they work for local franchises that help those companies complete the last mile of delivery. That model leaves many of the couriers — who numbered more than three million at the end of 2019, according to official statistics — without formal contracts and with few protections when disputes arise.
In addition, the major logistics companies have been locked since last year in a spiraling price war. The companies have tried to pass costs onto the franchises, who in turn have slashed the amount of money that couriers collect for each delivery, said Lin Chengyi, a professor at Insead, an international business school based in France, who has studied China’s gig economy.
Then came the virus. As cities locked down, many couriers were unable to work, and franchises struggled to stay afloat. Some folded. Those that did reopen struggled to pay couriers even reduced wages.
That was what happened to Mr. Fang in Nanjing. His local outlet of Best Express, one of the major delivery companies, did not issue $30,000 in wages to eight workers as promised. Mr. Fang said he was owed about $3,000, the equivalent of four or five months’ pay.
In July, the outlet owner promised to pay by August. August came and went.
So the eight couriers, just under half of the station’s employees, went on strike.
Not long after, their boss vanished. Mr. Fang tried complaining to a higher-up in the company, according to messages Mr. Fang shared with The New York Times. The company official responded that the dispute was not his responsibility.
After striking for a month, Mr. Fang decided to quit. He knew that it would be difficult to find a new job, but it was still better than being a courier.
“There’s no money, there’s no labor contract, and defending your rights is too difficult,” he said.
A spokeswoman for Best Express said the dispute over Mr. Fang’s wages had been “minor” and “swiftly resolved.” She denied that the company was experiencing strikes.
Others told nearly identical stories to Mr. Fang. A courier in Shanghai told the local news media last month that he had been hired just a week before to help deliver a half-month’s backlog of packages, after the franchise’s owner disappeared and the regular couriers quit. After another owner disappeared in the eastern city of Suzhou, couriers filed a police report to recover more than $15,000 in unpaid wages, so far to no avail.
Mr. Chau of China Labor Bulletin said that while workers may have endured a month or two of unpaid wages at first, given the pressures of the post-pandemic economy, that posture had probably become untenable as delays dragged on.
They have few other avenues for seeking help. The government has gradually moved to support workers in the exploding e-commerce industry, officially recognizing “online delivery person” as a new occupation in March. During last year’s National Day parade, delivery drivers led the way.
But legal protections remain scarce, given the couriers’ lack of employment contracts and the difficulty in enforcement across such a scattered network, said Tu Yongqian, a professor of labor law at Renmin University in Beijing.
The dispersed and high-turnover nature of the industry also means that there is little communication between couriers at different branches. Nor are independent labor unions allowed in China. So the strikes that have unfolded in recent months have occurred in isolation, as problems arise at each franchise.
“This group of workers is very big, but they’ve never had the strength to form into an organization,” Professor Tu said.
The lack of coordination has probably helped companies to deny that anything is amiss. Xinhua, the state-run news agency, published an article last month calling reports of strikes “fake,” with unnamed officials at each company declaring that operations were running normally.
Still, as demand peaked ahead of Singles’ Day, even the state news media acknowledged some bumps. China Central Television, the state broadcaster, aired a report on Tuesday about worker shortages at courier companies, though it did not mention strikes.
Even couriers who are not striking feel the ripple effects of others’ protests.
Chen Zhongqiao, a courier in Wuhan, dropped off a package at a checkpoint in September that has still not reached its customer. Workers further down the line had not acted on it for weeks, according to his tracking information.
Mr. Chen said he did not know whether he would be paid for completing his part of the order, but his hopes were not high. He had come to his current employer after the last one had disappeared.
“We’ll have to see whether this branch can hang on,” he said. “If this one also collapses and the boss leaves, then judging by previous experience I again won’t get any money.”
Liu Yi and Coral Yang contributed research.
This was supposed to be the week that one of China’s biggest tech companies threw the most lucrative coming-out party in history, sending a swaggering message about the country’s economic might during the pandemic.
Instead, China sent a different message: No private business gets to swagger unless the government is on board with it.
Regulators pulled the plug Tuesday on the initial public offering of Ant Group, the internet finance giant, which had been all but ready to press “Go” on its $34 billion stock debut in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
The I.P.O. would have brought in more cash than did Saudi Aramco, the state-run oil giant, when it went public last year. And Ant would have raised the money on the opposite side of the planet from New York, which has long been the favored listing destination for Chinese tech groups.
But by firing a last-minute torpedo at Ant and Jack Ma, the company’s controlling shareholder and celebrity founder of the e-commerce titan Alibaba, the authorities made clear that international bragging rights mattered less than ensuring private companies know where they stand next to the state.
Ant sits at the intersection of two industries — finance and tech — that are facing intense scrutiny everywhere. American officials are circling the giants of Silicon Valley, plotting a reckoning for the power they wield over commerce and society.
Yet in China, the authorities under Xi Jinping, the country’s top leader, have brought a steely, uncompromising edge to their tactics for enforcing the Communist Party’s will.
Globe-straddling conglomerates have been leashed. A tycoon was disappeared into custody. In September, Ren Zhiqiang, a wealthy, politically connected property developer, was sentenced to 18 years in prison after he criticized Mr. Xi for the government’s handling of the coronavirus.
After Mr. Xi declared war on food waste this year, the official news media and video platforms turned against streamers who recorded themselves chowing down on extravagant spreads — a niche category of internet fame, but a remunerative one for its stars.
“What happened to Ant reinforces that sense that it’s really essential to show respect for party-state authority,” said Kellee S. Tsai, the dean of the School of Humanities and Social Science at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. “Capitalists have to play by the political rules of the game.”
For many businesses in China, this has been a year to be thankful — all things considered — for the government. Economic growth is bounding back. The authorities are keeping the virus largely under control.
Ant filed to go public in August, nearly a decade after the company was spun out of Alibaba. Ant’s Alipay app is used by more than 730 million people every month. It has become a major portal for personal credit, loans, investments and insurance in addition to a payment tool. But getting to this point was a long journey for Ant, one with numerous dust-ups with regulators.
More controls were already on the way. China’s banking and insurance regulator discussed new rules for online lenders in September. Tighter supervision of financial holding companies was scheduled to go into effect on Nov. 1.
Late last month, as Ant’s mega I.P.O. was coming together, Mr. Ma made an appearance at a financial conference, the Bund Summit in Shanghai. He spoke after bigwigs including Wang Qishan, China’s vice president, and Yi Gang, the central bank governor.
“Our next speaker needs little introduction,” the host said. “He says he came to the Bund Summit today to throw a bomb.”
A camera catches Mr. Ma standing up from his seat and shrugging, as if caught off guard.
“I’m not throwing any bombs,” he said once he reached the podium. “Who would dare throw a bomb?”
He then proceeded to throw several bombs. He roasted financial regulators for being obsessed with minimizing risk, even though, he said, “there is no innovation in this world without risk.” He accused China’s banks of behaving like “pawnshops” by lending only to those who could put up collateral.
The audience applauded politely as he left the stage. But state-run news outlets criticized his remarks in the days that followed.
After Ant set the listing price for its stock, investors stampeded to place orders. More than five million people applied in Shanghai alone. The total number of shares they wanted to buy was 870 times the number being offered.
But on Monday evening, financial regulators announced that they had summoned Mr. Ma and other company executives for a meeting. In a shock announcement the next night, the Shanghai Stock Exchange called time on the I.P.O.
One wag on social media called Mr. Ma’s remarks in Shanghai “the most expensive speech in history.”
It was not a speech he had been under any obvious obligation to give. Mr. Ma retired from Alibaba last year and has no formal role in Ant’s management. His net worth has been estimated to be more than $50 billion.
In recent months, his public work has had to do with fighting the pandemic, improving rural education and empowering entrepreneurs in Africa. At the Shanghai summit, he was introduced as a chairman of the U.N. High-Level Panel on Digital Cooperation and a U.N. Sustainable Development Goals advocate.
By opining on financial regulation, Mr. Ma struck at a sensitive subject. In recent years, China has reined in a proliferation of fly-by-night online loan operations. The country had 5,000 such lenders not long ago, according to regulators. By the end of September, there were only six.
This week, the state news media framed the decision to suspend Ant’s I.P.O. as a prudent one taken to protect investors.
Andrew Collier, the founder and managing director of Orient Capital Research, said he believed that protecting China’s big government-run banks was a factor in the move. Banks pay Ant fees to help them extend credit to customers they might not otherwise serve, but at a cost to their own profitability.
“My personal view is that the banks were looking for an excuse to nip this in the bud and also give them adequate time to try to get their own online operations up to speed,” he said.
Mr. Collier added: “Twenty years ago, when China needed global capital more, and was also much less confident about its own scope in the world,” the leadership “would have been very loath to do this, because it would make them look indecisive.”
Today, China’s leaders care less about how their actions look overseas than about fulfilling domestic priorities. The rupture with the United States on trade, technology and other fronts has led the Communist Party to reaffirm Mr. Xi’s broad mandate to steer China through turbulent times.
“They are trying to figure out a balanced course between opening and maintaining control in this entirely new environment,” said Minxin Pei, a professor of government at Claremont McKenna College. “Coming out of Covid, even though China has done well, there’s a lot of unknowns ahead.”
“The sentiment is one of uncertainty, caution,” Mr. Pei said. “When you have Ant, which is truly gigantic, which will allow people to move money around a lot more easily, with very little transparency, really — that can worry the hell out of them.”
On Friday, Ant was in the process of refunding investors who put down money for a piece of the thwarted I.P.O.
Sha Sha, 33, an insurance broker in Hong Kong, borrowed more than $20,000 to get in on the action. She applied to buy 2,500 Hong Kong shares at around $10.30 apiece, but was allotted only 50 shares.
She had been excited to take part in such a historically significant listing. Now she is more circumspect.
“It definitely feels like there are greater uncertainties,” Ms. Sha said. “In half a year, if there are new listing plans, I will be more careful and put more thought into it.”
Cao Li contributed reporting.
Ant Group challenged China’s state-dominated banking system by bringing easy-to-use payments, borrowing and investing to hundreds of millions of smartphones across the country. On Tuesday, Chinese officialdom reminded the company who was really in charge.
In a late-evening announcement that stunned China, the Shanghai Stock Exchange slammed the brakes on Ant’s initial public offering, which was set to be the biggest stock debut in history with investors on multiple continents and at least $34 billion in proceeds.
The stock exchange’s notice to Ant said that the company’s proposed offering might no longer meet the requirements for listing after Chinese regulators had summoned company executives, including Jack Ma, the co-founder of the e-commerce titan Alibaba and Ant’s controlling shareholder, for a meeting on Monday.
Neither the regulators nor Ant have said in detail what was discussed at the meeting. But the timing of the conversation, mere days before Ant’s shares were expected to begin trading concurrently in Shanghai and Hong Kong, suggested discord with the company or with Mr. Ma, who spun Ant out of Alibaba in 2011.
Though he is not part of Ant’s management, Mr. Ma has been a spirited champion for the company’s mission of bringing financial services to small businesses and others in China who he says have been ill-served by stodgy, government-run institutions.
“We will keep in close communications with the Shanghai Stock Exchange and relevant regulators,” the company said, “and wait for their further notice with respect to further developments of our offering and listing process.”
Shares of Alibaba, a major Ant shareholder, fell more than 6 percent on the New York Stock Exchange on Tuesday morning after news of the delay.
Over the past decade, Ant has transformed the way people in China interact with money. The company’s Alipay app has become an essential payment tool for more than 730 million users, as well as a platform for obtaining small loans and buying insurance and investment products.
But competing against China’s politically connected financial institutions always came with risks. Regulators have looked warily upon Ant’s fast growth in certain areas, fearful it might become too big to rescue in the event of a meltdown.
Ant has pivoted in response. Instead of using its own money to extend loans, the company now primarily acts as an agent for banks, introducing them to individual borrowers and small enterprises that they might not otherwise reach. It describes itself as a technology partner to banks, not a competitor or a disrupter.
This business model works just fine for many of Ant’s investors, evidently. The company’s expected market valuation after the dual listing, of more than $310 billion, would make it worth more than many global banks. Mr. Ma, who is already China’s richest man, would become even richer.
Still, Ant’s future remains at the mercy of Chinese regulators, whose views on the melding of tech and finance are still evolving.
“The regulators have long been looking at the risks in this area and how it should be regulated, but it’s all suddenly coming out at this specific time,” said Yu Baicheng, head of the Zero One Research Institute, a think tank in Beijing focused on finance and tech. “It’s definitely a statement of the regulators’ attitude.”
An article on the website of Economic Daily, an official Communist Party newspaper, praised the decision to suspend Ant’s share sale, calling it in the best interest of investors.
“Every market participant must respect and revere the rules — no exceptions,” the article said.
Besides Mr. Ma, the meeting on Monday with the regulatory agencies also included Ant’s executive chairman, Eric Jing, and its chief executive, Simon Hu. “Views regarding the health and stability of the financial sector were exchanged,” Ant said in a statement.
In another sign of the continuing scrutiny, the nation’s banking regulator, the China Banking and Insurance Regulatory Commission, on Monday issued new draft rules for online microfinance businesses. Among them were higher capital requirements for loans and tighter controls on lending across provincial lines.
The Shanghai exchange’s suspension of the Ant I.P.O. appeared to take note of the draft rules, saying that recent changes in the regulatory environment had affected Ant significantly. Bai Chengyu, an executive at the China Association of Microfinance, said the new rules could cause the entire microfinance industry to shrink.
The famously outspoken Mr. Ma did not ingratiate himself with the authorities when he said, in a recent speech in Shanghai, that financial regulators’ excessive focus on containing risk could stifle innovation.
“We cannot manage an airport the way we managed a train station,” he said. “We cannot use yesterday’s methods to manage the future.”
The head of consumer protection at China’s banking regulator, Guo Wuping, slapped back on Monday, calling out two popular features in Alipay by name in a sharply critical article in 21st Century Business Herald, a government-owned newspaper.
Mr. Guo argued that online finance products were not fundamentally different from traditional ones, and that financial technology companies should therefore be regulated in the same way as established institutions.
Huabei, a credit function in Alipay, is no different from a credit card issued by a bank, Mr. Guo wrote. And Jiebei, an Alipay loan feature, is no different from a bank loan. Ant has called Huabei and Jiebei the most widely used consumer credit products in China.
Loose regulation has allowed financial technology companies to charge higher fees than banks, Mr. Guo wrote. This, he said, “has caused some low-income people and young people to fall into debt traps, ultimately harming consumers’ rights and interests and even endangering families and society.”
Ant declined to comment on Mr. Guo’s article.
As Jack Ma of Alibaba helped turn China into the world’s biggest e-commerce market over the past two decades, he was also vowing to pull off a more audacious transformation.
“If the banks don’t change, we’ll change the banks,” he said in 2008, decrying how hard it was for small businesses in China to borrow from government-run lenders.
“The financial industry needs disrupters,” he told People’s Daily, the official Communist Party newspaper, a few years later. His goal, he said, was to make banks and other state-owned enterprises “feel unwell.”
The scope of Mr. Ma’s success is becoming clearer. The vehicle for his financial-technology ambitions, an Alibaba spinoff called Ant Group, is preparing for the largest initial public offering on record. Ant is set to raise $34 billion by selling its shares to the public in Hong Kong and Shanghai, according to stock exchange documents released on Monday. After the listing, Ant would be worth around $310 billion, much more than many global banks.
The company is going public not as a scrappy upstart, but as a leviathan deeply dependent on the good will of the government Mr. Ma once relished prodding.
More than 730 million people use Ant’s Alipay app every month to pay for lunch, invest their savings and shop on credit. Yet Alipay’s size and importance have made it an inevitable target for China’s regulators, which have already brought its business to heel in certain areas.
These days, Ant talks mostly about creating partnerships with big banks, not disrupting or supplanting them. Several government-owned funds and institutions are Ant shareholders and stand to profit handsomely from the public offering.
The question now is how much higher Ant can fly without provoking the Chinese authorities into clipping its wings further.
Excitable investors see Ant as a buzzy internet innovator. The risk is that it becomes more like a heavily regulated “financial digital utility,” said Fraser Howie, the co-author of “Red Capitalism: The Fragile Financial Foundation of China’s Extraordinary Rise.”
“Utility stocks, as far as I remember, were not the ones to be seen as the most exciting,” Mr. Howie said.
Ant declined to comment, citing the quiet period demanded by regulators before its share sale.
The company has played give-and-take with Beijing for years. As smartphone payments became ubiquitous in China, Ant found itself managing huge piles of money in Alipay users’ virtual wallets. The central bank made it park those funds in special accounts where they would earn minimal interest.
After people piled into an easy-to-use investment fund inside Alipay, the government forced the fund to shed risk and lower returns. Regulators curbed a plan to use Alipay data as the basis for a credit-scoring system akin to Americans’ FICO scores.
China’s Supreme Court this summer capped interest rates for consumer loans, though it was unclear how the ceiling would apply to Ant. The central bank is preparing a new virtual currency that could compete against Alipay and another digital wallet, the messaging app WeChat, as an everyday payment tool.
Ant has learned ways of keeping the authorities on its side. Mr. Ma once boasted at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, about never taking money from the Chinese government. Today, funds associated with China’s social security system, its sovereign wealth fund, a state-owned life insurance company and the national postal carrier hold stakes in Ant. The I.P.O. is likely to increase the value of their holdings considerably.
“That’s how the state gets its payoff,” Mr. Howie said. With Ant, he said, “the line between state-owned enterprise and private enterprise is highly, highly blurred.”
China, in less than two generations, went from having a state-planned financial system to being at the global vanguard of internet finance, with trillions of dollars in transactions being made on mobile devices each year. Alipay had a lot to do with it.
Alibaba created the service in the early 2000s to hold payments for online purchases in escrow. Its broader usefulness quickly became clear in a country that mostly missed out on the credit card era. Features were added and users piled in. It became impossible for regulators and banks not to see the app as a threat.
A big test came when Ant began making an offer to Alipay users: Park your money in a section of the app called Yu’ebao, which means “leftover treasure,” and we will pay you more than the low rates fixed by the government at banks.
People could invest as much or as little as they wanted, making them feel like they were putting their pocket change to use. Yu’ebao was a hit, becoming one of the world’s largest money market funds.
The banks were terrified. One commentator for a state broadcaster called the fund a “vampire” and a “parasite.”
Still, “all the main regulators remained unanimous in saying that this was a positive thing for the Chinese financial system,” said Martin Chorzempa, a research fellow at the Peterson Institute for International Economics in Washington.
“If you can’t actually reform the banks,” Mr. Chorzempa said, “you can inject more competition.”
But then came worries about shadowy, unregulated corners of finance and the dangers they posed to the wider economy. Today, Chinese regulators are tightening supervision of financial holding companies, Ant included. Beijing has kept close watch on the financial instruments that small lenders create out of their consumer loans and sell to investors. Such securities help Ant fund some of its lending. But they also amplify the blowup if too many of those loans aren’t repaid.
“Those kinds of derivative products are something the government is really concerned about,” said Tian X. Hou, founder of the research firm TH Data Capital. Given Ant’s size, she said, “the government should be concerned.”
The broader worry for China is about growing levels of household debt. Beijing wants to cultivate a consumer economy, but excessive borrowing could eventually weigh on people’s spending power. The names of two of Alipay’s popular credit functions, Huabei and Jiebei, are jaunty invitations to spend and borrow.
Huang Ling, 22, started using Huabei when she was in high school. At the time, she didn’t qualify for a credit card. With Huabei’s help, she bought a drone, a scooter, a laptop and more.
The credit line made her feel rich. It also made her realize that if she actually wanted to be rich, she had to get busy.
“Living beyond my means forced me to work harder,” Ms. Huang said.
First, she opened a clothing shop in her hometown, Nanchang, in southeastern China. Then she started an advertising company in the inland metropolis of Chongqing. When the business needed cash, she borrowed from Jiebei.
Online shopping became a way to soothe daily anxieties, and Ms. Huang sometimes racked up thousands of dollars in Huabei bills, which only made her even more anxious. When the pandemic slammed her business, she started falling behind on her payments. That cast her into a deep depression.
Finally, early this month, with her parents’ help, she paid off her debts and closed her Huabei and Jiebei accounts. She felt “elated,” she said.
China’s recent troubles with freewheeling online loan platforms have put the government under pressure to protect ordinary borrowers.
Ant is helped by the fact that its business lines up with many of the Chinese leadership’s priorities: encouraging entrepreneurship and financial inclusion, and expanding the middle class. This year, the company helped the eastern city of Hangzhou, where it is based, set up an early version of the government’s app-based system for dictating coronavirus quarantines.
Such coziness is bound to raise hackles overseas. In Washington, Chinese tech companies that are seen as close to the government are radioactive.
In January 2017, Eric Jing, then Ant’s chief executive, said the company aimed to be serving two billion users worldwide within a decade. Shortly after, Ant announced that it was acquiring the money transfer company MoneyGram to increase its U.S. footprint. By the following January, the deal was dead, thwarted by data security concerns.
More recently, top officials in the Trump administration have discussed whether to place Ant Group on the so-called entity list, which prohibits foreign companies from purchasing American products. Officials from the State Department have suggested that an interagency committee, which also includes officials from the departments of defense, commerce and energy, review Ant for the potential entity listing, according to three people familiar with the matter.
Ant does not talk much anymore about expanding in the United States.
Ana Swanson contributed reporting.