In 2015, a quiet delegation from George Washington University (GWU) where former Whitehouse Phisician Kevin O’ Conner works traveled to Xi’an, China, at the invitation of He Xijing, a top military-linked surgeon and hospital director. On the surface, it was a medical exchange — but in reality, it marked a key moment in the People’s Liberation Army’s (PLA) strategy to merge military and civilian science, extending into American universities.

He Xijing isn’t just a hospital administrator. He leads Xi’an Jiaotong University Second Affiliated Hospital, which undertakes projects funded by the Central Military Commission’s Logistics Support Department — the PLA’s core organ overseeing medical, supply, and bio-research logistics. He’s also deeply embedded in the PLA’s military-civil fusion (MCF) agenda, which aims to harness global science for national defense.

Among the GWU delegates was Dr. Sidney W. Fu (傅四东/付四东), then a professor and genomics researcher at GWU’s School of Medicine. In Washington, Dr. Fu was known for his cancer biomarker work and NIH-funded studies. But in China, he appeared under a different title: mentor and senior advisor to the International Universities Innovation Alliance (IUIA) — a Beijing-based organization built under the supervision of the Ministry of Commerce, Ministry of Science and Technology of Communist China (aka PRC or the People’s Republic of China, a regime of Chinese Communist Party), and United Front-linked groups such as the Western Returned Scholars Association (欧美同学会).

This is not just a benign academic partnership. IUIA’s founding members include BGI (华大基因) — a company with well-documented collaboration with the PLA’s Military Medical Sciences and involvement in dual-use genomics research. Other sponsors include Beijing Financial Asset Exchange and Zhongguancun Science Park, both heavily tied to state industrial policy and military tech transfer programs.

In effect, the IUIA became a channel where Western universities, Chinese state organs, and military-affiliated corporations could share research, “incubate innovation,” and promote “international entrepreneurship.” Its North American branch, led by Xiao Shuigen, a Georgetown University assistant to the president who attended in person the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC) , described its mission as “bringing together China’s best entrepreneurs and Western research institutions.”

But behind that polished language lies a clear geopolitical agenda: to blur the line between civilian and defense science, and to integrate Western expertise into China’s military-industrial ecosystem.

Dr. Fu’s dual role symbolizes this convergence perfectly. At GWU, he directed genomic research and advised the Vice President for Health Affairs. In China, he advised IUIA and lectured at institutes connected to the PLA’s medical and rehabilitation network, including collaborators like Qin Chuan, a leading figure in military biomedical programs. Qin’s work links directly to Xia Xianzhu, a researcher in zoonotic and veterinary military science, and to teams tied to the PLA Army Medical University.

These networks represent how the PLA leverages international partnerships to advance biological research with potential dual-use applications. Personnel such as Lu Ming, photographed wearing the uniform of the PLA Joint Logistics Support Force, embody this pattern — presented abroad as medical collaborators, yet operating within the military health system.

While the West often views such exchanges as scientific diplomacy, Beijing sees them as part of a strategic knowledge acquisition program. Through initiatives like IUIA and university partnerships, the CCP creates legitimate-looking pathways for sensitive research collaboration, talent cultivation, and access to advanced biomedical infrastructure — all under the umbrella of “innovation.”

The story of He Xijing, Sidney Fu, Qin Chuan, and the IUIA reveals a carefully designed bridge between China’s PLA medical apparatus and Western academic institutions. It demonstrates how military-civil fusion has quietly extended beyond China’s borders, embedding itself in global scientific networks.

In an era when the boundaries between civilian and defense research are increasingly blurred, these connections demand scrutiny. Collaboration in science is valuable — but only when it’s transparent, reciprocal, and free of political-military manipulation.

If the world fails to recognize how military-linked institutions exploit global openness, we risk enabling an adversarial regime to weaponize knowledge developed in the very laboratories meant to advance human health.