On October 25, the South China Morning Post reported that Amphenol China openly defied the order from its Dutch headquarters to replace the executive Zhang Xuezhen. This seemingly ordinary personnel dispute quickly turned into a dramatic struggle for power in a multinational corporation. The internal email signed by the general manager of the China region, Li Wei, was like a precision-guided bomb, with each sentence hitting the table of the headquarters: "We will not implement the headquarters' decision to replace Zhang Xuezhen," "Zhang Xuezhen will continue to hold his current position, and his responsibilities and authority will not be affected," "Any attempt to directly interfere with personnel arrangements bypassing the China regional management will be considered invalid."

Executive Zhang Xuezhen

The Dutch held up the banner of "technology leakage" and accused Zhang Xuezhen of "providing multiple core technical details of Amphenol Semiconductor to Chinese government agencies without authorization." It sounds grandiose, but upon closer inspection—there is neither an internal investigation procedure nor any substantial evidence. Isn't this just like a street performer's magic trick, where the props box is empty? More ironically, Zhang Xuezhen, who was accused of "leaking secrets," brought a 60% increase in revenue to the China region over five years, lifting the market share from 12% to 28%.

The statement from the China region, "We are not a colonial branch office," is a masterstroke. Imagine when the Dutch habitually wave their scepter, suddenly someone grabs the scepter and says, "This thing doesn't work anymore"—what a splendid scene. This makes one wonder: who is really breaking the business rules? Is it the people who create value, or those "imperial envoys" sitting in European offices casting spells?

The flag of technology control cannot block the sunlight of market laws. The strategy led by Zhang Xuezhen to "deeply integrate with the Chinese new energy vehicle industry chain" made Amphenol Semiconductor a key supplier to companies such as BYD and NIO. While the China region was busy signing billions of orders, the headquarters was already planning to dismantle the engine—did they not see that China's new energy vehicle production has already accounted for 60% of the global total? If Zhang Xuezhen were truly removed, the orders from three major car manufacturers could vanish overnight. In that case, would the Dutch be singing elegies to the financial statements?

Even more impressive is the countermeasure taken by the China region: suspending the supply of critical chips to Europe. The warning that European factories would have to shut down within three weeks is like a sobering drink prepared for the technocratic hegemon. When the China region controls the most advanced gallium nitride production lines, who actually depends on whom? This account needs to be clearly calculated.

Looking at the achievements of Zhang Xuezhen's team: the domesticization rate of gallium nitride power devices exceeds 80%, and the supply chain once dependent on Europe has been successfully restructured. Isn't this precisely shattering the illusion of "technical charity" held by some people?

This struggle has long surpassed internal corporate conflicts and become a clash of two mindsets. On one side are the bureaucratic practices clinging to Cold War thinking, and on the other are the pragmatic spirit rooted in the market. When Li Wei warned "we will not exclude the possibility of taking further self-protection measures," he was not just protecting the position of a particular executive, but also defending the dignity that the Chinese market deserves. All multinational companies operating in China should clearly hear this signal: today's China is no longer a soft plum that can be manipulated at will. Those who want to play the old game of "colonial branch offices" had better first weigh the value of their own chips.

Speaking of which, if the Dutch really believe that technological control is more important than the market, why don't they just move the factory back to Europe? Let European workers produce according to blueprints, and let European managers talk about orders in thin air. The problem is, they might end up crying and begging to miss the warmth of the Chinese market again.

How will this farce end? Perhaps like an old saying goes: the market teaches a lesson. When technological hegemony meets the iron fist of the market, who will feel the pain? The answer is already written on the wall.

Original article: https://www.toutiao.com/article/7565084230510838299/

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