Let's make a deal: After the West slapped sanctions on Zimbabwe President Robert Mugabe for human rights abuses, he was feted by Chinese premier Wen Jiabao. Guang Niu/AFP/Getty Images

Until recently, Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic (CAR), was an architectural graveyard. The exposed beams of the rusty national stadium arched above the decaying city, casting long shadows on the ground. By the entrance, a monument to the founder of the country lay in a pile of crumbled concrete. Now the city is teeming with construction. Workers daub paint on a new 20,000-seat stadium. A few kilometers down the road, the new mayor’s office is taking shape. The cacophony could be from any growing city, but for one oddity: the construction workers are all Chinese.

Beijing’s investment in Africa dates back some six centuries, when explorers set off from Asia across the Indian Ocean. More recently, during the early years of the Cold War, Beijing lined up supporters for its “one China” policy on Taiwan by dangling aid as a carrot. China has often played the empathy card, telling other developing countries that it, too, knows what it’s like to be poor. African leaders have long felt hemmed in by Western donors’ dictates: free trade, open markets, and privatization. With economic growth in much of the continent stagnant at best, and Western aid increasingly tied to human rights and economic reform, African leaders have found it convenient to grasp China’s hand.

Beijing is making it easy. Earlier this year, Chinese oil giant CNOOC purchased a 45 percent stake in an offshore Nigerian oil rig in a deal worth $2.3 billion. Hundreds of Chinese workers descended upon the Takazee River in 2002, just two months after the Ethiopian government had turned to a low-cost Chinese firm to finance a $300 million dam project. In neighboring Uganda, bureaucrats work inside the new Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, a gift from Beijing. All the signs, including directions for how to operate the fire extinguishers, are in Chinese.

China’s reach now extends deep into the continent. When the CAR’s François Bozizé took power after a violent coup in 2003 and declared himself president, the African Union booted the country from its membership rolls. A few weeks later, Beijing extended a $2.5 million interest-free loan and welcomed Bozizé with open arms for an official visit a year later. New buildings, more interest-free loans and grants, millions of dollars of office and telecommunications equipment and other gifts have followed, as well as a promise to explore the CAR’s potential oil reserves and harvest its vast timber resources.

The Chinese government builds its influence in Africa by using its state-owned companies to underbid competitors—including Western companies—for government projects. It’s a practice the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development’s member states have agreed to avoid, due to the unfair competition that results when government aid mixes with private investment. That’s not a concern for Beijing. Because China’s objective is to make allies rather than quick profits, it is willing to bid low. Chinese-owned companies keep costs low by relying on cheap labor, including prisoners who reportedly receive a reduced sentence for their toil. While Western donors talk about “sustainable development,” the Chinese concentrate on building sustainable relationships by providing something concrete, literally. Rwanda’s potholed roads, for example, are currently being rebuilt by a Chinese firm.

Behind the frenzied construction, China’s relationships with African nations are grounded in agreements to not meddle in each other’s domestic affairs. African governments on the outs with the West can still find aid and investment, and China gets access to resources and diplomatic support. For example, when Robert Mugabe’s slum clearance program in Zimbabwe left hundreds of thousands homeless in the summer of 2005, the Chinese ambassador left the room when the United States and the European Union presented the matter before the UN Security Council. China, for its part, feted Mugabe for his “remarkable contribution” to diplomacy while naming him an honorary professor at Beijing’s Foreign Affairs University and continued to supply him with arms. In exchange, Mugabe signed lucrative mining concessions over to Beijing.

By conducting business as usual in the face of human rights abuses, both China and African countries find a way around international frameworks for accountability on the part of political leaders. When the Angolan government balked at an IMF mandate for transparency in its oil revenue accounting, the Chinese Export-Import Bank offered an interest-free loan, no accounting required. In the past year, China—which receives 50 percent of Sudan’s oil exports—has repeatedly used its permanent seat on the UN Security Council to block proposed sanctions for the Darfur genocide.

In essence, China and its African partners have figured out a way to circumvent the patchwork system of accountability for foreign aid. It’s a maneuver that is causing unease in Western capitals, and particularly in the United States. If there is an upside to China’s scruples free investment, it may be that the competition for allies and resources will force the West to reconsider its own neglect of the continent.