A powerful argument can be made that despite its economic rise, China will not try to challenge the position of the United States as the preeminent global leader because of the profound economic interdependence between the two countries. This is the essence of the official, though dated, Chinese slogan of "peaceful rise." Trade accounts for half of China's GDP, with exports significantly outstripping imports. The United States alone accounts for roughly 25 percent of Chinese sales. Total trade between the countries amounts to a stunning $500 billion a year. The Chinese government holds some $1.2 trillion in U.S. Treasury debt, or 8 percent of the outstanding total. Only the U.S. Federal Reserve and the Social Security trust fund hold more; all American households combined hold less.
As of the most recent count, 194,000 Chinese students attend U.S. universities; some 70,000 Americans live and study and work in mainland China. We are no longer in the realm of ping-pong diplomacy: We are in the world of economic and cultural partnership. These many cooperative projects require trust, credibility, and commitment -- all of which were lacking between the United States and the Soviet Union.
In the long run, China would like to rely less on exports and expand its customer base to include a bigger domestic market. The United States, for its part, would clearly prefer a more dispersed ownership of its debt. But for now, each side is stuck. For the foreseeable future, the U.S.-China economic relationship is going to remain a tight mutual embrace.
The argument that the United States and China will not find themselves in a struggle for global power depends on one historical fact: Never before has the dominant world power been so economically interdependent with the rising challenger it must confront. Under these conditions, trade and debt provide overwhelming economic incentives to avoid conflict that would be costly to all. Over time, the two countries' mutual interests will outweigh any tensions that arise between them.
Appealing as this liberal internationalist argument may be, seen through the lens of realism, China's economic rise, accompanied by America's relative economic decline, changes the global balance of power. It gives China the means, opportunity, and motive to alter the global arrangement in which the United States is the world's sole superpower. According to the logic of realism, the two countries are therefore already at odds in a struggle for geopolitical dominance. Under the circumstances, a shooting war is not unavoidable -- but conflict is.
Of all the potential direct flash points for real violent conflict between the United States and China, Taiwan is the scariest. In 2012, Tsai Ing-wen's Democratic Progressive Party won 47 percent of the vote on a platform of active independence. This was a sign that younger Taiwanese want to solidify the de facto independence they have enjoyed for most of their lives. The best Chinese offer is one state, two systems -- along the lines of Hong Kong -- and most Taiwanese tell pollsters they consider that unacceptable. If Tsai or another like-minded politician were to be elected in the future and Beijing wanted to shore up its legitimacy by distracting the public from a lagging economy, a hawkish Chinese leadership with close ties to the People's Liberation Army could send an as-yet-unbuilt aircraft carrier into the Taiwan Strait. The U.S. president would then face an immediate and pressing dilemma:
to respond in kind, inviting war, or to hold back and compromise America's global superpower status in an instant.
The Cuban missile crisis looked a lot like this.
But to alter the balance of power in a fundamental way, China does not need to reach military parity with the United States -- and once again, Taiwan is the demonstration case. From Beijing's standpoint, the optimal strategy toward Taiwan is to build up China's military capacity and acquire the island without a fight. The idea is that the United States might be prepared to tolerate the abandonment of its historical ally out of necessity, the way Britain ceded control over Hong Kong when it had no choice.
To see why this scenario is so plausible, all that is required is to ask the following question:
Would the president of the United States go to war with China over Taiwan absent some high-profile immediate crisis capable of mobilizing domestic support?
If the United States were to abandon Taipei, it would have to insist to China, as well as Japan, South Korea, and U.S. citizens, that Taiwan was in a basic sense different from the rest of Asia -- that the United States would protect Asian allies from hegemony despite letting Taiwan go.
Failure to do so credibly would transform capitulation on Taiwan into the end of U.S. military hegemony in Asia. It would represent a reversal of the victories in the Pacific during World War II. It would put much of the world's economic power within China's sphere of control, not only its sphere of influence. To be the regional hegemon in Asia would mean dominating more than half the world's population and more than half its economy. Even without increasing its position in Europe, the Middle East, Africa, or Latin America -- and without achieving military parity -- China could nonetheless be on a par with the United States in terms of global influence.
That moment of imagination may already have arrived: Although U.S. defense experts might think otherwise, many close watchers of U.S. domestic policy can conceive of a compromise on Taiwan that would restore Chinese sovereignty over the island. The future is now. For the United States to concede Asia to China's domination would entail stepping down from being the world's sole superpower to being one of two competing superpowers. But notice what this means. The only way the United States can credibly commit itself to the protection of its Asian allies is for the United States to remain committed to sole superpower status. China, for its part, need only grow its military capacity to the point where it would be big enough not to have to use it.
Military rise takes place over decades, not months. Too fast a buildup of Chinese capabilities would spook Washington and encourage hawks. Complete secrecy with regard to such a major buildup would be impossible, especially in an age of self-appointed blogger-spies. The Chinese Communist Party has done a good job of convincing China's public that the country's rise must proceed slowly, with economic growth first. It helps that the party is not subjected to the electoral cycles of democratic governments, with the limited time horizon that such a structure imposes.
Nevertheless, as most Chinese seem to realize, Beijing's long-term geopolitical interest lies in removing the United States from the position of sole global superpower. The reasons are both psychological and material. Like the United States, China is a continental power with vast reach. It has a glorious imperial history, including regional dominance of what was, for China, much of the known world. In the same way that the United States is proud of democracy and its global spread, China has its own rich civilizational ideal, Confucianism. During the years of China's ascendance, the cultures of Taiwan, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam -- sometimes called the Sinosphere -- were deeply influenced by Chinese ideas. And Confucianism still plays a meaningful part in the thinking of at least 1.7 billion people. The Chinese public is deeply nationalist, which matters to China's unelected political leadership as much as U.S. nationalism does to American politicians. As China becomes the world's largest economy, there is meaningful public pressure for its power status to advance in parallel. Any alternative would be humiliating. And as all Chinese know, the country has suffered its fair share of humiliation in the last two centuries.
This does not mean making Japan or South Korea into part of China. It does mean eventually replacing the existing regional security system that is designed to contain and balance it. The increasingly belligerent conflicts over small islands in the East China and South China seas are products of this emerging trend. In some cases, the islands are strategically important in and of themselves, but more often they represent the nationalist impulses of the competing states involved. Beijing's assertiveness signals that it thinks it should be deferred to because of its new status, while its neighbors' aggressive responses signal that they are unwilling for China to dominate without pushback.
Lee Kuan Yew, the former Singaporean leader who has been a mentor to every major Chinese leader since Deng Xiaoping, was recently asked whether China's leaders intend to displace the United States as Asia's preeminent power. "Of course," Lee replied. "Their reawakened sense of destiny is an overpowering force." Indeed, Lee explained bluntly, "It is China's intention to be the greatest power in the world."
There is plenty of hard evidence to support this interpretation. China's defense budget has grown more than 10 percent annually for several years, rising officially to $116 billion in the most recent published reports, with actual defense spending likely as high as $180 billion. In just the past couple of years, China commissioned its first aircraft carrier (a refitted Soviet model), announced plans to build several more, and openly tested several stealth aircraft and drones. In 2012, Communist Party-controlled media acknowledged more ambitious plans to develop ballistic missiles that would carry multiple warheads -- and therefore be able to get around the U.S. missile defense shield. China is also working on submarine-launched missiles that would avoid U.S. early-warning systems left over from the Cold War. And it's building up its space program on both the civilian and military sides.
Cyberwar, a fast-developing new front in global conflict, is another facet of China's effort to change its power relationship with the United States. Cyberattacks are not what makes the Cool War "cool," as some writers on ForeignPolicy.com have suggested. As a strategic matter, they do not differ fundamentally from older tools of espionage and sabotage. But cyberattacks are just now an especially fruitful method from the Chinese perspective because they do not (yet) involve traditional military mobilization and they exploit a dimension in which U.S. and Chinese power are more symmetrical. Cyberattacks involve a certain amount of deniability, as efforts can be made to mask the origin of attacks, making attribution difficult. They may have a significant economic upside, especially if they involve theft of intellectual property from U.S. firms. Moreover, cyberwar takes place largely in secret, unknown to the general public on both sides. Best of all for China, the rules for cyberwar are still very much in flux. Regular cyberattacks are therefore likely to be an ongoing facet of a Cool War, even if they are not definitional.
(待續)
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