An interesting piece, somewhat disturbing though, about how the Western elites, notably the global financial elites help create the China we now know, and will soon fight. It was an outcome of neo-liberal ideology, to expand markets and make more profits, but now has spiralled out of control. Or, the alternative taken, which I favour, is that the top-level elites planned this all along, and really do want Western civilisation destroyed, and replaced by the communist Chinese regime. I think, by way of solutions, we should assume that this is so, and prepare for a total war and resistance in every aspect of culture and economy, all done legally of course. Naturally social credit is one weapon, as well as the two thousand-year old methods of reason, logic and analysis.
https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/china/2021-10-19/inevitable-rivalry-cold-war
The Inevitable Rivalry
America, China, and the Tragedy of Great-Power Politics
By John J. Mearsheimer
Foreign Affairs
November/December 2021
It was a momentous choice. Three decades ago, the Cold War ended, and
the United States had won. It was now the sole great power on the
planet. Scanning the horizon for threats, U.S. policymakers seemed to
have little cause for concern—and especially not about China, a weak and
impoverished country that had been aligned with the United States
against the Soviet Union for over a decade. But there were some ominous
signs: China had nearly five times as many people as the United States,
and its leaders had embraced economic reform. Population size and wealth
are the main building blocks of military power, so there was a serious
possibility that China might become dramatically stronger in the decades
to come. Since a mightier China would surely challenge the U.S. position
in Asia and possibly beyond, the logical choice for the United States
was clear: slow China's rise.
Instead, it encouraged it. Beguiled by misguided theories about
liberalism's inevitable triumph and the obsolescence of great-power
conflict, both Democratic and Republican administrations pursued a
policy of engagement, which sought to help China grow richer. Washington
promoted investment in China and welcomed the country into the global
trading system, thinking it would become a peace-loving democracy and a
responsible stakeholder in a U.S.-led international order.
Of course, this fantasy never materialized. Far from embracing liberal
values at home and the status quo abroad, China grew more repressive and
ambitious as it rose. Instead of fostering harmony between Beijing and
Washington, engagement failed to forestall a rivalry and hastened the
end of the so-called unipolar moment. Today, China and the United States
are locked in what can only be called a new cold war—an intense security
competition that touches on every dimension of their relationship. This
rivalry will test U.S. policymakers more than the original Cold War did,
as China is likely to be a more powerful competitor than the Soviet
Union was in its prime. And this cold war is more likely to turn hot.
None of this should be surprising. China is acting exactly as realism
would predict. Who can blame Chinese leaders for seeking to dominate
Asia and become the most powerful state on the planet? Certainly not the
United States, which pursued a similar agenda, rising to become a
hegemon in its own region and eventually the most secure and influential
country in the world. And today, the United States is also acting just
as realist logic would predict. Long opposed to the emergence of other
regional hegemons, it sees China's ambitions as a direct threat and is
determined to check the country's continued rise. The inescapable
outcome is competition and conflict. Such is the tragedy of great-power
politics.
What was avoidable, however, was the speed and extent of China's
extraordinary rise. Had U.S. policymakers during the unipolar moment
thought in terms of balance-of-power politics, they would have tried to
slow Chinese growth and maximize the power gap between Beijing and
Washington. But once China grew wealthy, a U.S.-Chinese cold war was
inevitable. Engagement may have been the worst strategic blunder any
country has made in recent history: there is no comparable example of a
great power actively fostering the rise of a peer competitor. And it is
now too late to do much about it.
REALISM 101
Soon after the Sino-Soviet split of the 1960s, American
leaders—wisely—worked to integrate China into the Western order and help
it grow economically, reasoning that a more powerful China would be
better able to help contain the Soviet Union. But then the Cold War
ended, raising a question: How should U.S. policymakers deal with China
now that it was no longer needed to check Moscow? The country had a per
capita GDP that was one-75th the size of the United States'. But given
China's population advantage, if its economy grew rapidly in the decades
ahead, it could eclipse the United States in sheer economic might.
Simply put, the consequences of an increasingly wealthy China for the
global balance of power were enormous.
From a realist perspective, the prospect of China as an economic
colossus was a nightmare. Not only would it mean the end of unipolarity;
a wealthy China would surely also build a formidable military, as
populous and rich countries invariably convert their economic power into
military power. And China would almost certainly use that military to
pursue hegemony in Asia and project power into other regions of the
world. Once it did, the United States would have no choice but to
contain, if not try to roll back, Chinese power, spurring a dangerous
security competition.
Why are great powers doomed to compete? For starters, there is no higher
authority to adjudicate disputes among states or protect them when
threatened. Furthermore, no state can ever be certain that a
rival—especially one with abundant military power—will not attack it.
Competitors' intentions are hard to divine. Countries figure out that
the best way to survive in an anarchic world is to be the most powerful
actor of all, which in practice means being a hegemon in one's own
region and making sure no other great powers dominate their regions.
Turning China into a great power was a recipe for trouble.
This realist logic has informed U.S. foreign policy since the very
beginning. Early presidents and their successors worked assiduously to
make the United States the most powerful country in the Western
Hemisphere. After achieving regional hegemony around the start of the
twentieth century, the country played a key role in preventing four
great powers from dominating either Asia or Europe: it helped defeat
imperial Germany in World War I and both imperial Japan and Nazi Germany
in World War II and contained the Soviet Union during the Cold War. The
United States feared these potential hegemons not only because they
might grow powerful enough to roam into the Western Hemisphere but also
because that would make it harder for Washington to project power globally.
China is acting according to this same realist logic, in effect
imitating the United States. It wants to be the most powerful state in
its backyard and, eventually, in the world. It wants to build a
blue-water navy to protect its access to Persian Gulf oil. It wants to
become the leading producer of advanced technologies. It wants to create
an international order that is more favorable to its interests. A
powerful China would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to pursue
these goals.
Most Americans do not recognize that Beijing and Washington are
following the same playbook, because they believe the United States is a
noble democracy that acts differently from authoritarian and ruthless
countries such as China. But that is not how international politics
works. All great powers, be they democracies or not, have little choice
but to compete for power in what is at root a zero-sum game. This
imperative motivated both superpowers during the Cold War. It motivates
China today and would motivate its leaders even if it were a democracy.
And it motivates American leaders, too, making them determined to
contain China.
Even if one rejects this realist account, which emphasizes the
structural forces driving great-power competition, U.S. leaders still
should have recognized that turning China, of all countries, into a
great power was a recipe for trouble. After all, it had long sought to
settle its border dispute with India on terms favorable to itself and
harbored extensive revisionist goals in East Asia. Chinese policymakers
have consistently stated their desire to reintegrate Taiwan, take back
the Diaoyu Islands (known in Japan as the Senkaku Islands) from Japan,
and control most of the South China Sea—all aims destined to be fiercely
resisted by China's neighbors, not to mention the United States. China
has always had revisionist goals; the mistake was allowing it to become
powerful enough to act on them.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Had U.S. policymakers accepted the logic of realism, there was a
straightforward set of policies they could have pursued to slow economic
growth in China and maintain the wealth gap between it and the United
States. In the early 1990s, the Chinese economy was woefully
underdeveloped, and its future growth depended heavily on access to
American markets, technology, and capital. An economic and political
Goliath at the time, the United States was in an ideal position to
hinder China's rise.
Beginning in 1980, U.S. presidents had granted China "most favored
nation" status, a designation that gave the country the best possible
trade terms with the United States. That favoritism should have ended
with the Cold War, and in its place, U.S. leaders should have negotiated
a new bilateral trade agreement that imposed harsher terms on China.
They should have done so even if the agreement was also less favorable
to the United States; given the small size of the Chinese economy, it
would have taken a far bigger hit than the U.S. economy. Instead, U.S.
presidents unwisely kept granting China most-favored-nation status
annually. In 2000, the error was compounded by making that status
permanent, markedly reducing Washington's leverage over Beijing. The
next year, the United States blundered again by allowing China to join
the World Trade Organization (WTO). With global markets now open,
Chinese businesses expanded, their products became more competitive, and
China grew more powerful.
Beyond limiting China's access to the international trading system, the
United States should have strictly controlled the export of
sophisticated U.S. technologies. Export controls would have been
especially effective in the 1990s and the early years of the next
decade, when Chinese companies were mainly copying Western technology,
not innovating on their own; denying China access to advanced
technologies in areas such as aerospace and electronics would almost
certainly have slowed its economic development. But Washington let
technology flow with few limits, allowing China to challenge U.S.
dominance in the critical realm of innovation. U.S. policymakers also
made the mistake of lowering barriers to direct U.S. investment in
China, which was tiny in 1990 but mushroomed over the next three decades.
If the United States had played hardball on trade and investment, China
would surely have turned to other countries for help. But there were
limits to what it was able to do in the 1990s. Not only did the United
States produce the bulk of the world's most sophisticated technologies,
but it also had several levers—including sanctions and security
guarantees—that it could have used to persuade other countries to take a
harder line on China. As part of an effort to constrain China's role in
global trade, Washington could have enlisted such allies as Japan and
Taiwan, reminding them that a powerful China would pose an existential
threat to them.
Given its market reforms and latent power potential, China would still
have risen despite these policies. But it would have become a great
power at a much later date. And when it did, it would still have been
significantly weaker than the United States and therefore not in a
position to seek regional hegemony.
Because relative, rather than absolute, power is what ultimately matters
in international politics, realist logic suggests that U.S. policymakers
should have coupled efforts to slow China's economic growth with a
campaign to maintain—if not increase—their country's lead over China.
The U.S. government could have invested heavily in research and
development, funding the type of relentless innovation required to
preserve American mastery over cutting-edge technologies. It could have
actively discouraged manufacturers from moving overseas, in order to
bolster the United States' manufacturing base and protect its economy
from vulnerable global supply chains. But none of these prudent measures
were adopted.
DELUSIONAL THINKING
Given the liberal triumphalism that pervaded the Washington
establishment in the 1990s, there was little chance that realist
thinking would inform U.S. foreign policy. Instead, U.S. policymakers
assumed that global peace and prosperity would be maximized by spreading
democracy, promoting an open international economy, and strengthening
international institutions. Applied to China, this logic prescribed a
policy of engagement, whereby the United States would integrate the
country into the global economy in the hopes that it would become more
prosperous. Eventually, it was thought, China would even mature into a
rights-respecting democracy and a responsible global actor. Unlike
realism, which feared Chinese growth, engagement welcomed it.
For such a risky policy, the breadth and depth of support for engagement
was remarkable, spanning four administrations. U.S. President George H.
W. Bush was committed to engaging with China even before the Cold War
ended. At a press conference after the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre,
Bush justified remaining economically engaged with China by arguing that
U.S.-Chinese "commercial contacts [had] led, in essence, to this quest
for more freedom" and that economic incentives made democratization
"inexorable." Two years later, when he was criticized for renewing
China's most-favored-nation status, he defended engagement by claiming
that it would "help create a climate for democratic change."
Bill Clinton criticized Bush for "coddling" China during the 1992
presidential campaign and tried playing tough with Beijing after moving
into the White House. But he soon reversed course, declaring in 1994
that the United States should "intensify and broaden its engagement"
with China, which would help it "evolve as a responsible power, ever
growing not only economically, but growing in political maturity so that
human rights can be observed." Clinton led the way in convincing
Congress to grant China permanent most-favored-nation status, which laid
the groundwork for its entry into the WTO. "If you believe in a future
of greater openness and freedom for the people of China," he maintained
in 2000, "you ought to be for this agreement."
George W. Bush also embraced efforts to bring China into the global
economic fold, promising as a presidential candidate that "trade with
China will promote freedom." In his first year in office, he signed the
proclamation granting China permanent most-favored-nation status and
took the final steps to guide the country into the WTO.
Convincing adversaries that they cannot achieve quick and decisive wins
deters wars.
The Obama administration was more of the same. "Since I've been
president, my goal has been to consistently engage with China in a way
that is constructive, to manage our differences and to maximize
opportunities for cooperation," Barack Obama said in 2015. "And I've
repeatedly said that I believe it is in the interests of the United
States to see China grow." One might think that the "pivot to Asia,"
unveiled by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton in 2011, represented a
shift away from engagement and toward containment, but that would be
wrong. Clinton was a committed engager, and her Foreign Policy article
making the case for the pivot was filled with liberal rhetoric about the
virtues of open markets. "A thriving China is good for America," she
wrote. Moreover, save for placing 2,500 U.S. marines in Australia, no
meaningful steps were taken to implement a serious containment strategy.
Support for engagement was also deep and wide within the U.S. business
community, which viewed China as a manufacturing base as well as a giant
market, with more than one billion potential customers. Trade groups
such as the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, the Business Roundtable, and the
National Association of Manufacturers undertook what Thomas Donohue, the
Chamber of Commerce's president at the time, called a "nonstop lobbying
blitz" to help China get into the WTO. Leading lights in the media also
embraced engagement, including the editorial boards of The Wall Street
Journal, The New York Times, and The Washington Post. The columnist
Thomas Friedman spoke for many when he wrote, "Over time, China's
leaders simply can't control and monitor their bursting free markets, or
prevent little people from getting cheated and then rioting against the
government, without the other institutions that must go with free
markets—from an effective [securities and exchange commission] to a free
and responsible press backed by the rule of law." Engagement was equally
popular in academia. Few China experts or international relations
scholars questioned the wisdom of helping Beijing grow more powerful.
And perhaps the best indicator of the foreign policy establishment's
overwhelming commitment to engagement is that both Zbigniew Brzezinski
and Henry Kissinger—respectively, the most prominent Democratic and
Republican Cold War hawks—supported the strategy.
Defenders of engagement argue that their policy allowed for the
possibility of failure. Clinton admitted in 2000, "We don't know where
it's going," and George W. Bush said the same year, "There are no
guarantees." Doubts like these were rare, however. More important, none
of the engagers foresaw the implications of failure. If China refused to
democratize, they believed, it would simply be a less capable country.
The prospect that it would become more powerful and no less
authoritarian did not appear to enter their calculations. Besides, they
believed that realpolitik was old thinking.
Some engagers now maintain that the United States hedged its bets,
pursuing containment side by side with engagement in case a friendship
with China did not flourish. "Just to be safe, . . . we created an
insurance policy in case this bet failed," Joseph Nye, who served in the
Pentagon during the Clinton administration, wrote in these pages in
2018. This claim is at odds with the frequent refrain from U.S.
policymakers that they were not containing China. In 1997, for example,
Clinton described his policy as "not containment and conflict" but
"cooperation." But even if U.S. policymakers were quietly containing
China, engagement undermined their efforts, because that policy
ultimately shifted the global balance of power in China's favor.
Creating a peer competitor is hardly consistent with containment.
A FAILED EXPERIMENT
Nobody can say that engagement wasn't given ample opportunity to work,
nor can anyone argue that China emerged as a threat because the United
States was not accommodating enough. As the years went on, it became
clear that engagement was a failure. China's economy experienced
unprecedented economic growth, but the country did not turn into a
liberal democracy or a responsible stakeholder. To the contrary, Chinese
leaders view liberal values as a threat to their country's stability,
and as rulers of rising powers normally do, they are pursuing an
increasingly aggressive foreign policy. There is no way around it:
engagement was a colossal strategic mistake. As Kurt Campbell and Ely
Ratner—two former Obama administration officials who recognized that
engagement had failed and now serve in the Biden administration—wrote in
these pages in 2018, "Washington now faces its most dynamic and
formidable competitor in modern history."
Obama vowed a tougher line against Beijing during his presidency,
contesting its maritime claims and filing suits against it within the
WTO, but these halfhearted efforts amounted to little. Only in 2017 did
the policy truly change. After Donald Trump became U.S. president, he
quickly abandoned the engagement strategy that the previous four
administrations had embraced, pursuing containment instead. As a White
House strategy document released that year explained, great-power
competition had returned, and China now sought to "challenge American
power, influence, and interests, attempting to erode American security
and prosperity." Determined to stop China from succeeding, Trump
initiated a trade war in 2018 and tried to undermine the technology
giant Huawei and other Chinese corporations that threatened the United
States' technological dominance. His administration also developed
closer relations with Taiwan and challenged Beijing's claims in the
South China Sea. Cold War II was underway.
One might have expected President Joe Biden to abandon containment and
return to engagement, given that he staunchly supported that policy as
chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and in the Obama
administration. In fact, as president, he has embraced containment and
has been as hard-nosed toward China as his predecessor was, pledging
"extreme competition" with China shortly after taking office. Congress,
too, has come around. In June, the U.S. Innovation and Competition Act
sailed through the Senate with bipartisan support. The bill labels China
"the greatest geopolitical and geo-economic challenge for United States
foreign policy" and controversially calls for treating Taiwan as a
sovereign state of "vital" strategic importance. The American public
appears to share this view: a 2020 Pew Research Center poll found that
nine in ten Americans considered China's power a threat. The new
U.S.-Chinese rivalry is not ending anytime soon. In fact, it is likely
to intensify, no matter who is in the White House.
THE DANGER OF A HOT WAR
Engagement's remaining defenders now portray the downward spiral in
U.S.-Chinese relations as the work of individuals who are bent on
creating a U.S.-Soviet-style confrontation—"New Cold Warriors," in the
words of the former George W. Bush administration official Robert
Zoellick. In the engagers' view, the incentives for further economic
cooperation outweigh the need to compete for power. Mutual interests
trump conflicting interests. Regrettably, the proponents of engagement
are whistling in the wind. Cold War II is already here, and when one
compares the two cold wars, it becomes apparent that the U.S.-Chinese
rivalry is more likely to lead to a shooting war than the U.S.-Soviet
rivalry was.
The first point of contrast between the two conflicts concerns
capabilities. China is already closer to the United States in terms of
latent power than the Soviet Union ever was. At the height of its power,
in the mid-1970s, the Soviet Union had a small advantage in population
(less than 1.2 to 1) and, using GNP as a rough indicator of wealth, was
almost 60 percent as wealthy as the United States. In contrast, China
now has four times as many people as the United States and is about 70
percent as wealthy. If China's economy continues growing at an
impressive rate of around five percent annually, it will eventually have
more latent power than the United States. It has been projected that by
2050, China will have a population advantage of approximately 3.7 to 1.
If China has half of the United States' per capita GDP in 2050—roughly
where South Korea is today—it will be 1.8 times as wealthy as the United
States. And if it does better and reaches three-fifths of U.S. per
capita GDP by then—roughly where Japan is today—it will be 2.3 times as
wealthy as the United States. With all that latent power, Beijing could
build a military that is much more powerful than the United States',
which would be contesting China's from 6,000 miles away.
Not only was the Soviet Union poorer than the United States; during the
height of the Cold War, it was also still recovering from the horrific
devastation wreaked by Nazi Germany. In World War II, the country lost
24 million citizens, not to mention more than 70,000 towns and villages,
32,000 industrial enterprises, and 40,000 miles of railroad track. It
was in no position to fight the United States. China, in contrast, last
fought a war in 1979 (against Vietnam) and in the ensuing decades became
an economic juggernaut.
There was another drag on Soviet capabilities that is largely absent in
China's case: troublesome allies. Throughout the Cold War, the Soviet
Union maintained a huge military presence in Eastern Europe and was
deeply involved in the politics of almost every country in that region.
It had to contend with insurrections in East Germany, Poland, Hungary,
and Czechoslovakia. Albania, Romania, and Yugoslavia routinely
challenged Moscow's economic and security policies. The Soviets also had
their hands full with China, which switched sides midway through the
Cold War. These allies were an albatross around Moscow's neck that
distracted Soviet leaders from their principal adversary: the United
States. Contemporary China has few allies and, except when it comes to
North Korea, is far less tied to its friends than the Soviets were to
theirs. In short, Beijing has greater flexibility to cause trouble abroad.
What about ideological motivations? Like the Soviet Union was, China is
led by a nominally communist government. But just as Americans during
the Cold War were wrong to view Moscow as primarily a communist threat,
determined to spread its malign ideology around the globe, it would be a
mistake to portray China as an ideological menace today. Soviet foreign
policy was influenced only on the margins by communist thinking; Joseph
Stalin was a hardcore realist, as were his successors. Communism matters
even less in contemporary China, which is best understood as an
authoritarian state that embraces capitalism. Americans should wish that
China were communist; then it would have a lethargic economy.
But there is an "ism" that China has in spades, one that is likely to
exacerbate its rivalry with the United States: nationalism. Normally the
world's most powerful political ideology, nationalism had limited
influence in the Soviet Union because it was at odds with communism.
Chinese nationalism, however, has been gathering steam since the early
1990s. What makes it especially dangerous is its emphasis on China's
"century of national humiliation," a period beginning with the First
Opium War, during which China was victimized by great powers, especially
Japan but also, in the Chinese narrative, the United States. The effects
of this potent nationalist story were on display in 2012–13, when China
and Japan skirmished over the Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands, igniting
anti-Japanese protests across China. In the coming years, the
intensifying security competition in East Asia will surely ramp up
Chinese hostility toward Japan and the United States, increasing the
likelihood of a hot war.
Also raising the odds of war are China's regional ambitions. Soviet
leaders, busy recovering from World War II and managing their empire in
Eastern Europe, were largely content with the status quo on the
continent. China, by contrast, is deeply committed to an expansionist
agenda in East Asia. Although the main targets of China's appetite
certainly have strategic value for China, they are also considered
sacred territory, which means their fate is bound up with Chinese
nationalism. This is especially true of Taiwan: the Chinese feel an
emotional attachment to the island that the Soviets never felt for
Berlin, for example, making Washington's commitment to defend it all the
riskier.
The new cold war is more war-prone than the old one.
Finally, the geography of the new cold war is more war-prone than that
of the old one. Although the U.S.-Soviet rivalry was global in scope,
its center of gravity was the Iron Curtain in Europe, where both sides
had massive armies and air forces equipped with thousands of nuclear
weapons. There was little chance of a superpower war in Europe, because
policymakers on both sides understood the fearsome risks of nuclear
escalation. No leader was willing to start a conflict that would likely
have destroyed his own country.
In Asia, there is no clear dividing line like the Iron Curtain to anchor
stability. Instead, there are a handful of potential conflicts that
would be limited and would involve conventional arms, which makes war
thinkable. They include fights for control over Taiwan, the South China
Sea, the Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands, and the maritime routes that run
between China and the Persian Gulf. These conflicts would be fought
mainly in open waters between rival air and naval forces, and in those
instances in which control of an island was at play, small-scale ground
forces would likely take part. Even a fight over Taiwan, which might
draw in Chinese amphibious forces, would not involve huge
nuclear-equipped armies crashing into each other.
None of this is to say that these limited-war scenarios are likely, but
they are more plausible than a major war between NATO and the Warsaw
Pact was. Still, one cannot assume that there would be no nuclear
escalation should Beijing and Washington fight over Taiwan or the South
China Sea. Indeed, if one side were losing badly, it would at least
consider employing nuclear weapons to rescue the situation. Some
decision-makers might conclude that nuclear weapons could be used
without an unacceptable risk of escalation, provided the attacks took
place at sea and spared the territory of China and the United States and
its allies. Not only is a great-power war more likely in the new cold
war, but so is nuclear use.
A RIVAL OF AMERICA'S MAKING
Although their numbers have dwindled, advocates of engagement remain,
and they still think the United States can find common ground with
China. As late as July 2019, 100 China watchers signed an open letter to
Trump and members of Congress rejecting the idea that Beijing was a
threat. "Many Chinese officials and other elites know that a moderate,
pragmatic and genuinely cooperative approach with the West serves
China's interests," they wrote, before calling on Washington to "work
with our allies and partners to create a more open and prosperous world
in which China is offered the opportunity to participate."
But great powers are simply unwilling to let other great powers grow
stronger at their expense. The driving force behind this great-power
rivalry is structural, which means that the problem cannot be eliminated
with clever policymaking. The only thing that could change the
underlying dynamic would be a major crisis that halted China's rise—an
eventuality that seems unlikely considering the country's long record of
stability, competence, and economic growth. And so a dangerous security
competition is all but unavoidable.
At best, this rivalry can be managed in the hope of avoiding a war. That
would require Washington to maintain formidable conventional forces in
East Asia to persuade Beijing that a clash of arms would at best yield a
Pyrrhic victory. Convincing adversaries that they cannot achieve quick
and decisive wins deters wars. Furthermore, U.S. policymakers must
constantly remind themselves—and Chinese leaders—about the ever-present
possibility of nuclear escalation in wartime. Nuclear weapons, after
all, are the ultimate deterrent. Washington can also work to establish
clear rules of the road for waging this security competition—for
example, agreements to avoid incidents at sea or other accidental
military clashes. If each side understands what crossing the other
side's redlines would mean, war becomes less likely.
These measures can only do so much to minimize the dangers inherent in
the growing U.S.-Chinese rivalry. But that is the price the United
States must pay for ignoring realist logic and turning China into a
powerful state that is determined to challenge it on every front.”
Wall Street made a Faustian bargain with China that puts at risk our
national security and the futures of our children and grandchildren.
What is your government doing about it?
Financial Times graphic / Video Image
Wall Street makes billions of dollars in collaboration with the Chinese
Communist Party (CCP). In return, Wall Street finances China's
military/industrial complex — the number one existential threat to America.
China's growing strategic arsenal and threatening moves in the Pacific
region have set off alarm bells among U.S. Asian allies.
A Faustian bargain is a pact where one party trades something of supreme
moral or spiritual importance for some worldly or material benefit. The
term refers to the German legend of Doctor Faust, who knowingly agreed
to surrender his soul to an evil spirit in return for access to worldly
riches. It does not end well for Doctor Faust when, 24 years later, the
devil claims his soul.
Faustian bargains including this one are, by their nature, tragic for
the person or industry that makes them because what is surrendered is
ultimately far more valuable (American security) than what is obtained
(money).
Wall Street firms that compromised their integrity and sold the souls of
their principals and investors to China include:
Black Rock Investment Management Company controls over $10 trillion in
assets. Led by Larry Fink, who declared, "I continue to believe firmly
China will be one of the biggest opportunities for Black Rock over the
long term, both for asset managers and investors."
Black Rock's investments help prop up the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)
and President Xi's regime, which is repressive at home and aggressive
abroad.
Fink has been referred to as the "architect of woke capitalism." He has
sought to weaponize pension funds through ESG (Environmental, Social,
and Governance) guidelines to radically change the American economy and
destroy America from within. Such policies however are not applied to
China. Leveraging Black Rock's vast pool of money, he is forcing
corporate behavioral changes, especially in oil and gas companies.
Goldman Sachs (GS) operates wealth management companies in partnership
with the China Construction Bank Corporation and the Commercial Bank of
China, both state-run entities at the center of power in Communist
China. Goldman is relinquishing much independence, data, and
intellectual property to these CCP entities in return for table scraps
in the Chinese financial markets.
In Washington, D.C., Goldman Sachs is a significant voice influencing
U.S. policies by supporting Chinese interests to the detriment of America.
Influential former Goldman executives include John Thornton, former
chairman of the Brookings Institute, and Henry Paulson, former Secretary
of the Treasury under President George W. Bush.
Bridgewater, the world's largest hedge fund, was founded by Ray Dalio.
After the publication of his book "Principles" with its warm words about
China, Bridgewater was granted the first foreign license to provide
hedge fund investments to the Chinese people.
Dalio is troubled by American capitalism, saying it has "not worked well
for ordinary Americans." On the other hand, Dalio has warm words for
China's dictatorial leadership
Chinese government entities have invested billions of dollars in U.S.
hedge funds, including Bridgewater. Dalio is a multi-billionaire.
Dalio excuses Chinese human rights violations and echoes the Chinese
argument that America has its own civil rights issues.
Blackstone was co-founded by Stephen Schwarzman, who has deep and
enduring ties with top Chinese Communist officials, including President
Xi. In 2007, when Blackstone was going public, it found a new partner in
the CCP, which bought a 9.9 percent stake. A 10 percent stake would have
triggered a U.S. federal national security review in Washington.
Schwarzman is a cheerleader for the CCP and excuses China's human rights
abuses and theft of American intellectual property. He launched a $100
million scholarship program in China to rival the Rhodes Scholarships at
Oxford. The Schwarzman Scholars will study at Tsinghua University, a
training ground for the CCP leadership and elites.
JPMorgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, and Citigroup are all Wall Street
companies financing China's development in various ways.
Wall Street with China is doing what Wall Street does — make money. And
the CCP is doing what communists do — lie and deceive to achieve world
domination.
It is the role of the government to protect and defend its citizens. Our
representatives should enforce and pass laws and institute government
regulations to prevent Wall Street from using American monies to fund
CCP organizations that are a threat to American national security.
Instead of strengthening the CCP, we should be acting to weaken it and
encourage a democratic form of government.
Our government is "of the people." It is incumbent upon the citizens
(you and me) to vote for representatives who will protect and defend us.
We have met the enemy, and he/she is us.