Commentary
Periods of geopolitical frustration often tempt nations into strategic overcorrections. Today, as some Western allies grow disillusioned with the United States—frustrated by political volatility, shifting priorities, or perceived unreliability—an alluring but dangerous idea has begun to circulate: if Washington cannot be counted on, perhaps Beijing can.
The logic is seductive in its simplicity. China is large, wealthy, and deeply embedded in global supply chains. It offers trade, investment, and the promise of “stability.” But this line of thinking is not merely flawed—it is a trap.
An unreliable United States does not make China any more reliable, nor does it make China any less of a strategic competitor. Even in purely economic terms, the notion that deeper integration with Beijing is a safe hedge is a profound misreading of recent history.
Western nations have been down this road before. In the 1990s and early 2000s, Europe and other U.S. partners embraced China as a rising economic powerhouse. The assumption was that trade would liberalize Beijing, that interdependence would create mutual restraint, and that China’s integration into the global economy would be a net stabilizing force.
Instead, the opposite occurred. China leveraged Western openness to build asymmetric dependencies, acquire critical technologies, and expand its geopolitical leverage. By the late 2010s and early 2020s, many of those same Western nations were scrambling to unwind their reliance on Chinese manufacturing, rare earths, pharmaceuticals, and telecommunications infrastructure.
Related Stories
The “wake-up call” was not subtle: supply chain vulnerabilities, coercive trade practices, and the realization that China’s economic power was inseparable from its authoritarian political system.
To repeat that mistake now—out of frustration with Washington—would be an act of strategic amnesia.
The core fallacy in the “pivot to China” argument is the assumption that Beijing is a neutral economic actor whose reliability can be judged independently of its political ambitions. But China’s economic relationships are not transactional; they are instruments of statecraft.
When Beijing invests, lends, or signs trade agreements, it does so with an eye toward leverage. Countries from Australia to Lithuania to South Korea have learned this the hard way. When political disagreements arise, Beijing does not hesitate to weaponize market access, tourism flows, or import restrictions. This is not an aberration; it is a feature of its system.
Boxes of lobsters seized by customs authorities are displayed during a press conference in Hong Kong on Nov. 16, 2021. Seafood was being smuggled into China via Hong Kong after Beijing imposed sanctions on Australian exports. Peter Parks/AFP via Getty Images
Beijing’s track record is the clearest reason to distrust the notion that it offers a safer alternative. Researchers have documented 123 cases between February 2010 and March 2022 in which China imposed or threatened boycotts and discriminatory restrictions over political disputes.
South Korea learned this the hard way after agreeing to host a U.S. missile defense battery in 2016. Beijing targeted Lotte, the Korean conglomerate, closing most of its stores in China through selective safety inspections until the company, after losses of roughly $1.8 billion, was forced to leave the country entirely. The wider dispute cost the South Korean economy an estimated $7.3 billion.
Australia endured its own ordeal after calling for an independent inquiry into the origins of COVID-19 in 2020, facing tariffs of up to 218 percent on wine and other goods, as well as other restrictions.
By contrast, the United States—despite its political turbulence—operates within a framework of rule of law, independent courts, and transparent regulatory processes. Even when Washington frustrates its allies, it does not engage in the kind of targeted economic coercion that has become routine for Beijing. The United States may be unpredictable at times, but the Chinese regime is predictably coercive.
Moreover, the idea that China offers a stable alternative ignores the structural fragilities within its own economy. Slowing growth (possibly almost at a standstill the last few years), demographic collapse, rising debt, and tightening political control have created an environment far less predictable than the glossy narratives of the Belt and Road era.
Western nations that deepen their dependence on China today may find themselves tied to an economy facing long-term stagnation and a leadership increasingly willing to intervene in markets for political ends. That is not a recipe for reliability.
There is also a deeper strategic contradiction at play. Many of the same Western nations contemplating closer economic ties with China are simultaneously concerned about Beijing’s military ambitions, its assertiveness in the Indo-Pacific, and its efforts to reshape global governance.
To believe that one can separate economic integration from geopolitical alignment is to ignore the last three decades of Chinese statecraft. Economic dependence is not a buffer against conflict; it is a vulnerability that can—and will—be exploited.
Choosing China out of frustration with the United States is not a hedge; it is a surrender of leverage. It trades short‑term convenience for long‑term vulnerability. And it risks repeating a mistake the West only recently began to correct: assuming that economic engagement with Beijing can ever be insulated from the political ambitions of the Chinese Communist Party.
Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
