On February 10, 2021, the China Program at Shorenstein APARC hosted Professor Oriana Skylar Mastro, Center Fellow at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies​ for the virtual program "Military Competition with China: Harder to Win Than During the Cold War?" Professor Jean Oi, William Haas Professor of Chinese Politics and director of the APARC China Program, moderated the event.

As US-China competition intensifies, experts debate the degree to which the current strategic environment resembles that of the Cold War. Those that argue against the analogy often highlight how China is deeply integrated into the US-led world order. They also point out that, while tense, US-China relations have not turned overtly adversarial. But there is another, less optimistic reason the comparison is unhelpful: deterring and defeating Chinese aggression is harder now than it was against the Soviet Union. In her talk, Dr. Mastro analyzed how technology, geography, relative resources and the alliance system complicate U.S. efforts to enhance the credibility of its deterrence posture and, in a crisis, form any sort of coalition. Mastro and Oi's thought-provoking discussion ranged from the topic of why even US allies are hesitant to take a strong stance against China to whether or not Taiwan could be a catalyst for military conflict. Watch now: 

This op-ed by Donald K. Emmerson first appeared in The Jakarta Post.

Above all, Trump wanted to be a winner. History granted his wish. He is the first president in the 245-year life of his country to have been impeached twice. By that standard, he won the title of America’s Worst President (AWP)—worse than any of the 44 presidents who preceded him.

AWP rhymes with 'gawp,' and that’s what he also wanted: to be stared at, talked about, catered to, the center of fawning attention, unforgettably present, dominating the news, astride the world in which the news is made. He wanted applause. His ravenous insecurity—narcissism—inflated his ego to continental size. In effect, in his authoritarian imagination, the “extremely stable genius” that he called himself deserved to be the indispensable “me” in “America,” without which the country’s name and the country itself would crumble.

The roars and chants of Trump’s crowds slaked his thirst for veneration. But they imprisoned him in his “base.” By satisfying his craving to be idolized, they gave him no reason to convince the unimpressed. How much more gratifying it must have been for him to bask in mass flattery at rallies than to engage in the difficult business of persuading the uncommitted. That would have taken assets he lacked: empathy, knowledge, intelligence, and a willingness not to lie.

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So how could Americans have elected such a demagogue? Trump was corrupt but charismatic. He broke the rules. He said whatever was on his mind. He appealed to the streak of individualism in American culture. He ran his campaign and his presidency as a mass entertainment featuring a lone patriot fighting a “deep state” controlled by globalist elites. Especially in rural areas between Silicon Valley and the Boston-to-Washington corridor, millions of white Americans felt threatened by the transfer of jobs from physical toward mental labor in a computerized society whose racial make-up was increasingly non-white. Globalization fed those anxieties. Trump stoked them. He promised to end them and “make America great again.”

Joe Biden defeated Trump in both the popular vote and the Electoral College—respectively by 4.4 and 13.7 percent. Biden’s margins were narrower than one might have wished, given the blatant flaws in Trump’s character, including the 30,573 false or misleading claims that he made during his presidency as tracked and noted by The Washington Post . The egregiousness of his behavior is, however, a double testament to America’s democratic system: to its failure to select a less despicable leader, yes, but also to its success in providing the lawful framework within which his desperate effort to stage what in Latin America would be called an autogolpe or “self-coup” could be and was overcome.

On 1 February 2021, watching television at his 126-room estate in Palm Beach, Florida, ex-president Trump would have learned of the coup in Myanmar and might have envied Senior General Min Aung Hlaing. Both men had been banned by Facebook for inciting violence in their respective countries—Trump in 2021, the general in 2018. Both had suffered defeats in elections held just five days apart in 2020—3 November in the US, 8 November in Myanmar. Both had rejected the voters’ verdict, claiming fraud. But whereas Trump’s frantic and deadly effort to subvert the US election and retain power failed, Min Aung Hlaing’s self-coup has succeeded, at least for now. The general quickly seized full power despite his party’s massive embarrassment at the polls in November, Aung San Suu Kyi’s party having won 83 percent of the available seats. In contrast, Trump could not reverse his exit from power despite a far slimmer margin of electoral defeat. To the extent that the ex-president was even aware of the difference, it could have fanned what angry envy of the general he may have felt.

Trump failed mainly due to the checks and balances that generally call government to account in America. Min Aung Hlaing succeeded in no small part thanks to the checks and balances in the bank accounts of the generals who have compromised Myanmar’s transition to democracy and helped make it the second most corrupted country in Southeast Asia (after Cambodia) as measured by the Corruption Perceptions Index.

Among the many reactions to the Burmese coup, several stand out for their courage and creativity. UN Secretary General António Guterres was unequivocal. "It's absolutely unacceptable,” he said, “to reverse the result of the elections and the will of the people.” Presumably speaking on behalf of the UN, its secretariat, or himself, or all three, he went further: "We'll do everything we can to mobilize all the key actors of the international community to put enough pressure on Myanmar to make sure that this coup fails." 

This notable response came from Indonesia’s former foreign minister Marty Natalegawa: “Deafening silence in the face of assaults against democratic principles [has] increasingly become the norm,” he said. He urged ASEAN to “demonstrate its relevance: It must speak urgently for the respect of constitutional process and rule of law in Myanmar, and call for the immediate release of those unlawfully detained.”

In the days immediately following the coup, ASEAN’s Bruneian secretary general said nothing about it, preferring to remain, in the Indonesian expression, “silent in a thousand tongues.” Speaking for ASEAN as its current chair, however, Brunei’s government did at least encourage a “return to normalcy in accordance with the will and interests of the people of Myanmar,” noting that the group charter’s called for adherence to “democracy, the rule of law” and “human rights and fundamental freedoms.”

As for ASEAN’s next chair, Cambodia, its strongman Hun Sen did speak, but only to say that "Cambodia does not comment on the internal affairs of any country at all.” Hun Sen’s restraint made historical sense. Had Cambodia’s old despot chosen to criticize Myanmar’s new despot, observers could have noted that Min Aung Hlaing had only done what Hun Sen himself had bloodily accomplished in 1997 by seizing full control over Cambodia in a self-coup of his own that had enabled him to become the longest-serving prime minister in the world.

Critical Southeast Asian voices, unconstrained by look-the-other-way diplomacy, have been heard. The chairman of the ASEAN Parliamentarians for Human Rights, Charles Santiago, has urged ASEAN to send a high-level delegation to Myanmar to tell Min Aung Hlaing that his coup “violates ASEAN principles and the ASEAN charter” and is “not acceptable.” “If Myanmar does not turn around,” he added, “there should be proceedings to expel Myanmar out of ASEAN.”

Who is better positioned to deal with this crisis than ASEAN’s largest and debatably least authoritarian member country? It was Indonesia’s Natalegawa who patched up ASEAN’s consensus after Hun Sen damaged it on China’s behalf in 2012. And it is Natalagewa who believes, with the Myanmar coup in mind, that “at this critical juncture for the region, Indonesia must demonstrate its leadership within ASEAN.”

Indonesia’s president Jokowi, rather than trying to rally the region against the coup, will likely continue to focus on domestic economic growth. Not to mention the existential priority that COVID-19 also warrants on his agenda.

So why not task Natalegawa with a damage-control trip around the region comparable the one he took with some success in 2012? He could start with fact-finding in Myanmar. He could then explore an intra-ASEAN understanding that would reassert the core democratic values in the ASEAN Charter while lessening, if possible, the chance that Myanmar will revert to entrenched and fully authoritarian rule. That may be a lost cause. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Although Donald Trump is no longer in office, America is still not safe from Trumpism. But America’s system—democracy—is working as it should. Is ASEAN really a dictators’ club? Or does it, too, when threatened from within, have a system that can at least manage and minimize the damage that is, in Myanmar as I write this, being done?

On January 27, 2021, the China Program at Shorenstein APARC hosted Professor Hau L. Lee, The Thoma Professor of Operations, Information & Technology at the Stanford Graduate School of Business for the virtual program “The Pandemic, U.S-China Tensions and Redesigning the Global Supply Chain.” Professor Jean Oi, William Haas Professor of Chinese Politics and director of the APARC China Program, moderated the event.

Professor Lee focused on an important question that has only become more pressing due to the COVID-19 pandemic: How, if at all, should businesses redesign their supply chains? Since the beginning of the pandemic, explains Lee, there has been an increase in calls for “redundancy” in supply chains in order to protect them from the problems they faced early in the pandemic, when China was first hit by shut downs and slowed productivity. Advice has been varied, ranging from the “China Plus One” strategy in which businesses simply add a secondary production location, to completely domesticating supply chains.

Lee warns, however, of the perils of overreaction. There are numerous risks that come along with a fully domestic supply chain, not least the danger of “having all of your eggs in one basket.” Instead, says Lee, businesses should move cautiously and, instead of fully divesting from China, should use the country intelligently. 

Professor Lee’s “In and Out Design” encourages businesses to work from the inside out, securing and strengthening their supply chains by starting at home. Companies must first build “internal supply chain excellence,” after which they can move on to making sure their strategic partners are equally strong and can work to their advantage. Eventually, companies can move on to strengthening the extended value chain and, ultimately, their entire ecosystem. Using strategies like dual response, leveraging “lubricants,” and bolstering capacity-building capabilities, businesses can create a more stable future. 

The session concluded with a fruitful Q&A between Professor Lee and the audience, moderated by Professor Oi.

A video recording of this program is available upon request. Please contact Callista Wells, China Program Coordinator at cvwells@stanford.edu with any inquiries.

This op-ed by Aynne Kokas and Oriana Skylar Mastro was originally published in the Australian Financial Review.

The images of bare-chested, flag-waving MAGA loyalists overtaking the US Capitol flooded US social media and news channels in the days following the January 6 siege against the electoral college count. Memed and amplified, the same images circulated widely on Chinese social media and state-owned news sites without even the need for critical commentary.

The literal destruction of the US Capitol at the hands of President Donald Trump's followers required little imagination to characterize abroad as the downfall of American democracy.

There are many reasons for pessimism. According to one of the most authoritative indexes, Polity, the United States is no longer the world’s oldest continuous democracy, dropping in status to a system that is part democracy, part dictatorship.

Beyond the domestic concerns faced in the aftermath of the breach of one of America's most hallowed buildings, the Capitol siege was a win for China. US soft power, one of its comparative advantages in the great power competition, has taken a huge hit.

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Soft power is “the ability to get what you want through persuasion or attraction in the forms of culture, values, and policies”.⁠ The US has been the primary beneficiary of soft power, with its globally recognized brands, pop culture, fast-food chains, world-renowned universities, and political values.

It is relatively low cost and high impact compared with other forms of power. The United States' relative attractiveness is one of the reasons America prevailed in the Cold War.

The Chinese government is having a propaganda field day. More than ever, the US looks like a country in decline, discouraging to allies and potential partners. Chinese commentators have noted that America's days as the "city on the hill" have come to an end. This is karma, some say, payback for the US supporting opposition groups, as in Hong Kong. As one netizen commented on the popular microblog website Weibo: "So lucky to be born in China."

China has also been trying to increase its soft power through traditional mechanisms such as building its media, education, and tourism sectors. It has enjoyed only moderate success in these areas because of its censorship, pollution, and lack of independent civil society.

But COVID-19 has led to the strengthening of other Chinese public diplomacy efforts, such as its landmark Belt and Road Initiative global trade and investment scheme.

Related initiatives such as the Digital Silk Road, a program to build out global digital infrastructure using Chinese technology, and the Health Silk Road, a plan to export Chinese health expertise through things such as COVID-19 laboratories and vaccine diplomacy, draw on China's comparative advantage in a top-down soft power approach.

Meanwhile, the Trump administration has undermined the historical sources of US soft power. It has shuttered visa lines, investigated international students on campus, and driven the rise of a culture of nationalism. The cancellation of the Fulbright US Student Program and the Peace Corps program in China are prime examples. And the COVID-19 decreased US media production, educational exchange and tourism, which shrank opportunities for promoting its democratic values on the global stage.

A bird’s-eye view of America's relative soft power may seem to offer cause for optimism. Even after four years of Trump's buffoonery and "America First", the US is still far ahead of China, ranking fifth in overall soft power, while China ranks 24th. And isn’t this what matters in competition?

Yes and no. The problem is two-fold. First, the US relies more on its political values as a soft power source than Beijing does. Ironically, this has especially been the case during the Trump administration. National Security Adviser Robert O’Brien has argued that democracies and authoritarian countries such as China “are offering a different approach to the world”. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo has argued to international audiences that democracy is “what we’ve got right”.

Second, Beijing has tried to leverage its comparative advantages to build soft power through pathways other than political values, especially where a top-down government approach is effective. China set up COVID-19 testing labs in Palestine in agreement with Israeli and Palestinian authorities. It extended its hand in Africa by building more than 70 percent of its 4G infrastructure.

Depending on need, useful solutions can be as compelling as political principles.The future of the US as a world leader is at stake. American military base access worldwide depends on perceived political alignment between the US and its allies. In the tech sector, the widespread adoption of US platforms relies on other countries finding that benefits to allowing in foreign platforms outweigh the potential political risks.

Successful multilateral treaty negotiations on issues such as global trade and climate change rely on the perception of a dependable US political system.

This op-ed by Oriana Skylar Mastro and Zack Cooper originally appeared in Australian Financial Review.

Australia’s trials are not the first time Beijing has used economic coercion against another country.

It has become so common that we are becoming desensitised to it. Some notable examples include Beijing’s limitations on rare earth exports to Japan in 2010, Norwegian fish exports in 2010, Philippine tropic fruit exports in 2012, Vietnam’s tourist industry in 2014, Mongolian commodities trade in 2016, and South Korean businesses in 2017. In each case, Beijing sought to achieve a political objective by imposing economic penalties.

This case is different. Beijing has typically been ambiguous about the purpose or nature of its coercive economic statecraft. Despite evidence otherwise, it blamed the Japanese ban on meeting a yearly quota, the Philippine ban on pesticide exposure, the tourism drop to Vietnam on changing Chinese preferences, and the closure of South Korean stores on fire code violations. In Australia’s case, though, Beijing is doing away with these pretenses.

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China has not been shy this time about connecting its punitive actions to its unhappiness with Australian policies. The Chinese foreign ministry has listed a “series of wrong moves” by Australia for the disruption in relations. Beijing’s embassy in Canberra then gave a list of 14 “mistakes” to the Australian press.

These grievances include Australia’s foreign interference legislation, foreign investment reviews, funding for Australian think tanks, and unfriendly media reporting. Some of these criticisms are particularly ironic coming from Beijing, which often objects to foreign interference in other countries’ domestic affairs.

A core component of China’s strategy is a disinformation and propaganda effort designed to paint its moves as merely defensive, a proportionate and legitimate response to actions taken by the other side.

Australia has done nothing ‘wrong’

Let’s be clear: Australia has done nothing “wrong” in promoting and protecting its democratic institutions at home. It should not censor its media, obstruct analysis by outside experts, or shy away from safeguarding its democratic processes.

This time, the current trade restrictions are about more than making an example of Australia or showing smaller powers that they’ll pay if they have something to say about how the Chinese Communist Party governs at home. Beijing’s aims have taken on new proportions. Party leaders are now willing to punish democracies simply for upholding basic democratic principles within their own countries.

The message is clear: curtail some of your democratic principles or pay the price.

The US needs to work with like-minded states around the world to address this new threat. Free countries need to speak out together in Australia’s defence. If democracies do not hang together, they will hang separately. We should articulate that China’s actions are more than a violation of international law; they threaten the health of our democracies at home. Such a reframing would show Beijing that economic coercion will no longer be treated as a low-stakes tactic.

But words are not enough. We need coordinated action. US alliances are designed primarily to deter and defend against military attacks. Chinese actions make clear, however, that there are alternative methods for undermining peace, prosperity and freedom that our alliances do not adequately address. New alliance consultations to protect against economic attack would enhance our deterrence against China.

Washington should also launch a series of discussions with its allies to determine what new institutional mechanisms, commitments, and structures are needed to defend against economic attacks, not just military ones.

We should ensure the ability to take joint reciprocal action against Beijing in the economic realm, particularly to defend smaller countries. China engages in economic coercion because it is effective and relatively risk-free. But if instead like-minded countries responded together when one was attacked economically, this would go a long way in discouraging Beijing from employing such tactics.

Using all the tools of power

A critical first step is mapping dependencies on China and investigating how to limit over-dependence that open democracies to unacceptable economic vulnerability. As in the military realm, we need to enhance our resiliency against attack by avoiding over-dependence on any single import, export, or supply chain decency. This is a task that the so-called D10 (G7 plus Australia, India, and South Korea) should take up early next year.

The good news is a collective response to Chinese economic coercion will be more feasible under a Biden administration. President-elect Joe Biden and his senior advisers have articulated a preference for multilateral responses to Chinese aggression.

And while President Donald Trump relied mainly on military moves to warn and punish Beijing, Biden’s team prefers to make use of all tools of power. For these reasons, there has even been talk of rejuvenating past efforts like TPP. US allies and partners are also likely to see Biden as more reliable, making them more willing to undertake the risky venture of joining forces against Beijing.

The United States, Australia, and other allies and partners tried to welcome China into the international community. This was the right move. It has been good economically for many advanced economies, including Australia and the United States. But there is a flip side to every coin.

Australia has become too vulnerable to the whims of Beijing. And the US has few options to protect against such economic pressure. The incoming Biden administration needs to fundamentally rethink the nature of alliances so that countries like Australia have a third option the next time Beijing forces a choice between freedom and prosperity.

This op-ed by Donald K. Emmerson originally appeared in The Diplomat.

On November 20, 8,300 people in 83 countries attended a virtual Global Town Hall to watch and hear 66 speakers in multiple countries discuss “Rebuilding from the Covid-19 World.” Organized in Jakarta by the Foreign Policy Community of Indonesia (FPCI), the event ran 15 consecutive hours.

Few would choose virtual diplomacy over the in-person kind, other things being equal. When speakers are confined to flat boxes on small screens watched by strangers, the disincentives to candor and creativity are too high—not to mention the necessarily disadvantageous clashing of time zones. Gone are the clues and nuances of physical proximity, the creative chats in coffee breaks, the security from digitally prying eyes and ears afforded by a conversational stroll outdoors. But the technology of virtual discourse is here to stay, at least until such time as direct brain-to-brain or bot-to-bot communication is innovated and programmed on a planetary scale.

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Viewed in this cautionary light, the November town hall was distinctive and promising. It was organized not in the world of industrialized democracies where the ubiquity of electronic gatherings has already prompted webinar fatigue.  Nor was it sponsored by the United Front Department of the Communist Party of China or by Russia’s Internet Research Agency to propagandize for Beijing or Moscow. Indonesia’s virtual Global Town Hall was the brainchild of Dr. Dino Patti Djalal, a public figure well known in and outside his country for having founded and led the FPCI. (Although I know him, I played no role in the event or its preparation.)

The Community’s mission is to encourage “healthy internationalism” in Indonesia; “resist xenophobia”; “bring foreign policy to the grassroots”; and serve as “a dynamic meeting point” where Indonesians can interact on foreign affairs with each other and with foreigners “as equals.”

The Global Town Hall lived up to these promises in the size of its audience, the length and scope of its program, and the diversity of its many panels and speakers. Topics discussed during the marathon ranged from narrow to vast—from vaccines against Covid-19 to broad concepts and challenges such as the Indo-Pacific and climate change; development and democracy; nationalism and populism; emerging leaders and world order.

The conference was designed to call for new beginnings in a post-pandemic world.  One session debated the need for a “great social reset.” Another considered the contours of a no less urgent “geo-political reset.”  A third looked for “the light at the end of [a] tunnel” of global contagion and conflict, while a fourth pictured “the worst economic recession of our time” as “the edge of a cliff.” Just as Djalal and his team had intended, the sense of a global turning point calling for creative responses was palpable throughout.

The pandemic is not only planet-wide.  It is an all-of-society problem that cannot be reduced to adjustments in foreign policy. Accordingly, the town hall’s speakers were not only from different countries but from different walks of life as well.  Impressively, they included, alongside the foreign ministers of Australia, China, the European Union, India, Indonesia, Russia, and South Africa, influencers and analysts from think tanks, international organizations, and universities around the world.

The absence of someone from the Trump administration did not create a vacuum filled by China. On the contrary, the five speakers from the PRC were outnumbered three-to-one by the 15 Americans who spoke.  Yet the program was not stacked against Beijing.  Brainstorming in public is not China’s forte. In any conference that invites originality, creativity, and diversity, China is structurally disadvantaged by its authoritarian system, which limits what people are willing to say. Why invite speakers who are limited to thinking and speaking inside the box traced by a one-party line?

Only one Chinese think tank was among the town hall’s 44 sponsors and partners—the China Institute of International Studies (CIIS), an adjunct of China’s foreign ministry. Beijing actively promotes Chinese centers of research and opinion as no less deserving of praise and influence than their counterparts in democratic countries. But that campaign for global legitimacy is not helped by the oxymoronic status of free thinking and speaking in an unfree society.

A case in point is the Pangoal Institution, an ostensibly non-governmental think tank in Beijing. On its website, it upholds “objectiveness, openness, inclusiveness,”  and “innovation.” Yet in 2018, its president warned China’s think tanks to shun “the Western model” of what a think tank should be; eschew “so-called ‘independence’”; and adhere instead “to the leadership of the [Chinese Communist Party] and socialism with Chinese characteristics.” The risk of not channeling the groupthink required by the CPC was implied, as was the need to think “Xi Jinping Thought,” a guideline added to the CPC’s constitution in 2017.

China’s handicap in free speech and candor was also implicitly displayed at the very end of the conference, in its 12th and final panel. Harvard’s Joseph Nye and a balanced set of Washington-based analysts freely and critically discussed a range of sensitive issues in foreign and domestic policy including the jeopardized transition to a Joe Biden presidency. The event was coordinated with the Center for Strategic and International Studies, one of three American think tanks chosen by FPCI to partner in holding the town hall.

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Even more telling than the remarks the Americans made at that final panel, however, was its title, chosen by Djalal and the FPCI, which amounted to a collective sigh of relief after Donald Trump: “Welcome Back, America!”  The welcome suggested that the challenge of “Rebuilding from the Covid-19 World” posed by the Global Town Hall could not be met without the United States fully on board, as if, once on board, Joe Biden would do the right thing.

In November 2019, by a two-to-one margin, elite respondents in Southeast Asia named China over the U.S. as the outside power with the most “political and strategic influence” in their region. But of those who picked China, merely 15 percent welcomed Chinese influence, a fraction of the 53 percent of U.S.-choosers who welcomed American influence.

Soft power is perishable. Goodwill can be transient. But the pop-up Global Town Hall put together so creatively by Djalal and his colleagues in Indonesia, apart from its value as an experiment in worldwide policy discourse, delivered an encouraging reminder: America is welcome. The anti-multilateral jingoism of Donald Trump has failed to destroy the willingness of Djalal, his colleagues, and policy influentials elsewhere in Southeast Asia to work with a United States that can once again, openly and self-critically, interact with others to achieve common goals.