Multilateralism’s Long Goodbye?

The regiments of black SUVS and the delighted faces of shopkeepers on Madison and Park avenues in Manhattan this week contrasted sharply with what International Crisis Group’s Richard Gowan characterized as “the real sense of worry and gloom that is quite prevalent in Turtle Bay at the moment,” Turtle Bay being the Upper East Side neighborhood where the UN has its headquarters. The annual UN General Assembly meeting is the only must-do on the global diplomatic calendar, and it was supplemented this year by Climate Week. (There were said to be over 1,000 meet-and-greet events just around Climate Week, with champagne, smoked salmon and a heavy carbon footprint: a harvest of good business for NYC caterers.) The massive attendance in itself suggested a felt need for global, and even globalist, political conversations. Nonetheless, news events and the varied and numerous meetings SIG participated in during the week supported the view of Secretary-General Antonio Guterres that multilateralism in its post-1945 forms is in an accelerating crisis with no clear routes forward.

Familiar items on the UN agenda remained unchanged. Israel and the United States, Hamas and Hezbollah, and other regional actors continued to enact their policies without important reference to the United Nations, including the US-backed ceasefire proposal of June. Ukraine’s defense of its territory against Russian arms continued much as it has been, with a slow extension of the battle into Russian territory, Russian pushback, and no near prospect of victory or diplomatic resolution for either side. Guterres’s dire warnings about the climate crisis were generally thought to be hyperbolic. The desperate situation in Sudan was much discussed but there was very little sense that the available multilateral mechanisms were going to be able to advance peace.

President Biden’s farewell speech received polite but modest attention. Vladimir Putin, of course, did not attend, nor did Xi Jinping. (They sent their foreign ministers. Xi had already met with Guterres in Beijing earlier in the month.) The domestic political vulnerabilities of Keir Starmer and Emmanuel Macron tempered enthusiasm for their own speeches, which were in any case unremarkable. Such was the UNGA-week presence of the veto-wielding Permanent Five (P5) of the Security Council, the only members of the council with serious power and the generators of any successful council resolutions. France called, as it has before, for Security Council reforms to re-legitimize the council politically by broadening its membership beyond domination by the victors of World War II and modifying its rules. Any momentum for such reform remains doubtful.

What was happening beyond the Upper East Side frame of UNGA was more significant. On the weekend prior, President Biden focused on the Quad meeting — India, Australia, Japan and the US — at his home in Delaware. This type of security-driven minilateralism has only grown in importance during the Biden presidency. It is not necessarily to the administration’s taste, and in 2021 Biden had committed, as Obama had 12 years before, to a revival of multilateral engagement, including at the UN. But the significance and productivity of the four-nation grouping did form a contrast to those of the General Assembly with its 193 member states.

On the economic front, the dominant theme of the week was protectionism. It is telling that Keir Starmer positioned his announcement of Britain’s return to internationalism in terms of British “self-interest.” Donald Trump and Kamala Harris both ignored the internationalist week with calls for “a new American industrialism” (Trump on Wednesday)  followeed by Harris’s promise on Thursday of $100 billion in new government spending aimed at the same goal by different means. Meanwhile China put forward massive new government plans to stimulate production and consumption in its own economy. In such ways the retreat by major powers from open global markets continued even in this week of internationalism.

Fascinatingly, though, the odd nation out during the week was the United Arab Emirates. On one hand, the UAE has come under growing criticism for its backing of one side in the Sudanese civil war. On the other hand, the UAE’s unusual political creativity and energy made it an outsized player in the Climate Week events and in UNGA side meetings. The UAE has become, in a short time, a significant player in the ongoing refurbishment of internationalism, while hardly big enough (except in its budget and ambitions) to begin to qualify as a “middling power.” Among other things, the UAE’s talent for navigating a middle way between the US and China (part of a trend sometimes called “active non-alignment”) was on display, as was that government’s commitment to fielding senior women ministers in international fora.

The prospect of Persian Gulf emirates as pioneers of a future-oriented multilateralism does not seem obvious. Multilateralism since 1919, if not 1815, has been Western-based both conceptually and in operational terms. A revival of that model seemed no more likely in New York this week than it has for the past decade or more. There are several reasons for this, but fundamentally, peoples and nations of the world increasingly want to chart their own paths, and increasingly simply do not agree on philosophies, policies and actions. The operational norms governing issues from aircraft movement to satellite positioning remain, but the development of new norms has stalled.

This has a number of implications for investors. One is that UN-based multilateral initiatives in areas like climate change and artificial intelligence are not likely to shape the sociopolitical or investment landscape in the near future. Another is that the momentum for open markets will probably come as much from the middling and less-than-middling powers seeking recognition and economic advantage as it will from the greater ones, a reversal of the pattern that held into the Obama administration. With each party fundamentally pursuing its own interests, the need for multilateralism grows but the means for its achievement shrink. Finding investment opportunities then depends less on identifying global patterns than on following the more difficult strategy of betting dynamically on different horses.

The Energy-Transition Paradox

At this point it seems safe to say that the Green Revolution is not going as planned. In particular, mineral resource extraction was meant to decline as part of the energy transition away from fossil fuels, but it is doing the opposite — even as fossil-fuel consumption also hit a new high last year. Wind and solar power are mineral-intensive.  Mineral resources like manganese, graphite, cobalt and lithium are critical to the batteries used in electric vehicles; electric vehicles are critical to the energy transition; therefore the mining of these minerals, which can be a very environmentally damaging process, is expected to take place on a large scale, damaging the environment in order to save it.

The other main driver for increased mining is digital technology. Part of this is again demand for batteries. Rechargeable batteries require lithium and cobalt. Without them there is no mobile Internet, no laptops or mobile phones. But digital technology also uses other minerals, like rare earths, and above all it uses minerals that produce energy. The data-center infrastructure that digital communications have come to depend on is making huge energy demands that are expected to increase in order to support energy-intensive artificial-intelligence computing. The digital revolution was meant to be good for the planet. All those books and newspapers that would no longer have to be printed, transported, and sold by retailers. All those carbon-footprint business trips that could be replaced by meetings online. Yet digitization seems to be resulting in more rather than less resource extraction. The digital world is damaging the physical world while pretending to transcend it.

The energy transition seems to be entering an era of paradox. It isn’t simply that green and digital technologies are dirty. It is that they are getting dirtier because major states seek both energy independence and secure high-technology supply chains. Climate change, it is often said, is a global problem requiring global solutions. But if the solutions are to be found, it appears that they will be found through the complete opposite of global cooperation. The Biden administration has just announced plans to spend more than $3 billion trying to secure US supply chains of critical minerals and build upstream capacity. That means, for example, $225 million toward the mining of lithium in Arkansas, and $166 million to help extract manganese in Arizona.

As US National Economic Adviser Lael Brainard explained, the goal is “an end-to-end supply chain for batteries and critical minerals here in America, from mining to processing to manufacturing and recycling, which is vital to reduce China's dominance of this critical sector." If a nation other than China were producing 77 percent of the world’s  graphite supply or 60 percent of its rare earths, the situation would be different. As it is, geopolitical circumstance are shaping the energy transition into forms it would not take on a market basis. The desire for national data security, combined with the energy needed for data processing, points in the same direction of nationalized production that is inherently inefficient. 

From an investor perspective, one clear option is to invest in extractives. However, the political risks can be high. If the US-China race to create mutually exclusive economies can be taken as a constant for the next generation or two, the specific policies will vary. If Donald Trump returns to the White House, he could well de-fund the EV battery projects, endangering new mining in Arizona and Arkansas. More interesting are investments that, in effect, eliminate political competition over a resource. For several years, electric-vehicle automakers have been trying to reduce their political exposure to Chinese dominance of rare-earths production. Of course one way to do that is through diversifying mineral supplies. A new project in Canada aims at just that. But another way is to engineer EV batteries that do not require rare earths. BMW in its newer EV lines has eliminated rare earths. In that instance, geopolitical supply-chain worries led to a reduction in resource extraction. Private-sector innovation could yet produce more ways of avoiding politically driven supply constraints. It would be a peculiar way to move toward the global transition away from carbon but it might be one way that really works.

Bipartisan Consensus on US-China Policy: Will Continuity Mean Instability?

The US presidential debate re-affirmed the centrality of an industrial policy aimed at confronting China. Donald Trump rightly pointed out that the Biden administration continued his China tariff policy. Kamala Harris attacked Trump for not having taken his own (Trump’s) policy a step further in the way Biden did — to cover semiconductor chips. The actionable point is that the two candidates were outdoing each other in advocating US industrial policy as a way to combat the rise of China and the Chinese Communist Party. Whatever else happens in the next presidential administration, this area of policy should remain roughly the same.

How is it likely to roll out? The benign version, advanced by both political parties, involves blocking the export of military technologies to China, keeping Chinese technology out of Western and allied markets and digital networks, and resisting Chinese dumping of export products that are subsidized by the government, such as electric vehicles. When the policy is expressed in these broad terms, it seems sensible and measured. It is not surprising that the House on Thursday voted through an extraordinary set of China bills that had been teed up for this first week after the Congressional recess. The proposed laws, covering biotechnology, drones, and more, will now go to the Senate. Most received bipartisan support in the House and are expected to pass in the Senate and be signed by President Biden.

Unfortunately, what seems straightforward as policy — keeping Chinese-made drones out of US skies, for example, sounds simple enough — will be extremely murky in its results. As discussed previously in SIGnal, the concept of “dual use” technologies — ones that have both civilian and, at least potentially, military uses — has become infinitely expandable. Keeping Chinese technology out of Western and allied markets is possible at the retail level but nearly impossible at the component level. And Chinese subsidization of electric-vehicle manufacture is both hard to distinguish from other governments’ subsidization of the green economy and a crucial source of support for green efforts on a global scale. Chinese companies like BYD (electric vehicles) and CATL (batteries) have been pioneers in developing technological solutions to address climate change. These advances cannot be undone or ignored.

That is why Europe’s leading car-making states (Germany and Spain) oppose shutting Europe off from Chinese electric vehicles as the US has done. In essence, European partnerships with Chinese companies make it possible for European companies to stay in the game, whether by using Chinese components, manufacturing in China itself, or selling to Chinese consumers. The current EU tariff proposal — up for a decision next month, with a term of five years — could very well result in an increase in Chinese exports to the European market, because Chinese EV-maker profit margins are sizable enough that companies could pass the tariffs on to consumers and still make money. Meanwhile higher prices are likely to dampen European consumer demand, slowing the green transition.

The proposed US biotech law could have a similar effect of driving up prices of drugs without pushing the Chinese government to any change in policy. Higher prices could shrink demand. US biotech corporate margins could be thinned, with negative effects on R&D and innovation.

It was only a decade or so ago that analysts were wondering whether Chinese companies would ever be able to get beyond copying (or stealing) Western technology and compete at innovation. That question has been answered. The terrible irony of current tariff and industrial-policy moves in Western markets is that they could have the effect of reducing Western innovation rather than increasing it. Meanwhile, Chinese companies look to demographically younger markets with increasingly empowered consumers — in Africa, Asia and Latin America — where wider margins make them more competitive than their Western counterparts.

For investors, the US bipartisan consensus on China and US industrial policy looks like a promise of continuity, and in the obvious sense it is. But in many other ways it is the opposite: It distorts market mechanisms to such a degree that the results are exceedingly difficult to predict. Investors not only have to integrate political and policy analysis into investment decisions, they also have to do so on a dynamic basis as the landscape is constantly changing. Chinese biotech, for example, was meant to be the sector that would be left alone, and it attracted Western FDI accordingly. But then it all changed.

Before the Debate: Could There Be a Harris Doctrine?

Kamala Harris’s campaign has been impressively disciplined at saying very little about her potential policies as president. This has left commentators scrambling to discover what her intentions might be. In foreign policy, for example, analysts have been reduced to sifting the published writings of two senior advisors, Philip Gordon and  Rebecca Lissner. But writing a book and making policy are radically different activities. Harris’s economic policies, as outlined this week, are much more articulated, but they are essentially continuations of Biden policies or, in the case of keeping tips free from income tax, borrowed from Trump. Her social policies are also continuous with Biden’s. Her biggest departures from Biden have been in her refusal to participate in “identity politics” or to position Trump as an imminent danger to democracy. At the same time, she has made it clear that she is running against Trump and not against Republican voters.  The lack of discipline in her first presidential campaign has been overturned. How does that happen?

First, it would be very difficult for a sitting vice president to run against the policies of her own administration. Second, depriving the Trump campaign of policy specifics to criticize could provoke it into making more personal attacks, which Harris seems to parry much more easily than Biden did. (She is unlikely to be baited into an argument about golf handicaps, for example, as Biden was.) Third, Harris did relatively little as vice president, as compared to recent holders of the office such as Al Gore or Dick Cheney. The one policy she was associated with was not really a policy so much as a hopeless errand: to address the ”root causes” of migration to the U.S. on a two-day trip to Central America.

Fourth, Harris’s four years as a junior senator from California were not strong on policy innovation. Rather, she was noted mainly for her ferocious attacks on the Trump administration, its policies and its nominees for office. She demonstrated a composed fearlessness, and a precision, that made her stand out. These qualities led her famously to attack Biden on the second night of the first Democratic debate in June 2019 after distinguishing herself by attacks on Trump. It was focused confrontation that built her national-level political career.

That might be expected from someone whose earlier career, from 1990 (when she was 26) to 2017, was almost entirely that of a prosecutor. As San Francisco district attorney and then California attorney general, both elected positions, Harris was innovative as well as forceful. But that was in the context of the legal profession, where there are many guardrails on innovation, and where a prosecutorial manner is a valued skill rather than a personal characteristic. It can be turned off as well as on.

This may help explain how Harris was able to go from being very forceful as a senator to being a loyal lieutenant as vice president.

Now she is having to shift again, potentially to a position of profound leadership that has to be creative as well as confrontational, and emollient as well as combative.

The debate on September 10 will be an opportunity to see whether Harris is able to hit these different registers.

From an investment point of view, the key thing to bear in mind is that Harris, while demonstrably unafraid of the power of the private sector when she was a prosecutor, does not have any known radical views or declared positions on reorganizing the existing distribution of economic power. Her declared policies are directed at expanding the middle class in the sense of providing a stronger floor for working people (especially with health care and child care) and increasing opportunities for small businesses, to be paid for with moderately higher taxes on corporations and the wealthy, and to a modest degree on capital gains. These are essentially small-c conservative policy positions aimed at the aspirational working and middle classes, understood to be the core of the American economy and polity.  

In many ways the candidate Harris most resembles is Bill Clinton. Clinton used to refer to “doctrine” as “the D word.” Over eight years as president he resisted developing anything that could be called a Clinton Doctrine. Commentators are now searching for a Harris Doctrine. There is not likely to be one.

Looking for Silver Bullets

By Dee Smith

Recently, I hosted a not-for-attribution presentation on the causes and effects of climate change with a colleague who has expert scientific knowledge in the field. Discussion focused on causes (both human and natural), and particularly on the very dire consequences that we have already missed the opportunity to prevent or even mitigate. For example, it now seems inevitable that some parts of the world that are currently occupied will become uninhabitable by humans.

The question on quite a few people’s minds was “Okay, what should we do? Give us some action steps.” As one said: “What’s the silver bullet?”

If only it were that simple.

Instead, it is almost insuperably complex. Elements affecting climate change range from human factors, including not only increased CO2 emissions, but also increased methane emissions—and methane is between 24 and 80 times more powerful in the atmosphere as a greenhouse gas than carbon. Methane also comes from the melting of permafrost, itself a consequence of warming arctic climates.

Natural elements affecting the climate include solar radiation cycles, the El Niño/La Niña oscillation, the strength of the Gulf Stream, the temperatures and amount of ice in the Arctic and Antarctic, the stability of the jet stream and global ocean temperatures.

We were already in a part of the natural climate cycle in which temperatures were increasing. Human activity since about 1980 tipped the cycle into a real crisis. The consequences are almost too catastrophic to think about: mass migration (something like the equivalent of the entire population of the US in forced relocation around the globe), heat in which humans cannot live, potentially extreme food shortages, increased military confrontation over resources, and so forth. As much of this is now unavoidable, preparation and attempted mitigation are our only choices.

So, of course we are looking for silver bullets.

The truth is that silver-bullet solutions are much more complex than mainstream media proclaim. For example, the latest silver bullet in the climate change arena is Stratospheric Aerosol Injection: putting large quantities of substances such as sulphur dioxide (SO2) into the upper atmosphere to block the amount of sunlight reaching the earth and thereby slow warming.

This is said to be supported by an analysis of the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in June 1991. The eruption injected 15 million tons of SO2 into the atmosphere. But a comprehensive analysis indicates that it did not lower global temperatures by 0.5 degrees Celsius for 18 months, as claimed. Global temperatures did not decline for the rest of 1991 after the eruption. They did decline by 0.2 °C from March to December 1992, but that timeframe coincided with a sharp drop in solar radiation and a shift from a weak El Niño effect to a neutral one. It was the combination of factors that accounted for the drop in temperature. The 1815 eruption of Mt. Tambora was about 18 times the size of the Mt. Pinatubo eruption and did have an impact for 2-3 years in lowering temperature. However, the effects were wildly uneven and often calamitous: no monsoons, disastrous floods, crop failures, and droughts.

The amount of SO2 injection needed to make an impact is a magnitude higher than generally believed and its effects are beyond our ability to predict. Unintended consequences are a real danger with planetary engineering projects like SAI. The system is too complex, and we simply do not know what the outcomes of SAI would be. For example, it might cool some areas and dramatically heat others.

We have created the most complex civilization that has ever existed, but more and more — or perhaps because of its very complexity — people want simple solutions. And climate change is arguably the most complex global problem we have ever faced.

“Just tell me what to do . . .” The well-intentioned will then generally try to do it for a while, until they forget, or it becomes too inconvenient, or the exceptions to doing it start to surmount complying with it. Or until it is imposed in a Draconian manner.

A few years ago, when the mantra of the day was reducing travel to reduce carbon emissions, someone closely involved with a very influential environmental organization said to me: “Well, I’m certainly not going to stop flying around . . .” And that is the attitude most of us have in the end. Most humans only make changes that we don’t want to make when there is literally no alternative.

But sometimes surviving requires very significant changes, whether in one's personal life or far beyond. Your leg is diseased and has to come off, if you want to live. The more you ignore the warning signs, the longer you put it off, the harder it will be to deal with.

We simply don’t want to hear any of this. And so, denial wins out. Or at least, things go along, business-as-usual, until it is too late.

But if we can accept that there are no silver bullets, and deny our denial, we may be able to find some partial — yet real, cumulative and productive — ways to proceed.

The New Geography of Semiconductors

The US CHIPS and Science Act just passed its two-year anniversary, and most coverage focused on the part President Biden emphasized: “America is now on track to produce nearly 30% of the global supply of leading-edge chips by 2032, up from zero only two years ago. … [M]y CHIPS and Science Act is bringing chips manufacturing back to America, strengthening global supply chains.” But strengthening global supply chains and increasing American production are two very different activities. SIG’s view is that the US is playing several distinct games at once: improving US production, isolating the Chinese technology industry, and strengthening certain alliances. The last game is the most interesting one, because it involves US industrial policy as an aspect of US foreign policy.

The US has been somewhat coy so far at naming the countries that will be part of the CHIPS Act-related International Technology and Security Innovation (ITSI) Fund, but the leading candidates are Vietnam, the Philippines, Indonesia, Costa Rica, Panama, Mexico and possibly Kenya. ITSI is administered by the State Department, and Jose Fernandez, undersecretary of state for economic growth, energy and the environment, has said there will be seven core partners without committing to a specific list. He has been promoting the effort as connected to the US wish to secure semiconductor supply chains that avoid China, a window of opportunity he said “may not be here forever.” 

One reason for the vagueness is probably that the Commerce Department has its own priorities, including the Indo-Pacific Economic Framework (IPEF) Agreement Relating to Supply Chain Resilience. IPEF includes three of the possible seven: Indonesia, the Philippines and Vietnam. Then again, Secretary of State Anthony Blinken, before the Americas Partnership for Economic Prosperity, stressed the Western Hemisphere Semiconductor Initiative, which also encompasses three ITSI countries (Mexico, Panama and Costa Rica). 

Some overseas coverage has even mentioned Puerto Rico as being on the CHIPS list, probably confusing the US territory with Costa Rica — although Puerto Rico would also be happy to get involved.

But if inter-departmental rivalry and confused ambitions have made the details a bit murky, the fundamental policy thrust is clear. The US is using the CHIPS and Science Act to both strengthen US semiconductor production and turn a difficult fact — that US domestic wages are high and US engineering talent has better options — into a strategic win. 

The seven countries that have apparently been selected are wildly different. In many ways, the most interesting is Vietnam. It has been making a very strong push to educate engineers, who then become available at a much lower wage than engineers elsewhere: Vietnamese engineers earn half the pay of their Malaysian peers and a sixth of the going rate in Taiwan. This industrial planning is occurring under a Communist government undergoing a leadership transition after 13 years of tight-fisted rule by party general secretary Nguyen Phu Trong, who recently died at age 80. His successor, To Lam, was the tough public-security chief under Trong. His first official trip in his new position will be to China, Vietnam’s largest (and growing) trading partner. Vietnam has a very long history of conflict with China, but of course it also has a shorter but intense history of conflict with the US.

From a distance, it does look odd that the US, hoping to secure its supply chain for vital semiconductor technology, would be relying in part on one Communist state to help weaken another Communist state. 

However, US relations with all seven of the countries on the CHIPS list have had their fraught moments, with the exception of Costa Rica. The technology struggle with China is forcing the US alliance structure into strange new forms. The cold reality is that traditional allies like Japan, South Korea, Australia, Taiwan and others are at demographic plateaus and are priced out of the lower reaches of semiconductor production. A new tier of alliances is being created to deal with this problem. 

The choices being made are often more economic than political — Vietnam’s economy is simply excelling at taking advantage of US-China conflict, as is Mexico’s under left-wing governments that cannot be described as pro-US. However, China was once itself a favored partner despite its ideological coloring — and then, as Xi Jinping’s power and political direction became clear, it was no longer. 

Trade and the US Presidential Campaign

One of the less heralded political-economic transformations of the past decade has been the shift from a bipartisan consensus for free trade to a bipartisan consensus against it. This was not due to any change in economic thinking; professors continue to teach the logic of comparative advantage. Rather, it was mainly due to a political reaction against income inequality and deindustrialization in wealthy democracies combined with fears of Chinese weaponization of international dependence on Chinese production. The current presidential campaign is being portrayed in apocalyptic terms by both sides. Yet on the critical question of how the United States interacts with the global economy there is an identifiable bipartisan center that is likely to grow.

Donald Trump’s aggressive use of tariffs as president was criticized by Democrats and most economists, but many of those tariffs were kept under President Biden. Biden’s use of industrial policy to direct federal resources at helping certain US industries do better in international competition was itself a variant of the “economic nationalism” that Trump had advocated, but one that involved spending tax dollars rather than imposing costs on imports and thereby on consumers. The Biden administration’s recent imposition of 100% tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles, while symbolic — Chinese electric-vehicle sales in the US are negligible — continues the theme of imposing costs on imports.

In his campaign, Trump has doubled down on promising to implement tariffs, even saying that he would use them to replace some types of tax as government revenue. Such proposals have alarmed Republican officials as well as Democrats. 

Kamala Harris’s position is difficult to locate. In public statements before becoming vice-president, she vigorously attacked what she called “Trump’s trade tax” which resulted in “American families spending as much as $1.4 billion more on everything from shampoo to washing machines” and “farmers in Iowa with soybeans rotting in bins, looking at bankruptcy.” At the same time, she stressed that she wanted trade deals to “protect American workers” and to address climate change. Her opposition on these grounds to NAFTA, USMCA (NAFTA’s replacement, negotiated under Trump) and the Obama-negotiated Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) was, taken as a whole, unusual for a Democrat of generally mainstream views aspiring to national office.

Harris did not work directly on trade issues as vice-president. The Indo-Pacific Economic Framework (IPEF) is the only Biden-era international agreement that has embodied the types of environmental initiatives that Harris has praised. She supported it in Thailand in 2022. While it is unclear how much priority would be given to it under Harris, the reality is that multilateral trade talks are popular among American allies but not Americans. The leading examples are the Asian Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP, led by China); the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP); and the IPEF.

The CPTPP is a particularly egregious example, given that it was a US initiative until President Trump withdrew. (Hillary Clinton, in her campaign against Trump, distanced herself from the pact.) Democrats had perceived the political power of Trump’s economic nationalism and tacked in his direction. Ever since, there has been little domestic political support for re-engaging with the TPP. Yet the US-brokered past has lived on, its membership including such key US allies and trading partners as Japan (which picked up leadership when the US left), Australia, Canada and, in 2023, Britain.

Harris will at least be less likely than Biden to ignore or downplay such multilateral talks as those that are ongoing for the IPEF. But Harris needs working-class and union voters, who tend to distrust international trade, and she and Tim Walz have green commitments that are not easy to honor in trade deals. Harris is unlikely to declare new tariffs although she might continue existing ones, such as on EVs and their components. Her environmental and jobs priorities will find positive expression in continuing Biden’s industrial policies, with their strong green and strategic anti-China aspects.

Trump’s prioritization of tariffs is likely to be tempered in office. In addition, he does not have Harris’s environmentalist commitments and he was, after all, the last president to bring in a major trade deal, the USMCA.

Whoever is in the White House, that agreement will be due for a review in July 2026. Measured by the growth in US trade deficits with Mexico and Canada, the USMCA cannot be reckoned a great success. Yet the bipartisan consensus on trade and industrial policy suggests it will be celebrated anyway.

Are We Already in World War III?

By Dee Smith

The question in the title has been asked in policy forums, and often dismissed. But there are recent developments that make it important to take the possibility more seriously.

First in importance is what is being called an “Axis of Disruption”: China, Russia, Iran, North Korea. These states are arguably more coordinated today than the old Axis powers were at the beginning of World War II. They have mutually reinforcing interests. Primary among these is an interest in weakening the United States, Western allies and the so-called rules-based international order.

It is not so much that Axis of Disruption goals are shared as it is that the interests of the players are self-reinforcing. China would welcome a situation in which the military and diplomatic attention of the US is drawn into simultaneous conflicts in the Middle East, centered on an Israel-Iran confrontation, and in the North China Sea, focused on sharpened tensions between North and South Korea. The focus of the US on these two theaters of action would draw its capabilities away from other areas, particularly Taiwan. Russia likewise would prefer to have the attention of the US pulled away from Ukraine. In this analysis, China would be the sub rosa moving force behind seemingly disparate actions — all of which satisfy the interests of it and its allies.

Simultaneous major military action by members of the Axis of Disruption in the Korean Peninsula, Taiwan/South China Sea, the Middle East and Ukraine could be considered to constitute world war.

Is this realistic?

It depends to a significant extent on whether China really wants to pursue a forceful reunification with Taiwan, and if so, when. China considers Taiwan a breakaway province, and in some ways sees it as the last pillar standing of the “century of humiliation” Chinese schoolchildren are taught: “100 years of national disgrace” of China at the hands of Western powers and Japan. Chinese leader Xi Jinping has clearly stated that he sees his legacy as the reunification of Taiwan with the mainland, by force or otherwise. For several reasons, including changing demographics (an older population and the results of the one-child policy in the 20th century), his own advancing age, and the changes resulting from ever closer ties between tech sectors and defense, Xi may see his window of opportunity closing.

On the other side, the outlines of a broad counter-alliance are emerging. NATO has significantly expanded its territory along the border of Russia. A number of cooperative groups of nations who share strategic interests in various ways — the European Union, the “Five Eyes” (Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the UK and the  US, with varying collaboration with France, Israel, Singapore, South Korea and Japan), AUKUS (Australia, UK, US), the Quad (Quadrilateral Security Dialogue: Australia, India, Japan, and the US), the Abraham Accords (Bahrain, Israel, the UAE and, indirectly, Morocco and the US) — seem also to be consolidating into something like an informal alliance.

The US has just entered into an expanded defense agreement with Japan. And Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech before the US Congress on 24 July could almost be read as a statement of intent to go to war with Iran.

The situation is unlike the Cold War, in which there were more clearly delineated sides. There are many countries sitting on the fence with regard to their alliances. The new non-aligned movement is expanding, with significant “middle powers” like Turkey exploring options outside its long-standing associations with the West. It is no longer outlandish to ask if Turkey might leave NATO. The BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa) group of nations is expanding, with countries like Egypt joining, and is seeking to introduce its own currency.

India is both a member of the US-oriented Quad and of the BRICS group, and the UAE of BRICS and the Abraham Accords. Which way would they fall if the proverbial push comes to shove?

Adding further instability, the US dollar — the world’s reserve currency — is under mounting pressure due to continuing US government budget deficits and the US debt load of over $35 trillion. A number of nations, China among them, have been dumping dollars and buying gold (this includes Chinese households). The US may eventually find it difficult to finance its debt.

When a world war begins is often a matter of hindsight. It still seems unimaginable to many, and it is to be fervently hoped it never happens. “Recency bias” is the belief that the near future will be like the recent past. Most people cannot believe things outside their experience can happen. But they can . . . and do.

Private Fusion Takes Off

US-led Western policies aimed at the technological and, in effect, commercial isolation of China — exacerbated by China’s ongoing cooperation with Russia despite sanctions over its invasion of Ukraine — have created a situation in which leading-edge innovation is becoming fragmented in both the private and the governmental spheres. This is inherently inefficient. Yet it is also spurring state investment at new levels, such that the overall effect, over the medium term, could well net out as positive. Nuclear fusion is a particularly interesting example that merits a closer look.

Fusion has always seemed five years away, rather as Brazil has proverbially been called “the country of the future … and it always will be.” (The unkind line is attributed to De Gaulle.) But as the US-China dynamic has become an enduring feature of geopolitics investment in fusion has increased dramatically, particularly in terms of public-private partnerships.

The main global fusion project since the 1980s has been the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor, known as ITER. Born from a meeting between Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev and based in southern France, ITER has the US, China and Russia among its permanent members. Each member state contributes some particular part of the central project, a reactor based on the tokamak method. There is no practical way to excise one or another ITER participant. Sanctions against Russia for invading Ukraine have so far not dislodged Russia from ITER, although its participation has been controversial since the invasion.

ITER illustrates a type of international cooperation typical of the Reagan-Gorbachev era and now apparently a thing of the past. However, the swift decline of globalist cooperation has been matched in the fusion sector by a growth in government financing, private investment and public-private partnerships. Public funding, according to a new report from the Fusion Industry Association, went from $271 million in 2023 to $426 million in 2024 so far, or roughly half the private share of $900 million. (Funding to date is on the order of $7 billion.) The US, EU, British and Japanese governments have all shown significantly increased interest in working with private fusion companies. ITER itself is turning more toward private partnerships. Meanwhile the Chinese government continues to prioritize fusion work in government labs, universities like Tsinghua, and the (Chinese-style) private sector.

The growth of the fusion industry is a demonstration of how private-sector approaches differ from governmental ones. Tokamak is just one of several leading technologies for fusion, and companies are placing a wide variety of bets on various technologies, any one of which could prove to be the winner. The number of private fusion companies has doubled in the past six years. Some major companies, like Shine (US, $800 million in funding to date), are working to develop viable revenue streams, such as producing Lutetium for cancer treatment, while keeping an eye on the moonshot of clean, cheap energy. Others, like tiny Terra Fusion, also in the US, are startups pursuing one particular technology that they hope will be the breakthrough. Roughly half of fusion companies are in the US. Globally, most fusion companies have university and defense partners — in the US case, the national labs (managed by the Department of Energy, as their earliest priority was nuclear power) and the Department of Defense.

There is also significant US participation from ARPA, one of many echoes of the Internet  development process of the 1970s. (The earliest Internet was the ARPAnet.) Unlike in that era, geopolitical fears are now combined with climate change.  Fusion promises an end to carbon-based energy systems. However inefficient it might be to have politically structured private sectors, it could also prove to bring a technological solution to climate change sooner than would otherwise have been the case.

Vance Notice

This post was published on Friday, 21 June, two days before President Biden renounced his candidacy for reelection.

The current high level of partisanship in the media, even the business press, has made it difficult at best to find objective analysis that favors neither party. For example, former President Donald Trump’s announcement of J.D. Vance as his running mate was generally met with a certain dismissiveness. The Economist’s midweek newsletter read: “Mr Vance will not swing many votes. A 39-year-old articulate anti-globalist, anti-big business, anti-immigration, pro-worker, MAGA enthusiast, he does little to broaden Mr Trump’s electoral appeal.” SIG’s analytical view is that Vance will indeed broaden Trump’s appeal to working-class, lower-middle-class, and non-white voters. Trump has been steadily taking these formerly core Democratic constituencies into his column since the 2016 campaign. And in a number of states they could very well make the difference between a Trump presidency and a Biden (or Harris) one.

Trump’s remarks at the convention Thursday night included an appeal to “every citizen, whether you are young or old, man or woman, Democrat, Republican, or independent, Black or White, Asian or Hispanic,” and in the previous days convention-goers had heard from a Muslim woman offering a prayer in Arabic, a black pastor, and a variety of non-white lawmakers and officials. The Republicans’ big-tent approach began in the campaign of the younger George Bush but Trump has steadily extended it. He did better in 2016 with nonwhite voters than Mitt Romney had four years before, and somewhat worse with white voters as a whole. Trump also could not have won without taking some Obama voters away from Hillary Clinton. Trump did noticeably well with working-class and less-educated voters. Those two groups, of course, contain a great many non-white voters. Given the national white majority and the realities of racial discrimination, working-class politics and non-white politics have often been treated as highly distinct and even antagonistic. Trump seemed to be following a different path.

Biden and the Democrats, meanwhile, were losing their once solid hold on the non-white vote. In 2012, Barack Obama carried the non-white working class (non-college-educated) by 67 points over Romney. In 2020, running against Trump, Biden carried the same demographic by just 48 points. By February 2024, one reputable poll was finding that Biden’s margin had slipped to 6 points: 47 percent to 41 for Trump. The same poll found that white and non-white voters without college degrees were converging in their views on the respective qualities of Biden and Trump and on the state of the economy. Indeed, non-white voters in this category were slightly less likely than their white counterparts to feel that Biden’s policies had benefitted them.

The Democratic party has long prioritized the non-white vote as such. What seems to be happening is not that Biden and the Democrats are losing non-white voters so much as losing working class-voters, among whom non-whites are disproportionately represented. (A 2024 poll found that 55 percent of non-whites identified themselves as in the lower or working classes, compared to 36 percent of non-Hispanic whites. The white-non-white ratio in the US is roughly 60-40.) At the same time, Democrats’ association with prioritizing the non-white, and particularly the black, vote might also have led some less-educated whites to back Trump. Both lines point in the same direction.

Trump’s working-class support is a principal reason why he is doing well against Biden in polls. In Virginia, for example, Biden has gone from a 10-point margin in 2020 to 3 points in recent polls, and possibly less. Trump, meanwhile has seen his margin of the Virginia working-class vote grow from 6 points in 2020 to 24. In the battleground state of Pennsylvania, Trump’s lead among likely working-class voters has doubled over the same period. Nationally, Trump carried the working-class vote by 4 points in 2020 and now is polling at a 17-point margin or above.

Trump and Republican officials know all this, and the party platform, which Trump had a decisive hand in shaping, reflected it. The platform was noticeably less strong than in the past on fiscal rectitude, more supportive of Social Security and Medicare, more emphatic about creating jobs (particularly in manufacturing) and less emphatic about abortion. These new positions are all in line with data about working-class policy preferences.

This waxing working-class and non-white Republican constituency is the large target at which J.D. Vance is aimed. His convention speech on Wednesday was preceded by an introduction from his nonwhite, Hindu wife, Usha Chilukuri Vance, a child of immigrants, who went on to take a seat next to Trump. Vance then gave a speech squarely focused on promoting Trump and the party as ardent defenders of the American working class against their enemies foreign and domestic. His biography enabled him to do this with a believable passion that Trump has not been able to reach. But more than that, Vance brought to bear the skills of a correspondent and public-affairs specialist (his position in the Marines), an undergraduate student of political science and philosophy, and a successful author (Hillbilly Elegy). (Usha Vance studied history as an undergraduate at Yale then went on to get a history MPhil from Cambridge as a Gates scholar.) Vance was able to position his working-class story within a 250-year narrative of patriotic struggle. He referred repeatedly to his family’s graves on a hillside in Kentucky, generations of poor ancestors whom he expected to join, and whom he expected his family — the Vances have two sons, Ewan and Vivek, and a daughter, Mirabel — to one day join as well.

Vance brings a distinctive and potentially quite powerful kind of patriotic narrative in support of the years-long trend of growing working-class and non-white support for Trump and his party. That trend in turn is likely to be decisive in this year’s contest. Among the many implications for investors are the solidification of industrial policy and protectionism in the world’s most important economy, government prioritization of onshoring and the preservation of the existing social safety net.

After the New Cold War

To what extent will the U.S.-China struggle take the rest of the world along with it? Recent developments in the technology sector suggest that containment of China has a long way yet to run, regardless of who becomes the next U.S. president. At the same time, China is showing no signs of abandoning its core strategy of using state policy to control citizens at home, build Chinese companies that can crush competition abroad, and exert maximal autarkic control of its domestic market. However, the great success of globalization has been the creation of a global middle class with incomes, educations and expectations all on an unprecedented scale. There is now a generation or two in adulthood that has grown up watching the West destroy itself and slowly abandon the freedom of movement of capital, goods, services and people that was the premise of globalization. This generation, outside the West and (perhaps) China, does not think it is helpless. SIG’s view is that the global generation in its late 20s and early 30s is already pivoting away from attachment to the world of their parents and the disastrous end-game that appears to be their parents’ legacy.

U.S. policy for the technological isolation of China has been steady and focused since about halfway through the first Trump administration. It has expanded in breadth and sophistication under the Biden administration. Technology companies have integrated this into their strategies, giving what began in the government sector strong private momentum. Consider a project with the very Bondian acronym HEIST. It is a private-public-academic partnership now backed by NATO. Its goal is to create ways for Internet traffic to be switched from undersea cables to networked outer-space satellites in the event an ocean cable is disrupted. (Students of Internet history will recall that the Internet itself was developed out of private-public-academic programs for ensuring continuity of communications in the event that land-based systems were disrupted.) HEIST is just one example of how the private and academic sectors are factoring in a long-term tech conflict between the U.S. and China. Another is OpenAI’s decision to clamp down on use by Chinese developers of ChatGPT. China was never on OpenAI’s list of “supported countries and territories,” but the move is nonetheless significant.

Of course, moves like this all call forward responses from China and Chinese companies. China’s GPS alternative, BeiDou, has had this problem set firmly in view for over 20 years. Coverage of the OpenAI decision has emphasized how quickly — measured in days if not hours — Chinese tech companies offered “moving packages” to OpenAI customers on the mainland whose VPN and other outward connections to OpenAI would no longer work. Huawei has retooled itself to deal with the expanding bans on its use overseas. It is too much to say that U.S. tech containment of China has been a good thing for Chinese businesses but it has been a spur, if of a peculiar kind.

The Trump policies on China that Biden kept and developed were guided by people such as Robert Lighthizer (Trump’s trade representative) and Matt Pottinger (Trump’s deputy national security advisor), who are expected to be part of any second Trump administration. There is every reason to anticipate policy consistency, in this particular field, regardless of the victor in November. The same is true in China.

In a real Cold War, this bifurcation between two hostile major powers would extend itself to the rest of the world. There is an element of that today. Germany, for example, after years of U.S. pressure, has decided to take Chinese technology (from Huawei and state-owned ZTE) out of its 5G networks. However, most states and national economies with any choice in the matter have opted either to blend U.S. and Chinese systems or, better yet, to develop their own.

To opt out of a forced choice between major-power antagonists while opting in to the cross-border platforms that are being shaped by that antagonism is a characteristic move for the generation that is now starting its first companies and reaching the lower rungs of government. Chinese autarky and U.S. industrial policy alike have made it clear to the rest of the world that its interests are not of lasting concern to the major powers. At the same time, the spread of middle-class wealth, education and expectations has empowered people around the world to feel they have options. Their politics is shaped by the possibilities for identifying and exercising those options. Ironically, perhaps, for a generation formed by borderless globalization, the chosen venue for exercising those options is not a transnational one but the nation and national or regional economies.

This should not be surprising. Neither the U.S. nor the EU is in any mood to guarantee the sanctity of the global public sphere. China, despite its protestations, is even less globally minded. The fact that addressing global climate change, the signature challenge of the coming generation, is being hobbled by electric-vehicle and solar-panel legislation is truly telling. The major powers that are alone in a position to see through global solutions to global problems are now the very powers making them impossible.

In such a situation, for the world outside the West and China (plus Russia), nationalism and regionalism are the least-worst solutions. The coming generation will be elderly by the time COP75 rolls around and the U.S., EU, Russia and China all bury their many hatchets and rediscover globalism. Meanwhile, away from the current agon, a busy world is identifying problems and designing solutions with no expectation of rising to the universal plane. Globalization has lost its teleology.  But it has created a world in which ambitious people can remain anchored and protected in national economies while also staying closely connected to the world outside, steering their diverse courses with as little reference as possible to great-power conflict.

Our Age of Political Nostalgia

By Dee Smith

If homo sapiens has been around for about 300,000 years, then we have lived all but 3 percent of that in circumstances almost entirely different from the present day. To put it another way: even with a generous allowance of 10,000 years or so for settled life in something like cities (which is what “civil”-ization means), for 97 percent of our existence we lived in very small groups and, except for wide-ranging nomads, with very little change over vast periods of time (centuries or even millennia). And even the nomads could usually count on migration routes leading them to familiar places, over and over again.

We are now thrust into a world where we are clustered into groups of a size unimaginable to our ancestors. They would seldom encounter anyone outside their little bands; now we all meet people every day whom we don’t know and who are different from us, and we need to co-exist with them. We are required to deal with levels of novelty, complexity and social regulation for which we are not adapted.

This goes a long way, I think, towards explaining what is happening politically and socially around the world today. Our lives are full of what scientists call “baseline resets” — we have to recalibrate our understandings and expectations over and over. We hardly become accustomed to a certain configuration of things, and then it changes. And it changes yet again. Some people embrace this. The “move fast and break things” entrepreneurs claim to do so. For most of us, however, it is highly disorienting, uncomfortable and emotionally distressing.

If we could just go back to the way things were! Vast numbers of people, of all socio-economic groups, pine for a world in their past — often a world that never existed in the way that they believe it did.

In the US, for example, so-called “liberals” — Democrats and their ilk — bemoan the loss of a US-led Liberal International Order, a rules-based international system that many analysts believe never actually existed in the way that it is remembered. This brand of nostalgics sees the post-WWII era, and particularly the “long decade” between the fall of the Berlin Wall and the 9/11 attacks, as a golden age of international cooperation, when in fact it was a short period of unipolar U.S. dominance following the collapse of the Soviet Union, a period in which there was a great deal of conflict. Of course, it seems like a golden age to those who found themselves briefly its masters! But they fear an approaching age when the “progressive” system and message no longer resonate or hold, and overt authoritarians, operating from positions that they abhor and see as threatening, are ascendant.

On the other side, in the US, many Republicans and members of right-wing movements harken back to a lost age of white social dominance. To some extent, this did exist, but it was not the halcyon period they that think they remember. Firstly, most of them were not actually alive at the time. It was a period filled with hatred and civil violence. Furthermore, the definition of who and what is “white” has never been clear. For example, Italians in the US were not, and then they were. Some Hispanics would be considered, or consider themselves, white; others would not. Besides, return to a lost white world is no longer even a possibility. The US has become “minority-majority.” White nostalgics fear an age when what are remembered as traditional white values, if not white people, become sidelined.

Similarly, the term “conservative” has been warped beyond recognition. What is it, exactly, that conservatives wish to conserve? The fact that “move fast and break things” tech leaders call themselves conservative and support conservative politicians is an oxymoron in the most literal sense.

The situation is similar in many other places around the world, whether the past is Soviet Russia, Maoist China, or various strongman dictatorships or ephemeral democratic Camelots. For much of the last couple of centuries, the Enlightenment doctrine of progress imagined the golden era in the future. As human life seemed to improve (or was said to be improving) through new systems of governance and technology, life would generally become better and better. We have now reverted to what has been the norm for most of our history, an assumption that golden ages lay in a mythic past.

The political and social status quo is increasingly seen as having failed to deliver. Life is not better than it was—and it is not getting better—for most people. They do not believe that the lives of their children will be better than their own. In fact, they increasingly just “don’t believe” in the current system, wherever they live and whatever the system is. When I presented the television series A World on the Brink in 2017, I found that there was one phrase with which everyone agreed, regardless of where they lived: “what we have is not working.” That was already 7 years ago! Since then, the needs and concerns of most peoples have really not been addressed.

The bottom line is this: conditions have changed radically; whatever happens next, they are going to change even more. The answers are unlikely to be found in any of the dominant political systems of the past few centuries. We need to think again and we need to think quickly. We need to come up with new approaches that are relevant and adaptive to the very different age we are living in and the even more different ages that are emerging. I say “approaches” because need to give up on universalism — there can be no universal system that will fit the bill, or so it seems. There may well be, and will probably be, many different and divergent systems in different places and for different people.

But they won’t be like it is now, or like it was. And that is hard.

The European Union's Right-Wing Future

Elections for the European Union’s parliament more than confirmed predictions of a nationalist rise and of a decline in support for environmentalist parties. The initial reaction was nonetheless one of shock, a reaction compounded by French President Emmanuel Macron’s surprise decision to dissolve the National Assembly and force an election as a sort of referendum on French extremism. (“The rise of nationalists, of demagogues, is a danger for our nation but also for our Europe, for France’s place in Europe and in the world,” Macron declared.) News cycles being what they are, there then followed a calming line of argument that emphasized European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen’s insistence that “the center is holding.” Finally, the argument was made that the center might be holding for now but the mainstream political groupings that provide that center need to change course now, before the political support for European union really does decline.

SIG’s view is that the European parliamentary election results fundamentally reflect the victory of economic concerns over moral ones. The project of European unity has always had a moral proposition at its core: that nationalist competition within Europe leads to war, and therefore European unity is a project of peace. European unification since the 1940s has been animated by a sense that it was morally superior to all the political alternatives. For a number of reasons, that sense of moral direction is being lost.

One reason is the structural problem of democratic representation. The “democratic deficit” of the European Union and its predecessors has been a chronic complaint that has been ameliorated in various treaties but cannot be entirely resolved. National governments are more truly representative and therefore more legitimate than the delegations each member state sends to Brussels/Strasbourg.

The political response to this has been twofold. The first response is to reject the EU as unrepresentative and unaccountable and revive the nation-state as the best available alternative. Alice Weidel, of the German party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), put it with characteristic bluntness: “We’ve done well because people have become more anti-European.” AfD recorded its best performance yet in European elections, moving into second place ahead of Germany’s current governing party.

The second response has been to increase the power of the European Commission and its president, that is, to increase the power of the European executive. On the face of it, this would seem to be the opposite of democratic: the empowerment of a very indirectly elected president and of commissioners approved by her after being proposed by national governments. But the rise of the Commission was in response to a strongly felt political need, during the 2007-08 financial crisis and the euro crisis that followed, for there to be greater power in Brussels. This was not a reward for Brussels’s political successes. Rather it was a response by the European political class to the inability of national governments to solve the financial crisis on an individual basis — and to the realization that if Brussels were not strengthened Germany, because of its economic dominance, would come uncomfortably close to being master of Europe. Then-Chancellor Angela Merkel shepherded a process by which German power was both acknowledged and contained within the reforms of the 2009 Treaty of Lisbon. Since 2019, President von der Leyen, who rose to prominence as a long-serving member of Merkel’s government, has enlarged the Commission’s effective power, pushing forward policies on the environment, defense, technology, competition policy, foreign policy, agriculture, the euro, and much else. Her presidency has made the EU more effective and thereby more worth voting about. The turnout last week was the highest in 30 years. In that quite real sense, the democratic deficit is shrinking.

However, if the European Union has become more responsive to voter needs since 2019 and a more plausibly effective companion to member states’ national governments, it has also become a prosecutor of war (in Ukraine), raised the barriers to immigration, and utilized regulatory, competition and other industrial policies as weapons against, principally, the US and China, though also Russia. In short, the EU is losing that sense of peace-loving, internationalist moral distinction that differentiated it from the patriotic model of nationalism it was invented to replace. The EU is becoming a center-right power tolerant of illiberal identitarian and economic policies and engaged in war.

The consensus opinion has been that the European parliamentary elections were a struggle between a morally legitimate, internationalist center and a demagogic, nationalist right surging upward from the murk of history. What seems more likely is that the EU is becoming a political manager for a European nationalism that can be relatively at ease with the sub-European nationalisms currently thriving in Germany, the Netherlands, Austria, Italy, Belgium and France. Austria aside (and adding Luxembourg), that has been the core group of European unification since 1951. It may prove to be the core of a right-leaning Continent.

Re: Re-globalization

Two substantial articles this week argued, in different ways, that ‘de-globalization’ is an indiscriminate and misleading term. What we are truly entering is a period of ‘re-globalization’. The First Law of Punditry is to always contradict, and contradicting those who speak of de-globalization is true to pundit tradition. De-globalization has indeed been frequently used over the past few years, along with subsidiary terms such as de-linking, de-risking, friend-shoring, and near-shoring. It may well have had its season. With ‘re-globalization’, we could be witnessing the rise of a new analytical cliche from the husk of an old one. SIG’s view, however, is that de-globalization still has room to run

In Foreign Affairs, the economist and former senior Biden official Brad Setser argues, under the commanding headline ‘The Dangerous Myth of Deglobalization’, that US-China de-linking has mainly resulted in lengthier supply chains for US imports: Chinese components have to travel longer as they detour through Vietnam, Malaysia, and Mexico on their journey to American markets. As he underlines, China’s manufacturing exports in general have risen under so-called de-globalization, spectacularly so in electric vehicles and other sectors that have been the focus of Chinese industrial policy. Setser also emphasizes that corporate tax avoidance, by US multinationals in particular, has proved to be a resilient form of capital globalization despite recent regulatory initiatives. These two examples lead him to conclude that deglobalization ‘offers analysts a simple story to tell’ but ‘the reality is more complex’, a conclusion that is inevitably true: reality is always reliably more complex than any one-word descriptor.

In World Politics Review, Roland Benedikter has advocated for ‘re-globalization’ as a more accurate term that escapes the disadvantages of de-globalization. His argument has three main contentions: that the pro-globalization alliance of neoliberal capitalism and ‘leftist cosmopolitanism’ has been broken in favor of economic nationalism; that autocratic non-Western states are leading a charge against globalization that feeds on and encourages a revival of non-alignment in the global South; and that globalization depended on the military umbrella of American power. The umbrella, he maintains, is being withdrawn by American unwillingness to continue paying for it, the determination by China and others to challenge it, and the displacement of it by economic, political, technological, and military competition in space, from low-earth orbit to the moon and beyond.

Setser’s two main points and Benedikter’s three are all well made. Several will be familiar to SIGnal readers. None benefit much from being shoehorned into a debate over the proper definition of de-globalization (Setser) or the substitution of a new term like re-globalization (Benedikter), but they all have the virtue of drawing attention to how subtle and complex the ongoing reconfiguration of political and economic internationalism actually is.

SIG’s view is that de-globalization continues to be a useful shorthand term for describing that reconfiguration, but it is only a shorthand, a point of departure rather than a destination. The main factor remains the re-emergence of states as economic actors maximizing their autonomy on behalf of their respective peoples, most often ethnically and culturally defined. This phenomenon is consistent across democratic and un-democratic societies, rich and poor ones, ex-imperial states and ex-colonial ones. It can probably be dated from the Asian financial crisis of 1997, when China showed that state management of international capital flows was not a first step on the road to serfdom. The triumphal period of the US-led post-Cold War liberal international order then amounts to the six years from 1991 to 1997 — not notably long.

The principal counterforces remain the diffusion of technology and education, the cross-border movement of people (driven principally by economic inequality, at one end, and demographic stagnation or decline at the other), and the mobility of capital in terms of both investment and the securing of profits (very much including offshore). None of this is necessarily liberal or orderly. Globalization and de-globalization are twin forces in a single dynamic that does not resolve into one or the other. ‘Re-globalization’ is a valiant attempt to be neither here nor there, but the reality it confronts is both at once.

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Paying the China Price

In his recent meetings with France’s President Emmanuel Macron and EU Council President Ursula von der Leyen, Xi Jinping mocked the concept of “dual-use” equipment such as semi-conductors, saying that by European definitions rice would be dual-use because soldiers have been known to eat it before battle. (Dual-use is commonly applied to products or technologies that have military as well as non-military uses. The proximate cause for the discussion was Chinese exports to Russia, which help Russia sustain its war in Ukraine in the face of Western sanctions.) Xi also rejected the concept of Chinese industrial “over-capacity” in reaction to charges, emphasized in the meeting by von der Leyen, that state subsidies have enabled Chinese steel and car manufacturers to dominate European markets with underpriced goods.

Of particular concern to von der Leyen’s home state of Germany is China’s dominance of electric-vehicle production. Macron urged Germany’s Chancellor Olaf Scholz to attend the talks with Xi, but Macron is less keen than Scholz on protecting Europe’s EV manufacturers from Chinese competition. This difference was a principal reason why Europe’s largest economy was absent from talks that pivoted on Europe-China economic relations. From an investor perspective, Europe’s current geo-economics offer little more than chronic unpredictability. Xi Jinping’s strategy is to divide the European powers from each other and from the US, a strategy that should be harder to do than it is.

The disturbing reality is that Xi is not wrong. The concept of dual-use is infinitely expandable. If its deployment were simply an artifact of political opportunism — for example, a means to foster non-Chinese semiconductor production — the problem presented would not be so difficult. But most advanced technologies, and the innovation systems that underlie them, really are dual-use, and in the end so is rice.

What Xi is really pointing to is the impossibility of neutrality. It was impolite of him to do so and probably bad politics, which could explain why the CCP’s Internet-scrubbing mechanisms were tasked with removing references to dual-use at the time of the Paris meetings. But for Xi it must be hard to resist pointing out to Europeans how dependent they are on Chinese tech inputs, not just for their own industries but for there to be much chance for European companies to compete with American ones. European states cannot be neutral profiteers trading with both sides in the US-China conflict. At the same time, Biden’s industrial policies (particularly for electric-vehicle production), US dominance of the West’s Ukraine policy, and the prospect of a second Trump administration all combine to gravely weaken trans-Atlantic solidarity when it is most needed. This is a key CCP strategic goal.

“Over-production” is also incoherent. The European argument is that Chinese production is state-subsidized and in excess of domestic Chinese demand for electric vehicles. The second charge is the weakest. Like Germany, China produces cars in excess of domestic demand because it wants to sell EVs on the world market. That’s what exporting is. It makes no sense to insist that Germany be able to continue manufacturing Mercedes or Volkswagens in excess of German consumer demand but China should not be able to do the same.

The state-subsidy charge is stronger but still not massively convincing. German subsidies to German consumers (4500 euros, sometimes more, per purchase) incentivized the buying of 2.1 million EVs in Germany from 2016 to the end of last year. Part of the goal of this policy was, through subsidized pricing, to artificially boost German consumer demand for electric vehicles and thereby subsidize German car manufacturers’ transition to EV production. When the German government rather abruptly cancelled its EV subsidy to address a budget shortfall, German manufacturers like Mercedes and Volkswagen undertook to pay it themselves for existing orders.

That policy is not intended to last, however. At some near date, Germany and other European states with auto industries will have to choose between protecting their own car industries until they are able to compete with Chinese competitors (a very distant prospect), leaving their markets open to Chinese EV imports (already accounting for 37% of European EV imports in 2023), or somehow managing the China trade at the EU supra-national level. The last option is the one the EU is aiming at, but it will meet strong resistance from individual European states who do not want to lose their auto industries to European competitors (mainly Germany) and from European consumers, who will be stuck with higher prices. Those high prices will in turn delay Europe’s transition to greener transport. This is the fate that US protection of EV manufacturing (and much else) is intended to avoid for Americans — but at the cost of hobbling European EV exports into the US market, further impairing the geo-economics of trans-Atlantic solidarity.

Efforts to reorient manufacturing to address climate change keep running into the wall of geopolitical competition. Meanwhile, the Chinese government has economic and environmental challenges of its own and will continue to try to punch its way out of them by subsidizing domestic production and controlling domestic consumption to favor Chinese goods.  Each side in this drama will correctly accuse the others of “over-capacity” and unfair state subsidization.

China has the advantage of an unblushing commitment to state capitalism and an immense captive domestic market. It also has an ideological advantage of sorts in that it frames its own economic growth in a long narrative — “changes not seen in a century”, in Xi’s phrase — of anti-imperialism. Ultimately, the Chinese contention is that Western-led modernization was itself “unfair trade” on a very grand scale, achieved at gunpoint and cementing first-mover advantages that Chinese state policy is dedicated to undoing. Of course, Chinese growth is fueled much more by a Chinese nationalist will to power than by any notional anti-colonialism. It is a Sinicized version of the German imperial push for a “place in the sun” alongside the other imperial economies of the 1890s, including Japan. The increasing brutality of the CCP regime both domestically and in its foreign policy is an index of where its commitments lie. It came to praise globalization but in all likelihood will end by burying it.

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Latin Risks Rising

Five years ago, the head of a major think-tank in the US could credibly say that “there are no geopolitics in Latin America.” But that not-for-attribution remark has become steadily less true ever since. Latin American economic prospects are now shaped by both regional inter-state tensions and broader geopolitical currents, not least the U.S.-China rivalry (see SIGnal, “Green Protectionism,” 25 April 2024). For now at least, investors have to accept that non-market considerations will have deep effects in some major Latin American economies.

The 2015 discovery of significant offshore petroleum reserves in territorial waters claimed by Guiana and Venezuela reignited a disagreement more than a century old. The Esequibo region, which holds around 15 percent of Guiana’s population but makes up more than two-thirds of its territory, has been in dispute since before 1899: the Paris Arbitral Award then designated it part of Guiana, but Venezuela never agreed. Late last year Venezuela held a referendum that designated Esequibo its 24th state. Venezuela’s move could well lead to armed conflict.

Meanwhile, more than 8 million Venezuelans have left the country in the past decade due to dire economic and political conditions. Many have fled to neighboring Colombia, whose citizens resent expenditures on refugees by the Colombian government even though many refugees are Colombians who fled to Venezuela during Colombia’s decades of insurgency and civil conflict.

Ecuador was until quite recently a safe country for residents and visitors alike. But in the last few years, suppression of drug smuggling through Colombia resulted in the opening of a route across northern Ecuador to the Pacific, and from there to the US and Europe. This has plunged the entire country into a violent spiral, and Ecuador is now one of the most dangerous countries in the world — due entirely to exogenous, transnational factors.

As social guardrails have been eroded across the region by the decline of religion and social institutions, the movement of populations into large cities, and by the resulting splintering and estrangement of family structures, the social prohibitions against violence and crime have also eroded.

The weakening of Latin American institutions has sometimes been worsened by democratization. The PRI (Institutional Revolutionary Party) held power in Mexico for 71 years, until 2000. The PRI had an informal deal with drug cartels formed in the 1970s to satisfy increasing illegal drug demand from the US. If the cartels did not let their violence leak into Mexican society, the government would leave them alone. As cynical as it was, the arrangement kept something of a lid on social violence in Mexico.

When Mexico became fully democratic with the election of the PAN (National Action Party) in 2000, the deal collapsed. This was in part because the PRI apparatus that had managed it was gone. Mexico had no independent civil service; most everyone in government was part of the PRI. When the “PRIistas” left, the arrangements and relationships that had controlled violence left with them. Elaborate anti-gang campaigns and the militarization of Mexican policing have had little positive effect. The number of gangs has increased, as has their violence. In Brazil, by contrast, gang consolidation and “professionalization” seem to have contributed to a reduction in violence.

Many of the conflicts in the region are attracting players like China, Russia and Iran — a major arms supplier to Venezuela. These countries have an interest in the oil markets, whether as consumers (China) or fellow producers (Iran and Russia). Chinese technology firms, increasingly frozen out of Western markets and facing strong competition in Asian ones, value Latin America. Chinese consumers depend on Latin America for foodstuffs from soybeans to cherries, fish and beef, the great majority coming from Brazil, Mexico, Chile, Peru and Colombia. As the foreign policies of China, Russia, Iran and others consolidate and harden around a core narrative of anti-Americanism, the United States, obsessed by migration, has been steadily losing political power in the region.

Yet the natural resources of Latin America are becoming more and more vital to the US, in an era of the weaponization of strategic resources like critical minerals (e.g. lithium), of nearshoring, and of decoupling from China and Russia, in particular.

Latin America’s strategic importance is likely to grow, but the US has not sufficiently cultivated the relationships that would allow “win-wins” with countries in the region. The US should change course on this while there is still time.

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Trump 2024: What's in it for Modi?

In September 2019, more than 50,000 Indian Americans traveled to NRG Stadium in Houston to attend a rally in support of two of the world’s most prominent nationalist politicians: Prime Minister Narendra Modi and then-President Donald Trump. Modi modified his own 2014 campaign slogan for the occasion, proclaiming “Abki baar, Trump sarkar!” In other words, “This time, a Trump government!”

It seemed a natural political marriage between two bombastic campaigners who had overturned the political establishments of their respective countries largely through an innovative combination of aggressive social media campaigns, ethno-nationalist rhetoric, and thinly veiled antipathy to Islam. The event’s potential to benefit Trump’s cause was clear: in the offing was a possible infusion of support for his candidacy among a growing population of Indian Americans. Modi’s interest in joining the controversial and capricious Trump onstage was less obvious. He chose to associate himself very publicly with an American president whose popularity has never overwhelmed the Indian electorate, whose policies never favored India, and whose victory in the 2020 elections was by no means assured. It was far out of character for an Indian PM not only to take a public position on the domestic politics of another country, but to insert himself into a foreign election in support of a particular candidate. The move earned him tepid praise from Indian political commentators and, although one hears little else than acclaim for Modi’s India from Washington today, could not possibly have earned him any favor with the Biden administration.

Biden and Modi are aware that the geopolitical and macroeconomic logic pulling India and the US into a strategic embrace is inexorable. The embrace has thus far manifested in several cooperative initiatives between the two states since Biden took office in January 2021. The most notable has been the initiative on Critical and Emerging Technology (iCET), which aims to promote bilateral cooperation in areas from defense technology innovation to semiconductor supply and higher education. As Americans prepare to vote in another presidential election in November, investors in Indian industry would do well to consider what might become of the burgeoning partnership between the two countries if Trump were reelected.

The price of Modi’s endorsement appears to have been Trump’s tacit approval for the Citizenship Amendment Act of 2019, which made eligible for Indian citizenship all Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, Parsis, and Christians who fled to India from persecution in Afghanistan, Bangladesh, and Pakistan before December 2014, with the notable exception of Muslims. The Act was part of a series of legislative measuresdesigned to threaten the citizenship of Muslims in India who, like much of the native-born population of India, have little or no legal documentation of their citizenship. In keeping with Trump’s transactional style of diplomacy, the quid pro quo between the two leaders does not seem to have extended any further than this simple exchange. Both men are committed to protectionist trade policies that discourage foreign competition in many sectors of their respective economies. Under Trump, a skilled-worker visa program that had long allowed foreign workers (roughly 75% of whom were Indian) to live and work in “specialty occupations” in the US was suspended in April 2020 by presidential decree. The suspension was allowed by President Biden to expire in April 2021. The Republican-sponsored CAATSA (Countering America’s Adversaries Through Sanctions Act) began in mid-2019 to impose heavy sanctions on companies and countries that continued to import oil from Iran. India, as Iran’s then-second largest buyer of oil, was no exception, despite Modi’s personal and ideological alignment with Trump. Political amity was similarly insufficient to allow their administrations to agree the terms of a promised US-India trade deal, or even the “mini-deal” that was promoted in its place when it became clear that a comprehensive deal could not be hammered out. Despite Modi’s talk of taking the US-India relationship “to new heights” with Trump, evidence suggests that Trump’s two immediate predecessors did far more to advance that relationship, and that his successor has gone to still greater lengths to embrace India. A shared contempt for Islam and liberal hegemony is not, it would seem, an adequate substitute for sustained diplomatic efforts made in earnest pursuit of mutually beneficial cooperation.

Trump has been uncharacteristically consistent in his willingness to treat US commitments abroad as political hostages, holding aid, security commitments, climate agreements, and arms control treaties over the heads of US allies and adversaries alike in an effort to appeal to his isolationist base. If reelected, he might well hold hostage the fruits of Biden’s efforts to build a lasting structure for American cooperation with India. He might decide to treat India’s increasing access to American capital, technology, and manufacturing contracts under Biden as a privilege to be revoked at his pleasure, with few domestic consequences for his administration and many for Modi’s. The iCET is not part of Trump’s personal legacy and might well be considered disposable. India’s position as a regional counterweight to China makes it indispensable to American strategy in the Indo-Pacific, but even as President, Trump never confined his role to the pursuit of US interests abroad. Indeed, he often acted against them. In the announcement of his plan to impose a universal 10% tariff on all imports to the US, and in Modi’s ever-louder emphasis on Indian self-reliance, we can see that the indiscriminate protectionism that left a US-India trade deal dead in the water is alive and well.

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The Dystopia Fund

The pessimistic worldview reached a new stage this week as the Economist declared that “the liberal international order is falling apart.” SIGnal readers will already be familiar with this idea, but for the Economist to adopt it might reasonably be taken as a sign of the Apocalypse. Meanwhile, the distinguished demographer Nicholas Eberstadt showed at length in Foreign Affairs what a profound demographic crisis East Asia is facing — another SIGnal theme, underlined this week at a desperate press conference given by South Korea’s President Yoon Suk Yeol in which he announced the formation of a Ministry of Low Birth Rate Counter-planning. It was a bad week for optimists, but perhaps the right time to think about a Dystopia Fund.

Macro short-selling is usually done on a national basis, by betting on (or against) currencies. A Dystopia Fund would look to sectors and sub-sectors that would be likely to benefit from long-term negative trends. Humans, even investors, tend to be optimistic, but reality is not. This creates a sort of information disparity that can be exploited.

Last week’s post looked at artificial intelligence in this context. AI, potentially, provides a way for problems of demographic decline to be compensated for by increased productivity within a given national market. The national is important: states large and small have registered that while technology-enabled globalization did indeed bring many tens of millions of people up from poverty, it was driven not by charity but by the extraordinary profits and monopolies that accrued to the companies, overwhelmingly Western, that produced the technology. Now that incomes have grown and capital has accumulated in countries from Saudi Arabia to Singapore, states want to harness technology to grow their own economies and keep wealth in domestic markets. AI promises to do that in that it can increase productivity despite declining populations and, perhaps, poor local education systems.

Other Dystopia Fund targets could be in travel and entertainment for the very old, a growing demographic. Various forms of nostalgia would be investable. Great sums of money in recent decades have gone into market research on people in prime consumer age ranges. Not so much money has gone into understanding elderly consumers. The market-research firm that embraces demographic decline would be worth backing.

An aging population puts transport innovations like self-driving cars into a different light. Most transport systems are only friendly to people who can walk and drive. Companies designing systems for the elderly will find their consumer market steadily increasing. By the same token, tele-medicine, home drug delivery, home medical-testing, and other services for the home-bound will also find growing markets. Working from home, despite its many disadvantages, will provide a way to keep older people active in the job market as the (traditional) working-age population shrinks.

Parag Khanna has led the way in identifying regions that will do relatively well out of climate change — a perfect Dystopia Fund sector. Khanna sees climate-driven emigration as something to be optimized for rather than bemoaned, for the simple reason that it is inevitable. Technologies that can extend the habitability of currently populated areas would be another way to approach the challenges of real estate in a changing climate.

One frequently cited reason to regret the demise of the liberal international order is that challenges like demographic shrinkage and climate change are on such a scale that they would benefit from international coordination. While that is certainly true, liberal internationalism’s vitality has been rooted in optimism, whereas what might be needed now is investment strategies based on a pessimism that accepts the profundity of climate and demographic change and their effects on the status quo. 

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AI Family Values

Theories of economic growth do not deal well with demographic decline. How can an economy with ever fewer consumers and producers still grow? Artificial intelligence, looked at a certain way, is an attempt to answer that question. Worries about AI taking jobs are somewhat misplaced. The opposite would probably be worse: shrinking, ageing societies unable to replace lost labor.

AI anxiety usually flourishes in wealthier, industrialized societies. So, for a change, consider Saudi Arabia. It intends to invest $40 billion in AI, which would make it a world leader. Amazon has announced $5.3 billion in AI and data center investments in the Kingdom. Nearby, Microsoft is putting $1.5 billion into a joint venture with Abu Dhabi firm G42, which would also involve the use of Microsoft’s Azure data-center platform. Why such levels of investment?

Yes, there is a geopolitical aspect. Chinese companies dominated the mobile-infrastructure wave of investment in the region in the early part of this century. China’s security-related firms, often banned by the U.S., thrived in the Middle East. Chinese firms used these ties to move into data-center construction. When, sometime late in the Obama administration, the U.S. realized that a great deal of digital real estate was being settled by a hostile power — and that a great deal of American tech capacity was being exiled along globalization’s supply chains — a reaction set in. But even that, by itself, was not enough to get U.S. tech giants investing in the pokey market of data centers in less-developed countries. AI is what made the difference, because AI, in its current configurations, depends on massive, non-latent computing power. The Internet temporarily freed data from physical constraints. AI is helping bring it back to Earth. This happens to coincide with governments’ unquenchable desire to control citizens’ information, in every sense.

But more important is what may be called the gender aspect. To an often underappreciated degree, women are driving technological change. While female workforce-participation rates vary greatly among countries, they have generally been going up for decades, while fertility has gone down. Birth-control technology has been absolutely critical to this change, but its availability and use are social phenomena, driven by choices. The Gulf Arab countries have seen steadily declining fertility rates for years now, along with an easing of prohibitions on the education of women and their participation in the workplace.

In many countries, female workforce participation — greatly enabled by birth control as well as home labor-saving technologies — made productivity and consumer-demand gains possible when male workforce numbers stagnated. In Western countries in particular, there was a sort of internal labor migration from the home to the wage-based workplace. The economic benefits can top out, however — and waged productivity’s gain is fertility’s loss.

Internet-enabled globalization made a second renewal of growth possible. Much like the movement of women into the workforce, globalization put developed-world capital in a position to increase productivity by bringing new labor into the workforce, especially Chinese labor. But this was done at a distance, with laborers outside the home markets of the highly developed economies. Globalization had enormous benefits for even the poorest rich-world consumers, but it did not necessarily make the poor more productive.

AI has the potential to restore bounded, domestic productivity. That makes it intensely attractive to a wide variety of societies, all of which are facing demographic slowdowns or  reverses but have the domestic capital to invest in technological solutions to what is, in the end, a question of power and social cohesion. This is emphatically not about human capital. The Gulf Arab states, despite their wealth, do not have high levels of citizen education such as you find in East Asia or Europe. Saudi Arabia imports human capital, whether laborers or surgeons. About 40% of its population is foreign. Saudi Arabia is a de facto nation of immigrants, but it is not understood as such because it does not expect that 40% of its population to become Saudis. The Saudi state is certainly not worried about AI taking jobs from Saudis. What the Saudi state aims at is achieving the domestic productivity mix that will make it possible for Saudi Arabia to be Saudi, in whatever way the Saudis themselves might define it. Globalization was not especially good for that. Female workforce participation is, as long as it doesn’t undermine “being Saudi.” AI might be even better: in effect, a set of tools for enhancing the productivity of domestic human capital and thereby providing growth without undermining the Saudiness of Saudi, the Japaneseness of Japan, or the Chineseness of China.

AI, then, can be seen as compatible with de-globalization, or more precisely with a decentralization of capital productivity, very much including human capital. It could, in short, enable an increase in domestic production despite a decrease in reproduction.

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Green Protectionism

Geopolitical competition seems to be leading away from the greening of global production. Major players like China, the European Union, and the United States are all trying to spur green industries like electric-vehicle production in their own territories and with their own companies. Taken as a whole, this has the effect of stimulating production and innovation, which should be beneficial for the planet. But it also raises prices by directing capital to redundant production, and it establishes a kind of green protectionism that seems certain to have unforeseen consequences. Successful investing in an industry whose major players include several antagonistic and powerful state entities is difficult at best.

The most interesting recent development has been the US decision to pressure Mexico not to welcome Chinese investment in electric-vehicle production. Mexico has, of course, benefitted from US-China competition in that companies like Tesla, Samsung, and Nissan have shifted production away from China to Mexico as part of global de-risking. Note that Samsung and Nissan are not US companies. The great appeal of Mexico apart from its workforce is proximity to US consumer demand. By pressuring Mexico to keep Chinese EV companies like BYD, Chery, and SAIC at arm’s length, the US is using the size of its consumer market as a political weapon in foreign policy. The policy goal is to deprive Chinese companies, private or not, of markets. (BYD is private, Chery and SAIC state-owned.)

The European Union has been doing something similar, having become alarmed last year at the growth of European demand for Chinese EVs and the barriers erected by the Biden administration to European companies prospering in the US market. Europe’s car manufacturers don’t want to lose their future domestic market to Chinese competitors. Biden moves to protect US domestic EV production deprived the Europeans of a crucial export market at the same time that Chinese manufacturers were selling high-quality EVs to European drivers at a 30% discount to European prices. These political-economic factors have combined on the Continent with a growing distrust of Chinese tech companies and China — rather, the Chinese Communist Party — more generally. The EU raid this week on Nuctech, a Poland-based Chinese scanner manufacturer long held in suspicion by Western China analysts, was made on economic grounds but has a strong security aspect as well.

Many Chinese argue that the root of these EV conflicts is that Chinese companies are simply better. Europeans and Americans counter that Chinese EV companies are state-backed, which is certainly true, such that the competition is unfair. None of this is wrong exactly but it misses the macro point: the major Western economies embraced extended global manufacturing supply chains and China did not, with the result that China now has innovative vertically integrated large-scale manufacturing companies that can compete globally. Because so many of those supply chains ran through China, the US and the EU are playing catch-up, and they are weaponizing their own consumer populations as well as alliances (as with Mexico) to do so.

One result is likely to be chronic high prices for North American and European electric vehicles, which means (in the absence of Chinese imports) a slowdown in EV adoption — which is already occurring. That in turn means a slowdown in carbon reduction. China’s aggressive, state-led pursuit of green industries was driven, to a great extent, by a desire to innovate out of a global climate crisis that has hit China quite hard. China’s pre-eminence in solar panels was initiallya responseto German rules on energy efficiency that could not be addressed with European products. But US-China competition has now transformed an environmental policy into something that has anti-environmental results. One can hope that all this duplicative effort will result, over the long term, in electric-vehicle and other green industries that will be able to expand around the globe and save the planet. But picking winners in such a roiling political environment is very hard, as Tesla’s investors will have been reflecting this week.

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