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With relations at an all-time low, punitive actions targeting China have become politically popular, even if they have no analytical basis. Five years ago, then president Donald Trump launched a tariff-fueled trade war with China designed to reduce the bilateral trade deficit. His successor, President Joe Biden, then added a decoupling focus by restricting high-tech exports and curtailing professional and financial links. Both wanted to reduce imports of manufactured goods and bring home more jobs. How should one judge the effectiveness of their policies? Back then, and even more so today, the logic of Trump’s fixation on trade deficits made little sense. But security concerns have now become the rationale for reducing America’s trade relations with China and undercutting China’s growth potential. Against these yardsticks, the results are mixed but on balance unconvincing, given the costs in the form of inflationary pressures, repressed export growth, and a projected decline in global output. But U.S. politicians from both parties strongly support these restrictive measures because the costs are not obvious to their constituents, while the benefits from appearing to be tough on China resonate well with voters. Rising trade deficits The recent U.S. Census Bureau data indicate that the politically sensitive U.S. merchandise trade deficit with China was larger in 2022 than when Trump became president, while America’s overall trade deficit hit an all-time high of $1.18 trillion. This reinforces the views of nearly all the economists surveyed at the launching of Trump’s trade war: that the tariffs would not reduce U.S. trade deficits and the costs would be paid largely by Americans. For the Trump administration, the wild card was the “phase one” purchase agreement, which called for an increase of $200 billion in China’s imports from the United States. But state-to-state purchase agreements have no logical basis when global trade is largely shaped by the market-driven decisions of firms and consumers and subject to unpredictable events such as the coronavirus pandemic. Economic principles tell us that how much a country saves and spends determines its trade balance. The combination of Trump’s large tax cuts and Biden’s huge expenditure initiatives has led to soaring budget deficits, which are mirrored in record trade deficits. All this has little to do with China. Yet the Biden administration still insists that China honor the purchase agreement and links the removal of tariffs to its fulfillment. Asking China to honor an agreement that made no sense to begin with as a condition for dropping another equally ineffective policy defies logic. Trade diversification but increasing import dependence on other countries But this focus on bilateral trade numbers overlooks the sharp decline in China’s share of trade with the United States. Whereas China accounted for 47 percent of the U.S. trade deficit in 2017, it accounted for only 32 percent last year, with most of this decline offset by the increasing shares of other East Asian economies. Europe’s share of America’s overall trade deficit also declined from 21 percent to 18 percent. Only Canada and Mexico, via the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA), were able to increase their share from 11 to 18 percent. More insights can be gleaned from looking at the components of trade. Although the value of U.S. imports from China was essentially the same in 2022 as it was in 2017, total U.S. imports increased by about $900 billion during this period. As a result, China’s share of the total, made up largely of manufactured goods, fell from 22 to 17 percent. This decline, however, did not reduce America’s dependency on imports of manufactured goods. The share of imports relative to overall expenditures on manufactured goods rose steadily to 34 percent in 2022 from 23 percent two decades ago. The decline in China’s share of U.S. imports of manufactured goods was more than offset by imports from other countries, notably Mexico and Vietnam. These two developing countries, more than others, were able to import heavily from the United States based on their locational advantages and free trade agreements. Vietnam and China share a border and are linked by the ASEAN-China trade agreement, while Mexico and the United States also share a border and are linked by the USMCA trade agreement. Less noticed, however, is the behind-the-scenes role that China plays in supplying the components and materials for these other countries’ exports to the United States. Most of Vietnam’s increased exports were in product lines where U.S. imports from China fell, such as computer accessories and telecommunication equipment. China’s exports to Vietnam have more than doubled since 2017, and its trade surplus nearly tripled by 2022. China’s exports to Mexico increased by nearly 30 percent last year, on top of a 50 percent increase in 2021. China may be exporting less to the United States directly, but it is now indirectly exporting more. This explains why China’s share of global manufacturing production has continued to increase from 26 percent in 2017 to 31 percent in 2021. As for U.S. exports, the total averaged about $1.5 trillion from 2017 to 2020 but then jumped to $1.9 trillion in 2022. But this increase was not in manufactured goods but in exports of energy products and chemicals to Europe, spurred by the Ukraine crisis. The trade war did little to expand U.S. exports to China, the share of which fell from 8.4 percent in 2017 to 7.5 percent in 2022. Costs and benefits of decoupling According to one study, U.S. firms were handicapped by tariff-related higher costs of their imported inputs, and coupled with China’s retaliatory tariffs, this resulted in U.S. exports to China being 23 percent lower than they would have been in the absence of the trade war. The consequence is that America’s trade war policies generated very little growth in exports of manufactured products, despite the priority given to those policies by both the Trump and Biden administrations. If the purpose of the U.S. punitive actions toward China was to weaken China economically, there is no clear evidence of that happening. By developing alternative export markets and tapping pandemic-driven demand in the West for manufactured goods, China pushed its share of global exports to record levels in recent years. Meanwhile, China’s imports as a share of its GDP have been declining steadily, from a high of 28 percent in the early 2000s to 17 percent in 2022. One could argue that the world has become more dependent on China in trade while China has become less dependent on the world. The benefits of decoupling—if any—should be weighed against the costs imposed on U.S. consumers and producers and damage done to the export competitiveness of U.S. firms. To counter such tendencies, the Biden administration is promoting domestic manufacturing with subsidies in the Inflation Reduction Act. Such actions can be justified for strategic reasons, but the rationale is weakened by protectionist Buy America conditions. U.S. policymakers often counter by pointing to China’s use of subsidies to promote strategic industries, but Chinese firms were keen to import key technologies and components to ensure that their products were globally competitive on cost and performance grounds. The recent semiconductor and other U.S. restrictions on China’s access to high-tech products are also problematic because these products are “dual use,” with a much larger commercial market relative to military applications. Such restrictions hurt the many U.S. firms that derive significant revenues from selling to China and may contravene World Trade Organization guidelines. The costs of trade-related distortionary policies can be substantial. One oft-cited study estimates that taxpayers end up paying about $250,000 for each job saved in typical Buy America programs. At a broader level, a recent International Monetary Fund study estimates that a combination of U.S. trade and technological decoupling measures could reduce global GDP by some 7 to 12 percent. Ultimately, the problem lies in the lack of clarity on U.S. policy objectives. What does it mean to undercut China, and how will the United States know if it has succeeded? With U.S.-China relations at an all-time low, punitive actions targeting China have become politically popular, even if they have no analytical basis. The reality is that the United States and China have no choice but to continue trading with each other. But with security overriding commercial considerations, the economic interdependence built up over decades is now being reversed, leaving everyone worse off.

​Although the dollar continues to be the dominant global currency, Russia and China could dent this dominance. In the aftermath of global financial exclusion, Russia has had to make some strategic adaptations. The West’s sanctions had crippling consequences, and the Kremlin scrambled to find alternatives. In light of these developments, China became an important ally, and the Yuan—its currency—has taken on a more prominent role. It is telling that in Russia, the yuan has surpassed the United States Dollar (USD) in trading volume, a feat achieved a year after the Ukraine conflict, which triggered a series of sanctions against Moscow. As Russia and China band together, one wonders what other shifts will take place and how they will shape the future. Change is afoot, and the Russian market bears witness. The month of February saw a watershed moment as the yuan surged past the dollar in monthly trading volume for the first time. The momentum continued into March as the gap between the two currencies widened, showcasing the growing sway of the yuan. It’s an impressive feat, considering that the yuan’s trading volume on the Russian market was once quite insignificant. The winds of change blew through Russia’s financial system as the year progressed. Additional sanctions had taken their toll on the few remaining banks that still held power to make cross-border transactions in the currencies of countries that had been deemed “unfriendly” by the Kremlin. One such bank was Raiffeisen Bank International AG, whose Russian branch played a significant role in facilitating international payments within the country. However, the lender found itself under the watchful eye of both European and US authorities, which only added to the pressure. These events spurred the Kremlin and Russian companies to shift their foreign-trade transactions to currencies of countries that had not imposed sanctions.Converging coalitionsThe bond between Russia and China is growing stronger, with both nations seeking to bolster their positions on the global stage. Their alliance has spread across various spheres: military, economic, and political. With relations between Russia and the West crumbling, China has emerged as a key partner for Russia, providing it with the necessary support to counter economic and political pressure. On the other hand, China is keen on expanding its global reach, especially in the Eurasian region, and sees Russia as an important ally in this regard. President Xi Jinping’s recent visit to Moscow and his pledge to expand cooperation are likely to take this partnership to greater heights. Trade and investment ties are set to grow stronger, with both nations seeking to reduce their dependence on Western economies. Russia’s focus on infrastructure development and mega projects is also likely to benefit from China’s expertise in these areas. Energy is another significant area of collaboration, with Russia being a leading exporter of oil and gas and China being the world’s largest importer of these resources. Technology is also an essential domain, with both countries investing heavily in research and development to remain competitive in the global economy. While the alliance between Russia and China will likely have far-reaching geopolitical consequences, it is a complicated relationship with both nations pursuing their interests, even as they work towards common goals. As a result of Western sanctions, Russia has shifted its foreign trade transactions away from the dollar and euro to currencies of non-restricted countries. By doing so, the Kremlin and Russian companies hope to decrease their dependence on the Western financial system and explore new avenues for conducting their trade and economic activities. This shift in strategy reflects Russia’s determination to maintain its economic stability despite restrictions on its access to the global financial system. It also underlines the growing importance of alternative currencies in global trade as countries strive to minimise the impact of sanctions and safeguard their economic interests.Structural overhaulsThe Russian Finance Ministry was not immune to the winds of change either. Earlier this year, it made the switch from the dollar to the yuan for its market operations. It even went a step further by devising a new structure for the national wealth fund, earmarking 60 percent of its assets for the yuan. The Bank of Russia joined the chorus, urging its people and businesses to consider moving their assets to the rouble or other currencies considered “friendly.” This would help mitigate the risk of having their funds blocked or frozen. As the world undergoes a seismic geopolitical shift, it seems Russia is moving in tandem, searching for ways to secure its economic future. However, the dollar still reigns supreme in the Russian market. Even with all the changes taking place, it remains the most widely used currency, ceding its throne only occasionally to the yuan. This underscores the enduring dominance of the dollar, which has played a significant role in Russia’s financial landscape for years. However, as the world continues to evolve, one wonders how long it can hold on to its crown.

Mongolia’s prime minister, Luvsannamsrain Oyun-Erdene, recently expressed his country’s fear that the world is heading towards a new cold war as the relations between Russia and China and the west – particularly Nato – have taken a turn for the worse. “It’s like a divorce,” he said. “When the parents divorce, the children are the ones who get hurt the most.” The country sits landlocked between Russia and China and is fearful of antagonising either. It gets much of its power from Russia, and China buys much of its exports – mainly agricultural goods and minerals such as copper. By pursuing a nimble foreign and trade policy since it transitioned to a multiparty democracy in the early 1990s, Mongolia has established a stable economy, receiving a thumbs up from the World Bank in its latest country report: With vast agricultural, livestock and mineral resources, and an educated population, Mongolia’s development prospects look promising in the long-term assuming the continuation of structural reforms. But the war in Ukraine has brought home to Mongolia just how carefully it must now navigate its foreign and trade policies to remain independent.Smooth transition to democracyFrom 1921 to 1990, Mongolia was effectively part of the Soviet bloc, although not part of the Soviet Union itself. The country’s centralised command economy was almost entirely dependent on Moscow for survival. The collapse of communism in the early 1990s resulted in what proved to be a smooth transition. The then leader, Jambyn Batmönkh, refused to even consider quelling pro-democracy demonstrations, instead saying: “Any force shall not be used. There is no need to utilise the police or involve the military … Actually, these demonstrators, participants, and protesters are our children.” His resignation in 1990 and the emergence of Ardchilsan Kholboo (Mongolian Democratic Union) paved the way for the development of a multiparty democracy. The June 1993 presidential election in Mongolia, which was ruled as free and fair by the International Foundation for Electoral Systems, saw the incumbent president, Ochirbat Punsalmaa – who had been appointed after a ballot by members of the existing Presidium of the People’s Great Khural (the national assembly) – elected for a four-year term. A new constitution was adopted, with a three-part structure under the speaker of the parliament, the prime minister and the president and, while there have been instances of political corruption, Freedom House gives the country a high rating for both political rights and civil liberties. All of which cannot disguise that the fledgling democracy remained wedged between (at the time chaotic) Russia and an increasingly assertive and authoritarian China. The obvious policy for Mongolia to pursue was to attempt to balance the two great powers in the region. Initially, Mongolia’s foreign policy relied heavily on “omni-enmeshment”. This basically meant building relationships with as many partners as possible, both regionally and globally – including, significantly, the US. But since 2000, Mongolia has embraced the policy concept of “balance-of-power” to reduce the country’s reliance on any one nation. To this end, they have partnered with strategic states in Asia, such as Japan and India, and rekindled military ties with Russia by entering a “strategic partnership” and conducting joint military exercises, while still maintaining a strong relationship with China. Mongolia has also strengthened bilateral security relations with the US. Mongolia’s relationship with China is complicated by the fact that a significant part of what was traditionally Mongolia is now an “autonomous region” of China (Inner Mongolia), with a population of ethnic Mongolians larger than that of Mongolia itself. This, and the activities of secessionist groups in the province, is a persistent point of conflict between China and Mongolia.Third neighboursBut Mongolia sees its independence increasingly threatened as Russia and China grow closer. Since the demise of the Soviet Union, Mongolia has adopted a strategy of maintaining strong ties with “third neighbours” – countries that embrace democratic values but also practice market economics, including the US (it was a term first articulated with connection to Mongolian foreign policy in August 1990 by then US secretary of state James Baker). The US and Mongolia formalised their relations as a Strategic Partnership in 2019 and in 2022 – clearly with one eye on Ukraine – the two countries announced they were deepening the partnership “in all areas of mutual interest”, including an “open skies” agreement which would guarantee scheduled nonstop passenger flights between the two countries. The US – with other third-neighbour allies – also takes part in the annual Khaan Quest military exercises.Dangerous timesThe war in Ukraine has brought the precarious geopolitical situation in Ukraine into sharp focus. The latest joint declaration from the US-Mongolia Strategic Partnership stressed that “disputes should be resolved by peaceful means and with respect for the United Nations Charter and international law, including the principles of sovereignty and respect for the independence and territorial integrity of states, and without the threat or use of force”. It added: “To this end, both nations expressed concern over the suffering of the Ukrainian people.” Mongolia has abstained from the UN votes condemning Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, while also refusing to criticise the sanctions imposed on Russia by the west, despite the fact that they have affected Mongolia – for example, sanctions against Russian banks have made it difficult to pay for its imports from Russia. And, for all its efforts to forge ties around the globe, Mongolia remains heavily dependent on both Russia and China. The prospect of a new cold war setting the west against the Beijing-Moscow axis is a major concern for Mongolia. As Elbegdorj Tsakhia, a former prime minister and president of Mongolia – now a member of The Elders group of global leaders – told Time magazine in April 2021: “I feel that we have just one neighbour. China, Russia, have become like one country, surrounding Mongolia … Every day, we face very tough challenges to keep our democracy alive. Mongolia is fighting for its survival.”

In the Philippines, digital disinformation campaigns have become central to electoral politics. Unfortunately, their use of vitriolic and socially divisive techniques has become increasingly normalised in the country’s politics, as these techniques are put into play even between national voting seasons. In the Philippines, one pernicious technique that digital disinformation campaigns use is to fan the flames of toxicity on social media. By instigating the loudest and most polarised online supporters to express support for a particular political camp, disinformation producers ignite social media engagement from the broader public. These producers target the most socially divisive of people’s ‘imaginaries’ about politics. As the authors wrote in a previous piece, these imaginaries refer to people’s shared narratives and collective emotions about the political world in which they live.  The year preceding the Philippines 2022 national elections saw disinformation stoking Filipinos’ nationalist and racist sentiments. This was done by hyping up the Chinese military’s supposedly impending occupation of the Philippines and by blaming the pandemic situation on Manila’s rapprochement with China. Such campaigns targeted deep-seated Filipino narratives and emotions of resentment towards the Chinese, which problematically lump together the Chinese state, Chinese nationals, and even Filipinos of Chinese descent.  Some anti-Chinese sentiments are historically rooted. However, more recent resentment has arisen in reaction to China’s increasingly assertive claims in what the Filipinos call the West Philippine Sea (that is, the Philippine-claimed portion of the South China Sea), the feeling of a subtle invasion due to the almost 300 per cent increase of overseas Chinese in-migration to the Philippines between 2016 to 2019, and even the fear of China annexing the Philippines as a province.  Despite former Philippine president Rodrigo Duterte’s so-called pivot to China, Filipinos generally disliked China’s disregard for the 2016 United Nations Permanent Court of Arbitration’s decision favouring the Philippines on the territorial disputes in the West Philippine Sea. The presence of Chinese Philippine offshore gaming operators (or POGO) workers, Chinese-only restaurants, Chinese-subtitled movies in cinemas, and reports of Chinese tourists being rude to Filipinos also heightened the sense that the country was being gradually ‘colonised’. In the lead-up to the 2022 Philippines elections, disinformation drawing from such shared narratives and collective emotions regarding anti-Chinese resentment featured in campaigns across political camps. Supporters of Duterte disseminated content like misleading videos to bolster his image as a strong leader and master tactician. This played into the crafted narrative of him pursuing the Philippines’ best interests by hedging between China and the U.S. Meanwhile, supporters of anti-government factions targeted Duterte’s perceived closeness to Beijing, thinking that this was one of the few weaknesses in his campaign. These anti-Duterte elements put out content falsely attributing quotes to Duterte and his allies that were aimed at amplifying the image of his government as China’s lapdog. To explore the impact of such disinformation on Filipinos, the authors conducted qualitative interviews from June to December 2021 with 15 of Manila’s precarious middle-class citizens. Although these individuals had incomes that technically allowed them a taste of the middle-class lifestyle, they did not live in gated communities and were still exposed to the difficult grind of life in Manila. The interviewees answered questions on disinformation about the Philippines-China territorial disputes and the Covid-19 pandemic. When interviewees who supported Duterte were confronted with disinformation meant to positively portray his government’s approach to Beijing (that included friendlier ties with China), that they would engage in mental acrobatics to reconcile this content with their narratives and emotions of resentment against the Chinese. One of the clearest articulations of this came from a 29-year-old administrative assistant, who disliked feeling that the Philippines was becoming a “province of China”. Without differentiating between Chinese nationals and Chinese Filipinos, she said that Manila’s Chinatown was teeming with Chinese people. She added, however, that even if she were uncomfortable with the Chinese influx into Manila, there was nothing “majorly wrong” with Duterte wanting to be close to China. She could forgive the president for this one thing.  Meanwhile, the interviewees who leaned towards opposing Duterte were adamant that despite their opposition to his stance towards China, they were “not racist”. However, their exasperation that no difficult issue could strike a mortal blow to Duterte’s popularity led to remarks that validated, even if only subtly, their internalised narratives and emotions of anti-Chinese resentment.  For instance, a 45-year-old store supervisor who claimed to have a nuanced view of China-Philippines relations expressed his unfounded belief that 90 per cent of the Chinese migrants presently in the Philippines were “illegal” and had “no papers”. He thought that the government’s laxity with these migrants was probably why Covid-19 spread in the Philippines. This reflects the problematically racist assumption that links the Covid-19 pandemic to the recent increase in the migration of Chinese into the country.  These interviews indicate that anti-Chinese digital disinformation from across political camps does not shift individual Filipinos’ political positions. However, these disinformation campaigns can reinforce toxic nationalism and racism in people’s shared narratives and collective emotions. This kind of impact is an urgent reminder that those engaged in counter-disinformation need to pursue a cross-sectoral code of conduct in election campaigns that explicitly shuns socially vitriolic and marginalising stances, which should include, amongst other factors, racism.