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Macron has raised doubts about how serious France is when it comes to managing the negative externalities of China’s rise. Just when it seemed the European Union was finally achieving strategic coherence as a global geopolitical actor, French President Emmanuel Macron’s recent visit to China has shattered that myth. The French president and the head of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen, headed to China last week, hoping to project a sense of unity vis-à-vis Beijing at a time when global fault lines are sharpening among major powers. The two leaders were aiming to stabilise an increasingly difficult trade relationship with their largest trading partner as well as try to push China into taking a more active role in ending the Ukraine war. Other European leaders, like German Chancellor Olaf Scholz and Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, have also tried to engage Chinese leadership in recent months. But Macron went beyond others as he advocated “strategic autonomy” for Europe as a “third superpower.” Arguing that Europe faces “the great risk” if it “gets caught up in crises that are not ours, which prevents it from building its strategic autonomy”, Macron stirred up instant controversy by suggesting that Europe must reduce its dependency on the U.S. and avoid getting dragged into a confrontation between China and the U.S. over Taiwan. In case of an aggravation of the U.S.-China conflict, Macron advocated, “we [Europe] will not have the time nor the means to finance our own strategic autonomy, and we will become vassals, whereas we could become the third pole [in the world order] if we have a few years to develop this”. Though von der Leyen went to China at Macron’s invitation, the visit has been overshadowed by Macron’s posturing and Beijing’s apparent glee that it is indeed possible to drive a wedge in transatlantic relations. Macron was given a red carpet welcome in China, and his comments have received widespread coverage. The Chinese Communist Party-run Global Times said the comments were “clearly the result of Macron’s long-term observation and reflection” and represented a path that was “relatively objective, rational, and in line with Europe’s own interests”. Macron has described the visit as an attempt to “consolidate common approaches” over the war in Ukraine and to force China to acknowledge the costs of its ties with China. But it was hardly evident how this was achieved during and after the visit. Ursula von der Leyen, who has been largely given the cold shoulder in China, has been much more emphatic in her denunciation of the Chinese 12-point plan to end the war in Ukraine and has been underlining the need for “de-risking” in Europe’s trade ties with China. But Macron’s intervention has led to an intense backlash from all sides. The Europeans are making it evident that there is hardly any widespread support for the French leader’s position. The Inter-Parliamentary Alliance on China said in a statement that Macron’s comments are “severely out of touch” with sentiment across European leadership and that he does not speak for Europe. In particular, the officials of central and eastern Europe have been vocal in their dismay and opposition to Macron’s policy preferences. “Instead of building strategic autonomy from the United States, I propose a strategic partnership with the United States,” Polish Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki bluntly put it to his European partners. Those European nations that are on the frontlines of Russian military aggression see the challenges of today in existential terms. They have no time for a French philosophical treatise on statecraft. With France and Germany devoid of any significant military prowess, the reliance of the EU on the U.S. is a strategic imperative. Macron’s ill-timed comments have once again revealed the divergences between the “old” and “new” Europe, even though “old” Europe has not been supportive of Macron’s worldview. Reactions from the U.S. have been equally scathing. Though the White House has maintained that it is “focused on the terrific collaboration and coordination that we have with France”, the Republicans have latched onto this controversy. The Republican senator Marco Rubio rhetorically asked if, after Macron’s comments, the US should just consider focusing its foreign policy on containing China and leave Europe to handle the war in Ukraine. Mike Gallagher, the Republican chairman of the House of Representatives Select Committee on the Chinese Communist Party, described Macron’s comments as “embarrassing” and “disgraceful.” And of course, former President, Donald Trump was more colourful in his response when he said that Macron “is over with China kissing [Xi’s] ass in China.” Macron’s stance will be concerning to Washington as they are likely to embolden China, even as it reignites the debate about how much America should commit to European security. Macron has been under siege in France, with his approval ratings down in the dumps and his government narrowly surviving a vote of no confidence last month. So posturing on the global stage on an issue that has had a long pedigree in French politics perhaps makes sense for him politically. Ad he has made controversial comments in the past as well, such as NATO experiencing “brain death” and trying to offer Russian President Vladimir Putin “security guarantees” months after his invasion of Ukraine. But at a time when the West has tried with great difficulty to project a serious China policy and when Chinese aggression, especially against Taiwan, has been explicit, making remarks that end up doing exactly the opposite of what the visit was intended for in the first place betrays a lack of resolve that Beijing will be only too pleased to exploit. And for France’s partners in the Indo-Pacific, Macron has raised doubts about how serious France is when it comes to managing the negative externalities of China’s rise.

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.”

By continuing to rely on Russia’s ethnic minorities and foreign labor migrants to do its dirty work in Ukraine, the Kremlin is inadvertently damaging ties to its former colonies. A young Uzbek man named Fakhriddin has died in Ukraine after being recruited from a Russian prison, where he had been serving a five-year prison sentence, to work on a construction project in Russia-occupied eastern Ukraine. Fakhriddin, who died when a shell hit the site he was working on, is one of the latest casualties of Russia’s push to use Central Asian natives not only on Ukrainian battlefields, but also in the reconstruction of battle-torn occupied territories. Hundreds if not thousands of Central Asian migrants are being hired to work in Russian-occupied Ukrainian territory, despite dangerous conditions and warnings from their governments not to go to Ukraine. Most of these migrants are used in the reconstruction of war-ravaged cities like Mariupol and Donetsk; others dig trenches and collect dead bodies on the frontlines. Female migrants from Central Asia are also offered jobs in military hospitals, canteens, and factories in occupied eastern Ukraine. Vacancies are posted on major employment websites like Headhunter and the classifieds site Avito, as well as some regional employment websites, and shared via social media and in migrant communities or advertised by construction companies directly. Employers promise to cover travel expenses to Ukraine, accommodation, meals, and uniforms. Salaries range from $2,000 to $3,300 a month: significantly more than laborers can earn in Russia. Yet despite the enticing promises, Central Asian migrants face the same issues in Russia-occupied Ukraine as they do in Russia itself: unsanitary conditions, unheated living quarters, and poor treatment by employers. Multiple reports indicate that migrants are either underpaid or not paid at all. Some disillusioned workers who have tried to leave Ukraine were not permitted by Russian border guards to re-enter Russia, forcing them to continue working in dangerous conditions on the frontlines while facing criminal prosecution from Kyiv and their home governments for participating in the invasion. These hostile conditions in eastern Ukraine put Central Asian labor migrants and their governments in a bind. Central Asia’s population continues to grow rapidly, with around half of the region’s population now under thirty years old. A lack of employment options and underdeveloped education systems combined with economies wrecked by nepotism, the COVID-19 pandemic, and capital flight mean many younger Central Asians are forced to move abroad to find work.  Central Asian governments, particularly those of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan, have become accustomed to exporting excess labor capacity in order to generate much-needed revenue for households through remittances, relieve domestic pressure to create jobs, and provide public goods and services. Politically, migration serves as a pressure valve that prevents the buildup of unemployment-fueled social and political frustration and helps undemocratic regimes to stay in power. Russia remains the primary destination for these labor migrants. Familiarity with the Russian language and culture stemming from a shared Soviet past, geographic proximity, and Russia’s acute need for labor migrants continues to keep Central Asia in Moscow’s orbit. Streamlined processes for obtaining citizenship for highly qualified personnel from former Soviet republics, such as doctors and engineers, adds to Russia’s allure, particularly to those from Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, the most remittance-dependent countries in the region. After a pandemic-induced dip, the number of Kyrgyz, Tajiks, and Uzbeks registered to work in Russia is peaking again. According to Russian Interior Ministry data, as many as 978,216 Kyrgyz, 3,528,319 Tajiks, and 5,837,363 Uzbeks entered Russia intending to work in 2022. Some people are likely to have been counted twice in these figures, as they reflect the number of registered border crossings, but they are still at a five-year high. Now the economic downturn in Russia and pressure to work in Russia-occupied Ukraine might contribute to changes in regional labor migration patterns—both at the grassroots level and from the top—that started during the pandemic. While Uzbekistan has become a popular destination for migrants from Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan has emerged as a popular alternative destination to Russia for a growing number of Uzbeks, Tajiks, and Kyrgyz (precise numbers are harder to find as many migrants take advantage of the lack of visa requirements to work illegally and avoid paying taxes).  Central Asian governments, facing domestic pressure to keep their nationals from dying in Ukraine, are also looking for ways to reduce their employment dependence on Russia by diversifying migration destinations and providing migrants with more resources. Uzbekistan has been working with Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan on the bilateral improvement of migration flows. Last December, the Uzbek and British governments discussed collaboration on labor migration during another round of economic talks. USAID has just opened a second consultation center in Uzbekistan for labor migrants, in Samarkand. In early 2022, Kyrgyzstan’s Labor Ministry created a center for employment abroad; later that year, the governments of Kyrgyzstan and South Korea signed an agreement guaranteeing additional employment opportunities for Kyrgyz nationals in South Korea.  This search for labor migration alternatives is part of Central Asia’s slow realignment away from its all-encompassing dependence on Russia: a nuanced dance the regional governments must perform without directly antagonizing the former metropole.  Central Asian governments refused to side with Russia in condemning the UN resolution to end the war in Ukraine. Russia’s regional integration projects are unlikely to expand, as Uzbekistan continues to decline invitations to join the Eurasian Economic Union, and Russia’s defeats in Ukraine have weakened the reputation of the Moscow-led Collective Security Treaty Organization. Finally, Central Asian foreign ministers in February welcomed U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken to the first ministerial-level engagement of the C5+1 Diplomatic Platform—which represents U.S. engagement with Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan—in the region since its 2015 founding. This realignment can also be seen on the cultural front: the popularity of the Russian language is declining, while local languages are seeing growing interest in them since the invasion of Ukraine. Local governments are cutting the number of Russian language lessons in schools and renaming streets. The issue of decolonization and anti-colonial solidarity is as salient as it has ever been since the collapse of the Soviet Union.  By continuing to rely on Russia’s ethnic minorities and foreign labor migrants to do its dirty work in Ukraine, the Kremlin is inadvertently damaging ties to its former colonies. The longer the conflict drags on, the more incentive Central Asian republics will have to manage their dependence on Russia in exporting their excess labor. It’s hard to see Central Asia quitting on Russia entirely, but the relationship is sure to grow more nuanced and less lopsided in the months to come.

The meeting of Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese leader Xi Jinping in Moscow helped both give the impression of a united front, but underlying tensions were also discernible. What did the summit achieve for each side?With the pomp of a state visit, Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese leader Xi Jinping shined a spotlight on their ­growing strategic alignment, which is aimed at upending the U.S.-led, rules-based international order in favor of a multipolar world. Long on symbolism, short on concrete substance, the summit nevertheless served both leaders’ purposes. Putin welcomed the demonstration that Russia was not, and could not be, isolated on the world stage, as it deepened relations with one of the world’s two superpowers. By showcasing burgeoning commercial ties and unveiling plans to expand them, Putin conveyed confidence that Russia can remain resilient in the face of harsh Western sanctions.      Meanwhile, Xi’s decision to make Moscow his first foreign visit of his third term as president underscored his strong commitment to Russia and to Putin personally. He used the summit to underscore China’s determination to pursue its national interests in defiance of mounting U.S. economic and diplomatic pressure—making the point that China will not abandon its strategic partner in pushing back against U.S. pretensions to global leadership. That was a crucial message for his increasingly nationalistic domestic audience, as well as for the Global South, where the U.S.-led liberal order is under stress. At the same time, Xi subtly let it be known that China is the dominant partner. Putin had little choice but to accept Xi’s proposal that Russia use the yuan, not the ruble, in trade with the Global South to diminish the role of the U.S. dollar in world trade. Xi also gratuitously endorsed Putin for reelection in 2024, even though the Russian president has not declared his intention to run. And at the joint press availability at the end of the summit, Xi was much more restrained in his description of bilateral relations than was Putin, who was eager to lay out all the areas in which the two countries would enhance cooperation in the years ahead. That left the clear impression that Russia needed China much more than China needed Russia.What does the summit mean for the war in Ukraine?Nothing at the summit suggested that the underlying dynamic in the war was about to change. As expected, Beijing continued to provide Moscow with strong diplomatic support, echoing the latter’s narrative blaming the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) for the conflict. Despite Washington’s fears, however, Xi gave no indication that China was ready to provide lethal military aid that might radically improve Russia’s chances on the battlefield. Putin noted that China’s recently released 12-point peace plan could serve as a basis for negotiations, but neither he nor Xi suggested any practical steps that might give substance to what is largely a list of bromides about respecting sovereignty, avoiding escalation, and seeking a diplomatic solution. The reality is that China benefits from the military stalemate. Russia’s aggression distracts U.S. attention and resources from the Indo-Pacific region, while Western sanctions compel Russia to turn to China as an economic lifeline. China exploits Russia’s predicament to gain access to critical natural resources, especially oil and gas, at discounted prices.  In line with this calculus, Xi provided Putin with sufficient moral and material support so that he could continue the fight, but much less than needed to give Russia the advantage. At the same time, the Chinese continued to drive hard commercial bargains. Notably, no deal was announced to build a second Power of Siberia gas pipeline, which Putin has described as “the deal of the century.” Rather, it was simply noted that further details needed to be negotiated, as China explores alternatives.What does it reveal about the underlying tensions between China and Russia?Except for a brief period after the Communist takeover of China in 1949, China and Russia have been rivals, not partners. Until the end of the Cold War, Russia was by far the superior power.   The dynamic changed dramatically after 1991. Then, the two countries’ economies were roughly the same size. Now, China’s economy is ten times larger, and the gap continues to widen.  Moreover, China now casts a much larger shadow on the global stage: it has overtaken Russia in the development of advanced technology and its conventional military is comparable to Russia’s, even as it is moving toward nuclear parity with both Russia and the United States. What once could have been seen as a roughly equal partnership has evolved to the point where Russia is decidedly the junior partner. Despite the rhetoric of comprehensive partnership and avowals from Putin and Xi that relations have never been better, this asymmetry in power and ambition is in itself a source of friction, in addition to the civilizational clashes, racial prejudices, territorial grievances, and geopolitical competition that have strained relations in the past. But these sources of tension are currently far outweighed by the shared challenge from the United States. Washington’s current policy of dual containment only reinforces their strategic alignment and pushes the tensions further into the background.

Chinese mediation between Saudi Arabia and Iran potentially signals paradigm shifts in Middle Eastern diplomacy and alliances.  The mediation suggests a more productive approach than that of the United States by seeking to manage rather than resolve conflicts based on principles enunciated by China in 2021. The successful mediation between the Middle East’s foremost archrivals also indicates it could lead to a broader regional détente. Sources in Bahrain said the Shiite-majority Gulf state ruled by a Sunni Muslim minority might be on the verge of restoring diplomatic relations with Iran. The sources said Bahrain and Iran were already exchanging messages. Long at the forefront of disputes between Iran and various Gulf states, Bahrain would be the only Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) member without formal relations with the Islamic republic when Riyadh and Tehran exchange ambassadors in accordance with the agreement negotiated by China. The GCC groups Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, and Oman. In what looks like a possible second wave of détente in the Middle East, Egypt, Morocco, and Jordan could be next in line. In the first wave, Saudi Arabia and the UAE buried their hatchets with Qatar and Turkey; the UAE, Bahrain, and Morocco established diplomatic relations with Israel; and Israel and Turkey patched up their differences. To be sure, the dialing down of tensions without parties making major political concessions and the revival of economic ties meant countries were no longer showing their fangs. Instead, they put their differences on ice. Saudi Arabia and Iran appear to be travelling down the same road. The two countries agreed to no longer show their fangs, with the kingdom allegedly promising to stop funding media and groups opposed to the regime in Tehran. In return, Iran  reportedly pledged to help end the eight-year-long war in Yemen and prevent Houthi rebels from striking at targets in Saudi Arabia. The Iranian Foreign Ministry denied that Yemen had been discussed in Beijing. At the same time, the agreement appears to have potentially put a monkey wrench in geopolitical maneuvering by Israel and various Arab states, including Saudi Arabia. It also may spark new cleavages and exasperate existing ones. The agreement has dampened Israeli and US hopes of a united Saudi-Emirati-Israeli front against Iran that could risk a military confrontation. Moreover, Saudi Arabia will likely have been fortified in its resolve to establish formal relations with the Jewish state only when there is a solution to the Palestinian problem. In a sign of the times, Saudi Arabia this week prevented Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen from attending a UN World Tourism Organisation conference in the kingdom by refusing to discuss security arrangements for the visit. Mr. Cohen’s attendance would have been a Cabinet-level Israeli official’s first public visit to the kingdom. While the timing may have been coincidental, the agreement put a reported Emirati decision to stop purchasing Israeli military equipment in a larger context. Israeli media reports said the decision had been prompted by Israel’s domestic political crisis, which raised doubts about Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s ability to control his far-right, ultra-nationalist, and ultra-religious coalition partners. The UAE has forged close economic and security ties with Israel since establishing diplomatic relations with the Jewish state, together with Bahrain and Morocco. Last month, Israel and the UAE unveiled a jointly developed unmanned surveillance, reconnaissance, and mine-detecting vessel. Ali Shamkani, the Iranian national security official who negotiated the deal with Saudi Arabia in Beijing, was in the UAE this week to meet President Mohammed bin Zayed. The Emirates has been out front in reaching out to Iran in recent years. The Saudi and Emirati moves prompted Efraim Halevy, the former head of Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency and a long-time dove, to wonder aloud whether Israel, too, should reach out to Iran. “This should be the moment for Israel to analyze the situation and, inter alia, to determine whether this is an opportune moment to launch a very careful positive probe in the direction of Tehran,” Mr. Halevy opined in an article in Haaretz, Israel’s foremost liberal newspaper. In a twist of irony, the UAE halt to Israeli arms acquisitions makes a Saudi recognition of Israel any time soon even less likely. Even so, the Saudi-Iranian rapprochement appears to have energized an emerging cleavage between the kingdom and the UAE, onetime allies who increasingly are becoming economic and political competitors. The cleavage has prompted the UAE to suddenly speed up the gradual normalisation of relations with Qatar, two years after the lifting in 2021 of the Emirati-Saudi-led diplomatic and economic boycott of the Gulf state because of its alleged ties to Islamists, including the Muslim Brotherhood. Together with Bahrain, the UAE has, in contrast to Saudi Arabia, been slow in injecting warmth into the normalisation. That appears to have changed. In the last week, the UAE reportedly withdrew its bid to host the 2026 World Bank and International Monetary Fund meeting and said it would support Qatar as a potential host instead. The UAE also unblocked Qatari news websites it had blocked during the boycott. These include the Al Jazeera television network, the London-based  The New Arab newspaper, and the state-run Qatar News Agency. At the same time, Saudi Arabia, which like the UAE, has designated the Brotherhood as a terrorist organisation, appears to be cautiously reviving ties to figures allegedly associated with the Brotherhood. Saudi Arabia has long been more ambivalent towards the Brotherhood, a particular bete noir of the UAE. Prominent British Muslims, whom conservative members of the Muslim community and other conservative groups accuse of having links to Islamist organisations, including the Brotherhood, earlier this month were invited to a two-day conference in London hosted by Mohammed al-Issa, the secretary general of the Muslim World League. The conservative critics took exception to an allegedly prominent role given at the conference for British and European Muslim leaders to the Muslim Council of Britain, an organisation that has been blacklisted for much of the past 14 years by successive British governments. The government refuses to engage with the Council because its then deputy director-general called in 2009 for violence against Israel and condoned attacks on the Royal Navy if it tried to intercept arms for Hamas, the Islamist group controlling Gaza, from being smuggled into the Strip. A widely respected British academic described the blacklisting as “a political decision from the rightwing” that lacked evidence. He said the allegations of Islamist connections were “off the mark” and that “the current Secretary General is a wholly different generation than that of the past.” The intellectual further noted that the government had reengaged with the Council for a period before again blackballing the group. “The current secretary-general was basically a child when all of this happened but is still being clobbered over the head with it. It’s a double standard, no such rigour of past connections exists around other representative groups,” the academic said. Since coming to office, Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has converted the Muslim World League into the propagator of his autocratic form of Islam that is socially more liberal, politically repressive, and demands absolute obedience to the ruler. Once a Brotherhood stronghold, the League was a major global funder of erstwhile Saudi religious ultra-conservatism for more than 60 years since its founding in 1962. Notwithstanding Mr. Bin Salman’s repositioning, sources privy to the League’s inner workings suggest members of the Brotherhood remain influential and on the organisation’s payroll. “The old guard is still very much present,” one source said. “There is a bit of a schism in Saudi, and some of the younger anti-Brotherhood guard can’t believe how the Muslim World League is operating,” added another who follows the group closely. Saudi Arabia’s state-aligned Al Arabiya television network reported from Cairo days before the London conference that exiled offspring of prominent Egyptian Muslim Brothers were restructuring the group in Europe and the United States. An article on the network’s website critical of the Brotherhood warned the activists were recruiting among Arabs in the West. It asserted that they also sought to “infiltrate’ human rights groups. A third source with close ties to the kingdom argued that “the question is whether the Muslim World League only restructured to meet the new Muslim Brotherhood generation in the West. They seem to say one thing to some people and something different to others.”

President Volodymyr Zelenskyy of Ukraine and President Vladimir Putin of Russia are two very different leaders. The way in which each defines a national identity shapes their leadership and sectors of support.      As we pass one year since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, attention is fixed on how the war in Ukraine will unfold this year. What happens in 2023 will have implications not only for Ukraine and Russia but for the international order more broadly. One factor that has influenced the trajectory of war so far, and is likely to continue to do so in 2023, is the distinct leadership styles of President Zelenskyy and President Putin. Zelenskyy and Putin could not be more different as leaders. Putin leads a personalist autocracy, having risen through the ranks of the Russian security services to claim the presidency in 2000. Zelenskyy, a newcomer to both politics and government, was freely elected in competitive elections in 2019. Putin leads in the style of nationalist-populist leaders. He has slowly but consistently tightened his grip on power since his first electoral success in 2000, shaping Russia into an electoral autocracy. Putin is very much a man of his generation. At 70 years old, he grew up and established himself during the time of the Soviet Union and now surrounds himself with advisors of a similar or more advanced age. He is very far from media savvy, reportedly not even owning a smart phone. Zelenskyy, on the other hand, is a master of media communications, having operated as an actor and comedian before becoming president. Also a man of his generation at 45 years old, Zelenskyy forged a media career in the post-Soviet world of the emerging democracy of Ukraine. A self-made comedian and media personality, he is a part of Ukraine’s dynamic and entrepreneurial civil society.National identity: A glorious past or a bright future?A key factor that distinguishes Zelenskyy and Putin as leaders is the way in which they draw on national identity in their leadership. For Putin, Russia’s national identity is static and homogenous. There is one acceptable version of Russian identity; variations are considered deviant and a threat. For Zelenskyy, Ukraine’s national identity is dynamic and inclusive. The unifying elements of Putin’s vision of national identity are specific communal factors: shared language, history, religion, culture, or ethnicity. For Putin, such elements create a common bond and a common purpose among those who possess them. In 2021 Putin stated: “Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians are all descendants of Ancient Rus… bound together by one language…, economic ties, the rule of the princes of the Rurik dynasty, and – after the baptism of Rus – the Orthodox faith… we are one people.” For Putin, this idea of an exceptional nation simultaneously evokes Russian entitlement based on past glory, as well as Russia’s victimhood and humiliation at the hands of foreign enemies. Putin’s popularity “is tied to the idea of reanimating Russia’s past to reinstate the country’s greatness.” In 2022, Putin praised the conquests of the historical Russian ruler Peter the Great as returning to Russia what was “rightfully” hers. At the same time, for Putin, Russia’s greatness is under threat from the West. By contrast, Zelenskyy himself brings together the fractured components of Ukrainian identity in his own person. He is a Russian-speaking Ukrainian born in the east of the country who embodies a strong Ukrainian identity that is distinct from a Russian one. In Zelenskyy’s words: “[Ukrainians] are all different. They fight wearing the cross, the crescent, the star of David. Lads from Western Ukraine and from the south-east. Russian speakers from Kharkiv and Kryvyi Rih and Ukrainaian speakers from Ternopil and Ivano-Frankivsk… All different. All Ukrainians.” The unifying element of Zelenskyy’s national identity is a focus on the human striving for freedom and dignity. This factor also constitutes a universal element – uniting Ukrainians with others who share these values. In contrast to Putin, for Zelenskyy, history is not used to illustrate a glorious and longed-for past, but rather to show that the human drive for freedom can triumph over oppression to create a brighter future. As Zelenskyy stated to the UK parliament in February 2023: “[Both of] our people went through crises and growth, inflation, and periods of social losses and social gains. It was tough but we always found strength and stamina to move ahead and achieve results… We know freedom will win… We proved together that the world truly helps those who are brave in defending freedom. And thus, paves the way for a new history.”Does national identity galvanise support?Ultimately, military outcomes will be decisive in determining whether and how the war might conclude this year. However, Putin and Zelenskyy’s distinct imaginings of national identity contribute to galvanising support with audiences domestically and across the world. Domestically, Putin’s static and homogenous national identity appeals to those for whom it provides certainty and belonging to a specific idea of what it means to be Russian. For this segment of the Russian population, the ongoing war only serves to reinforce Russia’s entitlement to territorial control beyond its borders, as well as the looming spectre of humiliation at the hands of the West. This constituency will not lose faith in Putin’s war in 2023. However, if Russia fails militarily, these supporters may grow dissatisfied with the outcome, if not the war itself. Globally, Putin’s emphasis on the West as Russia’s central opponent will further isolate Russia from Western countries. However, Putin’s assertion of a homogenous identity does appeal to groups who conceptualise their own identity in a similar way within their own context. Additionally, Putin’s narrative of Russian victimhood by the West resonates in countries that are uncomfortable with a US-led global order or have an enduring historical memory of Western colonialism. Nevertheless, given Putin’s emphasis on Russian particularism, this is more likely to create tacit acceptance of Russia’s actions than stir costly action in support of Russia’s war. Domestically, Zelenskyy’s dynamic and inclusive Ukrainian identity, with an emphasis on the striving for freedom, appeals to broad swaths of the Ukrainian population – and aligns with the sense of purpose felt by those fighting on the frontlines. This is unlikely to change in 2023. As Russia doubles down on asserting its self-proclaimed right to control Ukraine, the idea of freedom and agency become ever more galvanising. Beyond Ukraine, Zelenskyy’s emphasis on a common human striving for freedom as a basis for identity invites others who align with this notion to rally alongside Ukraine. This will continue to boost support for Ukraine in established democracies – but also beyond, in places where populations or leaders resonate with a smaller state fighting against a stronger one to determine its own political and social reality. In the coming months we are likely to see military escalation between Ukraine and Russia. A less-visible factor that will contribute to the trajectory of this conflict is whether Putin and Zelenskyy’s distinct articulations of national identity will maintain traction with their respective constituencies. Will Putin’s homogenous and static national identity, that harks back to a time of historical glory, continue to appeal – or will it fracture if Russian glory on the battlefield falls short? Will Zelenskyy continue to be able to unify the diverse aspects of Ukrainian society into a coherent whole – and will this unity hold past his leadership? The answer to these questions will shape the societal impacts of this war – in both Ukraine and Russia – long after the fighting has ceased.

Last week’s surprise two-and-a-half-hour visit to Amman by Israeli Prime Minister Benyamin Netanyahu, where he met King Abdullah for the first time in almost five years, is a significant diplomatic victory for the kingdom. The visit happened due to the United States’ pressure on Netanyahu and a few days after White House National Security Adviser, Jake Sullivan, was in Israel and the West Bank.  Sources say that CIA Director William Burns was also in the region before Israel’s raid into the Jenin refugee camp on Thursday and played a crucial role in facilitating the Netanyahu-Abdullah meeting. A day before Netanyahu arrived in Amman, accompanied by the chief of Israeli intelligence, sources confirmed that the heads of intelligence bodies of several Arab and Gulf countries were also in Amman.  According to Israeli sources, Netanyahu reiterated his commitment to honoring the historical and legal status quo at Al-Aqsa Mosque. This came after weeks of rising tensions between the Netanyahu-led newly-formed far-right government and Jordan. A day after the new Israeli government was sworn in early January, Israel’s new Minister of National Security, the ultra-nationalist Itamar Ben Gvir, made a short tour of the Aqsa compound, eliciting  Jordanian, Arab, and international denunciation.  Jordan has been bracing for a confrontation with the new Israeli government since Netanyahu won the elections last October and began negotiating with far-right politicians to form a coalition. King Abdullah and Netanyahu had sparred over Israeli breaches of Aqsa for years, and it is no secret that the Jordanian monarch does not trust the veteran Israeli premier. A few days before Netanyahu’s government took office, King Abdullah told CNN that he was prepared for conflict should the status of Jerusalem’s holy sites change. He expressed concern that “Israel is trying to push for changes to his custodianship of the Muslim and Christian holy sites in occupied East Jerusalem, warning that he has “red lines” and that “if people want to push those red lines, then we will deal with that.” The most dangerous escalation occurred on January 17 when Israeli police blocked a routine visit by Jordan’s ambassador to Tel Aviv to the Aqsa. He was later allowed but not before a diplomatic crisis got out of hand. While Israel claimed it was a misunderstanding, Jordan viewed the incident as setting a dangerous precedent. Here, the king called for the support of Jordan’s allies in the Gulf, Europe, and the United States. It is believed that Jordan was certain that the next provocation, which would be the most critical, needed to be pre-empted. This was when the US stepped in, putting pressure on Netanyahu to visit Amman and pledge to honor the status quo. Brinkmanship For King Abdullah, further escalation at the Aqsa would push both sides to adopt a policy of brinkmanship whose outcome would be disastrous. Facing mounting economic challenges at home, a crisis at Aqsa would force the king to take drastic measures. His “red lines” could go as far as suspending the peace treaty with Israel. However, that would open a political Pandora’s Box. The United Arab Emirates (UAE), a signatory to the Abraham Accords, has stood firmly by King Abdullah during the recent crisis. The UAE stands with Jordan on two basic premises – its support for the two-state solution and status quo for Aqsa. Several analysts had noticed that the royal court statement, released following the meeting, did not mention the Hashemite custodianship. However, it underlined the need to observe Aqsa’s historical status quo. Some argue that the legal and historical status quo, which goes back to the late 19th century and has been observed by the Ottomans, the British, the Jordanians, and later by Israel, makes it legally impossible for Israel to disregard. The Hashemite custodianship, referred to as “a special role” in the 1994 Jordan-Israel peace treaty, is less precise. According to another view, Jordan wants to ensure that responsibility for maintaining the status quo at Aqsa is not restricted to Jordan alone but is an international commitment. While Ben Gvir vowed to repeat his Aqsa breaches a day after the Amman meeting – saying only Israel has sovereignty over Jerusalem and the Temple Mount – it is believed that Netanyahu, at least for now, will avoid further provocations with Jordan. All eyes will be on the US Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s ongoing visit to the region. He is expected to underline support for Jordan’s custodianship and the status quo understanding at Aqsa.

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.