HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018411.jpg

So though no inherent enmity exists between the two countries, a crack emerges.
Each side finds reasons not to cooperate. A shared interest in peace – neither side
wants a collision, both understand the costs – is shimmied apart by a perception
gap. Cultural, historical, temperamental and ideological differences accelerate the
unzipping of even the best intentions. Misunderstanding bends and then snaps
irrevocably into mistrust. So yes, the recovered islands and the trade tensions and
the political theories have to be managed because each is a blister that limits
forward motion – but the real source of friction? It is the scraping of different world
views. This is deep strategic misalignment. It is, in fact, the stuff of war.

In recent years, America has had two different, nearly opposite approaches to China,
each however marked by an assured national confidence that the current world
order is sustainable. One policy is short-handed as “engagement” – or, colloquially,
“panda hugging.” As China becomes more prosperous, this approach suggests, she
will become more congenial to American interests. More cuddly. This was, for some,
the basis for bringing China into the World Trade Organization in the 1990s. Later it
justified deep commercial links and educational ties. The logic of such an approach
fit the mindset of many baby-boomer Americans: China’s attraction to MTV,
McDonalds and Mercedes hinted at a still deeper desire they thought. To be
Western. China’s citizens would surely become more attracted and committed to the
world system that had delivered all this prosperity. The country would become
more global, in a sense, and less Chinese.

In fact, as China has grown in recent years she has become more global and more
Chinese. Growth, wealth, an admixture of confidence into the old national habit of
insecurity – all of these have encouraged a searching exploration. The demands of
domestic politics, the instincts of the Chinese Communist Party and the inevitable
practical questions of security and reform all produce sensible questions. China
needs oil, for instance. Must she project power into the Middle East? Control the sea
lanes of the Malacca Straits? There’s no natural, inherent resistance to American
interests in any one problem, but that hopeful American logic of “engagement”
ignores much about China’s essence. The country presses at rules she mistrusts (as
America once did). She struggles with the inevitable challenges of a political system
still smoking a bit from recent revolutions – and, of course, facing the pressures of a
networked age. But she holds, strongly, a sense of Chineseness. Can we honestly
expect to use mere prosperity to change China in a predictable, pro-American way?
“Engagement” feels to Chinese like a demand to become more American. That
prospect is as appealing as a request to become more Chinese would be for
Americans.

An alterative strategy to “engagment” is known as “containment”. (While not
formally called “Panda Kicking”, this is often what this policy looks like.) This view
takes it for granted that as China becomes more powerful she will become a threat.
Any growth in Chinese power means a decline in America’s influence and security. A
stronger China in Asia, for instance, means a weaker America. Countries like Japan
or Korea or the Philippines will be required to choose a side at some point, at some
awful 21st Century Melian moment. The aim of containment is to squelch China

179

HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018411