Diplomats across the globe have been dispatched with a strikingly clear memo in hand: any nation engaging in trade talks with Donald Trump is, bluntly put, shaking hands with a bully. And worse still — a bully not to be trusted.
Beijing, ever the shrewd tactician, is exploiting Trump’s self-imposed 90-day grace period — a generous window granted to every country except China — to turn America’s supposed allies against it. The goal? Ensure that once these countries hastily ink their deals, they’ll be corralled into confronting China as a united front, a masterstroke of manufactured consensus courtesy of U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent.
It’s the sort of geopolitical move that assumes nations are pawns on a board Trump alone commands — and unsurprisingly, Beijing isn’t playing along.
From Seoul to Brussels, Washington’s allies find themselves caught between a rock and a narcissist. They rely on the U.S. for security but must kowtow to economic blackmail to avoid the wrath of tariffs. China, meanwhile, arrives at this tariff showdown with dispassionate confidence: having spent years weaning itself off American exports since Trump’s last tantrum, it now boasts the largest standing army in the world and a trade resilience the U.S. may have underestimated.
Xi Jinping, maintaining the elegance of silence, has rebuffed Trump’s calls so far. Instead, Beijing insists on reciprocal tariff eliminations — a demand that places the burden of de-escalation squarely on Washington’s shoulders. And while Trump stomps about demanding loyalty, China paints itself as the last defender of a rules-based international order. It’s the kind of propaganda that writes itself when the opposing player acts like a casino boss drunk on power.
Back in Washington, central bank governor Pan Gongsheng scolded the U.S. for “serious violations” of sovereign rights. Meanwhile, Foreign Minister Wang Yi rallied the BRICS bloc in Brazil, warning: “Silence, compromise and retreat will only make the bully more aggressive.” A not-so-subtle jab at those still contemplating whether to appease or resist Trump’s economic racketeering.
China’s Foreign Ministry has gone full Cold War, labelling Washington an “imperialist” power. A state-sponsored video with English subtitles even dragged Toshiba into the historical blame game, citing how U.S. trade restrictions once maimed Japan’s corporate giants. The pièce de résistance? “Bowing to a tyrant is like drinking poison to quench your thirst.” You have to admire the poetic flair.
Still, many of Washington’s so-called allies—such as the EU—may dislike Trump’s tariffs, but they are hardly rushing into Beijing’s arms. After all, China’s sabre-rattling over Taiwan and its land grabs in the South China Sea are hardly hallmarks of the peace-loving benevolent hegemon it claims to be. And let’s not forget Xi’s bromance with Vladimir Putin, which hasn’t exactly won hearts in Europe since Ukraine became a battlefield.
Yet even as Beijing is feared, it is also needed. The West wants Chinese rare earths, solar panels, and cheap goods — all while pretending this relationship isn’t a toxic dependency. As China hints at secondary tariffs for nations “too friendly” with Washington, Trump’s allies are left squirming, eyes darting between two economic giants behaving like mob bosses in an international turf war.
China has resorted to the oldest trick in the book to soften its image: cultural diplomacy. Next month, a full-scale K-pop concert—the first in nearly a decade—will be hosted, a signal that Beijing may finally lift the shadow ban imposed after South Korea deployed a U.S. missile defence system. Apparently, BTS can do what ambassadors can’t.
Premier Li Qiang even penned a letter to Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba, advocating a coordinated response to Trump’s tariffs. Tokyo, despite its longstanding security alliance with the U.S., is understandably reluctant to be drawn into Trump’s amateur-hour coalition against its largest trading partner. Imagine asking Japan to choose between economic oxygen and political loyalty.
Even India, traditionally cautious around China, has noticed a surprising shift. At a recent border negotiation, Chinese delegates displayed an uncharacteristically conciliatory stance regarding Tibetan grazing rights. A strategic softening? Almost certainly. A genuine thaw? Less likely.
Still, Xi seems determined to charm New Delhi, promising to buy more Indian goods, narrow the trade deficit, and even revive a Hindu pilgrimage route. Call it spiritual diplomacy.
Wang Yi, never one to shy away from melodrama, warned again this week that yielding to U.S. pressure would only embolden America’s worst instincts. Chinese Ambassador to Australia, Xiao Qian, chimed in with an op-ed accusing the U.S. of dragging the world back into the “law of the jungle.” One article even claimed that Trump’s tariffs reached “remote sub-Antarctic islands.” The punchline? “Even the penguins aren’t safe.”
Meanwhile, Beijing has activated its second-tier diplomats, prompting provincial trade officials to explore new markets. Latin America, apparently, is in vogue: more transparent than Africa, less saturated than ASEAN, and — crucially — less likely to pick a side.
But as Neil Thomas of the Asia Society dryly notes, China’s diplomatic blitz isn’t about turning friends into vassals. It’s about making life more difficult for Trump. Coordinated export controls? Military exercises? It’s all far harder when America looks like the global village idiot with nuclear codes.
So, while Trump postures and punishes, China positions and persuades. One leads through fear, the other through façade. And the rest of the world? It’s stuck between two empires, each determined to make the 21st century its playground.