Why the future of US-China ties isn’t defined by tariffs alone

After spending time in both Washington and New York, engaging with academics, policy thinkers, and business leaders, one impression became clear: the conversation around China has hardened in tone, but not necessarily in strategy. There is a shared sense across the political spectrum that the US is now in long-term strategic competition with China—but how that competition is pursued remains inconsistent and heavily influenced by the personalities surrounding former President Donald Trump.

While many interpret the re-escalation of tariffs and techno-nationalist rhetoric as signs of inevitable decoupling or confrontation, I came away with a different view. The very messiness of the Trump administration’s approach—personalized, faction-driven, and transactional—may paradoxically leave space for a more stable foundation in the long term. What we’re witnessing isn’t strategic realignment. It’s tactical turbulence. And that distinction matters.

The US under Trump embraced a confrontational tone with China, with tariffs as the preferred weapon of choice. Steel, semiconductors, rare earths, and even agricultural products became pawns in a broader ideological standoff. Yet beneath the surface, there was no unified long-term playbook. Competing factions within the administration—security hawks, economic nationalists, trade moderates—constantly clashed for influence, each offering Trump a different narrative. In the end, decisions were made less through structured deliberation than through personal persuasion.

This inconsistency has frustrated both allies and adversaries, but it also suggests that the current state of US-China relations is not anchored in a cohesive anti-China doctrine. There is no fixed architecture of hostility—no equivalent of the Cold War’s containment policy. That leaves open the possibility that future administrations, or even a recalibrated Trump team, could pivot back toward institutionalized engagement if conditions shift.

In other words, today’s turbulence is real, but it is not destiny. It is the product of ad hoc policymaking, not a structural redesign of the bilateral relationship.

Trump’s use of tariffs should be seen not only through an economic lens but also as a political signaling device. For his base, tariffs represent toughness. For Trump himself, they offer an easily understood symbol of “doing something” without requiring legislative cooperation. Unlike regulations or defense treaties, tariffs are unilateral and immediate—they can be imposed overnight and announced with fanfare.

Yet as a tool of long-term strategy, tariffs are inherently blunt. They trigger retaliatory measures, distort supply chains, and often hurt domestic stakeholders—especially in agriculture and manufacturing—without delivering sustainable leverage. They also erode US credibility as a rules-based actor on the global stage.

Interestingly, both American and Chinese firms have proven highly adaptive. Supply chains have shifted, inputs have diversified, and many companies have adopted a “China plus one” strategy—not to abandon China entirely, but to reduce vulnerability to geopolitical risk. These moves reflect rational hedging behavior, not ideological retreat. In fact, many of these firms continue to invest in both markets, suggesting that economic interdependence still holds—even if under stress.

There’s a misconception that great power rivalry must crowd out all forms of engagement. In reality, US-China relations have always been layered. Even during past periods of friction—over Taiwan, human rights, or the South China Sea—the two countries maintained cooperation in trade, education, and climate policy.

What’s different today is that the tone has shifted, particularly in Washington. China is no longer framed as a partner-in-waiting but as a peer competitor. That change in framing is significant—but it doesn’t necessarily foreclose cooperation. What it does is redefine the logic of engagement: from mutual gain to risk management.

And in that recalibrated logic lies opportunity. As the US and China move toward a more realist, transactional mode of interaction, new stabilizers may emerge—not from idealism, but from strategic necessity. These include restructured trade agreements, selective technological partnerships, and security dialogues aimed at preventing escalation rather than resolving core differences.

It’s important to remember that much of the world, particularly in Southeast Asia, is not interested in choosing sides. ASEAN economies continue to trade deeply with both the US and China. Their strategic posture is one of hedging and balancing—not ideological alignment.

This regional pragmatism acts as a buffer against full-blown confrontation. It creates incentives for both Washington and Beijing to moderate their positions, if only to maintain influence in Asia’s most dynamic markets. The presence of regional stakeholders who benefit from US-China coexistence—and who are vocal in articulating that interest—adds a layer of ballast to the global system.

In recent years, even as the US imposes export controls on Chinese tech firms and China restricts data flows from foreign platforms, countries like Singapore, Malaysia, and Vietnam have quietly expanded economic and diplomatic ties with both powers. This “both-and” strategy limits the spillover damage from bilateral tensions.

One of the most overlooked aspects of US-China relations is the human infrastructure built over decades—academic exchanges, tourism, business partnerships, and diaspora networks. While some of these ties have frayed in the post-pandemic era, they remain substantial.

American universities still host tens of thousands of Chinese students. Chinese companies continue to seek IPOs on US exchanges, even if under heavier scrutiny. Multinationals like Apple, Tesla, and Starbucks retain major footprints in China. These relationships create not only economic interdependence but also channels for informal diplomacy.

Moreover, they generate a constituency for stability on both sides. Business leaders, university presidents, and local officials often serve as behind-the-scenes advocates for constructive engagement, even when national rhetoric turns hawkish.

Trump’s return to the White House, should it happen, may bring more tariffs and more unpredictability. But it’s unlikely to generate a cohesive long-term China strategy—because none was built during his first term, and his approach to governance remains personality-driven rather than institutionally anchored.

Future administrations, Republican or Democrat, will have to grapple with the contradictions of containment without collapse. They will face pressure from allies to adopt a clearer doctrine—and from markets to avoid overreach. This push-pull dynamic may, over time, encourage a more mature framework for US-China competition: one where guardrails are valued as much as leverage.

And in that shift, there is hope.

Hope does not require naivety. It requires clarity about what is—and what still might be possible. The current phase of US-China relations is turbulent, yes. But it is also transitional. The lack of doctrinal coherence, the regional resistance to binary alignment, and the resilience of business and academic ties all suggest that the foundation of engagement has not eroded completely.

Rather than viewing tariffs and friction as permanent fixtures, we might better see them as symptoms of a system adjusting to a new balance—one where power is contested, but not yet unmoored.

The US-China relationship will not return to the optimism of the WTO accession era. But neither is it fated to spiral into permanent hostility. Between those extremes lies a path shaped by necessity, realism, and quiet cooperation. That path is still open. And for now, that’s enough reason for hope.