By Lee Seong-hyon
Cambridge, MA ― On Sept. 14, China's Global Times ran an editorial, titled, "Why the U.S. is afraid to go to war with China?" The title's argument increasingly resonates with many Asians' perspective on the current U.S.-China rivalry.
Washington should heed the "audience cost," if it matters to them. The characterization of Washington being "afraid" in dealing with China, as argued in the Chinese state-controlled media, doesn't help America's standing in the region, if it continues failing to trigger an American response.
Washington de facto tolerates China's war rhetoric. But Washington's repeated accommodation of combative language has been slowly eroding America's credibility in the region, particularly when China has been increasingly showing credible willingness to match its harsh rhetoric with actions in the South China Sea or over Taiwan.
"Rhetoric," true to its meaning, is hyperbole. Yet words shape perception. From a vantage point of Asia, where China is located, the U.S. is often seen not credibly establishing itself to confront China from a position of strength.
China resorts to such psychological tactics because it shapes the narrative that frames the way the public understands the U.S.-China rivalry. It also projects an image of which side, between the U.S. and China, appears to be taking the upper edge and expanding its share of influence and prestige in global politics. The curious question from onlooker is why the U.S. seems listless, neglecting the situation as it is, giving China uninterrupted access to dictate the narrative.
China frequently accuses the U.S. (under both Trump and Biden) of harboring a "Cold War" attitude toward China (North Korea often does that to the U.S.). It's part of Beijing's psychological warfare. However, somehow the accusation seems effective in making the American side feel "guilty." Whenever Beijing deploys the words, Washington is seen as embarrassed, like a pupil caught cheating, fumbling to dodge the accusation, not confronting it. It makes Washington look very defensive.
President Biden in his recent speech at the U.N., for instance, tried to make points that the U.S. is "not seeking a new Cold War with China." It was his conscious effort to counter China's allegations. However, by accommodating a response to the Chinese accusation in his prominent speech, Biden might have been inadvertently drawing more incriminating attention onto himself, feeding the very Chinese psychological manipulation he was supposed to disown.
The importance of striking a balance between being tough on China without provocative is well understood. But is the Biden administration executing the art of strategic messaging well?
Perhaps it's time for Washington to review and recalibrate its public narrative protocol in communicating the U.S.-China rivalry to the global audience. A China policy, comprised of the trinity of "Cooperation, Competition and Confrontation" will not do. Such a description, in fact, can be said of America's relationship with France too.
Storytelling is important for the U.S.-China competition, which is staged in the international arena with the whole world watching. The Chinese interlocutors are often seen as consummate wordsmiths, doing a far better job than their American counterparts. In March in Alaska, for instance, China's most senior foreign policy official Yang Jiechi publicly announced that the U.S. is "not qualified" (meiyou zige) to speak to China from a position of strength. It was the most famous line from the meeting. It was also the most embarrassing moment for Washington.
After the event, the March 19 editorial of Global Times said that the Alaska showdown should be "remembered in history as a landmark."
What was Washington's "punch line" from Alaska? The world doesn't seem to remember.
China's language tactic often includes resorting to undiplomatically shocking choice of words to throw the other party off-balance. When Seoul agreed to host a U.S. advanced missile defense battery system (called THAAD) in 2016, for instance, the Chinese ambassador to Seoul publicly proclaimed that the THAAD deployment could "destroy the whole South Korea-China relations in a twinkling."
China is gifted in deploying bluffing and threatening rhetoric. Whether it is with America or U.S. allies, or with Taiwan, China is not hesitant in utilizing the war rhetoric. The question is whether the U.S. should do the same?
This is a rhetorical question. But it should give Washington a moment to ponder and review the effectiveness of its "storytelling" of the U.S.-China rivalry to the international audience. China, at least, seems to know how to tell its side of the story.
Lee Seong-hyon, Ph.D. (sunnybbsfs@gmail.com), is a visiting scholar at Harvard University's Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies.
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Washington should heed the "audience cost," if it matters to them. The characterization of Washington being "afraid" in dealing with China, as argued in the Chinese state-controlled media, doesn't help America's standing in the region, if it continues failing to trigger an American response.
Washington de facto tolerates China's war rhetoric. But Washington's repeated accommodation of combative language has been slowly eroding America's credibility in the region, particularly when China has been increasingly showing credible willingness to match its harsh rhetoric with actions in the South China Sea or over Taiwan.
"Rhetoric," true to its meaning, is hyperbole. Yet words shape perception. From a vantage point of Asia, where China is located, the U.S. is often seen not credibly establishing itself to confront China from a position of strength.
China resorts to such psychological tactics because it shapes the narrative that frames the way the public understands the U.S.-China rivalry. It also projects an image of which side, between the U.S. and China, appears to be taking the upper edge and expanding its share of influence and prestige in global politics. The curious question from onlooker is why the U.S. seems listless, neglecting the situation as it is, giving China uninterrupted access to dictate the narrative.
China frequently accuses the U.S. (under both Trump and Biden) of harboring a "Cold War" attitude toward China (North Korea often does that to the U.S.). It's part of Beijing's psychological warfare. However, somehow the accusation seems effective in making the American side feel "guilty." Whenever Beijing deploys the words, Washington is seen as embarrassed, like a pupil caught cheating, fumbling to dodge the accusation, not confronting it. It makes Washington look very defensive.
President Biden in his recent speech at the U.N., for instance, tried to make points that the U.S. is "not seeking a new Cold War with China." It was his conscious effort to counter China's allegations. However, by accommodating a response to the Chinese accusation in his prominent speech, Biden might have been inadvertently drawing more incriminating attention onto himself, feeding the very Chinese psychological manipulation he was supposed to disown.
The importance of striking a balance between being tough on China without provocative is well understood. But is the Biden administration executing the art of strategic messaging well?
Perhaps it's time for Washington to review and recalibrate its public narrative protocol in communicating the U.S.-China rivalry to the global audience. A China policy, comprised of the trinity of "Cooperation, Competition and Confrontation" will not do. Such a description, in fact, can be said of America's relationship with France too.
Storytelling is important for the U.S.-China competition, which is staged in the international arena with the whole world watching. The Chinese interlocutors are often seen as consummate wordsmiths, doing a far better job than their American counterparts. In March in Alaska, for instance, China's most senior foreign policy official Yang Jiechi publicly announced that the U.S. is "not qualified" (meiyou zige) to speak to China from a position of strength. It was the most famous line from the meeting. It was also the most embarrassing moment for Washington.
After the event, the March 19 editorial of Global Times said that the Alaska showdown should be "remembered in history as a landmark."
What was Washington's "punch line" from Alaska? The world doesn't seem to remember.
China's language tactic often includes resorting to undiplomatically shocking choice of words to throw the other party off-balance. When Seoul agreed to host a U.S. advanced missile defense battery system (called THAAD) in 2016, for instance, the Chinese ambassador to Seoul publicly proclaimed that the THAAD deployment could "destroy the whole South Korea-China relations in a twinkling."
China is gifted in deploying bluffing and threatening rhetoric. Whether it is with America or U.S. allies, or with Taiwan, China is not hesitant in utilizing the war rhetoric. The question is whether the U.S. should do the same?
This is a rhetorical question. But it should give Washington a moment to ponder and review the effectiveness of its "storytelling" of the U.S.-China rivalry to the international audience. China, at least, seems to know how to tell its side of the story.
Lee Seong-hyon, Ph.D. (sunnybbsfs@gmail.com), is a visiting scholar at Harvard University's Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies.
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