Generation 40s – 四十世代

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If American and Chinese youth believe in closer Sino-US ties under Trump, it’s time the experts did as well

CommentInsight & Opinion
2017-11-21

Tom Plate says optimism among randomly sampled youth about the future of the China-US relationship, and the Donald Trump presidency, may well prove the power of positive thinking

Surprise! Few parents, perhaps ­including those in brand-adoring Asia, realise that Stanford University, on America’s sunny West Coast, is tougher for kids to get into than Princeton, Harvard or Yale. One star centre to which some of its best students – and faculty – gravitate is the Walter H. Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Centre (Aparc), in the heart of the campus. It focuses only on the Asia-Pacific, and no one does it better – whether Harvard or anyone else.

And so, given the fallout from President Donald Trump’s jaunt through Asia, and as I’d been previously invited by the research centre to hold forth on China-US relations, the moment to head up north from southern California had come.

True confession: put me in front of avid students, and I am the happiest clam in the harbour. During the session, one laser-sharp undergraduate, born in Vietnam, had a subtle China question that almost knocked me over. The first-year ­student inquired with indignation why I (allegedly) underrated her home country’s historic and heroic resilience to China’s aggression.

I managed to evade her total moral condemnation only by ­deploying Henry Kissinger’s famous quip about how one can do virtually anything successfully with the pragmatic Vietnamese – except invade them. She liked that.

At the end of the excellent 90 minutes, a brief opinion questionnaire I’d prepared was passed out to seminar attendees. Would relations deteriorate under Trump? Was war with China all but certain? And, if politicians on both sides of the Pacific could be kept from interfering in the bilateral relationship, would the American and Chinese people, even left to themselves, wind up with a better outcome?

I took their responses back to my university – Loyola Marymount (LMU) – and put the same triad of questions to my Asia class. Would there be significant differences of perspective? After all, the Stanford group weighed in much older – ­invited were faculty as well as other adult professionals from upscale Palo Alto, in addition to Stanford students; my Los Angeles sampling was comprised entirely of LMU students, aged 20 to 23.

Surprise again! There were hardly any significant differences. By a composite near landslide of 2-1, the vote was that relations with China would get better under the controversial Trump. Secondly, only 4 per cent felt war was all but certain. (Lopsided and inspirational.) And 78 per cent assessed that US-China relations would improve if only political figures on both sides would park their big egos elsewhere and leave everything to “the people”.

That seemed like genuine California dreaming to me, but what do I know? We so-called experts tend to get bogged down in the details of transpacific tensions [4] and differences – and they are serious ones. But it would be a happy notion ­indeed were the China-US relationship not so poisoned in American public opinion as to be beyond ­redemption – as suggested by these two campus groups informally and very unscientifically surveyed.

As for comparable mainland opinion, this is notoriously hard to gauge. Just as American polling establishments have been messing up – again and again their predictions miss the mark – scientifically solid opinion-taking in China is an even tougher pursuit.

Perhaps a touch more revealing, precisely because it is self-generated and random, are the views of the Chinese people in the heat of social media usage. While monitored by government censors, their social media is nonetheless so sprawling, robust and accessed that, at this point, it counts as virtually China’s “great wall” of self-reflection and revelation. (Westerners who think the Chinese people have utterly no thoughts of their own are very seriously misinformed.)

So a bright, bilingual mainland-born LMU student undertook a survey of Chinese social media opinion of post-trip Trump. Like my quickie polls, this was no rigorous social-science sampling. But it was an ­honest snapshot – and the results were similarly unexpected.

It turns out that the Chinese like what they see of Trump because he is so atypical. Social media users, discouraged from expressing blatant political views, tend to depict him as a TV star and “web celebrity”, with “funny facial expressions” and “using interesting words”.

Reports my researcher: “For these people, Trump is not a negative character for China. He seems really funny and he is nothing like other serious presidents. For them, that seems a big plus.”

Not everyone was positive, of course. Some worried that businessman Trump is one sly fox of a trade exploiter; some referred to the Chinese saying: “A weasel paying a New Year’s call to a chicken, with no good intentions.”

They view Trump as not stupid but worry that he will drag China into the complicated North Korea issue even more.

But, on the whole, the TV star image of Trump appears to be playing nicely in China, notably better than the dreary picture presented by the East Coast US news media.

What I learned last week was no more than a split-second snapshot of the moment, at the end of the day no more conclusive or predictive than is – say – the Dow Jones Industrial stock average at midday.

But for those of us who like to stay positive about the China-America relationship, a bit of sunshine cannot be so bad for our sense of balance. Professor Gi-Wook Shin, the Aparc director, lifted his eyebrows as high as mine over the apparent optimism, in north and south California. Positive thinking can generate a power all its own.

Columnist and professor Tom Plate, whose recent book on China is Yo-Yo Diplomacy, thanks LMU Asia Media staffers Deng Yuchan and Yi Ning Wong for their assistance

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China accelerates towards a driverless future as Hong Kong stalls

CommentInsight & Opinion
2017-10-26
Wilson Wong says mainland China’s intensive investment and flexible workforce make it the ‘holy grail’ for autonomous cars, in contrast to Hong Kong, where concerns about job losses dominate thinking

Today’s cities are on the precipice of a technological breakthrough, driven in part by a once-moribund automotive industry, now bolstered by revolutionary advances in microchip, sensor and artificial intelligence technologies and evolving into a cutting-edge industry dominated by hyper-intelligent networked autonomous driving systems.

The idea of an encroaching future where highly advanced driverless cars are inextricably intertwined with homes, infrastructure such as roads and bridges, offices and drones (also considered autonomous vehicles) is no longer a flight of fantasy, but imminent reality. The dawn of this sea-changing technology will significantly affect China, the world’s largest automotive market. Moreover, the Middle Kingdom has every intention of dominating this emerging field (part of its “Made in China 2025” mission) and the government has asserted that it would like to have highly, or fully, autonomous vehicles for sale by as early as 2021.

By 2026-2030, Chinese authorities plan to have some degree of automated or assisted driving system in every vehicle in the country. The sheer commercial potential of this impending technology explains China’s overwhelming interest; by 2035, the Boston Consulting Group asserts that the global driverless car market could be valued at US$77 billion (impressive, considering the industry is still nascent today).

China is blighted by reckless driving (more than 250,000 deaths annually in road accidents), pollution and massive traffic congestion, so the driverless car could be an idea whose time has come. Relative newcomers to the world of driving, many Chinese do not share the West’s love affair with it. This is clear from a 2015 World Economic Forum survey, where three-quarters of the Chinese polled said they would have no issue riding in a self-driving car, vis-à-vis half of their American counterparts.

A damaged sports car is pictured after it collided with another car on a road in Yiwu city in Zhejiang province, in April 2016. A high number of traffic accidents, coupled with ongoing congestion and pollution, have contributed to China’s interest in driverless vehicles. Photo: Imaginechina

Considering the immense scale of China’s bold autonomous vehicle ambitions, there will be no lack of doubters. For starters, laws governing autonomous vehicle use are non-existent despite the impending deadline. To be fair, the US itself is still sorting out this potential regulatory minefield.

The Chinese committee (supported by the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology) has only in the past year or so started examining all the infrastructure and regulatory guidelines related to autonomous driving.

Despite the obfuscation surrounding the regulatory frameworks on autonomous driving, leading Chinese technology firms such as Baidu (China’s answer to Google) have made impressive strides on the technical front. By 2016, the company said its autonomous vehicles possessed driving capabilities comparable to that of a fledgling driver; in general, many autonomous vehicles are still prone to stopping abruptly and relatively clumsy manoeuvring. In a daring act of corporate bravado, Baidu chief executive Robin Li drove his company’s yet-to-be-approved driverless vehicle across the streets of Beijing, earning the ire of authorities.

Despite the relative progress by the mainland in autonomous vehicles, Hong Kong has not made comparable advances nor does it seem to share the same ardour for this buoyant field. The Transport and Housing Bureau says most trials of driverless technology are still at the preliminary stages.

By contrast, Singapore, Hong Kong’s perennial rival, has secured the distinction of organising the world’s first trial run of six driverless taxis (albeit in a limited four-square-km area) in August 2016; the road to a driverless future is not entirely smooth, however, as one of the autonomous cabs collided with a truck barely two months after the successful trial.

In Hong Kong, as with many cities, some experts argue that the issue of acceptance rather than technology per se remains the greatest obstacle to successful widespread adoption of autonomous vehicles. In truth, it could be the technology’s capacity to inflict significant damage on the jobs front (at least in the short term) that has hampered implementation. In Hong Kong’s case, the impact of this revolutionary technology on the livelihood of the city’s 40,000 taxi drivers concerns policymakers; the same fate could await thousands of bus drivers steering Hong Kong’s extensive network of double-deckers and minibuses. Similar concerns have also been expressed about the technology’s impact on the job security of the city’s numerous delivery truck and van drivers. In a city already buffeted by skyrocketing property prices and escalating income inequality, the prospect of widespread unemployment among working-class drivers presents a tinderbox for this highly strung metropolis.

Conversely, in mainland China, with its considerably larger job market, it could be easier for displaced cab and delivery drivers to secure jobs with similar levels of pay.

In the world of autonomous driving, China is evidently the holy grail, offering a near limitless pool of commercial and scientific possibilities. The efficacious top-down approach of Chinese industrial planning and near-universal acceptance among the Chinese public has positioned the country as the future of autonomous driving; even Hong Kong’s government recognises the inevitability of autonomous driving and has taken initial steps to incorporate this development into its smart city plans.

Machine operatives fit oil feed pipes to engine blocks at the Ford Motor Company’s engine assembly plant in Dagenham, UK, on October 9. Ford’s CEO Jim Hackett has pledged accelerated work on green and driverless vehicles, but traditional carmakers like Ford and GM face stern competition from tech companies like Google, Apple and Baidu. Photo: Bloomberg

This contrasts starkly with the US (the birthplace of autonomous driving) where each of the states are laden with various significant regulations. Chinese firms continue to inject billions of dollars into autonomous vehicle R&D; in just the first quarter of 2017, China’s driverless vehicle industry attracted nearly US$1 billion in research funding.

However, some market participants urge investors to be more circumspect, as exit strategies via IPOs are not assured unless confirmed buyers are lined up. Further, they speak of irrational exuberance building up in the rejuvenated automotive industry, drawing hi-tech non-traditional players (for example, Apple, Baidu, Google, Intel and Nvidia) with immense financial and technological wherewithal; these interlopers are now fighting tooth and nail for market share with traditional industry incumbents like General Motors, Ford, Delphi, Continental and Bosch.

Moreover, Chinese authorities have yet to adequately address the considerable legal and insurance hurdles wrought by this disruptive technology’s emergence. But given the considerable spoils awaiting the victors, there is no doubt that the governments concerned in Beijing and Washington, along with their respective firms, will marshal resources to surmount any obstacle in this race.

Wilson Wong Kia Onn is an assistant professor in the Department of Accounting and Banking at Chu Hai College of Higher Education


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Six reasons why Catalonia is no model for Taiwan’s independence movement

CommentInsight & Opinion
2017-10-18
Cary Huang says a number of factors, but mainly that such a move is likely to lead to major retribution from Beijing and even war, make independence a non-starter. Besides, the global community has already made its position on ‘one China’ perfectly clear

It is no surprise that Taiwan has paid close attention to the recent referendum that took place, amid much controversy, in Catalonia.

But a bigger question is whether independence referendums by Catalans in Spain, as well as among Kurds in Iraqi Kurdistan, can serve as an important object lesson for the island state, which is debating whether to take a similar approach.

Taiwanese Premier William Lai Ching-te’s recent comments on his commitment to independence further stoke such sentiments, and calls for Taiwan’s legislature to pass amendments legalising such an action are increasing.

However, the differences between the China-Taiwan issue and Spain-Catalonia are more significant than the similarities.

First, in Taiwan, there is not the sense of immediacy that has inspired Catalans to seek outright independence. Despite having just 20 remaining diplomatic allies, Taiwan enjoys de facto independence, similar to any sovereign state, with its own political system, government and army, plus the right to issue its own passport and currency. Catalonia, on the other hand, is officially one of the 17 autonomous communities in Spain.

Second, a referendum on Taiwanese statehood would not receive the same international support the Catalans have received, as a great majority of nations, including all major powers, recognise the one-China principle, though many Taiwanese might believe they have no less justification for their endeavour than the Catalans, the Kurds, the Scottish and the Quebecois under international law.

Third, Catalonia accounts for 20 per cent of Spain’s GDP, and many in the wealthy northeastern Spanish region are convinced they would be better off having full control over that wealth. The Taiwan economy, on the other hand, is heavily reliant on trade with the mainland and any political separation would be disastrous for the Taiwanese economy.

Fourth, it is hard to see how a declaration of independence would markedly improve the lives and welfare of Taiwanese, as it would not change Taiwan’s status on the international stage.

Fifth, a fundamental difference is that while both the Spanish and Catalan governments are democratic and their political values are almost identical, there is a huge gap in politics across the Taiwan Strait.

As a thriving free democracy in Asia, Taiwan maintains a model of self-determination, freedom and protection of human rights – the core principles of the United Nations – while mainland China, despite its rising economic clout, remains the world’s last major communist one-party state.

Thus, any attempt to advance the island’s independence would be met with wholesale repression, and possibly war, from Beijing. China has not only promised, but legislated for military action should Taiwan ever declare independence.

Finally, and most importantly, we should note that while the Spanish confrontation is between an armed central government and an unarmed local government, the China-Taiwan conflict would be between two major armies in Asia – a war between them would not only destroy regional peace but also undermine global stability.

Under the current situation, as it is unrealistic to hope that the two political adversaries can live in the same bed or permanently divorce, the best tactic to achieve peace is to maintain the “status quo” before any permanent solution is found.

Any Taiwanese effort to abandon this tactic will risk Beijing’s wrath and could make the US reassess its assistance, which is crucial for the island’s survival.

Cary Huang is a senior writer at the Post


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China’s rise is assured in our new world order, but not as a hegemon

CommentInsight & Opinion
2017-10-13
Jean-Pierre Lehmann says though one major power dominated the past two centuries – Britain in the 19th and America in the 20th – in the 21st century, no single country will be calling the shots. Instead, the tussle for influence will be fiercest on the Asia-Pacific stage

During most of my working life, I have commuted physically and intellectually between western Europe and East Asia, where I spent part of my childhood and where I have over the years lived, studied, worked and taught. Of course, to get from one to the other, one has to traverse the Eurasian continent. Which is what I did. In the late 1960s/early 1970s, for example, I would take a ship from Portsmouth to Leningrad (as it then was), a train from Leningrad to Moscow, a plane from Moscow to Khabarovsk, a train from Khabarovsk to Nakhodka, a boat from Nakhodka to Yokohama, then, the final leg, a train from Yokohama to Tokyo.

I would occasionally stop for a few days along the way. The icy cold war atmosphere notwithstanding, the warmth (and liquidity: lots of vodka!) of Russian hospitality lived well up to its reputation. I had read in my teens lots of Russian literature, and was enthralled when I read 15 years ago that splendid history of Russian culture, Natasha’s Dance by Orlando Figes. That was 15 years ago, a year after China acceded to the World Trade Organisation. In the meantime, academically I remained an East-West guy.

I watched, totally bedazzled, the transformations occurring in the Asia-Pacific, especially the awesome developments in China. As a product of the mid-20th century, I was influenced by the view that the words “poor” and “Chinese” were synonymous. This was true not only in the West – whether in Europe or the United States – but also in Japan. The Chinatown in Yokohama, which I occasionally visited in the 1950s with my parents (who lived at the time in Tokyo), was poor. In the second half of the 1980s, when I was based in Tokyo, as rumours of a potential Chinese growth story began circulating and Japan was experiencing stratospheric growth, I found Japanese I spoke to quite dismissive.

By the beginning of this century, the China narrative has been dramatically transformed, as has its impact on the world. The global balance of economic power is moving from West to East, as the Atlantic centuries seem to be entering their concluding chapters and an Asia-Pacific century emerges in the 21st.

Europe’s clout has declined, economically, geopolitically and demographically, and will continue to do so. The US remains a formidable power, but its days of hegemony are reaching their end. The institutions that Uncle Sam put together after the second world war – the United Nations, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, the WTO – are becoming moribund. George W. Bush’s illegal invasion of Iraq in 2003 and its catastrophic consequences have undermined American geopolitical and moral leadership; while Donald Trump’s bombastic “America First” rhetoric provides a sort of tragic operatic finale. How embarrassing it must be for Americans to witness this Caligula-like figure drag the country down into barbarity. As Angela Merkel confirmed in her speech in Munich in May, the Western alliance, founded after the war by the US and the UK, is eroding.

The fact that the world is at a turning point is beyond dispute. Where it is turning to is another matter. Because the last two centuries have been dominated by one major global power – Britain in the 19th, the US in the 20th – there is an assumption that it must be someone else’s turn. (Presumably, China?)

In fact, as author Ian Morris compellingly argues in Why the West Rules – For Now, the history of the Eurasian continent – where civilisations flourished and history was made – was one of exchange, mutation and what we would call today, “multipolarity”. Rudyard Kipling’s famous “East is East and West is West” poem portrays a 9th-century imperialist view of the world, and does not correspond to historical reality. Throughout the millennia, Eurasian societies, emanating from five major civilisations (Chinese, Indian, Persian, Arabic and European), fought with each other, traded goods, sciences and ideas with each other, as they learned and borrowed from each other. There was no East and West, Europe and Asia. Arabic thought influenced the Renaissance; Confucian thought influenced the Enlightenment; India invented and developed the zero.

Things began changing with the rise of the Portuguese seaborne empire in the late 15th century. Initially incrementally, then, from the early 19th century on, rapidly and radically, Europe rose as virtually all of Asia declined. Europe’s “superiority” ensured Asia’s subjugation. This century is witnessing the resurgence of Asia; especially the rise of China as a global power. The idea, however, that the world was following a pattern and that China would emerge as the coming hegemon seems unconvincing.

Not clear as to where we’re now heading, I was intrigued when I read President Xi Jinping’s speech in Astana on September 7, 2013, in which he launched what has since become known as the “Belt and Road Initiative”.

I have made a considerable effort over the past four years to become more immersed in Eurasian and Central Asian historical patterns, contemporary dynamics and future prospects. I have travelled not just physically, but also intellectually across much of the Eurasian continent. This has included most recently an intensive week of discussions in Moscow with Russian interlocutors from different professions and generations (including a high-school class of 15-year-olds) to hear how they see the world.

Here, I wish to emphasise the concept that Dmitri Trenin, director of the Carnegie Moscow Centre, introduced me to, and which I found very useful in constructing my new view of the world. Whereas recently, there has been much talk of whether Russia is pivoting to the East or maintaining its historical ties with Europe, Trenin speaks of a “360-degree vision, where Moscow serves as the central element of a new geopolitical construct: Eurasia writ large, aka Greater Eurasia”.

In this Greater Eurasia are the former great civilisations and great powers: China, India, Mongolia, Korea, Japan, the members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (especially Indonesia), the countries of Central Asia and the Levant, Russia, Turkey and the European Union. The EU’s past was integrated into that of Eurasia, and so, it would seem, will be its future. As Merkel implied in her speech in May, with Brexit and the election of Donald Trump in 2016, the Western alliance has reached its twilight.

In this Greater Eurasian space, China clearly dominates. Its gross domestic product is roughly 10 times the size of Russia’s and more than five times the size of India’s. But for a number of reasons, there will be no Chinese hegemon comparable to the UK or US. China is unlikely to match the US in hard power, and its soft power is weak.

The UK and the US gained hegemony in part by waging brutal imperialist wars and enforcing exploitative subjugation on much of the world – in Asia, Africa and Latin America. Whether China can be different, whether it can achieve its “peaceful rise”, will be the dominant question this century. Greater Eurasia is full of exciting potential. It is also, however, a geopolitical cauldron. Whatever happens, the narrative of the 21st century will be written there.

Jean-Pierre Lehmann is emeritus professor at IMD, founder of The Evian Group, and visiting professor at the University of Hong Kong


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With cowboy Trump leading trigger-happy America, should the world worry?

CommentInsight & Opinion
2017-10-10
Tom Plate says gun culture is in the DNA of America, represented by Donald Trump in the best tradition of John Wayne Westerns. Until diplomatic balance is achieved, this is a fact that the world, including China, must live with

Individual gun ownership is a right proffered under the ­second amendment to the US Constitution. In killing 58 people and injuring about 500 last week, the perpetrator of the Las Vegas mass shooting had at the ready about two dozen guns in his hotel room, and dozens elsewhere. The average citizen’s right to bear arms mirrors the way the US thinks about foreign relations – which will also lead to unnecessary tragedy.

These days, neither near-absolute gun rights at home nor the reliance on military power abroad is working well for America. The Las Vegas massacre prompted knowing shrugs and dismissive ­gestures around the world. America is widely viewed as gun crazy and, after last week, the world might well view roll-the-dice Vegas as a symbol for our culture of risk.

Foreign policy is no easy subject even for university graduate students; so imagine my fear standing in front of a packed classroom of Chinese middle-school students, visiting my Loyola Marymount University not long ago, where I was to offer 90 minutes about US relations with the world. What does – what can – a professor say to 12- to 16-year-olds from Shenzhen? A John Wayne simulation seemed the best option – staging a virtual foreign-policy shootout. These great kids were asked to make believe they were in a Hollywood movie – like a John Wayne Western, with the Good Guys (white hats) aiming to take down the Bad Guys (black hats). After a few cowboy videos to illustrate, and utilising classroom rulers as guns, we randomly decided on a few Bad Guys to shoot and had the white-hats (more aggressive-looking kids) go after them, rulers blazing. Before long, we had got rid of all the Bad Guys (bad actors, rogue nations) who were of course responsible for all the “problems” (international tension, war threats).

Having created this virtual ­utopia, the students were gleeful and proud, until it was pointed out that two of the dead Bad Guys were really Good Guys. While they were shot by innocent mistake, they were still dead, and so now we had a different problem. How to tell the bad from the good guys – you can’t just shoot everyone.

The kids got the point – that trying to “solve problems” by pulling a gun and looking for troublemakers creates dangers itself. Yet, from Vietnam to Iraq, the US seeks to ­improve the world with guns and militaristic poses, though we are hardly the only country with a big military. In fact, the session ended with the classroom-wide hope that China will not “go cowboy” when faced with foreign-policy “problems” but will find a smarter way.

Alas, in America, the historic Chinese naval build-up has raised fears, not eased them. But, in addition to that new worry is the related fear that we Americans are starting to have about ourselves. Suddenly, there are visible holes in the “Great Wall of American ­exceptionalism”. To employ Jean Paul Sartre’s prescient phrase, it is as if the West understood it “was springing leaks everywhere”.

Las Vegas, where more people died than in any comparable incident in US history, ­offered unmistakable evidence of structural societal leakage.

Irrationality can be a symptom of insecurity: if you add up everything spent on defence not just by giant China but also by Russia – and also add in the defence budgets of Britain, Japan, India, France and Saudi Arabia – it all still bulks up to less than the US continues to spend.

China did not cause this long-running American spending binge that sets history’s high bar for perpetual militarisation. Such was in our DNA – macho movie star John Wayne rolling in front of our eyes with all the self-confidence we imagine guns can buy. Given a cultural heritage like this, might not President Donald Trump, a former casino owner, conflate a blazing missile offensive with hitting the jackpot? We hope not – but would it really be totally out of character when you consider his characteristic John Wayne public posturing and tweeting over North Korea?

“Sorry – but only one thing will work”, he bellowed over the weekend about Pyongyang.

Admittedly, there is no doubt that the rise of China, which started decades ago, of course, but only relatively recently caught the attention of the US public, has added weight to the droop in confidence – and need for ego reinforcement.

So, just as the gun-control movement in America will probably go nowhere, so too movement in ­reversing national armament levels – including, sadly, nuclear weapons – will go nowhere. DNA is destiny: and this is what the world, not to mention China, must be prepared to live with.

It is the one very big takeaway from the Vegas tragedy.

The so-named “Thucydides Trap”, so popular in certain circles, hypothesises that when the fast-rising power threatens the dominance of the established power, the conditions for war between them intensify. But it’s only one hypothesis.

Another hypothesis (mine) says that when the rising power brushes up against the established power, the rising power – if it is smart – will negotiate differences to keep a ­rational lid on its armaments spending, thus freeing up funds for the people’s true welfare.

This is the “Alliance-for-Progress Escape from the Thucydides Trap”. I know, it’s no catchy phrase. But it does propose a path away from hell, which is what happened in Vegas, reminding us anew that the violence option is often the problem itself.

To believe otherwise – especially in this nuclear age – is, well, moronic. Getting the balance right is the best way to avoid becoming seriously unbalanced.

Columnist Tom Plate is a Loyola Marymount University professor and an author of many books about Asia, including the recent Yo-Yo Diplomacy