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AllAfrica
07-07-2025
- Politics
- AllAfrica
China's '100-year opportunity' could be Seoul's 100-year mistake
China seems to have a fondness for the number 100. It famously brands the years 1839–1949 as its 'century of national humiliation.' That narrative of imposed weakness still fuels nationalist rhetoric at home. It also finds resonance in Michael Pillsbury's The Hundred-Year Marathon , which argues that Beijing has spent the past century lying low, only to re-emerge with a plan for global hegemony. So when China's foreign ministry used that same phrase to salute Lee Jae Myung's presidential victory – as 'profound changes unseen in a century' – ears perked up in the international community. Lee was elected on June 3 promising 'pragmatism' and 'balanced diplomacy,' code words for equidistance between the United States and China. That might sound reasonable for a middle power squeezed between its main security guarantor and its largest trading partner. Yet Beijing's exuberance suggests it interprets Lee's promise less as equidistance and more as drift toward China. If Beijing truly believes Lee's rise represents a 'once-in-a-century chance' to reset the strategic chessboard in Northeast Asia, then his personnel choices matter a great deal. On July 3, barely a month after taking office, Lee appointed Kim Min-seok as prime minister. Even in politicized Seoul, these are fighting words – and not just because Lee bypassed several more senior candidates. Kim's biography reads like a cautionary tale for anyone who believes alliances are carved in stone. He was once denied a US visa over his alleged role in the violent 1985 occupation of the American Cultural Center in Seoul, a student-led protest widely viewed as anti-American. Although the US embassy later blamed an 'administrative error,' the episode lingers as shorthand for leftist suspicion of Washington – and for Washington's lingering distrust of certain Korean leftists. In the current climate, Lee's decision looks less like pragmatism and more like provocation. Washington's Korea watchers have taken note. Personnel, after all, is policy. Choosing Kim suggests that Lee values ideological affinity at least as much as alliance management – if not more. Nor is Kim the only eyebrow-raising pick in Lee's inner circle. A number of new aides built their reputations challenging the US-led bilateral alliance structure, and they now occupy portfolios that will shape trade, technology sharing, and security cooperation. Many critics of Lee's early moves – both conservative voices inside Korea and alliance stalwarts in Washington – point to a growing pattern: warmer words for Beijing, cooler ones for Washington; a cabinet peppered with figures who made their names by opposing US military or diplomatic initiatives; and renewed talk of''strategic ambiguity,' a term frequently used to describe Seoul's foreign policy posture during the late 2010s, particularly under Moon Jae-in. For those who believe the US-ROK alliance is the region's strategic backbone, Lee's pivot feels like a direct challenge. Beijing's reaction only amplifies the anxiety. When a congratulatory cable from the Chinese foreign ministry frames Lee's victory in century-long terms, it signals strategic intent. Beijing is not just welcoming a friendly neighbor – it is seizing what it sees as a historic opening created by political turnover in Seoul. Events in Washington have compounded the unease. On the same day Lee crowned Kim Min-seok, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio abruptly scrapped his visits to South Korea and Japan. The official explanation cited scheduling pressures and Middle East priorities, yet the symbolism resonated. Korean commentators wondered aloud whether Washington had lost patience with Lee's balancing act. Without Rubio's shuttle diplomacy, Lee's first face-to-face summit with President Trump is now on ice. That delay could stall negotiations over defense burden-sharing, extended deterrence, and joint supply chain safeguards – issues that cannot wait in a year of North Korean missile tests and intensifying US-China tech wars. Seoul suddenly looks isolated at precisely the moment when it hoped to triangulate deftly among great powers. Lee insists that strategic ambiguity is the only rational course for a mid-sized economy living next door to China and across the sea from Japan. Yet history suggests that hedging works best when all sides still trust your intentions. Since the Korean War, Washington's 'hub-and-spokes' alliance structure in Asia has been bilateral by design, giving the US tight control over alliances – and restraining regional partners from freelancing. The worry now is that Seoul's new leadership may freelance anyway, eroding the spoke that binds the whole wheel together. Beijing, for its part, understands the material limits of its leverage over Seoul. Yet it also sees opportunity whenever Washington's grip loosens. If Lee's South Korea decouples from US strategic priorities even modestly – on technology bans, chip supply chains, or security cost sharing – Beijing can claim progress in its long game of prying US allies closer to its own orbit. Balanced diplomacy is easier to sloganize than to operationalize. A single missile test from Pyongyang can force Seoul back under Washington's wing; a single punitive trade measure from Beijing can make Korean firms beg for American cover. Any short-term gains from hedging can evaporate if either great-power partner feels betrayed. Lee's challenge is therefore double-edged. He must show Beijing just enough good will to keep economic ties humming, while proving to Washington that Seoul remains a reliable ally. Kim Min-seok's appointment, read in Washington as a thumb in the eye, complicates that calculus. Rubio's canceled trip hints that the Trump administration – or any future US administration – could respond in kind, downgrading or delaying high-level engagement. Beijing may view Lee's presidency as a 'hundred-year opportunity,' but opportunities can sour into hangovers if mismanaged. Seoul's core national interest remains deterrence against North Korea and access to US markets and technology. China's interest in exploiting cracks in the alliance is explicit in its public diplomacy. That leaves Lee with a narrow path: leverage China's enthusiasm without alienating the ally whose security guarantee still underwrites South Korea's prosperity. Lee Jae Myung branded himself a pragmatic centrist who could glide between giants. His early personnel choices suggest something starker: a hidden tilt that Beijing welcomes and Washington distrusts. China's talk of century-scale opportunities might flatter Seoul's new leadership, but it also warns of the scale on which Beijing plays its games. If Seoul confuses that flattery with partnership, it risks learning – perhaps within this decade, not the next century – why hub-and-spoke alliances have endured, and why strategic ambiguity in a multipolar world can become strategic isolation. Hanjin Lew, a political commentator specializing in East Asian affairs, is a former international spokesman for South Korean conservative parties.
Forbes
22-04-2025
- Business
- Forbes
Reclaiming America's Biotech Edge Before It's Too Late
'Economic security and national security are almost directly related in the long run,' said J.P. Morgan CEO Jamie Dimon last week on Fox Business. He's right. We need to stop pretending our adversaries are business partners. The pharmaceutical sector is a cornerstone of America's global competitiveness, but without a serious shift in how we treat capital investment, intellectual property and national reserves, we're ceding the future to countries that don't play by the same rules. Reshoring production isn't just about tariffs; it's about protecting our strategic assets and rebuilding a system that rewards long-term strength over short-term profits. As I argued in a recent column, our reliance on overseas production of APIs is a vulnerability we can no longer afford to ignore. APIs, much like oil reserves or other vital commodities, should be viewed as strategic assets essential to national security and healthcare continuity. Just as no nation would outsource its entire energy supply to geopolitical rivals, the U.S. cannot continue to depend so heavily on foreign pharmaceutical ingredients. That framework–that pharma inputs are as strategic as oil–needs to guide our thinking across the board. Whether we're talking tariffs, tax incentives or direct investment, the question should no longer be 'what's cheapest?' It should be: what strengthens innovation, independence and resilience for the long haul? That's the real conversation tariffs have opened. Now we have to follow through. A recent Wall Street Journal report noted that a congressional commission is urging $15 billion in federal investment to strengthen U.S. biotech and pharmaceutical capacity. The reason? China has made historic gains in this space, based on decades of strategic maneuvering. Beijing plays the long game. Michael Pillsbury's The Hundred-Year Marathon warned us about this. For decades, U.S. policymakers assumed that welcoming China into the global marketplace would lead to cooperation and liberalization. Instead, we subsidized our own decline, transferring knowledge, capital and intellectual property into the hands of a rival power with different rules and different goals. China acquired biotech startups, stockpiled IP and bought up global supply chains. To some extent leaders did not connect the dots to see these trends or think through their long-term implications, instead focusing on quarter-to-quarter earnings. In doing so, the U.S. has inadvertently placed itself in a vulnerable position. Where the rules of economic engagement are not balanced, fair and relatively transparent, one party can dominate at the expense of another. That needs to change. Transitioning critical biomanufacturing capacity and pharmaceutical supply chains back to America and its allies is not about isolationism. Trade has existed for millennia, and we are all better off because of it. Allowing companies to trade internationally for the supplies they need on the most attractive terms keeps prices competitive. But free-trade absolutism may have gone too far. Rebalancing is generally a good thing. When we put national defense and economic independence front and center, while recognizing the value of global commerce, especially with trusted allies, we are better off. The global marketplace is here to stay. But global competition must take place on fair, transparent and enforceable terms, including strong protections for intellectual property. Right now, that balance is broken. Pharmaceutical innovation depends on time, capital and tolerance for failure. For decades, the U.S. led the world in this space because we supported an ecosystem that rewarded long-term thinking. But that edge is eroding. Today's markets reward short-term gains and punish long-term bets. Wall Street's quarterly pressure filters down to boardrooms and balance sheets, making it harder for companies to invest in long-term R&D, especially here at home. We need to shift our mindset. Strategic industries like biotech and pharma can't be managed by the same rules as consumer goods. They require a new value framework that prioritizes innovation, resilience and national strength over immediate profitability. The U.S. should be the best place in the world to build the next medical breakthrough. COVID-19 exposed just how fragile our supply chains are. We were dependent on foreign suppliers for drugs and protective equipment in the middle of a public health emergency. That's unacceptable. We need to build now, before the next shock, so we can set the pace and lead rather than play catch up. That includes a true strategic reserve of APIs, but it goes further: strengthening our manufacturing base, rebuilding our talent pipeline and making long-term investments in domestic innovation. We also need to acknowledge the broader stakes. This is about national security. But it's also about jobs, competitiveness and the structure of our healthcare system. In the short term, some costs may rise. But over the long term, reshoring pharmaceutical production could be part of redefining the core infrastructure of healthcare: How we build it, how we pay for it and how we sustain it. What's needed is a long-term strategy to make the U.S. the most attractive place in the world for pharmaceutical investment and innovation. That means fair trade, strong IP protections and policies that reward long-term value creation, not just short-term earnings reports. The stakes–economic, scientific, geopolitical and public health–are too high for anything less.
