Trump's visit to China
(Published in Portuguese in Diário de Notícias - Lisbon - on 15 May 2026)
When the Air Force One touches down in Beijing, Donald Trump imagines that a brief two-day visit to China will be consecrated by the American electorate as a personal triumph. Yet, the reality that matters is entirely different. Beneath the handshakes and the protocol-driven photographs with Xi Jinping, a contemporary version of Thucydides’s Trap is taking shape: the clash between two superpowers—one established, attempting to preserve its hegemony (the US), and the other, emerging, in rapid ascension (China).
For Trump, the purpose of this summit is neither to redraw the security architecture of the twenty-first century nor to speak of peace, harmony, or global challenges—themes that rarely find a place on his agenda. What he seeks is a tactical spectacle. Brief and marketable as a victory, ahead of the midterm elections in November.
The American president seeks to return with results that are easy to communicate: signs of commercial detente (commitments to additional purchases in sectors relevant to the MAGA electorate) and, ideally, some Chinese gesture that reduces the risk of disruption in the Strait of Hormuz. Image management is an integral part of his strategy. The domestic media landscape in the United States has grown increasingly asymmetric: influential segments amplify partisan narratives, shaped by commercial incentives and the polarization surrounding Trump.
The problem with this transactional approach is that it exposes the true American weakness: an obsession with the short term erodes trust and alienates allies. Taipei watches, anxious, at the prospect of its security being converted into a bargaining chip. In Europe, the visit is interpreted as an indicator of volatility in Washington’s strategic orientation. This tends to reinforce debates regarding European defense autonomy, economic resilience, and technology policy.
On the other side of the table, Xi Jinping moves his chess pieces without haste and free from the constraints of electoral calendars. Beijing’s immediate interest is simple: to manage Trump’s unpredictability, to employ personal diplomacy to extract rhetorical concessions over Taiwan, and, above all, to buy time. The Chinese leadership operates on the assumption that the long-term trend—in industrial capacity, technology, semiconductors, Artificial Intelligence, and external influence—favours them, and therefore privileges strategies of attrition and the extension of the decision-making horizon.
At first glance, China appears armed with trumps that are difficult to counter. A centralized political system allows it to define priorities and mobilize resources across a multi-year horizon—as seen in the Five-Year Plans—thereby reducing coordination costs in strategic sectors. The alignment with Moscow, described by both leaderships as a partnership "without limits", grants Beijing additional leeway in matters of energy, diplomacy, trade routes, and security, though it exposes it to reputational risks and secondary sanctions. Internationally, China seeks to consolidate its influence and power among the countries of the Global South through the financing of infrastructure and logistics chains (the Belt and Road Initiative) and via expanding forums such as the BRICS.
Yet, this appearance of invincibility conceals vulnerabilities capable of altering the course of events. What Beijing projects to the outside world as "cohesion and stability" is, more often than not, an internal peace imposed by force and by an apparatus of surveillance and repression. China is far from a monolith: it is a mosaic of 1.41 billion people, 56 ethnic groups, hundreds of languages, and tens of millions of citizens belonging to minorities. In vital regions such as Xinjiang (with over 26 million inhabitants) and Tibet (around 3.6 million), forced assimilation replaces political autonomy—and tensions do not disappear; they accumulate.
The true threat to the regime dominated by the Communist Party may not come from the peripheries, but from the center: From the rising expectations of the Han majority in the megacities; From frustrated, highly educated youth struggling within an increasingly competitive society; And from the persistent asymmetry between hyper-technological coastal cities—such as Shanghai and Shenzhen—and the deeply traditional rural interior living on the brink of subsistence.
In systems with mechanisms of accountability and mediation—a relatively free press, civic associations, room for public demonstrations, independent courts, and competitive elections—dissent tends to be channeled and absorbed through institutional avenues, reducing the probability of abrupt ruptures.
In an autocratic regime, where public expression is limited and the correction of policies depends chiefly upon those who lead the Party-State, errors can accumulate for longer and become more difficult to reverse. When economic, demographic, or legitimacy shocks converge, the management of social conflicts becomes more demanding, and the cost of maintaining stability rises.
In strategic terms, both China and the United States possess incentives for a minimum understanding to reduce potential conflicts: managing crises before they escalate, avoiding military incidents at sea and in the air, and stabilizing expectations within technological, digital, and commercial competition.
These are the themes that Trump and Xi ought to discuss—not as gestures of goodwill, but to construct an architecture of mutual restraint. Such an arrangement does not erase the rivalry. It is, however, the only way to prevent a miscalculation from ruining everything. Thucydides’s Trap could then pass definitively into history.
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