Arthur Kroeber on China's Industrial Machine and Why the US Needs to Learn to Coexist With It

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Overview

Arthur Kroeber is a founding partner of the research firm Gavekal Dragonomics and the author of China's Economy: What Everyone Needs to Know. In this long conversation, the host starts from a deliberately provocative question: what exactly is the problem if China becomes as rich as America, or richer? Kroeber's position is layered. He believes China's economic model has been fundamentally successful, and that its rise cannot be reversed or contained. He also thinks its supply-side obsession creates real frictions for the rest of the world and for China itself. Much of the blame Washington assigns to China, in his view, is scapegoating for domestic policy failures. The discussion covers how China built its industrial and technological base, the state of its debt, why it remains relatively poor, whether it will win in AI, and what a workable US-China relationship might look like.

40 min read

Why China's Rise Is Treated as a Problem

Kroeber separates two complaints. The first is economic. Critics argue that China is getting rich "on the backs of everyone else" through a huge export machine and persistent trade surpluses, relying on other countries' buying power. He frames this as a question of how China gets rich, not whether it should. Does it follow the same rules as everyone else and offer a market others can take part in? Or does it make it impossible for other countries to keep the production structures they want?

The host plays devil's advocate. A trade surplus can follow from accounting identities: high savings and too little domestic investment. On paper, Chinese taxpayers and savers are subsidizing foreign buyers, which looks like a good deal for the rest of the world. Kroeber accepts that in strictly financial terms the rest of the world comes out ahead through cheap goods and higher overall welfare. His objection is about social cohesion. Large countries need to keep a diversified production structure. Losing a manufacturing economy that employs many people causes serious disruption. He argues that the "purely financialized economy" the US developed in the early 2000s, partly through its bargain with China, was bad for the American social compact.

The second complaint is political, and Kroeber considers it the deeper one. The US sees itself as the leader of the world's democracies. Its foreign policy was shaped by the "morality play" of World War II and the Cold War: democracies defeated fascism, then communism, and the world seemed to be converging on democratic, market-based systems. China disrupts that story as a highly successful authoritarian state that still calls itself communist. Kroeber says US elites have never become comfortable with the idea that the Chinese political system is legitimate. Even so, he argues that much of today's anti-China sentiment diverts attention from domestic choices about income redistribution and macroeconomic policy. China is now about 20% of the global economy and a third of global manufacturing. What is missing, in his view, is an agreed set of rules under which everyone feels they benefit, and not only financially.

Not a Cold War: Integration and Permanence

The host questions whether World War II and the Cold War taught America a bad lesson: that great-power rivalry ends with the other side collapsing. Kroeber rejects the Cold War framing both on the evidence and in principle.

On the evidence, he points to trade and investment. The Soviet Union never accounted for more than about 1% of US trade, and investment flows were essentially nonexistent. China, at its peak about ten years ago, made up 17% of US trade, about the same as Japan in the late 1980s and early 1990s. That share has fallen on the surface, but Kroeber says it is roughly unchanged once goods routed through third countries are counted. US corporate investment in China is $600 billion or more, generating sales far larger than US exports to China. He calls this level of integration unprecedented in economic history. If the goal were a real Cold War, cutting these flows back to near zero would be extremely hard.

In principle, he argues the rivalry does not end with China disappearing or transforming. China is too big and too successful, and it is woven into a global economy in which most countries have a stake in its success. He also offers a thought experiment. If the Chinese Communist Party vanished tomorrow, any successor able to govern China would likely look very similar. It would insist on geopolitical independence and a strong military. Like every Chinese government since the mid-19th century, it would try to maximize technological progress and meet core technology needs domestically. In Kroeber's view, the problem is not one regime that could be persuaded to change its mind. It is rooted in China's institutional and cultural history and its geopolitical position.

The host recalls asking someone in China what a free election would produce. The answer was that the median Chinese voter might be more reactionary than the government. Kroeber says there is little reliable polling, but he finds this plausible. The Chinese internet is full of nationalist, militaristic sentiment that the government mostly works to restrain, releasing it only occasionally, for example during disputes with Japan. A fully representative Chinese government, he suggests, could be very difficult to deal with.

The Case for Chinese Investment in America

The host raises an idea circulating in Silicon Valley: let China lead in solar, EVs, batteries, and heavy manufacturing while the US dominates AI and semiconductors. Kroeber doubts China would accept that. Many in China would say they want it all and can get it. More generally, he argues that no strategy that requires China to accept arbitrary limits is viable. China refused to be confined to low-value manufacturing and does not want to be confined to manufacturing at all. The US would never accept such limits on itself.

His own preferred path is for the US to be far more open to Chinese direct investment in American manufacturing, especially EVs and their supply chains, green energy, and industrial automation. His reasoning comes from China's own history. Forty-five years ago China was an "industrial basket case," and it industrialized by inviting the world's leading companies in and learning from them. If the US is serious about selectively rebuilding its industrial base, it should do the same. Chinese companies would welcome access to the US market, the US would learn from them, and large two-way investment would itself show that the relationship is not a Cold War.

He explains Washington's bipartisan resistance as mainly a concern about data. Every manufacturing process now also generates data, and the question is where that data goes. Decades ago, most technologies were civilian, a few were military, and only a small share were dual-use. Now, he says, essentially everything is dual-use. Kroeber calls this a legitimate concern and would regulate Chinese investment as carefully as China regulates foreign investment, including data localization rules. He thinks this is achievable in principle but very hard in the current political climate. The host notes an irony: hawks who believe China exploited technology transfer from US investment should find the reverse arrangement especially appealing.

BYD, Tesla, and the Leap Into Electric Vehicles

Kroeber tells the EV story as an example of what such reverse learning could look like. In the early 1990s, China saw that almost every country that had grown rich (the US, Germany, Japan, Korea) had built a large auto industry that drove innovation in other sectors. It required foreign carmakers to form 50/50 joint ventures with Chinese firms, expecting the local partners to learn and eventually push the foreigners out.

Kroeber says this "failed massively." Over 25 years, GM, VW, Toyota, Honda, and others did very well. The Chinese partners mostly "clipped coupons" from joint-venture dividends while technology and design kept coming from the foreign side. Local firms produced many low-end vehicles by volume, but profits and value were dominated by the foreign-led joint ventures. By 2010–2015, China was no closer to having globally competitive conventional carmakers.

Around 2005–2010, policymakers decided to leapfrog by targeting a technology others were not yet pursuing seriously. Much of that bet went into renewable energy and especially electric vehicles, with broad subsidies for companies such as BYD, which Kroeber describes as essentially private. BYD became very good at supply chains and batteries, but by 2018–2019 it was still not an exciting company. Most Chinese consumers found EVs inconvenient and preferred the joint ventures' large SUVs.

The turning point, in his account, came in 2018, when the government let Tesla build a wholly owned Gigafactory in Shanghai. No wholly owned foreign automaker had been approved before. Tesla began producing cars in 2019, and they became hugely popular status symbols. Chinese firms by then had mastered batteries and vehicle software but were "terrible at consumer design." Seeing Tesla's success, BYD and its competitors improved their design, including hiring many German car designers. By around 2022, Kroeber says, they could compete with Tesla on both price and quality.

He draws two lessons. First, the leapfrog bet was sound, and China persisted despite years of weak financial returns. He cites estimates that subsidies to the EV industry and its supply chains totaled $200–300 billion. Second, what finally "flipped the switch" was catalytic foreign investment that showed Chinese companies what they needed to compete for consumers. Asked whether all those subsidies were necessary, Kroeber uses the old advertising line: half of it works, but you don't know which half. China probably didn't need to spend that much, but might not have gotten the same result by spending less. It tried producer subsidies, individual buyer subsidies, and city-level subsidies such as those for electric buses. The crucial element, he says, was a clear, persistent government commitment to keep trying different approaches until something worked.

China as a Giant VC Fund

The host pushes back: central planning isn't supposed to work, and Germany and Japan arguably missed the internet by focusing on heavy industry. Kroeber agrees the approach is risky. He notes that China's list of "strategic emerging industries," drawn up around 2010, is not a precise forecast of the future. It contains obvious candidates such as semiconductors, industrial automation, and new materials, the sort of sectors any VC fund would list.

When the host notes that most VC funds lose money, Kroeber leans into the analogy, which he says he has used many times. China is a giant VC fund willing to lose enormous amounts for a long time, betting that a few winners will pay for the failures. It is uniquely able to spend heavily without caring about returns. He adds that the green energy bet was not especially bold. Around 2007, John Doerr of Kleiner Perkins famously bet on green energy. Kroeber says Doerr was wrong about his investment returns but right that it would become a very big industry.

Why did this work when MITI-style planning elsewhere often didn't? Kroeber gives three reasons. First, like Japan, Korea, and Taiwan before it, China's system strongly emphasizes exporting. In a closed market, companies can win by rigging the market and cultivating political connections. That, he says, is what dooms import-substitution regimes, and he suggests Trump is trying to build such a closed system in the US. Exporters cannot rig the global market, so they have to upgrade. Second, unlike Japan, which kept foreign firms out of its home market, China allowed intense domestic competition that included international companies. That created a "crucible" in which government ideas were tested, whether they were right or wrong. Third, scale matters. In solar, starting around 2005, China deliberately built capacity at every stage from raw silicon to finished panels and tolerated repeated cycles of losses. Kroeber contrasts this with the US, where a single failed government loan to Solyndra was treated as proof that industrial policy doesn't work. China, he says, has "the right answer to that question." Success requires accepting some failures and losing some public money. He stresses that none of this would have worked without the wider ecosystem of export-driven manufacturing, fierce competition, and foreign participation.

Why a Japan-Style Crisis Is Unlikely

The host, having recently interviewed Ken Rogoff, asks whether China's national champions, conglomerates making everything from phones to cars, will lead to something like Japan's 1980s convoy system of favored lending. Kroeber first points to a strategic difference. Japan relied on the US for its security. China is an independent geopolitical actor with 14 land neighbors, including North Korea, Russia, Pakistan, and Afghanistan, and several of its neighbors have nuclear weapons. Japan could afford stagnation. For China, the stakes are existential, which gives leaders a strong, though not guaranteed, incentive to keep the system dynamic.

The more specific difference is financial structure. In Japan, banks and industrial and trading companies held each other's shares, so the whole economy effectively shared one balance sheet. By the late 1980s that balance sheet rested on land values detached from reality. Investors valued companies by their land holdings rather than their earnings. When land prices fell about 80%, stock prices fell by a similar amount, bank capital eroded, and everyone deleveraged at once. The result was debt deflation, in which fire sales push down asset prices and raise the real value of the remaining debt.

China, Kroeber says, studied Japan's crisis and Korea's in the late 1990s and banned this kind of cross-holding. Industrial companies cannot own banks. Large groups may have internal finance arms, but only to manage flows within the group. Banks cannot load up on industrial shares. China does have serious debt problems: overleveraged property developers, a five-year property crash, and local governments that borrowed for infrastructure that now yields little. But Kroeber argues these problems are isolated and can be dealt with one by one. The industrial sector is not highly leveraged. Private firms, long shut out of bank credit reserved for state-owned enterprises, learned to finance themselves from retained earnings. Their leverage is rising somewhat under the recent industrial-policy push, but remains far from Japan's situation.

Local Government Debt: A Sound Model That Went Too Far

The host notes that Kroeber's book describes local government financing vehicles backed by expected land appreciation, which sounds similar to Japan. Kroeber argues the original model was sensible. In the early 2000s, with the backing of the central government and the China Development Bank, local governments borrowed against the expected rise in undervalued land to fund badly needed housing and urban infrastructure. The land-value projections in the first two cases looked absurdly high at the time but turned out to be far too conservative. For eight or nine years, state development banks ran the model in a controlled way and very successfully.

The problem began after the 2008 financial crisis. The government flooded banks and state-owned enterprises with money and effectively said all infrastructure was good infrastructure. Commercial banks with weaker underwriting standards piled into lending to local governments, which treated it as free money. Kroeber calls the result a "Frankenstein's monster." The first couple of years of spending probably still earned decent returns because China was underbuilt, but after three or four years much of it went into wasteful projects, and China has spent the past decade trying to unwind them.

He sees this ultimately as a fiscal problem for the central government. By his estimate, China's combined central and local government debt is probably below 100% of GDP, compared with over 100% for US federal debt. The host cites previous guest Victor Shih's estimate that local government debt alone is 100–150% of GDP and total government debt around 200%. Kroeber "respectfully" disagrees. He says it is impossible to know for sure because of contingent debt issued through corporate vehicles, and he believes many high estimates fail to account for double counting as the same debt passes through several layers. Total debt across the economy, which he says is well captured by macro data, is about 300% of GDP. So a 200% government figure would imply that everything else is much smaller than believed, unless something is being double counted. He puts total US debt across all sectors at roughly 300% as well, with Japan higher.

Kroeber still considers the leverage serious. A 300% ratio is normal for rich economies but extremely high for a country with Brazil-like per capita income. Because the system is closed and the debt is in local currency, he does not expect a financial collapse, but he says it acts as a tax on growth. Asked why high debt is especially bad for middle-income countries, he explains that China's debt was historically justified because it financed productive infrastructure in an underbuilt country. That case is now much weaker. His remedy is macroeconomic. China has too much supply-side strategy and too little demand-side strategy. Stronger domestic demand would raise corporate profits and pricing power and bring mild inflation, generating cash flow to pay down debt while eroding its real value. He says this is roughly how China escaped its bad-loan problem in the late 1990s, and that an updated version could resolve the current debt over a decade or two.

If China Is So Competent, Why Isn't It Richer?

The host points out that China's per capita income is still about a fifth of America's and about a third of Japan's, Taiwan's, and South Korea's, and cites mistakes such as Zero-Covid. Kroeber first notes the irony that China is simultaneously criticized for being too successful. He then argues that during the 1990s and 2000s, China grew about 10% a year for 20 years, which he calls the fastest growth rate ever recorded, so claims that it could have grown much faster with less waste deserve skepticism.

He calls this the "efficiency fallacy." Economists trained in the US tend to treat the developed American economy as the norm, as if its current workings explained how it got rich. China grew by mobilizing huge domestic savings and throwing them, in an uncoordinated way, at many problems. Waste was part of the process. Had banks demanded proven returns for every project, Kroeber believes growth would have been lower and inequality might have been higher, because wasteful investment also reached geographically disadvantaged regions. The host quotes his book's line that for a country of China's scale, what matters is not efficiency in using resources but effectiveness in achieving outcomes, and Kroeber confirms that is his thesis.

Scale also explains the income gap. Taiwan had about 20 million people and South Korea about 40–45 million, and each moved its population into high-wage urban jobs within a generation or two. Kroeber argues this is physically impossible for 1.4 billion people. For years, China added about 20 million people a year to its urban population. He recalls calculating that it was building housing and infrastructure equal to New York plus Philadelphia plus San Francisco every year for 20 years. Even at that unprecedented pace, raising 1.4 billion people to US-level incomes takes a very long time.

He adds an important caveat. He sees little evidence that China grew below potential on average from 2000 to 2020, but considerable evidence that it is doing so now. In his view, China is sacrificing faster catch-up in ordinary living standards to pursue industrial and technological goals.

Technological Fetishism and the Missing Demand Side

The host asks why there should be any trade-off between technology and growth. Kroeber says China's leaders share a "technological fetishism" with Silicon Valley techno-optimists. He traces it to the 1840s, when Britain repeatedly defeated a long-dominant Chinese empire and imposed humiliating settlements through the Opium Wars. The elite conclusion was that China had fallen behind technologically and had to catch up. Late imperial politics blocked real progress. The republican government after 1911 said and did similar things, less effectively, amid civil wars. The Communist Party has finally carried the idea out.

From the 1980s, though, this coexisted with an agnostic pursuit of growth from any source. Local officials were told their key performance indicator was GDP. Kroeber says leaders understood that telling them to maximize technology would produce "dumb stuff" and waste. That approach was enormously successful. Xi Jinping, taking power in 2012, concluded it had produced corruption, inequality, and duplicated investment. Especially from 2015–2016, Xi focused state resources on technology, assuming growth would take care of itself. Trump's trade war and Biden's export controls pushed this further, convincing Beijing it had to replicate core technologies to avoid relying on the US and its allies. Kroeber stresses that the technology Beijing meant was physical, such as semiconductors, materials, green energy, and industrial robots, not Alibaba and Tencent.

Kroeber sees a flaw. Most people do not work in these sectors, and it is unclear how gains spread to the roughly 90% of the economy doing something else. The US answer was a demand-driven consumer economy in which companies emerge to meet consumer wants, increasingly for services and experiences, supported by a financial system that rewards them and creates many high-paid service jobs. East Asian industrial-policy models, he says, are "very materialist." They assume that getting good at physical things will spill over to everyone, and the evidence suggests it largely doesn't.

The host objects that a $100 billion semiconductor fund should not require lower overall growth. Kroeber agrees that it doesn't have to, but says that is how China has executed its strategy, because the industrial push came alongside a crackdown on services. In November 2020, regulators halted Ant Financial's giant IPO, rejecting the idea of building a financial system like America's circa 2005, with securitization and financial risk. The internet sector, which for about 20 years had faced almost no regulation apart from political censorship, was told that fintech, telehealth, and broader social media ventures were off-limits because of financial, social, or political risk. Alibaba and Tencent remain great companies, he says, and their share prices fell more than their revenue losses justified, but they are tightly constrained. Financial deregulation from about 2008 to 2017 brought shadow banking and risk but also gave private firms and households new financing options. It has since been reversed, pulling activity back into a small number of mostly state-owned banks. Plans to open healthcare to private business were also reined in.

The host observes that these moves reflect political control, not trade-offs forced by chip development. Kroeber agrees it is a political choice. The result, he says, is a real-world experiment. Technology sectors advance, but aggregate demand stays persistently weak, producers lack pricing power, prices fall, households save more out of worry, and China is now on the edge of a deflationary spiral. Kroeber says the government has recognized in recent months that it needs a demand strategy, but after 45 years building a "magnificent" supply machine, it is only at the very early stages of building a demand machine.

Getting the Enabling Infrastructure Right

The host notes how contingent technological progress is. AI, for instance, depended on GPUs developed for video games and data from people posting on Reddit and Twitter. The host also cautions against judging a system by 20–30 years of good calls, which is like praising dictatorship because one dictator chose well. Kroeber agrees that China's success was not a master plan. It involved a lot of groping and randomness, with credit due mainly for getting a few big directions right, sticking with them, and adjusting quickly when things failed. He adds that past results do not guarantee future ones. He is now less confident the US will keep its long-standing political system. In China, Xi has made himself effectively leader for life, which Kroeber notes did not end well last time. The long-running balance between growth and control has swung toward control.

His main argument is that China's industrial policy succeeded less by picking winning industries than by building the right enabling infrastructure. The first example is "informatization" (xìnxīhuà), a 1990s drive to spread information technology throughout society. In the late 1990s, conventional wisdom held that the internet would doom authoritarian regimes. Beijing bet it could both accelerate technological development and strengthen control, and Kroeber says it was right on both counts. Heavy early investment in fixed-line, then mobile, then nationwide government networks let China build its own internet with its own companies. It also gave leaders something sought since the second century BC: the ability to know what people across a vast empire are thinking. Kroeber describes the result as a panopticon.

The second example, which he calls severely underappreciated, is electrification. In most countries, electricity is still only 15–20% of final energy consumption. China began building capacity, mostly coal, in the early 2000s simply to end power shortages at factories. Then other goals reinforced one another. EVs offered a way around failure in combustion-engine cars. A high-speed rail network, which Kroeber describes as China wanting something like Japan's but 20 times bigger, would run on electricity. Coal is dirty and bad for both climate and local air pollution. Gas and uranium would have to be imported, and nuclear is hard to scale. Renewables promised permanent self-sufficiency because "you don't have to import the sun or the wind."

According to Kroeber, China's generating capacity is now more than double America's, its renewable capacity alone equals total US capacity, and electricity has risen to about 30% of its energy consumption, climbing rapidly while others barely move. He believes Beijing has concluded strategically that cheap, abundant power is central to every major 21st-century growth industry, including AI data centers. It is pursuing maximum generation from any fuel and leading in ultra-high-voltage transmission. He thinks electricity prices low enough to undercut competitors everywhere in electricity-intensive sectors will be a real advantage, and he believes they are basically right.

Does China Win AI?

The host makes a strong case for Chinese AI dominance by 2035. China has plenty of talent, as shown by High-Flyer and DeepSeek coming close to the frontier. SMIC will eventually produce H100-class chips, and in the host's view that will happen within the next 5–10 years even if export controls were still worthwhile. After that the contest is about scaling chips, energy, and deployment, which is China's strength. Kroeber notes that China adds roughly a France or a UK of generating capacity each year on average. The host argues that once AI reaches human level, the key question becomes how many AIs you can run, and power determines that.

Kroeber says he does not claim deep AI expertise and is unclear where the economic benefits will accrue. He draws on Amar Bhidé's The Venturesome Economy, which emphasizes the feedback loop between consumer demand and producers rather than producers alone. If, as he understands the consensus, large language models are a substrate and most value lies in applications built on top, the question is which system offers the most fertile ground for figuring out uses. There he gives the US a fairly strong edge. China has become more closed and obsessed with self-sufficiency, creating a walled garden, while US and Western AI firms have the rest of the world to work with.

On Victor Shih's view that Beijing might slow AI for fear of losing control, Kroeber respectfully disagrees. He expects China to make the same bet it made on the internet: the technology could be dangerous, but it is too useful to forgo, and China's control systems can manage it. He notes that DeepSeek came not from a state program but from a quant hedge fund founder in Hangzhou, and that reports suggest this caused some unease in Beijing about someone operating outside the official plan. Overall, though, he expects promotion rather than restraint.

The host suggests that, given scarce advanced chips and steep increases in training costs, China would benefit from pooling compute, for example by ordering Huawei and ByteDance to hand their chips to High-Flyer. Kroeber says with high confidence this will not happen. Huawei, ByteDance, Xiaomi, and Alibaba all have enough revenue, capital, and connections at central and local levels to pursue their own paths, and national monopoly solutions almost never happen in China. The host says this lowers their estimate of China's chances. Kroeber agrees the fragmentation is a real constraint, while noting that it matters less if China quickly solves domestic chip production.

Communication Breakdown and AI Safety

The host argues that a US-China "red telephone" is needed for AI. They are not mainly worried about an all-powerful AI, but about a more coordinated group taking control, as Cortés and Pizarro did. The Spanish learned from each previous conquest, while the Aztecs and Incas did not know what strategies had been used against others. If each side's AI does something dangerous, the other needs to hear about it. The host adds that a split world has safety value because it provides an independent line of experiments.

Kroeber calls this a terrific question but admits he has no great answer. The Cold War hotline dealt with a problem controlled centrally by a few people, and Thomas Schelling's game theory, which he does not want to minimize, addressed a problem of perhaps two or three dimensions. AI is far more diffuse and unpredictable. The host compares it to setting up a red telephone for the Industrial Revolution, and Kroeber agrees.

What Kroeber can say is that US-China communication has shrunk alarmingly, in some ways resembling US-Soviet relations in the 1950s before the Cuban Missile Crisis. When Trump took office in 2017, he inherited about 100 working-level government dialogues with China and eliminated all of them, replacing them only with trade talks. Kroeber traces a direct cost to this. After SARS in 2003, US CDC staff were embedded in China's disease-control counterpart, and that relationship grew. Without it, he says, the US had no window into early COVID, and he believes many deaths and much social chaos trace back to that failure to communicate. The Biden administration, in his account, largely kept the same approach, waited two years before adding a few channels, and was stingy about them. Those channels have reportedly gone unused since. He criticizes both administrations and says the current Trump administration does not value respectful communication with anyone.

He sees both sides stuck in self-reinforcing narratives. In the US, China is seen as an illegitimate systemic rival, and members of Congress avoid visiting because they would pay a political price and believe they already know what they need to. In China, nearly three years of COVID isolation deepened the self-sufficiency mindset, gave a long-standing discomfort with outside communication an excuse, and strengthened a paranoid narrative about US intentions that Kroeber considers significantly, but not entirely, justified. He is pessimistic about progress soon.

The Information Asymmetry

The host describes visiting cities of 20 million people such as Chongqing and Chengdu and seeing almost no Westerners, which inspired this series of episodes, and says the country's sheer size is badly underestimated. Kroeber agrees that its size, geographic and demographic, is a banal but constantly underestimated fact. He also defends personal exposure more than the host does. His book, he says, reached a few thousand readers, while more than 300,000 Chinese students have been in the US at any given time over the past 15–20 years.

He gives an example from teaching an executive MBA course at NYU on China's rise. Before COVID, each class of 20–25 reliably included four or five people who had spent time in China, often on the program's short and fairly superficial study tours. Those classes had nuanced discussions because people could say their own experience differed from the stereotypes. After COVID, the tours stopped, and for a couple of years no student had been to China. The baseline view became far more negative and "cartoonish," formed entirely by media and preconceptions.

For years, Kroeber dismissed Chinese experts' claims that they understood America better than Americans understood China. He now thinks it is "completely true." He lists the evidence: about 300,000 Chinese students in the US versus a struggle to reach 1,000 American students in China. The US closed China's Houston consulate in 2020, and China retaliated by closing the US consulate in Chengdu, leaving western China without official American eyes. Washington forced Xinhua journalists to register as government agents, which he calls "sort of true," and Beijing expelled many American journalists, which he calls a massive own goal. This asymmetry, he says, now disadvantages the US.

The host worries that, looking back, escalation could seem as mystifying as World War I. Kroeber agrees and says the US in particular must accept that the relationship has no endpoint: "There's no winning, there's no losing, there's just managing." He thinks Chinese elites, despite official talk of US decline, mostly have too much confidence in America's long-run resilience to believe it, and that they are right. He links swings between "China will dominate" and "China is collapsing" to ignorance. With less knowledge, it is easier to turn one truth into an absolute story. He cites the Trump administration's trade negotiations, which assumed China's economy was so weak it would quickly give in to tariffs.

He also calls much US blame of China scapegoating. US manufacturing's share of employment has declined in a straight line since 1946, and he says you cannot find the Cold War, Japan's rise, NAFTA, or China in it, only technological progress. The real failure was not updating redistribution and the domestic social contract. He calls BYD, Huawei, and CATL very good companies, but argues US firms remain strong across many sectors, often including in China. If the US loses its auto industry to BYD within five years, he says, it will be because of bad American policy, not the competition itself.

A Deep, Still Ocean

Kroeber first went to China in 1985, lived there more or less full-time until 2015, split his time after that, and now lives mainly in New York. He describes China as a turbulent, deep ocean. The surface shows enormous change in cities, high-rises, industrial parks, and high-speed rail. Underneath lies a still layer of ideas and bureaucratic tendencies built up over centuries. In terms of how people fundamentally understand life together in society, he argues the US has changed more since 1985 than China has: acceptance of gay, lesbian, and trans people, attention to race, and the immigrant experience. China, in his view, remains more cohesive and attached to deep-rooted ideas about gender relations and patriarchy. He does not want to understate China's transformation, especially the social change from replacing the planned economy with what he calls a basically capitalist system inside a "Leninist political carapace."

Returning from China, he was always struck by how much grassroots cultural activity exists across the US, compared with a few cultural hotspots in China and relative calm elsewhere. He attributes this partly to income: a poorer society has less surplus for activity that is not economically productive in a narrow sense. It is not only political repression but also ingrained social structure.

The host warns about two opposite traps: seeing China as the new Stalin or Hitler, or, among those wanting good relations, concluding that central planning and authoritarianism work. Kroeber agrees these are bad lessons. It should be possible to want a productive relationship while believing authoritarianism is morally wrong and harmful to growth and everyday life. He adds that American attitudes toward China have historically swung between seeing kindred pragmatic, business-loving people and seeing a vast, devilish system, and that the US has always struggled to find the middle.

After Liberation Day: What a Good Outcome Would Look Like

Asked for the most positive plausible outcome of the US-China negotiations following "Liberation Day," Kroeber says his expectations are very low. The US side has a collection of grievances that have not become a coherent agenda. It is hard to negotiate without knowing what you want from yourself and from the other party.

Normatively, he says the goal should be terms of coexistence for the coming decades. The most desirable outcome would allow much more Chinese investment in key US industries. He believes the US let parts of its manufacturing base atrophy too much, and rebuilding selectively should draw on the best firms anywhere, some of which are now Chinese. He also sees investment as an even better communication channel than trade, because it forces companies to put down roots and learn how the other side works. The obstacles are enormous: the US narrative that such investment is inherently unsafe, and likely Chinese reluctance to let leading technology firms set up in the US and risk leaks. At best, he thinks terms might be negotiated over one to three years.

He identifies China's biggest problem for the world as its unwillingness or inability to generate enough domestic demand. Firms that cannot sell at home export their surplus, raising trade frictions with many countries and reinforcing the view that China is in it only for itself. He thinks China may be forced to change. The metrics his team tracks show falling returns on investment and a rising number of zombie companies that cannot cover their interest costs. Outside pressure toward more balance would help.

His last point is aimed at the US. Both the Trump administration and, to some degree, the Biden administration have believed China can be contained by an alliance, dusting off the Cold War bloc playbook. Kroeber says this will not work. Beijing saw it coming and chose not to build a rival bloc but to make it impossible for the US to build one. He says 140 countries trade more with China than with the US. Ask Southeast Asian or Latin American countries to join an anti-China alliance and, in his account, they will refuse, because China supplies their industrial inputs and consumer goods and is their first or second economic partner. The workable alternative, he argues, is to accept China's integration as reality and rely on American strengths: a dynamic system and a more creative, flexible financial system. That means fixing America's own economic and social imbalances and keeping engagement with China competitive but bounded, to avoid a hot conflict, which he calls the worst of all possible worlds.