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The Peril Of Perfection: Why Utopian Cities Fail

By Michael Cummins, Editor, August 7, 2025

Throughout human history, the idea of a perfect city—a harmonious, orderly, and just society—has been a powerful and enduring dream. From the philosophical blueprints of antiquity to the grand, state-sponsored projects of the modern era, the desire to create a flawless urban space has driven thinkers and leaders alike. This millennia-long aspiration, rooted in a fundamental human longing for order and a rejection of present-day flaws, finds its most recent and monumental expression in China’s Xiongan New Area, a project highlighted in an August 7, 2025, Economist article titled “Xi Jinping’s city of the future is coming to life.” Xiongan is both a marvel of technological and urban design and a testament to the persistent—and potentially perilous—quest for an idealized city.

By examining the historical precedents of utopian thought, we can understand Xiongan not merely as a contemporary infrastructure project but as the latest chapter in a timeless and often fraught human ambition to build paradise on earth. This essay will trace the evolution of the utopian ideal from ancient philosophy to modern practice, arguing that while Xiongan embodies the most technologically advanced and politically ambitious vision to date, its top-down, state-driven nature and astronomical costs raise critical questions about its long-term viability and ability to succeed where countless others have failed.

The Philosophical and Historical Roots

The earliest and most iconic examples of this utopian desire were theoretical and philosophical, serving as intellectual critiques rather than practical blueprints. Plato’s mythological city of Atlantis, described in his dialogues Timaeus and Critias, was not just a lost city but a complex philosophical thought experiment. Plato detailed a powerful, technologically advanced, and ethically pure island society, governed by a wise and noble lineage. The city itself was a masterpiece of urban planning, with concentric circles of land and water, advanced canals, and stunning architecture.

However, its perfection was ultimately undone by human greed and moral decay. As the Atlanteans became corrupted by hubris and ambition, their city was swallowed by the sea. This myth is foundational to all subsequent utopian thought, serving as a powerful and enduring cautionary tale that even the most perfect physical and social structure is fragile and susceptible to corruption from within. It suggests that a utopian society cannot simply be built; its sustainability is dependent on the moral fortitude of its citizens.

Centuries later, in 1516, Thomas More gave the concept its very name with his book Utopia. More’s work was a masterful social and political satire, a searing critique of the harsh realities of 16th-century England. He described a fictional island society where there was no private property, and all goods were shared. The citizens worked only six hours a day, with the rest of their time dedicated to education and leisure. The society was governed by reason and justice, and there were no social classes, greed, or poverty. More’s Utopia was not about a perfect physical city, but a perfect social structure.

“For where pride is predominant, there all these good laws and policies that are designed to establish equity are wholly ineffectual, because this monster is a greater enemy to justice than avarice, anger, envy, or any other of that kind; and it is a very great one in every man, though he have never so much of a saint about him.” – Utopia by Thomas More

It was an intellectual framework for political philosophy, designed to expose the flaws of a European society plagued by poverty, inequality, and the injustices of land enclosure. Like Atlantis, it existed as an ideal, a counterpoint to the flawed present, but it established a powerful cultural archetype.

The city as a reflection of societal ideals. — Intellicurean

Following this, Francis Bacon’s unfinished novel New Atlantis (1627) offered a different, more prophetic vision of perfection. His mythical island, Bensalem, was home to a society dedicated not to social or political equality, but to the pursuit of knowledge. The core of their society was “Salomon’s House,” a research institution where scientists worked together to discover and apply knowledge for the benefit of humanity. Bacon’s vision was a direct reflection of his advocacy for the scientific method and empirical reasoning.

In his view, a perfect society was one that systematically harnessed technological innovation to improve human life. Bacon’s utopia was a testament to the power of collective knowledge, a vision that, unlike More’s, would resonate profoundly with the coming age of scientific and industrial revolution. These intellectual exercises established a powerful cultural archetype: the city as a reflection of societal ideals.

From Theory to Practice: Real-World Experiments

As these ideas took root, the dream of a perfect society moved from the page to the physical world, often with mixed results. The Georgia Colony, founded in 1732 by James Oglethorpe, was conceived with powerful utopian ideals, aiming to be a fresh start for England’s “worthy poor” and debtors. Oglethorpe envisioned a society without the class divisions that plagued England, and to that end, his trustees prohibited slavery and large landholdings. The colony was meant to be a place of virtue, hard work, and abundance. Yet, the ideals were not fully realized. The prohibition on slavery hampered economic growth compared to neighboring colonies, and the trustees’ rules were eventually overturned. The colony ultimately evolved into a more typical slave-holding, plantation-based society, demonstrating how external pressures and economic realities can erode even the most virtuous of founding principles.

In the 19th century, with the rise of industrialization, several communities were established to combat the ills of the new urban landscape. The Shakers, a religious community founded in the 18th century, are one of America’s most enduring utopian experiments. They built successful communities based on communal living, pacifism, gender equality, and celibacy. Their belief in simplicity and hard work led to a reputation for craftsmanship, particularly in furniture making. At their peak in the mid-19th century, there were over a dozen Shaker communities, and their economic success demonstrated the viability of communal living. However, their practice of celibacy meant they relied on converts and orphans to sustain their numbers, a demographic fragility that ultimately led to their decline. The Shaker experience proved that a society’s success depends not only on its economic and social structure but also on its ability to sustain itself demographically.

These real-world attempts demonstrate the immense difficulty of sustaining a perfect society against the realities of human nature and economic pressures. — Intellicurean

The Transcendentalist experiment at Brook Farm (1841-1847) attempted to blend intellectual and manual labor, blurring the lines between thinkers and workers. Its members, who included prominent figures like Nathaniel Hawthorne, believed that a more wholesome and simple life could be achieved in a cooperative community. However, the community struggled from the beginning with financial mismanagement and the impracticality of their ideals. The final blow was a disastrous fire that destroyed a major building, and the community was dissolved. Brook Farm’s failure illustrates a central truth of many utopian experiments: idealism can falter in the face of economic pressures and simple bad luck.

A more enduring but equally radical experiment, the Oneida Community (1848-1881), achieved economic success through manufacturing, particularly silverware, under the leadership of John Humphrey Noyes. Based on his concept of “Bible Communism,” they practiced communal living and a system of “complex marriage.” Despite its radical social structure, the community thrived economically, but internal disputes and external pressures ultimately led to its dissolution. These real-world attempts demonstrate the immense difficulty of sustaining a perfect society against the realities of human nature and economic pressures.

Xiongan: The Modern Utopia?

Xiongan is the natural, and perhaps ultimate, successor to these modern visions. It represents a confluence of historical utopian ideals with a uniquely contemporary, state-driven model of urban development. Touted as a “city of the future,” Xiongan promises short, park-filled commutes and a high-tech, digitally-integrated existence. It seeks to be a model of ecological civilization, where 70% of the city is dedicated to green space and water, an explicit rejection of the “urban maladies” of pollution and congestion that plague other major Chinese cities.

Its design principles are an homage to the urban planners of the past, with a “15-minute lifecycle” for residents, ensuring all essential amenities are within a short walk. The city’s digital infrastructure is also a modern marvel, with digital roads equipped with smart lampposts and a supercomputing center designed to manage the city’s traffic and services. In this sense, Xiongan is a direct heir to Francis Bacon’s vision of a society built on scientific and technological progress.

Unlike the organic, market-driven growth of a city like Shenzhen, Xiongan is an authoritarian experiment in building a perfect city from scratch. — The Economist

This vision, however, is a top-down creation. As a “personal initiative” of President Xi, its success is a matter of political will, with the central government pouring billions into its construction. The project is a key part of the “Jing-Jin-Ji” (Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei) coordinated development plan, meant to relieve the pressure on the capital. Unlike the organic, market-driven growth of a city like Shenzhen, Xiongan is an authoritarian experiment in building a perfect city from scratch. Shenzhen, for example, was an SEZ (Special Economic Zone) that grew from the bottom up, driven by market forces and a flexible policy environment. It was a chaotic, rapid, and often unplanned explosion of economic activity. Xiongan, in stark contrast, is a meticulously planned project from its very inception, with a precise ideological purpose to showcase a new kind of “socialist” urbanism.

This centralized approach, while capable of achieving rapid and impressive infrastructure development, runs the risk of failing to create the one thing a true city needs: a vibrant, organic, and self-sustaining culture. The criticisms of Xiongan echo the failures of past utopian ventures; despite the massive investment, the city’s streets remain “largely empty,” and it has struggled to attract the talent and businesses needed to become a bustling metropolis. The absence of a natural community and the reliance on forced relocations have created a city that is technically perfect but socially barren.

The Peril of Perfection

The juxtaposition of Xiongan with its utopian predecessors highlights the central tension of the modern planned city. The ancient dream of Atlantis was a philosophical ideal, a perfect society whose downfall served as a moral warning against hubris. The real-world communities of the 19th century demonstrated that idealism could falter in the face of economic and social pressures, proving that a perfect society is not a fixed state but a dynamic, and often fragile, process. The modern reality of Xiongan is a physical, political, and economic gamble—a concrete manifestation of a leader’s will to solve a nation’s problems through grand design. It is a bold attempt to correct the mistakes of the past and a testament to the immense power of a centralized state. Yet, the question remains whether it can escape the fate of its predecessors.

The ultimate verdict on Xiongan will not be about the beauty of its architecture or the efficiency of its smart infrastructure alone, but whether it can successfully transcend its origins as a state project. — The Economist

The ultimate verdict on Xiongan will not be about the beauty of its architecture or the efficiency of its smart infrastructure alone, but whether it can successfully transcend its origins as a state project to become a truly livable, desirable, and thriving city. Only then can it stand as a true heir to the timeless dream of a perfect urban space, rather than just another cautionary tale. Whether a perfect city can be engineered from the top down, or if it must be a messy, organic creation, is the fundamental question that Xiongan, and by extension, the modern world, is attempting to answer.

THIS ESSAY WAS WRITTEN AND EDITED UTILIZING AI

From Perks to Power: The Rise Of The “Hard Tech Era”

By Michael Cummins, Editor, August 4, 2025

Silicon Valley’s golden age once shimmered with the optimism of code and charisma. Engineers built photo-sharing apps and social platforms from dorm rooms that ballooned into glass towers adorned with kombucha taps, nap pods, and unlimited sushi. “Web 2.0” promised more than software—it promised a more connected and collaborative world, powered by open-source idealism and the promise of user-generated magic. For a decade, the region stood as a monument to American exceptionalism, where utopian ideals were monetized at unprecedented speed and scale. The culture was defined by lavish perks, a “rest and vest” mentality, and a political monoculture that leaned heavily on globalist, liberal ideals.

That vision, however intoxicating, has faded. As The New York Times observed in the August 2025 feature “Silicon Valley Is in Its ‘Hard Tech’ Era,” that moment now feels “mostly ancient history.” A cultural and industrial shift has begun—not toward the next app, but toward the very architecture of intelligence itself. Artificial intelligence, advanced compute infrastructure, and geopolitical urgency have ushered in a new era—more austere, centralized, and fraught. This transition from consumer-facing “soft tech” to foundational “hard tech” is more than a technological evolution; it is a profound realignment that is reshaping everything: the internal ethos of the Valley, the spatial logic of its urban core, its relationship to government and regulation, and the ethical scaffolding of the technologies it’s racing to deploy.

The Death of “Rest and Vest” and the Rise of Productivity Monoculture

During the Web 2.0 boom, Silicon Valley resembled a benevolent technocracy of perks and placation. Engineers were famously “paid to do nothing,” as the Times noted, while they waited out their stock options at places like Google and Facebook. Dry cleaning was free, kombucha flowed, and nap pods offered refuge between all-hands meetings and design sprints.

“The low-hanging-fruit era of tech… it just feels over.”
—Sheel Mohnot, venture capitalist

The abundance was made possible by a decade of rock-bottom interest rates, which gave startups like Zume half a billion dollars to revolutionize pizza automation—and investors barely blinked. The entire ecosystem was built on the premise of endless growth and limitless capital, fostering a culture of comfort and a lack of urgency.

But this culture of comfort has collapsed. The mass layoffs of 2022 by companies like Meta and Twitter signaled a stark end to the “rest and vest” dream for many. Venture capital now demands rigor, not whimsy. Soft consumer apps have yielded to infrastructure-scale AI systems that require deep expertise and immense compute. The “easy money” of the 2010s has dried up, replaced by a new focus on tangible, hard-to-build value. This is no longer a game of simply creating a new app; it is a brutal, high-stakes race to build the foundational infrastructure of a new global order.

The human cost of this transformation is real. A Medium analysis describes the rise of the “Silicon Valley Productivity Trap”—a mentality in which engineers are constantly reminded that their worth is linked to output. Optimization is no longer a tool; it’s a creed. “You’re only valuable when producing,” the article warns. The hidden cost is burnout and a loss of spontaneity, as employees internalize the dangerous message that their value is purely transactional. Twenty-percent time, once lauded at Google as a creative sanctuary, has disappeared into performance dashboards and velocity metrics. This mindset, driven by the “growth at all costs” metrics of venture capital, preaches that “faster is better, more is success, and optimization is salvation.”

Yet for an elite few, this shift has brought unprecedented wealth. Freethink coined the term “superstar engineer era,” likening top AI talent to professional athletes. These individuals, fluent in neural architectures and transformer theory, now bounce between OpenAI, Google DeepMind, Microsoft, and Anthropic in deals worth hundreds of millions. The tech founder as cultural icon is no longer the apex. Instead, deep learning specialists—some with no public profiles—command the highest salaries and strategic power. This new model means that founding a startup is no longer the only path to generational wealth. For the majority of the workforce, however, the culture is no longer one of comfort but of intense pressure and a more ruthless meritocracy, where charisma and pitch decks no longer suffice. The new hierarchy is built on demonstrable skill in math, machine learning, and systems engineering.

One AI engineer put it plainly in Wired: “We’re not building a better way to share pictures of our lunch—we’re building the future. And that feels different.” The technical challenges are orders of magnitude more complex, requiring deep expertise and sustained focus. This has, in turn, created a new form of meritocracy, one that is less about networking and more about profound intellectual contributions. The industry has become less forgiving of superficiality and more focused on raw, demonstrable skill.

Hard Tech and the Economics of Concentration

Hard tech is expensive. Building large language models, custom silicon, and global inference infrastructure costs billions—not millions. The barrier to entry is no longer market opportunity; it’s access to GPU clusters and proprietary data lakes. This stark economic reality has shifted the power dynamic away from small, scrappy startups and towards well-capitalized behemoths like Google, Microsoft, and OpenAI. The training of a single cutting-edge large language model can cost over $100 million in compute and data, an astronomical sum that few startups can afford. This has led to an unprecedented level of centralization in an industry that once prided itself on decentralization and open innovation.

The “garage startup”—once sacred—has become largely symbolic. In its place is the “studio model,” where select clusters of elite talent form inside well-capitalized corporations. OpenAI, Google, Meta, and Amazon now function as innovation fortresses: aggregating talent, compute, and contracts behind closed doors. The dream of a 22-year-old founder building the next Facebook in a dorm room has been replaced by a more realistic, and perhaps more sober, vision of seasoned researchers and engineers collaborating within well-funded, corporate-backed labs.

This consolidation is understandable, but it is also a rupture. Silicon Valley once prided itself on decentralization and permissionless innovation. Anyone with an idea could code a revolution. Today, many promising ideas languish without hardware access or platform integration. This concentration of resources and talent creates a new kind of monopoly, where a small number of entities control the foundational technology that will power the future. In a recent MIT Technology Review article, “The AI Super-Giants Are Coming,” experts warn that this consolidation could stifle the kind of independent, experimental research that led to many of the breakthroughs of the past.

And so the question emerges: has hard tech made ambition less democratic? The democratic promise of the internet, where anyone with a good idea could build a platform, is giving way to a new reality where only the well-funded and well-connected can participate in the AI race. This concentration of power raises serious questions about competition, censorship, and the future of open innovation, challenging the very ethos of the industry.

From Libertarianism to Strategic Governance

For decades, Silicon Valley’s politics were guided by an anti-regulatory ethos. “Move fast and break things” wasn’t just a slogan—it was moral certainty. The belief that governments stifled innovation was nearly universal. The long-standing political monoculture leaned heavily on globalist, liberal ideals, viewing national borders and military spending as relics of a bygone era.

“Industries that were once politically incorrect among techies—like defense and weapons development—have become a chic category for investment.”
—Mike Isaac, The New York Times

But AI, with its capacity to displace jobs, concentrate power, and transcend human cognition, has disrupted that certainty. Today, there is a growing recognition that government involvement may be necessary. The emergent “Liberaltarian” position—pro-social liberalism with strategic deregulation—has become the new consensus. A July 2025 forum at The Center for a New American Security titled “Regulating for Advantage” laid out the new philosophy: effective governance, far from being a brake, may be the very lever that ensures American leadership in AI. This is a direct response to the ethical and existential dilemmas posed by advanced AI, problems that Web 2.0 never had to contend with.

Hard tech entrepreneurs are increasingly policy literate. They testify before Congress, help draft legislation, and actively shape the narrative around AI. They see political engagement not as a distraction, but as an imperative to secure a strategic advantage. This stands in stark contrast to Web 2.0 founders who often treated politics as a messy side issue, best avoided. The conversation has moved from a utopian faith in technology to a more sober, strategic discussion about national and corporate interests.

At the legislative level, the shift is evident. The “Protection Against Foreign Adversarial Artificial Intelligence Act of 2025” treats AI platforms as strategic assets akin to nuclear infrastructure. National security budgets have begun to flow into R&D labs once funded solely by venture capital. This has made formerly “politically incorrect” industries like defense and weapons development not only acceptable, but “chic.” Within the conservative movement, factions have split. The “Tech Right” embraces innovation as patriotic duty—critical for countering China and securing digital sovereignty. The “Populist Right,” by contrast, expresses deep unease about surveillance, labor automation, and the elite concentration of power. This internal conflict is a fascinating new force in the national political dialogue.

As Alexandr Wang of Scale AI noted, “This isn’t just about building companies—it’s about who gets to build the future of intelligence.” And increasingly, governments are claiming a seat at that table.

Urban Revival and the Geography of Innovation

Hard tech has reshaped not only corporate culture but geography. During the pandemic, many predicted a death spiral for San Francisco—rising crime, empty offices, and tech workers fleeing to Miami or Austin. They were wrong.

“For something so up in the cloud, A.I. is a very in-person industry.”
—Jasmine Sun, culture writer

The return of hard tech has fueled an urban revival. San Francisco is once again the epicenter of innovation—not for delivery apps, but for artificial general intelligence. Hayes Valley has become “Cerebral Valley,” while the corridor from the Mission District to Potrero Hill is dubbed “The Arena,” where founders clash for supremacy in co-working spaces and hacker houses. A recent report from Mindspace notes that while big tech companies like Meta and Google have scaled back their office footprints, a new wave of AI companies have filled the void. OpenAI and other AI firms have leased over 1.7 million square feet of office space in San Francisco, signaling a strong recovery in a commercial real estate market that was once on the brink.

This in-person resurgence reflects the nature of the work. AI development is unpredictable, serendipitous, and cognitively demanding. The intense, competitive nature of AI development requires constant communication and impromptu collaboration that is difficult to replicate over video calls. Furthermore, the specialized nature of the work has created a tight-knit community of researchers and engineers who want to be physically close to their peers. This has led to the emergence of “hacker houses” and co-working spaces in San Francisco that serve as both living quarters and laboratories, blurring the lines between work and life. The city, with its dense urban fabric and diverse cultural offerings, has become a more attractive environment for this new generation of engineers than the sprawling, suburban campuses of the South Bay.

Yet the city’s realities complicate the narrative. San Francisco faces housing crises, homelessness, and civic discontent. The July 2025 San Francisco Chronicle op-ed, “The AI Boom is Back, But is the City Ready?” asks whether this new gold rush will integrate with local concerns or exacerbate inequality. AI firms, embedded in the city’s social fabric, are no longer insulated by suburban campuses. They share sidewalks, subways, and policy debates with the communities they affect. This proximity may prove either transformative or turbulent—but it cannot be ignored. This urban revival is not just a story of economic recovery, but a complex narrative about the collision of high-stakes technology with the messy realities of city life.

The Ethical Frontier: Innovation’s Moral Reckoning

The stakes of hard tech are not confined to competition or capital. They are existential. AI now performs tasks once reserved for humans—writing, diagnosing, strategizing, creating. And as its capacities grow, so too do the social risks.

“The true test of our technology won’t be in how fast we can innovate, but in how well we can govern it for the benefit of all.”
—Dr. Anjali Sharma, AI ethicist

Job displacement is a top concern. A Brookings Institution study projects that up to 20% of existing roles could be automated within ten years—including not just factory work, but professional services like accounting, journalism, and even law. The transition to “hard tech” is therefore not just an internal corporate story, but a looming crisis for the global workforce. This potential for mass job displacement introduces a host of difficult questions that the “soft tech” era never had to face.

Bias is another hazard. The Algorithmic Justice League highlights how facial recognition algorithms have consistently underperformed for people of color—leading to wrongful arrests and discriminatory outcomes. These are not abstract failures—they’re systems acting unjustly at scale, with real-world consequences. The shift to “hard tech” means that Silicon Valley’s decisions are no longer just affecting consumer habits; they are shaping the very institutions of our society. The industry is being forced to reckon with its power and responsibility in a way it never has before, leading to the rise of new roles like “AI Ethicist” and the formation of internal ethics boards.

Privacy and autonomy are eroding. Large-scale model training often involves scraping public data without consent. AI-generated content is used to personalize content, track behavior, and profile users—often with limited transparency or consent. As AI systems become not just tools but intermediaries between individuals and institutions, they carry immense responsibility and risk.

The problem isn’t merely technical. It’s philosophical. What assumptions are embedded in the systems we scale? Whose values shape the models we train? And how can we ensure that the architects of intelligence reflect the pluralism of the societies they aim to serve? This is the frontier where hard tech meets hard ethics. And the answers will define not just what AI can do—but what it should do.

Conclusion: The Future Is Being Coded

The shift from soft tech to hard tech is a great reordering—not just of Silicon Valley’s business model, but of its purpose. The dorm-room entrepreneur has given way to the policy-engaged research scientist. The social feed has yielded to the transformer model. What was once an ecosystem of playful disruption has become a network of high-stakes institutions shaping labor, governance, and even war.

“The race for artificial intelligence is a race for the future of civilization. The only question is whether the winner will be a democracy or a police state.”
—General Marcus Vance, Director, National AI Council

The defining challenge of the hard tech era is not how much we can innovate—but how wisely we can choose the paths of innovation. Whether AI amplifies inequality or enables equity; whether it consolidates power or redistributes insight; whether it entrenches surveillance or elevates human flourishing—these choices are not inevitable. They are decisions to be made, now. The most profound legacy of this era will be determined by how Silicon Valley and the world at large navigate its complex ethical landscape.

As engineers, policymakers, ethicists, and citizens confront these questions, one truth becomes clear: Silicon Valley is no longer just building apps. It is building the scaffolding of modern civilization. And the story of that civilization—its structure, spirit, and soul—is still being written.

*THIS ESSAY WAS WRITTEN AND EDITED UTILIZING AI

Foreign Affairs Essay: ‘Underestimating China’

FOREIGN AFFAIRS MAGAZINE (April 11, 2025):

Success in great-power competition requires rigorous and unsentimental net assessment. Yet the American estimation of China has lurched from one extreme to the other. For decades, Americans registered blistering economic growth, dominance of international trade, and growing geopolitical ambition, and anticipated the day when China might overtake a strategically distracted and politically paralyzed United States; after the 2008 financial crisis, and then especially at the height of the COVID pandemic, many observers believed that day had come. But the pendulum swung to the other extreme only a few years later as China’s abandonment of “zero COVID” failed to restore growth. Beijing was beset by ominous demographics, once unthinkable youth unemployment, and deepening stagnation while the United States was strengthening alliances, boasting breakthroughs in artificial intelligence and other technologies, and enjoying a booming economy with record low unemployment and record high stock markets.

The rise and fall of great powers often begins with flawed self-diagnosis.

A new consensus took hold: that an aging, slowing, and increasingly less nimble China would not overtake an ascendant United States. Washington shifted from pessimism to overconfidence. Yet just as past bouts of defeatism were misguided, so is today’s triumphalism, which risks dangerously underestimating both the latent and actual power of the only competitor in a century whose GDP has surpassed 70 percent of that of the United States. On critical metrics, China has already outmatched the United States. Economically, it boasts twice the manufacturing capacity. Technologically, it dominates everything from electric vehicles to fourth-generation nuclear reactors and now produces more active patents and top-cited scientific publications annually. Militarily, it features the world’s largest navy, bolstered by shipbuilding capacity 200 times as large as that of the United States; vastly greater missile stocks; and the world’s most advanced hypersonic capabilities—all results of the fastest military modernization in history. Even if China’s growth slows and its system falters, it will remain formidable strategically.


Such a commitment is not just a policy, but a signal of the capabilities of the United States, its allies, and partners. The Chinese Communist Party is inordinately focused on perceptions of American power, and a critical input in that equation is its estimation of Washington’s ability to pull in the allies and partners that even Beijing openly admits are the United States’ greatest advantage. Accordingly, the most effective U.S. strategy—the one that has most unsettled Beijing in recent years and can deter its adventurism in the future—is to build new, enduring, and robust capacities with these states. A sustained, bipartisan commitment to an upgraded alliance network, coupled with strategic cooperation in emerging fields, offers the best path forward to finding scale against the most formidable competitor the United States has ever encountered.

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KURT M. CAMPBELL is Chairman and Cofounder of The Asia Group. He served as Deputy Secretary of State and Indo-Pacific Coordinator at the National Security Council during the Biden administration.

RUSH DOSHI is an Assistant Professor at Georgetown University and Director of the China Strategy Initiative at the Council on Foreign Relations. He served as Deputy Senior Director for China and Taiwan Affairs at the National Security Council during the Biden administration.

Foreign Policy: ‘DeepSeek’s Lesson – America Needs Smarter Export Controls’

THE WIRE CHINA (February 5, 2025): Last December, the Chinese AI firm DeepSeek reported training a GPT-4-level model for just $5.6 million, challenging assumptions about the resources needed for frontier AI development. This perceived cost reduction, and DeepSeek’s cut-rate pricing for its advanced reasoning model R1, have left tech stocks plunging and sparked a debate on the effectiveness of U.S. export controls on AI chips.

Select Committee Chairman Moolenaar and Ranking Member Krishnamoorthi’s letter to National Security Advisor Waltz on DeepSeek. Credit: Select Committee

Some argue that DeepSeek’s efficiency breakthroughs mean the controls have backfired and must be lifted. But this view overlooks the bigger picture: DeepSeek’s success in fact underscores the need for smarter export controls. DeepSeek exploited gaps in current controls, such as exports of chips to China that matched U.S. performance despite the initial October 2022 rules, chip smuggling, inadequate oversight on chip manufacturers like TSMC, and slow regulatory updates that enabled stockpiling. 

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