In the end, Trump did not disappoint: like his predecessors in the White House, he proclaimed himself the herald of freedom, he doled out punishments and rewards, and he wants us to believe that he is saving the world with every display of material power as impressive as it is ineffective. It is a historical constant: armed with the unshakable self-righteousness of the “born again,” the empire projects its devastating Manichaeism onto the world. With eyes wide open, it dreams of a definitive division between the good and the bad, the unshakable pillar of an unapologetic ethnocentrism. The law is inevitably on its side, since it embodies the cardinal values of “democracy” and “human rights.” With no scruples to inhibit its salvific frenzy, the singular civilization of which it claims to be the embodiment grants itself the express prerogative to reduce barbarism by any means necessary. Imperialism is a court with a universal mandate that metes out punishment as it sees fit.

Since its founding, the United States has proclaimed itself an “exceptional nation.” Whether Bush or Obama, Biden or Trump, nothing changes: buried in the collective unconscious, this identity-defining premise runs through history. Like a baton passed furtively from one president to the next, it remains intact, immaculate as the Tablets of the Law. For it is very much a matter of structure, not circumstance. The singularity of the United States is that it believes itself to be the lifelong custodian of a global “imperium.” This is because it projects itself across the seas in the name of a civilizing mission that reveals, above all, the lofty view it holds of itself. Nothing is more hostile to true secularism, in this sense, than the dominant ideology of the United States of America.

The exceptional nation cloaks its appetite for power in the folds of “freedom,” “democracy,” and “human rights,” as if these abstract entities were deities it was destined to serve by vanquishing the wicked. Since it is the embodiment of Good, is the world not at its disposal, a passive object of its salvific impulses? As the dispenser of an immanent justice tailored to its own measure, the nation of “manifest destiny” sets no limits on its benevolent aura, for it sees in it the legitimate consequence of its moral superiority. With its proximity to God sanctifying its earthly power, it relentlessly hunts down evil forces to sacrifice them as atonement for their crimes.

The conviction of divine election, the identification with the New Israel, and the myth of “manifest destiny” articulate, in every possible way, the staggering claim of this capitalist oligarchy to subjugate the planet. Considering themselves the salt of the earth, the Puritans had already sounded the call for the conquest of the “virgin lands,” that is, the large-scale massacre of the Native Americans, likened to the Canaanites and the Amalekites. The indigenous populations were exterminated because the “new man” had to find himself alone in the face of a virgin wilderness whose possession was willed by God. There were 9 million Native Americans in North America in 1800. A century later, there were only 300,000 left. As Alexis de Tocqueville might say, “Democracy in America” had taken its toll, with its poisoned blankets and Gatling guns. But these massacres are not a tribute paid to the absurdity of human affairs: they are part of the natural order of things; they correspond to the divine plan.

The Scourge of Good

A self-designation as the embodiment of Good that helped to legitimize the idea, at the end of the 20th century, that history had come to an end with the collapse of the Soviet Union. The triumph of the United States thus realized the most accomplished form of liberal democracy, and Francis Fukuyama could proclaim the “end of history” once prophesied by Hegel. In a majestic apotheosis, the victory of the United States gave substance to the sublime ideal of the market economy. With the triumph of liberal democracy, the universal republic finally loomed on the horizon. This democratic paradise, bestowing its blessings upon the entire planet, could be embodied only by “America.” Its exploits fulfilled the divine plan, and providence then led to the triumph of Good under the dazzled gaze of grateful peoples. As the “Light of the Nations,” America guided them steadfastly toward the Promised Land of a reconciled world.

What is striking about Americans is how their clear conscience coincides with the decay of their country. Per capita GDP is colossal, yet 20% of the population languishes in poverty. Infrastructure is dilapidated, inequalities are glaring, and the school system is in decline. Violence reigns, and American inmates account for 25% of the world’s prisoners. More than 30% of the population is obese, and the health crisis has wreaked havoc there. Average life expectancy in the United States has fallen behind that of the Chinese. But these vicissitudes are insignificant in the face of what truly matters, and reality is kind enough to keep a low profile. Morally perfect, an imaginary “America” presents itself as a complete system, erasing all traces of contradiction and looking to the future with confidence. It is strange, but even when discussing the disasters for which they are responsible, the leaders of this country always have a smile on their faces.

The exceptional nation exerts its benevolent influence no matter what happens. Because America is destined by divine decree to become the empire of the end times, its future and its present are already contained within its origins. Entrusted with a global mission, it embraces its “manifest destiny” in a redemptive gesture that defies space and time. This is why an edifying narrative ceaselessly extols its genius. Rewriting its own history in the manner of a sacred text, America collides with international law through divine right. It is no coincidence that the genocidal entity surviving between the sea and the Jordan River—bombing everything that moves—has long been worshipped there: American nationalism is no ordinary nationalism. It is a supremacism ordained by the supernatural: it embodies the pride of a power that posits its own alignment with the order willed by the Creator. From the Founding Fathers leaving Europe to establish a virtuous society through heroic victories over the forces of evil, American history is more than a history: it is the parousia of Good.

With Trump, as with his predecessors, imperial war brings violence to others just as goods are exported there. A paroxysmal form of the North-South relationship, a bloody metaphor for unequal development, this war strikes outside, never within the “civilized world.” Reproducing the world’s duality, it embraces the global divide. A war of the rich against the poor, it mirrors those countless strings of bombs dropped on the peoples of the South. Its symbols are the B-52, napalm, the F-35 fighter jet, the Tomahawk missile, the Predator drone, Trump’s aircraft carriers—all this sophisticated machinery of death administered from a distance, without risk, without cost to those carrying out the punishment from the sky. It is also proxy war, embargoes, blockades, economic warfare, insidious destabilization, clandestine operations, CIA-orchestrated coups, the manipulation of terror, the “Freedom Fighters” of global jihad—all these wars of the “free world” that democracies are so fond of, under the leadership of an empire that sees itself as the avenging power.

An empire without imperialism

Today, in the face of the predatory empire, Iran is defending itself heroically, Russia is standing its ground, sovereign nations are resisting, and the peoples under attack are preparing their revenge, while Europe, for its part, is caving in. That leaves China, this immense peaceful nation, keen on win-win partnerships and a proponent of multilateralism. Donald Trump has just met with China, for the second time in ten years, with the clear intention of salvaging what he can after the Iranian fiasco. China received him politely: with no illusions about his ability to make amends, and without yielding anything regarding its own national interests.

But do we even know this China—which stands in stark contrast to a bellicose America—this power so determined to promote peace and cooperation? According to Western media, it is said to be thirsty for wealth, determined to spread its tentacles across the globe. Displaying a façade of pacifism, it is said to harbor a latent brutality—ready to explode—behind the pretense of soothing rhetoric. This “new empire” is said to be demanding its share of global hegemony, claiming the top spot on the podium at any cost. Worse still: it would seek to impose its model on us, promote its values at any cost, and set itself up as an example for other nations to follow.

Yet this vision of a conquering, proselytizing China is all the more surreal given that the Chinese are doing exactly the opposite. Convinced that their system is unique, they seek to convert no one. Whether they export goods or build infrastructure, they obviously defend their interests. But their ambition is not to repaint the world in China’s colors. Given the choice, they would undoubtedly prefer not to be imitated, for every people must find its own path, even if it means making those missteps without which no success is truly deserved. Chinese thought is empirical and pragmatic: it confronts facts, undergoes successive corrections, and presses forward as best it can. Reluctant to embrace abstract ideas, it readily admits that there is no ready-made formula. This is why we must abandon the notion that the Chinese seek to spread their model and stop attributing dreams of conquest to this great nation.

With the “Opium Wars” that began in 1839, the British and French invaded the “Middle Kingdom” to force it to sign humiliating treaties and accept the massive importation of this drug with its harmful effects. In 1860, an expeditionary force combining the forces of both nations stormed into Beijing and ransacked the splendid Summer Palace of the Qing emperors. Outraged, Victor Hugo condemned this atrocity by writing these bitter lines: “We Europeans are the civilized ones; the Chinese are the barbarians. This is what civilization has done to barbarism. In the eyes of history, one of the two bandits will be called France, the other will be called England. The French Empire pocketed half of this victory, and today it displays, with a sort of owner’s naivety, the splendid bric-a-brac of the Summer Palace. I hope that a day will come when France, liberated and cleansed, will return this plunder to plundered China.”

Xi Jinping’s China intends to erase this humiliation by reclaiming its rightful place among the nations of the world: this is “the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.” What it seeks is to turn the page on this chaotic era once and for all. To achieve this, there is no need to impose anything on anyone. A model that cannot be imitated, an empire without imperialism, China is a peaceful power par excellence. But it is not merely so by political choice, its leaders having opted for development and ruled out foreign adventures. It is also so for a deeper reason. The empire’s imagined centrality has forged its destiny, compelling it to attend first to its subjects and their well-being before turning its attention to the rest of the world. As the Middle Kingdom, China receives, as a priority, the beneficial influence of the sky, which is round, while the earth is square. It is situated at the center of the world by a timeless decree that removes any desire to conquer its margins. This periphery of the inhabited world, indeed, will never be as interesting as the very heart of an empire whose management is already a heavy task.

To attribute conquering ambitions to China, therefore, is as absurd as accusing it of wanting to export its model, since the latter is meant to remain unique. If China is peaceful, it is by virtue of a cosmological status whose privilege comes with a promise of harmlessness toward distant nations. As the keystone of the inhabited world, the Middle Kingdom would be doomed to decay if it were to scatter to the margins; it would dissolve into formlessness if it were to renounce, out of ambition, the dividends of this centrality. Yet this imaginary representation does not concern only the world of ideas. Transposed into the real world, it shapes a mindset that Western lecturers would do well to ponder: a great nation that has not waged war for forty-seven years certainly deserves some consideration.

In the West, it was common to say (not so long ago) that China was a poor country, with its hundreds of millions of underpaid workers. But the reality in China has changed faster than the perceptions of Western experts, as the struggles of industrial workers—in a country where labor disputes are resolved through negotiation, just as elsewhere—have led to a significant rise in wages, to the point of worrying foreign investors. China has adopted a development model that has proven its worth and that it does not seek to impose on anyone. This great sovereign nation is committed to international law. It prioritizes win-win cooperation and does not bind itself by any military alliances. It does not attack any state, does not fund any subversive organizations in other countries, does not impose any unilateral measures on them, and does not interfere in their internal affairs. The contrast is striking with the attitude of the United States and its European allies, who have no qualms about intervening abroad unilaterally, under false pretexts, and in flagrant violation of international law.

An inclusive universalism

If all major powers behaved like China, the world would be safer and less dangerous. It would be far less subject to the interests of multinational arms companies. In the United States, the defense industry is part of the “deep state” that controls the government. In China, it is run by officials who implement government policy. This characteristic of the Chinese system shapes its relationship with the world. The Chinese have only one military base abroad, while the U.S. has 800, and their per capita military budget amounts to 8% of the U.S. budget. The universalism claimed by the Western world is closely tied to its interests: it is a universalism that is particularly distorted. Chinese universalism, on the contrary, is based on the idea that the coexistence of differences is the natural order of things. It is inclusive, not exclusive. While the United States clings desperately to its fading hegemony, the Chinese know that they are the rising power and that there is no point in rushing events. China’s pacifism is the flip side of its economic success, while the U.S.’s belligerence reflects its decline.

In the West, when China succeeds, it is feared. When it shows signs of running out of steam, it is feared as well. It is criticized for using its public sector to gain market share, all while brandishing as gospel a liberal ideology that claims the public sector is inefficient. Meanwhile, the Chinese continue to believe, along with Deng Xiaoping, that “it doesn’t matter if the cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice.” In China, the state controls key industries: coal, steel, oil, nuclear power, defense, and transportation. Western complaints will not prompt this sovereign nation to change its policy. It has paid a high price to build its development model and will not abandon it just to please foreign powers. China has sailed full steam ahead into the strong winds of globalization, but it has no intention of letting go of the helm just because Westerners no longer know how to hold it. Unlike us, the Chinese take a long-term view. While we are subject to the dictatorship of the short term, they look far ahead.

The social framework necessary for the mobilization of all, in the eyes of the Chinese, is part of a virtuous cycle. Westerners see no contradiction between democracies’ claim to embody human rights and their propensity to wage war on peoples who have done them no harm. For the Chinese, the only way to take human rights seriously is to develop one’s own country while allowing others to follow their own path. This means improving living conditions for the population at home and refraining from interfering in the affairs of other nations. Similarly, our media find the lack of freedom of expression in China abhorrent, yet in France ten billionaires own the press and dictate its editorial line. The dictatorship of the party offends them, but that of capital suits them just fine. Clearly, the Chinese system is less hypocritical: it is based on a philosophy that explicitly affirms the primacy of the common good and the necessity of collective discipline.

Indecipherable as long as Western categories are applied, Chinese realities, to be understood, require historical context. On the flag of the People’s Republic of China, the large star represents the Chinese Communist Party, which has held a non-negotiable leading role since 1949. The four small stars represent the social classes contributing to the country’s development: the working class, the peasantry, the petty bourgeoisie, and the national bourgeoisie. By building a mixed economy, the reforms undertaken have thus reconnected with the founding pact of the People’s Republic of China. The system’s stability is assured as long as it guarantees collective progress. This is why the steering of the Chinese economy is entrusted to the iron fist of a sovereign state, and not to the invisible hand of the market. A dose of capitalism has been injected into the economy because it was necessary to attract capital and technology. But the country’s ruling elite is patriotic. Schooled in socialist and Confucian ethics, it leads a state that is legitimate only because it guarantees the well-being of the Chinese people.

China’s Success

The country owes this success first and foremost to its political structure. According to the 1982 Constitution, China is “a socialist state of the people’s democratic dictatorship.” The driving role of the Party-State provides its political framework, and the election of assemblies at all levels ensures its popular support. This dual legitimacy stems from the exceptional circumstances that saw the birth of the People’s Republic of China. It has been accepted since 1949 that the Communist Party is the ruling body of society and that it sets its fundamental policies. True to democratic centralism, the party accepts internal debate but does not tolerate external competition. The Chinese have devised an original model that Western categories struggle to describe. It is not a totalitarian dictatorship, but a socialist system whose legitimacy rests on improving the living conditions of the Chinese people. And the Communist Party knows that any deviation from the path of collective well-being would lead to its downfall.

In the West, the view of China is clouded by preconceived notions. It was assumed that opening up to international trade had sounded the death knell for “socialism with Chinese characteristics.” For the Chinese, this opening is a prerequisite for the development of productive forces, not a prelude to systemic change. The economic reforms led by the socialist state have made it possible to eradicate extreme poverty and raise the country’s level of development to unprecedented heights. In the aftermath of the Soviet Union’s collapse, Western democracy cast its saving light upon a stunned world. Freed from “communism,” liberalism was poised to spread its benefits, unifying the world under the auspices of the American model.

Hopes dashed. For instead of triumphant liberalism, it is the new Confucian empire under communist leadership that is outmaneuvering the capitalist and liberal West. By becoming the leading economic power (in PPP terms), the People’s Republic of China has relegated a declining America—undermined by deindustrialization, excessive debt, social decay, and the fiasco of its military adventures—to second place. The duel of empires, in reality, is being played out on the battlefield of worldviews. It is an anthropological game of Go whose outcome is already known, and Donald Trump’s blustering policy is a harbinger of this. One thing is certain: no matter how much he flashes his best smile, the President of the United States left Beijing just as powerless to halt the course of history as when he arrived.