China, Digital Economy, Economic, International trade, United States

Essay: Hormuz has exposed flaws in Beijing’s economic model

CHINA’S ECONOMIC MODEL

Intro: As the US president prepares to visit Beijing, he may have ended China’s decades-long growth miracle. Trump’s war on Iran, and especially the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, has China in a chokehold

In the modern era, we have witnessed among many things, a robot that can win a half-marathon, a pilot-less plane, a soap opera made by AI, and an electric supercar with a top speed of 308 miles per hour.

Whenever a new bit of Chinese-made tech goes viral online, it seems to be something that goes further, faster, or smarter than ever before. And every time, it feels like a silicon-made metaphor for China’s coming of age as a global superpower.

As Donald Trump prepares to visit Beijing this month, he confronts a Communist Party regime that, on the face of it, looks on the up. Beijing controls access to critical minerals used by his military, and holds at least $700bn (£517bn) in outstanding loans to his government.

Little wonder that, even as he pours scorn on Sir Keir Starmer, Emmanuel Macron, Friedrich Merz and Mark Carney, Trump deferentially refers to his Chinese counterpart Xi Jinping as “the Highly Respected President of China”.

However, that doesn’t mean Trump is making things easy for Xi.

First he choked off the half-million daily barrels of oil that China was buying from Venezuela.

Now, his attacks on Iran, leading to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, has squeezed another 40pc of Chinese crude supply.

An oil crunch is never good news, but Beijing was prepared for this. Through price caps, export bans, fuel stockpiles and home-grown alternatives to imported oil and gas, China has managed to stave off the early economic threat from the Iran War.

If the conflict drags on and the Strait of Hormuz remains closed, however, China could start to feel the pinch.  

A global slowdown or recession could cut demand for its exports, which have been almost single-handedly propping up the Chinese economy ever since the country’s great property crash of 2021.

And if that happens, Xi may struggle to keep a lid on three ticking time bombs sitting beneath China’s economy: its reliance on bloated factories churning out exports; its spiralling budget debts; and its alarmingly shrinking population.

Xi hopes to diffuse these problems by winning the global race on artificial intelligence, quantum computing, and robotics. But the Communist Party is also eager to stay in control, so it may struggle to make the most of this disruptive juggernaut.

The war against Iran isn’t going to plan for Trump. Yet whatever his intentions were, he may have triggered the tripwire that will blow up China’s decades-long growth miracle.

And this won’t be the only consequence of the Iran conflict that Xi is currently weighing up.

As ever, his thoughts will have quickly turned to Taiwan – an island whose reunification, he has previously said, is a task for his generation to fulfil.

He might like what he sees. The war in the Gulf may divert America’s attention, money, and resources away from the Pacific. It may strain alliances in which Taiwan has put faith.

If Iran’s asymmetric resistance to superior US forces is a play-book for Taipei, then Beijing can pick up strategies and tactics on how to push past it.

Chatham House, a think tank, says that a world in which the Trump administration is expressing a lot of transactionalism, and with the US maybe diminished by its failure in Iran, all of this opens up possibilities for Beijing vis-à-vis Taiwan.

Perhaps this is why Xi has been relatively quiet on Iran. Since the war began on February 28 he has only once picked up the megaphone, urging a swift reopening of Hormuz. This is likely to remain his top priority – the Chinese economy, and his regime’s legitimacy, may yet depend on it.

Economic shock

On Zhihu, a Reddit-style Chinese social media site, users enjoying a cloak of anonymity are swapping stories on the impact of the US-Iran war.

One user wrote: “My industry uses plastic as a raw material… Since plastic is a derivative of oil, the cost of raw materials has doubled and changes three times a day, with no stable price. As a result, global customers have stopped placing orders because they dare not order.

“Work has stalled, and the long-term high-pressure work is exhausting. I can’t change natural disasters or man-made calamities. Fine, I’ll go relax for a few days. But I realised that air ticket prices have also gone absurdly high, so I can’t go out.

“I have no choice but to squat every day in front of the Longjiang Braised Pork Leg Rice stall downstairs, asking, ‘Is it half price after 8pm?’”

China is powerfully exposed to the current of high costs rippling out from the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, the vital conduit for oil, gas, petroleum products, and fertiliser. China imports about 70pc of the oil it needs, of which about half comes from the Persian Gulf. Its shipments from there slumped by a third in March from a year earlier, and that number doesn’t even include the illicit Iranian oil.

On the gas front, about half of China’s gas imports come via pipelines from Russia, Myanmar and central Asia, with the rest arriving on LNG tankers. A third of that LNG comes via Hormuz, and imports plunged by 41pc in March.

For now, the damage may be less than these numbers might suggest, because China has spent the past decade building a huge and still growing domestic gas industry.

This insurance policy means home-grown output now satisfies almost two-thirds of China’s gas demand, so the Iran War has disrupted just 5pc of China’s total supply. It looks as if, in some ways, China has been preparing for this type of situation better than anybody else.

The Chinese have been similarly savvy with crude oil. Last year it bought 11.6 million barrels per day (bpd), taking advantage of lower prices to stockpile almost half a million bpd. By the end of 2025, that reserve totalled almost 1.4 billion barrels, vastly more than the rest of the rich world put together.

If China released supplies from this trove of black gold at a rate of 2 million bpd, a level that would largely negate the Hormuz closure, the stockpile would still last until at least the end of next year.

Still, the Chinese aren’t leaving anything to chance. Beijing told its refineries to stop exporting petrol, diesel, and jet fuel – in case supplies run low. But this has rebounded on Beijing. The move irked trading partners such as Vietnam, the Philippines, Singapore and Australia, whose fuel shortfalls have been exacerbated by China’s parsimony.

China appears to have now acknowledged that its stockpiles are almost too big, and that it needs to mend some fences. According to Bloomberg, exporters have now had approval to ship 500,000 tons to regular customers.

China’s biggest vulnerability to Iran, lies in its reliance on oil-based products like naphtha, which is vital to greasing the mighty Chinese industrial machine.

If you go back far enough in the chemical processing chain, or petroleum products, that’s where you’ll see the prices rise. Access to that is a continual problem, and that’s where the greatest fear is.

Producer price inflation, which was at or below zero last year, hit 1pc in March – the highest since the pandemic. Businesses, however, can’t pass these costs on to customers, largely because they are not spending.

Retail sales rose an annually sluggish 1.7pc in March, and in April car sales dropped by more than 25pc. The household savings rate was 37.8pc in the first quarter, the highest recorded (with the exception of the pandemic).

Consequently, if the situation continues to escalate and oil prices keep rising, then there is going to be some damage.

Exports to the rescue?

China’s get-out-of-jail card is its exports. The country’s use of coal, wind, and solar has insulated its producers from the global energy shock, helping to keep export prices competitive.

Export growth slowed to 2.5pc year-on-year in March, but a key indicator of activity at export-oriented firms in April hit 52.2, its highest level in more than five years.

That buoyancy in part reflects Chinese factories’ dominance of the supply chain for wind turbines, solar panels, batteries, and electric cars. The soaring oil price has brought green tech back into worldwide fashion.

Exports of solar cells doubled in March, and were up by more than a third for lithium-ion batteries.

Nonetheless, this tech, together with electric vehicles known in Beijing as “the new three”, still comprises just 7pc of China’s exports. The wider trading picture will be more worrying for China.

If the Strait of Hormuz remains closed for several more months, the blow to the global economy will get exponentially bigger – and the appetite to buy goods from China may wane. Exports to the Middle East are already suffering. On Zhihu, one post related how a toy exporter had seen a 20pc to 40pc drop in demand. “Even Saudi Arabia and the UAE are waiting and watching, afraid of escalating conflicts. No one dares to act recklessly.”

The real pain could come from south-east Asia. It has been a crucial shock absorber for Chinese exporters who have had to drop out of the US market since Trump returned to the White House. But many of these countries are Hormuz-dependent, and the war has hit them hard.

If its trading partners don’t want to buy so much, then China won’t be selling so much either.

This is the tripwire that could set off China’s first time-bomb. Beijing has spent decades subsidising its industries to produce more and more, but China’s massive domestic consumer base simply refuses to spend.

This means the only place for factories’ over-production is the world market. But, if demand for exports falters, the cracks in the Communist Party’s model will open wider and wider.

The trouble is, the only way out of this impasse could be a worldwide trade war.

A broken economic model

China’s most well-known company, these days, is probably the electric car giant BYD. In just two decades, it has risen to the pinnacle of the global EV market. Yet, all is not well. Its first-quarter profit is down 55pc, to a three-year low. Its inventory of unsold stock has stacked up by 16pc since the start of the year.

BYD and fellow carmakers are capable of producing more than twice the number of vehicles each year that they can actually sell within China.

At home, this forces BYD and its rivals into a price war, squeezing margins. Domestic sales, though, have still declined for seven straight months.

Meanwhile, exports are booming. BYD’s overseas sales jumped more than 50pc in the first quarter, accounting for 45pc of all sales.

Its market share in Europe might still be only 2.2pc, but aggressive discounting in Germany has helped more than double this figure in the past 12 months.

BYD’s story is a microcosm of the successes, failures, and risks of China’s economic model.

The system builds powerful companies, but relies on the rest of the world to pick up the tab.

China’s trade surplus with the rest of the world hit $1tn last year. This is, in effect, a monetary gauge of the de-industrialisation of the West, and the stymieing of industrial development in poorer countries.

The rest of the world’s tolerance for this is gradually waning. Trump may have stepped back from his tariff war, but many observers suggest it’s only a matter of time before China provokes a wider backlash.

China’s strategy is always outbound, export driven, because they don’t have the demand. So, it’s not going to change. But of course, individual countries could change, the world could change.

The reckoning is already approaching. Countries are realising that they need some economic security. That means maybe not getting the absolute rock bottom price but having to pay something in order to have diversified suppliers.

The only way Beijing can head off the consequences of an export downturn would be to bolster demand at home. However, this is now a deeply entrenched problem.

China’s consumer confidence index stood at 92 points in February. That was a three-year high, but before the property crash the index was never below 100. It appears that the Chinese do not want to buy consumer durables; they buy consumer staples, cheap goods that are consumed every day.

Households face insecurity on every front. Their real incomes grew 4pc in the first quarter, but have been slowing for years from the 6pc-plus rate pre-Covid.

House prices, which plunged after the authorities called time on a property bubble in 2021, are still falling everywhere except Beijing, Shanghai, and a handful of other large cities.

Property is still the biggest asset held by Chinese households. If housing continues shrinking in value, that just works against the authorities’ other efforts to try and stimulate consumption.

The jobs market is also failing to inspire confidence. The unemployment rate of 5.4pc is at a three-year high. The youth jobless rate has been improving, but is still high at 17pc.

Graduates of elite universities are still finding jobs, and some businesses are still hiring, however life is tough for young people further down the ladder.

The government has tried to stimulate consumption, but in a piecemeal fashion. Its signature effort last year was a trade-in scheme for white goods, which delivered at best a mild and temporary boost.

Many hoped that a recent meeting of the Communist Party’s Politburo would recognise that the economic model was unsustainable. Disappointment followed.

There were no concrete measures or targets around anything that would boost household consumption, say analysts at Capital Economics.

Without targets for lower tiers of government, they say, nothing will change.

“A lot of the high-level policies are focused on boosting domestic self-sufficiency, on AI and tech development… It feels like those will continue to be the priorities. That might come at the cost of, or instead of, boosting support for households.”

Beijing has apparently decided that its export-oriented model won’t trigger a trade war, or hobble the profits of its companies.

Some say the regime may see more risk in changing course than in sticking to what it knows, and projecting stability. However, sitting on their hands represents the real risk.

As soon as Western countries start threatening demand, China will be severely hampered. It will mean factory closures. It will mean spiralling deflation, on top of the deflation we’re already seeing because of overcapacity and over investment. This will become catastrophic for the average Chinese household.

Two more time-bombs: No babies, no budget

The deep-seated consumer anxiety may be one reason why many Chinese are choosing not to have children.

A recent Rhodium report noted that the 7.9 million births last year was half the number a decade ago. Births are at 1939 levels – below even the time of the one-child policy (which ended in 2016).

As the death rate creeps up, the country will lose nearly 60m people in the next decade – a population almost the size of France.

Beijing has offered a 3,600-yuan (£390) subsidy per child for three years, starting last year. But government policy seldom reverses a demographic decline.

The population loss is going to make the problem of domestic under-consumption much, much worse.

That’s going to present a massive headwind to China’s economy, and that’s why they will be hoping to gain productivity benefits from new technology like AI, to offset that.

Rhodium says this will create a massive budget headache for Beijing, as the government is forced to support an older population with fewer taxpaying workers.

However, Beijing is already fiscally neuralgic. Government revenue is now almost static, with tax income flatlining and land sales declining.

The public debt-to-GDP ratio is about the same as Britain’s. The budget deficit was 9pc of GDP last year, and could widen further. By 2030 this would be entering crisis-level territory.

Meanwhile, the public and private lending that washes through the Chinese economy, putting China “in a league of its own”, according to Capital Economics, is “a signal that all is not well”.

Rhodium’s warning is even more stark: “The era of fiscal trade-offs has already arrived, and the stress is deepening . . . This is what fiscal and financial decay looks like.”

Searching for a prop

Beijing hopes that AI and robots will defuse these time-bombs. Tech-fuelled productivity growth could prop up the economy if China’s population is falling and the world is turning away from its export wares.

China has one big advantage. In a command-and-control economy, the Communist Party can get businesses to adopt AI, and can build out the infrastructure to support it.

The Chinese also seem to be taking to it very quickly, to a greater extent than the average consumer in the US or in Europe. AI is being directly embedded into the commercial stacks that people use on a daily basis, the e-commerce or content platforms that the Chinese use.

The government is also on board. Technology isn’t just an economic panacea; it’s a must-have in Beijing’s relentless quest for self-reliance.

Just days ago, Ding Xuexiang, the vice-premier, said: “China’s AI must take the path of independent innovation, to have the confidence to withstand any containment or suppression”.

And yet, the Communist Party may also be its own worst enemy. Beijing’s refusal to rely on America for chips – instead pushing companies to use domestic Huawei alternatives – is holding back development.

Officials will also be fretting that AI might destroy more jobs than it creates – an outcome the regime wouldn’t be able to stomach.

What you might see is a lot of companies adopting AI, seeing productivity improve, but then not being able to follow through with the kind of lay offs that would result from that in most other economies. And, then, you don’t actually see a boost to labour productivity.

Beijing also has a broader insecurity about technology: it must rely for innovation on the private sector, which the leadership simply doesn’t trust.

The feeling is mutual. Xi’s 2020 attack on Jack Ma, founder of the fintech firm Ant, left lasting scars on China’s entrepreneurial class.

Such fears have been renewed with Beijing kyboshed Facebook owner Meta’s proposed merger with Singapore-based AI firm Manus. Manus’s Chinese founders had moved the company to Singapore, but not beyond the reach of the Communist regime. Some say that if you’re a private entrepreneur in China, what incentives do you have in trying to go global, if this can always happen, and the Party can just come in and say, ‘All of your work, it’s ours now’?

Other analysts are of the opinion that the Xi regime’s innate fear of losing control will be its undoing, and hobble its tech push. The signature feature of Xi Jinping and his administration is how conservative it is. It is not a radical, progressive, transformative regime. In the back of their mind, they’re always thinking, ‘We can’t change too fast’.

China has built a robot that can win a marathon. The question, though, is whether it can build an economic model that can keep the country competitive.

Trump’s war in Iran, if it lasts well into the year, may force out an answer.

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Artificial Intelligence, Business, Digital Economy, Technology

The next casualty of the Iran War has arrived

GLOBAL DIGITAL ECONOMY

Intro: The Iran War has led to shortage of helium, vital for AI but also for many of Britain’s smaller businesses. If the Strait of Hormuz blockade continues, a chip shortage could well be on the cards

The world has lost 40pc of its helium supply since the start of the latest war in the Gulf, first from Qatar and then from Russia.

We will soon find out whether the global digital economy can shrug off losses of such a critical gas on this scale and whether our political leaders will allow the AI boom to keep gobbling up an ever-greater share.

Industry cannot make advanced AI chips or semiconductors below 10 nanometres without ultra-high purity helium to cool the wafers and stabilise the plasma for etching. Even workhorse chips for cars and computers require lower-grade helium at 99.999pc purity.

But we also need helium for other high priorities: in nuclear power, advanced weaponry, aerospace, fibre-optic cables, quantum computing, chromatography, or to cool superconducting magnets in MRI machines. There are no easy substitutes. Liquid helium is the coldest known substance on Earth, with a boiling point of -269°C. Hence, why everybody is scrambling around trying to scoop up whatever they can find in the world.

It cannot be synthesised artificially – it comes from the radioactive decay of thorium and uranium – and is hard to store. China has strategic stockpiles of everything but not for this one vital input.

Helium is a small cost for digital behemoths with the deepest pockets, relying on “fabs” or foundries that cost $20bn (£15bn) a shot. Wafer fabs are not going to close, so with supply shortages, the larger conglomerates will be prepared to pay more than anybody else.

Another insidious process is at work. The semiconductor industry is in effect hoarding its scarce supply for the most lucrative AI fabs while rationing helium for routine “mature-node” chips that play a far bigger role in the day-to-day economy.

Triaging has taken hold. The industry reserves what they have for AI accelerators, high-bandwidth memory, and advanced logic chips for data centres.

There is less left for chips in cars, laptops, and the consumer electronics that we all rely on. Everybody is talking about petrol prices but nobody is talking about helium.

The fear is that there could be a repeat of the chip shortage that shut down European car factories during the pandemic. A Covid lockdown at a plant in Malaysia caused crippling losses on the other side of the globe. If a semiconductor factory anywhere in the world says that it won’t be able to supply more chips, then implicitly, the car industry is going to have big problems in the third and fourth quarters.

Qatar normally supplies a third of the world’s helium, a by-product of natural gas production at its giant North Field. Not a single shipment has moved through the Strait of Hormuz since the war began.

Some 200 cryogenic containers are stranded in the Persian Gulf and are slowly heating up, causing gas to leak out through the pressure valves to avert a lethal explosion.

Vladimir Putin has compounded the shortage by imposing what amounts to a ban on helium exports outside the Eurasian Economic Union, purportedly to secure supply for Russia’s domestic economy and fibre-optic industry. This endangers another 9pc until the end of 2027.

For once, it is China that is taking the immediate brunt of the supply chain shock. It produces barely 15pc of its own helium needs. All the rest comes from Qatar and Russia.

America is sitting pretty in one sense. It is the world’s biggest helium producer with two-fifths of the market.

But that does not shield the US from the larger supply-chain consequences any more than US oil supremacy spares it from rising crude prices and mounting shortages of jet fuel and diesel, leaving aside fertilisers, sulphur, and aluminium.

The US subcontracts most of its chip production to Asia. Its share of global semiconductor output has collapsed to 10pc from 37pc in the 1990s. It will be years before the US chips act and manufacturing rearmament turn this around.

More than 75pc of the world’s semiconductors are made in the Far East. Nvidia either makes or finishes all of its most advanced Blackwell chips at TSMC plants in Taiwan, while Samsung makes high-bandwidth AI chips for Google in South Korea. Both countries normally rely on Qatar for two-thirds of their helium.

Large volumes of workhorse chips for just about everything else are made in Vietnam, Malaysia and Thailand, often at arms-length operations for China.

Analysts say the world had plenty of helium before the war broke out and can probably cover half the loss from Qatar at a pinch.

The industry has an informal system for allocating scarce supply to the most critical needs. The top of the food chain are MRI machines, chip manufacturing, aerospace, and nuclear power. At the bottom end are things like welding. There is no doubt that some people are going to get badly hurt.

One thing we should have learnt from Covid is that once the world’s just-in-time (J-I-T) supply chain goes into convulsions, with ships scattered to the four winds and stuck in the wrong place, the effects can be drastic, long-lasting, and out of all proportion to the nominal value of the goods.

If the war drags on for a few more weeks – as it may do so since both Donald Trump and Iran’s Revolutionary Guards think they are winning – there are only two solutions. Either the market destroys demand in its own ruthless way or governments step in with emergency measures and make hard choices, something that Britain seems incapable of under Sir Keir Starmer.

For aviation fuel, diesel, or naphtha, it may mean a taste of wartime rationing. For helium, it may soon be a question of whether liberal democracies allow billionaire tech giants to outbid everybody and hoard scarce gas for unpopular AI expansion.

Do politicians finally face down the hyper-scalers and redirect helium supplies to the urgent priorities of military and energy rearmament, as well as to sustain routine sectors that employ infinitely more people?

Just days ago, Marco Rubio, the US secretary of state, more or less, admitted that Iran’s regime now has enormous power to do harm and that Washington has no coherent plan to restore the status quo ante, let alone to reach a better outcome that vindicates the war. “The Strait of Hormuz is basically an economic nuclear weapon that they’re trying to use against the world,” he said.

But what is to be done about it?

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Arts, Britain, History, Politics, United States

The parallels with the 1760s

POLITICAL HISTORY

Intro: In the chaotic 1760s, as now, the country faced the entwined issues of debt and a geopolitical crisis

As America marks the 250th anniversary of their Declaration of Independence in 1776, we should hope they will remember the seven men who made it happen. I am not thinking of the Founding Fathers. No, I’m more reflective of the seven individuals or politicians who served as prime minister of Great Britain during the 1760s, the last of whom, the lachrymose Lord North, limped on until 1782 and oversaw events of the American War of Independence.

The 1760s are the last time that Britain had seven different prime ministers in a 10-year span, which is where we will be if the Labour Party dispenses with Sir Keir Starmer.

There are some important lessons from that time. In 1760, as students of history will recall, we (the Americans included) had a new King – George III, who came to the throne with the Earl of Bute, his former tutor, as very much the power behind the throne.

The prime minister of the day, the Duke of Newcastle, a veteran Whig statesman, had overseen the successful prosecution of the Seven Years War against France and Spain (resulting in British dominion over North America and much of India), but in 1762 he threw in the towel and his legacy was confined to the history books.

Lord Bute – who was also the King’s mother’s lover – then became prime minister. His tenure was an unmitigated disaster and was replaced in under a year by Lord Grenville, another Whig who lasted just two years but not before stoking up the North American colonies with his Stamp Act.

Grenville was replaced by the Marquess of Rockingham – best known now for commissioning Stubbs to paint his horse, Whistlejacket – in 1765. Rockingham’s administration expired with the Duke of Cumberland after just 13 months having attempted to conciliate the American colonies.

Pitt the Elder – “the Great Commoner” and the Churchill of his era – was the fifth PM of the decade. He held office for two years before resigning on grounds of health in 1768. By that time, though, his chancellor had passed the detested and draconian Townshend Acts, which included the imposition of taxes on imported glass, lead, and tea in America.

Running low on options, the King called on the Duke of Grafton and he lasted a year and 107 days before resigning in 1770 over France’s annexation of Corsica. Lord Noth came next.

George III bore some responsibility for this sustained imbroglio because of his inability to appoint someone who could command both his trust and the support of the Commons. But that’s only part of the story: underlying the crises was the burden of sky-high national debt, rising to a then lofty £144m.

It is to this we should pay special attention. Britain had emerged from the Seven Years War as the leading world power, with a vastly enlarged empire, particularly in America (having absorbed “New France”) that was expensive to maintain. Or, in other words, the trials of 250 years ago have some parallels with today: we’re also living with a massive national debt left over from the 2008 financial crisis and Covid-19 and confronting significant geopolitical challenges. Now, as then, it’s this combination of the two that is undermining the ability of the political class to rise to the challenges in hand.

Our level of debt stands at an extraordinary £111bn a year. If we could get that sorted – before it’s too late – we could, for instance, invest in more hard power and begin to claw back influence on global affairs again, rather than behaving like a geopolitical lobby group that no one takes any notice of.

As it was, the cackhanded efforts to balance the books and manage the enlarged empire in the 1760s and 1770s ended up driving a wedge between England and the formerly loyal American colonists. That led to another expensive war and the disastrous loss of what Churchill called the First British Empire.

Be grateful that in this case history cannot repeat itself.

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