As a global traveler, I’ve seen increasing reasons for concern about the influence of China in Africa and elsewhere. Before Americans like me posit solutions that involve higher military spending and strategic competition, they must examine a truth about China: Its rise stems not from superior weaponry but from a fundamentally different approach to national priorities.
Since President Jimmy Carter normalized diplomatic relations with Beijing in 1979, China has engaged in exactly zero major wars. None. During that same period, the United States has found itself in countless conflicts. America has been forced to spend trillions on military interventions to influence international policy, but China has invested comparable resources in building the infrastructure.
The dollars tell a unsettling story.
According to Brown University’s Costs of War project, America poured an estimated $8 trillion into wars since 2001. China, meanwhile, developed a massive infrastructure investment program — the Belt and Road Initiative — projected to cost roughly $1 trillion over multiple decades.
Consider this revealing comparison: China operates more than 25,000 miles of high-speed rail, which connect major cities across its vast landscape. The U.S. has effectively zero miles of true high-speed rail. Our leaders have struggled for decades to complete a single, much-discussed high-speed line in California.
I’m not suggesting that the U.S. should mirror authoritarian regimes, but America must recognize the opportunity cost of its choices. Every dollar spent on aircraft carriers, F-35 jet fighters and bunker-busting bombs represents a dollar not invested in American competitiveness. While America spends over $800 billion each year on defense, its domestic infrastructure crumbles; its educational rankings slip internationally; and its healthcare system remains the most expensive yet least efficient among developed nations.
Imagine if America had redirected even half of its post-9/11 military spending toward domestic projects. The country could have built a high-speed rail network that connects every major city. It could have upgraded the electrical grid to support renewable energy and prevent the blackouts that regularly darken Texas and California. America could have expanded broadband access to rural communities and invested in advanced manufacturing that creates middle-class jobs.
In my mind, the COVID-19 pandemic exposed these limitations. Despite spending more on defense than the next 10 countries combined, America suffered disproportionately high infection and death rates, partly because of inadequate public-health infrastructure. When tested by global disruption, its supply chains, dependent as they were on overseas manufacturing, proved fragile.
The Beijing approach isn’t mysterious: patient capital formation over military adventurism. The Chinese are building the economic foundation for long-term global influence while America remains trapped in cycles of short-term military responses to complex geopolitical challenges.
I’m not trying to argue Americans should abandon national defense. I’d call such thinking foolishness on steroids. Rather, I’m recognizing that true national strength flows from economic vigor, not merely from military supremacy. No country with deteriorating infrastructure, declining educational outcomes and crushing healthcare costs can maintain global leadership indefinitely, regardless of its military might.
Any path forward requires an honest assessment of American priorities. China is winning influence not by outspending America militarily but by investing in tomorrow while the United States fights yesteryear’s wars. If our leaders want to compete effectively in the 21st century, they must match China and invest in infrastructure.
The question, of course, isn’t whether America can afford such an investment; it’s whether America can afford not to make it.
