From Opium to Tariffs: The West’s Trade Battles with China

What history teaches about today’s trade tensions

The parallels between the 19th-century Opium Wars between the UK-China and the modern US-China trade wars are striking in some ways but diverge in others due to the vastly different historical and economic contexts. Both involve Western Great Powers grappling over trade imbalances against China, but the tools, stakes, and dynamics have evolved. Let’s unpack the similarities and differences to see where the lines connect.

Parallels

Trade Imbalances as a Flashpoint

In the Opium Wars, Britain faced a trade deficit with China due to its appetite for tea and other goods, paid for in silver. Similarly, the US-China trade war, escalating notably under the Trump administration in 2018, was fueled by a massive US trade deficit with China—$418.23 billion in goods in 2018 alone, according to US Census Bureau data.

The US argued that China’s export-driven economy, subsidized industries, and currency practices unfairly tilted the scales, much like Britain’s frustration with China’s closed markets in the 1830s. In both cases, the dominant power sought to “correct” the imbalance through aggressive measures—tariffs and sanctions today, gunboats and opium back then.

Economic Coercion to Open Markets

Britain used military force to pry open Chinese ports and impose unequal treaties like the Treaty of Nanking. The US has leaned on tariffs, export controls, and restrictions on Chinese tech firms (e.g., Huawei, TikTok) to pressure China into opening its markets, protecting intellectual property, and reducing state subsidies to its industries. Both reflect a desire to reshape the other’s economy to favour the aggressor’s interests. The Opium Wars forced China to accept British goods and terms; the US seeks to curb China’s dominance in tech and manufacturing while boosting domestic industries.

Geopolitical Power Struggle

Beyond trade, both conflicts are about who global influence. In the 19th century, Britain was cementing its imperial dominance, and China’s resistance threatened that vision. Today, the US sees China’s rise—its Belt and Road Initiative, tech advancements, and growing influence in global institutions—as a challenge to its post-World War II hegemony. The trade war is less about tariffs alone and more about containing China’s ascent, echoing Britain’s efforts to subordinate the Qing dynasty.

Moral and Ideological Justifications

Britain cloaked its opium trade in “free trade” rhetoric, ignoring the human cost of addiction. The US frames its trade war as a defense of fair competition, national security, and democratic values against China’s authoritarian model. In both, the stronger power justifies its actions as correcting an injustice—whether it’s China’s closed markets then or its alleged economic manipulations now. Yet both also involve what matters to them: Britain’s opium profits and the US’s desire to maintain economic and technological supremacy.

Key Differences

Nature of the Conflict

The Opium Wars were overtly imperialistic, culminating in military invasions and territorial concessions (e.g., Hong Kong). The US-China trade war operates in a globalized economy under WTO rules, with battles fought through tariffs, sanctions, and tech restrictions rather than cannons. While the Opium Wars left China humiliated and colonized, today’s China is a global powerhouse, capable of retaliating with its own tariffs and leveraging its market size.

Moral and Economic Tools

Opium was a literal poison, addicting millions and destabilizing Chinese society. The modern equivalent is subtler: the US accuses China of flooding markets with cheap goods (e.g., steel, solar panels) and stealing intellectual property, which it claims harms American workers. China, in turn, points to US tech bans as economic warfare. Neither side is pushing a drug, but both wield economic leverage—China with rare earth minerals and supply chains, the US with dollar dominance and semiconductor restrictions.

Mutual Dependence

Unlike the 19th century, where trade was heavily one-sided (China’s exports to Britain dwarfed imports), the US and China are deeply interdependent. China holds over $700 billion in US Treasury bonds (as of 2024), and American firms rely on Chinese manufacturing. This entanglement limits escalation—no one wants a full economic rupture. The Opium Wars had no such mutual stake; Britain could afford to burn Chinese ports without risking its own economy.

Global Context

The Opium Wars were a bilateral clash in a world of empires. Today’s trade war unfolds in a multilateral system, with allies and institutions complicating the picture. The US pressures partners like the EU, Japan, Australia, and the Philippines to align against China (e.g., on 5G or chip exports), while China courts the Global South through trade deals. The WTO, absent in the 19th century, sets rules both sides exploit or skirt. Plus, public opinion—amplified on social media—shapes the narrative, unlike the Qing era’s top-down diplomacy.

The Opium Wars were a blunt display of imperial greed, with Britain exploiting China’s weakness. The US-China trade war is more complex—a clash of near-equals in a world where outright conquest isn’t an option. Yet the echoes are real: both involve a dominant power rattled by a rival’s system, using trade as a weapon to maintain supremacy. The Opium Wars ended with China’s “century of humiliation”; today, China’s leaders frame the trade war as a test of national resilience, vowing not to repeat history.

If we zoom out, the parallel lies in the psychology: fear of losing economic edge drives both. Britain’s silver drain foreshadowed its decline; the US fears China’s manufacturing and AI advances signal a similar slide. China, as of the moment, is the world’s sole manufacturing superpower. As Richard Baldwin writes in CEPR, in 2024:

The US is the world’s sole military superpower. It spends more on its military than the ten next highest spending countries combined. China is now the world’s sole manufacturing superpower. Its production exceeds that of the nine next largest manufacturers combined.

But where Britain used opium to force compliance, the US uses tariffs and tech bans—less bloody, but still coercive. The question is whether today’s war, like its predecessor, will reshape the global order or just delay the inevitable shift. Data point: China’s share of global GDP rose from 4% in 2000 to 19.6% in 2024, while the US at 12.7%. That’s the kind of trend that keeps Washington up at night, much like London fretted over tea in the 1830s.

Possible Confrontations

The presence of nuclear arsenals—China with ~500 warheads and the US with ~5,000, per 2024 estimates—creates a mutually assured destruction (MAD) dynamic, making all-out war unthinkable. This fundamentally alters the playbook from the 19th century, when Britain could shell Chinese ports with impunity.

The Opium Wars: Direct Confrontation and Its Outcomes

In the Opium Wars, Britain’s military superiority—steam-powered warships and disciplined troops—allowed it to crush Qing China’s outdated forces. The goal wasn’t conquest but coercion: opening markets, securing trade routes, and imposing unequal treaties like Nanking (1842). The result was economic penetration (Hong Kong, open ports) and a humbled China, with minimal risk to Britain itself. This direct approach was possible because the power disparity was vast, and there was no global deterrent like nuclear weapons.

Today, a US-China military showdown is off the table. Both nations’ nuclear capabilities ensure that any direct conflict would escalate catastrophically. The Pentagon’s 2023 China Military Power Report notes China’s expanding arsenal and delivery systems, reinforcing deterrence. So, if the US aims to replicate Britain’s success—curbing China’s economic rise or enforcing favourable trade terms—it must find indirect means. Proxy conflicts, where third parties are supported to advance US interests, are a plausible substitute, but their effectiveness and risks differ sharply from Britain’s gunboat diplomacy.

Proxy Conflicts: A Modern Substitute?

Proxy warfare involves backing allies, insurgents, or states to fight on your behalf, avoiding direct confrontation. The US has a long history of this—think Vietnam, Afghanistan (against the Soviets), or Syria. Could it use proxies to pressure China in a trade war or broader geopolitical contest? Let’s consider the possibilities, mechanisms, and limits.

Regional Proxies in Asia

The most likely theater for US proxy strategies is Asia, where China’s growing influence clashes with US alliances. Potential proxies include:

Taiwan: The US doesn’t formally recognize Taiwan but provides arms and tacit security guarantees under the Taiwan Relations Act. Tensions over Taiwan—China’s “red line”—could see the US bolstering Taipei’s defenses to deter or delay Chinese reunification ambitions. A fortified Taiwan keeps China’s military focused inward, indirectly weakening its economic projection. However, arming Taiwan risks escalation; a misstep could spark a crisis neither side wants.

South China Sea Claimants: Nations like Vietnam, the Philippines, or Malaysia, which contest China’s claims in the South China Sea, could be proxies. The US already conducts “freedom of navigation” operations and provides military aid (e.g., $60 million in security assistance to Vietnam in 2023). Strengthening these nations’ navies could disrupt China’s maritime trade routes—vital for its $5.6 trillion export economy—mimicking Britain’s port-opening tactics. Yet China’s coast guard and militia fleets dominate these waters, limiting proxy impact.

India: As a rising power with border disputes (e.g., 2020 Galwan clash), India is a natural US partner. The Quad (US, India, Japan, Australia) aligns against China’s Belt and Road. US support—military tech transfers, intelligence—could embolden India to challenge China economically and militarily. But India’s non-aligned stance and domestic priorities make it an unreliable proxy for US goals.

These proxies could raise China’s costs, much like Britain’s wars forced China to divert resources. But unlike the Qing, modern China has the economic and military heft to counter—$18.3 trillion GDP, advanced missiles, and a global trade network. Proxies alone can’t replicate Britain’s decisive victories.

Economic and Cyber Proxies

Proxy warfare isn’t just military. The US could use economic or cyber proxies to undermine China’s trade dominance:

Allied Trade Blocs: The US could rally allies (EU, Japan, Canada) to form trade coalitions excluding China, mirroring Britain’s push for open ports. A US-led trade pact could isolate China economically. But allies are wary—China is the EU’s top trading partner ($800 billion in 2023). Unlike opium, tariffs don’t force compliance when the target has leverage.

Corporate Proxies: US firms could be incentivized to decouple from China, relocating supply chains to Southeast Asia or India. The CHIPS Act (2022) and $52 billion in semiconductor subsidies aim to do this. It’s a slow burn, though—China controls 60% of rare earths and dominates electronics manufacturing.

Cyber Operations: Non-state hackers or allied intelligence could disrupt Chinese infrastructure—ports, 5G networks, or financial systems—without direct US fingerprints. But China’s cyber capabilities are robust; retaliation could hit US markets hard.

These “soft” proxies aim to erode China’s economic edge, much like opium tilted the trade balance. But China’s global integration—unlike Qing isolation—makes it resilient. A proxy-driven trade war might inconvenience Beijing but not dictate terms like Britain did.

Non-State or Ideological Proxies

The US could back groups within or near China to destabilize it, akin to opium’s social toll:

Hong Kong, Taiwan or Xinjiang Activists: Supporting pro-democracy or separatist movements could strain China’s domestic stability, diverting focus from trade. However, overt backing risks backfiring, alienating allies who prioritize trade with China.

Small-States Dramatics: Influencing small-states that have issues with China, like the Philippines, to push anti-China narratives could amplify pressure.

Why Proxies Fall Short of Britain’s Success

Britain’s Opium War victories hinged on three factors: overwhelming military advantage, a weak opponent, and low domestic cost. Proxy conflicts today lack these:

Parity, Not Dominance: China’s military and economic strength—second only to the US—means proxies can harass but not subdue. The PLA Navy’s 370 ships (vs. US’s 290) and hypersonic missiles deter escalation even via proxies.

China’s Resilience: Unlike the Qing’s inward collapse, China’s global trade ties ($5 trillion in annual trade) and domestic cohesion limit proxy damage. It can absorb shocks that crippled the Qing.

Mutual Costs: Britain risked little in 1840; the US risks plenty. A proxy miscalculation—say, a Taiwan flare-up—could crash markets. China holds over $700 billion in US debt; proxies could tank both economies.

Moreover, proxies are messy. Arming Taiwan or the Philippines could spark arms races, not trade concessions. Cyber proxies might disrupt Shanghai’s port but invite retaliation against New York’s grid. Unlike opium, which Britain controlled unilaterally, proxies today are double-edged—Vietnam or India have their own agendas, not just Washington’s.

At best, proxies could raise China’s costs, forcing concessions like IP reforms or market access—partial wins, not Nanking-style capitulation. At worst, they escalate tensions without resolution, risking a cold war. Britain humiliated China because it could; the US faces a peer that can hit back.

Taiwan and the Philippines as proxies

Using Taiwan and the Philippines as proxies in the context of the US-China trade war—or the broader geopolitical rivalry—offers a way for the US to indirectly challenge China’s economic and strategic ambitions, much like Britain used military force in the Opium Wars to open Chinese markets.

In the Opium Wars, Britain’s goal was to reverse a trade imbalance, open China’s markets, and assert dominance, achieved through direct military action against a weak Qing dynasty. Today, the US seeks to curb China’s economic rise—evidenced by a $375 billion trade deficit in 2023—and limit its technological and geopolitical influence. Nuclear arsenals make direct war suicidal, so proxies like Taiwan and the Philippines could serve as indirect tools to pressure China, particularly in the Indo-Pacific, where trade routes and tech supply chains are critical. The question is whether these proxies can replicate Britain’s success or if they face insurmountable hurdles.

Taiwan as a Proxy

Strategic Role

Taiwan is a linchpin in US-China tensions, both economically and militarily. It produces 60% of the world’s semiconductors and 90% of advanced chips (e.g., TSMC’s 3nm tech), vital for everything from iPhones to missiles. Controlling or securing Taiwan’s chip supply gives leverage in the trade war—China’s tech ambitions (e.g., Made in China 2025) rely on these chips, while US sanctions (e.g., 2022 chip export controls) aim to choke Beijing’s progress. Geopolitically, Taiwan’s location in the “first island chain” blocks China’s Pacific access, making it a choke point for its $5.6 trillion export economy.

How the US Could Use Taiwan

Arms and Training: The US has provided $18 billion in arms since 2010 (e.g., F-16s, missiles) under the Taiwan Relations Act. Bolstering Taiwan’s “porcupine” defense—mines, drones, anti-ship weapons—raises the cost of a Chinese invasion, tying down the PLA and diverting resources from economic goals.

Economic Leverage: Encouraging TSMC to diversify production (e.g., $65 billion Arizona plant, 2022 CHIPS Act) reduces China’s chip access while signaling US commitment. If China’s tech sector stalls, it might concede on trade issues like IP theft.

Diplomatic Signals: High-profile US visits (e.g., Pelosi’s 2022 trip) and “strategic ambiguity” keep China guessing, forcing diplomatic focus on Taiwan over trade negotiations.

Potential Impact

Like Britain’s port seizures, a fortified Taiwan could disrupt China’s trade ambitions—90% of its trade flows through the Taiwan Strait. A proxy conflict (short of war) might push China to ease tariffs or open markets to avoid escalation. If the US secures chip supply chains, it mirrors Britain’s opium-driven trade reversal, tilting economic power.

Limits and Risks

Escalation Danger: Taiwan is China’s “red line.” A misstep could spark a blockade or skirmish, crashing markets.

China’s Leverage: China could sanction Taiwan’s economy (about 70% of its trade is with the mainland) or seize TSMC in a conflict, negating US gains.

Limited Trade War Impact: Even a distracted China might not budge on trade—its $18.3 trillion economy can absorb shocks the Qing couldn’t. Unlike opium’s direct profit, Taiwan’s proxy role is defensive, not coercive.

Comparison to Opium Wars: Britain’s wars forced immediate concessions (Hong Kong, open ports). Taiwan as a proxy might delay China’s tech rise but lacks the decisive economic hammer opium provided. The Qing had no counter; China can retaliate—economically (rare earth bans) or militarily (South China Sea escalation).

The Philippines as a Proxy

Strategic Role

The Philippines, an archipelagic nation in the South China Sea, sits astride vital trade routes—$7 trillion in annual commerce, including 60% of China’s energy imports. Its disputes with China over reefs (e.g., Second Thomas Shoal) and EEZ claims make it a flashpoint. As a US treaty ally (1951 Mutual Defense Treaty), it’s a natural proxy to challenge China’s maritime dominance, indirectly pressuring its trade-driven economy.

How the US Could Use the Philippines

Military Buildup: The 2014 Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement allows US access to Philippine bases. Expanding this—$500 million in 2024 aid for airfields, radar—could counter China’s presence in the South China Sea, threatening its trade security.

Joint Operations: US-Philippine Balikatan exercises (12,000 troops in 2024) signal deterrence. Arming the Philippine navy—say, with US frigates—could harass Chinese vessels, raising Beijing’s costs like Britain’s coastal raids.

Economic Alignment: Steering Philippine trade away from China (25% of its exports) toward the US or ASEAN could weaken Beijing’s regional clout, echoing Britain’s push for open markets.

Potential Impact

A bolstered Philippines could disrupt China’s South China Sea control, forcing naval resources from trade protection to reef disputes. If China’s energy imports falter, it might soften trade stances—e.g., easing steel dumping—to avoid broader losses. Like Britain’s port-opening, this pressures China’s economic lifelines without direct war.

Limits and Risks

Weak Capacity: The Philippines’ navy (80 outdated ships) is no match for China’s 370-vessel fleet. US aid can’t close this gap quickly.

Domestic Instability: Corruption and a $400 billion GDP limit its staying power.

Marginal Trade War Gains: Unlike opium’s direct profits, Philippine proxies might annoy China but not force trade concessions—China’s markets are too diversified.

Comparison to Opium Wars: Britain’s naval dominance ensured Qing compliance; the Philippines lacks the heft to mirror that. China’s economic sway over ASEAN blunt Manila’s impact. Britain coerced a weak foe; the Philippines faces an U.S. peer power that can escalate or can just ignore the Philippines.

Could They Achieve Britain’s Goals?

Britain’s Opium War wins—open markets, trade surplus, regional dominance—required a weak foe and direct force. Taiwan and the Philippines can’t deliver this:

Taiwan: Might secure US tech dominance but won’t force China’s markets open—Beijing’s domestic consumption ($6 trillion) cushions trade hits. It’s a defensive proxy, not a coercive one like opium.

Philippines: Can needle China’s trade routes but lacks scale to dictate terms. China’s alternative routes (Belt and Road rail) and energy reserves (six-month oil stockpile) limit impact.

At best, these proxies could push China to negotiate to avoid broader costs. But China’s resilience and global clout mean no repeat of Britain’s one-sided victory. The US might gain leverage, but only with risks Britain never faced—economic fallout, allied splits, or unintended war.

Taiwan and the Philippines as proxies could pressure China’s trade and strategic ambitions, much like Britain’s wars forced Qing concessions. Taiwan’s chip dominance and the Philippines’ sea lane position offer leverage to disrupt Beijing’s economy, but neither can match opium’s direct, devastating impact. China’s strength—military, economic, diplomatic—blunts their effect, and nuclear risks raise the stakes. Unlike Britain’s low-cost triumphs, US proxy strategies could backfire, escalating tensions without clear wins. If the goal is trade fairness or containing China’s rise, Taiwan holds more promise but demands caution; the Philippines, while a useful idiot, is a sideshow.

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