High Stakes: Can American Exceptionalism Accommodate Chinese Exceptionalism in the 21st Century?
Kaiser Y Kuo
Jan 06, 2025
https://www.sinicapodcast.com/p/high-stakes-can-american-exceptionalism
This essay was first published in Insight: The Journal of the American Chamber of Commerce in Shanghai in the Winter 2025 issue, and was adopted from a keynote address delivered in September 2024 at the New York Conference on Asian Studies in Buffalo, New York. Listen to my audio narration in the embedded player above.
The observation that US-China relations stand at a crossroads has been repeated so often that it has been sapped of its meaning. Yet with Donald Trump's return to the presidency injecting enormous uncertainty into the future of this consequential relationship, this depleted phrase has regained its urgency: the relationship between these two powers truly does face a pivotal moment that could reshape the global order.
At this critical juncture, one question looms large: Is it possible for these two great powers, each convinced of its unique role in human history, to find a way to coexist? More specifically, can American exceptionalism accommodate Chinese exceptionalism in the 21st century?
This isn't some recondite philosophical question to be pondered in the rarefied air of academia. It cuts to the heart of the most consequential bilateral relationship of our time and holds very real implications for the lives of Americans, Chinese and people all over the world. The stakes are unfathomably high, and America must somehow reach a modus vivendi with China.
Why focus on exceptionalism? While there are many factors complicating US-China relations, the stubbornly held ideas about national uniqueness and destiny are major obstacles to cooperation and understanding. In the _expression_ of exceptionalist thinking in each country, we see the shape of two distinct worldviews. But are these notions so divergent that they cannot be made compatible? I argue that they are not ultimately irreconcilable.
American exceptionalism manifests in familiar phrases: America the indispensable nation, the shining city on the hill, manifest destiny, leader of the free world, the last best hope of Earth, the arsenal of democracy — all the way down to its most recent, debased form: "America first." But exceptionalism isn't destined to present itself in brazen jingoism any more than white supremacy is only present when there are swastikas and Confederate flags on display. The more subtle forms are harder to recognize, things Americans have internalized through socialization. Some aspects aren't necessarily negative — like the outsized sense of responsibility that Americans often feel to stand up for the oppressed. But this also bleeds into an urge to bring the light of reason to the benighted and the sword of justice to those deemed wicked.
This is the heart of the problem: in our exceptionalism, we arrogate to ourselves the role of moral arbiter. We insist that the values and institutions that we believe undergird our own society are true, capital T and universally valid. We don't reflect deeply on the tangled, complex and highly contingent historical processes that permitted these values and institutions to develop and take root in the US. Rather, we tend to assume that those values and institutions are the very reason why America has prospered.
China nurtures its own version of exceptionalism, one perhaps as deficient in humility as its American counterpart. It also sees itself as having a unique place and role in human history, singled out for a special destiny. But Chinese exceptionalism differs from the American version in at least one very important way. Whereas Americans see their values and institutions as possessing universal validity, the Chinese tend to see their values and institutions as particular to their nation — the product of China's unique history, geography, ecology and society.
This particularism is evident in how the phrase "with Chinese characteristics" is applied to various concepts. Over the last four decades, we've witnessed a profound shift in China's self-perception and its articulation of its place in the world. "Chinese characteristics" has metamorphosed from a modest acknowledgment of developmental challenges into an increasingly confident assertion of civilizational identity and an alternative vision of modernity. No longer a defensive crouch, it has become an assertive stance — a declaration not just of difference, but of virtue.
This transformation raises legitimate concerns. There's a risk that this emphasis on Chinese particularity could shade into a kind of ethnonationalism, echoing troubling ideas about some essential Chinese character that must be preserved and defended — ideas familiar to students of the nineteenth-century Self-Strengthening Movement. Moreover, Chinese exceptionalism, even in its defensive form, often posits a "rightful place" that China occupied in the past. While this may not mean China seeks to become the axial state at the center of a world order, it could — and arguably does — mean restoration as a regional hegemon, the center of an East Asian order, not just economically and culturally, but politically and militarily as well. This is something with which China's neighboring states, as well as some non-Han peoples living within the borders of the People’s Republic, are understandably not altogether comfortable.
Nevertheless, China's doubling down on its particularism may ultimately prove beneficial for global stability. Why? Because this means it tends not to be a proselytizing religion. It isn't bent on exporting its values and ideology precisely because it believes them to be specific and unique to China. Two proselytizing worldviews in conflict would be worse than just one that actively seeks converts while the other passively invites study and emulation. In the Chinese telling, the barbarian might come to China, drawn by the irresistible allure of its civilizational excellence, and receive the beneficence of its culture. But it's all pull, not push — the culture radiates outward and its superiority and benevolence inspire awe and emulation. It isn't imposed.
When it comes to the US and China, the problem of exceptionalism is mainly an American one. China's emergence as a multidimensional near-peer of the United States has generated a full-blown moral panic in America. This isn't just the natural reaction of a great power watching a rival surge. China's rise has challenged and even overthrown many of the underlying assumptions in American exceptionalist thinking. The US reaction has been inchoate, disproportionate and sometimes desperate because of this loss of confidence.
Consider some key pillars of American exceptionalism that have been knocked down: We long believed that a successful market economy was only possible under a democratic political system. The free market and the free market of ideas were presumed to be inextricably linked. An authoritarian system with a robust and thriving private sector was considered inherently contradictory. China's economic success has fundamentally challenged that assumption.
Similarly, we held two major beliefs about the relationship between technology and politics. The first was what we might call the "emancipation narrative" — the belief that the democratization of technology, particularly the internet and social media, would inevitably lead to the collapse of authoritarian regimes worldwide. This techno-utopian belief shaped our understanding of the color revolutions of Eastern Europe, the Caucuses and Central Asia. The dominance of this narrative reached its apex during the Arab Spring, when Western media gleefully appended the names of American social media products to each uprising: the Twitter Revolution, the Facebook Revolution. By 2016, this narrative had given way to a new techno-pessimism as various authoritarian states, but especially China, demonstrated how effectively technology could be harnessed to augment state control.
The second belief concerned innovation itself. We long held that authoritarian politics would inevitably stifle creativity and genuine innovation. China, we insisted, was capable only of imitation, and anything innovative coming from China must be the result of intellectual property theft. This confidence in the necessary connection between political freedom and innovation was so complete that even tech industry leaders, like former HP CEO Carly Fiorina, often challenged audiences to name a single Chinese innovation during her presidential bid. Yet sometime around 2016, American thinking underwent a dramatic reversal. Suddenly, China was perceived as an unstoppable juggernaut of innovation in AI, quantum computing, biotechnology and other cutting-edge fields.
The erosion of these foundational beliefs has been profound. The nation that was, until recently, the loudest global exponent of free trade has now embraced protectionist tariffs with remarkable enthusiasm across both political parties. The inevitable triumph of liberal democratic capitalism, a fixture of American exceptionalism, seems increasingly uncertain in the face of global democratic backsliding and China's stubborn refusal to conform to our Whiggish, teleological faith.
Even America's long-held skepticism of industrial policy has crumbled in response to China's rise. Though the US practiced industrial policy at various points in the post-War period, it never explicitly embraced it, maintaining instead a public faith in the unfettered market and the mythological lone genius in his garage. Now, in direct response to China's technological advancement, the US has openly adopted industrial policy through legislation like the CHIPS and Science Act, though there has been little national conversation about this dramatic shift.
This systematic dismantling of core American assumptions has produced a crisis of confidence that manifests in increasingly extreme reactions. Look at Congress and the sheer volume of "tough-on-China" legislation, or the rhetoric about China representing an "existential threat" — language that reduces the relationship to a zero-sum game where one nation must perish for the other to survive. Consider the pervasive securitization that now frames everything from solar panels to social media apps as potential national security threats. This isn't just realpolitik; it's the panicked response of a nation whose foundational beliefs have been profoundly shaken.
At a deeper level, these competing exceptionalisms reflect different approaches to moral philosophy. American exceptionalism may have had its foundations rocked, but it hasn’t gotten any less assertive, and it remains a moral universalist: its values and institutions are considered valid for all people in all times. Chinese exceptionalism, emphasizing the uniqueness of China's path, leans towards moral relativism, holding that moral truths are culturally and historically contingent.
That said, Beijing has not embraced anything like full-blown relativism, nor are its claims of cultural contingency truly incommensurable with universal values. Beijing pushes for a wider definition of universal values, not for their wholesale rejection. It emphasizes economic rights alongside civil and political ones, insisting that all nations should be able to forge their own paths based on their national conditions.
A framework I call "priority pluralism" might offer a way forward and take us closer to coexistence. It acknowledges that there is a core set of values so widely shared across human societies that we can, for all intents, call them universal. But different societies also legitimately prioritize these values differently, based on their historical experience and present circumstances.
Could this approach serve as that elusive, flexible framework through which American and Chinese exceptionalism might be reconciled? Could the US accept that prioritizing economic development, poverty alleviation and education as preconditions to civil and political rights is a valid approach? Not if the US continues to arrogate to itself the right to define not only what the legitimate ends should be, but to determine which ends should be given priority.
There are other obstacles. Casting China as an ideological rival like the Soviet Union once was reinforces exceptionalist thinking. Much of this is mere projection: it's hard for some Americans, accustomed to global primacy, to think that any other power with the capability of challenging American power wouldn't also seek global hegemony. Yet China itself neither wants nor believes itself capable of taking on that role.
The path forward requires proximity and understanding. Data shows that the geographies of China with the most cosmopolitan attitudes — tolerant, pluralistic, non-nationalistic — are precisely those places with the most exposure to foreign residents. Given proximity and time, we will likely converge in our values and stop finding each other so inexplicable and bizarre.
American exceptionalism could evolve into a version grounded in humility and global responsibility, one that recognizes both America's strengths and limits. Indeed, the United States already possesses a strong tradition of domestic pluralism that could serve as a model for international relations. The First Amendment's Establishment Clause, proscribing the creation of a national religion, embodies this pluralist idea and has served the country well. In our highly plural and diverse nation, we already recognize that there is room for the _expression_ of a range of priorities given to shared values, and we understand this as a source of American strength. We have only to realize that this same approach can be applied to foreign relations.
We're not going to resolve the irreconcilable differences between American and Chinese exceptionalism, but we can create a framework within which these different visions can peacefully coexist. This will require not just diplomatic skill, but a reimagining of what global leadership means in an increasingly multi-polar world where different value prioritizations are acknowledged and respected — just as we already acknowledge and respect them within our own borders.
The accommodation of American and Chinese exceptionalism in this century is not just possible; it’s necessary. The alternative — a world bifurcated by competing ideologies and irreconcilable values — is too costly to contemplate. Our challenge is to find a way forward that honors the unique contributions of both while forging a path toward a shared future. This path lies in recognizing our shared humanity and goals, and the diverse ways in which different societies seek to realize these aspirations.