Tensions in the South China Sea (SCS) are rising once again. In late June, the Chinese coast guard boarded two Filipino ships bound for the disputed Second Thomas Shoal. Wielding machetes and knives, Chinese sailors severely injured Filipino navy personnel.
In the wake of the incident, there were concerns that Manila might invoke the 1951 Mutual Defense Treaty to secure U.S. military support. However, U.S. officials pressed for a more cautious approach, stressing the need for closer communication with the Chinese military – and Beijing appears to have reciprocated. “The Chinese have agreed to increase our military-to-military communications and that’s really critical for us… the last thing we want is an accident,” Nicholas Burns, the U.S. Ambassador to China, has confirmed.
The world now seems to be breathing a sigh of relief, and praising leaders in Washington and Beijing for maintaining open lines of communication. On one level, this is appropriate. Historically, military-to-military communications have played a pivotal role in averting the escalation of minor disputes into full-scale warfare.
But is this true when it comes to Chinese conduct? History would suggest otherwise.
Here, the Hainan Island incident is instructive. In 2001, a U.S. EP-3 reconnaissance plane collided with a PLA fighter jet over the South China Sea, killing the Chinese pilot and forcing the EP-3 to make an emergency landing on China’s Hainan Island. Chinese officials promptly boarded the plane, detained the crew, and removed any remaining classified intelligence and equipment.
The situation quickly escalated into a tense diplomatic standoff, with each side accusing the other of causing the collision and violating international law. Senator Joseph Lieberman, then-Chairman of the Armed Services Committee, described the collision as “an aggressive game of aerial chicken being played by the Chinese air force.” Rather than accepting this narrative and apologizing, Chinese leader Jiang Zemin demanded an apology and compensation from the U.S., holding the EP-3 crew for eleven days.
After over four months of negotiations, the crisis was resolved in Beijing’s favor, with an American apology and compensation securing the release of the plane and crew. U.S. officials, however, drew the wrong conclusions, seeing the incident not as an avoidable escalation precipitated by Chinese belligerence, but as proof that quicker and more reliable lines of communication were needed for effectively managing future crises with the PRC.
The problem, however, wasn’t a lack of communication. The U.S. and China have maintained a direct crisis communications link since 1998. Rather, the problem was that the phone went unanswered. In fact, during the incident, the U.S. claimed that, despite its immediate efforts to contact China, neither the PLA nor the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) returned high-level phone calls, leading to a communication blackout with China’s leadership. It took 12 hours before the U.S. ambassador to China could even meet MFA representatives to discuss the issue.
Of course, mutual mistrust played a role, but this was mainly due to the distinct top-down command structure of the PLA. Ultimately, the PLA is under the control of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), and without Party authorization, no one will ever answer the phone.
Thus, the crux of the issue is fundamentally political. Chinese officials are disincentivized from answering the phone, particularly during times of crisis, fearing they might speak without CCP approval. The challenge lies not in the lack of communication channels but in the lack of responsiveness driven by a fear of deviating from Party directives.
If this state of affairs existed under the tenure of Jiang Zemin, a Chinese leader often criticized for his perceived political conciliation with the West, why would the situation be any different under the current, rigid and adversarial political climate established by Xi Jinping? It isn’t. In fact, it has worsened substantially.
As such, the current discussion about strengthening lines of communication is little more than political theater. In reality, China understands very well that its political structure renders those same communication channels meaningless. American officials should too.
To be sure, open lines of communication are preferable to closed ones. But we would do well not to overstate their significance. As history has shown all too well, beefing up our ability to communicate with Beijing won’t do anything to alter China’s strategic calculus, whether it is in the South China Sea today or vis-à-vis Taiwan tomorrow.