Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : There are moments in history when power does not merely shift—it exposes itself. The first year of Donald Trump’s second term has become such a moment, not because it introduced entirely new instruments of American statecraft, but because it redirected the same tools of pressure, coercion, and economic weaponization that the United States once reserved for weaker or dependent nations toward its own traditional allies. In doing so, Washington did not just shock the global system; it fractured it, driving country after country—by calculation, necessity, or defiance—into the strategic and economic orbit of China.
For decades, the United States shaped the political and financial architecture of much of the developing world through a familiar mechanism: military reach, dollar dominance, and institutional leverage over global bodies such as the IMF and World Bank. Countries in South Asia, the Middle East, Latin America, Eastern Europe, and parts of Africa learned to live within a system where access to capital, trade, and even political legitimacy could be expanded or constricted at Washington’s discretion. Many endured in silence, not because they agreed, but because they lacked the economic or military weight to resist.
What changed in this era is not the method, but the target. The same logic of tariffs, sanctions, threats, and strategic intimidation was applied to nations that had long believed themselves protected by alliance and shared identity. Canada, Europe, and the wider Western hemisphere were confronted not as partners, but as economic adversaries and strategic liabilities. This reversal carried a powerful message: loyalty offered no immunity.
Canada’s experience became a defining case study. Accusations of economic exploitation, sweeping tariff threats, and rhetoric that questioned Canada’s sovereignty struck at the heart of a relationship built on the world’s deepest bilateral trade integration. For Ottawa, the conclusion was stark. Dependency on a single market had become a strategic risk. The response was not submission, but diversification. Trade corridors were widened toward the European Union through CETA, expanded across the Asia-Pacific via the CPTPP, and recalibrated toward energy and investment ties with the Gulf and Asia. China, as the world’s largest trading nation, inevitably became central to this recalibration—not by ideological alignment, but by economic gravity.
Europe’s pivot followed a parallel but more consequential path. The dispute over Greenland, framed by Washington as a strategic necessity for missile defense and Arctic dominance, was read in European capitals as a unilateral assertion of power that disregarded sovereignty and alliance consultation. The European Union, often divided on policy, responded with rare cohesion. The rejection of American demands was not merely territorial—it was systemic. It reflected a growing determination to insulate Europe’s political and economic future from what it increasingly viewed as unpredictable American pressure.
This shift soon extended into the financial realm. European policymakers began openly discussing the risks of overexposure to U.S. Treasury holdings and the vulnerability created by dollar-dominated trade and settlement systems. This trend has taken on new political meaning in an environment where financial access is increasingly treated as a strategic weapon.
At the same time, the BRICS bloc—now expanded to include major energy producers and regional powers—has accelerated efforts to build alternative mechanisms for trade settlement, development finance, and cross-border investment that bypass traditional Western-controlled institutions. Local-currency trade arrangements, new development banks, and parallel payment systems are no longer theoretical exercises; they are active projects driven by a shared desire to reduce vulnerability to American financial leverage.
In this environment, China has not needed to aggressively recruit allies. Its role as the central node of global manufacturing, trade, and infrastructure has done much of the work. With annual trade volumes exceeding $4 trillion and deep supply-chain integration across Asia, Europe, Africa, and Latin America, China has become economically indispensable to much of the world. The Belt and Road Initiative, spanning more than 140 countries, has embedded Chinese capital, logistics, and construction into the physical and economic foundations of entire regions. For many states, disengaging from China is no longer a policy option—it is an economic impossibility.
Europe’s own posture toward Beijing illustrates this reality. Only a few years ago, European policy focused on “de-risking” and restricting Chinese investment in strategic sectors. Today, that posture is being recalibrated at unprecedented speed. High-level dialogues on industrial cooperation, green technology, electric vehicles, and infrastructure investment reflect a recognition that Europe’s economic competitiveness is tied to engagement with China, not isolation from it.
Canada’s recalibration mirrors this logic. Energy partnerships with the Gulf, expanded Asian trade, and financial diversification are not ideological statements; they are strategic hedges against a United States that has signaled its willingness to weaponize economic interdependence.
Across the Global South, the pattern is even more pronounced. Countries in Africa, Central Asia, Latin America, and Southeast Asia—many already deeply embedded in Belt and Road projects—see in this Western fracture a confirmation of their long-held belief that reliance on a single power center is dangerous. For them, China’s appeal lies not in moral claims or ideological alignment, but in scale, speed, and predictability of economic engagement.
This is where the geopolitical landscape takes on its starkest contrast. As China’s economic centrality expands, the United States finds itself increasingly isolated in political terms. In this emerging narrative, only one relationship remains absolute: the United States and Israel, bound together in mutual political and strategic defense as much by global criticism as by shared policy.
Israel, facing growing diplomatic, legal, and public pressure across Europe, the Global South, and even within Western societies, leans heavily on American veto power and political backing in international forums. The United States, in turn, finds itself defending Israel in a world where sympathy and alignment are steadily shifting elsewhere. The result is a form of strategic isolation that contrasts sharply with China’s expanding web of economic partnerships.
The Western hemisphere, once considered America’s natural sphere of influence, now reflects this tension. Caribbean and Latin American states increasingly engage China as a primary trade partner, infrastructure financier, and development lender. In Africa, China has surpassed traditional Western powers in trade volume and project scale. In the Middle East, even long-standing U.S. partners diversify toward Beijing for energy, technology, and investment ties.
What emerges is not a world won by China through conquest or coercion, but one reshaped by America’s own confrontational posture. The paradox of this moment is that America’s political capital is eroding. China, by contrast, often avoids overt military or ideological confrontation, relying instead on the slow, cumulative force of economic integration. The gravitational pull of markets, supply chains, and infrastructure has proven more durable than the shock of tariffs or the threat of sanctions.
In the unfolding order, China’s rise has not been driven solely by its own strategy, but by the vacuum created as the United States confronts rather than consolidates. The world’s capitals, boardrooms, and ministries increasingly calculate their futures not in terms of allegiance, but in terms of access—to markets, to capital, to infrastructure, and to stability. In that calculation, Beijing now sits at the center of the equation.
What history may ultimately record is not merely a contest between two powers, but a transformation in how power itself is measured. Military strength and financial dominance remain formidable, but in a world bound by trade, technology, and shared vulnerability, the ability to attract, integrate, and sustain economic relationships may prove to be the decisive force of the century.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : The Arctic, once a frozen frontier of quiet diplomacy and carefully balanced power, is rapidly becoming a theater of geopolitical drama. What makes this moment striking is not merely China’s growing presence in the polar north, but the pathway that has led it there. In a twist of strategic irony, policies designed in Washington to contain Beijing’s global reach appear to have instead nudged America’s closest allies toward deeper engagement with China—transforming the Arctic into a new symbol of a shifting world order.
For decades, Canada stood as one of the United States’ most dependable partners, sharing not only borders and security arrangements but also a sense of political alignment rooted in NATO, democratic values, and mutual defense. Canadian soldiers fought alongside American forces in distant theaters, reinforcing the idea of a partnership that went beyond transactional interests. Yet recent years have strained that bond, as a sharper, more unilateral American posture has unsettled long-standing assumptions about alliance and trust.
The shockwaves intensified when Washington floated the idea of exerting direct control over Greenland, framing the move as a preemptive step to block Chinese and Russian influence in the Arctic. While cast in the language of strategic necessity, the message that reverberated through Europe and North America was one of disregard for sovereignty and partnership. For Denmark and Greenland, the proposal felt less like an offer of cooperation and more like a declaration of intent, prompting unease across the Nordic region.
Against this backdrop, Canada’s reported openness to involving China in Arctic research and development takes on a deeper meaning. It is not simply about scientific collaboration or icebreaker technology; it signals a recalibration of strategic options. The Arctic’s future hinges on access, infrastructure, and year-round navigability, and in these areas, China has invested heavily. Its growing fleet of icebreakers, polar research stations, and logistical capabilities gives it a practical advantage in a region where technological capacity often matters as much as territorial proximity.
This development forms what some observers describe as a “double pincer” dynamic. On one side, China has cultivated research and commercial ties with Nordic countries under international law and bilateral frameworks. On the other, Canada’s engagement opens a transcontinental corridor of cooperation that links North America’s Arctic access with Europe’s northern gateways. The result is a network that extends China’s influence across the polar circle without the need for direct territorial claims, relying instead on partnership, investment, and technical expertise.
The strategic implications are profound. Climate change is steadily reducing ice coverage, shortening shipping routes between Asia, Europe, and North America by as much as 40 percent. What was once a seasonal passage is edging toward year-round viability, transforming the Arctic into a critical artery for global trade, energy transport, and mineral supply chains. Control over icebreaker fleets, ports, and monitoring systems becomes a form of soft power, shaping who sets the rules for access and security.
China’s Arctic engagement also dovetails with its broader Belt and Road Initiative, which has already linked more than 150 countries through infrastructure, logistics, and digital networks. The extension of this vision into polar waters reframes the initiative as not merely a land-and-sea project, but a planetary one—connecting continents through roads, ports, fiber-optic cables, and now, ice-cleared maritime corridors. For partner countries, the appeal lies in tangible investment and shared development rather than overt military alignment.
Europe’s role in this evolving landscape reflects its own reassessment of transatlantic ties. Leaders in Paris and Berlin have spoken openly about strategic autonomy, emphasizing the need to diversify partnerships in a world where U.S. policy can shift sharply with domestic politics. High-level visits to Beijing and renewed economic engagement signal a willingness to explore avenues of cooperation that Washington has discouraged, particularly in areas like research, energy, and infrastructure.
This recalibration is not driven by ideological conversion to China’s worldview, but by a pragmatic reading of interests. European states, facing energy transitions, supply chain vulnerabilities, and economic competition, see value in maintaining multiple channels of partnership. The Arctic, rich in rare earths, hydrocarbons, and strategic shipping lanes, becomes another arena where diversification seems prudent rather than provocative.
The ripple effects extend beyond the polar north. In the Middle East, China and Russia’s consistent calls for sovereignty and non-intervention have positioned them as counterweights to U.S. influence, particularly in countries wary of regime-change rhetoric. In Latin America, Beijing’s infrastructure financing and trade agreements have offered alternatives to traditional U.S.-centric economic models. Together, these trends paint a picture of a world where influence is increasingly earned through development and investment as much as through security guarantees.
For Washington, the challenge lies in reconciling the desire to protect national interests with the realities of alliance management in a multipolar era. Tariffs, threats, and public confrontations may signal resolve domestically, but they can also push partners to hedge their bets internationally. The Arctic case illustrates how strategic pressure, when perceived as overreach, can produce the opposite of its intended effect—encouraging allies to seek balance rather than alignment.
None of this suggests that the United States is losing its capacity to shape global outcomes. Its economic scale, technological leadership, and network of alliances remain formidable. But the nature of influence is evolving. In regions like the Arctic, where long-term investment, scientific cooperation, and infrastructure development determine access and authority, power is exercised quietly and incrementally rather than through dramatic declarations.
The deeper lesson may lie in the unspoken reality of international politics: every nation, whether it proclaims it or not, puts its own interests first. What differentiates successful strategies is not the assertion of primacy, but the ability to align national goals with the aspirations of partners. When cooperation feels mutually beneficial, alliances endure; when it feels conditional or coercive, alternatives emerge.
As the ice recedes and shipping lanes open, the Arctic will continue to draw the attention of powers near and far. It will test whether established alliances can adapt to new economic and environmental realities, or whether emerging networks of partnership will redefine the region’s governance. In this unfolding story, China’s growing presence is not solely the result of its own ambition, but also of the spaces created by others’ missteps.
The coming years will reveal whether Washington chooses to recalibrate—investing in polar infrastructure, engaging allies in shared development plans, and framing Arctic security as a collective endeavor rather than a zero-sum contest. Such an approach could rebuild confidence and reassert leadership without forcing partners to choose sides.
If not, the Arctic may become a lasting symbol of a broader global shift: a world where influence flows toward those who build, connect, and invest, rather than those who command and confront. In that sense, the frozen north is no longer just a remote frontier—it is a mirror reflecting the changing dynamics of power in the twenty-first century.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : The return of Donald Trump to power in January 2024 did not mark a routine political shift inside the United States. It detonated a geopolitical shockwave that began tearing apart alliances built over nearly a century. What followed was not slow diplomatic drift, but the violent collision of political tectonic plates. Relationships forged in the ruins of two world wars—between the United States, Europe, and Canada—began cracking in real time, while new balances of power were built at a pace that stunned analysts and strategists alike.
For decades, Europe and North America were welded together by NATO, by trade integration, and by a shared narrative of democracy, human rights, and collective security. Canada stood as the most loyal extension of this Western framework. Its economy was fused with that of the United States through NAFTA and later the USMCA. Nearly three-quarters of Canadian exports flowed south. Energy, automobiles, agriculture, defense production, and technology supply chains functioned as one system. Canadian soldiers fought alongside American forces from Korea to Afghanistan. Ottawa followed Washington into wars it did not initiate. The assumption was simple: this alliance was permanent.
That assumption collapsed. The Trump administration revived tariffs as a blunt political weapon, striking Canadian steel, aluminum, and industrial exports while openly signaling that economic dependence could be used as leverage. At the same time, Washington escalated a broader posture of intimidation across its alliances and beyond. Rhetoric surrounding Greenland reframed the island not as a sovereign territory under Danish authority, but as a strategic asset to be claimed. This was not read in Europe as a joke or a bargaining tactic—it was understood as a warning: even allies could be treated as geopolitical real estate.
For the European Union, this was a breaking point. The idea that sovereignty itself could be subjected to transactional power politics shattered the post-war illusion of inviolable partnership. Brussels, Paris, Berlin, and the Nordic capitals began turning inward. The long-debated concept of “strategic autonomy” moved from academic language to active policy. Europe accelerated defense integration, expanded independent security planning, and strengthened coordination around the Arctic, Greenland, and the North Atlantic—not to deter Russia or China, but to insulate itself from the unpredictability of the United States.
Canada felt the shock just as deeply. The same country that had built its national security, economy, and foreign policy around American partnership now found itself treated as a subordinate rather than a sovereign equal. When Washington floated the language of absorption—of Canada as a “51st state”—it crossed a psychological line in Ottawa. The message was not subtle: dependence was no longer mutual. It was leverage.
Canada responded with a historic pivot. Trade diversification, long discussed but never prioritized, became national strategy. The Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement with the European Union was elevated from policy option to economic lifeline. Engagement across the Indo-Pacific intensified. Most significantly, Canada reopened and expanded channels with China in areas that had traditionally been dominated by the United States—energy technology, agriculture, electric vehicle supply chains, critical minerals, Arctic research, and infrastructure investment. What began as commercial outreach quickly took on strategic meaning: Canada was building an alternative economic and technological anchor.
Europe moved in the same direction. While maintaining NATO ties, the EU expanded high-level engagement with Beijing on climate finance, renewable energy, digital infrastructure, and industrial standards. European leaders did not frame this as ideological alignment, but as counterbalancing. If Washington was willing to use trade, security, and sovereignty as pressure tools, Europe would build parallel relationships to reduce its exposure.
This realignment was not driven by economics alone. It was shaped by Washington’s expanding use of kinetic power abroad. Continued U.S. military support for Israel’s campaign in Gaza, combined with repeated air operations in the Middle East and counterterrorism strikes across parts of Africa, reinforced a global image of a superpower defaulting to force rather than diplomacy. In the Western Hemisphere, sharp rhetoric and pressure tactics aimed at Venezuela, Cuba, and other Latin American governments revived long-standing fears of economic coercion and political intervention.
Against this backdrop, China’s model appeared fundamentally different. Beijing did not offer military protection or ideological partnership. It offered roads, ports, railways, industrial parks, energy corridors, and financing. Through the Belt and Road Initiative, China poured hundreds of billions of dollars into infrastructure across Asia, Africa, Latin America, and parts of Europe. In Central Asia, it built transit corridors linking east to west. In Africa, it constructed ports and industrial zones. In Latin America, it invested in logistics hubs and energy projects. In the Arctic, it established research stations, icebreaker missions, and scientific cooperation with Nordic partners.
This was influenced without occupation. Power without troops. Integration instead of intimidation. For Canada and Europe, this approach offered a strategic counterweight. Engagement with China became a way to balance Washington’s dominance, not replace it entirely, but dilute its ability to dictate terms. Joint research initiatives, green technology partnerships, and trade expansion were not merely economic—they were geopolitical insurance policies.
This is the tectonic change now underway. Canada, once the most reliable extension of American economic and strategic space, is constructing parallel networks. Europe, once anchored unconditionally to Washington, is building its own security, industrial, and diplomatic architecture. The Global South, from Brazil to Central Asia, is expanding partnerships that bypass traditional Western gatekeepers.
The contrast between the two superpower strategies is stark. The United States increasingly relies on tariffs, sanctions, military deployment, and political pressure. China relies on infrastructure, investment, trade integration, and long-term development financing. One model seeks compliance. The other seeks dependence.
What makes this moment historically dangerous is the speed at which trust has collapsed. Alliances built over generations are being tested in a single political cycle. Strategic assumptions that once anchored global stability are being discarded in real time.
The tectonic plates of global order have shifted. The world is no longer organized around a single center of gravity. It is fragmenting into competing spheres of influence, overlapping partnerships, and strategic hedges.
Whether this leads to balance or breakdown will depend not on the ambitions of Washington or Beijing alone, but on how far Canada, Europe, and the rest of the world continue down the path of building a system designed not around loyalty—but around insulation from power itself.