At times in the past few months, China and Japan have appeared almost ready to do battle over the Senkaku (Diaoyu) Islands --which are administered by Tokyo but claimed by both countries -- and to ignite a war that could be bigger than any since World War II. Although Tokyo and Beijing have been shadowboxing over the territory for years, the standoff reached a new low in the fall, when the Japanese government nationalized some of the islands by purchasing them from a private owner. The decision set off a wave of violent anti-Japanese demonstrations across China.
In the wake of these events, the conflict quickly reached what political scientists call a state of equivalent retaliation -- a situation in which both countries believe that it is imperative to respond in kind to any and all perceived slights. As a result, it may have seemed that armed engagement was imminent. Yet, months later, nothing has happened. And despite their aggressive posturing in the disputed territory, both sides now show glimmers of willingness to dial down hostilities and to reestablish stability.
Some analysts have cited North Korea's recent nuclear test as a factor in the countries' reluctance to engage in military conflict. They argue that the detonation, and Kim Jong Un's belligerence, brought China and Japan together, unsettling them and placing their differences in a scarier context. Rory Medcalf, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, explained that "the nuclear test gives the leadership in both Beijing and Tokyo a chance to focus on a foreign and security policy challenge where their interests are not diametrically at odds."
The nuclear test, though, is a red herring in terms of the conflict over the disputed islands. In truth, the roots of the conflict -- and the reasons it has not yet exploded -- are much deeper. Put simply, China cannot afford military conflict with any of its Asian neighbors.
It is not that China believes it would lose such a spat; the country increasingly enjoys strategic superiority over the entire region, and it is difficult to imagine that its forces would be beaten in a direct engagement over the islands, in the South China Sea or in the disputed regions along the Sino-Indian border. However, Chinese officials see that even the most pronounced victory would be outweighed by the collateral damage that such a use of force would cause to Beijing's two most fundamental national interests -- economic growth and preventing the escalation of radical nationalist sentiment at home. These constraints, rather than any external deterrent, will keep Xi Jinping, China's new leader, from authorizing the use of deadly force in the Diaoyu Islands theater.
For over three decades, Beijing has promoted peace and stability in Asia to facilitate conditions amenable to China's economic development. The origins of the policy can be traced back to the late 1970s, when Deng Xiaoping repeatedly contended that to move beyond the economically debilitating Maoist period, China would have to seek a common ground with its neighbors. Promoting cooperation in the region would allow China to spend less on military preparedness, focus on making the country a more welcoming destination for foreign investment, and foster better trade relations. All of this would strengthen the Chinese economy. Deng was right. Today, China's economy is second only to that of the United States.
The fundamentals of Deng's grand economic strategy are still revered in Beijing. But any war in the region would erode the hard-won, and precariously held, political capital that China has gained in the last several decades. It would also disrupt trade relations, complicate efforts to promote the yuan as an international currency, and send shock waves through the country's economic system at a time when it can ill afford them. There is thus little reason to think that China is readying for war with Japan.
At the same time, the specter of rising Chinese nationalism, although often seen as a promoter of conflict, further limits the prospects for armed engagement. This is because Beijing will try to discourage nationalism if it fears it may lose control or be forced by popular sentiment to take an action it deems unwise. Ever since the Tiananmen Square massacre put questions about the Chinese Communist Party's right to govern before the population, successive generations of Chinese leaders have carefully negotiated a balance between promoting nationalist sentiment and preventing it from boiling over. In the process, they cemented the legitimacy of their rule. A war with Japan could easily upset that balance by inflaming nationalism that could blow back against China's leaders. Consider a hypothetical scenario in which a uniformed Chinese military member is killed during a firefight with Japanese soldiers. Regardless of the specific circumstances, the casualty would create a new martyr in China and, almost as quickly, catalyze popular protests against Japan.
Demonstrators would call for blood, and if the government (fearing economic instability) did not extract enough, citizens would agitate against Beijing itself. Those in Zhongnanhai, the Chinese leadership compound in Beijing, would find themselves between a rock and a hard place.
It is possible that Xi lost track of these basic facts during the fanfare of his rise to power and in the face of renewed Japanese assertiveness. It is also possible that the Chinese state is more rotten at the core than is understood. That is, party elites believe that a diversionary war is the only way to hold on to power -- damn the economic and social consequences.