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Most Recent Update on: 8th February 2025, 09:34 pm
As it is often attributed to Mark Twain, history does not repeat, but it certainly rhymes. The actions of Trump 2.0 resonate similarly, though disharmoniously, within a grim timeframe reminiscent of the past regarding the United States’ avowed great adversary, China. Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution, which commenced in 1966 and continued until 1976, was a decade-long initiative aimed at reaffirming communist ideology and purging perceived bourgeois influences in China. Millions of intellectuals, scientists, and government officials faced purges, frequently through public humiliation, imprisonment, or execution.
Mass famine was primarily a feature of the Great Leap Forward (1958–1962) rather than the Cultural Revolution. The Great Leap Forward, Mao Zedong’s effort to rapidly industrialize China and collectivize agriculture, resulted in widespread starvation, leading to the deaths of an estimated 30 to 45 million individuals. Policies such as enforced collectivization, inflated grain production reports, and the redirection of rural labor to steel production contributed to food scarcity and famine.
The Cultural Revolution, while significantly disruptive to governance, education, and scientific advancement, did not result in famine on a similar magnitude. However, it did result in economic stagnation, mismanagement, and food shortages in specific regions, largely due to the removal of skilled agricultural managers and administrators in favor of politically loyal but inexperienced revolutionaries. Political purges and mass dislocation impacted rural production, but there was no famine akin to the crisis of the Great Leap Forward.
The current administration of the United States appears to have learned nothing of value from history, both domestically and internationally. Its tariffs, for example, disregard the lessons of the Smoot-Hawley Act. Enacted in 1930, it significantly increased U.S. tariffs on hundreds of imported goods in an attempt to safeguard American industries during the Great Depression. Instead of facilitating economic recovery, the act incited a wave of retaliatory tariffs from other nations, resulting in a collapse of international trade. U.S. exports plummeted, exacerbating the economic downturn and increasing unemployment. The legislation is widely regarded as a policy failure that worsened the Depression and contributed to the rise of economic nationalism worldwide. It was ultimately reversed through trade liberalization measures in the subsequent decades, including the Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act of 1934.
However, the core theme of this analysis remains: the uncanny similarities between the current upheavals in the U.S. and those of the Cultural Revolution. Let us delve into this, point by point.
During the Cultural Revolution, Mao orchestrated a sweeping purge of educators, scientists, and government officials deemed politically unreliable or too closely aligned with Western or bourgeois influences, replacing them with ideologically committed loyalists. In a contemporary parallel, the Trump administration has dismissed climate scientists, environmental regulators, and inspectors general, often substituting them with loyalists who reject established scientific consensus. While the scale and methods differ, both endeavors illustrate a broader pattern of sidelining expertise in favor of ideological adherence, with lasting consequences for policy and institutional integrity.
During the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s regime dismissed established scientific knowledge in favor of ideological dogma, sidelining experts and replacing them with politically loyal revolutionaries. Policies were driven by ideology rather than evidence. In a contemporary parallel, the Trump administration has disregarded scientific advisors and appointed officials skeptical of established research, including appointing prominent vaccine skeptic Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as Secretary of Health and Human Services. This administration’s adoption of anti-vaccine rhetoric and its erosion of regulatory agencies reflects a broader pattern of favoring political ideology over scientific expertise, reminiscent of past efforts to reshape governance at the expense of evidence-based policy.
During the Cultural Revolution, Mao closed down universities and dismantled educational institutions, claiming they were breeding grounds for elitism and counter-revolutionary thought. Education was substituted with ideological indoctrination, and intellectuals were sent to rural areas for reeducation, resulting in a lost generation of scientists, engineers, and educators. In a contemporary parallel, the Trump administration’s proposal to dismantle the Department of Education exhibits a similar animosity towards established educational structures, portraying universities as centers of liberal indoctrination. While not yet an outright closure of institutions, stripping federal oversight and reducing research funding threatens to undermine universities, limit access to higher education, and diminish academic independence—echoing Mao’s assault on intellectualism in pursuit of ideological conformity.
During the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s government dismantled institutions in favor of ideological loyalty, replacing scientific inquiry with political doctrine and disrupting governance on a massive scale. In a contemporary parallel, Elon Musk, appointed by President Trump to lead the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), has employed rapid and aggressive strategies to reform federal agencies. His approach has resulted in unauthorized access to sensitive governmental financial systems, the termination of an independent federal agency, and significant intrusions into other government operations, leading to lawsuits, public protests, and internal dissent.
Musk’s dependence on a youthful, fiercely loyal team, many of whom possess little governance experience, parallels Mao’s utilization of the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution—zealous yet often reckless enforcers of ideological purity. Just as the Red Guards targeted specialists and officials deemed counter-revolutionary, Musk’s inner circle has sidelined seasoned executives in favor of aggressive disruption. The recent termination of an employee over offensive social media comments highlights the dangers of unchecked youthful enthusiasm in positions of power, where ideological fervor can swiftly devolve into chaos. [Editor’s note: That person has been re-hired, following a Twitter/X poll. —Zach Shahan]
The Trump administration’s decision to eliminate references to “transgender” and only list “LBG” instead of “LGBT” on official government websites mirrors broader attempts to erase certain identities from public conversation, much like language restrictions during China’s
Social Transformation. Just as Mao’s regime prohibited certain terms and revised ideological principles to conform with party orthodoxy, the government’s efforts to eliminate mentions of transgender identities mirror earlier attempts to control societal narratives through the restriction of language itself. Similarly, Trump’s prohibition of pronouns in workplace communication illustrates an intention to reform discussions through linguistic dominance, adhering to the same strategy of enforcing ideological uniformity by limiting how individuals can describe themselves and others.
In the United States, the widespread release and pardoning of rioters from January 6th, many of whom already consider themselves soldiers in a political struggle, has emboldened a militant grassroots movement loyal to Trump. These individuals, already inclined to challenge governing institutions, could act as a decentralized source of intimidation and political enforcement, akin to the Red Guards. Should they receive further encouragement, either through direct calls to action or by dismantling legal restrictions, they might operate as an extralegal force advocating for ideological conformity through pressure, harassment, and potentially even violence.
Concurrently, Musk’s younger, ideologically aligned recruits—many of whom lack formal credentials yet wield significant influence—reflect another aspect of the Red Guards: the replacement of institutional knowledge with fervent, disruptive loyalists. The combination of these two elements—pardoned insurrectionists and a new breed of hyper-loyal disruptors in essential industries—raises the possibility of a volatile, anti-institutional movement that operates both on the streets and within the corridors of power.
As the Trump government endeavors to dismantle the Department of Education, eliminate references to climate science, and purge federal databases, efforts to preserve information and challenge these actions have intensified. Universities, independent researchers, and advocacy organizations have launched expansive data archiving initiatives, mirroring efforts made during Trump’s first term. Institutions like Harvard Law School’s Innovation Lab and the Environmental Data & Governance Initiative (EDGI) have been actively backing up climate research and government data before they vanish.
Legal challenges have also surged, with organizations such as the ACLU and Public Citizen filing lawsuits to halt funding cuts to scientific agencies and prevent the suppression of public health information. Meanwhile, some government employees have engaged in quiet defiance, leaking information and storing critical datasets in decentralized repositories to guarantee continued access. These efforts reflect a broader historical trend where scholars and activists strive to safeguard information in the face of politically motivated erasure, similar to dissidents in authoritarian regimes who preserved banned literature, research, and historical data against ideological purges.
However, legal challenges to the sweeping policy changes of the Trump administration encounter increasing obstacles as the president inundates the landscape with executive orders, personnel removals, and corporate overhauls while openly flouting legal limitations. Courts, which are already overloaded, struggle to keep pace as Trump’s team implements policies faster than they can be contested or reversed. By the time lawsuits are filed and adjudicated, agencies have been weakened, information erased, and institutional frameworks irreversibly modified.
The administration’s defiance of judicial orders, including dismissing congressional subpoenas and resisting oversight, further undermines the legal system’s capacity to serve as a check on executive authority. Meanwhile, Trump’s expanded appointments of loyalist judges and threats against dissenting legal officials create an environment where traditional legal remedies grow weaker, leaving opponents scrambling to identify alternative pathways for accountability before irreversible damage is inflicted.
The strategy of the Trump administration to inundate the space with executive actions, purge officials, and ignore legal constraints bears striking similarities to Mao’s Cultural Revolution, where rapid, chaotic policy shifts overwhelmed institutional resistance and undermined the rule of law. Just as Mao circumvented the Communist Party machinery and empowered the Red Guards to enforce ideological purity through direct action, Trump has sidelined regulatory agencies, dismissed career officials, and replaced them with political loyalists, ensuring policies are implemented before legal challenges arise.
Both leaders deployed sheer volume and speed as tactics, making it nearly impossible for courts or institutions to respond in a timely manner. Mao’s purge of judicial and government officials, accompanied by mass political trials, created a legal void where the Party’s authority became absolute—similarly, Trump’s contempt for judicial orders and expanded judicial appointments weaken checks on executive power, fostering an environment where ideology increasingly supersedes legal precedent. In both scenarios, the intentional erosion of legal institutions complicates resistance, compelling opponents to seek alternative means of maintaining governance, often outside the conventional framework.
In the aftermath of the Cultural Revolution, China confronted a severe shortage of skilled professionals, necessitating the nation to seek expertise from abroad to rebuild its educational, research, and industrial capacities. Decades of ideological purges had devastated universities, disrupted scientific advancement, and left industries trailing behind global standards.
Recognizing this crisis, Deng Xiaoping initiated a series of economic and educational reforms in the late 1970s, reopening universities, sending thousands of students and researchers to study in the United States and Europe, and inviting foreign experts to assist in modernizing key sectors. Joint ventures with Western companies, technology transfers, and scientific collaborations became central to China’s strategy for rapid industrialization. These initiatives helped China reestablish a foundation for innovation, ultimately transforming the country into a global leader in manufacturing, technology, and research. The reliance on foreign expertise during this era emphasizes the long-term consequences of the Cultural Revolution’s assault on knowledge and the challenges of rebuilding institutions once they have been disassembled.
China has emerged as the dominant force in the global clean technology revolution, leading in solar, wind, battery storage, and electric vehicle production, while aggressively scaling up green hydrogen and advanced grid technologies. However, as Chinese companies seek to expand into the U.S. market, they encounter increasing hurdles fueled by xenophobia, Sinophobia, and growing isolationism.
Policymakers in Washington, citing national security concerns, have implemented trade restrictions, blocked Chinese investment in critical sectors, and heightened tariffs on clean energy imports, hindering the rollout of affordable green technologies. The political environment makes it increasingly challenging for Chinese companies to partner with American universities and businesses, cutting off opportunities for collaboration that could accelerate the U.S. transition to clean energy. While China continues to advance with substantial industrial policy…
investments, the U.S. risks undermining its own clean energy future by emphasizing geopolitical competition over technological collaboration, reminiscent of earlier periods of self-imposed detachment that have left nations struggling to keep pace with global advancement.
During his initial term, Donald Trump enacted assertive policies targeting Chinese researchers in the U.S., raising concerns about intellectual property theft and national security. The China Initiative, introduced by the Department of Justice in 2018, aimed to eliminate economic espionage but quickly morphed into a widespread crackdown on academics with connections to China, resulting in unjust prosecutions and forcing many scientists of Chinese descent out of American educational institutions.
This strategy induced a chilling effect on U.S. international research collaboration, particularly in sectors like clean energy and biomedical studies, as institutions became wary of hiring or collaborating with Chinese scholars. Numerous leading researchers migrated to China, propelling the nation’s advancements in cutting-edge technologies, while U.S. universities experienced a reduction in global talent and international scientific partnerships. The initiative faced widespread condemnation for racial profiling and was officially terminated in 2022, yet its long-term repercussions on the U.S. research landscape remain substantial, with lingering reluctance toward scientific exchanges and collaborations with China.
Before his election, Trump exhibited willingness for Chinese automotive manufacturers to establish plants in the United States, provided these facilities are constructed and operated by American workers. However, the U.S. lacks expertise or capability in modern, highly automated factories akin to those operating in China’s contemporary automotive sector. The Administration’s measures explicitly decrease the likelihood of Chinese firms and executives building plants in the country. China is not oblivious to its own history, largely, and the Chinese populace is acutely aware of the severe consequences of the Cultural Revolution.
Xi Jinping was not personally purged during the Cultural Revolution, yet his family endured significant hardship. His father, Xi Zhongxun, a high-ranking official in the Communist Party, faced purging in 1962—prior to the Cultural Revolution’s official onset—but his fall from grace intensified during Mao’s campaign. Labeled a “counter-revolutionary”, Xi Zhongxun was imprisoned and subjected to forced labor, while his family experienced persecution.
Consequently, Xi Jinping was dispatched to rural areas in 1969 as part of Mao’s “Down to the Countryside Movement”, where millions of young individuals, especially offspring of purged officials, were compelled to live and work among peasants for “re-education.” Xi resided in a cave dwelling in Shaanxi province and undertook strenuous labor for several years.
Although not directly purged, the tribulations faced by his family during the Cultural Revolution significantly influenced his political perspective, particularly his subsequent focus on stability, centralized authority, and loyalty to the Party, as evidenced by his leadership style today.
Every leader within China’s government and corporate sectors carries personal family narratives of themselves, their parents, or at most their grandparents being adversely impacted by the Cultural Revolution and victimized by the Red Guards. They recognize the conclusion of this narrative. They are undoubtedly shaking their heads in disapproval as a nation that once aided them in modernization and overcoming the legacies of the Cultural Revolution—starting with Nixon and continuing on—now shuns the wisdom of history and falls into the traps of ideological purges and anti-intellectualism.
Moreover, China will capitalize on the void left globally by the U.S. with its services and products. Trade connections will strengthen with other nations worldwide as the U.S. diminishes. China and the global community will tackle climate change.
As I mentioned following the election, Trump and his opposition to climate initiatives will merely slow down the U.S.’s adoption of wind, solar, battery technologies, electric vehicles, and heat pumps, rather than halt the inevitable arrival of superior, more efficient technologies. His focus on boosting U.S. oil and gas production is also likely to falter between the Scylla of decreasing global demand affecting oil prices and the Charybdis of U.S. shale entering a period of declining returns.
It is profoundly disheartening to observe the United States repeatedly disregarding the lessons of history. With some fortune, America’s internal turmoil may not spill over too greatly beyond its borders, except through trade disruptions that lead to the global community engaging in more commerce with one another and less with the United States. However, Trump 2.0 is considerably more aggressive than Trump 1.0, rattling sabers and suggesting the deployment of troops onto foreign soil to expand American influence.
Since the conclusion of World War II, the United States has executed several military interventions globally, actions widely perceived as invasions by the citizens of those nations. In the 1950s, it intervened in Korea, Iran, and Guatemala. The 1960s to 1970s saw invasions and operations in Cuba, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, and the Dominican Republic. In the 1980s, the U.S. invaded Grenada and Panama while launching military actions in Libya and Iran. The 1990s included engagements in Iraq, Somalia, Haiti, Bosnia, and Yugoslavia. The 2000s experienced full-scale conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq, alongside operations in Pakistan, Libya, Syria, and Yemen. In the 2010s to 2020s, U.S. forces have been active in Niger and Venezuela. These interventions, ranging from full-scale invasions to drone strikes and regime-change initiatives, have influenced global geopolitics for decades.
An illustration of Trump 2.0’s stance is his suggestion to stationed U.S. troops in the Gaza Strip with the intention of clearing the area of militant factions and transforming it into a resort destination. Likewise, in his bluster concerning Greenland, he did not dismiss the possibility of acquiring it through force. Similarly, he has not ruled out military action regarding the Panama Canal, which he inaccurately states is operated by China. For the time being, he has dismissed military force to annex Canada, but Canada’s Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, has publicly stated that he and the Canadian government regard the threat of annexation as serious. With Trump’s current combative stances, every nation with or near American bases is likely contemplating the ramifications should Trump’s trade and rhetorical conflicts escalate.
Perhaps the only positive outcome from this situation is that in a recent conversation with China’s Director of the CCP Central Foreign Affairs Commission, Marco Rubio, the new Secretary of State reaffirmed that the U.S. does not support Taiwanese independence and advocates for a peaceful resolution of the Taiwan issue. That’s a truly pragmatic response because all conflict simulations have highlighted that if the U.S. attempted military intervention with China over Taiwan, it would lose the battles, let alone the war. As I noted last year, the U.S. has made its own global power projection significantly more challenging by ceding international shipbuilding to Asia—with China alone acquiring 59% of ship orders in 2023—and the well-meaning yet ultimately detrimental Jones Act resulting in no domestic logistical fleet capable of sustaining any prolonged
actions.
China’s global naval presence remains remarkably limited in comparison to the United States. While the U.S. has positioned forces worldwide and operates over 750 military installations in more than 80 countries, China has generally refrained from direct military involvement beyond its frontiers. Instead, Beijing has concentrated on economic and strategic influence through trade, infrastructure initiatives such as the Belt and Road Initiative, and diplomatic relationships rather than military might. China’s sole overseas military installation, located in Djibouti, starkly contrasts with the extensive U.S. military network, highlighting its preference for soft power over direct intervention. While both nations aim to shape global affairs, the U.S. has depended on military supremacy, whereas China has emphasized economic and technological expansion as its primary means of influence. China’s military growth in recent years is best perceived as a defensive reaction to U.S. provocations and a highly effective defensive force, rather than an expansionist and intrusive force like that of the U.S.
The narrative of the United States over the last four decades indicates that they can only succeed in battles against significantly weaker adversaries and struggle to win wars. However, Trump and his administration exhibit little understanding of history, the genuine strengths and weaknesses of the United States, and the reality of other nations. The upheavals of the U.S. Cultural Revolution and the inflation resulting from Trump’s trade wars may very well necessitate diverting American attention with a foreign conflict. The likelihood of a potential Trump 2.0 pushing the U.S. into another global military disaster is considerable.
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