Asia’s future will be scripted with the fate of two trilaterals — and South Korea sits at the center of both. The first is the U.S.–Korea–Japan partnership (USKJ), the most explicit security alignment in East Asia. The second is the China–Korea–Japan (CKJ) partnership, a quieter but increasingly consequential alignment built on trade, supply chains, and monetary coordination.
It’s now in all the media. Lee Jae-myung will meet Donald Trump and Xi Jinping next week. Both are billed as state visits; only one will function as one. The first will be a circus, the second will be a summit. The difference could not be starker.
There is an inevitable fate that portends all small-to-mid-sized states adjacent to great powers—particularly those that (a) hold territory considered to be strategically relevant; (b) are heavily influenced by or controlled by a perceived opponent to the adjacent state; and (c) are heavily influenced by or controlled by a state in relative decline.
This week, South Korean authorities expressed concern regarding the potential impact of anti-China protests during APEC. Anti-China sentiment is today a regular feature at political demonstrations in Seoul and has grown substantially with the growth of extreme right sentiment on social media. Both Beijing and Seoul are concerned.
During the Biden Administration and now under the second Trump Administration, South Korea’s strategists have had their feet washed off the strategic sandbar and are caught in a rip.
The U.S, or at least some of those within influential circles in the U.S, are creeping towards war with China. Preparations are well underway. Australia, Japan, and South Korea, are pushed, prodded, and compelled to line up and play. They’re playing knock and run.
In the film Cool Hand Luke, there's a scene where a prison guard tells Luke he’s sorry for putting him in the box. Luke, bloodied and unbroken, replies: 'Saying sorry don’t make it right.' The moment cuts to the heart of power, communication, and the emptiness of regret when the system remains unchanged.
In South Korea, the idea of a post-American Asia—that is, a regional order no longer anchored by the U.S. alliance system—invites wildly divergent visions. Nowhere are these differences more vivid than at the ideological extremes.
Strategic flexibility—the U.S. doctrine that deems forward-deployed forces, including those in South Korea, ready to respond to crises anywhere in the region—is knitting the Korean and Taiwan theaters together once again.
Geography is more than a backdrop—it often shapes the grand arcs of national strategy. While political will, technology, ideology, and the vagaries of fortune do override geography, it is always momentary. Like the rocks and earth on which it rests, geography tells tales over millenia, not centuries or decades.
