COLUMN: China and the United States Accuse Each Other of Secret Nuclear Tests: The New Cold War Has Begun

When Diplomacy Turns into Psychological Warfare

The problem is that evidence is sorely lacking. “CTBTO detected no event consistent with a nuclear test on the date in question,” says Rob Floyd, the organization’s executive secretary. “Our sensors are among the most sensitive in the world.” Yet the United States insists: “China has used methods to reduce the effectiveness of seismic monitoring,” asserts DiNanno. “They have conducted low-yield tests that are difficult to detect.” Beijing counters that these accusations are baseless. “We are honoring our international commitments,” insists Shen Jian. “It is the United States that is looking for a pretext to resume its own tests.”

Experts are divided. “A very low-yield test could indeed slip under the radar,” acknowledges a seismologist. “But without tangible evidence, these accusations remain mere speculation.” ” “It’s psychological warfare,” analyzes a diplomat. “Each side is trying to discredit the other to justify its own actions.” “The United States wants to pressure China into agreeing to negotiations,” says a researcher. “But by publicly accusing it, they’re making any discussion impossible.”

Meanwhile, Russia is watching in silence. “Moscow has not officially responded, but sources close to the Kremlin suggest that Russia might resume its own tests,” reveals a Russian newspaper. “If the United States and China start testing again, we’ll have no choice. ” “We’re caught in a cycle of escalation,” worries an expert. “Every accusation triggers a reaction. Every reaction triggers a new accusation. And so on.”

I think about these accusations. About these denials. About this never-ending war of words. And I tell myself: we’ve become like children. Children who pass the buck back and forth. Who call each other liars. Who desperately seek to have the last word. Who prefer to accuse rather than engage in dialogue. Who prefer to threaten rather than negotiate. Who prefer to rush toward the abyss rather than take a step back.

Because, deep down, it’s no longer even a question of evidence. It’s no longer even a question of truth. It’s a question of power. Of who will come out on top. Of who can impose their will. Of who can force the other to yield. And in this logic, there’s no longer any room for diplomacy. There is no longer any room for nuance. No room for compromise. No room for trust. There is only the law of the strongest. The law of whoever shouts the loudest. The law of whoever threatens the most fiercely. The law of the jungle.

And the worst part is that we all know this is a dangerous game. That every accusation triggers a reaction. That every reaction triggers a new accusation. That every step forward in the escalation brings us a little closer to the point of no return. But we keep going. Because, in this game, whoever shows the first sign of weakness loses. Whoever makes the first conciliatory gesture is seen as a coward. So we accuse. We deny. We threaten. We run. We play at scaring each other. And one day, perhaps, we’ll realize that we’ve pushed things too far. That we’ve crossed a red line. That we’ve set something in motion that we can no longer stop. And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

Why Beijing Has Become the Number One Enemy

Why is the United States targeting China so aggressively? “Because Beijing has become the main strategic threat,” explains a senior Pentagon official. “Their nuclear arsenal is growing faster than that of any other country. ” “China could have 1,500 nuclear warheads by 2035,” according to a U.S. study. “This is a direct threat to our security.”

Washington therefore wants to force Beijing to negotiate. “We demand that China participate in a new arms control treaty,” says DiNanno. “But it refuses. So we have to apply pressure.” “It’s a strategy of coercion,” says a Chinese diplomat. “The United States wants to impose its rules on us, while continuing to modernize its own arsenal.”

China, for its part, is banking on deterrence. “We don’t want an arms race,” asserts Shen Jian. “But we won’t let the United States dictate our defense policy.” “We have the right to defend ourselves,” insists a Chinese general. “And we will do so, regardless of American pressure.”

I think about this American obsession. This determination to demonize China. This strategy of coercion. And I tell myself: here we are. We’ve returned to the era of the Cold War. To the time when every superpower needed an enemy to justify its military spending. To justify its arms race. To justify its paranoia. And today, China is playing that role to perfection.

Because, let’s be clear: it wasn’t China that triggered this escalation. It wasn’t Beijing that decided to reignite the arms race. It was Washington. It was the Trump administration. It’s this obsession with staying on top. With never showing the slightest sign of weakness. With always having an enemy to point to. And China, today, is the ideal enemy. Because it is powerful. Because it is ambitious. Because it refuses to back down. Because it refuses to submit. So they accuse it. They demonize it. They portray it as an existential threat. They make it the new monster to be vanquished.

And the worst part is that it works. Because, in this game, China has no choice. It cannot afford to show the slightest sign of weakness. It cannot afford to negotiate under duress. So it resists. It counterattacks. It levels accusations of its own. It plays along. And so on. The spiral has begun. Mistrust takes root. Arsenals are modernized. Military doctrines become more radical. And the world becomes a little more dangerous every day.

And we, we watch. We listen. We endure. Hoping that, this time, luck will be on our side. Hoping that, this time, the bluff won’t turn into an apocalypse. But deep down, we all know it’s only a matter of time. That sooner or later, someone will push things too far. That sooner or later, someone will cross a red line. And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

When Washington Acts as the World’s Policeman… While Rearming

The United States presents itself as a champion of disarmament. “We want a world without nuclear weapons,” declares Donald Trump. “But to achieve that, everyone has to play along.” “China refuses to participate in the negotiations,” insists DiNanno. “So we have to apply pressure.”

Yet the facts speak for themselves: Washington is modernizing its arsenal. “We’re investing hundreds of billions of dollars in new missiles, new submarines, and new nuclear warheads,” reveals a congressional report. “How can you ask others to disarm if you don’t do so yourself?” asks a Russian diplomat.

The United States justifies this modernization by citing the Chinese threat. “We must stay ahead,” insists an American general. “Otherwise, China will be the one dictating the rules.” “It’s pure power politics,” analyzes an expert. “The United States wants to maintain its lead, even if it means sabotaging any disarmament effort.”

I think about this hypocrisy. About this double standard. About this way of presenting themselves as the world’s policeman while rearming at full speed. And I tell myself: here we are. We’ve returned to the era when the United States justified its military spending by citing the Soviet threat. When it presented every new missile, every new submarine, every new nuclear warhead as a strategic necessity. As a response to the enemy’s aggression. And today, China is playing that role. Today, it’s Beijing that serves as the pretext. Beijing that serves as the scapegoat. Beijing that serves to justify hundreds of billions of dollars in spending. Spending that, of course, will never be put to use. That will only fuel the arms race. That will only make the world a little more dangerous.

Because, let’s be clear: the United States does not want to disarm. It never has. It never will. Because disarming means taking a risk. It means accepting that it will no longer have the final say. It means accepting that it will no longer be the world’s leading military power. And that is something no U.S. administration can accept. None can afford to show the slightest sign of weakness. So we rearm. We modernize. We threaten. We accuse. We play at scaring each other. And meanwhile, the world becomes a little more dangerous every day.

And the worst part is that we all know how this ends. We know that this race leads nowhere. That it only brings us closer to the precipice. That it only increases the risks of an accident, of escalation, of catastrophe. But we carry on. Because, in this game, whoever slows down first loses. Whoever makes the first conciliatory gesture is seen as a coward. So we run. We arm ourselves. We make threats. We accuse. We deny. We play at scaring each other. And one day, perhaps, we’ll realize that we’ve pushed things too far. That we’ve crossed a red line. That we’ve set something in motion that we can no longer stop. And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

Moscow is watching… and preparing

In this game of bluff, Russia is playing the role of silent referee. “We have not officially responded to the U.S. accusations against China,” says a Kremlin spokesperson. “But we are monitoring the situation closely.”

However, sources close to the Russian government suggest that Moscow might resume its nuclear tests. “If the United States and China start testing again, we’ll have no choice,” says a general. “We must maintain our deterrent.”

Russia is banking on the rift between Washington and Beijing. “The more tensions rise between the United States and China, the better it is for us,” an expert analyzes. “It gives us room to maneuver.” “We could even propose an alliance with China against the United States,” a diplomat suggests. “That would weaken Washington.”

I think about this Russia. About this silence. About this wait-and-see strategy. And I tell myself: here we are. We’ve returned to the days when Moscow played the role of arbiter. When it observed. When it bided its time. When it let others wear themselves out before striking. And today, Russia is in a position of strength. Because it is no longer bound by any treaties. Because it can modernize its arsenal without restriction. Because it can let the United States and China wear each other down in their war of words before proposing an alliance. An alliance that would be a game-changer. That would weaken Washington. That would strengthen Beijing. That would give Moscow a central role in the new world order.

Because, deep down, Russia has nothing to lose. It no longer has any treaties to abide by. It no longer faces any constraints. It can do whatever it wants. It can test its capabilities. It can modernize. It can issue threats. It can play the role of arbiter. And that is a position of strength. A position that allows it to dictate the terms of the debate. To choose its side. To manipulate tensions. And meanwhile, the world is becoming a little more dangerous every day.

And the worst part is that we all know how this ends. We know that this race leads nowhere. That it only brings us closer to the precipice. That it only increases the risks of an accident, of escalation, of catastrophe. But we keep going. Because, in this game, whoever slows down first loses. Whoever makes the first conciliatory gesture is seen as a coward. So we run. We arm ourselves. We threaten. We accuse. We deny. We play at scaring each other. And one day, perhaps, we’ll realize that we’ve pushed things too far. That we’ve crossed a red line. That we’ve set something in motion that we can no longer stop. And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

When the Old Continent No Longer Has a Say

Faced with this escalation, Europe looks on, powerless. “We no longer have a say,” admits a French diplomat. “Major decisions are made in Washington, Beijing, and Moscow.”

Some countries are trying to act as mediators. “We call for restraint,” says a German minister. “We must avoid a new arms race.” “We support disarmament efforts,” adds a British official. “But without the United States and China, it’s impossible.”

Europe is banking on diplomacy. “We must continue the dialogue,” insists a senior EU official. “Even if the results are limited.” “We have no other choice,” sums up an expert. “Otherwise, we’ll be crushed.”

I think of this Europe. Of this powerlessness. Of this inability to influence the debate. And I tell myself: here we are. We’ve returned to the days when Europe was nothing more than a spectator. When it no longer had a say. When it had to content itself with watching the giants clash. To endure their decisions. To pray that the crisis doesn’t escalate. And today, Europe no longer has the means to match its ambitions. It no longer has the means to act as a mediator. It no longer has the means to impose its vision. All it has left are words. Words that, in the face of missiles, submarines, and nuclear warheads, carry little weight.

Because, deep down, Europe has made its choice. It has chosen not to equip itself with the means to carry out its policies. It has chosen to depend on the United States for its defense. It has chosen not to invest in its own deterrent. And today, it is paying the price. It is marginalized. It is ignored. It is crushed by the giants. And all it can do is watch. Listen. Endure. Hoping that, this time, luck will be on its side. Hoping that, this time, the giants won’t play with fire. But deep down, it knows. It knows that words won’t be enough. It knows that diplomacy has its limits. It knows that, one day, the giants will grow tired of playing. That they’ll cross a red line. That they’ll set off something no one will be able to stop. And on that day, Europe won’t even have the means to protect its citizens. It won’t even have the means to defend itself. It will be nothing more than a battlefield. A playground for the superpowers. And that is the worst kind of humiliation: knowing that we no longer have the means to control our own destiny. Knowing that we no longer have the means to say no. Knowing that we no longer have the means to command respect. And having to watch others make decisions for us.

When Deterrence Becomes the Only Law

With the collapse of the New START treaty and the refusal of China and the United States to commit to a new framework, the world is entering a dangerous era. “We no longer have any rules,” warns a UN expert. “Every country is doing whatever it wants.”

The risks of escalation are immense. “One incident, one misunderstanding, one miscalculation, and it’s a catastrophe,” warns a general. “Without a framework for discussion, without verification mechanisms, we’re in the dark.”

Some are calling for a new treaty. “We absolutely must reestablish dialogue,” insists a diplomat. “Otherwise, we’re headed straight for disaster.” “We must find a way to limit arsenals,” adds an expert. “Even if it’s difficult. Even if the United States and China refuse to cooperate.”

Others, more pessimistic, believe it’s too late. “The arms race has been reignited,” observes a researcher. “And no one wants to be the first to slow down.” “We’re doomed to keep running,” sums up a philosopher. “Until something snaps.”

I think about this world. This world without rules. Without safeguards. Without limits. And I tell myself: here we are. We’ve returned to the era when the law of the strongest was the only one that mattered. When deterrence had become the only currency. When mistrust had replaced any hint of cooperation. And today, we have no safety net. No parachute. No Plan B. All we have is the race. The arms race. The technology race. The race for superiority. A race that, as we all know, leads nowhere. That only brings us closer to the precipice. That only increases the risks.

Because, deep down, we all know how this ends. We know that, sooner or later, someone will make a mistake. That an incident will spiral out of control. That a misunderstanding will trigger a crisis. That an algorithm will make a bad decision. And that, on that day, no one will be able to stop the machine. No one will be able to rewind the tape. No one will be able to erase the consequences. And that is the worst curse of all: knowing that we’re racing toward the abyss. Knowing that we’re playing with fire. Knowing that we’re creating the conditions for our own destruction. And continuing anyway. Because, in this game, whoever slows down first loses. Whoever makes the first conciliatory gesture is seen as a coward. So we run. We arm ourselves. We threaten. We accuse. We deny. We play at scaring each other. And one day, perhaps, we’ll realize that we’ve pushed things too far. That we’ve crossed a red line. That we’ve set something in motion that we can no longer stop. And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

When Lies Become the Norm

Here we are. Cold War 2.0 has been declared. The United States accuses China of conducting secret nuclear tests. China accuses the United States of lying and manipulation. Russia watches in silence, ready to take advantage of the situation. Europe, for its part, no longer has a say in the matter. And the world watches, powerless, as this game of bluffing poker unfolds, where the stakes are nothing less than the survival of humanity.

Evidence is lacking. Accusations are flying. Mistrust has become the norm. And meanwhile, arsenals are being modernized. Missiles are multiplying. Military doctrines are becoming more radical. “We’re in a dangerous spiral,” warns an expert. “Every accusation triggers a reaction. Every reaction triggers a new accusation. And so on.”

Yet there remains a glimmer of hope. “We must continue to engage in dialogue,” insists a diplomat. “Even if it’s difficult. Even if the results are limited.” “We absolutely must reestablish a framework for discussion,” adds an expert. “Otherwise, we’re headed straight for a wall.”

But for that to happen, the superpowers would have to agree to play by the rules. They would have to agree to limit their ambitions. They would have to agree to take a step back. They would have to agree to show a sign of goodwill. “Which is unlikely,” admits an observer. “Because, in this game, whoever shows the first sign of weakness loses.”

So today, we no longer have a choice. We must accept that the world has become more dangerous. That the arms race has been reignited. That mistrust has replaced cooperation. And that, one day, perhaps, we will pay the price for our blindness. The price for our inability to say “stop.” The price for our refusal to trust. The price for our obsession with power.

And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

I end this article thinking about this world. About this Cold War 2.0. About this arms race. About these accusations. About these lies. And I tell myself: we’re crazy. Completely crazy. Because we know. We all know where this is leading. We all know how it ends. We all know that this race leads nowhere. That it only brings us closer to the precipice. That it only increases the risks. And yet, we carry on. We accuse. We deny. We lead. We rearm. We play at scaring each other. As if, deep down, we’d rather race toward disaster than take a step back. As if we’d rather have the illusion of power than the reality of peace.

Because, let’s be clear: this isn’t a matter of evidence. It isn’t a matter of truth. It’s a matter of power. Of who will come out on top. Of who can impose their will. Of who can force the other to yield. And within this logic, there is no longer any room for diplomacy. No room for nuance. No room for trust. There is only the law of the strongest. The law of whoever shouts the loudest. The law of whoever threatens the most. The law of the jungle.

And the worst part is that we all know it can’t end well. We know that, sooner or later, someone will make a mistake. That an incident will escalate. That a misunderstanding will trigger a crisis. That an algorithm will make a bad decision. And that, on that day, no one will be able to stop the machine. No one will be able to rewind the tape. No one will be able to erase the consequences. And that is the worst curse of all: knowing that we are creating the conditions for our own destruction. And continuing anyway. Because, in this game, whoever slows down first loses. Whoever makes the first conciliatory gesture is seen as a coward. So we run. We arm ourselves. We threaten. We accuse. We deny. We play at scaring each other. And one day, perhaps, we’ll realize that we’ve pushed things too far. That we’ve crossed a red line. That we’ve set something in motion that we can no longer stop. And on that day, it will be too late for regrets.

So today, I choose to say no. No to this race. No to these lies. No to this madness. No to this obsession with power. Because we still have a choice. We still have the power to say stop. To take a step back. To show a sign of goodwill. To draw a red line. And that, perhaps, is the only thing we have left. The only thing that can still save us. The only thing that can still keep us from sinking. So today, I choose to believe in diplomacy. In cooperation. In peace. Even if it’s difficult. Even if it’s fragile. Even if it’s uncertain. Because the alternative is the abyss. And that, I cannot accept.

Signed, Jacques Provost