For two decades, the Shangri-La Dialogue has been Asia's premier defense summit, a stage where the United States and its allies have typically set the agenda, defined the threats, and lectured the region.
But its 23rd edition, held from May 29 to 31, revealed a telling paradox: the setting was familiar, but the script was not—and the lead actor appeared visibly less assured.
Security guards stand at the entrance of the venue of the 23rd Shangri-La Dialogue.
Under the chandeliers of the Shangri-La Hotel, U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth delivered a speech that struck a notably conciliatory tone toward China.
"Under President Trump's leadership," Hegseth told an audience of more than 550 delegates from 44 countries and regions, "relations between the United States and China are better than they've been in many years." He added that the Trump administration sought "a stable peace, fair trade, and respectful relations with China."
It was a jarring departure from 2025, when Hegseth's maiden Shangri-La address warned of a Chinese military threat that was "real" and "imminent" and mentioned "Taiwan" five times. This year, the phrase did not cross his lips—not even during the Q&A session, when he was pressed on future arms sales to the island. He sidestepped a firm commitment, saying that all decisions would rest with President Trump.
U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth
To many veteran observers, the shift reflected not goodwill but unease. The United States is overstretched—mired in the Middle East, distracted by Europe, and facing a China that no longer feels obliged to defend itself on a stage built by others.
If one moment crystallized the West's struggling hegemony, it was Hegseth's blunt message to allies. He urged them to raise defense spending to at least 3.5 percent of GDP, praising several Asian partners while dismissing European allies as being "distracted by empty globalist rhetoric about the rules-based international order."
"The era of the United States subsidizing the defence of wealthy nations is over," Hegseth declared. Delegates from Southeast Asia, long accustomed to balancing between major powers, took note. The United States no longer presented itself as a generous patron, but as a demanding creditor—a posture of anxiety, not strength.
Japan's unsettled reckoning
No exchange at this year's dialogue exposed one of Asia's rawest nerves more clearly than the clash over Japan's military role. Japanese Defense Minister Shinjiro Koizumi, in a side meeting, forcefully rejected accusations that Tokyo was embracing "new militarism.""Japan has neither of such weapons—nuclear weapons or strategic bombers—and yet, Japan is labeled (as) 'new militarism'." The pointed reference to China was unmistakable. Mr. Koizumi argued that Japan's defense buildup—including a planned increase in spending to 2 percent of GDP by 2027—is purely self-defensive, given the DPRK's missile tests and China's rapid military expansion in the East and South China Seas.
Japanese Defense Minister Shinjiro Koizumi speaks at the Shangri-La Dialogue.
But his defense did not go unchallenged. Hours later, People's Liberation Army scholar Meng Xiangqing took the floor and turned the spotlight back on history. "Can a country that has never fully eradicated the remnants of militarism truly claim the moral authority to lecture others about defense cooperation on the international stage?" he asked.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the Japanese delegation, which offered no immediate reply. And the silence was not accidental.
Everyone in the hall understood what lay behind those words: a set of uncomfortable facts that Japan has never fully confronted. The Yasukuni Shrine still honors 14 Class-A convicted war criminals, including Hideki Tojo. Japanese political figures have repeatedly visited the shrine around the anniversary of the end of World War II on August 15. These are not obscure details; they are the unresolved debris of a war that ended more than seven decades ago.
As a defeated country in World War II, Japan is constitutionally constrained from maintaining war potential. Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution states: "the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes. In order to accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained."
However, Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi is now pushing for constitutional revision, including possible changes related to Article 9, that would ease constitutional constraints on Japan's military role.
For many in the audience, the moment was far more than a routine rhetorical jab. It laid bare a festering contradiction at the heart of Asian security: Japan, which has yet to give a clear answer on its postwar settlement, is now striving to brand itself as a "responsible security partner" in the region. Can such a country truly act as a "security provider"?
The question is not new, but at Shangri-La 2026, it was posed with unusual directness—and no answer came from Tokyo's seats.
Beijing's quiet confidence
For the second consecutive year, China sent no defense minister. Instead, a delegation led by People's Liberation Army scholar Meng Xiangqing attended—lower in rank, but not in influence. In fact, Meng became one of the most sought-after speakers on the sidelines, fielding more questions than nearly any other participant.
Former Chinese Ambassador to the United States Cui Tiankai, speaking in a series of interviews, was blunt about Washington's softened rhetoric. "We also need to look at its actions," he said. "What we call the one-China principle—it calls the one-China policy. Anyway, one China is one China, right? It needs to match its words with its actions." He added that the most important task for both sides is to put a "constructive strategic stability relationship" into practice across all fields, including military-to-military ties.
Asked about Hegseth's conciliatory tone, Mr. Cui was measured. "We look forward to working with the U.S. side to do more concrete things together," he said, but he made clear that trust would be built only through deeds, not declarations.
The message was unmistakable: Beijing is no longer interested in playing defense on a stage designed by others.
Singapore's veteran diplomat Bilahari Kausikan, a former permanent representative to the United Nations in New York, cut through the diplomatic fog. "You are in a competitive relationship," he said, "but you want to stabilize the competition to make it less dangerous—but you're not gonna stop competing."
That is the new reality. Washington may have lowered its rhetorical temperature, but the underlying competition has not eased. What has changed is that the United States no longer dictates the terms. Allies have noticed.
Malaysia's Dr. Oh Ei Sun, principal adviser at the Pacific Research Centre, offered a transactional reading of the Trump worldview. "Major powers will pursue their own interests," he said. "As long as both sides can reach an agreement on this and make some compromises, then the matter can be settled. There's no need to deliberately create all sorts of confrontation, or even war."
What remains unchanged
The West's desire to shape the narrative—and its deepening struggle to do so—has not gone away. Hegseth's speech still contained familiar jabs at China's military buildup, over which he warned of "rightful alarm." And the United States is doubling down on first-island-chain deterrence. But the confidence behind those words has eroded. The audience no longer listens with the same deference.
The so-called "China plenary", a session where Beijing was often put on the defensive, was canceled due to the absence of China's Ministry of National Defense. Instead, China's own platforms, such as the Beijing Xiangshan Forum, are gaining weight. As one veteran participant noted, Western hegemonic discourse is not dying overnight, but at Shangri-La 2026, its frailty was laid bare.
The Shangri-La Dialogue was founded as a Western lens on Asian security. But the lens is cracking. This year's gathering showed a West that still wants to lead but can no longer dictate a United States that still competes but now seeks to stabilize competition out of necessity, not generosity; and a China that no longer feels obliged to defend itself on a stage built by others.
The words from Washington are softer, yet its actions, so far, have not caught up. Change is the new tone. Continuity is the underlying struggle.
And the decline of Western hegemonic discourse is no longer a prediction—it is the quiet backdrop of every handshake, every sidestep, and every cautious smile at this year's Shangri-La Dialogue.
—Guo Zedong reporting from Singapore
Reporter: Guo Zedong
Photo: Zeng Xiangxing
