Trump heads to Beijing as U.S., China seek to compartmentalize Iran war tensions

President Trump was heading to Beijing on Tuesday for a high-stakes meeting with Xi Jinping, carrying with him weeks of failed diplomatic effort. The core problem was simple: the United States wanted China to lean on Iran to end a two-month-old war and reopen the Strait of Hormuz, through which roughly a fifth of the world's crude oil had flowed before the conflict began. China, the world's largest buyer of Iranian oil, held leverage the Americans believed could be decisive. But Beijing had not wielded it the way Washington hoped.

The relationship between the two leaders had grown complicated. Trump had alternated between frustration—venting that China wasn't doing enough to pressure Tehran—and grudging acknowledgment that Xi's government had actually helped when it mattered, nudging Iran back to ceasefire talks the previous month when negotiations had begun to collapse. Yet as Trump prepared for the visit, the White House had already lowered its expectations. Officials seemed resigned to the idea that this summit would not produce a shift in China's approach to the Iran conflict.

Instead, the administration had made a deliberate choice: compartmentalize. Do not let Iran dominate the agenda. Do not let it poison the broader relationship. Trade negotiations, fentanyl precursor exports, the fragile tariff truce reached just months earlier—these matters mattered too much to risk. "We don't want this to be something that derails the broader relationship or the agreements that might come out of our meeting in Beijing," U.S. Trade Representative Jamieson Greer had said on Bloomberg Television the week before. The message was clear: both sides had too much to lose.

China's position was one of studied caution. Beijing publicly stated it wanted the war to end. Behind closed doors, it had been working with Pakistan to broker a peace agreement. The Chinese had even sent what analysts described as a subtle message of displeasure to Iran for closing the strait and to the United States for its blockade of Iranian shipping. But China was not eager to be seen as Washington's instrument. "They are very cautious, risk-averse, and they don't want to be involved in anything that would drag them into something that they don't consider their problem," said Ahmed Aboudouh, a Middle East specialist at the Chatham House think tank in London.

The tensions had been real enough to threaten the relationship. In late February, when the U.S. and Israel launched strikes, moments of friction had emerged. Trump had threatened a 50 percent tariff on Chinese goods after reports that Beijing was preparing to send air defense systems to Iran, then backed away after claiming to have received written assurance from Xi that no weapons would be provided. Days later, Trump cryptically announced that the U.S. Navy had intercepted a Chinese vessel carrying a "gift" for Iran, offering no further explanation. The State Department had sanctioned four entities, including three China-based firms, for providing satellite imagery that enabled Iranian military strikes. Beijing responded by invoking a blocking statute from 2021, never before used, that prohibited Chinese entities from recognizing or complying with the sanctions. Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi had hosted his Iranian counterpart in Beijing, using the occasion to defend Iran's right to develop civilian nuclear energy. Xi himself had offered implicit criticism of American conduct, speaking of the need to uphold international rule of law and warning against allowing the world to descend into "the law of the jungle."

Yet both leaders had powerful reasons to keep the relationship from fracturing. China imported roughly half its crude oil and nearly a third of its liquefied natural gas from Middle Eastern countries affected by the strait's closure. The economic damage to Beijing from prolonged conflict was substantial. Trump and Xi also remembered the previous year's near-catastrophe: tariffs on Chinese goods had climbed to 145 percent, and China had threatened to tighten rare-earth export controls in ways that would have devastated American industry. They had backed away from the brink only in October, reaching a fragile truce. Neither side wanted to return to that precipice. "I think for Xi, a win is continued stability without surrender," said Craig Singleton, senior director of the Foundation for Defense of Democracies' China program. "He wants the summit to validate China's superpower status, preserve the tariff predictability, and to reaffirm that Washington has to deal with Beijing on Beijing's terms."

The American argument to China was blunt: the strait's closure harmed Beijing far more than it harmed Washington. The United States was not dependent on Middle Eastern oil the way China was. Secretary of State Marco Rubio had made the case plainly: "China is an export-driven economy. That means they depend on other countries to buy from them. You can't buy from them if you can't ship it there, and you can't buy from them if your economy is being destroyed by what Iran is doing." But China had shown little appetite for deeper involvement in the conflict. Former Deputy Secretary of State Kurt Campbell, now chairman of The Asia Group, captured the Chinese calculation: "It will be difficult to get the Chinese deeply involved under any circumstances. They will want to be careful because they can see political quicksand as well as the next guy." As Trump boarded the plane for Beijing, both sides appeared committed to keeping the relationship intact—but neither seemed willing to move significantly on the core dispute.