Showmanship of Power vs Architecture of Influence: Major Powers in the ASEAN Summit 2025

The recently-concluded ASEAN Summit in Kuala Lumpur provided an interesting backdrop to study the actions of global players in this increasingly chaotic global order, especially those of the United States and China.

What happened in Kuala Lumpur in 2025 was more than an ASEAN Summit. It was a test of two competing forms of power played out on the same stage but spoken in different political languages. The United States wielded influence through images and symbols, mastering visibility in an age where perception defines reality. On the other was China, building power through structure and continuity, quietly shaping the economic and digital systems that bind the region, its influence felt most when its name is left unspoken.

If this summit were a stage play, the roles would be clearly cast. The United States was the leading actor, commanding the spotlight and earning roaring applause. China was the stage designer, never appearing before the audience but holding absolute power for if it chose to turn off the lights or remove the backdrop, the performance would instantly collapse. This was not merely diplomatic theatre; it was a live demonstration of two competing political languages vying for the future of Southeast Asia.

The United States used images more than systems. Donald Trump’s appearance at the Summit was not about negotiation but about performance which reminding the world that America remains a central player in Southeast Asia. Sitting at the center of the stage and shaking hands with the leaders of Thailand, Malaysia, and Cambodia, Trump became the focal point of cameras, sending a message that America had returned while subtly countering China’s influence.

This is the power of optics, the authority built on perception rather than structure. Trump’s smart reentry reframed the U.S. as a witness to peace rather than a maker of wars, allowing Washington to return without commanding or reigniting the Cold War. Ironically, only months earlier, the same administration had played the antagonist’s role by raising tariffs across Southeast Asian economies, unsettling regional supply chains it now claims to defend. He also sought to reclaim moral leverage by speaking of transparency, human rights, and peace. This provides ASEAN leaders with domestic and international cover—a “democratic” counter-narrative they can point to, reassuring their publics and other partners without having to explicitly confront Beijing.

Yet in tangible terms, the U.S. gained little. The applause was real, but it masked the absence of new trade deals or long-term economic tools. What America truly earned was applause and an image of leadership on a stage whose structure had already been built by China.

America returned to the spotlight as a peacemaker but left without real power in the system. It was a victory of perception, bright for a moment before fading as the lights dimmed.

The applause faded, but the echoes of that performance still lingered in the region’s political air. Yet while Washington sought to win the moment through spectacle, Beijing was busy building the machinery that would outlast it. China worked quietly behind the scenes, building structures meant to last long after the cameras stopped recording. One of its most significant steps came in May 2025, when China and ASEAN concluded negotiations on the upgraded China–ASEAN Free Trade Area (CAFTA 3.0)  during the China–ASEAN Expo in Nanning. The upgraded deal expands cooperation beyond traditional trade to include the digital economy, green development, and supply chain connectivity, creating a framework that links ASEAN economies more tightly to China’s long-term economic vision.

At the same time, Beijing continued to use regional platforms such as the Belt and Road Forum and the China–ASEAN Expo to deepen investment and policy coordination. These gatherings have become key venues for promoting digital integration, clean energy collaboration, and infrastructure connectivity across Southeast Asia.

These initiatives all happened outside the ASEAN Summit, revealing that Beijing no longer sees it as the main platform for advancing interests. Why compete for headlines in Kuala Lumpur when it can set the agenda in Nanning and Kunming, where its voice is dominant and its initiatives face no collective resistance? Instead, China practices parallel diplomacy, preferring venues it can fully control. At the Summit, it must wait for consensus, listen to small nations’ concerns, and speak with caution. In its own forums, it can act swiftly and face no opposition.

For Beijing, the Summit is a diplomatic ritual rather than a site of real influence. The real decisions happen in smaller rooms, away from spotlights and applause. This is China’s shadow of influence: a power defined not by its visibility, but by the solid structures that cast it. Just as a shadow is proof of a physical object, China's influence is the silent, pervasive evidence of its railways, power grids, and trade systems that form the infrastructure others rely on daily.

China does not view ASEAN as a single bloc but as individual partners. It works directly with those ready to cooperate, bypassing collective negotiation. What China wants is not political declarations but economic connectivity: supply chains of logistics and energy on one side, and access to a market of 600 million consumers on the other.

Simply put, China sees ASEAN not as a political partner but as part of the economic infrastructure of power, a foundation that keeps the world within its gravitational pull.

If America plays to be seen, China builds to be felt. Both write their power into the same stage, but through entirely different scripts. Through this contrast, the two powers now reveal not just competing strategies, but opposing philosophies of influence. The dichotomy is now clear. The United States speaks the language of communication and visibility. China speaks the language of structure and continuity. One must command the spotlight to prove it exists; the other ensures the world turns whether it is seen or not.

And between these two gravitational pulls lies the region itself—small states navigating the tension between light and structure. Caught between these two logics of power, ASEAN faces its perennial test: to stay relevant without choosing sides. Where does this leave ASEAN? It  remains the indispensable stage manager, trying to keep the show going without letting it collapse. Its goal is not to direct the play but to keep everyone seated at the same table. In a time of fragile U.S.–China relations, that alone is an achievement.

Yet, this fragile position is also a source of leverage. By skillfully playing host, ASEAN forces both giants to court its favor, extracting concessions and investments from both sides—a high-stakes balancing act where the very act of keeping the stage standing is a form of power.

Nevertheless, ASEAN’s voice has grown faint. “Centrality” and “non-alignment” now sound more like balancing tools than principles of influence. The real challenge is to keep the stage alive without letting either side buy the theater altogether. China has structure and capital. The United States has narrative and image. ASEAN has neutrality, which often feels too fragile in a world that demands sides.

ASEAN is strong enough to host but not strong enough to lead. It holds the stage but cannot be sure the final act will still belong to itself.

Perhaps that is ASEAN’s quiet strength: not in rewriting the script, but in keeping the play from ending. The summit may have ended, but the performance continues as scenes shift, actors change, and the fragile stage somehow remains standing.

To sum up, this year’s ASEAN Summit is a mirror of a multipolar world. The United States demonstrated that power can still be projected through image. China proved that power can exist without one. And ASEAN ? It stands between light and shadow, keeping the stage open for both to perform, quietly hoping the theatre itself remains standing long after the stars have taken their final bow.

DISCLAIMER: All views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent that of IIPA and this platform.

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Authors

Natchapat Amorngul is the Director of the Office of Democratic Innovation for Sustainability at the King Prajadhipok’s Institute, Thailand. Her work focuses on democratic governance, political innovation, and sustainable public policy.

Suthikarn Meechan is an Associate Professor at the College of Politics and Governance, Mahasarakham University in Thailand, and a non-resident research fellow at the Institute for Indo-Pacific Affairs based in Christchurch, New Zealand.

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