In truth, the ambition to control a self-contained technology stack is nothing new. Growing recognition of artificial intelligence’s (AI) transformative potential has recast technological leadership as a strategic asset inseparable from national security. As a result, governments worldwide have expended great efforts in pursuit of technological — particularly AI — sovereignty in the hope of securing a valuable geopolitical lever. On one level, Pax Silica reflects this view, writ large.
Separately, and as we have articulated before, there is the clear understanding that the technological domain exhibits winner-takes-all dynamics. This logic both explains and reinforces the intensifying US-China hostilities: Washington has made considerable effort to curb China’s advancing tech capabilities in recent years. The trilateral US-Japan-Netherlands agreement forged under the Biden administration in 2023, restricting the export of advanced semiconductor equipment including ASML’s most advanced lithography systems to China, is one such example. Contextualised as such, Pax Silica represents little more than the formalised expansion of existing efforts to shape access to the global tech supply chain.
Viewed more broadly, Pax Silica sits within a familiar historical pattern. As economic historian Chris Miller details in his comprehensive account of the industry in Chip War, the semiconductor chain has always been shaped by geopolitics. What has changed in recent years is the resurgence of “arms race” framing in discussions of technological competition, leaving no room for neutrality. For example: the Malaysian government’s highly controversial and since retracted announcement in mid-2025 that Huawei chips would form the backbone of a national AI initiative illustrates how technological choices now function as de facto declarations of geopolitical allegiance.
The key issue, then, is no longer why countries might feel compelled to take sides but whether exclusive initiatives like Pax Silica can meaningfully shape access to, and control over, critical technologies in a bifurcated world. Recent developments from China suggest the limits of this approach. Long-standing chip export controls introduced during the first Trump administration, while temporarily hobbling Chinese chipmaking capabilities, have done little to prevent the country from producing competitive AI models.
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Other familiar challenges also remain. The reality is that each member country has to juggle between diverse and at times competing national interests. The balancing act is particularly acute for countries such as South Korea, Australia and Singapore, which maintain deep economic ties with China.
In an interview with the press, Helberg described the initiative as being “to the AI age what the G7 was to the industrial age”. Ironically, such a comparison only serves to underscore yet another central vulnerability. The G7 itself has faced growing criticism in recent years for its difficulty in forging consensus and delivering coordinated solutions, a reminder that strategic alignment does not automatically translate into effective collective action.
As it stands, the significance of Pax Silica lies not only in what it may achieve but in what it stands for. The choice of its name carries symbolic weight. From Pax Romana to Pax Americana, the invocation of the term “Pax” (Latin for “peace”) has historically been associated with eras of hegemonic stability. Paired now with “Silica”, a key input for modern semiconductors, the initiative situates semiconductors within the lineage of forces that have underwritten global order. In the age of AI, power is defined not by territory or trade routes alone but by control over the foundational technologies on which intelligence itself is built.
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Finally, a necessary follow-up question is whether a parallel initiative — an opposing coalition led by China — might already be taking shape. Past patterns of pragmatic, low-profile decision-making suggest that any public announcements from Beijing are unlikely. This contrast in approach is characteristic: The West tends to publicise its breakthroughs, intentions and strategic alignments, whereas China rarely signals its objectives openly; in all likelihood, reflecting both political necessity and cultural norms.
Even in the absence of formal declarations, such a bloc probably already exists through a web of regional partnerships and emerging alliances across Asia and beyond. Over time, the two networks (Pax Silica and its China-led counterpart) are likely to expand and evolve independently, drawing more countries into their respective orbits and developing along increasingly divergent technological trajectories.
The main point is clear: The emergence of two competing technological blocs, each with distinct standards, architectures and systems for AI, appears inevitable. This digital bifurcation will give rise to two parallel ecosystems, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. In a sense, this development mirrors the broader historical patterns of how societies tend to diverge. Multiple precedents exist that point to the persistence of incompatible technical standards — from left- and right-hand driving systems to varying electrical voltage protocols, measurement systems and broadcast standards.
These modern-day examples of Tower of Babel-style fragmentation demonstrate the limits of technological universalism — the utopian belief that digital development can converge towards a single, standardised form. In practice, however — and as Pax Silica exemplifies — economic, political and cultural realities continue to shape how technologies are adopted, implemented and contested, and likely always will.
