When Trump says ‘G2’, does he mean US-China co-governance?

The concept of “G2” was first proposed in the 2000s by economists such as Fred Bergsten. To date, only two US presidents have publicly engaged with the idea. One was Barack Obama, who discussed a potential US-China “G2” relationship at a time when the US was grappling with the global financial crisis. The other is Donald Trump, who recently referred — on his Truth Social platform — to his October 2025 meeting with Xi Jinping in Busan, South Korea, as a “G2 meeting”.

Since the Obama era, US-China relations have shifted dramatically — from cooperation aimed at stabilising the global financial system to strategic competition and confrontation. That turn began during Trump’s first term and reached a new peak with the reciprocal tariff measures introduced in April, even though the intensity of confrontation has since eased somewhat. Against this backdrop, Trump’s offhand reference to G2 has triggered widespread speculation and been invested with meanings far beyond its original context.

Many interpretations suggest that Trump is attempting to promote a “G2 system” under which the US and China would jointly govern the world. Trump himself has reinforced such speculation by claiming, after his second election victory, that if Washington and Beijing work together, they can solve virtually all global problems. This has been taken by some as evidence that Trump genuinely envisions a new global order centred on US-China co-governance.

Yet while Trump’s invocation of G2 clearly reflects his characteristic intuitive and non-institutional political style — rather than a fully formed blueprint for a new international order — it does not necessarily mean that his remarks are entirely improvised or devoid of strategic reflection. Trump may indeed sense that the existing international order is under strain, that US willingness and capacity to sustain it are declining, and that some alternative framework — perhaps involving China more directly — is worth contemplating.

Trump’s well-known admiration for strong leaders may also help explain his attraction to the idea of G2. He approaches international politics in deeply personalised terms, viewing the world less as a system governed by rules and institutions than as an arena dominated by a few powerful figures. In his intuitive understanding, what matters most is not alliances, procedures or shared values, but direct dialogue and deal-making between strong leaders. From this perspective, a highly simplified, de-mediated power structure like G2 holds obvious appeal. Compared with the cumbersome coordination required by G7 or other US-led multilateral mechanisms, the image of the world’s two strongest powers making decisions directly aligns neatly with Trump’s instinctive conception of effective governance.

Recent remarks by US Secretary of State Marco Rubio appear to lend some support to this reading. Long regarded as one of Washington’s most hawkish voices on China, Rubio has recently emphasised that China was, is, and will remain a powerful country, and that the US must cooperate with it. This tonal shift does not reflect a fundamental change in Rubio’s own worldview. Rather — as Rubio himself has acknowledged — it reflects his role in executing Trump’s reconfigured China narrative: de-emphasising ideological confrontation, acknowledging China’s status as a major power, and creating space for more direct bargaining and transactional engagement. Seen in this light, external interpretations of Trump’s G2 language as signalling recognition of China’s strength and a move toward co-governance are not entirely groundless.

The real issue, however, is not whether Trump is emotionally or intuitively drawn to some version of G2, but what G2 actually means in his own mind. Does it imply genuine co-governance and shared hegemony with China, or does it merely repackage hierarchy within a new bilateral structure? To answer this question requires closer scrutiny of Trump’s political personality, power conception, and vision of world order.

Viewed through this lens, Trump’s understanding of G2 bears little resemblance to a rule-based or institutionalised system of shared governance. Instead, it more closely resembles a “strongman-to-strongman” arrangement — a dual-headed structure that acknowledges two centres of power but is fundamentally non-egalitarian.

Trump consistently uses vague, elastic and emotionally driven language to serve immediate political and negotiating needs. In his rhetorical universe, concepts precede policy and posture outweighs institutional design. Neither Trump nor his administration has articulated any coherent framework for how a G2 would function — how responsibilities would be divided, how decisions would be made, or how such an arrangement would relate to existing international institutions. There has been no attempt to institutionalise the concept.

What Trump favours instead is an informal, personalised arrangement between powerful leaders. In his worldview, international politics is not a system governed by rules, but a stage dominated by a few strong actors, with others adapting accordingly. He does not deny China’s strength — on the contrary, his political behaviour suggests a genuine respect for power. But this respect is profoundly personal rather than institutional. Acknowledging China’s strength means recognising it as a worthy opponent and negotiating partner, not accepting that it possesses equal, inherent rights within a shared system of global governance.

In this sense, Trump’s G2 is not about sharing hegemony, but about direct engagement between strong powers — under an implicit assumption of continued US primacy. The core premise remains that the US sets the terms.

Accordingly, in Trump’s loosely formed vision, G2 does not entail joint rule-making, equal responsibility or collective maintenance of international order. Instead, it represents a de-mediated power arrangement: the US bypasses allies and multilateral institutions and deals directly with China as the sole adversary worthy of engagement — negotiating terms, drawing red lines and assigning responsibilities.

China may be acknowledged as powerful, but this acknowledgment constitutes personal recognition rather than institutional concession. It grants China the status of a direct interlocutor, not the authority to co-govern the world on equal footing.

This is precisely where a fundamental misalignment emerges between Washington and Beijing in their understanding of “G2”. From Beijing’s perspective, any meaningful G2 would have to be institutional in nature: power must be equal, responsibilities shared and rules jointly formulated. Such an arrangement would imply genuine co-governance and equal decision-making authority in global affairs.

For Trump, however, this kind of institutional equality lies outside his imagination. What he might accept is a dual-headed structure that recognises China as “strong enough”, but remains firmly US-centred. In this structure, the US continues to define the rules, while China is expected to shoulder responsibilities commensurate with its power. In this sense, Trump’s G2 resembles a “two-person hierarchy” rather than a partnership of shared hegemony.

Indeed, it may be more accurate to view Trump’s G2 as an extension of the G7 logic: the six other countries are compressed into a single, powerful negotiating counterpart — China — while the US retains the dominant position. Hierarchy remains intact, even if the configuration changes.

Some Chinese scholars have recognised this clearly. They argue that if Trump’s G2 truly implied shared hegemony, it would fundamentally contradict his “America First” doctrine. As US strategic documents repeatedly emphasise, Washington cannot allow any country to become too powerful or to challenge US dominance. Under this framework, genuine power-sharing with another major state is structurally implausible.

From this perspective, Trump’s G2 represents not a reconstruction of global order but a compressed revision of the existing one — not a transition from unipolarity to genuine bipolar co-governance, but a shift from “the US plus allies” to “the US plus China”. Pressure and responsibility that were previously dispersed across multilateral systems are concentrated onto a single recognised rival.

Such a G2 is less a vision of shared governance than a dual-headed system with clearly defined hierarchy.

Even if this interpretation captures Trump’s true intent, a final question remains unavoidable: if Trump were to go beyond his habitual style and offer China genuinely equal governing authority, would Beijing accept a G2 framework? The answer remains no.

The reasons are straightforward. First, G2 implies shared responsibility for global governance, and China is neither psychologically nor institutionally prepared to assume such responsibility. Co-governance is not merely a symbol of status; it is a structure of obligation. Entering a G2 would require China to act as a guarantor of global financial stability, regional security and conflict management. This would demand transparent and predictable decision-making mechanisms, as well as sustained provision of global public goods — capacities China has not yet developed, nor clearly intends to develop. For Beijing, maintaining strategic flexibility within the existing system remains far more rational than prematurely assuming the burdens of global stewardship.

Second, G2 fundamentally conflicts with China’s longstanding commitment to multilateralism centred on the United Nations and its diplomatic strategy of aligning with the Global South. Much of China’s international legitimacy derives from its critique of great-power domination and its advocacy of multipolarity and developing-world interests. Accepting G2 would inevitably transform China from a critic of hegemony into a co-hegemon, undermining its moral standing among developing countries and constraining its diplomatic manoeuvrability. Strategically, China’s security and influence depend more on a complex, multi-centred world than on a rigid, two-power structure.

For these reasons, regardless of whether Trump genuinely aspires to some version of G2, the concept is unlikely to materialise as a stable framework for US-China relations. Trump’s G2 impulse reflects his personal worldview and political imagination; Beijing’s rejection of G2 stems from deeper strategic logic. This fundamental mismatch ensures that G2 will remain largely rhetorical rather than operational. For the international system, this may not be a bad outcome: a vision of “co-governance” built on mutual misinterpretation would be unlikely to produce lasting stability.

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