By Nguyen Chien Thang
Opinion Contributor
In politics, contradictions between words and actions are nothing new. But when it comes to a former president of the world’s leading democracy, such inconsistencies have profound implications—not only for national credibility but for national security.
In 2018, then-President Donald Trump declared that “almost every Chinese student in the United States is a spy.” That sweeping generalization, laced with xenophobia, became the basis for Presidential Proclamation 10043, which revoked thousands of student visas and imposed sweeping restrictions on Chinese graduate students, especially in STEM fields. The justification? Safeguarding U.S. intellectual property and national security.
Fast forward a few years, and Trump is now calling international students—especially from China—“vital to the survival of American higher education.” He even suggested that the U.S. should welcome up to 600,000 Chinese students, a staggering figure. In a remarkable reversal, those once painted as national security threats have now become saviors of America’s universities.
This dramatic shift raises serious questions. Was the earlier security concern genuine, or merely political theater? Is the recent embrace of Chinese students a sudden realization of their value, or an attempt to exploit higher education’s financial dependence on international tuition for political gain?
Let’s be clear: it’s true that international students, including those from China, play a vital role in American higher education. They pay premium tuition, contribute to cutting-edge research, and enrich the academic and cultural landscape. But Trump’s pattern—vilifying them one moment, praising them the next—suggests something deeper than a change of heart. It reflects an opportunistic use of people as pawns in his political narrative.
When Trump needed to project a tough stance on China, Chinese students were painted as threats. Now, as he seeks to portray himself as a champion of American institutions and border control simultaneously, those same students are recast as indispensable allies. This is not strategy—it’s cynical, short-term political calculus.
And it comes at a cost. The inconsistency undermines trust—both domestically and globally. Foreign students may start to wonder if they’re truly welcome in America, or if they’ll simply be scapegoated again when it suits a political narrative. American universities—already reeling from funding gaps and culture war attacks—become hostages to shifting winds of populist rhetoric.
Moreover, by oscillating between paranoia and pandering, Trump damages the very thing he claims to defend: national security. Security policy based on political whims, not evidence, is inherently insecure. And foreign policy driven by applause lines, not principles, is inherently unstable.
Trump’s recent about-face isn’t just hypocrisy—it’s a warning. It reveals a worldview in which nothing is sacred, not even the national interest. If foreign students can be both spies and saviors depending on the day, then the real danger is not who crosses the border, but who sits in the Oval Office.
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Nguyen Chien Thang is a writer and political commentator focused on U.S.-Asia relations and democracy.
