Strange Brew in Beijing: Decoding Trump's "Very Strange Things" Quip, By Charles Taylor (Florida)

Swirling in the chaotic vortex of international intrigue that defines 2025's geopolitical landscape, few moments capture the absurdity and high-stakes drama quite like President Donald J. Trump's last Friday morning Truth Social outburst. "Some very strange things are happening in China!" he declared, launching into a lengthy tirade that read less like a presidential missive and more like a late-night monologue from a man who's seen one too many spy thrillers. It was vintage Trump: bombastic, accusatory, and laced with that unmistakable flair for turning policy into performance art. But beneath the bluster lay a kernel of truth, or at least a tantalising puzzle, that has the world scrambling to connect the dots. Is this just another round in the endless U.S.-China trade tango? Or is something far more existential afoot in the halls of Zhongnanhai?

Let's rewind the tape. The trigger was China's Thursday announcement from the Ministry of Commerce: a sweeping escalation of export controls on rare earth minerals and related technologies. These aren't your garden-variety rocks; rare earths, 17 elements like neodymium, dysprosium, and the newly restricted holmium, erbium, thulium, europium, and ytterbium, are the unsung heroes (or villains, depending on your supply chain) of modern life. They power everything from iPhone magnets to F-35 fighter jets, electric vehicle batteries to wind turbines. China, which mines about 60% and processes over 90% of the global supply, has long wielded this dominance like a geopolitical Excalibur. But the new rules? They're a plot twist even M. Night Shyamalan couldn't dream up.

Foreign entities now need Beijing's blessing to export any product containing more than 0.1% Chinese-sourced rare earths, or anything made with China's extraction, refining, magnet-making, or recycling tech. Companies linked to foreign militaries? Denied. Applications for weaponry or "terrorism" (Beijing's word, not mine)? Rejected outright. And it's not just raw ores; the controls now snake into intellectual property and downstream products like semiconductors and AI hardware. Analysts like Dan Wang of Eurasia Group call it a "major upgrade," expanding from raw bans to a full-spectrum stranglehold. Coming just weeks before Trump's planned face-off with Xi Jinping at the APEC summit in South Korea (October 31–November 1), it screamed negotiation ploy: Give us concessions on your chip export curbs, or watch your tech dreams grind to a halt.

Trump, ever the showman, didn't disappoint. His post painted China as a snarling dragon, firing off "many pages long" letters to the world about hoarding "each and every Element" like a Bond villain with a grudge. (In reality, it was Announcement No. 61, a dry bureaucratic beast, but who's counting?) He boasted of America's own "stronger and more far-reaching" monopolies — oil? Semiconductors? — and hinted at unleashing them. The kicker: No more Xi summit. "There seems to be no reason to do so." And oh, by the way, that Middle East peace deal? Coincidental timing?

Six hours later, after what he called a lacklustre response from Beijing, Trump doubled down: 100% tariffs on all Chinese imports starting November 1 (or sooner, if they twitch wrong), piled atop existing duties, plus export controls on "any and all critical software." Markets shuddered, the S&P 500 shed 2.7% in its worst day since April, as investors braced for a trade war reboot. It's a move that could jack up U.S. inflation, cripple supply chains, and turn your next EV battery into a luxury good. Trump framed it as righteous fury: "A moral disgrace in dealing with other Nations." But quippy as it was, that "very strange things" line? It landed like a flare in the fog, illuminating whispers that make the rare earth spat look like mere foreplay.

Enter the health rumours, those deliciously opaque tidbits that thrive in China's information black hole. Just 24 hours after the export controls dropped, on October 10, exiled CCP gadfly Du Wen lit the fuse: An anonymous "insider" claimed Xi suffered a "sudden, severe stroke" in Beijing on October 9, "extremely critical," emergency treatment at a secure facility (rumoured: Peking Union Medical College Hospital). Some escalated it to Xi's third stroke, citing unverified 2022 aneurysm whispers and a 2024 plenum "collapse." Premier Li Qiang, conveniently in North Korea, was allegedly yanked back mid-visit, a red flag for leadership chaos just 11 days before the Fourth Plenum (October 20–23), where the CCP will hash out economic survival amid U.S. pressures.

These aren't idle X gossip; they're echoing across YouTube channels like Lei's Real Talk and Telegram dissident networks. Speculation ties it to power jockeying: Gen. Zhang Youxia, Xi's military enforcer, allegedly manoeuvring for influence. Xi's head-tilting in recent footage? Stroke symptom or bad optics? And why the radio silence from state media, no fresh Xi photos since early October? In a system where the leader's frailty is a state secret rivalling the nuclear codes, such voids breed monsters.

Is it real? Past rumours (2022 coup, 2024 plenum flop) fizzled, often traced to Falun Gong-adjacent agitators or Russian troll farms. But the timing? Eerily perfect. Mid-August leaks hinted at Xi's 13-year grip slipping amid China's slow-burn crises: demographic cliff from the one-child hangover (hello, 100 million surplus men), real estate Armageddon, Belt and Road white elephants crumbling from Jakarta to Nairobi, youth unemployment at 20%, and military graft scandals that make Enron look quaint. In a dictatorship, glory's a solo act, but so is the blame when the wheels wobble.

If Xi's truly sidelined, it's a face-saving off-ramp: Retire via "health" beats a Politburo putsch. Safer for him, maybe; destabilising for everyone else. A post-Xi China could pivot pragmatic (enter pro-West Wang Yang as interim?) or lurch hawkish under hardliners. Was the rare earth flex Xi's parting shot, a last-ditch leverage grab before the plenum? Or a rogue faction's signal: We're in charge now, and we're done playing nice? Trump's quip seems to nod at this fog — "I have always felt that they've been lying in wait" — suggesting his intel whispers the same.

Trump's instincts, unorthodox as they are, have a track record: Tariffs tamed China's predations once before, forcing Phase One concessions. But this? It's fog-of-war diplomacy. His 100% salvo is a gut punch, buying time to onshore rare earths (hello, Mountain Pass mine revival) while exposing America's green-tape Achilles' heel, environmental regs that let China strip-mine Africa with impunity. Yet escalation risks a spiral: Beijing could probe Qualcomm harder (antitrust probe launched Friday) or squeeze Taiwan's chips next.

So, what now? Trump's betting aggression begets advantage, hoping to smoke out the real puppet-master in Beijing. If Xi emerges hale at the plenum, it's all been a psyop, chalk one up for CCP opacity. If not? The "very strange things" could cascade into a leadership vacuum, upending everything from soy futures to South China Sea patrols. Either way, Trump's quip wasn't just rhetoric; it was a canary in the coal mine, chirping that the dragon might be moulting. In this game of thrones with added tariffs, the only certainty is chaos. Let's hope the endgame favours the house we call home, the West.