Book Review: Asia’s Cauldron by Robert D. Kaplan
Book Review: Asia’s Cauldron by Robert D. Kaplan
Tosin Adeoti In Asia’s Cauldron: The South China Sea and the End of a Stable Pacific, Robert D. Kaplan dives into the simmering complexities of the South China Sea, a region where geography and history collide with rapacious intensity. This 2014 book reads like a road trip through contested waters, with detours into enough philosophy and leadership for those interested.
At just over 220 pages, this is not a big book. And I will explain why it should have been shorter later. Kaplan, considered one of America’s foremost geopolitical thinkers, distills centuries of context and decades of diplomacy, and countless submerged tensions into a narrative that is at first dense and probably unreadable to one that feels elegant and conversational when you get halfway. It’s why I told a friend that he should read it out of order. Chapter 5, in particular, on Singapore and Vietnam, is so strikingly clear and analytically sharp that I shared so many parts of it as excerpts on my page. It feels like it’s the place the book should have begun. Start there, then circle back.
Kaplan’s central argument is simple: the South China Sea is where the future of the Pacific, and in his view, global order, will be decided. It’s not just about fish or oil (though both are important); it’s about control. The sea serves as the artery of global commerce and regional energy supply, threading through the most populous and industrializing region of the world.
“…it is here in Southeast Asia, with its nearly 600 million people, where China’s 1.3 billion people converge with the Indian Subcontinent’s 1.5 billion people. And the geographical meeting place of all these states is maritime: the South China Sea”
In other words, to understand the future of Asia, one must understand the logic of geography.
And geographically, China is in the driver’s seat. The country’s military buildup in the region is no longer a prediction; it’s a reality. The U.S. Department of Defense once described China as having “the most active land-based ballistic and cruise missile program in the world.” Meanwhile, Southeast Asia’s arms imports tell a similar story. Since 2000, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore have ramped up defense spending by staggering percentages—722%, 84%, and 146% respectively. Vietnam has spent billions on submarines and fighter jets, building its capabilities in response to what it sees as inevitable confrontation.
But while the region braces for a fight, Kaplan observes that China’s strength is both real and exaggerated. It has the hardware, yes, but its dominance is based as much on the perceived inevitability of its rise as on any clear superiority. And herein lies the catch: much of the U.S.’s defense conversation centers on the Middle East and Africa, but its greatest assets are quietly positioned in the Pacific. The real contest may not be over weapons, but willpower.
“…the British did not challenge the Americans [in the Caribbeans], because they knew the latter would fight hard to defend the maritime extension of their own North American continent. For the same reason, the United States must now be careful of openly challenging China in the South China Sea.”
It’s a haunting parallel, and one Kaplan returns to repeatedly.
Of all the nations profiled, Vietnam stands out; fierce, complex, and endlessly entangled with China. Vietnamese fears of their northern neighbor are ancestral. With a population 15 times smaller, they can win the battle but must always, historically, “go to Beijing to pay tribute.” Kaplan unearths Deng Xiaoping’s grudge against Vietnam and the brutal strategy to “bleed Hanoi white” through prolonged proxy wars in Cambodia. He also reminds us that geography is destiny.
Yet Vietnam is no pushover. While others appeal to international law (a “demonstration of weakness,” Kaplan says), Hanoi quietly rearms and recalibrates. He puts it starkly: “It’s up to Vietnam to contain China.” Not the U.S., not ASEAN, not the UN. Vietnam is the only regional actor both capable and willing to stand firm.
Then there’s Singapore, the improbably mighty microstate. Kaplan’s admiration for Lee Kuan Yew is unmistakable, and it’s easy to see why. Lee was “a Thatcherite and Reaganite before their time,” a good dictator whose version of controlled governance helped build arguably the world’s most efficient and stable countries.
“Singapore stands against the beauty of ideas in favor of what works.”
What a wonderful quote! I quoted so much about Lee and Singapore while reading on my page.
It’s a government designed for outcomes, not debates. A Plato’s republic in the tropics.
Singapore punches far above its weight. Lacking open space, it sends air squadrons to train in the U.S., ground troops to Taiwan, and helicopter crews to Australia. Its influence radiates outward. Vietnam, for one, deeply admires the Singapore model, so much so that it hosts several “Vietnam-Singapore Industrial Parks,” small cities-in-a-city that embody the order and cleanliness of the city-state.
The Philippines, in contrast, evokes a note of sadness in Kaplan’s tone. Colonized, fragmented, and politicized, it is described as a “borrowed culture”; one shaped by American legacies, Catholic traditions, and oligarchic leadership. The shadow of Marcos lingers, and the country’s weakness invites Chinese bullying in a way Vietnam never permits.
“The Philippines has few cards to play despite that country’s ingenious boisterousness and incendiary statements.”
Kaplan makes an incisive, even brutal, point: appealing to international law signals that a country has no other tools left. The Philippines, in seeking Hague verdicts and arbitration inordinately, reveals just how exposed it really is.
And here lies one of the book’s quirks. As beautifully written many parts are and deeply informed as they are, Asia’s Cauldron occasionally feels like a series of stitched-together essays. The titular subject—the South China Sea—comes and goes, fading behind rich digressions into national character and leadership history. While Taiwan was dealt with, there’s no serious treatment of Indonesia’s growing involvement, nor India’s interests in sea lanes and trade. Even China’s rise, while critically examined, is occasionally viewed through a dated lens: Kaplan was unsure in 2014 whether China’s economy would hold up. Now, in 2025, it’s America’s fiscal wobbles and political gridlock that raise alarm bells.
Also, there’s no mention of the coming wildcard: Trump. A decade ago, he wasn’t on Kaplan’s radar, and yet he’s arguably altered the U.S.-China dynamic more than any recent president. It’s a cautionary tale in geopolitical forecasting.
Asia’s Cauldron is not a perfect book. At times, it feels like a Foreign Affairs essay turned into a travelogue. I will admit though that what it offers is valuable: a lens. A way to see the world not just through headlines, but through coastlines, navies, oil tankers, centuries of grudges, and conversations with natives. It made me want to visit Southeast Asia. It made me realize how little I know about nations like Brunei, Cambodia, and Malaysia. It made me Google videos about the South China Sea to make the puzzle even clearer.
I made this quote while reading: “Every country has excuses. Only leadership moves the needle.”
Kaplan’s message isn’t always easy, but it’s urgent. The next global flashpoint might not be where we think it is, and when it comes, the stakes will be far more than territorial.
And unlike Kaplan’s undertone, maybe this is not the United States’ fight after all, and based on what’s unfolding, America can do nothing about China’s claims even if it wants to.
