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By Thomas O. Falk
In the global economy, trust is the invisible infrastructure on which trade, alliances, and technological cooperation depend. Without it, agreements unravel, partnerships fracture, and innovation stalls. That is why recent reports concerning the security of U.S.-made H20 chips – and the growing suspicion that these products may contain hidden vulnerabilities – deserve far more attention than they have received.
Beijing has reportedly raised concerns about possible security flaws in the H20 chips, a cutting-edge semiconductor widely used in artificial intelligence systems. At first glance, these claims could be dismissed as political posturing in the context of an ongoing China-U.S. technology conflict. But the allegations are not without precedent. Just this week, reports have suggested that American authorities have secretly placed location-tracking devices into shipments of sensitive technologies.
At the same time, a bipartisan group of U.S. lawmakers – including Democrat Bill Foster – has introduced legislation calling on the Department of Commerce to require "backdoors" in chips subject to export controls. Such backdoors, by design, would allow the U.S. government to monitor, and potentially disable, foreign systems built with American hardware.
From the perspective of Washington, such measures may seem prudent. From the perspective of America's customers – including its closest allies – they look like a fundamental breach of trust.
The H20 dispute is not an isolated case but part of a broader pattern. For decades, the United States has used its dominance in advanced technologies to preserve strategic advantage, even at the expense of partner confidence. The restrictions placed on the F-35 fighter jet program offer a telling example.
In recent years, NATO allies such as Germany, Canada, and Portugal have publicly expressed frustration with the maintenance and upgrade regime for the F-35, which leaves operational control of key systems in American hands. These aircraft cannot be fully tested or modified without U.S. approval, leading some defense officials to question whether they possess true operational sovereignty over assets central to their national security. In a system designed to deter nuclear threats, that is no small matter.
Such concerns have consequences. Germany's hesitation over the F-35 has contributed to renewed interest in European-led defense initiatives, aimed at reducing dependence on U.S. systems. Other allies may eventually take the same path, not because they wish to rupture the alliance, but because the costs of technological dependence on a partner led by U.S. President Donald Trump are simply too high.
But this is also not the first time U.S. technology has been suspected of containing hidden vulnerabilities. During the Cold War, Washington viewed such tactics as legitimate tools of statecraft. In his memoir At the Abyss, Thomas C. Reed, who served as Ronald Reagan's special assistant for national security affairs, describes a 1982 operation in which the CIA covertly transferred faulty software to the Soviet Union. The program, designed to control a Siberian natural gas pipeline, allegedly triggered an explosion of such magnitude that it could be seen from space.
More recently, the 2013 Snowden disclosures revealed that the U.S. National Security Agency had used backdoors in American-made software and hardware to conduct surveillance on targets around the world – not only adversaries, but also allied governments and foreign corporations. The revelations triggered a wave of mistrust that still shapes debates about digital sovereignty today.
Each episode follows the same logic: short-term strategic gain justifies long-term reputational risk. Yet in the era of global supply chains and integrated systems, the stakes have grown immeasurably. When trust is broken in the digital age, it is not just one relationship that suffers – entire networks can begin to fragment.
Microchips are no longer niche components; they are the operating core of modern economies. They power telecommunications, industrial machinery, military systems, transport networks, and the increasingly ubiquitous realm of artificial intelligence. If these chips are compromised, either through design flaws or deliberate vulnerabilities, the damage can extend far beyond a single company or sector.
For America's allies, the suspicion that U.S. exports might carry hidden "backdoors" presents an uncomfortable choice: continue to buy American, accepting the risk, or invest in alternative suppliers. For decades, the U.S. has benefited from the fact that it was both the most advanced and the most trusted source of high-end technology. That combination is not guaranteed to last.
Should doubts about the integrity of U.S. technology persist, we can expect more governments to diversify their supply chains.
The defenders of such backdoors will argue that they are necessary in an age of strategic rivalry with China. But there is a difference between defending against espionage and undermining one's own credibility. A rules-based order cannot be built on the principle that rules apply only to others.
If Washington wishes to preserve its technological leadership, it must resist the temptation to treat foreign customers as adversaries. That means abandoning proposals like Congressman Foster's, which openly codify distrust into export policy. Instead, the U.S. should work to establish verifiable international standards for cybersecurity and supply chain integrity – and submit its own exports to independent audits to prove they meet those standards.
Equally important is the cultivation of genuine technological partnerships. Joint projects on global priorities – from secure AI frameworks to green technology – would signal that American innovation is a force for shared progress, not a lever of unilateral control. Transparency and reciprocity, not coercion, are the foundations of lasting alliances.
Responsibility does not rest with the United States alone. America's allies should demand clarity about the security and integrity of the technologies they import. Where transparency is not forthcoming, they should develop their own capabilities or source from a diversity of suppliers.
The H20 chip controversy is a warning. It reveals the fragility of a system in which the same technologies that bind nations together can also be used to divide them.
The question is whether Washington will adjust its practices. Given what we have seen from the Trump administration thus far, one should not one's breath.
Thomas O. Falk, a special commentator on current affairs for CGTN, is a London-based political analyst and commentator. He holds a Master of Arts in international relations from the University of Birmingham and specializes in U.S. affairs.
