China dispatches aircraft carrier to Hong Kong for first time
July 1 marked the 28th anniversary of Hong Kong's handover to China.
On Thursday morning, China's first domestically built aircraft carrier, Shandong, measuring over 300 meters in length, arrived in Hong Kong, kicking off its first visit to the territory.
With helicopters and fighter jets on its deck, Shandong is anchored off the coast of Hong Kong and expected to remain there until Monday. The vessel will be open to the public for two days from July 5, with 2,000 people expected to view it.
The Chinese government plans to stage a major ceremony in Hong Kong as well as on the mainland in September to mark the 80th anniversary of its World War Two victory over Japan.
By sending the carrier, which it views as a symbol of national power, Beijing apparently aims to showcase the country's sovereignty and boost patriotism in Hong Kong.
Last month, Shandong and another Chinese aircraft carrier were spotted in the Pacific. It was the first time the two vessels entered the Pacific simultaneously.
At the time, a fighter jet from Shandong flew extremely close to a patrol plane of Japan's Maritime Self-Defense Force, prompting Japan's Defense Ministry to express serious concerns to Beijing.
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In contrast, the Independent AI Foundation Model project, which had been designed throughout the first half of the year under the tentative name 'World Best LLM (WBL),' was officially launched in June. This project, reflecting lessons from the initial setbacks of initiatives like the National AI Computing Center, was designed with more market-oriented criteria and aims to select a national open-source foundation model. With nearly all of South Korea's LLM developers participating, the final output, born from a fierce competitive evaluation, is scheduled to be released as open-source to the entire domestic AI ecosystem. The Internal Debate: A Pragmatic Clash of Visions While few in Seoul oppose the core values of AI sovereignty itself, the government's method has ignited a fierce and complex debate, pitting national ambition against market pragmatism. The most vocal critics come from the country's dynamic startup and vertical AI scene. Their primary concern is the fear of a new tech chaebol. With former top executives from the nation's two largest tech companies now at the helm of national AI policy, many startup founders worry the strategy will inevitably favor the two giants they hail from. A prominent Korean AI startup CEO wrote on social media, that 'it will create a very strange structure where foreign AI giants, domestic MSPs, and countless B2B software partners will have to band together to compete against the government's AI.' His sentiment was echoed by others who fear a tilted playing field where national resources are funneled to large corporations. This fear is rooted in a fundamentally different business reality. For most startups, the race to build the biggest foundation models is already a lost cause – a money pit that they believe South Korea cannot afford. The real market, they argue, is in 'vertical AI': creating specialized applications for industries like medicine, law, and finance. For them, U.S.-based Application Programming Interface (APIs) from OpenAI or Anthropic 'are not a threat,' but a vital, cost-effective tool for innovation and survival. From this perspective, the government's focus on creating a national LLM is a misguided use of taxpayer money. It diverts resources away from South Korea's most vibrant and profitable AI sector – the application layer – to chase a goal that is both commercially unviable and potentially harmful to the broader ecosystem. While the government counters that a national LLM is a public good – an 'AI highway' for all startups to use – this explanation has done little to assuage the market's skepticism so far. Conclusion: A Grand Experiment of Opportunity and Risk South Korea's sovereign AI strategy has become a fascinating experiment of a nation navigating the turbulent waters of the 21st century tech race. It is a situation where a grand, state-led geopolitical vision is in stark confrontation with a pragmatic reality that follows market logic. Despite these internal debates, the true stage for this experiment is already global, and its success depends on how it manages the opportunities and risks inherent in its 'Third Way' vision. The opportunity is clear. For nations in the Global South wary of both U.S. technological hegemony and Chinese influence, the partnership proposal from a middle power like South Korea is a viable card to play. The strategy of approaching them as a reliable partner rather than a tech hegemon can yield new markets and diplomatic assets. However, the strategy carries inherent risks as it relies heavily on the intangible asset of trust. At the same time, potential partner nations question the competitiveness of South Korea's AI models, and some skeptics suggest that the country could merely be used as a negotiation lever against the United States and China. Ultimately, the success of this grand experiment hinges on whether South Korea can solve a dual challenge: winning the support of the domestic tech ecosystem internally, while proving its technological credibility externally. Can Seoul bridge this gap? Can the state-backed national champions create a platform for coexistence instead of competing with domestic innovators, and persuade their own ecosystem to endure short-term pain and perceptions of unfairness for long-term strategic gain? The world's middle powers, seeking a path between the U.S. and Chinese spheres of influence, are watching this process closely. Whatever the outcome of Seoul's high-stakes gambit, the journey will offer important lessons on the price of and challenges to pursuing autonomy in the age of AI.
