Is the Shangri-La Dialogue facing a quarter-life crisis?

Should any foreign policy observer make the mistake of sitting beside me at this week’s Shangri-La Dialogue (SLD) and asking rhetorically – as they always do – what good comes out of such “talkshops” and what “babies” they have borne, they might get an unexpected reply.

Three years ago, when I was 34 weeks pregnant, I caught Covid-19 for the first time at that annual gathering of defence chiefs, security officials and global affairs intelligentsia. Shortly after, I went into labour and had my daughter.

But seriously, that strand of cynicism must be addressed. The stakes could hardly be higher, with the world becoming more brittle, fragmented and unpredictable. The Strait of Hormuz remains effectively closed, threatening global energy flows. Artificial intelligence and advanced technologies are reshaping national power. Yet, with so much happening, the 2026 SLD risks turning out to be oddly subdued. 

The forum will once again draw record participation from around the world. But glaringly absent are senior representatives from several countries most central to today’s geopolitical crises and emerging issues, including Iran, Russia and China. 

Expectations for major policy announcements also appear muted. Many officials and delegates arriving in Singapore this week are not expecting dramatic shifts or bold strategic clarity from the major powers. This is a stark contrast from the forum’s glory days.

Long-time participants may still recall how the SLD served in the 2010s as a pivotal venue for senior leaders such as Mr Robert Gates and General Liang Guanglie (the first Chinese defence minister to attend) to articulate competing visions of regional order, find areas for compromise and show their willingness to subject themselves to global scrutiny, building regional confidence in the process.

Organisers have previously demonstrated dexterity with the agenda by arranging a timely virtual address from Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky in 2022, during the initial stages of the Ukraine war, and an in-person appearance in 2024, as the conflict took a turn for the worse.

Yet, today, there is a growing sense that the SLD risks becoming overly choreographed: a polished annual ritual where a growing cast of non-playable characters deliver carefully calibrated positions rather than genuinely grapple with uncomfortable realities. 

Has Asia’s premier security gathering begun to lose its edge? Has the dialogue been relegated to a diplomatic sideshow? 

Security today is mostly economics 

For decades, the SLD was built around a relatively familiar conception of power: militaries, deterrence, alliances and conventional conflict. 

While these issues remain important, the defining contests between states increasingly revolve around semiconductors, critical minerals and data infrastructure – the plumbing underpinning digital economies hoping to ride the next wave of AI-driven growth and innovation.

Global interdependence has created vast pressure points that rivals can exploit in an era of strategic competition, from elongated supply chains to financial systems and digital infrastructure.

The new world is “defined by mutual vulnerability, a constant search for leverage and a constant fear of exposure”, wrote Mr Edward Fishman, senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and author of Chokepoints: American Power In The Age Of Economic Warfare, in Foreign Affairs magazine in April.  

In this environment, traditional defence establishments can sometimes appear oddly out of place even at one of the world’s premier security gatherings. Rather than tanks or fighter jets, the next major confrontation will more likely involve cyberdisruptions, bans on critical technologies, attacks on logistics networks or other grey-zone tactics – actions deliberately designed to remain below the threshold of outright war.

Sustaining the AI boom – now a major economic growth driver for many countries – also requires stable access to energy, chips, compute and foundational AI models, at a time when both the US and China are racing to secure an edge. 

Here, the world increasingly risks coalescing into rival technological and economic blocs. That includes a US-led Pax Silica grouping of technologically advanced economies seeking to secure national technological stacks, and a China-led Digital Silk Road designed to entrench a distinctively Chinese data and digital architecture.

The frontiers of military warfare, meanwhile, will be progressively shaped by civilians – engineers, AI researchers and private technology firms such as Palantir, Anduril and OpenAI helping militaries organise logistics, process battlefield intelligence or develop autonomous systems at unprecedented speed.

The conflicts in Ukraine and Iran have already become test beds for AI-enabled warfare, drone swarms and algorithmic decision-making. But will the SLD’s agenda and discussions reflect all this?

A litmus test

A litmus test of the SLD’s relevance is whether US War Secretary Pete Hegseth’s plenary on May 30 offers fresh insight into Washington’s Indo-Pacific strategy. 

The answer is likely no – though not necessarily because the US has disengaged from Asia. As US foreign policy czar Marco Rubio’s visit to India this past week demonstrates, Washington continues to deepen critical minerals partnerships and maritime cooperation through the Quad.

But US engagement increasingly appears selective, transactional and shaped by broader competition with China rather than by a coherent regional grand strategy. 

Understandably, Mr Hegseth is unlikely to say anything that could unsettle the detente reached between US President Donald Trump and Chinese President Xi Jinping, under which new bilateral mechanisms on trade, investment and technology were established to manage tensions and forge a working modus vivendi between the two powers.

Broad platitudes about the Indo-Pacific’s importance and continued US engagement are likely. Missing, however, may be bold new initiatives or strong positions on regional flashpoints that risk appearing confrontational towards Beijing. The decision to pause what would have been the largest US arms package to Taiwan underscores how closely Washington’s regional posture is now tied to the tenor of US-China relations.

Although the long-awaited 2026 US National Defence Strategy (NDS) placed the Indo-Pacific at the centre of global defence planning and reaffirmed America’s stabilising role through integrated deterrence and alliances, little has materially changed over the past 18 months of the second Trump administration. 

Instead, Washington’s attention has been pulled towards Venezuela, Greenland and now the Middle East – a region the same NDS had only months earlier deprioritised. Ending the Iran conflict will almost certainly remain the White House’s overriding concern.

Regardless, Asian allies are already repositioning themselves for a distracted and unpredictable America. Over the past two weeks, Japan and South Korea have laid aside historical animosity to reinforce their security partnership, while the Philippines has upgraded defence ties with Japan, bolstered intelligence-sharing and sought to fast-track the transfer of destroyers.

Taken together, what else is there left for Mr Hegseth, the headline act, to say at the SLD? 

Compare this with the 2026 Munich Security Conference, where Mr Rubio laid out a sweeping vision for transatlantic ties underpinned by civilisational bonds, and Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi fielded questions on China’s role in UN reforms, the Ukraine war and the future of US-China relations. (So much for the Chinese shying away from rambunctious geopolitical discussions.)

All this leaves the SLD in an awkward position. At 24 years old, the conference increasingly feels anchored to an older security vocabulary even as the world around it evolves rapidly. At times, it risks looking less like a serious convening platform for difficult conversations and more like a stage for one-down bureaucrats to deliver predetermined and largely expected messages. 

Snap out of this

A quarter-life crisis usually arrives with an unsettling realisation: The instincts and formulas that once brought success may be less fit for purpose. If the SLD wants to retain relevance, it cannot simply continue operating as a well-run annual gathering dominated by familiar speeches and defence-centric discussions.

None of this is a call for the return of megaphone diplomacy or great-power theatrics at the SLD. Nor is this a chastisement of organisers who face a tall order in keeping up with a revolution in security affairs. Rather, it is a spirit of desire for the SLD to play a role in this troubled world that stirs this push for a refresh.

In fact, a more generous assessor would conclude that the SLD still matters enormously as a networking platform, a diplomatic signalling venue and a rare space where defence officials can interact informally behind closed doors. In a rapidly evolving world, the nuts and bolts of defence diplomacy remain vital.

Cheerleaders would also rightly argue that the SLD has always contained contradictions that never proved fatal. They will point to much substantive diplomacy that takes place in side meetings and private trilaterals.

But hand on heart, if the SLD wants to snap out of this quarter-life crisis and avert decline, the organisers must find a way to evolve the platform alongside the changing nature of conflict, power and competition and breathe life back into discussions.