Ports and Paranoia: Commentary on CSIS’s “No Safe Harbor” Report

How Exaggerated Risks and Hypothetical Threats Undermine Credible Analysis of Chinese Port Investments in LAC

Introduction

The Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) report “No Safe Harbor: Evaluating the Risk of China’s Port Projects in Latin America and the Caribbean” (June 26, 2025) raises alarms about China’s growing role in Latin American and Caribbean (LAC) ports. Co-authored by Henry Ziemer, Jaehyun Han, and Aidan Powers-Riggs, this interactive study introduces a risk index to quantify potential threats that Chinese-linked port projects pose to U.S. national security. The accompanying methodology document details an 11-indicator, weighted scoring model to rank 37 port projects involving Chinese firms. While the report is a timely examination of China’s infrastructure footprint in the Western Hemisphere, its analytical foundation is undermined by speculative assumptions, methodological imperfection, and selective framing.

This commentary provides a comprehensive, rigorous analysis of the report’s weaknesses – from hypothetical threat scenarios and vague economic risk claims to self-defeating disclaimers and politicized assertions. The goal is a professional, more balanced assessment suitable for policy and media audiences: critical in substance, but measured in tone.

Overview of the Report and Methodology: “No Safe Harbor” argues that Chinese involvement in LAC ports could grant Beijing strategic leverage to gather intelligence, disrupt logistics, and project power closer to U.S. shores. Rather than focusing on an overt naval base (deemed unlikely in the near term), the report defines risk as a “strategic vulnerability” at the intersection of high U.S. reliance on a port and significant Chinese influence over it . Each port’s risk score combines U.S. Exposure (e.g. trade volume, military ties) and Chinese Influence (e.g. operational control, host-nation alignment, presence of Chinese technology). Notably, the authors weigh Chinese influence more heavily (60%) than U.S. exposure (40%) in the composite risk index based on their “analytical judgment”. Top-ranked ports – Jamaica’s Kingston and Mexico’s Manzanillo and Veracruz – are highlighted as high-risk due to strategic location and depth of Chinese involvement . Yet, as this commentary will show, many of the report’s conclusions rest on weak evidence and assumptions that merit scrutiny.

Speculative Threat Scenarios and Hypothetical Risks

A central weakness of “No Safe Harbor” is its reliance on hypothetical worst-case scenarios – especially military or covert threats – presented with minimal qualification or empirical substantiation. The report vividly describes how “dual-use” civilian ports “can enable “covert military operations,” invoking recent conflicts in which trucks on land were used by Ukraine to launch drone strikes deep into Russia. It then speculates that “containerized weapon systems… could be positioned within foreign-controlled port infrastructure,” explicitly suggesting Chinese-run ports might conceal missile launchers. In support, it notes that China has “developed a shipping container–based cruise missile launch system” that “could enable it to conceal strike capabilities within ordinary commercial cargo,” if Chinese port influence helped such containers evade inspection. These imaginative scenarios – essentially invoking a “Trojan horse” missile lurking on a container ship – are highly speculative and implausible. The report provides no evidence that China has ever attempted to arm its commercial shipments in this manner, nor that it intends to do so in LAC ports. Such claims are presented in absolute terms (“could be positioned”) without stating their extremely low probability, thereby blurring the line between theoretical capability and credible threat.

Critically, “No Safe Harbor” itself acknowledges that overt military use of ports near U.S. territory is unlikely. The authors admit Beijing is “unlikely to overtly establish naval facilities so close to the continental United States, given the risk of blowback from Washington”. They further clarify that the risk framework “does not attempt to predict China’s intentions” and that “Beijing may never seek to use its influence over port infrastructure for any malign purposes”. This frank disclaimer undercuts the urgency of the report’s own alarmist scenarios. If Chinese leaders are in fact deterred by political and military risk from using LAC ports offensively, the likelihood of the dramatized container-missile scenario virtually vanishes. As CSIS conceded in a September 2024 commentary, “Overt military use of ostensibly civilian port infrastructure in a conflict of crisis scenario is risky, and unlikely outside of extreme cases.” Naval analysts Isaac Kardon and Wendy Leutert also observed in 2022 in a wartime contingency China “if armed conflict were to occur, China may not have access to port facilities in states seeking to maintain neutrality.” It’s hard to imagine LAC governments would not almost certainly deny the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) use of their ports in a U.S.-China conflict. The September 2024 CSIS commentary’s own text concedes that “overt military use… is risky, and unlikely outside of extreme cases” , yet the June 2025 risk index gives significant weight to factors like a port’s theoretical “Physical Potential for Naval Use” or past PLAN port calls. The result is an analytical posture fixated on highly speculative contingencies – such as secret missile deployments or pre-positioning of forces – that lack grounding in present reality or reliable intelligence. By not rigorously distinguishing between possible and plausible, the report drifts from sober risk assessment into the realm of conjectural fiction.

Another example is the fear that China could “deny or delay [U.S.] access” to ports during a crisis. The report implies that if a Chinese firm operates or finances a port, Beijing might somehow interdict U.S. naval or commercial traffic there in a future standoff. Yet no evidence is offered of Chinese companies ever exercising such leverage or even having a realistic chance to do so. In practice, port concessions are bound by host-country laws and international norms; an operator like Hutchison Ports (a Hong Kong-based firm running terminals in Panama, Mexico, and the Bahamas) cannot unilaterally bar vessels without host government acquiescence. The CSIS analysts themselves emphasize that their risk metric measures “potential capability” in a “future crisis,” not an existing intent to weaponize port access . But by foregrounding these hypothetical threats without clearly delineating their contingency, the report may mislead readers into believing such scenarios are imminent or likely. This weakens the analysis: a risk assessment gains credibility by estimating likelihood and context, not by enumerating exotic dangers divorced from probability. Here, the “No Safe Harbor” authors falter by painting alarming what-ifs (e.g. a containerized missile sneaking into Kingston or Manzanillo) without openly discussing how remote and politically fraught such acts would be.

Vague and Unsubstantiated Economic Disruption Claims

Beyond military scenarios, the report also warns of nebulous economic and supply-chain threats that are asserted rather than demonstrated. “No Safe Harbor” argues that Chinese control over ports gives “leverage over key nodes in regional supply chains, enhancing Beijing’s economic and diplomatic sway”. Over time, Chinese-run ports “can help to rewire trade relationships” in the Americas in China’s favor. While it is true that large infrastructure investments may increase a country’s economic reliance on China, the report’s language here is sweeping and imprecise. Terms like “leverage”, “sway”, and “rewire trade relationships” are left undefined and unsupported by concrete examples. The study does not make an attempt to ascertain, much less quantify how, for instance, a Chinese-operated container terminal would enable Beijing to dictate trade flows or coerce LAC governments economically.

Real-world experience often shows the opposite: ports are competitive environments, and operators (even Chinese SOEs) are typically profit-driven, seeking to maximize throughput rather than selectively strangling supply lines. If the concern is that China might abuse its position in a port to disrupt U.S.-bound commerce, that scenario is again a wartime contingency – essentially a blockade – which would constitute an act of war, not a subtle peacetime pressure tactic. The report provides no evidence of China leveraging ports for economic coercion in LAC to date, nor does it clarify how it could do so short of open hostilities.

“No Safe Harbor” spills little ink on this particular point, but past CSIS commentary noted “Control over preferred logistics routes”, reflecting the idea that port operators could advantage or disadvantage certain shipping companies or countries. In theory, the 2024 CSIS commentary speculates, a Chinese operator could “cut stevedoring fees” or expedite Chinese ships while slowing others, translating into economic advantage for PRC trade partners. Yet this scenario lacks historical precedent and credibility. In practice, port operators—regardless of nationality—operate within stringent commercial and legal frameworks enforced by sovereign host nations, making unilateral discriminatory practices by a foreign firm highly unlikely. Notably, such economic coercion via ports is more characteristic of state-level interventions rather than commercial operators.

Indeed, the United States itself, rather than any port operator, has a documented history of weaponizing maritime logistics. In 2025, the U.S. Trade Representative (USTR) took action under Section 301, specifically targeting China’s maritime logistics and shipbuilding sectors, imposing exorbitant fees explicitly designed to disrupt China’s maritime commercial interests and effectively weaponized commercial maritime activities for geopolitical leverage, precisely what the CSIS authors speculate Chinese port operators might do. Thus, the CSIS report’s projection onto Chinese port companies of actions historically conducted by sovereign governments—particularly the U.S. government—undermines its credibility and reveals an implicit bias inherent in its analytical framework.

Moreover, the authors’ projection of U.S. governmental behavior onto Chinese commercial actors highlights a significant analytical flaw. By hypothesizing actions that U.S. government entities have taken, such as direct economic coercion through financial penalties on maritime logistics, and suggesting Chinese firms might replicate these, the report conflates state-level policy actions with commercial operational control. This misrepresentation weakens the validity of its assertions and highlights a fundamental misunderstanding or misrepresentation of the mechanisms through which economic coercion in maritime trade is realistically enacted.

A salient real-world example further undermines the report’s implication that operational control of ports inherently confers significant geopolitical leverage. The Hambantota port in Sri Lanka, often cited as emblematic of Chinese “debt-trap diplomacy,” provides critical empirical evidence contradicting this assumption. Despite China Merchants Port Holding, a Chinese state-owned enterprise, holding a 70% stake in a 99-year lease over Hambantota port, geopolitical influence did not automatically follow. In August 2022, the Yuan Wang 5, a Chinese research vessel, initially faced substantial diplomatic pushback from India and the U.S., resulting in Sri Lanka temporarily delaying permission for the vessel to dock despite the Chinese SOE’s control over the port. Eventually, Sri Lanka permitted the ship’s visit only after diplomatic assurances and strict operational oversight. Furthermore, in January 2024, Sri Lanka explicitly denied entry to another Chinese vessel, the Xiang Yang Hong 3, enforcing a one-year moratorium on foreign research vessels. It is worth emphasizing that Sri Lanka is widely considered in the West as the poster boy for Chinese influence via port investments. These incidents underscore that sovereign nations maintain ultimate authority over port activities irrespective of foreign SOE lease arrangements, thereby significantly weakening the report’s narrative that port ownership translates directly into geopolitical leverage.

Contested Assumptions and Unsupported Assertions

The CSIS report further suffers from presenting politically contested or unverified assertions as fact, without appropriate caveats. One prominent example is the issue of Chinese “control” of the Panama Canal – a blatant lie that the report references without due diligence. “No Safe Harbor” notes that “Fears that China could control the vital chokepoint [Panama Canal]” even led U.S. President Donald Trump to talk of “reclaiming the Panama Canal”. By including this anecdote upfront, the authors invoke the specter of Beijing somehow controlling a waterway integral to global trade. However, they do not clarify the reality: China does not control the Panama Canal. The canal is operated by the Panamanian Canal Authority, a national entity, and remains “in Panamanian hands and open to commerce from all countries,” as Panama’s canal administrator Ricaurte Vásquez emphasized in January 2025. What Hutchison Ports does have are commercial port concessions at each end of the canal (Balboa and Cristóbal), run by the subsidiary of a Hong Kong-listed multinational company since 1997. But Panamanian officials have repeatedly denied that these port operations give Beijing any control over canal traffic. Vásquez explicitly pushes back against Trump’s assertions of Chinese meddling and noted that Hutchison won the concessions through a 1997 open bid, alongside U.S. and Taiwanese firms that run other canal-area facilities.

By omitting these widely-reported facts [AP, BBC, NYT, WaPo] “No Safe Harbor” leans into a narrative of Chinese dominance that is not borne out by on-the-ground authority. The report could have acknowledged that fears of Chinese canal control are hotly disputed – even the opinion page of the Wall Street Journal says, “The president claims Chinese soldiers are working in the canal. That’s nonsense” – but it does not. This omission is problematic in a study that purports to offer rigorous risk analysis; it suggests a lack of neutrality in handling contentious claims.

Another problematic assertion treated uncritically is the supposed security risk posed by Chinese port equipment, specifically cranes and scanners made by ZPMC and Nuctech. The CSIS risk model assigns a binary indicator for “Chinese Technology” at a port, giving a port a higher risk score simply for using cargo cranes or inspection devices from these two Chinese firms. The justification offered is that “credible open source reporting” suggests ZPMC and Nuctech equipment “has been found to contain components capable of data transmission, remote access, or other functionalities that could enable espionage or unauthorized monitoring” . This assertion is notable – and contested. It appears to derive from recent U.S. security concerns and investigations rather than any confirmed cases of espionage via port equipment. For instance, a 2024 U.S. congressional report claimed that ZPMC, the Shanghai-based crane manufacturer, “accounts for nearly 80 percent of ship-to-shore cranes at U.S. ports” and warned that these cranes “have embedded technology that could allow Beijing to covertly gain access… making them vulnerable to espionage and disruption.” The congressional investigation claimed that ZPMC pressured some American port operators to permit remote access for maintenance, even installing cellular modems in cranes without the port’s knowledge. Only within the current U.S. domestic political context these findings raise concern, but they stop at “could allow” and “potentially enable” spying or sabotage, not that such actions have occurred. In short, the risk is hypothetical.

Likewise, Nuctech (a Chinese state-linked firm supplying X-ray cargo scanners) has been blacklisted in the U.S., but publicly available evidence of backdoors or data theft remains scant. By treating the presence of ZPMC or Nuctech gear as a de facto security threat (scoring it as 1.0 = full risk contribution) , the CSIS report embraces a guilty-by-association logic. This approach lacks nuance – it assumes unverified vulnerability equals exploitation – and omits that such claims are politically charged. Chinese officials and the companies have denied these allegations, and no independent cybersecurity analyses of the equipment have corroborated these suspicions. A rigorous assessment would at least note that this risk is inferential. Instead, “No Safe Harbor” presents it unqualified: Chinese cranes or scanners = espionage risk.

The report similarly makes assertions about Chinese companies and host governments that warrant more caution or evidence. It notes that seven of the ten active Chinese-operated ports in LAC are run by Hutchison Ports, the Hong Kong firm historically seen as commercially driven, but then suggests Hutchison’s “posture has shifted” due to Hong Kong’s political changes and China’s 2017 National Intelligence Law. It implies that even private Hong Kong companies can no longer be assumed independent of Beijing. The report provides no specific evidence that Hutchison has acted at Beijing’s behest in its Western Hemisphere operations. In fact, Hutchison’s recent attempt to sell its entire ports portfolio (43 ports worldwide, including all its LAC terminals) to a BlackRock-led consortium for $23 billion suggests a profit motive more than a geopolitical one, as well as deep risk aversion to U.S. political pressure. Beijing’s regulators launched an antitrust review, which delayed, if not blocked, the sale, and initiated fierce condemnation of the Hong Kong company. That explicitly and convincingly demonstrated Hutchison’s lack of coordination with the Chinese government in its port business.

But even here, the report’s framing is selective. The Hong Kong company is run by a local tycoon who has long been reported to be out of favor with Beijing. In the U.S., it now faces intensified scrutiny and political backlash due to Trump’s public statements, despite holding legitimate, long-standing concessions secured through transparent commercial processes. Trump’s rhetorical framing, absent any evidence, significantly increased political risks and regulatory uncertainties surrounding Hutchison’s operations, effectively compelling the company to divest its strategic port assets. The forced sale illustrates a classic form of economic coercion, wherein a state actor leverages political and regulatory influence to undermine commercial legitimacy, distort market conditions, and compel private firms into decisions contrary to their original economic interests.

Ultimately, “No Safe Harbor” tends to emphasize worst-case readings of ambiguous situations. Chinese financing of port projects is portrayed not as commercial opportunism but as creating “long-term dependencies” and “introducing an intelligence back door”. Port investments aligned with commodity trade (e.g. ports near mines or grain terminals) are conceded to be economically driven, yet even those are said to “still create… an opportunity” for Chinese espionage down the line . This analytical approach starts with a conclusion – that Chinese presence is dangerous – and fits each fact into that narrative, rather than objectively weighing how and whether each Chinese project truly increases security risks. Assertions that are politically contested (such as “China could control the vital chokepoint” or “equipment could be used for espionage or to disrupt port operations during a crisis”) are presented without the caveats and counterarguments that a scholarly or balanced assessment would require.

Methodological Issues: Weighting and Scoring

Turning to the methodology, the CSIS report’s risk scoring system raises several concerns about analytical rigor. The use of a composite index with precise numerical scores (0 to 100) implies a level of objectivity and accuracy that is misleading given the subjective inputs and assumptions involved.

First, the weighting of components is inherently subjective – a fact the authors acknowledge, yet perhaps underappreciate in the final presentation. The methodology document concedes that indicator weights “ultimately reflect the authors’ subjective judgment” even after expert consultations, and that “different weightings could yield different results.” Indeed, the decision to weigh “Chinese Influence” 60% and “U.S. Exposure” 40% in the overall risk formula was based purely on the authors’ belief that Chinese leverage matters slightly more. There is no empirical validation offered for this 60/40 split; one could argue that a port critical to U.S. military logistics (high exposure) is dangerous even with modest Chinese presence, or conversely that deep Chinese control in a port the U.S. barely uses is less threatening than the index would suggest. The CSIS team did not test alternative weighting schemes (at least not publicly) or provide sensitivity analysis to show how rankings change with different assumptions. This lack of robustness testing is problematic in a policy report, because it appears precise yet could be quite fragile. Thus, the appearance of quantitative rigor belies a model heavily driven by untested value judgments.

Second, several indicators in the index are crudely defined or risk conflating correlation with risk contribution. Some are binary yes/no factors that instantly add a fixed amount of “risk” if present – for instance, whether a PLAN naval visit ever occurred at the port (10% of the Chinese Influence pillar) , or whether any Chinese operator/partner is on the U.S. Department of Defense’s list of Chinese Military Companies (another 10%) . These binary indicators treat a one-time event or designation as equivalent to an ongoing threat factor. If a Chinese navy ship made a goodwill port call years ago, the model scores it the same as if the port were a regular PLAN destination – a questionable equivalence. Similarly, being owned by a firm labeled as military-linked (which includes some large state-owned enterprises) automatically adds risk, though it’s unclear that those companies behave differently at ports than purely commercial firms - no evidence has been presented. The methodology mentions attempting to avoid “double penalization,” yet effectively the model might do just that . For example, a port that cannot host large warships (too shallow or small) will score 0 on “Naval Use potential,” and likely also 0 on PLAN port calls (because big warships never visit) – thus it’s penalized twice for essentially the same reality. Conversely, a deep-water port gets a high naval-use score and if a Chinese frigate ever visited, it gets dinged again. The authors admit “double penalization persists, causing certain ports to be scored slightly more harshly or lightly than intended”. This is a frank acknowledgement of model imperfection, but it calls into question the fine distinctions the report makes (say, Kingstown’s score of 70.7 vs. Manzanillo’s 70.0 – a mere 0.7 difference ). Such precision is illusory given these methodological fuzziness. A port’s rank could shift due to how indicators overlap or were arbitrarily weighted, rather than a truly meaningful risk difference. The report’s narrative, however, highlights these small score differences as if scientifically significant (e.g. treating Kingston as “riskier” than Manzanillo because of a 0.7 point gap).

The methodology describes how missing data were estimated (e.g. for trade volumes at some ports) using approximations , which introduces additional uncertainty. Yet in the final presentation, each port’s score is given to one decimal place. Such spurious precision could mislead policymakers or media into overconfidence about the ranking.

The authors do the right thing by including a Limitations section: they caution that data may be outdated or inaccurate. They also note that “operational status” of ports was not included in the risk score to avoid double counting and because even inactive projects signal Chinese interest. This decision is debatable. By ignoring whether a port is actually built or in use, the index inflates risk for projects that might never materialize. A cancelled port, by definition, poses little short-term threat, yet the authors decided to “evaluate [it] on the same basis as active ports” . Their rationale – that China could revive the site later, so it should still count – is speculative. Including dormant projects arguably skews the analysis toward hypothetical future risk rather than present reality, which again feeds an alarmist narrative.

In essence, the methodology is structured to capture potential risk under extreme scenarios (e.g. a crisis “on the verge of armed conflict” ) and deliberately chooses to count even tenuous Chinese involvement (cancelled projects, one-off port calls, equipment deliveries) as risk-relevant. While the authors are fairly open about these choices in the fine print, the overall effect is a scoring system that tends to maximize the perceived risk. A more conservative or strictly evidence-based method (for instance, scoring only operational ports, or weighting intentions and political context more heavily) might have produced a different ranking and tone.

Omission of U.S. Actions and Double Standards in Framing

Perhaps the most notable blind spot in “No Safe Harbor” is its lack of consideration of U.S. policies and similar global practices, which leads to a one-sided assessment of Chinese behavior. The report scrutinizes China’s economic statecraft in Latin America – financing infrastructure to gain influence – but does not acknowledge that the United States actively engages in, or responds with, its forms of economic and strategic coercion in the region. This omission creates a selective narrative that treats Chinese activities as uniquely threatening while ignoring comparable actions by other powers.s

A case in point is the report’s failure to mention recent U.S. pressure on Panama regarding Chinese economic engagement port contracts. As discussed extensively above, “No Safe Harbor” does not acknowledge this dynamic at all. The report warns of China using ports to “expand its geopolitical influence” , but does not mention that the U.S. is simultaneously using its geopolitical influence to block or buy out Chinese port interests. This imbalance is striking. For example, when the report recommends that the U.S. “support port buybacks and buyouts” to dilute China’s footprint, it frames it as prudent risk reduction. Yet if China were to “quietly support” purchasing a strategic port, presumably the authors would label that malign influence. The underlying behaviors – leveraging economic clout to achieve strategic ends – are similar; only the actor differs. A neutral analysis would note that great powers frequently seek influence (the U.S. included), and that LAC nations are often caught in between, trying to balance benefits from both sides. Instead, the report’s narrative implies a moral and strategic asymmetry: Chinese investments are a security problem, while U.S. interventions are the solution.

Similarly, the report highlights Chinese practices that are in fact common in global commerce without noting their ubiquity. For instance, Chinese SOEs often bid on port projects with state-backed financing – a practice not unlike how Western countries support their firms via development banks or export-credit agencies. Many European- or U.S.-affiliated companies operate foreign ports (e.g. Maersk’s APM Terminals or Dubai’s DP World run terminals worldwide), and these too could theoretically gather data or confer political influence. Yet those cases are not scrutinized in “No Safe Harbor”. The focus is exclusively on Chinese actors, which, while understandable for a China-focused study, can veer into confirmation bias. One might ask: if a Latin American port is operated by a European company, is it inherently “safe” from undue influence, but if operated by a Chinese company, it is “unsafe”? (Of course, in the polarizing times we are in, nobody bothers to ask it.) The report’s title and content suggest as much, but this is a debatable assertion that deserved explicit discussion. By ignoring that other foreign investors also seek profit and influence, the authors portray Chinese involvement as sui generis and nefarious by default. This selective framing extends to illicit activities: the report mentions organized crime at Manzanillo and Chinese-origin fentanyl precursors seized there, hinting at China’s indirect role in regional drug trade. However, corruption and smuggling occur at ports regardless of operator nationality (LAC ports run by local or Western firms are also used by cartels). Singling out Chinese-linked ports in this context again suggests a double standard.

Finally, historical context is missing. The report does not reckon with the legacy of the Monroe Doctrine and U.S. military interventions in the Americas, which loom large in regional perceptions. As the Baker Institute’s analysis of Trump’s Panama Canal threats noted, U.S. belligerence “reminds countries across the Western Hemisphere of past U.S. military incursions” and could actually “backfire, giving China new opportunities to win friends”. A sophisticated risk analysis might incorporate how local political sentiment (whether a country resents U.S. dominance or fears Chinese motives) affects the likelihood that a port could be used against U.S. interests. Instead, “No Safe Harbor” treats Latin American states largely as passive venues for U.S.-China competition, without agency or their own strategic calculations in play. It thereby overlooks how U.S. economic coercion – such as sanction threats, or conditioning aid and trade deals – also shapes the landscape of port development. The result is an analysis somewhat divorced from the political-economic reality on the ground, where Latin American governments weigh offers from both China and the U.S., sometimes playing them off each other. By ignoring U.S. coercive measures on the record and scapegoating China as the sole actor despite the latter’s absent coercion record in LAC, the report misses an opportunity to fully appraise the selective nature of its risk criteria. A more balanced approach would recognize that what it deems threatening (state-linked companies investing in infrastructure for strategic gain) is not unique to China.

Conclusion

In conclusion, “No Safe Harbor” provides a detailed dataset on Chinese port projects in Latin America and raises awareness of potential security concerns, but its analytical rigor is undermined by speculative threats, unbalanced assumptions, and methodological flaws. The report’s strongest contribution is its compilation of port information and the notion that not all Chinese port involvements are equal – a point it makes in noting only 10 of 37 projects “involve active facilities owned or operated by Chinese firms.”

However, its overall tone and conclusions tend toward alarmism based on hypotheticals (“containerized missiles” and covert operations that China is unlikely to attempt) and broad generalizations (vague supply chain vulnerabilities without evidence of malicious action). The heavy reliance on “could” and “if” scenarios, without parallel weighting of likelihood or consideration of mitigating factors, weakens the credibility of its warnings. Moreover, by not transparently addressing counter-arguments – such as the Panamanian leadership’s refutation of canal control claims – the report comes across as advocacy more than objective analysis. Its methodology, while thoughtfully constructed, embeds subjective judgments that significantly shape outcomes, calling for humility in interpreting a precise rank order of ports. The authors do include disclaimers about these limitations , yet those very disclaimers (and choices like scoring dormant projects) undercut the decisive tone of the findings.

For policymakers and analysts, the takeaway from this critique is to approach “No Safe Harbor” with caution. The report usefully identifies where China is investing in LAC ports and suggests which sites could matter most in a U.S.-China contingency. But its risk scores should not be treated as predictive or absolute. A high score (say 70/100) does not mean a port is a hotbed of Chinese malign activity; it mostly reflects a confluence of theoretical risk factors under worst-case conditions. In fact, the CSIS study explicitly notes it is not predicting China’s intentions, only highlighting capabilities. A more analytically rigorous follow-up would incorporate probabilities, distinguish short-term vs. long-term risk, and include regional perspectives (how host nations view these projects). It would also benefit from comparative context: are Chinese-operated ports any more prone to espionage or strategic abuse than, for example, other investments or even historical U.S. control of infrastructure? By omitting such context, “No Safe Harbor” sometimes reads as a document designed to justify a particular policy (encouraging U.S. countermeasures) rather than an impartial risk assessment.

In sum, while Chinese port projects in LAC merit scrutiny in the U.S. consensus of strategic competition, the CSIS report’s analytical weaknesses – unsupported assumptions, speculative scenarios, and selective framing – mean it should be read critically and in conjunction with other sources. Stripping away the hype, one finds that many of the purported threats remain hypothetical and contingent, and that the authors’ own caveats and data complexities temper the simplicity of the headline message. For truly effective policy responses, a more nuanced understanding of these ports, one that separates genuine security concerns from improbable doomsday scenarios and acknowledges all players’ actions, will be essential.

“No Safe Harbor: Evaluating the Risk of China’s Port Projects in Latin America and the Caribbean” (June 26, 2025) by Henry Ziemer, Jaehyun Han, and Aidan Powers-Riggs at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS)