A public dispute over whether ASML Holding NV ever proposed providing the U.S. government with information about its Chinese customers has ballooned into a broader debate about how deeply geopolitics is reshaping the global semiconductor industry.
The company’s firm and immediate denial may have put out the initial fire, but the episode highlights a more enduring truth: in today’s high-stakes race for technological leadership, the world’s most critical tech suppliers no longer have the option of staying neutral.
The controversy erupted after publication of The Most Important Machine in the World, a new book by former Bloomberg journalists Diederik Baazil and Cagan Koc. The authors argue that ASML, the Dutch maker of the world’s most complex chip-manufacturing equipment, became entangled in U.S. pressure campaigns during the 2023 export-control negotiations between Washington and The Hague.
The book alleges that during this period—when the U.S. was tightening rules on the sale and servicing of deep-ultraviolet (DUV) lithography tools to China—ASML sold more equipment than U.S. officials believed permissible under the agreement. In this telling, the U.S. pressed for gestures of “goodwill,” and then-CEO Peter Wennink allegedly suggested sharing “internal intelligence” about Chinese customers to secure continued permission to service previously sold tools.
ASML responded within hours. The company called the descriptions “seriously inaccurate” and said it never provides internal customer information to any government. The denial was unambiguous and delivered in the language of compliance officers, not spin doctors: doing otherwise would violate strict confidentiality agreements, European privacy rules and the company’s own contractual obligations—actions that would carry enormous legal and commercial risks.
Yet the friction surrounding the allegation, rather than the allegation itself, reveals how dramatically the geopolitical environment around ASML has changed. The more the U.S. and China compete over technology, the narrower the strategic space for companies operating between them. Books, media reports and political commentary increasingly frame corporate behavior not in commercial terms but in the language of alignment, loyalty and national strategy.
Several contextual factors made the book’s claims unusually combustible.
First, ASML is navigating a leadership transition. Wennink retired in 2024, and the new management team has sought to present the company as firmly focused on engineering and business rather than politics. Any suggestion that ASML offered to assist U.S. monitoring efforts—no matter how implausible—cuts directly against that branding effort.
Second, the U.S. and Europe are again debating tighter export restrictions. Washington wants mid-range DUV systems added to the control list, a move resisted in parts of Europe because China accounts for a large share of ASML’s DUV revenue. The book’s anecdotes, however disputed, are easily swept into these political currents.
Third, China’s chip-manufacturing capabilities have advanced faster than many in the West expected. Domestic production of DUV tools, expansion of advanced packaging and the stable output of chips at 7-nanometer nodes have all fueled U.S. concerns that loopholes remain. Any perceived leniency in ASML’s operations in China is now viewed through a security lens.
In that environment, allegations take on a momentum of their own. Even if exaggerated, the book’s claims resonated not because of their factual grounding, but because they fit a broader narrative: that the West is re-policing the boundaries of semiconductor technology and ASML sits at the center.
Why ASML Keeps Becoming a Geopolitical Flash Point
ASML is not a typical tech company. It is a hyper-globalized engineering conglomerate whose machines incorporate more than 100,000 precision components from roughly 5,000 suppliers in the United States, Japan, Germany and elsewhere. Its position in the semiconductor ecosystem is so singular that governments treat it as a strategic asset.
For Washington, ASML is essential to slowing China’s progress in advanced semiconductor manufacturing. The U.S. supplies certain critical parts of ASML’s lithography systems—including key optical and laser components—and therefore holds export-control leverage over the company. For that reason, ASML cannot fully insulate itself from American regulatory pressure even if it wanted to.
For Beijing, ASML is one of the last irreplaceable links to global chipmaking technology. China has been the largest single destination for ASML’s DUV sales in recent years, accounting for 40% to 50% of shipments at times. Both ASML and China have strong commercial incentives to maintain a stable relationship, particularly because DUV technology remains essential for a wide range of semiconductor production.
For the Netherlands and the broader EU, ASML is a symbol of industrial and technological sovereignty. The company embodies Europe’s ambition to remain a meaningful player in the global tech race. If ASML were seen as simply an instrument of U.S. policy, that autonomy would look more aspirational than real.
That three-way tug-of-war puts ASML in an impossible position: no matter what it does, someone will suspect it of serving another party’s agenda.
Some elements in the book appear rooted in genuine frictions. Over the past several years, ASML—like many global suppliers—has operated in narrow gray zones created by shifting export rules. The company pushed to deliver equipment before restrictions took effect, expedited shipments when legally permitted and continued servicing installed machines in China when allowed by previous licenses.
These decisions were grounded in commercial logic and legal compliance, not geopolitical maneuvering. But in Washington, some policymakers viewed these moves as insufficiently supportive of U.S. strategy. In that sense, the book reflects a real undercurrent of frustration within American policy circles, even if its portrayal of ASML’s actions is dramatized.
Still, the idea that ASML would offer “intelligence” on customers strains credulity. According to engineers familiar with the company’s operations, service staff access is strictly limited to equipment performance data—information that is both confidential and of little use in assessing a customer’s strategic intent. Any intentional sharing of customer data would be an extraordinary breach of contract, a violation of EU law and a reputational catastrophe for a company whose business hinges on trust.
A Company Forced Into Politics
The ASML episode illustrates how differently technology companies must now navigate the geopolitical terrain. In earlier decades, multinational firms could credibly claim neutrality, insisting that market logic guided their behavior. That façade is no longer tenable. Governments view advanced technology as national infrastructure and expect private companies to align with national strategic objectives—even when those companies operate globally.
The U.S. sees ASML as indispensable to its chip-control regime; Europe sees it as the anchor of its technological autonomy; China sees it as a vital partner in its manufacturing ecosystem. For ASML, satisfying all three is impossible. The company is increasingly judged not by its compliance with formal regulations but by how it fits into each side’s geopolitical expectations.
In this environment, narratives harden quickly. A single anecdote in a book becomes fodder for broader accusations. Commercial decisions are recast as political calculations. Routine engineering work becomes evidence of alignment or disloyalty.
The dispute also highlights how export controls are evolving. Earlier restrictions focused on what firms could sell. The next wave increasingly targets support, servicing and software updates. That means companies like ASML—not merely exporters, but long-term service partners—will face ever tighter scrutiny.
Ultimately, the question of whether ASML ever proposed monitoring Chinese customers is less important than what the controversy signals: that the global technology competition has entered a more complex and contested phase. The boundaries between engineering, business and politics are dissolving, and companies critical to the semiconductor ecosystem are no longer shielded from geopolitical confrontation.
ASML may deny the book’s allegations—and with good reason—but the broader forces reshaping its operating environment will not dissipate. The company will remain a strategic battleground because every major power sees it as essential to its own vision of technological security.
In that sense, ASML’s predicament is becoming the norm for global technology suppliers. Transparency, compliance and commercial logic, once sufficient to define corporate behavior, now intersect with national strategy in unpredictable ways. The result is a new environment in which even allegations unsupported by evidence can influence market sentiment, policy discussions and diplomatic negotiations.
The episode surrounding the book will likely fade. But the structural forces that produced it—the accelerating rivalry between the U.S. and China, Europe’s search for autonomy and the centrality of key tech suppliers—will only intensify. And for ASML, positioned at the single most critical chokepoint of advanced manufacturing, the “eye of the storm” may become a permanent address.
