Why is China behaving as it is in Tibet? What makes Tibet so important to the government in Beijing? At the heart of the matter is the fact that nothing worries China's rulers more than when the country's unity is called into question. And nothing makes them more anxious than their fear that a regional dispute might, if not brought to an end quickly, steamroll into national disintegration.
Kosovo's recent declaration of independence sharpened the Chinese government's anxieties over the protests in Tibet. Although supporters of Kosovo's independence argue that it sets no international precedent, China's rulers fear otherwise. Moreover, Taiwan's presidential election has further ratcheted up the tension for China's government.
It may sound strange to the outside world that China, which has known nothing but economic success for three decades, should feel its unity to be so fragile. But China's history, both ancient and modern, suggests that there is nothing permanent or stable about the country's current unity.
Indeed, today's unity was secured only with Mao Zedong's (毛澤東) victory in 1949.
From the Warring States period (403BC to 221BC) to the warlord period of the 20th century (1916 to 1928) -- and many times in between -- China's territory has splintered into separate, rival regions. So, while loudly proclaiming the unity of the Chinese state, the leadership is obsessed with the country's fragility and works constantly to reduce tensions between provinces.
The government's failure to eradicate chronic regional tension underscores the limits of central authority in China, which was partly intentional. An integral feature of the reforms that Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平) launched 30 years ago was greater autonomy for local authorities -- a move aimed at fostering accountability and creating incentives for growth.
But some provinces have gone further. The central government's loss of authority is reflected in the number of its appeals -- usually unsuccessful -- that it makes to local government for compliance with limits on investment or controls on pollution.
In any country as vast as China, far-flung regions are bound to have different interests and identities. Though few in China speculate aloud about it, there are some who believe that such differences may continue to tug the regions away from the center, and that some might one day break away.
This is the fear gnawing at China's rulers as they confront the unrest in Tibet. Of course, to judge from official rhetoric, there is no threat to unity. All of China's peoples, including non-Chinese in annexed territories such as Tibet, Inner Mongolia and Xinjiang, are firm and loyal supporters of the system, Beijing says. But the government's frequent rotation of local officials tells a different story. Keen to prevent any coalescence of regional identity and local authority, senior officers in China's seven military districts are also rotated regularly.
Another precaution taken by the central government is to shape the military districts so that they do not overlap with natural regional or economic divisions. This arrangement is designed to ensure that military and economic regionalism will cancel each other out. But it also reflects the Chinese government's constant fear that regional tensions may lead to national fragmentation.
Nevertheless, none of these precautions can assuage the anxiety of China's leaders about the struggle underway in Tibet, particularly in view of events in Kosovo and Taiwan. In principle, of course, conflict between Taiwan and China is not inevitable. With increasing change in China and growing economic and social contacts across the Strait, it should be possible to find a formula that allows the Taiwanese to maintain their market economy and democratic system without a placard at the UN.
The West has historically stressed two bright lines with respect to Taiwan: no independence and no use of force by China. But, in view of Kosovo's independence against the will of Serbia and without UN sanction, these bright lines have become blurred in China's eyes.
The world is risking much by injecting ambiguity into an issue that once seemed clear-cut. Thirty-five years ago, in a supreme act of modern statecraft, the Chinese premier Zhou Enlai (周恩來) and US president Richard Nixon signed the Shanghai Communique, which set the following unambiguous standard: There is only one China, and Taiwan is part of it.
An unequivocal reaffirmation of that understanding, particularly by the US in the light of its role as primary backer of Kosovo's independence, is now needed if China is to be reassured that its unity will not be called into question.
The West does not have an interest in helping either Tibet or Taiwan become sovereign countries, and efforts by some Tibetans and Taiwanese in this direction present the danger of a miscalculation that could create lasting enmity.
Some Chinese suspect the US of seeking an independent Taiwan as an "unsinkable aircraft carrier" for use against a future Chinese enemy. Such suspicions can feed a climate of excessive nationalism in China.
Both China and the West must now avoid letting exaggerated fears create self-inflicted prophecies. Events in Tibet can only be properly viewed with the shadows cast by Kosovo and Taiwan in mind.
Wen Liao is a Chinese lawyer practicing with a US firm in London.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
Taiwan stands at the epicenter of a seismic shift that will determine the Indo-Pacific’s future security architecture. Whether deterrence prevails or collapses will reverberate far beyond the Taiwan Strait, fundamentally reshaping global power dynamics. The stakes could not be higher. Today, Taipei confronts an unprecedented convergence of threats from an increasingly muscular China that has intensified its multidimensional pressure campaign. Beijing’s strategy is comprehensive: military intimidation, diplomatic isolation, economic coercion, and sophisticated influence operations designed to fracture Taiwan’s democratic society from within. This challenge is magnified by Taiwan’s internal political divisions, which extend to fundamental questions about the island’s identity and future
The narrative surrounding Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s attendance at last week’s Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) summit — where he held hands with Russian President Vladimir Putin and chatted amiably with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) — was widely framed as a signal of Modi distancing himself from the US and edging closer to regional autocrats. It was depicted as Modi reacting to the levying of high US tariffs, burying the hatchet over border disputes with China, and heralding less engagement with the Quadrilateral Security dialogue (Quad) composed of the US, India, Japan and Australia. With Modi in China for the
The Jamestown Foundation last week published an article exposing Beijing’s oil rigs and other potential dual-use platforms in waters near Pratas Island (Dongsha Island, 東沙島). China’s activities there resembled what they did in the East China Sea, inside the exclusive economic zones of Japan and South Korea, as well as with other South China Sea claimants. However, the most surprising element of the report was that the authors’ government contacts and Jamestown’s own evinced little awareness of China’s activities. That Beijing’s testing of Taiwanese (and its allies) situational awareness seemingly went unnoticed strongly suggests the need for more intelligence. Taiwan’s naval
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) has postponed its chairperson candidate registration for two weeks, and so far, nine people have announced their intention to run for chairperson, the most on record, with more expected to announce their campaign in the final days. On the evening of Aug. 23, shortly after seven KMT lawmakers survived recall votes, KMT Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) announced he would step down and urged Taichung Mayor Lu Shiow-yen (盧秀燕) to step in and lead the party back to power. Lu immediately ruled herself out the following day, leaving the subject in question. In the days that followed, several