China’s large-scale military exercises around Taiwan following a visit to Taipei by US House of Representatives Speaker Nancy Pelosi earlier this month drew strong criticism from the international community and widespread antipathy here in Taiwan.
Yet in spite of this, Beijing instructed the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to conduct a second round of exercises. While the first round was reactive and simulated a blockade of Taiwan, the second represented a shift in tactics and appeared to simulate an amphibious invasion.
Given the muted reaction of the Taiwanese public to the first exercises, the drills failed to achieve a political goal. During the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis in 1995 and 1996, the PLA’s firing of ballistic missiles into waters around Taiwan caused the nation’s stock and housing markets and currency to crash, and triggered a wave of emigration.
Although the latest PLA exercises were significantly larger in scale and employed more advanced weaponry over a larger number of areas, most Taiwanese barely raised an eyebrow. The intimidation the PLA had hoped to achieve was so slight as to have barely registered among Taiwan’s populace. Why, then, did Beijing decide to hold a second set of exercises? The answer can be found by examining the military exercises at a tactical level.
When simulating an attack on Taiwan, the PLA in the past consistently followed the playbook of an amphibious invasion. Its advantage is that the invader does not require a formidable navy. The attacker only needs to field a naval task force large enough to establish a beachhead, and it can dominate the battle space.
During the 1950 Battle of Hainan Island, the PLA Navy, despite having been formed just one year prior and severely lacking in firepower, successfully used commandeered fishing boats to establish a beachhead and gained complete control over the island within two months.
Although an amphibious invasion can force a quick victory, it would be achieved at a significant cost to human life, and there would always be the risk that the attacking force is unable to successfully establish a beachhead. Consequently, a blockade is often touted as an alternative solution.
Enforcing a blockade requires a large navy to ensure that an operation is effective. Moreover, since a blockade takes time to have an effect, the blockading nation must have the economic means to support a protracted war of attrition.
Because a blockade necessarily involves the obstruction of international shipping lanes, it would inevitably give rise to a backlash from affected nations, and the blockading nation must be prepared to endure external pressure. Each tactic — amphibious invasion or blockade — has its advantages and disadvantages.
This month’s exercises around Taiwan clearly demonstrate that the PLA is seriously exploring the viability of a blockade. There are several likely explanations for the PLA’s change in thinking.
First, the PLA’s maritime power is growing daily. It has more surface ships than the US Navy, and it is working to close the quality gap.
Second, improvement to the material conditions of the Chinese population in recent years means that they are likely unable to stomach the sort of high fatality and casualty rates that an amphibious invasion would entail.
Third, the Russia-Ukraine War has polarized international opinion. Chinese military planners must be cognizant of the inevitable pressure that it would come under from US and European maritime powers were China to invade Taiwan.
Pelosi’s visit to Taiwan, although a rare event, was not unprecedented. However, given her position near the top of Washington’s political hierarchy, the PLA’s initial round of exercises could be said to be an understandable reaction by the logic of the Chinese Communist Party. As for the second set of exercises, they smacked of overreaction.
It is likely more difficult for the PLA to provide realistic training that simulates a blockade than for an amphibious invasion. However, Pelosi’s visit allowed PLA commanders a rare opportunity to conduct a simulation of the more difficult operation.
Yang Chung-hsin is a civil servant.
Translated by Edward Jones
Taiwan’s higher education system is facing an existential crisis. As the demographic drop-off continues to empty classrooms, universities across the island are locked in a desperate battle for survival, international student recruitment and crucial Ministry of Education funding. To win this battle, institutions have turned to what seems like an objective measure of quality: global university rankings. Unfortunately, this chase is a costly illusion, and taxpayers are footing the bill. In the past few years, the goalposts have shifted from pure research output to “sustainability” and “societal impact,” largely driven by commercial metrics such as the UK-based Times Higher Education (THE) Impact
History might remember 2026, not 2022, as the year artificial intelligence (AI) truly changed everything. ChatGPT’s launch was a product moment. What is happening now is an anthropological moment: AI is no longer merely answering questions. It is now taking initiative and learning from others to get things done, behaving less like software and more like a colleague. The economic consequence is the rise of the one-person company — a structure anticipated in the 2024 book The Choices Amid Great Changes, which I coauthored. The real target of AI is not labor. It is hierarchy. When AI sharply reduces the cost
US President Donald Trump recently repeated his claim that “Taiwan stole America’s chip industry,” reigniting public debate on the issue. As a former Taiwanese minister of economic affairs and an entrepreneur deeply involved in semiconductor supply chain development, I feel a responsibility to clarify this misunderstanding. From the perspective of global industrial evolution and the economic principle of comparative advantage, such a statement appears overly simplistic and risks obscuring the essence of the issue. The rise of Taiwan’s semiconductor industry was not built on “replacing America,” but rather emerged as a result of countries pursuing different development paths within the
I wrote this before US President Donald Trump embarked on his uneventful state visit to China on Thursday. So, I shall confine my observations to the joint US-Philippine military exercise of April 20 through May 8, known collectively as “Balikatan 2026.” This year’s Balikatan was notable for its “firsts.” First, it was conducted primarily with Taiwan in mind, not the Philippines or even the South China Sea. It also showed that in the Pacific, America’s alliance network is still robust. Allies are enthusiastic about America’s renewed leadership in the region. Nine decades ago, in 1936, America had neither military strength