What do the Panama Canal, Greenland and Taiwan have in common? At first glance, not much. The Panama Canal is a vital artery for global trade, Greenland is a sparsely populated yet strategically significant territory, and Taiwan is a democratic stronghold in the Indo-Pacific. Yet these three are bound by an unsettling parallel: The hubris of powerful leaders who see them as pawns in a geopolitical chess game, disregarding the sovereignty and dignity of their people.
Recently, US president-elect Donald Trump sparked international outrage with his refusal to rule out using military force to seize control of the Panama Canal and Greenland. His remarks were not merely the latest in a series of headline-grabbing soundbites, but a dangerous echo of rhetoric we often attribute to authoritarian regimes — most notably the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) ongoing threats to take Taiwan by force. For those who care deeply about Taiwan’s future, Trump’s comments are a cautionary tale of how democratic nations must resist normalizing such behavior.
Trump justified these ambitions under the guise of national security and economic necessity.
“The Panama Canal was built for our military,” he declared, suggesting it should still belong to the US. Similarly, he mused about Greenland’s strategic importance and abundant natural resources, framing it as a “deal that must happen.” That Greenlandic Prime Minister Mute Bourup Egede and Panamanian President Jose Raul Mulino had to reaffirm their nations’ sovereignty is itself a troubling sign of the times.
Trump’s rhetoric is not just absurd, it is reckless. Imagine the uproar if Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) proclaimed a right to seize the Suez Canal because of its strategic importance. We would rightly call it a brazen act of imperialism. Yet when Trump flirts with similar rhetoric, some dismiss it as mere bluster. This double standard undermines the very principles that democracies, including Taiwan, rely on to maintain their sovereignty in a world increasingly shaped by power politics.
The parallel with Taiwan is chilling. For decades, the CCP has claimed Taiwan as a “breakaway province” and has not ruled out using military force to “unify” it with China. Much like Trump’s justification for targeting Greenland and the Panama Canal, Beijing frames its ambitions in terms of “national security” and “geopolitical necessity.” Both cases rest on a warped view of sovereignty that prioritizes might over right.
Taiwan’s future hinges on the international community’s commitment to upholding democratic values and international law. If a major democracy like the US normalizes rhetoric that trivializes sovereignty, it emboldens authoritarian regimes to do the same. When Trump suggests that the sovereignty of smaller nations is negotiable, it sends a dangerous signal to Beijing — a green light for their ambitions in Taiwan.
Sovereignty is not just a theoretical concept; it is the foundation of international stability. The post-World War II order was built on the idea that disputes should be resolved through dialogue and mutual respect, not coercion or force. When leaders like Trump or Xi flirt with annexationist rhetoric, they chip away at that foundation, creating a world where power is the ultimate currency.
For Taiwan, this erosion of norms is existential. Taiwan’s survival depends not only on its military capabilities, but also on the strength of its alliances and the principles those alliances uphold. If democratic nations fail to take a firm stand against imperialist rhetoric, they risk creating a precedent that weakens their own ability to defend Taiwan when it needs them most.
What could be done to counteract this trend? First, democracies must hold themselves to the highest standards. This means rejecting rhetoric or policies that undermine sovereignty — whether they come from Beijing or Washington. It is not enough to criticize China’s ambitions in Taiwan while turning a blind eye to similar rhetoric from Western leaders. Consistency is key to maintaining credibility.
Second, democracies must reaffirm their commitment to collective security. Taiwan’s status as a thriving democracy in the face of authoritarian threats makes it a litmus test for the international community. Nations that value freedom and sovereignty must support Taiwan diplomatically, economically and militarily. This includes ensuring that Taiwan has the resources it needs to deter aggression and amplifying its voice on the global stage.
Finally, public discourse matters. The normalization of imperialist rhetoric — whether in the guise of “Making Greenland Great Again” or “unifying” with Taiwan — must be challenged at every turn. Leaders and citizens alike must make clear that sovereignty is non-negotiable, no matter how strategic or resource-rich a territory might be.
The stakes for Taiwan are clear. The parallels between Trump’s comments and China’s ambitions are not mere coincidences; they are symptoms of a broader erosion of respect for international norms. For those who care about Taiwan’s future, this is a call to action. Trump’s rhetoric might seem laughable, but its implications are deadly serious. Taiwan cannot afford a world where such behavior goes unchallenged.
Y. Tony Yang is an endowed professor and associate dean at George Washington University in Washington.
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus whip Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) has caused havoc with his attempts to overturn the democratic and constitutional order in the legislature. If we look at this devolution from the context of a transition to democracy from authoritarianism in a culturally Chinese sense — that of zhonghua (中華) — then we are playing witness to a servile spirit from a millennia-old form of totalitarianism that is intent on damaging the nation’s hard-won democracy. This servile spirit is ingrained in Chinese culture. About a century ago, Chinese satirist and author Lu Xun (魯迅) saw through the servile nature of
In their New York Times bestseller How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt said that democracies today “may die at the hands not of generals but of elected leaders. Many government efforts to subvert democracy are ‘legal,’ in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy — making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption, or cleaning up the electoral process.” Moreover, the two authors observe that those who denounce such legal threats to democracy are often “dismissed as exaggerating or
Monday was the 37th anniversary of former president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) death. Chiang — a son of former president Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), who had implemented party-state rule and martial law in Taiwan — has a complicated legacy. Whether one looks at his time in power in a positive or negative light depends very much on who they are, and what their relationship with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is. Although toward the end of his life Chiang Ching-kuo lifted martial law and steered Taiwan onto the path of democratization, these changes were forced upon him by internal and external pressures,
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus in the Legislative Yuan has made an internal decision to freeze NT$1.8 billion (US$54.7 million) of the indigenous submarine project’s NT$2 billion budget. This means that up to 90 percent of the budget cannot be utilized. It would only be accessible if the legislature agrees to lift the freeze sometime in the future. However, for Taiwan to construct its own submarines, it must rely on foreign support for several key pieces of equipment and technology. These foreign supporters would also be forced to endure significant pressure, infiltration and influence from Beijing. In other words,