In her recent New York Times opinion piece, former minister of culture Lung Ying-tai (龍應台) paints a bleak picture of Taiwan’s future — one where the US is no longer a reliable partner, and Taiwan’s only viable path to peace lies in reconciliation with China. For all its emotional charge and rhetorical polish, her argument leaves out critical context and presents a dangerously one-sided view.
Lung claims to speak for “Taiwan’s growing fears,” but who, exactly, is she speaking for? A single, chatty taxi driver in southern Taiwan? Has she truly listened to the countless Taiwanese who remain willing — even determined — to defend our democracy and way of life, and who fear Communist rule far more than war? Lung makes little mention of them. Instead, her narrative elevates anxiety and resignation over resolve and agency.
She devotes more space to condemning Taiwan’s elected president, William Lai (賴清德), than to denouncing the authoritarian strongman across the strait who is actively threatening war. This framing alone invites serious scrutiny. Who is the true warmonger here — the democratic leader bolstering national defense in the face of real and rising threats, or the one deploying battleships, fighter jets, disinformation and cyberattacks against a peaceful neighbor? Who is constructing barges to facilitate landing of troops in Taiwan?
Yes, we are right to be cautious about relying too heavily on the US. History teaches us not to place blind trust in any foreign power. However, Lung’s portrayal of the US turning its back on Taiwan is misleading. Even under the most transactional US leadership in recent memory, support for Taiwan has not vanished. In fact, it has increased.
During US President Donald Trump’s presidency — the same administration Lung uses to cast doubt on US commitments — arms sales to Taiwan surged, including advanced missile systems and F-16 jets. Congressional support for Taiwan has been overwhelmingly bipartisan, culminating in high-profile visits and legislative measures affirming Taiwan’s security. The Taiwan Relations Act remains in force, and key US defense and foreign policy figures continue to emphasize the nation’s strategic importance.
Of course, US interests would always come first for Washington — just as Taiwan must prioritize its own survival — but this is not evidence of betrayal. It is the nature of international relations. The more important point is that the US sees Taiwan not just as a friend, but as a vital link in the global democratic order and the global economy, particularly in semiconductors. Abandoning Taiwan would come at a massive cost to US interests, credibility and security partnerships.
The deeper flaw in Lung’s argument is the dangerous assumption that peace is something Taiwan could unilaterally achieve — if only it would try harder to accommodate China. This disregards the fundamental nature of the threat we face. China has never renounced the use of force to take Taiwan. It has engaged in increasing military provocations, economic coercion and diplomatic isolation. It is not Taiwan’s refusal to reconcile that sustains this hostility — it is Beijing’s refusal to accept Taiwan’s right to choose its own future.
Lung nostalgically points to former president Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) era as a time of warm cross-strait relations, implying that Taiwan was safer and more prosperous when it leaned closer to China. However, she omits why that window of goodwill closed. The Sunflower movement in 2014 was not an irrational backlash against peace; it was a mass, youth-led response to a trade pact with China that many feared would erode Taiwan’s autonomy without democratic scrutiny. In 2019, Beijing’s brutal response to Hong Kong’s pro-democracy protests shattered whatever remaining illusions existed about “peaceful integration.”
If “one country, two systems” could not survive in Hong Kong — where it was promised for 50 years — why should anyone in Taiwan believe it would work for us? Hong Kong today is not free. Journalists have been jailed, elections are tightly controlled and political dissent is virtually outlawed. Is that the peace Lung wants us to pursue?
She further claims that Taiwan’s current leadership is reviving Cold War-era paranoia. What Lai is doing is not fear-mongering — it is realism. Recognizing China as a “foreign hostile force” is a matter of national security, not provocation. It pales in comparison to Beijing’s own language — which calls Taiwan an “inseparable part of China” and justifies the use of force to achieve unification. Labeling such a clear-eyed response to an existential threat as “playing with fire” reflects not prudence, but a troubling preference for silence and submission over strength and self-determination.
As for Lung’s belief that “peace is a precondition of democracy,” this is not just historically inaccurate — it is deeply dangerous. Democracy does not arise out of peace. It is often forged through struggle and maintained through constant vigilance. North Korea has had no war for decades — yet it is a prison state. Peace reigns in Tibet, too — under the crushing boot of oppression. Even the silence over Xinjiang’s so-called “stability” cannot hide the reality of surveillance, internment and cultural erasure.
Peace without freedom is not peace — it is control. Let me remind Lung, prisons are quite peaceful.
It is worth repeating: We all want peace. No one wants war, but peace must be meaningful. It cannot be the kind handed down by a more powerful state on terms that deny our identity, erase our voice and nullify our democracy. Reconciliation is a worthy goal — but only with mutual respect, equal footing and the guarantee of freedom. That is not the offer on the table from Beijing.
There is room for debate in Taiwan about how best to ensure our survival — whether through greater investment in asymmetric defense, deeper ties with regional allies or new diplomatic channels. The path Lung advocates — one that sidelines resistance, vilifies our own leaders and downplays the threat from China — is not a path to peace. It is a slow surrender.
The reality is that Taiwan stands at the frontline of the global contest between democracy and authoritarianism. How we respond to China’s aggression — and how clearly we see it — would shape not just our future, but perhaps the future of democratic values across Asia.
We cannot afford to be naive. We certainly cannot afford to mistake silence for wisdom or appeasement for peace.
John Cheng is a retired businessman from Hong Kong residing in Taiwan.
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