An editorial in the Taipei Times (“Use Chinese apps with care,” May 30, page 8) warned of the growing threat posed by Chinese platforms such as TikTok and Xiaohongshu (RedNote). These are not just entertainment apps. They are tools of influence, embedded in China’s cognitive warfare — aimed at reshaping the perceptions, attitudes and ultimately, the allegiance of Taiwanese, especially its youth.
Chinese academic Zhang Weiwei (張維為) recently said that once Taiwan is “unified,” it would be easier to govern than Hong Kong, because of young Taiwanese’s fondness for Chinese social media. Taiwanese youth are not as naive as Zhang implies, but dismissing this as bluster would be a grave mistake. These platforms already shape what millions of Taiwanese see, share and believe. As China escalates its military threats, it is also stepping up its psychological operations — disinformation, soft persuasion and narrative control — delivered through apps many still consider harmless.
To its credit, Taiwan has not been idle. It has banned these apps from public-sector devices, introduced draft laws to regulate digital intermediaries and made media literacy part of school curricula. Most recently, it inaugurated the Cognitive Warfare Research Center to monitor and analyze foreign disinformation. However, these actions must go further. Taiwan needs to address the structural vulnerabilities beneath the surface.
Here is what that requires:
First, the government needs to create a legal framework to regulate foreign platforms. Chinese platforms operate in Taiwan with zero legal accountability. TikTok and Xiaohongshu, while used by millions, have no registered subsidiaries here. The law prohibits Chinese firms from establishing local branches — a rule meant to block direct Chinese Communist Party influence. However, in practice, it backfires: These companies operate in a legal void, shaping public discourse without oversight, taxation or consequences. Access to the Taiwanese market must come with responsibilities and consequences.
Taiwan faces a false choice: ban them outright or let them operate freely. A smarter approach is to allow conditional legal presence under strict, enforceable national security terms: Platforms with more than 300,000 users must register as a local legal entity. They must appoint a representative accountable under Taiwanese law. Data must be stored locally and algorithms must be auditable. Ad sponsors must be transparent. Hostile content must be flagged, throttled or removed. Those who contravene would lose registration and face service throttling or geoblocking.
Second, the government should establish a civic-facing cognitive warfare watch center. The Cognitive Warfare Research Center is enforcement-oriented. What is missing is a transparent, public-facing counterpart that empowers citizens — not just bureaucrats — to understand and resist foreign influence.
The center would track and publicly report on foreign disinformation campaigns, issue real-time alerts, partner with educators, tech platforms and civil society to promote media literacy and coordinate responses to online influence operations, and act as a civic firewall against hostile narratives. If we sound alarms when Chinese jets cross the median line, we should do the same when Chinese disinformation floods our screens.
Third, it should treat media literacy as part of national defense. The media literacy curriculum is a good start, but too general. It teaches students to ask: “Is this credible?” but not: “What are the risks if everyone believes this?” Despite China being designated a hostile foreign force, the threat it poses is rarely addressed by name.
Taiwan needs a dual-track strategy: One for all students — teaching bias detection, critical thinking and national risk analysis; and another for older students, civil servants and educators — focused on real-world Chinese disinformation and manipulation tactics. This should be backed by a Media Resilience Certification to ensure that the courses are taken seriously.
Still, some might ask: Are these measures really necessary? Are these apps not just for fun? Becoming numb to the risk is exactly the problem. Just ask: Can you post a video on TikTok or RedNote praising Taiwanese democracy and criticizing China’s dictatorship? No, you cannot. Why? Because those platforms follow the rules of a one-party state, and that censorship travels with them. That is what makes them political weapons, not just a social media platform, and in this battle, Taiwanese are being fired at, not allowed to fire back.
Taiwan is on the front line of authoritarian information warfare. China does not need to send soldiers if it can convince Taiwanese that resistance is futile, unification inevitable and democracy overrated. That battle is already underway — on phones, not battlefields. Taiwan could lose this war without shedding a drop of blood.
John Cheng is a retired businessman from Hong Kong currently residing in Taiwan.
Taiwanese pragmatism has long been praised when it comes to addressing Chinese attempts to erase Taiwan from the international stage. “Taipei” and the even more inaccurate and degrading “Chinese Taipei,” imposed titles required to participate in international events, are loathed by Taiwanese. That is why there was huge applause in Taiwan when Japanese public broadcaster NHK referred to the Taiwanese Olympic team as “Taiwan,” instead of “Chinese Taipei” during the opening ceremony of the Tokyo Olympics. What is standard protocol for most nations — calling a national team by the name their country is commonly known by — is impossible for
India is not China, and many of its residents fear it never will be. It is hard to imagine a future in which the subcontinent’s manufacturing dominates the world, its foreign investment shapes nations’ destinies, and the challenge of its economic system forces the West to reshape its own policies and principles. However, that is, apparently, what the US administration fears. Speaking in New Delhi last week, US Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau warned that “we will not make the same mistakes with India that we did with China 20 years ago.” Although he claimed the recently agreed framework
The Office of the US Trade Representative (USTR) on Wednesday last week announced it is launching investigations into 16 US trading partners, including Taiwan, under Section 301 of the Trade Act of 1974 to determine whether they have engaged in unfair trade practices, such as overproduction. A day later, the agency announced a separate Section 301 investigation into 60 economies based on the implementation of measures to prohibit the importation of goods produced with forced labor. Several of Taiwan’s main trading rivals — including China, Japan, South Korea and the EU — also made the US’ investigation list. The announcements come
Taiwan is not invited to the table. It never has been, but this year, with the Philippines holding the ASEAN chair, the question that matters is no longer who gets formally named, it is who becomes structurally indispensable. The “one China” formula continues to do its job. It sets the outer boundary of official diplomatic speech, and no one in the region has a serious interest in openly challenging it. However, beneath the surface, something is thickening. Trade corridors, digital infrastructure, artificial intelligence (AI) cooperation, supply chains, cross-border investment: The connective tissue between Taiwan and ASEAN is quietly and methodically growing