Taiwan Retrocession Day is observed on Oct. 25 every year. The Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) government removed it from the list of annual holidays immediately following the first successful transition of power in 2000, but the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT)-led opposition reinstated it this year. For ideological reasons, it has been something of a political football in the democratic era.
This year, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) designated yesterday as “Commemoration Day of Taiwan’s Restoration,” turning the event into a conceptual staging post for its “restoration” to the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The Mainland Affairs Council on Friday criticized the CCP for its distortions, clarifying Taiwan’s position that “Taiwan Retrocession Day commemorates Oct. 25, 1945, when representatives of the Republic of China (ROC), on behalf of the Allied powers, accepted the surrender of Japanese forces in Taiwan.”
The name of the day itself is problematic. Oxford Languages defines “retrocession” as “the action of ceding territory back to a country or government,” but which country or government was Taiwan ceded back to?
Taiwan was ceded to the Japanese in 1895, during the Qing Dynasty. Leaving aside the question of whether the Qing can be equated with China, being a Manchu empire of which China was only one part, the Qing Dynasty itself had ceased to exist long before 1945, having been overthrown by the ROC in 1911. It is historically inaccurate to say that Taiwan was “ceded back to” either the then-defunct Qing, a China that the Qing did not fully equate to, the ROC that had never controlled Taiwan or the PRC that had yet to exist.
The idea that Taiwan was “ceded” at all in 1945 is historically problematic, too, as the ROC representatives only accepted the Japanese surrender on the Allies’ behalf to be interim guardians of the former Japanese colony until such time as its status could be determined through a formal treaty.
The genius of the name of the commemoration is that it circumvents the prickly question of who the recipient was. Strictly speaking, it simply marks the day that the Japanese left.
The CCP says that the Japanese leaving the colony ceded to it by the Qing Dynasty is a return of Taiwan to the Chinese, another level of complexity.
The majority of people living in Taiwan today are ethnically Han Chinese, but the Han Chinese population derives from waves of immigration stretching back several centuries onto an island already inhabited by Austronesian indigenous peoples.
“Chinese” does not refer only to an ethnicity: It also refers to a nationality. The PRC in China and the ROC on Taiwan are separate countries, neither subordinate to the other. The vast majority of PRC citizens can call themselves Chinese in terms of both nationality and ethnicity. In Taiwan, it is possible for ethnically Han Chinese to call themselves “Chinese” and “Taiwanese,” but not a “Taiwanese citizen”: They are ROC citizens. A person might identify themselves as Taiwanese foremost and Chinese second, but by saying “Chinese” they would not be referring to their nationality, and even if they consider themselves primarily Chinese, that does not mean they want to be governed by the authoritarian PRC. When KMT chairwoman-elect Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) said “in the future, all Taiwanese will proudly and confidently say ‘I am Chinese.’ This is what the KMT must achieve,” how was she defining Chinese? She must know that the CCP has a very specific understanding of what it is to be Chinese. If she does not, she can ask Uighurs, Tibetans and formerly free people of Hong Kong.
Victory in conflict requires mastery of two “balances”: First, the balance of power, and second, the balance of error, or making sure that you do not make the most mistakes, thus helping your enemy’s victory. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has made a decisive and potentially fatal error by making an enemy of the Jewish Nation, centered today in the State of Israel but historically one of the great civilizations extending back at least 3,000 years. Mind you, no Israeli leader has ever publicly declared that “China is our enemy,” but on October 28, 2025, self-described Chinese People’s Armed Police (PAP) propaganda
Chinese Consul General in Osaka Xue Jian (薛劍) on Saturday last week shared a news article on social media about Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s remarks on Taiwan, adding that “the dirty neck that sticks itself in must be cut off.” The previous day in the Japanese House of Representatives, Takaichi said that a Chinese attack on Taiwan could constitute “a situation threatening Japan’s survival,” a reference to a legal legal term introduced in 2015 that allows the prime minister to deploy the Japan Self-Defense Forces. The violent nature of Xue’s comments is notable in that it came from a diplomat,
China’s third aircraft carrier, the Fujian, entered service this week after a commissioning ceremony in China’s Hainan Province on Wednesday last week. Chinese state media reported that the Fujian would be deployed to the Taiwan Strait, the South China Sea and the western Pacific. It seemed that the Taiwan Strait being one of its priorities meant greater military pressure on Taiwan, but it would actually put the Fujian at greater risk of being compromised. If the carrier were to leave its home port of Sanya and sail to the East China Sea or the Yellow Sea, it would have to transit the
The artificial intelligence (AI) boom, sparked by the arrival of OpenAI’s ChatGPT, took the world by storm. Within weeks, everyone was talking about it, trying it and had an opinion. It has transformed the way people live, work and think. The trend has only accelerated. The AI snowball continues to roll, growing larger and more influential across nearly every sector. Higher education has not been spared. Universities rushed to embrace this technological wave, eager to demonstrate that they are keeping up with the times. AI literacy is now presented as an essential skill, a key selling point to attract prospective students.