Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) upcoming meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) has been framed as a step toward peace. Dialogue is always preferable to confrontation, the public is told. Few would disagree.
However, dialogue is not the issue. Representation is. Peace is not the question — surrender is.
When this meeting takes place, the question is: “Whose voice is going to be heard in that room?”
Cheng has couched her visit in the familiar formula of “opposing Taiwan independence and upholding the 1992 consensus.” In her Monday news conference, she repeatedly spoke of “peace,” expressing hope that the meeting would usher in a “warm spring” across the Taiwan Strait and even allow Taiwan to “contribute to peace for humanity.”
The language is soothing. It is also dangerously incomplete.
In this context, peace is not a symmetric negotiation between equals. China holds the military, economic and political hammer. It is Beijing that routinely sends warplanes across the Taiwan Strait median line, conducts large-scale exercises around Taiwan and dictates the terms under which any dialogue might occur.
To ask for peace from the party that wields the hammer is to imply one of two things: Either that one is prepared to resist at all costs, or that one is prepared to yield. There is no stable middle ground unless the side holding the hammer decides not to use it — and nothing in Beijing’s military modernization, doctrine or repeated insistence on “reunification” suggests it has changed its mind about taking Taiwan.
Cheng’s framework does not acknowledge this asymmetry. Instead, it assumes that peace can be advanced simply by reaffirming “oppose Taiwan independence, uphold the 1992 consensus.” For her party, this position is consistent with its platform and past practice under former KMT chairman Lien Chan (連戰) and former president Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九). For Taiwan as a whole, it substantially misrepresents the democratic reality.
Taiwan is not defined by any single political premise. Its identity and future are shaped by a vibrant democratic process. To present one party’s formula as the basis for cross-strait dialogue is not to represent Taiwan — it is to narrow it.
Beijing does not treat such engagements as mere partisan differences. It elevates them and presents them internationally as reflective of broader Taiwanese sentiment. The line between dialogue and endorsement becomes conveniently blurred.
If the goal is genuinely to reduce tensions, then clarity, not ambiguity, is required. Any meaningful conversation should rest on a simple, principled foundation: Taiwan’s future must be decided by Taiwanese. This is the core of Taiwan’s democratic legitimacy and the minimum condition for dialogue.
If this principle cannot be openly spoken in Beijing, then one must ask what exactly is being advanced in its absence. If it cannot be said, then the meeting is not about peace, it is about surrender.
Supporters of the visit say that engagement keeps channels open and lowers tensions. That might be true in a narrow sense. Yet engagement without clear boundaries allows one side to define the terms while the other participates within them.
Taiwan’s strength has never come from avoiding difficult conversations. It has come from facing them with clarity.
When Cheng meets Xi, she carries more than a KMT party platform. She carries the weight of Taiwan’s democratic legitimacy. That responsibility cannot be delegated, diluted or selectively applied.
Dialogue is valuable — but only when it reflects reality.
Reality leads to a question that cannot be avoided: If Xi were to say: “Peace, of course — but under unification,” what would Cheng reply?
John Cheng is a retired businessman from Hong Kong now living in Taiwan.
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something