From the Iran war and nuclear weapons to tariffs and artificial intelligence, the agenda for this week’s Beijing summit between US President Donald Trump and Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) is packed. Xi would almost certainly bring up Taiwan, if only to demonstrate his inflexibility on the matter.
However, no one needs to meet with Xi face-to-face to understand his stance. A visit to the National Museum of China in Beijing — in particular, the “Road to Rejuvenation” exhibition, which chronicles the rise and rule of the Chinese Communist Party — might be even more revealing.
Xi took the members of the Chinese Politburo Standing Committee to the exhibition in 2012, just weeks after taking power, using it as the backdrop for his declaration that the biggest “Chinese dream” is the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.” He expanded the exhibition in 2018 with a glitzy annex devoted to his own achievements: an entire floor of military dioramas, scale models of warships and missile launchers, and displays of China’s technological mastery, from deep-sea submersibles to semiconductor fabrication.
The annex provides a glimpse into how China’s most powerful leader since Mao Zedong (毛澤東) sees his place in history. However, to understand its message, one must first consider what is not there. Although Xi considers “reunification” with Taiwan to be a keystone of his vision for national rejuvenation — putting it at the “core of China’s core interests,” as a Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs spokesperson said — the nation is not mentioned in the exhibition.
What Xi’s annex does include is a series of photographs depicting how another illustrious Chinese leader, Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平), compelled the British to hand over Hong Kong in 1997. There was no invasion; no shots were fired. Instead, Deng ensured British capitulation by accumulating overwhelming leverage and maintaining a firm stance.
Xi intends to apply a similar strategy to Taiwan. The most likely crisis scenario is not a bolt-from-the-blue invasion, but a slow-motion coercion campaign to strangle Taiwan.
For example, China could declare a “customs enforcement zone” around the nation, requiring commercial vessels to register at Chinese ports before entering Taiwanese harbors. It could expand its military exercises around Taiwan, thereby normalizing the presence of warships in the area and creating a rolling quasi-blockade.
China could also pressure multinationals to reclassify Taiwan as a Chinese market, severing its economic identity one contract at a time.
None of these steps would constitute the kind of dramatic act that would force the US to respond militarily. However, together they would gradually erode Taiwan’s autonomy, choke its economy and open the way for a “peaceful” Chinese takeover.
Economic and military coercion is only half the strategy; the other half is psychological. China would flood Taiwan with propaganda and disinformation to convince Taiwanese that US support is a mirage, and resistance against China is futile. Creating a sense of despair and inevitability would make a Chinese takeover far easier.
As one senior Taiwanese national security official said: “China’s war on minds may be even more important than the war on our bodies.”
The Trump administration could inadvertently bolster this campaign. Every careless statement positioning Taiwan as a bargaining chip or casting doubt on the US’ willingness to fulfill its security commitments would be highlighted. This is why Xi wanted to meet with Trump in the first place. Regardless of what is said in private, China would try to spin the meeting as evidence that the US is prepared to abandon Taiwan. If Trump is not careful, that would be the story.
Xi has instructed the Chinese People’s Liberation Army to be ready for a fight. He has donned fatigues and inspected scale models of the Presidential Office Building on the plains of Inner Mongolia, where troops rehearse decapitation strikes. A successful move against Taiwan would cement Xi’s status as one of China’s greatest leaders, but a failed invasion would destroy the legacy he has already built and chronicled in that National Museum annex.
Xi understands this well. As ambitious as he is, his self-imposed deadline for “rejuvenation” is 2049, at which point he would be 96. This is not the timeline of a man who would pursue a rash invasion. Xi evidently believes that if China keeps getting stronger and thinking strategically, the problem would eventually solve itself. As the US dithers and the Taiwanese lose hope, China would be able to coerce Taiwan into submission.
Denying Xi this theory of victory would require the US to work with its allies to establish a joint playbook for “gray zone” scenarios — quarantines, economic coercion and military intimidation that fall short of armed attack. However, such an effort depends on allied unity. The US must therefore bolster its coalition with Australia, Japan and other partners.
At the same time, Washington must avoid rhetoric that convinces Xi that his window is closing, while reassuring Taipei that its commitment remains credible, including by pursuing agreements with Taiwan on energy, technology and trade. If Taiwan’s leaders and citizens become convinced that they are on their own, China’s psychological strategy would have succeeded, and its hand would be much stronger.
At this week’s summit, Trump would be facing a patient, perceptive and ambitious leader. The best way to safeguard Taiwan’s autonomy is to ensure Xi never receives the signal that patience is no longer required — and that Taiwan never doubts who its friends are.
Eyck Freymann is a fellow at the Hoover Institution at Stanford University and the author of Defending Taiwan: A Strategy to Prevent War with China.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
When Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) sits down with US President Donald Trump in Beijing on Thursday next week, Xi is unlikely to demand a dramatic public betrayal of Taiwan. He does not need to. Beijing’s preferred victory is smaller, quieter and in some ways far more dangerous: a subtle shift in American wording that appears technical, but carries major strategic meaning. The ask is simple: replace the longstanding US formulation that Washington “does not support Taiwan independence” with a harder one — that Washington “opposes” Taiwan independence. One word changes; a deterrence structure built over decades begins to shift.
Taipei is facing a severe rat infestation, and the city government is reportedly considering large-scale use of rodenticides as its primary control measure. However, this move could trigger an ecological disaster, including mass deaths of birds of prey. In the past, black kites, relatives of eagles, took more than three decades to return to the skies above the Taipei Basin. Taiwan’s black kite population was nearly wiped out by the combined effects of habitat destruction, pesticides and rodenticides. By 1992, fewer than 200 black kites remained on the island. Fortunately, thanks to more than 30 years of collective effort to preserve their remaining
After Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) met Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) in Beijing, most headlines referred to her as the leader of the opposition in Taiwan. Is she really, though? Being the chairwoman of the KMT does not automatically translate into being the leader of the opposition in the sense that most foreign readers would understand it. “Leader of the opposition” is a very British term. It applies to the Westminster system of parliamentary democracy, and to some extent, to other democracies. If you look at the UK right now, Conservative Party head Kemi Badenoch is
A Pale View of Hills, a movie released last year, follows the story of a Japanese woman from Nagasaki who moved to Britain in the 1950s with her British husband and daughter from a previous marriage. The daughter was born at a time when memories of the US atomic bombing of Nagasaki during World War II and anxiety over the effects of nuclear radiation still haunted the community. It is a reflection on the legacy of the local and national trauma of the bombing that ended the period of Japanese militarism. A central theme of the movie is the need, at
RSS