In this show, Nymphia displayed the same queer high as Taiwan’s sci-fi writers have done since the 1990s. Although this time Taiwan’s queer imagination gained global intelligibility outside literature and on TV, both Nymphia and Taiwanese queer science fiction writers before her shared a common goal: dreaming of a different future.

Dreaming of a different future

In 1995, writing in the technical journal Wanglu Tongxun 網路通訊, the Taiwanese gothic sci-fi writer Hong Ling 洪凌 wondered what it could mean to exist in cyberspace, a concept at the core of contemporary literary science fiction:

I just returned from a place where that which can be comprehended is not set by three-dimensional physics. Saying ‘returned’ violates the normal course of current physics, because I have not moved. Actually, I have been sitting still in my little attic, with my keyboard on a cushion over my knees and my gaze never moving away from an 87 cm monitor… Somehow, the me of a few minutes ago is not the me who is now frenziedly striking the keys on their keyboard; they are indeed in two different places.

Amid a fear of the pervasive spread of the internet in the 1990s and its consequences for freedom and civilisation, the title of Hong Ling’s contribution ‘A Fatal and Magnificent Surreal Realm’ 致命華美的超現實境域 announced a hopeful perspective for the future. It is one that has permeated queer science fiction in Taiwan: the perspective of existing differently.

Sci-fi is not a popular genre in Taiwan. Anyone who visits a bookstore in the island, either now or in the 1990s when sci-fi first appeared, would realise that these texts lack a shelf of their own. The elements used by Taiwanese sci-fi writers in the 1990s are of the most varied, making it difficult to create a rigid corpus of Taiwanese sci-fi without stepping into the genres of fantasy or general literature.

Theorists in the field of science fiction have long argued that one of the central elements of sci-fi as a genre is the concept of cyberspace. It is accepted that cyberspace represents an opportunity to fulfil the fantasy of leaving the ‘prison of the meat’ in the future.^[3] However, Taiwanese queer sci-fi writers like Hong Ling dealt with the uncertainty of the future in a holistic way. They saw technology not as a way out of the problems of the present world but as central to their hopes for survival in a non-normative way. In their works, cyberspace and technology do not mean a departure from material embodied concerns, neither do they entail an adoption of a more abstract, transcendent self. In these texts, technology mediates between our fragile existences and the threats posed to human survival in order to invent queer futures.

Such is the centrality of the body in 1990s Taiwanese sci-fi that it is a genre full of desire, thirst and lust as well as blood, thinking of Hong Ling’s collection of lesbian vampire stories, Heretic Vampire Biographies 異端吸血鬼列傳, or their story ‘Fever’ 發燒, where lesbian vampires and werewolves dwell in post-apocalyptic cities following nuclear or environmental catastrophes.^[4]

Technology has allowed Taiwanese queer sci-fi writers to imagine self-expression free from sexual prejudice by embracing future uncertainty. As Hong Ling wrote: ‘Let’s meet each other online! Even if that means to encounter with fatally alienated identities and get entangled in relationships far different from the ones we already know.’^[5] As anarchic as this invitation to the future might sound, it locates technology as the means to actualise the unknown and speaks of a need to make a change in a spoiled present. Technology was not only an abstract source of inspiration for queers’ stories; it was also the means to actualise an uncertain yet desired future, and queer sci-fi writers were high on it.

In 1995, when Microsoft Word and the internet were still novelties, Chi Ta-wei 紀大偉 published what has been labelled the first modern Sinophone queer sci-fi novel and seemingly the first featuring a trans protagonist: The Membranes 膜, translated into English in 2021 by Ari Heinrich. It portrays a world where humanity has fled the surface of the Earth and found refuge at the bottom of the ocean. This novel, which has already been translated into several European languages and adapted into theatre, was written in just one month, only two years after its author learned to use Microsoft Word – a clear example of how technology was not only a fictional element but also a real tool with which to invent the future.

In a 2021 interview, Chi spoke of the high in the writing process of The Membranes as an unequivocally embodied experience mediated by technology: ‘I did not feel the adrenaline rush when writing on paper, but with a computer I felt that my writing experience was suddenly enhanced and made euphoric. I enjoyed the high a lot back then.’^[6] This is reminiscent of the passage by Hong Ling, revealing an important characteristic of Taiwanese queer sci-fi writers: their future as queer people had been foreclosed by an authoritarian present, but with the lifting of martial law in 1987 and a keyboard at hand, the horizon of possibilities for politics, culture and self-expression suddenly broadened, together with the arrival of the internet and mass electronic communications. This generation of queer writers inevitably started imagining their survival as queers in intimate relation with technology.

Other Taiwanese writers of sci-fi feel their survival threatened for different reasons not related to their sexuality, including climate collapse. Wu Ming-yi’s 吳明益 The Man with the Compound Eyes 複眼人 (2011) shows how all lives face the same fatal risk of ecological catastrophe. In the novel, Atile’i, the second son of a family on the imaginary island of Wayo Wayo, is offered as a sacrifice to the Sea God, as tradition requires. Unexpectedly, he survives. Caught in a trash vortex, Atile’i arrives on the coast of Taiwan, where he meets Alice Shih. Alice, who has just lost her husband and son in an accident in the mountains, and Atile’i, who has left behind his civilisation and everything he knew, both feel their world is over and are in need of imagining a future different from the one they could have foreseen. This situation of finding each other as the world collapses from climate change bonds them as they are forced to reimagine their lives afresh.

Wu Ming-yi first published a short story with the same title in 2002 in the journal Chung-wai Literary. In the story, a researcher employed by a tour company must film a nature reserve and replicate it virtually. While filming, he meets a man with compound eyes who advises him to set up cameras to record how purple crow butterflies (which also have compound eyes) see the world, telling him: ‘If the gaze with which animals see the world is not understood, everything will come to an end.’^[7]

In this seminal work, two key elements of 1990s Taiwanese queer science fiction are evident: a need to imagine the future afresh after undergoing a life-threatening situation (ecological disaster in this case), and technology (filming) as the mediator between humans and their possibility of a different future.

Although Wu did not write from a queer perspective or for a queer audience, one can trace his writing back to previous experiments of 1990s queer sci-fi, propelled by a similar feeling of urgency for a different future and with technology as the facilitator of that future.

The novel that developed from Wu’s short story has been translated into more than ten languages, and the acquisition of the rights for an English translation at the 2011 Frankfurt Bookfair by American publisher Vintage Pantheon was spurred precisely by the urgency and global intelligibility of its ecological message.^[8]

While the sense of emergency in The Man with the Compound Eyes is visible, the key role of technology as mediator, although present at the seminal work that served as its blueprint, is lost in the time lapse of the decade that separates the publication of the two texts.

The realistic turn of contemporary Sinophone sci-fi

After the 1990s, the role of technology seemed to have gradually lost its ability to ‘wow’ Taiwanese sci-fi writers, and its role in Sinophone sci-fi might be changing altogether.

In the popular saga The Three Body Problem 三體 (2008) by mainland Chinese writer Liu Cixin 刘慈欣, a world on the edge of alien invasion strives to save itself. The Redemptionists put all their efforts into finding a solution, via technology, to their seemingly doomed future while the Adventists welcome the invaders’ goal of taking over the Earth. Unlike Taiwan’s queer sci-fi, in this trilogy, technology does not serve as a mediator to overcome humankind’s mistakes, nor to make human life on Earth more inclusive, or at least give it an option for survival after an apocalyptic disaster. In The Three Body Problem, technology is represented in what can be read as realistic terms: as a locus where power is contested in line with current geopolitics.

Mimicking real life and no longer speculating about the future, some contemporary science fiction portrays technology as a frontier to be controlled to attain power. The United States blocking China’s access to some technological improvements can be read as analogous to the real-life Sophons; those subatomic particles in The Three Body Problem saga sent by the enemy to foreclose technological advances on the Earth. Even the poisoning and murder in real life of Lin Qi, one of the promoters of the TV adaptation of The Three Body Problem, defies the limits of fiction, taking a Hollywood murder plot into reality.^[9]

China’s global ambitions and the logistics and politics surrounding the international flow of semiconductors put unique pressures on Taiwan. This might affect Taiwan’s future artistic production and push it to take a more realistic turn following the example of mainland Chinese writers like the aforementioned Liu Cixin or Chen Qiufan 陈秋帆.

Nymphia Winds’s performance at the Presidential Office serves as an illustrative example of the distinctive Taiwanese queer imagination that emerged in the 1990s: one that uses technology as a mediator, reaches global audiences, and does not resort to realism to invent the future. Nymphia’s performance of Huang Fei’s 黃妃 ‘zhui, zhui, zhui’ 追追追 [‘Chase, chase, chase’], a classic Taiwanese diva song, at the otherwise formal setting of the Presidential Office serves to evoke the uniqueness of Taiwanese queer spirit that is so pervasive in 1990s queer sci-fi. It is a spirit that strives to find a way, from a seemingly hopeless atmosphere, to imagine a queer glittering future that, like Nymphia’s dress, blooms like it has gone bananas

Notes

[1] ‘Best of Nymphia Wind’, YouTube, retrieved 24 September 2024, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EE2gsHaIDpI

[2] Hong Ling, ‘Zhiming Huamei de Chaoxianshi Jingyu’, Wanglu Tongxun, 1995, p. 114.

[3] Sherryl Vint, Bodies of Tomorrow: Technology, Subjectivity, Science Fiction, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007, pp. 102–3.

[4] Paola Zamperini (trad.), ‘Fever’, in Patricia Sieber (ed.), Red is Not the Only Color, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2001, p. 149.

[5] Hong Ling, ‘Zhiming Huamei de Chaoxianshi Jingyu’, p. 117.

[6] Chris Littlewood, ‘Never prosthetic: An interview with Chi Ta-Wei’, Paris Review, 13 October 2021.

[7] Wu Ming-yi, ‘The man with the compound eyes’, Chung Wai Literary Quarterly vol. 31, no. 4 (2002), p. 205.

[8] Pei-yin Lin, ‘Positioning “Taiwanese literature” to the world’, in Bi-yu Chang and Pei-yin Lin (eds), Positioning Taiwan in a Global Context: Being and Becoming, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2019, p. 22.

[9] David Pierson, ‘The bizarre Chinese murder plot behind Netflix’s “3 Body Problem”’, 1 April 2024, online at https://www.nytimes.com

The post Hopefully Going Bananas: Taiwan’s Sinophone (Queer) Science Fiction appeared first on The China Story.

On 4 January 1947, the ROC Navy minesweeper ROCS Yung-hsing 永興 and the Landing Ship Tank ROCS Chung Jian 中建 sailed into the South China Sea. They landed ROC troops in the French claimed Paracel Islands and continued on their way.[1] A month later, in February 1947, the Nanjing government published a map based on the voyage, and earlier maps and claims from the Qing dynasty and ROC period. The map had a U-line with eleven dashes that delineated the claim over the South China Sea.[2] The original maps accompanied the retreating ROC forces to Taiwan in 1949 and are now stored in the National Archives in Taipei.[3] The claimed territory and seas in the South China Sea was subsequently incorporated into the ROC Constitution as part of Chinese national territory.

To this day, Taiwan remains firm in its claims to the South China Sea. They have been historically justified on the basis that, as there was no United Nations Convention of the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) in existence in 1947, it was legitimate for the ROC to claim the South China Sea territories and waters based on the historical connections of these with China. According to the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR), a Taiwanese think tank, there was no legal impediment to the claim in 1947 and, for a long period, there were no challenges to the ROC’s claims from other countries.[4] They were largely ignored – except by the People’s Republic of China (PRC), which concurred with them.

The ROC maps and claim to sovereignty constitute the basis of the PRC’s assertion of sovereignty over the South China Sea and their ‘Nine-Dash Line’ – the PRC deleted two of the ROC’s lines in the 1960s that were proximate to what was then North Vietnam. Like Taipei, Beijing’s claims are based on Chinese historic claims and possession of the islands. It was only in the 1970s that other countries started challenging these claims.

Other Claimants to the South China Sea

In 2013, The Philippines initiated an arbitration case against the PRC under Annex VII of the United Nations Convention of the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) concerning China’s claims in the South China Sea. The PRC refused to participate in the arbitration and Taiwan was excluded as it was not a member of UNCLOS. In the face of growing claims and actions by other claimant countries including Vietnam, Malaysia and the Philippines in the 2010s, the Ma Ying-jeou administration agreed to maintain a low profile and neither assert its claims openly nor walk away from them.[5] Taipei was aware that its claims displeased neighbouring countries and were not well received by the United States as they justified Beijing’s actions and claims. The Ma administration was at the time asserting its sovereignty over the Japanese administered Senkaku or Diaoyutai 釣魚臺 Islands, which were also claimed by Beijing (where they’re known as the Diaoyu 钓鱼 Islands). In June 2020, President Tsai Ing-wen reiterated Taiwan’s claims to sovereignty of the Diaoyutai/Senkaku Islands.

On 12 July 2016, the Permanent Court of Arbitration Tribunal ruled that the PRC’s historic claims over maritime areas inside the Nine-dash line had no lawful effect and there was no legal basis for China to claim historic rights to resources within the sea areas falling within the line. In addition, it ruled that UNCLOS did not provide for a group of islands such as the Spratly Islands (known in Chinese as the Nansha Archipelago 南沙群岛) to generate maritime zones collectively as a unit.

Although not a party to the case, the ruling had an effect on Taiwan’s claims and the islands it occupied such as Itu Aba/Taiping 太平 Island, the largest of the Spratly Islands, which is also claimed by the PRC, Vietnam and the Philippines. The ruling found it to be a rock, not an island. In response, the Tsai Administration asserted that Taiwan ‘holds sovereignty over the South China Sea islands and their surrounding waters’. It objected that it had not been given the opportunity to provide information to the tribunal. It insisted that Itu Aba/Taiping Island, which possesses freshwater wells, fertile soil, and on which grow bananas, coconuts and other crops and where livestock is raised to support the 150 to 200 members of the Taiwan Coast Guard who are stationed there, clearly satisfied the definition of an island under UNCLOS.

Following the 2016 Philippines South China Sea Arbitration, the United States put extra pressure on Taiwan to distinguish its claims to from those of China.[6] This was a clear recognition that the PRC’s claims were in fact established on the same basis as the 1946-1947 ROC claims. In recent times, the Philippines has also actively challenged Chinese claims around Scarborough Shoal and the submerged Second Thomas Shoal; Manila grounded a dilapidated Philippines vessel from World War Two at the latter, where it is guarded by Philippines marines.[7]

In 2015, Beijing invited Taipei to participate in joint activities in the South China Sea. The Ma administration declined the offer, not wishing to become too closely involved with the PRC in South China Sea. Nonetheless, there was an exhibition held in Taipei at the ROC Military College from 2015-2016 outlining the ROC’s claims to whole of the South China Sea.[8]

In 2016 following the election of Tsai Ing-wen as president, the Democratic Progress Party (DPP) transition to government team consulted the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA), the Ministry of National Defence (MND), and government and academic legal experts concerning Taiwan’s claims to the South China Sea. As a result of the team’s investigation the Tsai Administration decided not to alter Taiwan’s claims and the ROC Eleven-Dash Line remains in place today, though as a senior DPP official confirmed in July 2023, it limits its low-key claims to islands and features and their surrounding sovereign territorial waters, not the whole ‘cow’s tongue’ inside the Eleven-Dash Line. The Taiwan government has moved away from emphasising the U-shaped line and its historical waters. Taiwan does not claim the whole sea as its territory as China does. Taiwan also welcomes freedom of navigation and aviation in the South China Sea and is willing to cooperate with other claimants in search and rescue missions as well as environmental protection.[9]

The PRC and Ownership of the South China Sea

The PRC has been firm in defending its claims to the whole of the South China Sea. It has built a series of military bases on reefs and shoals throughout the region and has reclaimed over 32,000 acres of land there.[10] Beijing views control of the South China Sea as essential to its defence, national security and to its trade routes.[11] The South China Sea could easily become a ‘choke point’ for China in the event of a conflict with the United States – approximately 80 percent of China’s exports travel through these waters. In addition, a significant portion of China’s surface and submarine fleets are based on the island of Hainan, which abuts the South China Sea.[12]

Beijing constantly warns off other countries’ vessels and aircraft that infringe on their claimed territory. There remains a possibility of conflict. A scholar from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR), a Taiwan defence think tank, said that in his view a clash between China and the United States or another country is more likely in the South China Sea than in the Taiwan Strait. In the Strait both the Peoples Liberation Army (PLA) and the ROC military have protocols to avoid a military clash. The PLA is under strict orders not use force during its military actions around Taiwan and the Taiwan Strait. On the other hand, the interactions in the South China Sea are less structured and potentially more volatile. The Chinese forces regard themselves as defending their sovereign territory against  ‘provocative’ actions by foreign vessels or planes. The potential for something to go wrong and lead to a clash is therefore higher there than in the Strait.[13]

Washington does not recognise the PRC or ROC’s claims, or those of other claimant states such as Vietnam and the Philippines. The United States has taken the position that its ships can sail wherever they are legally entitled to sail and the US Navy frequently conducts Freedom of Navigation Operations in the South China Sea to challenge these claims.[14] The United States has largely remained mute on Taiwan’s extensive claims in the South China Sea, likewise with the claims of the other claimant states in the South China Sea such as Vietnam and the Philippines. The United States sees China as the problem and its adversary in the South China Sea. This suggests that US actions in the South China Sea are primarily part of its competition and confrontation with China as well as asserting the right of the US Navy to sail anywhere at any time. Australia does not recognise the Chinese claims and has criticised Chinese claims and actions. Australia’s actions in the South China Sea, while based on UNCLOS principles (Australia is a signatory to UNCLOS), in effect support the United States’ policy of confrontation and containment.

Who Owns the South China Sea?

According to senior Taiwan government officials, Taiwan has not relinquished its South China Sea claims — it controls Itu Abu/Taiping Island and the Pratas/Tungsha 東沙 Islands — partly because to do so would greatly anger Beijing. It would undercut their claims, which are based on the ROC’s historical claim, and potentially lead to action against Taiwan. Taiwan also adheres to the Nine-Dash Line claim because to give it up would be seen by China as a move away from a One China position. One Beijing official told a senior Taiwanese official that Taiwan abandoning its South China Sea claims would be worse than Taiwan declaring independence.[15] The PRC’s 2005 Anti-Seccession Law explicitly states that any move to change the ROC constitution or relinquish Chinese territory would met with force by the PRC to maintain ‘national unity’.

A scholar from INDSR said the PLA has no interest in seizing the ROC-held Itu Abu/Taiping Island in the Spratlys although it could easily do so. In China’s eyes, the ROC resence on Itu Aba/Taiping Island legitimises their assertion of the legitimacy of the Nine-Dash Line. Besides, if the PLA were to attack and seize Jinmen, Mazu and Itu Aba/Taiping Island, which it probably could do quite easily, this would not facilitate a military takeover of the main island of Taiwan but could trigger a declaration of independence by Taiwan and war. [16]

For Taiwan to relinquish its South China Sea claims would require amending the ROC constitution. This would challenge Taiwan’s political and constitutional identity as the ROC. Taiwanese domestic politics mean that any Taiwan government that gave up territory would be severely criticised by the Taiwanese public and media for setting a bad precedent regarding the rest of the territory under the administration of the ROC.[17]

Will Taiwan Stand By Its South China Sea Claims Long Term?

One of the paradoxes of the South China Sea disputes is that Taiwan maintains the same claims as the PRC. While it is less aggressive and limits the extent of its claim, like Beijing, Taipei still claims the whole of the South China Sea, the Spratlys and Paracels, and deploys its military to occupy the largest land mass in the Spratlys. Beijing’s claims are based on those of the ROC: both assert historical Chinese possession of the islands. Taiwan is geographically at the centre of the disputed area but due to its limited diplomatic and international political status it is largely ignored. The United States would probably like to see Taipei give up its claims, which would undermine those of Beijing, but will not push the latter at this time. There is little evidence that Taiwan itself would walk away from its claims either. National pride, the optics of domestic politics and potential problems with Beijing make it near impossible for Taipei to cede any of its claimed territory, and this is unlikely to change should another party occupy the Presidential Palace after the presidential elections of January 2024.

Notes

[1] Bill Hayton, The South China Sea: The Struggle for Power in Asia, (New Heavin: Yale University Press, 2014), pp62-63.

[2] Ibid, pp.58-60.

[3] The author was invited to inspect a copy of the original  maps in Taipei in 2013.

[4] Meeting with Dr Lee Chechuan from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR) on 5 July 2023.

[5] Meeting with Dr Lee Chechuan from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR) on 5 July 2023.

[6] Meeting with Dr Lee Chechuan from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR) on 5 July 2023.

[7] Brendan Taylor, The Four Flash Points How Asia Goes to War, (Melbourne: La Trobe University Press, 2018), pp.97-98; pp.104 -108; p.122.

[8] Meeting with Dr Lee Chechuan from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR) on 5 July 2023.

[9] Meeting with Senior Taiwanese Official on 9 July 2023.

[10] Taylor, The Four Flash Points How Asia Goes to War, p.107.

[11] Geoff Raby, China’s Grand Strategy and Australia’s Future in the New Global Order, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2020), pp.8-10.

[12] Taylor, The Four Flash Points How Asia Goes to War, pp.112-114.

[13] Meeting with Dr Lee Jyun Yi from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR) on 14 July 2023.

[14] Taylor, The Four Flash Points How Asia Goes to War, pp.114-116; pp.125-126.

[15] Meeting with Senior Taiwanese Official on 9 July 2023.

[16] Meeting with Dr Lee Jyun Yi from the Institute for National Defense and Security Research (INDSR) on 14 July 2023.

[17] Meeting with Senior Taiwanese Official on 9 July 2023.

The post Taiwan’s South China Sea appeared first on The China Story.

In the Solomon Islands last week, anti-government protests broke out, with protestors burning Chinatown in the capital Honiara. The Solomon Islands Government requested help from Australia, which sent police and military personnel.

Prime Minister Sogavare blamed unspecified “foreign powers” for encouraging this civil unrest. It is unclear which foreign powers he refers to, but since he has welcomed help from Australia, then presumably, Australia is not one of them.

According to some media outlets, the primary reason for the civil unrest is the Solomon Islands government’s decision to recognise Beijing instead of Taipei as the government of China.

However, it’s extraordinary that the locals would feel so strongly about this issue. Also, why would the government request help from Australia if it has already aligned itself with China?

Characterising the Solomon Islands Government and its political leaders as “pro-China” or “anti-China” may make sense to those focusing solely on geopolitics and the US-China competition. But locals and Pacific affairs experts paint a more complex picture of the unrest. Dr Transform Aqorau wrote:

[The] protest is intertwined with the complexity of the China-Taiwan, and national-provincial government political dynamics…Solomon Islands has been drifting to self-destruction. It is one of the most aid dependent countries in the world. Significant donor support is given to its health and education sector. Yet, its ministers and senior government officials treat its people poorly, and allow them to be exploited by loggers and miners.

Senior Fellow at the Australian National University Dr Sinclair Dinnen said:

The weakness of national identity and allegiances underlies many of the country’s challenges. There has also been a lot of behind-the-scenes politicking going on to dislodge the current government, which is symptomatic of the inherently unstable kinds of coalition government that Solomon Islands has had since independence and the patrimonial politics that animates them.

In reporting events in foreign countries, media often emphasise geopolitics and foreign policy at the expense of domestic politics and social factors. But to understand what’s happening around the world, a geopolitical lens is not enough. Hearing from regional and country experts is crucial.

2. Domino theory

Surprise! The domino theory is making a comeback!!

Newsweek published an article titled Taiwan Could Be First Domino in Chinese Land Grab Across Asia quoting a US senator. Likewise, the Australian Defence Minister Dutton, in a speech last week, said, “If Taiwan is taken, surely the Senkakus are next.”

This kind of thinking is a consequence of seeing everything through the lens of US-China competition. In some popular Western narratives, non-Western countries are merely pawns in the game of power — that is, they have no agency; they’re just dominos falling on top of each other.

We often interpret events and initiatives through this lens. One recent example is the Belt and Road Initiative.

Domino theory was used during the Cold War to justify foreign interventions, including by the US and its allies in Vietnam. For Australia, it had a special appeal. The force of Communism appeared to be spreading from north to south. On a standard world map displayed on a wall, it would seem that sheer force of gravity would compel it to spread further, with Australia being the next target.

After the Cold War, domino theory persisted in some foreign policy circles, including among neoconservatives. In a twist, they used it to justify the invasion of Iraq (spreading democracy in the Middle East).

The recent comeback of the domino theory highlights its lasting appeal. In 1966, the party in Australia that supported the domino theory and the Vietnam War won the election against the party that opposed the war. In announcing Australia’s deployment of troops to Vietnam, the then Prime Minister Menzies said:

The takeover of South Vietnam would be a direct military threat to Australia and all the countries of South and South East Asia. It must be seen as part of a thrust by Communist China between the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

3. Lithuania

China officially downgraded its diplomatic relations with Lithuania to the “chargé d’affaires” level on November 21. The downgrade came after the establishment of Taiwan’s de facto embassy – The Taiwanese Representative Office in Lithuania 駐立陶宛台灣代表處 – in Vilnius three days earlier. This episode highlights yet again the importance of recognition and perceptions of recognition to both Beijing and Taipei.

The naming of the representative office is at the heart of the current controversy. For most countries without formal diplomatic ties with Taiwan, “Taipei 台北” is used rather than “Taiwan 台灣,” e.g., Taipei Representative Office in the Federal Republic of Germany 駐德國台北代表處.

The Taiwanese government sees the latest development as a diplomatic breakthrough. The only European jurisdiction that has formal relations with Taiwan is the Holy See. Lithuania is the first European country to allow “Taiwan” in naming Taiwan’s de facto embassy.

Likewise, Beijing takes the terminology of recognition very seriously, especially when it comes to Taiwan. In August, it recalled its ambassador to Lithuania as a warning. That act was not enough to dissuade Vilnius.

In downgrading relations with Lithuania, China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs stated:

allow[ing] the Taiwan authorities to set up a “Taiwanese Representative Office in Lithuania”..creates the false impression of “one China, one Taiwan” in the world…the “Representative Office” bearing the name of Taiwan, thus creating an egregious precedent in the world.

We will likely see further economic and diplomatic actions by Beijing against Lithuania. These actions would serve two purposes. First, to change Vilnius’ calculus by imposing costs. Second, as a warning against others thinking about following Lithuania’s “egregious precedent.”

The post Neican: Solomon Islands, domino theory, Lithuania appeared first on The China Story.

Two recently published papers shed some insights on Chinese-language media in Australia: Waning Sun’s journal article “Chinese-language digital news media in Australia” published in June in Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies and Fan Yang’s analysis “Translating tension” published last week by the Lowy Institute.

Sun focused her research on Sydney Today, while Yang looked at Daily Chinese Herald, Australian Chinese Daily and Media Today (parent company of Sydney Today) on two case studies: trade disputes, and Zhao Lijian’s “Afghan child” tweet.

Chinese-language media has come under the spotlight in recent years predominantly as a “national security concern”, particularly a “foreign interference concern”. The worry is that the Chinese Communist Party could use Chinese-language media to promote their foreign policy agenda. However, like on all issues, we must take a broader lens than just “national security” to really understand the scope and scale of the problem.

First, according to Sun’s research, “hard news” — that is, politics, economics, trade and foreign policy — represents a very small percentage of news covered by Sydney Today, in contrast to what most people may think what “news” should look like.

Instead, a typical popular news story is about cultural differences and often contains narratives such as “Chinese people behaving badly”, with quotes from English-language media serving as evidence of contempt from “mainstream society” of “Chinese people”. This then generates outrage and a sense of superiority from readers who are more “established” Chinese Australians, often siding with “mainstream society” and eager to delineate themselves from “new arrivals” or “Chinese people in China”.

Here we see it’s not a simple story of “us” vs “them” or China vs Australia. But it often devolves to “us” (established Chinese Australian migrants) trying to navigate between “mainstream society” and “Chinese people in China or new arrivals”.

Second, most of the stories are translations and compilations of stories from other sources rather than original stories. Sun found that compilations comprise 57 per cent of Sydney Today news stories whereas original items only comprise 5 per cent. And of the compilation items about Australia, 91 per cent came from English-language Australian media and government organisations. Yang found similar results, with only 2.2 per cent of the sample being original content.

This means the media organisations do not support journalists and reporters, but rely on curators 小编 who focus on selecting the topic and making the content appeal to the target audience — first-generation Chinese migrants. So the role played by these media organisations is very different. The line between “news” and “editorials” is also more blurred.

Readers of Neican probably are more interested in implications for politics and foreign policy. According to Yang:

Chinese-language media outlets in Australia are more likely to implicitly support Australian government policy than Chinese government policy when reporting on Australia–China tensions, despite published content often being moderated to remove direct criticism of China and the Chinese government.

And in a survey of 600 first-generation migrants from China, Sun found that “there is a high level of ambivalence about both Australia and China”.

So it appears that the scope and scale of CCP interference in Chinese-language media are rather limited. First, most news stories are not concerned about ‘hard news’ such as bilateral relationship, but rather cover topics that are pertinent to the first generation Chinese Australian community, such as crime. Of course, bilateral relationship is also a more sensitive topic, so their lack of coverage could be due both to market force and censorship pressure.

And for news articles on bilateral relationship, Chinese-language media in Australia overall did not “pick a side”. Yang found that “there is no single or consistent perspective being presented by these media outlets”. Sun also found that first-generation migrants from China do not unquestioningly accept the Chinese government narrative. This contrasts with the prevailing narrative that CCP has “infiltrated” Chinese-language media in Australia.

Censorship in media

Both Sun and Yang’s research points out that self-censorship is one of the pressures facing Chinese-language media in Australia, especially for media that publishes content on WeChat. These media organisations regularly soften or remove criticism of China and the Chinese government.

Although self-censorship pressures have not led to a uniform pro-Beijing editorial stance, national security analysts are right in pointing out that such self-censorship still poses a problem for freedom of speech in Australia.

Yet when faced with evidence of even more blatant incidents of censorship by a foreign government last week, Australia’s national security community is eerily silent about the foreign interference risks.

In Dateline Jerusalem: Journalism’s Toughest Assignment, John Lyons write:

This book is the story of why many editors and journalists in Australia are in fear of upsetting these people and therefore, in my view, self-censoring. It’s the story of how the Israeli-Palestinian issue is the single issue which the media will not cover with the rigour with which it covers every other issue. And, most importantly, it’s the story of how the Australian public is being short-changed — denied reliable, factual information about one of the most important conflicts of our time.

According to Jennine Khalik, a Palestinian Australian journalist, she was the subject of meetings between Israeli diplomats and editors at The Australian, and subsequently, she was moved to the Arts section so that she would not report on anything Palestine.

Now Chinese-language media affects around 4 per cent of Australians who speak a Chinese language at home. The scope of foreign interference detailed in Lyon’s book is far more significant, as it affects “mainstream media”, so that’s nearly every Australian.

Foreign interference and impediments to freedom of speech, including self-censorship, should be a problem no matter where the source of pressure is. Yet in the current public debate in Australia, “foreign interference” and “threat to freedom of speech” is usually only used when China is in the discussion.

This appears to be another instance where the government and national security community only pays attention to a problem when it has connections to China, rather than dealing with the issue more comprehensively.

2. US-China trade

It looks like trade policy under Biden is a continuation of Trump’s policy — it’s still very much “America first”. US Trade Representative Katherine Tai has pledged to keep pressuring Beijing to commit to the “Phase 1” trade deal, including the purchase agreement.

Tai said, “above all else, we must defend – to the hilt – our economic interests”.

As I’ve noted before, if China commits to the purchase agreement under the “Phase 1” trade deal, it will reduce China’s purchase of goods and services from other countries. This in effect means China must discriminate against other countries in favour of the US when importing. On this issue, the economic interest of the US is against the interest of many of its allies, despite Tai’s rhetoric of “collaboration with other economies and countries”.

As illustrated previously, China’s import of American agricultural products has already increased due to its sanction of Australian agricultural products, especially beef and lobsters. However, such an increase is still not enough to reach the “Phase 1” commitments.

On the other hand, the focus on China’s “non-market trade practices” would be more popular with other countries. Yet, as the US is criticising China’s industrial policies, the administration is also implementing its own industrial policies.

Overall, Tai’s speech indicates that the US is not pursuing general economic decoupling, as it is still trying to push for market access into China, which leads to more, not less, trade and economic linkages.

3. BRI debt

AidData, an international development research lab at William & Mary (a university in the US), has found a major increase in “hidden debt” in BRI projects, after analysing 13,427 Chinese development projects:

nearly 70% of China’s overseas lending is now directed to state-owned companies, state-owned banks, special purpose vehicles, joint ventures, and private sector institutions in recipient countries. These debts, for the most part, do not appear on their government balance sheets. However, most of them benefit from explicit or implicit forms of host government liability protection, which has blurred the distinction between private and public debt

This means previous official data on debt has undercounted debt obligations to China. And the “hidden debt” problem is getting worse.

The “hidden debt” problem is detrimental to global debt transparency. Opacity in debt creates unclear financial risks. Furthermore, it may affect global efforts on debt service suspension. China, a major world creditor, has not joined the Paris Club, a group of creditor countries that coordinates debt relief. It would not be fair for Paris Club members to provide debt relief only so that the debtor country can meet its obligation to China.

The report also reveals the extent that poorer countries have to rely on China for financing. China is outspending the US on a more than 2-to-1 basis. This means for countries that seek financing, there is little alternative available. It would be difficult for other countries to match China in the level of financing (for example under the Build Back Better World initiative).

Countries may be better off competing with China on quality rather than quantity, that is, with a focus on governance and standards. However, for countries desperate for financing, this is unlikely a priority.

4. Taiwan

In recent weeks, China has been flying warplanes into Taiwan’s southwest “air defence identification zone”:

These flights are intended to provoke. But what is China trying to achieve through this provocative action? These flights move public sentiments within Taiwan even further away from China. Internationally, countries around the world are more sympathetic to Taiwan’s plight and see this as bullying by a great power. Within China, these flights are not being publicly promoted, so there is no benefit from the rise in nationalism.

According to Wen-Ti Sung, many Taiwanese do not see the flights as a preparation for invasion. He argues that these flights are part of a tactic to deter Taiwan from declaring independence:

One explanation is Beijing places a higher priority on deterring Taiwan’s further movement towards independence than promoting unification, so it is willing to trade the latter for the former. In other words, Beijing may simply not be as zealous about pursuing unification in the near-term.

Instead, keeping an eye on the long game, Beijing is willing to risk short- to medium-term costs in losing hearts and minds in Taiwan. The hope is, in time, it can eventually regain the initiative. For this reason, being able to deter further movement towards independence may be sufficient to buy China much-needed time.

This explanation postulates that China is continuing its past strategy of kicking the can down the road. As long as Taiwan doesn’t “declare independence”, China is prepared to wait. For this to work, both China and Taiwan need to believe that time is on their side. It is probably in the interest of the world that they both continue to wait for now.

The post Neican: Chinese language media in Australia, censorship in media, US-China trade, BRI debt, Taiwan flights appeared first on The China Story.

But Taiwan was staunchly pro-Trump. Opinion polling shows that—unlike other parts of Asia and Europe—the majority supported Trump’s re-election. After the vote, there were pro-Trump rallies and thousands of Taiwanese Facebook pages were blocked from sharing claims of a stolen election.

After the election, only six percent of voters for the governing Democratic Progressive Party thought US-Taiwan relations would get better under Biden.

To explain Trump’s popularity, we need to understand what Taiwan wants from the US and what Trump offered.

Taiwan’s fears

Taiwan’s history and status means it has a unique relationship with the US.

Its current situation is a relic of the 1940s when the Nationalists and Communists fought for control of China. The Nationalists lost the civil war and retreated to Taiwan.

Over the last 72 years, Taiwan has developed its own identity as a distinct place. Opinion polling in Taiwan shows that only a minority support unification with the People’s Republic of China (PRC), even under ideal economic, social and political conditions. The majority would prefer independence, with two-thirds supporting this if Taiwan could maintain peaceful relations with the PRC and almost 50 per cent still thinking Taiwan should declare independence even if this would lead to an attack.

Taiwan’s overriding fear is of abandonment. Without US arms sales—and the deterrent effect of the possibility that the US would enter a military conflict—Taiwan’s strategic options would drastically narrow.

While some are worried about the potential for escalation, most are more anxious about the PRC trying to turn Taiwan into the next Hong Kong. They are concerned about PRC use of grey zone tactics like a trade embargo or naval blockade. They worry about the PRC being able slowly to cut Taiwan off, wear down Taiwan’s resolve and make it go down quietly. ‘The Taiwanese public need the confidence that they have allies and friends that support them so that they don’t give in to Chinese intimidation.’ The question on their minds is, who will be there to help? Taiwanese feel their isolation acutely.

So, Taiwan wants a US that is committed to stability in the region and is willing to deter China’s aggressive action: to show presence and resolve and to sell weapons to help Taiwan maintain the capability to protect itself. They want ‘concrete measures supporting Taiwan, not just beautiful words’.

Seen from this perspective, the US has been somewhat cagey, and certainly well short of full support. The US recognises the PRC, switching its diplomatic recognition in 1979. While the US Congress passed the Taiwan Relations Act—which states that it is US policy that the future of Taiwan will be determined by peaceful means—this isn’t a treaty obligation, so there’s some ambiguity about what the US would do if Taiwan were attacked. The aim of the ambiguity has been that Taiwan won’t be tempted to declare independence (since it’s not absolutely sure that the US will support it), while the PRC will be deterred from resolving the situation by force (since it’s not absolutely sure that the US won’t). This designed to stop both Taiwan and the PRC from going too far.

Taiwan saw the Obama Administration as a continuation of previous policy: carefully crafted diplomatic talk, cautious dealing and limits on official contact. To give a sense of what this means in practice consider the following: Taiwan’s president can’t just call the US president; there is limited contact between diplomatic officials; Taiwan is not involved in joint military exercises; and it has no free trade agreement with the US. The relationship is well short of what any of the US’ allies and partners in the region would take for granted.

Giving Taiwan hope

Trump burst into this with his lack of concern for diplomatic niceties. He was unexpected from the start, when as president-elect he took a congratulatory phone call from Taiwan’s President Tsai Ing-wen. This was dramatic and hugely symbolic, breaking with protocol since 1979. It was seen as a signal that Trump was prepared to stand up to China.

Throughout his presidency, Trump was viewed as being strong on China. This could have gone the other way: as a businessman with family dealings in China, he might have been seen as someone who might sell Taiwan out with a ‘big deal’. But instead he was seen as ‘telling it like it is, telling China where to go’ in both his trade war and provocative statements on China. For those deeply concerned by the PRC threat, Trump’s willingness to give China a hard time was welcomed: ‘if someone can make Xi look embarrassed, he’s your friend.’

In the public’s perception, Trump was viewed as someone who really cared about Taiwan and was ready to go all the way for Taiwan, strange as this may seem given that his campaign explicitly advocated putting America first. ‘People feel, finally, the US is not restraining Taiwan but seeing China with the same eyes we’ve always seen China, as a threat to regional order.’ His resolve to stand up to China gave Taiwanese people confidence.

And it wasn’t just his belligerent style. There was also substance.

There were very significant arms sales from 2017-2020, by contrast with the Obama Administration that delayed and cancelled weapon sales. In just two years of Trump’s presidency, Taiwan purchased more arms that in the previous decade, helping normalise the process of arms sales. Trump was seen as focusing on the security aspects of Taiwan’s situation more than previous administrations: supporting Taiwan against China and taking US obligations around maintaining infrastructure and war-readiness seriously.

Trump increased the US military commitment to Taiwan, supporting US military aircraft operating in Taiwan’s air identification zone and regular patrols by US military vessels. When China was being particularly aggressive, Trump would be equally aggressive. Taiwanese greatly appreciated Trump’s willingness to ‘put planes out there’ to do something concrete about Chinese pressure on Taiwan as well as its broader Free and Open Indo-Pacific (FOIP) concept.

Also important for diplomatically-isolated Taiwan was the improved contact between officials. The American Institute in Taiwan was redeveloped to be more like an embassy, including more military presence. Bilateral initiatives included the establishment of a US-Taiwan Economic Prosperity Partnership Dialogue, a US-Taiwan Education Initiative, US-Taiwan Consultations on Democratic Governance in the Indo-Pacific Region and Taiwan signing up to an infrastructure finance initiative. Trump’s presidency was marked by increased official contact, culminating in the visit of Secretary of Health Alex Azar, the highest-level Cabinet official to hold talks in Taipei since 1979. The US was also willing to use its pressure to help Taiwan maintain the small group of countries that recognise it diplomatically.

During the Trump Administration, the Global Cooperation and Training Framework (GCTF) was broadened not just for bilateral relations but to increase Taiwan’s international space. The GCTF’s mission is to provide a platform to harness Taiwan’s strengths and expertise to address global issues. During the Trump Administration it held 24 international workshops involving more than 1,000 officials and experts on themes like public health, women’s empowerment, law enforcement, energy, cybersecurity and disaster relief. This is greatly appreciated by Taiwan as helping it contribute to international discussions. It also enables Taiwan to promote its foreign policy messages, such as allowing Taiwanese experts to talk to other countries about Chinese infiltration, countering disinformation and religious freedom.

The only area in which there was less progress was on a bilateral free trade agreement, with no talks on the proposed Trade and Investment Framework Agreement since 2016. Despite support among figures in the Trump Administration this did not progress, apparently due to opposition from the US Trade Representative. The main focus of the administration was on the China trade deal, with concern that an economic agreement with Taiwan might have derailed this.

An important element in the Trump Administration policy on Taiwan was the role of Trump’s inner circle, with his Cabinet including many who were considered long-term supporters of Taiwan. In the early days of the administration, this gave a reliable channel to a somewhat chaotic White House. It meant that there were people willing to discuss areas that had previously been forbidden. Trump himself may have just been using Taiwan as a button he could press with China— ‘as a way to poke China in the eye’—but some in the inner circle had wider aims. From the Vice-President down there were people around him who were viewed as friends of Taiwan, nudging him in the right direction and prompting him to mention Taiwan.

Another factor was the role of Congress, which is an important element in US-Taiwan relations. During the Trump Administration several laws were passed to help Taiwan promote its visibility in the US and internationally including the Taiwan Travel Act (2018), the Taiwan Allies International Protection and Enhancement Initiative (TAIPEI Act (2019) and Taiwan Assurance Act (2020). Trump didn’t just not veto these pieces of legislation, he went out of his way to sign them into law.

The Trump Administration’s support of Taiwan continued right to the end with the announcement just 11 days before Biden’s inauguration that all restrictions on official contact with Taiwan were null and void. It was very Trumpian: a big announcement that surprised, but without clarity on what it meant or how it would be implemented in practice.

It typified an unconventional approach that opened possibilities and made breakthroughs, that tested limits and questioned constraints. Exciting, but unpredictable.

Election 2020

With such a positive reaction to the Trump Administration—both in style and substance—it is not surprising that there were strong pro-Trump views before the US Presidential Election, both among Taiwan’s government and the general public. In some circles, not being pro-Trump might mean you were accused of being a Chinese sympathiser.

While the Tsai Government was careful to state that Taiwan-US relations would remain strong regardless of who won the election, it was viewed as leaning pro-Trump. This political alignment may appear somewhat strange, with the governing party—the socially-progressive Democratic Progressive Party—presumably doing some mental compartmentalising of its policy differences on social issues. The opposition Kuomintang (KMT) was more sceptical about the narrative that Trump represented some sort of fundamental change in the US commitment to Taiwan—and privately may have expressed concerns about Trump encouraging wishful thinking in Taiwan about how much it could rely on the US.

In the eyes of the public, Trump was viewed as someone that would support Taiwan without reserve. The more clear-eyed might admit that Trump was not fighting for Taiwan; but with Trump so hell-bent on being anti-China this would positive for Taiwan, with Taiwan benefiting from ‘competition between two giants’.

This meant that November 2020 was the most-followed US election ever in Taiwan, with an outpouring of support for Trump. Taiwanese report that they are one of only two places— with Israel—where there was majority support for Trump’s re-election. And the common belief was that Trump would win.

Post-election there was real anxiety and worry. People had got used to Trump’s tough rhetoric and thought Biden would be more timid. At the extreme, conspiracy theories circulated about Hunter Biden’s business dealings and Biden being compromised by Beijing. People who had become emotionally invested continued to contest the validity of the election result.

Even among the level-headed, there were fears that Biden would be soft on China. His campaign statements were interpreted as cautious, with concerns that he would be ‘Obama 2.0’, having served as Obama’s Vice President and being expected to hire many Obama-era people. It was thought that with so many problems at home, he would try to de-escalate tensions with China to Taiwan’s detriment.

In fact, Biden’s first 100 days have reassured many of these concerns, starting with the invitation to Taiwan’s diplomatic representative to attend his inauguration. For the most part, perceptions appear to be that the Biden Administration remains tough on China but is more professional and able to get things done. It is seen as a significant improvement over the Obama terms. The task for Taiwan now is to consolidate the gains of recent years with a more predictable administration.

But while much of Taiwan’s establishment is busy executing a pragmatic 180 degree turn towards Biden, this does not alter their affection towards Trump. He’ll be remembered as someone who shook up the bureaucratic system and forced a rethink on the terms of the relationship; as someone who pushed against established views and opened a window for US-Taiwan relations. As a ‘battering ram’; as having a ‘steroid effect’; and as someone who ‘kickstarted’ an improvement in relations.

So, in Taiwanese eyes, it looks like the Trump years will be remembered as an opening—rough and somewhat unpredictable—which was consolidated during the Biden years. They are likely to remain genuinely grateful to Trump. ‘Emotionally in our hearts, we always appreciate what Trump has done for us, he deserves that response.’

For countries inclined to see the Trump years as a ‘blip’ with Biden bringing the US back to normal in its relations in Asia, it’s worth understanding Taiwan’s quite different point of view.

Melissa Conley Tyler is in Taiwan as a visiting fellow at the Institute for National Defense and Security Research, funded by a Taiwan Ministry of Foreign Affairs fellowship. This article is a synthesis of views gathered from 23 anonymous interviews in Taiwan, including with inner circle figures and politicians.

This article was co-published with Melbourne Asia Review, Asia institute, University of Melbourne.

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Taiwan has faced increasing diplomatic pressure in recent years as China has escalated efforts to wrest away the island’s diplomatic allies. This contest has reached Taiwan’s former diplomatic stronghold of Central America and the Caribbean. Since 2018, Taiwan has lost the diplomatic recognition of three countries in that region, namely Panama, El Salvador, and the Dominican Republic. These countries added to the loss of Costa Rica in 2007.

In a recent paper published in Foreign Policy Analysis, we explore the dynamics of the China-Taiwan diplomatic contest through the decisions of Taiwan’s remaining allies, namely the case of Paraguay, Taiwan’s only remaining partner in South America. The Paraguay case is particularly intriguing because the country’s agricultural economy has strong export links to China. For years, the issue of recognition received little attention, though lately it has been the subject of intense debate in the country’s legislature.

Taiwan’s dilemma, and its position increasingly as a de facto state, emerges from a stringent either/or approach to diplomatic recognition, One China Policy, and from an increasingly assertive campaign by China to isolate Taiwan. Broader diplomatic recognition has clear benefits for Taiwan: greater security, predictability, and international participation. On security, widely recognized states rarely suffer major territorial losses or extinction. On international participation, broad recognition brings diverse benefits from an amplified voice and vote on the international stage to technical cooperation. As its recognition has declined, Taiwan has sought to compensate through less-than-complete forms of participation, such as observer status.

However, the benefits for states that recognize Taiwan are less clear. Paraguay pays large opportunity costs for its Taiwan policy in the form of foregone Chinese investment, loans, and credits. We label this the “Taiwan cost”. According to our calculations, from 2005 to 2014, the annual average value of aid, investment and financial flows from China for Latin American countries with diplomatic relations with China represented 1 per cent of their GDP. Paraguay received nil from China. This was not offset by flows from Taiwan. While Taiwan has provided some high-profile assistance and loans in the past, investments and new loans during the same period were minimal.

In the face of Chinese entreaties under the One China Policy, why do countries like Paraguay continue to recognize Taiwan? Conventional explanations have focused on “checkbook diplomacy,” a sort of bidding war between China and Taiwan. In the past, anti-Communism and US pressure also played significant roles. But none of these factors adequately explain recognition today (although US pressure did return to the headlines under the Trump administration). In Paraguay and elsewhere, it is clear that Taiwan cannot simply outspend China.

For Paraguay, most external factors favor the opposite recognition policy, including occasional pro-China pressure from its neighbors. During South America’s “China boom,” from roughly 2003 to 2013, anti-Communist sentiments had faded and US pressure was absent, and Paraguay’s Taiwan cost had grown as it missed out on the growing financial flows its neighbours attracted. Today, the Covid-19 pandemic, and the difficulty in purchasing vaccines from Chinese sources, has put the costs of shunning China in the headlines again.

We suggest that the perceived benefits may be rooted in the pursuit of a different form of recognition that Taiwan grants to small states—attention, esteem, and relational status—that goes beyond narrow material benefits.

We find that Paraguay uses its diplomatic recognition policy for a particular form of small-state status-seeking. Relations with Taiwan create a parochial, relational status, in which Paraguay receives meaningful attention and respect from its partner—one worthy of emulation due to shared historical ties and Taiwan’s economic success in difficult geopolitical circumstances—complemented by smaller (though highly symbolic and discretional) material benefits. Sustained attention from a near-peer may trump the more fickle attention of a great power.

While Paraguay pay a substantial “Taiwan cost”, relations with Taiwan provide the country—one that is smaller, poorer, and often overshadowed by its neighbors—with respect, valued high enough for Paraguay to “choose the right pond,” to use a phrase from Carvalho et al.’s work on status, where it looms large and makes a tremendous difference. Paraguayan diplomats and elites are celebrated by Taiwan in a way they would not be for long by China. Paraguayan elites feel sympathy for a small state “bullied” by a large neighbor, in part because they read their own international history and condition in a similar light.

For Taiwan, retaining diplomatic partners in the face of rising Chinese economic clout requires both the provision of status benefits and the maintenance of elite consensus in its partner countries. This is no simple task, particularly when the pandemic has made China’s favor—and its vaccines—frontpage news.

The post Why Does Paraguay Recognize Taiwan and Shun China? appeared first on The China Story.

U.S. policymakers’ assessment of military risks in the Taiwan Strait is obviously being revised upward, yet Taiwan society has demonstrated a strategic determination of calmness, showing no strong reaction to this development from either the public or the officials. What is the reason for this?

First, “the boy who cried wolf.” Ever since the first direct presidential election of Taiwan in 1996, whenever there is a presidential election or a major event, the PLA has held large-scale military drills in the Taiwan Strait. In particular, since 2016, the PLA has been conducting many military exercises around Taiwan and has entered Taiwan’s air defense identification zone (ADIZ). Taiwan has been portrayed as being in the midst of a stormy and critical situation for the past few decades. As it is taught in “The Commentary of Zuo,” for all things, “the first strike arouses, the second weakens and the third absolutely devitalizes.” Over the years, the newsworthiness and deterrent effect of the PLA’s military actions have naturally diminished in accordance with the marginal effect.

Second, “the theory of the CCP diverting pressure.” There is a view in Taiwan’s policy circles that under the CCP’s official “Two Centennial” schedule, the timeline for cross-strait reunification is not the centennial of the CCP’s founding in 2021, but the centennial of the People’s Republic of China in 2049, when the so-called “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” will be accomplished.

That being the case, Beijing is actually not interested in pursuing unification by force in the foreseeable future. In this regard, when Tsai Ing-wen was inaugurated as Taiwan’s president for the second time last May, it would be normal for the CCP to actively intervene. However, retired PLA air force major general Qiao Liang, seen as a hawkish voice in the PLA and co-author of “Unrestricted Warfare: China’s Master Plan to Destroy America,” released a special article titled “The Taiwan problem cannot be solved with rashness and radicalism.” He warned that a little impatience spoils great plans, and urged not to start a war rashly at this juncture.

Taking this analysis one step further, more than anything else, Taiwan judges that the muscular display of the Mainland’s military drills is intended to “relieve” internal nationalist sentiment. As the pressure is gradually relieved, there is naturally no need to “erupt” dramatically. Simply put, the reason for the exercises is precisely because there is “no intention” to fight for real.

Many Taiwan analysts would point to Beijing’s short-term diplomatic needs for additional reference. With the 2022 Beijing Olympic Winter Games just around the corner, the CCP should be on good terms with other countries at this time, so as to create a scene of China rising to power with every country in the world in submission. Therefore, this is definitely not the time to use force.

Is this an adequate explanation? No, not really. So far, the CCP is not deterred from intensifying its wolf warrior diplomacy even though the Beijing Winter Olympics is approaching. According to the structural realism theory of international relations, the focus of strategic balance is on strength rather than intention. Hence, the following considerations need to be taken into account in order to explain Taiwan society’s apathy toward the military exercises.

Third, the international landscape. The strategic rivalry between China and the U.S. has been established, and an opportunity to mitigate it is hard to see. Looking at the smaller picture first, in the strategic triangle between Beijing, Taipei and Washington, the better the relationship between China and the U.S., the more Taiwan should fear a “China-U.S. co-rule of the Taiwan Strait” situation. In contrast, given Taiwan’s strategic position as the crux of the first island chain and the choke point of China’s southeastern coast, the worse the relationship between China and the U.S., the more indispensable Taiwan is to the U.S., and the more credible the U.S. becomes with respect to Taiwan’s security. In this way, as long as the relationship between the U.S. and China is not favorable, the more intense the PLA’s military dramas become, the more difficult it will be for the U.S. to back out of its position in Taiwan, and the more secure the Taiwanese will feel.

If we look at it from a broader perspective, the U.S. is demonstrating its ability to collaborate with allies, which has been rare in recent years. Moreover, the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (Quad), which is implicitly aimed at resisting China, is progressively expanding towards “globalization.” In addition to the U.S., Australia, Japan, and India, the UK has recently proposed to join the alliance, Germany and Japan have signed a military intelligence cooperation agreement, and France has just participated in a joint French-Australian-Japanese-Indian naval exercise in the Bay of Bengal that is equivalent to The Quad Plus One. Since China and the U.S. are not on good terms and neither are the two sides of the Taiwan Strait, the more cross-regional connectivity and cohesiveness of the West, the more confidence Taiwan society will have in its own security.

In summary, Taiwan society sees the CCP’s military threat to be diminishing, and Beijing’s proposed timeline has led to a downward revision of its assessment of de facto intentions to use military force. This, coupled with the new U.S. administration’s “values-based diplomacy” and the strengthening of links among international liberal democracies, is increasing the deterrence against CCP military adventurism. It is no wonder that Taiwan society is so confident and so willing to support liberal societies with similar values, such as the international “Milk Tea Alliance.”

The article was originally published on Apple Daily on 13 April 2021.

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Whether it likes it or not, Australia is a major stakeholder in any future conflict arising around Taiwan. As an ANZUS treaty ally, Australia is at risk of being dragged into events. Yet as a middle power, Australia has the potential wherewithal to mediate and prevent the fighting.

With so much to lose and enough ability to make a difference, it is imperative that Australia understands what is at stake.

This year has proven to be one of reorientation in Washington-Taipei-Beijing trilateral relations. The US has significantly lifted protocol restrictions on official exchanges with Taiwan. It has upgraded the rank of State Department officials allowed to visit Taiwan, specifically from Deputy Assistant Secretary level to Under Secretary level, and possibly even higher in the future.

In response, to signal its disapproval and deter further upgrades, China has staged war games and sent fighter jets to cross the so-called “median line” of the Taiwan Strait, as well as passing through various Taiwanese air identification zones.

Politically, the heightened tension creates political pressure on leaders from all sides, with the potential to overreact to provocations. The risk of miscalculation on both sides is ever present.

And events could escalate suddenly. Uncertainty and potential turmoil resulting from the US election is adding to an already heady atmosphere. It would not be beyond the realm of imagination that an unplanned skirmish, such as an accidental collision or a maverick Chinese or Taiwanese fighter jet pilot going rogue, could trigger retaliation that quickly escalates.

Accordingly, a debate is underway among US policy elites about whether to end its “strategic ambiguity” about America’s security obligations to Taiwan, which was designed to shore up deterrence against Beijing. American strategic thinking on this has been shifting clearly away from the centre towards the pro-Taiwan side.

Strategic ambiguity once made sense, in part because it created “dual deterrence” against both Beijing and Taipei. The logic is about making the American security pledge to Taiwan uncertain, i.e. neither openly committing to defend Taiwan in the event of a Chinese-initiated cross-strait conflict, nor openly rejecting conjectures that it would not. In doing so, the US could presumably attain the dual effects of deterring Taipei from taking bold steps to pursue de jure independence in ways that could entrap the US into an undesirable conflict with China, on the one hand, and on the other deterring Beijing from launching an all-out invasion against Taiwan on the Chinese (mis)understanding that the US would not intervene in such an event.

However, the strategic ambiguity strategy is being hotly contested because this dual deterrence framework may be somewhat redundant. China is increasingly emerging as a near-peer competitor to the US in the Indo-Pacific theatre, especially in China’s strategic neighbourhood that is the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea. Meanwhile, America being an “extra-regional power” entails the credibility of its long-term commitment to the security and stability of the region is the subject of doubt – even more so recently, due to America’s narrowing power asymmetry vis-à-vis China and the Trump administration’s expressed quasi-isolationist and “America First” sentiment.

The likelihood of Australia being drawn into a US-China conflict is a growing concern. There has been long-running debate in Australia about how Canberra should respond if the US invoked the ANZUS Treaty and asked for its cooperation in a conflict over Taiwan. However, the precise manner in which Canberra could exert its influence over its superpower ally prior to and during a conflict scenario now requires more urgent attention. In the context of Australia’s recent efforts to push back against China’s coercive diplomacy in the Indo-Pacific and its vocal support for upholding the liberal international rules-based order, it is natural for Australia to hold sympathy for the defence of like-minded Taiwan.

Australia’s deteriorating relationship with China has also generated a pressing need to revisit Australia’s defence and strategic policies concerning its role in the region. The 2020 Defence Strategic Update set out an ambition to enhance Australia’s defence capability. But more can be said about how to strengthen regional multilateralism to respond to challenges in the region collectively, as well as to shape the regional security environment. This includes working with other nations that see the challenges in the same way.

Canberra needs to leverage multilateral mechanisms to pool risks and capacities with other similarly affected regional partners. Considering both logistics and political sensitivity, a starting point can be utilising existing multilateral platforms such as the ASEAN Regional Forum and the East Asia Summit. Piggybacking on them, Canberra can call for the establishment of ad hoc “mini-lateral” consultation groupings on the sidelines to discuss regional security linkages and crisis management arrangements.

Multilateral diplomacy will clearly require finesse. Canberra walks a tight rope. It needs to be sensitive, open and inclusive, so as to prevent Beijing’s accusation of outside actors “internationalising” the Taiwan issue. Meanwhile, it must avoid leaving a view among regional actors that Australia is undermining ASEAN centrality in the evolving regional architecture.

Despite these challenges, by virtue of its geographical position and regional influence, Canberra is well-suited to play a positive role.

This article was originally published on The Interpreter.

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1. Cross-strait relations

China and the US are moving on a collision course with respect to Taiwan. War is still highly unlikely in the short term, however, given the interests of both sides in avoiding such catastrophe. But we can’t rule out a war started by accidents or miscalculations.

Why is Taiwan so important to Beijing? Well, it goes to the very core of the CCP’s nationalist legitimacy. From Beijing’s perspective, unifying the mainland with Taiwan is unfinished business from history. It is about the unity of China, a critical prerequisite to “national rejuvenation”. Successfully bringing Taiwan into its fold, notwithstanding a contest from the US, would mark China’s ascendency as the prominent power in East Asia.

Shift towards confrontation

For two decades since the late-1990s, cross-strait relations have experienced relative stability, pragmatism, and expanding economic and people-to-people ties. So, what explains the recent trend towards antagonism, one that has accelerated in the last few years?

First, the relative power balance has shifted in Beijing’s favour with its rapid economic development and military modernisation. Now that Beijing has more powerful coercive options, the risks for the US in intervening in a Taiwan scenario have become larger.

Second, despite economic integration, growing people-to-people ties, and Beijing’s efforts to influence, interfere, and coerce the island nation, Taiwan has in many ways moved away from Beijing. Today, a record number of people in Taiwan regard themselves as “Taiwanese” (64 per cent) rather than only as “Chinese” (2.4 per cent).

Beijing rightly sees this as a growing hurdle for its unification agenda. The window for political unification is closing as Taiwanese local identity grows stronger. We doubt the trend will reverse, and Beijing has probably arrived at the same conclusion.

For an analogy, the “failure” of engagement narrative is used today in the US as a justification for tougher policy towards China. Apply a similar narrative to Beijing’s approach to cross-strait relations. From the late-1990 until the 2010s, Beijing believed that its growing economic and cultural gravity was going to make Taiwan more receptive to political unification. This proved to be wrong, which has provided justification for those in Beijing advocating a tougher approach to cross-strait relations.

And just as the era of US-China engagement is well and truly over, stable and constructive cross-strait relations are becoming less likely, partly because Beijing is trying to rebalance the relationship towards providing more “stick” relative to “carrot”.

Finally, the “Taiwan card” has become more important for both China and the US. The Taiwan issue was always important for the nationalist credentials of the CCP. It has become more so under Xi’s national rejuvenation agenda. For the US, Taiwan has become critical for its position in the region as part of the frontline in its competition with the People’s Republic. In recent years, US-Taiwan strategic cooperation has accelerated, and this trend will likely continue.

In short, changing material balance, politics, and mutual perceptions in Beijing, Taipei and Washington are driving instability across the Taiwan Strait with potentially catastrophic implications for everyone involved.

Beijing is increasingly turning to coercion, as it assesses its engagement approach to cross-strait as a failure, with the clock ticking before the unification window is permanently closed. From Beijing’s perspective, Washington is undermining its core interests by colluding with Taipei as the latter inch towards independence. For US leaders, Beijing’s aggression towards Taiwan is seen as further proof of Beijing’s wider strategic ambitions contrary to US interests. Taiwan is caught in the middle of great power competition, with its political leaders trying to create more international space for Taiwan while at the same time trying to reduce Beijing’s anxieties and fears.

Implications

Taiwan will become an increasingly contested space in strategic competition between the US and China. This means a rockier ride ahead for cross-strait relations as both great powers seek to influence and coerce Taiwan to follow their agendas.

While war is unlikely in the short term, we should all be thinking about a range of Taiwan-related contingencies. The framing of war vs peace is a counterproductive simplification because the most likely scenarios involve coercion short of war, including a combination of economic, financial, and information blockades, cyber-attacks, psychological and information operations, and limited kinetic strikes on key nodes.

Coercion will become more prominent in Beijing’s toolkit due to the perception that engagement has failed. Beijing has more military power than ever to coerce Taiwan with, but as the lessons from the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis (1995-1996) showed, intimidation can be counterproductive.

Earlier in the month, Chinese and Taiwanese diplomats got into a scuffle in Suva, Fiji, at an event celebrating Taiwan’s national day. As unfortunate as it was for the injured Taiwanese diplomat involved in that fight, this is far more preferable than firing missiles.

2. 70th anniversary of “War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea”

China’s role in the Korean War is known as “Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea” 抗美援朝 in the PRC. In that version of history, the US was the aggressor in the Korean War, and China was forced to respond to the US aggression by sending the “Chinese People’s Volunteers Army” 中国人民志愿军 (officially not the People’s Liberation Army) to aid Korea. The official narrative declared victory for China in the War. The war is now commemorated in the PRC for China’s courage to fight the US and China’s capability to defeat the US.

At the time of the Korean War, there was extensive propaganda in China to support the war. Books such as Who are the Most Beloved People? 谁是最可爱的人 was heavily promoted. Even today, Chinese media refer to those who participated in the war as the “most beloved people”. “National heroes” such as Huang Jiguang 黄继光 who participated in the bloody and famous Battle of Triangle Hill 上甘岭战役, became part of today’s patriotic education curriculum. A song Battle Hymn of the Chinese People’s Volunteers Army 中国人民志愿军战歌 (originally titled 打败美帝野心狼 Defeat the Audacious Wolf of the US Imperialism) was popularised at the time, with the lyrics:

雄赳赳，气昂昂，跨过鸭绿江！保和平，卫祖国，就是保家乡
Gallantly and with high spirit, [we] cross the Yalu River! Protecting peace and defending the Motherland is protecting the homeland.

A little acknowledged outcome of the War that may have changed China’s trajectory was the death of Mao’s eldest son Mao Anying 毛岸英. Would China become a dynasty like North Korea if Mao Anying had survived? Speculations were also rife that Mao Anying’s death may have contributed to Peng Dehuai’s fall, as Mao held him personally responsible for the death.

This year’s 70th anniversary was celebrated with much fanfare, including a speech by Xi Jinping. And the emphasis was very much on the US. State leaders and government officials often use history to talk about the present. Indeed, Xi has used this speech on history to talk about China’s current relationship with the US.

Korean War was the last time that China and the US openly faced off against each other in a military conflict. The message that the CCP wants to send through this commemoration appears to be that China is not afraid of the US. This is encapsulated in his quote “The Chinese people don’t go look for trouble, but they’re also not afraid of trouble. 中国人民不惹事也不怕事.

And this includes military confrontation. Even though Xi disavowed unilateralism or hegemony and emphasised peace, the speech was generally forceful. Xi said that Chinese people know they must use the language that the invaders understand, and this is “to fight war with war and to stop an invasion with force 以战止战、以武止戈”. This is to underscore the military aspect of standing up to the US.

Seventy years ago, the power disparity between the US and China was large. That’s why the propaganda at the time spoke so much of sacrifice and endurance, or victory despite adversity. The underlying message is that such power disparity has narrowed, and so China is even less afraid of fighting the US if necessary.

On a lighter matter, Global Times reported that “BTS hurts feelings of Chinese netizens and fans during speech on the Korean War”. What drew the ire of Chinese nationalists was the boy band’s leader, who referred to South Korea and the US’ shared “history of pain” over the Korean War. Unlike the NBA and the recent string of other examples of foreign companies “hurting the feelings of the Chinese people”, the ordeal has ended. The BTS came out of it unscathed, its star power too irresistible.

3. Nationalism and censorship online

Chao Deng and Liza Lin at Wall Street Journal found:

Angry mobs online have swarmed any criticism of China’s leaders or a perceived lack of loyalty to the country. Targets are being harassed and silenced. Some have lost their jobs.

The Chinese Government, in the face of challenges, is again turning to nationalism to direct people’s discontent. Nationalism didn’t start with the PRC, but as the ruling government, the PRC has often used nationalism for its purpose, including deliberately conflating “CCP” with “China”. As we wrote earlier on “ideological and political education”:

A part of this ideological education is “patriotic education” 爱国主义教育, which emphasises the role the CCP has played in uniting the country and defeating external aggressors, thus “rejuvenating” the nation. The aim is for students to feel supportive of the past decisions the CCP has made, and to fuse in their mind “patriotism” 爱国 and “love for the Party” 爱党, so that the two concepts are one and the same.

The CCP has become a lot smarter when it comes to censorship online. Often instead of outright censorship, it uses tactics such as distraction (going on a tangent) or 带节奏 (inciting sensationalism).

On a similar topic, Shen Lu wrote about another phenomenon:

Due to pervasive censorship and self-censorship, conversations on Weibo are even more cautious. Zhahao, or “account bombing,” where accounts voicing dissenting opinions get censored, have become more common. Ultranationalistic and chauvinist narratives now drown out critical posts, making it harder for users to speak their minds.

What these nationalists do is mobilise and pressure Weibo to delete the “offending” accounts. The fear of these nationalists leads to self-censorship. As a result, Weibo becomes a nationalist echo chamber and any unpopular voices are drowned out.

What does it mean for other countries? Yun has written a policy brief in August on “what should Australia do about PRC nationalists”. This may provide insights for other countries too.

Quote of the week

人在江湖，身不由己
Literally: Being in jianghu (rivers and lakes), one cannot always follow oneself.
Meaning: one has to compromise in this world
(From: 古龍 Gu Long, a famous 武俠 wuxia writer)

Here, we’d like to introduce wuxia to you. Wuxia is a widely popular novel genre, and the most famous author of the genre is Louis Cha (or Jin Yong 金庸). The setting for the novels are usually in imperial China, and the story centres around martial artists, hence 武 wu (meaning martial). But equally important is the concept of 俠 xia (meaning chivalry). The xia part emphasises morals, especially with regards to repaying favours (恩) and avenge wrongs (仇). Of course, the worst thing you can do is repay kindness with enmity (恩將仇報).

Jianghu (rivers and lakes) was first used by Zhuangzi (see last week). In wuxia novels, it refers to the world that these martial artists dwell in. It is an anarchical place of freedom and lawlessness, where the constraints of the officialdom are mostly absent. The wuxia novels refer to palaces, officials, emperors mostly only as context or in passing.

Nowadays, jianghu is often used in two ways. First, it refers to organised crime, see for example the recent Jia Zhangke film Ash is the Purest White (江湖儿女, literally Sons and Daughters of Jianghu). Second, it can refer to any community colloquially, for example, a line of work. In this sense then, we can all be 人在江湖，身不由己.

Chinoiserie

• How Did China Beat Its Covid Crisis? Ian Johnson writes about Chinese authorities, Taoist nuns, and Fang Fang. “Their views, their books, their underground documentary movies, and their artwork—all of this is producing an unofficial history of China, a counterhistory written at the grassroots.”

This week on China Story:

• Michael Clarke, ‘Round the Clock, Three Dimensional Control’: The ‘Xinjiang Mode’ of Counterterrorism: China’s Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region (XUAR) is now the site of the largest mass repression of an ethnic and/or religious minority in the world today. Researchers estimate that since 2016 up to one million people (mostly ethnic Uyghurs) have been detained without trial in the XUAR in a system of ‘re-education’ centres. Outside of the ‘re-education’ centres the region’s Turkic Muslim population is subjected to a dense network of hi-tech surveillance systems, checkpoints, and interpersonal monitoring, which severely limit all forms of personal freedom penetrating society to the granular level.
• Huaqing Yu, WeChat ban a catch-22 for Chinese Australians: Chinese social media network WeChat is facing global scrutiny and possible bans due to its handling of user data privacy, its censorship and surveillance practices and the widespread misinformation and propaganda campaigns it hosts supposedly on behalf of the Chinese Communist Party. Yet members of the Chinese diaspora in Australia continue to use WeChat as their main social media platform, despite the availability of alternative social media networks that claim to protect privacy and freedom of expression.
• Yun Jiang, Senator Abetz’s loyalty test: A part of me thinks that in today’s environment, the loyalty of Chinese Australians will be questioned no matter what our achievements or records. And any “acceptability” we do achieve could be taken away and suspicion reinstated if we state the “wrong” political view. No Australians should be subject to this.
• Kerry Brown, Inside Out: China’s Forgotten Domestic Politics: The departure of journalists in China working for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Washington Post in March, followed by those working for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and the Australian Financial Review in September, might have given some in the Chinese elite leadership a temporary sense of satisfaction. The journalists working for American news outlets in China had been forced to leave in retaliation for the Trump administration’s demand that a number of Chinese journalists departed the US because they were believed to be state workers despite their protestations otherwise. The Australian cases were interpreted largely as an outcome of the deteriorating relations between Canberra and Beijing. Regardless of their longstanding complaints that foreign journalists only ever see the negative side of things, Xi Jinping and his colleagues may soon realise that the lack of physical interaction between China and the rest of the world — precipitated by COVID-19 and now compounded by these expulsions — will result in a dearth of good quality information about what is actually happening in China. This ultimately does not serve anyone’s interests — and particularly their own.

China Neican is a newsletter by Yun Jiang and Adam Ni from the China Policy Centre in Canberra. It is also published as a weekly column on the China Story blog. Neican 内参 or “internal reference” are limited circulation reports only for the eyes of high-ranking officials in China, dealing with topics deemed too sensitive for public consumption. Our writing, however, is open to everyone. To receive regular updates, please subscribe. You can find past issues of Neican here.

The post China Neican: 26 October 2020 appeared first on The China Story.

A threat that backfired 

China has long assumed that under its One China Principle, foreign dignitaries will avoid visiting Taiwan in their official capacity unless they want to “suffer consequences”. 

Thus, when Czech Senate President Vystrčil led a delegation of Senators and business leaders to Taiwan, Chinese Minister of Foreign Affairs Wang Yi, declared that Vystrčil will pay a “heavy price” for the visit. Chinese state media, such as the Global Times, referred to Vystrčil as a “political hooligan.” Upon his return from Taiwan, Vystrčil was met with more criticism, this time from Czech President Miloš Zeman, who called the visit “a boyish provocation”. Prime Minister Andrej Babiš labelled Vystrčil a “political amateur”. 

While this episode attracted significant attention in the Czech and international media, the broader issue began many months ago and will likely drag on for some time to come.  

In late 2019, Czech Senate President Jaroslav Kubera was planning a visit to Taiwan as the head of a delegation. The delegation would have represented the highest-profile visit of a Czech politician to the island in decades. In January 2020, Kubera suddenly passed away due to a heart attack. The Czech media revealed that shortly before his death, Kubera received a letter from the PRC Embassy. The letter threatened repercussions for Czech companies if Kubera proceeded with his plans to visit Taiwan, explicitly listing carmaker Škoda Auto, retail-banking provider Home Credit Group and piano manufacturer Klavíry Petrof. It was later discovered by journalists that the Office of the Czech President Miloš Zeman had requested a letter to be prepared by the Chinese Embassy. President Zeman is a supporter of closer economic ties with China, and requested the letter in order to stall the visit. Upon Kubera’s death, the delegation’s visit was halted.

But China’s threatening letter backfired. The new Senate President Miloš Vystrčil expressed his intention to proceed with the visit to Taiwan, against the advice of the Czech President, Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs, as well as significant pressure from various entities, including Czech-China business associations and Czech companies. 

There were, however, some that continued to support the visit. Just a few days before Vystrčil’s departure to Taiwan, an open letter backing his decision was signed by almost 70 members of European Parliament and other national parliaments, including from Australia, United States and Canada. Another letter in support was published jointly by the chair and co-chair of the European Parliament Delegation to PRC and addressed to the Chinese Ambassador in Brussels. This suggests a new tide in European approaches to dealing with China when their own foreign policy and other national interests collide with those of the rising power.

It’s the economy, stupid – or is it not?

Vystrčil claimed that his visit would have two key purposes. The first would be to stress a values-based foreign policy, which involves cooperation with democracies around the world, and therefore should include Taiwan. The other would be to explore new markets and economic opportunities for Czech companies affected by COVID-19 epidemic. This latter purpose, stressing the economic benefits of engaging with Taiwan, is very similar to the logic and wording used by Czech politicians towards mainland China in the past: for example, as a market with the potential to “start” the Czech economy and as a partner that would enhance Czechia’s position as a “gateway” to Europe.

Behind these economic and value-based considerations lie pragmatic calculations as well. China has been a mainstay in Czechia’s domestic political debates since the country’s independence. Since the so-called “restart” of Czech-China relations in  2013, all Czech political parties have expressed in one way or another their position on China. The domestic China debate will continue as Czechs head to the voting polls in Senate, municipal and regional elections in October.

The economic impacts of the visit, despite the reactions of Minister Wang and the Global Times, are unlikely to be dramatic. Though China is Czechia’s second largest trade partner in 2019, the majority of trade exchange is imports from China (Czechia exports more to Switzerland than to China), a fact that decreases China’s options for punishing Czechia by putting restrictions on imports. Also Chinese Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) in Czechia is relatively small, accounting for only 0.4 per cent of overall FDI received according to the the last available data from 2017. This means that Chinese FDI provides limited leverage for economic coercion. In any case, Vystrčil’s visit — alongside the widespread support from western nations small and large — may challenge the long-held assumption that official visits to Taiwan would equate to political and economic suicide.

Photo credit: Office of the President, Republic of China (Taiwan)

The post Eastern Promises 2.0: Goodbye Beijing, Here Comes Taipei appeared first on The China Story.