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“State-to-State” Tension Rises Again Across the Taiwan StraitTaiwan’s new approach to its relations with China: Where will it lead?

On July 9th 1999, the Taiwanese president, Lee Teng-hui, told an interviewer from Deutsche Welle: “Since the introduction of its constitutional reforms in 1991, [the Republic of China] has redefined its relationship with mainland China as being state to state relations (guojia yu guojia) or at least special state-to-state relations (tesu de guo yu guo guanxi) (1).”

These words, harmless at first sight, set off a new confrontation with the People’s Republic of China (PRC). As had happened in 1996, Peking launched a fierce denunciation of the Taiwanese president, redoubling its military activity in the vicinity of the “rebel island”, and putting an immediate hold on official contacts with Taipei. Yet, in contrast with what happened three years ago, Peking has not so far responded by any provocative gesture, other than verbal, to Lee’s declaration.

Reaction by the United States has also proved different from that adopted at the time of the “missile crisis”. For the first time, the American administration has ascribed to Taiwan the responsibility for building up tensions across the Strait, accepting almost without question the Chinese version: a “provocation” by a Taiwanese president nearing the end of his term, amusing himself with a little trouble-making—or even sabotage—just as Washington was trying to patch up, as far as possible, its “strategy of constructive partnership” with Peking (2).

In this three-cornered game (one that has been in play for 50 years this autumn) it seems that Taiwan has once again found itself isolated. That impression is confirmed by the speed with which all powers worthy of the name—including the European Union—have thought it necessary to placate the communist government by reciting the diplomatic creed of a single and indivisible China.

Why, then, did Lee insist on putting forward his notion of two states (liangguolun)? What was it that impelled the PRC to react so sharply to his declaration? What motivation might explain the attitude of the Clinton administration? And, first of all, is this approach to cross-Strait relations really new in Taiwan?

While it is relatively easy to evaluate the factors guiding the main actors’ policies, it is harder to make even a provisional analysis of this new build-up of tension across the Taiwan Strait, or to sketch out the likely evolution of relations between Peking and Taipei.

Two Chinese states: the culminating idea in a long process

For the Taiwanese, and those familiar with the island, the notion of two Chinese states is hardly new in the context of the Republic of China’s (ROC) policy towards the mainland. This policy was redefined at the start of the 1990s, that is to say, at a time when the country was committing itself to a process of fundamental democratisation.

Indeed, it was then that the Taipei authorities accepted—de facto but not de jure—the existence of the PRC. The Kuomintang (KMT), which since the end of the 1960s had given up all hope of reconquest, decided in 1991 to call off the state of war with the mainland; to develop a new policy of peaceful and progressive unification of the Chinese nation; and to reform the country’s institutions to make them applicable only to the citizens living within Taipei’s jurisdiction. Shortly before that, in 1989, the ROC effectively renounced its claim to sovereignty over the mainland by starting to encourage those states that recognised it not to break with Peking (and vice versa), a policy that was inevitably denounced by the PRC and thus doomed to failure.

Also during this period, in 1992, Taipei proposed a new definition of the concept of “One China”: above all “a historical, geographical, cultural and racial entity” (3), politically divided and with two separate governments. Thus arose the formula of the time, “one country—two governments” (yi ge guojia, liang ge zhengfu). That is why, a year later, the KMT was won over to the policy of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), pressing for the return of Taiwan to the United Nations in conformity with the right “of divided countries to parallel representation” in international bodies. Furthermore, the Taiwanese White Paper, published in 1994, declared: “Both sides of the Strait should coexist as two separate legal entities in the international arena” (4). In other words, the formula “one nation—two states”, as practised by the two Germanys between 1970 and their reunification in 1990, has for nearly ten years been considered by Taiwan as much better adapted to the situation in the Strait than Deng’s recipe “one country—two systems” (yi guo liang zhi). In consequence, since the two Chinas are two separate states, their relations can only be—and have been since 1991—those between states, despite the circumlocutions used to evade the insoluble question of sovereignty.

Yet, Lee’s declaration goes even further. Indeed, the same White Paper put forward the following idea: “As for this relationship with each other, it is that of two separate areas of one China and is therefore ‘domestic’ (yiguo neibu) or ‘Chinese’ in nature” (5). It was this ambiguity that gave rise to the formula “one country—two political entities” (yi ge guojia, liang ge zhengzhi shiti) that Taiwan has been vainly trying, over the past few years, to sell to Peking.

For Lee, and for the KMT’s present leadership, this ambiguity has not been enough to serve Taiwan’s interests. On the contrary, Taiwan has been forced to live within the notion of “One China”, whether it be the PRC or the ROC: this has not prevented Peking’s policy of reunification and diplomatic domination from being strengthened, and Taiwan’s isolation being intensified (6).

For all that, however, Taipei’s new position is not totally clear. And the process of adapting the German formula, Eine Nation, zwei Staaten, is rendered even more complex by the difficulties of translating into Chinese the concepts of nation (minzu or guojia), country (guojia) and state (also guojia). This explains why Lee and the Taiwanese authorities have hastily pulled back from the notion of “state-to-state relations” to the one of “special state-to-state relations”, probably recollecting that inter-German relations before reunification were both interstate and internal to the German nation. Similarly, the spokesman for Taiwan’s Executive Yuan had several times to fall back on English—one paradox among several—to “clarify” for Peking’s benefit his government’s position (7).

One is obliged to note that this recourse to the language of “hegemonism” has not favoured Taiwan’s cause on the mainland! Even so, Lee’s remarks, taken together with the explanations and comments put out during subsequent weeks by the Taipei authorities as to the solidity of their commitment to future reunification, have been aimed at recalling a reality that diplomatic invention persists in denying: ever since 1949, China has been divided into two states. They cannot be unified without recognising each other in some way, that is to say, without settling the question of sovereignty. In other words, for Taipei, there can be no reunification without first normalising cross-Strait relations. And there can be no normalisation without mutual recognition of the limits, if not of sovereignty, at least of each state’s jurisdiction.

It is clear that the advantage in such a process would lie with the ROC, since it would rejoin an international community that has progressively expelled it from its ranks, particularly after the “Chiang Kai-shek clique” was expelled from the United Nations in 1971. It is no less obvious that the PRC, while it enjoys such a strong diplomatic position (recognised by more than 160 states, as against 28 for the ROC), has no interest in questioning a situation that most of the world’s great and medium-sized powers recognise uncomplainingly, even if they do not actually welcome it. Why, then, has Lee Teng-hui once again tried to alter “the course of history”?

An attempt to alter the course of history?

Broadly speaking, two kinds of explanations have been put forward. The first arises out of the political situation within Taiwan, and the second has to do with Taiwan’s relations with the United States. Without being contradictory, these motives must be connected by a third explanation: the eventual prospects for opening political talks with the PRC.

Lien Chan’s presidential campaign gets off to a poor start

Many observers have explained Lee’s motives by his need to prepare for Taiwan’s forthcoming presidential election, in March 2000. This interpretation is well-founded (8). Indeed, the KMT’s candidate, Lien Chan, who at present is Vice-President of the Republic, is not doing well in the polls, lying generally in third position. Ahead of him are James Soong Chu-yu, a KMT dissident of mainland origins who is currently popular among the party’s conservatives as well as among some New Party voters, and the DPP’s candidate, Chen Shui-bian. By helping to increase tension across the Strait, Lee is hoping, it has been said, to weaken both the front runners. Soong, who is particularly keen to open up direct maritime and air traffic links across the Strait, would be obliged to distance himself from a mainland policy that is often judged too conciliatory towards Peking. And Chen’s followers, being supportive of independence, are likely to be drawn to a policy of reason and stability, the more so in that the DPP could only applaud President Lee’s comments.

Was that Lee’s main motive? We are entitled to doubt it. So far, the summer’s tension has not yet appeared to improve Lien’s standing in the polls: on the contrary, China’s warlike language seems to have helped Chen who, by the beginning of September, was running neck and neck with Soong (9).

Another, more domestic, explanation has tended to emphasise the “Lee Teng-hui factor”. Before quitting the presidency (though not politics) Lee wished to set Taiwan’s mainland policy in concrete, doubtless fearing that his successors, more timid or less decisive, would not have the stomach for such an initiative (10). The KMT’s insertion, at the end of August, of the two Chinese states theory into its charter seems to confirm this thesis (11). The consensus behind this approach, both within the party in power and in Taiwanese society as a whole (including James Soong), has been created over a long period as Taiwan’s mainland policy has evolved—a process we have briefly recalled above. Yet, the extent of this consensus shows how far this new approach—in the teeth of Peking’s propaganda campaign—goes beyond considerations of the “Lee Teng-hui style”. Whereas, on July 12th, 56% of Taiwanese people were already in support of Lee’s declaration (22% were against it), in August this proportion went up to 67%. At the same time, 87.2% (as against 73% in April) were opposed to the communist “one country—two systems” formula (10.4% supported it, as against 9% in April) (12).

Clinton changes tack

But such explanations are not entirely convincing. The Clinton administration was shaken by the DPP’s victory in the local elections of November 1997 and is anxious about the military balance between Peking and Taipei and how it will evolve in the future (13). Accordingly, seeking to guard against any new crisis in the Strait, it has ratcheted up the pressure on the Taiwan government. Since any reunification is still today quite inconceivable, the United States has specifically sought to convince Taiwan of the need to negotiate an “interim agreement” with the PRC (14). Entirely in accordance with this new strategy, in June 1998, President Clinton reaffirmed the so-called “three no’s” policy—or rather the “three refusals of support” policy: no to independence for Taiwan; no to “two Chinas” or “one China, one Taiwan”; and no to allowing Taiwan into any international organisations requiring statehood for membership. Despite reassuring utterances at the time from Washington as well as Taipei, this declaration added greatly to Taiwan’s sense of frustration. This was indeed the first time that an American president (speaking, what is more, on Chinese soil) had been willing to cast doubt on the idea of “free choice”. This philosophy had been the basis for the Taiwan Relations Act, voted into law by the US Congress in April 1979 and intended to govern political and security relations between the United States and “the people of Taiwan” (15). At the same time as President Clinton’s declaration, some leading Americans, among them his former Assistant Secretary of Defense (1993-94), Chas Freeman, issued threats against Taiwan: they warned that, unless it agreed to make “no assertions of independent sovereignty”, America would reduce arms deliveries to Taipei and draw even closer to China, leaving the Taiwanese more politically isolated than ever (16).

Since autumn 1998, Sino-American (and Sino-Western) differences have proliferated: over human rights, North Korea, Theater Missile Defense (TMD), the Cox Report on Chinese espionage in the United States, Peking’s backing for Milosevic against the Nato operation over Kosovo, Nato’s bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade, anti-American demonstrations in China. These problems have not, however, eased Washington’s pressure on Taipei. On the contrary. The Clinton administration is still anxious to preserve a strategic partnership with China, yet sees it now in tatters; it is more and more sensitive to Peking’s hysterical outbursts and, in consequence, fearful of being dragged, despite itself, into war between the two Chinas; thus, over this period, it has relentlessly sought to force Taiwan’s hand. For example, at the end of June 1999, Stanley Roth, Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and the Pacific Affairs strenuously insisted that Taipei should agree to open negotiations on a provisional agreement with Peking on the very first visit to Taiwan (originally planned for this autumn) by Wang Daohan, the president of the body responsible for cross-Strait relations and Peking’s senior negotiator with the island (17). Roth’s demand ignored the fact that none of the suspended technical talks between Taipei and Peking have ever been successful.

Once again, however, one should not forget Congress, which is dominated by the Republicans, and the forthcoming campaign for the American presidency. In effect, the United States is more divided than it has ever been over what policy to adopt towards China. The “liberals” surrounding Clinton (such as the Sinologist Kenneth Lieberthal, responsible for Asia in the National Security Council) continue to consider China as “a friend” and have trouble reconciling themselves to a Taiwanese government that until recently was only and too openly supported by the conservative right in America. However, as the respective strategic interests of Washington and Peking continue to evolve, there are questions too about human rights and commercial problems: all three have contributed to muddying the waters. Many politicians and intellectuals, considering themselves on the left, do still hold out against the China policy of, for instance, Jesse Helms, the arch-conservative president of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee; but the fault line dividing the pro-Peking and the pro-Taipei lobbies is not so clear. Both the Democratic Party and the Republican Party are tugged this way and that between the interests of the business community, the preoccupations of defence leaders and the pressure from human rights organisations.

The approach of the November 2000 presidential election has only sharpened these divisions, encouraging Republicans after years in the wilderness to anticipate a sweet revenge over the Democrats. Thus, George Bush junior lost no time, after this new Sino-Taiwanese crisis arose, in distancing himself from the policy of “strategic partnership”. It is only seven years since its defender, President Clinton, accused Bush senior of “coddling the communist tyrants” of Peking (though President Bush did eventually agree, in the heat of an election campaign, to sell 150 F-16 aircraft to Taiwan). Bush junior, however, making a statement that may be remembered in the debate on American foreign policy, declared that China was not a strategic partner but “a strategic competitor” of the United States (18).

In these circumstances, while it is no surprise that Lee’s words should have been particularly badly received by the Clinton administration, one may wonder whether the Taiwanese president did not after all choose the ideal moment to restate his country’s position and reassert its ambitions.

Getting ready for political talks with Peking

When the talks between Taiwan and the PRC resumed in October 1998, the Taiwanese agreed under American pressure to include political questions. And this autumn, as they prepared to receive Wang Daohan in Taipei, and before getting down to serious matters, it was only to be expected that they should signal to the PRC the outer limits of their flexibility. In this regard too, the date of Lee’s declaration could not have been more opportune.

At bottom, contrary to American or Chinese perceptions, were Lee’s words not also a signal to Peking’s leaders? He was saying to them, in substance: “We are disposed to open a political dialogue with you, but let me remind you of the limits that no Taiwanese government will ever permit itself to exceed. The ROC is a state in its own right, one that cannot be dissolved by means of your ‘one country—two systems’ formula. Rather, you should renounce any recourse to force, as we did eight years ago, and prepare yourselves to accord us recognition, just as we are disposed to make the same gesture towards you”.

By making this declaration, Lee in no way sought to challenge the one-China policy adhered to by the United States or by any other country. Taiwan knows only too well that no third party government will budge on that question so long as Peking sticks to its attitude. He simply wished to remind others that any political negotiation between the two Chinas could not for long continue to ignore the question of sovereignty. In other words, no provisional accord, no “end of hostilities” pact (as proposed by Jiang Zemin in January 1995) can be concluded unless the PRC admits, in one way or another, the existence of the ROC. As in other international conflicts, for instance the Israeli-Palestinian dispute, the path to a solution lies through mutual recognition—of each other and of the reality. In the case of the two Chinas, the way ahead lies in acknowledging the division of the country into two states, separate, independent and yet constituent parts of the Chinese nation.

Peking’s reaction

The response from Peking to this common-sense declaration is probably, in part, still to be unveiled. Persistent rumours, guided by remote control through Hong Kong’s pro-communist press, seek to establish the idea that Peking, affecting its role of regional schoolmaster, intends “teaching the rebel island a lesson”—preferably after the October 1st when the PRC holds its half century celebrations, and before Taiwan’s presidential election next March (19). According to some sources, this operation would take the form of a provisional occupation of one of the islands controlled by Taipei and situated a few cables’ length away from the Fujian coast: one is reminded of 1962 when Chinese troops seized part of India’s North East Frontier Agency (later renamed Arunachal Pradesh), but withdrew a few months afterwards (20).

For the first time, this increasingly strained relationship has extended into cyberspace: throughout the summer, mainland and Taiwanese hackers have been doing battle with each other. Several times so far, each side has managed to penetrate the other’s web sites and to insert slogans supporting their respective viewpoints on relations between the two governments.

For the time being, however, the Chinese authorities have been content with acts and gestures worthy of Peking Opera: large-scale military manoeuvres by land and sea opposite Taiwan (21); short but repeated violations of Taiwanese airspace at the start of August; dire military threats backed up by the announcement of new technological advances (the neutron bomb in mid-July, the tests, in August, of a new intercontinental missile capable of reaching the west coast of the United States, and of a new ground-to-air missile) (22); and purchases of Russian-made weapons (60 SU-30s) (23). In addition, through its official media, the PRC poured out vulgar insults, mostly aimed at Lee Teng-hui himself, that were hardly worthy of a power with aspirations to world status (24). This all-out campaign of psychological warfare was directed, not only against Taiwan but also against the United States, aiming to cast doubt on the invincibility of the Seventh Fleet and raising two fingers to the Cox report (25).

The most surprising aspect of this affair is the violence of the communist reaction. Indeed, following the missile crisis, Lee had repeatedly pointed out in the leading Western newspapers (such as the International Herald Tribune) that Taiwan was an independent and sovereign country—without any particular response from Pe king (26). Why then this sudden outbreak of fever?

Three reasons may be suggested, in ascending order of significance: the 50th anniversary of the PRC, the war over Kosovo, and American wavering over its policy.

The 50th anniversary of communist rule

Three months short of the anniversary, it was difficult for the Peking authorities to overlook a declaration that, in their eyes, “challenged” the basis of the non-official dialogue across the Strait and went back on what Wang Daohan had agreed with Taiwan on July 12th (27). More seriously, Lee’s comments damaged the very legitimacy of the communist government, a legitimacy that rests upon the fiction—too often forgotten—of a complete victory over Chiang Kai-shek and the ROC. In the Communist Party bible, the rival state disappeared on October 1st 1949. Any subsequent recognition accorded to Taipei (by France until 1964, by the UN until 1971 or by the United States until 1979) is retrospectively considered null and void by Peking. Far from being aimed at political ecumenism, the 50th anniversary can have no other objective than seeking to repaint the facade, crumbling though it is, of a regime increasingly under attack, whether by dissidents, the Internet, falungong, corruption or private enterprise.

For this reason, the return of Taiwan to the PRC, on the model of Hong Kong and Macau, remains at this season of the year a sacred mission for the Chinese Communist Party. In this light, some news programmes have reported Jiang Zemin’s hope of announcing on October 1st that reunification negotiations will open with Taiwan, to be launched soon afterwards by Wang Daohan during his visit to Taipei. And this, it is claimed, is partly why Lee said what he said, so as to steal the initiative from his rival (28).

For the communist government, however, Lee’s words may well have seemed a stroke of luck; on the one hand, at little expense beyond a massive propaganda campaign, they provided a cause to rally most of mainland society; on the other, they offered an excuse to put off, until after March 2000, any visit by Wang Daohan to Taipei; Lee Teng-hui would thus be deprived of a meeting with Peking’s senior negotiator, a meeting at which he would have seized the chance of posing as a head of state…

The Kosovo syndrome

The war over Kosovo inflicted a real trauma upon Peking. The relative facility with which the NATO powers were able to trample on the principle of sovereignty, in the name of the humanitarian right of intervention, could only increase the paranoia of a government whose conscience, when it came to human rights or respect for minorities, could not be entirely easy. China was openly fearful that NATO’s war against Yugoslavia might serve as a precedent. It felt obliged to frighten anyone who, in the event of serious human rights atrocities, might have the cheek to rush to support Xinjiang or Tibet—deliberately forgetting in these two cases that its territory is protected by its nuclear deterence power—or, of course, Taiwan if Chinese forces were to attack the island. For Jiang Zemin, Taiwan must not become “the Kosovo of Asia” (29). Hence the savagery of Peking’s ranting—quite groundless, against the enlargement of NATO, and the encirclement of the PRC by America and its allies: Peking’s behaviour amounts to an uncanny replay of the old Soviet tantrums that, in past years, took in so many Kremlinologists—American ones especially (30). Hence the renewed onslaught against America’s TMD project and its possible extension to Taiwan. Hence too the complaints about American arms sales to Taiwan (in quantities, it is true, that are completely at variance with the letter of the agreement to reduce such sales, as signed by Peking and Washington in 1982) (31). For Peking today, the ability to make all the countries that count recite in chorus that Taiwan is a domestic Chinese matter is no longer a sufficient guarantee against any outside “interference”, particularly in the case of conflict in the Strait. It is true that this kind of diplomatic promise has never been enough to limit the involvement of the United States in the island’s security. But in the international context, post-Kosovo, the other powers, especially regional ones (Japan, despite its usual discretion, and even Australia) could show themselves less hesitant about co-operating with America if it found itself committed to a war in defence of Taiwan (32).

American wavering over policy

US China policy has been unsteady since the end of 1997 (cf. above). It is this wavering that has driven the PRC to build up the pressure on Taiwan and on the US administration. While Washington’s reaffirmation of the “three noes” raised anxieties and frustrations in Taipei, it pushed Peking into taking advantage of this diplomatic readjustment. This was so in 1998, even before Lee’s declaration, when Koo Chen-fu, Chairman of Taiwan’s Strait Exchange Foundation, made his first visit to the PRC. Peking’s negotiators, having wrung from their Taiwanese counterparts the promise to open up a “political dialogue”, showed no great eagerness to organise Wang Daohan’s visit to Taiwan, even though it had then been agreed in principle. It was supposed to take place in spring of this year; for obscure reasons of scheduling it was then put off until the autumn; and now there is little likelihood of its taking place before Taiwan’s presidential election (33). Similarly, Peking undertook to place (or to replace) strategic questions at the centre of its negotiations with Washington, questions such as arms sales to Taiwan, even though these had been long forgotten, and the TMD project, despite the still very hypothetical prospect of its being deployed.

By choosing to react violently to Lee’s words, Jiang Zemin intended above all else to weaken the United States’ stand on Taiwan, to oblige it to keep its distance from the Taipei authorities and therefore to open up again the thorny questions mentioned above.

As the war goes on, who is winning?

Peking wins a battle

In some ways, Peking has achieved its ends. Washington had no hesitation in berating the Taiwanese president, telling him bluntly to take back his words. Thus, on 11th September, during Clinton’s meeting with Jiang Zemin at the APEC conference in Auckland, while Clinton refused to make a public condemnation of the “two states theory”, he accused Lee of having made things more “difficult”, not only for the PRC but also for the US. And none of Peking’s partners dared to come to Taiwan’s defence. On the contrary, about halfway through September, in the run-up to the annual meeting of the UN General Assembly, the US felt obliged for the first time to express their opposition to the inclusion of the Taiwan question on the agenda. In earlier years, this country had abstained from speaking on the subject. Although Lee did not, as one might have expected, moderate what he had said, Taipei leaders strove to bury their president’s words under an avalanche of semantic clarifications—not always coherent ones—suggesting invariably that they were still consistent with the concept of One China. This concept, put forward in 1992, has also in Taiwan’s eyes served as a constant basis for talks with the mainland (34). Thus, the formula now attributed to Taiwan is that of “special state-to-state relations”. In addition the communist government stepped in a heavy footed way into the middle of Taiwan’s presidential election campaign, and put candidates under great pressure, by letting it be understood at the end of August that the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) was ready for war, but was suspending the implementation of its plans until the elections (35). Wishing to reassure the voters, candidates could be tempted to utter competing demagogic promises of better cross-Strait relations. For example, the speed with which Lien Chan has committed himself, if he is elected, to open “political negotiations” with Peking—whereas Taipei has up until now agreed to nothing more than a “dialogue”—is doubtless a portent of what is to come (36).

Jiang Zemin has resumed his diplomatic ballet, aimed at taking the PRC into the World Trade Organisation; he visited Thailand and Australia and attended the APEC summit in New Zealand this September. And the greater moderation that Peking has willingly shown is also part of its strategy to appease the West. Thus, a little earlier, without of course renouncing the use of force against the “Taiwanese separatists”, Peking announced that it would never use a nuclear weapon against Taiwan—an easy promise, but one likely to strengthen the support of governments who believe that Peking’s policy of reunification is a responsible one (37).

In other words, without having fired a shot, the PRC has won the first battle in the psychological war it is fighting with Taiwan. Lee’s declaration has drawn a response from both Peking and Washington that shows how difficult it has become for Taipei to take any initiative in its relations with the mainland. And the vacillations of the Clinton administration have done much to force Taiwan into a position of passive resistance faced with the communist government’s claims, a position that Lee Teng-hui could not accept.

Taiwan, the beneficiary of Sino-US confrontation

For all that, is the ROC reduced to the status of an American colony? Can Washington—will Washington—force Taipei’s hand? Despite the risks that it forced the island to take, did Lee’s initiative not also show both that Taiwan remains a fully-fledged member of the international community, and that the real options left to Peking are increasingly limited?

Although Taiwan is very dependent on the United States for its security, it has been able, since Peking and Washington normalised their relations 20 years ago, to play an autonomous role, especially in its relationship with the PRC. Today, the reason for that is not only the support Taiwan receives from America—from the political class and from public opinion. Three other factors help to strengthen Taiwan’s position: the Sino-US confrontation, the new rules governing international relations and the progressive integration of the PRC within the world economy.

It is true that a certain number of American politicians and experts, believing since 1979 that the two Chinas can be rapidly and peacefully reunified, would like to bind Taiwan into a discipline not far removed from the “one country—two systems” formula, hoping thus to restore harmony to relations between Peking and Washington. But it is becoming more and more difficult for the United States to deny its growing strategic confrontation with the PRC. Evidence of this comes from draft resolutions before Congress—aimed at strenghtening US military support to Taiwan—as well as from declarations by candidate George Bush junior and by some of President Clinton’s advisers.

Clearly, it was Peking that forced this confrontation because, since the collapse of the Soviet Union, it has seen in American power the main impediment to its international purposes. All of Peking’s foreign policy discourse bears witness to this fact. And the Taiwan question is far from being the main cause of this switch of policy. This new strategic order threatens the ROC’s survival—and protects it too. It threatens it because, being now free from the pressure once exerted upon it by Soviet forces, the PLA is seriously committed to establishing over the medium term the military capacity to subdue Taiwan. It protects it because the prospect that America would fly to Taiwan’s support in case of war, or even if Taiwan declares its independence, is becoming increasingly evident. In other words, the policy of “strategic ambiguity” or “conditional commitment” towards Taiwan, to borrow a phrase from Harry Harding (38), is coming under growing challenge. Witness the declarations made in September by the Sinologist Susan Shirk, Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs (39). In any scenario in which the PLA attacked Taiwan, American leaders would be obliged to intervene, both to uphold US credibility in the Asia-Pacific region and to prevent an anti-West China from extending its influence there.

Peking is fully aware of this. It is endeavouring now to bear down upon Taipei, politically and militarily, but without forcing any reaction from Washington (40). Hence the speculation about an operation against the two Quemoy islands and the Matsu Archipelago (41). These islands are quite useless, from a strategic point of view, but the seizure of one of them, even provisionally, by the Chinese communists would take on an undeniable political significance. It would not, however, settle the Taiwan question. And a mini conquest of this kind, by breaking the tie that still unites the ROC with the mainland (a tie that Mao Zedong sought always to preserve) and by effectively restoring the state of war across the Strait, might push the island’s people a little closer to formal independence. It might provoke a far more lively reaction from the United States and from the international community.

In the post-Kosovo world, while East Timor has been able, thanks to political changes in Indonesia, to vote for its own independence the PRC does not feel so sure of itself on the Taiwan question. This is why it has flared up over any attempt to compare East Timor to Taiwan, issuing a pre-emptive rejection of any claim by the island to hold a similar referendum (42). But this new international context is not likely to push China down the path taken by Yugoslavia or Jiang Zemin down the path taken by Milosevic, despite the good relations that these two countries have maintained with each other.

Similarly with China’s economic reform process. Even more now than three years ago, the Communist Party leadership has appeared divided over the question of Taiwan and over the best attitude to adopt to Lee’s declaration. The summer get-together of the senior Chinese leaders at Beidaihe (late July and early August) came down for the time being on the side of the moderates. The fact that Jiang Zemin should choose, in the days following that meeting, to inspect the stricken industrial area in the north-east was the first sign. The second was the theme adopted by the September 1999 plenary session of the Central Committee: speeding up the reforms of state owned enterprises. It is said that Zhu Rongji in particular has opposed any military adventure against Taiwan (43). He was probably not alone in observing with some anxiety the impact that the renewed tension in the Strait has had on the Chinese economy. The Shanghai and Shenzhen stock markets have fallen proportionately more steeply than that of Taipei; and foreign investment, Taiwanese in particular, has fallen off (44). Zhu has certainly not been alone either in measuring the catastrophic consequences of military action on the communist government’s foreign relations, its economic reforms, and even its survival. Jiang Zemin has come over to this view, being too busy preparing himself for forthcoming commitments overseas, in the course of which an armed operation against the “rebel island” would look decidedly clumsy. The PLA has not entirely lost out in this affair: it has secured a budgetary extension and a new series of modern planes (the SU-30s and perhaps the SU-35s that it has been clamouring for), despite the resistance shown by prime minister Zhu (45).

It is clear that some elements of the state apparatus—among them probably most of those responsible for the PLA and the security services—remain opposed to this policy (46). But does the Peking government have any better options than to replace real bombs with political missiles and ideological rockets? In the end, the basic weakness affecting the PRC lies in the paradoxical fact that, to settle the Taiwan question, it is forced to pay court to the power that is the main target of its international strategy—the United States. And now it seems that the whole of Peking’s foreign policy is dictated by this contradiction.

For this reason, the least improbable scenario is still that the PRC will return to the negotiations table, progressively putting aside once again, as in 1997-98, the conditions it has set (e.g. that the two states theory should be abandoned) (47). The resumption of talks can probably not take place before a new Taiwanese president is sworn in. PRC pretention to force any foreign aid to the victims of Taiwan’s terrible September 21st earthquake (2,300 dead) to be first approved by her showed how unbridgeable the gap between the two countries remains (48).Thus it will take many months before Peking and Taipei agree on an agenda for political “negotiations” or even “discussions”. Even so, can this mean that they will come closer to a solution? Is the communist government really in a position to convince the Taiwanese of the benefits of reunification? The United States has already appealed to the PRC to show “creativity” (49). By means of his recent declaration, Lee Teng-hui has also helped it a little in that direction. Any realistic settlement of the Taiwan question can only advance by way of the mutual recognition of two Chinese states, which would need to commit themselves at the same time to sail in convoy, without undue haste, towards unification. Unless, of course, Peking prefers formal independence for Taiwan … or all-out war. As for the European Union (and particularly France), instead of allowing itself to be beguiled into anti-American multipolarism, it would do better in these circumstances to remind the PRC to moderate its language and not to play with fire…

Translated from French original by Philip Liddell