This essay was originally published in Foreign Affairs magazine.

Chinese leaders will continue to pay lip service to peaceful unification until the day the war breaks out, but their actions increasingly suggest that they have something else in mind. As tensions with the United States have heated up, China has accelerated its military operations in the vicinity of Taiwan, conducting 380 incursions into the island’s air defense identification zone in 2020 alone. In April of this year, China sent its largest-ever fleet, 25 fighters and bombers, into Taiwan’s air defense identification zone. Clearly, Xi is no longer trying to avoid escalation at all costs now that his military is capable of contesting the U.S. military presence in the region. Long gone are the days of the 1996 crisis over Taiwan, when the United States dispatched two aircraft carrier battle groups to sail near the strait and China backed off. Beijing did not like being deterred back then, and it spent the next 25 years modernizing its military so that it would not be so next time.  

Much of that modernization, including updates to hardware, organization, force structure, and training, was designed to enable the People’s Liberation Army to invade and occupy Taiwan. Xi expanded the military’s capabilities further, undertaking the most ambitious restructuring of the PLA since its founding, aimed specifically at enabling Chinese forces to conduct joint operations in which the air force, the navy, the army, and the strategic rocket force fight seamlessly together, whether during an amphibious landing, a blockade, or a missile attack—exactly the kinds of operations needed for armed unification. Xi urgently pushed these risky reforms, many unpopular with the military, to ensure that the PLA could fight and win wars by 2020.

The voices in Beijing arguing that it is time to use these newfound military capabilities against Taiwan have grown louder, a telling development in an era of greater censorship. Several retired military officers have argued publicly that the longer China waits, the harder it will be to take control of Taiwan. Articles in state-run news outlets and on popular websites have likewise urged China to act swiftly. And if public opinion polls are to be believed, the Chinese people agree that the time has come to resolve the Taiwan issue once and for all. According to a survey by the state-run Global Times, 70 percent of mainlanders strongly support using force to unify Taiwan with the mainland, and 37 percent think it would be best if the war occurred in three to five years. 

The Chinese analysts and officials I have spoken to have revealed similar sentiments. Even moderate voices have admitted that not only are calls for armed unification proliferating within the CCP but also they themselves have recommended military action to senior Chinese leadership. Others in Beijing dismiss concerns about a Chinese invasion as overblown, but in the same breath, they acknowledge that Xi is surrounded by military advisers who tell him with confidence that China can now regain Taiwan by force at an acceptable cost. 

Battle Ready

Unless the United States or Taiwan moves first to alter the status quo, Xi will likely consider initiating armed unification only if he is confident that his military can successfully gain control of the island. Can it? 

The answer is a matter of debate, and it depends on what it would take to compel Taiwan’s capitulation. Beijing is preparing for four main campaigns that its military planners believe could be necessary to take control of the island. The first consists of joint PLA missile and airstrikes to disarm Taiwanese targets—initially military and government, then civilian—and thereby force Taipei’s submission to Chinese demands. The second is a blockade operation in which China would attempt to cut the island off from the outside world with everything from naval raids to cyberattacks. The third involves missile and airstrikes against U.S. forces deployed nearby, with the aim of making it difficult for the United States to come to Taiwan’s aid in the initial stages of the conflict. The fourth and final campaign is an island landing effort in which China would launch an amphibious assault on Taiwan—perhaps taking its offshore islands first as part of a phased invasion or carpet bombing them as the navy, the army, and the air force focused on Taiwan proper. 

Among defense experts, there is little debate about China’s ability to pull off the first three of these campaigns—the joint strike, the blockade, and the counterintervention mission. Neither U.S. efforts to make its regional bases more resilient nor Taiwanese missile defense systems are any match for China’s ballistic and cruise missiles, which are the most advanced in the world. China could quickly destroy Taiwan’s key infrastructure, block its oil imports, and cut off its Internet access—and sustain such a blockade indefinitely. According to Lonnie Henley, a retired U.S. intelligence officer and China specialist, “U.S. forces could probably push through a trickle of relief supplies, but not much more.” And because China has such a sophisticated air defense system, the United States would have little hope of regaining air or naval superiority by attacking Chinese missile transporters, fighters, or ships. 

But China’s fourth and final campaign—an amphibious assault on the island itself—is far from guaranteed to succeed. According to a 2020 U.S. Department of Defense report, “China continues to build capabilities that would contribute to a full-scale invasion,” but “an attempt to invade Taiwan would likely strain China’s armed forces and invite international intervention.” The then commander of U.S. Indo-Pacific Command, Philip Davidson, said in March that China will have the ability to successfully invade Taiwan in six years. Other observers think it will take longer, perhaps until around 2030 or 2035. 

What everyone agrees is that China has made significant strides in its ability to conduct joint operations in recent years and that the United States needs adequate warning to mount a successful defense. As Beijing hones its spoofing and jamming technologies, it may be able to scramble U.S. early warning systems and thereby keep U.S. forces in the dark in the early hours of an attack. Xi’s military reforms have improved China’s cyberwarfare and electronic warfare capabilities, which could be trained on civilian, as well as military, targets. As Dan Coats, then the U.S. director of national intelligence, testified in 2019, Beijing is capable of offensive cyberattacks against the United States that would cause “localized, temporary disruptive effects on critical infrastructure.” China’s offensive weaponry, including ballistic and cruise missiles, could also destroy U.S. bases in the western Pacific in a matter of days.

In light of these enhanced capabilities, many U.S. experts worry that China could take control of Taiwan before the United States even had a chance to react. Recent war games conducted by the Pentagon and the RAND Corporation have shown that a military clash between the United States and China over Taiwan would likely result in a U.S. defeat, with China completing an all-out invasion in just days or weeks.

Ultimately, on the question of whether China will use force, Chinese leaders’ perceptions of their chances of victory will matter more than their actual chances of victory. For that reason, it is bad news that Chinese analysts and officials increasingly express confidence that the PLA is well prepared for a military confrontation with the United States over Taiwan. Although Chinese strategists acknowledge the United States’ general military superiority, many have come to believe that because China is closer to Taiwan and cares about it more, the local balance of power tips in Beijing’s favor. 

As U.S.-Chinese tensions have risen, China’s state-sponsored media outlets have grown more vocal in their praise for the country’s military capabilities. In April, the Global Times described an unnamed military expert saying that “the PLA exercises are not only warnings, but also show real capabilities and pragmatically practicing reunifying the island if it comes to that.” If China chooses to invade, the analyst added, the Taiwanese military “won’t stand a chance.”

Go Fast, Go Slow

Once China has the military capabilities to finally solve its Taiwan problem, Xi could find it politically untenable not to do so, given the heightened nationalism of both the CCP and the public. At this point, Beijing will likely work its way up to a large-scale military campaign, beginning with “gray zone” tactics, such as increased air and naval patrols, and continuing on to coercive diplomacy aimed at forcing Taipei to negotiate a political resolution. 

Psychological warfare will also be part of Beijing’s playbook. Chinese exercises around Taiwan not only help train the PLA but also wear down Taiwan’s military and demonstrate to the world that the United States cannot protect the island. The PLA wants to make its presence in the Taiwan Strait routine. The more common its activities there become, the harder it will be for the United States to determine when a Chinese attack is imminent, making it easier for the PLA to present the world with a fait accompli.

At the same time that it ramps up its military activities in the strait, China will continue its broader diplomatic campaign to eliminate international constraints on its ability to use force, privileging economic rights over political ones in its relations with other countries and within international bodies, downplaying human rights, and, above all, promoting the norms of sovereignty and noninterference in internal affairs. Its goal is to create the narrative that any use of force against Taiwan would be defensive and justified given Taipei’s and Washington’s provocations. All these coercive and diplomatic efforts will move China closer to unification, but they won’t get it all the way there. Taiwan is not some unoccupied atoll in the South China Sea that China can successfully claim so long as other countries do not respond militarily. China needs Taiwan’s complete capitulation, and that will likely require a significant show of force. 

If Beijing decides to initiate a campaign to forcibly bring Taiwan under Chinese sovereignty, it will try to calibrate its actions to discourage U.S. intervention. It might, for example, begin with low-cost military options, such as joint missile and airstrikes, and only escalate to a blockade, a seizure of offshore islands, and, finally, a full-blown invasion if its earlier actions fail to compel Taiwan to capitulate. Conducted slowly over the course of many months, such a gradual approach to armed unification would make it difficult for the United States to mount a strong response, especially if U.S. allies and partners in the region wish to avoid a war at all costs. A gradual, coercive approach would also force Washington to initiate direct hostilities between the two powers. And if China has not fired a shot at U.S. forces, the United States would find it harder to make the case at home and in Asian capitals for a U.S. military intervention to turn back a slow-motion Chinese invasion. An incremental approach would have domestic political benefits for Beijing, as well. If China received more international pushback than expected or became embroiled in a campaign against the United States that started to go badly, it would have more opportunities to pull back and claim “mission accomplished.”  

But China could decide to escalate much more rapidly if it concluded that the United States was likely to intervene militarily regardless of whether Beijing moved swiftly or gradually. Chinese military strategists believe that if they give the United States time to mobilize and amass firepower in the vicinity of the Taiwan Strait, China’s chances of victory will decrease substantially. As a result, they could decide to preemptively hit U.S. bases in the region, crippling Washington’s ability to respond.

In other words, U.S. deterrence—to the extent that it is based on a credible threat to intervene militarily to protect Taiwan—could actually incentivize an attack on U.S. forces once Beijing has decided to act. The more credible the American threat to intervene, the more likely China would be to hit U.S. forces in the region in its opening salvo. But if China thought the United States might stay out of the conflict, it would decline to attack U.S. forces in the region, since doing so would inevitably bring the United States into the war. 

Wishful Thinking

What might dissuade Xi from pursuing armed unification, if not U.S. military might? Most Western analysts believe that Xi’s devotion to his signature plan to achieve the “Chinese dream” of “national rejuvenation,” which requires him to maintain economic growth and improve China’s international standing, will deter him from using military force and risking derailing his agenda. They argue that the economic costs of a military campaign against Taiwan would be too high, that China would be left completely isolated internationally, and that Chinese occupation of the island would tie up Beijing for decades to come. 

But these arguments about the cost of armed unification are based more on American projections and wishful thinking than on fact. A protracted, high-intensity conflict would indeed be costly for China, but Chinese war planners have set out to avoid this scenario; China is unlikely to attack Taiwan unless it is confident that it can achieve a quick victory, ideally before the United States can even respond. 

Even if China found itself in a protracted war with the United States, however, Chinese leaders may believe they have social and economic advantages that would enable them to outlast the Americans. They see the Chinese people as more willing to make sacrifices for the cause of Taiwan than the American people. Some argue, too, that China’s large domestic market makes it less reliant on international trade than many other countries. (The more China economically decouples from the United States and the closer it gets to technological self-sufficiency, the greater this advantage will be.) Chinese leaders could also take comfort in their ability to quickly transition to an industrial wartime footing. The United States has no such ability to rapidly produce military equipment.

International isolation and coordinated punishment of Beijing might seem like a greater threat to Xi’s great Chinese experiment. Eight of China’s top ten trading partners are democracies, and nearly 60 percent of China’s exports go to the United States and its allies. If these countries responded to a Chinese assault on Taiwan by severing trade ties with China, the economic costs could threaten the developmental components of Xi’s rejuvenation plan.

But Chinese leaders have good reason to suspect that international isolation and opprobrium would be relatively mild. When China began to cultivate strategic partnerships in the mid-1990s, it required other countries and organizations, including the European Union, to sign long-term agreements to prioritize these relationships and proactively manage any tensions or disruptions. All these agreements mention trade, investment, economic cooperation, and working together in the United Nations. Most include provisions in support of Beijing’s position on Taiwan. (Since 1996, China has convinced more than a dozen countries to switch their diplomatic recognition to Beijing, leaving Taiwan with only 15 remaining allies.) In other words, many of China’s most important trading partners have already sent a strong signal that they will not let Taiwan derail their relationships with Beijing. 

Whether compelling airlines to take Taiwan off their maps or pressuring Paramount Pictures to remove the Taiwanese flag from the Top Gun hero Maverick’s jacket, China has largely succeeded in convincing many countries that Taiwan is an internal matter that they should stay out of. Australia has been cautious about expanding its military cooperation with the United States and reluctant even to consider joint contingency planning over Taiwan (although the tide seems to be shifting in Canberra). Opinion polls show that most Europeans value their economic ties with China and the United States roughly the same and don’t want to be caught in the middle. Southeast Asia feels similarly, with polls showing that the majority of policymakers and thought leaders from member states of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations believe the best approach to U.S.-Chinese sparring is for the association to “enhance its own resilience and unity to fend off their pressures.” One South Korean official put it more memorably in an interview with The Atlantic, comparing the need to pick sides in the U.S.-Chinese dispute to “asking a child whether you like your dad or your mom.” Such attitudes suggest that the United States would struggle to convince its allies to isolate China. And if the international reaction to Beijing’s crackdowns in Hong Kong and Xinjiang is any indication, the most China can expect after an invasion of Taiwan are some symbolic sanctions and words of criticism. 

The risk that a bloody insurgency in Taiwan will drag on for years and drain Beijing of resources is no more of a deterrent—and the idea that it would be says more about the United States’ scars from Afghanistan and Iraq than about likely scenarios for Taiwan. The PLA’s military textbooks assume the need for a significant campaign to consolidate power after its troops have landed and broken through Taiwan’s coastal defenses, but they do not express much concern about it. This may be because although the PLA has not fought a war since 1979, China has ample experience with internal repression and dedicates more resources to that mission than to its military. The People’s Armed Police boasts at least 1.5 million members, whose primary mission is suppressing opposition. Compared with the military task of invading and seizing Taiwan in the first place, occupying it probably looks like a piece of cake.

For all these reasons, Xi may believe he can regain control of Taiwan without jeopardizing his Chinese dream. It is telling that in the flood of commentary on Taiwan that has come out of China in recent months, few articles have mentioned the costs of war or the potential reaction from the international community. As one retired high-level military officer explained to me recently, China’s main concern isn’t the costs; it’s sovereignty. Chinese leaders will always fight for what is theirs. And if China defeats the United States along the way, it will become the new dominant power in the Asia-Pacific. The prospects are tantalizing. The worst-case scenario, moreover, is that the United States reacts more quickly and effectively than expected, forcing China to declare victory after limited gains and go home. Beijing would live to capture Taiwan another day. 

No Exit

These realities make it very difficult for the United States to alter China’s calculus on Taiwan. Richard Haass and David Sacks of the Council on Foreign Relations have argued in Foreign Affairs that the United States could improve cross-strait deterrence by ending its long-standing policy of “strategic ambiguity”—that is, declining to state specifically whether and how it would come to Taiwan’s defense. But the main problem is not U.S. resolve, since Chinese leaders already assume the United States will intervene. What matters to Xi and other top Chinese leaders is whether they think the PLA can prevail even in the face of U.S. intervention. For that reason, successful deterrence requires convincing China that the United States can prevent it from achieving its military objectives in Taiwan, a difficult undertaking that would come with its own downsides and potential risks. 

One way to convince Beijing would be to develop the capabilities to physically stop it from taking Taiwan—deterrence by denial. This would involve positioning missile launchers and armed drones near Taiwan and more long-range munitions, especially antiship weapons, in places such as Guam, Japan, and the Philippines. These weapons would help repel a Chinese amphibious and air assault in the initial stages of an attack. If Chinese leaders knew their forces could not physically make it across the strait, they would not consider trying unless Taiwan took the truly unacceptable step of declaring independence. 

The United States would also need to invest heavily in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance in the region. The attractiveness of a full-on invasion from China’s perspective lies in the possibility of surprise: the United States may not be able to respond militarily until after Beijing has taken control of the island and the war is over. Leaving aside the operational challenges of such a response, it would be politically difficult for any U.S. president to authorize an attack on China when no shots were being fired at the time. 

An enhanced U.S. military and intelligence presence in the Indo-Pacific would be sufficient to deter most forms of armed unification, but it wouldn’t prevent China from using force altogether. Beijing could still try to use missile strikes to convince Taiwan to bend to its will. To deter all Chinese military aggression, the United States would therefore need to be prepared to destroy China’s missile batteries—which would involve U.S. strikes on the Chinese mainland. Even if U.S. intelligence capabilities improve, the United States would risk mistaking Chinese military exercises for preparations for an invasion—and igniting a war by mistake. China knows this and may conclude the United States would not take the chance. 

The most effective way to deter Chinese leaders from attacking Taiwan is also the most difficult: to convince them that armed unification would cost China its rejuvenation. And the United States cannot do this alone. Washington would need to persuade a large coalition of allies to commit to a coordinated economic, political, and military response to any Chinese aggression. And that, unfortunately, remains a remote possibility, since many countries are unwilling to risk their economic prospects, let alone a major-power war, in order to defend a small democratic island. 

Ultimately, then, there is no quick and easy fix to the escalating tensions across the strait. The only way the United States can ensure Taiwan’s security is to make an invasion impossible for Beijing or to convince Chinese leaders that using force will cause them to be pariahs. For the last 25 years, however, Beijing has sought to prevent Washington from doing either. Unfortunately for Taiwan, only now is the United States waking up to the new reality.

This commentary by Kiyoteru Tsutsui and Charles Crabtree was originally published in The Hill.

The recent White House summit meeting between President Biden and Japanese Prime Minister Yoshihide Suga signaled to the world, and especially to China, that the U.S.-Japan alliance is strong and ready for intensifying competition in Asia.

For the first time in more than 50 years, the Japanese and American leaders mentioned Taiwan in their joint statement. China immediately responded with strong words, as expected, but since has moderated its tone. Furthermore, Chinese leader Xi Jinping participated in the U.S.-organized Leaders Summit on Climate the week after the Biden-Suga meeting and took a collaborative stance, a hopeful sign that competition will not eliminate the possibility of some collaboration and that climate change is an area where Beijing, Tokyo and Washington can work together.

But the U.S. and Japan still have at least three concerns about China: Beijing’s continued posturing on Taiwan and the Senkaku Islands; its significant leverage in economic relations; and its repression of human rights in Xinjiang, Hong Kong and beyond. How should the alliance handle these important issues? 

On the security front, America’s return to multilateralism under Biden is a welcome development for Japan and other like-minded states in the region. The U.S.-Japan alliance is obviously central in the coalition of democratic nations concerned about China’s ambitions. The primary goal of these countries ought to be walking the thin line between demonstrating their resolve to counter any aggressive behavior by China with force and avoiding any unnecessary provocation against China. 

Toward that end, the most promising framework is the Quad that includes India and Australia in addition to Japan and the U.S. The first-ever leader-level meeting in March elevated the Quad’s status significantly. While it still is a long way from becoming a NATO-like security apparatus — and it’s not even clear if that’s the consensus goal — it could help stabilize the region by creating a credible counterweight to check China’s territorial ambitions.

Beyond the Quad, the inclusion of other like-minded stakeholders such as South Korea and ASEAN countries on security matters is important. With South Korean President Moon Jae-in’s visit to Washington planned in late May, a good first step for the Biden administration would be to invest some diplomatic capital in mending fences between Japan and South Korea. A full-scale reconciliation between the two regional powers is unlikely this year; Suga faces elections in the fall, for which he needs to consolidate the conservative base, and Moon is a lame duck with limited political power. But some reconciliation would be welcome for the U.S. as it seeks to resurrect the trilateral alliance with Japan and South Korea to complement the Quad in deterring China’s ambitions and addressing the threat posed by North Korea. 

In the economic domain, China is arguably even more difficult to contain, being the largest trade partner for virtually all the countries in the region. Decoupling from China was a key theme at the Biden-Suga summit, but this is a task that has proven much easier said than done. From semiconductors to rare earth minerals, the battle for key materials for the 21st century economy will only intensify, and China’s grand scheme in the Belt and Road Initiative needs to be countered by a similarly grand long-term strategy that would flesh out the Free and Open Indo-Pacific vision.

In this regard, the U.S.-Japan Competitiveness and Resilience Partnership can be quite consequential. In addition to pledging cooperation on “sensitive supply-chain” issues, it outlines the agenda for technological innovation that cuts across security and economic domains, making it a critical tool in the competition with China. This is because whoever develops an edge in transformational technologies — such as artificial intelligence, 5G infrastructure, and outer space development — will enjoy diplomatic and military advantages as well as economic profits. The combined $4.5 billion investment in the partnership is a good first step to ensuring that the U.S. and Japan retain an innovation advantage. Additional expenditures likely will be necessary, though, considering China’s commitment in these areas.

On human rights, Japan and America take different approaches. While the U.S. has called the situation in Xinjiang a genocide and imposed sanctions there, as well as in Myanmar following the military coup, Japan has taken a more subdued stance. This is a standard approach for Tokyo, which prefers to emphasize engagement with violating governments.

The Biden administration seems to accept Suga’s strategy of engagement, and perhaps the diplomatic channel that this approach provides can be useful in negotiating some kind of settlement. However, the strategy of engagement that has produced some benefits in countries such as Thailand and possibly Myanmar is unlikely to be as effective with China. Furthermore, several Western corporations are facing boycotts in China for taking a stand against forced labor in Xinjiang. If Japanese corporations avoid paying the price and continue business as usual, Tokyo might face greater pressure to take some action. Given the central importance of the Chinese market for Japanese businesses, this could give rise to significant tension between Tokyo and Washington. 

On all these dimensions, for Japan and the U.S. to be effective in countering China, both Biden and Suga would have to consolidate domestic support. Biden’s first 100 days generally were seen as successful, with COVID-19 vaccine distribution going smoothly and Congress passing ambitious spending bills. Besides, Biden has at least until the midterm elections in November 2022 to move things forward.

The timetable is less friendly for Suga, who needs to win the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) presidential election in September and hold a House of Representatives election by October. His fate will be shaped in large measure by his government’s pandemic response and how that influences economic fortunes, and to a lesser extent the success of the Tokyo Olympics. Most Tokyo insiders predict that he will remain in office past October, citing weak opposition both in and outside of the ruling LDP. If, however, COVID-19 vaccine distribution does not move forward by the fall, as projected by the government, and the economy continues to slide, that could still trip him up.

Only with domestic political stability and economic prosperity can Tokyo and Washington take the next steps in projecting strength vis-à-vis China, and that is the best deterrent against China’s expansionist ambitions and toward ensuring peace and stability in the Indo-Pacific area.

Can China’s aggression towards Taiwan be stopped? Oriana Skylar Mastro joins the Munk Debate podcast to argue affirmatively that Chinese military capability has advanced too far for the United States to credibly deter the PRC through military means alone. Michael Beckley, an associate professor of political science at Tufts University and visiting scholar at the American Enterprise Institute, offers the rebuttal. The full debate is available below.

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Many of China’s military development goals were set with a target date of 2020, which means the PRC is currently in a strong place with its offensive and defensive capabilities. By Mastro’s measure, China now has the most advanced ballistic missile program in the world, including the United States. For Taiwan, this means the reality of an aggressive neighbor who possesses offensive weapons that are very difficult to defend against.

China also has geographic benefits when it comes to offensive maneuvering. If a hot conflict began, neither Taiwan nor the United States has a comparable network of sole-sovereign military bases in the area such as China’s. Not only does this mean China can utilize its air defense capabilities — again, now one of the strongest in the world, by Mastro’s account — but it can also support a robust blockade against Taiwan across the strait and devastate the island both militarily and economically.

As Mastro points out, “Taiwan’s economy completely depends on China, so if China decided to use economic coercion, which is defined as a type of aggression, the United States has absolutely no way of protecting Taiwan from any economic harm coming from the PRC.”

Because of this potential for combined military and economic aggression, Mastro pushed for urgency on deterrence in Taiwan. “The United States and international community do not have forever. The Chinese are not happy with maintaining the status quo, and they will soon believe they have the military capability to [take Taiwan].”

Rather than continuing to act alone, Mastro hopes the United States will lead out in organizing an international coalition that includes other regional partners such as Australia, Japan, and India as actively contributing participants. With the United States no longer seen as a monolith in Beijing, only broad, coordinated cooperation will provide effective deterrence and security for Taiwan.

On another podcast, Conversation Six, Mastro joins Abraham Denmark to discuss China's Taiwan strategy and what the United States can do to deter China from invading Taiwan. The threat of non-military intervention by the United States and its allies is the way forward, she says. "The US needs to do more in non-military realms," she argues.

Stanford e-Kawasaki is an online course for high school students in Kawasaki City, Japan, that is sponsored by Kawasaki City. Launched in fall 2019, it is offered by the Stanford Program on International and Cross-Cultural Education (SPICE) in collaboration with Kawasaki City. SPICE is grateful to Kawasaki Mayor Norihiko Fukuda whose vision made this course possible. 

The two key themes of Stanford e-Kawasaki are entrepreneurship and diversity, and Stanford e-Kawasaki Instructor Maiko Tamagawa Bacha invites guest speakers with these themes in mind. Most guest speakers address one of the themes. However, when Victoria Tsai—a Taiwanese American entrepreneur who is the founder and CEO of Tatcha—agreed to speak, Bacha noted that she could not imagine anyone more qualified to share her insights on both themes. Tatcha was founded by Tsai to share the geisha’s wisdom with modern women everywhere, and to further the belief that true beauty begins with the heart and the mind. Launched in 2009, Tatcha is now one of the biggest skincare retailers in the United States.

While listening to Tsai’s guest lecture on February 5, 2021, Bacha and I were especially struck by her resilience, approachability and gift for empowering youth, openness to diverse perspectives, and respect for traditional culture. We both quickly realized what a great role model she is for all of the Stanford e-Kawasaki students but for the girls, in particular.

Resilience
While sharing her experiences as a young professional on Wall Street, Tsai mentioned that she was 21 and was next to the World Trade Center buildings when they were hit by a terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. She recalled, “We saw lots of people jumping and dying and then my husband got very sick and it made me question my purpose in life. And at that time, I didn’t know anything about ikigai [a Japanese concept that means “a reason for being”] but I knew that if I was going to spend the hours that I am awake working and not with my family and not playing, that I wanted my work to mean something.” After experiencing various jobs and going to business school, which “looked good on paper,” she decided to seek work with a greater purpose.

This led her to establish Tatcha. Tsai mentioned to the students that she hadn’t taken a salary at Tatcha for nine years. This prompted a student to ask about her motivation, to which Tsai replied, “When I think of my life’s purpose, I don’t expect it to be easy, but I do hope that it’s worthwhile. This work is my life’s purpose, so even when it gets hard, I just think, ‘that’s part of life.’” During the pandemic, I imagine that Tsai’s resilience really resonated among the students.

Approachability and Gift for Empowering Youth
I knew from articles about Tsai that she is a Harvard Business School graduate and an extremely successful CEO. Yet, by accepting the invitation to speak to the high school students in Kawasaki—some of whom are aspiring entrepreneurs—she demonstrated her desire to pass on her wisdom to the next generation. Prior to Tsai’s guest lecture, Bacha had sent her a list of questions that the students had written based on their reading about Tsai’s background. In her opening comments, Tsai noted, “You are much more advanced than I was. I could not compete with you.”

This comment seemed to quickly put students at ease. One of the students commented, “I think it’s wonderful that you found purpose in life and help people… A lot of young people like me and my friends feel lost in life, don’t have a dream or long-term vision of our lives, so I want to know how can we find our own purpose in life or dream.” This comment prompted Tsai to describe an activity that was devised by Harvard Business School’s Dr. Tim Butler, who has noted that as youth, they actually already have a hunch about what they want to be when they grow up, but just don’t know the specific names of the jobs. Tsai continued, “then, the problem is when you get older, you start hearing your friends, parents, and teachers saying, ‘oh, you should do that.’ And then in your head you can’t tell anymore if you really want to do something, or if you simply think you should do it because everybody else thinks you should do it.” The activity that Butler recommends is in two parts: (1) read articles that interest you, and identify patterns (specifically, areas of interest) in them; and (2) while keeping these interests in mind, write about what you envision yourself doing in ten years as you are the happiest that you have ever been—that is, completely focused and engaged. Tsai encouraged the students to try this, and some already have.

Openness to Diverse Perspectives
When a student asked Tsai about overcoming gender- and culture-related differences, she reflected upon three experiences: one on the trading floor on Wall Street and two in Kyoto with a taxi driver and geisha. Concerning her Wall Street experience, Tsai recollected, “When I first worked on Wall Street and I walked onto the trading floor, I was so scared. One, there were no women, and I couldn’t even understand what they were saying because they were speaking financial language… I remember being so intimidated. Then one year later, I could understand everything.” She came to the conclusion that “These people are not smarter than me. They’re just older, and the harder I work, the faster I can close the gap in knowledge. I have a great education, I have a decent mind, I have a very strong work ethic, I’ll just keep asking questions. So I figured it out.”

Concerning her experience with a taxi driver in Kyoto, Tsai noted that he is the one who taught her that there’s a difference between a job and a purpose. Through his actions, the driver taught her that his job is to be a driver but that his purpose is to make people happy. When he met Tsai for the first time, she was not feeling well and thus didn’t seem happy. After dropping off Tsai at her hotel, he went home to make CDs of images of Kyoto and delivered them to the hotel, thinking that the images would make her happy. They did and he felt only then that his job had been completed. Tsai reflected, “… and that just stuck with me and I did not know what omotenashi [hospitality that goes above and beyond the expectations of the person receiving the service] was back then, but then I felt it in my heart.”

Lastly, concerning her experience with geisha, who inspired Tatcha’s skincare products, Tsai noted “People in America don’t understand what a geisha is. The importance of a geisha is they were trained in a lot of the classical Japanese arts, such as dance, music, flower arrangement, and the tea ceremony. These are classical traditions that have very important meanings. I think that if you forget where you come from, then you don’t know where you are going. And so I try to hold on to tradition, because it matters. I just thought that’s a beautiful thing… I learned so much from geisha about entrepreneurship and about women’s empowerment through Japanese traditions.”

Respect for Traditional Culture
Her emphasis on Japanese traditions prompted a student to comment, “I was surprised that you made an innovation from old Japanese culture. However, there is a trend to discard old customs. So, how can we get a balance between new trends and old customs?” Tsai shared that what is so interesting about ancient civilizations like China and Japan is that “there is a lot of wisdom in this and something to learn from the past. What we try to do [at Tatcha] is to innovate within tradition, so I never tried to change the core of the tradition, because if it lasted 1000 years, there’s a very good reason for its continuity.”

What Does It Mean to Be a Global Citizen?
One very interesting part of Tsai’s presentation was to learn about Tatcha’s work with Room to Read, which seeks to transform the lives of millions of children in low-income communities in Southeast Asia and Africa by focusing on literacy and gender equality in education. A percentage of each Tatcha purchase is donated to Room To Read. Despite the enormity of some of the challenges that these youth face, Tsai noted that “they have a dream and they show up every day and they study hard and they work hard because they want that dream to come true. Nothing that I will ever face in my life will compare to what these little girls are going through, but then I think if I do my job and I don’t give up, then I can make sure thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of those girls can have a different life, and then my life meant something.” This really resonated in Bacha, who is very familiar with Room to Read as her husband works for the organization.

Reflecting upon the session, Tsai noted “I learned about the concept of sekaijin [global citizen] when studying the writings of D.T. Suzuki, and I fell in love with the idea. As people who live between cultures, we have the opportunity to share the best of both worlds to advance society and uplift individuals. It was an honor to share my story of cross-cultural entrepreneurship with the students, who were inquisitive, earnest, and wise beyond their years. I believe that Stanford’s e-Kawasaki program is helping to nurture tomorrow’s sekaijin.” When I consider the question, “What does it mean to be a global citizen?,” Tsai immediately comes to mind, and believe that Tsai’s talk really encouraged the students to aspire to become sekaijin as well.

The SPICE staff would like to express its appreciation to Tsuyoshi Inoue of Kawasaki City and Hisashi Katsurayama from the Kawasaki Board of Education for their unwavering support of Stanford e-Kawasaki.

There are strong indications that the Biden administration intends to continue strengthening U.S.-Taiwan ties. The Biden team invited Taiwan's representative Bi-khim Hsiao to the presidential inauguration, supporters of Taiwan now hold senior roles in the administration, and officials have pledged "rock-solid" U.S. commitment to Taiwan, warning that PRC military pressure against Taiwan threatens regional peace and stability. But Cross-strait deterrence is arguably weaker today than at any point since the Korean War, according to Chinese military and security expert Oriana Skylar Mastro, FSI Center Fellow at APARC.

On February 18, 2021, Mastro testified to the U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission at a hearing on Deterring PRC Aggression Toward Taiwan. Her testimony on the political and strategic dynamics underpinning deterrence across the Taiwan Strait is available to watch below.

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Beijing has turned to increasingly hostile and combative rhetoric and actions since the democratic election of Taiwan’s president, Tsai Ing-wen. PLA air and water operations around Taiwan, particularly in the Taiwan Strait, have increased significantly in the past year, and concern is growing that the Chinese Communist Party is imminently planning to use force to compel Taiwan to accept unification with mainland China.

Drawing on her expertise in both policy and military security, Mastro explains why deterrence in Taiwan must be based on military capabilities rather than signaling through policy.

Catalysts to Conflict

Foremost, Mastro argues that the basic circumstances of aggression towards Taiwan have changed. In years past, it was accepted that China would launch military operations against Taiwan in response to actions or policy positions taken there or in the United States. However, Mastro believes that China is now primed to force a campaign of reunification regardless of either Taiwan’s or the U.S.’s policies moving forward.

By Mastro’s assessment, China is now in a position where it could prevail in cross-strait military contingencies even if the U.S. intervenes in Taiwan’s defense. The reform overhaul and modernization of China’s military have vastly improved the quality it equipment and confidence in its capability. China now possesses offensive weaponry, including ballistic and cruise missiles, which if deployed, could destroy U.S. bases in the Western Pacific. Sophisticated cyber attacks on domestic infrastructure both in Taiwan and the United States are also a credible threat and viable form of retaliation.

As long as President Xi is confident that the PLA can successfully back a forced unification in Taiwan, Mastro argues that action of some kind against Taiwan is not a matter of if, but of when, and what severity.

Types of Escalation

Failure to reunify Taiwan is too high a political and military cost for the PRC to risk, but there is also growing agitation amongst the mainland Chinese population for a resolution on the half-baked status of the island and its governance. Mastro believes that this pressure will ensure that action will be taken on Taiwan in the next 3 to 5 years.

Since Taiwan cannot withstand a sustained, active assault from China on its own, the deciding factor in when and how China moves against Taiwan is largely dependent on the signals the U.S. sends. And since China is increasingly confident in its own military, the signals the U.S. sends must likewise be ground in military capability, not policy, says Mastro.  

If China believes there will be little or no intervention or support from the U.S., it is likely to follow a graduated plan of attack, using economic blockages and targeted military action to bring about capitulation. If, however, it appears the U.S. will intervene, China is much more likely to move quickly and escalate violence and force rapidly to maximize damage before a full U.S. defense response can be coordinated.

Policy Recommendations

To effectively counter China on Taiwan, Mastro recommends crafting policy that creates doubt over China’s ability to successfully absorb Taiwan through military means. To do this, the United States needs to focus forces and develop operational plans that credibly off-set China’s goals while not triggering a panicked response from Beijing that could escalate into rapid conflict.

Mastro also urges the allocation of more resources toward intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR), base development, and firepower in the Asia-Pacific region. Investing in these signals U.S. commitment to determent and the capacity to follow through if need be.

Finally, Mastro urges additional research into U.S. war termination behavior. Any involvement in Taiwan must be as limited and without the possibility for escalating levels of violence and long term unsustainable, unwinnable commitments. In preparing to potentially fight a war, she reminds policymakers that they need to know how to end one as well.

A recording of the full hearing is available courtesy of the U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission.

We often think of language as a democratic field, but it is not quite the common property of its speakers, argues Jeffrey Weng, APARC’s 2020-21 postdoctoral fellow on contemporary Asia. Rather, language is a skill that must be learned, says Weng, and it creates social divisions as much as it bridges divides. 

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What has shaped your interest and research into the study of language and linguistic dissemination?

As a first-grade student in the early 1990s attending Chinese school in central New Jersey on Saturday mornings, I learned how to write my first complete sentence in the language: “I am an overseas Chinese.” Now, this was a curious sentence to teach to a class full of American-born children of Taiwanese parents, and it’s a reminder that language is never a neutral conveyor of meaning. Language cannot but be freighted with social, cultural, and political import, a lesson reinforced in my high-school Spanish classes, in which I made my first forays into literature in a foreign language: stories by the great writers of Spain and Latin America not only spoke a wholly different language, but they told wholly different stories from those of their British and American counterparts.

Linguistic difference also is a signal of individual and social difference: my childhood visits with family in Taiwan opened my ears to a cacophonous Babel in the media and on the streets—though we spoke Mandarin at home, whenever we went out, people speaking Taiwanese were everywhere to be seen and heard. This was further amplified when I visited mainland China for the first time in my early 20s. Beijing, the supposed wellspring of the nation’s language, was bewildering—I could not understand much of the unselfconscious speech of the locals. And traveling several hundred miles in any direction would only deepen my incomprehension. And yet, on the radio and on TV, during formal events and on university campuses, there was always Mandarin to clear the way. I wanted to learn more about how this language situation came to be. For me, studying the social, cultural, and political nature of language is a way to a deeper understanding of how people are united and divided in vastly different contexts across the globe.

As you’ve looked deeper into how language shapes society and society shapes language, what is something surprising you’ve come to realize about that relationship?

People often see language as the ultimate democratic field when it comes to cultural practice. No matter how much you might tell people not to split their infinitives or end their sentences with prepositions, popular practice will always win the day. Or so we English speakers think. Ever since Merriam-Webster came out with its infamously descriptivist Third New International Dictionary in 1961, Anglophone language nerds have fought over whether dictionaries should be “prescriptive”—that is, rule-setting—or “descriptive”—reflective of popular usage. But really, these are two sides of the same coin. We take it for granted that privately-owned publishers of dictionaries spell out the supposed norms of our language. Not only that, we even think this ought to be the case. French is the usual counterexample: when government language authorities in Quebec or Paris try to stem the Anglophone tide, we think it absurd that so-called authorities would ever try to rule over something so fundamentally unruly as language.

In my research, however, I learned how fundamentally invented Mandarin as a language is—from its highly artificial pronunciation to the way its orthography has been stabilized. There used to be a lot of variability in how characters were written and how they could be used, much like English spelling before the 18th century. Mandarin, both spoken and written, was standardized only in the 1920s to facilitate mass literacy and national cohesion. So linguistic change might often follow and reflect social change, but the process can also operate in reverse—a government can change language in hopes of facilitating social change.

In your latest journal publication, you argue that language nationalization in Japan, Korea, and Vietnam between 1870-1950 was a state-led, top-down process directed at remaking society rather than the more traditional view of diffusion through trade, economics, and cultural exchange. Why is this an important distinction to make?

Again, we often see language as a democratic field, the common property of its speakers, but it isn’t really. Sociolinguists are often quick to remind us that linguistic differences reflect class differences—“proper” language is that of “educated” speakers. But language is a skill, and skills must be learned. Some people can learn skills more easily than others, whether through natural ability or, more importantly, the life circumstances they were born into. Rich people can more easily get a good education. Educational disparities are now part and parcel of today’s broader debates about inequality. But the very fact that we think this is a problem is a product of developments in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Before then, broad swaths of humanity were totally illiterate and had no chance at being educated, and most people did not think this was a problem. In Europe, the language of the Church and academia, even to some extent in Protestant areas, was Latin until the 18th century. Local vernaculars had gradually developed as independent media of communication in government chancelleries and popular literature since the Middle Ages, but they did not really gain ascendancy until the age of print-capitalism and nationalism in the 18th and 19th centuries. Marxian-influenced scholars have therefore concluded that the rise of national languages coincided with the rise of the bourgeoisie, whose own languages became those of the nations they constructed.

In France, for example, while revolutionaries in the 1790s advocated the use of Parisian French to unify a country divided by hundreds of local forms of speech, into the mid-19th century, even journeying 50 miles outside Paris found travelers having trouble making themselves understood to the locals. It took more than a century for French to gain a foothold in most of the country. Asia, too, was a polyglot patchwork for millennia, unified at the top by an arcane language much like Latin—Classical Chinese. This situation became politically untenable in the 19th century as European imperialism encroached on traditional sovereignties in China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam. In order to counter the foreign threat, governments sought to strengthen their societies by educating their populations, which required making it easier to learn how to read and write. While standard languages have been described by historians and sociolinguists as “artificial” for less-privileged learners, Asia’s standard languages were artificial even to their bourgeois inventors.

Our understanding of the present is invariably colored by our interpretation of the past: if we understand a national language to be a bourgeois imposition that diffused via economic development, then we more easily see its continued imposition as a perpetuation of class prejudices. If on the other hand, we see an invented national language as a tool for bridging regional divisions and expanding economic opportunity for our children, then we feel much more positively about the spread of such languages. Both interpretations can be true at the same time, but we must remember that one is inseparable from the other.

Do you see any parallels between how language nationalization has occurred in the past to how language and society are shaping one another in the present?

The number of “standard” Mandarin speakers in the early 1930s could be counted on one hand. Today, it’s the world’s largest language by a number of “native” speakers. Though it began as an elite nationalizing project that was largely ignored by the masses of people in China, Mandarin is now more often seen as a hegemonic threat to local languages and cultures. Language can thus bridge divides, but also create new divisions. People in China are often ambivalent about the pace of change these days. When I visited cousins in rural Fujian during the Lunar New Year a few years ago, I noticed that all my nieces and nephews spoke Mandarin in almost all situations, to their parents, and especially to one another. Only my grandparents’ generation used the local Fuqing dialect as a matter of course. My parents’ generation spoke dialect to their parents, but a mix of Mandarin and dialect to their children—the cousins of my generation, who were able to speak the dialect, but were more comfortable speaking Mandarin among themselves and to their children. One of my young nieces who’d grown up in Beijing, where her parents had moved for work, even had a perfect Beijing accent. In a span of three generations, migration due to expanded opportunity had wrought enormous change in language habits. Much had been gained, but also much had been lost.

How has your time at APARC as one of our Shorenstein Postdoctoral Fellows aided your research project?

It’s certainly been a strange year to be a postdoc, given how we’ve all been operating remotely. Nevertheless, life and work have continued, and we’ve all been able to find new ways of building community and getting things done. I’ve personally benefited from the access to the vast academic resources of Stanford—library access, even online alone, is a lifeline to any researcher. Moreover, I’ve had the opportunity to chat on Zoom with Stanford faculty about research and connect with my fellow postdocs to support one another as we figure out how to move forward in our careers in these challenging times.

With your recent appointment as an assistant professor at National Taiwan University in Taipei, how do you anticipate your research interests growing and developing given the tension between Taiwan and China?

I am gratified to begin my academic career in a place of such diversity and openness as Taiwan. Language and identity are constant sites of contention in Taiwan's politics, and I look forward to expanding my on-the-ground understanding of these issues as I begin teaching in the sociology department at National Taiwan University. It is nothing short of miraculous that democracy has flourished at such an intersection of empires, colonialism, repressions, and struggles. And it is unsettling to see that flourishing takes place in such a precarious geopolitical location. NTU's sociology department is at the forefront of understanding all of these vital issues as we barrel forward into an ever more uncertain future.

The COVID-19 pandemic has disrupted economies and expectations for economic growth and development the world over. But even before the pandemic, Asian economies were reassessing their growth strategies.

In a podcast conversation about the new edited volume Shifting Gears in Innovation Policy: Strategies from Asia, APARC's Korea Program Deputy Director Yong Suk Lee discusses some of the impediments Asian countries face in trying to encourage economic development and entrepreneurship, but also the inherent strengths that could allow innovative strategies take hold and grow in East Asia. Listen to the full conversation below.

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Edited by Lee, Gi-Wook Shin, and Takeo Hoshi, Shifting Gears in Innovation Policy is the first of three volumes resulting from APARC's Stanford Asia-Pacific Innovation project that produces policy research to promote innovation and entrepreneurship in East Asia and the greater Asia-Pacific region.

Lee explains, “Many Asian countries achieved economic growth by importing new technologies from advanced economies like the U.S., using them very effectively, and then expanding exports. But now where East Asia stands, many of these countries have already successfully caught up to the technological frontier of advanced economies, so if they want to maintain growth, there needs to be a shift in their strategies.”

The shift Lee and the other volume authors propose is one towards economic growth that is driven by innovation and entrepreneurship rather than the ‘catch-up’ model that Asian economies have commonly relied on. Unlike startup hubs such as the San Francisco Bay Area of California, Asian countries often lack an entrepreneurial tradition because of antagonistic financial structures and differences in cultural definitions of success. These additional financial and social risks have cast entrepreneurial endeavors in an unattractive light for multiple generations of workers.

But encouraging entrepreneurship and endemic innovation are crucial to maintaining stable economic growth. With rapidly aging populations, greater interconnections in both trade and diplomacy, and transformation in the workforce, workplace, and work itself, effectively adapting development strategies to meet present and future challenges remains a central priority for East Asia policymakers and innovators alike. As Lee advises, “There’s strong infrastructure in East Asia, both physically and digitally, which is a great advantage. But they’re now at a frontier with no trajectory to follow, and there needs to be indigenous growth and continuous innovation in order to not be surpassed by competitors.”

This article originally appeared in Foreign Policy.

Last week, the world was waiting to see whether U.S. President Donald Trump would be reelected. Four days later, the verdict was in. Joe Biden, winning more overall votes than any other candidate in U.S. history, will be the 46th president of the United States.

While the United States was fixated on the final days of campaigning, China didn’t miss a beat in its aggression toward Taiwan. The day before the U.S. presidential election, Chinese aircraft flew into Taiwan’s airspace eight separate times. These military maneuvers are part of a disturbing trend of increased Chinese military activity over the past two months. Since Sept. 9, Beijing has flown near-constant sorties into Taiwan’s Air Defense Identification Zone (ADIZ), sometimes conducting as many as 30 in a day. On Sept. 21, China claimed that the median line, the boundary between the airspace of Taiwan and China that both sides had generally respected for decades, no longer existed.

These are the tense cross-strait circumstances a newly elected Biden will step into when he takes the oath of office in January. The decisions he makes concerning Taiwan will shape the future of the self-governing island, a democracy of nearly 24 million people and the 21st- largest economy in the world, as well as the tenor of U.S.-China relations regional stability.

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So what can we expect from the next president on Taiwan? We can already see some differences emerge. For example, when Trump won the 2016 election, he received congratulations from Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-wen via phone. This made him the first president or president-elect to speak directly to the president of Taiwan since the United States normalized relations with Beijing in 1979. On the occasion of Biden’s election, no such phone call took place. Instead, Tsai sent her congratulations via Twitter, avoiding direct contact between the two.

This is just one anecdote. But does it suggest that Biden’s approach to Taiwan will differ greatly from that of the Trump administration?

Yes and no. The cornerstones of U.S. Taiwan policy—arms sales and strategic ambiguity—will change little under a Biden administration. The big difference will be in how Biden tries to maintain stability across the Strait.

The Trump administration has been bold in its arms sales, approving over $17 billion worth of arms over the past four years and blurring the line between offensive and defensive weaponry. Moreover, the Trump administration agreed to sell 66 F-16s to Taiwan in one of the largest arms sale packages ever offered to the island nation.

Yet while Trump earned praise for bolstering Taiwanese defenses against a possible mainland invasion, his approach to arms sales did not deviate significantly from his predecessors. The stated goal of U.S. arms sales to Taiwan is to ensure the “security, or social or economic system, of the people of Taiwan” and to further the “principle of maintaining peace and stability in the Western Pacific.” In other words, arms sales are largely dependent on the military threat Beijing poses.

For example, relations between the PRC and Taiwan deteriorated during the early 1990s, leading to the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis and a spike in U.S. arms sales to Taiwan at the beginning of the Clinton administration. Trump was also not the first president to sell high-end aircraft to Taiwan; President George H. W. Bush sold F-16s. And while Clinton, the second Bush, and Obama all decided against selling the F-16, choosing instead to help upgrade and maintain aircraft already in Taiwan’s possession, the recent sale received bipartisan support largely because of the heightened threat posed by Beijing today.

Biden will maintain similar policies, continuing to offer arms to Taipei to address the growing threat across the Strait. Biden is a strong supporter of the policy; he was one of the original senators who voted for the Taiwan Relations Act, which serves as the basis for the sales. But that doesn’t mean that he will offer similarly large packages to Taipei; some of the island’s need for weaponry and equipment has already been fulfilled through recent sales. It is also possible that Biden may try to soften the blow to Beijing by not overly publicizing sales or by notifying Beijing privately before sales are announced. But the sales themselves will continue regardless.

When it comes to America’s overall position, strategic ambiguity has guided U.S. policy on Taiwan for decades. Presidents have periodically questioned the policy, but none have gone so far as to change it.

The same can be said for Trump. Initially, the direct call between him and Tsai caused many to speculate that he may choose to support Taiwan’s independence openly. But he was cautious in the following years to avoid actions that Beijing or Taipei could construe as recognition. Indeed, despite attempts from within his party to discard strategic ambiguity, Trump limited himself to the vague, “China knows what I’m gonna do.”

Recently, there has been a flurry of debate about whether it’s time to abandon the policy as a warning to Beijing. But such views likely do not represent those of the president-elect. Biden is on record with his support of strategic ambiguity, which he has described as “reserv[ing] the right to use force to defend Taiwan but [keep] mum about the circumstances in which we might, or might not, intervene in a war across the Taiwan Strait.”

Continuing to embrace strategic ambiguity doesn’t mean Biden will be less supportive of Taiwan than Trump. Biden was the first Democratic presidential candidate to extend congratulations to Tsai when she won reelection in January. But he correctly views strategic ambiguity as the best way to deter Beijing without emboldening Taiwan. In his words, “The president should not cede to Taiwan, much less to China, the ability automatically to draw us into a war across the Taiwan Strait.”

If the main contours of U.S.-Taiwan policy remain the same, then does it make a difference who is president? Absolutely. While Biden will work towards the same goal of deterring Beijing without emboldening Taipei, he will embrace different, more effective ways for achieving it.

Trump could not protect Taiwan’s international space because he purposefully reduced U.S. influence in international institutions. He pulled out of numerous international organizations and deals, including the World Health Organization (WHO), the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), Paris Climate Agreement, the United Nations Human Rights Council, and the United Nations Relief and Works Agency. So there was little that could be done when China forced Taipei out of the WHO’s World Health Assembly in 2017, where it had been an observer since a 2009 agreement. In 2020, China forced Taiwan’s exclusion even though its COVID-19 response was one of the most successful in the region, and condemnation from the State Department was largely ignored. Similarly, Taipei has also been kept at the margins of the United Nations Climate Change Conference since the United States left the Paris Agreement. And although entry into the TTP is a priority for Taiwanese leaders, Taipei lost its best path to joining without Washington to champion its candidacy.

Biden, as he has already shown through moves such as canceling Trump’s attempt to pull out of WHO, will be more involved in international institutions and strive to regain the United States’ global leadership role. This will give the United States more institutional power to advocate for Taipei’s inclusion and protect Taiwan’s international space better than the Trump administration’s unilateral efforts. Moreover, Biden is likely to reinstate the budgets for key U.S. organizations like USAID that Trump undermined and gutted. He also nominated a critic of the World Bank and IMF to oversee the U.S. role in both institutions. Reduced development aid and perceptions that American influence in the Pacific was declining have pushed countries toward China. In 2019, the Republic of Kiribati and the Solomon Islands both switched recognition from Taiwan to mainland China in exchange for multi-million dollar infrastructure deals.

A Biden administration will also work more with allies to meet the broader challenges China poses. The United States would not expect its security partners to play an integral role in any armed defense of Taiwan. But even the diplomatic support of other countries could go far in cautioning an increasingly confident Beijing.

In contrast, the Trump administration has relied mainly on unilateral options to enhance deterrence against the PRC, like freedom of navigation operations (FONOPs). These operations in which the U.S. navy sails through areas over which China has illegally declared sovereignty will likely continue under a Biden administration, but less frequently as he shifts to utilizing nonmilitary tools as well.

But the bigger change will be Biden’s tone. Trump has focused on provoking Beijing—using Taiwan as “an instrument of pushback against China.” Last month, a second high-level visit from a U.S. official to Taiwan within two months prompted China to fly 18 military aircraft across the sensitive midline on the Taiwan Strait, forcing Taipei to scramble fighter jets in response. The sale of F-16s was delayed because Trump was using it as a bargaining chip in trade deal negotiations with China.

Biden’s goal will not be to threaten Chinese interests for its own sake but to maintain the status quo across the Strait. For example, he has stated publicly that the United States should not come to Taiwan’s aid if Taiwan provokes war by declaring independence.

This more balanced approach will do much to reassure Beijing. Deterrence requires both reassurance and credible threats. The Trump administration has been effective at the former, signaling to Beijing that Washington is willing to defend Taiwan if necessary. But Washington must also avoid making Beijing believe that it will punish it no matter what, or else the United States loses the power to shape China’s potential use of force. Thus, reassuring Beijing that the United States is not attempting to change the status quo by encouraging Taiwanese independence is equally important. Hopefully, Biden will reinstate this balance.

FSI Center Fellow at APARC Oriana Skylar Mastro joins NPR's Weekend Edition host Scott Simon to discuss the rising tensions between China and Taiwan and how the United States should respond.

Listen to the complete interview below. This conversation originally appeared on NPR's website.