Is it six days or two weeks? This is the range of speculation over how long Taiwan will be able to hold out should China decide to launch a full-scale attack. A recent computer simulation suggested six days. No sooner had this been reported than "authoritative military sources" -- whatever those are -- rushed to tell some local media outlets that, in fact, Taiwan could hold out for a whole two weeks.
That anyone should find the possibility of a war lasting twice as long reassuring is symptomatic of the air of unreality which tends to surround this gravest of topics. The logic behind this view is essentially that Taiwan has to hold out until the US comes to its aid and, given the tortoise-like speed of US military deployment, the longer the better.
This is assuming that the US will come to Taiwan's aid, and there are people in the US who ask, "Why should we?" Because the US has a strategic interest in denying China control of the Western Pacific and the sea lanes to Japan, the conquest of Taiwan would effectively mean the end of the US' "hyperpower" status.
Some people in Taiwan think this means that Taiwan can hitch a free ride on the back of US strategic interests. One of the more foolish, and distressingly widespread, follies we have heard from the pan-green camp is that Taiwan does not need to spend money on upgrading its military effectiveness because the US is compelled to defend it, come what may. This is utter rubbish. But is it any more idiotic than the nature of the debate about the kind of weapons Taiwan needs?
The major threat from China comes from its missiles -- 500 of them at the moment and at least 600 by the end of next year. Taiwan is obviously interested in defense against missiles, but in a curiously myopic way. It is obsessed with high-tech solutions of extremely doubtful value while eschewing more basic, albeit less showy, measures. For example, a cornerstone of Taiwan's defense strategy is acquiring the Patriot III anti-missile system, despite this system's highly questionable effectiveness. Instead of putting its faith in a magic umbrella full of holes, Taiwan might more usefully upgrade its facilities to make sure they can withstand being struck by China's missiles. Pouring concrete lacks the glamor of high-tech gadgetry, but might be more effective in the long run -- and certainly cheaper.
But the myopia extends beyond this. The chief problem is the "reactive" interpretation of what constitutes defense. Taiwan wants to stop China if it indeed tries anything, which means finding weapons to counter the weapons that China has. What Taiwan needs is the ability to stop Beijing from trying anything in the first place. That does not just mean the ability to inflict big losses on an attacking force, but the ability to raise the cost of attacking Taiwan far beyond China's willingness to pay. In the end this comes down to Taiwan's need for nuclear weapons. The ability to obliterate China's 10 largest cities and the Three Gorges Dam would be a powerful deterrent to China's adventurism. Some might find this horrible to contemplate, but if China leaves Taiwan in peace it is something that would never have to be faced. It would be up to China.
It is current US policy to prevent nuclear proliferation, or so Washington says. The irony is that in preventing Taiwan many years ago from working on its own nuclear deterrent, the US may one day risk a nuclear exchange with China because of Taiwan. To avoid this, it might be useful to think about how Taiwan might acquire the means to stop China even thinking about an attack.
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus whip Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) has caused havoc with his attempts to overturn the democratic and constitutional order in the legislature. If we look at this devolution from the context of a transition to democracy from authoritarianism in a culturally Chinese sense — that of zhonghua (中華) — then we are playing witness to a servile spirit from a millennia-old form of totalitarianism that is intent on damaging the nation’s hard-won democracy. This servile spirit is ingrained in Chinese culture. About a century ago, Chinese satirist and author Lu Xun (魯迅) saw through the servile nature of
In their New York Times bestseller How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt said that democracies today “may die at the hands not of generals but of elected leaders. Many government efforts to subvert democracy are ‘legal,’ in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy — making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption, or cleaning up the electoral process.” Moreover, the two authors observe that those who denounce such legal threats to democracy are often “dismissed as exaggerating or
Monday was the 37th anniversary of former president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) death. Chiang — a son of former president Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), who had implemented party-state rule and martial law in Taiwan — has a complicated legacy. Whether one looks at his time in power in a positive or negative light depends very much on who they are, and what their relationship with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is. Although toward the end of his life Chiang Ching-kuo lifted martial law and steered Taiwan onto the path of democratization, these changes were forced upon him by internal and external pressures,
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus in the Legislative Yuan has made an internal decision to freeze NT$1.8 billion (US$54.7 million) of the indigenous submarine project’s NT$2 billion budget. This means that up to 90 percent of the budget cannot be utilized. It would only be accessible if the legislature agrees to lift the freeze sometime in the future. However, for Taiwan to construct its own submarines, it must rely on foreign support for several key pieces of equipment and technology. These foreign supporters would also be forced to endure significant pressure, infiltration and influence from Beijing. In other words,
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