President William Lai (賴清德) recently made a significant geopolitical move by challenging a long-standing inconsistency in China’s territorial claims. In a televised interview, Lai asked why the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) remains focused on reclaiming Taiwan while leaving a large part of Manchuria ceded to Russia untouched.
At first glance, Lai’s comment might seem like a pointed jab at the CCP’s hypocrisy, but upon closer inspection, it reveals a more nuanced strategy aimed at weakening Sino-Russian ties and shifting the narrative on Taiwan’s global standing.
Despite declarations by Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) and Russian President Vladimir Putin of a “friendship with no limits,” the relationship between China and Russia is more one of necessity than of trust. Historically, the two countries have shared deep-rooted animosities, particularly during the Sino-Soviet split in the 1960s, when the two nearly went to war over territorial disputes.
Today, their alliance is driven by a mutual adversary in the US, but beyond this, their interests diverge sharply.
Lai’s reference to the CCP’s failure to reclaim parts of Manchuria from Russia taps into this long-standing tension. By pointing out that the CCP does not press Russia on these lost territories while remaining fixated on Taiwan, Lai subtly exposes the imbalance in the Sino-Russian relationship.
The CCP’s focus on Taiwan is not merely about territorial integrity, but also about reshaping the international order to suit its geopolitical ambitions.
This discrepancy could sow distrust among Chinese and Russian audiences alike and highlights the transactional nature of the Sino-Russian partnership.
Lai’s comments also strike at the heart of Chinese nationalism. The region ceded to Russia under the 1858 Treaty of Aigun and the 1860 Treaty of Beijing represents a dark chapter in China’s “century of humiliation.”
Nationalists in China have long viewed these treaties as illegitimate and the CCP has condemned them as unequal agreements imposed by foreign powers.
Despite this, the administration of former Chinese president Jiang Zemin (江澤民) reaffirmed the border in 1991 in a bid to foster better relations with post-Soviet Russia.
The historical significance of Manchuria is not lost on the Chinese populace and Lai’s allusion to this region challenges the CCP’s ability to invoke nationalist fervor while conveniently ignoring this sore point.
Moreover, the strategic importance of Vladivostok, a key naval base that gives Russia access to the Pacific, and China’s limited access to the Tumen River make the region geopolitically sensitive. This further complicates the CCP’s narrative, as China’s loss of these territories continues to be a symbol of national weakness.
Lai’s critique provides a framework for a potential Western strategy. The so-called “axis” nations — Russia, China, Iran and North Korea — share little beyond a common opposition to the West. Each of these regimes faces significant domestic and international pressures, from economic sanctions to technological isolation. While China and Russia might support each other, their alliance is more a marriage of convenience than a deep strategic bond.
The economic and technological exchanges between the axis nations are limited, outdated and inefficient. For instance, Iran struggles to access critical technology, while North Korea remains isolated from the global economy.
China, despite its industrial capacity, relies heavily on energy imports, which it secures in part through its partnerships with these countries.
This mutual dependency, while binding them together, also exposes fault lines that the West could exploit. A Western “divide and conquer” approach that highlights these internal contradictions could weaken the axis.
Each axis nation has distinct geopolitical aims. For Russia, the priority is maintaining influence over former Soviet states such as Ukraine, which threatens to inspire democratization within its own borders. Iran seeks to regain its waning influence in the Middle East, while North Korea’s main goal is regime survival. China, by contrast, aims to dominate the western Pacific, with Taiwan being a key chokepoint for controlling maritime access. Beijing views Taiwan not only as a territorial issue, but as a strategic lynchpin in its broader goal of regional dominance.
China’s aggressive expansion in the South China Sea and its attempts to breach the first island chain surrounding Taiwan are driven by its desire to project power into the Pacific.
Meanwhile, Western alliances such as AUKUS (Australia, the UK and the US) and the Quad (India, Japan, the US and Australia) aim to ensure freedom of navigation in the Indo-Pacific region, countering China’s expansionist ambitions.
Lai’s strategy, which exposes the fragility of China’s alliances, aligns with this broader Western effort to contain its influence.
Lai’s seemingly simple critique of the CCP’s territorial inconsistency is, in fact, a sophisticated strategic move. By highlighting its failure to reclaim lost Manchurian territory, Lai exposes the fragility of the Sino-Russian relationship and challenges the CCP’s nationalist rhetoric. His strategy offers a blueprint for the West to exploit the internal contradictions of the so-called axis nations.
In a time of shifting alliances and global realignments, the West’s best approach might be to emphasize these divisions, rather than viewing its adversaries as a monolithic bloc.
Simon Lee is a former executive and columnist of Hong Kong’s now-defunct Apple Daily who moved to the US in 2020.
The gutting of Voice of America (VOA) and Radio Free Asia (RFA) by US President Donald Trump’s administration poses a serious threat to the global voice of freedom, particularly for those living under authoritarian regimes such as China. The US — hailed as the model of liberal democracy — has the moral responsibility to uphold the values it champions. In undermining these institutions, the US risks diminishing its “soft power,” a pivotal pillar of its global influence. VOA Tibetan and RFA Tibetan played an enormous role in promoting the strong image of the US in and outside Tibet. On VOA Tibetan,
Sung Chien-liang (宋建樑), the leader of the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) efforts to recall Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Legislator Lee Kun-cheng (李坤城), caused a national outrage and drew diplomatic condemnation on Tuesday after he arrived at the New Taipei City District Prosecutors’ Office dressed in a Nazi uniform. Sung performed a Nazi salute and carried a copy of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf as he arrived to be questioned over allegations of signature forgery in the recall petition. The KMT’s response to the incident has shown a striking lack of contrition and decency. Rather than apologizing and distancing itself from Sung’s actions,
US President Trump weighed into the state of America’s semiconductor manufacturing when he declared, “They [Taiwan] stole it from us. They took it from us, and I don’t blame them. I give them credit.” At a prior White House event President Trump hosted TSMC chairman C.C. Wei (魏哲家), head of the world’s largest and most advanced chip manufacturer, to announce a commitment to invest US$100 billion in America. The president then shifted his previously critical rhetoric on Taiwan and put off tariffs on its chips. Now we learn that the Trump Administration is conducting a “trade investigation” on semiconductors which
By now, most of Taiwan has heard Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an’s (蔣萬安) threats to initiate a vote of no confidence against the Cabinet. His rationale is that the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP)-led government’s investigation into alleged signature forgery in the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) recall campaign constitutes “political persecution.” I sincerely hope he goes through with it. The opposition currently holds a majority in the Legislative Yuan, so the initiation of a no-confidence motion and its passage should be entirely within reach. If Chiang truly believes that the government is overreaching, abusing its power and targeting political opponents — then
RSS