Maybe the Taiwanese were reluctant to make the trip in the first place. At first blush, Taiwan’s decision to open its front-line islands of Quemoy and Matsu (the site of the second launch) to direct but limited shipping links with China seemed to signal a readiness to embrace the enemy. That isn’t quite the case. Taiwan President Chen Shui-bian is trying to build a China policy that straddles the tall philosophical fence dividing his island and the mainland. He will not overtly rebuff unification with the communists for fear of provoking Beijing. Yet he will not renounce Taiwan’s de facto autonomy–or aspirations for independence–either. That’s the tightrope he’s trying to walk as Taiwan’s new leader.
Chen’s policy of ambiguity, as it has been called, angers China. Beijing perceives limited links as an attempt to forestall bolder unification moves. China accepted the Quemoy initiative mainly to prevent Chen from scoring a public-relations victory. The China Daily last week called the mini trade links “an utterly inadequate measure for boosting cross-[Taiwan] strait ties.” When officials from the Taiwu landed in Xiamen, they were whisked out of sight. Television crews were banned. The mayor of Xiamen, invited for a return trip to Quemoy refused to reply. China, say Taiwanese officials, has not submitted any applications for its nationals to cross in the other direction.
Over the past decade China’s sway over the island it regards as its rightful territory has increased greatly. Taiwan’s leading businessmen, with billions invested in the mainland, are increasingly vulnerable to pressure from Beijing. And with its steady acquisition of Russian weaponry, China’s military might could surpass Taiwan’s this decade. Conscious of its growing clout, Beijing has recently stepped up demands that the island declare itself part of “one China.” This has put tremendous pressure on Chen. He believes that political trust between the two sides should be pursued “gradually.” But he has not forsaken his bedrock views. As he said recently: “The determination of the Taiwanese to be their own masters, and to not bow before destiny, has never changed.”
China has many times threatened to use military force to “liberate” the island. But Beijing has found a more effective strategy than saber rattling. In addition to its effort to co-opt Taiwanese industry, the communists are working to undercut Chen politically through alliances with opposition parties on the island, led by the KMT. The aim: to create a separate dialogue about unification. The week before the inaugural voyage, Beijing staged a symbolic meeting between its official Taiwan negotiator, Wang Daohan, and senior KMT leader John Chang in Shanghai. Both sides called for a commitment to the one-China principle.
Some of Chen’s staunchest supporters have counseled against making concessions, arguing that the communist regime will collapse in the near future. But Chen cannot simply wait. He must consolidate his power base and salvage Taiwan’s battered economy, and he needs a respite from China tensions. In another gesture, he has agreed to allow Chinese tourists to visit Taiwan for the first time next year. Chen is clearly in a tough position. William Kirby, director of the Harvard University Asia Center, says that Taiwan is falling inexorably into the grip of Chinese power. He argues that Taiwan probably can do little more than slow–and perhaps shape–its descent. “If Taiwan can determine how it will open itself up to China,” says Kirby, “it would be one of the few things it could control. And it would be foolish not to jump on that quickly.” For now Chen is sticking to his boats.
