BEIJING - One can read it as a story of blunders and bullying on the two sides of the Taiwan Strait, and there was an abundance of both follies in the lead-up to passage of the anti-secession law by China's National People's Congress. Yet the law adopted Monday served a higher purpose for Beijing: it got the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) out of the slough of passivity into which Taiwan had thrust it for the past decade.
The law, as Bruce Klingner (The Dragon squeezes Taiwan (http://www.atimes.com/atimes/China/GC15Ad01.html), Mar 15) noted this week, "is neither as inflammatory as many had feared nor as bombastic as Beijing's previous statements on cross-strait issues", but it authorizes "China to use military force if Taiwan moves decisively toward or declares formal independence".
The law now puts the onus of marching towards war squarely on Taiwan President Chen Shui-bian, who is sternly warned against pursuing the island's independence "under any name or by any means". The law also cautions any party, be it the United States or Japan, which jointly proclaimed Taiwan to be a regional security issue, against interfering in "China's internal affairs".
The law appears at least ill-timed. It was announced last December, shortly after Chen had failed to win crucial parliamentary elections, which were supposed to give him the majority necessary to move toward amending the constitution in 2006. It was Chen's second setback. In the summer he also failed to win a referendum that would spin the constitutional changes leading to the formal independence of the island.
Before announcing the law, China was thus gaining ground, both in the international community and in Taiwan, where Chen appeared to be the one who was pushing the envelope with uncalled-for initiatives against Beijing.
The announced anti-secession bill immediately switched the focus. Taipei was no longer the one introducing new elements that could change the status quo - it was Beijing. Formally, Beijing can claim that the law merely states a long-standing fact: that the Chinese leadership could not survive politically if it were to allow Taiwan to become independent.
But this fact, left hanging uncomfortably but not enunciated in Beijing, had thus far remained unclear. Every time Chen, or his predecessor Lee Teng-hui, pushed the envelope with trips to Japan or the US, or tried to pass a new resolution, make a passport change, or discuss changing the Republic of China flag, Beijing had to react in a frustrating and passive tit-for-tat.
Every time the world's public had to judge the ferocity or mildness of Beijing's latest reaction, and Beijing had to swallow these public opinion reactions that followed Chen's actions; this deprived Beijing of the satisfaction of humiliating Chen. The issue each time, in Beijing's view, became what Beijing said, not what Taipei had done to make Beijing say what it said.
Beijing felt "led by the nose" without the possibility of taking the initiative, and it would only hope that Taiwan did not come up with some new concoctions to make the motherland look bad. Even Chen's two electoral defeats in Taiwan occurred without Beijing's active participation. Beijing could only threaten war and hope for peace, and it had been so for about a decade, since president Lee Teng-hui decided to move towards formal independence.
China had to break this deadlock, which was also very vexing internally, because rising domestic public opinion was blaming Beijing for not having the spine to act against Taiwan. Chen would come up with other ideas after his electoral defeats, and then what could Beijing do? Repeat the same bombastic threats that sounded empty and portrayed the Middle Kingdom as a paper tiger; or worse, start a war, and thus forfeit 25 years of reform. Both options would endanger the rule of the Communist Party. With the first (of Chen's electoral setbacks) the party looked internally unable to take decisive action against a perceived national threat, Chen pushing the envelope towards independence; with the second, the party would not survive the economic slump that would follow even a limited war on Taiwan.
The way out would have been to win the hearts and minds of the Taiwanese people, but the Communist Party never took part in a democratic election and feared that if it tried some public relations initiatives they could be wrong and backfire. Furthermore, besides giving economic opportunities to Taiwan investors and underwriting a huge and growing trade deficit with Taiwan, Beijing was afraid that any stronger political initiative, such as a political campaign against the Taiwan media, could backfire. Chen could simply proclaim to the world that Beijing was already interfering in and messing with self-governing Taiwan's political life.
The anti-secession law cuts to the chase, it draws a line in the sand and dares Taiwan to move towards independence. Now the ball is in Taiwan's court and Chen or his successors, if they move toward independence, then must expect Beijing's reactions, which are already announced as legally binding and are not discretionary or decided in a closed party meeting. If what you want is a rhetorical game - exchanging a traditional political decision taken behind closed doors for a real law enacted in public session - then this is the game of the West, just as the US has also played up or down Washington's own Taiwan Relations Act in order to explain US support for the island.
Moreover, Beijing did make a belated effort, half-hearted and unsuccessful, to win the hearts and minds of the Taiwanese people: China's leadership removed the media-shy, unpopular and, many said, the incompetent Tung Chee-hwa as Hong Kong's chief executive and replaced him with more worldly, sophisticated and sympathetic David Tsang, Tung's chief of administration. It was a signal to the people of the territory and those of Taiwan - who look at Hong Kong to size up how Beijing would behave if reunification with Taiwan ever began to take shape. Beijing's intended message: we care for the people, we understand Hong Kong people do not like Tung's rule, we are trading him in for someone better. Of course the message is faint and really does not resonate, since even Tsang, like Tung, was not chosen by the Hong Kong people, but by Beijing. Still Zhongnanhai, Beijing's seat of power, hopes the Hong Kong people will like Tsang better than his predecessor Tung.
Also the cross-strait game and all its moves embodied in the anti-secession law is very domestic and China-specific, too subtle to be grasped by most of the outside world, which reacted almost with horror at a law that many thought made war a duty, if only some conditions were met. Beijing arguably could have waited longer, to let Chen simmer in his two electoral setbacks - a razor-thin presidential "victory" and an electoral disappointment. This would certainly have avoided US and Japan proclaiming Taiwan as a joint security issue, infuriating Beijing, and it would have given time to Beijing's new leadership to cozy up to Washington and prepare the groundwork for the new anti-secession law.
In fact, Taiwan's mood changed again. It had cooled and was disaffected with Chen last year in the two elections, presidential and legislative - but now the overwhelming majority of the people on the island are said to dislike China's anti-secession law so intensely that many took to the streets to protest what they called China's latest bullying. It was a God-send for Chen. Taiwanese pro-independence forces now had the proof, in black and white, of China's perceived bellicose intentions. No matter that Premier Wen Jiabao had tried to smooth Taiwan's ruffled feathers and put a benevolent, pacific spin on the law during a press conference on Monday - the fact remained that there was still this law authorizing war if necessary. It was almost too good to be true. Taiwan could have played this up to underscore China's threat, without moving a step closer to the line drawn by Beijing. Taiwan could, and can, actually whip up global public opinion against the law and push Beijing to draw back, forced to explain more and more that the law was really not as fearsome or threatening as Taiwan claimed.
But this Taiwan strategy would have taken time, and still Beijing would ultimately stick to its law. Perhaps in its enthusiasm for having a great issue to play up, or perhaps in its haste to cash in now on an opportunity without waiting for future developments, Taiwan's administration went too far. It called for an international condemnation of the law. This might be hard to achieve, and it could backfire with Taiwan.
Although the law smells bad, the whole Taiwan affair is a sticky issue, one that most countries would like to avoid. Therefore, even if some countries, even major nations like the United States, were to condemn China (a move that is unlikely - "regret" might be the preferred diplomatic euphemism), most countries would stop short of outright condemnation. The international community's predicament - disliking the law but not wanting to offend China - could work in Beijing's favor: The world has been called on to condemn the law authorizing war, it doesn't do so, and therefore Beijing can claim the world acquiesces. Score 1 for Beijing.
If this works, then Chen Shui-bian might have saved Beijing in one of its darkest days when the Asian power seemed like a paper tiger. Something for which Beijing ought to be grateful. (2005-03-17 Asia Times)
