A Taiwan Crisis May
Mark the End of the American Empire
America is a diplomatic fox, while Beijing is a hedgehog
fixated on the big idea of reunification.
By Niall Ferguson
March 21, 2021, 9:00 PM GMT
Diplomacy to a tee.
In a famous essay, the philosopher Isaiah Berlin borrowed a
distinction from the ancient Greek poet Archilochus: “The fox knows many
things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.”
“There exists,” wrote Berlin, “a great chasm between those,
on one side, who relate everything to … a single, universal, organizing
principle in terms of which alone all that they are and say has significance” —
the hedgehogs — “and, on the other side, those who pursue many ends, often
unrelated and even contradictory” — the foxes.
Berlin was talking about writers. But the same distinction
can be drawn in the realm of great-power politics. Today, there are two
superpowers in the world, the U.S. and China. The former is a fox. American
foreign policy is, to borrow Berlin’s terms, “scattered or diffused, moving on
many levels.” China, by contrast, is a hedgehog: it relates everything to “one
unchanging, all-embracing, sometimes self-contradictory and incomplete, at
times fanatical, unitary inner vision.”
Fifty years ago this July, the arch-fox of American
diplomacy, Henry Kissinger, flew to Beijing on a secret mission that would
fundamentally alter the global balance of power. The strategic backdrop was the
administration of Richard Nixon’s struggle to extricate the U.S. from the
Vietnam War with its honor and credibility so far as possible intact.
The domestic context was dissension more profound and
violent than anything we have seen in the past year. In March 1971, Lieutenant
William Calley was found guilty of 22 murders in the My Lai massacre. In April,
half a million people marched through Washington to protest against the war in
Vietnam. In June, the New York Times began publishing the Pentagon Papers.
Kissinger’s meetings with Zhou Enlai, the Chinese premier,
were perhaps the most momentous of his career. As a fox, the U.S. national
security adviser had multiple objectives. The principal goal was to secure a
public Chinese invitation for his boss, Nixon, to visit Beijing the following
year.
But Kissinger was also seeking Chinese help in getting
America out of Vietnam, as well as hoping to exploit the Sino-Soviet split in a
way that would put pressure on the Soviet Union, America’s principal Cold War
adversary, to slow down the nuclear arms race. In his opening remarks,
Kissinger listed no fewer than six issues for discussion, including the raging
conflict in South Asia that would culminate in the independence of Bangladesh.
Zhou’s response was that of a hedgehog. He had just one
issue: Taiwan. “If this crucial question is not solved,” he told Kissinger at
the outset, “then the whole question [of U.S.-China relations] will be
difficult to resolve.”
To an extent that is striking to the modern-day reader of
the transcripts of this and the subsequent meetings, Zhou’s principal goal was
to persuade Kissinger to agree to “recognize the PRC as the sole legitimate
government in China” and “Taiwan Province” as “an inalienable part of Chinese
territory which must be restored to the motherland,” from which the U.S. must
“withdraw all its armed forces and dismantle all its military installations.”
(Since the Communists’ triumph in the Chinese civil war in 1949, the island of
Taiwan had been the last outpost of the nationalist Kuomintang. And since the
Korean War, the U.S. had defended its autonomy.)
With his eyes on so many prizes, Kissinger was prepared to
make the key concessions the Chinese sought. “We are not advocating a ‘two
China’ solution or a ‘one China, one Taiwan’ solution,” he told Zhou. “As a
student of history,” he went on, “one’s prediction would have to be that the
political evolution is likely to be in the direction which [the] Prime Minister
… indicated to me.” Moreover, “We can settle the major part of the military
question within this term of the president if the war in Southeast Asia [i.e.
Vietnam] is ended.”
Asked by Zhou for his view of the Taiwanese independence
movement, Kissinger dismissed it out of hand. No matter what other issues
Kissinger raised — Vietnam, Korea, the Soviets — Zhou steered the conversation
back to Taiwan, “the only question between us two.” Would the U.S. recognize
the People’s Republic as the sole government of China and normalize diplomatic
relations? Yes, after the 1972 election. Would Taiwan be expelled from the
United Nations and its seat on the Security Council given to Beijing? Again,
yes.
Fast forward half a century, and the same issue — Taiwan —
remains Beijing’s No. 1 priority. History did not evolve in quite the way
Kissinger had foreseen. True, Nixon went to China as planned, Taiwan was booted
out of the U.N. and, under President Jimmy Carter, the U.S. abrogated its 1954
mutual defense treaty with Taiwan. But the pro-Taiwan lobby in Congress was
able to throw Taipei a lifeline in 1979, the Taiwan Relations Act.
The act states that the U.S. will consider “any effort to
determine the future of Taiwan by other than peaceful means, including by
boycotts or embargoes, a threat to the peace and security of the Western
Pacific area and of grave concern to the United States.” It also commits the
U.S. government to “make available to Taiwan such defense articles and …
services in such quantity as may be necessary to enable Taiwan to maintain a
sufficient self-defense capacity,” as well as to “maintain the capacity of the
United States to resist any resort to force or other forms of coercion that
would jeopardize the security, or the social or economic system, of the people
on Taiwan.”
For the Chinese hedgehog, this ambiguity — whereby the U.S.
does not recognize Taiwan as an independent state but at the same time
underwrites its security and de facto autonomy — remains an intolerable state
of affairs.
Yet the balance of power has been transformed since 1971 —
and much more profoundly than Kissinger could have foreseen. China 50 years ago
was dirt poor: despite its huge population, its economy was a tiny fraction of
U.S. gross domestic product. This year, the International Monetary Fund
projects that, in current dollar terms, Chinese GDP will be three quarters of
U.S. GDP. On a purchasing power parity basis, China overtook the U.S. in 2017.
In the same time frame, Taiwan, too, has prospered. Not only
has it emerged as one of Asia’s most advanced economies, with Taiwan
Semiconductor Manufacturing Co. the world’s top chip manufacturer. Taiwan has
also become living proof that an ethnically Chinese people can thrive under
democracy. The authoritarian regime that ran Taipei in the 1970s is a distant
memory. Today, it is a shining example of how a free society can use technology
to empower its citizens — which explains why its response to the Covid-19
pandemic was by any measure the most successful in the world (total deaths:
10).
As Harvard University’s Graham Allison argued in his hugely
influential book, “Destined for War: Can America and China Escape Thucydides's
Trap?”, China’s economic rise — which was at first welcomed by American
policymakers — was bound eventually to look like a threat to the U.S. Conflicts
between incumbent powers and rising powers have been a feature of world
politics since 431 BC, when it was the “growth in power of Athens, and the
alarm which this inspired in Sparta” that led to war. The only surprising thing
was that it took President Donald Trump, of all people, to waken Americans up
to the threat posed by the growth in the power of the People’s Republic.
Trump campaigned against China as a threat mainly to U.S.
manufacturing jobs. Once in the White House, he took his time before acting,
but in 2018 began imposing tariffs on Chinese imports. Yet he could not prevent
his preferred trade war from escalating rapidly into something more like Cold
War II — a contest that was at once technological, ideological and
geopolitical. The foreign policy “blob” picked up the anti-China ball and ran
with it. The public cheered them on, with anti-China sentiment surging among
both Republicans and Democrats.
Trump himself may have been a hedgehog with a one-track
mind: tariffs. But under Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, U.S. policy soon
reverted to its foxy norm. Pompeo threw every imaginable issue at Beijing, from
the reliance of Huawei Technologies Co. on imported semiconductors, to the
suppression of the pro-democracy movement in Hong Kong, to the murky origins of
Covid-19 in Wuhan.
Inevitably, Taiwan was added to the list, but the increased
arms sales and diplomatic contacts were not given top billing. When Richard
Haass, the grand panjandrum of the Council on Foreign Relations, argued last
year for ending “strategic ambiguity” and wholeheartedly committing the U.S. to
upholding Taiwan’s autonomy, no one in the Trump administration said, “Great
idea!”
Yet when Pompeo met the director of the Communist Party
office of foreign affairs, Yang Jiechi, in Hawaii last June, guess where the
Chinese side began? “There is only one China in the world and Taiwan is an
inalienable part of China. The one-China principle is the political foundation
of China-U.S. relations.”
So successful was Trump in leading elite and popular opinion
to a more anti-China stance that President Joe Biden had no alternative but to
fall in line last year. The somewhat surprising outcome is that he is now
leading an administration that is in many ways more hawkish than its
predecessor.
Trump was no cold warrior. According to former National
Security Adviser John Bolton’s memoir, the president liked to point to the tip
of one of his Sharpies and say, “This is Taiwan,” then point to the Resolute
desk in the Oval Office and say, “This is China.” “Taiwan is like two feet from
China,” Trump told one Republican senator. “We are 8,000 miles away. If they
invade, there isn’t a f***ing thing we can do about it.”
Unlike others in his national security team, Trump cared
little about human rights issues. On Hong Kong, he said: “I don’t want to get
involved,” and, “We have human-rights problems too.” When President Xi Jinping
informed him about the labor camps for the Muslim Uighurs of Xinjiang in
western China, Trump essentially told him “No problemo.” On the 30th
anniversary of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre, Trump asked: “Who cares
about it? I’m trying to make a deal.”
The Biden administration, by contrast, means what it says on
such issues. In every statement since taking over as secretary of state, Antony
Blinken has referred to China not only as a strategic rival but also as
violator of human rights. In January, he called China’s treatment of the
Uighurs “an effort to commit genocide” and pledged to continue Pompeo’s policy
of increasing U.S. engagement with Taiwan. In February, he gave Yang an earful
on Hong Kong, Xinjiang, Tibet and even Myanmar, where China backs the recent
military coup. Earlier this month, the administration imposed sanctions on
Chinese officials it holds responsible for sweeping away Hong Kong’s autonomy.
In his last Foreign Affairs magazine article before joining
the administration as its Asia “tsar,” Kurt Campbell argued for “a conscious
effort to deter Chinese adventurism … This means investing in long-range
conventional cruise and ballistic missiles, unmanned carrier-based strike
aircraft and underwater vehicles, guided-missile submarines, and high-speed
strike weapons.” He added that Washington needs to work with other states to
disperse U.S. forces across Southeast Asia and the Indian Ocean and “to reshore
sensitive industries and pursue a ‘managed decoupling’ from China.”
In many respects, the continuity with the Trump China
strategy is startling. The trade war has not been ended, nor the tech war.
Aside from actually meaning the human rights stuff, the only other big
difference between Biden and Trump is the former’s far stronger emphasis on the
importance of allies in this process of deterring China — in particular, the
so-called Quad the U.S. has formed with Australia, India and Japan. As Blinken
said in a keynote speech on March 3, for the U.S. “to engage China from a
position of strength … requires working with allies and partners … because our
combined weight is much harder for China to ignore.”
This argument took concrete form last week, when Campbell
told the Sydney Morning Herald that the U.S. was “not going to leave Australia
alone on the field” if Beijing continued its current economic squeeze on
Canberra (retaliation for the Australian government’s call for an independent
inquiry into the origins of the pandemic). National Security Adviser Jake
Sullivan has been singing from much the same hymn-sheet. Biden himself hosted a
virtual summit for the Quad’s heads of state on March 12.
The Chinese approach remains that of the hedgehog. Several
years ago, I was told by one of Xi’s economic advisers that bringing Taiwan
back under the mainland’s control was his president’s most cherished objective
— and the reason he had secured an end to the informal rule that had confined
previous Chinese presidents to two terms. It is for this reason, above all
others, that Xi has presided over a huge expansion of China’s land, sea and air
forces, including the land-based DF‑21D
missiles that could sink American aircraft carriers.
While America’s multitasking foxes have been adding to their
laundry list of grievances, the Chinese hedgehog has steadily been building its
capacity to take over Taiwan. In the words of Tanner Greer, a journalist who
writes knowledgably on Taiwanese security, the People’s Liberation Army “has
parity on just about every system the Taiwanese can field (or buy from us in
the future), and for some systems they simply outclass the Taiwanese
altogether.” More importantly, China has created what’s known as an “Anti
Access/Area Denial bubble” to keep U.S. forces away from Taiwan. As Lonnie
Henley of George Washington University pointed out in congressional testimony
last month, “if we can disable [China’s integrated air defense system], we can
win militarily. If not, we probably cannot.”
As a student of history, to quote Kissinger, I see a very
dangerous situation. The U.S. commitment to Taiwan has grown verbally stronger
even as it has become militarily weaker. When a commitment is said to be
“rock-solid” but in reality has the consistency of fine sand, there is a danger
that both sides miscalculate.
I am not alone in worrying. Admiral Phil Davidson, the head
of U.S. forces in the Indo-Pacific, warned in his February testimony before
Congress that China could invade Taiwan by 2027. Earlier this month, my
Bloomberg Opinion colleague Max Hastings noted that “Taiwan evokes the sort of
sentiment among [the Chinese] people that Cuba did among Americans 60 years
ago.”
Admiral James Stavridis, also a Bloomberg Opinion columnist,
has just published “2034: A Novel of the Next World War,” in which a surprise
Chinese naval encirclement of Taiwan is one of the opening ploys of World War
III. (The U.S. sustains such heavy naval losses that it is driven to nuke
Zhanjiang, which leads in turn to the obliteration of San Diego and Galveston.)
Perhaps the most questionable part of this scenario is its date, 13 years
hence. My Hoover Institution colleague Misha Auslin has imagined a U.S.-China
naval war as soon as 2025.
In an important new study of the Taiwan question for the
Council on Foreign Relations, Robert Blackwill and Philip Zelikow — veteran
students and practitioners of U.S. foreign policy — lay out the four options
they see for U.S. policy, of which their preferred is the last:
The United States should … rehearse — at least with Japan
and Taiwan — a parallel plan to challenge any Chinese denial of international
access to Taiwan and prepare, including with pre-positioned U.S. supplies,
including war reserve stocks, shipments of vitally needed supplies to help
Taiwan defend itself. … The United States and its allies would credibly and
visibly plan to react to the attack on their forces by breaking all financial
relations with China, freezing or seizing Chinese assets.
Blackwill and Zelikow are right that the status quo is
unsustainable. But there are three core problems with all arguments to make
deterrence more persuasive. The first is that any steps to strengthen Taiwan’s
defenses will inevitably elicit an angry response from China, increasing the
likelihood that the Cold War turns hot — especially if Japan is explicitly
involved. The second problem is that such steps create a closing window of
opportunity for China to act before the U.S. upgrade of deterrence is complete.
The third is the reluctance of the Taiwanese themselves to treat their national
security with the same seriousness that Israelis take the survival of their
state.
Thursday’s meeting in Alaska between Blinken, Sullivan, Yang
and Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi — following hard on the heels of Blinken’s
visits to Japan and South Korea — was never likely to restart the process of
Sino-American strategic dialogue that characterized the era of “Chimerica”
under George W. Bush and Barack Obama. The days of “win-win” diplomacy are long
gone.
During the opening exchanges before the media, Yang
illustrated that hedgehogs not only have one big idea – they are also very
prickly. The U.S. was being “condescending,” he declared, in remarks that
overshot the prescribed two minutes by a factor of eight; it would do better to
address its own “deep-seated” human rights problems, such as racism (a “long
history of killing blacks”), rather than to lecture China.
The question that remains is how quickly the Biden
administration could find itself confronted with a Taiwan Crisis, whether a
light “quarantine,” a full-scale blockade or a surprise amphibious invasion? If
Hastings is right, this would be the Cuban Missile Crisis of Cold War II, but
with the roles reversed, as the contested island is even further from the U.S.
than Cuba is from Russia. If Stavridis is right, Taiwan would be more like
Belgium in 1914 or Poland in 1939.
But I have another analogy in mind. Perhaps Taiwan will turn
out to be to the American empire what Suez was to the British Empire in 1956:
the moment when the imperial lion is exposed as a paper tiger. When the
Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, Prime
Minister Anthony Eden joined forces with France and Israel to try to take it
back by force. American opposition precipitated a run on the pound and British
humiliation.
I, for one, struggle to see the Biden administration
responding to a Chinese attack on Taiwan with the combination of military force
and financial sanctions envisaged by Blackwill and Zelikow. Sullivan has
written eloquently of the need for a foreign policy that Middle America can get
behind. Getting torched for Taipei does not seem to fit that bill.
As for Biden himself, would he really be willing to
jeopardize the post-pandemic boom his economic policies are fueling for the
sake of an island Kissinger was once prepared quietly to trade in pursuit of
Cold War detente? Who would be hurt more by the financial crisis Blackwill and
Zelikow imagine in the event of war for Taiwan – China, or the U.S. itself? One
of the two superpowers has a current account deficit of 3.5% of GDP (Q2 2020)
and a net international investment position of nearly minus-$14 trillion, and
it’s not China. The surname of the secretary of state would certainly be an
irresistible temptation to headline writers if the U.S. blinked in what would
be the fourth and biggest Taiwan Crisis since 1954.
Yet think what that would mean. Losing in Vietnam five
decades ago turned out not to matter much, other than to the unfortunate
inhabitants of South Vietnam. There was barely any domino effect in Asia as a
whole, aside from the human catastrophe of Cambodia. Yet losing — or not even
fighting for — Taiwan would be seen all over Asia as the end of American predominance
in the region we now call the “Indo-Pacific.” It would confirm the
long-standing hypothesis of China’s return to primacy in Asia after two
centuries of eclipse and “humiliation.” It would mean a breach of the “first
island chain” that Chinese strategists believe encircles them, as well as
handing Beijing control of the microchip Mecca that is TSMC (remember,
semiconductors, not data, are the new oil). It would surely cause a run on the
dollar and U.S. Treasuries. It would be the American Suez.
The fox has had a good run. But the danger of foxy foreign
policy is that you care about so many issues you risk losing focus. The
hedgehog, by contrast, knows one big thing. That big thing may be that he who
rules Taiwan rules the world.
This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the
editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
To contact the author of this story:
Niall Ferguson at nferguson23@bloomberg.net
To contact the editor responsible for this story:
Tobin Harshaw at tharshaw@bloomberg.net
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