If Washington-Taipei relations, despite basic goodwill, have not always gone smoothly, a diplomatic historian finds blame to assign on both sides.

Strait Talk: United States-Taiwan Relations and the Crisis with China

By Nancy Bernkopf Tucker

Harvard University Press, Cambridge MA, 2009, 404 pages.

ISBN-10: 0674031873,

ISBN-13: 978-0674031876

BY LAURA TYSON LI

In Taiwan’s case, these questions are not merely academic, but rather fundamental in the sense that at any number of points along the way, history could quite easily have taken an entirely different path. No one could have predicted or planned how Taiwan would evolve, or how its relationships with its great nemesis, China, and its great protector, the United States, would unfold. In fact, Taiwan has a long and illustrious record of making fools of prognosticators, defying critics, and exasperating supporters.

What emerges so clearly from Tucker’s book is the fact that from the get-go – that is, when Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist government took possession of the island shortly after the end of World War II – America’s policy toward Taiwan has been virtually ad hoc. There has been no overarching strategy, no grand plan, no grand alliance. Hope is not a generally recognized tool of statecraft, but there is no doubt that successive U.S. administrations beginning with Truman’s have at one point or another found themselves hoping, or wishing, that the infamous “Taiwan Problem” would just go away.

Strait Talk covers the history of American relations with Taiwan from the dawn of the Cold War through Ma Ying-jeou’s election to the presidency in March 2008. Using countless interviews and copious documentary research, Tucker – a professor of diplomatic history at Georgetown University who has specialized in examining U.S.-China-Taiwan relations – engagingly adopts an in-depth, behind-the-headlines perspective in detailing every twist and turn in the tumultuous U.S.-Taiwan relationship.

That relationship, Tucker argues, is far more crucial than may be generally realized. She makes a highly persuasive case that the alliance has been critically undermined by a long history of each side blindsiding the other with major actions, pronouncements, and policy changes without first consulting or sometimes even notifying one another. Moreover, the relationship has become dysfunctional, in part because of decades-old restrictions preventing senior officials from the two sides to meet and get to know one another. Combined with other factors, that has created a dangerous climate of suspicion and mistrust – dangerous because it could lead to miscalculation, Tucker argues, which in turn could lead to a military confrontation in which the United States would be forced to play a role.

It is generally seen as unlikely that an outright military confrontation across the Taiwan Strait would occur, as opposed to the sword-brandishing and pantomime that we’ve seen on occasion. But the area remains one of the world’s key flashpoints, and Tucker forcefully reminds us that of all the conflicts in which the United States is or might potentially become embroiled, this is the only one in which it come up against a nuclear power with a million men under arms.

At first glance, it might appear that the issue is no longer relevant, given the recent sea change in relations across the Taiwan Strait. President Ma’s election last year ushered in an era of apparent newfound affection between Taipei and Beijing after decades of tense confrontation. But amid the euphoria, it is easy to forget that basic issues underlying those tensions have not changed in the least.

The relationship between Taipei and Washington is unique. Part patron to ward, part partnership, it is an ambivalent relationship, suffused with warmth yet fraught with mistrust. It is one that has weathered devastating blows and profound transformation. It is also one that is nebulous, and deliberately so. Would the United States send troops to defend Taiwan in the event of a Chinese attack on the island? Does the United States support Taiwan independence or does it back eventual (re-)unification with China?

More strategic or more ambiguous?

Despite periodic official pronouncements intended to “clarify” the U.S. position, the answers to these and other basic questions are unknown. The United States calls its Taiwan policy “strategic ambiguity.” Some might call it waffling. By whatever name, strategic ambiguity is the sweet-smelling glue that holds the three-way relationship between Taiwan, China, and the United States together, and despite its obvious flaws, it has proven its durability time and again.

The so-called “Taiwan problem” has morphed over the decades since China’s civil war ended in 1949, and so have the strategies used by its superpower protector to deal with it. For the United States, Taiwan has variously been a staunch Cold War ally, a thorn in the side, a useful proxy, and a convenient scapegoat. In recent years, Taiwan has become a beacon of American-style democratic capitalism shining in the East. Apart from pursuing America’s strategic and economic interests, Washington’s main objective vis-à-vis Taiwan, it seems, has been not to appear ignoble, punctuated by an occasional desire to do the right thing – that is, if the “right thing” happens to coincide with American interests and ideals (and as Tucker shows, a few carefully timed arms deals do not hurt either). While American support for the island, its people, and the various governments that have ruled there has often been vigorous, it has sometimes been reluctant, even forced.

Taiwan finds itself uncomfortably sandwiched between two powers, one established and the other ascendant. It is dependent on the United States for protection under the Taiwan Relations Act, which provides that the United States must sell Taipei weapons for self-defense. Beijing claims sovereignty over the island, and Taipei lacks official diplomatic ties except for those with a handful of the world’s tiniest states. Despite these constraints, Taiwan has been extraordinarily imaginative and resourceful over the last half-century in finding ways to get its needs and desires met by the United States, employing all possible tactics to achieve its goals, placate the demands of its populace, and maintain what it would regard as a measure of national dignity.

These strategies include conducting a highly effective and well-funded lobbying operation in the United States, strategically dishing out cash for arms purchases and infrastructure projects, befriending and cultivating American officials and elected representatives at all levels, as well as maintaining an efficient intelligence operation in the United States. Taipei has also shown itself willing to secretly pursue agendas that Washington has made clear it would not support, as when Taiwan covertly tried to develop nuclear weapons in the 1980s under former President Chiang Ching-kuo (Washington ultimately quashed the weapons program). It’s an all-fronts offensive that Taiwan officials carry out as though their nation’s survival depended on it – which it does. Without U.S. backing, explicit or implied, it is safe to say that Taiwan as we know it today would not exist.

In contrast to the past, Taiwan now has a highly compelling story with enormous appeal to the American imagination. The story goes like this: Since the 1980s, Taiwan has transformed itself from a repressive military regime into a vibrant and prosperous democracy, in a region of the world where truly democratic governments are few and far between. It has a well-educated and industrious population of nearly 23 million (greater than Australia, for instance). It is staunchly and reliably pro-American and many of its citizens have studied or lived in, or emigrated to, the United States. It is the eighteenth-largest economy in the world and a major trading nation. It faces a huge, authoritarian neighbor that tries to oppress it and prevent it from playing a role in the international community, denies the Taiwanese people their aspirations of self-determination, and threatens the island militarily in a bid to cow the populace.

This is the case that Taiwan makes, and to very good effect. In an ideal world, Taiwan would be worthy of American support on its own merits, without the aid of the lobbying and other tactics that Tucker lays out in detail. But given the many competing priorities U.S. administrations face, supporting Taiwan is not always high on the list. In addition, the ever-changing roster of American officials in key positions includes people from different backgrounds, with their own biases and areas of expertise, and Taipei must be constantly vigilant and vigorous in its efforts to stay on Washington’s crowded radar screen. Sometimes, perhaps, it has been overly vigorous.

Pushing the envelope

Taipei has demonstrated a penchant for testing the limits of the policy of “strategic ambiguity,” and on occasion has visibly relished playing the role of enfant terrible. Former Presidents Lee Teng-hui and Chen Shui-bian occasionally found it impossible to resist sticking it to Beijing, Washington, or both, with evident glee. (Thus far, at least, Ma Ying-jeou has not felt it necessary to resort to such tactics.) At other times Taipei has been unfairly cast in the role of scapegoat. When pursuing what many would consider reasonable and legitimate aspirations – rejoining the United Nations and other international organizations, for instance – Taipei has found itself branded a “troublemaker” by China and lectured by the United States for being “provocative.”

It is true, however, that Taipei’s tactics could sometimes best be described as shooting itself in the foot. From the outside looking in, it is questionable whether the domestic political gains of some of Taipei’s actions in recent decades outweighed the longer-term political risk in terms of its ties with its most important ally. The consequence has too often been mistrust, which became quite pronounced during the latter years of the Clinton administration, while Lee Teng-hui was president of Taiwan, and continued during the tenures of President George W. Bush and Chen Shui-bian.

But the mistrust cuts both ways. The United States side is equally at fault for the bad state of the relationship, Tucker argues. As the United States holds the stronger hand, it has been tempting for American officialdom to take Taiwan’s loyalty and obedience for granted. (In Tucker’s account, Henry Kissinger and Winston Lord come off looking especially prone to such behavior.) The United States has often been thoughtless and cavalier toward Taiwan, mostly for fear of offending Beijing, but sometimes due to simple lack of consideration as to how its actions might impact Taiwan and the delicate state of play across the Taiwan Strait. Washington has made important policy statements seemingly off the cuff, negatively affecting the status and future of Taiwan without consultation, to the alarm and fury of Taiwanese officials.

Tucker relates several examples of such carelessness. “When memory is absent, those who wish to create their own reality have free rein,” she cautions in relating an incident that reflects the lack of understanding of Taiwan in Washington. Former President George W. Bush created much consternation during a 2003 meeting with officials from the American Institute in Taiwan (AIT), Washington’s de facto embassy in Taipei. The subject of Taiwan independence arose, and a discussion ensued over the U.S. position, which has long been that it “does not support” independence. Bush declared: “I’m not a nuance guy. ‘Do not support,’ ‘oppose’ – it’s the same to me.” Anyone with the slightest familiarity with the subject would recognize the importance of those subtleties. Clearly, Bush had not been well briefed.

In all fairness, keeping up with the linguistic minutiae of cross-Strait relations is tricky even for those with keen interest and expertise in the field. Even a comma can be significant. After Washington switched diplomatic recognition to Beijing in 1979, Taipei was forced to relinquish membership in most international organizations, with the Asian Development Bank as a key exception. Upon joining the ADB in 1986, however, Beijing insisted that Taipei’s designation be downgraded from “Republic of China” to “Taipei,China” (no space between the comma and the “C”; the space was also the subject of negotiations). Taipei has protested ever since, demanding (thus far to no avail) that the comma be removed. Taiwan officials believe the offending comma implies Chinese sovereignty over Taiwan. Beijing apparently agrees, because it will not concede to its removal. Given that use of Western punctuation is relatively new in the long history of the Chinese language, such intense parsing of the symbolism of a comma seems curious, at the very least.

The U.S. government will continue to grapple with the “Taiwan problem,” despite recurring fantasies that it will somehow “take care of itself,” as Kissinger once told Zhou Enlai. The “problem” has certainly changed form since the end of China’s civil war in 1949, but it is unlikely to go away. Debate will continue over whether the sacred articles of faith affecting the relationship – the Shanghai Communique, the Taiwan Relations Act, the 1982 pledge to limit arms sales to Taiwan, the Six Assurances, the policy of “strategic ambiguity,” and so on – have outlived their usefulness, and whether they should be jettisoned. Meanwhile, both the United States and Taiwan cling to them as the shipwrecked cling to flotsam.

Moving forward, the question is, how will the perennially insoluble “Taiwan problem” be managed? The short answer is “very carefully.” The reality will doubtless be more complex.

— Laura Tyson Li, a former Financial Times correspondent in Taiwan, is the author of Madame Chiang Kai-shek: China’s Eternal First Lady (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2006).