The secretary of state passed a folded slip of paper to the president. He scanned it before continuing. “A coincidence,” he said slowly. “Would that be the same sort of coincidence that led your government to launch three missiles into Taiwanese territorial waters on the eve of their first national election in 1996? Was it also coincidence that your country moved several hundred CSS-6 and CSS-7 missile systems into Fujian province — directly across the straits from Taiwan — in the weeks just prior to their election in 2000?”
Ambassador Shaozu stiffened. “Mr. President, are you now suggesting that the defensive deployment of the People’s Liberation Army within our own borders is somehow the business of the United States?”
“Perhaps not,” the president said. “But firing a ballistic missile directly over Taiwan is an overtly hostile act.”
“Hostile to whom, Mr. President?”
“To Taiwan, the Democratic People’s Republic of China.”
The ambassador smiled. “Mr. President, there is no Democratic People’s Republic of China. It does not exist. It never has existed.”
“I understand that your government holds such an opinion,” the president said. “But you must realize that the United States does not share your view.”
“There is only one China, Mr. President — a simple truth that even the United Nations acknowledges. There are two chairs for Korea in the General Assembly, one for South Korea and another for North Korea. That is because there are two Koreas.”
“You will note that there is only one chair in the United Nations General Assembly for China. That is because there is only one China. If there were two Chinas, there would be two chairs, would there not? The citizens of our troublesome island province may style themselves as renegades, but they are Chinese citizens nonetheless.”
“The citizens of Taiwan have a democratically elected government,” the president said. “They have their own laws, their own currency, their own national identity. They do not wish to be part of your country.”
The ambassador sighed. “We cannot let the wishes of a few million miscreants threaten the integrity of our sovereign nation. Their desires are irrelevant.”
“How can the wishes of millions of people be irrelevant?”
“Perhaps my memory for American history is a little fuzzy,” the ambassador said, “but I seem to recall that your country was faced with a similar situation in the latter half of the nineteenth century. A number of your Southern provinces … excuse me … you call them states, do you not? A number of your Southern states decided to secede from your Union. If I am not mistaken, your government used military force to repatriate the renegade states. I believe the casualties from that war totaled something just short of seven hundred thousand people. Yet, your citizens seem to regard the loss of nearly three-quarters of a million lives as a reasonable price to pay for reacquiring the lost territories and reabsorbing the inhabitants.”
“A fair point,” the president said. “But we are in the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth. The world is a different place. The tools and attitudes that served us well a hundred and fifty years ago have no place in the modern age.”
“Perhaps things have not changed as much as you would like to believe,” Ambassador Shaozu said. “What if the situation arose again tomorrow? Suppose that the citizens of your island state of Hawaii decide next week that they are disillusioned with the direction that your government is taking. Suppose they elect their own president, draft their own constitution, and print their own money. Will your country let them peacefully secede, merely because they wish it?”
The president didn’t say anything.
“It’s not such an easy question when the problem is in your backyard, is it, Mr. President?”
The president leaned back and made a steeple of his fingers. “An interesting argument, Ambassador, but it fails to take into account the two enormously powerful effects in the evolution of nations. Time … and acceptance.”
The ambassador’s eyes narrowed. “I do not understand.”
“Consider your hypothetical example,” the president said. “Suppose the people of Hawaii did declare their independence and form their own government. Then suppose that the United States chose to wait a while before acting to repatriate Hawaii. If Hawaii were self-governing and self-sufficient, at what point would they cease to be a renegade state and actually become an independent country?”
The ambassador frowned. “I am not following your argument.”
“Your People’s Republic of China and our own United States have much in common,” the president said. “Both of our nations were given birth by revolution. Each of our countries managed to fight its way out from under the yoke of a repressive government. Both of our countries began as renegade states. And yet, today, China and America exist as two of the most powerful nations on Earth, due — in large part — to the passage of time and the acceptance of other nations. I’m sure you will agree that far too much time has passed for Great Britain to recoup the United States as lost territory. Similarly, far too many nations have acknowledged the existence of your own People’s Republic of China for the Kuomintang or the descendants of the Empress Dowager to attempt to regain your citizens as outlaw rebels.”
The ambassador did not speak.
“Time has passed for Taiwan, Mr. Ambassador,” the president said.
“You haven’t made a serious move to repatriate them in over sixty years. In that time, they have become self-governing, and they have gained the acceptance of many nations. Taiwan now enjoys formal diplomatic ties with over thirty countries and maintains trading partnerships with over a hundred and fifty countries. At last count, they were the fourteenth largest trading nation in the world. It is true that they do not hold a seat in the United Nations General Assembly, but we both know that your country has blocked every attempt to formally admit them to the UN.” He smiled gently. “Rebel republics are transformed into nations by time and acceptance. And the Democratic People’s Republic of China on Taiwan has had both.”
The ambassador did not speak for several seconds. When he did, his voice was tight and low. “You are welcome to accept the make-believe sovereignty of our renegade province, if you so choose. The People’s Republic of China is under no obligation to do so.”
The president nodded. “I understand your position. And I acknowledge that it’s likely that our countries will continue to agree to dis agree on matters concerning Taiwan — at least for the foreseeable future.
In the meantime, the United States is willing to support whatever diplomatic overtures your government wishes to make toward peaceful reunification with Taiwan. I must caution you though; the U.S. cannot and will not sit back and allow military threats to Taiwan to go unchallenged.
Our policy on this matter dates back to 1950, when President Truman deployed the entire U.S. Seventh Fleet in defense of Taiwan. Please convey this message directly to your premier: we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on this recent missile launch. You say that it was a routine test, and we will accept your word for that, despite the evidence to the contrary.”
He leaned over the coffee table and flipped open a heavy leather-bound book to a pre-marked page. A glossy color image of mainland China covered two pages. “My world atlas tells me that your country has about eighty-seven hundred miles of coastline.” He flipped to another marked page. The map of Taiwan took up a half-page. “It also tells me that Taiwan is about two hundred and thirty-seven miles in its longest axis.”