Xi is pursuing unification not merely through military preparation — but also through calibrated political warfare.
Xi is pursuing unification not merely through military preparation — but also through calibrated political warfare.
L ast Tuesday, Taiwanese President Lai Ching-te, planning a visit to Taiwan’s sole African ally Eswatini, was abruptly informed that Seychelles, Madagascar, and Mauritius would deny overflight rights to his aircraft. The trip was then canceled — an unprecedented humiliation and major diplomatic setback for Taiwan.
Everybody knows that Beijing was behind this latest stunt. What gives this episode its deeper strategic meaning, however, is its proximity to another major political development: the high-profile visit to China by Cheng Li-wen, chair of Taiwan’s opposition Kuomintang (KMT) party. During her trip, Cheng met with Chinese Communist Party leader Xi Jinping in a summit that Beijing choreographed as a showcase of goodwill, stability, and opportunity. Chinese leadership rolled out what can only be described as a full-spectrum “peace offensive,” offering political respect, economic incentives, and a narrative of reduced tensions through dialogue.
The contrast between Lai’s humiliation and Xi’s handshake with Cheng is not coincidental. It represents the essence of Beijing’s strategy, one that reveals how the Chinese regime is pursuing unification not merely through military preparation, but also through calibrated political warfare aimed at reshaping Taiwan’s domestic politics ahead of the decisive 2028 presidential election.
While public opinion in Taiwan remains deeply skeptical of Beijing’s ultimate goal of unification, Taiwanese voters are not immune to the appeal of stability. Many see engagement with Beijing, such as Cheng’s visit, as a potential means of reducing military tensions, reopening economic exchanges, and avoiding war.
Beijing is exploiting this duality. Thus emerges the classic “carrot and stick” strategy, deployed with unusual clarity in this moment. The carrot is extended to the KMT and, by extension, to constituencies within Taiwanese domestic politics who are willing to engage with Beijing. Reports from the Cheng visit highlighted China’s awarding of a package of preferential measures, ranging from expanded market access and tourism facilitation to educational exchanges and business incentives. These benefits are not abstract; they are designed to be felt tangibly, especially in localities governed by KMT officials.
The stick, meanwhile, is directed squarely at Lai and the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Blocking his Africa trip serves little practical purpose — Eswatini’s diplomatic weight is negligible — but it carries immense symbolic value. The snub was an effort to demonstrate that resistance to Beijing comes with escalating costs: diplomatic isolation, international embarrassment, and a growing sense of abandonment.
Taken together, these parallel moves reveal a strategic horizon extending well beyond immediate events. Beijing’s real target is 2028.
Speculation in Washington often points to 2027 as a possible deadline for Chinese military action against Taiwan, though whether Xi Jinping has set such a timetable is unclear. What is clear, though, is that Xi views unification as central to his legacy — unlike his predecessors, Xi has explicitly tied the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” to resolving the Taiwan question. To be sure, peaceful unification remains Xi’s preferred path — it’s less costly and more sustainable in the long term. But that preference is just that: a preference. If Beijing feels that peaceful options have been exhausted, they’ve made clear that force remains firmly on the table.
In this context, the interaction with the KMT’s leader offers Beijing a plausible pathway to achieving its goals without war. If the KMT can regain power in 2028, Beijing would have a partner more open to engagement, more resistant to confrontation, and more susceptible to incremental political integration. The groundwork for that outcome is being laid now.
Taiwan’s local elections later this year will be a critical test of whether China’s strategy is working. Beijing’s economic incentives are expected to disproportionately benefit regions governed by the KMT, reinforcing the perception that cooperation yields dividends. If these policies translate into electoral gains for the KMT at the local level, they could generate momentum heading into the presidential race.
Should the KMT win in 2028, Beijing’s expectations would not end with improved relations. It would likely press for concrete steps toward political negotiations on unification, and perhaps even a timetable. Conversely, if the DPP retains power despite Beijing’s overtures, the implications would be profound. It would signal that even a fully articulated “peace option” has no market in Taiwan. At that point, Beijing may conclude that peaceful unification is unattainable in practice, regardless of rhetoric. Such a conclusion would not necessarily trigger immediate conflict, but it would reorder Beijing’s strategic priorities. Military preparations would intensify, timelines could shorten, and the risk of miscalculation would grow.
In case that the KMT were to win power but refuse to set a timetable for peaceful unification and continue to stall, Beijing would likely reach the conclusion that the KMT represents merely another form of de facto independence, albeit one that is more agreeably packaged and more adept at buying time than the DPP. In that case, Beijing might conclude that forced reunification is the only option. However, Beijing may judge a scenario in which the KMT refuses to acquiesce to be relatively unlikely. One reason is that a key element of its recent cooperation with the KMT has involved efforts to block Taiwan’s special defense budget, thereby complicating U.S. arms sales to the island. A successful blocking of the budget would weaken Taiwan’s ability to resist a potential military campaign by Beijing, regardless of which party is in power after 2028.
There is an additional layer to this episode that should not go unnoticed. Taipei reportedly sought assistance from a friendly country to mediate with the African states denying overflight rights. The only plausible willing and able candidate is the United States. Whether Washington declined to intervene or was simply unable to persuade the African countries remains unclear. But what is clear is that Beijing’s influence in Africa has reached a level where even U.S. pressure may not suffice to affect outcomes.
China’s broader Africa strategy provides context to this theory. Beginning May 1, Beijing is set to implement a zero-tariff treatment for imports from 53 African countries, notably excluding Eswatini. This is not charity. It is a calculated effort to deepen economic dependence and expand political alignment on the continent. By tying access to the Chinese market to diplomatic behavior, Beijing transforms economic policy into geopolitical leverage.
The contest over Taiwan is no longer confined to the Taiwan Strait. It is being waged in Africa, in trade policy, and in the internal politics of Taiwanese elections. For the United States, the implications are sobering. If Washington continues to recognize Taiwan’s strategic importance and the value of defending democratic governance, then time is not on its side.