China Doesn’t Need to Invade Taiwan to Control It

There is fierce debate about whether the United States should, would, and could defend Taiwan in the event of a military assault by China. But there is another way events could play out that doesn’t involve a dramatic blockade or amphibious invasion: nonforcible realignment or, in a worst-case scenario, bloodless annexation, whereby an elected government in Taipei concludes a treaty effectively ceding Taiwan’s territory to the People’s Republic of China. Such a strategy, known by euphemisms like “winning without fighting” or “peaceful reunification,” is Beijing’s preferred outcome. And Washington is unprepared for it. The threat of nonforcible realignment or annexation presents distinct obstacles from an openly violent military conflict. Reversing a covert and coerced, yet seemingly voluntary, political decision in Taipei to capitulate would also be exceedingly difficult, putting a premium on prevention. With Taiwan’s next presidential election approaching in a little over a year, and the leading candidates still uncertain, the time is ripe to address this vulnerability. There is fierce debate about whether the United States should, would, and could defend Taiwan in the event of a military assault by China. But there is another way events could play out that doesn’t involve a dramatic blockade or amphibious invasion: nonforcible realignment or, in a worst-case scenario, bloodless annexation, whereby an elected government in Taipei concludes a treaty effectively ceding Taiwan’s territory to the People’s Republic of China. Such a strategy, known by euphemisms like “winning without fighting” or “peaceful reunification,” is Beijing’s preferred outcome. And Washington is unprepared for it. The threat of nonforcible realignment or annexation presents distinct obstacles from an openly violent military conflict. Reversing a covert and coerced, yet seemingly voluntary, political decision in Taipei to capitulate would also be exceedingly difficult, putting a premium on prevention. With Taiwan’s next presidential election approaching in a little over a year, and the leading candidates still uncertain, the time is ripe to address this vulnerability. Many experts believe it is unlikely Taipei would readily comply with any attempt at forced unification. In 2022, a Taiwanese public opinion poll found that 70.2 percent of respondents were willing to defend Taiwan if China took military action. Another found that over 60 percent of Taiwanese between 20 and 39 said they were willing to defend Taiwan; the same poll showed that 72 percent of respondents between the ages of 40-49 said they would fight. What happens, though, if the order to fight never comes? “Peaceful reunification” is a Chinese Communist Party (CCP) euphemism coined in a 1979 “Message to Compatriots in Taiwan.” It is a seemingly benign phrase that conceals a massive, state-orchestrated campaign of psychological and political pressure that the CCP hopes might result in the destruction of a democratic nation. China has long claimed Taiwan’s territory and has been conducting a sophisticated global effort to isolate and weaken its neighbor, laying the groundwork for a potential future takeover. The goal of subduing the enemy without fighting is pervasive in Chinese strategic thought. The most extreme scenario would be a formal unification agreement. This is a high bar. As of 2019, it requires a supermajority of Taiwanese legislators followed by a national referendum. Yet below this are more gradual scenarios of realignment. A pro-Beijing government could erode Taiwan’s security partnership with the United States by evicting trainers, rolling back conscription laws, and allowing arms sales to lapse. CCP-friendly leaders could ink wide-ranging economic and so-called peace frameworks that would bind Taiwan and mainland China in ways that would be difficult to reverse later. Nonforcible realignment or annexation seems unlikely, but it is a growing possibility. In recent years, several of Taiwan’s leading politicians have openly embraced cross-strait policies that closely align with the CCP’s preferred direction. Cheng Li-wun, a former Taiwan independence advocate and the new head of the Kuomintang (KMT, or Chinese Nationalist Party), visited China in April and explicitly called for a more open orientation towards Beijing. A few weeks after the lunch, she told a staff writer at the Atlantic that “everything is possible, because we’re just one big family.” Cheng reaffirmed her position in a Foreign Affairs article, “Taiwan Doesn’t Have To Choose.” This followed her controversial presence at a November 2025 memorial event honoring Wu Shi, one of the most dangerous CCP spies in Taiwan’s modern history. Former President Ma Ying-jeou has publicly claimed that Taiwanese self-defense efforts are futile, and Taiwan should trust Xi Jinping. To be sure, Taiwanese political figures like Cheng and Ma may well be conducting exchanges with Xi in good faith and with peaceful purposes. Nevertheless, the CCP is not motivated to seek peace and stability. History shows that anything masquerading as CCP acceptance of a cross-strait consensus is a dangerous gamble. When the British ceded formal control of Hong Kong to China in 1997, the CCP agreed to a “one country, two systems” model, offering political autonomy for 50 years. But by the early 2020s, China passed a national security law enhancing its ability to suppress dissent and subsequently changed the electoral system by requiring by “that only ‘patriots’ who ‘respect’ the Chinese Communist party can run in elections,” according to the Council on Foreign Relations, alongside other moves. The danger extends beyond a handful of politicians. Over the last five years, there has been a stark increase in prosecuted spy cases in Taiwan. The island’s military, legislature, and executive branch have seen a dizzying array of espionage and infiltration cases, with defendants from the ruling Democratic Progressive Party, as well as the opposition KMT and Taiwan People’s Party—which together hold a majority coalition in Taiwan’s legislature. While the sheer volume of prosecutions suggests Taiwan has robust counterintelligence capacity, it also suggests the CCP has been effective at exploiting vulnerabilities. Recruiting spies is the tip of the iceberg. The CCP’s political warfare and influence efforts include funding local Taiwanese officials to travel to China and amplify pro-unification messages, sophisticated AI-enabled disinformation surrounding elections, and allegedly paying several Taiwan media groups for pro-CCP coverage. None of these tactics are decisive on their own. Rather, they are aimed at bolstering China’s image, undermining faith in the United States, and eroding confidence in continued resistance. Given the extraordinary scope of the CCP’s covert influence and political interference campaigns, Taiwan faces the ever-present possibility of a winning candidate stepping into Beijing’s camp after a national election. It is no longer unimaginable that the people of Taiwan could elect a leader secretly controlled by the CCP, or even simply one that pursues strategic realignment towards China in the hopes of forestalling a military showdown. While there is always the possibility that the election of a very Beijing-friendly government that failed to end Taiwan’s democratic system could usher in a more pro-U.S. government in follow-on elections, it would be risky to bank on such an outcome. Nonviolent realignment or unification might at first blush appear to solve several thorny issues for Washington. Most obviously, it would spare decision-makers the need to prepare for a costly war with China. Further, some might argue that it is official U.S. policy to accept any election outcome that reflects the will of Taiwan’s people, functionally tying Washington’s hands. Neither argument stands up to scrutiny. First, while the Taiwan Relations Act of 1979 does rest “upon the expectation that the future of Taiwan will be determined by peaceful means,” it also requires the United States to “maintain the capacity … 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” (emphasis ours). In theory then, Washington is plausibly bound as a matter of policy to oppose Taiwan’s subjugation through the pursuit of so-called peaceful reunification which would invariably occur amid an environment of intense coercion. In practice, the devil is in the details. Unambiguous coercion of the Taiwanese public, wherein the CCP gave Taiwan an explicit ultimatum between surrender or war, would fall squarely within the type of coercion covered by the Taiwan Relations Act. So too would coercion of individual political figures through schemes like legal intimidation, blackmail, or bribery—if it could be readily proven. The situation would be considerably more challenging, however, if realignment occurred against the backdrop of a seemingly democratic decision, even one made possible by years of political warfare and manipulation. Even if the United States could marshal conclusive proof of such tampering, it might open itself up to allegations of tampering in the democratic process. Apart from the question of any legal obligations, nonforcible realignment or annexation would technically free the United States from having to weigh whether to confront China militarily—but the strategic damage would be enormous. Washington will have lost a small but powerful partner, and a linchpin of postwar U.S. security architecture in the Pacific. If Xi achieves his goals without firing a shot, it would deny the United States a legitimate basis to militarily contest Taiwan’s realignment towards, or absorption by, China. This is one of the greatest challenges posed by winning without fighting. Given U.S. commitments to sovereignty and self-determination, leaders would be hard-pressed to forcibly reverse the popular will of the Taiwanese people, even if that choice was made possible by political warfare. Yet the loss would be enormous. If Taiwan’s democracy ended with a whimper rather than a war cry, it would leave whole the entire Chinese army. China would have little need to deploy a large garrison force and wage costly pacification campaigns, freeing its military to undertake global operations from a position of strength. At the same time, China would capture Taiwan’s world-class chip ecosystem intact. While Taiwan’s situation is distinctive, history offers clues about the difficulties Washington has confronted when facing strategic realignment, actual or feared, by allies and partners absent forcible action by adversaries. During the Cold War, the United States found it exceedingly hard to stymie the election of leftist leaders—including ones who were willing to sell their own democracy to Moscow—without incurring blowback. This left decision-makers with limited options, usually covert. In some cases, the United States helped safeguard democracy. During Italy’s 1948 elections, policymakers feared that major gains by communist politicians would provide the Soviets a strategic outpost in the heart of Europe. A National Security Council report at the time warned that the ascension of the People’s Bloc would enable “a pattern made familiar in Eastern Europe,” namely allowing communists to “take over complete control of the government and transform Italy into a totalitarian state subservient to Moscow.” To forestall this, the CIA secretly provided support to non-communist parties and politicians. The U.S. government continued to quietly fund centrist politicians and labor organizations in Italy into the early 1960s. In other cases, like Chile in the 1960s and 1970s, U.S. efforts took a darker turn. For years, Lyndon Johnson, and later Richard Nixon, tried to quietly blunt the electoral prospects of Marxist leader Salvador Allende. When it became clear in the fall of 1970 that Allende could win the presidency, the CIA unsuccessfully tried to engineer a coup. For years afterwards, the U.S. waged a secret campaign of economic warfare and coup plotting until Allende’s ouster in 1973. Augusto Pinochet, a brutal dictator, took over. Exposure of the operation, along with a host of other covert actions in this period, created a scandal that produced sweeping intelligence reform. China has shown it will not hesitate to use every tool at its disposal, including economic links, cultural exchanges, and even alleged vaccine blockades, to undermine Taiwan’s government. Winning without fighting is especially appealing if the military balance continues to confront Xi with the prospect of a highly uncertain war. At the same time, the United States lacks a clear plan for what it would do if this approach yielded a major strategic realignment or potentially annexation. U.S. planners and strategists should do more to prepare for the worst, using all instruments of national power at their disposal. That begins with revisiting and enhancing Taiwan policy. While Cold War-era tactics to covertly undermine any future pro-CCP regime in Taipei would obfuscate a flagrant violation of sovereignty norms, they would likely be exposed and hand Beijing a pretext for harsher crackdowns. Overt efforts to reverse the situation on the ground might cause escalation and engender local resentment. Because post-realignment options are fraught, Washington must proactively develop a strategy to strengthen Taiwan relations. Arms sales alone are not enough. Investing in public diplomacy; countering China’s political warfare campaign; aiding Taiwan with counterintelligence to uncover united front work; and providing robust reassurance must all be prioritized to ensure that China’s winning without fighting scenario never comes to pass. The views and opinions expressed in this article do not represent the official views and opinions of any of the organizations with which the authors are affiliated.