Possession, as the saying goes, is nine-tenths of the law—which makes proximity a close eight. It’s not a legal maxim, but as a geopolitical rule of thumb, it generally holds. The Falklands may be an exception, but exceptions only prove the rule.
Now add cultural affinity, historical grievance, and a centuries-old notion of national integrity, and it becomes easier to understand why Beijing insists on sovereignty over Taiwan. Since 1949, when the defeated Nationalists fled there after losing the Chinese civil war, the island has symbolized both unfinished business and wounded pride for the Chinese Communist Party.

Xi Jinping, China’s most powerful leader since Mao, has given the People’s Liberation Army a deadline: be ready by 2027 to take Taiwan by force if necessary. Preparations include not just rhetoric and training, but hard logistics—amphibious landing craft, floating docks reminiscent of D-Day, and the infrastructure needed for a full-scale assault. It might be bluff. But in geopolitics, as in comedy, timing is everything.

For the first time since 1979—when Washington formally recognized Beijing and downgraded its ties to Taipei, even as it pledged to help Taiwan defend itself—strategic ambiguity is looking more like strategic paralysis. Would the United States come to Taiwan’s defense?

President Joe Biden said yes, unequivocally. But Biden is no longer in office. Donald Trump is now back in the White House, and Beijing is watching closely.

Xi Jinping turned 72 this June. A devoted student of Mao Zedong, Xi is a man attuned to the cadence of history. He will not be remembered for economic reform, like Deng Xiaoping, or for globalization-era growth, like Jiang Zemin. Hu Jintao, his predecessor, is remembered, if at all, for keeping out of the way. Under Xi, the Chinese economy has stalled, and the government’s mishandling of COVID-19 sowed both domestic discontent and global mistrust. But for Xi, the conquest of Taiwan would override all that. History, he believes, waits.

In this calculus, Trump is a complicating—and perhaps enabling—factor. In Beijing, he is often viewed as a figure of parody. His trademark orange hue is widely mocked as the product of self-tanner. (By contrast, Chinese leaders favor the austere aesthetic of black hair dye and pale skin—a symbol of elite standing and success.) Yet behind the caricature is a deeper concern: under Trump, the U.S. military might not fight.

Tariffs and restrictions on student visas and tech transfers are seen in China not just as hostile, but as tinged with racism. Trump’s America is viewed as both belligerent and unreliable—a blustering superpower less interested in defending its allies than in shaking them down for payments.

This includes Taiwan. Trump has repeatedly accused the island of freeloading under the U.S. security umbrella, echoing his broader complaints about NATO allies not spending enough on defense. Isolationism is Trump’s throughline. He sees tariffs and the dismantling of traditional alliances as ways to protect America—not project its power abroad.

Would Trump really risk American lives for a small, contested island nearly 8,000 miles from home? That question looms large in Beijing, where military planners suspect the answer is no.

From Xi’s perspective, Taiwan has never looked more exposed. The 2027 centennial of the PLA is not just a date on the calendar—it’s a marker, a symbolic culmination of Chinese military resurgence. Even if full-scale invasion remains off the table, the temptation to escalate military pressure is real.

More flights into Taiwan’s air defense zone. More warships in the strait. More gray-zone tactics that blur the line between threat and action.

In Xi’s mind, history may be calling. The conquest of Taiwan would complete the unfinished chapter of China’s 20th century. It would seal his legacy not as a reformer or modernizer, but as the leader who made China whole.

The question is not just whether he can resist the pull of history. It’s whether anyone—especially in Washington—can convince him that the costs will outweigh the glory.