Managing Taiwan Operations in the Twenty-first Century Issues and Options

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TAIWAN IS PART OF CHINA. Debates on this well-established concept have now created a backlash. Beijing’s rapidly increased political, economic, and military power has strengthened its belief in the ideal of “one China” and its determination to reunify the country. But how it would attain this end is ambiguous. The concept of “one country, two systems” is designed to integrate peacefully the de facto entities separated by the Strait, allowing Taiwan to preserve its political, economic, and social systems, distinct from those of the mainland, Hong Kong, and Macao. The second, parallel conception involves force—brief, lethal, joint operations on Beijing’s terms to ensure national sovereignty and territorial integrity, regardless of short-term costs. This assertive approach to ensuring “one China” is envisioned by the People’s Republic of China (PRC) leadership if Taibei * “flexible diplomacy” gains it reentry to the United Nations and other international organisations as a sovereign state; if advocates of independence make separation imminent; or if drastic political change or chaos occurs on the island. Beijing’s immediate objective is to improve cross-Strait contacts. Taibei has rejected Beijing’s one-China policy and redefined its own version, a “special state-to-state relationship”—aiming at eliminating ambiguity in cross-Strait relations but not at a showdown with Beijing in the near future. The consequent spirals of tensions and distrust are compounded by the rapidity of changes occurring inside and outside China; these changes are producing intense suspiciousness about the international community’s response to China’s policies on Taiwan and regional stability.

Perhaps of greatest concern to the international community is the potential for operations by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) against Taiwan. On this crucial issue, the West and Taiwan have underestimated the likelihood of cross-Strait operations, since they perceive such operations in their own terms, not the PRC’s political, economic, and technological capabilities. Conversely, Beijing has exaggerated its political aspirations and military muscle, not acknowledging the inherent problems of operational effectiveness, domestic support, and foreign reactions.1 Both views are facile, encumbered by ulterior motives, and hence prone to black-white generalisations.

This article draws together the fragmented and often contradictory information available on the PLA’s potential for cross-Strait operations, examining it against the backdrop of debates within the PRC on policy, logistics, and operational orientations and choices in order to present a more complete and up-to-date picture of the present state of affairs as well as a more fruitful perspective on the future. The primary concern is to assess whether operations across the Taiwan Strait are possible, militarily and politically. The article raises questions: to what extent has the PLA modified its defensive land operations to meet the requirements of offensive joint operations? Can the PRC regime build and maintain the domestic support necessary for cross-Strait operations? Under what circumstances can the PRC leadership manage regional reactions so as to prevent possible foreign intervention? The article closes with a number of troublesome issues and possible options.

For the PLA, today’s operational art reflects yesterday’s military hardware. This “legacy” technology focuses on improving the performance of old weapons and equipment by overlaying domestic or foreign technology. Technical difficulties and the command and control (C2) shortcomings of these systems have made this traditional option less than ideal. As a consequence, the PLA has attempted to purchase certain key weapons and, as a cost-saving device, to incorporate them into indigenously developed systems. Such weapons are being optimised for the service’s operational priority, joint strikes—deep, constant, and fully integrated attacks meant to destroy committed forces and to delay, disrupt, and eliminate uncommitted reserves. This approach to joint operations contains elements of fundamental constancy, yet it is never static. It is affected by domestic and external policy considerations and military reforms. Although the PLA now officially favours technology-centered thinking, the legacy of hardware and of generations of military thought about doctrine constitute a straitjacket of tradition affecting the service’s plans as well as its capabilities.

Joint operations, in Chinese parlance, are fought by two or more corps-level units, from different services, in equal partnership and under unified command, to achieve strategic or operational objectives within a certain time and space.2 The crucial element is that of “equal partnership,” which reflects recent changes in the force structure and military technology. Traditionally, Chinese operations have been expected to be commanded—and essentially waged—by ground forces. Such operations might involve two or more services, but human factors rather than weapons were decisive. Naval and air forces consequently developed as army adjuncts, to secure the flanks or offer limited air and naval cover.

In contrast, an equal partnership among the services aims to transcend land operational art as the primary definer of combat. Different battles would be guided by different varieties of operational art reflecting each service’s strengths; in other words, different kinds of operational art would be utilised so as to produce the most decisive effects. This conceptual change in operational art suggests that the Army is no longer in command; instead, the services have become autonomous, linked politically and operationally but not hierarchically.

Actually, the Chinese military has failed to reach a consensus on the extent to which the services can remain equal and independent of one another. Opponents argue that an unequal relation persists throughout an operation. In this view, joint operations consist of several periods or components. Changes in operational space and time imply that sometimes one service must be primary, while others provide support. A service may be centred on an operational target at a certain place and time but be unable to achieve it without the support of other services. The services thus become interdependent and interconnected. Still, in this view, ground forces are and will remain primary; land battles are decisive. Without this land force core, joint operations cannot and will not produce maximal combat effectiveness.3 This conservative view largely echoes the PLA’s traditional focus on land defence against foreign invasion. The most sensitive issue in the debates is that of prospective joint operations across the Taiwan Strait.

Strategic Environments. Taiwan lies on busy shipping routes linking the Indian Ocean to the northwest Pacific. It could control sea lanes southwest along the Chinese coast, south around the Philippines, and north toward Japan and Korea; it is the dominant geographic feature along mainland China’s east coast. The average width of the Taiwan Strait is about two hundred kilometres, but shipping conditions are poor: differences between low and high tides range from four to eight meters; dense fogs in the spring often block the Strait; and the typhoon season normally persists throughout the summer.

Such factors are geographic advantages for the defenders of Taiwan, and they are reinforced by newly bought or leased military hardware, such as 150 F-16s, sixty Mirage 2000-5s, a modified version of the Patriot air defence system, four E-2T airborne warning and command (AWACS) aircraft, sixteen La Fayette–class “stealth” frigates, six indigenously produced Perry-class missile frigates, and nine Knox-class frigates with antisubmarine warfare (ASW) capabilities.

These systems collectively form a solid air-sea barrier, but Taiwan has weaknesses. Perhaps a democratic system or political liberalisation is desirable, but the rise and persistence of a pluralist society might make it highly sensitive to the powerful PLA propaganda and psychological warfare aimed at undermining societal support. A more troublesome issue is Taibei’s heavy reliance on maritime transport for almost all imported and exported goods; even a brief blockade could easily result in the collapse of its economy. The most vulnerable defence element lies in its very shallow battlespace; its severely deficient satellite-based command, control, communications, and intelligence (C3I); and its lack of a theatre missile defence (TMD) system (though the 1999 U.S. National Defence Authorisation Act for fiscal year 1999 requires that the U.S.-Japan TMD system shelter Taiwan).4 Missile strikes could paralyse Taiwan’s naval, air, and ground force bases, which are located on overpopulated flatlands and vulnerable coastlines and are isolated by numerous rivers.

The Second Artillery—the PLA’s strategic rocket force—would likely launch preemptive missile attacks on these vital targets, possibly during a typhoon season. Mobile, land-based, solid-fuel DF-15 (M-9) missiles, designed to carry a conventional warhead of up to five hundred kilograms about six hundred kilometres with great accuracy, are intended to disarm Taiwan’s navy, air force, and defensive installations as well as to destroy its waterworks, power plants, and oil-storage facilities. The performance of Chinese missiles has been substantially improved, partly by technology transfer from the West and Russia, and partly because of China’s growing capacity to absorb such technology—which further stimulates demand for technology. The U.S. Navy also acknowledges that though its ships tracked the DF-15s fired in the highly publicized exercises of 1996, they could not have intercepted them.5

This competitive advantage is further strengthened by the Second Artillery’s operational doctrine, which stresses “constant manoeuvre, focused strikes.” Constant manoeuvre refers to flexible command arrangements and rapid changes in battlefield direction (axes of advance) and position, utilizing methods of command, troop employment, and firepower to achieve the initiative on the battlefield in various scenarios. It allows combat units to fight synchronised missile battles from dispersed locations rather than large, concentrated bases. Focused strikes are designed to concentrate most, if not all, firepower on vital strategic and operational targets and destroy them in a single blow. These are precision engagements, in which units are expected to locate targets, strike them with the highest possible accuracy, assess the effectiveness of the strikes, and attack again if necessary.6 Lethal preemptive missile strikes are deemed the key to success in joint operations.

Command of the Sea and Air. Recent developments in weapons and equipment have led the PRC military to modify its naval and air doctrine in favor of an emphasis upon command of the sea and air. In pursuing this idea, the Navy and the Air Force have been required to adopt the Army’s principle of “comprehensive operations, focused strikes.” Each service is modifying its doctrine accordingly, so as to optimise its potential for synchronised battles.

China has dreamed of command of the sea throughout the century since the naval battles of the Sino-Japanese War in 1895. Notwithstanding its efforts in the late 1950s to develop nuclear-powered missile submarines, however, Chinese naval tradition (like early Soviet naval thinking) favoured coastal defence, which requires more forces on land or islands than on water and emphasizes defence against amphibious landings.7 The operational objective of naval forces was to support ground operations on the littoral landmass; command of the sea was not their essential purpose.

With the end of the Cold War, Chinese naval officers and analysts agreed on a need for more extensive capabilities—that is, offshore defence. Offshore defence would extend the defence perimeter to between two and four hundred nautical miles from the coast (more in the case of the South China Sea, with its disputed islands and reefs). This mandate envisions greater capability for offensive, distant operations to secure state interests in these more remote waters. China, according to a consensus among party-state officials and naval officers, will not build a blue-water navy for control of wide expanses of the sea or to deny them to the great powers—at least not in the near future. Rather, the purpose is to protect sea lanes of communication in what Beijing considers Chinese waters, develop economic stakes in the “maritime territory,” regardless of others’ claims, and build the capabilities necessary to resist invasion or non-Chinese presence.8 The concept of command of the sea marks a change in China’s naval thinking from a land-support focus to an emerging Chinese naval operational art that emphasizes concentration, the offensive, and logistics support in order to crush an opponent’s fleet far from shore.

This ambitious objective is sustained by a considerable naval buildup. Despite technical and technological difficulties, the Navy now operates Han-class nuclear attack submarines and Xia-class ballistic missile nuclear submarines. The newly commissioned, 4,200-ton Luhu destroyer, powered by a Motren Turbine diesel and General Electric LM-2500 gas turbine engines, is equipped with Yingji surface-to-surface missiles, a Thomson-CSF Crotale surface-to-air missile system, Whitehead B515 torpedoes, two Zhi-9 (French Dauphin) helicopters, and Chinese decoy launchers. The Dayun-class resupply vessel, with a displacement of eleven thousand tons, can carry two Super Frelon Sa-321 helicopters for vertical replenishment at sea. The Navy has bought Russian conventional attack submarines of the 877EKM and modified 636 Kilo types, and it has agreed to purchase Sovremennyy destroyers armed with Moskit (SS-N-22 Sunburn) antiship missiles and Uragan (SA-N-7 Gadfly) surface-to-air missiles. Once a single-dimensional coast-defence force, the Navy has gradually evolved to include surface ships, submarines, missile forces, marines, and land-based naval aviation, thereby widening and fine-tuning its spectrum of capabilities.

The Navy envisions specifically that it would manoeuvre fleets to seize and maintain command of the sea around the Taiwan Strait. Such an attempt would utilise surprise and sustained naval-air-ground firepower strikes to devastate Taiwanese troops, vessels, and support installations. Effective superiority in the Strait would allow ground forces to cross and assault the island. The Navy would then be required to annihilate Taiwan’s remaining surface vessels and submarines, blockade the Strait fully or at least prevent the Taiwanese from reentering it, and eliminate all obstacles and mines along the island’s coast. Local naval superiority would be supported by a multilayered, multidimensional warning and defence system to secure the flanks of the fleets.9 The PLA believes it likely that Taiwan, facing a challenge from the mainland, would avoid a decisive battle at sea. In that case, the PLA would blockade Taiwan’s naval bases and launch “soft” strikes (such as psychological, electronic, and information warfare, as well as “meteorological” warfare—taking advantage of bad weather), which could have a significant impact.

China considers deception and seizure of the initiative as vital if it is to succeed in naval combat, because, it acknowledges, its fleet is inferior to that of Taiwan. It is the world’s third largest in size, but its armament as a whole is obsolete. Over the past decade, its reach has improved but only marginally, with extensions in the operating range of existing vessels. Its warships are mostly outmoded, and their air defence weaponry is insufficient. The lack of a long-range surface-to-air missile system and the inability to detect, track, or intercept incoming antisurface missiles have raised deep concerns in the PLA Navy about its combat effectiveness. Without improvement in these areas, ground forces cannot be dispatched to Taiwan or sustained against opposition.

Indeed, the Navy has been attempting to free itself from its second-class status. As previously noted, great stress is placed on interservice coordination and support generally. The Navy, however, is particularly interested in producing a brand-new doctrine for synchronising frontal, flank, and rear strikes. It envisions a variety of methods, including electronic warfare, long-distance fire, and special warfare, sustained by political, economic, and diplomatic measures. The Navy insists specifically that attacks on Taiwan’s C3I will offset the present technological imbalance.

Like its naval counterpart, the Air Force champions command of its operating medium. China’s interest in command of the air is long-standing. Mao Zedong was determined to build a powerful air force, and Deng Xiaoping reinforced that commitment: “In future operations, we will achieve nothing without command of the air. Our focus of force building is on the air force, which will offer air cover for naval and ground operations.”10 Such desires have produced an emphasis on limited and defensive but active and flexible air operations. The Air Force’s missions are to assist the advance of Chinese troops, thwart the advance of an opponent, and provide short-range interdiction. By extension, such missions may also involve limited attacks on an opponent’s military, industrial, and population centres. Close air support and interdiction are meant to deprive an opponent of the ability to continue fighting, and to erode the will of his people. If these aims can be achieved, it might be possible, with a relatively small force, to make an opponent’s war machine incapable of further resistance.

As a result, China has gradually modernised its Air Force (relative to the age of most of the present inventory) with a new generation of indigenously designed combat aircraft, such as the F-10, powered by Russian Lyulka AL-31 engines, and the FBC-1 (Flying Leopard), powered by Rolls-Royce Spey Mark 202 turbofan engines. The Air Force is also equipped with the Russian Su-27 fighter—an advanced, powerful, and versatile aircraft armed with R-73 air-to-air missiles and with S-300PMU surface-to-air missiles. Russia has licensed coproduction of Su-27s to the Shenyang Aircraft Company, which can produce fifteen to twenty per year. The Chinese air force also operates the Russian Il-76 transport, and it has reportedly received in-flight refueling technology from Israel, Iran, and Pakistan. It has begun to broaden the upgrading process to such areas as warning, transport, seaplanes, helicopters, air-launched antiship and antitank missiles, and airfield installations.11

At the centre of Air Force operational art is the ambition to integrate the aviation units of air, naval, and ground forces under Air Force command. The Air Force proposes to plan, organise, and wage unified air operations. “The use of air units for first strike” will focus on carefully selected “bottleneck” targets, such as radar stations, air defence systems, and air bases, in the belief that the loss of such targets will substantially weaken an opponent’s early warning, defence, and combat effectiveness. Offensive air operations will be decisive in nature.12 The Air Force insists that air power is equal, if not superior, to land and sea power, that it is the tool of choice for shaping operations—the supported, rather than supporting, combat arm.

However, though Chinese aircraft have been improved remarkably in terms of range, speed, payload, and precision weapons, they cannot be expected to have decisive effects on land operations. The inventory is still primarily of the 1950s-1960s Soviet vintage. Its fighters are largely Chinese-equivalent MiG-19s and MiG-21s, which are so antiquated as to be useless against F-16s and Mirage 2000s. The Air Force’s slow and vulnerable bombers—about two hundred copies of the Il-28 Beagle and about one hundred nonlicensed versions of the Tu-16 Badger (known as H-5 and H-6 bombers, respectively)—are unlikely to pierce Taiwan’s defenses. Worse, the Air Force has in service no in-flight refueling tankers or airborne warning and command platforms. In any case, the extent to which offensive air operations can be conducted at all depends on the effectiveness of preemptive missile strikes in paralysing Taiwan’s defence system. Also, the limited size of Taiwan’s airspace may impede large-scale air operations. In general, airpower can be devastating when unopposed, but it has not historically shown itself capable of producing decisive shock; thus, it cannot alone secure victory.

The Navy and Air Force are unhappy about the present land-dominated operational art and concerned about their abilities to destroy targets in future joint operations. The ongoing debates about command of the sea and air, to some extent, mirror the ideas of Alfred Thayer Mahan, Giulio Douhet, and Billy Mitchell and their impact on the rising generation of officers and analysts. More importantly, a consensus has been achieved in the PLA that links command of the sea and command of the air: without the latter, the former cannot exist. But the most crucial questions—how to build a strong partnership between the Navy and the Air Force and yet allow them to pursue independent doctrines, how to control the sea and air with obsolete weapons—remain unresolved.

Ground Battles. China is a land power, and the PLA is primarily a ground force. The recent streamlining of the Army has made it much leaner, reflecting a narrower and more focused territorial mandate. It has twenty-four “group armies,” each with about fifty thousand soldiers, divided into three divisions having a variety of infantry, artillery, tank, engineering, antichemical, aviation, and support units. The most remarkable development here is the establishment of Army helicopter units, equipped with Russian Mi-17 and Chinese Zhi-9 helicopter gunships, Russian Mi-8 and Mi-171 transport types, and U.S. UH-60s. These units have improved ground force projection and rapid response capabilities. The new combat opportunities they represent have produced intraservice coordination among combat arms and interservice exercises with the Navy and Air Force.

The PLA’s joint operational art, formulated by the Army, stresses comprehensive combat forces, concentration of superior force, and lethal strikes. “Comprehensiveness” is achieved through coordination between services so as to optimise their respective changes in force structure and weaponry. Although each service may in differing circumstances be either primary or secondary, all must focus on how best to achieve operational tasks. A rational countermeasure against an opponent with advanced weapons is a “high-low” mix, designed to reduce the utility of an opponent’s advanced weapons, increase the cost of protecting them, and wear down an opponent in a series of slugging matches. Another response to technological inferiority is the preemptive strike; Chinese joint operational art holds that a decisive edge can go to the side that launches one. The Army insists that the operational objective remains physical destruction; the Chinese expect to employ very large forces to create superiority at a given place and time, and to deliver accurate, lethal strikes against an opponent’s front, flanks, and rear. The first echelon will, it is envisioned, push for quick breakthroughs, regardless of costs; air-landing forces will assault vital points in the rear; and mobile troops will swiftly outflank the opponent, seeking to cut off communications between the rear and troops at the front.

An especially powerful branch of the Army is its upgraded artillery, which is rated among the best in the world.13 Its fire will be used to strengthen joint landing assaults. Intensive, multitarget shelling will, it is hoped, crush an opponent’s defence and ensure a successful landing. Short-range artillery organic to the ground forces may be formed into networks with long-range naval gunnery and with air and Second Artillery “fires.” Multiple-launch rockets in field artillery batteries can rapidly produce fire powerful enough to clear minefields on land and under water around assault beaches, lay down “carpet barrages” over an opponent’s positions at the front, or support landing forces. Even civilian ships will be transformed into fire platforms. Once ground, naval, and air firepower has cleared obstacles and minefields, landing craft, amphibious tanks, and other vehicles will carry assault troops ashore.

The Army considers that infantrymen can attack enemy target-acquisition systems in ways that aircraft and warships cannot. Lethality is increased on the ground, in that soldiers can disperse or utilise terrain, weather, populations, and other such elements to their advantage. In other words, joint operations cannot and will not be won without ground battles. Still, ground forces may face great difficulty in implementing their ambitious plan for Taiwan. Although it is easy to mount field artillery batteries on civilian vessels, such weapons are unsuitable for naval battles; their gunners are trained for ground, not naval, operations. Yet, despite such difficulties, ground forces remain in a dominant position with regard to joint operations.

Command and Control. The services understand—in theory—that central command nominates the commanders and commissars (political directors) of a joint operation; the headquarters consists of all services’ commanders and commissars.14 A command structure has been proposed having at the top a “war zone,” within which are Army, Navy, and Air Force war zone services commands, and under which are the combat troops. This structure is compatible with the PLA’s current arrangement, and it should help integrate service commands and combat troops into joint-operations headquarters.

A hierarchical issue, however, is the relationship between war zone and service headquarters. The problem is embedded in the current education system, which remains oriented to independent services rather than to joint operations. Though some military colleges and universities offer joint operations courses and foster interservice exchanges and war games, such efforts are limited. The PLA as a whole is illiterate with respect to joint operations. The debates on joint operations evince a power struggle among the services rather than concern over how to ensure effective command and control. Further, different war zones have different geographical environments and operational targets, and therefore different, and possibly contradictory, priorities and agendas. But the military division of power makes war zones and their respective service components independent of one another. Lack of officer rotation and of academic connections worsens the command and control problem.

On this issue, the PLA still debates within itself who commands whom. The Navy holds that it should be responsible for joint formations. Its mission, naval officers argue, entails two parts: lifting and supporting the landing force, and defending the fleet and civilian shipping. Ground forces, they consider, have only one mission in a joint operation—smashing an opponent’s coastal defence and capturing positions. During the crossing of the Strait, they would organise neither offence nor defence; the Navy would be in command. On the other hand, the Army argues that the Navy is only a means to ship troops; the decisive battles are on the land. The Army has been and remains in command.

This controversy raises the question of the handover of command during an assault, since the Navy is unable to conduct ground operations, and the Army cannot command naval formations at sea. This shift (though long standard in U.S. amphibious doctrine) is unaccustomed for the Chinese, who fear it may produce chaos. One faction favours transferring power when joint formations approach the beaches, or when ground forces plan and organise fire strikes and landing assaults. The other contends that the Navy should hand over control only when the landing forces have occupied and firmly control the beaches, have secured their defence, and are preparing for further assaults (generally the U.S. approach). Apparently, both sides share the view that during the cross-Strait period (which the factions define differently), there is no subordination between the Navy and Army: the fleet is charged with transportation, while ground forces are its passengers.

The PLA as a whole recognises the pivotal role of advanced C3I systems in joint operations. Such operations require strong C3I links between all services, vertically and horizontally. Over the last two decades of restructuring, the PLA has become more efficient, effective, and modern. Computer-based C3I systems are common in headquarters at all levels. A most embarrassing shortcoming, however, is poor interservice communications. Each service has its own C3I system, with different computers and software; the systems are incompatible with one another. Even within each service, C3I often is ineffective, sometimes because of the quality of the personnel operating it. Military C3I equipment is among the nation’s most advanced and highest quality, but users (always officers) are often unable to handle it correctly, because of constant institutional reforms and regular discharges from the service. Incompatible C3I systems and poor user skills degrade the likely effectiveness of joint operations.

PLA politics reflect the doctrinal and technological constraints on joint operations. Those constraints have forced the PLA to orchestrate a massive misinformation effort to mask its weaknesses, and later to exaggerate its strengths. Within its own councils, however, the PLA is deeply concerned about formulating a well-defined, unified operational art, one compatible with the ever-more-rapidly evolving impact of high technology on offensive joint operations. The ultimate test will not be whether the PLA obtains advanced weapons, or even whether it destroys an opponent physically, but whether it achieves its objectives on politically favourable terms and at an acceptable cost.

The PLA’s plans now rely on battlefield missiles and weapons of mass destruction, meant to deprive Taiwan of its countermeasure and counterstrike capabilities and eventually to bring about command of the sea and air around the island. In the process, however, such an assault would inflict heavy casualties and collateral damage; it certainly would not comport with contemporary “digital,” “surgical” operations, “cleaner” military actions in which arrays of sensors and data-fusion technologies produce a near-perfect picture of the battlefield, dispersing the “fog of war.”

To seek such rational options, the Chinese state and the Communist Party have motivated, encouraged, and tolerated debates on new ideas and approaches, in the framework of “people’s war under high-technology conditions.” In fact, the debates are a process of justifying society-centred, firepower or military technology–oriented operations, while also satisfying the psychological need for self-confidence and self-respect. The strategic and operational leadership remains land dominated.

Domestic political and material support stands at the core of joint operations, but the Chinese state and society are at odds. Institutional and economic reforms have been powerful driving forces for the rise of a pluralist society, reflecting diversified regions and interests. Competing regional authorities, despite their lack of input to state planning and to how resources are distributed, enjoy freedom to interpret state policy and to modify them as a matter of self-management, self-sufficiency, and self-regulation. Nonetheless, the state, in the hands of the Communist Party, remains remarkably authoritarian. It still attempts to impose control on society, on the basis of a perceived need for centralised power, distrust of a pluralist society, and fear of internal “kingdoms.” Consequently, its policy orientations and choices aim at penetrating the whole of society so as to integrate it into the state and monopolise final authority—but it is unable to do so. There is a visible disconnect between the state and society.

Accordingly, any mobilisation for PLA joint operations against Taiwan could not be grounded in state power alone; society also would have to provide political and material support. Further, domestic support will probably, though perhaps not invariably, not be forthcoming when costs are substantial and benefits diffuse. Success and failure depend on the extent to which the state manages its relations with society and on the extent to which society is inclined to sacrifice. Forcibly seizing Taiwan could be very expensive in a great many ways.

The linkage of the state and society lies in grassroots politics. Local governmental bodies are expected to manage their affairs in the name of the state and to relay its messages to the population, at a time when self-policing street and village committees, powerful state enterprises, and self-sufficient peasants are increasingly focusing their attention on economic interests. This divergence has markedly weakened the role of the state in society. Street and village committees remain in theory “arms” of government, but they have become depoliticised. Contradictions abound: state enterprises are market oriented, but governments remain the owner; peasants have freedom to determine what grains to plant, where to sell their products, and what price to seek, but their land is collectively owned. As a result, society no longer freely provides service to the state, and the state pays only lip service (in formal policy) to street and village committees, state enterprises, and the peasantry.

The separation of power between the government and the party makes the party unable to intervene politically in economic sectors. As a result, grassroots party organisations are moribund. In rural areas, most if not all village party branches have collapsed; the majority of young, educated, and skilled party members are leaving to explore economic opportunities in the cities. In urban areas, the by-product of economic reform is unemployment and underemployment, leading to the dissolution of grassroots party branches in state enterprises because the party members affected are separated from their work units. Lack of political dynamism from below and of financial support from above reduces the party’s influence on its traditional power base—workers and peasants. These factors condition the credibility and thus the effectiveness of domestic support for putative joint landing operations.

The 1990s have seen the emergence of a better trained, more technologically advanced, and more professional PLA. The massive growth in its capabilities does not, however, mean that the PLA is a combat-ready force; its logistical support is inadequate.15 To solve the problem, the PLA has refocused on society in hopes of recreating a traditional, decentralised, service or war zone–oriented, society-centred logistical support network that can support its operations. But the incompatibility between old mind-sets and the “socialist” market economy frustrates the PLA; as a result of current institutional and economic reforms, the societal foundation on which it once relied no longer exists. The divisions of power between “feuding hierarchies” and “territorial units” within the PLA and between it and society further jeopardise the PLA’s prospects for developing a joint, unified, and comprehensive support system. Logistics has become the bottleneck of joint operations.

Logistics Support Structure. Current logistics reforms aim at rebuilding a large but distributed network to support “people’s war under high-technology conditions.” The network is meant to allocate military resources among civilian sectors and to mobilise civilian resources, in line with the principles of “compatibility of military logistics with civilian supply” and “integration of logistics for war and peace.” The civilian channels share military financial burdens, and they provide supply, medical care, and maintenance for troops within a local war zone.16

The reforms envision no structure to coordinate military demand and civilian supply; a direct cooperation is expected to result that will increase the productivity of military financial resources in peacetime. More important, it will, the PLA hopes, minimise the threat posed by opponents seeking to bomb military supply centres; their weapons would be unable to distinguish between military and civilian targets. Dealing with vulnerability to attack is a defining criterion in the rebuilding of the logistic support network.

The reforms began with the signing of contracts with civilian companies to supply and store automobile spare parts for local units. This PLA pilot project in its “new” (actually old) concept of people’s logistics support was launched in the Nanjing war zone. Here, 90 percent of all automobile spare parts at the brigade level and above and 80 percent of steel, timber, and mechanical and electronic products are now provided by civilians on a contract basis.17 This system has spilled over to other areas: newly built highways have been transformed into field runways for local air force units, and new harbours and airports have contingency plans for military purposes. Meanwhile, the PLA provides a variety of services to the civilian partners, to help sustain local economic development and, in turn, increase its own revenues. The PLA was ordered to “abandon its unregulatory and lucrative business activities” in 1998, but some money-making military facilities (such as warehouses, hospitals, railways, airports, and harbours) remain open to civilian co-exploitation. Also, military-owned enterprises and military-civilian joint ventures continue to produce dual-purpose goods for domestic and foreign markets.18 The essence of “abandoning business activities” is in fact to regulate and restructure such activities so as to make them more efficient, profitable, and manageable. Reciprocal business activities will strengthen connections and ties between the military and “the people.”

Despite such efforts, the PLA’s continuing deficiency of resources has slowed weaponry and equipment development. A solution, according to the PLA and the state, is to utilise civilian resources more fully. Since the start of the nation’s economic revitalisation, civilian sectors have absorbed large quantities of advanced foreign technology. The Chinese plan to convert such technology into military use, in order to facilitate immediate improvement of existing weapons and equipment and to accelerate modernisation. Following the principles of “more research, less production,” “high quality, small quantity,” and “reserving more technology and fewer weapons,” the PLA stresses research and development. It prefers military-civilian joint programs for the development of high-technology weapons and equipment as a way of maximising the leverage of civilian capital, industrial, and technological resources.

This logistics structure reflects inherent contradictions between the priorities of China’s national strategy of “active defence”: it focuses on both “comprehensive national strength” and the autonomy of war zones, services, and branches. This centralisation-decentralisation—“walking on two legs”—approach requires a combination of civilian and military resources for “people’s war” but also the storage of war materials by all levels of command for their own operations, regardless of economic benefits and costs. The obvious result is waste of resources. Some stored items, untouched for decades, have become useless; the national leadership has been reluctant to decide what to do with “local resources” or how to discontinue the entire program. The structural dilemma of developing and wasting resources simultaneously will persist through the logistical-reform era.

The absence of an institution responsible for efficiently integrating the civilian sector into military logistics is central to the reform approach. Political indecision in response to the present approach’s difficulties may jeopardise logistical support. To that extent, the joint logistics support system is and will remain ineffective.

Naval-Air-Ground Logistical Support Units. The substantial and long-overdue objective of “one logistics system for all services” would restructure logistics to empower war zones to direct their own logistical support. As it is, the PLA is confronted with a logistical nightmare. Services, war zones, and branches have their own priorities and agendas for logistics. Overlapping programs, run by different services, war zones, and branches, compete with one another for funding. In some cases the PLA continues to spend money from its limited resources on housing, airfields, warehouses, and harbours of eliminated units. In addition, the PLA’s reserves are mainly composed of discharged soldiers and officers who, however well trained for combat, do not have high-technology skills. The absence of a plan to recruit specialists for joint landing operations undermines the effectiveness of logistics support for high-tech units, such as the Second Artillery, the Navy, and the Air Force.

Among the reforms are newly established naval-air-ground rapid-response logistics units, which synchronize support for mobility-oriented combat units that rely on speed, lethality, and seizure of the initiative. Such combat units require sustained high levels of logistics support, including weapons, ammunition, medical care, fuel, water, food, and maintenance. Special logistics support brigades are to provide transport along main supply routes, terrain familiarisation, specialized breaching equipment, and C3I. Such support units are expected to be easily integrated into other logistical organizations.

The PLA sees that readjustment of the force structure is necessary in this connection. With reductions in regular forces, the proportion of rapid-response support units under the command of either the PLA General Logistics Department or war zones has been increased. Priority in restructuring logistics support forces has been given to providing key war zones and strategic directions more personnel, financial, and material resources. On the other hand, joint operations will require the PLA to organise rapid-response logistics across services and branches. War zones likely to become “hot” will accordingly need to select hospitals, warehouses, maintenance, and transportation units for intensive training in cross–war zone combat support.

According to the PLA scheme, an army group logistics department is a command, not a supply centre. Local troops and governments are expected to store and provide fuel and food for combat troops on their way to a battlefield. Ammunition, weapons, and equipment are sent directly to concentration areas from strategic supply centres; command of a war zone’s support units is handed over to the army group.

Logistical support involves comprehensive, light, and basic units. Comprehensive support units are responsible for the front echelon of army group operations. Light support units provide reinforced, mobile support; they can be quickly expanded into comprehensive support organizations. Basic support units are only skeleton cadres, to be expanded into light support units if necessary. Under command of the war zone, they regularly participate in army group–level manoeuvres.

For naval logistics, land bases are essential. The PLA Navy currently is emphasizing replenishment at sea as an extension of shore support; the final goal is to integrate land and sea support means. The naval priority is to organise units for ammunition preparations, repair, medical rescue, transportation, fuel, and harbour and airport maintenance. Such support entails two levels: an oceangoing (operational) support force of large fuel, water, rescue, medical, and repair vessels to supply the combined fleet; and medium and small vessels for port and coastal support, such as towing.

The Air Force is looking primarily at comprehensive support for combined air operations, which would include army and naval aviation. The restructuring of air logistics aims at forming a deep, multi-echelon support network. The goal is to guarantee supply to both the front and the rear, but with more resources directed to combat units, main directions, and key bases than to second echelons, directions, and bases. In contrast, the Second Artillery is interested in support methods that hide materials and improve mobility. The key to accommodating all these demands is to improve the coordination and speed of response, so as to provide comprehensive support.

The advantages envisioned from logistical restructuring are numerous. Unified logistics support under the command of a war zone would increase the rapidity of logistical response and thus enhance combat effectiveness. Unified agencies would rationalise supply centres across a war zone and prevent waste. The aim is to set up a unified, top-down, war zone–based, logistics planning and supply system. The PLA insists, however, that the new system should reflect regional priorities and agendas, believing that no single, imposed model is necessary. Accordingly, in a naval-dominated area, the Navy would be responsible for logistics command for all services, whereas in a ground-dominated region the Army would have that role.19

Logistical Mobilisation. The Chinese anticipate that any cross-Strait operation would require a logistical mobilisation—airlift, sealift, prepositioned heavy equipment, and the naval ready reserve force. The deficiencies of the Navy’s own transport capacity make it dependent on China’s merchant marine and fishing fleet.20 The merchant marine—the Ocean Shipping Corporation (or Group)—operates six hundred large, well equipped vessels totaling seventeen million deadweight tons. The fishing fleet consists of over 317,000 boats (22.4 million deadweight tons) in offshore waters.21 Aside from their huge transport capacity, they are expected to be useful for their advanced radars and fish-hunting sonars. Such capabilities (some of them projected) will to some extent offset the Navy’s lack of landing vessels and battlefield information, and strengthen its mobility and flexibility for operations across the Strait.

Each coastal war zone has enough civilian vessels to carry several group armies across the Strait. The onus of acquiring ships should be on state-owned, well-organized ocean shipping companies. Medium and small fishing boats are expected to transfer troops from large vessels to the beaches. Naval commanders and analysts insist that civilian vessels be modified to meet operational requirements, with self-defence, minesweeping, firefighting systems, medical and rescue facilities, and helicopter platforms.22

Recent improvements to transport installations appear intended to support a logistical mobilisation. Along the Strait, central and local transportation agencies have built deep-water berths and harbours equipped with advanced telecommunication systems and connected to air, rail, and highway networks. More importantly, war zone headquarters and local transport agencies now constitute frameworks for maritime transport centres capable of shipping troops, loading and unloading war materials, managing harbours, and maintaining equipment. Civilian transport capabilities thus compensate for the PLA’s shortage of staging and lift resources.

However, local governments often ignore the importance of military needs. Many civilian ships are available for operations, but few are as yet fit for military operations, and none are of the roll-on/roll-off type; large technical-support vessels for missile or torpedo replenishment, fuel and water supply, and medical care are also nonexistent.23 Newly built harbours are rarely equipped for roll-on/roll-off cargo handling, and they are not optimally located. The coastline facing the Strait has few large or deep harbours; large vessels have to wait for high tide to enter or leave the smaller harbours. These problems arise from the multiplicity of ownerships: state ownership is shrinking, while foreign, private, and joint ownership is increasing. Joint ventures of state enterprises with foreign and private companies have diluted the leadership position of the state enterprises; business decisions are often made by the commercial boards of directors. Clearly, these new issues raise questions about the prospects for mobilisation of civilian logistical assets.

The core challenge is that the PLA lacks the laws and regulations it would need to requisition supplies and draft personnel; it also has no systematic program for mobilisation.24 Logistics mobilisation directives now depend on authoritarian control, which has collapsed as a consequence of institutional and economic reforms. Without new directives, the PLA will be unable to count on societal support. Legislation could clarify mobilisation principles, procedures, agencies, and jurisdictions. With appropriate laws and regulations, the PLA and local governments could establish channels and standards for the exchange of information on human resources, telecommunications, electrical power, science and technology, and civil defence. At present, however, the PLA’s information is mostly unreliable and sometimes contradictory; governments are no longer responsible for managing economic sectors, and enterprises and nondefence governmental agencies have no obligation to provide information to the PLA.

The economic structure of the war zone that would be involved in a cross-Strait operation brings into question the benefits mobilisation can even be expected to produce. Along the coast the population is dense, but agriculture is underdeveloped. Troops, militias, and labour forces from across China would be massed here; the area cannot provide enough food. The food issue becomes even more complicated in the Strait-crossing and assault-landing phases, when the troops would be unable to boil water or cook traditional Chinese meals. Most “grassroots” units do not have field kitchens or refrigeration; they still dig holes as makeshift stoves for pans or woks. High tides and bad weather could disrupt food supplies.25

These frustrations explain the necessity for formal logistics mobilisation measures; China has little choice but to embark on a serious legislative program to address these issues. Yet the state appears unlikely to do so in the foreseeable future—perhaps because joint operations are viewed only as a possible eventuality, not a real, immediate, and urgent need.

Domestic reforms set political constraints on societal support for joint operations, but the constraints do not relate directly to these operations. This issue is of a composite political-societal-military nature; an amorphous but nevertheless distinct coalition of political, societal, and military interests is involved. The PLA tries to remain integrated within this composite and, it affirms, political ideal, the concept of a society-centred logistical support framework. The state and the PLA have, however, failed to adapt to the fundamentally changed environment or to narrow the gaps between their aspirations and reality. Their desire for society-centred logistics support for cross-Strait operations is wishful thinking, and it will remain just that in the absence of a formal institution, a rational force structure, and well defined laws and regulations.

The state today is unable to integrate civilian resources into military ones or to convert its overall economic strength into a stronger war machine, because profit now determines the relationships between the state and society. Lack of economic incentive is likely to minimise the effectiveness of the societal support necessary for cross-Strait operations. From a purely logistical point of view, then, the PLA has extremely limited power-projection and support capabilities. Its logistics “leg,” compared to its operational one, remains short.

Collective security arrangements remain elusive in East and Southeast Asia, despite the threat that Chinese joint operations pose to regional stability and prosperity. Regional powers have agreed to disagree on forms of security arrangements and priorities to be adopted. China, in its role as a regional power, centers its foreign policy on “peace and development”—a peaceful environment in which China can devote most of its energies to economic development. Consequently, Beijing is eager to find capital, markets, and technology in the United States, Western Europe, and Japan. At the same time, it draws upon a network of ethnic Chinese abroad, particularly in Hong Kong, Southeast Asia, and on Taiwan, for financial capital, entrepreneurial talent, managerial know-how, and scientific expertise. The return of Hong Kong to China has reinforced its economic advantages. Improved ties with Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan have secured the northern borders and contributed to the formalising of the northern security arrangements and confidence-building mechanisms. To the southwest, notwithstanding India’s nuclear weapons tests in May 1998, Beijing and New Dehli remain committed to peaceful solutions for territorial disputes. Relations with Vietnam have also become amicable, although maritime border tensions remain. China does not, in fact, face any immediate threats from neighbours. Taiwan is accordingly China’s top foreign and defence policy concern.

The policy of Taiwan, on the other hand, is to internationalise the issue. It is seeking to obtain commitments, political support, or at least sympathy from regional powers and to deter attack. Meanwhile, Taiwan is gradually shifting its mainland policy from a “nonpolitical,” narrowly economic one to politico-economic talks between “unofficial” representatives, in hopes of regularising cross-Strait relations. Regularised relations, in the Taiwanese view, would ensure prosperity and security across the Strait and in East and Southeast Asia.

Beijing, commonly recognised as the sole legitimate government of China, insists on its authority to manage the Taiwan issue, whether through peaceful means or not, and firmly opposes all attempts to internationalise it. For Beijing, any intervention policy sought by regional powers would legitimise interference in China’s own domestic affairs. Security arrangements, such as the Association of Southeast Asian Nations and the Japan–United States security treaty, now protect the stability of East and Southeast Asian states, but foreign military intervention in China’s “internal affairs” could paralyse or inflame the region. Until it is settled, the Taiwan issue will most likely continue to divide East and Southeast Asia.

ASEAN. The PLA is worried about potential reactions of ASEAN to any Chinese joint operations.26 Territorial disputes in the South China Sea have intensified regional tensions. China may not seek to take over any country by attack, subversion, or economic domination, but territorial disputes and a gradually modernised PLA do threaten stability.

Consequently, ASEAN nations have acquired an array of advanced air and naval weaponry and sought informal or formal security partnerships. This weaponry and these security measures are implicitly, if not explicitly, targeted against China (though the financial crisis of that region may postpone planned arms purchases). For example, Malaysia has bought British Hawks and frigates, American F-16s, and Russian MiG-29s, and it may establish military links with other countries. Thailand has bought a small aircraft carrier from Spain (the first for any East or Southeast Asian country since 1945). Singapore is upgrading its F-5E/F fleet with the Italian FIAR Grifo-F pulse-doppler multimode radar, a new weapons delivery and navigation system, and defensive aids; it also grants the use of its facilities to American forces. Indonesia has reached a defence agreement with Australia to thwart any “adverse challenges,” purchased British Hawks, and proposed a $600 million arms package from Russia, including Su-30s and Mi-17 helicopters. The Philippines and Britain have signed a memorandum of understanding about exchanges of information on defence requirements, doctrine, technology transfer, and other defence-related matters.27

ASEAN is not a military alliance or a collective security pact, but its members have developed an elaborate interlocking network of bilateral defence and security ties. Such cooperation entails intelligence sharing; cooperation against insurgency, piracy, drug trafficking, smuggling, and illegal migration; combined military exercises involving ground, air, and naval forces; exchange of personnel for education and training at each other’s military institutions; and provision of field training facilities. Even close cooperation, however, does not eliminate interstate territorial disputes—such as Malaysia’s disagreements with Singapore over Pedra Branca Island off the Johor coast, with Indonesia over Sipadan and the Ligitan Islands in the Sulawesi Sea, with Brunei in a dispute over Limbang, and with the Philippines over Sabah. In addition, differing views of regional security can also disrupt relations; Singapore, for instance, expresses its concern about a Beijing-Taibei confrontation as, “If either one is damaged, Singapore will suffer a loss; if both are damaged, its loss will be doubled.”28 Other ASEAN members, in contrast, downplay such matters.

Their low-key approach reflects the general ASEAN philosophy and code of conduct. The association’s goal is to establish a zone of peace, freedom, and neutrality (originally to prevent internal communist subversion backed by the Soviet Union, China, or Vietnam). Its code of conduct emphasises restraint: noninterference in internal affairs, nonuse of force, peaceful settlement of disputes, and regional solutions for regional problems. This tradition marks the post–Cold War ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) annual ministerial-level discussions on security, defence transparency, and confidence-building measures. The ARF culture is one of consensus and incrementalism; the forum moves forward only at a pace comfortable to all participants, and it produces nonbinding, voluntary agreements.29 This lack of a formal institution for coordination and management would render the association incapable of forming an effective regional security regime. For instance, a different country hosts the ASEAN conference each year, and each host is responsible for its activities. With no permanent machinery to manage consultative processes, promote confidence-building measures, and investigate disputes, ASEAN’s effectiveness in conflict resolution is questionable. In any case, it has never contemplated a scheme for regional collective self-defence, though it is committed to regional security dialogue—with the organisation as a central feature.

The basic security issue before the ARF is the South China Sea, with its territorial disputes; these are addressed mainly at informal or private meetings. Such security issues as potential Beijing-Taibei and Korean Peninsula conflicts are not even on the agenda. Clearly, ASEAN members (who determine the ARF’s agenda) wish to avoid any provocations, confrontations, or even formal multilateral discussions that China could perceive as part of a policy of “containment,” perhaps orchestrated by the United States. This failure to raise sensitive issues in meaningful discussions indicates that the ARF is unlikely to produce any multilateral framework in the near future. The ARF is a consultative body, attempting (among other things) to stimulate Chinese interest in regional cooperation; it is not a multilateral forum, intended to solve security issues. Its cautiousness in collective approaches to territorial disputes seems to suit China; Beijing is more interested in, and comfortable with, bilateral discussions, where it can maximise its self-interest.

On the other hand, China’s division of power frustrates its own approach to dealing with the association. The Chinese foreign ministry has changed its position from vigorous defence of its territorial claims in the South China Sea to active involvement in a dialogue with ASEAN states; it has even promised to accept the 1982 United Nations Law of the Sea Convention as a basis for settling claims to the Nansha (Spratly) Islands. At the 1998 Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum, President Jiang Zemin encouraged his ASEAN counterparts to put sovereignty issues aside and undertake joint development of the South China Sea’s resources.30

The PLA, by contrast, is inflexible toward territorial disputes in the South China Sea, and by extension, it is suspicious of ASEAN’s attitudes toward Taiwan. Its reasoning may be sound: ASEAN states are unhappy about the various territorial disputes, and their economic links with Taiwan are strong. The Southeast Asian financial crisis may also oblige them to improve relations with Taiwan in an effort to save their troubled economies (Taiwan has the third-largest foreign currency reserve in the world and is willing to provide financial aid; to negotiate it, however, governments must reestablish official links with Taiwan.) Such rapprochement between Taiwan and ASEAN members would presumably have a negative impact on any cross-Strait joint operation, for it would more closely link outside states to “internal” Chinese politics. To the PLA, the foreign ministry is merely interested in making deals, unable to understand or handle security issues.

ASEAN members discuss only regional security issues; it is unlikely that they would be involved in Beijing-Taibei conflicts. They might accept a powerful and unified China, even if they feared it. On humanitarian grounds, however, they may show moral support for the Taiwanese people, and this could deeply embarrass China in the international community.

Japan. The PLA perceives Japan as a potential barrier to joint operations against Taiwan. Japan’s political ambitions, strategic interests, military capabilities, and historical links with Taiwan could result in any of several scenarios—for example, the Japanese Self-Defence Forces might jam the PLA’s communications, collect intelligence and provide it to Taiwan, or militarily intervene. These scenarios ignore the Japanese constitution, which renounces “war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as a means of settling conflicts.” Yet Tokyo has shifted its attention to political and security issues, away from its past focus on economic growth, which had left Japan lightly armed, willing to trade bases on its soil for security guarantees, averse to any commitment to collective security regimes, and unwilling to dispatch forces overseas. Now, fearing that China’s economic growth will translate into military muscle, Japan sees China as a potential, if not immediate, enemy.

Changes in the political environment have produced in Japan an ambition to protect its sea lanes out to a thousand miles in the western Pacific, extending beyond its territorial waters down to Taiwan and Southeast Asia. Tokyo had long planned to defend these sea lanes to ensure the flow of oil and other vital raw materials, but it had had little hope of doing so successfully without U.S. military support. To strengthen its military cooperation with the United States, it adopted a forward defence strategy. The Ground Self-Defence Force now has a larger role in the straits around Japan; the Maritime Self-Defence Force protects the home islands and a thousand miles of sea lanes; and the Air Self-Defence Force is responsible for land and maritime air defence.31

In 1987, Tokyo broke the ceiling (1 percent of gross national product) previously imposed on its defence budget. Its military spending, though still a small percentage of GNP, is now beyond what had been thought sufficient for self-defence. Moreover, its military budget does not include pensions and annuities, funded by the Ministry of Health and Welfare. The shift of security policy culminated in the UN Peacekeeping Operations Cooperation Bill, passed by both houses of the Diet in 1992. To prevent the use of force by Japanese soldiers abroad, the government had insisted that the SDF not be under the operational command of the United Nations; the SDF would be permitted to use weapons only for self-defence, not as part of any organised military action. The peacekeeping bill ended the ban on dispatching troops abroad, though it limited deployment to logistics and humanitarian support, monitoring elections, and providing aid in civil administration.

This issue triggered concern about Japan’s technological capabilities and active Japanese involvement in ARF security discussions. Its highly sophisticated technological capabilities seemed to allow Japan to become a nuclear power virtually overnight. Japan called for a new security mechanism, one designed to discuss, and open negotiations over, Taiwan and Korean Peninsula issues more relevant to its immediate security interests rather than exclusively concentrating on the South China Sea. This mechanism might also pave the way for Japan’s involvement in the domestic affairs of other regional powers. A summit communique in April 1996 outlined a revitalisation of the security relationship and granted Japan a greater role in regional security. The bilateral defence arrangement now envisions a significant Japanese logistical contribution to U.S. combat forces in conflicts surrounding Japan, not only conflicts within the archipelago. Such support missions seemed likely to bring Japanese forces into combat, especially in the sensitive areas of the Taiwan Strait, the South China Sea, and the Korean Peninsula.32 The policy changes, according to the PLA, have produced an excuse for SDF direct combat missions, inasmuch as logistical support is a part of military operations: were a Japanese support ship attacked, Japanese soldiers could respond in “self-defence.” This would mark a break from Japan’s traditional reliance on the United States on security issues, the beginning of an independent Japanese voice—and an enlarged role—in Asian security matters, including the issue of Taiwan.

Japan is a high-technology military power. The SDF is building an integrated defence digital network, a technologically advanced information grid tying together defence capabilities all over Japan. Notwithstanding a 1969 Diet resolution prohibiting the SDF from using space for military purposes, the MSDF and GSDF activated a transponder on the Super Bird satellite in 1993, based on the government claims that the satellite was a dual-purpose one, not purely military.33 Japanese joint development with the United States in the area of theatre missile defence will enhance its capabilities against ballistic and battlefield missiles—though there are those who fear that once it has this defence system, it may be tempted to deploy an offensive weapons system, which would disrupt the balance of power in East Asia.34

More important, Japan remains militarily superior in East and Southeast Asia. The near-term MSDF inventory includes four groups, each consisting of eight destroyers, three Osumi tank landing ships (which may be easily transformed into general-purpose amphibious assault ships, even small aircraft carriers), fifteen attack submarines, eighty-five long-range patrol aircraft, and ninety-two antisubmarine helicopters; the ASDF has 154 F-15 fighters. Japan is the only state (outside the United States) to acquire the superlative Aegis fleet defence system, fitted in the Kongo-class destroyers. The Kongo is an improved version of the U.S. Navy’s Arleigh Burke class, displacing 9,485 tons (full load). It is a substantial departure for Japan in terms of size and capability in its surface fleet.35 There also are qualitative differences between Japan’s modern ships with their well-trained crews and the older, less capable ships of other East and Southeast Asian navies. Technological innovations have contributed to changes in Japanese doctrine, which now emphasises air/land battle, the initiative, concentration, mobility, and surprise.

Beijing regards Japan’s military buildup as a threat to China and as an interference in its internal affairs, especially with respect to Taiwan. Tokyo downplays China’s concerns and interprets the concept of the Taiwan issue in geographical rather than political terms. Whether Japan would intervene militarily in a PLA operation depends not only on such policy shifts and military improvements but also on domestic Japanese and regional politics.

Japanese policy making emphasises consultation and consensus. Usually, bureaucrats consult with their counterparts in their own and other ministries; as consensus emerges, an issue percolates up through the civil service hierarchy, ultimately to the cabinet and the Diet. Any policy involving potential conflict with China would require a broad reassessment of the political, economic, military, and societal implications; thus the will and ability of the government to assemble political and social support is a critical factor. Meanwhile, Japan is increasingly skeptical of the U.S. military presence on the home islands, with some Japanese arguing that it should end with the century. The 1996 Okinawa referendum on base reduction mirrors this view; though the Okinawans did not speak with one voice, the referendum was a turning point in relations among Okinawa, Tokyo, and Washington.36 Okinawans felt that the central government was more interested in preserving Japan–United States relations than in protecting their rights. In view of the need for prior domestic consensus if Japan is to adopt any potentially confrontational policy, this evidence of division in Japanese politics represents a likelihood that Japan might not intervene in a cross-Strait operation.

In addition, the enduring suspicion and distrust of Japan among East and Southeast Asian states may further deter Japan from involving itself in a Taiwan Strait crisis. Even Japanese operations in support of UN peacekeeping missions in Cambodia are regarded as “giving liquor chocolates to an alcoholic.” Japan, of course, continues to defy regional requests for apology and compensation for what it did during the Second World War, as well as to dismiss regional concerns about its military muscle. Regardless of such contemporary and historical factors, however, a PLA joint operation against Taiwan would obviously test—and redefine—the Japan-U.S. Security Treaty.

The United States. The worst nightmare in this connection would be realized if the United States, driven by its self-conception as the regional architect of East Asian security and by domestic politics, were to intervene militarily. Indeed, the United States remains overwhelmingly powerful, and its strategic leadership is politically palatable in the region. The Chinese believe, however, that the United States cannot long sustain its important position in the western Pacific, forward deployment having become so expensive. Its allies now share the costs of maintaining forward-deployed U.S. forces on their soil. Japan has paid virtually all local costs, including civilian salaries, utility fees, and most construction expenses, since 1995; South Korea pays approximately 35 percent.37 America’s position in East Asia is already stretched thin. Its presence is becoming symbolic.

China is neither a friend nor foe of the United States. After the Tiananmen incident in 1989,Washington led the West in imposing tough economic sanctions on China and reducing Chinese contact with the international community. The sanctions and isolation compelled Beijing to concentrate on its neighbours in order to consolidate its position in East and Southeast Asia. In the process, Beijing and Taibei undertook regular dialogues about informal economic and cultural exchanges. There was a consensus on the ideal of one China and of realising it through some form of reunification, even though they disagreed on which was the legitimate regime. The consensus collapsed as a result of President Lee Teng-hui’s visit to the United States in June 1995 and of Taiwan’s continuous campaign to reenter the United Nations and other international organisations.

It was these issues that provoked the PLA military exercises in the Taiwan Strait, the launching of land-based missiles toward Taiwan, and the standoff between U.S. naval forces and the PLA. The American decision to dispatch two aircraft carrier battle groups may have sent the wrong signals to both sides. Taibei inferred that the United States would protect it from PLA assault, while Beijing saw its perception confirmed that foreign powers aimed at separating Taiwan from China.38 Gradually, however, relations with the United States improved, culminating in President Bill Clinton’s visit to Beijing in June 1998. At that time Clinton pledged, “We don’t support independence for Taiwan, or two Chinas, or one Taiwan–one China. And we don’t believe that Taiwan should be a member of any organisation for which statehood is a requirement.”39

Whether this constituted a meaningful change in U.S. policy, however, was a matter of conflicting interpretation. It suggested that the United States will encourage the Chinese themselves to find the best solution; that would imply that the United States is backing away from its commitment to a peaceful solution. That in turn would pave the way for China to use force were Taiwan to declare independence. But Washington is bound by the Taiwan Relations Act, which calls for continued arms sales to Taiwan, and that policy conflict has created a dilemma. The United States cannot sit idly by and watch the PLA “liberate” Taiwan, which would produce “domino” effects on regional security, stability, and prosperity. The defence of Taiwan would entail direct American involvement, yet the United States cannot afford—politically, economically, or militarily—to fight large-scale regional operations alone.

This dilemma mirrors in the United States a deep division between a Congress committed to unilateralism and an executive favouring multilateralism. In view of this division, the nation may be reluctant to commit its military muscle in this theatre. Unilateral intervention is unlikely, since PLA joint operations may not threaten vital American interests in East Asia. Multilateral intervention is also unlikely, since the American political elite and public do not trust international peacekeeping or peace-enforcement efforts that the United States cannot fully control. Moreover, to build a coalition for military intervention in the name of the United Nations appears impossible; China would veto any such resolution in the Security Council. Without UN consent, most nations are likely to shy away from so costly an engagement. This combination of factors could force the international community to accept a forcible reunification of China.

Military intervention, such as missile strikes or DESERT STORM–style operations, might in any case be ineffective in deterring joint landing operations. Taiwan is a small island. Lack of space to mass forces and materiel may compel interventionists to rely on preexisting forward bases in neighbouring states. The United States has in South Korea one infantry division, two brigades, and a fighter wing; stationed in Japan are a Marine expeditionary force, an amphibious squadron, an Army Special Forces battalion, an aircraft carrier and escort ships, and one and a half fighter wings.40 These would not suffice to thwart a PLA assault on Taiwan, whatever larger forces could be mobilised. Worse still, these troops are becoming vulnerable to attack by PLA battlefield missiles—cheap compared to advanced bombers and aircraft carriers. Defending the latter would be very expensive over time, since the PLA could counter American defences with offsetting actions, such as decoys or faster missiles.

Moreover, the massing of U.S. troops and logistics support could spread otherwise limited landing operations throughout the whole of East Asia. The PLA insists, “We will not accept any rule to define limits or boundaries for operations, such as limited time, space, and means. If the enemy launches an aerial attack, we will wage a land attack; if he attacks us from the east, we will respond from the west.”41 Such unlimited operations, as well as historical burdens, may paralyse any potential coalition. American declarations and actions apparently continue to shape relations with South Korea and Japan; however, despite continued pressure from Congress, the Clinton administration refuses to make explicit promises to defend Taiwan, even while refusing contrary assertions.

Regional politics thus sets diplomatic constraints on possible intervention against PLA joint operations. The settlement of the Taiwan issue depends, in the end, on the ability and willingness of regional powers to work out comprehensive security mechanisms binding on all parties. This option highlights the fundamental weakness of present regional security arrangements. Because of their various domestic policy orientations, concerns, and choices, none of the regional powers wants to raise the Taiwan issue seriously. ASEAN deliberately avoids any direct confrontation with China, and lack of political will and military capability will minimise any chance that it would be involved in cross-Strait conflicts. Japan, conversely, inspired by its political ambitions and military muscle, sees China as a potential enemy and expresses deep concerns about cross-Strait operations. Under pressure from Beijing, however, Tokyo is reluctant to specify its policy with respect to intervention. The United States, aspiring to serve as a buffer between Taibei and Beijing, fails to make Taiwan the centrepiece of its strategy in East Asia. This fragmentation of regional security arrangements is closely associated with the unwillingness of regional powers to interfere in the “domestic affairs” of 1.3 billion Chinese. Without a firm commitment by ASEAN, Japan, and the United States to deter or oppose it, regional reactions to an intervention by the PLA could be limited to short-term economic sanctions and political condemnation.

Intentions do not necessarily mirror capabilities. China’s insistence on its right to use force reflects a determination to achieve the security and flexibility that befits a great power, but it does not have the military capability actually to conduct a cross-Strait operation. Yet the fragmented nature of, and the interaction between, domestic and regional politics may produce opportunities and crises that will affect the likelihood of PLA joint operations in the twenty-first century.

First, PLA politics may strengthen its own resolve to attack Taiwan. If it does, the results will depend on how well it will have reformulated joint operational art and developed its technology. Current military decentralisation does not serve these purposes. The PLA’s inability to design and produce affordable naval and air forces able to seize and control the sea and air, and its ineffective C3I, will especially weaken its operational effectiveness.

Second, a political-societal-military composite might compensate for the PLA’s absence of resources and power-projection capabilities. To make such a composite possible, the Chinese state needs to institutionalise in law civilian mobilisation for operations, while restructuring the PLA’s logistics support units. Failure to do so will eventually undermine prospects for building tradition-derived logistics support structures. Without such structures, joint operations will not be possible.

Third, the present weak regional security arrangements may reduce, if not eliminate, the possibility of foreign military intervention against a cross-Strait attack, because they are politically and militarily ill suited to dealing with the Taiwan issue. Meanwhile, China is not ready to enter multilateral engagements to gain the support or sympathy of regional powers for its posture on the issue. Nor, obviously, is China ready to reconsider its posture. The dilemma remains—domestic factors cannot protect China from isolation, and regional powers cannot control or significantly affect operations against Taiwan.

Use of force therefore remains an option, regardless of the short-term costs, and the PLA will retain it. To maintain stability and prosperity in East and Southeast Asia, a rational way to solve the Taiwan issue once and for all would be an effective security arrangement among China, Taiwan, and other regional powers. Such a cooperative option would offer ways to avoid conflicts—of which the threat will remain real in the twenty-first century.

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1. Allen Whiting, “The PLA and China’s Threat Perceptions,” China Quarterly, no. 146, 1998, p. 606; Chong-Pin Lin, “The Military Balance in the Taiwan Straits,” China Quarterly, no. 146, 1998, pp. 591–2; Gary Klintworth, “Developments in Taiwan’s Maritime Security,” Issues and Studies, no. 1, 1994, pp. 65–82; Yuan Lin, “Taiwan haixia buzai shi tianxian” [The Taiwan Strait is no longer a barrier], Guangjiaojing yunkan, no. 4, 1996, pp. 14–9; Mao Zhenfa, Bian fanglun [On borders] (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1996); Li Jisong, Gaojishu tiaojianxia jubu zhanzheng zhengzhi gongzuo yanjiu [A study of political work under the high-tech conditions of limited war] (Beijing: Guofang daxiu chubanshe, 1994); and Liu Shenge, Xiandai jubu zhanzheng tiaojianxia de remin zhanzheng [People’s war under the conditions of contemporary limited war] (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1996).

2. Cui Chuangqi, “Dui lianhezhangyi jige jiben lilun wenti de tantao” [Explorations of several basic issues related to joint operations], in Guojishu tiaojianxia lianhezhangyi yu junbingzhong zuozhan [Joint operations and services-branches combat under high-tech conditions], ed. Guofang daxiu keyanbu [Research Department, National Defence University] (Beijing: Guofang daxiu chubanshe, 1997), p. 13.

3. Tan Hailiang, “Dui lianhezhangyi zhong zhujunzhong diwei he guanxi de qianjian [Preliminary discussions of services’ status and relations in joint operations] in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds., Lianhezhangyi, pp. 48–51.

4. “Zhongfang biaoshi yanzhong guanqie Mei guofang shouquan faan (China Shows Its Serious Concern over U.S. National Defence Authorisation Act), People’s Daily, 30 October 1998, p. 1.

5. Steve Mufson, “Beijing Warns U.S. on Naval Display” Washington Times, 18 March 1996, p. 16.

6. Wang Xuejin, “Didi changgui daodan budui zuozhan zhidao sixiang tanxi” (Explorations of operational thinking of surface-to-surface missile units), in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds., Lianhezhangyi, pp. 223–7.

7. Carl Jacobsen, “Soviet Naval Strategy: Naval Doctrine,” in Strategic Power USA/USSR, ed. Carl Jacobsen (London: Macmillan, 1990), pp. 470–1; and John Lewis and Xue Litai, China’s Strategic Seapower: The Politics of Force Modernisation in the Nuclear Age (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Univ. Press. 1994), pp. 4–7.

8. Mi Zhenyu, “Jiawu haizhan yibaizhounia yu xiandai haiyangguan” [The 100th anniversary of the first Sino-Japanese naval war and the contemporary perception of the sea], in Jaiwu haizhan yu Zhongguo haifang [The first Sino-Japanese naval war and China’s maritime defence], ed. Haijun junshi xiushu yanjiusuo (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1995), p. 42.

9. Yang Yushu, “Shilun lianhe dengluzhangyi zhong duoqu he baochi zhihequan wenti” [Preliminary discussions of seizing and maintaining naval superiority in joint landing operations], in Gaojishu tiaojianxia zhanyi lilun yanjiu [A study of operational art under high-tech conditions], ed.Guofang daxiu keyanbu (Beijing: Guofang daxue chubanshe, 1997), pp. 186–7.

10. Dai Jinyu, eds., Kongjun zhanluexue [Air strategy] (Beijing: Guofang daxue chubanshe, 1995), p. 72.

11. Nicolas Kristoff, “Experts Fret over Reach of China’s Air Force,” New York Times, 22 August 1993, p. 11.

12. Yang Yueqiang, “Kongzhong jingong shi lianhezhangyi kongjun zuozhan de yongheng chuti” [Air offense is the eternal theme of air combat in joint operations], in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds. Lianhezhangyi, p. 196.

13. June Teufel Dreyer, “The New Officer Corps: Implications for the Future,” China Quarterly, no. 146, 1996, p. 323.

14. The political commissar is a secretary of the Chinese Communist Party responsible for propaganda, personnel (officers), security, mass work, military police, military procuratorate, military court, intelligence, and entertainment.

15. David Shambaugh, “China’s Military in Transition: Politics, Professionalism, Procurement and Power Projection,” China Quarterly, no. 146, 1996, p. 285.

16. Zhang Jinsheng, “1994 houqin gongzuo xincuoshi” [New measures for logistics support in 1994], Jiefangjun shenghuo, January 1994, p. 10.

17. Chou Xuefu, “Zai renshi feiyue de guochengzhong shenhua gaige” [Deepen reforms through leaps in the process of cognition], Jiefangjun Bao, 22 October 1993, p. 3.

18. “Guanche luoshi quanguo daji zuosi gongzuo huiyi jingshen [Implementing the policy made on the national conference of punishing smugglers],”People’s Daily, 23 July 1998, p. 1.

19. Yu Yongzhe, Houqin jianshe gailun [Introduction to logistics building] (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1993), pp. 88–9.

20. Junshi jiaotong yunshubu, “Qiantan gaojishu tiaojianxia denglu zhanyi yunshu baozhang” [Preliminary discussions of landing, operational, transportation support under high-tech conditions], in Gaojishu tiaojian xia jubu zhanzheng zhanyi houqin baozhang yanjiu [A study of operational logistics support of local war under high-tech conditions], ed. Guofang daxiu keyanbu (Beijing: Guofang daxiu chubanshe, 1996), pp. 429–33.

21. “Zhongyuan jituan tongguo guoji zhiliang renzheng” [China’s Ocean Shipping Corporation (Group) has met international transport standards], People’s Daily, 14 November 1998, p. 1; and Liu Jixlan, ed., Haiyang zhanlue huanjing yu duice yanjiu [A study of maritime strategic environments and solutions] (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1996), p. 198.

23. Haijun houqinbu silingbu, “Lizhu xianshi, zhaoyan fazhan” [Relying on realities, predicting the future], in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds., Zhanyi houqin, pp. 578–90.

24. Wan Xiaoyun, “Gaojishu tiaojianxia zhanqiu houqin tongyun mianlin de wenti yu duice” [Problems and solutions for war zone–wide mobilisation under high-tech conditions], in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds., Zhanyi houqin, pp. 276–8.

25. Zhang Jinrong, “Gaojishu tiaojianxia jiubu zhanzheng junxu baozhang tantao” [Explorations of local war military supplies under high-tech conditions], in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds., Zhanyi houqin, pp. 705–6.

26. Ceng Jian, “Dengluzhangyi zhong haishangzhangyi zhidao de jige wenti” [Issues related to waging naval battles in landing operations], in Guofang daxiu keyanbu, eds., Lianhezhangyi, p. 163.

27. Michael Gething, “Singapore’s F-5 Fleet Is Brought Up to Date,” Jane’s International Defence Review, April 1998, p. 68; Thalif Deen, “Indonesia Postpones Planned Arms Purchases,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 21 October 1998, p. 21; and Robert Karniol, “Malaysian Policy Review Will Assess Military Links,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 4 November 1998, p. 15.

28. Allen Whiting, “ASEAN Eyes China: The Security Dimension,” Asian Survey, April 1997, pp. 300, 309.

29. Rosemary Foot, “China in the ASEAN Regional Forum: Organizational Processes and Domestic Modes of Thought,” Asian Survey, May 1998, p. 428; and Shaun Narine, “ASEAN and the Management of Regional Security,” Pacific Affairs, Fall 1998, p. 209.

30. “Jiang Zemin fenbie huijian feilubin yinni zhongtong” [Jiang Zemin met Philippine and Indonesian presidents, respectively], People’s Daily, 19 November 1998, p. 1.

31. Junshi kexueyun waiguo junshi yanjiubu [Department of Foreign Military Studies, Academy of Military Science], eds., Rijun zuozhan shouce [The combat handbook of Japanese forces] (Beijing: Junshi kexiu chubanshe, 1993), p. 1.

32. Banning Garrett and Bonnie Glaser, “Chinese Apprehension about Revitalization of the U.S.-Japan Alliance,” Asian Survey, April 1997, pp. 388–9.

33. Peter Katzenstein and Nobuo Okawara, Japan’s National Security (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell Univ. East Asia Program, 1993), pp. 152–3.

34. “Meire junshi hezuo jingbu yiyuli” [The United States and Japan do their utmost for military cooperation], People’s Daily, 22 September 1999, p. 6.

35. Junshi kexueyun waiguo junshi yanjiubu, eds., Rijun zuozhan shouce, pp. 484–6; and Damon Briston, “Osumi Unlocks Japan’s Maritime Potential,” Jane’s International Defence Review, February 1998, pp. 53–5.

36. Morihiro Hosokawa, “Are U.S. Troops in Japan Needed? Reforming the Alliance,” Foreign Affairs, July/August 1998, p. 5; and Robert Eldridge, “The 1996 Okinawa Referendum on U.S. Base Reductions,” Asian Survey, October 1997, p. 881.

37. Richard Ellings and Sheldon Simon, eds., Southeast Asian Security in the New Millennium (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 1996), p. 15.

38. Charles Freeman, Jr., “Preventing War in the Taiwan Strait: Restraining Taiwan and Beijing,” Foreign Affairs, July/August 1998, p. 7.

39. “Kelindun chongshen duitai ‘shanbu’ yuanze” [Clinton reconfirms the “three no” policy], People’s Daily, 2 July 1998, p. 1.

40. Toshiyuki Shikata, “Behind the Redefinition of the Japan-U.S. Security Setup,” Japan Review of International Affairs, Winter 1996, p. 304.

41. For more, see Jianxiang Bi, “Prospects for the PLA’s Operational Art toward 2000: Tradition versus Revolution,” Issues and Studies, December 1997, p. 110.

"Perhaps of greatest concern to the international community is the potential for operations by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) against Taiwan. On this crucial issue, the West and Taiwan have underestimated the likelihood of cross-Strait operations, since they perceive such operations in their own terms, not the PRC’s political, economic, and technological capabilities. Conversely, Beijing has exaggerated its political aspirations and military muscle, not acknowledging the inherent problems of operational effectiveness, domestic support, and foreign reactions.1 Both views are facile, encumbered by ulterior motives, and hence prone to black-white generalisations."

This article was dated from over 3 years ago. I think there has been some changes in the overall situation, and its mostly in favor of China

SADLY SO. BILLDO AND SHRILLERY HAVE MUCH TO ANSWER FOR.

CLEARLY, TO ME, ONLY prayer; God can be our help at this point. I suspect our military will be much tied down and depleted in the ME when China et al decide to attack U.S. and Taiwan.

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