Rethinking the Frontlines: Taiwan, Kinmen, and the Changing Geometry of Cross-Strait Politics
In an era of shifting geopolitics, Taiwan's position in the Indo-Pacific has grown more precarious and more central. But amidst rising tensions across the Taiwan Strait, a critical strategic question continues to lurk beneath the surface of political discourse: what is the future of the offshore islands of Kinmen and Matsu—and what do their identities reveal about Taiwan’s evolving place in the world?
Recent remarks by Kuomintang (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu and Kinmen legislator Chen Yu-jen have reignited this debate. Chu, invoking the July 7th Marco Polo Bridge Incident—the start of China’s eight-year war against Japan—accused President Lai Ching-te of distorting the history of Taiwan’s retrocession to China after World War II. His reference is not only historically misplaced (Taiwan was part of the Japanese empire during that conflict), but also revealing in its deeper implication: the continued invocation of a Greater China narrative in Taiwan’s domestic politics.
Chen’s comments were even more provocative. She declared that, in the event of war, if she were then Kinmen's county magistrate, she would “step forward and talk to the mainland.” Coming from a legislator representing one of Taiwan’s most militarized and frontline regions, her words suggest not only a potential divergence in loyalty but also a growing ideological fissure within Taiwan’s polity.
The significance of such statements lies not merely in their content, but in what they expose: the unresolved tensions between Taiwan’s democratic self-identity and the lingering shadows of the Chinese Civil War. In this light, the issue of Kinmen and Matsu is not just a historical remnant—it is a litmus test for Taiwan’s national coherence and strategic clarity.
The Geography of Ambiguity
Taiwan proper and the Pescadores (Penghu) were ceded by the Qing Empire to Japan in 1895 under the Treaty of Shimonoseki and occupied by Allied forces after World War II, later coming under the control of the Republic of China (ROC) regime. But Kinmen and Matsu were never ceded—they remained part of China's Fujian Province, and their continued control by the ROC after the Chinese Civil War was a product of military contingency rather than sovereign clarity.
The United States was always keenly aware of this distinction. During the First and Second Taiwan Strait Crises in the 1950s, Washington provided security guarantees to Taiwan and Penghu but studiously avoided committing itself to the defense of Kinmen and Matsu. For the U.S., these islands were not part of the strategic formula for Taiwan’s defense; they were vestiges of a broader Chinese civil conflict.
This legacy continues to shape policy. The Taiwan Relations Act refers to the security of the people of Taiwan, not of "all territories under ROC control." Strategically and legally, Taiwan and Penghu are the defensible core. Kinmen and Matsu, just a few kilometers off China’s coast, are exposed appendages—more symbolic than strategic in today’s calculus.
A Dangerous Illusion of Unity
The KMT has long maintained the illusion of a unified “Free China,” encompassing Taiwan, Kinmen, and Matsu under the ROC framework. But the transformation of Taiwan into a democratic society has rendered this ideological scaffolding obsolete. Taiwan no longer governs in the name of a China it does not control, and its people increasingly identify with a distinct, island-based polity.
Yet the offshore islands continue to play an awkward role in Taiwan’s statehood. Their inclusion muddies the waters of international recognition. From Beijing’s perspective, Kinmen and Matsu represent irrefutable Chinese territory. Their continued occupation by Taiwan provides a rhetorical wedge against any formulation of Taiwanese independence. Conversely, their potential demilitarization has been raised by voices in Taiwan as a gesture of peace—a proposal that Beijing is unlikely to accept, not because of the absence of sincerity, but because it threatens to symbolically erode its unification narrative.
Strategic Clarity or Ambiguity?
What, then, is to be done?
Taiwan faces a difficult choice. It can continue to maintain a symbolic but strategically costly military presence on these islands, or it can consider initiating a phased withdrawal—transforming Kinmen and Matsu into peace zones, subject to the will of their residents. Such a move would carry both risk and reward: it could de-escalate potential flashpoints, but it might also provoke Beijing or embolden domestic factions sympathetic to unification.
Alternatively, Taiwan could more explicitly draw a legal and political line between Taiwan-Penghu and Kinmen-Matsu, aligning with the longstanding American approach of distinguishing the core from the periphery. This could reinforce international support for Taiwan’s de facto independence without formally altering the status quo.
Still, such choices cannot be dictated unilaterally. Kinmen and Matsu are home to real people with complex identities—people who, while geographically closer to China, live under a democratic system. The principle of self-determination must apply.
Conclusion: One Democracy, Multiple Futures
The future of Kinmen and Matsu is inseparable from Taiwan’s broader future. Whether Taiwan seeks full international recognition as an independent state or continues its current status as an autonomous democracy under threat, strategic clarity is vital.
The illusion that Taiwan, Penghu, Kinmen, and Matsu form a natural and indivisible whole may no longer serve Taiwan’s interests. Nor does it serve peace. The time has come for Taiwan’s leaders—and its people—to confront the unresolved ambiguities of their geography and history. Peace will not come through slogans or nostalgia, but through honest reckoning and democratic choice.
As the storm clouds gather over East Asia, the frontlines of yesterday must not become the fault lines of tomorrow.
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