As U.S. President Donald Trump and Chinese leader Xi Jinping meet in Washington this week, the Taiwan Strait—a waterway that has historically served as one of the world’s most volatile geopolitical flash points—appears remarkably quiet. For years following former U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s high-profile visit to Taipei in 2022, Beijing subjected the self-governing island to a drumbeat of intense military coercion. Chinese fighter jets routinely crossed the median line of the strait, warships executed maneuvers to the island’s east, and the Chinese coast guard continually harassed vessels in the area. Yet, for nearly a year, Beijing has conspicuously avoided the large-scale, disruptive military exercises that had become a standard fixture of its cross-strait pressure campaign.
This tactical shift stems in large part from a renewed sense of optimism in Beijing. Although the Trump administration has not formally altered Washington’s official policy toward Taiwan, public remarks made by Trump following his previous meeting with Xi in May severely shook Taipei’s confidence in the unwavering nature of U.S. security commitments. During that press appearance, Trump remarked that he was not looking to have anyone declare independence, adding that the prospect of traveling 9,500 miles to fight a war was not something he desired. For Beijing, such statements offered a welcome indication that Washington’s resolve might be malleable.
For years, analysts in Washington and across the broader Asia-Pacific region assumed that 2027 would represent a critical inflection point for Beijing’s Taiwan strategy, given that Xi had previously directed the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to be prepared for a successful cross-strait military confrontation by that year. However, as 2027 draws closer, it looks increasingly improbable that Xi is actively preparing to employ lethal force in the immediate future. Indeed, Xi’s willingness to carry out systematic purges within his military high command suggests he does not fear an imminent cross-strait crisis. For now, the Chinese leader appears confident that he can successfully manage the diplomatic and strategic dynamics of both Washington and Taipei without resorting to open warfare.
Yet Xi remains entirely dedicated to building a military apparatus capable of contesting Taiwan in the years ahead. Consequently, the next major historical pivot will likely not be 2027—when Xi is expected to begin his fourth term—but rather 2028, a pivotal year that will feature high-stakes presidential elections in both the United States and Taiwan. These parallel ballots will fundamentally dictate the future trajectory of cross-strait relations. In all likelihood, Xi will find himself deeply frustrated by the outcome of Taiwan’s next democratic contest, a scenario that threatens to make the geopolitical landscape far more volatile than it is today. As a result, the intervening two years represent a vital window for Washington and Taipei to proactively prepare for what is widely anticipated to be a turbulent period in the Taiwan Strait following the 2028 elections.
Rather than allowing doubts regarding its backing of Taiwan to fester, Washington should lean into its multifaceted partnership with the island. In recent years, Taiwan has successfully repositioned itself as an exemplary democratic partner. It has systematically reoriented its economy away from China and toward the United States, while simultaneously making historic investments in its own defense capabilities. At a minimum, President Trump should approve the stalled $14 billion arms package currently sitting on his desk, even if executing the sale requires dividing the procurement into smaller tranches to mitigate the risk of provoking an immediate escalation from Beijing.
China will undoubtedly object to any series of U.S. arms sales, but historically, Beijing has consistently shown far greater sensitivity to high-profile political gestures of support for Taiwan—such as Pelosi’s 2022 visit—than to the bureaucratic mechanics of defense transfers. Leaving these arms sales in administrative limbo carries severe long-term costs. By forgoing this foundational step, the administration risks acquiescing to Beijing’s ambition to establish a de facto veto over U.S. arms sales and, by extension, over the entire cross-strait security dynamic. After 2028, the diplomatic price of supporting Taipei is expected to rise significantly, particularly as an aging Xi may conclude that further delay on the Taiwan issue no longer serves his strategic interests.
SOONER OR LATER
Xi’s current optimism is largely predicated on the hope that Taiwan’s main opposition party, the Kuomintang (KMT), will recapture the presidency in 2028 following a dozen years of rule by the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which Beijing routinely denounces as separatist. Beijing has maintained virtually no official communication or visible engagement with Taiwan’s government since the DPP first came to power in 2016—a stark departure from Xi’s approach to the preceding KMT administration. In 2015, Xi became the first Chinese leader since Mao Zedong to shake hands with his Taiwanese counterpart, a diplomatic precedent he clearly relished. However, rather than integrating into what Beijing’s state media terms a "new era" of national rejuvenation, Taiwan has continued to drift politically away from the mainland, severely frustrating Xi’s ambition to initiate the political process of annexation. For Beijing, peaceful annexation remains the ultimate strategic goal, far preferable to a costly and catastrophic military invasion.
Xi’s hopes received an unexpected boost in November 2025, when Cheng Li-wun was unexpectedly elected chair of the Kuomintang. Cheng has consistently advocated for a much softer, more accommodating line toward Beijing, emphasizing shared cultural identities across the strait and the urgent necessity of renewed cross-strait dialogue. In April 2026, she traveled to Beijing to meet directly with Xi just weeks before he hosted Trump. This high-level encounter allowed Xi to project his Taiwan policy as reasonable and conciliatory, notwithstanding his hard-line stance against the ruling DPP over the past decade. His willingness to receive Cheng signals that she has become the focal point of his strategy for shaping Taiwan’s political landscape after 2028.
Nevertheless, hope is rarely an effective strategy. Cheng’s prospects of securing the KMT’s presidential nomination in 2028, let alone prevailing in a general election, remain highly precarious. Her openly pro-Beijing views are not widely shared even within her own party. Cheng emerged as a dark-horse candidate who captured the KMT chairmanship with just over 50 percent of the internal vote, while national polling indicates that her party commands the support of roughly 27 percent of the broader electorate.
This political reality suggests that in 2028, Xi will likely face a difficult choice between two unpalatable outcomes: either a fourth consecutive DPP administration under current President Lai Ching-te, or a more moderate KMT leader who remains deeply suspicious of Beijing’s overtures. Should Lai secure a historic second term alongside a renewed legislative majority in Taiwan’s Legislative Yuan, it would thoroughly dismantle Xi’s assumption that the KMT provides a viable alternative to the DPP. Following Lai’s victory in the 2024 election, Beijing consoled itself with the fact that he won via a plurality and lost legislative control to the KMT, spinning the outcome as evidence that the majority of Taiwan’s voters rejected Lai’s platform. That interpretation was not merely external propaganda, but a psychological rationalization for the manifest shortcomings of Beijing’s cross-strait policies. Those shortcomings will be exponentially harder to explain away in 2028, particularly if voters treat another Lai victory as a clear rebuke of the KMT’s conciliatory posture. At that juncture, Xi would find himself presiding over a stagnant Taiwan policy that has failed to produce any meaningful political progress over more than a decade.
Xi’s looming dilemma underscores the structural limitations of the Chinese Communist Party’s broader Taiwan strategy. His predecessor, Hu Jintao, pursued a similarly accommodating approach toward the KMT administration of Ma Ying-jeou, only for the policy to backfire spectacularly. In 2014, massive public opposition culminated in the Sunflower Movement, wherein young protesters occupied Taiwan’s legislature to halt a controversial trade agreement designed to deepen cross-strait economic integration. When the DPP assumed power in 2016, Xi—who had already established a reputation for favoring muscular national security policies—pivoted decisively toward coercion devoid of diplomacy, severing all formal channels of communication with Taiwan’s political leadership. The core objective has since been to convince the Taiwanese public that the political status quo is untenable, that annexation is inevitable, and that they should therefore surrender to Beijing’s terms.
THE COST OF COERCION
As Xi enters what is expected to be his fourth term, he is likely to grow increasingly impatient regarding the resolution of the Taiwan issue, particularly as he approaches his eightieth birthday. While he currently believes that time works in his favor, that perception is unlikely to hold indefinitely. Frustrated by the results of Taiwan’s 2028 elections, Xi may feel compelled to adopt significantly more aggressive coercive measures. He likely concluded from the aftermath of the 2022 Pelosi crisis that Beijing possesses considerable room to threaten the island without triggering catastrophic blowback: China’s forceful response included launching ballistic missiles over Taiwan for the first time since the mid-1990s and establishing maritime exclusion zones around the island. Crucially, these actions did not ignite a full-blown military conflict with the United States or result in severe tangible repercussions for Beijing. Furthermore, following the completion of leadership reshuffles at the upcoming 21st Party Congress, Xi may feel more secure in his command over a purged and reorganized military high command.
However, to compel Taipei and Washington to take his grievances seriously in the future, Xi would likely need to surpass the scale of his 2022 response. This could involve a sustained, highly punitive, and risky campaign of non-kinetic military pressure—such as intercepting foreign commercial vessels at sea, declaring multiple zones near Taiwan off-limits to international shipping, and seeking to disrupt high-profile U.S. arms deliveries. While such actions would fall short of the total naval blockade or quarantine long feared by defense planners in Washington, they would effectively communicate to the world that Taiwan remains connected to the global economy solely at Beijing’s discretion.
Yet any such escalatory scenario carries immense risks, with unclear off-ramps and unpredictable outcomes. While aggressive pressure might conceivably push some weary segments of Taiwan’s electorate toward a grudging acceptance of mainland rule, it is equally likely to backfire, triggering a powerful "rally-around-the-flag" effect and deeply intensifying anti-Beijing sentiment. A historical precedent occurred during the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis in the mid-1990s, when mainland missile tests and threats directed against the DPP prior to the 2000 presidential election ultimately helped propel the party to its historic first victory.
Of course, Xi could theoretically opt for a full-scale blockade, a maritime quarantine, or the military seizure of one of the smaller outlying islands governed by Taiwan that sit just off the mainland coast. Nevertheless, his fourteen-year tenure in power demonstrates that he is neither impulsive nor reckless in foreign policy, consistently favoring steady, incremental pressure over high-stakes gambles that could jeopardize his ultimate legacy. A failed blockade or quarantine would severely undermine his decades-long ambition to be remembered as the leader who secured Taiwan’s reunification. Moreover, such extreme measures could inadvertently play to traditional U.S. military strengths, affording Washington critical time to assemble an international coalition capable of imposing severe economic and diplomatic costs on Beijing.
These more violent contingencies would become significantly more tempting for Xi if a political figure skeptical of traditional U.S. alliances—often referred to as a "restrainer"—assumes the presidency following the 2028 U.S. election. Such an administration might question the strategic necessity of defending Taiwan or maintaining the global network of partnerships required to deter Chinese aggression. Even if a more conventional candidate prevails in 2028, Beijing has undoubtedly studied recent global conflicts to assess the operational limits of U.S. power, including Washington’s capacity for sustained material and political endurance. Key U.S. munitions stockpiles will take years to replenish, and ongoing global commitments have exposed vulnerabilities in overseas bases and naval logistics. These structural constraints will inevitably persist into the next U.S. administration, limiting Washington’s crisis-response options regardless of official policy intentions.
A MODEL PARTNER
In the interim, the United States and Taiwan possess a valuable window of opportunity to bolster the island’s defenses while Xi awaits the outcome of the 2028 elections. Under the DPP, Taiwan has largely shed its former complacency regarding the security threat emanating from the mainland. Taipei has steadily increased defense spending and reoriented its trade away from China more aggressively than almost any other regional actor, including the United States. Furthermore, the island has demonstrated the political will, economic capacity, and institutional readiness required to confront the challenges ahead.
Most notably, after years of acquiring American weapon systems ill-suited for an asymmetric conflict with China, Taiwan has finally embraced comprehensive defense reform. In May, the government passed a supplemental legislative package appropriating $25 billion for military modernization. A central challenge now lies not merely in procuring advanced capabilities, but in effectively integrating them into the broader force structure. Indeed, defense reform—particularly legislative appropriations aimed at expanding the domestic drone manufacturing sector—has emerged as the most hotly contested political issue on the island. Although the KMT initially delayed the legislation, it ultimately acquiesced ahead of Taiwan’s midterm elections in November. The very fact that political parties are actively debating the specifics of defense modernization is an encouraging sign of the government’s heightened security awareness.
This resilience extends well beyond the conventional military sphere. Taipei is actively engaged in the complex task of fostering "whole-of-society resilience"—a delicate balancing act designed to acclimate the public to the ongoing threat of a potential mainland invasion or blockade without inducing widespread panic or fatalism. Although Taiwanese private enterprises face the same financial temptations as global firms to utilize cheaper Chinese components, the government is firmly committed to keeping untrusted technology out of public procurement supply chains.
Simultaneously, Taiwan’s economy is experiencing robust growth, providing the necessary fiscal space to fund ambitious military modernization programs. The island has also dramatically reduced its economic reliance on China; whereas more than 80 percent of Taiwan’s outbound investment was directed toward the mainland in 2010, today that figure has dropped below 10 percent. This economic expansion is primarily driven by a world-class semiconductor industry that has capitalized heavily on the global artificial intelligence boom. With a population of just 23 million, Taiwan has ascended to become the fourth-largest trading partner of the United States. Major Taiwanese technology firms have pledged hundreds of billions of dollars in direct investments in the U.S. economy, and in February, Taiwan became one of the first nations to finalize a comprehensive trade agreement with the Trump administration, successfully narrowing tariff disparities with regional competitors like Japan and South Korea.
NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT
Unfortunately, rather than capitalizing on these deepening economic ties and Taiwan’s serious approach to self-defense, Washington’s diplomatic missteps risk undermining the relationship. While structural forces overwhelmingly favor closer bilateral cooperation, diplomatic execution has frequently faltered. President Trump’s visit to Beijing stoked profound anxiety in Taipei that the administration might broker a grand bargain at the island’s expense. Although Trump largely adhered to diplomatic messaging throughout the trip, off-hand remarks during a television interview—in which he described arms sales as a potential bargaining chip with Beijing—unsettled decades of bipartisan precedent wherein U.S. presidents refrained from negotiating Taiwan’s security with Chinese leaders. Although senior U.S. officials subsequently reiterated that official policy toward Taiwan remained unchanged, the rhetorical damage had already been done.
Seasoned observers of cross-strait policy were ultimately more troubled by administrative delays surrounding the $14 billion arms package than by presidential rhetoric. Owing to well-documented constraints within the U.S. defense industrial base, the hardware included in the package would not physically arrive in Taiwan before the conclusion of Trump’s term, explaining his lack of enthusiasm for expediting the process. Moreover, once the equipment eventually arrives, Taiwan will require significant time to train personnel and assimilate the capabilities into its active force.
These lengthy procurement timelines only underscore the urgency for the administration to act decisively now, while it enjoys a willing partner in Taipei with the financial resources to make these vital purchases, and while Xi remains focused on the political horizon of 2028. A future U.S. administration may not encounter such a favorable window to enhance Taiwan’s self-defense capabilities, and the island will undoubtedly require all available defensive capacity to navigate an aging and potentially more aggressive Chinese leadership.
Should the KMT emerge victorious in 2028, a new government may lack the DPP’s foundational enthusiasm for deep defense cooperation with Washington. Meanwhile, Xi’s ongoing restructuring of the PLA’s high command will eventually conclude, potentially altering Beijing’s military calculus. Consequently, the current diplomatic breathing room affords both Washington and Taipei a crucial opportunity to strengthen the island’s defenses without inadvertently precipitating an immediate crisis.
