Beijing has opened a unification debate. Can Taiwan stay out?

In late August, Li Ci-ze, an associate professor at National Changhua University of Education in Taiwan, began publishing a series of essays on a mainland WeChat account devoted to Taiwan affairs. The essays were subsequently discussed and reproduced by Taiwanese media. His question was blunt: if a “one country, two systems Taiwan plan” were ever on the table, what should Taiwan ask for?

His answer came as a list: Taiwan’s leaders and legislature would continue to be elected directly in multiparty contests; final adjudication would remain with Taiwan’s courts; and basic freedoms would be guaranteed a minimum level of protection. The People’s Liberation Army would not be permanently stationed in Taiwan, Penghu, Kinmen or Matsu in the early stages, while Taiwan would not join a foreign military alliance. The New Taiwan dollar, central bank and tax system would remain. Any subsequent changes to these arrangements would require the consent of Taiwan’s people.

Beijing noticed

On 9 September, the People’s Republic of China (PRC)’s Taiwan Affairs Office (TAO) said that national unification was not an “optional question” but a “compulsory one” for Taiwanese, and welcomed the fact that Taiwanese were discussing the details of a possible “one country, two systems” arrangement. A week later, it said the earlier and more extensively Taiwanese discussed the plan, the more they stood to gain.

Taipei’s Mainland Affairs Council (MAC) was not impressed. Its deputy minister Liang Wen-chieh said the Chinese Communist Party would not agree to any of the conditions put forward by Li.

The exchange might have ended there. Instead, it developed into something more revealing.

Within days, mainland scholars began testing the assumptions behind Li’s proposal. Fudan University professor Shen Yi, for example, argued that Taiwan’s autonomy under such an arrangement would have to be derived from China’s constitution and authorised by the National People’s Congress. In other words, autonomy would be granted by the centre, not treated as an inherent power possessed by Taiwan.

Then, on 12 September, more than 20 scholars met at the University of Hong Kong’s Beijing Centre for a conference on the institutional design and governance of a “two systems Taiwan plan.” They produced 12 points of consensus. The document stated that “one country” meant the People’s Republic of China; the central government would retain comprehensive jurisdiction; Taiwan’s powers would derive from central authorisation; and final adjudication on matters involving national sovereignty would rest with the centre.

The document went considerably further. It proposed a central military presence in Taiwan and the dissolution of Taiwan’s armed forces. It called for changes to the party and electoral systems, a “patriots governing Taiwan” framework and revisions to textbooks. It also envisaged criminal prosecution of advocates of Taiwan independence and, in the event of non-peaceful unification, a three-to-five-year period of “quasi-military governance”.

The contrast is striking

Li’s proposal represents the most accommodating version of what a Taiwan-specific arrangement might look like: preserve Taiwan’s democratic institutions, courts, currency and much of its existing way of life, while negotiating limits on defence and foreign policy.

The 12-point document represents a much more restrictive version, with sovereignty, national security and ultimate constitutional authority firmly located in Beijing.

Neither document is an official settlement. But together they reveal the boundaries of the discussion. The question is no longer simply whether Taiwan should accept “one country, two systems”. The debate is increasingly being framed as a question of how unification might be organised, rather than whether Taiwan should accept it in the first place.

Since Xi Jinping first called for exploring a “two systems” plan for Taiwan in 2019, Beijing has offered a political framework but few details that could make the proposal attractive to Taiwanese voters. After the experience of Hong Kong, the phrase has become even harder to sell. A MAC-commissioned poll conducted in August found that 81.2% of respondents opposed “one country, two systems”.

Inviting Taiwanese to fill in the blanks changes the burden of the conversation. Beijing does not have to begin by making a concession. Instead, Taiwanese participants are encouraged to propose what they would want — and the ensuing debate itself can be presented as evidence that unification is something Taiwan should be discussing.

The process also resembles an idea Xi put forward in 2019: bringing representatives of political parties and different sectors on both sides together for “democratic consultation”. In September, the TAO said it was willing, on the basis of the 1992 Consensus and opposition to Taiwan independence, to conduct “extensive and in-depth democratic consultation” with Taiwan’s political parties, groups and individuals.

On 28 September, more than 100 scholars and experts from both sides of the Taiwan Strait, as well as Hong Kong and Macau, attended a think-tank dialogue in Hubei. The TAO cited the meeting two days later while welcoming further suggestions for a “two systems Taiwan plan”.

None of this proves that Beijing has already designed a political process capable of producing an agreement. But it does show something more modest and more important: a framework for discussing unification is being built, while the elected government in Taipei remains outside it.

In Taiwan itself, the reaction has been muted. The government has answered with dismissal rather than engagement: the MAC said that neither Taiwan’s government nor its people would accept “a single one” of the 12 points, and Taiwan President Lai Ching-te’s National Day address on 10 October did not mention the plan at all, saying only that Taiwan is willing to engage in exchanges but will not accept being belittled. 

Public opinion appears settled: a poll conducted in late September, which framed its question around the “two systems Taiwan plan”, found 75.7% of respondents unable to accept “one country, two systems”, against 12.1% who could. Even among Kuomintang supporters, about half could not accept it, and opposition among those aged 20 to 39 exceeded 80%. 

The debate has been carried mainly by pro-unification voices such as the small New Party and by commentators in the newspaper China Times, some of whom argued that the government should not rush to dismiss the discussion. Even a mainland commentator conceded that participants were mostly over 35, drawn largely from the deep Blue camp and the moderate middle class, and that young Taiwanese had largely stayed away.

Whether Taiwan should accept “one country, two systems” is a question only its voters can settle. But deciding nothing yet is not the same as saying nothing.

Official channels across the strait have been largely frozen since 2016, and the absence of regular political communication makes crises harder to manage. Against that background, even a Beijing-sponsored debate can produce information that Taiwan should not simply ignore.

In fact, the recent debate has already produced something useful. Li’s proposal forced mainland commentators to explain where they believed the limits of Taiwanese autonomy would lie. The 12-point document made those limits even clearer. Readers in Taiwan can now compare the attractive language of “high autonomy” with the institutional details that might accompany it.

That is precisely why Taipei should engage the debate — without accepting its premise.

First, the Taiwanese government need not rush to characterise academic discussion. A democracy confident in its institutions should be able to let an associate professor argue for negotiated unification and allow other scholars, journalists and citizens to challenge the argument. Openness is an advantage, not a vulnerability. A comparable essay published on the mainland asking what Beijing should concede to Taiwan would be much harder to imagine.

Second, Taipei could put forward its own agenda for dialogue. Instead of debating only the terms of a hypothetical post-unification arrangement, Taiwan could identify issues that can be discussed without first resolving the sovereignty question: maritime safety, fisheries, trade, tourism, cross-strait transportation, disaster relief, public health and the treatment of detained or missing persons.

That would change the question.

Rather than asking, “What would Taiwan accept under one country, two systems?” Taiwan could ask, “What problems can Taiwan and China solve together without first agreeing on their political future?”

If Beijing rejects such an approach, the refusal would be visible. If it accepts, dialogue could begin somewhere other than the political framework Beijing has chosen.

Third, track-two exchanges among scholars, think tanks and professional groups should be maintained, with the limits of their authority made explicit. Under Taiwan’s Cross-Strait Act, a political agreement cannot be concluded by an academic, political party or unofficial forum. Political agreements face high legislative thresholds before negotiations can begin, and again, before an agreement can be approved, followed by a nationwide referendum requiring affirmative votes from more than half of all eligible voters. The law also bars political agreements from abolishing or altering Taiwan’s status as a sovereign state or its free and democratic constitutional order.

A seat at the table

These safeguards matter because they separate talking from deciding.

Taiwan does not need to accept Beijing’s political premise in order to test what Beijing is prepared to discuss. Nor does dialogue require Taiwan to surrender the right to reject an outcome.

The September Trump-Xi summit offers a useful reminder. Washington and Beijing continue to disagree fundamentally over Taiwan, yet their leaders still meet and negotiate on matters where their interests overlap. Beijing’s account of the 24 September meeting had Xi pressing Washington to oppose Taiwan independence; the White House’s account did not mention Taiwan at all. Taiwan’s future is discussed in rooms where Taipei is not present.

Taiwan should therefore distinguish between two questions that are too often treated as one.

Should Taiwan accept “one country, two systems”? That is for Taiwan’s people to decide.

Should Taiwan talk to China? Yes.

Talks may not produce agreement. They may expose rather than bridge differences. But if Taiwan stays out of the conversation altogether, others will continue defining what Taiwan supposedly wants.

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