ANALYSIS: Taiwan Sacrificed on Beijing’s Altar — Ottawa’s Cold-Blooded Calculation

The world’s 20th-largest economy, yet no seat at the UN

Here is a territory with 23 million inhabitants that has never formally declared its independence but has functioned as a vibrant democracy for decades. Free elections, an independent press, peaceful political transitions, and respect for fundamental rights. Taiwan checks every box that Canada claims to defend on the international stage.

The island rose to 20th place among the world’s economies in 2025. It dominates the production of advanced semiconductors—the chips without which your phone, your car, and your national defense system would cease to function. It is Canada’s 15th-largest trading partner.

Shared Values—on Paper

Cynthia Kiang puts it bluntly: “We’re naturally complementary. You have significant resources, while we have strong manufacturing capabilities.” She adds what everyone knows but Ottawa prefers to keep quiet: the two territories share democratic values and a common vision of human rights.

But values, it seems, carry less weight than a meeting with Xi Jinping.

The Mechanism of Fear

François Wu, Taiwan’s Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, offers his assessment with a candor rarely seen in diplomacy: “China imposes many preconditions on its trading partners, including the recognition of Taiwan as an integral part of its territory. This is very dangerous.”

Dangerous, yes. And effective. Because every time a democratic government chooses to put an agreement with Taiwan on hold to appease Beijing, it validates China’s model of coercion. It sends a crystal-clear message: intimidation works. Threaten hard enough, for long enough, and democracies will cave.

The incident we’d rather forget

In January, two Canadian Liberal MPs were asked to leave Taiwan shortly before the Carney-Xi meeting. Asking elected officials to leave a democratic territory so as not to offend an authoritarian leader—the statement speaks for itself. François Wu, with a dignity that commands respect, simply said: “I hope we can put this incident behind us very soon.”

Forget. The favorite verb of those who have been humiliated.

Diversification as a Means of Survival

While Canada dithers, Taiwan is taking action. The island has reduced its trade dependence on China with methodical determination. Exports to the mainland have fallen from 43% to 26%. Taiwanese investment in China has plummeted from 84% to less than 4% by 2025. The United States has surpassed China as the island’s leading trading partner.

Shen Yu-Chung, Deputy Minister of the Mainland Affairs Council, sums up this transformation: “Our businesspeople have expanded their presence in Japan, South Korea, the United States, and Australia.”

The Canadian Paradox

Taiwan is breaking free from its dependence on China. Canada, on the other hand, seems to be sinking deeper into it. This is the striking paradox of the situation: a territory of 23 million people, under military threat, is demonstrating more strategic courage than a G7 power. The island is reducing its exposure to Chinese risk while Ottawa is bowing deeper to Beijing.

And yet, it is Taiwan that produces the chips Canada needs—not China.

Three Agreements Signed, a Fourth Put on Hold

In 2022, Canada launched its Indo-Pacific strategy with stated ambitions to diversify and strengthen partnerships in the region. Three economic agreements have been signed with Taiwan since then. The fourth—the most substantial—is languishing in administrative limbo.

The senior Canadian official insists that “this hasn’t stopped us from continuing to deepen our relationship.” The statement is technically true. It is politically obscene. It’s like telling someone you refuse to marry them but that you can still grab a coffee.

The Global Framework as a Consolation Prize

In 2024, Canada joined the Global Cooperation and Training Framework, a platform created by the United States that offers Taiwan a space for international cooperation. That’s good. It’s not enough. And above all, it’s no substitute for a trade agreement that was concluded, negotiated, ratified—and then abandoned.

You can’t sustain a strategic relationship on crumbs.

TSMC and Global Dependence

Taiwan manufactures more than 90% of the world’s most advanced semiconductors. TSMC, its national flagship, is the indispensable supplier to Apple, Nvidia, and Qualcomm. Without Taiwanese chips, the Canadian automotive industry would grind to a halt. Artificial intelligence would slow down. Defense systems would become vulnerable.

This is not just a trading partner. It is a pillar of modern technological civilization.

A lever that Taipei refuses to use

Taiwan could wield this dependence as a bargaining chip. It does not. François Wu and Cynthia Kiang speak of complementarity, shared values, and cooperation. Never of blackmail. This restraint should inspire respect. In Ottawa, it inspires polite indifference.

And yet, the next chip shortage—which is bound to happen—will serve as a harsh reminder that the partners we neglect are the ones we need the most.

When Canberra Stood Its Ground

Australia faced this dilemma before Canada did. In 2020, Beijing imposed massive trade sanctions against Canberra to punish it for calling for an investigation into the origins of COVID-19. Coal, wine, barley, lobster—billions of dollars in trade were frozen overnight.

Canberra did not back down. Australia diversified its markets, strengthened its alliances, and waited. The result: China eventually lifted most of its sanctions. The lesson is crystal clear—standing firm pays off. Submission encourages escalation.

Ottawa is taking the opposite approach

Canada, on the other hand, gives in even before being threatened. Beijing did not impose sanctions to force the suspension of the trade agreement with Taiwan. It didn’t need to. The mere prospect of a Chinese frown was enough. This is the most advanced stage of strategic self-censorship: when you censor yourself without being asked to.

The most effective coercion is the kind that no longer even needs to be exercised.

The Diplomat Who Can’t Afford to Get Angry

François Wu holds one of the most thankless positions in global diplomacy. As Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs for a country that most nations refuse to recognize, he must defend the interests of 23 million people with a smile, even when his counterparts slam the door in his face.

His message to Canada is surgically precise: “We encourage you to pursue your interests with China. But none of this should come at the expense of Taiwan.” Every word is weighed. Every syllable is calibrated. No open reproach—he cannot afford it. Just a truth laid out on the table, without embellishment.

The quote Ottawa should frame

There is a lesson in geopolitics in this statement that armies of advisors in Ottawa seem incapable of articulating: one can trade with China without sacrificing one’s principles. One can pursue economic interests with Beijing without freezing an agreement already reached with an allied democracy. These two objectives are not mutually exclusive—unless one has already decided that principles are negotiable.

And yet, this is precisely the decision Ottawa appears to have made.

What Canada Stands to Gain (Perhaps)

In the short term, freezing the trade arrangement with Taiwan buys Ottawa some Chinese goodwill. A smile from Xi Jinping. A productive bilateral meeting. Perhaps some flexibility on canola or pork. Measurable, immediate, photogenic gains.

What Canada Loses (Certainly)

In the long term, the consequences are devastating. Canada loses credibility in the eyes of every Asia-Pacific democracy watching. It loses consistency between its rhetoric on values and its concrete actions. It loses a strategic advantage in the race for semiconductors. And it sends a signal to every potential partner in the region: if Beijing frowns, Ottawa backs down.

Japan, South Korea, the Philippines, Vietnam—they’re all watching. They’re all taking note. And they’ll all adjust their trust in Canada accordingly.

Who really decides Canada’s foreign policy?

Here is the question that should haunt every member of Parliament: If Canada cannot sign a trade agreement already negotiated with a democracy of 23 million people for fear of displeasing Beijing, who is really in charge of Canadian foreign policy?

The answer isn’t to be found on Parliament Hill. It lies in the shadow cast by the Forbidden City all the way into the corridors of Ottawa. Not through direct interference—China doesn’t even need to intervene. Through servile anticipation. Through a conditioned reflex. Through that little inner voice that whispers, “What if Beijing gets angry?”

The Test of Sovereignty

A sovereign country signs the agreements it deems to be in its national interest. A sovereign country does not freeze an agreement already concluded simply because a third country might disapprove. That is the very definition of sovereignty—and Canada is rewriting it in real time, its pen guided by fear.

Sovereignty is not measured by the speeches we make. It is measured by the signatures we affix—or refuse to affix.

The Uncomfortable Mirror

Taiwan is a mirror. A mirror that Canada refuses to look into. Here is a territory that lives under the daily threat of invasion, that has no seat at the UN, no formal diplomatic recognition from most nations, and yet continues to build, innovate, diversify, and resist.

Canada, on the other hand—a member of the G7, NATO, and the Commonwealth, protected by two oceans and the world’s longest non-militarized border—does not dare to sign a trade agreement with an allied democracy.

Courage and Cowardice in the Age of Autocracies

If democracies do not support one another, who will? If Canada—a nation founded on compromise, diversity, and individual rights—abandons Taiwan to appease a regime that imprisons the Uyghurs, crushes Hong Kong, and threatens to invade a de facto sovereign island, what remains of Canada’s discourse on values?

An empty shell. A slogan for international conferences. Hot air.

A simple gesture, immense significance

The trade agreement has been negotiated, finalized, and is ready to go. It does not require diplomatic recognition. It does not violate any official policy. It does not call into question Canada’s “One China” policy. Ottawa says so itself: its policy is “broad enough to discuss technical matters without having diplomatic relations.”

So sign it. Pick up the pen. Put your signature on it. It’s a trade agreement, not a declaration of war. China will protest—just as it protests every time a leader so much as breathes in Taiwan’s direction. And then life will go on. Just as it went on after Australia stood its ground.

The precedent Ottawa is setting

If this agreement is never signed, Canada will have set a toxic precedent: that of a trade agreement concluded between two parties and then unilaterally abandoned out of fear of a third party. Every future partner of Canada’s in the Indo-Pacific will ask the same question: “Is this agreement worth the paper it’s written on, or can Beijing have it scrapped with a mere frown?”

International trust is built over decades. It can be destroyed in a single moment of cowardice.

Caught Between Two Chairs, Canada Is Down for the Count

The Carney administration believes it is pursuing a policy of balance. In reality, it is pursuing a policy of capitulation. By attempting to appease Beijing without breaking ties with Taipei, Ottawa satisfies no one and discredits itself in the eyes of all. China will never be satisfied—its definition of cooperation is total submission. And Taiwan, despite its exemplary diplomacy, will eventually draw the necessary conclusions.

A trade agreement lies dormant in a drawer in Ottawa. It contains far more than just provisions on digital technology and the energy transition. It contains a test of national character—a test of consistency between professed values and actual actions. A test that Canada, at this very moment, is failing.

François Wu, the diplomat from Taipei, hopes that people will “quickly forget” the incident involving the expelled members of Parliament. Taiwan forgets because it cannot afford the luxury of holding a grudge. But history never forgets the moments when democracies chose the easy way out rather than solidarity.

And we are currently living through one of those moments.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost