COLUMN: When Washington Plays with Fire and Beijing Brings Out the Matches

Military exercises dubbed "Mission Justice 2025"

China did not wait long to respond. In late December 2025, just a few days after the U.S. announcement, Beijing launched massive military exercises around Taiwan. Code name: Mission Justice 2025. The army, navy, air force, and missile forces were deployed. Live-fire exercises simulated the capture and blockade of key areas of the island. The Taiwanese Ministry of Defense detected 89 Chinese military aircraft and 28 warships and coast guard vessels near the island. The message was unequivocal: we are ready, we are here, and we will not hesitate.

Operation Justice. The very name makes my blood run cold. As if war could ever be just. As if sending thousands of young men and women to their deaths for a piece of land could be called justice. But this is the language of power, the vocabulary of those who decide the fate of others from air-conditioned offices.

Between the American Hammer and the Chinese Anvil

Taiwanese President Lai Ching-te finds himself in an impossible position. On one hand, he asserts that ties with Washington are rock-solid. On the other, he must manage constant military pressure from Beijing. In October 2025, he announced a supplementary defense budget of $40 billion over seven years. A colossal effort for an island of 23 million people. But this budget is being blocked by the opposition-controlled parliament. Even in Taiwan, not everyone is convinced that military escalation is the solution. Polls show that the majority of Taiwanese want to maintain the status quo—neither reunification nor formal independence.

I think of those ordinary people in Taipei and Kaohsiung who wake up every morning wondering if today will be the day everything changes. Who send their children to school hoping they’ll come home in the evening. Who live under this constant sword of Damocles—a threat that never fully materializes but never goes away either.

Between Business and Geopolitics

The February 4 call between Trump and Xi wasn’t just about Taiwan. The two men also discussed the war in Ukraine, Iran, and above all… soybeans. Yes, soybeans. Trump announced that China was planning to buy 20 million metric tons of U.S. soybeans this season, up from 12 million the previous season. The U.S. president also confirmed that he would travel to China in April 2026, his first official visit of his second term. For Trump, everything is negotiable; everything is transactional. Even Taiwan’s security could be part of a major trade deal.

And that’s how the modern world works: missiles and soybeans, military threats and trade contracts are all mixed together. Everything becomes a bargaining chip. Everything is negotiable. Except that behind these negotiations lie human lives, destinies, and entire peoples waiting to find out whether their future will be decided at a negotiating table between two powerful men.

Tokyo Takes a Stand, and Beijing Gets Upset

Tensions are no longer limited to the Washington-Beijing-Taipei triangle. Japan has entered the equation. In December 2025, Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi suggested that the Japanese Self-Defense Forces could intervene if China attacked Taiwan. This explosive statement sent Beijing into a frenzy. Sino-Japanese relations have plummeted to their lowest point in years. China has issued warnings to its citizens against traveling to Japan. In early February 2026, Chinese fighter jets locked their radars onto Japanese aircraft—a maneuver considered extremely aggressive. Tokyo protested, and Beijing accused Japan of harassment.

Japan. Japan again. As if history weren’t enough, as if the wounds of the past weren’t deep enough. Now, Tokyo wants to play the hero, defend Taiwan, and position itself as a bulwark against Chinese expansionism. But at what cost? At what human cost—in terms of lives lost and families torn apart?

David vs. Goliath, 21st-Century Style

Faced with China’s overwhelming military might, Taiwan is banking on asymmetric warfare. Mobile weapons that are smaller, often cheaper, but formidably effective: drones, anti-tank missiles, and coastal defense systems. The idea is to make any invasion so costly in terms of human lives and equipment that Beijing will think twice. The HIMARS systems sold by the United States have proven their worth in Ukraine against Russian forces. They could play a crucial role in destroying a Chinese invasion force. But all of this rests on a fragile assumption: that Taiwan will have time to prepare, that the attack won’t come as a complete surprise, and that the systems will function as intended.

Asymmetric warfare. A technical term for saying: we’re weaker, so we have to be smarter. But cleverness isn’t always enough when faced with brute force. And I wonder if all these strategic calculations, all these military simulations, truly take into account the reality of the chaos, fear, and confusion that reign when the bombs start falling.

When a rising power challenges an established power

Historians speak of the Thucydides Trap: when a rising power threatens to dethrone an established power, war becomes almost inevitable. This is what happened between Athens and Sparta, and between Germany and Great Britain in the early 20th century. Today, China is on the rise, and the United States is defending its hegemony. And Taiwan finds itself right at the center of this conflict. The island is not just a symbol for Beijing—it is a matter of national sovereignty, territorial integrity, and pride. For Washington, it is a matter of strategic credibility, maintaining regional order, and demonstrating strength. Two clashing worldviews, and in the middle, an island that just wants to live in peace.

The Thucydides Trap. Yet another academic concept to describe something terribly simple: human pride, the thirst for power, the inability to share, to coexist, to accept that the world is big enough for everyone. We have learned nothing from history. Absolutely nothing.

When Diplomacy Gives Way to Retaliation

In response to U.S. arms sales, China has imposed sanctions on U.S. defense companies. While largely symbolic, this move demonstrates Beijing’s resolve. The United States, for its part, continues to strengthen its alliances in the region. Japan, South Korea, the Philippines, Australia—all are being courted, all are receiving security assurances, and all are being encouraged to prepare for a potential conflict. It’s a classic spiral: every action provokes a reaction, and every reaction justifies a new action. And meanwhile, the temperature rises, degree by degree, until it reaches a boiling point.

Sanctions. Counter-sanctions. Military exercises. Shows of force. It’s a language I understand all too well—the language of escalation, of calculated provocation, of teetering on the brink. And I wonder who will be wise enough, brave enough, to take a step back before it’s too late.

The time to make decisions hasn’t come yet, but it’s approaching

So here we are in February 2026, with Trump planning to visit Beijing in April, with Xi issuing a barrage of warnings, and with Taiwan preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. U.S. arms sales continue, Chinese military exercises are on the rise, and the world is holding its breath. No one really wants war—not Washington, not Beijing, and not Taipei. But sometimes, wars happen not because someone wants them, but because no one was able to prevent them. Because a miscalculation was made, because a signal was misinterpreted, because a minor incident escalated. History is full of these moments when everything tips over without anyone really wanting it to.

I end this column with a deep sense of unease. Not fear, no—something darker, more resigned. The certainty that we are marching toward something terrible, that we see it coming, and that we are powerless to stop it. Because the mechanisms are in place, the gears are turning, and no one has the courage to bring it all to a halt. So I watch this scene unfold—this dance of death between the great powers—and I wonder how much longer it will be before the music stops abruptly, replaced by the clang of weapons.

Signed, Jacques Provost