Subtitles section Play video Print subtitles In many ways, the Russian invasion of Ukraine felt all too familiar to the people of Taiwan. Here is a larger, more powerful, authoritarian, and revisionist bully attacking its democratic neighbor for nothing more than historical proximity. And beneath a mountain of explanations, theories, and models is really just one man's deranged pursuit of empire. Or, something else entirely — we truly don't know. It even began like we expect an attack on Taiwan would — with a long, drawn-out buildup of forces, followed by a sudden and chaotic barrage of missiles. With very large present populations but below-replacement fertility, both China and Russia are what you might call “demographies in decline” — and there isn't much time left. A man born today can expect to live 74 years in China and a mere 67 in Russia. “Ukraine today, Taiwan tomorrow” isn't just hypothetical, either. Quote “reunifying” with the island has been the goal of every Chinese leader for the last 70 years and chairman Xi Jinping has gone well out of his way to eliminate ambiguity. Needless to say, China's refusal to call Russia's actions in Ukraine what they are — an invasion — wasn't too comforting to the 23 million residents of Taiwan. …Yet, China is not Russia. And Taiwan is not Ukraine. For all their similarities, there remain huge differences the world would be unwise to ignore. Sponsored by CuriosityStream and Nebula, where you can watch my new Original series. The second episode — out now — is about why China is still, 900 days later, trying to maintain zero cases of COVID, despite the enormous cost and complete disaster that was the Shanghai lockdown. You can watch it, and the first episode, about How Chinese Censorship Works, and all future episodes, with the CuriosityStream and Nebula bundle, which is just $12/year right now in the U.S. for Memorial Day. Just 100 miles, or 160 kilometers, east across the narrow Taiwan Strait, you could be forgiven for thinking China could one day just swallow up its little disconnected tail. Russia has three times the population of Ukraine. China, 60 times more than Taiwan. The Russian economy is — or, more accurately, was — 9 and a half times larger than Ukraine's. China's is 22 times the size of Taiwan's. The Russian landmass is 28 times larger than Ukraine's. And China's, 265 times larger than Taiwan's. In 2020, China spent $244 billion on defense. Taiwan, just 11, about as much as the Netherlands or Colombia. Of course, as the American Navy demonstrates, not every dollar spent on defense is created equally. Still, the disparities are quite dramatic. China has upwards of 2 million active duty troops, thirty-three hundred fighters, and 59 subs to Taiwan's 160,000, 560, and four. In other words: China is probably every bit as big, strong, and powerful as it looks. And yet, ask just about anyone in the defense community and they'll tell you: a Chinese invasion of Taiwan would be just downright hard. Now, there are many different ways China could go about this — by launching a Cuba-style blockade, by first seizing smaller islands on its periphery, or even infiltrating from within. But the most likely sequence of events would be as follows… First, China would start bombing critical Taiwanese infrastructure — ports, airports, and bases — in hopes of causing chaos, confusion, and a breakdown in the chain of command. Second, China would attempt to establish air superiority — control of the skies and therefore cover for what comes next. As we've seen in Ukraine, this is much harder than it sounds, even for an ostensibly larger and more powerful attacker. Still, up to this point, there's no doubt China could, at the very least, quickly inflict serious and irreparable harm. This next phase is when the People's Liberation Army likely runs into trouble. As anyone who's seen “Saving Private Ryan” can attest, amphibious assaults are no walk in the park, even on the best of days. Generally speaking, to be successful, they require three conditions: air superiority, overwhelming fire and manpower or surprise, and the ability to quickly reinforce. Every battle is different, of course, but historical successes have, with few exceptions, possessed all three criteria. In the vast majority of cases, the absence of even one of these has led to failure. If everything goes as planned for China, it will have accomplished the first. But that still leaves two very difficult hurdles, which brings us to the real challenge… Russia's struggles so far in Ukraine make it easy to lose sight of the basics. This is not, with one major exception, a geographically challenging environment. When you come across pictures of the war, make a note of what you see: roads — and what you don't: mountains. We're used to seeing Russia's invasion on a map. But this is what it looks like on the ground — what geographers would call flat, Eurasian Steppe. The biggest natural impediments are trees, grass, and… tractors. The coast of Taiwan, on the other hand, is much trickier. Sure, there are flat mud plains and coastal rice paddies, but any invader would soon be met with 2 and 3-thousand foot peaks within artillery distance of the shoreline. In between are fairly populous, urban areas. Take the usual defender's advantage — 2 or 3 attackers per defending troop and, thanks to Taiwan's tall and irregular coastline, multiply it several times over. If that sounds hard, well, the world's most powerful military agreed. The United States considered attacking then-Japanese-occupied Taiwan in 1944 — going so far as to draft plans for “Operation Causeway”. Overtaking a patchwork of 30,000 starving Japanese defenders, it estimated, would require an invasion force over twice the size of D-Day — 400,000 marines and 4,000 ships. Despite commanding this incredible concentration of force, Pacific War planners considered the idea too risky and opted for the Philippines instead, referring to Taiwan as an “unsinkable aircraft carrier”. Suffice to say, China would need a figurative boatload of troops. Somewhere between 1 and 2 million, to be precise — making it the largest amphibious operation in history. If war is primarily an exercise in logistics, this would be the ultimate challenge. Moving that many bodies simultaneously is no easy feat. Take a simple, back-of-the-envelope calculation, for instance. Assuming China was using that same 2020 equipment from earlier, this is all it could transport across the Strait at a time. Even if all it transported were troops — it could only move about 30,000 — or 3% of the total number of active PLA Ground forces — at a time. And remember, that's if they just carried people — with no tanks or armor. For obvious reasons, this hypothetical operation has been nicknamed the “million-man swim”. Oh! And by the way, nothing about this would be a secret. Experts estimate the world will have no fewer than 30 and up to 60 days of warning — giving Taiwan a full 1-2 months to make itself as impenetrable as possible — laying mines, staging weapons, and repositioning critical infrastructure. Not only that but we also already know during which parts of the year China could attack. Waves are too strong in the Winter and typhoons too unpredictable in the Summer — leaving just two good candidates — April or October. So too do we know where it would happen. There are only about 13 beaches across all of Taiwan suitable for landing — and “suitable” is being generous. Take one of these — Linkou beach, for instance. Although invaders would be welcomed by about a mile of flatland, they would soon be confronted by two huge mountain ranges. This would also be these PLA soldiers' and generals' first real experience with combat. China hasn't fought a single major war for over 40 years, when it invaded Vietnam and was quickly forced to withdraw. Now, even if it was 'successful', China would now face a new challenge: occupying an island of 23 million people — most of whom hate it — with much of what it considers 'valuable' about Taiwan utterly destroyed. Military doctrine suggests a 1:10 ratio of soldiers to population for successful counterinsurgency operations, which, on paper, would require the entire PLA — leaving no one for anything else. As we see in Ukraine, local resistance can be incredibly powerful, especially given that Taiwan has been preparing for its entire modern existence for precisely this scenario. In one 2020 poll, 77% of the Taiwanese public said they were “willing to fight” for their country. Still, it should be noted that, at least today, conscription only lasts 4 months in Taiwan. How much can one really do or learn in 120 days? And, in general, conscription armies are less competent and more apathetic. But don't get too lost in the weeds asking whether China can attack before asking if it will. Balance of strength is important, but it's far from the whole picture. Any theory about what China wants or how it thinks has to contend with two seemingly contradictory facts… On one hand, China has been beating the drum of war for seven decades, making countless explicit threats and seemingly preparing its population for conflict. Like North Korea and missiles, the issue seems to percolate to the surface several times a year. Each time feels like a crisis. Yet, on the other hand, China has…been beating the drum of war for seven decades and has never once actually followed through. No matter your political affiliations, you can't say China hasn't had the full range of American administrations to choose from. The funny thing is that, look at a graph of Google searches for headlines related to war between Taiwan and China, and a clear pattern emerges: Panic, at least by this metric, is a relatively recent, and uniquely English phenomenon. Searches in traditional Chinese — used in Taiwan — have been pretty much steady for as long as the graph goes back. Likewise, when Chinese jets make mock attack runs toward Taiwan, it's very often the American, not Taiwanese public who panics. So, what do calmer minds know that the rest of us don't? In democracies like the U.S., it's often said that each party needs the other. That, if one party were ever given too much power for too long, it would be forced to deliver on its promises — many of which it never intended to. It would have no excuse, no scapegoat to blame when it failed. A similar dynamic plays out in autocracies like China. The enemy, in this case, is not the opposing party — there are none — but some manufactured national humiliation. Remember! Taiwan, the island, was never ruled by the Communist Party. The framing of Taiwan as a source of shame for China, that it can only ever be “complete” after quote “reunification” — is entirely artificial. China, in other words, wilfully chose this version of history. And its predictable effects give us a hint as to why. Chinese citizens are regularly told their country could easily “take Taiwan in a day”, constantly reminded that they, personally, are being transgressed upon when American carrier groups sail through the Taiwan Strait. Chinese artists render video game-like scenes of valiant Chinese soldiers roaming the streets of Taipei. This mix of shame, patriotism, and thirst for conquest makes a large number of Chinese citizens love the party just that much more. One can't help but wonder: Given what an invasion would entail, is Taiwan more useful to the Chinese leadership as a perpetually imminent national rejuvenation? A button, in simplistic terms, Chinese authorities can press, whenever things aren't going particularly well at home, not only to distract, but more importantly, to stoke Nationalism? This does not, however, rule out an invasion. The danger, for China, is that it can easily become dependent on this button. Each time China gains short-term domestic approval for threatening Taiwan or making outlandish claims about how easy an invasion would be, it is, in effect, writing a check that would be extraordinarily costly to cash. Yet, it has created conditions under which it may feel forced to — if, for example, Taiwan were to formally declare independence or if it faced a legitimacy crisis at home. And, ultimately, predictions can only get us so far. One of the principal lessons so far from the war in Ukraine is not that the “experts” were wrong, exactly,