This article is from the LA Times, January 30, 2005, and is based upon my trip to Taiwan the previous December to observe the Parliamentary elections there. 

     Democracy has transformed Taiwan, and the
change demonstrates how political participation can shape national
identity and international politics.

     Fifteen years ago, it was
easy to accept the idea that Taiwan was a part of China. Most people on
the island defined themselves as Chinese, and their government was
named and was acknowledged — though not diplomatically recognized by
many countries — as the Republic of China. The official policy of the
People’s Republic of China demanded that Taiwan be viewed as a province
of the mainland, and the United States vaguely accepted a "one China"
principle.

     Some things are not so straightforward anymore.

     Mandarin discourse is still useful on the streets of Taipei, and the
Chinese cuisine is the best anywhere. The National Palace Museum
remains an extraordinary trove of Sinological art treasures.

     National identity, however, is more than cultural practices and
traditions. Linguistic and other affinities are not enough to classify
Taiwan as "Chinese," just as the United States could hardly be
considered part of a "British" empire anymore.

     What matters for
any national identity is politics. And Taiwan’s domestic politics have
long been detached from China’s. Since 1895, a mainland government has
ruled the island for only about four years, 1945-49. When the
Nationalist Party lost the civil war in 1949 and fled to Taiwan, it
maintained for many years that it was the government of all China,
though it never was.

     Since democratization began in Taiwan in
1986, the "return to the mainland" myth has further receded. Free and
fair elections have turned people’s attention inward.

     The
democratic political life shared by millions of Taiwanese is forging a
common civic identity distinct from China’s. This Taiwanese national
identity is not merely an invention of those who want to publicly
declare independence, something that Beijing’s leaders say they will go
to war to prevent. It is the natural evolution of democratic
participation.

     Nowhere is this more evident than in the notion
of the "status quo." For mainland China and the U.S., it refers to the
"one China" principle, a reflection of the politics of the 1970s —
before democracy took root in Taiwan. For many Taiwanese, perhaps most,
it has come to mean the situation that has actually prevailed since
1986, an empirical independence that allows them to rule themselves
without Chinese control.

     But the people of Taiwan are not
unanimous in seeing themselves as wholly separate from China. Debates
about national identity are a central feature of the island’s
boisterous democracy.

     The momentum of nationhood, however, seems
to have reached a point of no return. Taiwan is a democratic nation;
China is not. It is difficult to foresee circumstances that would allow
for real unification.

     The dilemma for Taiwan is the
contradiction between its democratic development and its geopolitical
context. China’s nationalist passions are real. For any mainland
Chinese politician, President Hu Jintao included, to be seen as soft on
Taiwan independence is to open oneself to charges of treason. Even if
political liberalization were to emerge tomorrow, Chinese demagogues
could argue that a separate Taiwan is a wound to the nation’s pride. So
Chinese leaders continue to threaten and isolate Taiwan.

     If the
Bush administration thinks the Taiwan question has faded, it is sorely
mistaken. Taiwan is not really a part of China any longer. It has grown
into a thriving and mature democracy where people join together in
constructive self-government and see themselves as a nation like any
other. The status quo has changed.