Taiwan prepares for the worst-case scenario

It sounds like the start of a film: the president climbs into an armoured vehicle, and a few minutes later walks – escorted by dozens of people, wearing a helmet and a bulletproof vest – down a bare, cramped corridor. Finally, he arrives in a control room full of screens, microphones, telephones and people dressed in camouflage. It really did happen, the day before yesterday, when Taiwanese President Lai Ching-te took part in person for the first time in the Han Kuang military exercise, Taiwan’s main annual defence simulation which envisages a scenario of an attack by the People’s Republic of China on the island. The exercise, which officially began last Wednesday, is the 42nd edition, but in recent years the training has changed radically: Taiwanese analysts and strategists have realised that it is pointless to train only the armed forces; the entire population, including the president, needs to be prepared, incorporating scenarios inspired in part by the war in Ukraine and staging a comprehensive test of state continuity in the event of war, including psychological warfare. The majority of the Taiwanese population, who until a few years ago viewed the prospect of a possible conflict with detachment and even indifference, now realise that this possibility is becoming increasingly real. 

A survey conducted a few months ago by Academia Sinica found that almost 60 per cent of Taiwanese said they would ‘resist’ a Chinese invasion even without US military support – at a time when US military support can no longer be taken for granted, given the growing rapprochement between US President Donald Trump and Chinese leader Xi Jinping. Yet the divide within the population remains deep: Taiwanese who align with parties such as the Kuomintang, it would be enough to relinquish certain claims, break free from the trap of deterrence and pursue a more conciliatory relationship with Beijing to avert a military invasion. On the other hand, the Democratic Progressive Party – in power since 2016 – takes the opposite view: increased military spending and preparedness are essential to send a message to China, which would take Taiwan (and its freedom and democracy) in any case. The evolution of the Han Kuang exercises reflects this second perspective.

The exercise unfolds in several stages: on the first day, forces are deployed and reservists are called up. The following day, the protection of the leadership is tested: the president, who is also the supreme commander of the Armed Forces, is evacuated via the Wan Jun convoy (the name literally translates as “ten thousand jun”, referring to an ancient Chinese unit of weight and suggesting overwhelming strength) and transferred to the Hengshan Command Centre, a fortified underground facility located in Taipei, within the headquarters of Taiwan’s Ministry of National Defence. In the days that follow, the Urban Resilience (Air Defence) Exercise is held, which is not merely a drill for a missile attack but one focused on ‘urban resilience’. When the air-raid sirens sound, citizens are required to follow the authorities’ instructions: suspend normal activities, leave the streets and head for shelters. The city comes to a standstill; communications are tested in the event of an internet blackout, after which attention turns to managing any damage. Anyone who fails to comply with the regulations risks a fine of up to the equivalent of 4,000 euros, as this is not optional: the population is considered part of the Defence infrastructure.