The implausibility of a Taiwan blockade

If all-out war is an inevitable consequence of a blockade, why wouldn't China cut to the chase and start the war immediately?

John Quiggin

12 September 20245 min read

The recent release of Zero Day, a Taiwanese TV show aimed at alerting viewers to the threat of blockade and invasion by the armed forces of the People Republic of China (PRC), signals a notable change in discussion of this long-standing concern. Until a couple of years ago, the usual scenario was that of a seaborne assault similar the D-Day invasion of Normandy in 1944. A beachhead secured by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Navy would enable a huge armoured force to be transported across the Taiwan Strait.

Since 2022, this scenario has quietly been dropped by most of its proponents, including, it seems, PLA Navy itself. After news emerged in 2021 about a couple of ferries converted into amphibious ships, the PLA Navy seems to have slow-walked its conversion program, as well as the construction of dedicated landing craft, currently at a rate of one per year. The fallback position (a kind of reverse Dunkirk), was that ordinary civilian ferries, with no protection against drones or missiles, could transport the bulk of of the invasion force. That served the political purpose of retaining invasion as a notional option for the PRC, without committing serious resources.

But all the attention now is on the idea of a blockade.

The reason isn’t hard to find. The humiliating defeat of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, originally seen as the platform for assaults on Odesa and other ports, has shown that a seaborne invasion would almost certainly fail unless Taiwan had already been weakened to the point where it could put up no resistance. And, as the Ukraine war has also shown, it is unlikely that air power alone could demolish Taiwan’s defences.

As a result, attention has turned to the idea of a blockade. This is a curious move in a number of ways. While seaborne invasions are notoriously difficult, some, like the Normandy invasion, have been successful. By contrast, as this 2019 article notes, no blockade in the history of warfare has ever induced its target to capitulate. Blockades can at best serve a supporting role for a campaign on land (interestingly, the author was criticising analysts who were canvassing the idea of a US blockade of China). Russia’s attempt to block Ukraine’s wheat exports adds another the failure to the list.

No blockade in the history of warfare has ever induced its target to capitulate.

But the rhetorical appeal of a blockade rests on the fact that this ambiguous term can be interpreted in many ways. First, and undoubtedly legal under the 19th century rules of war, is the idea of a “close blockade”. The blockading fleet stationed just outside the range of shore batteries, stops ships seeking to enter an enemy port, and seizes them if they are carrying cargo of military value (but not food or other civilian supplies). This idea, still apparently at the back of some people’s minds, ceased to be feasible with the development of the aeroplane, and is even less realistic in the age of missiles and drones. The alternative of a “far blockade”, operating at a distance and requiring a much larger fleet, is similarly irrelevant today.

Ever since the German U-boat campaign of 1917, the only serious form of blockade has been unrestricted submarine warfare. Both enemy and neutral ships sailing within a declared exclusion zone are sunk without warning and usually with no attempt to rescue survivors. This is a war crime, for which German Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz was jailed in the Nuremberg trials. The same logic implies shooting down civilian aircraft, without which a naval blockade would achieve little. Anyone involved in such a campaign would likely end up in a cell in The Hague, unless they were victorious.

But let’s suppose that the Chinese government wasn’t deterred by concerns about legality. Could a blockade work, and what responses are feasible? Assuming concerns about a blockade became serious, Taiwan could easily stockpile many months of essential imports. Rationing could make the blockade little more than an annoyance, at least for a year or two. The experience of the UK in the Second World War provides an illustration. Despite large losses of food imports due to U-boat attacks on merchant shipping, Britons were actually healthier under rationing than during the depression years that preceded the war.

Despite large losses of food imports due to U-boat attacks on merchant shipping, Britons were actually healthier under rationing than during the depression years that preceded the war.

In the meantime, since a blockade is an act of war, Taiwan and its allies would be justified in responding militarily, for example by attacking Chinese naval and air forces, whether or not they were actively engaged in the blockade. As Ukraine has shown, such attacks could reach every major city in China. Of course, China could respond in kind. But if an all-out air and missile war is an inevitable consequence of a blockade, why not cut to the chase and start the war immediately? The initial blockade phase would simply give Taiwan more time to prepare its defences.

A blockade would also harm China’s own trade. Ships and planes generally avoid war zones. Even if China offered safe passage to ships travelling to and from its ports, Taiwan could nullify this by declaring an exclusion zone, effectively a counter-blockade. The trillions of dollars of trade now passing through the South China Sea would shrink to a trickle. Alternatively, an embargo placed on Chinese trade could achieve much the same effect as a counter-blockade. Unlike Russian oil exports, which are easily concealed, China’s exports of manufactures (including components) could be identified and blocked at multiple points in global production chains. Even if ASEAN countries, for example, were unenthusiastic about enforcing an embargo, they would have little choice but to comply.

In summary, the idea of a naval blockade of Taiwan is even less plausible than that of a seaborne invasion. Why then, is it getting so much attention? The answer is simple: without a threat of this kind, there is no rationale for spending lots of money on naval power. There is a powerful alliance including the PLA Navy, the congressional representatives of US naval bases and naval contractors, and the Australian boosters of AUKUS, whose livelihoods depend on ensuring that this money keeps flowing. As long as any story about naval power has an audience, they will keep telling it.

About the author

John Quiggin

John Quiggin is an Australian economist, a Professor and Laureate Fellow at the University of Queensland.

Topics

China Taiwan Defence & security