The Busan silence: how great-power pragmatism is rewriting Taiwan’s future

When Chinese President Xi Jinping and US President Donald Trump met in Busan, South Korea, on October 30, they spent nearly two hours discussing rare earths, fentanyl and trade. Taiwan, the one issue most likely to bring the world’s two largest powers into direct conflict, never came up. That silence was the message.

It revealed how both leaders prefer to manage rivalry through quiet understanding rather than confrontation. The approach reduces the risk of war but narrows Taiwan’s options. The question is whether that silence can hold, and what it will cost.

Trump treats alliances as business. In 2024 he framed Taiwan as an insurance policyholder that hadn’t been paying premiums. To him, protection is conditional; commitment depends on contribution. He has pressed Taipei to raise defence spending far beyond the current 2.5 per cent of gross domestic product. For Beijing, this creates an opening. Xi sees time, not tanks, as his advantage.

According to US intelligence, Xi has told the People’s Liberation Army to be ready for a Taiwan contingency by 2027 – readiness, not intent. Beijing’s headwinds – an ageing workforce, a fragile property sector and reliance on imported energy – make conflict costly. Patience promises better returns.

Trump seeks quick deals; Xi plays for time. Yet both want stability that keeps markets steady and their authority intact. What once relied on military deterrence now runs on mutual calculation.

Taiwan’s domestic politics are shifting in ways that make this managed stability easier. In October, former legislator Cheng Li-wun won the Kuomintang (KMT) chairmanship on a platform of restoring dialogue with Beijing. Xi promptly congratulated her, calling for joint efforts to promote national reunification.

That opening may widen. The KMT and the Taiwan People’s Party – which together already hold a legislative majority – are exploring cooperation ahead of the 2028 election. A coalition government led by them would likely take a more pragmatic line on cross-strait relations.

For Beijing, it would offer the most receptive counterpart since Ma Ying-jeou; for Washington, it would complicate efforts to frame Taiwan purely as a front-line democracy under siege.

Xi can afford to wait. Every flight resumed, every export restored, every meeting held under the 1992 consensus brings the two sides a step closer to what appears to be normal engagement but erodes separation. It is a strategy of administrative patience, not military force. For now, it appears to be working.

For three decades, Taipei’s dominance in advanced semiconductors, led by Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), the world’s largest contract chipmaker, has served as its strategic insurance. Any attack on those fabs would disrupt global supply chains. That shield is thinning.

TSMC’s Arizona fab is producing 4-nanometre chips. In October, TSMC and Nvidia revealed the first US-made Blackwell wafer. Samsung – including its US operations – is targeting 1.4-nanometre production by 2027, while Intel’s Ohio complex has been delayed until the 2030s. Within a decade, US fabs may be capable of supplying around one-quarter of leading-edge logic demand. This is enough to reduce Taiwanese dependence without ending it.

Technology, not geography, now defines leverage. As production disperses, Taiwan moves from irreplaceable to merely critical. In Washington, it looks less like a cause to defend and more like a partner expected to pay its share. For investors and businesses, risk is shifting from sudden conflict to gradual re-routing of supply chains. Watching tool installations in Arizona may soon matter as much as counting missiles in the strait.

Three timelines now converge. Xi must show progress on reunification by the 21st Party Congress in 2027. Taiwan votes for a president in January 2028. Trump’s term ends in January 2029. Within that window, quiet compromise could harden into routine.

If a coalition in Taipei opts for structured engagement and US onshoring reaches critical mass, both sides will prefer continuity. A change in the White House may not undo it. Once calm becomes profitable, few will disturb it.

Beijing needs no treaty; economics can do the work. Expanding the Cross-Strait Economic Cooperation Framework Agreement could give mainland firms broader access to Taiwan’s finance and digital sectors. Access to mainland markets can be granted or withheld, a quiet lever of pressure. Flights and tourism would further resume, binding commercial interests to stability. Over time, reliance breeds restraint.

Diplomatically, Beijing will keep limiting Taiwan’s space. Its interpretation of UN Resolution 2758 continues to exclude Taiwan from global forums. In May, World Health Organization members again declined to invite Taiwan to the World Health Assembly. Even during the Covid-19 pandemic, Taiwan was not allowed to participate. Democracy remains but reach shrinks.

The silence from Busan is more than diplomacy; it marks a quiet settlement between ambition and fatigue. Beijing gains time to draw Taiwan inward through politics and trade. Washington avoids confrontation while rebuilding its supply chains at home. Both can claim success without conflict, but only because Taiwan’s autonomy is being priced into the bargain.

Silence is not peace. It is the sound of slow realignment; a world adjusting to Chinese patience and American restraint. Each reopened flight, each trade resumption, each deferred statement becomes a step towards dependence disguised as stability.

This silence means deterrence has expired. Economics enforces the restraint that force once did. Taiwan’s future will not be decided on a battlefield but in boardrooms, elections and investment flows, shaped less by principle than by convenience.

For Asia, the lesson is clear: stop mistaking calm for safety. When silence becomes the organising principle, small states endure by diversification and cooperation, not by choosing sides. The question is no longer who will fight for Taiwan, but who will speak for it, when the world learns to live comfortably without noise.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect those of the Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore.