The approaching “Davidson Window”
A strategic reality check in 2025: is an ultimate conflict inevitable?
Growing up in the 90s, my father—a military academy professor’s research on the Gulf War and the Taiwan Strait shaped my earliest understanding of cross-strait relations.
In China, academic discourse on the Taiwan issue tends to focus on military capabilities and strategic positioning, while my career at the United Nations led me to focus instead on Taiwan’s internal political dynamics — and how shifts in public sentiment could influence the prospects for peaceful dialogue. On the one hand, I believe in the principle of self-determination; on the other, I’ve come to realize that political environments shape ideology, no matter where we are in the world.
This article seeks to trace the major turning points in cross-strait relations since the founding of the People’s Republic of China, while examining how public opinion in Taiwan has evolved — and how these shifts are influencing the growing momentum behind a force-based unification narrative.
Over the past decade, China has been steadily modernizing its military—expanding its defense budget, upgrading air and naval capabilities, and refining joint operational strategies. The underlying goal is clear: to cross a strategic threshold—the capacity to resolve the Taiwan issue by force, if necessary.
Former U.S. Indo-Pacific Commander Admiral Philip Davidson referred to this timeframe as the “Davidson Window,” estimating it to fall between 2027 and 2031. Other assessments, while slightly more conservative, still point to a critical window between 2030 and 2035. In geopolitical terms, that window is rapidly approaching.
Why China Is Rushing to Cross the Military Threshold
The rationale behind Beijing’s urgency lies in a sobering strategic assessment: the possibility of peaceful reunification is now seen as virtually nonexistent. What China’s leadership appears to be preparing for is a scenario of "compelling peace through strength"—developing overwhelming military superiority to force Taiwan into political negotiations.
But what if Taiwan refuses to negotiate under pressure? In that case, the endgame could indeed be a full-scale war.
A History of Missed Opportunities: From Secret Envoys to Silent Departures
Beijing’s original vision was not devoid of hope for peaceful reunification. As early as the 1980s, China initiated secret communications with Taiwan. In 1981, Chiang Ching-kuo’s close aide, Shen Cheng, carried confidential messages to Beijing. At that time, aging leaders on both sides still held a vision of eventual unification.
By 1986, Beijing proposed equal-party negotiations between the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the Kuomintang (KMT). Chiang Ching-kuo was intrigued but hesitant, distrusting the CCP’s credibility and wary of the asymmetry between the mainland and Taiwan. In response, Deng Xiaoping introduced the “One Country, Two Systems” framework, aiming to assuage Taiwan’s fears through a model later applied in Hong Kong.
However, just as initial communication mechanisms were being set up, Chiang passed away in 1988. This marked the quiet collapse of the nascent path toward negotiated reunification.
Taiwan's new leader, Lee Teng-hui, initially supported peaceful engagement. In 1991, the KMT passed the National Unification Guidelines, outlining a phased process: exchanges, mutual representation, and eventually, political negotiation. But Taiwan's democratization and the rise of the pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) gradually sidelined that vision.
Democratization and the Shift in Identity
The DPP’s platform—rooted in Taiwanese identity and sovereignty—reshaped public sentiment. The notion that “Taiwan is Taiwan, China is China” became increasingly mainstream. Even the KMT, once committed to unification, recalibrated its stance under public pressure.
In 1999, President Lee proposed the “Two-State Theory,” plunging cross-strait relations into a deep freeze. When the DPP won the presidency in 2000, it pledged not to declare independence or provoke Beijing. But at its core, the party’s strategy was to avoid unification rather than facilitate it.
Although relations warmed slightly during Ma Ying-jeou’s presidency (2008–2016), with trade agreements and cross-strait exchanges, that era ended abruptly after the 2014 Sunflower Movement. Public distrust toward China, especially among younger generations, surged to an all-time high.
The Strategic Reality Check in 2025
Looking back from the vantage point of 2025, the trajectory is evident. Decades of missteps, failed negotiations, and political realignments have led Beijing to one central conclusion: peaceful unification is no longer viable.
This is not an indication that war is imminent, but rather that China aims to build the capability to win without fighting—a “fait accompli” scenario in which Taiwan has no choice but to negotiate under duress.
However, Taiwan's societal identity has moved beyond that premise. The collective memory, especially among the younger population, is no longer aligned with the idea of unification. Without a dramatic reversal on either side, a future conflict is becoming increasingly difficult to avoid.
After the Sunflower Movement: Diverging Paths
The 2014 Sunflower Movement was a turning point. Taiwan’s youth—now the core of its professional and civic sectors—rose in protest against a trade deal that symbolized deeper economic integration with China. What they feared wasn’t just economic dependence, but political and cultural erosion.
The movement catalyzed a national conversation: Who are we? What future do we choose?
Following the protests, Taiwan’s political landscape shifted dramatically. The DPP returned to power in 2016, and has since consolidated its position. The KMT, meanwhile, has struggled to resonate with younger voters. President Tsai Ing-wen has consistently emphasized the “status quo,” but has subtly recalibrated Taiwan’s mainstream away from the once-dominant “One China” narrative.
In parallel, Beijing’s strategy also hardened.
Having failed to sway public opinion through economic incentives like ECFA and the 31 "preferential policies" for Taiwan, China pivoted to military intimidation and diplomatic coercion. Fighter jets now regularly circle Taiwan. International allies are pressured to cut ties with Taipei. And global institutions are under strain to exclude Taiwanese representation.
Post-Hong Kong: The End of ‘One Country, Two Systems’
The 2019 Hong Kong protests further deepened Taiwan’s mistrust. What was once pitched as a model for peaceful unification became a cautionary tale. Tsai Ing-wen declared the framework “dead.” In the 2020 elections, she won re-election in a landslide, campaigning on a platform of defending Taiwan’s autonomy.
Beijing responded with military exercises simulating a blockade of Taiwan, missile launches over Taipei, and increasingly aggressive rhetoric. The intention was unmistakable: to demonstrate that military action is not off the table.
The Global Dimension: Taiwan’s Strategic Position
The Taiwan Strait is no longer a regional flashpoint—it’s a fulcrum of global geopolitics.
The United States, while maintaining its “One China” policy, has sharpened its position. Military aid, weapons sales, and joint training have all increased. President Biden has stated multiple times that the U.S. would defend Taiwan if attacked, signaling a shift from strategic ambiguity toward greater clarity.
Japan, too, has become more vocal. After former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s remarks that “a Taiwan emergency is a Japanese emergency,” Tokyo has tightened its strategic calculus around Taiwan’s security. If Taiwan falls, Japan’s own first island chain is exposed.
Even European nations, long seen as neutral on the Taiwan issue, have begun voicing concern—at the UN, the WTO, and in bilateral dialogues.
Beijing recognizes this. The longer it waits, the more international recognition Taiwan accrues—and the harder it becomes to justify unification through force, both morally and diplomatically.
The Shape of the "Ultimate War" Is Taking Form
Looking back from 2025, the outline is clear: peaceful overtures have been tried and failed. From Deng Xiaoping’s proposals to Ma Ying-jeou’s engagement policies, the political will on both sides has eroded.
This isn’t just a disagreement over national sovereignty. It’s a clash of systems, values, and identities. Beijing’s vision of unification is not a negotiated federation—it is a political annexation under a one-party regime. For Taiwan, democracy is not just a governance model—it’s a way of life.
As China accelerates military buildup, Taiwan fortifies its defences, and the U.S. and allies recalibrate global supply chains, the world is preparing—consciously or not—for the worst-case scenario.
That scenario is a war. Not necessarily in 2025 or 2026—but very possibly in the 2030s.
Conclusion: Peace Is Not Passive—It’s a Choice
This analysis is not meant to provoke fear or alarmism, but to underscore a fundamental truth: peace is not the default state of international affairs. It is an achievement—built on institutions, diplomacy, public vigilance, and a shared understanding of war’s true cost.
The Taiwan Strait does not have to become the next global battlefield. But avoiding that fate requires more than hope. It demands realism, preparedness, and a collective commitment—across the region and the world—to protecting stability.
An ultimate war may still be avoided. But only if the world first acknowledges that its shadow is already on the horizon.