XIAMEN – Relations between China and Japan are undergoing their most serious shock in a decade. And yet, as recently as 2024—after the lifting of pandemic restrictions—it seemed the two countries were slowly moving toward improved relations. This trend was abruptly disrupted in recent weeks, when a series of diplomatic missteps gave way to open disputes.

The spark came from Tokyo, when Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi publicly declared that a potential Chinese attack on Taiwan would constitute “an existential threat to Japan.” In a region where the Taiwan question is considered the single most sensitive geopolitical fault line in Asia, this statement carries far-reaching implications. Moreover, Takaichi had just visited Taiwanese officials at the APEC summit—only hours after she had affirmed with the Chinese president the need for stable relations. Beijing interpreted her steps not as diplomatic coincidence, but as a deliberate signal.

It is therefore no surprise that China’s reaction was immediate and forceful. Chinese diplomats lodged a sharp protest, while China’s ambassador to the UN, Fu Cong, stated that Takaichi was violating international law, endangering global peace, and undermining the post-war international order itself. Elevating the dispute to the UN level is unusual and indicates that Beijing sees Japan’s rhetoric as a qualitatively new development. From China’s perspective, such statements strike at the very core of its political identity and sovereignty. Beijing continues to demand that the remarks be withdrawn.

“If Japan’s basic position on Taiwan is indeed the one stated in the 1972 China-Japan Joint Communiqué, can Prime Minister Takaichi articulate this position precisely and fully? Why is Japan unwilling to clearly state the commitments and legal obligations it undertook? What is the logic and motive behind this stance? The Japanese side owes China and the international community an explanation,” said Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Lin Jian. For China, Taiwan is not simply a regional issue—it is an existential principle that modern China is unwilling to relativize.

Beijing subsequently issued travel warnings, restricted tourism and cultural exchanges, and cancelled multiple planned events with Japan’s cultural sector. The economic impact on Japan was immediate: hotels, airlines, and retailers reported a sharp decline within days. According to Japanese travel agencies, they lost roughly 80% of bookings from the Chinese market—one of the most important components of Japan’s tourism industry, which accounts for 7% of Japan’s GDP.

Should the diplomatic and trade confrontation escalate further, both sides would suffer losses, as they remain significant economic and investment partners.

However, thanks to long-term efforts to strengthen domestic self-sufficiency and a broader economic base, China is far better positioned to absorb such shocks.

The cultural and social dimensions of the crisis reveal its depth. Disrupted cultural exchanges, cancelled concerts and film premieres demonstrate that the dispute no longer remains confined to diplomacy. It has struck precisely those areas that both countries had cultivated for years as stabilizing spaces outside geopolitics. If even this “soft bridge” is collapsing, it signals the beginning of a long period of cooling relations.

Takaichi’s statements also stirred controversy at home. Opposition politicians, constitutional lawyers and parts of the academic community warned that her stance exceeds the legal framework of Japan’s collective self-defense. Japan remains bound by the pacifist Article 9 of its constitution, and the public is not prepared to accept rhetoric that pushes the country toward open conflict. Takaichi, however, has gradually abandoned the long-standing policy of “strategic ambiguity” that Tokyo maintained on Taiwan. Her tone gives the impression that, instead of articulating Japan’s own strategic interests, she is blindly following American policy—while edging Japan back toward militarization.

This abrupt change in atmosphere has also spilled into military dynamics. In November, Chinese coast guard vessels sailed near the disputed Senkaku/Diaoyu islands, which Tokyo interpreted as escalation, prompting it to send its own ships and fighter jets. Japan also announced the strengthening of military capacities on Yonaguni, an island only 110 km from Taiwan. From Beijing’s perspective, this is primarily precautionary monitoring of an increasingly unpredictable environment shaped by Japan’s ambiguous signals. The drone incident near Yonaguni only confirmed that rhetorical shifts rapidly translate into military realities.

What we are witnessing today has deeper roots. For decades, Japan has been a central pillar of the American security architecture. Its defense policy—including its stance on Taiwan—is shaped more by U.S. strategic priorities than by Japan’s own autonomy. Washington reacted to the recent tensions by offering Tokyo security guarantees, and U.S. diplomacy has taken a firm position against “any unilateral changes to the status quo in the Taiwan Strait.” This framework further limits Japan’s capacity to act independently and deepens the distrust Beijing has long felt toward Japanese policy. When we take into account Japan’s defense posture and its quasi-vassal relationship to the United States, we begin to understand the excessive confidence—and arrogance—of the Japanese prime minister.

The U.S. objective today is to slow China’s technological rise, which threatens American global dominance. China is increasingly perceived in Washington as a dangerous competitor in global trade and technological innovation. This is accompanied by China’s growing military capability, which has already surpassed regional significance. American containment policy toward major competitors may well be the underlying cause of the current crisis. Traditional Anglo-Saxon militarism continually searches for “useful idiots” in regions of strategic interest—actors who can be activated when needed as disposable tools. History provides countless examples showing that countries like the U.S. and the U.K. do not have friends; they only have servants and rivals.

In this context, it is legitimate to ask to what extent Japan is able to shape its own foreign policy—and to what extent it is being drawn into strategic games orchestrated by others. Tokyo risks finding itself in a position where it bears the heavy consequences of a conflict it does not control. And in a region already undergoing one of the greatest power reconfigurations of our time, this is an exceptionally dangerous place to be.

The current crisis is not merely a temporary dispute but an expression of deeper global shifts. China emerges here as an actor defending its borders, historical memory, and long-declared principles—and doing so in a way that is predictable, consistent, and based on the conviction that regional stability depends on clear rules, not on unbalanced and aggressive rhetoric. It is also a reminder that global conflicts do not arise in abstraction or suddenly. They often have deep historical roots grounded in security dependencies and geopolitical illusions. The Indo-Pacific is transforming before our eyes, and without a thorough understanding of its historical and strategic depth, we risk mistaking symptoms for causes.

*Lucia Hubinská is a lecturer at the Institute of Creativity and Innovation at Xiamen University in Fujian Province, on China’s southeast coast.

(The article reflects the author's opinions and not necessarily the views of the Tehran Times.)