Li Hsiang-Chou's Perspective: A Letter to All the Wise Who Think They've Seen Through Beijing

A man walking down the street sees a hundred-dollar bill on the ground. He stops, looks left and right, shakes his head, and walks away. A friend asks, "Why didn't you pick it up?" He replies, "It's too obvious—it must be a trap." Moments later, someone else who didn’t think twice picks up the money.

Is this story meant to mock those who claim China’s military exercises around Taiwan are just empty threats? No. It illustrates a thinking habit—intelligent people often trip over their own intelligence.

Arguing that China’s blockade drills are a carefully crafted “deception operation” in cognitive warfare, designed to mislead Taiwan and Western powers into preparing for the wrong threat, isn’t baseless. Beijing excels at perception manipulation; gray-zone tactics are indeed central to its strategy; and these drills clearly serve political pressure and psychological deterrence. Objectively speaking, such analysis deserves a solid 75 out of 100.

The problem lies in the missing 25 points.

Cognitive warfare has a master-level tactic: "Let the smart people convince the less smart ones for you." Beijing doesn’t need to issue a statement saying, "Don’t worry, it’s just an exercise." It only needs enough analysts, commentators, and influencers to logically conclude that "this is merely a diversion," then let that narrative spread widely through media, enter policy debates, and influence defense planning. The effect is the same, the cost is lower, and the target audience feels clever for having "seen through the ruse."

This isn’t accusing specific commentators of serving Beijing. It’s pointing out that the very thought—"I’ve seen through the cognitive warfare"—might be exactly what the cognitive warfare wants you to think. As the saying goes, the hardest magic trick isn’t one you can’t figure out, but the one you think you’ve figured out—yet still miss by one layer.

Every time the PLA conducts a blockade drill, it mobilizes real warships, real missile systems, and real cross-service command coordination. Regardless of political intent, these drills objectively achieve three things: accumulating combat data, testing adversary responses, and refining operational coordination. In other words, even if 90% of the drill is performative, the remaining 10% of real scenario validation adds up significantly after dozens of repetitions—resulting in tangible combat enhancement.

Beijing never wastes a single drill. This is something we should learn from. Yes, it may be a feint—but a feint only works if there’s a real threat somewhere. And that "real threat" might not be in the direction commentators assume. It could be aimed directly at weakening Taiwan’s collective will to prepare.

Flooding Taiwan’s public discourse with voices saying "don’t take it seriously," steering policy discussions toward "it’s just theater," and letting younger generations casually scroll past with the thought "here we go again"—that’s the most cost-effective outcome for Beijing.

Before Japan attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941, U.S. intelligence circles also had voices claiming Japan wouldn’t dare strike—that it was all bluff. These weren’t fools; they were among the sharpest analysts of the time. The rest, as we know, is history.

No one is saying China will definitely attack, or that blockade drills are necessarily preludes to war. But the conclusion—"they’re just putting on a show, we don’t need to take it seriously"—has never led to good outcomes in history. Even when the opponent truly was bluffing, being prepared causes no harm. But if they weren’t bluffing, your complacency becomes a disaster.

The cost of preparation is always lower than the price of underestimating your enemy. This isn’t military logic—it’s basic risk management. Loving Taiwan isn’t a slogan; it’s an honest attitude toward reality. Seeing threats clearly, assessing capabilities honestly, and preparing calmly—this is the strongest posture for Taiwan’s survival in an asymmetric environment.

Commentaries reminding us of the multi-layered nature of cognitive warfare are valuable contributions. But if their ultimate effect is to make more people think "the drills aren’t serious, no need to panic," then no matter how brilliant the analysis, it objectively leads to the very outcome it seeks to avoid. Seeing through cognitive warfare isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. True clarity means choosing seriousness even after seeing through the deception.

Finally, back to the money story. The clever man who didn’t pick up the bill later felt increasingly proud of himself—he had "seen through the trap." But that hundred-dollar bill ended up in someone else’s pocket.

Taiwan’s security cannot be protected by the feeling of having "seen through" Beijing’s moves. What it needs is a second voice beside every "this might just be theater"—a calm voice asking: "But what if it’s not? Are we ready?"

That question is the strategic habit Taiwan needs most—and must never lose.

*The author is a retired general, former Director of the Veterans Affairs Council, former Director of the National Security Bureau, and former Ambassador to Denmark.