This month we’re opening a new chapter for European Guanxi’s Newsletter; one that runs alongside our regular publications and strengthens what we already do best: offer clarity on China and Sino-European relations. From now on, every month we will publish a conversation with an expert, policymaker, or practitioner working directly on China and the Indo-Pacific. The goal is simple: bring our readers closer to the people who deal with these issues every day, and translate their experience into insights that matter.
The interview for this first edition was conducted by our Newsletter Officer Alessandro Forte, who has been developing this new line with us. And for our debut, we chose Lorenzo Lamperti, an Italian journalist based in Taipei, widely recognised as one of the sharpest observers of China and East Asia in the Italian media landscape. In our discussion, Lamperti walks us through the recurring misconceptions about Taiwan, the island’s political and social complexities, and the broader strategic environment shaping relations between China, the U.S., and Europe. His perspective offers a grounded, clear reading of dynamics often distorted by headlines.
We’re launching this project because the moment calls for depth, precision, and informed voices. I hope you’ll follow this new series closely, and tell us what themes, experts, or questions you’d like us to tackle next.
Francesco Palma , Vice-Head of the Communications Team for the Newsletter
Taiwan Beyond the Headlines
Our first goal was to understand the most recurrent misunderstandings surrounding Taiwan when Western media attempt to narrate its complexities to a broader audience. When asked about this, Lamperti hilariously answered, ‘Do we have 3 hours?’, a reminder that even this newsletter piece will not be enough to fully capture how frequently Taiwan is misconceived.
Yet the short answer is yes, Lamperti tells us, Western media tends to portray Taiwan almost exclusively as ‘a target, a frontline, a flashpoint’. But this lens, focused obsessively on Chinese military drills and U.S. arms sales, often erases the complexity of the island’s domestic reality.
‘The first thing that comes to mind,’ he notes, ‘is that Taiwan is almost always presented only in relation to possible military exercises by mainland China. The internal dimension is very flattened.’ The government’s perspective is broadcast loudly in international coverage, he notes, while ‘the perspective of the opposition, which is still relevant, is often overlooked.’
This simplification leads to distorted parallels: comparing Taiwan to South Korea, imagining a frozen conflict with no exchanges, no mobility, no everyday life. In reality, Lamperti reminds us, ‘there are dozens of flights every day connecting Taiwan to mainland China,’ along with deep economic and cultural ties that continue despite political tensions.
And the image of a society preparing for imminent war? Almost entirely exaggerated. ‘There’s no one wearing helmets or carrying rifles in the streets,’ he laughs. Initiatives related to civil defense exist, but they are ‘a truly minority phenomenon,’ more comparable to earthquake or typhoon preparedness than to militarization
This is a good starting point for how media can have a significant impact on societal dynamics, and indeed, one of the most intriguing themes Lamperti discussed was how the Taiwanese public perceives media influence from mainland China.
‘There is,’ he acknowledges, ‘a certain kind of influence’, especially in the realm of media narratives, entertainment, and social media, where the linguistic proximity between Taiwan and mainland China amplifies the circulation of messages. One of the narratives currently pushed by Beijing, he notes, simplifies to something like: ‘The United States arms you and then abandons you when you really need help’, a message that finds some fertile ground today, particularly because ‘Trump has given very conflicting signals in his stance on Taiwan.’ In a moment of geopolitical uncertainty, such narratives resonate more easily.
But Lamperti urges caution when interpreting the political side of this influence. Western commentary often jumps too quickly to conclusions about the opposition, the Guomindang, and the more Beijing-friendly parties.
‘It is often thought that whenever the Guomindang expresses an opinion on the subject, it is the result of a diktat or influence from the Chinese Communist Party,’ he says. ‘In reality, this is often not the case… direct influence at the political level is yet to be proven.’
The real dynamics are more subtle and deeply embedded in Taiwan’s social structure and identity shifts, not in overt political pressure.
Between Identity and Interdependence
One of the most striking insights from Lamperti concerns the generational transformation of Taiwanese identity. He highlights that identity in Taiwan is not monolithic and varies significantly across age groups.
Older generations – those over 60 – often still see themselves as both Taiwanese and Chinese, with political distinctions rather than identity-based ones separating the two sides of the Strait.
Middle-aged generations (30-50), however, are the most polarized. They grew up in a school system that initially taught them they were Chinese, only to later be re-educated as Taiwanese. Lamperti describes them as the cohort that experienced the most abrupt identity shift: “They were told they were Chinese in all respects, and then suddenly they were told, ‘No, you are Taiwanese.’” The result is sharper reactions, firmer positions, and sometimes more radical stances – in both directions.
But the most intriguing group, Lamperti notes, is the younger generation. They overwhelmingly define themselves as Taiwanese first, with a clear sense of distance from mainland China, ‘not only politically but also in terms of identity’. Yet this does not necessarily translate into animosity: ‘This distance does not mean a negative view of China,’ he emphasises.
In fact, student exchanges and enrollment in mainland Chinese universities have increased among young Taiwanese. Travel flows are rising again. Cultural engagement continues. Identity and opportunity coexist in parallel.
Above all, Lamperti points to the long-standing economic and entrepreneurial ties that bind the two sides of the Strait. Many Taiwanese entrepreneurs played a crucial role in China’s technological rise — ‘starting with chips’, he reminds us. TSMC, often cited in Western debates as a symbol of strategic decoupling, has already operated facilities in mainland China ‘for several years.’
This interdependence is rarely acknowledged in Western commentary, which prefers narratives of confrontation. But ignoring it obscures a key dimension of cross-Strait relations: the everyday pragmatism of economic actors, who often maintain close ties regardless of political rhetoric.
Finally, Lamperti offers a particularly important corrective to common assumptions about Chinese messaging. When Xi Jinping or other CCP officials issue strong statements on Taiwan, Western media tend to interpret them as direct warnings to Taipei.
Lamperti disagrees: ‘Very often, almost always, the priority is not to send a message to the Taiwanese, but to send a message to mainland Chinese themselves.’ Statements about “historical inevitability” or “reunification” serve a domestic purpose — reinforcing legitimacy, projecting resolve, or sustaining nationalist expectations. Most Taiwanese, he notes, ‘give relatively little weight’ to these declarations. Paradoxically, Beijing’s harder rhetoric often backfires in Taiwan, pushing public opinion further away. The example of Hong Kong looms large:
‘What happened in Hong Kong was the biggest favor Beijing could have done for the current government in Taipei.’
This is why, Lamperti argues, Beijing might now be trying to show ‘a little more of the carrot than the stick,’ at least temporarily, as suggested by signals emerging from the CCP’s recent Central Committee plenum.
The One Million Dollar Question
When it comes to Taiwan’s future, we could not avoid what Lamperti himself calls ‘the classic million-dollar question’”: is Beijing moving toward military action, or is there still space for political management of the tension?
His answer is cautious but clear. ‘At the moment, I cannot say that there is a trend in that direction,’ he stresses. Nothing in the current dynamics suggests imminent conflict — though, as he reminds us, ‘things can always change.’ What truly matters, he argues, is the convergence of political timelines approaching in 2027–2028. Taiwan will hold its next presidential election, the CCP will convene its 21st Party Congress, and the U.S. will enter yet another presidential cycle. These overlapping events could ‘accelerate or slow down’ Beijing’s approach depending on who holds power in Taipei and Washington.
From Lamperti’s perspective, the most favorable scenario for Beijing right now is Taiwan’s fragmented domestic landscape. After twelve years of DPP leadership, public opinion shows signs of fatigue, and the current president governs with a relatively weak mandate, while Parliament is controlled by the opposition. This internal balance already shifts calculations in Beijing.
But the external environment matters just as much. Trump’s second presidency has reshaped the regional picture: ‘He is not interested in participating in ASEAN or APEC plenaries. He prefers bilateral dealings.’ This return to bilateralism may weaken the web of regional alliances that previously helped anchor Taiwan within a broader U.S.-led security network.
And this, Lamperti warns, carries a clear implication: ‘If the whole network unravels, Taiwan becomes “just an island” again’ – not only in geography, but in strategic positioning.
Stabilizing the Disagreement: U.S.-China Relations
Another core part of our conversation with Lamperti revolved around the broader geopolitical environment shaping China’s foreign policy – an environment where Washington and Beijing engage in a delicate dance of confrontation, signalling, and controlled pragmatism.
We began with the aftermath of the Trump-Xi meeting in Busan last October. The summit was widely framed as a breakthrough – or at least a pause – in the deterioration of U.S.-China relations. Both sides agreed to postpone key restrictive measures: China’s new export controls on rare earths and Washington’s planned additions to the Entity List. But Lamperti is quick to temper any optimism: ‘The coercive cycle is not over,’ he tells us. The postponement merely resets the clock, pulling both sides back to a status quo that was already tense and mutually unsatisfactory.
To illustrate the fragility of this supposed truce, he offers a vivid image:’It’s as if the two contenders are shaking hands in front of each other, while behind their backs they continue to hold the most lethal weapon, ready to be drawn again.’
Yet something else about the Busan meeting caught his attention - something arguably more important than the announcements themselves. Beijing not only confirmed the summit with Trump, but, unusually, immediately announced two additional meetings scheduled for 2026, including a presidential visit to China.
This departure from Beijing’s traditional diplomatic style – typically characterized by last-minute confirmations – signals something deeper. Lamperti interprets it not as a move toward reconciliation, but as part of a broader strategy to ‘stabilize the disagreement.’
In his words, both sides seem intent on controlling the escalation curve: rather than resolving structural tensions, they are trying to ensure that neither shock nor miscalculation pushes the relationship into crisis at a moment when global supply chains and domestic expectations make instability costly.
This logic of controlled pragmatism also emerges in China’s relationship with Russia, which we discussed next. Lamperti recently wrote about China’s decision to halt seaborne imports of Russian oil in response to the latest package of U.S. sanctions – a move that surprised many observers. But he insists that, in fact, ‘such a move was quite expected.’
He reminds us that in 2024, Chinese banks had already frozen several financial transactions with Russian entities out of fear of secondary sanctions. The same cautious logic applies today: state-owned oil companies ‘cannot risk being left out of financial lines that still include the U.S. dollar,’ and therefore tend to err on the side of compliance when sanctions are tightened.
Crucially, the economic impact remains limited. Only a portion of China’s Russian oil imports come by sea and involve state-owned firms. ‘A large part,’ Lamperti notes, ‘is handled by independent refineries and intermediaries,’ which can more easily absorb the risk or bypass it via alternative routes.
This means that the move affects neither Russia’s export capacity nor China’s energy security in any significant way. But what does this mean politically? Does it indicate a hidden fracture in the much-discussed Beijing–Moscow axis?
Lamperti is skeptical. While the relationship contains clear asymmetries and well-defined boundaries, he sees no rupture on the horizon: ‘The relationship does have its limits… but I don’t think this episode will cause upheaval.’
Beijing’s support for Moscow remains grounded in strategic interest, not ideological alignment. China will continue to safeguard its ties with Russia where beneficial, while refusing to cross certain red lines – particularly in areas involving financial exposure, military assistance, or direct violation of Western sanctions. As Lamperti puts it, China wants stability in relations with Russia, but ‘will not put its interests second to those of Moscow.’
Europe’s Strategic Dilemma: Rare Earths, Nexperia, and the Search for Leverage
Before turning to China’s domestic agenda, we asked Lamperti about a case that has become emblematic of Europe’s strategic vulnerability: the controversy surrounding Nexperia, the semiconductor manufacturer based in the Netherlands with Chinese majority ownership. The question was straightforward: how should Europe interpret Beijing’s recent decision to postpone new restrictions on rare earth exports, and what does this mean for Europe’s technological autonomy?
Lamperti begins by clarifying one essential point: Europe’s dependence on China in this sector is extraordinary. ‘For some rare earths,’ he notes, ‘dependence exceeds 90% or even 95%.’ These materials are indispensable for electronics, defense, and green technologies – and China’s dominance is not accidental. For decades, Western countries effectively allowed Beijing to consolidate its position because the environmental and labour costs of refining rare earths were offshored. ‘This dominant position was built with the tacit consent of the West,’ Lamperti reminds us.
This is why the recent postponement of China’s new licensing system – announced after the Trump-Xi meeting – was welcomed in Brussels. On paper, China’s export controls apply erga omnes, meaning any suspension automatically benefits the EU as well. Yet Lamperti stresses that the deeper issue remains unresolved: export controls have not disappeared, and China has been tightening other forms of oversight since 2023. In other words, Europe gained time, not relief.
Here, the Nexperia case becomes crucial. Beijing has opened the door to resuming the shipment of certain chips to the Dutch-based company, but only if The Hague rolls back the heightened supervisory measures it imposed after Washington expanded its Entity List restrictions. As Lamperti explains: ‘China is essentially saying: we can resume shipments, but we expect a step from the Dutch side.’ Until then, the freeze persists.
This episode illustrates a broader dynamic: China has built a mirror system of export controls modelled on U.S. restrictions on semiconductors. Just as Washington now requires licences for any chip containing U.S. technology sold to a Chinese firm, Beijing’s rare earth measures allow it to modulate approvals – speeding them up or slowing them down – while remaining within formal legal boundaries. As Lamperti puts it, this system grants China significant ‘strategic flexibility.’
For Europe, the lesson is uncomfortable but clear. It cannot continue relying exclusively on the state of U.S.-China relations, because any future escalation between Washington and Beijing will inevitably spill over to the EU, regardless of European preferences. This is why Lamperti believes the Nexperia case may become a test bed for a more assertive European approach: ‘Europe is trying to find negotiating leverage to conclude its own ad-hoc agreements with Beijing, without depending on how relations evolve between Washington and China.’
Whether the EU succeeds in carving out such a space remains uncertain. But as this episode shows, its room for manoeuvre will depend less on rhetoric about “strategic autonomy” and more on its ability to act collectively - something Beijing knows very well, and uses to its advantage.
China’s Next Five-Year Plan: Welfare, Consumption, and an Unfinished Transformation
When we asked about the role of welfare and domestic demand in China’s upcoming Five-Year Plan, there was just one key worded answer: caution. ‘Beijing has been promising deeper welfare reforms and a more consumption-driven growth model for years’, Lamperti reminds us, but the crucial question is not the ambition of the guidelines; it is what will actually be implemented. ‘So far, we have only seen the guidelines,’ he says, and those guidelines still need to be translated into real, measurable policies.
The challenge is that China’s long-declared shift toward domestic consumption remains, in Lamperti’s words, ‘quite slow.’ The structural obstacles are heavy: a real estate sector whose controlled deflation ‘partially got out of hand’ during the pandemic years; financial stress spilling into trust companies and provincial banks; and households hesitant to spend without greater welfare protections to reduce the need for precautionary savings. All of these factors weigh on Beijing’s push toward a stronger welfare state.
This is why the concept of dual circulation – officially introduced in 2020 – continues to underpin Beijing’s economic strategy. Internal circulation, driven by domestic consumption and technological self-sufficiency, is supposed to become the priority. External circulation, meanwhile, must remain important but be refined and ‘upgraded’ in quality. Yet Lamperti points out that the country is still far more dependent on external circulation than its rhetoric suggests. Export performance remains vital, even in the face of U.S. trade restrictions.
In this context, expanding welfare spending is not only a social policy choice but a macroeconomic necessity. Stronger welfare could, in theory, unlock the household consumption Beijing desperately needs. But Lamperti highlights the leadership’s dilemma: should China fall back on its traditional remedies – infrastructure spending, real estate, credit injections – to stabilise the economy in the short term? Or should it risk deeper, more politically sensitive reforms that might cause turbulence now but secure long-term resilience?
For now, the signals from Beijing suggest an attempt to project flexibility in economic policymaking. But Lamperti notes that this flexibility is always bounded by a clear red line: political stability comes first. Any reform that risks social or financial disruption, even if economically rational, will be approached with extreme caution. In other words, China’s next Five-Year Plan may well speak the language of transformation - but whether the country acts on that language depends on how much political risk the leadership is truly willing to tolerate.
Looking Ahead: The Next Five Years of EU-China Relations
To conclude our conversation, we asked Lamperti a final, straightforward question: What will the state of EU-China relations look like five years from now? His answer was as sober as it was revealing. ‘The biggest obstacle’, he tells us, ‘is one that sits entirely outside the Brussels-Beijing axis: the war in Ukraine. As long as the conflict continues, it will be exceedingly difficult to imagine a structural improvement in ties. European policymakers often hold an inflated view of China’s leverage over Moscow, as if Xi Jinping just needs to call Putin and tell him to end the war,’ he notes, ‘but that is more of a fairy tale. Economic dependence has grown, yes, but not to the point of granting Beijing decisive influence over the Kremlin’s strategic choices.’
This misunderstanding feeds into a deeper mutual distrust. On Beijing’s side, Lamperti senses growing skepticism toward the EU as a coherent partner. Despite the warm language that occasionally surfaces, ‘there have been no concrete steps’ from Europe to stabilize the relationship – a fact made clear during last July’s EU-China summit in Beijing, where the two sides arrived with fundamentally different expectations. While Brussels spoke almost exclusively in terms of risks, Beijing was still hoping for a reopening of negotiations on the frozen investment agreement, a sign of how differently the two actors read the state of the relationship.
According to Lamperti, this divergence means that any improvements are far more likely to occur bilaterally – between China and individual EU member states – rather than through the EU as a unified bloc. Recent diplomatic signals appear to confirm this trend: a surge of European foreign ministers visiting China, intensified exchanges with Spain, and renewed attempts by Beijing to cultivate trusted interlocutors in the Union. For China, dealing with Europe “country by country” remains not just easier, but strategically preferable.
And yet, the bigger picture remains unsettled. Europe’s quest for “strategic autonomy” collides with its internal divisions and external pressures; China’s foreign policy oscillates between caution and assertiveness; and the world around them continues to shift in unpredictable ways. Lamperti leaves us with no illusion of simplicity – only the certainty that the coming years will demand more nuance, more attention, and more willingness to look beyond surface-level narratives.
In that sense, the purpose of this new monthly series becomes even clearer. If the past decade has shown us anything, it is that relations between China, Europe, and the broader Indo-Pacific cannot be understood through headlines alone. They require informed voices, grounded perspectives, and a readiness to question easy assumptions. We hope this first conversation – and those that will follow – can contribute to that effort.