Originally published by Pacific Forum, this article is republished with permission.
When Lithuania let Taiwan open a diplomatic office in Vilnius in 2021, China froze trade overnight. Goods were blocked, supply chains snarled and European firms with Lithuanian ties faced pressure. The message was clear: a red line had been crossed. But what line, exactly? Beijing never said.
That is the logic of strategic ambiguity.
China has dellineated four red lines that anchor its foreign polilcy:
- Taiwan,
- democracy and human rights,
- its political system and
- the right to development.
But those lines are rarely clear. They shift, vanish and reappear without warning. This is not a flaw; it’s a feature. And it’s a strategy that demands closer attention in the Indo-Pacific.
Ambiguity as strategy
Ambiguity means keeping thresholds vague, language flexible and reactions unpredictable. It lets China adjust its stance without appearing inconsistent. More importantly, it deters others. Foreign actors must weigh the risk of crossing a line they cannot see.
This is not new. The US also uses ambiguity on Taiwan. But Beijing applies the tactic more broadly. Its red lines cover sovereignty, values and development. And they come with consequences.
For Beijing, ambiguity offers both offensive and defensive advantages. It allows China to recalibrate its posture in real time, applying pressure where needed while walking back without losing face. It also helps maintain internal cohesion by signaling strength to domestic audiences without committing to risky action.
Enforcement without clarity
What makes China’s ambiguity work is enforcement. It uses legal, economic, military and diplomatic tools selectively and powerfully.
Legally, it relies on vague laws like the Anti-Secession Law and the Anti-Foreign Sanctions Law. Terms like “acts of secession” or “interference” can stretch to fit many cases. That is the point. Newer statutes, like the Foreign Relations Law, expand the toolbox. These laws often lack precise definitions. They give Beijing maximum interpretive space to act when it wants and to refrain when it does not.
Economically, it uses trade bans, customs delays and unofficial boycotts. When South Korea hosted a US missile defense system, Chinese tourists vanished and Korean businesses were hit. Australia faced barley and wine sanctions for calling for a Covid inquiry. China rarely announces these moves. The silence keeps the threat alive.
Military actions follow the same pattern. The PLA conducts drills near Taiwan, enters disputed waters and flies into contested airspace. Sometimes it escalates. Other times, it retreats. The choreography is meant to keep adversaries guessing. A joint naval patrol near Japan may be paired with conciliatory diplomatic visits elsewhere. The ambiguity lets Beijing strike multiple tones at once.
Diplomatically, Beijing summons ambassadors, fires off sharp rhetoric and lets loose the state media. “Wolf warrior” diplomacy raises tensions without drawing clear lines. The ambiguity tests resolve and gauges reactions.
This system creates the appearance of control without committing to fixed outcomes. It is designed to shape the behavior of other states by increasing the cost of uncertainty.
A system of influence
Ambiguity is not just a deterrent. It is a method of control. By making others guess, China limits their strategic choices. By reacting selectively, it maintains deniability. This is not random. It is integrated statecraft.
While other countries also shift their red lines like Russia in Ukraine, China’s scope is wider. It blends politics, economics and security into one strategic system.
And the lines are ideological as well as geopolitical. Western criticisms of Chinese human rights practices, support for Hong Kong protests or bans on Chinese tech firms are often framed in Beijing as red-line violations. But there is no unified threshold for what triggers a reaction. That uncertainty compels self-censorship. It discourages bold policy choices.
The result is a sophisticated ecosystem of influence. One that punishes selectively, forgives tactically and always retains the upper hand by never revealing the rules.
Risks and costs
But ambiguity cuts both ways.
It raises the risk of miscalculation. When others cannot see the red lines, they might cross them unintentionally. That can escalate fast.
It also hurts policymaking. Without knowing what triggers Beijing, governments become risk-averse. They avoid policies that might offend, even when national interests demand them. That erodes sovereignty.
For businesses, the uncertainty is chilling. A symbolic gesture such as hosting a Taiwanese official, a tweet or a t-shirt can trigger major losses.
In the Indo-Pacific, ambiguity deters some but fuels arms races, hedging and alliances. States prepare for the worst because they cannot tell where the line is.
It can also lead to fragmentation of alliances. US allies may not agree on how to respond to Chinese provocations if they interpret the red lines differently. That divergence can weaken collective responses and embolden further testing by Beijing.
There is also a cost to China. Overuse of ambiguity can create a credibility gap. If others begin to see China’s red lines as performative rather than firm, the deterrent power declines. The constant calibration can look like indecision. That opens China to counter-pressure.
Case studies in ambiguity
Taiwan arms sales are a prime example. The US sells weapons to Taiwan regularly. Sometimes Beijing reacts with fury. Other times, it shrugs. That inconsistency is the point. Washington cannot predict the cost.
Lithuania faced China’s full wrath over a name: the “Taiwanese Representative Office.” Beijing did not just target Lithuania; it blocked companies with any Lithuanian ties. A minor diplomatic move turned into a global lesson.
In the South China Sea, China claims “indisputable sovereignty” but will not say exactly what that means. It builds islands, harasses ships and denies wrongdoing. The line is enforced without ever being drawn.
Another example is the 2023 sanctions on US defense firms. Ostensibly triggered by arms sales, they were announced months later, during a political moment when China needed to appear strong. The delay was deliberate.
In each case, ambiguity allows China to set the tempo and scope of enforcement, giving it the strategic initiative.
Responding smartly
What can others do?
First, stop demanding clarity. Ambiguity is the point. Instead, prepare for scenarios. Use war games and red-team exercises to explore responses. Build back channels to avoid escalation.
Second, push for regional norms. Forums like ASEAN, the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (“Quad”) and APEC can help set expectations. Even if China resists formal rules, informal ones shape behavior over time.
Third, businesses need sharper political risk analysis. Watch laws, but also speeches, trends and public sentiment. Sometimes, a party slogan can predict more than a policy paper.
Governments can also develop shared playbooks. When Beijing targets one state, coordinated support from others can raise the cost of coercion. A multilateral approach makes red lines harder to exploit.
Above all, staying calm matters. Not every rhetorical flare-up signals imminent escalation. Sometimes it’s performance. The key is to distinguish noise from intent.
The game of ghost lines
China’s red lines are not lines at all. They’re zones of ambiguity – sometimes visible, often not. But they are enforced with powerful tools.
In the Indo-Pacific, where competition and mistrust run high, strategic ambiguity will keep shaping the landscape. The real challenge isn’t just seeing the red lines. It’s learning to operate smartly without ever knowing exactly where they are.
Understanding the logic behind this ambiguity and crafting thoughtful, adaptive responses is essential for any nation hoping to stay stable, sovereign and strategically relevant in a world where the rules are written in pencil.
Tang Meng Kit is a graduate of the MSc in International Relations program at the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), Nanyang Technological University (NTU), Singapore. His research interests encompass cross-Strait relations, Taiwanese politics and policy issues, as well as aerospace technology. He currently works as an aerospace engineer.
