This is the first of two articles on Taiwan’s independence movement.

FREEDOM IS ON THE MARCH. So said President George W. Bush after the U.S. and its allies toppled the less-than-freedom-loving governments of Afghanistan and Iraq. This public rhetoric struck many across Asia as hopelessly hypocritical. Why, for example, did the Americans choose to liberate Baghdad and not Rangoon? Why does the U.S. try to convince the world that it supports democracy, human rights and self-determination, many have wondered, when it intervenes only when its interests are at stake? As America celebrated its independence from Britain this week with parades and fireworks, some wondered how it can ignore and even discourage the growing independence movement in Taiwan and side with one-big-party China. The answers to the Taiwan Question are complicated—and explosive. After all, fireworks were invented by the Chinese.

North Korea notwithstanding, one of the greatest security issues in East Asia remains the literal tug-of-war over the “other China,” as in the Republic of China, Taiwan. Many inhabitants of the scrappy little island, located off the southeastern coast of the China, already see themselves as part of a sovereign nation, with an advanced economy and a full-fledged democracy. “We must make it clear to China that Taiwan is not just an island,” Taiwanese Vice President Annette Lu has said. “It has 23 million well-educated people with a well-developed sense of democracy. Don’t underestimate their collective strength.” The People’s Republic of China, on the other hand, considers Taiwan to be a “renegade province” that will be reunified with China by force if necessary.

Why is it so important for China to stand firm on the issue of Taiwanese independence? Why did the Chinese government find it necessary to pass the anti-secession law in March 2005, which promised a military reprisal if Taiwan officially declares its independence? Two reasons: Tibet and Xinjiang. If China were to allow Taiwan to “secede,” no matter what the reason, what would stop Tibet, Xinjiang, and other regions with large minority populations from making similar demands? Sure, there’s a heavy Chinese military presence in these areas that doesn’t exist in Taiwan, but it would still make China’s “occupation” of these lands a bit harder to justify. Although China’s saber-rattling may appear odious and obstinate to some, the regime’s internal logic is quite sound and perfectly in line with its national interests.

Last year, when China enacted the anti-secession law, it caused widespread anti-China backlash in Taiwan, not to mention a few jitters in Washington. Even though America cannot recognize Taiwan’s independence without antagonizing China, it has acted as Taiwan’s patron and protector for more than 60 years. President Bush himself said in 2001 that America would go to war to prevent China from conquering Taiwan, and President Bill Clinton sent two aircraft carriers toward the Taiwan Strait in 1996 as the Chinese conducted missile tests near the island.

Given all of its military entanglements abroad, why would America risk war with China over a faraway island no bigger than the size of Maryland? Well, for starters, instability in the region has a direct impact on U.S. national security and economic interests. The U.S. and Japan have both made it clear that unlike Vegas, what happens in the Taiwan Strait, doesn’t stay in the Taiwan Strait. America’s credibility as a security partner would be severely damaged if it were to back down to China. Right now, maintaining the status quo seems to be in everyone’s interests. But given the volatile nature of Taiwan-China relations, a crisis may arise that no amount of diplomacy can stem. And America’s commitment to promoting democracy—and defending Taiwan—will face its greatest challenge.

So how did this political quandary arise in the first place? How did Ilha Formosa, a 17th-century enclave for pirates and Ming loyalists end up becoming a flashpoint for a potential war between the U.S. and China? Well, it began in 1683, when a Qing Dynasty emperor had enough of marauding pirates and decided to claim Taiwan as Chinese territory. It had been a Dutch outpost and before that, it belonged to the indigenous people of Austronesian or Malay-Polynesian descent who lived there for thousands of years. But the emperor didn’t actually get around to making the island a formal province until 1885, by which time, the Qing Dynasty was in decline. Ten years later, the Chinese and Japanese engaged in a battle royale over whose turn it is to dominate Korea. China lost badly and had to cede Taiwan to Japan in perpetuity under the Treaty of Shimonseki. Following Japan’s defeat in the Second World War, Taiwan reverted back to China, which at the time was still nominally ruled by Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang (KMT), or Nationalist Party.

By 1945, with Japan out of the picture, the Nationalists and Chinese Communists resumed their civil war, with the Soviets backing Chairman Mao and the Americans lavishing money and weapons upon Generalissimo Chiang’s army. When the Nationalists lost to the Communists, they fled to Taiwan in 1949, taking the entire Republic with them. Establishing his new capital in Taipei, Chiang Kai-shek ruled with an iron hand, even as he plotted to re-take the Chinese mainland from the Communists “rebels.” Despite his obvious shortcomings, the Americans had no choice but to back him. The Cold War had already flared into a shooting war on the Korean pennisula, where the U.S. lost more than 50,000 troops to the Chinese and North Koreans. In 1954, the Americans signed a mutual defense treaty with Taiwan (which lasted until Jimmy Carter followed Richard Nixon’s lead on China).

During Chiang’s long reign of “White Terror,” the Taiwanese people lived under draconian laws in constant fear of the secret police. Large numbers of political prisoners were arrested and “disappeared,” in the Argentinean sense. But since then, much has changed. Taiwan has emerged from its authoritarian past. Martial law was lifted in 1987. Direct elections were held for the first time in 1994. In short order, Taiwan has become an island of shrewd capitalists and feisty democrats. It has also become a test case for America’s pro-democracy posturing.

Last September, during a research trip to Taipei, I exited the subway by the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial and gazed out onto the square. Tens of thousands of demonstrators had converged upon the area, preparing to march. They had gathered a stone’s throw away from the Nationalist Party (aka Kuomintang aka KMT) headquarters to protest the KMT’s boycott of the arms procurement bill that would allow Taiwan to bolster its defenses with submarines and anti-missile batteries from the U.S. The KMT said the bill would lead to an arms race. The protesters disagreed. They waved small flags, all belonging to groups that supported Taiwanese independence. There were green-and-white flags for the ruling Democratic Progressive Party. The rising sun flags of the 908 Taiwan Republic Campaign. The orange-and-brown flags of the Taiwan Solidarity Union, formed in 2001 by former President Lee Tung-Hui. Its mascot was the ant—not the most ferocious symbol they could have chosen and one that unfortunately underscored Taiwan’s position in the face of China’s formidable armed forces.

The demonstration was boisterous and passionate, but wholly peaceful. I stood on the sidewalk, reflecting upon the challenges that lay before Taiwan. It is difficult for an American to fully comprehend how it must have felt to be a citizen of this beleaguered island at that point in time. With the SARS crisis looming, your country is still barred from joining the World Health Organization because it’s not officially recognized as a nation state (thanks, China). Your athletes cannot march in the Olympics under the Taiwanese flag. China conducts missile tests off your coastline to express its anger when your leader speaks at an American university—a visit that required an act of Congress. Whether you are pro-independence, pro-unification or pro-status-quo, it must be unnerving to be on bad terms with your neighbor to the north, especially when it happens to be more than 250 times your size.

So what’s a Taiwanese freedom-fighter to do?

Look for Part II of “Taiwan’s Independent Streak” next week, when the author takes a look at the rise of a Taiwanese identity and the extreme sport known as Taiwanese politics.

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Julia Famularo holds a masters degree in East Asian Studies from Columbia University. Her research focuses on the modern political histories of China, Taiwan and Tibet.