In a recent interview, Donald Trump put Taiwan back on his "business reckoning" table. Speaking to Fortune magazine, the self-proclaimed dealmaker boasted about engineering the US government's equity stake in Intel — and the windfall that followed. He made no attempt to hide his view that Taiwan's rise in semiconductors amounted to nothing less than stealing America's business.
Trump's blunt rhetoric and naked hegemonic logic offer a masterclass in "America First" thinking. They also reveal, with brutal clarity, just how little a so-called ally is worth on a businessman-president's ledger.
Trump's crowning achievement, as he tells it, was a deal he described last August as a stroke of genius. The US government converted a portion of the CHIPS and Science Act subsidies into roughly US$8.9 billion worth of equity, acquiring approximately 9.9% of Intel's shares and instantly becoming one of its largest shareholders.
Recounting the deal, Trump was every bit the merchant. He recalled telling Intel's CEO to "I said, ‘Give the country 10% ownership for free in Intel,’" — and when the CEO readily agreed, Trump's only regret was that he “should have asked for more”. What made him especially self-satisfied was that within just eight months, the investment's paper value had soared to over US$50 billion. He could barely hold back: "Did I get any credit for this? Does anyone even know I did this?" In his mind, national strategy and a successful equity investment are one and the same — the only metric that matters is profit and loss.
The backdrop to this "successful investment," however, is Intel's ongoing struggles amid fierce market competition. For Trump, America's relative decline in global chip market share has one explanation — simple and brutal. This is not the result of market forces or industrial evolution. It is a theft. And the thief is Taiwan.
Trump has complained on multiple occasions that "Taiwan stole our chip business." He has claimed that had he become president sooner, he would have slapped 100% or even 200% tariffs on imported chips, ensuring the industry never left American shores. "Intel would have all that business now," he said. "And there would be no Taiwan."
The sophistication of this narrative lies in what it erases. Decades of complex industrial development — shaped by global comparative advantage, accumulated expertise, and market forces — are reduced entirely to a story of American leaders being "stupid" and foreigners doing the "stealing."
The central irony of this performance lies exactly here. When Taiwan is needed as a critical node in the advanced technology supply chain — or as a geopolitical counterweight to Beijing — it is a "vital democratic partner." The moment American domestic firms feel competitive pressure, or a politician needs an external scapegoat for homegrown industrial problems, Taiwan transforms overnight from "partner" into "thief."
Trump's remarks ruthlessly expose the double standards of Western politicians. In his purely transactional worldview, Taiwan's value is entirely instrumental. "Support" carries an unspoken condition: your production capacity must serve my strategic interests, and ideally find its way back to my companies. "Protection" comes with a prerequisite: your existence must not cut into my bottom line. Trump pines for an era when "Intel has all that business". The core of his policy vision is nothing more than using tariffs and subsidies as chains to drag global supply chains back to American soil.
Trump's latest performance is a jarring wake-up call for anyone who has staked their future on an individual American "security commitment." His "chip regrets" make it abundantly clear: in his calculus, Taiwan's prosperity and development are only legitimate insofar as they align with American — and specifically certain American corporations' — commercial interests. Today you are condemned for "stealing business." Tomorrow, if cutting you out entirely seems more profitable, you will be discarded without a second thought.
The most tragic fate of a pawn is not simply being sacrificed. It is that in the eyes of the player, it never had independent value to begin with. It is merely a cost — one to be reassessed, or erased, at any moment.
When an American president can so casually dismiss an entire region's economic achievements as his country's "loss," any talk of "ironclad" commitments sounds hollow — and deeply ironic.
Perhaps this is the price one must foresee for willingly becoming a pawn. Your story, your livelihood, and even your security — in someone else's narrative — will always be nothing more than a deal waiting for the right price.
Beacon Institute
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