Since 2020, the Baltic states have distanced themselves from the People’s Republic of China (or simply China). They have left the 17 + 1 format for cooperation between China and Central and Eastern Europe and imposed restrictions on Chinese investment. However, one country, Lithuania, has also launched a political offensive against China. It has accused China of violating human rights in Xinjiang and conducting fraudulent elections in Hong Kong, and allowed Taiwan to set up the Taiwanese – not Taipei – Representative Office in Lithuania.
Why would a small country in Eastern Europe challenge a great power in East Asia? Most commentators point to strategic and economic reasons: Lithuania has benefited little from China’s economic initiatives and needs to prove its loyalty to the United States as the guarantor of its security. However, that’s not the full story; Lithuania’s policy toward China also reflects its contradictory national identity.
On the one hand, Lithuania is an heir to an empire, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which ruled over today’s Ukraine and Belarus. On the other hand, it is a small Baltic state that was annexed by the Soviet Union during World War II and regained its independence at the end of the Cold War. As a result, Lithuanians support other peoples that want to determine their own fate and – not always consistently – believe that they should promote their values “from Belarus to Taiwan.”
Dueling Identities
Unlike Estonia and Latvia, Lithuania has a long history of independent statehood. From the 13th to the 16th century, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania ruled over a vast territory that included today’s Belarus and Ukraine. According to President Valdas Adamkus (1998-2009), this made Lithuania the “center of gravity” in a region extending from the Baltic to the Black Sea. Lithuania also presented an alternative to the autocratic government in the Principality of Moscow. The Grand Duke enjoyed considerable powers, especially in foreign policy, but had to consult with the nobility, who gathered in the Seimas. In the 16th century, Lithuania formed a union with Poland, but kept its own army, laws, and treasury until it was incorporated into Russia in the 18th century.
As a result of this historical experience, the Lithuanian elites believe that they should export their ideas and practices – the liberty of the nobility and the Catholic faith in the early modern era; democracy and human rights today – to other countries. More actively than Estonia and Latvia, Lithuania participated in the EU’s Eastern Partnership (2009-), which tried to bring the former Soviet republics closer to Europe through economic cooperation and technical aid. Lithuania also supported the Maidan revolution in Ukraine in 2014, sending financial and legal experts to advise the new government. Finally, it funded and trained Belarusian NGOs and offered asylum to opposition politicians who fled the country after the rigged presidential election of 2020.
These policies were not without critics. Although she would later change her mind, President Dalia Grybauskaitė (2009-2019) complained: “We make friends with beggars and confront countries that make decisions” (a reference to Russia). Moreover, Lithuania’s policies did not work: Ukraine became more corrupt and dysfunctional, while Belarus became more authoritarian and moved closer to Russia.
Before the 2020 parliamentary election, young politicians in the conservative Homeland Union-Lithuanian Christian Democrats (TS-LKD) decided to do something that would show “real ambition.” The key figure here was Gabrielius Landsbergis, the grandson of Vytautas Landsbergis, the first leader of independent Lithuania, who wanted to make his own mark in history (he would become the next minister of foreign affairs). Equally conscious of his family’s legacy was Žygimantas Pavilionis, the son of a leading Soviet-era intellectual, who had unsuccessfully run for president (he would be elected the chairman of the Seimas’ Committee on Foreign Affairs). The homo novus in the group was Mantas Adomėnas, an MP who had been expelled from the party for taking bribes and sought to relaunch his career (he would be appointed Landsbergis’s deputy).
The three men came up with a new foreign policy formula: to position Lithuania as a critic of China and an advocate for Taiwan. This would fit with the U.S. policy of containing China and give Lithuania an issue on which it could claim leadership in the EU.
To sell their new foreign policy to the public, TS-LKD leaders argued that Taiwan was to China what Lithuania had been to the Soviet Union: a small and democratic country that wants to chart its own course against the wishes of a large and authoritarian neighbor. In 2019, Pavilionis and likeminded MPs visited Taiwan. When they returned, they proposed establishing formal ties with Taiwan. They stressed the material benefits of doing so – Lithuania would learn how to strengthen its national defense and develop high-tech industries – but also noted that Taiwan “is a small state with a similar fate to ours, fighting every day for the right to live in a democratic system, protecting its identity and the thousand-year legacy of Chinese history.”
In an article published before the 2020 election, Adomėnas and Landsbergis wrote that China’s attempts to obliterate Hong Kong’s autonomy and subjugate Taiwan were also relevant for Lithuania: “If we return to the world where international law is disregarded and free states give in to aggressors, it will be a world all-too-familiar to us – the world of Ribbentrop-Molotov pacts, which lead to war, to crimes against humanity [and] to the occupations of free states.” In an open letter to President Gitanas Nausėda (2019-), a cautious technocrat, Adomėnas, Landsbergis, Pavilionis, and others argued that supporting Taiwan was Lithuania’s moral obligation: “[W]hen Lithuania declared its independence from the Soviet Union, the first country to express official diplomatic support for the still fragile statehood of Lithuania was small Iceland… [N]ow Lithuania [must] demonstrate … its commitment to freedom and democracy by expressing similar support for Taiwan.”
In their pro-Taiwanese activism, the conservatives were joined by Lithuanian liberals. The “old” liberals – the Liberal Movement (LS), a fixture of Lithuanian politics since the 2000s – thought that Lithuania should distance itself from China. In particular, they opposed leasing Lithuania’s main port of Klaipėda to a Chinese company. In 2019, however, a group of young liberals led by Aušrinė Armonaitė, who would become the next minister of economy and innovation, left LS and founded the Freedom Party (LP).
At the invitation of the Taiwanese parliament, Armonaitė visited Taiwan and came back with gushing impressions. A business consultant by profession, Armonaitė was awed by Taiwan’s economic progress, saying, “Taiwan is a liberal China with enormous achievements in economics and innovation, and the cities of Taiwan look like something from a movie about the distant future.” However, Taiwan also reminded her of Lithuania: “[D]espite its difficult history and long struggle against communism, the country has preserved democracy and cherishes human rights.”
The LP’s election program describes China as a “red nationalist country,” where the Uyghurs and other ethnic minorities are subject to surveillance, detention, and reeducation – policies aimed at establishing total state control over the individual. By contrast, Taiwan is a free society that respects the right of all people to live as they please. Therefore, LP “would support Taiwan’s (ROC’s) search for recognition of its independence” – a more radical position than TS-LKD’s. The coalition agreement between the conservative and liberal parties states that Lithuania “will defend those fighting for freedom around the world, from Belarus to Taiwan.” The opening of the Taiwanese Representative Office was a logical next step.
Of course, politicians come and go: The current government is unpopular and new elections to the Seimas will be held in 2024. Taiwanese diplomats worry that the next government, most likely a coalition of social democratic and agrarian parties, will ask them to pack their bags. However, this is unlikely because the Lithuanian public opinion has turned against China.
According to a 2022 survey conducted by the Bratislava-based think tank GLOBSEC, 42.7 percent of Lithuanians compared with 24.1 percent of Estonians and 17.5 percent of Latvians think that China presents a danger to their country. Few Balts – between 6.7 and 8 percent – believe that the Chinese regime could be an inspiration for their country. Finally, 41.2 percent of Lithuanians but only 20.6 percent of Estonians and 12 percent of Latvians think that the Chinese government threatens their identity and values.
These data should be interpreted with care. The wording of the questions is not neutral: China is referred to as “the Chinese government” or “the Chinese regime.” The interviews were conducted after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, so Lithuanians may project their negative attitudes toward Russia onto China, which has provided diplomatic support to Moscow. However, if the results hold up, we are witnessing not only growing fear of China’s power and skepticism about the Chinese political model, but also a cultural conflict between China and Lithuania. In a short time, China has become Lithuania’s “other.”
Officials at the Chinese foreign ministry profess to be baffled by this. In the joint communique establishing diplomatic relations between China and Lithuania, China “supports the legal government of Lithuania in its efforts to safeguard state independence … and [its] application … for a full membership at the United Nations.” In exchange, Lithuania “recognizes the government of the People’s Republic of China as the sole legal government of China” and “undertakes not to establish official relations with or engage in official contacts with Taiwan.” China has kept its promise, while Lithuania – Chinese officials argue – has not.
Likewise, China respects Lithuania’s post-World War II borders, including the return of its capital, Vilnius, which was part of Poland, and the city of Klaipėda, which belonged to Germany. Why, they complain, does Lithuania support separatism in Hong Kong, which China leased to Britain at gunpoint in the 19th century and reclaimed in accordance with international law in the 1990s?
Chinese officials also point out that at the United Nations, China has abstained on Russian proposals to censure Lithuania for its alleged discrimination against the Russians and the Poles. They say Lithuania could show similar consideration for China’s difficulties in integrating its ethnic minorities, including the Uyghurs. Instead of picking fights with China on domestic political issues, they argue, Lithuania should pursue opportunities for mutually beneficial economic cooperation.
This may be true. However, national identity – complex, contradictory, and manipulated by the elites, but nonetheless real – sets the context in which foreign policy is made. Since China is seen as a threat to Lithuanian identity, and vice versa, restoring good relations will not be easy.
Conclusion: A Long Battle
Lithuania’s policy toward China reflects its contradictory national identity: It is a small state proud of its independence and a post-imperial nation eager to assume leadership. More actively than Estonia and Latvia, Lithuania participated in the EU’s Eastern Partnership, which tried to reduce Russian influence in the former Soviet republics. When this initiative failed, the conservative-liberal government elected in 2020 decided to position Lithuania as a critic of China and an advocate for Taiwan. This would give Lithuania an issue on which it could claim moral authority in the EU and gain recognition from the United States.
To persuade the Lithuanian public, however, the government argued that Taiwan was to China what Lithuania had once been to the Soviet Union: a small country that wants to determine its fate in the face of outside coercion. Remarkably, it has succeeded. Unlike Estonians and Latvians, Lithuanians now consider China a danger to their country and a threat to their identity.
Of course, China sees things differently. It wants to complete its national reunification that began in 1949 after a “century of humiliation,” when foreign powers divided the country into spheres of influence and seized some territories, such as Taiwan, outright. As a result, the battle between Lithuania and China – the “center of gravity” and the Middle Kingdom, the “brave country” and the country that “dares to think and act”– is not likely to end soon.
This article is adapted from Aleksander Lust’s journal article “In Dire Straits: The Baltic States between Mainland China and Taiwan,” published in Asian Perspective, Vol. 48, No. 2 (Spring 2024), 351-378.