In the bustling streets of Taipei, where election posters compete for attention and candidates shake hands at crowded markets, a quieter and more insidious battle is unfolding. The upcoming mayoral election is not just a contest of policies and personalities—it is also a target for foreign interference. According to an official familiar with China’s so-called “united front” tactics, Beijing would likely attempt to influence the race not through traditional campaign machinations, but through a sophisticated disinformation campaign designed to distort public perception. The official, who spoke on condition of anonymity, explained that the old methods of mobilizing Chinese immigrant communities have become more difficult, which means the frontline of interference has shifted into the digital realm. With fewer Chinese immigrants running in this year’s election and no large-scale nationwide campaigns to exploit, the more pressing concern is cognitive warfare—the battle for the minds and emotions of Taiwanese voters. This is a threat that does not announce itself with marching boots or propaganda rallies. Instead, it arrives through the quiet algorithms of social media, the convincing smile of a friendly commenter, or the startling realism of a manipulated video. For the average voter, the danger is not always visible, but it is very real.
To understand this shifting landscape, one must first appreciate the traditional vector of Chinese influence: the organized mobilization of Chinese immigrant spouses. For years, Beijing relied on grassroots networks among Chinese nationals who had married Taiwanese citizens and settled on the island. These communities were seen as bridges—or levers—for shaping political outcomes. Yet this year, the picture looks different. The official noted that only twenty-five Chinese immigrant spouses registered to run in the local elections next month. Among them, four failed to submit proof that they had forfeited their original household registration, a legal requirement for candidacy. Seven others had submitted that proof less than ten years ago, which also made them ineligible to run for office. These are not just administrative footnotes; they reflect a tightening of rules and a more cautious political environment. For the individuals involved, these requirements represent a bureaucratic maze that can determine whether a dream of public service becomes a reality or an embarrassment. But for Beijing, the scarcity of viable Chinese immigrant candidates means that its traditional ground game is losing its grip. It is harder to orchestrate bloc voting or community pressure when the people who would lead such efforts are legally barred or socially wary of being seen as instruments of a foreign power.
A recent legal case illustrates both the reach and the limits of China’s united front operations. In August, a Chinese immigrant named Xu Chunying was sentenced to seven years in prison. Her crimes included fraud, helping Chinese nationals illegally enter Taiwan, and acting at Beijing’s direction to influence Taiwanese politics. Xu was not a shadowy figure operating in the dark; she was the secretary-general of the Cross-Strait Marriage and Family Service Alliance, an organization that presented itself as a support network for cross-strait families. Its dissolution by the Ministry of the Interior in May was a significant blow. For the official, Xu’s sentence and the disbanding of her organization make it much harder for Beijing to mobilize Chinese spouses to influence the election. The message is clear: the legal system is watching, and those who cross the line into unlawful political meddling will face consequences. Yet this is not a cause for complacency. The official warned that China could pivot to even more dangerous tactics, particularly the use of deepfake videos to mislead the public and target specific candidates. Imagine a voter watching a video that appears to show a mayoral candidate making a racist remark or accepting a bribe. The footage looks authentic, but it is entirely fabricated. By the time fact-checkers debunk it, the emotional damage is done. Doubt has been planted, trust has been eroded, and the candidate’s reputation has been stained—all within a matter of hours.
This is the essence of cognitive warfare, and it is the primary threat that authoritarian states pose to democratic elections. The official stressed that the danger is not organized voting by local groups or influence over specific communities. Those are measurable, traceable, and ultimately manageable within the framework of law. The real danger is the ability to alter public perception over a short period through a flood of disinformation. Social media platforms become battlefields where bots amplify messages, fake accounts pose as ordinary citizens, and algorithms feed emotional, divisive content to users who are already primed to believe it. The official noted that if China actually mobilizes people to interfere in the election, authorities would investigate and deal with them in accordance with the law. But the challenge with cognitive warfare is that it is often impossible to pin down a single culprit. A bot farm in another country can generate thousands of posts, while domestic accounts may unknowingly share them. By the time the deception is exposed, the election may already be over. This is why the official stresses the need to watch for such attacks in the days leading up to the vote. The final stretch of any election is vulnerable; voters are tired, attention spans are short, and the appetite for sensational stories is high. A well-timed deepfake or a viral smear can hijack the entire narrative.
The human element of this threat is easy to forget when we talk about bots and algorithms, but it is crucial. Behind every suspicious account is a person scrolling through their feed, feeling anger or anxiety, and sharing content without verification. The official’s warning is, at its core, a call for human vigilance. It is a reminder that democracy depends not only on institutions and laws, but on the critical thinking of ordinary citizens. When a voter encounters a shocking video or a scandalous accusation, the first instinct may be to react. The healthier response is to pause, question the source, and seek confirmation from trustworthy outlets. This is not just about protecting a candidate or a party; it is about preserving the integrity of the entire democratic process. The authorities have their role to play—investigating illegal interference, punishing those who collaborate with foreign powers, and working with social media platforms to remove malicious content. But the ultimate defense lies in the public’s resilience. A population that refuses to be manipulated is the strongest barrier against cognitive warfare. The official’s comments are not an accusation against all Chinese immigrants or cross-strait families; rather, they are a sober assessment of a strategic threat that requires a collective response.
As Taipei prepares to go to the polls, the atmosphere is a mix of excitement and unease. The candidates are preparing their final pitches, the newspapers are filling with endorsements, and the social media platforms are buzzing with activity. In the midst of this, the official’s warning serves as a necessary reminder that elections are not just local events; they are also fronts in a larger geopolitical struggle. Beijing has not abandoned its ambitions, but it is adapting its methods. The dissolution of the Cross-Strait Marriage and Family Service Alliance, the conviction of Xu Chunying, and the reduced pool of eligible Chinese immigrant candidates all show that Taiwan’s legal system can push back. Yet the fight is far from over. The United Front does not give up; it simply evolves. The next phase may be less visible, but it is no less dangerous. The official’s final words echo like a warning to every voter: be alert, be skeptical, and do not let a fabricated reality steal your vote. This is not a call to fear, but to awareness. In the end, the best response to disinformation is truth, and the best defense against manipulation is a society that values facts. The Taipei mayoral election will decide who leads the city for the next four years. But the deeper contest is about whether democracy can withstand the subtle, incessant assault of cognitive warfare. By understanding the threat, staying informed, and refusing to be deceived, the people of Taipei can ensure that their choice remains their own.