News Desk
When a Chinese-crewed cargo ship was detained by Taiwan this week after a telecom cable was severed near the Penghu Islands, it wasn’t just another glitch in the island’s fragile underwater network. It was a flare-up in a slow-burning crisis that analysts say points to a deliberate strategy by Beijing to exploit the world’s reliance on undersea infrastructure. From the Taiwan Strait to the Baltic Sea, a pattern of cable disruptions linked to Chinese vessels is raising alarms — and tough questions about how far China might go to flex its muscle in a wired world.
The latest incident, involving the Togolese-flagged Hongtai, fits into a troubling trend that’s been building for years. Take November 2024: A Chinese bulk carrier, the Yi Peng 3, was implicated in slicing through two fiber-optic cables in the Baltic Sea, knocking out connections between Finland, Sweden, and Estonia. European officials didn’t mince words, calling it possible sabotage with a Russian twist — a hybrid attack blending Beijing’s maritime reach with Moscow’s geopolitical playbook. The ship, operated by Qingdao-based Ningbo Yipeng Shipping, lingered in international waters as investigators scrambled for answers, its anchors suspiciously close to the severed lines.
This wasn’t a one-off. Just a month later, Finland was back in the headlines when the Estlink 2 power cable and four telecom lines went dark under the Gulf of Finland. Suspicion quickly fell on a Russia-linked tanker, but the proximity of Chinese vessels in the area didn’t go unnoticed. “These aren’t random accidents,” said Jens Stoltenberg, NATO’s former secretary general, in a December briefing. “You don’t mistakenly drag an anchor across multiple cables that are clearly marked on nautical charts.”
For China critics, the dots connect too neatly to ignore. Beijing’s got the means — a sprawling fleet of fishing boats, dredgers, and cargo ships, many flying flags of convenience to mask ownership. It’s got the motive, too: control over information flows and the ability to choke adversaries in a crisis. Taiwan, which China claims as its own, is a glaring target. The island relies on 14 international and 10 domestic undersea cables to stay online, a lifeline that’s been frayed by repeated outages. In 2023, the Matsu Islands lost internet for weeks after two cables were cut, with Taiwanese officials eyeing Chinese fishing boats. Earlier this year, a Cameroon-flagged freighter with Chinese ties was suspected of damaging a cable near Keelung Harbor.
Beyond Taiwan, the implications ripple out. The Baltic incidents hint at a broader game, one where China might be testing the waters — literally — to see how much it can get away with. “This is about power projection,” said Bonnie Glaser, a China expert at the German Marshall Fund. “Disrupting cables sends a message: We can hit you where it hurts, and you won’t even see us coming.” She points to Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative, which includes laying its own cables through projects like the Peace Cable linking Pakistan to France, as proof of China’s long-term play to dominate global connectivity.
The numbers back up the unease. China’s merchant fleet is the world’s largest, with over 5,000 vessels, dwarfing the U.S.’s 200-odd ships. Many operate in murky legal waters, registered in places like Togo or Panama, making accountability a nightmare. Add in the state’s tight grip on private companies, and it’s not hard to imagine a scenario where Beijing green-lights a cable-cutting spree as a low-risk jab at its rivals.
Critics say the West’s been asleep at the switch. NATO’s stepped up patrols in the Baltic, but Taiwan’s pleas for more international support have mostly gone unanswered. “The U.S. and its allies need to treat this as a national security priority,” argued Senator Marco Rubio in a recent statement, echoing calls to map and protect cable routes more aggressively. Meanwhile, China denies any wrongdoing, with its foreign ministry dismissing the Baltic accusations as “speculative nonsense” last fall.
Still, the skepticism runs deep. Cables don’t just snap on their own, and the odds of “accidental” cuts piling up near Chinese ships strain belief. For Taiwan, each incident feels like a rehearsal for something bigger — a blockade, maybe, or a full-on invasion. In the Baltic, it’s a wake-up call about hybrid threats in a world where Russia and China increasingly share the stage.
The Hongtai’s crew might claim it was a fluke, and Beijing will likely stick to its line that these are isolated mishaps. But as the cables keep breaking, the message is clear: China’s reach runs deep, and the world’s digital arteries are more exposed than ever.
