CORNELL'S REUNION IS CHINA'S NIGHTMARE

By JAMES WALSH

Controversies over guest speakers on American campuses are nothing new, but rarely does one become an international incident. From the moment last year that Cornell University asked a distinguished graduate to address an alumni gathering, policymakers for the U.S. and China knew they had a first-class hot potato on their hands. The invitee was Taiwan President Lee Teng-hui, whose government is unrecognized by most of the world thanks to China's strenuous efforts to keep it isolated. Could Lee visit a onetime ally that cut off relations 16 years ago? The issue seemed strictly academic as long as Washington upheld its policy of barring top-level Taiwan officials from the country. Then last week, Bill Clinton backed down: under pressure from Congress, the President granted Lee a visa. The hot potato dropped.

Beijing's protests were unusually fierce. Foreign Minister Qian Qichen summoned the U.S. Ambassador, J. Stapleton Roy, for a diplomatic dressing down. As Defense Minister Chi Haotian's scheduled visit this month to the U.S. was postponed, the People's Daily thundered, "We demand that the American government rescind this wrongful decision." Speculation about reprisals was the buzz of both capitals. Possible countermeasures discussed range from China's cancellation of Boeing jetliner purchases to the still unlikely option of closing the U.S. consulate in Chengdu, capital of the hinterland province Sichuan and a doorway to restless Tibet.

To mainland communists, Taiwan's simple existence as an offshore rival under the rule of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist heirs is an open rebuke of their legitimacy and a thumb in their eye -- even as they pursue detente with the island's regime and ardently court Taiwan investment and trade. China's leaders are wondering whether Clinton was signaling both a reversal of 23 years of Sino-American rapprochement and a precedent for other countries, including Japan, to follow. A Western diplomat in Beijing remarked, "I think what is of concern to them is less the specific development than where such a development could lead."

The White House's defense was -- well, defensive. Clinton's apologia basically was Congress made me do it. In truth, the heat from Capitol Hill could no longer be ignored. Although pressure was strongest from Republican conservatives who swept congressional elections last November, sentiments in favor of Lee were bipartisan: nonbinding resolutions for the visa passed both the House and Senate by nearly unanimous votes. While Clinton's advisers refused at first to budge on the issue, they began worrying about a Republican bill that would force their hands and, in effect, remove China policy from presidential control. In their view, a pre-emptive cave-in was the better part of valor.

Under terms of his privilege, Lee's June 9 visit to Cornell's campus in the upstate New York town of Ithaca will remain the homecoming of a private traveler to his alma mater. That suits Lee well enough. A 1968 Cornell graduate in agriculture and economics, the Taiwan leader has lately made "private" excursions abroad the calling card of his quietly persistent efforts to break the island's isolation. Last year his golfing tours of some Southeast Asian countries, mixed with unofficial summiteering at the 19th hole, earned his style the label of vacation diplomacy.

But the tactic has succeeded only up to a point. Though any number of nations would dearly love to mend fences with increasingly democratic and prosperous Taiwan, whose $98 billion nest egg of foreign-exchange reserves is the world's second largest (after Japan's), they are more concerned about alienating China, with its strategic clout, fast-growing economy and 1.2 billion people. Japan faced a similar quandary just last year. When Taiwan let it be known that Lee would like to attend privately the Asian Games in Hiroshima, Beijing loosed such a storm of threats and objections that Lee backed off-though Japan did admit a Taiwan Deputy Premier.

Even worse for Lee, in a way, was the snub he received earlier last year when his private jet stopped in Hawaii to refuel. U.S. State Department officials warned him beforehand that he would have to stay on the plane overnight and could not set foot on American soil. Regrets for that humiliation may have played some role in a U.S. policy change last September. Among other things, it allowed one-day transits in America for top Taiwanese officials.

Now Lee will visit for six days. One Administration official complained last week that Congress's meddling may yet blunder through the China shop with more serious damage. He wondered, "What will we do when the Premier of Taiwan requests a visit next, and members of Congress begin inviting Taiwan officials to meet them not in Ithaca but in Washington?" Another Republican initiative calls for sending a special envoy to Tibet, which China invaded in 1951 and forcibly annexed. Impugning Beijing's right to rule those explosive highlands, the official pointed out, "would really drive the Chinese wild."

At the same time, a senior Clinton Administration official was convinced that granting Lee a visa, properly limited, was the right thing to do. "President Lee's stopover in Hawaii was humiliating for everyone," he said, adding that many White House aides concluded that barring Lee from Cornell "goes against American values." The issue is agonizing because Taiwan, after living under authoritarian one-party rule for 40 years, has come of age democratically since 1987. Dissent is open, and opposition parties are strong. Taipei has also disavowed its claim to be the sole rightful government of all China.

The people of Taiwan are proud of their achievements and wonder why the world should continue to cold-shoulder them. Lee, a popular and scholarly democrat, believes his "private" diplomacy can help win them a measure of dignity. Says political scientist Wei Yung, a Nationalist legislator and former Cabinet minister: "If you knock on the door gently many times and nobody answers, you have to make a lot of noise to attract attention." Lee's knocking has generated a lot of noise. Forty-nine years after Mao Zedong's victory, quiet Ithaca has become a battlefront in the unending Chinese civil war.

--REPORTED BY SANDRA BURTON/WASHINGTON, JAIME A. FLORCRUZ/ BEIJING AND DONALD SHAPIRO/TAIPEI

With reporting by SANDRA BURTON/WASHINGTON, JAIME A. FLORCRUZ/BEIJING AND DONALD SHAPIRO/TAIPEI