China’s Military Threats Grow. so Does Taiwan’s Civilian Training.

Getting press access to Taiwan’s Kuma Academy feels more like signing up for a covert operation than joining a civil defense class.

After submitting credentials and waiting weeks for approval, I arrived at a nondescript office building in downtown Taipei on a Sunday in late May.

In the lobby, a security guard asked why I was headed to Kuma. Inside, two serious-looking staffers dressed in black greeted me. They declined to be named or say how many people work at Kuma. They told me I couldn’t photograph instructors’ or participants’ faces without their consent.

“We’ve received malicious emails from trolls, unidentified parcels in the mail,” one staffer told me, declining to reveal details.

“Our founder has received threats that they’ll make his daughter an orphan,” the staffer added.

Contrary to the first impression it gives off, this is no hardcore military school. It’s a nonprofit that tries to prepare civilians for the scenario no one wants to be in: What happens if China invades Taiwan?

Training for a Chinese invasion

As China escalates military and political pressure, thousands of Taiwanese civilians are quietly preparing for a war they hope never comes.

Founded in 2021, Kuma Academy is one of Taiwan’s most prominent civilian defense nonprofits and a key player in its grassroots preparedness movement. It’s part of a broader network that offers everything from first aid and disinformation resilience to evacuation and digital security planning.

Kuma says it has trained around 80,000 people, mostly aged 25 to 45. About 70% of its trainees are women — a stark contrast to Taiwan’s traditional civil defense units, which skew heavily male and older.

“There are mostly elderly male citizens within that group — so it only retains the purpose of socializing, which defeats the original purpose of defense training,” said a Kuma Academy employee.

Its branding is — there’s no other way to put it — cute. Its logo features a black cartoon bear holding a rifle, and its merch is decked out with the same bear and other woodland creatures.

Kuma runs several courses. The one-day workshop I attended cost about 1,200 Taiwan dollars, or about $40. As a member of the press, I was there to observe, not participate, and I was given free access to the class.

Inside the classroom, the tone was instructional rather than commanding. The topic of China came up mostly during a session on how fake news spreads on chat apps. The instructors were serious but measured, and participants mirrored their focus. There were no theatrics, just adults quietly jotting notes on trauma bandaging and cognitive warfare.

The day began with a session on “gray-zone” tactics — quiet strategies designed to divide people and erode trust without provoking direct conflict.

“They will add you as a contact to their WeChat or Line messaging apps and will work to gain your trust and friendship before sending fake and contentious messages to you,” the instructor said in a warning about conspiracy theories that aim to destabilize society.

The afternoon session focused on first aid and self-defense, with participants role-playing.

In one exercise, I watched a Kuma trainer teach course attendees how to treat a deep wound immediately.

As part of the exercise, some 40 course participants applied tourniquets to their own arms to practice a technique used to stop severe bleeding.

The mood stayed relaxed through the eight-hour course, but every eye locked onto the instructor during the first aid session.

“If there is a deep wound from a weapon, stuff it with gauze or cloth to stem the bleeding and apply pressure. Wrapping it will not be enough,” said the instructor as participants jotted notes and leaned in for a close look.

In another show-and-tell demonstration, an instructor watched participants struggle with moving an adult man before demonstrating the proper fireman’s drag technique.

Taiwan is feeling the heat, and so is Kuma

Kuma focuses on civilian preparedness and wartime readiness rather than combat training. Even so, its growing prominence and its mission of preparing civilians for crisis have made it one of Beijing’s political targets.

Beijing has officially sanctioned Kuma, along with its founder, Puma Shen, and donor Robert Tsao, accusing them of promoting separatism. Shen has described Beijing’s move as provocative, while Tsao, a chip tycoon, has sued China’s Taiwan Affairs Office in a Taiwanese court.

The rising pressure from Beijing, along with the US’s public statements that China is preparing for war by 2027, has unnerved some Taiwanese.

“I am extremely worried,” Celine Chen, a 44-year-old translator, told me at Kuma’s course, citing frequent Chinese military exercises around Taiwan in recent years. She said she wants to be prepared for the worst on both a practical and psychological level.

“Over the past two years, the military activity has intensified, and it feels like they are coming every day,” said Chen.

She told me China’s drills, the Hong Kong crackdown, and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine are what pushed her to take the course.

Beijing has stepped up the frequency and scale of military exercises around Taiwan since the independence-leaning Democratic Progressive Party took power in 2016.

“I want to know what to do if something happens,” said a 44-year-old civil servant, who declined to be named for political reasons.

“I have friends who tell me, ‘War is coming,’ and that I should liquidate all my assets to buy gold and US dollars,” she said.

Bracing for what may never come

While civilians like Chen are bracing for the worst, most analysts say the risk of an imminent conflict between China and Taiwan remains low.

“Chinese statements continue to signal patience and confidence, saying Lai ‘cannot change people’s hearts or reverse the general trend’ toward unification,” analysts at the Eurasia Group wrote in July.

Taiwan is also giving clear and public signals about its commitment to self-defense, said Dale Buckner, a retired US Army colonel and the CEO of the security firm Global Guardian.

“Civilian preparedness efforts, alongside military exercises, send a clear signal to allies and adversaries alike that Taiwan is serious about its defense,” Buckner told Business Insider.

A March 2025 survey of 1,285 people by a Taiwanese military think tank showed that 65% of respondents thought it was unlikely that China would attack Taiwan in the next five years.

In my conversations with Taiwanese over the past few years, most have shrugged off the risk of a Chinese invasion — even as Beijing’s military activities escalate.

“All my foreign friends would ask, ‘Are you safe in Taiwan?'” Tseng Chih Wei, a performance artist in Taipei, told me at his home in the capital.

“And I would be like, ‘What happened?’ Then I would look at the news and realize ‘Oh, apparently something’s happening’ — but life here still feels normal,” he said. Most people, he said, are more preoccupied with everyday concerns: the cost of living, rent, job stress.

Living with uncertainty

For the Taiwanese, the possibility of war remains ever-present in the background.

Taiwan has lived in limbo since 1949, when the Nationalist government retreated to the island after losing the Chinese Civil War. With no formal peace treaty or armistice ever signed with the Chinese Communist Party, the island has spent more than seven decades navigating an uneasy status quo.

“This is a heavy topic, but everyone knows it and must face reality,” said Chen, the Kuma participant.

She told me she found Kuma’s practical guidance on evacuation planning especially useful: how to build a go-bag, what documents to store, and how to stock essential food and water. She’s trying to get her family on board.

“But they don’t seem to think it’s that urgent at the moment,” she said.