It is rare that this newspaper has any time for Taipei Mayor Ma Ying-jeou (
Of course Ma has since learned the expediency of blame-dodging -- the man that can congratulate himself on his stellar performance in the wake of Typhoon Nari has obviously forgotten what "unconscionable" means. But with him as the exception, it is hard to remember any other case of someone resigning on a matter of principle.
Chen Shui-bian's (陳水扁) meeting with James Soong (宋楚瑜) and the 10-point consensus that issued from it was not an administrative stumble, rather it was the most "unconscionable" betrayal of principle since Koo Hsien-jung (辜顯榮) surrendered Taipei to the Japanese. The fact that Chen, by all accounts, still fails to understand what he did wrong in sawing up his reelection campaign platform and burning it as an offering to Soong's vanity, reminds us of his dubious suitability as leader of the pan-greens in the first place. He was always too much of a trimmer, just a little too spineless, for the taste of many greens. He was, unfortunately, the most electable candidate they had, which is what has brought us to the current impasse.
Such reflections lead us to two questions: first, given the sheer outrageousness of Chen's action, why has nobody jumped ship? True, four presidential advisers quit in disgust, though the most vociferous of them withdrew his resignation when asked to, but four, or rather three, out of over 100 is hardly a mass walk-out. And no Cabinet minister or DPP heavyweight quit. Indeed some of the loudest deep-green tub-thumpers have been groveling apologists: foreign minister Mark Chen (
For members of the Cabinet -- at least those who are actually greens -- anyone of any principle should have tendered their resignation the evening of the meeting when the 10 points became known. Chen was not -- is not -- worth supporting; in fact it is hard to see how any person of principle could even shake his hand.
For the DPP, the only response was to repudiate the agreement immediately and in full. If the party leadership had refused to do this the legislative caucus could have tried to redeem some honor by doing so themselves.
We have, however, seen none of this, to which all we can say is that those who have not walked are guilty of betrayal by not dissociating themselves from Chen's coat-turning.
And this brings us to our second question. 2008 will see the back of Chen; who will replace him? It is not too early to think about this. In fact, by their reactions to the Chen-Soong deal should contenders be judged. Supine approval? No thanks. Coruscating condemnation? That's our candidate. But at the moment where, or who is this paragon of the virtues that the invertebrate Chen so conspicuously lacks?
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus whip Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) has caused havoc with his attempts to overturn the democratic and constitutional order in the legislature. If we look at this devolution from the context of a transition to democracy from authoritarianism in a culturally Chinese sense — that of zhonghua (中華) — then we are playing witness to a servile spirit from a millennia-old form of totalitarianism that is intent on damaging the nation’s hard-won democracy. This servile spirit is ingrained in Chinese culture. About a century ago, Chinese satirist and author Lu Xun (魯迅) saw through the servile nature of
In their New York Times bestseller How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt said that democracies today “may die at the hands not of generals but of elected leaders. Many government efforts to subvert democracy are ‘legal,’ in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy — making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption, or cleaning up the electoral process.” Moreover, the two authors observe that those who denounce such legal threats to democracy are often “dismissed as exaggerating or
Monday was the 37th anniversary of former president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) death. Chiang — a son of former president Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), who had implemented party-state rule and martial law in Taiwan — has a complicated legacy. Whether one looks at his time in power in a positive or negative light depends very much on who they are, and what their relationship with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is. Although toward the end of his life Chiang Ching-kuo lifted martial law and steered Taiwan onto the path of democratization, these changes were forced upon him by internal and external pressures,
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus in the Legislative Yuan has made an internal decision to freeze NT$1.8 billion (US$54.7 million) of the indigenous submarine project’s NT$2 billion budget. This means that up to 90 percent of the budget cannot be utilized. It would only be accessible if the legislature agrees to lift the freeze sometime in the future. However, for Taiwan to construct its own submarines, it must rely on foreign support for several key pieces of equipment and technology. These foreign supporters would also be forced to endure significant pressure, infiltration and influence from Beijing. In other words,
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