A copy editor asks: "Why is this National Assembly so often referred to as the `mission oriented' National Assembly?"
The short answer to this question is that in the past the assembly convened once a year whether it had anything on its agenda or not -- and it usually didn't. Its purpose seemed to be to allow a lot of old politicians, many of whom lived in the US, to enjoy an all expenses paid trip back to Taiwan, where they were paid handsomely for listening to a report or two. They usually managed to make this activity last a month. So what makes this assembly "mission oriented" is that it has been convened expressly to accomplish a particular task.
That doesn't mean that previous assemblies didn't accomplish anything. They were super efficient at voting all kinds of perks and pay raises for themselves, to such an extent that the usual adjectival phrase that accompanied the institution's name was "self-fattening." Then there was the "10,000 Year Assembly" which was elected in China in 1948 and sat in Taiwan until 1992, and whose members were known as the "old thieves." They were eventually replaced by a locally elected body so rapacious its members were known as the "young thieves."
All of this goes to explain quite adequately why the assembly that will convene on Monday is also being called the "functional" National Assembly. Others were totally dysfunctional, at least in terms of fulfilling their constitutional responsibilities -- cash cows though they were for their delegates.
This little look at history should explain to the uninitiated just why this country is in such a hurry to get rid of its second chamber. It is almost fitting that the last days of the assembly's existence should be marred by controversy. And it is typical of the current situation in this country that the controversy revolves around a flip-flop by the ruling party, and a veteran democracy activist who doesn't seem to understand the way democracies sometimes work.
There is little point in reiterating former Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) chairman Lin I-hsiung's (
It was suggested in the mid-1990s, for example, that the president should have to be elected with a clear majority, necessitating a run off if there were more than two candidates. Such a measure would probably have prevented Chen Shui-bian (
Lin argues that supermajorities are undemocratic. But their point is that they force different sides to negotiate and reach a consensus acceptable to all on very delicate issues. That is not a bad thing.
Since this is the last National Assembly, such arguments are almost moot. But it is hard not to ponder whether more intelligent constitutional reform could have refashioned the assembly in a useful way, rather than simply abolishing it.
There is a crying need for a reduction in ethnic strife and some thought might have been given to creating a body in which representatives of the four main groups could sit in numerical parity -- someone will complain that this is not democratic, but then, in the same sense, neither is the US Senate -- as a monitor of legislation and an arbiter of disputes. Surely something more is needed than the Legislative Yuan.
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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