President Chen Shui-bian (
Many observers say Lee's decision to go public at that moment helped Chen gain the votes to win by a narrow margin in the three-way presidential race against James Soong (
Chen certainly owes Lee an apology for letting him down (though the political value of a public apology remains dubious). Lee took risks to support Chen. As head of the Academia Sinica and the first native Taiwanese to win a Nobel Prize, Lee commands enormous respect and exerts considerable influence in this country. Moreover, he had little to gain personally from taking his stance. Nor did he have much to gain if Chen did well. Perhaps, as an academic, he still had a strong sense of idealism that prompted him to express his support. However, because of Chen's less-than-satisfactory performance, Lee has been criticized for supporting him. In addition to becoming a scapegoat for the pan-blue camp, Lee's image as an impartial academic who rose above petty politics and self-interest was tarnished.
Chen owes even more of an apology to those people who have voted for him in the last two presidential elections -- including those who were influenced by Lee's support. Those swayed by Lee were mostly those who identify with Lee's neutral and impartial image -- the so-called moderate voters.
After Chen apologized, some pro-blue-camp commentators were calling for Lee to apologize to the general public for Chen's performance. But does Lee really owe the public an apology?
The answer would depend on whether those who voted for Chen would have voted for him knowing what the next six years would bring. Can anyone say with confidence that Taiwan would be a much happier and less corrupt place if Lien or Soong had been elected in 2000?
Were Lien elected, Taiwan would have continued under the rule of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), a party that had never had the experience of being out of power in Taiwan, and it would not have been taught a lesson in democracy. Perhaps the KMT might have fumbled less in terms of handling domestic affairs, but there would have been little incentive for the party to do something about the black gold politics that the party cultivated over decades of murky links between the state, the party, the private sector and local gangsters.
As for Soong, his departure from the KMT came about simply because he wanted to be president. There is little reason to suspect that he would have behaved any differently from the KMT if he had been elected.
A change in power for the country was essential. Some may argue that Taiwan was not ready for this in 2000. But growing up early is better than growing up late. Just because Chen and the Democratic Progressive Party did not perform well does not mean that voting the KMT out was a mistake.
Chen and the DPP do owe its supporters an apology -- and now that it has been made, it's time to move on and work harder. Either way, Lee need apologize to no one.
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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