The calls for the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) to return its stolen assets to the public have accelerated over the course of the nation's democratization. The KMT knows the party's position is indefensible, so former chairman Lien Chan (連戰) publicly promised to return the assets when he ran for the presidency in 2000, and Chairman Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) promised to do the same when he ran for the party's chairmanship last year.
However, six years have already passed, and while selling off a few pieces of real estate, the party has failed to return either the assets or money earned from the limited number of sales. This begs the question: Does the KMT really intend to return the fruits of 50 years of authoritarian rule?
In response to Premier Su Tseng-chang's (
This sounds pretty impressive but is actually irresponsible, as the division of assets into the three categories is based only on the party's own "conscience."
However, according to the KMT's own logic, most of its assets were obtained legally. The party can do whatever it likes and sell to whomever it wants, and everyone else should keep out of what is essentially "private" business. In other words, the KMT is already doing plenty by offering up a few crumbs from the vast banquet that is the party's holdings.
The problem is that what was "legal" during Taiwan's authoritarian era may be illegal under the standards of today's democracy. What people really want to see is the KMT actively dealing with the gray area in which the bulk of its assets fall and declaring war on its past.
Worse, it has accelerated the dispossession of its assets in recent years to make it harder for the government to repossess them. This highlights its dual strategy of calling for reform on the one hand, and working to make a profit for itself on the other.
In fact, the Taiwanese people have always been tolerant and lenient toward the KMT. It is widely known that the party's massive assets are questionable, but most of us do not ask for "a day of reckoning" and a final liquidation of assets because, to a certain degree, we all understand the historical background in which the assets were accumulated. Not to mention that taking a stand might intensify political confrontation, and the social cost of that would be large.
Still, the KMT should not take this as an excuse to remain passive. If the party does not clarify the facts about its party assets to the public, it will be like a thief who has to live forever with a guilty conscience. Political rivals will be able to make a big thing of the issue at any time. Does the KMT want to be haunted like this forever?
Few expect the KMT to return its ill-gotten assets to the government. Besides, a lot of the property has already been sold. But at the very least, the KMT should have returned its highly symbolic and controversial former headquarters to the government to show its determination to reform. Unfortunately, the building has already been sold.
After becoming an opposition party, the KMT likes to apply high moral standards to its examination of the Democratic Progressive Party, saying that legal doesn't necessarily mean reasonable. Shouldn't it use the same standards when examining its own assets? Most of all, the party should never repeat its shameless response: "Sue me."
Leou Chia-feng is a doctoral candidate in the department of politics and international studies at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London.
Translated by Eddy Chang
Labubu, an elf-like plush toy with pointy ears and nine serrated teeth, has become a global sensation, worn by celebrities including Rihanna and Dua Lipa. These dolls are sold out in stores from Singapore to London; a human-sized version recently fetched a whopping US$150,000 at an auction in Beijing. With all the social media buzz, it is worth asking if we are witnessing the rise of a new-age collectible, or whether Labubu is a mere fad destined to fade. Investors certainly want to know. Pop Mart International Group Ltd, the Chinese manufacturer behind this trendy toy, has rallied 178 percent
My youngest son attends a university in Taipei. Throughout the past two years, whenever I have brought him his luggage or picked him up for the end of a semester or the start of a break, I have stayed at a hotel near his campus. In doing so, I have noticed a strange phenomenon: The hotel’s TV contained an unusual number of Chinese channels, filled with accents that would make a person feel as if they are in China. It is quite exhausting. A few days ago, while staying in the hotel, I found that of the 50 available TV channels,
Kinmen County’s political geography is provocative in and of itself. A pair of islets running up abreast the Chinese mainland, just 20 minutes by ferry from the Chinese city of Xiamen, Kinmen remains under the Taiwanese government’s control, after China’s failed invasion attempt in 1949. The provocative nature of Kinmen’s existence, along with the Matsu Islands off the coast of China’s Fuzhou City, has led to no shortage of outrageous takes and analyses in foreign media either fearmongering of a Chinese invasion or using these accidents of history to somehow understand Taiwan. Every few months a foreign reporter goes to
There is no such thing as a “silicon shield.” This trope has gained traction in the world of Taiwanese news, likely with the best intentions. Anything that breaks the China-controlled narrative that Taiwan is doomed to be conquered is welcome, but after observing its rise in recent months, I now believe that the “silicon shield” is a myth — one that is ultimately working against Taiwan. The basic silicon shield idea is that the world, particularly the US, would rush to defend Taiwan against a Chinese invasion because they do not want Beijing to seize the nation’s vital and unique chip industry. However,
RSS