Whether or not the escapades of former Democratic Progressive Party chairman Shih Ming-teh (
With appeals to a celestial perspective (imitation Nazca lines), moral pronouncements that reach to the very core of good and evil (likening the Democratic Progressive Party not only to the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and the Chinese Communist Party, but now also the Nazis and Benito Mussolini) and public fantasies of martyrdom (Chen's assassin has not shown up, so an alleged tumor in Shih's liver will suffice), Shih has not disappointed political observers who delight in displays of hyperbole with a theological edge.
Shih is not so deluded that he would consider himself to be a deity, but his holier-than-thou performance over the last weeks gives the pundits rich case material for a study of religious fervor and the seeding of personality cults and fascism.
Shih's sanctity might also help us to understand his willingness to denounce, with a clear conscience, the Reverend Kao Chun-ming (
It also offers an insight into how he can bear to stand beside the likes of People First Party Chairman James Soong (
It is easy to take Christian analogies too far in this scenario, but it is tempting to see Shih looking at Soong -- as Christ looked at the thieves crucified beside him -- and saving him by forgiving him for his sins.
But it would be unfair to single out Shih in this regard. Appeals to faith -- including the Christian God -- are no stranger to Taiwanese politics; they go back at least as far as dictator Chiang Kai-shek's (
In more recent years, former president Lee Teng-hui (
And Chen himself has dabbled in a bit of dubious Christ projection, insisting that he has the strength to bear the cross of the nation's woes so that he can help Taiwan reach Lee's Promised Land.
The irony is that so much Christian symbolism underlies politicking at a national level, yet it is only when politics mixes with Han religions on the ground that things become a little more volatile. Witness the clash in Tainan a few weeks ago when a temple became the scene of a scuffle between groups of protesters -- both appealing to the deity of the temple for support and credibility.
None of this uneasy appropriation of religion for political ends provokes much comment, least of all among Christian denominations that seem to be happy to receive a bit of recognition.
Even so, enough of this Mandate of Heaven posing. The nation's political credibility is rarely advanced by appeals to spiritual authority. Politicians are of this Earth, and do not lend themselves any credibility by linking themselves, their successes or their failures to a higher realm. The classic separation of Church and state has several important functions; one of them is to keep these people accountable for their excesses on mortal terms.
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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