President Chen Shui-bian's (
Odd as it may seem, Chen should be congratulated for this. Beset by government agencies and an opposition that refuse to reform the pallid images that pass off as national symbols, most Taiwanese have dismissed national identity as worthy of discussion.
Yet Chen is spot on -- and, for once, eloquent -- when he says: "We only have two choices. Either we sit still and wait for death, or we reach out spontaneously and show the world that Taiwan exists."
Taiwan's diplomatic dilemma is spiced up by a paradox -- rarely discussed -- that helps students of politics appreciate the meaning of realpolitik.
During the 1980s, under the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), Taiwan's allies were a who's who of rightist, military and/or racist autocracies or near-failed states that China wouldn't touch. Somoza's Nicaragua was one, along with Liberia, South Africa, South Korea and other brutal administrations.
Ironically, Taiwan's democratization came more or less in tandem with China's final, comprehensive trashing of the egalitarian principles that energized its people and that were used to justify a "proletarian" dictatorship -- and which attracted support from leftist governments around the world.
As Taiwan's formerly repressive allies became more democratic, they turned their backs on a democratizing Taiwan to open their doors to an enduringly repressive China. Having already made the switch to China in 1985 and then back to Taiwan in 1990 in step with its electoral cycle, Nicaragua would appear to be the latest of these, regardless of Chen's appearance at Nicaraguan president-elect Daniel Ortega's inauguration and any private sympathy Ortega himself might have for the Taiwanese.
Trying to convince Ortega and his party to stick by Taiwan is a tall order. As with other allies who have demonstrated their financial, commercial or ideological inclination toward China, a leftist Nicaragua is a prime candidate for newest lost ally.
If Chen does walk away from the capital without a sincere assurance from Ortega, he could do worse than fire off this parting shot: Look at what Beijing did to Guatemala and Haiti and consider the contempt China felt toward their disempowered, shell-shocked populations by threatening to boycott UN peacekeepers simply because Taiwan was their ally. By any moral standard -- for liberals or conservatives, leftists or rightists -- China's misanthropy was, and is, detestable.
Taiwan has been named and criticized as a corruptor of poor nations through checkbook diplomacy. Even if this is the case, the truth is that, unlike Taiwan, China's involvement in poor regions is not under the control of a democratically elected government and is therefore unaccountable to all but the most mercenary of bureaucrats.
Nor is it necessarily stabilizing. That China should be cited as a potential patron by the thugs impersonating soldiers in Fiji's latest disastrous coup in the face of boycotts by Australia and New Zealand says far more about China than any number of accusations against Taiwanese funny money can say about Taiwan.
The risk for Chen is that he could look utterly inept if Nicaragua were to swap allegiance soon after the inauguration. Given his difficulties at home, however, Chen could hardly be intimidated by such minor corrosion of his image. If anything, Chen's willingness to take the flight to an uncertain ally and fly the flag, so to speak, is the sign of a president who might just be beginning to fight back.
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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