Repeated warnings from the US and China about the holding of a referendum on UN entry under the name "Taiwan" have so far failed to dampen the enthusiasm of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) for its plebiscite plan.
Brushing off the move as an election gambit -- as the opposition and international media have done -- is dangerously over-simplifying the issue.
The referendum is about increasing Taiwanese consciousness among the public, especially younger generations, and making a statement to the world that -- contrary to the view that China bludgeons the international community into accepting -- the majority of Taiwanese do not consider their homeland to be part of China.
This kind of activity is essential if Taiwanese are to continue defending the nation's fragile democracy from absorption by its authoritarian neighbor.
Of course, it is also about mobilizing the pan-green vote. But name one political party that doesn't pull out all the stops to win an election.
Everyone knows that the UN bid, whatever name is used, is doomed to fail, but fear of failure should not be allowed to extinguish hope.
Nevertheless, China is intensifying its rhetoric, with a simultaneous increase in military activity aimed at worrying Taipei, while the US has already made its opinion clear and will no doubt up the ante as the election approaches, using any means possible to scupper the plebiscite.
Nevertheless, it was surprising this week to hear Lu De (
For Chinese officials to talk about using a democratic apparatus to counter Taiwan demonstrates just how riled Beijing's bigwigs are.
Whether Lu had official permission to air his views is unclear, but his words are just part of the usual mixture of threats and coercion that emerge from Beijing whenever Taiwan is planning something it doesn't like.
Government officials here would no doubt welcome the advent of a plebiscite in China and use it as proof that Taiwan's democracy can have a positive effect on its cross-strait rival.
But would a referendum in China really serve any purpose?
The result would be a foregone conclusion, as it is doubtful that anyone would be brave enough to vote against the party line on Taiwan's sovereignty.
Of course there are radical members of China's armed forces who would be willing to attack Taiwan tomorrow, but whether their view would hold sway before next year's Olympics and whether politicians would be willing to jeopardize China's international coming out party remain doubtful.
China has a lot to lose by taking reckless action over what is in effect a pointless vote, but failure to be seen to "rein in" Taiwan would cause the Communist Party leadership to appear toothless and deal a blow to its authority.
Because, despite the massive investment the Chinese military has made in the modernization of its weapons in recent years, doubts remain as to whether it has the necessary equipment and skill to pull off what would be the most ambitious amphibious landing since D-Day. The consequences of failure would be unthinkable. Add to this China's disastrous record of interfering in Taiwan's past elections, and a referendum, however undemocratically performed, would present Beijing with a face-saving compromise and a novel kind of stick with which to continue beating Taiwan.
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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