The portents are bad: The day that the qualifying tournament for the Olympic baseball competition finished in Taiwan was the day that Beijing commenced its violent crackdown on Buddhist monks and other protesters in Tibet and Gansu Province after a week of protests.
Local sports fans may be delighted at the good fortune of the national baseball team, especially in light of its poor performance in previous contests. But for Taiwanese looking at the bigger picture, the thrill should be seriously dampened by the reports of a massive police mobilization, gunfire and burning of buildings in the Tibetan capital, Lhasa.
Pre-Olympics pressure against the Chinese government over its many ugly faces has focused on its funding and arming of Sudan's murderous government. This pressure is well earned, but in terms of sheer scale, the number of people that Beijing oppresses within its own borders has not received the attention that it deserves.
Until now.
It is difficult to see how Beijing can deal with the disturbances without angering or embarrassing its sympathizers in the West. Its inclination is to use total force to extinguish Tibetan expressions of dissent, but to do so threatens to conflagrate an already delicate domestic mood.
The opposite strategy -- a negotiated solution with Tibetan leaders in exile and religious figures in Tibet -- remains out of the question: Such a concession would be revolutionary and precipitate changes in other parts of the country that would be seen as a threat to the Chinese Communist Party.
The likely approach will fall somewhere in between. A media blackout and selected arrests in monasteries and elsewhere -- but also a concerted effort to minimize the use of violence in more conspicuous locations. The Chinese can afford to exercise restraint, because once the Olympics are over they can resume special treatment for dissidents at any level of violence they choose.
With the British government already expressing concern over the unrest in southwest China, it remains a matter of time before more conscientious governments in the West -- especially those in northern Europe -- begin to juggle the implications of recommending an Olympic boycott to the national Olympic committees.
As for the Tibetans, it is becoming increasingly apparent -- in no small part because of the Dalai Lama's more direct criticisms of Beijing in recent days -- that the Olympics might be their last chance to appeal to the world for something approaching dignified treatment by a government that wants to overwhelm, marginalize and denude them.
The situation is thus likely to worsen until Beijing faces the impossible dilemma of sacrificing either Olympic glory or its self-declared right to molest its national minorities.
There are five months until the Olympics. With this early outbreak of public anger against despotism, the time ahead is bound to increasingly rattle Olympic sponsors, frighten the Chinese government and unnerve even the most mercenary of International Olympic Committee bureaucrats.
For everyone else with a trace of conscience and a grasp of diplomacy, the truth is out: The Beijing Olympics debacle has begun.
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
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,
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
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