The presidential election was just three weeks ago, and certain media outlets have already begun Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) deification. The editorials in some newspapers have complimented Ma for having a good physique and for working out daily.
They have also called him wise and said that he has learned a great deal from his wisely chosen companions.
Not only has this kind of sycophantic praise become an Internet joke, embellishments made by television stations are even more jaw-dropping: Ma is frugal, squeaky clean, full of filial piety, sincere, loyal to his party and patriotic to his country, adept at negotiations, as charming as former US president John F. Kennedy, and radiates gentleness from his double-lidded eyes.
With such a fine husband, even Chow Mei-ching’s (周美青) way of tying her shoelaces is extraordinarily sleek. Needless to say, the beauty of their daughter, Lesley Ma (馬唯中), and her many talents, are also praised.
The presidential cult of personality isn’t new. Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石) was known for having deduced great wisdom from observing swimming fish in his childhood: no wonder he became the saviour of his people, as well as a military strategist, politician, philosopher, educator, thinker, calligrapher, and artist all rolled into one.
It would have been difficult for his son and heir, Chiang Ching-kuo (蔣經國) to have been anything less than magnificent.
The economic miracles, political liberalization and his Ten Major Construction Projects, are all credits to his name; whereas the Taipei Tenth Credit Cooperative corruption scandal and the murders of Chen Wen-chen (陳文成) as well as Lin I-hsiung (林義雄) and his family, are swept under the carpet to prevent harm to his achievements.
Presidents Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) and Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) were not of the same ilk. At most, they enjoyed a short media honeymoon.
Once Lee was in power, Chinese-language United Daily News columnists opposed him on principle, as though he were the source of all evil.
Even worse, Chen was criticized at least three times daily, and became equated with corruption.
Comparatively, Ma is the carefully honed star of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), a fact to which the media pays homage.
In fact, in most circumstances, the media go so far as to purposefully package Ma so that problems great and small eventually amount to nothing: Taipei’s flooding during typhoon Nari, the death of a young girl surnamed Chiu (邱) due to medical negligence, the ill advised response to SARS, the green card scandal, and the first ever presidential candidate to have been charged with corruption – these are non-issues for Ma.
The media has also created the impression that Ma’s success is generating economic momentum. Yet the stock market performed well for only one day after the election.
Since then, there has been more outgoing than incoming foreign capital and the realities of the property sector have also performed below expectations.
The members of the Taiwanese media, which often call themselves the “fourth estate” and the “eternal opposition,” have suddenly become the vanguard for flattering the future president.
Those who should have confined themselves to accurate and balanced reporting for the benefit of the public have gone so far as to produce intoxicating myths of deification.
This is but another symptom of the Taiwanese media’s festering illness.
Lu Shih-hsiang is an adviser to the Taipei Times.
TRANSLATED BY ANGELA HONG
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