There comes a time in every man’s life when he has an identity crisis. This usually takes the form of: Who am I? Am I successful enough? Why am I not dating someone my daughter’s age?
When I was 40, I was too busy subverting the state and evading the last of the White Terror hitmen to wallow in self-indulgent, panicky pseudo-introspection (which, as it happens, will be the Democratic Progressive Party’s (DPP) occupation for at least the next four years).
It may be too late for me, but it would seem my country is in the throes of its own identity crisis.
All the signs are there. It’s developed a major economic inferiority complex — despite perfectly respectable growth figures — and is swapping its values for new, more materialistic ones.
Thus, “cross-strait win-win situation” is replacing “Taiwanese consciousness” as the buzzword — or buzzmouthful (just when I was getting the hang of calling state companies, the international airport and the Memorialissimo by their new names).
Soon my beloved island nation will be going through a hedonistic cycle of one-night stands with hundreds of Chinese tourists per day. But, I ask, will it find the economic security it seeks?
As with any such crisis, some fear that there is a risk Taiwan will get in over its head and lose control (the equivalent of taking out a second mortgage on your home to buy your dream Ferrari, getting in a life-threatening wreck and losing both the car and the home to pay the medical bills).
Why worry? With the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), we’re in capable hands. First, there’s the Cabinet. Packed with time-tested experts and technocrats, they say.
Take Minister of National Defense Chen Chao-min (陳肇敏), who looks set to spend much of his time defending himself instead of the country.
Chen told legislators that the March 19, 2004, shooting of former president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) and not-so-trusty sidekick Annette Lu (呂秀蓮) never took place.
Then, in the face of criticism (and a lawsuit), the defense minister did what any fearless former KMT military leader would do — “Retreat!!” — and offered what I’ve dubbed an “apolitology” to the effect of “Sorry for any trouble my entirely truthful comments made.”
Then, in a brilliant second act, he made what the French might call a gaffe extraordinaire. The one-time Air Force commander-in-chief nonplussed the legislature’s Diplomacy and National Defense Committee by insisting that there is no military airport in Taoyuan County. The snag: there is, actually.
Yes, President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) is leading us into a brave, new world — a world in which ministers aren’t troubled by the requirements of their jobs.
Very postmodern.
Minister of Justice Wang Ching-feng (王清峰) simply followed suit last week when she said she would consider abolishing capital punishment — but also that she had no idea how.
On the China front, meanwhile, the KMT is making leaps and bounds. Party Chairman Wu Poh-hsiung (吳伯雄) headed to Nanjing this week for the first direct meeting between the Chicoms and KMT heads since the Chinese Civil War.
Good thing they sent Wu. If the Chicoms kidnap him and demand Taiwan’s capitulation, at least he’s dispensable — unlike this country’s most famous hostage, Chiang “Whose tomb is it anyway” Kai-shek(蔣介石).
The Nanjing meeting marks a big change for the KMT. With Ma in office, the KMT’s closed-door talks with the Chicoms no longer constitute treason. Kinda takes all the conniving fun out of it, huh?
So maybe it was sheer boredom that prompted Wu to make a remark I can only interpret as facetious: the fact that Beijing would meet the KMT despite the aftermath of the Sichuan earthquake shows just how seriously China takes cross-strait relations.
Funny, I thought the 1,000-odd missiles pointed our way were a pretty clear sign.
But now’s not the time for talk of brutish threats. The word “goodwill” has flown back and forth across the Strait so many times in the past few weeks we could start booking tourist groups on it.
In fact, that might not be a bad idea, because after months of hearing Ma’s 3,000-Chinese-tourists-a-day mantra, last week Beijing proposed only 18 cross-strait flights per week. That’s a grand total of 1,000, not 21,000, tourists per week.
Ma must be crestfallen. Is Beijing out to embarrass him or what? He’s offered so many olive branches in the past two weeks alone that the hills of Spain have been stripped bare.
Ma’s administration removed the Chinese word for “Taiwan” from the Web site of the Presidential Office at lightning speed and is about to do the same to our stamps. Pretty Boy’s representatives to China even refer to him as “Mr Ma” instead of “Mr President” to avoid offending Beijing.
Yet China can’t even spare a lousy 3,000 tourists a day? So much for reciprocity.
Ma must be wondering if his efforts are worth the concern that he lied when he promised to stand up for Taiwanese sovereignty.
But, hey, the best of governments do occasionally lie.
Even the Taipei City Government is a full-on propaganda machine, as you’ll see from its Web site:
“Taipei’s public toilets are neither dirty nor smelly, and the flowers and greenery that adorn them make going to the toilet enjoyable.”
I kind of like all the lying. Picking the truth from the untruth is like playing a Taiwanese version of Where’s Waldo.
And what about this week’s statistics from the Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics, which bumped up our GDP forecast for the year?
The problem is that the GDP is calculated to include generous spending by those mythical 21,000 Chinese tourists per week — even though the government has retracted that figure in other statements.
Surprised? It’s all spin — even among nominally unbiased agencies. No harm in impressing the new boss with padded numbers, right?
These are no doubt the same people who were spinning in Chen’s favor — or, perhaps, for Chen’s favors — just weeks ago, but remember: Necessity is the mother of political affiliation. Besides, pan-blue, pan-green … what’s the difference? That overly simplistic divide doesn’t really address the complex identities of our civil servants, politicians and electorate. We need a few nuances to reflect political realities.
So I will leave you today with some humble suggestions on how to identify underlying political forces.
The “Blue in Green” camp: Like a Miles Davis song, this growing bloc knows how to swing. Non-issues like national sovereignty just take the focus off the real matter at hand: who is willing to pay the most for your vote. They contend that anti-vote-buying campaigns are just a KMT-DPP conspiracy to get out of subsidizing your vote. Not gonna work, say the bluegreens: Money makes the world go round, not politics.
The Soylent Greens: Their dystopian vision of the nation’s future fuels a terror-induced passion that renders them dysfunctional at election time, capable only of wandering in the streets, foaming at the mouth and hoping disgraced former KMT Legislator Alex Fai (費鴻泰) will ride by in a police car so they can fling themselves on top of it.
Lean, green fighting machines: These guys are so green that they hate the DPP and everyone in it. Of course, they’re still members.
Besserwisser blues: They may not know anything about market mechanisms, but they know what’s best for Taiwan: the KMT. The rationale is simple. The average level of education in Taipei, where people vote blue, is higher than the south, where people vote green. Ergo, only ignorant country bumpkins vote green.
Big business blues (aka The Big Sleaze): If time isn’t money, politics sure is. They’ve been waiting for this day, and with Ma finally in the cockpit, they can see the Promised Land opening across the Strait. Ma may be president, but there’s still room for a corporate puppetmaster.
The (Cry)baby blue camp: These chaps vote for the KMT with whole-hearted devotion time and again, then whine each time they get screwed in return. Sound strange? Just ask 90 percent of the nation’s Aborigines.
The royal blues: The heyday of the KMT has passed and it’s all democracy’s fault. The solution? Install Ma as emperor and his Cabinet as eunuchs and advisers to the Court. Because it fulfills this cabal’s dynastic dreams, millions of Falun Gong across China will be incited to rise up and crush the Chicoms, before being swept aside to allow Ma to occupy the throne of the New Tang Dynasty.
Throw in Lien Chan (連戰) and heir apparent Sean Lien (連勝文) as court jesters and that’s a national vision even I would support.
Got something to tell Johnny? Go on, get it off your chest. Write to dearjohnny@taipeitimes.com, but be sure to put “Dear Johnny” in the subject line or he’ll mark your bouquets and brickbats as spam.
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,
RSS