As August approaches, there is no sign of a letup in pressure on China to honor the promises it made in return for the distinction of hosting this year’s Olympic Games. Those pledges, made with little sincerity, have since proven an invaluable foothold for Chinese activists and international organizations.
But one voice has been remarkably quiet on the guarantees it solemnly accepted seven years ago — the International Olympic Committee (IOC), which has deftly avoided pressing Beijing on its commitments in public view.
But this weekend, IOC president Jacques Rogge triumphantly broke his silence to praise improvements in China and crow over the Olympics’ “catalytic” role. His statement was complacent and disrespectful of the scores of Chinese activists who, unlike himself, have dared to push the envelope, refusing to let their government forget its promises.
And while the IOC would, in speaking out, risk only offending Beijing, the Chinese lawyers and nonprofit groups who publicly appeal for concrete change put no less than their careers, their freedoms and their family members’ freedoms on the line.
In Bucharest, Rogge said on national TV on Saturday that China’s openness over the devastating Sichuan earthquake last month showed evidence of the benefits of the upcoming Olympics.
Rogge has had nothing to say about the unyielding crackdown on Tibetans — a crackdown that has now turned into a witch hunt for troublemakers. He has likewise been reticent about restrictions on foreign media in China, which includes not only limitations in Tibet, but also unwavering barriers to meeting blacklisted environmental and social activists countrywide.
If Rogge feels that commenting on these events does not lie within the IOC’s role, neither should he step forward when the opportunity presents itself to offer a positive assessment of individual freedoms in China. This inconsistency, designed to be ingratiating to Beijing and the international community, represents a blatant rationalization of so-called Olympic principles.
In reality, the credit for keeping pressure high on Beijing goes to people like Yang Chunlin (楊春林), who was sentenced in March to five years in prison for collecting thousands of signatures from disgusted, displaced villagers accusing the authorities of caring more about Olympic glory than human rights. Such campaigners have made good use of the media ahead of the Games.
China’s response in the wake of the quake, which killed tens of thousands, has indeed displayed more openness than in past crises. With the world’s eyes bearing down as never before, China is not willing to risk being caught in a humiliating web of lies a la SARS.
And with tens of thousands of mourning friends and families — and a vast Internet-savvy population — claiming a trivial death toll this time around was not a viable option.
“You will see,” Rogge said on Saturday, “that the Olympic Games will change China.”
The Games have the potential to precipitate democratic reform, he said, adding that August will see “revolutionary” media freedoms.
The Olympics could have a lasting effect on Beijing’s administration of the country. But should this happen it will be in spite of, not because of, help from the IOC.
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,
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
The National Development Council (NDC) on Wednesday last week launched a six-month “digital nomad visitor visa” program, the Central News Agency (CNA) reported on Monday. The new visa is for foreign nationals from Taiwan’s list of visa-exempt countries who meet financial eligibility criteria and provide proof of work contracts, but it is not clear how it differs from other visitor visas for nationals of those countries, CNA wrote. The NDC last year said that it hoped to attract 100,000 “digital nomads,” according to the report. Interest in working remotely from abroad has significantly increased in recent years following improvements in
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