President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) is a man on a mission. Or rather, the unelected powers behind the throne are on a mission, and anything that stands in their way is either ignored or dispensed with.
Proof of this mindset came from the horse’s mouth last Wednesday when, asked whether the government should hold a referendum on a Comprehensive Economic Cooperation Agreement (CECA) with China, he said: “We simply cannot hold a referendum because some people are against a government initiative.”
Some people? Even if we believe Ma’s questionable assertion that 60 percent of Taiwanese support a CECA, this leaves us with 40 percent who do not — a substantial part of the population. Nor is the agreement just any government initiative: It is legislation that would have a direct impact on the lives of all Taiwanese and the future of the country.
All the more so when, in December, Chinese President Hu Jintao (胡錦濤) said that signing a CECA under the “one China” principle, which Beijing insists upon, would be an important step toward “reunification.” Given this, a CECA would be far more than just an economic agreement; it would have political ramifications that would, once the electorate becomes aware of them, substantially reduce public support for the initiative.
Ma added that “the thresholds for a referendum are so high that many referendums have failed in the past,” neglecting to mention that they were invalidated because the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) called on constituents to boycott them.
The president has also countered calls for a referendum by stating that a CECA would have to be reviewed by the legislature. Under normal circumstances, this would be a reasonable position. But given the composition of the legislature, the review would be no more than rubber-stamping. No wonder National Security Council Secretary-General Su Chi (蘇起) has said that signing a CECA is a set policy. Or did he mean fait accompli?
Unlike what Ma has claimed, there are examples of referendums elsewhere being used to moderate government policies. In October 2007, Costa Rica held a referendum on whether to join the Central American Free Trade Agreement. The country was deeply divided over the matter and was under pressure from the US to vote “yes.” In the end, 97 percent of eligible voters participated and 51.5 percent voted in favor.
In Switzerland, where referendums are common practice, Referendumsdrohung — the threat of referendum — is a common phenomenon based on the understanding that even the most sophisticated system of proportional representation (which Taiwan certainly does not enjoy) cannot guarantee that the parliament or government represents public opinion on a given political question.
In Taiwan’s case, this is even clearer, as the deals with China are being made behind closed doors, away from public scrutiny and by unelected officials, with the underlying threat that any deal can be exploited by Beijing to undermine the nation’s sovereignty.
A CECA with China is a very serious matter, regardless of what Ma says. Taiwan needs its Referendumsdrohung. Absent this, threat of impeachment might be the next best option.
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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