So it’s official. President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九), who vowed several times prior to the presidential election that he would not concurrently serve as Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chairman, announced yesterday that he will run for KMT chairman next month. He is likely to be the only candidate.
Ma said the decision was prompted by his “sense of responsibility” for the nation’s competitiveness and government performance. But Ma’s claim that he can properly manage state and party affairs inspires nothing but skepticism given that his performance as president has come under heavy and deserved criticism from foes and erstwhile friends.
Ma’s latest promise of party reform rings hollow. Given his record as KMT chairman when the party was in opposition and the open hostility toward him in sections of the KMT, little good can be expected to come of it, even if his hand will be strengthened. On almost every occasion that Ma has had the chance to choose between reformers and hardliners in his party, political considerations have pushed him into the laps of the latter.
In 2006, when Ma was party chairman, the KMT toughened its “black gold” exclusion clause so that party members indicted on suspicion of a crime would have their party membership suspended. The KMT was applauded for making the change, resulting in a party disciplinary regime tougher than that of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which suspends members only if a guilty verdict is confirmed on appeal.
The applause didn’t last long. Shortly after Ma was indicted for corruption, the party bent its rules so that Ma could remain its presidential candidate even if he were found guilty of corruption in a first trial. So much for propriety.
The attractiveness of the chairmanship this time around stems from the KMT-Chinese Communist Party (CCP) communication platform established by former KMT chairman Lien Chan (連戰) in 2005. This platform allowed Lien and KMT Chairman Wu Poh-hsiung (吳伯雄) many opportunities to travel to China, meet with Chinese President Hu Jintao (胡錦濤) and collaborate with the CCP on how to bring the two sides closer together.
Ma can increase the credibility of his agenda of detente in the eyes of his supporters at home and interested governments by taking control of this process and maneuvering to meet with Hu, thus strengthening the illusion of cross-strait stability and leaving his mark in history — or so he would think.
Ma’s domestic agenda may turn out to be easier to implement through greater influence over party nominations — and, perhaps, neutralizing his more outspoken critics within the KMT. But it remains to be seen what Ma will be able to deliver.
In addition, the renewed narrowing between national and KMT interests makes it everyone’s business to keep Ma and his party under scrutiny. Sadly, Ma’s record of disingenuousness and list of abandoned pledges makes this doubly necessary.
On several occasions, Ma has used the saying “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Unless Ma has superhuman powers and is able to withstand the terrible temptations of increased authority, Taiwanese can expect to see Ma’s ruthless side emerge as his impatience grows with opponents in the KMT and outside it. For a man whose most stable characteristic is his ideological devotion to a unified China, this promises more, not less, conflict at home.
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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