With closer, more frequent and open cultural and academic exchanges across the Taiwan Strait, the administration of President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) may hope to foster an image of rapprochement, if not understanding. While such contact is not new and happened, albeit in a low-profile fashion, during the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) administration, the seniority of the Chinese officials and academics invited to speak at forums in Taiwan and the coverage the meetings have received is unprecedented in 60 years of cross-strait diplomacy.
If this weekend’s series of forums are any indication of the shape of academic debate to come, however, the Ma administration could be in for a surprise, for the Chinese officials who spoke in Taipei made it very clear that they are in Taiwan to dictate and to threaten — not to listen or learn.
When Chinese President Hu Jintao’s (胡錦濤) confidant and alleged ghostwriter Zheng Bijian (鄭必堅) tells an audience in Taipei that the Taiwanese independence movement is doomed to fail, or retired People’s Liberation Army general Li Jijun (李際均) threatens Taiwanese with a choice between war and accepting Beijing’s “one China” policy, they are not here to build consensus. Not only that, they underscore the antiquated groupthink that characterizes Chinese officials’ view of Taiwan.
There is no doubt that Chinese political thinking has matured in the past decades and is no longer a communist monolith. Chinese Communist Party (CCP) cadres today are better educated, better traveled and increasingly refined in their view of the world. One core issue that has remained frozen in time, however, is that of Taiwan, which has not lost its nationalistic and emotional value to Chinese. As a consequence, where Chinese officials are willing to listen, learn, adapt and build consensus on matters of less importance to Beijing, Taiwan and “one China” remain exceptions — taboo subjects that brook no opposition or divergence of opinion. Even the newer generation of Chinese thinkers, such as Fudan University’s Jian Junbo (簡軍波), perpetuates the language of intolerance and war in its discourse on Taiwan.
This explains why the Zhengs and Lis who spoke over the weekend sounded so ideological and implacable — like old textbooks that failed to evolve with the circumstances.
For the Taiwanese independence movement, this is a good thing, and more CCP officials should be allowed to speak in Taiwan. If they’re willing to crucify themselves in public by putting their intolerance and ignorance on display, then so be it. More Taiwanese will realize that Ma’s sweet talk about peace and warmer ties is nothing more than wishful thinking. This will make it increasingly difficult for the Ma administration to ignore the opposition — both political and, increasingly, in the business sector — as it forges ahead with less-than-transparent negotiations with Beijing, because an increasing number of Taiwanese will see that Chinese goodwill is a mirage, a facade that its emissaries cannot be bothered to keep up on Taiwanese shores.
The DPP’s International Affairs Department director, Hsiao Bi-khim (蕭美琴), understood that perfectly when she put Chinese Consulate-General in Fukuoka Wu Shumin (武樹民) on the spot in June by translating his threats to Taiwan into English — comments that were then picked up by news outlets, revealing the wolf in the diplomat’s suit.
Chinese officials are more than welcome to come to Taiwan and learn about its democracy, tolerance and way of life. If, however, they come to dictate and threaten, we’ll be doing more than listening.
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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