Old habits die hard, it seems.
After five decades of party-state rule, the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) vice-like grip on state institutions finally began to loosen in the 1990s before they were dramatically wrenched free following the Democratic Progressive Party’s (DPP) shock victory in the 2000 presidential election.
Never again would one party be able to control the executive and abuse power for its own benefit, or so people thought.
Over the past few months, however, this premise has begun to look increasingly shaky, as the longer this KMT administration stays in power, the harder it becomes to distinguish between the party and the state.
It started innocently enough, when in October President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) — following in the footsteps of former presidents Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) and Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) — took up the reins of his party claiming he had a “sense of responsibility for the nation’s competitiveness and government performance.”
Although Ma’s move flew in the face of his previous statement that “the president should be devoted full-time to government affairs,” it was understandable given the executive’s trouble pushing its agenda through a legislature dominated by people supposedly on its side.
Then in December, following a relatively poor showing in local elections and with Ma’s approval rating continuing to slide, King Pu-tsung (金溥聰) — Ma’s hatchet man from his Taipei mayor days — was installed as party secretary-general in a bid to halt the slide.
King’s powers appear to be unlimited if his recent plundering of Cabinet and Government Information Office Spokesman Su Jun-pin (蘇俊賓) for a party job is any indication. Speculation that Vice Premier Eric Chu (朱立倫) is to be pulled to contest one of the five municipal elections the party fears it may lose is further proof of party taking precedence over government.
Another sign of the increasingly blurred dividing line is the tendency of reporters to ask for, and Premier and former KMT secretary-general Wu Den-yih (吳敦義) to give, comment on the KMT’s internal affairs, even though he is supposed to be busy with more important things — like running the country.
Meanwhile, the last few weeks have seen Ma and an increasing number of government officials spending their time campaigning for KMT candidates ahead of tomorrow’s legislative by-elections.
All this makes it pretty clear that the KMT is devoting all of its (and, when needed, the government’s) resources to the party and Ma’s re-election campaign at the expense of the country.
Of course it would be unfair to criticize the KMT without mentioning the DPP, which was also guilty of using state resources for its own pet projects, but the KMT has taken things to the next level over the last few weeks, focusing entirely on upcoming local elections.
Ma and the KMT must realize that the key to his re-election is whether people believe he is running the country well, something he doesn’t seem to be doing at the moment, given his approval ratings.
A major concern for many is that the KMT is trying to take Taiwan back to the bad old days, and the more Ma devotes his time to party affairs at the expense of the nation, the more their fears appear justified.
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,