On April 11 an open letter by 34 academics and writers was sent to President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九). It was not the first by this group of experts on Taiwan. The letter questioned the timing and validity of the Presidential Office’s announcement — three years after the fact — that about 36,000 files went missing after the transfer of power from the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) administration in 2008.
The Presidential Office had turned the matter over to the Control Yuan to launch a full investigation into former top officials of the DPP government. Barely was the letter published, when minions of the Ma government responded in exactly the same way that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) responds when any of its abuses of human rights and the right of law are questioned.
So close in wording and method were the responses of the two regimes that they seem to have been taken from the same handbook on authoritarianism. First, of course, there was the questioning of the legitimacy of foreigners commenting on the Republic of China’s (ROC) or the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC) internal affairs. Next followed the procedure of questioning the authenticity of the letter and suspicions that a nefarious plot was afoot.
Finally there was disbelief that the government’s care for its people could be questioned, whether it was by dissident Tibetans, Uighurs or Falun Gong practitioners. Or, as in the case of Taiwan, that Ma’s government was above political motivation for its actions.
In the past week and a half, the various Taipei Economic and Cultural Offices (TECO) around the world have been ordered to track down the signers of the letter and question them on the authenticity of their signatures.
Think for a moment, what president of any democratic country has ever done the same when his rule of law might be questioned? What democratic president would immediately respond by ordering his minions to challenge the authenticity of the signatures of a letter?
Yet this is what has happened with the Ma government. TECO officials asked those involved if their signature was real and/or if they had been pressured or deceived in any way into signing the letter. Finally the TECO officers — as if they were police officers with the ability to call each of the signers in — “explained” (shall we say “indoctrinated”) to those involved exactly what the government’s position was. Surely if they knew that the government was pure as the driven snow in its motivation, such scholars and writers would never have signed the letter.
Why would anyone in the DPP, like the falsely accused Su Tseng-chang (蘇貞昌), be so naive and/or stupid as to put forth such an open letter with bogus or made up signatures? Academics who consistently follow Taiwan’s politics would immediately protest such manipulation of their names. Is not such questioning a projection of paranoia and/or guilt on the part of Ma’s government?
Yet this is what happened. The resources and time of the TECO officials and their offices were used in spending Taiwanese tax dollars to try and prove that somehow the Ma government was being misunderstood. The signatories could not help but wonder at such paranoia and feel somewhat embarrassed for the career officials that had to carry out such orders.
Jerome Keating is a writer based in Taipei. He was a co-signatory to the recent open letter.
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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