March 24, 2014, is guaranteed to go down as one of the days permanently etched into the history of Taiwan’s democratic movement. It was a very sad, but also a great day for the nation.
In a crackdown on thousands of students and citizens who occupied the Executive Yuan compound, riot police evicted the protesters with water cannons and excessive force, injuring dozens.
On Sunday night, about 100 protesters broke off from the thousands of students who have been staging sit-ins around the legislative compound and “ambushed” the Executive Yuan. At the same time, dozens of other university students successfully occupied the Control Yuan.
In what is now known as the Sunflower Revolution, students were able to seize three of the five government branches at one point, before yielding control over the Executive Yuan and Control Yuan the next day.
The siege on government buildings did not go unquestioned, in particular the occupation of the Executive Yuan, which some people described as the wrong strategy saying the students had “gone too far.”
The students said they were not “rioters” and that they resorted to the “extreme” measure of occupying government buildings only because they had exhausted every other possible way to voice their concerns over the cross-strait service trade agreement.
They said they had received no response from the government, which had advertised the pact as one Taiwan could not do without, saying it could bypass a committee review and be sent to the legislature’s plenary session for a second reading.
Behind the students’ extreme measure is widespread public desperation that has been accumulating for more than two years, during which protests over a wide range of social issues — nuclear power, media monopolization and the government’s illegal land expropriation and development projects — have either been ignored or played down by the Ma administration.
The students resorted to civil disobedience in order to have their voices heard, well aware that they might be breaking the law, yet nevertheless prepared to suffer the consequences of their actions.
Premier Jiang Yi-huah’s (江宜樺) meeting with the students on Saturday and Ma’s international press conference on Sunday extinguished the last hope for the students. Instead of showing an intention to negotiate, or offering a concession, Ma and Jiang decided to take their own extreme measure, sending in hundreds of police in riot gear and using water cannons to disperse the crowds, causing dozens of injuries.
It was sad to see the government resort to such violent measures. These are the most extreme reactions seen since 520 farmers protested in 1988 or the crackdown on protesters when Chinese official Chen Yunlin (陳雲林) visited Taiwan in 2008.
In the aftermath of the crackdown, some have even compared the violent crackdown to the 228 Massacre in 1947 and the Kaohsiung Incident in 1979, saying the violence yesterday would be etched into the minds of Taiwanese in a similar manner.
However, the day is also a great day for Taiwan, as it will be remembered that the young generation are willing to stand up for what they believe in and care about the country’s future, even if bloodshed is the price to pay.
It is great to know that the future of Taiwan will be in good hands.
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,