A year ago yesterday, scores of university students and others, unarmed yet loaded with indignation over their futures being increasingly dictated by China and with a yearning for change, stormed into the Legislative Yuan’s main chamber in Taipei and started a 24-day occupation that has since been termed the Sunflower movement.
Just as sunflowers turn to follow the sun — symbolizing positivity, openness and brightness — the pursuit of social justice and an acute sense of awareness about the challenges they and the nation face have been the light leading the many young faces to take bold steps in voicing their anger about arbitrary policymaking spearheaded by the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) government.
They cannot accept KMT legislators attempting to ram through bills that matter to the nation’s future in a mere 30 seconds, nor can they accept President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) administration attempting to pass the controversial cross-strait service trade agreement without legislative reviews or public scrutiny.
The protesters and their supporters were also indignant at the growing income disparity in the nation, which leads many to see little hope for a bright future.
A year has passed since the Sunflower movement erupted, and despite attempts by the Ma administration and some media outlets to portray the student-led protesters as rioters, the radiance of the sunflowers’ bright petals continues to foster strong civic engagement among the public. The movement and its effects have altered the nation’s political map.
For example, the KMT was bruised and battered in the nine-in-one elections in November last year. Also, a third political force has emerged, since many young people have — on their own initiative — formed new social activist groups, such as Taiwan March (島國前進), Democracy Kuroshio (民主黑潮) and Democracy Tautin (民主鬥陣).
Indeed, negative perceptions of young Taiwanese have been substantially changed in the wake of the Sunflower movement.
In the past, younger people — often said to display an apathetic attitude toward their surroundings — had been criticized as being spoiled and selfish people who enjoy the fruits of democracy without thinking of how they might contribute to or consolidate the nation’s democratic achievements.
Through the Sunflower movement, the youth have showed a remarkable level of resilience and maturity, as well as a depth of understanding about the nation’s democratization.
The movement has forced the KMT, as well as China, to readjust attitudes toward cross-strait affairs, just as the younger generations must pay attention to social issues as they learn to scrutinize government actions and keep it in check.
Most importantly, young people have shown an adamant and uncompromising attitude toward upholding democratic values and social justice.
A floral symbol of adoration and embracing new opportunities as well as a reminder of all that is good in life, sunflowers certainly have been a great symbol to represent the student-led protesters’ massive demonstrations in March last year against the government’s opaque handling of the service trade agreement.
With their tall stalks and bright petals stretched toward the sun, sunflowers evoke feelings of vibrance and radiant warmth. As such, society looks forward to the sunflowers’ luminescence continuing to uplift the social and political awareness of young people, leading them toward the continued pursuit of critically important national issues and increased civic engagement.
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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