They are young, but they aren't lightweights. They are political insiders, the president's men.
Although many factors contributed to President Chen Shui-bian's triumph in March, it's safe to say that primary among them was the focused effort of three of his closest aides -- Luo Wen-chia (
They have formed a powerful triangle, helping Chen emerge victorious in most of his campaign battles, from his legislative election in 1992 and the Taipei mayor's race in 1994, to his narrow victory for the nation's top post. But they are not eternal winners. In 1998, Chen's unexpected defeat in the re-election for Taipei mayor taught them something more about the quicksand that dots the political landscape.
PHOTO: CHEN CHENG-CHANG, TAIPEI TIMES
This triumvirate of thirtysomethings has been instrumental in helping Chen shed the party's stereotypical image of being sorrowful victims of political persecution, a move that helped them win the Taipei mayoralty. Though seemingly not in positions of substantial power, their influence upon Chen remains enormous. Luo, a master strategist and publicist, will be the vice-chairman of the Council for Cultural Affairs (
Keeping a low-profile will help deflect criticism of their youth and inexperience in national government, says Lin Chia-lung (
And it will help them prove, he says, that "they are no longer those callow young aides at the Taipei City Government."
Luo Wen-chia (羅文嘉)
Having established himself as one of Chen's principal aides for almost a decade, Luo, at 34, is not a new face to the media.
In 1989, he grabbed the public spotlight by putting a hat inscribed with "the people's savior (民族救星)" on a statue of Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), in the auditorium of National Taiwan University (NTU). The intent was to challenge the absurdity that Chiang, a tyrant for many Taiwanese, was worshipped as a national hero. As NTU's student body chairman, his action triggered enormous controversy.
Since 1991, Luo has been a creative force for Chen's campaigns, a brainstormer who pitches wild ideas that nonetheless have broad appeal. It is in the realm of grueling campaign politics that he is most comfortable. Among political activities, he says publicity is his favorite because it feels the least political. "It is an independent territory, where my imagination can run freely."
Luo served as Taipei City's Department of Information (新聞處) chairman from 1994 to 1997 when Chen was mayor. It was at this time that Taipei made efforts to do away with its drab appearance and to transform itself into an international metropolis, full of color and vitality.
It was the first time the city government threw a street party; poetry and verse was posted on busses; the mayor's image was made more familiar. It was Luo's idea to dress Chen as Santa Claus and Superman.
But Luo's novel approach has drawn criticism and he has been accused of currying people's favor with claptrap. He even stepped down from his post because two contestants fractured their arms at a tug-of-war he organized. That he is a resourceful aide is unquestionable, however. "To keep learning and to make progress makes me feel happiest," he says. "The value of life is not based on one's social status or wealth. Instead, it depends on how much you can get out of it [life]."
Luo says his life has not been easy, especially since he entered politics. "Every election is like a battlefield and there is no room for mistakes. Only through constant demonstration of my capability can I prove the value of my existence."
But while it is a common perception to judge people by their successes or failures, Luo says he holds a different perspective. "Outcomes should not be the only elements that are evaluated, what's even more vital is the entire learning process."
Ma Yong-cheng (馬永成)
Ma and Luo are both 1989 graduates of the Political Science Department of NTU. When they started working as Chen's assistants in the legislative Yuan in 1991, neither of them intended to stay in the political arena for long. "We just considered it a transition period during which we prepared for graduate studies overseas," Ma says.
Such a plan, however, was never carried out because their lives started to revolve around Chen's nascent political star. Compared with Luo, the 34-year-old Ma is more casual and takes on more background roles as a coordinator and policy strategist. His behind-the-scenes approach is due, in part, to some advice from a long-time staffer in city government. "He said, `Now that you are working in such a big organization, it is no longer sufficient for you to be a mere worker, you need to be a coordinator,'" Ma recalls. "He said city affairs could not be done by one person, a whole team was needed."
In spite of his young age, Ma frequently acts as a mediator between Chen and other DPP members. When facing these senior politicians, Ma is pressured to prove his ability. In Ma's opinion, there are both merits and disadvantages to being young: youth means energy and creativity, but also denotes inexperience and a lack of sophistication.
He says he has encountered challenges because of his relative immaturity, especially when he has made mistakes. People have ridiculed him, saying that he was a little child driving a big car. Yet, on the other hand, Ma says some senior figures have been very supportive.
Ma admits to being worried sometimes by the strict standards people impose on him, especially the media.
But he has learned a lot. When quizzed about his role in the new government, Ma offers a sober answer: "There is a huge difference between running a city and a country. It is way beyond my own ability to preside over every single detail. What I should do in the future is to hide behind the scenes, helping A-bian recruit men of talent."
Lin Jin-chan (林錦昌)
No briefcase, just a beat-up backpack, popular in the 70s and 80s, slung over his shoulder. Wearing a sports jacket and a pair of jeans, Lin appears somewhat grungy, not like the polished insider he is. "Tie and suit makes me uncomfortable," he says, flashing a smile.
Unlike Luo and Ma, Lin was totally disinterested in political activities before joining the team. As the winner of the United Daily News' annual writing contest -- one of Taiwan's most prestigious -- Lin was recruited for his outstanding communication skills.
"I found literature much more fascinating than politics," he says. "There was not an iota of enthusiasm for politics in my blood. I'd much prefer to engage in cultural events or writing," says Lin.
Since his graduation from the Foreign Languages and Literature Department at NTU in 1989, Lin has immersed himself in writing, teaching and advocating Taiwanese literature, until he joined up with Luo and Ma to campaign for A-bian.
He confides that his first impression of Chen was not that of a landmark politician. "A-bian is a remarkable political figure, yet he has no idea about how campaign publicity should run."
Lin's talent came to the fore in Chen's bid for Taipei mayor in 1994. It was a completely different type of campaign. When attending Chen's rallies it was almost like going to a carnival. While showing his strength, the humane side of Chen's personality was presented at the same time.
According to Lin, Chen's competence was obvious, but what he needed to do was emphasize Chen's grass roots background and the affectionate side of his character. The slogan Lin came up with, "Happiness, Hope, Chen Shui-bian (
The campaign not only sent Chen to head the Taipei City Government, it was also considered a turning period for the DPP.
"We aimed to fight a different campaign battle," says Lin. "In the past, the DPP was excessively caught up in its tragic past. However, to run an election campaign like this [for mayor of Taipei City], I figured that what concerned citizens more was not establishing ideology or passing on a democratic heritage, but the improvement of the quality of life. The result proved our assumption correct."
At 33, Lin has been appointed to significant positions in the city government and for a long time he served as advisor to the mayor. However, he says he is not ideally cut out for politics.
"I bear no ambition toward politics," he says. "I just feel lucky to see so many life fluctuations in such a short time. The best lesson I learned from A-bian is that neither glory nor failure lasts forever. What counts is the learning experience and how to make progress."
Climate change, political headwinds and diverging market dynamics around the world have pushed coffee prices to fresh records, jacking up the cost of your everyday brew or a barista’s signature macchiato. While the current hot streak may calm down in the coming months, experts and industry insiders expect volatility will remain the watchword, giving little visibility for producers — two-thirds of whom farm parcels of less than one hectare. METEORIC RISE The price of arabica beans listed in New York surged by 90 percent last year, smashing on Dec. 10 a record dating from 1977 — US$3.48 per pound. Robusta prices have
The resignation of Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) co-founder Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) as party chair on Jan. 1 has led to an interesting battle between two leading party figures, Huang Kuo-chang (黃國昌) and Tsai Pi-ru (蔡壁如). For years the party has been a one-man show, but with Ko being held incommunicado while on trial for corruption, the new chair’s leadership could be make or break for the young party. Not only are the two very different in style, their backgrounds are very different. Tsai is a co-founder of the TPP and has been with Ko from the very beginning. Huang has
A dozen excited 10-year-olds are bouncing in their chairs. The small classroom’s walls are lined with racks of wetsuits and water equipment, and decorated with posters of turtles. But the students’ eyes are trained on their teacher, Tseng Ching-ming, describing the currents and sea conditions at nearby Banana Bay, where they’ll soon be going. “Today you have one mission: to take off your equipment and float in the water,” he says. Some of the kids grin, nervously. They don’t know it, but the students from Kenting-Eluan elementary school on Taiwan’s southernmost point, are rare among their peers and predecessors. Despite most of
A few years ago, getting a visa to visit China was a “ball ache,” says Kate Murray. The Australian was going for a four-day trade show, but the visa required a formal invitation from the organizers and what felt like “a thousand forms.” “They wanted so many details about your life and personal life,” she tells the Guardian. “The paperwork was bonkers.” But were she to go back again now, Murray could just jump on the plane. Australians are among citizens of almost 40 countries for which China now waives visas for business, tourism or family visits for up to four weeks. It’s