The government on Saturday finally summoned the courage to complete the most provocative act thus far in its efforts to rid the nation of the legacy of its authoritarian past when it held a ceremony to rename Chiang Kai-shek (
And while the park's new name -- National Taiwan Democracy Memorial Hall -- is far from ideal, the renaming was something that needed to be done, as for far too long the people of Taipei who do not deify the dead dictator have been forced to put up with Chiang's grimacing presence, staring down at them whenever they chose to visit one of the city's more pleasant and peaceful scenic spots.
This time, however, the pan-blue camp has reacted with more restraint than after previous efforts by the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) government to remove prominent reminders of the former president.
Instead of trying to forcefully prevent the renaming from taking place and mobilizing their supporters to protest the move, Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Taipei Mayor Hau Lung-bin (
In a ridiculous move, the city fined the management of the newly renamed memorial for "damaging" a heritage site nominee and decided to rename Ketagalan Boulevard "Anti-Corruption Democracy Square" in a puerile attempt to hit back at President Chen Shui-bian (
Other pan-blue figures have accused the government of acting "illegally," saying that while they are not necessarily opposed to the move, the administration should have gone about it through the proper legal channels.
These arguments would hold water if facts didn't contradict them. Any resident of the capital is fully aware that the city is in the process of installing new bus shelters and signs, so accommodating the new name of the park would require little extra cost and effort on the city government's part.
As for the legality of the change, the reason the government has resorted to such a convoluted legal process in renaming the hall is because it knows that any bill would stand a snowball in hell's chance of making it through the legislature.
For evidence of this, one need only look at how far the bills eradicating the redundant references to China from the names of the post office and the state-owned electricity and oil companies went. The unreasonable blocking of these moves by a stubborn pan-blue caucus provides the answer.
The next challenge facing the administration will be how to dispose of the gigantic bronze statue of Chiang that resides inside the main hall, as any move to remove it is sure to spark protests. This must surely happen soon, as it is inconceivable that an edifice to a man who was the very antithesis of democracy should be permanently housed in a hall now dedicated to democratic transition.
The president has suggested keeping the huge doors locked and that seems to be the best solution for the time being, but sooner or later the statue has to go.
If the government chooses -- as one suspects it will -- to do so before the legislative and presidential votes, then the manner in which the opposition parties react could have a decisive bearing on the outcome of those elections and, more importantly, the nation's immediate future.
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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