Even though the #MeToo movement was started by US activist Tarana Burke in 2006, Taiwan’s political world has just begun to see its first #MeToo reckoning.
The #MeToo movement gained traction when a former gymnast accused a former coach of sexual assault while she was a junior-high student. The 2017 suicide of Lin Yi-han (林奕含), who turned her experience of alleged sexual assault by a cram school teacher into a novel, also caused an uproar.
The two incidents have encouraged other people to reveal misconduct by teachers and coaches, sparking reform in sports and education.
Now it is the political arena’s turn to undergo “cleansing”: Former Hualien County commissioner Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) has been accused of sexual harassment; a whistle-blower surnamed Chen (陳) has accused her supervisor and former Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Youth Wing leader Tsai Mu-lin (蔡沐霖) of helping cover up sexual abuse claims she made against a colleague named Chen Yu-hao (陳右豪); exiled Chinese democracy advocate Wang Dan (王丹) has denied allegations of sexual assault leveled against him by two men.
In response, different parties have unanimously condemned sexual harassment and vowed to mete out penalties if the accusations proved to be true.
Even though Taiwan ranks sixth among 163 countries in overall gender equality, it still has a long way to go before realizing true gender equality. One of the obstacles is social values. As Taiwan is deeply rooted in Confucianism, people tend to hold authority figures, such as coaches and teachers, in high esteem, which explains why people are afraid to seek help.
As Confucianism underscores social order through the encouragement of virtues such as loyalty and respect for elderly people, it has inadvertently bolstered male chauvinism. In a highly patriarchal and chauvinistic society, victims of abuse might be afraid that they would be punished, ridiculed or stigmatized if they come forward.
However, the younger generation has replaced Confucianism with a new set of values, such as Taiwanese independence, opposing the death penalty, and upholding gender equality and LGBT rights. The mindset of the women who lived through these movements is different from the previous generation — and they refuse to put up with grievances such as sexual harassment.
The higher echelons in the DPP were sorely mistaken when they thought they could sweep the complaints under the carpet with the traditional mindset of a patriarchal society. The older generation might have thought it better to stay silent for the “greater good,” but not the new generation.
However, as Taiwan’s #MeToo movement has coincided with the election season, there are concerns that it could be used by political parties to trade accusations, and fail to trigger far-reaching reforms.
To bring real change to the workplace, political parties should implement new measures, instead of just pointing the finger at others, such as establishing a direct channel for people to report wrongdoing, implementing a zero-tolerance policy against sexual harassment and revising party rules and regulations.
Most importantly, society must realize that every person has a responsibility to help people call out perpetrators, instead of pouring cold water over their pleas or indulge in victim-blaming.
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,