The immense wealth of Terry Gou (郭台銘), an independent presidential hopeful, lets him buy many things, but one cannot simply buy political acumen.
Negotiations between Gou and the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) have largely broken down due to Gou’s refusal to compromise. Seeing his presidential campaign as a betrayal, staunch supporters of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) are also unlikely to vote for him. Nonetheless, Gou is a gifted showman and continues to be the focus of the media spotlight. It is undeniable that he brings a fresh and unruly vitality to Taiwanese politics.
Gou has attempted to set himself apart from the two other opposition candidates through a variety of publicity stunts, including showing up in front of the press dressed in full military camouflage during this year’s Han Kuang military exercises.
“Taiwanese need peace, not war. That is the message I am sending,” Gou told reporters.
Many see this stunt as distasteful, since Gou is neither an active-duty officer, nor is he affiliated with the armed forces. Yet any publicity is good publicity for an independent candidate. Like former US president Donald Trump, Gou first grabs the headlines and then sells his message.
Gou has selected a female running mate to highlight female voices in politics and create a more equitable culture. Ironically, only days after announcing the actress Tammy Lai (賴佩霞) — whose only “political experience” is portraying a presidential candidate in a Netflix show — as his pick for vice president, Gou’s campaign spokesman said that Lai is a useful “chess piece” and would step down if the TPP and the KMT are willing to nominate the “strongest presidential ticket,” with Gou as the parties’ nominee.
After all that virtue signaling, Gou’s ideal running mate is still a man, either TPP Chairman Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) or New Taipei City Mayor Hou You-yi (侯友宜). The satire practically writes itself.
It is all too easy to dismiss this campaign entirely. However, that Gou still has considerable support — the latest polls show about 10 percent of voters would vote for him — reveals that many are disgruntled with the current two-party system. When people feel that they are not represented by those in power, some might support charismatic newcomers who promise unrealistic and radical changes. Gou’s platform is anachronistic at times, particularly on Taiwan-China relations, but it is also forward-looking with its emphasis on using of technology to improve the lives of ordinary citizens. Gou truly believes that artificial intelligence can solve many of Taiwan’s problems. The appeal of this message lies in its simplicity. However, if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is not true.
Perhaps realizing that his campaign is in a precarious position, Gou has desperately signaled that he is willing to join forces with the TPP and the KMT on multiple occasions. To be taken seriously by either camp, Gou’s campaign must collect enough signatures to qualify for the upcoming election. The question is ultimately whether Gou can tap into his loosely organized grassroots supporters to collect at least 289,000 signatures in a relatively short time. His next moves would be predicated upon the outcome of this signature drive; this might be his endgame.
We have the sea goddess Matsu to thank for bringing us this political spectacle; Matsu apparently came to Gou in a dream years ago and encouraged him to seek office. If Gou chooses to run as an independent, more chaos would be wrought upon the already fractured pan-blue alliance. This is likely Gou’s last waltz in politics, and it sure is entertaining.
Linus Chiou graduated with distinction from the University of Virginia. He is currently serving in the Taiwanese armed forces.
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,