Veteran political activist Shih Ming-te (施明德) passed away on Jan. 15 at the age of 83. Shih’s star shone brightest during the dangwai (黨外, “outside the party”) democracy movement and he has since received plaudits from politicians across party lines.
In the 1970s, during martial law under the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) party-state regime, Shih was convicted of treason and given a life sentence for his involvement in the Kaohsiung Incident of Dec. 10, 1979. Back then, he was vilified by KMT figures, but when he died, these same people, the protagonists complicit in his fall, sang his praises.
Shih was no conventional political figure suited to the everyday reality of politics in Taiwan. His pride originated from his youth when he entered the Republic of China Military Academy, aspiring to make a mark in Taiwan’s independence movement, an ambition that led to his criminal conviction. His grinning visage during the Kaohsiung Incident military trial remains etched in people’s hearts as the visage of a hero.
In contrast to the respectful condolences from Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) politicians upon his passing, certain KMT members, who once cursed him, showered him with praise, revealing the cheap flattery and hypocrisy that only politicians are capable of.
A former DPP chairman, Shih’s journey to power did not unfold smoothly. Despite harboring dreams of the presidency, the emergence of formidable rivals within the party, compounded with generational shifts in attitudes, meant that his aspirations went unfulfilled. Neither was he able to become legislative speaker. He withdrew from the DPP, which gradually came under the control of lawyers and assistants associated with the Kaohsiung Incident. This drew praise from some KMT members, particularly those with a strong ideological colonialist mindset.
The participants in the “red shirts” movement might have included some upright individuals, but primarily, they were afflicted by a fascination with the KMT’s authoritarian rule, and did not represent progressive forces. Instead, they served as a disruptive element, providing an opportunity for the resurgence of party-state authority.
Toppling then-president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) gave Shih a brief god-like status, fulfilling a certain sense of pride, but the image only fluttered in the wind. Chen, amidst mixed praise and criticism, became a political gift for the KMT, one which former president Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) benefited from greatly, yet the two were not all that different. Both former presidents are to go down in history with tainted legacies.
The contest for political power manifested itself not just between the political parties, the essence of power was felt in internal party competition, too.
The path to the DPP’s ascent to power is filled with those who have left the fold and those who have shifted allegiance; it is a very different prospect than it was in the past. Those who have distanced themselves from political circles are less complicated a proposition, those that are perceived to have joined enemy lines are vilified.
However, Taiwan lacks a critical awareness or understanding of political change, a reflection of the nefarious nature of the hypocrisy of political power.
The heroic character reflects an independent path in politics, a singular figure enduring 25 years of imprisonment, often dubbed the “Taiwanese Mandela.” He was a unique proposition, unlike any other — a prominent figure who, despite high expectations, failed to sculpt a radiant monument in history. Instead, he left behind only a fleeting shadow, never fulfilling the promise that many believed he had the potential to achieve.
Lee Min-yung is a poet.
Translated by Shelby Tang
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