The woman hoping to be the next vice-president is a self-proclaimed “cat warrior” who says she will be able to deliver the “global vision” needed to tackle tensions with China.
The ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) hopes that Hsiao Bi-khim (蕭美琴), who until November was the Taiwanese envoy to the US, will be able to convince voters to back the DPP in the high stakes presidential election on Jan. 13.
A political veteran, Hsiao, 52, came up with her own nickname when she was sent to Washington — with her four cats — in 2020.
Photo: Lin Cheng-kung, Taipei Times
The moniker was her response to Beijing’s aggressive “wolf warrior” style diplomacy, which was becoming increasingly combative at that time. Like a cat, Taiwan’s diplomacy would be agile, flexible and comfortable in narrow spaces, she said. The animals are lovable but also independent.
Born in Japan to Taiwanese and American parents, Hsiao’s own life reflects the desire felt by many in Taiwan to forge a distinct Taiwanese identity.
She grew up in Taiwan speaking Mandarin, English and Taiwanese (also called Hoklo). Her family traveled widely; when she was a teenager, they moved to the US where she went on to study political science at Columbia University; she reportedly successfully fought to have a Taiwan stall at the university’s international festival, against the opposition of students from China.
Photo: Yao Kai-shiou, Taipei Times
She chooses to use the Taiwanese version of her given name, rather than the Mandarin version or her English second name, Louise. In the words of her father, who wrote an article about her in 2020: “She wanted a name that would embody her unique background.”
Her identity as a mixed-race woman illustrates the gulf between politics in Taiwan and China. She was Taiwan’s first female envoy to the US and, if elected, would be the second female vice-president.
In Beijing, the Communist party chief Xi Jinping (習近平) last year revealed an all-male politburo, meaning that for the first time since 1997 there are no women in the party’s leadership committee. And the prospect of a mixed-race politician in China is vanishingly remote in a system that emphasizes ethnic purity as central to its idea of nationalism. Some see her as a contrast to the laolunan (老綠男, “old, green, male”) style of politics that has traditionally dominated DPP politics (the party’s color is green).
Photo courtesy of Hsieh Hsi-yang
Hsiao argues that her extensive contacts in Washington on both sides of the aisle will help Taiwan to preserve its status quo — even if that comes at the cost of dialogue with Beijing. China imposed sanctions on Hsiao in 2022 and last year, meaning that she and her family members cannot enter mainland China, Hong Kong or Macau.
PEACE IN THE STRAIT
All three of the main parties are arguing that their candidate can preserve peace and stability for the self-governing island. For the incumbent DPP, that offer to voters comes in the form of a ticket headed by William Lai (賴清德), the current vice-president, and his running mate, Hsiao.
Although the DPP does not formally support a declaration of independence, it is widely seen as the party that would try to put the most distance between Taipei and Beijing. Lai has previously described himself as a “pragmatic worker for Taiwan independence.”
The main opposition party, the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), argues that more dialogue, as well as economic and trade links with China, will help reduce cross-Strait tensions. And the relative newcomer, the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP), claims to offer a middle way for voters, although its candidate Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) has supported increased links with China.
Hsiao, however argues that Taiwan needs to bolster its defenses against the “constant pressures” from China. The DPP hopes she will be able to convince the country’s 19.3 million eligible voters it is the party that can boost Taipei’s standing on the world stage.
“She is very international,” says Bonnie Glaser, the managing director and Taiwan expert at the German Marshall Fund, a thinktank. “That is part of what the DPP wants to portray itself as, as a party that is connected to the world.”
Soon after graduating in the US, Hsiao returned to Taiwan to join the DPP, becoming the party’s head of international affairs at the age of 26. In 2002, she renounced her US citizenship in accordance with laws about civil servants.
Before being appointed to serve in Washington in 2020, she was a member of Legislative Yuan, and served for a decade in the east-coast county of Hualien, which has a large Indigenous population — an experience which her supporters say boosts her credentials outside the Taipei elite.
In Monday’s televised vice-presidential debate, Hsiao said that there were three main issues facing Taiwan: the economy, geopolitical uncertainties and global challenges such as climate change.
But the question of how to negotiate the relationship between the US and China is dominating the race. In a recent interview with The Economist, Hsiao summed up her, and the DPP’s, approach: “Cats have the ability to tread softly but firmly … You can’t force them to do things they don’t want to. You don’t command cats. You’ve got to be nice to them, and cats will repay your kindness with warmth.”
Nov. 11 to Nov. 17 People may call Taipei a “living hell for pedestrians,” but back in the 1960s and 1970s, citizens were even discouraged from crossing major roads on foot. And there weren’t crosswalks or pedestrian signals at busy intersections. A 1978 editorial in the China Times (中國時報) reflected the government’s car-centric attitude: “Pedestrians too often risk their lives to compete with vehicles over road use instead of using an overpass. If they get hit by a car, who can they blame?” Taipei’s car traffic was growing exponentially during the 1960s, and along with it the frequency of accidents. The policy
Hourglass-shaped sex toys casually glide along a conveyor belt through an airy new store in Tokyo, the latest attempt by Japanese manufacturer Tenga to sell adult products without the shame that is often attached. At first glance it’s not even obvious that the sleek, colorful products on display are Japan’s favorite sex toys for men, but the store has drawn a stream of couples and tourists since opening this year. “Its openness surprised me,” said customer Masafumi Kawasaki, 45, “and made me a bit embarrassed that I’d had a ‘naughty’ image” of the company. I might have thought this was some kind
What first caught my eye when I entered the 921 Earthquake Museum was a yellow band running at an angle across the floor toward a pile of exposed soil. This marks the line where, in the early morning hours of Sept. 21, 1999, a massive magnitude 7.3 earthquake raised the earth over two meters along one side of the Chelungpu Fault (車籠埔斷層). The museum’s first gallery, named after this fault, takes visitors on a journey along its length, from the spot right in front of them, where the uplift is visible in the exposed soil, all the way to the farthest
The room glows vibrant pink, the floor flooded with hundreds of tiny pink marbles. As I approach the two chairs and a plush baroque sofa of matching fuchsia, what at first appears to be a scene of domestic bliss reveals itself to be anything but as gnarled metal nails and sharp spikes protrude from the cushions. An eerie cutout of a woman recoils into the armrest. This mixed-media installation captures generations of female anguish in Yun Suknam’s native South Korea, reflecting her observations and lived experience of the subjugated and serviceable housewife. The marbles are the mother’s sweat and tears,