Last Sunday’s Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) national congress was the most anticipated in years, and produced some drama and surprises.
As expected, party chair President William Lai (賴清德), his New Tide (新潮流系統, usually abbreviated to 新系) faction and his allied “trust in Lai” (信賴) coalition of factions won majorities and control of the party, but New Tide did not do as well as expected due to an unexpected defection (two previous columns — “The powerful political force that vanished from the English press,” April 23, 2024 and “Introducing the powerful DPP factions,” April 27, 2024 — provide indepth introductions to Taiwan’s factions).
ONE FACTION TO RULE THEM ALL
Photo: Peter Lo, Taipei Times
William Lai, via New Tide and the “trust in Lai” coalition, now dominate the DPP legislative caucus (though not the legislature itself), the executive branch and presidency and now the party itself. Unlike his predecessor, Tsai Ing-wen (蔡英文), who carefully established balance and parity in party and government appointments to keep the peace in the party, Lai is openly moving to consolidate as much power as possible around himself via his proxies. It appears his strategy is to impose party unity through domination rather than balance.
Even within New Tide balance has been thrown out in favor of Lai’s personally picked loyalists, which as we shall see caused some damage. In the past, when elections were held for the DPP Central Standing Committee, New Tide candidates from the north, center and south would represent the faction. Not this time. New Tide sent two subfaction candidates from Tainan and another Tainan candidate who may or may not be in the subfaction.
A similar pattern of domination played out in top executive appointments in the presidential offices and Executive Yuan (aka the cabinet).
Photo: Peter Lo, Taipei Times
In a previous column — “The risks inherent in New Tide and Lai clique domination,” June 22, 2024 — that examined 42 top positions, 10 went to Lai’s New Tide subfaction outright and 10 went to those associated with Lai’s “Tainan clique,” who may or may not be members of New Tide (and which the pan-blue press has dubbed less kindly as the “Tainan gang”). Additionally, two positions went to the Chen Chu (陳菊) subfaction of New Tide and two went to “trust in Lai” factions. Ten positions went to non-factional technocrats and only five went to factions not in the “trust in Lai” coalition factions, though with three it is unclear if they are technocrats with good relations with former president Tsai or are members of the faction that named itself after her (much to her annoyance as she was not in it herself).
Under Tsai, each faction was apportioned a fixed percentage of positions roughly according to their power within the party without favoritism, with New Tide allotted around 40 percent, the Taiwan Normal Country Promotion Association (TNCPA, 正常國家促進會, usually abbreviated to 正國會) 20 percent and the other factions all set at 10 percent. Under Tsai the TNCPA was the second most powerful faction, but this time Lai only allotted it one position out of the 42 top positions, though it is the important position of foreign minister, held by Lin Chia-lung (林佳龍).
In that column last month, I made two predictions. Firstly, the factions would start battling each other again. The second is that the highly incestuous and Tainan-heavy appointments create far more opportunities for corruption than a diffused group of people from different factions, backgrounds and geographical locations.
Fortunately, there have been no cases of corruption, though the new administration has only been in power since May 20. Also fortunately, Lai is known for his anti-corruption stance, becoming a national figure for standing up to corruption in the notoriously corrupt Tainan City Council. Worryingly, while Lai may not be a problem, many of his appointees come from that notoriously corrupt Tainan political culture.
CHEN TING-FEI GIVES LAI THE FINGER
The DPP National Congress elected the powerful 10-member Central Standing Committee (CSC), the important 30-member Central Executive Committee (CEC) and the 11-member Central Supervision Committee, which is considered so unimportant virtually none of the local press mentions it. Fortunately, it was clear which factions had put forth which candidates and the press were all in agreement as to who they were, which is not always the case.
Prior to the congress, there were two big dramas. The first involved Tainan legislator Chen Ting-fei (陳亭妃), who for years was one of the top three leaders of the TNCPA faction.
Chen is familiar with Lai, having served together as lawmakers from different Tainan districts and from Lai’s tenure as Tainan mayor. Chen ran in the primary for Tainan mayor in 2017, but there are suspicions that Lai helped nudge the victory towards Huang Wei-che (黃偉哲).
Chen plans to run in 2026 and openly stated that she was going to run for a seat on the CSC, so she had a vote in ensuring that the Tainan primary rules were fair and not tampered with. She apparently did not “trust in Lai.”
The problem was that the TNCPA had joined the “trust in Lai” coalition and had nominated two other candidates for the CSC in an agreement with New Tide and other coalition members. Fearing Lai and New Tide more than the loss of Chen, they expelled her and two of her followers after she registered her candidacy.
Chen would not back down on her bold challenge to the dominance of Lai and New Tide, and it was known that she had followers of her own. It was unclear whether these people would back her or their faction, and even the pundits shied away from making any predictions.
IN THE NEW TIDE WILDERNESS
The other drama playing out was what would the New Tide subfaction of former Taoyuan mayor Cheng Wen-tsan (鄭文燦) do? Things were going badly for this mostly Taoyuan-centered subfaction.
Under William Lai, only one of his top executive picks came from this wing of New Tide nor did he nominate any of them for a CSC seat as would have been done in the past. Worse, Lai had demoted their leader Cheng from deputy premier in the previous administration to head of the Straits Exchange Foundation. In short, the Cheng subfaction was being marginalized.
Then things went from bad to worse when Cheng was charged with corruption and under unusual circumstances was released on bail twice before finally being ordered to be jailed and held incommunicado by the High Court after they stated that there is clear evidence substantiating serious suspicion regarding his guilt, regardless of Cheng’s protestations of innocence. Rumors were swirling that this was a power play by Lai to remove any potential challenger in the party or within New Tide. In a previous column — “Fallen off the horse,” July 25, 2024 — we examined various conspiracy theories and came to the conclusion that it was more likely than not they were untrue, though not a total certainty.
DRAMA AT THE PARTY CONGRESS
Not only did Chen Ting-fei win her rebellious run for a CEC seat, she garnered the highest number of votes for a CSC seat. Not only that, but one of her followers won a CEC seat, giving them representation better than some established factions.
Her former TNCPA faction had a bad night, falling significantly from second most powerful to more a middling power. Not only did they lose two potential seats to Chen, one of the four candidates they put forward for the CEC failed to make the cut by a single vote and Chen also helped them lose a seat on the CSC. In the end they only held three CEC seats and one SCS seat.
New Tide also had reason to be grumpy. Due to a spoiled ballot, one of their candidates for the SCS ended up in a four-way tie with other candidates, but only three seats were available so they drew lots. The New Tide candidate was the unlucky one.
After the congress, a Taoyuan city councilor from the Cheng subfaction of New Tide admitted that she had done it intentionally, and launched into a tirade against New Tide about standing coldly aside and failing to help Cheng, presumably referring to his legal troubles. Other Cheng subfaction members pushed back against her, though, noting that New Tide had paid for a lawyer for him. It is unclear what sort of help she was expecting from New Tide, or if what she had in mind was legal or not.
After the votes came in, the local media were listing the two Cheng subfaction CEC seats as separate from the New Tide and, even more dramatically, in the “non-trust in Lai” group. However, after the pushback over the city councilors actions, it now appears that either they are remaining in New Tide or are fracturing. This is still playing out, however, so it is too early for much certainty. Similarly, what Chen and her supporters next move will be — join another faction or go it alone — is being widely speculated on.
Depending on whether the Cheng subfaction is included or not, the “trust in Lai” coalition won 19 or 21 of the 30 CEC seats and six of the 10 CSC seats. In CEC, New Tide won the most seats, but still need their allies to form a majority. In the SCS after losing that one candidate to drawing lots, New Tide ended up tied with the Ing faction at two seats each.
There are several key potential developments that will be fascinating to watch play out. What will Chen and the Cheng subfaction do next? There has been a noticeable jump in references to the Cheng subfaction as the “Taoyuan” subfaction. Will that stick? How long will the relatively new “trust in Lai” coalition stick together? Will the Ing faction change its name now that she is no longer in power?
A lot has happened since Lai abandoned Tsai’s power-sharing formula, but this is just the beginning. A lot more is on the horizon.
Donovan’s Deep Dives is a regular column by Courtney Donovan Smith (石東文) who writes in-depth analysis on everything about Taiwan’s political scene and geopolitics. Donovan is also the central Taiwan correspondent at ICRT FM100 Radio News, co-publisher of Compass Magazine, co-founder Taiwan Report (report.tw) and former chair of the Taichung American Chamber of Commerce. Follow him on X: @donovan_smith.
In Taiwan there are two economies: the shiny high tech export economy epitomized by Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co (TSMC, 台積電) and its outsized effect on global supply chains, and the domestic economy, driven by construction and powered by flows of gravel, sand and government contracts. The latter supports the former: we can have an economy without TSMC, but we can’t have one without construction. The labor shortage has heavily impacted public construction in Taiwan. For example, the first phase of the MRT Wanda Line in Taipei, originally slated for next year, has been pushed back to 2027. The government
July 22 to July 28 The Love River’s (愛河) four-decade run as the host of Kaohsiung’s annual dragon boat races came to an abrupt end in 1971 — the once pristine waterway had become too polluted. The 1970 event was infamous for the putrid stench permeating the air, exacerbated by contestants splashing water and sludge onto the shore and even the onlookers. The relocation of the festivities officially marked the “death” of the river, whose condition had rapidly deteriorated during the previous decade. The myriad factories upstream were only partly to blame; as Kaohsiung’s population boomed in the 1960s, all household
Allegations of corruption against three heavyweight politicians from the three major parties are big in the news now. On Wednesday, prosecutors indicted Hsinchu County Commissioner Yang Wen-ke (楊文科) of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), a judgment is expected this week in the case involving Hsinchu Mayor Ann Kao (高虹安) of the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) and former deputy premier and Taoyuan Mayor Cheng Wen-tsan (鄭文燦) of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is being held incommunicado in prison. Unlike the other two cases, Cheng’s case has generated considerable speculation, rumors, suspicions and conspiracy theories from both the pan-blue and pan-green camps.
Stepping inside Waley Art (水谷藝術) in Taipei’s historic Wanhua District (萬華區) one leaves the motorcycle growl and air-conditioner purr of the street and enters a very different sonic realm. Speakers hiss, machines whir and objects chime from all five floors of the shophouse-turned- contemporary art gallery (including the basement). “It’s a bit of a metaphor, the stacking of gallery floors is like the layering of sounds,” observes Australian conceptual artist Samuel Beilby, whose audio installation HZ & Machinic Paragenesis occupies the ground floor of the gallery space. He’s not wrong. Put ‘em in a Box (我們把它都裝在一個盒子裡), which runs until Aug. 18, invites