President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) wiped out almost 10 years of progress made under former presidents Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) and Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) in one fell swoop last week when he told a Mexican newspaper that the relationship between Taiwan and China “is a special one, but not [one] between two countries.”
By turning back the clock to before Lee’s 1999 “state-to-state relations” declaration, Ma’s statement was a marked departure from his pre-election pledges to defend Taiwan’s sovereignty, a fact the Presidential Office was quick to “clarify.”
In the same interview, Ma also referred once again to the fictitious “1992 consensus,” saying that both sides of the Taiwan Strait had agreed to accept the “one China, different interpretations” model supposedly enshrined in this fabricated agreement.
He was wrong. At no time has Beijing said it subscribes to the so-called “consensus” and China’s outright rejection of the Ma government’s self-
deprecating UN bid two weeks ago is clear proof that Beijing will brook no deviation from its definition of the “one China” policy.
But while the rest of the world recognizes rejection when they hear it, the Presidential Office persists in trying to disguise a failure as a success, dismissing Beijing’s sharp rebuff as an “isolated incident.”
George Orwell could have been talking about the Ma government when, in his influential 1946 essay “Politics and the English Language,” he wrote “political speech [is] largely the defense of the indefensible and consists largely of ... sheer cloudy vagueness.”
The Ma administration has purposely played word games with national sovereignty in the belief that it can earn mutual goodwill from China. As Ma’s campaign promises were predicated on Beijing’s willingness to throw Taiwan a few crumbs from its economic banquet, the government has had no choice. Yet 100 days on, Ma has nothing to show for his government’s ingratiating behavior.
Although China may not be playing Ma’s game, “progress” on another front — unraveling the Taiwan consciousness that has flourished over the last decade or so — seems to be gathering momentum.
Ma may have promised to follow his “three noes” — no unification, no independence and no use of force — during his presidency, but his policies risk making Taiwan so reliant on its giant neighbor that the nation could eventually have no choice but to strike up some kind of union. No amount of flowery language can obscure the risks involved in the government’s actions.
In his essay, Orwell wrote: “When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink.”
Looking back, despite all Ma’s patriotic obfuscation in the lead up to election day, it should have been quite clear to anyone with a basic knowledge of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) that Ma and his party consider Taiwan a part of China, albeit the Republic of China and not the People’s Republic of China.
The cuttlefish may have spurted out enough ink to confuse people ahead of the presidential election in March, but with everything going wrong on the policy front, it will take quite a reserve of ink to last another three-and-a-half years.
The closure of the Strait of Hormuz has sent the vast Asian chemicals industry into a tailspin. Deprived of the likes of Qatari natural gas and Saudi Arabian oil, the region’s fertilizer and plastics plants are slowing production or even shutting down. Everywhere except China, that is. In petrochemicals, China is unique. As well as a traditional industry that uses oil and gas as feedstock, it has parallel output that relies on its abundant domestic coal. Unsurprisingly, India and other regional powers want to copy and paste the Chinese method. This would not be easy — or climate friendly. The
KMT Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) recent visit to Beijing and her upcoming visit to Washington will serve as a high-level test of her diplomatic mettle. In Beijing, Cheng was received with symbolic gestures, a warm reception, and high-level access. In Washington, she will receive far less pomp and far sharper questions about the KMT’s vision for the future of Taiwan. Her challenge will be to persuade Washington that the KMT’s engagement with China can coexist with strong deterrence. Cheng’s April 7-12 visit to mainland China coincided with an intense period of conflict in Iran. Despite the strategic significance of Cheng’s trip,
History might remember 2026, not 2022, as the year artificial intelligence (AI) truly changed everything. ChatGPT’s launch was a product moment. What is happening now is an anthropological moment: AI is no longer merely answering questions. It is now taking initiative and learning from others to get things done, behaving less like software and more like a colleague. The economic consequence is the rise of the one-person company — a structure anticipated in the 2024 book The Choices Amid Great Changes, which I coauthored. The real target of AI is not labor. It is hierarchy. When AI sharply reduces the cost
US President Donald Trump recently repeated his claim that “Taiwan stole America’s chip industry,” reigniting public debate on the issue. As a former Taiwanese minister of economic affairs and an entrepreneur deeply involved in semiconductor supply chain development, I feel a responsibility to clarify this misunderstanding. From the perspective of global industrial evolution and the economic principle of comparative advantage, such a statement appears overly simplistic and risks obscuring the essence of the issue. The rise of Taiwan’s semiconductor industry was not built on “replacing America,” but rather emerged as a result of countries pursuing different development paths within the