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.
On May 7, 1971, Henry Kissinger planned his first, ultra-secret mission to China and pondered whether it would be better to meet his Chinese interlocutors “in Pakistan where the Pakistanis would tape the meeting — or in China where the Chinese would do the taping.” After a flicker of thought, he decided to have the Chinese do all the tape recording, translating and transcribing. Fortuitously, historians have several thousand pages of verbatim texts of Dr. Kissinger’s negotiations with his Chinese counterparts. Paradoxically, behind the scenes, Chinese stenographers prepared verbatim English language typescripts faster than they could translate and type them
More than 30 years ago when I immigrated to the US, applied for citizenship and took the 100-question civics test, the one part of the naturalization process that left the deepest impression on me was one question on the N-400 form, which asked: “Have you ever been a member of, involved in or in any way associated with any communist or totalitarian party anywhere in the world?” Answering “yes” could lead to the rejection of your application. Some people might try their luck and lie, but if exposed, the consequences could be much worse — a person could be fined,
Xiaomi Corp founder Lei Jun (雷軍) on May 22 made a high-profile announcement, giving online viewers a sneak peek at the company’s first 3-nanometer mobile processor — the Xring O1 chip — and saying it is a breakthrough in China’s chip design history. Although Xiaomi might be capable of designing chips, it lacks the ability to manufacture them. No matter how beautifully planned the blueprints are, if they cannot be mass-produced, they are nothing more than drawings on paper. The truth is that China’s chipmaking efforts are still heavily reliant on the free world — particularly on Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing
Last week, Nvidia chief executive officer Jensen Huang (黃仁勳) unveiled the location of Nvidia’s new Taipei headquarters and announced plans to build the world’s first large-scale artificial intelligence (AI) supercomputer in Taiwan. In Taipei, Huang’s announcement was welcomed as a milestone for Taiwan’s tech industry. However, beneath the excitement lies a significant question: Can Taiwan’s electricity infrastructure, especially its renewable energy supply, keep up with growing demand from AI chipmaking? Despite its leadership in digital hardware, Taiwan lags behind in renewable energy adoption. Moreover, the electricity grid is already experiencing supply shortages. As Taiwan’s role in AI manufacturing expands, it is critical that