This week, it seemed that President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) was on the verge of bringing substance and hard numbers to the debate on the economic cooperation framework agreement (ECFA) with China. The Presidential Office announced that Ma would hold monthly press conferences on the matter — a welcome development for all those who still don’t have a clue as to what any of it means, what they stand to gain and what they risk losing.
Then it was announced that foreign media organizations would be banned from attending, let alone asking questions. In a laughable concession, however, they would be allowed to sit in another room and watch the exchange on television.
“Deeply outraged” at the thought of this development becoming the norm, the Taiwan Foreign Correspondents Club (TFCC) protested against the decision in a letter to the Presidential Office spokesperson. It argued that the “ECFA is a matter of interest to those beyond Taiwan. What [the] government decides to sign with the People’s Republic of China will have repercussions for those living beyond this island and they have as much a right to know about what is happening as those primarily served by the local media.”
Perhaps stung by the TFCC letter, as well as a stern reaction from individual foreign correspondents, the Presidential Office suggested that the president might arrange a meeting with the TFCC in April. But it would not consider joint press conferences because these were a private matter between the local journalist’s association and the Presidential Office.
It may be the case that Ma is still smarting from the grilling he received over his response to Typhoon Morakot; some of the most confronting questions over that government debacle were fired at him during a press conference for foreign correspondents.
Indeed, the occasional forced segregation of local and foreign media outlets is nothing new. What is disturbing about the latest development is that this practice may become institutionalized in regard to a specific subject, which in turn raises questions about what the government is trying to achieve.
The Presidential Office sets up monthly meetings with the local journalists’ association. It is worth noting the way the association operates. We can expect, as is often the case, that few hard questions will be asked, embarrassment will be avoided, many cups of tea will be shared and the requisite number of nods and winks will apply.
To be fair, Ma continues to hold lengthy, often combative interviews with media outlets whose editorial line does not concur with his own. No one can accuse him of aspiring to the level of cynicism and hubris of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, for example, when it comes to handling, and manipulating, the media. If anything, Ma’s attempts to make use of new media technology come across as quaint and faltering; he is hardly a model for the next generation of media-savvy politicians.
Even so, as much now as at any time before, the president has a responsibility to maintain the flow of information on matters of public interest. He should communicate directly and regularly with all accredited journalists, local and foreign, without restriction.
The gutting of Voice of America (VOA) and Radio Free Asia (RFA) by US President Donald Trump’s administration poses a serious threat to the global voice of freedom, particularly for those living under authoritarian regimes such as China. The US — hailed as the model of liberal democracy — has the moral responsibility to uphold the values it champions. In undermining these institutions, the US risks diminishing its “soft power,” a pivotal pillar of its global influence. VOA Tibetan and RFA Tibetan played an enormous role in promoting the strong image of the US in and outside Tibet. On VOA Tibetan,
By now, most of Taiwan has heard Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an’s (蔣萬安) threats to initiate a vote of no confidence against the Cabinet. His rationale is that the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP)-led government’s investigation into alleged signature forgery in the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) recall campaign constitutes “political persecution.” I sincerely hope he goes through with it. The opposition currently holds a majority in the Legislative Yuan, so the initiation of a no-confidence motion and its passage should be entirely within reach. If Chiang truly believes that the government is overreaching, abusing its power and targeting political opponents — then
On a quiet lane in Taipei’s central Daan District (大安), an otherwise unremarkable high-rise is marked by a police guard and a tawdry A4 printout from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs indicating an “embassy area.” Keen observers would see the emblem of the Holy See, one of Taiwan’s 12 so-called “diplomatic allies.” Unlike Taipei’s other embassies and quasi-consulates, no national flag flies there, nor is there a plaque indicating what country’s embassy this is. Visitors hoping to sign a condolence book for the late Pope Francis would instead have to visit the Italian Trade Office, adjacent to Taipei 101. The death of
As the highest elected official in the nation’s capital, Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (蔣萬安) is the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) candidate-in-waiting for a presidential bid. With the exception of Taichung Mayor Lu Shiow-yen (盧秀燕), Chiang is the most likely KMT figure to take over the mantle of the party leadership. All the other usual suspects, from Legislative Speaker Han Kuo-yu (韓國瑜) to New Taipei City Mayor Hou You-yi (侯友宜) to KMT Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) have already been rejected at the ballot box. Given such high expectations, Chiang should be demonstrating resolve, calm-headedness and political wisdom in how he faces tough
RSS