Former Judicial Yuan president Lai In-jaw (賴英照) is widely considered to be knowledgeable and honest. Many were surprised when he tendered his resignation in the wake of allegations of corruption among Taiwan High Court judges, a decision that met with much public displeasure.
Reflecting this surprise, Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Legislator Lo Shu-lei (羅淑蕾) said: “If the Judicial Yuan president had to resign to take responsibility for [alleged] corruption among his subordinates, then why didn’t National Police Agency Director-General Wang Cho-chiun (王卓鈞) have to resign for police corruption [in Taichung City]?”
It’s a little bit like the ancient Chinese law that punished the family and friends of an offender, according to which both Premier Wu Dun-yih (吳敦義) and Minister of the Interior Jiang Yi-huah (江宜樺), as Wang’s immediate supervisors, should also be held responsible.
Lo also said: “Discipline within Taiwan’s military has long been chaotic, but no national defense minister has resigned to take responsibility. As for the alleged corruption, why didn’t the Control Yuan, which is charged with monitoring the government, see the problem earlier? Doesn’t that mean Control Yuan President Wang Chien-shien (王建煊) should resign? Surely the same standard should apply to all officials, regardless of political affiliation.”
However, Lo appears to have conveniently overlooked other recent scandals, such as why Minister of Transportation and Communications, Mao Chi-kuo (毛治國), wasn’t punished for the recent scandals at Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport.
Another issue is Miaoli County Government’s controversial expropriation of farmland in Dapu Borough (大埔), Jhunan Township (竹南), where Jiang, Council of Agriculture Minister Chen Wu-hsiung (陳武雄) and other officials have said only that they will act in accordance with the law. In contrast, President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) and Premier Wu seem to only be concerned by the political ramifications, demanding the KMT County Commissioner, Liu Cheng-hung (劉政鴻), listen more to the protesters.
In theory, the culture of the judicial system differs from that of other governmental heirarchies because the Judicial Yuan president has no authority to investigate the wrongdoings of judges. Meanwhile, judges issue their verdicts independently and without interference and most demonstrate mutual respect by not meddling in each others cases.
This has been the practice for years. Whenever alleged corruption or misconduct occurs within the judiciary, the Ministry of Justice or a special investigation team under the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office handles the case.
In recent years, scandals involving prosecutors have been frequent. Take the recent case for example. Prosecutor Chiu Mao-jung (邱茂榮), along with three judges, have been detained on suspicion of corruption. However, Minister of Justice Tseng Yung-fu (曾勇夫) has not taken any responsibility. Ma and Wu simply expressed their deep disappointment and reaffirmed their determination to punish those involved, announcing the establishment of an anti-corruption agency under the Ministry of Justice. Ma has also pledged to build a clean and capable government, yet today his administration is neither.
Over the last two years there has been a palpable sense that the Ma administration is coming apart at the seams and its pursuit of justice has failed in the face of a seemingly endless list of corruption cases. Ma and other key officials have not, however, taken responsibility or apologized for this. Instead, they have passed the buck telling others to step down and making every effort to redirect attention. Former president Chen Shui-bian’s (陳水扁) corruption scandals, for example, have been continually used as something to hide behind.
Raela Tosh, daughter of World Uyghur Congress president Rebiya Kadeer, who visited Taiwan earlier this month, said that, “In an authoritarian country, you need to convince the government, but in a free country, it’s more important to convince the people.”
What I would like to know is how Ma intends to convince the people of Taiwan.
Lu I-ming is former publisher and president of Taiwan’s Shin Sheng Daily News.
TRANSLATED BY EDDY CHANG
When Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) sits down with US President Donald Trump in Beijing on Thursday next week, Xi is unlikely to demand a dramatic public betrayal of Taiwan. He does not need to. Beijing’s preferred victory is smaller, quieter and in some ways far more dangerous: a subtle shift in American wording that appears technical, but carries major strategic meaning. The ask is simple: replace the longstanding US formulation that Washington “does not support Taiwan independence” with a harder one — that Washington “opposes” Taiwan independence. One word changes; a deterrence structure built over decades begins to shift.
Taipei is facing a severe rat infestation, and the city government is reportedly considering large-scale use of rodenticides as its primary control measure. However, this move could trigger an ecological disaster, including mass deaths of birds of prey. In the past, black kites, relatives of eagles, took more than three decades to return to the skies above the Taipei Basin. Taiwan’s black kite population was nearly wiped out by the combined effects of habitat destruction, pesticides and rodenticides. By 1992, fewer than 200 black kites remained on the island. Fortunately, thanks to more than 30 years of collective effort to preserve their remaining
After Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) met Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) in Beijing, most headlines referred to her as the leader of the opposition in Taiwan. Is she really, though? Being the chairwoman of the KMT does not automatically translate into being the leader of the opposition in the sense that most foreign readers would understand it. “Leader of the opposition” is a very British term. It applies to the Westminster system of parliamentary democracy, and to some extent, to other democracies. If you look at the UK right now, Conservative Party head Kemi Badenoch is
A Pale View of Hills, a movie released last year, follows the story of a Japanese woman from Nagasaki who moved to Britain in the 1950s with her British husband and daughter from a previous marriage. The daughter was born at a time when memories of the US atomic bombing of Nagasaki during World War II and anxiety over the effects of nuclear radiation still haunted the community. It is a reflection on the legacy of the local and national trauma of the bombing that ended the period of Japanese militarism. A central theme of the movie is the need, at
RSS