Facing another round of criticism by academics over the weekend about fears of abuse of power, the Presidential Office again responded by maintaining that Taiwan was a country of law and order, and that the authorities were only following the law.
The matter in question, which involves allegations that 17 senior officials in former president Chen Shui-bian’s (陳水扁) Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) administration failed to return as many as 36,000 documents — several of them classified — seemed untoward from the beginning, coming as it did almost three years after the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) return to power and as the campaign for next year’s presidential election began to shift into gear.
Some of the DPP officials targeted include former Mainland Affairs Council chairman Joseph Wu (吳釗燮), a man with impeccable political credentials, as well as former premier Su Tseng-chang (蘇貞昌), who is one of the three candidates in the DPP presidential primary.
While some could dismiss the timing as mere happenstance, the explanation collapses when it is taken in the context of the Presidential Office’s reaction to the criticism.
“Taiwan is a country of law and order,” Presidential Office spokesman Lo Chih-chiang (羅智強) was quoted as saying by the Chinese-language Liberty Times (the Taipei Times’ sister paper) yesterday.
What Lo fails to tell us is whether he means rule of law or rule by law, a seemingly minute nuance that, in countries with a history of authoritarian rule, can make a world of a difference. Indeed, if we think about it, Lo’s explanation means nothing whatsoever.
A police officer could claim he is enforcing the law when, seeing 10 car thieves, he chooses to arrest six perpetrators, while allowing the other four to get away. What the officer doesn’t tell us is that the four who fled are close friends, in which case the selective enforcement itself becomes a political act. Another scenario could be that while none of the 10 have any association with the officer, his decision to only arrest six is based on, say, their appearance or perceived political affiliation. Again, the officer is technically enforcing the law, but there is more to his action (or inaction) than meets the eye.
Worryingly, justification for police action against specific groups by claiming rule of law and order is an instrument the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has refined for more than 60 years. However anodyne the act, by arresting or harassing individuals the CCP has repeatedly quoted the law, in the process creating the illusion that the law-abiding state has no choice but to take action. In reality, it is the CCP, not the alleged “criminal,” that is the real enemy of the state, as rule by law is used to crush dissent and eliminate whoever threatens the party’s hold on power.
Over the years, the CCP’s abuse of such rationalization has turned into farce and few believe the rhetoric when it claims that individuals like Nobel laureate Liu Xiaobo (劉曉波), lawyer Gao Zhisheng (高智晟) or artist Ai Weiwei (艾未未), to name just a few, are criminals threatening national security.
As a declaration by the Tiananmen Mothers movement said in 1998: “China’s current legal system is in reality still a tool used by the ruling clique to maintain and safeguard its grip on power.”
While President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) KMT has yet to attain the level of surrealism seen in China’s legal system, the selective disposition of the judiciary under its watch and the specific targeting of DPP officials points to a campaign to undermine its opponents.
The latest case is especially alarming because it takes aim at 17 individuals with substantial experience in government and whose resources will be key in helping the DPP attempt to regain power.
By decimating its ranks and embroiling dedicated, talented and connected individuals in court appearances and investigations, the KMT could strike a fatal blow to the DPP’s chances of prevailing in next year’s presidential election — all under the guise of upholding the law.
In the US’ National Security Strategy (NSS) report released last month, US President Donald Trump offered his interpretation of the Monroe Doctrine. The “Trump Corollary,” presented on page 15, is a distinctly aggressive rebranding of the more than 200-year-old foreign policy position. Beyond reasserting the sovereignty of the western hemisphere against foreign intervention, the document centers on energy and strategic assets, and attempts to redraw the map of the geopolitical landscape more broadly. It is clear that Trump no longer sees the western hemisphere as a peaceful backyard, but rather as the frontier of a new Cold War. In particular,
As the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) races toward its 2027 modernization goals, most analysts fixate on ship counts, missile ranges and artificial intelligence. Those metrics matter — but they obscure a deeper vulnerability. The true future of the PLA, and by extension Taiwan’s security, might hinge less on hardware than on whether the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) can preserve ideological loyalty inside its own armed forces. Iran’s 1979 revolution demonstrated how even a technologically advanced military can collapse when the social environment surrounding it shifts. That lesson has renewed relevance as fresh unrest shakes Iran today — and it should
The last foreign delegation Nicolas Maduro met before he went to bed Friday night (January 2) was led by China’s top Latin America diplomat. “I had a pleasant meeting with Qiu Xiaoqi (邱小琪), Special Envoy of President Xi Jinping (習近平),” Venezuela’s soon-to-be ex-president tweeted on Telegram, “and we reaffirmed our commitment to the strategic relationship that is progressing and strengthening in various areas for building a multipolar world of development and peace.” Judging by how minutely the Central Intelligence Agency was monitoring Maduro’s every move on Friday, President Trump himself was certainly aware of Maduro’s felicitations to his Chinese guest. Just
On today’s page, Masahiro Matsumura, a professor of international politics and national security at St Andrew’s University in Osaka, questions the viability and advisability of the government’s proposed “T-Dome” missile defense system. Matsumura writes that Taiwan’s military budget would be better allocated elsewhere, and cautions against the temptation to allow politics to trump strategic sense. What he does not do is question whether Taiwan needs to increase its defense capabilities. “Given the accelerating pace of Beijing’s military buildup and political coercion ... [Taiwan] cannot afford inaction,” he writes. A rational, robust debate over the specifics, not the scale or the necessity,