Kaohsiung Mayor Han Kuo-yu (韓國瑜), the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) presidential candidate, appeared to lose his cool in the televised presidential debate on Dec. 29, lashing out at journalists from the Apple Daily, Central News Agency and SET-TV during the question-and-answer segment of the debate.
Han’s apparent meltdown, which included branding a journalist’s question “low-class” and saying another interviewer’s conscience had been “eaten by a dog,” has sparked intense debate.
Some said that Han’s behavior fell well short of what is expected of an aspiring president. Others claimed he had an ulterior motive: to lock in votes from his core supporters. Whatever his intention, Han’s high-risk strategy is a harbinger of his coming defeat.
Han is no fool. He must have predicted the questions that the media would ask and his answers were pre-scripted, not off-the-cuff remarks.
During the debate, Han faced questions about his private finances and cross-strait policy, to which he was unable to provide straight answers.
Rather than provide ambiguous responses, which would have been exhaustively dissected by the media, Han opted to go on the offensive, unleashing extravagant insults and attempted to paint himself as a victim of “vulgar” media attacks.
The strategy was not just about evading sensitive questions, it was designed to use the campaign’s only televised presidential debate to whip his supporters into a frenzy of hate against a “common enemy” and to generate sympathy from groups who already hold a grudge against the media.
Han believes the media he singled out for criticism are already “fighting for the enemy” and were out to get him over his cross-strait policy and personal morals. He therefore concluded that attacking these organizations would not harm his wider media image.
Working on the principle that there is no such thing as bad publicity, Han guaranteed that he would make headlines the next day. He is following the same logic that drives his frequent fake news posts, which are designed to bamboozle impressionable members of the electorate. It is a cunning ploy.
Nevertheless, as the Chinese saying goes: The more a gambler loses, the higher he raises the stakes. That Han decided to go for broke was a reflection of his flagging campaign outlook. That was why he decided to make a last-ditch effort in an attempt to improve his chances.
In other words, the more erratic Han’s behavior becomes, the clearer it is that he is losing the election.
However, despite it seeming unlikely that Han would win the election, so long as he does not lose too badly, the KMT and the Chinese Communist Party would find it difficult to ignore him afterward. He would be able to reap a political dividend. For this reason, the Han camp’s strategy appears to be to preserve his core vote. A “good loss” would be chalked up as a “win” by Han and his team.
Former premier William Lai (賴清德), the Democratic Progressive Party’s vice presidential candidate, once remarked that Han is a once-in-a-generation political genius. It is unclear whether Lai intended this as praise or if he was mocking him, but it is undeniable that Han’s offhand communication style has quickly attracted a loyal band of followers.
Han is a shrewd political operator who should not be underestimated.
What boggles the mind is that Han’s boorish style of electioneering — eagerly supported by certain pan-blue camp media outlets and talking heads — has gained substantial support. This is far more remarkable than his synthetic meltdown on live TV.
Hsu Yu-fang is a professor at National Dong Hwa University.
Translated by Edward Jones
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