Place your Bets

A-Shen (阿深) loves the fact democracy is flourishing in Taiwan. He's already made some NT$250,000 from it.

"Betting on number games can be boring," he said. "And we were all disappointed to hear that baseball players gamble more than they play. Politicians at least want to win, that much you can bet on!"

And bet he has. Weeks before the presidential election of 2000, he put NT$100,000 on Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) winning and doubled his money. In the Taipei mayoral election of 2002, unable to find a bookie offering reasonable odds, he gambled with friends, betting that Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) would win by less than 400,000 votes, and earned himself another NT$50,000.

But beyond gambling, the 52-year-old A-Shen says that Taiwan's democratization has made him more politically active than he was during the martial law era, and that hardly a day goes by that he's not tuned in to the nation's ongoing presidential race.

"It's too soon to know who'll win the election," he says. "But I'll get a hunch sooner or later."

GAMBLING FEVER

What starts as wagering among friends may ultimately influence the fate of the nation. While that may sound far-fetched, law enforcement authorities and at least one camp of political pundits worry that it might prove true.

The concern is not with bar room bets or wagers being made at the water cooler. Gambling, after all, is something of a national pastime. Instead, the concern lies in the high-stakes election wagers being placed within organized crime circles.

Law enforcement authorities cite the activities of Taiwan's four largest bookmakers, known only by their surnames; Lin in Taipei County, Hsieh in Taichung County, Gao in Tainan, and Wang in Kaohsiung. (Gamblers, in turn, cite law enforcement authorities for complicity and even direct participation in bookmaking. "You want to find a bookie?" said one gambler, "Ask a cop!")

Working for them are a network of mid- and lower-level bookies whose perennial punters are said to number up to half a million. They're almost exclusively men over 30, not necessarily wealthy, but often single and with disposable income.

The usual racket is "mark six" (六合彩), a numbers-picking game similar to the national lottery. But, as happened in 2000, the presidential election has inspired high-stakes wagers placed not only by routine gamblers but by first-timers, whose purse strings have been pulled by political passions.

The structure of this network is a kind of pyramid marketing scheme, a "mouse organization" (老鼠會) as it's known in Chinese. The bookmakers at the top set the odds for whom they believe will win and by how many votes, figuring in a cushion within each bracket in the event they're wrong. Mid-level bookies then sell the bet to lower-level bookies and punters, who in turn sell it to even more punters, and so on.

Anyone who has, say, NT$100,000 riding on the blue camp winning the election by half a million votes has incentive to find as many other potential blue camp supporters as he can who are willing to make a similar bet. The possible result: Half a million people or more bet on and vote for the same candidate, potentially tipping the balance in an election still too close to call.

The concern is enough to have caused the president to pay a personal visit to Wang Chen-keng (王振鏗) at his home in Tainan City. Wang is the general manager of Fuhong Securities and an alleged gangster whose criminal record includes gambling and offences against personal liberty. While not himself a bookmaker, Wang's role as a "vote captain" (樁腳) means he can influence the bookmakers and the odds they set, thereby influencing voting patterns.