According to the Mandarin Chinese version of Wikipedia, a political party is “an organized group of people formed with the goal of implementing, advancing or protecting specific political ideas or interests... Political parties usually have specific political goals and ideologies, and an agenda on a range of national and societal issues.”
Since political parties are organized groups, they cannot exist with just one member. A so-called “one-man band” party does not mean a party made up of only one person, nor does it mean a “ghost party.”
As a bare minimum, it must include a chairperson, deputy chairperson, secretary and deputy secretary, but often also includes a small army of spokespeople responsible for each policy area, and a central or executive committee.
During elections, political parties extol the virtues of their selected candidates, and occasionally, a handful are thanked for their troubles by the electorate and are voted into office.
The unique quality of a one-man band party is that, at some point in the party’s life — perhaps from its very inception — its chairperson assumes the role for life and the party is molded in their image.
The chairperson is synonymous with the party. Whenever a person mentions the party, one immediately thinks of its chairperson and whenever a person mentions the name of its chairperson, one instantly thinks of the party.
As for the party’s annual conference, almost nobody outside the party knows or is in the least bit interested in when it is held or how many members are to attend. Even the chairperson might be sketchy on the details.
Over a nine-year-and-10-month period, the New Party’s National Executive Committee had 12 people who served as conveners during a total of 10 sessions. During that time, nobody called it a one-man band.
However, when Yok Mu-ming (郁慕明) became its 10th convener, he seamlessly pirouetted to the role of party chairman. This turned into a second term as chairman and a third, until on Feb. 21, he became the party’s “honorary chairman” and the chairmanship passed on to former Kinmen County deputy commissioner Wu Cheng-tien (吳成典).
There is another “new party” that has had one person ensconced in the position of party chairman for 18 straight years: The People’s First Party (PFP) and its chairman, James Soong (宋楚瑜).
Yok’s and Soong’s parties are both classic one-man band parties. Both started out aggressively, but turned out to be a flash in the pan, unable to alter the political climate in Taiwan.
The New Party hit its peak in the December 1995 legislative elections, but declined thereafter as its constituency began to shrink. It was soon marginalized.
The PFP began to lose momentum after 2001, and it has gone from bad to worse over the years. Its most talented individuals have been poached and it has had no energy to fight back.
One-person parties lack marketability.
Last year, Taipei Mayor Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) formed the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP): a quasi-one-man band party.
There are two possible outcomes for the TPP: It will either become trapped in the bubble of a one-man party, or will grow into a pivotal new force in Taiwanese politics.
It all depends on whether the party is able to avoid being led down the blind alley of a one-leader, perpetual chairmanship under Ko.
Chang Kuo-tsai is a retired associate professor of National Hsinchu University of Education.
Translated by Edward Jones
In the past month, two important developments are poised to equip Taiwan with expanded capabilities to play foreign policy offense in an age where Taiwan’s diplomatic space is seriously constricted by a hegemonic Beijing. Taiwan Foreign Minister Lin Chia-lung (林佳龍) led a delegation of Taiwan and US companies to the Philippines to promote trilateral economic cooperation between the three countries. Additionally, in the past two weeks, Taiwan has placed chip export controls on South Africa in an escalating standoff over the placing of its diplomatic mission in Pretoria, causing the South Africans to pause and ask for consultations to resolve
An altercation involving a 73-year-old woman and a younger person broke out on a Taipei MRT train last week, with videos of the incident going viral online, sparking wide discussions about the controversial priority seats and social norms. In the video, the elderly woman, surnamed Tseng (曾), approached a passenger in a priority seat and demanded that she get up, and after she refused, she swung her bag, hitting her on the knees and calves several times. In return, the commuter asked a nearby passenger to hold her bag, stood up and kicked Tseng, causing her to fall backward and
In December 1937, Japanese troops captured Nanjing and unleashed one of the darkest chapters of the 20th century. Over six weeks, hundreds of thousands were slaughtered and women were raped on a scale that still defies comprehension. Across Asia, the Japanese occupation left deep scars. Singapore, Malaya, the Philippines and much of China endured terror, forced labor and massacres. My own grandfather was tortured by the Japanese in Singapore. His wife, traumatized beyond recovery, lived the rest of her life in silence and breakdown. These stories are real, not abstract history. Here is the irony: Mao Zedong (毛澤東) himself once told visiting
When I reminded my 83-year-old mother on Wednesday that it was the 76th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, she replied: “Yes, it was the day when my family was broken.” That answer captures the paradox of modern China. To most Chinese in mainland China, Oct. 1 is a day of pride — a celebration of national strength, prosperity and global stature. However, on a deeper level, it is also a reminder to many of the families shattered, the freedoms extinguished and the lives sacrificed on the road here. Seventy-six years ago, Chinese Communist leader Mao Zedong (毛澤東)
RSS