The photograph looks old at first. Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Deputy Chairman Sean Lien (連勝文) sits next to China’s Taiwan Affairs Office (TAO) Director Song Tao (宋濤). There is a sense of familiarity and warmth within the shot, but it also carries an indescribable chill. Some people opened the link thinking it was a retrospective report — after all, it is a bit hard to believe such a meeting could take place now.
The photograph was taken just days ago.
The public meeting was neither impromptu nor unique. It was representative of the KMT’s ideological shift over the past two decades from being anti-communist to pro-communist while acting as if nothing had changed. Many had hoped that people within the party would debate or even resist such behavior. Instead, there is only silence. They have altered the language, redefining “exchange” as “peace” and regarding “peace” as a matter of course.
There are several facets to address when discussing the KMT’s directional shift:
First is the party’s organizational culture. An organization that grew under an authoritarian regime naturally has a limited tolerance for internal dissent. Even after democratization, people within the party remained accustomed to obedience and suppression.
Second is the party’s chronic shift in language strategy. From Lien’s visit to China, former president Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) negotiations over the Economic Cooperation Framework Agreement and his meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) last year to this week’s photo — each move was made under the guises of “peace” and “pragmatism.” This is a kind of linguistic anesthesia, a disguise the KMT has used to fool itself and others.
Third is the tacit understanding of the party’s power structure. In the KMT’s local organizations, those who control the resources are the ones who survive. Practical considerations sweep over ideology, interests trump values — no one wants to sacrifice their political future by opposing pro-communist behavior.
At a deeper level is the KMT’s misunderstanding of its own failure. After losing power in 2000, it failed to reflect on the weight of its past authoritarianism, and the growing distance between itself and the public, instead attributing its loss to “too strong an anti-China stance.” This led the KMT to embrace China as a means of survival.
Finally, there is the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) long-term plan for the KMT. It has used soft-power tactics to coax, pacify and envelop the party. The KMT was not forced to align itself with the CCP — it gradually adapted, eventually coming to enjoy the validation.
It is clear that Lien’s trip to China was a product of the system. He did not deviate from the KMT’s path — he represents it. His smile and silence echo the party’s stance.
To this day, no one within the KMT has publicly condemned the trip, nor is anyone willing to distance themselves from the meeting. There is only a widespread calmness, as if the meeting is simply another normal news report.
However, Taiwanese know that it is much more than a political choice — it is also a loss. A political party has lost its sense of identity, its historical memory and its ability to hold itself accountable to its supporters.
The photo of Lien and Song continues to circulate online, but it is no longer just a piece of news — it is visual proof of a soul departed, a Victorian death photograph, a memento mori. The KMT might continue to shout: “Republic of China,” but the sound of its marching is becoming fainter by the day, moving further away.
This is not only betrayal, but also forgetfulness.
Liu Che-ting is a writer.
Translated by Kyra Gustavsen
The White House’s decision to take a 9.9 percent stake in Intel Corp is looking like very shrewd business indeed. Since the government bought in at US$20.47 a share last August, the US chipmaker’s surging stock price has delivered the US a US$43 billion return. One of the reasons the investment has so far proved so sound is that the White House has made sure of it. According to The Wall Street Journal, Howard personally pushed deals on Intel’s behalf with some of the most lucrative clients imaginable. They include Nvidia Corp, the company at the heart of the AI
A single photograph can cut through a lot of noise, but it can also be used to misrepresent the truth. At the very least, it can concentrate the mind on something that requires further investigation. On Monday last week, Ma Ying-jeou Foundation CEO Tai Hsia-ling (戴遐齡) and former National Security Council secretary-general King Pu-tsung (金溥聰) held a news conference in which they showed a photograph of former foundation CEO Hsiao Hsu-tsen (蕭旭岑), now Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) deputy chairman. In the image Hsiao is seated next to Xiamen Taiwan Businessmen Association chairman Han Ying-huan (韓螢煥). The two men were holding
I first met Professor Ray Jiing (井迎瑞) as a film and documentary student at Shih Hsin University’s (SHU) Department of Radio Television and Film in 1988. The following year, he went on to become the director of the Chinese Taipei Film Archive — forerunner of the Taiwan Film and Audiovisual Institute (TFAI). Over his eight-year tenure, Jiing rescued and restored over 200 classic Taiwanese films. In 1997, he established the Graduate Institute of Studies in Documentary and Film Archiving at Tainan National University of the Arts (TNNUA), and I joined the program in his third cohort of students. Beyond a
A recent report concerning a student who is suing his teacher posed the question in its headline: Does failing a student in two subjects constitute bullying? The college student in Chiayi County apparently sought NT$2 million (US$63,603) in state compensation, but a court dismissed the case. The first reaction of many might have been to ask: What has happened to students nowadays? Some say that teachers have lost their authority, while others say students are overindulged. Some even start reminiscing over the days when “whatever the teacher says goes.” However, the real issue might be overlooked if emotional reactions like that are the