Taiwanese democracy has weathered many storms — martial law, diplomatic isolation, economic uncertainty and rising authoritarian pressure from Beijing. Yet today, the gravest threat to its survival might come not from across the Taiwan Strait, but from within.
The recent mass-recall effort aimed at ousting 24 Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) lawmakers might have failed at the ballot box, but it succeeded in revealing a dangerous truth: Taiwanese politics is broken.
The major political parties increasingly view each other not as competitors, but as enemies. Instead of debating policies, they trade accusations of treason. Instead of compromise, they choose sabotage. The legislature, paralyzed by obstruction and mutual contempt, is no longer a site of democratic deliberation — it is a battlefield.
The polarization is no longer just a nuisance; it is a national security risk.
An analysis published on Friday in Foreign Affairs by political analyst Lev Nachman and Academia Sinica Institute of Political Science assistant research fellow Yen Wei-ting (顏維婷) bluntly warned in its headline that “Taiwan’s democracy is in trouble.” The article details how political dysfunction and mutual distrust have eroded the nation’s ability to respond to growing threats from China.
“Taiwan’s leaders are prioritizing defeating one another over defending the nation,” they wrote.
No one who has watched recent brawls in the legislature or witnessed the bitter recall campaigns would disagree.
Beijing has ramped up military threats and coercive pressure, while Taiwanese lawmakers are freezing military budgets, demonizing political opponents and refusing to cooperate, even on matters as existential as defense policy. President William Lai’s (賴清德) administration has called for bolstering deterrence; the opposition has blocked funding. While the Chinese military expands its drills, Taiwan’s politicians sharpen their knives, aimed at each other.
In a democracy, disagreement is natural, but affective polarization — the toxic belief that anyone who disagrees must be corrupt, unpatriotic or dangerous — is corrosive. It eats away at national solidarity.
Nachman and Yen wrote that 85 percent of Democratic Progressive Party supporters said they would fight to defend Taiwan if China invaded; that number drops to 4 percent among KMT voters. What happens in a crisis if half the country blames the other for provoking war?
Beijing knows this. It has already tried to divide Taiwan with online disinformation and whisper campaigns about war and chaos. The truth is that China is not creating the polarization; it is exploiting it, and Taiwanese are making its job easier.
This moment calls for leadership not from one party, but from all sides. Lai must tone down moralistic language about “impurities.” KMT and Taiwan People’s Party leaders must stop comparing democratic rivals to Nazis. Defending Taiwan does not mean agreeing on every policy; it means agreeing on what is worth defending: institutions, freedoms, the right for Taiwanese to decide their own future.
This has been done before. In the early days of COVID-19, the government and civil society set aside their differences to act swiftly and decisively. Lawmakers can do it again, if they choose unity over unification and cooperation over collapse.
Democracy is not just about elections — it is about the ability to govern — and in the face of China’s growing threats, dysfunction is no longer an option. A house divided against itself cannot stand, and it certainly cannot fight.
Simon Tang is an adjunct professor at California State University, Fullerton, who lectures on international relations.
When Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) sits down with US President Donald Trump in Beijing on Thursday next week, Xi is unlikely to demand a dramatic public betrayal of Taiwan. He does not need to. Beijing’s preferred victory is smaller, quieter and in some ways far more dangerous: a subtle shift in American wording that appears technical, but carries major strategic meaning. The ask is simple: replace the longstanding US formulation that Washington “does not support Taiwan independence” with a harder one — that Washington “opposes” Taiwan independence. One word changes; a deterrence structure built over decades begins to shift.
Taipei is facing a severe rat infestation, and the city government is reportedly considering large-scale use of rodenticides as its primary control measure. However, this move could trigger an ecological disaster, including mass deaths of birds of prey. In the past, black kites, relatives of eagles, took more than three decades to return to the skies above the Taipei Basin. Taiwan’s black kite population was nearly wiped out by the combined effects of habitat destruction, pesticides and rodenticides. By 1992, fewer than 200 black kites remained on the island. Fortunately, thanks to more than 30 years of collective effort to preserve their remaining
After Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) met Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) in Beijing, most headlines referred to her as the leader of the opposition in Taiwan. Is she really, though? Being the chairwoman of the KMT does not automatically translate into being the leader of the opposition in the sense that most foreign readers would understand it. “Leader of the opposition” is a very British term. It applies to the Westminster system of parliamentary democracy, and to some extent, to other democracies. If you look at the UK right now, Conservative Party head Kemi Badenoch is
A Pale View of Hills, a movie released last year, follows the story of a Japanese woman from Nagasaki who moved to Britain in the 1950s with her British husband and daughter from a previous marriage. The daughter was born at a time when memories of the US atomic bombing of Nagasaki during World War II and anxiety over the effects of nuclear radiation still haunted the community. It is a reflection on the legacy of the local and national trauma of the bombing that ended the period of Japanese militarism. A central theme of the movie is the need, at