Former Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) chairman Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) strode out of the Taipei District Court on Monday with confidence after his release, sharply denouncing his “wrongful imprisonment” and claiming that Taiwan has been “torn apart by division” under President William Lai (賴清德).
His NT$70 million (US$2.31 million) bail became a prop on his political stage. His behavior was anything but low-profile — upon posting bail, he immediately upgraded his personal case to a national crisis, acting as if he were the embodiment of justice and momentarily forgetting that he was the defendant.
When faced with judicial investigations, politicians typically resort to two tactics. The first is to denounce the investigation as a political witch hunt — accusing political rivals of abusing authority to eliminate them. The second tactic is crying wrongful imprisonment, thereby elevating an individual case into a matter of systemic judicial injustice. Ko has combined the two tactics, using his language to tug on his supporters’ heartstrings. The system is broken — but the problem lies not with him.
The key issue at stake is whether the judiciary of a democratic nation can withstand repeated stigmatization. Taiwan’s judiciary is far from perfect, but it at the very least can provide a framework for scrutiny — one where evidence, not feelings, serve as the foundation for judgement. Ko’s rhetoric is an attempt to repackage himself as a victim, thereby negating the very value of procedural justice.
If a politician can simply cry “wrongful imprisonment” to override issues, how could their followers trust any court ruling? When the judiciary is pre-emptively framed as a tool for political persecution, any outcome would merely be viewed as part of a conspiracy. Such tactics do not serve to uncover the truth, but to dismantle the entire system.
Taiwan’s democratic foundation is built on a minimum level of trust in its institutions. When you lose an election, you trust in the ballot box. When you are investigated, you trust in the legal procedures. When politicians publicly stigmatize this foundation, they steer their supporters’ emotions to feed into even more extreme division. When Ko claims that the nation is “torn apart,” he is shifting the blame — turning a national crisis into a shield for his own political survival.
When politicians employ language as a catapult rather than a bridge for dialogue, they cut the cables supporting public reason. When the term “wrongful imprisonment” is repeatedly abused, how could it still meaningfully refer to actual judicial errors? Slogans fueled by emotion would only drift further from the truth. Such is the political soap opera that plays on repeat in Taiwanese society. This is the true cause of national division.
Judicial decisions must not exist in the shadow of politics. The system needs reform, but reform must be established on the grounds of evidence and due process — not on emotional slogans.
Those who once claimed to be “political outsiders” have become experts in using language to manipulate public sentiment. Ko’s role reversal of “white force” to “victim of wrongful imprisonment” was swift and shameless. In the end, the real victim is not Ko, but the system.
Allow the case to return to proper legal procedure — examine the evidence, conduct an open trial and accept the verdict. Preventing the nation from being “torn apart” is not difficult.
Liu Che-ting is a writer.
Translated by Kyra Gustavsen
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