The Ministry of Foreign Affairs on Saturday last week accused China of “digital authoritarianism” and transnational repression after Strait Plus (今日海峽), a Chinese state-controlled media channel, disseminated personal information about Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Legislator Puma Shen (沈伯洋), including satellite images of his home and workplace in Taipei.
It was the latest escalation in a months-long campaign of intimidation and harassment that has followed Shen well beyond the realm of rhetoric, testing the boundaries of what Taiwan and the international community are prepared to tolerate.
Shen has been under sustained pressure since Chinese authorities last year announced they were investigating him for alleged “secession-related” activities, branding him “wanted” under Beijing’s sweeping and extraterritorial national security framework.
Chinese state media have amplified calls for his arrest, with some commentators even floating the use of Interpol — an idea dismissed by experts, but one intended to intimidate nonetheless.
Rather than receding, the pressure has intensified even as Shen carried out international political outreach with the US, South Korea, Germany and the Netherlands that focused on defending democratic institutions against authoritarian influence.
That persistence is precisely why Shen is being targeted so aggressively.
A former academic with expertise in disinformation and financial crime, he represents a category the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) finds uniquely threatening — a democratically elected lawmaker who understands authoritarian tactics, exposes them publicly and refuses to yield to them.
His appearances before foreign parliaments — including an address to a German committee on authoritarian disinformation — underscore Beijing’s failure to silence him. However, for Chinese state-linked media to publish detailed information of a private residence and workplace marks a dangerous shift.
As the ministry noted, such conduct contravenes basic principles of privacy enshrined in international human rights norms. It is also profoundly irresponsible. Doxxing is not merely an act of digital harassment, it is a deliberate exposure of an individual to foreseeable harm. When carried out by actors tied to a powerful state with a documented record of coercion, it cannot be dismissed as rhetorical excess.
The risks are not hypothetical. Shen last month was confronted on the street by a man who filmed and verbally threatened him while Shen was accompanied by his young daughter. The incident, now under investigation by police, was a reminder that inflammatory discourse can create real-world dangers for public figures and their loved ones.
Publishing the location of Shen’s home and workplace only escalates these risks — not just for Shen, but for anyone in his vicinity. That such escalation comes after months of official vilification should alarm anyone concerned with the safety and dignity of public servants in a democratic society.
Shen’s is far from an isolated case. China’s use of transnational repression — legal threats, surveillance, harassment by proxies and now digital exposure — has been increasingly documented in democracies around the world.
Lawmakers, activists and journalists critical of Beijing have faced similar tactics, from intimidation abroad to pressure exerted on family members at home. The objective is consistent — to export fear and induce self-censorship.
What distinguishes Shen’s case is that it is unfolding in full view of the public, targeting a sitting lawmaker on Taiwanese soil. Its implications are unavoidable.
Regarding the intimidation of elected officials as commonplace would compromise the integrity of democratic participation. If threats against families are met with resignation rather than resolve, the message sent would not be restraint, but vulnerability.
The government’s response so far — swift condemnation, police protection and coordination with international partners — has been appropriate. However, the larger test lies in consistency.
Democracies do not need to respond to coercion with escalation, but with clarity. That means refusing to normalize harassment, resisting the temptation to downplay the risks posed and ensuring that public officials can carry out their duties without fear of personal reprisal.
The CCP’s campaign against Shen is not a sign of strength. It is an admission of anxiety and insecurity over voices it cannot control and systems it cannot replicate. Taiwan should recognize it as such.
Yielding to intimidation, whether through silence or complacency, would only validate the CCP’s tactics. Standing firm, by contrast, would affirm a basic democratic principle — that political disagreement does not justify endangerment.
As Shen emphasized himself, Taiwan should never draw back in fear, but stand resolute in defense of its democracy.
Taiwan’s higher education system is facing an existential crisis. As the demographic drop-off continues to empty classrooms, universities across the island are locked in a desperate battle for survival, international student recruitment and crucial Ministry of Education funding. To win this battle, institutions have turned to what seems like an objective measure of quality: global university rankings. Unfortunately, this chase is a costly illusion, and taxpayers are footing the bill. In the past few years, the goalposts have shifted from pure research output to “sustainability” and “societal impact,” largely driven by commercial metrics such as the UK-based Times Higher Education (THE) Impact
History might remember 2026, not 2022, as the year artificial intelligence (AI) truly changed everything. ChatGPT’s launch was a product moment. What is happening now is an anthropological moment: AI is no longer merely answering questions. It is now taking initiative and learning from others to get things done, behaving less like software and more like a colleague. The economic consequence is the rise of the one-person company — a structure anticipated in the 2024 book The Choices Amid Great Changes, which I coauthored. The real target of AI is not labor. It is hierarchy. When AI sharply reduces the cost
The inter-Korean relationship, long defined by national division, offers the clearest mirror within East Asia for cross-strait relations. Yet even there, reunification language is breaking down. The South Korean government disclosed on Wednesday last week that North Korea’s constitutional revision in March had deleted references to reunification and added a territorial clause defining its border with South Korea. South Korea is also seriously debating whether national reunification with North Korea is still necessary. On April 27, South Korean President Lee Jae-myung marked the eighth anniversary of the Panmunjom Declaration, the 2018 inter-Korean agreement in which the two Koreas pledged to
I wrote this before US President Donald Trump embarked on his uneventful state visit to China on Thursday. So, I shall confine my observations to the joint US-Philippine military exercise of April 20 through May 8, known collectively as “Balikatan 2026.” This year’s Balikatan was notable for its “firsts.” First, it was conducted primarily with Taiwan in mind, not the Philippines or even the South China Sea. It also showed that in the Pacific, America’s alliance network is still robust. Allies are enthusiastic about America’s renewed leadership in the region. Nine decades ago, in 1936, America had neither military strength