TDB Vol. 4 No. 2: Taiwanese Confident in Democracy and Determined to Defend Taiwan

TDB Vol. 4 No. 2: Taiwanese Confident in Democracy and Determined to Defend Taiwan

In 2020, Taiwanese people are showing the greatest confidence in the democratic system and at the same time being the most determined to defend Taiwan. 

 

The Taiwan Foundation for Democracy (TFD) has been conducting surveys on Taiwanese people’s attitude on democracy since 2011. This year, the TFD again commissioned the Election Study Center of National Chengchi University for conducting the survey, and has continued to ask Taiwanese people their willingness to defend Taiwan, as we did in 2018 and 2019.

In 2020, Taiwanese people are showing the greatest confidence in the democratic system and at the same time being the most determined to defend Taiwan (respectively, since 2011, the first year in which satisfaction with democracy was surveyed by the TFD, and since 2018, the first year in which the latter was polled).

Nearly 80 percent of the questioned (79.7%) agreed with the statement that although there exist some problems with the democratic system, it is still the best political system we have, said Tsai Chia-hung, Director of the Election Study Center at National Chengchi University that conducted the survey this time. This year’s 79.7 percent is almost 7 percentage points upward compared to 2019’s 72.9 percent. The percentage of those who disagree with the statement has also decreased from 2019’s 12.7 percent to this year’s 9.2 percent. (See Table 1)

Table 1 (2011 yes: 72.0% No: 23.1%; 2012 yes: 65.8% No: 19.9%)

There is also a drastic decrease of 24 percentage points in the percentage of people saying they are not satisfied with how democracy is working in Taiwan this year (28.5%) when compared to that of last year (52.5%), which is the first time since 2011 for the number to be below 50 percent. Satisfaction on the other hand meets an all-time high (64.4%), likewise the first time since 2011 passing 50 percent. (See Table 2)

Table 2 (2011 Yes: 41.0% No: 52.8%; 2012 Yes: 38.6% No: 53.3%)

Similarly, more respondents said they are optimistic about the future of Taiwanese democracy this year (63%) compared to that of last year (43.1%), and those who said they are pessimistic about the future of Taiwanese democracy decreased, with only 27% saying they are pessimistic this year and 43.6% said so last year, according to the survey.

On Taiwanese people’s willingness to defend Taiwan and its democracy, Director Tsai said last year’s survey found 57.4% of the polled said they would defend Taiwan if war breaks out due to Taiwan’s declaring its formal independence, and this year over 70% (71.5%) said they would, while the percentage of those said the opposite decreased drastically from 31% last year to this year’s 19.8%. (See Table 3)

Table 3

To the question, “Would you fight for Taiwan if China uses force against Taiwan for unification,” nearly 80 percent (79.8%) said they would, an increase of over 10 percentage points from last year’s 68.2%, pointed out Director Tsai. (See Table 4)

Table 4

Director Tsai also told the press conference, held by the Foundation on October 16, that this survey, conducted from May 6 to May 10, interviewed people who live in Taiwan and are aged over 20 via landline and mobile phone. The poll collected a total of 1,226 valid samples, with a confidence level of 95% and a margin of error of ±2.8%.

Chih-Jou Jay Chen, Deputy Director of the Institute of Sociology at Academia Sinica, in his presentation compared TFD’s survey results to those of the China Impact Study thematic research team of Academia Sinica’s Institute of Sociology.

The China Impact Study thematic research team in its 2016 to 2018 surveys asked whether respondents were willing to defend Taiwan in the event of a military invasion from China, and all survey results saw over 70% of those polled saying they would defend Taiwan. Deputy Director Chen said these findings are very similar to those of TFD’s survey results in 2018 and 2019, and he emphasized that this year’s survey results show an even higher consensus among the Taiwanese when it comes to defending Taiwan’s democracy.

Dr. Chen also mentioned that in the China Impact Study thematic research team surveys from 2018 to 2020, the respondents were asked whether they agreed with the statement that democracy is the best political system under any circumstance, or that dictatorship is better than democracy under certain circumstances. Again, the results were similar to those of TFD’s surveys and found that there was a record-high this year in respondents agreeing that democracy is the best political system (China Impact Study’s 2020 survey results had 71% agreeing while TFD’s results had 79.7% agreeing). He said this shows the Taiwanese have strong faith in democracy.

Regarding both survey results this year, Deputy Director Chen said that potential factors include China’s advancing threats of unification, Taiwan’s success in containing COVID-19, the China-U.S. trade war, and the implementation of the Hong Kong national security law, among others. Deputy Director Chen emphasized that China’s threats against Taiwan and support for Taiwan from the U.S. also influence the Taiwanese faith in democracy and their willingness to defend it. He said that the faith and willingness increase when China’s threats intensify and U.S. support grows.

What is worth mentioning is that according to the China Impact Study thematic research team survey conducted this year, fewer Taiwanese find the Chinese government “a friend of Taiwan,” with only 23 percent of the respondents agreeing (with the statement that the Chinese government is a friend of Taiwan) and 73 percent disagreeing. This poses an alarming contrast to the results from the last several years, which usually found the ratio of agreeing and disagreeing to be 4:6 (as opposed to this year’s 2.5:7.5), according to the team. A further analysis of the result also showed that the distrust toward Beijing is the highest among the younger generation, with as high as 84 percent of those aged between 18 and 34 saying they do not believe that the Chinese government is a friend.

TDB Vol. 3. No. 5: Hong Kong’s Crisis Over the Controversial Extradition Bill and the Impact on Taiwan

TDB Vol. 3. No. 5: Hong Kong’s Crisis Over the Controversial Extradition Bill and the Impact on Taiwan

Under normal circumstances, and had Beijing respected its side of the agreement under the ‘one country, two systems’ framework, a proposed extradition bill should not have unduly alarmed Hong Kong society. Instead, it caused a serious backlash fueled by fears that the bill would be used to disappear pro-democracy forces in Hong Kong and give Xi Jinping the legal instruments he needs to target his critics under the guise of his anti-corruption drive. J. Michael Cole analyzes the situation.

 

Hong Kong riot police on July 1 once again used batons and pepper spray to disperse crowds of protesters who were blocking streets in the city on the 22nd anniversary of the return of the former British colony to Chinese rule. In recent weeks, millions of people have rallied against the attempted passage of a controversial extradition bill that would permit the transfer of crime suspects in Hong Kong to China proper for trial. Critics say the amendment would sound the death knell of Hong Kong as a semi-autonomous region and render obsolete the idea that the special administrative region can retain some of its independence under the “one country, two systems” formula.

The large youth-led protests, not seen since the Umbrella Movement in 2014, have received wide coverage in international media. In next-door Taiwan, which Beijing hopes to incorporate into the People’s Republic of China under the same offer of “one country, two systems” (the formula was in fact first proposed for Taiwan in 1981 and only subsequently applied to Hong Kong), extensive coverage of the protests has exacerbated opposition to unification under Beijing’s blueprint.

Following back-to-back million-plus rallies last month, the pro-Beijing Hong Kong Chief Executive, Carrie Lam Cheng Yuet-ngor, announced that her government would shelve the bill. Hopes that suspension of the bill would appease protesters and buy time for the authorities were dashed, however, as civil society called for the bill to be scrapped permanently, for charges brought against protesters be dropped, and for Lam to step down.

Lam, 61, was “elected” in March 2017 with 777 votes from Hong Kong’s Election Committee, whose 1,194-members are composed mostly of Beijing loyalists.

Widespread opposition to the extradition bill stems from the elite-driven and largely unaccountable workings of the Hong Kong government, which is seen to be subservient to the authoritarian Chinese Communist Party. The gradual erosion of freedoms in the semi-autonomous region since 1997, a process which is seen to have accelerated under CCP General Secretary Xi Jinping, has alarmed residents who hitherto may have been willing to give the authorities the benefit of the doubt (those who did not left in droves, emigrating to places like Canada and Australia). Hong Kong’s loss of control over its borders, among other things, with decisions on who can enter and leave the territory increasingly made by Beijing, added to clear indications that universal suffrage will not materialize under current conditions, have compounded the view that “one country, two systems” was little more than a grand deception. 

Taiwanese show support for protesters in Hong Kong (Photo: CHIANG YING-YING)

Besides causing jitters within the business sector in the financial hub, the proposed extradition bill has also sparked alarm among pro-democracy and -localization groups, who fear that their members could be renditioned to China proper for various “crimes” under the National Security Law, where it is unlikely they would receive a fair trial. Hong Kong activists are also aware of the high likelihood that, while in detention, they would be exposed to poor conditions, abuse and torture. The bill has also had a chilling effect on the willingness of politicized Taiwanese to visit the territory, for fear that they, too, could be arrested for loosely defined “crimes” against the PRC and spirited to China for trial. A number of Taiwanese, most prominently rights activist Lee Ming-che, are currently in detention in China for “crimes” against the state.

Much speculation has surrounded the attempt to expedite passage of the extradition bill. According to some experts, the move was miscalculation on the part of Lam, who may have convinced herself (and Beijing) that the bill was necessary to address a legal gap identified when Taiwan sought the extradition of Chan Tong-kai, a 19-year-old suspect in a murder case in Taiwan. Under normal circumstances, and had Beijing respected its side of the agreement under the “one country, two systems” framework, the bill should not have alarmed Hong Kong society as it did in the past month. Instead, it caused a serious backlash fueled by fears that the bill would be used to nab pro-democracy forces in Hong Kong and give Xi the legal instruments he needs to target his critics under the guise of his anti-corruption drive. 

Lam may have oversold her ability to pass the bill without controversy, and Beijing, distracted with other issues such as the trade war with the United States and bad publicity surrounding its treatment of Uyghurs in Xinjiang, may not have fully appreciated the potential for unrest. According to some, the extradition bill wasn’t even a priority for Beijing. In the opaque and conspiracy-laden world of CCP politics, rumors have also circulated that enemies of Xi Jinping within the “Shanghai/Jiang Zemin” faction may have played a role in the controversy as a way to cause headaches for, and to discredit, Xi. 

Whatever the origin of this mess — miscalculation or conspiracy — the effects on the legitimacy of “one country, two systems” have been extensive. Despite her best efforts to limit its repercussions, Lam’s credibility in the eyes of Hong Kong society and with Beijing has probably suffered irreparable damage. Beyond Hong Kong, the effects have also been considerable. The controversy has served as another reminder that the “one country, two systems” formula, which Xi has made an intrinsic component of “one China” and the so-called “1992 consensus,” has practically zero attraction among the Taiwanese except among extremists in the pro-unification camp. This “linkage,” which Beijing has sought to break since the dramatic events of 2014, has been reinforced by recent developments, as showcased by the high levels of support shown by Taiwan’s civil society and government for the protesters in Hong Kong. Once again, the existence of the semi-autonomous region as a “canary in the mineshaft” has been reaffirmed for the Taiwanese.

TDB Vol. 2 No. 5: TFD survey shows Taiwanese commitment to democracy and self-defense

TDB Vol. 2 No. 5: TFD survey shows Taiwanese commitment to democracy and self-defense

A survey released earlier this year shows strong opposition to unification and a firm commitment to defending the nation against external aggression. But an image problem with the armed forces has undermined recruitment efforts. Alison Hsiao analyzes the situation.

 

A new survey shows that young Taiwanese are committed to democratic values and defending Taiwan, findings that fly in the face of trends in democratic discontent in the West and a long-held belief that Taiwanese either expect the U.S. to fight for them or have no will to stand up to Chinese military aggression.

The survey, conducted by the Election Study Center at National Chengchi University, was commissioned by the Taiwan Foundation for Democracy (TFD). TFD has been studying attitudes on democracy and democratic governance among Taiwanese for years, which makes comparisons across time and between age cohorts possible.

This year, TFD took the initiative a step forward by gauging Taiwanese people’s leanings on cross-Strait relations and their willingness to defend Taiwan when encountering a military threat from authoritarian China, both of which have consequential implications for the persistence of Taiwan’s democratic institutions.

According to the TFD surveys across the years, Taiwanese have always shown strong support for democratic institutions, with more than 70 percent respondents agreeing with the statement that democracy is the best political system despite its apparent problems. Support was as high as 86.4 percent in 2016, the year of the first presidential election after the Sunflower Movement in 2014, which saw the nadir in democratic support, satisfaction, and optimism. (See Graph 1, 2, and 3)

 

Graph 1 support

 

Graph 2 satisfaction

 

Graph 3 optimism

The confidence in a democratic system borne by Taiwanese, especially Taiwanese youth, stands in stark contrast with their young counterparts in the U.S. and Europe, as shown in Foa and Mounk’s study (see Graph 4).

 

Graph 4 A Comparison with Foa and Mounk (2016)

 

Independence vs. unification: It’s more complicated than that

There is little doubt that Taiwanese youth’s support for their democratic way of life is a major factor in their support for maintaining the cross-Strait “status quo” of keeping Taiwan’s de facto independence. 65.5 percent of those under the age of 39 favor the “status quo” when given the option of “(de jure) independence,” which 23.5 percent of respondents in that age category are in favor of.

However, against the perception that the younger Taiwanese are the more likely they are to be “naturally (de jure) independence-leaning” (天然獨,tien-ran-du), the survey found that when it comes to favoring the “status quo,” the difference between those who belong to the 20 to 29 age group and those between 30 and 39 is not statistically significant. So is the difference between the two groups that favor de jure independence.

The (statistically ground and found) truth is that rather than being “naturally (de jure) independence-leaning,” the younger generation display clear (statistically significant) “anti-unification” sentiment, with only 7.5 percent in the 20-29 group choosing unification, compared to — with a statistically significant difference — 12.5 percent of their counterparts in the 30-39 age group and 20.1 percent for those above 40.

To further support this argument, another question set shows that while more than 50 percent of those under 39 (50.9 %) said they disagree with the idea that Taiwan should claim (de jure) independence, if such a claim would not result in a war, as many as 73.3 percent of the same age cohort said they also disagree that if China democratizes the two sides should unify.

The question set, factoring in pre-conditions, could classify the surveyed into four categories: Taiwanese nationalism, Chinese nationalism, pragmatism and “status quo” recognition, following Nai-teh Wu’s lead (2005). In the context of Wu’s classifications, statistically significantly more people in the 20-29 age group favor the “status quo” (44.3%) than in the 30-39 age cohort (35%). The younger age cohort is neither more attached to Taiwanese nationalism (32.5%) than those aged between 30 and 39 (33.8%).

Commitment

Some might label young Taiwanese’s (or Taiwanese in general) overwhelming preference for the “status quo” as lacking determination of any kind. But with the People’s Republic of China’s growing assertiveness and its intimidation of Taiwan militarily, politically and in everyday-life matters, added to Beijing’s contention that the Taiwan “problem” “cannot be postponed forever,” it can be argued that Taiwanese are not unaware of the fact that the “status quo” is de facto independence which cannot be tolerated by Beijing all the same.

68.1 percent of respondents in the survey said they would fight for Taiwan if China uses force to impose unification. The number is slightly lower but no less a majority (56.7 percent) if a formal declaration of de jure independence incurs a military attack by China.

How does this overwhelming willingness to defend Taiwan square with the low recruit rate for volunteer military service? One might ask.

Wu, currently an adjunct research fellow at Academia Sinica’s Institute of Sociology, pointed out at the press conference held by TFD on April 19 that the institute’s China Effect Team has also been following how China affects Taiwan’s politics, economy and society since 2012 and found the same trend of Taiwanese people’s willingness to defend Taiwan should China attack.

 

Dr. Nai-teh Wu presented the survey findings of the China Effect Team at TFD.

 

The team has also been following Taiwanese attitudes toward reinstating military conscription. To the surprise of many, the 2018 survey showed that as many as 86.7 percent of respondents agrees that the draft should be brought back, a new high compared with 86.3 percent in 2017, 83.4 percent in 2016 and 60.2 percent in 2015. These numbers suggest that low recruitment rates are not due to a lack of awareness of the need for self-defense among the Taiwanese.

Rather, what has been turning off young people to the military is arguably its negative image. Many young people who have done service in the armed forces mock the laxity of training, an impression that has caught on with the reduced period of mandatory service and thereby the diminished appearance of professionalism, which has been further exacerbated by the institution of the so-called Alternative Military Service (conscripts working in sundry government bodies or even private enterprises just to serve out their time). Compounding all this is the frequent stories of abuse in the closed environment, which erupted in August 2013 following the death of army corporal Hung Chung-chiu (which in turn catalyzed major military reforms).

Since her inauguration in May 2016, President Tsai Ing-wen has vowed to upgrade Taiwan’s defense capabilities and pledged to increase the defense budget every year. But not the least (if not the most) important part of her task has been turning around the military’s image. Her Facebook and Instagram posts often show her observing military exercises, dining with members of the armed forces and demonstrating great respect for fallen and injured servicemen. There are also efforts to revamp the military’s marketing campaigns, which are essential given the public does not have a high opinion of the profession, and necessary after the country shifted to an all-volunteer military this year.

 

Feature image credit: Presidential Office Official Website

TDB Vol. 1 No. 23: Ten Questions About Taiwan’s Transitional Justice

TDB Vol. 1 No. 23: Ten Questions About Taiwan’s Transitional Justice

There has been much discussion about the Act on Promoting Transitional Justice since it was passed in early December. The Taiwan Association for Truth and Reconciliation has come up with a Q&A to respond to the myths and controversies concerning the newly passed law and to help put transitional justice in its proper Taiwanese context.

 

1. Why does the transitional justice concerned in the Act only target the Kuomintang (KMT)? This is none other than political vendetta!

Transitional justice is to hold rulers and the state apparatus accountable for their violations of the basic rights of the people and their abuse of state institutions and power. The KMT was the sole ruling party during the Martial Law period and where decision-making and discussion of many policies took place. It is difficult to undertake the project of Taiwan’s transitional justice and rectify the wrongs committed during the Martial Law period without making the party the target.

Post-democratization governments certainly are not immune to taking illegitimate actions that are against the principles of justice, but people living in a democratic society are more aptly equipped with rights guaranteed by the Constitution and protected by mechanisms such as separation of power and checks and balances. When their rights are violated, they have access to both institutional and non-institutional ways to demand a response from the government (appeal, court, petition or social protest).

What “transitional justice” deals with is the political persecution committed before democratization.

2. Taiwan’s transitional justice is purely a political scheme against waishengren and to de-Sinicize Taiwan?

In fact, according to statistical information derived from the number of people receiving state compensation, the percentage of waishengren political victims in the White Terror cases was actually a lot greater than the percentage of ethnic groups in Taiwan’s total population. The case of Shandong exiled students is an example that involved a large number of waishengren. Clearing up the history helps solve certain myths surrounding the ethnic divisions and antagonism. Due to its idiosyncratic history, Taiwan’s democratic transformation was intertwined with a process of change in people’s national identity; the two thereby have often been conflated but should actually be looked into with extra caution.

The core of transitional justice, however, is about how a society faces its history, about making those denying historical traumas and mistakes understand that it would come at a cost. Transitional justice is a task with concrete goals to achieve.

3. Chiang Kai-shek had made contributions to the country as well. Why can’t his contributions be displayed alongside his misdeeds? If not for him, Taiwan would have been taken over by the People’s Republic of China long ago and very likely be overwhelmed by the storm of the Cultural Revolution.

As said in the answer to the first question, transitional justice is to hold rulers and the state apparatus accountable for their past violations, not to write biographies for historical figures. Those political parties and individuals who harbor special feelings for Chiang Kai-shek can continue their support for him.

Nonetheless, the rhetoric of “safeguarding Taiwan (against Chinese aggression)” cannot explain why Chiang perpetuated Martial Law rule even after his control over Taiwan (and offshore islands) was consolidated in the mid-1950s (after the Korean War) and why he targeted the communists, the tangwai/dangwai people and overseas Taiwanese independence activists as “three-in-one enemy” starting in the 1970s. “Protecting the island from falling under communist control” was a propaganda slogan for the ruler to rationalize his use of political repression and carrying out of comprehensive social surveillance during the Martial Law period.

4. The government has been compensating political victims since the 1990s. What else is to be done 30 years after Martial Law was lifted?

Bound by the National Security Act and Constitutional Interpretation No. 272, before the passage of the Act on Transitional Justice, the political victims, despite receiving compensation, were not cleared of their convictions and criminal records, seized properties were not returned, and the KMT archives during the years when the country was ruled by the party-state have not been made public. Even now, we still do not know exactly how many political victims there were during the White Terror. Why were they persecuted? Who should be held accountable? How extensive was the persecuting system? What, if any, have the persecutors done to redeem themselves? What was wrong with Martial Law and the constitutional institutions? The state has to face its own past deeds. Holding the repressive system accountable is much more than simply pointing fingers at Chiang Kai-shek and Chiang Ching-kuo; a lot more needs to be done.

▶︎ See also: TDB Vol. 1 No. 22: Taiwan Passes Act Promoting Transitional Justice

Discovered in the 1990s, the Liuzhangli graveyard in Taipei was the burial ground for hundreds of White Terror victims. The cemetery was designated a municipal cultural landmark in 2015 (Photo: TATR).

5. The amendments to the Labor Standards Act have been stalled and same-sex marriage legalization (seemingly) mothballed; is the ruling Democratic Progressive Party pushing for transitional justice just to divert public attention?

What we need to do is to work together for the realization of social justice of various kinds rather than elbowing each other out. The passage of the Act on Transitional Justice does not mean that transitional justice has been achieved. The Transitional Justice Promotion Committee has to be overseen and kept from descending into formalism. We need to take this historical opportunity and build a bridge between the past and the future in our era.

6. Granted, the task of transitional justice should be done, but don’t we need to have a sense of proportion by first working hard on improving the economy?

Most of the living political victims are aged. This is probably the only time period in which we live alongside these people. When else but now are we to rectify the past wrongs for them and grant them their historical status? There are things that cannot be bought with money: lost youth, freedom and lives. They could have had a different life, if only Taiwanese society had been free from the decades-long suppression and suffocation. It’s hard to weigh the possibilities they had once owned for their worth, let alone against money.

7. Those political victims were not all innocent. Some of them were underground Chinese Communist Party members who were supposed to be executed.

No one would object to redressing the wrongful charges against the innocent, but the greatest challenge of transitional justice precisely lies in questioning the legitimacy and legality of the laws that the “criminals” had broken during the Martial Law era. How did the state violate the people’s basic rights and deprive the people of their rights under the pretext of maintaining social stability and national security via court-martial and laws? How do we draw the boundary between national security and protection of personal rights? This is a question in need of serious debate even in a democratic society. We can choose to forget and pretend nothing of the sort happened, or we can choose to face the history. Those interested in the debate can find a related extensive discussion on the website of the third constitutional court simulation (in Chinese) that was held in November, 2016.

8. Why are Indigenous peoples and “comfort women” not included in the Act?

Those who support the redressing of historical wrongs are supposed to also be in support of the restoring of justice for Indigenous people and for “comfort women.” Taking other countries’ cases as examples, these two groups deserve separate legislative bills for delicate and thorough handling of their demands, rather than being squeezed with other groups into the same piece of cloth.

The persecution that Indigenous people have been subjected to span different regimes, which requires a more comprehensive examination and solution that goes to the root of the problems stemming from political institutions and existing laws. If not, the same kind of persecution would only reappear in different forms. The issue of “comfort women,” on the other hand, requires the government to negotiate with the Japanese government and demand compensation and an apology.

It is hard to imagine these different forms of violence that require different routes for restoring justice could be dealt with by the same set of rules. Only through different legal and institutional frameworks can these issues be allowed more room for detailed and practical solutions to these complicated problems.

9. The constitutionality of the Act on Transitional Justice is in question?

Whether a law is unconstitutional is up to the grand justices to decide. Insofar as it has not been ruled unconstitutional, a law passed by the legislature is nevertheless effective.

Questions have been raised as to whether the jurisdiction assigned to the Transitional Justice Promotion Committee oversteps the jurisdiction of the judiciary, such as Article 14 of the Act granting the Committee the right to investigate, and Article 15 and Article 16 allowing the Committee to seal documents and materials regarded as evidence and to require those under investigation to speak the truth. According to Constitutional Interpretation No. 613 concerning the operation of an independent agency, the constitutionality of the operation of an independent agency will be upheld “if important matters are determined by means of hearings, if the performance of the execution of its mission is made transparent and public for the purpose of public supervision,” and with the existing “authority of the Legislative Yuan to supervise the operation of the independent agency through legislation and budget review.” Article 19 prohibits damaging of political archives on pain of imprisonment; however, the one who initiates the investigation should still be the prosecutors, as how the offenses of destruction, abandonment, and damage of property are governed in the Criminal Code.

In general, the Committee will be operating in the same way as other independent agencies (e.g. the National Communications Commission and the Fair Trade Commission), exercising its jurisdiction independently, unaffected by the change of premier and having the power of administrative enforcement (one could refer to the Administrative Execution Act for an understanding of how the power is governed). However, the Committee should be as prudent and transparent as possible when exercising these powers, with the Committee making critical decisions by consensus.

10. What is transitional justice anyway? What should be done to achieve it?

Transitional justice” used to be a professional term developed by international academia to refer to how a society that has achieved democratic transition faces and deals with mass human rights violations committed in the past by the state. It has therefore also been termed as “dealing with past wrongs.” The main objective of transitional justice is “Never Again” and to make up for the past sufferings of our fellow countrymen and -women. The core objectives of transitional justice are: seeking the truth, compensating the victims, restoring justice, attaining social reconciliation and preventing the return of state violence.

How is transitional justice done then? The more commonly seen mechanisms include (1) trials and vetting (holding the persecuting system and persecutors accountable); (2) setting up a Truth Committee and sorting and making public the related archives (the state needs to recognize what mistakes it has done); (3) compensating the victims and their families and restoring their reputation; (4) rebuilding the memory (removing/remaking symbols of authoritarianism and cautioning future generations against the return of authoritarianism through museums, memorials and textbooks). Every country has its own distinct way of carrying out transitional justice under different historical/political contexts; there is no “correct way.”

This piece originally appeared in Chinese. Translation by Alison Hsiao

TDB Vol. 1 No. 21: Lee Ming-che Sentencing a Warning to Others (Analysis)

TDB Vol. 1 No. 21: Lee Ming-che Sentencing a Warning to Others (Analysis)

More than the unfair treatment of a man who did nothing wrong, today’s sentencing is another reminder that China has no intention of playing by international rules. It is also a warning that Beijing has cast a much wider net to silence critics and those, Chinese and not, who propose an alternative system of governance in China. J. Michael Cole looks at the significance of today’s ruling.

 

The Yueyang Intermediate People’s Court in Hunan Province today sentenced Taiwanese human rights activist Lee Ming-che to five years’ imprisonment for “subversion of state power” and suspended his political rights for two years, a ruling that Taiwan’s Presidential Office and rights organizations worldwide decried as “unacceptable.”

Lee was arrested in March upon entering China via Macau. After disappearing for several months, he resurfaced in court in Hunan Province in September, where he was accused of collaborating with others in China and on social media to “attack the Chinese government” and promote “Western-style democracy.”

Peng Yuhua, a Chinese citizen who was accused of working with Lee in “organizing, planning and taking action to subvert national authority and overthrow the socialist system,” was sentenced to seven years in prison.

After today’s ruling, Lee said he would not appeal.

Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and other organizations have described the sentencing as “absolutely outrageous” and a “warning signal” to other activists. In a statement, Taiwan’s Presidential Office wrote that “it is regrettable that the Lee Ming-che case has seriously damaged cross-strait relations and especially challenged Taiwanese people’s persistence and ideals for democracy and freedom.”

Lee is the first Taiwanese national to be sentenced for such a “crime” in China under the new National Security Law which passed on July 1, 2015 and which stipulates that preserving the national sovereignty and territorial integrity of the People’s Republic of China “is a shared obligation of all the Chinese people, including compatriots from Hong Kong, Macao and Taiwan.”

The court’s suspension of Lee’s political rights is no doubt meant to underscore Beijing’s contention that the new National Security Law applies to Taiwanese nationals (whom it regards as PRC citizens) regardless of where the alleged crimes are committed. We should note here that the said crimes Lee is accused of having committed occurred primarily online.

The heavy sentence is also meant to send a loud signal to other activists in Taiwan, Hong Kong and elsewhere that they, too, can now be apprehended and convicted for “crimes endangering national security” and the “people’s democratic dictatorship regime” as (loosely) defined in the Law, irrespective of where the said crimes have been committed, both physically and online.

The heavy sentence is also meant to send a loud signal to other activists in Taiwan, Hong Kong and elsewhere that they, too, can now be apprehended and convicted for “crimes endangering national security” and the “people’s democratic dictatorship regime” as (loosely) defined in the Law, irrespective of where the said crimes have been committed, both physically and online. This development will no doubt have a chilling effect on activists, academics, journalists, officials and artists who may fear that they have, at some point, promoted through their work or personal discussions online notions of democracy or sovereignty that can be construed as criminal in China.

Moreover, the existence of the Law, and now the precedent set by Lee’s arrest and sentencing, provides the means and empowerment for local officials to act independently and to disappear a suspect into the Chinese legal system, out of which it has become increasingly difficult to emerge — even for foreign passport holders. In other words, and as likely was the case with Lee, the arrest and sentencing of non-PRC nationals can now occur without a directive from, or even the knowledge of, the central government.

By targeting Taiwanese nationals and others who are engaged in the promotion of human rights and democracy, Beijing hopes to deter their engagement with likeminded elements in China and limit their ability to cooperate with them in defying CCP authoritarian rule. Thus, besides scaring off outside forces, the move also seeks to further isolate human rights activists in China, who under new rules governing foreign NGOs have already been having a tougher time connecting with the outside world.

More than the unfair treatment of a man who did nothing wrong, today’s sentencing is yet another reminder that China has no intention of playing by international rules. It is also a warning that it has now cast a much wider — and extraterritorial — net in its attempt to silence critics and those, Chinese and not, who propose an alternative, more liberal and democratic system of governance in China.

Photo: Chuyện Việt Nam

TDB Vol. 1 No. 19: Kou Yanding — A Chinese Dissident’s Journey Through Taiwan

TDB Vol. 1 No. 19: Kou Yanding — A Chinese Dissident’s Journey Through Taiwan

After spending a year touring Taiwan and meeting people from all walks of life, Chinese ‘enemy of the state’ Kou Yanding shares her views on change, the power of civil society, and the challenges facing Taiwan as China flexes its muscles. Alison Hsiao reports.

 

Chinese activist Kou Yanding (寇延丁) identified herself as a “public interest advocate” and did not know she was a dissident until she was arrested by Chinese authorities on charges of “inciting subversion of state power,” the same “crime” that has led to the forced disappearance of Taiwanese citizen Lee Ming-che and the arrest of the late Chinese activist Liu Xiaobo.

After arriving in Taiwan last October as a 2017 Democracy and Human Rights Service Fellow at the Taiwan Foundation for Democracy, Kou embarked on a nation-wide tour with assistance from a civil society organization and local groups to exchange thoughts with local Taiwanese and to urge them to know and face up to China.

“Through my interactions with Taiwanese people over the past year, I have discovered that they hold two alternating images of China: either it’s ‘big,’ or it’s ‘bad,’” Kou said during a seminar concluding her tour on Nov. 11. “People either talk about China as a political superpower and a global economic powerhouse, or as a regime that is autocratic and cruel.”

“Lack of understanding of China puts Taiwanese people’s interests at risk,” she said.

‘Enemy of the State’

Kou’s trip to Taiwan began less than two years after she was freed on Feb. 14, 2015, following a 128-day stint in a Chinese jail.

Her detention came as a result of a sweep of arrests targeting Transition Institute, a non-governmental think-tank in Beijing founded in 2007, and the Liren Rural Libraries, also founded in 2007 to promote education in rural areas and shape the rural young into “modern citizens.” In September 2014, the Libraries were shut down and Transition Institute founder Guo Yushan was detained, followed by a wave of detentions of NGO workers, including Kou.

The year 2014 was a sensitive year for Beijing, with Taiwan’s Sunflower Movement and Hong Kong’s Umbrella Revolution erupting only months apart against, respectively, creeping Chinese influence in Taiwan and Beijing’s refusal to grant universal suffrage in Hong Kong. Kou’s detention resulted from her involvement in the two movements and a wave of arrests in response to the printing of material about the Umbrella Movement by a woman in Beijing.

Kou, left, Wu Jieh-min, associate research fellow at the Institute of Sociology at Academia Sinica, and NGO workers from Hong Kong (second from the right) and Taiwan (right), share their views on why Taiwanese should interact with Chinese civil society and cultivate a “Taiwanese viewpoint” of China during a seminar in Taipei on Nov. 11. (Photo courtesy of the Youth Synergy Taiwan Foundation)

In her book, How is an Enemy Made? — Chinese Who Have No Right to Remain Silent, Kou details her 128-day ordeal “through which enemies of the state are manufactured.” During her interrogation she was enlightened by her interrogators (one of whom she nicknamed “pig”), who informed her that she was part of a “subversion scheme” centered on a training camp involving activists from China, Hong Kong and Taiwan. One of the trainers, a convenient fact highlighted by “pig,” was Chien Hsi-chieh, a non-violent resistance advocate, but more importantly, one of the founding members of the Democratic Progressive Party in Taiwan.

Before her involvement in the alleged plot, Kou’s work had always focused more on public welfare. She founded organizations to support people with disabilities in China which today continue to play an active role in areas that were most affected by the 2008 Sichuan earthquake. She focused on grassroots empowerment that even received approval by the Chinese authorities: her Operational Democracy — Bringing Robert’s Rules of Order to the Countryside, was published with permissions in China.

It was not unnatural for a civil society worker in China to eventually look to Hong Kong and Taiwan for precedents and opportunities to share experience. But in 2014, it was more risky than ever to associate with activists from the two places.

Petitions with Chinese characteristics

At every seminar that she held, Kou and the local team that supported her tour in Taiwan screened “Petition” (上訪), a documentary by Chinese director Zhao Liang. The film covers more than a decade and ends in 2008, the year of the Beijing Olympics. In the lead-up to the Games, a petition village — spontaneously built as petitioners stayed in Beijing for years hoping in vain that their cases involving local injustice and gross corruption could be heard by the state’s highest institutions — was torn down.

Almost 10 years have elapsed since the Beijing Olympics, and Chinese President Xi Jinping is said to be cracking down on corruption, one of the main grievances animating the petitioners. Have petitions, a form of appeal to higher ups in government seeking redress that harkens back to feudal China’s “imperial appeal” (gao yu zhuang, 告御狀), had any success in mitigating the longstanding problems with the Chinese system?

“No,” Kou says, emphatically.

“Xi’s anti-graft campaign is selective in that it targets only his opponents,” she said. “The petitions [to Beijing] continue and the most prominent one recently was that by veterans of the People’s Liberation Army.”

Asked if she apprehends returning to China after spending a year in Taiwan revealed the problems plaguing Chinese society, Kou was evasive, but stressed that the Chinese government has “done a successful job drumming up and spreading fear, even in Taiwan.”

“I’ve been very open about what I’ve been doing in Taiwan via my column [on Taiwanese online media Storm Media],” she added, suggesting that there is no need for Chinese law-enforcement authorities to be alarmed by possible “secret activities.”

Taiwanese apathy

Kou says she was stunned by how few people in Taiwan know who Lee Ming-che is, and worried that even fewer wish to know more about China aside from its apparent economic prowess.

“I was really depressed after a seminar [held earlier this year] with a group of young students at a college in central Taiwan, during which only two or three hands were raised after I asked them whether they’d heard of Lee,” Kou told her audience on Nov. 11.

In her column, Kou said she was perplexed by commentaries by Taiwanese describing Lee’s arrest as “his own doing” because he had engaged in activities that are forbidden by the Chinese government.

“It’s unbearable to see that [Taiwanese who enjoy freedom] would use [Beijing’s] logic to explain [the consequences of] your actions,” she wrote. “There are also those who choose not to look at China just because they ‘don’t like China,’ which I consider an extremely childish answer not fitting for an adult.”

“All the progress and reform in China started from the people, from peasants, petitioners and public interest advocates, whose demands got debated by scholars, spread by media and eventually recognized by the institutions.”

The last thing she needs is for Taiwanese to refer to history and politics and explain to her, as some friends and scholars have tried to do, why some Taiwanese behave that way, Kou says. “The point is not about convincing me in oral arguments. The question in the end comes down to how Taiwanese are to face up to their gigantic neighbor.”

But, indeed, how? Kou said she is here to ask the question, not to provide an answer. But an answer was nevertheless implied in her talk on how Chinese civil society is actually more vibrant and active than those who obsess about the omnipresence of the communist regime would think.

If one focuses only on the Chinese Communist Party’s size and might, it is natural that he or she would feel powerless, she says. “But from what I’ve seen from ‘among the people,’ people power is strong, as manifested in the aftermath of the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, where thousands of civic groups mobilized.”

“All the progress and reform in China started from the people, from peasants, petitioners and public interest advocates, whose demands got debated by scholars, spread by media and eventually recognized by the institutions,” Kou said, firm in her belief that change comes from the bottom and through more substantial civil society-to-civil society exchanges with places with robust civil activities, such as Taiwan.

Top photo:  Kou Yanding speaks about China and why Taiwan should care (Photo courtesy of the Youth Synergy Taiwan Foundation).

TDB Vol. 1 No. 15: Taiwan Experiments with Participatory Budgeting for Migrant Workers

TDB Vol. 1 No. 15: Taiwan Experiments with Participatory Budgeting for Migrant Workers

As Taiwan gradually makes itself more hospitable to migrant workers, municipal governments are making it possible for new residents to have a say in how cities and counties spend their money. Chou Ya-wei and Alison Hsiao report on recent efforts.

 

In what is possibly the first participatory budgeting project in Asia involving migrant workers, people from Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand and Vietnam last month and earlier this month were invited by the Department of Labor in Taoyuan, where one in six of the country’s 600,000 migrant workers is based, to help plan their own leisure activities using the local government’s budget.

Hailed as one of the key practices of participatory democracy, participatory budgeting ensures that people have equal participation in the making of decisions pertaining to the allocation of public funds that influence important aspects of their lives. Such efforts occur at a time when traditional representational democracy is carried out behind closed-doors and often has descended into irrelevance for the general public.

Despite the practice’s more than two-decades history since it was pioneered in Porto Alegre, Brazil, in 1989, Taiwan has not experimented with participatory budgeting, largely because, until 2014, it had little knowledge of its existence. This changed in the lead-up to the nine-in-one elections in November that year, when the campaign team of Ko Wen-je, the mayoral candidate for Taipei, introduced the idea, pledging to include the city’s residents in budget planning. That promise soon caught on around the nation, with the Ministry of Culture and the administrations in New Taipei City, Taichung and Kaohsiung taking experimental steps in carrying out this “new” model of democracy.

The Taoyuan City Government also joined the fray, and its department of labor went one step further by calling for the participation of non-citizens.

“It’s not that the government has never held leisure activities for foreign migrant workers, but in the past they passively took part as requested, sometimes by their employers or brokers,” said Lai Shih-zhe, senior executive officer of the Department of Labor and the brain behind the participatory budgeting event held in late September and early October.

What was lost in this passive participation was migrant workers’ agency and subjectivity, he said.

Lai Shih-zhe (right) with event staff at the second workshop on Oct. 1 (Photo courtesy of the Department of Labor, Taoyuan City Government)

The Participatory Budgeting for Migrant Workers in Taoyuan project was one of the key initiatives by the local government to turn things around. To this end, the department initially held two information sessions for potential participants, targeting both migrant workers and Taoyuan residents. The sessions were followed by a pair of workshops in which more than 120 participants took part.

The first workshop, held on Sept. 17, called on participants to make various proposal on how to spend municipal funds for leisure activities for migrant workers. In all, 21 proposals from more than 70 migrant workers were collected. The proposals were then discussed during a second workshop on Oct. 1, in which 47 representatives of different nationalities divided into six groups decided which ones were the most appealing.

The atmosphere during the discussions was encouraging and lively. “It is true that our implementation of participatory budgeting might not be perfect, but for this event, I would say the emphasis and the gains lie in participation,” Lai said.

The second workshop on Oct. 1 at the Yuyuan Plaza near Taoyuan Train Station

Norie Rosales, a liberal domestic caregiver from the Philippines who took part in the exercise, proposed a beauty pageant — a Filipino obsession — for members of the LGBTQI community.

Asked what motivated her to make such a proposal, she said the idea was in line with the free social environment enjoyed by her country. “In Philippines we have freedom to express our feelings about our gender. We don’t want discrimination,” she said.

Those efforts are what participatory democracy seeks to achieve: the exchange of values and the exchange of cultures, with participants thrashing out compromises to accommodate different, culturally imbued sports competitions, art exhibitions, culture tours, beauty pageants, cultural carnivals, and so on.

The 13 proposals that made the cut from the initial 21 will be put to a vote between Oct. 26 and early November. The voters will comprise residents of Taoyuan as well as migrant workers from around the nation, regardless of their place of work. They will be able to vote online or at ballot boxes set up at locations where migrant workers congregate during holidays, such as train stations, as well as in certain large factories in Taoyuan.

The three proposals that receive the highest number of votes will then each be allocated NT$500,000 (US$16,500) from the municipal budget for their implementation.

Building trust

But cultural exchanges should not — and are not — limited to those between migrant workers.

“The proposals have also highlighted the need and wish to make exchanges with the local Taiwanese people and culture,” Taoyuan Department of Labor Senior Executive Officer Lai Shih-che said.

“And what the [participatory budgeting] event has shown to the Taiwanese is that through transparency, mutual understanding, communication and participation, migrant workers — who have been ignored, to say the least, by the local people — can also create a common good,” he added.

Mutual trust can be built through exchanges, but also by making good on promises.

“Misgivings were expressed about the trustworthiness of the department which proclaimed that the migrant workers’ proposals would be carried out in accordance with their wishes,” Lai said. “But we’ve assured them that they will be invited to take part in the following preparatory meetings with the officials and the contractors for the events.”

Understandably, migrant workers were not the only ones who had concerns over the government’s role in funding the events.

“There were indeed doubts from local politicians about engaging non-citizens in deciding how to use public funds,” Lai acknowledged. “But I pointed out to them that the number of migrant workers in the city, which is 108,000, amounts to one-twentieth of the city’s dwellers and one-tenth of the city’s workforce, not to mention that they are also taxpayers.”

A role for NGOs

The Taoyuan participatory budgeting project was co-hosted by the Serve the People Association, Taoyuan with assistance from other NGOs across the nation, such as the SEA Migrant Inspired, which helped out on different fronts, from the provision of interpreting services to outreach among the local migrant worker population.

The Taiwan Reach-Out Association for Democracy (T-ROAD) and 1095 Studio are two Taichung-based organizations that played a critical role in the Taoyuan labor department’s project. (The number in the group’s name designates the days a migrant worker has to sign up for under a working visa contract, or the equivalent of three years. The story of the name does not stop there, as the official name is in fact “1095,” with a comma attached, which signifies that migrant workers would go on with their life journey after a short stint in Taiwan.)

At 1095 Studio, 1095, co-founder Annie Kuan (left) and T-ROAD member Hung Shih-yu

Composed of members who have worked closely with the Taichung City Government on the city’s participatory budgeting initiatives, T-ROAD was established on the understanding that PB-related training and assistance for government officials and citizen-proposers should be widely available.

“More often than not the proposers would find themselves at loss after tabling a proposal or having a proposal actually accepted — this is where we come in,” said Hong Shih-yu, a member of T-ROAD.

In Taoyuan’s case, the association trained those who were professionally equipped with Southeast Asian languages or familiar with Southeast Asian affairs, but had limited knowledge about PB, to be discussion facilitators.

1095 Studio was one of those that signed up for the task. Since its founding in 2015, the group has dedicated its efforts to “building a bridge between diverse cultures,” and has launched various proposals in Taichung, among them a weekly “mobile library” at the Taichung Railway Station that offers books in different Southeast Asian languages which migrant workers can borrow from (the mobile library is modeled on the Brilliant Time’s initiative at Taipei Main Station. More information is available here); cross-culture cuisine events; guided tours around what has come to be known was “ASEAN Square” (or “piramid” in Bahasa Indonesia); and outdoor movie screenings. The most recent ones are a legal counseling service and a ASEAN Square revitalization project. (In 2015 Taichung Mayor Lin Chia-lung said he believed that the rechristening would reposition the commercial square near the station as a driving force promoting exchanges with Southeast Asian cultures and people.)

The ASEAN Square, or the “piramid” for migrant workers in Taichung

1095 Studio member Chen Han-tang, who was also one of the participants in the Taiwan Foundation for Democracy’s 2017 Asian Young Leaders for Democracy program, volunteered as a discussion facilitator in the Taoyuan PB project.

“Too many times we saw local authorities presented measures and projects to hitch the wagon to the central government’s New Southbound Policy but achieved little due to perfunctory implementation, lack of understanding or implicit discrimination,” he lamented. “But the Taoyuan PB team and its project overcame those barriers, and their effort and enthusiasm should definitely be taken as an example for future migrant worker policy planners.”

1095 Studio co-founder Annie Kuan said that while Taiwan can lead as a vibrant and functioning democracy in the region, “we also see what we as Taiwanese lack when we work with people from Southeast Asia.”

“We rely on the government to make decisions, and comment on or criticize them later. Our Southeast Asian friends, however, are used to being actively involved in group discussion about local issues,” she said. “Their sense of identity of being part of a local community is stronger.”

“In a sense there is this ‘mutual admiration.’ We praise their willingness to participate, they find our ‘big government’ taking care of various aspects of our life great,” Kuan added.

And that is precisely the point of the exchanges, she stressed, “which is to learn from each other.”

TDB Vol. 1 No. 12: Young Activists Fight for Democracy in Asia

TDB Vol. 1 No. 12: Young Activists Fight for Democracy in Asia

Following a nine-day workshop in Taipei, a group of young democracy activists from around Asia elaborated various strategies to tighten regional cooperation and facilitate information-sharing in times of democratic recession. Alison Hsiao reports.

 

At the conclusion of a nine-day Asia Young Leaders for Democracy (AYLD) program hosted by the Taiwan Foundation for Democracy (TFD) in Taipei earlier this month, young participants from around Asia issued a document that is known as the AYLD Declaration. Covering a wide range of issues, the declaration was drafted by the 20 participants, most of whom come from countries that face many challenges in achieving or sustaining democracy.

In itself, the fact that a declaration was issued by a group of young people with different national backgrounds can be hailed as an accomplishment. As many of us know, consensus is rarely the outcome of official region-wide conferences.

Still, adopting a declaration that could be approved by all through a democratic process nevertheless proved challenging, which the young democracy advocates knew all too well from their own experiences back home, where efforts to discredit democracy have been gaining momentum. As the democracy-skeptic camp often argues, efficiency, ostensibly key for development, often suffers from long democratic procedures; so if a trade-off at the expense of democracy is the inevitable cost, then so be it.

Consensus-building isn’t easy, even among ardent supporters of democracy.

“Democracy needs time,” the participants admitted. And as if to prove this, they requested more time to arrive at a final draft of their declaration. Notwithstanding the delays, the young participants were keenly aware that the case for an alternative model to democracy — autocratic governance — is based on a “false promises of economic prosperity and national glory (Clause 1).”

While some efficiency must be sacrificed for the sake of democracy, the “best solution” is not, and never was, what democracy is about, as one participant said during the discussions. Another cited Winston Churchill, who once famously said that “democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.”

As democracy is said to be in recession with the rise of “illiberal democracy,” the young democracy leaders responded to the trend with an emphasis on fighting disinformation and extremism (Clause 2 & 3), which serve as incubators for and are the product of illiberal democracy, respectively.

The declaration also contains much evidence that the young democracy leaders fully understand what democracy is not: majoritarianism with the majority having all the say. Votes may be necessary, but deliberation and compromise among groups and people, with members of a program or a community having equal rights and access, are indispensable.

The rights of minority groups and political participation have to be guaranteed (Clause 4 & 5): “All human beings, regardless of their race, ethnicity, gender, disability, age, language, religion, social class, sexual orientation and gender identity, deserve equal rights and equal dignity,” the declaration says, following a debate on whether “women’s political participation” should enjoy a highlighted focus with a separate clause.

“Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.”

“Democracy needs time” could also be taken to mean that the realization of true democracy is a long haul that requires people, especially the young, to resolutely and actively engage in monitoring, maintaining and improving the democracy agendas in their respective countries.

The task, however, can be particularly daunting for those who live in countries where governments wield power without proper checks and where people in general are ignorant about (or nonchalant) human rights violations. Inter-country and regional alliances and cooperation are therefore essential for activists and dissidents for the sharing of hands-on experience and solidarity building.

To this end, the 2017 AYLD participants came up with three action plans to strengthen the network they creatdd during the program and the principles they have vowed to uphold in the declaration.

The Asia News for Democracy has been set up and will serve as a platform for Asia-related news-sharing to enhance regional partners’ understanding and facilitate networking initiatives.

Moreover, two types of workshops have been proposed to promote democracy and its consolidation: a workshop at the country-level on disinformation for schools and organizations to improve young people’s information literacy and skills to combat “fake news”; and regular regional joint workshops to building regional communities and share first-hand information to young human rights defenders, with a focus on cyber security, utilization of new technology, legal training and protest-organizing strategies.

AYLD participants break into small groups as the project drafts its declaration.

The people behind the idea of holding regional workshops also agreed that lessons can be learned not only from what works, but also from failure. Stories of botched-up tactics and flops can be just as educational and rewarding as those touting successes. In the long run, they said, failure can be a series of steps and milestones leading to success.

Two visits by AYLD members — to the Jing-mei Human Rights Memorial and Cultural Park and the Nylon Deng Memorial Museum — drove in the fact that failure can be but a temporary setback. While both sites are dedicated to activists and dissidents who “failed” in the face of an authoritarian regime, today they are now remembered with respect and pride, and the principles they fought for have prevailed over the forces of repression that, at the time, seemed implacable.

TDB Vol. 1 No. 11: Memory, Amnesia, and Martial Law in Taiwan

TDB Vol. 1 No. 11: Memory, Amnesia, and Martial Law in Taiwan

As Taiwan marks the 30th anniversary of the lifting of Martial Law, much still needs to be done to ensure that a proper account of what happened is given as the memories, victims and perpetrators fade into the past. Alison Hsiao reports.

 

It was 1980, a year after the Formosa Magazine Incident. Still in high school, Chen Tsui-lien (陳翠蓮) was asked to “serve the country” after enrolling in university.

Her mission? To “catch the bad guys,” like those involved in the Formosa Magazine Incident, who, according to the school discipline director, were captured thanks to the assistance of many “patriotic youths.”

Selected by the system, Chen said was proud to be one of the students chosen for the spying assignment.

This year marks the 30th anniversary of the lifting of Martial Law in Taiwan, which had been declared in 1949. To coincide with various commemorative events this year, the Taiwan Association for Truth and Reconciliation (TATR), an organization dedicated to transitional justice in Taiwan, has launched an initiative calling on “ordinary people to share their memories of the Martial Law period.

During her high school years, immersed in an educational environment closely monitored and calibrated for collective action and inebriated with stilted patriotic refrains, Chen, now a history professor at National Taiwan University, was a what we could call a “defiant” daughter: she was appalled by her father’s criticism of nationalistic songs and accused him of being “unpatriotic.”

Professor Chen Tsui-lien tells about the state’s attempt to recruit her as a spy during an event organized by the Taiwan Association for Truth and Reconciliation (photo courtesy of TATR).

“My parents couldn’t sleep at night after I told them how excited I was that I was going to help the country,” Chen said of her spying assignment during a talk organized by TATR last month.

Chen’s father, however, explicitly told her that she should not accept the school director’s offer. “You’re out of your head for wanting to go. You will be responsible for many lives,” he said.

“I cried so hard because this ban,” she told a laughing crowd.

Chen is among the lucky ones who eventually sensed “cracks” in the Potemkin village created by the authoritarian government’s propaganda later in her college years.

“Once you noticed the inconsistencies in their narratives, there was no turning back,” she said.

But “sensing cracks” was far from ordinary. While there indeed were hot-blooded activists who were extremely committed to fighting authoritarianism, several others — like Chen’s parents — only secretly harbored an attitude of resistance. And then there were the “free riders,” those for whom the TATR event would be more appropriately titled “ordinary people’s no-memory of the Martial Law period,” said NTU history professor Chou Wan-yao (周婉窈).

“It’s undeniable that in the latter part of the Martial Law period, which overlapped with an era of high economic growth, many were occupied by the sole idea of making money and accustomed to the life under Martial Law,” Chou said.

Admittedly life could be pretty safe — as long as you stayed away from the “unpatriotic activities and riots that disturbed social stability,” which is how resistance was portrayed by the regime. The mentality explains why many Taiwanese, especially those who are now in their 50s, remember pre-Martial Law life with nostalgia.

“There is a reason why Taiwan’s democratization has been called a ‘quiet revolution,’” NTU political science professor Huang Chang-ling (黃長玲) said. “And this trait does make the country’s transitional justice harder to achieve.”

The problems arising from historical amnesia soon manifested themselves after TATR invited ordinary people to share their stories online and to present (if they had any) memorabilia to accompany their narratives.

Among the items posted was an encyclopedia with blacked out, or “sanitized,” entries about the People’s Republic of China that attested to the era’s censorship. Other participants shared their memories of being indoctrinated with Sun Yat-sen’s Three Principles of the People at school, being punished for speaking “dialects,” or even being forced to tear out the star logos (unfortunately red) printed on their Converse All Star shoes.

A ‘sanitized’ version of the Encyclopedia Americana, with passages blacked-out by state censors. The encyclopedia is kept at the National Chiao Tung University Library (photo courtesy of TATR).

Soon enough, the stories attracted criticism by people who accused the witnesses of lying and fabrication. Some questioned the authenticity of memories they said cannot be verified, while others turned to their own memories and stated that since they did not experience such traumas, the stories must therefore be fake.

The attacks forced TATR to issue a statement calling on netizens to respect the diversity of memories of life under Martial Law held by people from different regions, generations and groups, and not to dismiss other people’s life experiences.

“The same questioning logic can always be applied to the questioners themselves,” it said.

“Contemporary studies of personal and collective memories indicate that how the past is narrated can indeed be influenced by the time and situation in which the memories were told, the passage of time and the interaction between the narrator and the hearer,” it said. “But the past is not easily the product of manipulation in a democratic society where files are declassified, different groups of people’s memories are told and historical studies are done in an open and free academic environment.”

When “ordinary people” debate past events, what is really at stake but still lacking is a national report by the government detailing how many people were executed, jailed (and for how long) and subjected to surveillance, and how the institutions behind these operations played their roles and coordinated with each other.

“The state may have offered compensation to the victims of the White Terror, continues to declassify files, maintains historical sites and has even published the victims’ memoirs and interviews, but it has otherwise been completely silent about its past crimes [as an authoritarian regime],” Huang said.

“The public’s understanding of the White Terror has become hollow,” she said, adding that the victims are now little more than “elders in the family.”

People today mostly hear about the White Terror through stories that come up, inadvertently or not, during family conversations, which also refer to the persecutors as “the evil KMT.”

“It’s not exactly wrong to think of them in that way,” Huang adds, “but it certainly shows that the issue of state violence and its complexity has not been truly deliberated and reflected upon.”

Huang Chang-ling speaks during an event organized by the Taiwan Association for Truth and Reconciliation (photo courtesy of TATR).

TDB Vol 1. No. 8: An Enabling Environment for Civil Society Organizations in East Asia

TDB Vol 1. No. 8: An Enabling Environment for Civil Society Organizations in East Asia

Amid a worldwide deterioration in freedom of association and expression, civic activists must urgently discuss how a more enabling environment can be created for civil society organizations (CSO). Last month, a Taiwan Alliance in International Development (Taiwan AID) workshop, co-sponsored by the Taiwan Foundation for Democracy, provided such an opportunity. Alison Hsiao gives the highlights.

 

About 6 billion people live in countries where civic space is either closed, repressed or obstructed, according to the latest findings by the CIVICUS Monitor made public in April.

“Only 3 percent of the entire population around the world live in countries where space for civic activism is truly open,” Henri Valot, lead adviser at USAID’s Voice and Accountability, Accelere Education Programme in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, told a workshop in Taipei last week, citing the report.

According to Maria Teresa Lauron, co-chair of CSO Partnership for Development Effectiveness, there is a global trend toward shrinking and closing civic space, with governments “not only in the south but also in the north” implementing restrictive laws hindering and disabling conditions for CSO formation, registration and operation.

 

Asia

Chinese Communist Party (CCP)-ruled China is known for the limited maneuvering room for NGOs and civic movements. It has recently attempted to further restrain civic activities by unveiling, in April 2016, the Law on Management of Domestic Activities of Overseas Non-governmental Organizations.

The law requires overseas NGOs, which arguably have enjoyed more freedom in China and therefore have served as a critical source of resources and information for domestic NGOs, to report to the Ministry of Public Security rather than the Ministry of Civil Affairs as domestic NGOs must do, and to find a sponsor or “business supervisory unit” for registration, according to Chan Kin-man (陳健民), associate professor of sociology at the Chinese University of Hong Kong and co-founder of Occupy Central with Love and Peace.

“The sponsors could be difficult to find as they would have to shoulder political responsibilities [if the NGOs cross Beijing’s red lines],” Chan said, adding that exceptions are possible for “sponsors” seeking financial opportunities in those NGOs and for those that have guanxi (political connections).

With recent developments surrounding the new legislation, “the grey area that Chinese NGOs used to enjoy is disappearing,” he said.

“The large third sector is expanding, but civil society is actually shrinking in China,” as Beijing continues to crack down on dissenting groups while supporting “governmental non-governmental organizations,” a term Chan used to refer to “NGOs” supported by government funding and which therefore adhere to the government’s agenda.

Linh Phuong Nguyen, executive director of the Research Center of Management and Sustainable Development in Vietnam, also told of the barriers facing CSOs in Vietnam.

Vietnamese CSOs, like their counterparts in China, need government approval before receiving international aid, she said, adding that it usually takes six months to a year before permissions can be obtained — if at all.

A draft law of association was put forward by the Vietnamese government in 2016 — “supposedly committed to creating an enabling environment for the CSOs, but in reality, there was no outside participation in the drafting process” — and if passed, would create a more restrictive environment for CSOs, Nguyen said.

Linh Phuong Nguyen, executive director of the Research Center of Management and Sustainable Development in Vietnam, discusses tightening regulations in Vietnam.

The situation is equally dire in the Philippines. Despite his earlier announcement on negotiating peace with the country’s communist groups that have been waging armed resistance for the past 48 years, “[President] Duterte announced [in May] that he’s going after human rights defenders” and “[just in the night before the workshop took place on May 24], martial law was declared in Mindanao,” Lauron said.

As the above cases make clear, the development of civic space in Asia faces extraordinary challenges. According to the CIVICUS report, none of the Asian countries is in the “Open” category in the civic space tracking chart, with the best performers in Asia — Japan and South Korea — categorized as having a “Narrowed” civic space. (The conspicuous absence is Taiwan, which is colored grey, without information on the evaluation map.)

According to the CIVICUS report, none of the Asian countries is in the “Open” category in the civic space tracking chart, with the best performers in Asia — Japan and South Korea — categorized as having a “Narrowed” civic space.

Akio Takayanagi, policy adviser at Japan NGO Center for International Cooperation, outlined the depressing state of affairs in Japan, which is generally regarded as a developed democracy, citing the World Press Freedom Index that put Japan in 72nd place in the ranking of media freedom in 2017, a stunning gradual downgrading from 11th spot in 2011.

Additionally, an “anti-conspiracy bill” — pushed by the Japanese government and passed by the House of Representatives — could “lead to undue restrictions to the rights to privacy and to freedom of expression,” United Nations special rapporteur on the right to privacy Joseph Cannataci warned.

If it becomes law, the bill will allow the authorities to “criminalize acts of preparation to commit crimes such as terrorism,” Takayanagi said.

 

The Taiwan model

Left out by the global assessment, Taiwan has proven an encouraging exception to regional and global trends.

Tracing the transformation of CSO-state relations in Taiwan, Michael Hsiao (蕭新煌), distinguished research fellow at the Institute of Sociology, Academia Sinica, said that beginning with the democratization movements in the 1990s, the country’s CSOs have moved from external control to free association and self-governance, from state monitoring to self-discipline and accountability, and from state dependence to public empowerment.

Nevertheless, there are problems that need to be resolved to ensure a better functioning of CSOs in Taiwan and to strengthen its civic space. Jay Hung (洪智杰), Taiwan AID executive director, noted that while most CSOs in Taiwan align themselves with government requirements concerning internal management, “disclosure of financial reports and work plans to the general public, however, is not mandatory,” which could generate doubts with the public.

There is also the problem of “being strong in domestic affairs but lacking in global thinking and actions,” said Chien Shiuh-shen (簡旭伸), a professor of development geography at National Taiwan University, adding that activists over the years have sometimes worked too closely with the long-time opposition Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) and lost momentum after the DPP assumed power for the first time in 2000.

Chien Shiuh-shen of National Taiwan University discusses the ‘Taiwan model.’

But the second democratic “alternation of ruling party” in Taiwan in 2016 has helped push legal and social change, which bodes well for the country’s civic space.

Amendments to the Civil Association Act, which regulates all “people’s groups” including political parties, civic groups and occupational associations, as well as new laws mulled by the government, would further strengthen regulations governing NGOs by enhancing their transparency and changing the language governing the establishment of civil associations from “applying for approval from the authorities” to “registration.”

Activists and CSOs have also “learned the lessons” from their experiences during the first transition of power, including the notion that they should “never say yes to the government all the time,” even if the ruling party was once an ally, Hsiao said.

Chien cited the ruling by Taiwan’s Judicial Yuan on May 24 in favor of same-sex marriage as a demonstration of Taiwan’s profound social progress, three decades after the lifting of martial law.

This is an experience in development that can be shared among Asian countries as the “Taiwan model,” he said, “which is in the social dimension” and is different from the “four tigers” type of economic model upheld in the past.

 

Enabling environment for CSOs

Besides sharing the Taiwan model, there exist global frameworks that, if observed, could help create a more enabling environment for CSOs, among them the United Nation’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDG).

Goal 16.10, which encourages governments to “Ensure public access to information and protect fundamental freedoms,” and Goal 17.17, which urges governments to “Encourage and promote effective public, public-private and civil society partnerships,” for example, are civic-space promoting, said Douglas Rutzen, president of the International Center for Not-for-Profit Law, USA.

Anselmo Lee, secretary-general of the Asia Democracy Network, also weighed in.

“We have to remind the governments that it is their legal obligation” to follow those frameworks developed by the global organization of which they are members, he said.

Meanwhile, the mere presence of regulatory or policy frameworks, or more quantifiable socio-economic development (GDP, life expectancy, literacy and so on), which some argue indicates the existence of an enabling environment for CSOs, may fall short of being comprehensive, Valot said.

The capability approach, first conceived by Amyarta Sen in the debate on welfare economics and defining individual’s wellbeing in terms of their capabilities to achieve their goals, has been applied to assess the environment for civil society, Valot said. It not only means that the socio-economic environment, which should include gender equality and equity in general, but also socio-cultural (participation trends, tolerance, trust), political/governmental and legal environments (civil society infrastructure, state effectiveness, policy dialogue, rule of law, and so on), have to be taken into consideration, he said.

Henri Valot, lead adviser at USAID’s Voice and Accountability, Accelere Education Programme in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, discusses the widening gap between countries and social groups.

Cultivating an enabling environment therefore requires both government input and CSO efforts. Trust between the two needs to be built and CSOs have to work on their professional capacity and undertake self-regulation to be seen as dependable actors, Lauron said.

Global networking is crucial, especially people-to-people exchanges. “Every Philippine activist is also an internationalist because we see that the problems facing the Pilipino society are not limited to our domestic context but must be situated” in the world economic and political context, Lauron said. “Political education among activists and civil society is therefore important as we have to know the forces we’re confronting with in order to develop new strategies and for the approaches to be effective.”

Lauron was responding to concerns raised by Chien about civil movements being restricted to the local and domestic level without global connections.

To share the “Taiwan model” or other experiences of civil society across countries, “we must move beyond organizations and formal institutions [that tend to be] distrusted by citizens and society,” Rutzen said, adding that one effective approach lies with youth engagement.

Lauron echoed this sentiment.

“A new generation of civil society leaders and movement leaders need to be developed; seeds can multiply,” she said.

 

All photos courtesy of Taiwan Aid.

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