- Published on
I have an article out today at the Journal of Democracy examining Taiwan's ongoing political stalemate and what I think is best described as a slow-motion constitutional crisis. The key theme: I don't put the whole blame on either the DPP or the KMT-TPP opposition, but rather on the way Taiwan's constitutional framework is designed (or rather, isn't) to handle divided government. I was surprised at how quickly partisan tensions escalated into inter-branch warfare after the 2024 elections, and I have been dismayed at how willing both camps have been to violate norms and push the limits of their institutional prerogatives to gain an advantage. But in hindsight, I probably shouldn't have been.
The fundamental reason is Taiwan is suffering from the classic "dual mandate" problem that Juan Linz first popularized in 1990 in his famous "Perils of Presidentialism" piece for the Journal of Democracy. I don't buy much of Linz's argument -- presidentialism can still be preferable to parliamentarian in some circumstances (see, e.g, Indonesia), and the comparative literature on this question now points to bad design choices within presidential regimes, rather than the presidentialism itself, as creating especially challenging conditions for democratic politics. But I do accept Linz's core contention that presidential regimes create an inherent tension between the executive and legislative branches, and the default pattern of politics is for each branch to be engaged in interminable conflict with the other as long as they are controlled by different parties.
James Madison in Federalist No. 51 famously characterized this conflict as a strength of presidential regimes, or at least separation of powers ones: in his phrase, "ambition must be made to counteract ambition." But for that ambition not to escalate into political warfare that ultimately destroys democracy, there has to be another branch sufficiently strong and independent to play referee and regulate the conflict. Put differently, a key constitutional design principle is that in presidential regimes, you need well-protected neutral arbiters—the judiciary, prosecutors, ombudsmen, state regulators, and above all the constitutional court—who can limit partisan conflict and keep it from spinning out of control.
The fragility of these independent institutions is the greatest weakness of Taiwan’s democracy today. As I write in the conclusion to the piece:
After several rounds of constitutional reform, Taiwan is now a strong presidential regime with only two institutions that really matter: the presidency and the legislature. Both are directly elected, giving both valid claim to a democratic mandate. When the same party has controlled both branches, partisan incentives have softened the inherent tensions in this design, and Taiwan’s policymaking process has functioned reasonably well without the need for other institutions to intervene. But with control now divided, interbranch conflict has emerged with a vengeance. Many of Taiwan’s policymaking processes have ground to a halt, and in seeking to limit the fallout from this partisan conflict, its accountability institutions have themselves become prime targets.
This piece, by the way, is the more developed version of a talk I gave at an event hosted by the Shih Ming-te Foundation in Taipei on September 9, which got picked up by a few media outlets in Taiwan, and then twisted a bit for partisan ends for a couple news cycles. For those looking for the full context of my comments, which have plenty of criticism of both political camps (e.g. the TPP-KMT retaliation against the Constitutional Court is appalling, and the DPP premier's refusal to countersign legislation is almost certainly unconstitutional), check out the article at the link.
- Published on
The Hoover Institution's Project on Taiwan in the Indo-Pacific Region held a public session on Resilient Realists: How Taiwan Navigates Its Future in a Turbulent World on March 2, 2026 from 1:00-2:30 PM PT.
About the Featured Speaker
Dr. Hung-mao Tien is the President and Chairman of the Institute for National Policy Research in Taipei, and board member of several foundations and business corporations in Taiwan. He also serves as a Senior Advisor to the President of the Republic of China (Taiwan). From 2000-2002, he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs. He also served as the chairman of the Straits Exchange Foundation, the semi-official body in Taiwan responsible for direct exchanges and dialogue with the People's Republic of China, Representative (ambassador) to the United Kingdom, and presidential advisor to former President Lee Teng-hui. He has also served in an advisory capacity to Harvard University’s Asia Center, The Asia Society in New York, and the Brookings Institution in Washington, D.C.
Dr. Tien has taught in universities in both the US and Taiwan as professor of political science. His numerous publications in English (author, editor and co-editor) include: Government and Politics in Kuomintang China 1927-37 (Stanford University Press); The Great Transition: Social and Political Change in the Republic of China (Stanford: Hoover Institution Press); and Democratization in Taiwan, Implications for China (St. Anthony’s Series, Oxford University), Consolidating the Third Wave Democracies, Themes and Perspectives(Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press), China Under Jiang Zemin(Rienner), and The Security Environment in the Asia-Pacific (M.E. Sharpe). He received his Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Dr. Hung-mao Tien is the President and Chairman of the Institute for National Policy Research in Taipei, and board member of several foundations and business corporations in Taiwan. He also serves as a Senior Advisor to the President of the Republic of China (Taiwan). From 2000-2002, he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs. He also served as the chairman of the Straits Exchange Foundation, the semi-official body in Taiwan responsible for direct exchanges and dialogue with the People's Republic of China, Representative (ambassador) to the United Kingdom, and presidential advisor to former President Lee Teng-hui. He has also served in an advisory capacity to Harvard University’s Asia Center, The Asia Society in New York, and the Brookings Institution in Washington, D.C.
Dr. Tien has taught in universities in both the US and Taiwan as professor of political science. His numerous publications in English (author, editor and co-editor) include: Government and Politics in Kuomintang China 1927-37 (Stanford University Press); The Great Transition: Social and Political Change in the Republic of China (Stanford: Hoover Institution Press); and Democratization in Taiwan, Implications for China (St. Anthony’s Series, Oxford University), Consolidating the Third Wave Democracies, Themes and Perspectives(Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press), China Under Jiang Zemin(Rienner), and The Security Environment in the Asia-Pacific (M.E. Sharpe). He received his Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Event Theme
Since the emergence of the COVID-19 pandemic, geopolitical competition between the United States and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) has rapidly intensified, and the global order has faced growing strains. Through it all, Taiwan has remained remarkably resilient. In the face of relentless diplomatic, economic, and military pressure from Beijing, Taiwan’s leaders have leveraged the island’s critical role in global technology supply chains, its reputation as a robust liberal democracy, and its strategic position in the Indo-Pacific to deepen engagement with key world powers. As many Americans question core assumptions of the post-Cold War global order, the PRC’s military power continues to grow, and the world stands on the cusp of a technological revolution in artificial intelligence, can Taiwan continue to navigate so deftly through turbulent geopolitical waters?
To address these topics, the Project on Taiwan in the Indo-Pacific Region at the Hoover Institution held a fireside chat featuring Dr. Hung-mao Tien, President of the Institute for National Policy Research (INPR) in Taipei and a former Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of China (Taiwan). Dr. Tien joined in conversation by Adm. (Ret.) James O. Ellis, the Annenberg Distinguished Visiting Fellow, and Dr. Larry Diamond, the William L. Clayton Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution.
Since the emergence of the COVID-19 pandemic, geopolitical competition between the United States and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) has rapidly intensified, and the global order has faced growing strains. Through it all, Taiwan has remained remarkably resilient. In the face of relentless diplomatic, economic, and military pressure from Beijing, Taiwan’s leaders have leveraged the island’s critical role in global technology supply chains, its reputation as a robust liberal democracy, and its strategic position in the Indo-Pacific to deepen engagement with key world powers. As many Americans question core assumptions of the post-Cold War global order, the PRC’s military power continues to grow, and the world stands on the cusp of a technological revolution in artificial intelligence, can Taiwan continue to navigate so deftly through turbulent geopolitical waters?
To address these topics, the Project on Taiwan in the Indo-Pacific Region at the Hoover Institution held a fireside chat featuring Dr. Hung-mao Tien, President of the Institute for National Policy Research (INPR) in Taipei and a former Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of China (Taiwan). Dr. Tien joined in conversation by Adm. (Ret.) James O. Ellis, the Annenberg Distinguished Visiting Fellow, and Dr. Larry Diamond, the William L. Clayton Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution.
- Published on
And maybe a fiscal one, too. And no, it has nothing to do with China.
December 20, 2024: When the cameras roll, the shoving begins...The DPP party caucus tries and fails to blockade the speaker's podium to prevent a final vote on three controversial bills. / Taipei Times
On December 20, amid shouting, shoving, fistfights, and broken furniture, Taiwan’s opposition-controlled legislature passed by a show of hands three controversial bills that threaten to kneecap its government. The first raised the threshold to recall elected officials. The second required the Constitutional Court to have a 2/3 quorum to hear constitutional cases and imposed a supermajority threshold to invalidate a law. And the third shifted the central-local revenue-sharing formula to give local governments (mostly KMT-run) 40 percent of all government revenues, up from 25 percent, at the expense of the DPP-run central government.
Four days later, the same opposition majority in the legislature voted down all seven of President Lai’s nominees to the Constitutional Court, leaving it with only eight justices and unable to meet the new quorum requirement for hearing a case. It is now effectively paralyzed. The DPP government has nevertheless requested that the court meet and rule anyway on whether the amendments to the Constitutional Court Act are themselves unconstitutional. This increasingly destructive partisan political conflict has put Taiwan on the brink of a constitutional crisis with no obvious way to resolve it.
This confrontation is also taking place in a democracy that Freedom House last year ranked as the second-best in Asia, behind only Japan, and significantly above the United States and most of Europe. Taiwan's political system has proven remarkably resilient to PRC influence operations over many years, and it has a capable and effective state and vibrant economy despite its diplomatic isolation. So why is it facing a political crisis now?
Four days later, the same opposition majority in the legislature voted down all seven of President Lai’s nominees to the Constitutional Court, leaving it with only eight justices and unable to meet the new quorum requirement for hearing a case. It is now effectively paralyzed. The DPP government has nevertheless requested that the court meet and rule anyway on whether the amendments to the Constitutional Court Act are themselves unconstitutional. This increasingly destructive partisan political conflict has put Taiwan on the brink of a constitutional crisis with no obvious way to resolve it.
This confrontation is also taking place in a democracy that Freedom House last year ranked as the second-best in Asia, behind only Japan, and significantly above the United States and most of Europe. Taiwan's political system has proven remarkably resilient to PRC influence operations over many years, and it has a capable and effective state and vibrant economy despite its diplomatic isolation. So why is it facing a political crisis now?
A Divided Legislature and a Missed Opportunity
February 1, 2024: Han Kuo-yu and Johnny Chiang celebrate winning both the speaker and deputy speaker positions with other KMT legislators, including Fu Kun-chi. / CNA
The simplest answer is divided government. For the first time in 16 years (and only the second time in its democratic history), Taiwan's legislative and executive branches are controlled by different parties: the Chinese Nationalist Party or Kuomintang (KMT) and Taiwan People's Party (TPP) together hold a majority in the Legislative Yuan, and they are locked in a fierce power struggle with the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) government.
This conflict was not inevitable. In the January 2024 presidential and legislative elections, the DPP's Lai Ching-te (賴清德) won the presidential election but with only 40% of the vote, and the DPP lost its majority in the legislature. The KMT ended up with 52 seats (plus two blue-leaning independents), the DPP won 51, and presidential candidate Ko Wen-je's (柯文哲) centrist TPP won eight (all via the party list vote). That left no party with a majority and made the TPP the crucial swing voting bloc in the LY. In theory, the TPP could have exploited that leverage to extract significant concessions from the ruling DPP -- on policy, legislative leadership, or cabinet positions. But instead, negotiations between the DPP and TPP went nowhere, and President Lai missed his chance to head off the last year of partisan warfare.
The formation of battle lines first became apparent on February 1, when the new legislature was seated. Its first order of business was to elect a speaker and deputy speaker. Curiously, the TPP ultimately decided not to support either of the major party nominees -- the party's eight legislators voted for TPP member Huang Shan-shan (黃珊珊) in the first round, and abstained in the second. As a result, the KMT's Han Kuo-yu (韓國瑜) won the speaker's race, and KMT legislator Johnny Chiang (江啟臣) was elected as his deputy. Despite providing crucial help to the KMT, the TPP did not manage to win even the deputy speaker as the price for their support. Nor did they strike a deal with the DPP, either, although that should have secured at least one of the leadership positions for the party. Given that the TPP held the crucial votes that could have denied control of the legislature to either major party, this outcome seems like a major missed opportunity for both them and the DPP.
I've heard competing explanations for this bargaining failure. One story is that the refusal came from the DPP side -- ruling party legislators were engaged in quiet conversations with the TPP about a possible power-sharing deal, but Lai Ching-te intervened to stop the negotiations. Reporting at the time suggested that the TPP's price for cooperation in the run-up to February 1 was for the DPP to support Huang Shan-shan for speaker -- a price the DPP was apparently not willing to pay, but which in hindsight they probably should have. That interpretation is also consistent with the public comments offered by party caucus whip Ker Chien-ming (柯建銘) that "A DPP-TPP partnership is only possible if the TPP voluntarily comes to us."So maybe this was a strategic mistake by the DPP caucus (and ultimately, Lai himself), and they are suffering the consequences.
But another possibility is that the TPP was just never seriously interested in cooperating with the DPP no matter what they offered -- even before Ko Wen-je's detention in a corruption investigation several months later turbocharged the TPP's animosity toward the DPP government. Although the KMT-TPP negotiations for a joint presidential ticket broke down in spectacular public fashion in November 2023, the two parties did still enter into a pre-election coalition for the legislative races and even campaigned together, so perhaps TPP leaders had already made up their minds to team up with the KMT after the elections, too, and there really was no chance the DPP could have enticed them to defect.
Whatever the reason, ever since the new legislature was seated on February 1, the TPP has consistently chosen to act as the KMT's junior partner and supported the opposition party's confrontational approach to the DPP government. And as the partisan divide has hardened, it has also transformed into an inter-branch conflict between the KMT-TPP majority in the legislature and the DPP in the executive. The partisan maneuvering that has followed has escalated over the last year to a level of open political warfare that is posing a severe test for Taiwan's democratic institutions. And it is a test they are failing.
This conflict was not inevitable. In the January 2024 presidential and legislative elections, the DPP's Lai Ching-te (賴清德) won the presidential election but with only 40% of the vote, and the DPP lost its majority in the legislature. The KMT ended up with 52 seats (plus two blue-leaning independents), the DPP won 51, and presidential candidate Ko Wen-je's (柯文哲) centrist TPP won eight (all via the party list vote). That left no party with a majority and made the TPP the crucial swing voting bloc in the LY. In theory, the TPP could have exploited that leverage to extract significant concessions from the ruling DPP -- on policy, legislative leadership, or cabinet positions. But instead, negotiations between the DPP and TPP went nowhere, and President Lai missed his chance to head off the last year of partisan warfare.
The formation of battle lines first became apparent on February 1, when the new legislature was seated. Its first order of business was to elect a speaker and deputy speaker. Curiously, the TPP ultimately decided not to support either of the major party nominees -- the party's eight legislators voted for TPP member Huang Shan-shan (黃珊珊) in the first round, and abstained in the second. As a result, the KMT's Han Kuo-yu (韓國瑜) won the speaker's race, and KMT legislator Johnny Chiang (江啟臣) was elected as his deputy. Despite providing crucial help to the KMT, the TPP did not manage to win even the deputy speaker as the price for their support. Nor did they strike a deal with the DPP, either, although that should have secured at least one of the leadership positions for the party. Given that the TPP held the crucial votes that could have denied control of the legislature to either major party, this outcome seems like a major missed opportunity for both them and the DPP.
I've heard competing explanations for this bargaining failure. One story is that the refusal came from the DPP side -- ruling party legislators were engaged in quiet conversations with the TPP about a possible power-sharing deal, but Lai Ching-te intervened to stop the negotiations. Reporting at the time suggested that the TPP's price for cooperation in the run-up to February 1 was for the DPP to support Huang Shan-shan for speaker -- a price the DPP was apparently not willing to pay, but which in hindsight they probably should have. That interpretation is also consistent with the public comments offered by party caucus whip Ker Chien-ming (柯建銘) that "A DPP-TPP partnership is only possible if the TPP voluntarily comes to us."So maybe this was a strategic mistake by the DPP caucus (and ultimately, Lai himself), and they are suffering the consequences.
But another possibility is that the TPP was just never seriously interested in cooperating with the DPP no matter what they offered -- even before Ko Wen-je's detention in a corruption investigation several months later turbocharged the TPP's animosity toward the DPP government. Although the KMT-TPP negotiations for a joint presidential ticket broke down in spectacular public fashion in November 2023, the two parties did still enter into a pre-election coalition for the legislative races and even campaigned together, so perhaps TPP leaders had already made up their minds to team up with the KMT after the elections, too, and there really was no chance the DPP could have enticed them to defect.
Whatever the reason, ever since the new legislature was seated on February 1, the TPP has consistently chosen to act as the KMT's junior partner and supported the opposition party's confrontational approach to the DPP government. And as the partisan divide has hardened, it has also transformed into an inter-branch conflict between the KMT-TPP majority in the legislature and the DPP in the executive. The partisan maneuvering that has followed has escalated over the last year to a level of open political warfare that is posing a severe test for Taiwan's democratic institutions. And it is a test they are failing.
- Published on
Counting ballots, January 11, 2020.
For the rest of this preview, see: Part I. Part II. Part III.
Summing up, here's the ratings as of August 16:
By way of conclusion, here are five observations on the 2022 local elections three months out:
1. The KMT is down but not out. There is now a frequent refrain among outside observers that the KMT is just hopelessly disorganized and dysfunctional and cannot mount a serious challenge to the DPP anymore, until and unless it changes its position on cross-Strait relations. Maybe. But going through race by race here suggests the party's candidates are still very competitive in local elections. By my own count, I have the KMT nominee favored right now to win in 16 of 22 localities -- that's more than they control today.
Perhaps I'm being too generous to the blue camp here -- and after adding the numbers up I'm feeling a wee bit uncomfortable with how lopsided they are -- but one can at least make a reasonable case that the KMT will hold a majority of local executives after these elections, IF (big if) the national environment doesn't turn against it. Despite a rough few years, the party still has significant residual strength at the local level, and reports of its impending demise have been greatly exaggerated.
Summing up, here's the ratings as of August 16:
- Safe KMT (2): Kinmen, Lienchiang
- Likely KMT (6): New Taipei, Hsinchu County, Nantou, Chiayi City, Hualien, Taitung
- Leans KMT (8): Taipei, Taichung, Keelung, Hsinchu City, Miaoli, Changhua, Yunlin, Penghu
- Toss-up (1): Taoyuan
- Leans DPP (1): Yilan
- Likely DPP (1): Pingtung
- Safe DPP (3): Tainan, Kaohsiung, Chiayi County
By way of conclusion, here are five observations on the 2022 local elections three months out:
1. The KMT is down but not out. There is now a frequent refrain among outside observers that the KMT is just hopelessly disorganized and dysfunctional and cannot mount a serious challenge to the DPP anymore, until and unless it changes its position on cross-Strait relations. Maybe. But going through race by race here suggests the party's candidates are still very competitive in local elections. By my own count, I have the KMT nominee favored right now to win in 16 of 22 localities -- that's more than they control today.
Perhaps I'm being too generous to the blue camp here -- and after adding the numbers up I'm feeling a wee bit uncomfortable with how lopsided they are -- but one can at least make a reasonable case that the KMT will hold a majority of local executives after these elections, IF (big if) the national environment doesn't turn against it. Despite a rough few years, the party still has significant residual strength at the local level, and reports of its impending demise have been greatly exaggerated.
The latest data from NCCU ESC shows KMT partisans at a record low.
2. HOWEVA, there is a lot of downside risk for the KMT. Since 2014, all local elections in Taiwan have been held concurrently. As a result, outcomes across races have been more correlated than they used to be. The last two election cycles have produced big swings against the party in power: in 2014, President Ma Ying-jeou's approval ratings were under 20 percent, and the DPP flipped seven counties and cities as part of an anti-KMT wave election. In 2018, Tsai's ratings were under 30 percent, and the KMT swept all the competitive races except for Taipei, where Mayor Ko barely hung on.
In this election cycle, the KMT is playing defense: they hold 14 of the 22 local posts and will do well just to keep that number. More than six years into her presidency, Tsai Ing-wen has defied the second-term curse and her approval ratings have been positive for most of the last two years. The KMT's party ID numbers have fallen far behind the DPP (the latest NCCU/ESC polls have DPP identifiers at 31% of respondents, and the KMT at a record-low 14%.) And US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's visit to Taiwan in early August has triggered an extended round of military exercises and bellicose rhetoric from Beijing that has put the KMT on the defensive again. As the "China-friendly" party in Taiwan, the KMT has traditionally suffered politically when the salience of the threat from the PRC increases. (This is arguably a big part of the reason Tsai Ing-wen was re-elected in 2020.)
It's possible that a natural disaster, a worsening COVID situation, a new government scandal or two, or just a general weariness with the DPP could drag down the central government's popularity over the next three months. But if Beijing's military exercises and pressure campaign on Taiwanese agricultural products continue, they are likely to help the DPP and hurt the KMT. In addition, the CCP's 20th Party Congress will likely happen sometime in November [update 8.30: it will begin earlier, on Oct 16], where expectations are that Xi Jinping will be confirmed for a third term as General Party Secretary. Not since 1992 has this meeting been held around the same time as a major Taiwanese election (the 14th Party Congress was 12-18 October, and the LY election was 19 December), and, depending on what is said about Taiwan there, it has the potential to trigger another public opinion backlash in Taiwan against the PRC, much like Xi Jinping's January 2, 2019 speech to "Taiwan compatriots" led to a rebound in Tsai Ing-wen's approval ratings.
So, despite having a strong slate of candidates for local office, the KMT could easily lose most of the competitive races if the salience of cross-Strait relations remains high through the fall.
In this election cycle, the KMT is playing defense: they hold 14 of the 22 local posts and will do well just to keep that number. More than six years into her presidency, Tsai Ing-wen has defied the second-term curse and her approval ratings have been positive for most of the last two years. The KMT's party ID numbers have fallen far behind the DPP (the latest NCCU/ESC polls have DPP identifiers at 31% of respondents, and the KMT at a record-low 14%.) And US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's visit to Taiwan in early August has triggered an extended round of military exercises and bellicose rhetoric from Beijing that has put the KMT on the defensive again. As the "China-friendly" party in Taiwan, the KMT has traditionally suffered politically when the salience of the threat from the PRC increases. (This is arguably a big part of the reason Tsai Ing-wen was re-elected in 2020.)
It's possible that a natural disaster, a worsening COVID situation, a new government scandal or two, or just a general weariness with the DPP could drag down the central government's popularity over the next three months. But if Beijing's military exercises and pressure campaign on Taiwanese agricultural products continue, they are likely to help the DPP and hurt the KMT. In addition, the CCP's 20th Party Congress will likely happen sometime in November [update 8.30: it will begin earlier, on Oct 16], where expectations are that Xi Jinping will be confirmed for a third term as General Party Secretary. Not since 1992 has this meeting been held around the same time as a major Taiwanese election (the 14th Party Congress was 12-18 October, and the LY election was 19 December), and, depending on what is said about Taiwan there, it has the potential to trigger another public opinion backlash in Taiwan against the PRC, much like Xi Jinping's January 2, 2019 speech to "Taiwan compatriots" led to a rebound in Tsai Ing-wen's approval ratings.
So, despite having a strong slate of candidates for local office, the KMT could easily lose most of the competitive races if the salience of cross-Strait relations remains high through the fall.
3. Nominations are half the battle. Both major parties moved away from the polling primaries method they've used in the past to select nominees, and instead empowered the chair to "negotiate" or hand-pick nominees in most races. The DPP has done this a lot during the Tsai Ing-wen era; one of her political gifts is effectively managing the intra-party fights over offices and spoils in a way that keeps everyone onside. She's mostly succeeded at that again here, although the party's slate of nominees as a whole seems rather underwhelming to me. Despite their recent success at the national level, the DPP still doesn't have a deep bench of local politicians who have built up grass-roots networks and can play the factional game as well as the KMT. And in places like Chiayi, Yunlin, or Changhua, winning that game can still be decisive.
On the KMT side, Eric Chu had a couple well-publicized nomination fiascos in Taoyuan and Miaoli. But in most of the other races, the party has recruited well. Chu's task has been made easier by having incumbents to renominate in many races, which has helped head off the kind of factional squabbling that has bedeviled the party in the past. It's especially notable that with popular mayors running again in Chiayi City, Changhua, and Yunlin, the KMT is well-positioned to hold on in several jurisdictions that have become reliably "green" in national elections.
Both major parties still face threats in several races from spoiler candidates from the minor parties, the NPP and TPP. The NPP is now firmly in the pan-green camp, and the presence of its nominees will almost certainly hurt the DPP more, as they did in the 2020 legislative elections. The TPP is new to local politics this cycle, and it is trying to position itself as more centrist than the KMT. It could erode support for or even eclipse the KMT, as some recent public polling has shown it might; but given the long track record of third party candidates in Taiwan underperforming in elections relative to early polls, I'll believe it only when I see it.
On the KMT side, Eric Chu had a couple well-publicized nomination fiascos in Taoyuan and Miaoli. But in most of the other races, the party has recruited well. Chu's task has been made easier by having incumbents to renominate in many races, which has helped head off the kind of factional squabbling that has bedeviled the party in the past. It's especially notable that with popular mayors running again in Chiayi City, Changhua, and Yunlin, the KMT is well-positioned to hold on in several jurisdictions that have become reliably "green" in national elections.
Both major parties still face threats in several races from spoiler candidates from the minor parties, the NPP and TPP. The NPP is now firmly in the pan-green camp, and the presence of its nominees will almost certainly hurt the DPP more, as they did in the 2020 legislative elections. The TPP is new to local politics this cycle, and it is trying to position itself as more centrist than the KMT. It could erode support for or even eclipse the KMT, as some recent public polling has shown it might; but given the long track record of third party candidates in Taiwan underperforming in elections relative to early polls, I'll believe it only when I see it.
4. Does the amendment to lower the voting age have a chance? Unlike in 2018, there’s not going to be referendums held alongside the local elections. There will, however, be a vote on a constitutional amendment to lower the voting age, from 20 to 18 years old. There is no open partisan opposition to the amendment, which passed the legislature 109-0 on March 25. But it does require the support of half of all eligible voters to take effect -- not just half of those voting. With an electorate of 19.3 million, that means 9.65 million yes votes are required for approval. So it will need high turnout in the local elections, and even so it is far from certain the proposal will get enough support to pass the threshold. This is the first time the voters will decide on a constitutional amendment since the new procedure was adopted in 2005.
5. Year of the Woman? I was surprised at just how well-represented women are in both parties this cycle. Either the KMT or DPP has nominated a woman in 2 of 6 special municipalities, and 10 of 16 other races. In 3 races (Nantou, Changhua, and Hualien), both candidates are women. Taiwan rightly gets a lot of attention for having a woman as president and increasing representation in the legislature (41% in 2020, up from 38% in 2016). But the numbers at the local level are also striking: one can easily imagine a result in 2022 where women end up leading a majority of Taiwan's localities, in Taipei, Taoyuan, Taichung, Yilan, Hsinchu City, Nantou, Changhua, Chiayi City, Yunlin, Pingtung, Hualien, and Taitung.
That’s all the more impressive because the cabinet still looks like this:
That’s all the more impressive because the cabinet still looks like this:
And the top of Taiwanese academia looks like this:
And the business world still looks like this:
For more on how women came to be so prominent in Taiwanese elections, check out this explanation from Huang Chang-ling about Taiwan's gender quotas and their long-term effects on women's advancement in politics. Nathan Batto also has a great paper on this topic.
- Published on
I recently had the privilege of reading and reviewing for China Quarterly a massive new volume on the role of international human rights conventions and their importance for Taiwan.
The editors are all major figures in their own right. Jerome Cohen is legendary for taking up the study of Chinese legal systems during the 1950s and 60s, when nobody else thought there was much point to it, and he was a professor to both Annette Lu and Ma Ying-jeou at Harvard in the 1970s. His opening chapter recounts some of his personal history pushing back against Taiwan's martial-law-era criminal justice system, and there are some eye-opening anecdotes in there. I did not know, for instance, that Cohen was instrumental in bringing a civil lawsuit in a Taiwanese court against the the killers of Henry Liu, and that he worked with future Kaohsiung mayor and DPP presidential candidate Frank Hsieh 謝長廷 to bring pressure on the KMT regime through its own court system.
William Alford and Chang-fa Lo are no slouches, either; Alford is a vice dean and director of East Asian Legal Studies at Harvard. Chang-fa Lo 羅昌發 was Dean of National Taiwan University Law School and served as a justice of the ROC Council of Grand Justices, Taiwan's constitutional court, from 2011-2019 (as a Ma Ying-jeou appointee). In 2020 he was appointed Taiwan's representative to the World Trade Organization by Tsai Ing-wen. So during his years of public service he has managed to receive support from both the blue and green camps.
Between them, they have assembled an extremely impressive group of legal scholars and practitioners to contribute 37 chapters on many aspects of human rights law in Taiwan. The authors are also a welcome mix of Taiwan- and overseas-based experts. This kind of international, English-language collaboration is hard to pull off, but the payoff comes from having Taiwanese voices featured prominently throughout the volume and a truly original set of sources and scholarship on this topic.
The editors are all major figures in their own right. Jerome Cohen is legendary for taking up the study of Chinese legal systems during the 1950s and 60s, when nobody else thought there was much point to it, and he was a professor to both Annette Lu and Ma Ying-jeou at Harvard in the 1970s. His opening chapter recounts some of his personal history pushing back against Taiwan's martial-law-era criminal justice system, and there are some eye-opening anecdotes in there. I did not know, for instance, that Cohen was instrumental in bringing a civil lawsuit in a Taiwanese court against the the killers of Henry Liu, and that he worked with future Kaohsiung mayor and DPP presidential candidate Frank Hsieh 謝長廷 to bring pressure on the KMT regime through its own court system.
William Alford and Chang-fa Lo are no slouches, either; Alford is a vice dean and director of East Asian Legal Studies at Harvard. Chang-fa Lo 羅昌發 was Dean of National Taiwan University Law School and served as a justice of the ROC Council of Grand Justices, Taiwan's constitutional court, from 2011-2019 (as a Ma Ying-jeou appointee). In 2020 he was appointed Taiwan's representative to the World Trade Organization by Tsai Ing-wen. So during his years of public service he has managed to receive support from both the blue and green camps.
Between them, they have assembled an extremely impressive group of legal scholars and practitioners to contribute 37 chapters on many aspects of human rights law in Taiwan. The authors are also a welcome mix of Taiwan- and overseas-based experts. This kind of international, English-language collaboration is hard to pull off, but the payoff comes from having Taiwanese voices featured prominently throughout the volume and a truly original set of sources and scholarship on this topic.
***
I note in my review several things that make Taiwan's human rights regime unusual.
First, because of its diplomatic isolation, Taiwan isn't party to the key UN human rights conventions and treaties, but despite (because?) of that isolation, international law has been especially influential in the transformation of the human rights regime. For instance, in 2009 (when the KMT was the ruling party), the Legislative Yuan adopted into domestic law the two major human rights covenants, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (ICESCR), and empowered Taiwan's courts to nullify other legal statutes inconsistent with provisions in the two treaties. Several chapters also focus on the efforts to turn the Control Yuan into a human rights commission or ombudsman that would give it a role more in line with international practices in other liberal democracies.
Second, Taiwan's legal system still rests on the foundations of the 1947 Republic of China constitution. In a rather odd twist, the protections for human rights enshrined there were actually quite advanced for its time, and that has helped to strengthen civil liberties in the democratic era. In particular, the survival of the ROC constitutional framework gave the constitutional court an outsized role in shaping the pace and direction of human rights reforms: in the 1990s, the court began to breathe life into constitutional aspirations that went mostly unfulfilled during the pre-democratic era and set legal practices and protections on a more liberal trajectory.
Third, Taiwan's current legal system is a remarkable mix of at least three very different traditions: Chinese Confucianism; European continental law (much of that itself first refracted through Japanese practice before coming to the ROC, or directly to Taiwan during colonial rule); and Anglo-American practices, most notably in the applications of US First Amendment jurisprudence to libel and free-speech cases. It is a truly unique concoction of influences, and as a result it is fascinating to watch debates over legal reforms play out there now.
I came away from this book convinced that in addition to the economic and political "miracles" that get most of the attention in scholarship on Taiwan's ROC-era transformation, there is also a human rights miracle that deserves separate consideration. Taiwan and Human Rights will be an important reference for anyone interested in Taiwan's evolution from a serial violator of human rights to one of its most enthusiastic proponents.
First, because of its diplomatic isolation, Taiwan isn't party to the key UN human rights conventions and treaties, but despite (because?) of that isolation, international law has been especially influential in the transformation of the human rights regime. For instance, in 2009 (when the KMT was the ruling party), the Legislative Yuan adopted into domestic law the two major human rights covenants, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (ICESCR), and empowered Taiwan's courts to nullify other legal statutes inconsistent with provisions in the two treaties. Several chapters also focus on the efforts to turn the Control Yuan into a human rights commission or ombudsman that would give it a role more in line with international practices in other liberal democracies.
Second, Taiwan's legal system still rests on the foundations of the 1947 Republic of China constitution. In a rather odd twist, the protections for human rights enshrined there were actually quite advanced for its time, and that has helped to strengthen civil liberties in the democratic era. In particular, the survival of the ROC constitutional framework gave the constitutional court an outsized role in shaping the pace and direction of human rights reforms: in the 1990s, the court began to breathe life into constitutional aspirations that went mostly unfulfilled during the pre-democratic era and set legal practices and protections on a more liberal trajectory.
Third, Taiwan's current legal system is a remarkable mix of at least three very different traditions: Chinese Confucianism; European continental law (much of that itself first refracted through Japanese practice before coming to the ROC, or directly to Taiwan during colonial rule); and Anglo-American practices, most notably in the applications of US First Amendment jurisprudence to libel and free-speech cases. It is a truly unique concoction of influences, and as a result it is fascinating to watch debates over legal reforms play out there now.
I came away from this book convinced that in addition to the economic and political "miracles" that get most of the attention in scholarship on Taiwan's ROC-era transformation, there is also a human rights miracle that deserves separate consideration. Taiwan and Human Rights will be an important reference for anyone interested in Taiwan's evolution from a serial violator of human rights to one of its most enthusiastic proponents.
- Published on
The Taiwan Democracy Project is holding its annual conference this Monday and Tuesday, Oct. 26-27, at Stanford. The event is open to the public; you can register and find more details here. The conference description is below.
Taiwan's Democracy at a Crossroads: Options and Prospects for Constitutional Reform
These are unsettled times in Taiwanese politics. In recent months, prominent voices from across the spectrum have called for fundamental changes to the structure of Taiwan’s political system, ranging from simple reforms such as lowering the voting age to 18 to fundamental ones such as adopting a full presidential or parliamentary regime.
The impetus for constitutional reform has multiple sources. But at its core is a deeply problematic relationship between the executive and the legislature. When different parties controlled the two branches during the final years of the Chen Shui-bian administration, cooperation came to a standstill and governance suffered.
More surprisingly, executive-legislative confrontation returned with a vengeance in President Ma Ying-jeou’s second term, even though the ruling Kuomintang (KMT) held both the executive and a majority in the legislature. The prolonged struggle over cross-Strait agreements is only the most prominent of a series of political conflicts that have blocked the adoption of new policies and threatened the legitimacy of those that do pass. And it is not clear that the next administration and legislature will fare any better than previous ones.
For the 10th Annual Conference on Taiwan Democracy, we will consider proposals for reforms in the context of the strengths and weaknesses of Taiwan’s current constitutional structure. Among the topics to be considered at the conference are:
Conference participants will help to develop a set of recommendations for a non-partisan reform agenda for Taiwan, one that is informed by a clear understanding of both the most pressing challenges facing Taiwan’s democracy and of best practices in other successful young democracies.
These are unsettled times in Taiwanese politics. In recent months, prominent voices from across the spectrum have called for fundamental changes to the structure of Taiwan’s political system, ranging from simple reforms such as lowering the voting age to 18 to fundamental ones such as adopting a full presidential or parliamentary regime.
The impetus for constitutional reform has multiple sources. But at its core is a deeply problematic relationship between the executive and the legislature. When different parties controlled the two branches during the final years of the Chen Shui-bian administration, cooperation came to a standstill and governance suffered.
More surprisingly, executive-legislative confrontation returned with a vengeance in President Ma Ying-jeou’s second term, even though the ruling Kuomintang (KMT) held both the executive and a majority in the legislature. The prolonged struggle over cross-Strait agreements is only the most prominent of a series of political conflicts that have blocked the adoption of new policies and threatened the legitimacy of those that do pass. And it is not clear that the next administration and legislature will fare any better than previous ones.
For the 10th Annual Conference on Taiwan Democracy, we will consider proposals for reforms in the context of the strengths and weaknesses of Taiwan’s current constitutional structure. Among the topics to be considered at the conference are:
- Diagnosing the problems: What have been the sources and implications of political strife in Taiwan in recent years, both under divided and unified one-party control? What reforms, if any, might make these conflicts easier to resolve and increase the legitimacy of government policy-making?
- Executive type: Would switching to a different type of executive—presidential, parliamentary, or another form of semi-presidentialism—mitigate some of the disadvantages of Taiwan’s current system?
- Electoral systems: What are the problems with Taiwan’s current electoral system? What changes might mitigate some of the disadvantages?
- Direct democracy: What functions do Taiwan’s referendum and recall laws serve in practice? How would changes to these laws affect Taiwan’s democracy?
- Accountability institutions: How have Taiwan’s judiciary, Control Yuan, and prosecutorial agencies performed during periods of partisan conflict between the executive and legislative branches? How might their effectiveness be improved?
- Comparative perspectives: How does Taiwan’s recent experience with divided government and institutional reform compare to other Third Wave democracies in the region (e.g. South Korea, SE Asia) and more broadly (e.g. Latin America, Eastern Europe)?
Conference participants will help to develop a set of recommendations for a non-partisan reform agenda for Taiwan, one that is informed by a clear understanding of both the most pressing challenges facing Taiwan’s democracy and of best practices in other successful young democracies.
- Published on
On December 2, the Taiwan Democracy Project will hold a special roundtable session to discuss the results of Taiwan's local elections on November 29. The event is free and open to the public, and lunch will be provided. You are encouraged to RSVP at the official event page.
Panel speakers will include Dennis Weng, visiting assistant professor of political science at Wesleyan University; Thomas Fingar, a Distinguished Fellow at the Asia-Pacific Research Center in the Freeman Spogli Institute at Stanford University; Winnie Lin, a Stanford undergraduate; and me. Some context on the elections follows.
Panel speakers will include Dennis Weng, visiting assistant professor of political science at Wesleyan University; Thomas Fingar, a Distinguished Fellow at the Asia-Pacific Research Center in the Freeman Spogli Institute at Stanford University; Winnie Lin, a Stanford undergraduate; and me. Some context on the elections follows.
On November 29, Taiwan will hold comprehensive local elections which will decide a huge number of offices, from the Taipei mayor all the way down to village and ward chiefs. These elections are also being called the "9-in-1" (九合一) elections, because they combine elections to nine separate offices. By the time Taiwan's transition to democracy finished in 1996, elections to directly administered municipalities, counties and cities, townships, village chiefs, and ward chiefs were all held at separate times. Along with separate national elections for the National Assembly (beginning in 1991), the Legislative Yuan (1992), and the presidency (1996), that meant Taiwanese voters were going to the polls about once a year. That's a lot.
In recent years, on the other hand, the trend has been toward consolidation. A set of amendments in 2005 changed the legislative term length from three to four years to coincide with the presidential term, and starting in 2012 both elections were held on the same day, creating a single national election every four years. The National Assembly was abolished in the same reform. Then county and county-level city terms were temporarily extended to align with the election cycle of the special municipalities of Taipei and Kaohsiung, for the first time creating a single local election day:
The races to be decided in the 2014 election:
In addition, about 25 township-level jurisdictions with significant "mountain aborigine" populations hold special status as "self-governing" areas (自治區). In a nod to the special status of aborigines in Taiwan, local government laws require that the township heads in these areas be aborigine. This became a point of some contestation after several counties (Taipei County, Taichung City and County, and Kaohsiung City and County) were merged and raised to centrally-administered municipality status in 2009. As part of this reform, townships and towns in these areas became districts (區), which have appointed, not elected, leaders. As a consequence, several self-governing townships lost the right to elect their leaders--Wulai Township, a popular tourist destination a short trip south of Taipei, was one.
In December 2013 the Legislative Yuan passed an amendment to restore the right to elect the leaders and councilors of these former townships. As a consequence, two more elections were added:
So that's how they got to "9-in-1".
In recent years, on the other hand, the trend has been toward consolidation. A set of amendments in 2005 changed the legislative term length from three to four years to coincide with the presidential term, and starting in 2012 both elections were held on the same day, creating a single national election every four years. The National Assembly was abolished in the same reform. Then county and county-level city terms were temporarily extended to align with the election cycle of the special municipalities of Taipei and Kaohsiung, for the first time creating a single local election day:
The races to be decided in the 2014 election:
- (1) Mayors and (2) city councilors in centrally-administered municipalities (直轄市市長，市議員) for Taipei, Kaohsiung, New Taipei City, Taichung, and Taoyuan);
- (3) Executives and (4) councilors in counties and county-level municipalities (縣／省轄市長，縣／市議員);
- (5) Township and town heads and (6) councilors (鄉／鎮長，鄉／鎮議員);
- (7) Village and ward heads (村／里長).
In addition, about 25 township-level jurisdictions with significant "mountain aborigine" populations hold special status as "self-governing" areas (自治區). In a nod to the special status of aborigines in Taiwan, local government laws require that the township heads in these areas be aborigine. This became a point of some contestation after several counties (Taipei County, Taichung City and County, and Kaohsiung City and County) were merged and raised to centrally-administered municipality status in 2009. As part of this reform, townships and towns in these areas became districts (區), which have appointed, not elected, leaders. As a consequence, several self-governing townships lost the right to elect their leaders--Wulai Township, a popular tourist destination a short trip south of Taipei, was one.
In December 2013 the Legislative Yuan passed an amendment to restore the right to elect the leaders and councilors of these former townships. As a consequence, two more elections were added:
- (8) Self-governing district heads and (9) representatives (自治區長，區代表).
So that's how they got to "9-in-1".
- Published on
My new column at Ketagalan Media is on electoral reform in Taiwan, and what form it should take:
Read the whole thing here.
Last week, the Taiwan Citizen Union (公民組合) announced that it would register as a political party and field candidates in the 2016 legislative elections. Its stated agenda is political reform, beginning with the electoral system. That’s the right place to start, because as currently constituted, Taiwan’s electoral rules make it nearly impossible for small political parties to win more than a couple of the legislature’s 113 seats. Unless the electoral system is changed, the TCU, like hundreds of parties before it, is probably destined to end up as a historical footnote...
- Published on
For the intro post in this series, see here.
The old days of executive dominance: premier Hau Pei-tsun orders Chen Shui-bian, then a DPP legislator, back to his seat in the Legislative Yuan, Oct. 21, 1992.
For most of Taiwan's postwar history, policy-making was highly centralized in the Executive Yuan and the KMT itself. The Legislative Yuan, by contrast, was mostly a talking shop that rubber-stamped government budgets and initiatives. That began to change with democratization, but it's been a slow process. Even today, the annual budget proposal is drafted by the executive, and the legislature is prevented from adding new spending--the only way for legislators to affect this process directly is to cut funding, or freeze funds once they've been appropriated.
Nevertheless, the legislature has steadily accumulated authority at the expense of executive ministries over the last two decades. The ability of opposition party legislators to make life tough for executive branch officials became especially apparent in the later years of the Chen Shui-bian administration, when a pan-Blue (KMT-PFP) alliance held a relatively unified majority of the seats in the LY. Legislative committee inquisitions of ministers were common, key bureaus had budgets cut or frozen for transparently partisan reasons, and much of the government's proposed legislation (with key exceptions) was blocked.
At the time, the standoff between the two branches appeared due almost entirely to the intensely partisan atmosphere that prevailed from 2004-2008. Thus, when Ma Ying-jeou won the 2008 election and the KMT won over 3/4 of the seats in the LY, most observers expected executive-legislative relations to become much more cordial and cooperative again. And for Ma's first term, they seemed to be improved, although even then there were complaints about LY "inefficiency" at passing high-priority legislation.
But legislative independence has reemerged with a vengeance in Ma's second term, even though the KMT remains the majority party there. What is so striking about the events of the last year and more is that even in a period of "unified" party control of both branches, the LY has prevented a quick passage of the president's top policy priority--the CSSTA--and may have killed it for good. That is not an outcome that I would have predicted in 2012, when Ma was re-elected.
From a systemic perspective, what's potentially more troubling is that the current situation is about the best a governing party in Taiwan could ever hope for: the KMT controls the presidency and a majority in the legislature, and the president is the chairman of the party. The unity of purpose across the branches should be highest in this scenario. If a president can't get his agenda approved by the legislature under these circumstances, when can he?
Nevertheless, the legislature has steadily accumulated authority at the expense of executive ministries over the last two decades. The ability of opposition party legislators to make life tough for executive branch officials became especially apparent in the later years of the Chen Shui-bian administration, when a pan-Blue (KMT-PFP) alliance held a relatively unified majority of the seats in the LY. Legislative committee inquisitions of ministers were common, key bureaus had budgets cut or frozen for transparently partisan reasons, and much of the government's proposed legislation (with key exceptions) was blocked.
At the time, the standoff between the two branches appeared due almost entirely to the intensely partisan atmosphere that prevailed from 2004-2008. Thus, when Ma Ying-jeou won the 2008 election and the KMT won over 3/4 of the seats in the LY, most observers expected executive-legislative relations to become much more cordial and cooperative again. And for Ma's first term, they seemed to be improved, although even then there were complaints about LY "inefficiency" at passing high-priority legislation.
But legislative independence has reemerged with a vengeance in Ma's second term, even though the KMT remains the majority party there. What is so striking about the events of the last year and more is that even in a period of "unified" party control of both branches, the LY has prevented a quick passage of the president's top policy priority--the CSSTA--and may have killed it for good. That is not an outcome that I would have predicted in 2012, when Ma was re-elected.
From a systemic perspective, what's potentially more troubling is that the current situation is about the best a governing party in Taiwan could ever hope for: the KMT controls the presidency and a majority in the legislature, and the president is the chairman of the party. The unity of purpose across the branches should be highest in this scenario. If a president can't get his agenda approved by the legislature under these circumstances, when can he?
- Published on
As an alternative to the way cross-Strait policy has been dealt with (or rather, not dealt with) in Taiwan over the last year, I've been thinking a lot about how similar foreign policy or trade controversies have historically been resolved in other democracies. One example I like a lot comes from the former West Germany.
Ostpolitik: Procedural Legitimacy, German Style
In 1969, West Germany had been a democracy for less than 20 years*. In a situation with some striking parallels** to Taiwan's current one, the newly-elected Social Democratic chancellor Willy Brandt pushed for a policy of engagement rather than confrontation with the communist East Germany and its Soviet patron. Under this so-called Ostpolitik, or "eastern policy," Brandt signed a series of treaties renouncing the use of force, recognizing post-war European borders, establishing diplomatic recognition of Warsaw Pact states in eastern Europe, and culminating in a peace treaty, the Basic Treaty, with East Germany itself in 1972.
Ostpolitik was hugely controversial in German political life. Brandt was the first non-conservative to hold the chancellorship in the post-war era, and his sharp change in policy was fiercely opposed by the former ruling party, the Christian Democratic Union (CDU). After the Basic Treaty was signed in early 1972, several MPs from Brandt's coalition partner the FDP defected to the opposition, and it looked like Ostpolitik might be stalled or reversed.
But in a crucial showdown in April 1972, the CDU fell two votes short*** of winning a no-confidence vote to replace Brandt's government with a conservative coalition. Seven months later, Brandt's coalition was re-elected in federal elections, and the treaty was then approved by the German parliament. By winning both a no-confidence vote and an election after the Basic Treaty was signed, Brandt endowed his policies toward Eastern Europe with a great deal of democratic legitimacy despite the controversy. Most impressively, when the CDU eventually returned to power in 1982, it retained Ostpolitik, which by that point was supported by all the major political parties.
Ostpolitik: Procedural Legitimacy, German Style
In 1969, West Germany had been a democracy for less than 20 years*. In a situation with some striking parallels** to Taiwan's current one, the newly-elected Social Democratic chancellor Willy Brandt pushed for a policy of engagement rather than confrontation with the communist East Germany and its Soviet patron. Under this so-called Ostpolitik, or "eastern policy," Brandt signed a series of treaties renouncing the use of force, recognizing post-war European borders, establishing diplomatic recognition of Warsaw Pact states in eastern Europe, and culminating in a peace treaty, the Basic Treaty, with East Germany itself in 1972.
Ostpolitik was hugely controversial in German political life. Brandt was the first non-conservative to hold the chancellorship in the post-war era, and his sharp change in policy was fiercely opposed by the former ruling party, the Christian Democratic Union (CDU). After the Basic Treaty was signed in early 1972, several MPs from Brandt's coalition partner the FDP defected to the opposition, and it looked like Ostpolitik might be stalled or reversed.
But in a crucial showdown in April 1972, the CDU fell two votes short*** of winning a no-confidence vote to replace Brandt's government with a conservative coalition. Seven months later, Brandt's coalition was re-elected in federal elections, and the treaty was then approved by the German parliament. By winning both a no-confidence vote and an election after the Basic Treaty was signed, Brandt endowed his policies toward Eastern Europe with a great deal of democratic legitimacy despite the controversy. Most impressively, when the CDU eventually returned to power in 1982, it retained Ostpolitik, which by that point was supported by all the major political parties.
Why a German-Style Solution Isn't Available in Today's Taiwan
It’s instructive to consider all the ways Taiwan’s current institutions prevent a kind of “German solution” to the CSSTA controversy. There are four big ones:
1. Ostpolitik Agreements were Treaties. The Basic Treaty signed by the Brandt government with East Germany was beset by ambiguity about the official status of the East German state: West Germany had claimed since partition to represent the entire German nation and refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of an independent East Germany (sound familiar?). Brandt’s linguistic work-around was to assert that two states existed “in Germany,” but that they could not regard one another as foreign countries. Nevertheless, when the Basic Treaty was signed, everyone agreed that it required parliamentary approval to take effect--like the Treaty of Moscow and Treaty of Warsaw before it.
Unlike in the Taiwan case, the West German procedure for approving the Basic Law remained the same as for approving agreements with other foreign powers: an up-or-down vote in both houses of parliament. In Taiwan, however, it's not clear whether the CSSTA even requires a vote in the Legislative Yuan, even though trade agreements with other countries do.
2. The Advantages of Parliamentarism (I): Executive Actions depend on Parliamentary Confidence. As head of government in a parliamentary regime, Brandt’s actions implicitly depended on the continued support of a majority in the Bundestag, the lower house of the German parliament. Ostpolitik, and especially the Basic Treaty, were controversial enough that Brandt nearly lost this majority. Had the opposition CDU managed to win the no-confidence vote, Brandt would have been replaced by a new conservative coalition, and the Basic Treaty would likely have been modified or withdrawn.
In contrast to the Taiwan case, there was an obvious institutional way to settle the conflict over Brandt’s policy: hold a vote in parliament. Brandt’s victory in that vote confirmed he still had the minimum support needed to advance the treaty. In Taiwan, the legislature has a formal no-confidence power, but it's much weaker: it can be used only against the premier, not the president; it gives the president the right in turn to dissolve the legislature, so most LY members don't want to use it lest they have to face the voters in early elections; and it can only be used once every 12 months.
Moreover, in a move that looks rather stupid in hindsight, the DPP brought a no-confidence measure against premier Jiang Yi-huah last October, which, given the KMT's majority, predictably failed badly. So even if enough members of the LY were willing to risk early elections to bring down the premier and his cabinet, that option is closed off for the next six months.
3. Proportional Electoral Systems Make Coalition Governments Likely. Since the founding of the FDR, Germany has almost always had stable coalition governments. A key reason is the German electoral system, the so-called mixed-member compensatory system. Under the German system, all parties which win over five percent of the party vote get a proportional share of seats in the lower house. Thus, for much of Germany’s postwar history, a small centrist party, the FDP, held the balance of power in the Bundestag. Brandt relied on FDP support to stay in office; the vice chancellor and foreign minister under Brandt was the head of the FDP, Walter Scheel. When FDP members opposed to the Basic Treaty started defecting, the Brandt coalition was in trouble.
In contrast, Taiwan’s 2005 electoral reform created a much more majoritarian electoral system: the KMT’s current majority in the Legislative Yuan is due in part to a highly disproportional conversion of votes into seats. As a consequence, there is no coalition partner on which the KMT depends to get bills passed in the legislature, and no direct way for non-KMT parties to ensure they are included in the cabinet.*^
4. The Advantages of Parliamentarism (II): Early Elections. Fourth, despite winning the no-confidence motion, Brandt was still in a precarious political position. He had lost several members of his coalition, and it soon became clear that he no longer held a working majority in the Bundestag. So, he called early elections: in November 1972, seven months after the no-confidence vote, German voters got to weigh in on the Brandt government and, by association, Ostpolitik. The result of the polls left little doubt that Brandt had the support of a popular majority: both the SDP and FDP gains seats at the expense of the CDU. Brandt had for all intents received a popular mandate to continue with Ostpolitik.
Again, the contrast with Taiwan is stark. There is no requirement that the Ma administration face the voters again before implementing the CSSTA. Nor can Ma call early elections even if he wanted to; that would require a no-confidence vote to pass the legislature, which, as I noted above, isn't even a constitutional option until October 2014. In short, there's no easy way to have the voters weigh in directly on the current controversy or the Ma administration's performance until the 2016 general election--two years away. The consequence is that the CSSTA controversy is likely to remain unresolved, exacerbating political gridlock in Taiwan until at least 2016. It's hard to see that as a good outcome for Taiwan's democracy.
It’s instructive to consider all the ways Taiwan’s current institutions prevent a kind of “German solution” to the CSSTA controversy. There are four big ones:
1. Ostpolitik Agreements were Treaties. The Basic Treaty signed by the Brandt government with East Germany was beset by ambiguity about the official status of the East German state: West Germany had claimed since partition to represent the entire German nation and refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of an independent East Germany (sound familiar?). Brandt’s linguistic work-around was to assert that two states existed “in Germany,” but that they could not regard one another as foreign countries. Nevertheless, when the Basic Treaty was signed, everyone agreed that it required parliamentary approval to take effect--like the Treaty of Moscow and Treaty of Warsaw before it.
Unlike in the Taiwan case, the West German procedure for approving the Basic Law remained the same as for approving agreements with other foreign powers: an up-or-down vote in both houses of parliament. In Taiwan, however, it's not clear whether the CSSTA even requires a vote in the Legislative Yuan, even though trade agreements with other countries do.
2. The Advantages of Parliamentarism (I): Executive Actions depend on Parliamentary Confidence. As head of government in a parliamentary regime, Brandt’s actions implicitly depended on the continued support of a majority in the Bundestag, the lower house of the German parliament. Ostpolitik, and especially the Basic Treaty, were controversial enough that Brandt nearly lost this majority. Had the opposition CDU managed to win the no-confidence vote, Brandt would have been replaced by a new conservative coalition, and the Basic Treaty would likely have been modified or withdrawn.
In contrast to the Taiwan case, there was an obvious institutional way to settle the conflict over Brandt’s policy: hold a vote in parliament. Brandt’s victory in that vote confirmed he still had the minimum support needed to advance the treaty. In Taiwan, the legislature has a formal no-confidence power, but it's much weaker: it can be used only against the premier, not the president; it gives the president the right in turn to dissolve the legislature, so most LY members don't want to use it lest they have to face the voters in early elections; and it can only be used once every 12 months.
Moreover, in a move that looks rather stupid in hindsight, the DPP brought a no-confidence measure against premier Jiang Yi-huah last October, which, given the KMT's majority, predictably failed badly. So even if enough members of the LY were willing to risk early elections to bring down the premier and his cabinet, that option is closed off for the next six months.
3. Proportional Electoral Systems Make Coalition Governments Likely. Since the founding of the FDR, Germany has almost always had stable coalition governments. A key reason is the German electoral system, the so-called mixed-member compensatory system. Under the German system, all parties which win over five percent of the party vote get a proportional share of seats in the lower house. Thus, for much of Germany’s postwar history, a small centrist party, the FDP, held the balance of power in the Bundestag. Brandt relied on FDP support to stay in office; the vice chancellor and foreign minister under Brandt was the head of the FDP, Walter Scheel. When FDP members opposed to the Basic Treaty started defecting, the Brandt coalition was in trouble.
In contrast, Taiwan’s 2005 electoral reform created a much more majoritarian electoral system: the KMT’s current majority in the Legislative Yuan is due in part to a highly disproportional conversion of votes into seats. As a consequence, there is no coalition partner on which the KMT depends to get bills passed in the legislature, and no direct way for non-KMT parties to ensure they are included in the cabinet.*^
4. The Advantages of Parliamentarism (II): Early Elections. Fourth, despite winning the no-confidence motion, Brandt was still in a precarious political position. He had lost several members of his coalition, and it soon became clear that he no longer held a working majority in the Bundestag. So, he called early elections: in November 1972, seven months after the no-confidence vote, German voters got to weigh in on the Brandt government and, by association, Ostpolitik. The result of the polls left little doubt that Brandt had the support of a popular majority: both the SDP and FDP gains seats at the expense of the CDU. Brandt had for all intents received a popular mandate to continue with Ostpolitik.
Again, the contrast with Taiwan is stark. There is no requirement that the Ma administration face the voters again before implementing the CSSTA. Nor can Ma call early elections even if he wanted to; that would require a no-confidence vote to pass the legislature, which, as I noted above, isn't even a constitutional option until October 2014. In short, there's no easy way to have the voters weigh in directly on the current controversy or the Ma administration's performance until the 2016 general election--two years away. The consequence is that the CSSTA controversy is likely to remain unresolved, exacerbating political gridlock in Taiwan until at least 2016. It's hard to see that as a good outcome for Taiwan's democracy.
* It might not be obvious at first glance, but this is roughly the same age as Taiwan's democracy today: the first elected postwar government in Germany took office in September 1949, and Taiwan has had a fully elected legislature since 1992 and a popularly elected president since 1996.
** I should emphasize I do not mean to draw any lessons from this example about how cross-Strait rapprochement should proceed. I highlight this case only because of the admirable way in which a highly divisive foreign policy issue was resolved domestically to West Germany's long-term benefit, not because I think Taiwan-PRC relations should be handled in the same way.
*** The CDU lost the vote when two of its own members unexpectedly failed to support the party's motion. After the unification of Germany in 1990, East German secret files revealed that both MPs were paid by the East German secret service to vote against the motion.
*^ In practice, the Cross-Party Negotiation Committee (政黨協商) in the Legislative Yuan gives minority parties the ability to slow or block legislation; it does not, however, give them any say in, or claim to, Executive Yuan cabinet positions, as a real cross-party coalition would in a pure parliamentary regime.
** I should emphasize I do not mean to draw any lessons from this example about how cross-Strait rapprochement should proceed. I highlight this case only because of the admirable way in which a highly divisive foreign policy issue was resolved domestically to West Germany's long-term benefit, not because I think Taiwan-PRC relations should be handled in the same way.
*** The CDU lost the vote when two of its own members unexpectedly failed to support the party's motion. After the unification of Germany in 1990, East German secret files revealed that both MPs were paid by the East German secret service to vote against the motion.
*^ In practice, the Cross-Party Negotiation Committee (政黨協商) in the Legislative Yuan gives minority parties the ability to slow or block legislation; it does not, however, give them any say in, or claim to, Executive Yuan cabinet positions, as a real cross-party coalition would in a pure parliamentary regime.