FROM DEMOCRATIC MOVEMENT TO BOURGEOIS DEMOCRACY: THE INTERNAL POLITICS OF THE TAIWAN DEMOCRATIC PROGRESSIVE PARTY IN 1991 by Linda Gail Arrigo March 1992 INTRODUCTION Taiwan is awash with money. It has the highest foreign currency reserves in the world, per capita. Its GNP per capita is soaring and may soon surpass US$ 10,000; it is the Taiwan miracle, proof of the export industrialization strategy [1]. And it is a bustling, internationalized economy laid haphazardly upon the remnants of an agricultural society of personalistic loyalties. It has a Chinese-born regime, long frozen in anxious confrontation with its distant nemesis, the Peoples Republic, that has finally put down roots and begun to go native. In the words of the New York Times Magazine of February 16, 1992, it is "A Dictatorship That Grew Up ... In Taiwan despotism passes posthaste into democracy." And yet what kind of democracy is that? The question can only now be answered with greater verisimilitude following upon the December 1991 elections for the Republic of China National Assembly, only the second time in the 45-year history of that body that it has been fully subject to election by the populace. This was to be a seminal election, with the shape of a new constitution and presidential elections at stake. Other functions of democracy have also been revived. Martial law was repealed in 1987. Activists espousing a formal declaration of Taiwan independence are still being jailed, about a dozen a year, and statements of opposition candidates that "contravene national policy" are still censored from their printed platforms; but they are hardly deterred, and thus freedom of speech advances with a slightly hobbled gait. The 72% popular vote victory of the ruling party, the Kuomintang, cannot be attributed to intimidation, ballot-box stuffing, or simple electronic falsification, as before -- though vote-buying, now on a colossal scale, continues. But is this democracy, a measured and well-informed judgment of the populace on the choices that best safe-guard their interests and future? The democratic process calls for an articulation and organization of contending opinions and personnel, such that the electorate is accorded substantial options. This function would seem to be provided by the Taiwan Democratic Progressive Party, at present the only major opposition party, founded on September 28, 1986 -- in personnel and continuous history the carrier of the legacy of the democratic movement of 1977-79, which culminated in the 1979 Formosa Magazine (Meilidao) establishment, the Kaohsiung Incident of December 10, 1979, and the public trials the following March. The leaders of the democratic movement have spent commonly six to ten years in incarceration. Some have suffered the murder or maiming of family members, in periods (as late as 1984-85) when security agency arrogance surpassed governmental concern for embarrassment in foreign affairs. In 1991 they are substantially the same as the leadership of the Democratic Progressive Party, both in social composition and specific personnel. It would seem that this past assures an adamant and unyielding stance of opposition. Certainly the ruling party, for one, is happy to legitimize its democratic credentials and let foreign visitors know it faces an obstreperous if small opposition; but despite past fist fights in the legislature, the DPP could perhaps now be appropriately portrayed, as the ruling party would like, as a loyal opposition. Its social composition is still the same. But given the substitution of incorporation and cooptation for repression in the core of the regime's policy, the social dynamics are different now. To be abrupt, if you have a lot of money, it is easier and less damaging to business-as-usual to try to buy off your opponents rather than to jail or kill them. Has the DPP been bought off? It would be premature to answer this in the affirmative. Even in a measured affirmative, it would have to be qualified that it is no more bought off than the generally-accepted social custom; and certainly much less than the politicos of the ruling party. But all the same its bite has been blunted, its critical stance as the champion of the masses has been subtly compromised. The particulars of how this has happened will be the main content of this paper. This involves a sketch of the composition of the party and its supporters: its factions and their related social bases and the interactions among these in the shifting currents of the popular clamor for liberalization. This is shown in the struggle among the factions in 1991, leading up to bitterly-contested intra-party elections for chairman and central committee in mid-October 1991, and thence to a poorly-coordinated bid for representation in the National Assembly two months later. Finally, the complementary processes of democratization and cooptation must be understood in the context of Taiwan's expanding economy, and this in turn can be seen as part of the dynamics of a global shift in economic and political relations. THE KUOMINTANG, THE OPPOSITION, AND TAIWANIZATION While obstensibly the opposition party is the amalgamation of all that is different from the ruling party, it is truer to portray it as a microcosm whose internal dynamics and factional disputes are analogous to those of the whole society, albeit played out more intensely under the prying eyes of the press. The conflicting needs for money and for popular mobilization are felt sharply, particularly at the commanding heights of the DPP central party headquarters. Money from capitalist supporters, to sustain the functions of the party apparatus. Mobilization, to cajole the government into concessions and to win elected posts. And here mobilization means acceding to the issues of the left faction of the party, or at least mouthing the aspirations of the disadvantaged. The ruling party is secure in its power and privilege; yet it too is swept along with internal and society-wide demand for rationalization and restructuring of the polity. The tasks are reorientation to the de facto national identity -- Taiwan -- and balancing of the forces of an industrialized, internationalized society -- political accommodation and legitimation, a.k.a. democratization. (Social balancing of course does not mean that all sectors are accorded equality, only that the clamor of workers and peasants can at least be quieted with some welfare palliatives from the full coffers of the state.) And so while the opposition party appears to be at a standstill in terms of voter response, and finds its issues repeatedly coopted by the ruling party, the overall dynamic rolls both ahead to new territory. This is especially the case on the issue of national identity, "Taiwan Independence". What government bureaucrats proclaim now as policy would have been tantamount to sedition a decade ago. A further sketch of the social history of the two parties may be useful to set the stage, though it may be familiar to the reader. The central government of the Republic of China, its military, and security organs fled to Taiwan in 1949; having subjugated a native Taiwanese uprising in 1947, they proceeded to rule by white terror for several decades, from the Japanese-built governor's palace. They fed their hordes of bureaucrats and soldiers with requisitioned Taiwanese rice; handed over the Japanese monopolies to the management of Shanghai capitalists and Nanking functionaries; and set up party-owned monopolies to provide employment for retired soldiers and other minions. To many Taiwanese nationalists, the government is still the "foreign regime", an ethnic minority of less than 15% that rules the majority. But at least by 1975, when Chiang Ching-kuo took over from his father, a new direction had been set: incorporation of the newly-expanding native Taiwanese entrepreneur and professional classes. It sought the sons of Taiwanese corporate heads to be its candidates for public office, to the extent that the second generation of mainlanders complained of lack of opportunities for advancement. It may be speculated that the Kuomintang then proceeded to sink roots and increasingly incorporate leaders of the native population into its networks of patronage and payoff. It paid substantial bonuses to its provincial assemblymen on the occasions of important votes. It manufactured consent among trade union representatives, aborigine leaders, youth groups, etc., by means of small subsidies, feasts, and free trips. On the side of opposition to the Kuomintang, since the early days of show elections local leaders had voiced the plaints of farmers, victims of the squeeze of the agricultural sector, and found themselves jailed for sedition or, if lucky, merely framed on corruption charges. But such local leaders usually represented local clan or faction interests that could be played off against one another, or bought off. In a recurrent pattern, local notables arose and garnered a popular following through vociferous oratory damning governmental exploitation and cultural suppression of the Taiwanese; but then traded that popular support for government-appointed office, or mitigated their vituperation in the face of monetary inducement and police threat. It was not until the mid-1970s that a new generation of Taiwanese intellectuals/politicians in the capital city, many having already frustrated their efforts at reform within the Kuomintang, linked with the local opposition politicians to form the challenge of the democratic movement of 1977-79. They could be said to reflect the discontent of small Taiwanese manufacturers chaffing under monopolistic governmental regulation, and of middle-class professionals, lawyers and teachers, insulted by government censorship and propaganda; these were a large part of urban supporters [2]. That movement utilized as well the populist appeal of leftist academics and students inspired by the Chinese Cultural Revolution and American '60s radicalism, and of young Presbyterian ministers rooted in the long native history of the church and contemporary liberation theology. It moved forward on a groundswell of mass rallies, scenes populated with market hawkers, shopkeepers, farmers, artisans, laborers -- rough hands, grimy baseball caps, broken teeth stained red-brown with betelnut. To a large degree this is still the basic equation for the composition of the opposition party; but the contradictions within this amalgamation have been played out. I believe that my article in this volume, "The Social Origins of the Taiwan Democratic Movement", written in 1980-81 for an overseas Taiwanese audience, shows a certain prescience in this. But now Taiwan is an advanced industrialized nation virtually sinking under its own material wealth. It is a sophisticated, largely middle-class society, plus an extravagant nouveau riche segment. In the new East District of Taipei, massive art deco towers and department stores line broad boulevards choked with traffic. Japanese cuisine, ritzy disco and karaoke with private rooms are the rage. Older areas of the city are stained cement blocks of buildings, refurbished piecemeal, but are abustle with commerce. When the streetside night food vendors close at 3 am, they leave five-foot-high piles of used styrofoam dishes. Or to stave off midnight hunger you can buy microwaveable baoze, jiaoze or chongze -- spongy and flavored by cellophane wrapping, but still better than American fast food -- at the 24-hour OK or 7-11 store. The lanes behind the boulevards are packed solid with parked cars and nearly impassable. Given the ubiquitous automobile -- generally foreign-made, often with real leather upholstery -- it is not surprising that the dense population of the city is seeking fresh air and expanding the urban sprawl. The five-hour freeway stretches down the west coast, never out of sight of buildings, past factories belching noxious fumes. Luxury apartment buildings are going up in what were originally semi-rural towns, or farmers' rice fields. And originally lush terraces lie abandoned for want of labor; or flat paddy land is dug into fish ponds. There are even pockets of foreign laborers and housekeepers kept like indentured servants, from Thailand, Philippines, Bangladesh, and smuggled from China in boats, to fill out the worker shortage. The problems of Taiwan are now the problems of a modern urban industrial society, one with a legacy of particularly haphazard and cannibalistic development: disastrous environmental degradation, lack of city services and planning, capital flight and worker discontent, family instability, crime, youth alienation and drug use. The opposition party cannot address these with merely the cry of "Taiwan Independence!" or by railing against government inaction [3]. It must propose programs and solutions, and in fact is already faced with the tasks of administration in the six counties where the DPP has won the post of county executive, out of thirteen total. But the obstacles to dealing systematically with environmental and social problems lie largely in patronage and payoff; and the party demurs to take these on. It would not be fair to criticize without taking cognizance of the environment from which the DPP has grown and in which it operates. I will take a certain poetic license in the description. PATRONAGE, PAYOFF, POLITICAL OFFICE Even decades ago Taiwanese were known to revel in culinary delights, in time-honored tradition, as far as their budgets permitted. Now, to say that Taiwan is awash in money is to say that it is awash in food, very expensive food. The pools of oil dripping from the delectables lubricate not only gullets, but the business deals that thrive in the idiom of personal relations. The American visitor to Taipei, finding prices in the range of New York City, cannot but choke in amazement at the sums splashed in restaurants even by people of ordinary means. But the standard of consumption is really set by the business of business entertainment, with exotic seafood in elegant place settings, imported XO brandy gulped for "bottoms-up", and hostess companions. In Taiwanese dialect, kha yiu, literally "skim oil", is to skim a profit. Such Dionysian indulgences are not merely recreation, but the process of development of a discrete understanding of political/ economic arrangements. Construction companies are particularly known for lavish entertainment, because they are involved not merely with customers, but with a myriad of subcontractors, banks, and government offices, for zoning, licensing, and inspections. According to an informed observer, the overall price of construction undertaken under government contract can be estimated at 20% drinking, eating and entertainment, 30% kickback and payoff, and 50% cost of construction. Thus positions on the city planning commissions of large city councils are particularly remunerative. A single city council vote in favor of a particular zoning or construction -- or even abstention from objection -- may commonly be rewarded by $NT 20 wan (US$ 8,000) [4]. More directly, city councilmen can set up their own real estate and construction companies. A person with real clout can stage a coup by wrapping up exclusive deals with all the available sub-contractors, and monopolizing the construction market; it is not necessary to actually own equipment or be involved in construction. In the process of multiple sub-contracting the actual builders are squeezed to a low margin, and are likely to tou gong jian liao, steal labor and decrease materials, resulting in the generally-expected low quality of government construction [5]. Similarly for zoning. It is said that all of the land adjacent to the cleaned-up and renovated Love River and promenade was bought up by Kaohsiung City councilmen. For a small, simple case, in January 1992 it was revealed in television reports that all the saplings of a particular kind of tree specified for a large river beautification project in Taipei had been bought out ahead of time from nurseries throughout the island. Such revelations are always followed by indignant statements by officials that they will get to the bottom of the matter and punish the culprits. But investigations are frequently stymied, and pundits quip that exposure and punishment are related to infighting of political factions or retribution by those cut out of the deal, not the frequency of malpractice. A conspicuous case of corruption in 1991 was that of Hua Lung Investment Company. An assistant to the DPP legislator Hsu Kuo-tai obtained copies of receipts that showed that the Minister of Communications was profiting from insider trading. (Like real estate and construction, astounding profits in the Taiwan stock market are generally suspected to be due to insider sources, even where no evidence is exposed.) The prosecutor, a young Taiwanese woman, refused to let go of the investigation, and circumvented some of the usual judicial conventions to indict him. The Minister was forced to resign, the prosecutor became a folk hero, and a conflict of judicial authority is still underway. [6] But another sly interpretation common to those who read the newspapers carefully is that the Hua Lung group, which supports the military-man-in-business-suit Premier Hao Bo-tsun, was given a blow by "KMT mainstream" President Lee Teng-hui, who is supported by Taiwanese capitalists such as the Evergreen group, which incidentally sponsors the Institute for International Policy Studies, a very liberal think tank espousing government adjustment to a sovereign state of Taiwan. To add to the Byzantine twists of this scene, in December 1991 the recent chairman of the DPP, Huang Hsin-chieh, brought with him to a campaign appearance the manager of Hua Lung (who perhaps had tried to redeem public relations by making a contribution to the party), leaving the observers in confusion. This account is not an effort to make sense of this case, but only serves to illustrate the flows and eddies of a social process in which the sides are not clearly white or black. It further shows the role of the opposition as a watchdog and possibly a conciliator, and this relates to the dynamics described by an opposition legislator who will remain unnamed here, as follows. Like officials of the ruling party, independent or opposition politicians can parlay popular election into bank account balances. In fact, their structural role as opposition may command even higher inducements. After this decade of overheated economic growth, both local big men and Taipei political science professionals wear three-piece suits; both may be supported by those who resent losing contracts to KMT favorites, and want to compete. But in this role they act individualistically. The mechanisms are numerous, and range from an active search for deals, to a passive, tacit acceptance of misdoing, to a mild voicing of concerns that have no appearance of impropriety. The official may own an office machine company, and the city may place a large order for copiers. Or the legislator may act as mediator for a company which has been subject to tax audits and is under threat of being fined five times the delinquent amount. If the penalty is NT$ 2,000 wan (US$ 800,000), the matter may be resolved with NT$ 200 wan (US$ 80,000) to the tax auditor and NT$ 300 wan (US$ 120,000) to the legislator, dispersed through discrete channels where trust has been built up through repeated mutual immeshment. Even a telephone call or a courtesy visit to "show concern" that a party in litigation is not mistreated may influence the outcome with no transfer of cash -- but alliances are built up and expressed in campaign contributions. In such fashion the government agencies can neutralize the supposed watchdogs one by one by entangling them in questionable exchanges. It is not surprising then that businessmen cluster around certain political figures, and that the supporters' political ideals cannot be clearly differentiated from their pecuniary purposes. For example, perhaps thirty businessmen can sustain one legislator, and they would provide about 90% of his income. According to the source, the danger of this, even without overt corruption, is that the legislator comes to see his financiers as a constituency and a sounding board for political direction, and these may also be beholden to Kuomintang-influenced interests, and/or fearful of tax audit or other retribution. In fact the Kuomintang can act on an opposition legislator through the intermediary of these financial sources. It is only with this background that it is possible to understand the election of National Assemblymen on December 21, 1991. The results overall had little to do with nationalism, either Taiwanese or Chinese, or with the role of the National Assembly as framer of the Constitution. 225 Assemblymen were victorious out of about 470 who ran in city and county races; between 20,000 and 30,000 votes were required to win by plurality in each district. 78% of them were KMT-nominated. But as investigated and analyzed in detail by the Independence Post [7], the election was really a victory for "gold cows", moneyed interests. The amount of money necessary for a candidate to "spread around" in handouts this year was NT$ 3-5,000 wan (US$ 1.2 - 2 million), distributed by elected neighborhood heads (overwhelmingly KMT) and by specialized intermediaries (thiau kha). A control center for handing out money in Taichung operated with a computerized database listing four thousand intermediaries. Most of over 100 reports of vote-buying detailed by the newspaper were in the range of NT$ 300-500 (US$ 12-20). We can only surmise that it is worth spending all this money because the rake-off of a public official, even in realms apparently unrelated to the office, is so great. The cartoon accompanying the newspaper report shows a character resembling President Lee Teng-hui muttering in the streets under a shower of NT$ 1,000 (US$ 40) bills fluttering down from high buildings. "Has Taiwan been declared independent? Why are the candidates throwing out currency like trash?" Only a few DPP candidates are rumored to have engaged in vote-buying. The DPP candidates generally do not have that kind of money. They must rely instead on appeals to the issues, particularly Taiwanese nationalism. Some voters take money from candidates, but still vote their consciences. All the same, a major campaign for a DPP candidate easily costs NT$ 500 wan (US$ 200,000), requiring considerable commitment by financial backers. One of three Labor Party candidates, Wang Yao-nan, by his own account spent only NT$ 50 wan (US$ 20,000) and directed his speeches to the specifics of constitutional reform; he received precisely 1026 votes in the Kaohsiung City 2nd district race. Another 100 seats in the National Assembly were apportioned to candidates nominated by the central committee of each party according to the percent of popular votes received overall: 80 seats as if to represent some unseen Chinese population (a nod to the old National Assembly, 90% of which represented a long-gone Chinese constituency), and 20 to represent overseas Chinese. Of these the DPP was apportioned 20 and 5 seats; no third party rated representation. This arrangement resulted from a deal drawn between the KMT and the DPP following the National Affairs Conference of July 1990. The DPP assigned at least seven of its seats to the party Chairman, General Secretary, and other functionaries in or allied with the central party headquarters, allowing them to circumvent the time and expenditure of local campaigns. This move brings us back to examine the internal politics of the party. INSIDE THE DEMOCRATIC PROGRESSIVE PARTY The political scene of the opposition politicians in Taipei runs at a feverish pace, a cyclone in which it seems a race merely to catch up with the actors. The reporters, now only young men and women with considerable physical stamina and command of Taiwanese dialect as well as Mandarin, chase the press conferences and news leaks daily, pounce on the juiciest bits like flocks of birds of prey, and rush back to home offices to write and file. They must know both the history and the latest moves to interpret what is happening. It can be seen that each notable continually seeks to rally alliances and hatch crusades that will put him/her at the center of the limelight. They carry their portable telephones, and must turn them off to grab a moment of rest. Their itinerary books might read as follows: Attend weekly party committee meetings. Meet with prospective contributors. Appear at press conferences. Seek talented young assistants who will work for low wages for an unspecified length of time. Appear at benefits for auspicious social causes. Drink to feigned drunkenness with allies and supporters. Parry with the ruling party, ferret out its maneuvers from the information mongers. Organize demonstrations. Attend appreciation banquets. Banquet lunch at Hoover Hotel. Meeting at coffee shop, NT$ 150 (US$ 6) a cup. Banquet dinner at Ambassador. Appear at 9 pm at wedding in cheap hall in Panchiao, hour's drive through gridlock traffic, toast with rice wine and shake hands with a hundred people: i.e. extend influence by lending prestige to event. 11 pm night snack, rice porridge at fancy Taiwanese food restaurant, together with confidantes and senior editorial writers. 1 am, midnight vigil outside prison for Taiwanese emigres arrested upon return, for membership in seditious Taiwan Independence organization [8]; give impromptu speech. In brief, this is an intense, grueling way of life that expands waistlines and raises blood pressure. There is hardly time to reflect in this whirlwind, and yet somehow an observer must seek analysis that is beyond the event of the week, a significance that is in social forces and not in personalities. Any history is to some extent an abstraction, and social analysis is even more an interpretation based in repetitious experience and perception of pattern, shaped and limited by the environment of the observer. In exposition the concrete events must be laid out with considerable simplification. Here the cast of characters is real, and representative of many more. With this caveat, I will proceed to tell the tale. A DECADE IN REVIEW Looking back over the eleven years since the Kaohsiung Incident, December 10, 1979, which is generally seen as the watershed in Taiwan's recent political history, there are two basic changes in the wider environment that have shaped the evolution of the opposition forces. The first is a complex of changes, the upward shift of Taiwan's position in the world economy, and a change in the ruling forces that seems to have been derived ultimately from the relative decline in U.S. power. Let us recreate the atmosphere of 1979. U.S.-supported military regimes presided in much of Latin America and East and Southeast Asia, many having taken power with bloody suppression of democratic functions. Just as the democratic movement was suppressed in Taiwan with extensive arrests and heavy sentences, December 1979 - April 1980, so in Korea the Kwangju uprising of May 1980 was crushed with much greater loss of life and U.S. complicity. Even Taiwanese activists without an anti-imperialist understanding (by far the majority) at that time saw the political question as one of armed revolution, like Iran or Nicaragua, though they were at a loss for any military capacity. For example, in response to the Kaohsiung Incident arrests on December 15, 1979 a coalition of overseas Taiwanese independence organizations headed by Hsu Hsin-liang (one of the leadership core of the democratic movement, but studying abroad since September 1979) vowed to "wipe the Kuomintang off the face of the earth". Yet despite the despair of those dire moments, the Taiwan democratic movement did begin to revive in late 1980 with the highest-vote election success of the wives of the arrested leaders, and broad social reaction against the suppression began to be felt. Finally, in the larger perspective a series of international events seemed to signal a new U.S. posture and the end of easy living for dictatorships. The frozen face of Latin American military regimes began to thaw; their dead victims were exhumed by human rights groups that indicted even those in power. Closer to Taiwan, Cory replaced Marcos on a wave of people power on the occasion of U.S.-forced elections. For Taiwan, the bungled assassination of Henry Liu in Daly City, California, October 1984, exposed the vicious ambitions of the heirs to the security apparatus and irritated Washington. In retrospect, the turning point probably came as early as 1983 when General Wang Sheng was removed from his position as apparent successor to President Chiang Ching-kuo and was shuffled off to Paraguay as ambassador. Now it can be seen that military-muscle strongmen from Korea to Singapore -- in the "little dragons" of export-led growth -- voluntarily gave way to softer, more technocratic versions of control in the years 1988-90, following the earlier trend. In this perspective there is no reason to especially credit either Chiang Ching-kuo's belated conversion to liberalism in the last year of his life, or even heroic struggles of a democratic movement, with being the ultimate force behind Taiwan's relatively bloodless transition to democratic forms. [9] Given that with the establishment of a functioning opposition party and also relative prosperity and full employment a revolutionary scenario could no longer be projected, overseas revolutionary organizations began in 1985 to change their rhetoric and their strategy to civil disobedience; and in 1991 even the diehard World United Formosans for Independence dropped its call for violent overthrow of the government. The opposition party and related organizations within the island have become the focus of activity. The second factor is more internal to Taiwan, and that is the issue of nationalism. Whereas in 1980 there could be said to still survive a genuine Chinese chauvinism within Taiwan, to thence fuel elite government ideology and suppression of Taiwanese identity as a heterodox form, by 1990 the internal issue has devolved to one of who controls the spoils of government. Since the 1987 opening of legal travel to China, the poverty of China has been seen in stark contrast to Taiwan's wealth; and the Tien'anmen massacre of June 1989 wilted any desire for political reunification. The most conservative, Chinese-nationalist rhetoric (that of the "non-mainstream" KMT) depicts China as a threat against the formal declaration of independence, not a beacon for cultural or other emulation. The President's policy ("mainstream", heavily Taiwanese KMT), labelled du tai, "Taiwan alone", by its right-wing critics, can hardly be distinguished from the seditious tai du, "Taiwan independence", and is thus the butt of many jokes. As for opposition forces, the pro-China and socialist-sounding Workers Party (Lao Dong Dang) with its party emblem of a red star rising over a green patch received less than a thousand votes for its candidate in 1989. [10] There were 51 candidates announced from ten small parties with "China" in their names running in 1991, but not one was elected. [11] In sum, the DPP's poor showing in the elections -- just after its October 1991 embracing of a Republic of Taiwan plank -- indicated rather that the ruling party has successfully taken over much of the territory of Taiwanese nationalism with its Taiwanese-born president [12]. There is a new cultural vibrancy on Taiwan, one that moves freely among Mandarin and native dialects, both Hokkien (usually generalized as "Taiwanese") and Hakka. This is widely reflected in television programming, notably in advertisements, and in the new prevalence of native cuisine and nostalgically decorated tea shops [13]. The relics of the agricultural society now seem quaintly endearing -- they are far enough away in time that they no longer reek of poverty and hard labor. But this cultural renaissance is also not the exclusive province of the opposition party, though most vanguard intellectuals are loosely affiliated. Now for the course of recent chronological events that are the waves above these tidal changes, we may list in brief the following events that are most significant to the opposition: May 1986, New York. Drive by overseas Taiwanese groups for opposition party formation, by supporting return of Hsu Hsin-liang to Taiwan following pattern set by Benigno Acquino and Kim Dae-jung. Sept 28, 1986, Taipei. Establishment of Democratic Progressive Party, largely by elected wives and lawyers of those incarcerated following the Kaohsiung Incident. July 1987 Government declaration of end of martial law, replaced by enactment of national security laws. 1986 - 88 Upsurge of social movements and street demonstrations: labor strikes, farmers' organizations, anti-nuclear and anti-pollution community organizations, women's protests against police-protected prostitution, aborigines' land struggles. May 1988 Bloody confrontation of riot police with farmers' demonstration against unlimited imports of U.S. agricultural goods -- sobering blow to social movements. April 1989 Tseng Nan-jung, outspoken advocate of Taiwan Independence, immolates himself rather than accept arrest: most stirring sacrifice among unceasing activities of TI networks and recurrent government crackdowns. March 1990ÊMassive student movement against "old thieves" (national assemblymen elected in 1947 in mainland China) and their control of presidential selection; with sit-in of 60,000 at Chiang Kai-shek Memorial. Constitutional convention demanded. May 1990 Release of remaining Formosa Magazine political prisoners, notably Shih Ming-deh and Hsu Hsin-liang, on accession of new president, Lee Teng-hui. May 1990 Demonstrations against President Lee Teng-hui's appointment of military strongman Hao Bo-tsun as Premier. July 1990 National Affairs Conference, convened by President Lee, calls together liberal KMT party front, DPP moderates, academics, and overseas dissidents; obstensibly a constitutional convention for national reconciliation. In following months KMT reneges on most agreements. April 1991ÊMarch against KMT convening lame-duck session of old National Assembly to extend national security laws. Show of DPP party unity. Prestigious professors form "100 Action Association" to oppose security laws, carry on struggle independent of opposition party. Oct 1991 Annual party delegate convention passes resolution advocating establishment of Republic of Taiwan, replacing previous self-determination plank; new element this year is support of academics. Hsu Hsin-liang elected chairman over Shih Ming-deh. Dec 1991 "Old thieves" retired. In elections for new National Assembly KMT gets 72% of votes, 78% of seats, and claims populace rejects Taiwan independence. THE MEILIDAO FACTION AND THE HERITAGE OF FORMOSA MAGAZINE In 1991 we see the old core of the democratic movement continuing as the present leadership of the opposition, but bitterly divided. The five central figures, plus the grand old man figurehead, have been embattled in internecine struggle. The more traditional faction, which occupies the central party headquarters and has appropriated the name of the 1979 magazine organization, Meilidao, is headed by Huang Hsin-chieh, recent Chairman, Chang Chun-hong, Secretary General, and Hsu Hsin-liang, Chairman since October 1991. In 1979 they were opposition champions as national legislator, provincial assemblyman, and executive of Taoyuan county, respectively. This faction continues the form of the Formosa (Meilidao) Magazine in that it is a coalition of Taipei intellectuals with local politicians. It is only weakly ideological in seeking democracy and national realization and is mostly oriented towards election results. The intellectuals have a genuine legacy of sacrifice in the democratic movement, Chang and Huang having each served eight years. But the faction overall has been unflatteringly described as ji de li di jie he, "a confederation of interests". The direction of the Meilidao faction has been to seek a solid base in the middle class through moderate and rational challenge to the contradictory laws and self-defeating international policy of the ruling party. Chang Chun-hong, its most articulate spokesman, has emphasized the party's sense of social responsibility, that it does not sow divisiveness to disturb the economy, nor will it recklessly provoke the People's Republic of China. In this respect Meilidao is much rankled by the street fighting set off in some New Tide-sponsored actions. For Chang Chun-hong, however, a compromisist attitude toward the ruling party (such as his much-criticized decision for the party, represented by Kang Ning-Hsiang, to participate in the President's National Reunification Committee, established under his cabinet as a sop to the KMT hard-liners following the July 1990 National Affairs Conference) is based in a sense of impotence of the popular forces, that the populace is weary of endless street marches, and such shows of reaction do not remedy the disparity of power [14]. Hsu Hsin-liang, never a good public speaker and more well known for his unchangingly optimistic countenance in evasion of knotty questions, has however articulated a direction that gives maximum leeway to Taiwan's commercial interests. In a July 1990 public speech at the Tien Educational Center in Taipei he espoused a laissez faire attitude to investment by Taiwanese capitalists in China and abroad, dismissing the suggestion that unrestrained capital flows could damage the development of the national economy or Taiwan nationalism. In May 1991 in an internal speech to the Taiwan Democratic Movement Overseas annual meeting in Los Angeles, an organization of which he still held the chairmanship, he cautioned that labor and environmental activism could drive Taiwanese capitalists into closer alliance with Premier Hao Bo-tsun, who was attacking social movements under the guise of cleaning up gangsterism. With both Chang Chun-hong and Hsu Hsin-liang in the DPP central party headquarters -- the two members of the Formosa core who emerged from among early 1970s-liberal reformers within the KMT central party headquarters, grouped around the magazine The Intellectual (Da Xue Ca Jer ) -- , the earlier tendency of the Meilidao faction has been made manifest. In preparation for the National Affairs Conference, Hsu Hsin-liang forced through a DPP position paper proposing a mongrel governmental structure combining contradictory features of presidential and parliamentary-cabinet authority, supposedly the "French model". The unstated logic for this seemed to be that it proffered a face-saving formula to President Lee Teng-hui's continuing standoff with the Premier. Consistent with this, the DPP strategy at the National Affairs Conference, directed largely by Hsu, was to pry the "mainstream" Taiwanese-rooted KMT away from its conservative wing and into agreements for liberalization under the pressure of the public scrutiny of the event. This strategy seemed to be largely successful at the time. Chang Chun-hong, consistent with his previous statements but astonishing in timing, only a week after the embarrassing December 1991 showing stated publicly and unilaterally that if the DPP won 40% of the vote for the new Legislative Yuan in December 1992, it would be willing to enter into a coalition government with the ruling party. Hsu Hsin-liang, pressed in private conversation, denied that this would result in a Korea-style split of the opposition party, and insisted that the KMT would split instead. Chang Chun-hong reportedly has spent considerable effort seeking the weak link in the KMT, a few tactical allies who could at least allow the DPP to sway 25% of the next National Assembly sessions in March 1992 and block the KMT from steamrolling through a one-sided constitution, but without success yet. Hsu has persistently asserted that the party must reach power soon -- his famous "three years to government rule" statement of mid-1990. This can hardly be imagined attainable except by the DPP being accepted into a coalition with the "mainstream" KMT. There is great disagreement among political commentators as to whether this is probable. All the same, Hsu Hsin-liang is well known for clever strategies and startling changes of direction. While overseas, he successively joined in various united fronts: first with the politically conservative World United Formosans for Independence, attempting to seize leadership and move the organization to more open action in Taiwan's political scene; ejected, he set up Formosa Weekly in Los Angeles in mid-1980, and then the next year allied with an old-time Marxist based in Japan, Shih Ming of the Taiwan Independence Army (which much alarmed U.S. congressional members lobbied by Taiwanese-Americans); then in 1984 he joined the Taiwan Revolutionary Party, a splinter from WUFI with a revised social democratic line. This last organization, later Taiwan Democratic Movement Overseas, renounced armed struggle and propelled Hsu in redeveloping links with the Taiwan democratic movement and attempting to re-enter Taiwan. [13] Hsu was on the wanted list for sedition, but the government, embarrassingly enough, was afraid to arrest him; he finally managed to land by boat and be arrested in 1989. His political philosophy has been disclosed in several statements quoted in the press: "Politics is like business. If you win, you have done it right.", and "Any politician who is serious has the ambition to be president." Hsu has been called a chameleon, but his unpredictability may in itself be a potent weapon. As for the other three core leaders of the Formosa Magazine period, Lin Yi-hsiung (formerly provincial assemblyman), Yao Chia-wen (candidate in 1978),and Shih Ming-deh (15 years imprisonment before the Kaohsiung Incident, behind-the-scenes organizer), they are alienated from the Meilidao faction, and by default have served as standard-bearers of the New Tide faction, because New Tide has stood behind whoever challenged the monopoly of the Meilidao faction. Lin Yi-hsiung has become a distant voice of moral authority and indignation, only rarely on the scene since the murder of his mother and twin daughters on February 28, 1980. Yao Chia-wen served as DPP Chairman with a strong TI stance from October 1987 to October 1988, following his January 1987 release, but then was defeated in bitter competition by Huang Hsin-chieh and Chang Chun-hong, released the following year. Yao's wife, Chou Ching-yu, is now executive head of Changhua County, a powerful position. Huang Hsin-chieh was re-elected chairman and the term lengthened to two years. Then in late 1990 the newly-released Shih Ming-deh appeared to be the heroic heir apparent, and was much heralded by the media. But he persisted in advocating a policy of even-handed balancing of the factions and of diversifying the sources of party funds, rather than relying on large contributors. Thence it seems that the Meilidao faction, unwilling to release its monopoly on the central apparatus, decided to jettison him. This is the story of 1991, to be recounted below. Aside from the core figures of the Formosa Magazine period, there is on the scene the next chronological echelon of leadership, the lawyers who defended them against the charges of sedition and, together with the wives of the defendants, carried forward the torch of the democratic movement in the difficult period 1980 - 87. Chiang Peng-chien served as first chairman of the DPP. You Ching, educated in Germany, was the first opposition leader to be elected to the Control Yuan, and since 1989 has been executive head of Taipei County, in which position he is challenged with the practical tasks of traffic and trash in a huge industrialized area, and frazzled in frays with the Kuomintang-fed civil servant bureaucracy. Hsieh Chang-ting and Chen Shui-bien (whose wife has been paralyzed from the shoulders down following a traffic "accident" in 1985) serve as a rambunctious challenge to the KMT in the national legislature. They are not members of the Meilidao faction, but independent figures with their own contributors and offices. It was prematurely announced in January 1992 that these independent figures, loosely allied together in the so-called "Independence coalition" (Du Pai) with the New Tide faction and the returned-emigre World United Formosans for Independence, would formalize a third faction to assume their own autonomous power. But it seems that the opposing Meilidao and New Tide factions are the ends of a pole on which no third power can exist as an unpolarized force. As a social artifact, it may be noted that in recent years doctors, another well-respected profession in Taiwan's society, have increasing joined in open political activity. These are, notably, Chen Yung-hsing and Tsai Sze-yuan, national assemblymen, who serve in important positions in the central party headquarters, and though functionaries for the Meilidao faction are often seen as less partisan; and the legislators Wei Yao-chien and Hong Chi-chang, both associated with New Tide. THE NEW TIDE FACTION Finally we may explore the origins and composition of the New Tide (Xin Chao Liu ) faction, named for the founding magazine. My preceding article described some incidents of tension and differing perspective between the elected officials of the democratic movement coalition in 1979 and the young intellectuals who worked for them in campaigns and on editorial staffs. At that time there was a general alignment of liberal ideology (democratic procedures, constitutionality) with Taiwanese nationalism, on one hand, and radical ideology (egalitarian ideals, social movements) with Chinese nationalism, on the other hand. The latter encompassed a small but intellectually important minority of personnel. All the same, the different groups were forced into an uneasy coalition by the overwhelming threat of the Kuomintang and its security agencies, as well as by the expediency of arousing the populace to resistance with populist slogans. The exception to this congruence was a small segment of young liberation theology ministers in the Presbyterian Church, which had called for Taiwan independence since 1971. The Presbyterian Church not only had a solid place in native Taiwanese society going back to the conversion of modernizing elites by British missionaries in the 1890s, but also many decades of missions among the exploited aboriginal people, and thus a social conscience. Despite the pattern of nationalism at that time, in 1980 I thought the logic of the situation boded the emergence of a Taiwanese nationalism with an ideology of mass mobilization. A decade later that is the new constellation, though I cannot say I precisely foresaw the sources of this development. Now it is the liberals, allied with opportunistic local politicians, who are reluctant to risk confrontation with the Kuomintang on the issue of Taiwanese nationalism; whereas the organizations with a philosophy of grass roots mobilization use "Taiwan Independence!" as a rallying cry that means uprooting the whole structure of special privileges for the ruling elite and along with it local patronage politics. Chinese nationalism now has no significant presence in mass politics: a few of the diehard professors and writers of the China Tide group, e.g. Chen Ying-chen, Wang Ching-ping, Wang Shao-po, formed the Labor Party (Gong Dang ) in 1987, and then split off into an exclusively pro-China party, the Workers Party (Lao Dong Dang ) a year later. Ms. Su Ching-li served in both as secretary general. [16] Both parties have met with pathetic voter response, but are said to have had some impact in practical work with labor. However, the Chinese nationalists of the Taiwan democratic movement can be proud that they have also played a pioneering role in China's democratization in recent years [17]. A small number of left- and/or once-upon-a-time China-leaning intellectuals are of common Hakka background with Hsu Hsin-liang and more personalisticly tied to his past populist programs, e.g. Chang Fu-chung and Chen Chung-hsin. With Hsu's accession to the chairmanship they have new and more central roles. Others such as Wang Tuo (China Tide background, jailed following the Kaohsiung Incident, elected national assemblyman December 1991) and Chen Chao-nan (emigre with Austrian citizenship but strong Taiwanese nationalism, worked with Hsu in Los Angeles, jailed briefly on return in June 1990) are in similar positions, professing a Marxist social vision but tied to Hsu for their present work at the central party headquarters. It remains to be seen whether Hsu Hsin-liang will choose to play populist ploys. A few other intellectuals educated abroad and with strong social convictions have taken up practical programs under DPP county executives. However, the New Tide group unambiguously weds a strong Taiwanese nationalism to the force of social movements. The New Tide group emerged from among idealistic assistants to the elected opposition figures in a gradual development in the mid-80s. They reacted against the hierarchical and particularistic structure of relations within the opposition itself, in which elected officials gained fame and fortune riding on the issues researched by their assistants. A central figure, Chiu Yi-jen, studied political science at the University of Chicago in 1978-82 and at that time seemed to discount class analysis. Wu Nai-jen did not leave Taiwan for studies but now discourses in mature Marxist terms. As editors for Hsu Jung-su (Wife of the then imprisoned Chang Chun-hong, Hsu was then an important legislator. In the mid-80s she became independently wealthy from stock market investments.) on her magazine Plow Deep (Shen Geng ), 1982-84, they found contradictions between their efforts to report on labor issues and the preferences of her financial backers, as well as resistance to their critique of opportunism within the opposition. They encountered similar problems managing Hsu Jung-su's constituent service center in Nantou, where they set up a democratically-governed oversight committee to promote community self-rule and grassroots organization. They left and in May 1984 started a separate journal with a social democratic philosophy, a drawing point for the younger generation of activists. Ho Duan-fan, Lin Chuo-shui, Liu Shou-cheng and Hong Chi-chang were among the founders. As developed to the present, the New Tide faction is virtually a party within a party, reportedly holding a membership of about one hundred persons (not publicly identified) who are subjected to training and discipline of their ideology, activities, and financial dealings. The group has a central committee, procedures of internal democracy, and requirements for participation in interminable reports and meetings. On occasion notable public office holders have sought to join the group together with their underlings, in which case they might form a block and overshadow others; but such requests have been rebuffed. The tight egalitarian organization of New Tide seems to have developed gradually in reaction to the Meilidao, as a tactic to outflank it. New Tide has however in recent years assigned its own members to run as candidates in elections: Hong Chi-chang, legislator; the writer Lin Chuo-shui, author of the DPP's Republic of Taiwan resolution; the wife of Tsai You-chuan (liberation theology Presbyterian minister, served second sentence for TI) Chou Hui-ying; and the pioneer in the student movement, Lee Wen-chung. It also strategically allies with or puts forward candidates that it deems will promote a strident Taiwanese independence demand or the interests of a social group that warrants protection: Ms. Yeh Chu-lan, widow of Tseng Nan-jung, now legislator; Ms. Chen Hsiu-hui, founder of the Homemakers' Union for environmental protection, now in the national assembly. New Tide seems to have hit upon a pattern for candidates: young, educated, idealistic, personable and even physically attractive, energetic and ready to get their hands dirty in local organizing. New Tide is a formidable challenge to the Meilidao faction, which has absolutely no systemic discipline. It has a network of offices in the names of regional constituent service offices for particular office holders, e.g. for legislator Lu Hsiu-yi in Panchiao, Taipei County, entirely separate from those of the formal party command. It must have at least a dozen such offices, with a constant programming of activities, hung solid with colorful banners and slogans: "New Nation Movement", "Build a New and Just Society", etc. The DPP apparatus has its regional offices, and independent office holders also have theirs, but most are said to only rev up before elections. There has been recurrent struggle between the factions over control of various regional branch offices, but at present most seem to be Meilidao-controlled. The element of financial discipline is extremely significant, and unusual in the Taiwan political scene. New Tide members, if elected, are required to turn over all of their government salaries and allowances to the organization and live on salaries as service center activists. In recent elections even donations are reported and recorded for central management. Those members elected are required to keep squeaky clean in an environment where money flows easily for slight favors, and constituents expect that service means special intercession at the price of a gratuity. According to one service center manager, the New Tide public office holders he knew were so pressed for financial survival, especially with the heavy expenses incurred, that they had to start a business on the side to make ends meet, but tried to pick one that would not lead to errant suspicions. Reciprocal to this discipline, the organization must deal with the debts left over from campaigns, especially failed campaigns, and make sure its activists sustain a minimum standard of family income. Funds go to support a joint think tank to assist its legislators, as well as assistance for other organs, such as the affiliated Taiwan Association for Labour Movement, in operation seven years. According to some descriptions of the New Tide faction, its actions may be more indirect but broader in influence than apparent. For example, it claims to have initiated organization of farmers' groups and community campaigns against polluting manufacturers, but these organizations take on a life of their own and are not directly controlled. The Urban-Rural Mission, linked with Canadian religious social activists through WUFI and also in communication with the Korean URM, has provided training for home-grown agitators; it has been a target of the KMT security agencies. Similarly in fields of cultural development and historical studies. Quiet ties with social groups, even the newly emerging "liberation theology" schools of Buddhism that have made yellow robes a colorful presence at demonstrations against political arrest [18], have given the faction a secret potential in election campaigns. New Tide may have the possibility of maturing into a powerful election machine; but some members do not wish to be distracted from what they see as the basic goal of grass roots organizing. At any rate, there has been a realization among members that organization must also be addressed to the middle and professional classes on issues such as environment and education, given the structure of Taiwan's modern society. The leadership of New Tide has reached the difficult admission that, despite several years of efforts, the industrial working class is not particularly responsive except to palpable economic gains, and it frequently trusts to continuing standard of living improvements under the ruling party. Non-political social activists, such as those with the Catholic Church, have commented that the Taiwan workers do have serious grievances, but that they do not trust any of the political parties. A common comment among social activists is that there is a wide gap between the opposition party and the social movements, and the politicians rarely show evidence of any long-term concern. For example, in 1991 the government has moved to turn back several of the provisions of the labor law that are favorable to workers, but the DPP has remained silent. Most of the public does not clearly understand the existence of different groups and social directions within the DPP. MEMBERSHIP AND OPERATIONS In contrast to the financial pooling of New Tide, prospective candidates in the Democratic Progressive Party at large are self-selecting and must pull their own financing. Therefore the process is individualistic and depends to a large degree on previous public exposure, social connections, and even whether one has a large circle of clan relatives that can be mobilized to assist. Given the effect of personal ties to office holders, as described above, it is not surprising that financiers want to give their money discretely and without public accounting directly to the candidate whom they are cultivating. (Small contributors usually want their contribution recognized on slips posted on boards at their affiliated DPP offices, but those with enterprises are wary of KMT reprisal, e.g. a tax auditor was stationed to stand right next to the cashier of the large Pirate King Restaurant, a DPP supporter). This process works overall to build up a number of "mountain tops" (shan tou ) in the party who dispense money according to their own political interests and programs, while the common coffers of the party are nearly bare and long-term programs and policy development are starved. Moreover, it generally is not appropriate to inquire as to what money a party leader has, and to which purposes it should be applied; that is considered a matter of individual discretion, and especially if powerful the person should not be questioned. The dearth of ideological unity and discipline has led over a period of time to a hidden crisis for the party: registered party members often have no political commitment, and those with political commitment, even some persons who work for the party virtually full-time as volunteers, refuse to enter membership. There are something under twenty thousand registered members in the party. That is less than one percent of the minimum number of DPP voters (about 2 million in the last poor showing). The membership does not represent the voters, and it also does not represent a trained or disciplined vanguard, though the majority are enthusiastic supporters. A party delegate can be selected by each thirty party members. However, to address the problem of the gap between membership and voting constituency, DPP elected officials are automatically accorded delegate votes. Over the long run this works to maintain the status quo of the party. The source of the problem of party membership is, first, that in the initial rush of expansion of the party control over access to membership was lost; and second, every time an election nears those hopeful of nomination in the internal party primaries stuff the rolls with friends, relatives, and anyone they can induce to sign a party membership form. The sponsor also pays the annual dues, about $US 50 for each member, part of which is sent to the central party headquarters. Such nominal members are called "head count party members" (ren tou dang yuan ), and a cautious conjecture is that they account for 20% of the rolls overall. A more extreme artifice has now been rumored, "pocket party members", in which a great number are all registered at one address (in Kaohsiung reportedly 200 at one address), and their signature chops kept on hand for easy voting. By now there have been cases of party dues paid to Taipei in one chunk but not remitted to the regional office, of the losing faction in a regional branch struggle withdrawing en masse, and of the central party headquarters de-recognizing a local membership in total [19]. Both Meilidao and New Tide factions have been accused of padding the rolls, but it is generally thought that New Tide cannot make the match in money. Nominal party members affect the outcome of nominations. One long-term party member without direct affiliation to any candidate commented acerbicly on recent nominations, "The DPP came to Kaohsiung and picked up trash". A similar problem of the internal composition of party membership involves the class character of the supporters of the party, that compared to those of the ruling party many are the less advantaged, more marginal, some even lumpen proletariat with simultaneously politically valid and socially invalid reasons for resenting authority. Especially given the lack of enforced standards within the party, operations depend on good will and intentions. There has been some effort at regulating the quality and image of membership; in Panchiao in January 1992 the membership was reviewed, and those operating disreputable enterprises such as massage parlors and gambling halls were asked to withdraw. About 10% of the membership was challenged for various reasons.