Written by Gunter Schubert.
Image credit: 賴清德/ Facebook.
Taiwan is gearing up for another round of national elections, scheduled for next January. As always, media coverage of election campaigns focuses on the presidential aspect of the national ballot, as this is where elections become most personalized. This is the essence of Taiwanese political culture. All politics becomes personal, involving interactions between candidates and voters, particularly at the local level.
It is also greatly about impression management, especially during presidential elections. As the campaigning intensifies, presidential hopefuls engage in public appearances and political theatrics—taking place in temples, neighborhoods, night markets, sports stadiums, televised sessions at party headquarters, and various other venues. Cameras and microphones surround them, capturing their smiles and gestures. They echo political slogans that convey vague messages of honesty, industriousness, trustworthiness, or a forward-looking mindset.
Journalists speculate about potential alliances between contenders, the accuracy of their academic qualifications, rumors of potential involvement in sexual harassment cases, and their views on China, which are briefly mentioned. That tends to summarize the extent of coverage.
Throughout the years I’ve observed Taiwanese politics, I’ve grown increasingly surprised by the scarcity of policy debate in Taiwan’s presidential elections.
To be sure, there are televised debates between candidates in the final weeks leading up to the vote. However, even then, they refrain from presenting concrete policy ideas and generally stick to vague positions that lack substance. It’s as if a candidate’s affiliation with the KMT or the DPP, or no affiliation with these two parties, is deemed sufficient for Taiwanese voters to make their choice.
What remains unclear or ambiguous at best is the candidates’ actual stances—except for their simplified China-related agendas that often amount to mutual accusations of either being “China-friendly” or “independence-minded”, or something in between that is hard to define. Why do Taiwan’s voters, seemingly, not demand more information?
Taiwan is a robust democracy, boasting a strong civil society and well-informed policy elites. Nonetheless, a significant discrepancy exists between these elites (including NGO activists) and the broader population concerning policy debate, particularly during election cycles.
Taiwanese society grapples with numerous pressing issues—energy security, widening income inequality, the lack of affordable housing, stagnant wages (especially for young people), demographic shifts and necessary immigration, industrial modernization, economic diversification, defense policy, and more. Remarkably little of this finds its way into the current presidential campaign discourse.
Most Taiwanese citizens are uninformed about their candidates’ stances on these matters. Moreover, their respective parties appear disinclined to clarify any policy position. In fact, everything seems to be orchestrated to avoid tying candidates down to specific positions on domestic policy matters. As a seasoned scholar once told me years ago, succeeding in Taiwanese politics involves avoiding extensive policy discussions and refraining from positioning oneself based on specific policies. Opponents will eagerly distort positions, branding the candidate as irresponsible, and ultimately causing their downfall. It’s better to be an all-encompassing figure who tells everyone what they want to hear. Adopting a clear policy stance is perilous; mastering the art of ambiguity is key.
This brings to mind “Wave Makers” (人選之人—造浪者), the renowned Taiwanese Netflix series centered around the headquarters of a fictional party striving for their female candidate’s victory in the upcoming presidential elections. The party’s primary focus is projecting a positive image of the candidate to the public without anchoring her to any particular standpoint. A notable scene occurs when the contender is asked during a meeting with students whether she supports abolishing capital punishment.
Her advisers hold their breath awaiting her response to this unexpected question. Despite her opposition to capital punishment, she recognizes that expressing this publicly would be unwise and instead offers an evasive response, emphasizing that the matter is contentious and requires comprehensive societal discussion—a discussion she would lead if elected.
Certainly, capital punishment is a contentious topic in Taiwan, much like the issues of nuclear energy and imposing a luxury tax on real estate properties. Yet, is it healthy for a democracy when its leading politicians obscure their positions? Does this not raise questions about whether they even have any positions? If they do, why don’t Taiwanese voters demand clarity before Election Day? Why do many Taiwanese seem disinterested in substantive policy debates before presidential elections? Why are most voters, as it seems, content with superficial assessments of candidates, their ritualized pleas for votes through deep bows in public places, and their mechanical calls for enthusiastic support from gathered followers to support their claim that Taiwan will flourish under their leadership?
Experts often assert that Taiwan’s national elections pivot on the China policies of competing parties or candidates. However, hasn’t Taiwan’s China policy increasingly converged across the political spectrum, centering on upholding ROC sovereignty and “international space,” while rejecting Beijing’s “one country, two systems” mantra? By the way, what precisely are Ko Wen-je and Terry Gou’s China policies? Does anyone know? Why are voters satisfied with merely discerning their political leaders through a “blind gaze” at their party affiliation and repetitive “China speak”?
Why aren’t presidential candidates (and legislators) in Taiwan expected to address their positions on crucial policies designed to solve the problems of the island’s societal challenges, economic trajectory or political institutions? Furthermore, does the high percentage of undecided voters in each national election—arguably ranging from 30 to 40 percent of the electorate—not suggest that contenders should engage in more substantive policy debates to improve their chances of winning?
The most provocative and unsatisfying explanation, one that numerous policymakers from various political spectrums in Taiwan have candidly shared with me, points to a lack of independent political thinking within Taiwanese society, coupled with an appetite for political spectacle (a hallmark of elections).
Many Taiwanese, I am told, do not buy into the concept of the common good that is often touted. Their primary concern revolves around personal gain, typically realized at the local level, where politicians are not required to adopt clear stances. Instead, they are expected to address voters’ private concerns, extend invitations to social gatherings, and participate in as many weddings and funerals as possible to give people face.
However, such parochial demands are not applicable at the national level, at least not for the majority of Taiwanese. This contributes to a notable lack of interest or, seen more positively, a high level of trust in politicians who appear astute (Ma Ying-jeou), can “speak the language of the common people” (Han Kuo-Yu, Hou You-yi, Ke Wen-je), or uphold long-standing ideological beliefs that remain unchanged (Lai Ching-teh). Admittedly, this mindset points to a rather weak civic foundation for Taiwan’s democracy, a democracy so much lauded both within Taiwan and beyond.
Is this assessment too pessimistic? Maybe. Nonetheless, the question persists: How do Taiwan’s presidential candidates get so far with so little in their policy portfolio? I’m open to learning from any insights that can be offered on this matter.
The author is Chair Professor of Greater China Studies and Director of the European Research Center on Contemporary Taiwan (ERCCT) at the University of Tübingen, Germany.
This op-ed was originally published by Taiwan’s Commonwealth Magazine on September 4th.
