| Chameleon Ma thinks 
he can fool Taiwanese
 By Chen Shan-jung 陳杉榮
 
 Pity President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九). He has been a busy little beaver over the 
past few days, running around and shamelessly changing guises to suit his ends.
 
 He embarked upon this chameleon spree in his bid to strike down legislative 
speaker Wang Jin-pyng (王金平). He already sees himself as emperor, with the 
legislature at his beck and call. Having laid his hands on a Special 
Investigation Division (SID) surveillance report on alleged illegal lobbying 
involving Wang and Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) caucus whip Ker Chien-ming 
(柯建銘), he has decided to go for the jugular.
 
 From emperor he morphed into president, approving Wang’s vacation in Malaysia, 
where Wang was to host his daughter’s wedding. He then sat back and waited, 
biding his time until Wang was well out of the country before he pounced, 
blindsiding him with an SID press conference. Trap sprung, he feigned shock and 
regret at Wang’s alleged abuse of power, but his basic intention of ridding 
himself of Wang was quite clear.
 
 Taiwanese are not “bumbling” fools, and it was instantly apparent that this was 
all one big set-up. The three collateral victims of Ma’s attempt to kill several 
birds with one stone — former justice minister Tseng Yung-fu (曾勇夫), Taiwan High 
Prosecutors’ Office Head Prosecutor Chen Shou-huang (陳守煌) and Lin Shiow-tao 
(林秀濤), the prosecutor in charge of Ker’s original breach of trust case — 
immediately issued clarifications, refuting the SID’s frame-up. The opposition 
also cried foul, berating the illegal use of surveillance and the re-emergence 
of the imperial-era secret police.
 
 Seeing his abortive attempt flounder, the chameleon president shifted into 
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chairman mode, ordering Wang — whose vacation he 
had some time ago approved as president — to return without delay. This rather 
harsh, even sacrilegious, treatment was rightly met with disdain among the 
public.
 
 His sights now locked on his adversary, Ma moved to the next stage, changing 
clothes once more to call a press conference as president. Imagining himself as 
a supreme court judge, he proceeded to give an Oscar-winning performance, 
holding aloft the incriminating evidence handed him by the Supreme Prosecutors’ 
Office, acting as judge, jury and executioner for a man who has yet to appear in 
court to answer the charges.
 
 If this is not a performance, then what is? If these are not the actions of a 
dictator, what actions are?
 
 Ma is a democratically elected president, but he also doubles as the chairman of 
the ruling party, keeping an iron grip on his underlings. He is simultaneously 
playing Xiandi (獻帝), hapless last emperor of the Han, and the ruthlessly 
ambitious Cao Cao (曹操), Xiandi’s puppet master. He is using SID’s illegal 
surveillance data to destroy a powerful feudal lord whom he does not trust.
 
 Ma might be able to fool one person, or perhaps several, but he certainly cannot 
fool everyone.
 
 If he does not desist from the behavior of allowing the abuse of surveillance to 
violate human rights, of attacking his political rivals and fawning to Beijing, 
he is not qualified to speak of honor. It was Ma, after all, who first crossed 
the red line.
 
 In the 1920s the KMT forces in China embarked upon the Northern Expedition to 
end the rule of local warlords. One warlord, Wu Peifu (吳佩孚), apparently berated 
another, Duan Qirui (段祺瑞), and his words could well be aimed at Ma.
 
 “When a country is so vast, can one man have it all? With such plenitude in 
frontier officials, can one party own them all? When the people are so many, can 
one man whip them all?” Wu asked.
 
 Chen Shan-jung is a reporter for the Liberty Times.
 
 Translated by Paul Cooper
 |