The Stakes In Taiwan’s Election Couldn’t Be Higher

-Analysis-

Among the four billion inhabitants of this planet who are called upon to vote this year, in more or less democratic elections, there are 24 million for whom the gesture is almost existential. These are the citizens of Taiwan, the island nation whose legal existence is recognized by virtually nobody, and which is threatened with being swallowed up by China (which, for its part, doesn’t have elections to worry about).

We are generally familiar with the geopolitical equation of Taiwan, the rebel island that Beijing claims as its own, and which stands at the center of the Sino-American strategic rivalry. But what’s less well known are the democratic stakes at play on this island less than 200 kilometers off the Chinese coast.

Because beyond the historical vicissitudes that have separated the mainland from this island, what distinguishes the two worlds today above all is democracy. Taiwan is the only territory of Chinese culture and language that is truly democratic.

A young democracy

I covered the first Taiwanese election in which there was a legitimate transfer of power, in 1999, when Chen Shui-bian was elected. Since then, power has changed hands several times in a constitutional manner, something few Asian countries can claim.

It is therefore a relatively young democracy: for two-thirds of its autonomous existence, since 1949, Taiwan was a die-hard dictatorship. The Chinese nationalist Chiang Kai-shek, a rival of Mao’s communists, retreated to the island after his defeat, to better prepare for a reconquest that never came. With his million and a half soldiers and partisans, he imposed his power through “white terror” executions, deportations, censorship.

The struggle for democracy went hand-in-hand with the quest for recognition of the identity of the island’s pre-1949 inhabitants, who had come from mainland China 100 or 200 years earlier. This identity, which is now at the heart of the internal and regional political battle, is therefore now inseparably linked to the island’s culture and democracy.

Both were conquered by the locals, not imposed from outside, and are the legitimate pride of the Taiwanese people.

Identity question sharpens divide with China

This question is at the heart of Saturday’s elections. There are three presidential candidates. The favorite, William Lai, is the current vice-president and candidate of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which embodies this identity distinct from that of the mainland. He is not campaigning for independence — he knows that would mean war — but for the status quo, each on its own side.

Those in Taiwan who say they are Chinese has fallen from one-third to just 5%

He faces Hou Yu-hi, candidate of the Kuomintang, the historic party of the former dictator. Hou pleads for better relations with Beijing to reduce the risk of war, but finds it difficult to free himself from the image of yesterday’s world. The third option is Ko Wen-je, who wants to offer a fresh alternative to the first two.

But to understand the extent to which the question of identity is central, one only needs to look at how, in the space of a generation, the number of islanders who say they are Chinese has fallen from one-third to just 5% today. The majority call themselves only “Taiwanese,” with a minority “Taiwanese and Chinese.”

In the face of this, Beijing looms as a frightening neighbor — and the Taiwanese want to lose neither their identity nor their democracy.