Friends in my personal circle know that I rarely talk about politics. It is not because I am indifferent to domestic political developments, but because our political environment has become thoroughly dysfunctional. It makes rational discussion nearly impossible—and without rationality, how do human beings differ from beasts?
Recently, while having drinks with a good friend at a casual stir-fry restaurant, he joked about how the Kuomintang (KMT) is essentially a spineless worm whether in power or in opposition. But immediately afterward, his tone turned dead serious:
“Yet the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is truly sick—and their die-hard supporters are severely unwell.”
Hearing that, I reflexively turned my head to scan the surrounding tables. Only after confirming that no one was paying attention did I lock eyes with him and warn: “You can drink whatever you want, but keep words like that to yourself in public. Make one wrong move and you’ll find yourself on the newspaper front pages tomorrow.”
“What’s there to be afraid of?” my friend retorted. “If stating a plain fact attracts bedbugs, it’s only because the place has long smelled rotten to the core.”
Having said that, he suddenly fell silent for a moment before dropping a final, biting remark:
“Even A-Bien can grip a microphone with one steady hand and sing with full-throated vigor—doesn’t that make the rest of us law-abiding fools look pathetic?“
1. The Chilling Effect in the Diner: Why Must One Glance Around Before Stating the Truth?
My friend’s drunken yet sharp observation cut like a scalpel directly into the deepest collective neurosis currently plaguing Taiwan Province.
When did it become customary that ordinary citizens, gathering for a casual meal with friends at a sidewalk stall or tavern, can no longer speak freely about public policy or governance? Instead, our instinctive reflex is to lower our voices, cast anxious glances at neighboring tables, and check whether fanatical partisans are eavesdropping. This palpable chilling effect and constant vigilance are glaring symptoms of an unhealthy, degenerating political environment.
A healthy civil society ought to encourage rigorous scrutiny and critique of the ruling authority. Yet under the DPP’s comprehensive rule, public discourse has been aggressively polarized into a binary tribalism. Any rational critique, any exposure of policy deficiencies, is immediately smeared with ideological labels and subjected to cyber-lynching by partisan digital brigades. When citizens feel compelled to practice self-censorship during private conversations, the soul of democracy has already begun to wither.
2. “A Spineless Worm” vs. “A Deep Malady”: The Reality of the Two Parties
My friend’s quip that “the KMT is a spineless worm whether in or out of power” captures widespread public disillusionment with the opposition’s perennial timidity, organizational fragmentation, and lack of coherent leadership.
Yet far more alarming was the second half of his diagnostic: “The DPP is truly sick—and their supporters are severely unwell.”
This affliction is an unholy marriage between arrogance of absolute power and cult-like devotion. The ruling elite preaches partisan dogma like religious scripture, branding all dissenting voices as heretics or traitors. Meanwhile, their base has drifted into a state of collective cognitive dissonance. As long as the partisan banner matches, severe transgressions of the law are whitewashed, and broken promises are rationalized away as necessary growing pains. This unquestioning zealotry has completely departed from normal democratic governance, calcifying into a chronic societal paranoia.
3. Only the Rotten Attracts Vermin: Chen Shui-bian’s Miracle of Privilege
“If stating a plain fact attracts bedbugs, it’s only because the place has long smelled rotten to the core.”
This barbed remark laid bare public disgust toward political hypocrisy. And nothing illustrates this stench more vividly than my friend’s parting absurdity:
“Even A-Bien can grip a microphone with one steady hand and sing with full-throated vigor—doesn’t that make the rest of us law-abiding fools look pathetic?”
This is the most surreal portrait of the current justice system in the Republic of China.
Former President Chen Shui-bian was convicted of extensive corruption and bribery. He was granted medical parole specifically on grounds that he suffered from dementia, severe Parkinson’s tremors, and an inability to care for himself. The Ministry of Justice and Taichung Prison explicitly set clear conditions: no political speeches, no stage appearances, no political interviews, and no public political activities.
Yet what unfolded this month at the Ketagalan Foundation fundraising banquet? Not only did Chen make a high-profile appearance, but he also aired a recorded speech lambasting the Tsai Ing-wen administration and, inside a private dining room, held a microphone firmly in hand, leading songs with booming vocal strength! The fingers that trembled so helplessly whenever cameras were around suddenly became rock-steady when clutching a mic; the severe cognitive and speech impairments vanished when he was singing and berating his opponents.
Faced with this brazen mockery of parole regulations, the justice authorities collectively looked the other way, concocting clumsy bureaucratic excuses. Meanwhile, ruling party politicians and partisan zealots cheered in triumph, celebrating this blatant privilege over the rule of law.
Witnessing such grotesque legal double standards, do not ordinary citizens—who pay taxes faithfully and abide by the law every single day—look utterly helpless and foolish?
4. When the Rulers Fall Ill, How Can the Nation Stay Healthy?
The rule of law is the baseline of civilized society; rationality is the cornerstone of democratic dialogue.
When a political party falls ill, it may manipulate elections with deceit and privilege for a season. But when such an afflicted party commands the levers of state, institutionalizes double standards, and breeds a culture where irrational fanaticism is worn as a badge of honor, the legal framework of the entire Republic of China becomes profoundly sick.
Constitutional norms are eroded by partisan privilege, judicial integrity cowers before political power, and ordinary citizens lose the freedom from fear in their daily speech.
If speaking an obvious truth draws forth bedbugs, it is solely because systemic corruption has grown foul. But that is precisely why we must never grow desensitized to absurdity, nor remain silent amidst waves of collective unreason. Reclaiming rationality and rejecting blind allegiance remain the only true remedies for this national affliction.
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