Taiwan
speech: Much ado about nothing
By Laurence Eyton
TAIPEI - Taiwan President Chen Shui-bian's National Day Address had been billed
as a breakthrough that would ensure cross-strait peace for a generation. In
Taiwan, however, it has been received with a collective "Huh?", while China
took three days to think up a response that turned out to be little more than a
sneer.
Chen had told a conference of China-based Taiwanese businessmen on October 3
that his speech would be "vital", aiming to bring lasting peace and stability
to the region and ease strains with China. The following day he told a visiting
Japanese delegation, "I hope the National Day speech will help ease tensions
and unnecessary confrontation and close the cross-strait gap." Over the rest of
the week Presidential Office officials did what they could to boost public
expectations. But what did Chen plan to say? Interestingly, at a forum on
October 7 both Joseph Wu, chairman of the Mainland Affairs Council, Taiwan's
top policymaking body on China affairs, and his vice chairman Chiu Tai-san
claimed not to know what Chen planned to say. If true, that reveals an alarming
degree of "black box", hidden decision-making.
So much for the buildup that for a week gained the attention of op-ed writers,
political television talk show hosts and pundits about what Chen might say. In
his speech, Chen spoke at length about establishing a "code of conduct" with
regard to military matters and the establishment of confidence-building
measures, but none of this was new. What everyone was waiting for was this: "I
would like to take the initiative to propose that both sides use the basis of
the 1992 meeting in Hong Kong, to seek possible schemes that are not
necessarily perfect but acceptable, as preparation for a step forward in the
resumption of dialogue and consultation." Taiwan has been trying to work
out what he meant ever since.
Taiwan tries to figure out what he meant
In 1992 Taiwan and China arranged a meeting in Hong Kong, then a British colony
so therefore neutral ground, in which they thrashed out a basis on which the
heads of their semi-official representative organizations - Taipei's Straits
Exchange Foundation (SEF) and Beijing's Association for Relations across the
Taiwan Strait, (ARATS) - could meet.
At that time, Taiwan was still claiming, albeit half-heartedly, to be the real
government of China, while Beijing claimed, as it does now, that Taiwan was a
province of the People's Republic of China. At the Hong Kong meeting the
participants agreed to disagree. This amounted to each side having its own
interpretation of what "one China" meant, and the other side, while not in
agreement, agreeing not to challenge it. That formula was known as "one China,
with each side having its own interpretation".
As a result of this arrangement, talks got under way, but they broke down in
1995 when China decided that Taiwan President Lee Teng-hui's trip to the United
States showed that Taiwan was negotiating in bad faith, procrastinating on real
political talks. So far, the two sides had only discussed practical and
relatively inconsequential matters such as registered mail, while Taiwan was
trying to increase its international political space.
An attempt to restart talks under the same framework was attempted in 1998-99,
but it was derailed by Lee Teng-hui's declaration in July that the relationship
between Taiwan and China was "state to state" in nature. In March 2000, Chen
Shui-bian, a long-time advocate of Taiwan independence, won the presidential
election and cross-strait relations, already chilly, turned arctic.
Since 1995, China has demanded that Taiwan adhere to Beijing's own "one China"
principle. Taiwan has been reluctant to do this because the concept and its
definition actually depend on the audience.
To Taiwan, Beijing gives the impression that what it wants is a commitment on
future unification, beyond which the terms of that unification are entirely
open for discussion. To the rest of the world, however, the "one China"
principle means accepting that Taiwan is a province of the People's Republic of
China.
Taiwan has always been worried that it might buy into one version of the
principle and then find that it was being portrayed as having accepted the
other, and when it protested, then it would get blamed for reneging on an
agreement.
After Chen came to power, a campaign was jointly organized by Taiwan's
pro-unification opposition, the recently ousted Chinese Nationalist party
(KMT), and China itself. According to the campaign plan, China would be
prepared to restart talks if Taiwan returned to the "1992 consensus".
Chen has said 'one China' not a precondition
Chen however, said that while he was willing to talk about anything, even
whether there was "one China," he could not agree to the acknowledgment of "one
China" as a precondition, the key condition, of restarting the talks.
As to demands that he return to the 1992 consensus, Chen argued that in fact
there never had been a consensus in 1992, a position that Lee Teng-hui
supported, directly contradicting what he himself had said during his term as
president. What there had been, he said, was a determination to press ahead
with talks and for this purpose, to avoid the various pitfalls about who was
laying claim to what.
Part of the problem about whatever happened in 1992 was that what took place
was a verbal negotiation, with no written record. The story has become a Rashomon,
with almost all participants having different and often contradictory
recollections.
Whether there was an agreement, if only to disagree, or simply a reluctance to
question conflicting positions, seems almost as arcane as an argument between
Medieval theologians; but it is rather important to an understanding of what
Chen was saying last Sunday. This is because one interpretation of his position
is that the president has now flip-flopped on the "one China" issue and is
prepared to agree to "one China, with each side having its own interpretation",
if this means that talks can be restarted.
Certainly this was the way most pro-independence supporters interpreted Chen's
remarks. What they bitterly resented was any suggestion that Chen and the
government accept "one China", which would imply a commitment to eventual
reunification. In his speech, however, Chen did not say that he accepted the
"one China" principle, even in its 1992 formulation.
But on the other hand, it hardly made sense to talk of 1992 unless Chen was
prepared to accept the apparent understandings at that time. The 1992 formula
is a balanced equation in which China is accepting the minimum it can get while
Taiwan is offering as much as it is able. Half of that equation is about as
much use as half of a bridge. So what was the president's intention? Was he
really prepared to accept the "one China" principle, even in its 1992 guise?
If so, this would cause a political earthquake off the scale in Taiwan. It
would both deprive the opposition of its major weapon against Chen and his
Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) - that he simply won't adopt the policies
needed to get along with China - while alienating core DPP supporters to whom
the separateness of China and Taiwan are fundamental.
Chen's remarks were baffling, not explained
Chen's remarks last Sunday were, frankly, baffling - was the president
accepting "one China" or not - and so far he has not attempted to explain them.
Since his subordinates claim not to have been consulted in the formulation of
the policy, it is not clear to what degree anyone might rely on his or her own
interpretation of the boss' words. But according to Premier Yu Shyi-kun, what
Chen meant was not that he was prepared to accept the "1992 consensus" and "one
China," but the far less shattering position that Taiwan and China should put
aside preconditions and highly contentious political issues, such as
sovereignty and whether there is one China, two Chinas, or one China and one
Taiwan - and get on with negotiating on practical matters urgently sought by
people on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. In particular, Taiwan is keen to
start direct cross-strait charter flights.
"The president's words that the Hong Kong meeting could be used as a basis aims
to put aside cross-strait disputes on sovereignty and engage in pragmatic
exchanges, and his words should not be twisted as if there was a consensus in
1992," Yu said on Tuesday after the speech. On the following day, however,
cabinet spokesman Chen Chi-mai told reporters: "The content of the discussions
in 1992 focused on putting aside political disputes in order to reopen
negotiations on pragmatic issues. Harsh language does not help solve problems
and resolve disputes."
By harsh language Chen Chi-mai was referring to China's reaction, voiced that
day by Zhang Mingqing, spokesman for China's Taiwan Affairs Office. "Chen
Shui-bian's call to ease cross-strait tensions is fake; his moves to bring
about Taiwanese independence are real," Zhang said, rejecting Chen's proposal
that cross-strait negotiations resume on "the basis of the 1992 meeting in Hong
Kong." At the same time, Zhang said that China has long held that talks will be
possible when Taiwan recognizes the "1992 consensus". And what that consensus
means, according to Zhang, is that each side had its own version of the "one
China" principle.
And so the massively important question of Taiwan's relationship with China,
which might have huge repercussions for regional peace and the balance of
global power, not to mention the global economy, right now revolves around the
question of recollections of a conversation in Hong Kong 12 years ago.
China's response can only be seen as disappointing. After all, if Taiwan's
pundits were not sure what Chen meant in his speech, it might have behooved
China to at least investigate its ambiguities. But if this is disappointing, it
is not surprising. In fact, on Wednesday Chen remarked that such a Chinese
response, in effect, a sneer, was exactly what Washington had told him was
likely. He added that the US had also said that while progress might be made on
the basis of his remarks, it would not take place for a while.
"They [the US] told me that the other side would definitely have this kind of
reaction, so everybody has to be patient. Not only A-bian [Chen's nickname, he
often refers to himself in the third person] and the government must be
patient, but most importantly, they urged all the nation's people to be a
little patient," Chen said on Wednesday.
China's hostility is motivated by the fact that it simply does not want to give
Chen anything he can use to boost his party's chances in legislative elections
to be held on December 11, and which are widely seen as key to the success of
Chen's presidency. The legislature currently is dominated by the opposition KMT
and its breakaway offshoot, the People First Party, but the conventional wisdom
in Taiwan predicts that the anti-Chen parties will lose the legislature. China
wants to do nothing that will help bring this about.
But Chen's National Day remarks are interesting for another reason: they show
just how closely the United States is bound up with the cross-strait process.
In fact, it is hard not to believe that the real audience for Chen's speech
last Sunday was neither in Taiwan nor Beijing but in Washington, and that
Chen's behavior was not so much extending an olive branch to China as
attempting to reassure his US backers that peace with China comes before
Taiwan-independence-inspired waywardness. It is not clear to what degree Chen's
speech was vetted in Washington before he delivered it, though Washington's
direction of and veto over Taiwan's policy initiatives is an open secret. And
if there is a lesson that China might usefully learn from the events of this
past week, it is just how large and how active a role Washington intends to
play.
Laurence Eyton is the deputy editor-in-chief of the Taipei Times
newspaper and a columnist for the Chinese-language Taiwan Daily. He's lived and
worked in Taiwan for 18 years.
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