A look back on the week that saw Taiwan established as a bastion of contemporary democracy prompts the reflection that hindsight is a wonderful invention. Predicting who will become great and good illustrates the point. Vatican-watchers, for example, are forever on the lookout for the pope's successor. Certain qualities are recognized as giving a man an advantage, but the task of naming the next pontiff invariably reduces itself to asking one subtle question of a given cardinal: Is he papabile? Does he have that ineffably rare mix of traits, skills, flair, and faults, that mark a man out as fit for the job?
But hindsight, of course, makes every pope papabile, just as elections make presidents, well, presidential. So what ought we to make of Chen Shui-bian, the new president of the Republic of China on Taiwan? Is he papabile? Or, in local Mandarin parlance, does he possess zong tong ming, the fate of one born to be president? Does he have what it takes to run things without falling foul of the electorate on the one hand, the legislature on the other, and China anywhere and everywhere he turns?
At different times, Lien Chan (KMT), Chen Shui-bian (DPP), and James Soong (Independent) all seemed to have zong tong ming. Lien Chan was the John Major of the KMT: honest, diligent, but inseparably associated with the Old Regime, not realizing that his party was perceived as irredeemably "sixties" and incapable of reforming itself. He was seen as too patrician, too fond of his golf, and too pro-unification with mainland China. Taiwan's demography also militated against him. Young people are moving from the backwoods to the cities, where they quickly pick up anti-KMT sympathies. The countryside KMT vote, in contrast, is shrinking rapidly as rural Taiwan grays before its time.
Then there was the campaign. In the days before the election, the KMT ran a series of TV ads showing PRC submarines ominously cruising the deep while the soundtrack warned of nuclear war if "the wrong candidate" won. That, coupled with PRC Premier Zhu Rongji's threats, reminiscent of a father barking at his children not to stay out late and about as effective, proved too much. In the words of one foreign observer of the KMT's desperate last throw, "they lied and they lost."
Nevertheless, Lien Chan was bound to win. Why? Because the KMT always did. Opinion polls consistently underlined the point: people, when asked who they meant to vote for, would say Soong or Chen. But when asked who they thought would win the election they said Lien.
James Soong, although a former member of Lien Chan's political party, was a very different fish. He would have been at home campaigning in eighteenth-century England as bluff, "Honest James" Soong, the People's Friend. He is said to carry the names of 20,000 individuals in his head and has a reputation for getting results. But he was viewed as the mainlanders' darling. He was also remembered as a hard-line KMT enforcer. And there was another reason why he might have felt at home in the rotten boroughs of yesteryear: During the campaign, he had trouble accounting for several million US dollars' worth of KMT money, much of which had found its way into bank accounts in the names of Soong's relatives, some of whom lived abroad.
But he was definitely going to win. Why? Because he was the ultimate "people person." He may have met you only once and briefly, but if he ran into you again he would remember that occasion and ask after your mother by name. Then he would go to the broken bridge, bark a few orders, and get things moving. Plus he was going to reform the island's politics, getting rid of the gangsters and the corruption. He was uniquely placed to do that, because he more than anyone knew where the bodies were buried.
Then there was Chen Shui-bian. He spelled danger, writ large. He was known to favor independence for Taiwan, a stance that might lead the region into war. But he was always fated to win. Why?
During his campaign, he had a lot of good things to say about improving the culture and providing more jobs. He also convinced most people that he was the only candidate who was serious about cleansing Taiwan of its gangster elements and bribery culture. But in any Taiwanese presidential election, there is really only one issue: the cross-strait thing. The politicians' attempt to define the ROC's position on cross-strait affairs has been in train now for so many years that it resembles nothing more than a tired old piece of dough, too soggy to be reworked one more time and baked into good fresh bread. But ordinary people in Taiwan long ago took a look at linking up with China and decided they didn't want to go there. Not now. Not ever. And because Chen Shui-bian was the only candidate attuned to that, he was bound to win.
Why was each of these men certain to come out on top, right up to the evening of March 18? There are several answers. On a basic level, too much attention was paid to out-of-date and flawed opinion polls. Then demography played a part: any contest between those who considered themselves native-born Taiwanese on the one hand and "mainlanders" on the other was bound to be close. But a more intriguing solution is that these three candidates enshrined the qualities that contemporary Taiwanese felt they needed. Lien: the link with the past, the solid if stolid administrator who could be relied upon to keep relations with China on an even keel. Soong: the people's friend who got things done. And Chen, who could be trusted to keep China at arm's length while cleansing the Augean stables. In other words, Taiwan wanted a president of all the talents. The electorate, however, was forced to settle for one name.
It follows that Chen Shui-bian would do well to bear two things in mind. If Soong had not split the KMT vote, victory could easily have gone to Lien Chan. And more than half of those who voted chose a candidate other than the one most associated in the public mind with Taiwan independence--himself. The president-elect, forced to work with a legislature that is still, on paper at least, dominated by the gravely weakened KMT, may find that it takes all his efforts to live up to the electorate's sky-high expectations over the next four years.