100,000 Told KMT to Give Taiwan Back to the People

As I tore open the foil packet of Oreo Minis, I couldn’t help feeling a sense of déjà vu. Someone had handed them to me as I perched on one of the walls surrounding Chinan Presbyterian Church chatting with an older woman. She was telling me about her family, mostly KMT voters, and how she and her younger brother were the only ‘misfits’.

“Were you here ten years ago?” I asked.
“I was,” she replied. “I never thought we’d have to come back.”

Ten years ago, on another muggy night, I’d sat nearby, and someone had handed me a packet of puffed rice snacks and some green onion crackers. On both occasions, these small gifts served as my dinner.

It was a familiar refrain at the protests surrounding the Legislative Yuan. Speakers on stages referenced “ten years ago” — most had been there, a few said they’d been in elementary or junior high school. Some of them were regular protesters, not seasoned activists, who approached hastily set-up platforms. Some were trucks, some were merely circles of people around a microphone and speaker. Anyone could come up and speak their mind.

These had been a staple a decade ago, as well. People working together, sharing, organizing, speaking freely.

Earlier that day, I’d sat on Qingdao Road, the heart of the protests against the “contempt of the Legislature” bill that the KMT, as of writing this, is still trying to ram through the legislature without appropriate deliberation or voting. Soon, it began drizzling and volunteers passed out thin plastic ponchos.

An afternoon thunderstorm opened above us, and as we were being battered with rain I exchanged pitiful looks with the person next to me. The plastic couldn’t hold against this onslaught; we were soaked. And yet, very few people left.

“This is democracy,” she sighed.

The commitment, the adverse conditions — it all once again reminded me of the Sunflower Movement of 2014. As approximately 300 students and activists occupied the Legislative Yuan, camping out in the main chamber, throngs of people, myself included, took whatever time we could to sit down on roads surrounding the building.

The Sunflowers were protesting the “black box” politics of a controversial trade bill that would have hollowed out Taiwan’s economy, rendering it dependent on China. Certainly, the content of the bill, which had not been clarified to the public, extremely problematic. The method of voting on it, however, was quite possibly worse: forcing poorly-understood legislation through an extremely suspicious and unclear vote.

That, too, was a familiar story.

The current legislation aims to give legislators essentially unchecked and unlimited investigative powers. It would allow the legislature to subpoena anyone from the government or civil society for questioning, and charge them with “contempt of the Legislature” if they refuse to attend, or if lawmakers believe they are lying, concealing information, or stalling. Such contempt would be a criminal offense, punishable by jail time or a fine. If passed, these laws’ constitutionality would very possibly be challenged.

It is unclear whether a court would be able to throw out the legislature’s determination, whether those charged would be entitled to a lawyer if charged, or whether counter-questioning would qualify as “contempt”. There appear to be no limits on who can be questioned or what can be asked, potentially giving the legislature the power to drag in journalists whose coverage they don’t like, activists whose work they oppose, business leaders, or military officials with access to classified information. It is further unclear how much classified or protected information those subpoenas might be asked to give the legislature, or be found “in contempt” if they refuse to spill, say, business secrets or matters of national security.

In other words, this investigative power appears to be essentially unchecked, and nobody is exactly sure how unchecked.

The bill never made it through a line-by-line reading, and nobody is sure which of the many proposed versions is actually being voted on. It was cobbled together by KMT caucus Whip Fu Kuo-chi and former Sunflower leader turned KMT collaborator Huang Kuo-chang, who may be the most reviled person in Taiwan to the crowd outside the legislature.

The content has not, as in 2014, been made available to the public. The legislators themselves don’t seem to know the details. The KMT and TPP blocked the DPP from engaging in substantive discussion on the bill, dismissing their own proposed revisions before they could make it to committee.

As in 2014, the votes aren’t being carried out regularly. This time, Speaker Han Kuo-yu, the recalled mayor of Kaohsiung who lost his 2020 presidential bid in a landslide, is conducting votes by a ‘show of hands’ rather than the more typical method of registering names. Not only do we not know who is voting for what, but he keeps miscounting the totals. It is, basically, a mess.

Another passed clause in the bill compels the president to address the legislature annually before submitting to interpellation. Both this and the “contempt of the Legislature” clause are likely unconstitutional: the Legislative Yuan cannot compel the Executive branch to submit to them, and the government already has a body for official investigations — the Control Yuan. A constitutional interpretation clearly states that the legislature should only have investigative powers that are directly related to their own functioning, and they cannot supersede the Control Yuan as an investigative power.

Numbers have only grown, from three to five thousand, then to eight, then twelve. As I sit on Zhongshan Road across from NTU Hospital, unable to even approach my earlier vantage points, crowd estimates of 50,000, and then 80,000 were announced. Two days ago, protesters were careful not to overrun Zhongshan Road, ensuring a smooth flow of traffic. As I sit on a median writing this, only a narrow lane for vehicles remains.

Earlier today, I met a friend for the ‘lunch shift’ at the protests. She asked me to print a sign saying “This old lady was here ten years ago, why do I have to come back once more?” We all remember what it meant to fight for Taiwan’s democracy then, and we certainly have not forgotten.

As I’ve watched the protests evolve and grow, I see an evolving design language. At first, when the gatherings were somewhat spontaneous, people brought whatever they had: old protest t-shirts, flags from the marriage equality rallies, old banners from protests as far back as the Furious (火大) march, which took place before the Sunflowers. Live sunflowers and white lilies — a symbol of the White Lily democracy protests of the 1990s — made appearances, as well as “if the KMT doesn’t fall, Taiwan won’t be good” （國民黨不倒，台灣不會好 — it sounds better in Mandarin) headbands. Comparisons were drawn to the devolution of rights and freedoms in Hong Kong on stages and via re-used “Revolution of Our Times” flags.

Protest signs dashed off on home printers were stuffed into plastic covers. Many printed extras and passed them out. As the crowds started regularly hitting five digits, dedicated signs, t-shirts and banners began appearing, along with cardboard and LED-decorated signs. These protesters are young, mostly, and they are angry. They remind me of the Sunflowers. If this is Taiwan’s Gen Z, then the kids are going to be alright.

Through it all, I’ve reflected on where I fall on the line between writer and participant. I do write, but I’m doing it in a protest t-shirt while chanting along with the crowds. Journalists usually don’t engage in the actual protests they cover, even if they support the issue, but I’m not a journalist. I’m not even Taiwanese, but Taiwan has been my home for almost two decades. I can report on what I see, but I can’t do it without bias. So far, as a foreigner tapping away at a computer in a crowd of 80,000, being given water, snacks, signs and coffee, I feel nothing but welcome.

There is one question left, though: why did this have to become a protest? The bill is, in general terms, not entirely unacceptable, and might have passed without issue if the most egregious clauses had been amended or curtailed to clarify the scope of powers it gives the legislature. The DPP is not against legislative reform across the board. If the KMT and TPP had simply engaged in substantive discussion, allowing the DPP to propose amendments, this might have happened.

As it is, the worst clauses of the bill will likely the struck down by the Council of Grand Justices, and it will at least be fought on constitutionality by the DPP. Even if it passes, which seems likely,

It seems that the KMT and TPP wanted to court resistance — they wanted a fight. So soon after the inauguration of President Lai Ching-te, the DPP almost certainly did not.

But why? They must know that the DPP, of all the parties, seems most competent at galvanizing legions of protesters through grassroots action. The KMT hasn’t been able to do that since the Red Shirt Army protests of 2006, several administrations ago. Have they forgotten? Are they jealous? Did they not realize it could get this big? Did they think their coalition, barely a majority, had a mandate so strong that something like this wouldn’t be opposed? After eight years in the desert, have they forgotten what Taiwanese people are capable of?

As I wrap this up, the new crowd estimate has reached 100,000. The chants of “no discussion, not democracy: have gotten louder. The legislature is surrounded.

In 2014, protesters managed to shut down the problematic bill. It was simply never passed. While we may not achieve the same victory in 2024, we’ll at least show them that their mandate is not as strong as they think it is.

If the KMT has forgotten what Taiwanese people will do when they’re angry at their politicians, 100,000 people are showing them right now.

Don’t forget to clean up after every protest!

(All photos by Jenna Lynn Cody)