What has brought them all together? A special party for habitual TV emcees? An accounting of newer TV personalities? A wish list of celebrity guests for a charity party?
The correct answer is, "None of the above." Actually, all of them are not only very well-known to the public, but each and all have been simultaneously smitten by a lust for politics. Like iron filings unable to resist the attractive force of a magnet, they have been drawn to hard-core political candidacy. All have offered themselves to the ruling Kuomintang (KMT), seeking its nominations for the upcoming elections for members of the Legislative Yuan and the National Assembly.
Of course, when any democratic constitution worthy of the name bestows the right to openly participate in political elections, "well-known personages" are not to be excluded. However, there has been a rather obvious trend this year in the number of celebrities anxious to become political contestants.
For instance, three years ago in the Taipei electoral district, a total of 54 candidates sought the KMT nominations for eight legislative seats. And among the 54, perhaps only Chien Yu-hsin and Chao Ning could be seriously categorized among the really well-known.
Three years later, the total aspirants are down sharply—to 39—while the number of public figures among them has ballooned, including such newcomers to political circles as Hei Yu-lung, Han Ting-kuo, Chao Ning, Su Jui-ping, Fu Ta-jen, Chou Chuan, and Chao Shao-kang (who is still completing his first term as a Taipei City Councilman). And this listing does not even cover those already campaigning for reelection, such as Chi Cheng, Hung Wen-tung, Chien Yu-hsin, and Lin Yu-hsiang. A hot political season is indicated.
Since the United States blazed the way with movie-star-turned president Ronald Reagan and, recently, star-mayor Clint Eastwood, the movement of big-name figures into various political contests has been truly attention-grabbing.
The trend has been labeled "political inflation" by columnist Charles Krauthammer, writing in Time magazine. That is, too many well-known personages striving for limited political plums, like too much currency chasing after a set volume of goods (the formula for economic inflation).
Lu Ya-li, a political science professor at National Taiwan University, points out that the basic trigger for copycat "political inflation" here in the Republic of China is quite simple: Those with famous names feel the prospects are quite good.
In the past, considering the high costs of campaigning—reportedly, some NT$40 million (about US$1 million) was spent by one of the legislative candidates—inevitably, a main consideration in selecting the party's nominees was their own campaign finance capabilities and correlated local influence.
But since the recent runaway election successes of such celebrities as Chi Cheng, Chien Yu-hsin, and Chao Shao-kang, "it has been amply demonstrated that a good pre-existing candidate image counts not only in drawing votes, but in doing so at a relatively low cost," Lu points out.
Thus, the highly visible success-models encouraged others with (positively) well-known names to follow suit. Indeed, their shared copycat mentality is immediately evident in the way they talk: "If so-and-so could be elected to the Legislative Yuan, I don't see why I can't."
A case in point is that of Hei Yu-lung, vice president of Multitech Industrial Corp. and emcee of the TV documentary series, The New Weapons Systems. He says quite frankly that not until his name gained public recognition did he even consider the possibility of actively involving himself in politics.
"It all shows, also, that our political market is now far more open," maintains Hsiao Hsin-huang, of the Institute of Ethnology, Academia Sinica.
He notes that the common features of these new political celebrities include their youthfulness, non-identification with obvious local factions, and a general lack of potent financial backing. Indeed, they are merely typical middle class, and their rising interest in politics, to at least some degree, demonstrates that elections here are no longer the special domain of dug-in local politicians and financial cliques.
The ROC middle class, characterized by its penchant for moderate reform, is gaining in potency in contemporary politics. Hsiao predicts that its power will grow stronger and stronger.
"It (celebrity candidacies) can happen most easily in Taipei," City Councilman Chao Shao-kang holds. The Taipei City electorate is generally younger and better educated than in other areas—The age group from 20-29 is now 33 percent of the total metro population, and a startling 25 percent of that group has college or even higher education. Therefore, they have "more initiative and are more independent" and are not as easily influenced by partisan arguments, factional loyalties, or the flaunting of election money, he adds.
Chao's observations are confirmed by Yu Ying-lung, a researcher of the Graduate School of Political Science, National Taiwan University, in a master's thesis, Institutional Orientation and Voting Behavior; it draws on his surveys of statistical and other data from the 1980 national-level elections in the Taipei electoral district.
Yu identifies the three most important factors affecting the balloting within a single designation, "candidate orientation;" he goes on to specify them as assessments of personal political views, of candidate achievements, and of moral character. These considerations he found to be preponderant in 68 percent of all selections. "Political party orientation" (views on political party doctrine), ranked fourth and, contrary to expectation, were overriding in only nine percent of the cases.
In such a promising political environment, the aspirations of outside celebrities to enter politics may be likened to the situation of well-sowed seeds. In mild spring weather, they will gradually sprout, then break through the intervening soil. Only the variance in personal motives compelling the various individuals to make the breakthrough differentiate them from one another.
Generally, the people's actual image of their elected representatives focuses on the politicians' perceived desire for "fame and gain." But the celebrities who are now so enthusiastically political deny such motives; rather, they assess their own interest as springing solely from a love of "justice and principle."
Dr. Hung Wen-tung married a popular TV performer. Their wedding was a mass media event.
Fu Ta-jen, the well-known Taiwan Television Enterprise newsman, commented quite sincerely: "Fame, well we have already enjoyed it. Gain, I believe that is not our lot. I, for one, stand only for public service and sacrifice."
Surely, many starting points do arise from positive personal motives and an active concern for social problems.
Hei Yu-lung of Multitech notes he has always enjoyed active contact and communication with others. Political participation would not only enhance such contact, but enable him to serve actively as a "bridge between government and people," he advises.
"While I was playing basketball, I often thought of my situation after retiring from active sports," confessed 30-year-old "magic shooter" Hung Chun-cheng. He is following in the political footsteps of his elder brother, a Taipei City Councilman, but is headed for national political circles—a seat in the National Assembly. The physical development of Keelung, his hometown, was his deeply-felt original concern.
While we can deduce similarities in the motives of other celebrities for launching themselves in politics, two specific motivations are stressed over and over: a general dissatisfaction with their present level of influence and the concurrent desire to obtain more effective and direct public power; and, basing on their KMT affiliations, the feeling that they can spur the ruling party to greater activity and thus do more to maintain its preeminence relative to the opposition.
Some actually feel quite powerless in their present roles and believe they can significantly affect current problem situations only if they are elected to public office. The focal group here includes a vice chairman of the Commission of National Corporations, Wang Yu-yun; the outgoing director of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, Su Jui-ping; Taipei City Councilman Chao Shao-kang; and China Television Company newsman Chou Chuan.
Although Wang Yu-yun insists that he is taking part in the legislative elections solely as a matter of high personal interest, a restrained feeling of dissatisfaction is revealed in his comments: "You may go straight to the executive branch to inquire about what I can do." Wang feels that the Commission of National Corporations is an agency that permits him, at most, to use only 20 percent of his public-service capabilities.
Chao Shao-kang, though re-elected just last year with the largest plurality of all incumbents on the Taipei City Council, says he aspires now to elevate the general level of national participatory politics. Nor does he hesitate to run for the Legislative Yuan on the grounds that he has had his share of overseeing such "trivial" municipal administrative concerns as "streetlights and storm drains".
"Why do laws and regulations always lag behind the times?" questions Chou Chuan. She believes that, because of her outspoken ways, officials will not be able to pursue "business as usual" if she is elected.
Chou Chuan and Su Jui-ping both feel that the nation's laws and regulations are too often out of date or inadequate. For instance, they note that the government is spending great sums to construct new cultural centers, but that center staffs are limited to 21 to 44 persons. If they are elected to the Legislative Yuan, they pledge, they will step up the pace of modernization for the nation's laws and regulations.
Recently, aggressive activities by various oppositionists have aroused public attention, including that of the celebrities, of course.
Han Ting-kuo, vice-president of Quanta Foods, Ltd., has been in the business limelight.
Chao Ning, a graduate of the political science department of National Taiwan University, and now an associate professor in the department of social education of National Taiwan Normal University, pledges to be another voice within the ruling party on behalf of its presently more-open political mood. "The Kuomintang should consider our national emergency regulations. They make little room for opposition figures," Chao said.
Han Ting-kuo, former director of Thai-Chinese Refugee Services, which is sponsored by the Chinese Association for Human Rights, served in Thailand for three years. He was much affected by the suffering resulting from the war in Cambodia, and subsequently warned sharply that "politics should not be mere experimentation."
Now a vice president of Quanta Foods, Ltd., Han believes his personal experience in Thailand has especially fitted him to communicate with the public. And he believes that he can effectively restrain public sentiment in the face of demagogic tactics.
TTV newsman Fu Ta-jen, who has visited a number of Communist countries in the course of his coverage of international sports activities, takes a similar approach: "Everyone has some scars, but you do not cut off a head because of a scar."
A graduate of the department of social science of National Chung Hsing University, and now sports editor for the TTV news department, Fu Ta-jen pledges to "make every effort to enhance the public's well-being so that everyone can take the fullest pride in the Republic of China."
In the eyes of political hopefuls, it always seems that a legislative post is some immense "treasure box" that contains your heart's desire: It can furnish solutions for the problems of business and industry, defend the people against injustices, quickly establish cable-TV systems, authorize public kindergartens, and so forth.
"The present political phenomena are reflections of the fact that our society is inundated with pan-political preoccupations," observes Hsiao Hsin-huang of Academic Sinica. Hsiao noted that even in the recent local borough-chief elections, all the paraphernalia of major elections appeared—loudspeaker vehicles, rumor mongering, anonymous letters: "It all indicates that in our society, politics is regarded as the prime access route to problem solution, and that people also see politics as an open door to status or power."
Councilman Chao Shao-kang believes the over-emphases involved arise from an as yet insufficient pluralization of ROC society. Influence lines reaching out from the myriad private groups are not yet fully evolved, and too many situations bog down in the political system "so that everyone feels touchy about his own problems," he said. This imbalance in the general power structure is among possible reasons for the attraction of celebrities to politics, he maintains.
Chen Chun-mu, a staff member of the United Daily News, submits another possibility: the egoistic mentalities of public figures, including himself.
"When I worked a loudspeaker vehicle, I really felt I was different from everybody else," confessed Chen, who campaigned for city council last year; he admits to feeling both overwhelmed and smug when greeted by applause—a feeling that is no stranger to the other celebrities now eyeing political office.
Hei Yu-lung sees potency in TV; he believes that young voters will surely cast their ballots for him, because this age group constitutes the bulk of the audience for his TV documentary show on the new weapons technology.
Chao Ning and Han Ting-kuo also stress a solid foundation in public recognition, because they each present an average of 300 lectures a year. Chao says he has received more than 10,000 letters from the public over the years. "I have established a wide public friendship," he maintains, "because I have personally responded to most of the letters."
TTV's Fu Ta-jen declares, in full confidence, that if he is nominated, he can assure the backing of at least 3,000 additional Taipei voters who usually don't bother to participate in elections.
Fu cites his emcee spots with such major TV presentations as A Biography of President Chiang Kai-shek, top variety shows, and international sports events—a panorama of interests touching all walks of life. Those who have viewed these programs will certainly support him, he says.
Is there really an equal-sign between "I like so-and-so" and "I will vote for so-and-so for the Legislative Yuan?" Some experts reply in the affirmative.
Lu Ya-li of National Taiwan University points out that, basically in democratic politics, all men are considered to be reasonable and born equal. But, he adds, the nature and influence of the modern media makes the electors themselves "unreasonable," once they are offered "heroic or star-type" candidates.
For instance, he underlines, when the U.S. Democratic Party did a survey of its mebers, last February, on their choices for an ideal presidential candidate, they put Lee Iaccoca, generally famous in the U.S. for several reasons, including a best-selling autobiography and TV appearances, in third place—and Iaccoca is a Republican.
Hsiao Hsin-huang of Academia Sinica describes the ROC electorate as still in a phase of "behavior participation"—listening to candidate's political views as a basis for their votes; as opposed to a state of "perception participation"—a more basic assessment of the candidate and his political views. Accordingly, he says, "image" is now more politically important than "substance."
Two hundred years ago, democratic ideals transfigured the world; people bled and sacrificed on behalf of those ideals.
These days, for the purpose of coverage by the mass media, every democratic political figure's very costumes, expressions, gestures, and comments are carefully pre-designed. Today's democratic style is one in which image clearly takes priority in ways, perhaps, that would have been unimaginable to democracy's historical martyrs.
(The original article, in Chinese, appeared in Commonwealth Magazine.)