Chang Chih-chun Arrives in Taiwan: Breaking the Ice or Breaking Down Doors?

There is an English proverb: "An Englishman’s home is his castle." It is a metaphor meaning that "a home is like a castle and serves as a person's sanctuary." Of course, one cannot be constrained by the literal meaning: it is not just for Englishmen (what about other people?), nor does it belong exclusively to men (what about women?). Therefore, a punchline is often added as a joke: "A man’s home is his castle, until the queen arrives."

Applying this joke to yesterday (the 25th) before Taiwan Affairs Office Director Chang Chih-chun landed, national security, police, and hotel personnel jointly broke into the rooms of civic groups staying at the Novotel hotel, casually spouting off some "legal" reasons to demand their departure—a scene of "royalty arriving, all commoners keep away." "Queen arrives" is truly an apt satire, except that it is utterly impossible to laugh at.

Taiwanese Edition of "Lao Ma T'ihua"

Where is the "queen" who forces a "man" to surrender his castle? Chang Chih-chun is certainly one, which is why netizens, seeing the massive array of police deployment—including serpentinized wire and human walls—all remarked that he is an "envoy from the Celestial Empire." Of course, if this were in mainland China, the "security detail level" provided by public security and armed police for officials might well be just like this. Even a single unpleasant word, if it reached their ears, would be considered a dereliction of duty, let alone a face-to-face protest.

Thus, we cannot help but ask: who on earth gave this "green light" to lower Taiwan's law enforcement standards to match those of China? Who allowed national security, police, and intelligence agencies to be arbitrarily jerked around by a single whip from the state? Recently, Chin Pu-tsung's "inspections" of various agencies drew criticism for "violating the Constitution and overstepping authority." The National Security Bureau went all out to cover for him, emphasizing in a press statement: "Cross-strait interactions are frequently deepening, and potential national security risks exist... existing operational capacities urgently need to be reviewed, integrated, and strengthened." Viewed now, this is quite thought-provoking.

In September 2009, Ai Weiwei released the documentary "Lao Ma T'ihua." The nearly 80-minute film used a hidden camera to record the pushing, dragging, pulling, and twisting by local police in Sichuan who were determined "not to fail the mission entrusted by superiors." Mouthfuls of "laws" and "regulations" were invoked, yet it was nothing more than a shameless farce. When the Sichuan police acted to the brink of collapse and reached the limits of what they could rationally justify to themselves, a sense of the absurd naturally arose.

"Lao Ma T'ihua" (Braised Trotters) involves simmering pork knuckles over a slow fire; it is an authentic Sichuan dish. With this 80-minute video, Ai Weiwei slow-simmered and squeezed out the ugly posturing of the Sichuan police trying to "account to their superiors." Driven to desperation by Ai Weiwei and others, the police blurted out that there were "superiors." What remained unsaid was whether the pressure came directly from above or if they were putting pressure on themselves. This is precisely why public opinion heavily criticized Chin Pu-tsung; the point is not necessarily what instructions he gave during his "inspection," but rather the atmosphere he "shadow-directed," effectively making police, intelligence, and national security personnel feel the pressure coming from "above."

Breaking More Than Just Doors

And so, on the internet, we saw the video of the Novotel hotel, strangely blended through a montage with the scene from Ai Weiwei's "Lao Ma T'ihua" where the police break down a door. Any script we once thought would never play out in Taiwan suddenly felt much closer than we could have ever imagined. Such a "door-breaking" broke more than just the hotel door; it also smashed through the spiritual doors that the Taiwanese people uphold for freedom, democracy, and the rule of law.

"Freedom of residence and of change of residence" is a fundamental right, explicitly set forth in Article 10 of the Constitution. It is not afforded any less protection simply because the resident is not the owner. This is precisely why landlords and hotel operators cannot casually enter or arbitrarily kick us out during the period when the rights-holder is lawfully entitled to use the premises. Casual entry may constitute the offense of intrusion into a residence, while arbitrary eviction at least raises issues of the offense of compulsion.

Analyzing the matter strictly according to the law, the imperial edict brandished by the police and the hotel is the "Hotel Management Rules," which holds a very low legal rank—it is merely an administrative order from the Ministry of Transportation and Communications. Even more ridiculously, the authorization basis is the "Tourism Development Act," whose legislative purpose is to "develop the tourism industry." No matter how one thinks about it, it cannot possibly serve as a basis for restricting the fundamental rights of the people. (As an aside, another stated purpose of the Act is to "promote Chinese culture." I wonder if that somehow counts as relevant?)

Even assuming the "Hotel Management Rules" can serve as a valid "imperial edict," Article 27, Paragraph 5, regarding "lodging without registration," only legally empowers authorities to "request" police agencies to take "necessary" actions. It does not mean they can "break down doors and drive people out." Moreover, it is hard to believe the hotel would treat other guests in the exact same manner.

Stripped of pretension, this is merely reminiscent of the methods, tactics, expressions, and rhetoric of the Sichuan police in Ai Weiwei's footage. The Ma administration has once again unhesitatingly proven to our citizens that the Kuomintang and the Chinese Communist Party can be twin brothers. Echoing the wave after wave of civic movements in Hong Kong following its "return to the motherland," and the Chinese Communist Party's increasingly aggressive posture, this single breach has torn a massive opening in the hearts and minds of the Taiwanese people.