The Road to Press Freedom: Looking at Taiwan's Fourth Estate

The International Press Institute (IPI), an organization which promotes freedom of the press, will hold its 48th annual meeting in Taiwan from May 17-19. Just in time, the ROC's 70-year-old Publishing Law has been revoked, giving the media in Taiwan two reasons to celebrate.

What road has Taiwan traveled from the 40-year period of martial law to today's era of booming press freedom? And what is the biggest threat to press freedom today?

Even after the lifting of martial law, for a time advocacy of Taiwan independence was forbidden. Cheng Nan-jung, a publisher who fought for both freedom of the press and Taiwan independence, immolated himself to avoid being arrested. His death was tragic but sped up the era of reforms. The upper photo shows Cheng during a street protest. （courtesy of the Cheng Nan-jung Foundation）

In its 1999 review of press freedom around the world, the IPI praises the revocation of Taiwan's Publication Law as a major milestone for press freedom here. The law, the abolition of which was supported by the Government Information Office, had been in place since 1930, and was one of the remnants of martial law. The review also cites Freedom House as placing Taiwan in the top category of nations for press freedom, enjoying one of the freest presses in Asia. A different era

The road to the top has been a bumpy one, and many journalists lost their freedom along the way; many others lost their youth, the period of their greatest creativity and productivity. Did the government's high-pressure, even violent, repression of the media create social stability? Or did it just slow the arrival of democracy?

"That was a different era entirely," says Wang Pi-cheng, current chairman of the United Daily News. Wang, who studied in the West for many years, and who says that there is only a single universal standard of press freedom, recalls that when the ROC government first moved to Taiwan, it was facing a life-or-death crisis. Putting the regime's survival first, it set aside notions of balance and press oversight inherent in democratic politics and argued that the media had to serve the state in order to ensure stability and the public interest.

Wang recalls an incident that would today be laughable, but was then serious business. Having just begun to work at the newspaper, he was working late one night when a call came in from "the authorities." Someone said: "Hold the presses, we have important news!" Wang wondered what vital news his paper might have missed, but it turned out to be: "We have information that the great-grandfather, or maybe great-great-grandfather, of a certain candidate in the Chiayi elections once committed a crime-stealing a chicken. Now your paper can make the most of this!"

The United Daily News, which often led other papers in resisting the more egregious aspects of press controls, is now at the center of the political spectrum. Current chairman Wang Pi-cheng （opposite page）, who took over from his father, and president Chang Tsuo-chin （above） both say that their paper represents the majority of the public in advocating maintenance of the status quo in relations with mainland China.

Taiwan Garrison Command in charge

Who were the real "authorities" over the media in those days? Antonio Chiang, one of the best-known fighters for journalistic freedom in Taiwan, whose journal The Eighties was confiscated more than 80 times in the 1980s (before the lifting of martial law), says, "The KMT Department of Cultural Affairs blamed the Taiwan Garrison Command [of the Ministry of Defense], but the TGC blamed the DCA!"

Po Yang, who was imprisoned for nearly ten years for "alienating the people from the government," says that in early days "the authorities" meant the KMT's Fourth Department, and later meant the TGC. Describing the TGC mindset, he recalls one time in the 1950s when he attended, as a representative of the China Youth Corps (CYC), a meeting to decide whether to allow a Taiwanese singer long resident in Japan, who had visited Taiwan only four months previously at the invitation of the CYC, to make a privately sponsored tour of Taiwan. Civil ministries had no objection, but the TGC rep at the meeting declared: "At this critical time, the government does not permit dangerous singers to come back!" Later, after criticizing government policy, Po was personally investigated and arrested by the Bureau of Investigation, but-as indicated by the fact that his family was told to bring a change of clothes for him to the TGC-the TGC was obviously behind his prosecution.

The media, by nature, reports on and should oversee the government. But after its defeat in mainland China, the KMT placed much of the blame on the media, for "spreading evil communist propaganda." In Taiwan, it increased the pressure on the media. It limited publishing licenses, limited the number of pages of newspapers, and arbitrarily applied punishments such as suspending publication. More importantly, the KMT's media office directly intervened to tell newspapers how, and to what extent, certain stories should be reported.

Old newspaper hands remember those days well. Chen Kuo-hsiang is now editor-in-chief at the China Times, but formerly was editor-in-chief at the Independence Evening Post, the most-frequently punished newspaper in the martial law era. Editor of a book covering four decades of the paper's history, he recalls that the IEP was suspended for such trivial matters as running an article that, according to the KMT's Fourth Department, "used inappropriate language and ridiculed the nation's leader" by saying that Chiang "considers himself the nation's savior."

Chang Tsuo-chin.

The occasional victory

Even after the ROC government consolidated its control over Taiwan, it imposed tighter restrictions on the media. But even then the media were not totally cowed. In 1954 the Ministry of the Interior issued an administrative order governing publications. Its nine articles covered such things as "deliberately slandering the leader," and "spreading preposterous or ill-intentioned stories." It was so sweeping that the media fought back, criticizing it in editorials. United Daily News chairman Wang Ti-wu organized all non-state-run papers into an association to ask the government to rescind the directive; the Executive Yuan eventually agreed to recall the edict.

In 1958, when there was heightened tension in the Taiwan Strait, the government further tightened media control. It amended the Publication Law so that executive agencies could suspend papers or rescind their licenses without judicial process. The UDN wrote editorials against the amended law, and the head of the IEP published a front page declaration of his withdrawal from the KMT (to which he had belonged since the May Fourth Movement in 1919) and declared that his paper would adhere to an "independent, non-party line." The government still passed the revised Publication Law, but tried to appease the media by saying the revisions would not be enforced.

But even as this tiger was being kept from biting, another was being let loose. The Taiwan Garrison Command was established in 1958, assuming complete control over martial law, police functions, entry to and exit from Taiwan, media and cultural censorship, postal spying, and military trials (which could also be used in civilian cases). It was only responsible to the highest military authorities, and in particular to Chiang Ching-kuo, then vice secretary-general of the National Security Council.

Snuffed sparks

It was in this restrictive atmosphere that the fearless Free China Fortnightly sharpened its critical edge. It published provocative articles like "On the Illusion of Retaking the Mainland" and "Could Chiang Kai-shek Have Made a Mistaken Decision?" It opposed a third term for President Chiang, and its leaders began to plan the formation of an opposition party. Finally, the journal was closed and its publisher, Lei Chen, was sent to prison for "harboring Communist spies" and "disseminating illegal speech." Only the UDN and the Kung Lun Pao, run by the Taiwanese democratic activist Li Wan-ju, dared print cautiously worded support for Lei, but even then they suffered a boycott from the military. The space for press freedom was further narrowed.

Over the next decade, the mass media in Taiwan saw a few more sparks of light, but each was snuffed out, and each time the light grew weaker. In 1965 Wen Hsing magazine was banned, and in 1968 Po Yang was imprisoned. In 1970, two leftist overseas Chinese newspaper publishers living and writing in the Philippines were extradited to Taiwan and sentenced to three years of re-education. Despite Wang Ti-wu's efforts to win support for the two men and also win understanding from the IPI, the ROC's membership in the IPI was suspended until 1975, after an IPI official visited Taiwan to look further into the situation of the two publishers.

In the 1970s, dissident writer Li Ao, long watched by the security services, was finally arrested. The political atmosphere grew increasingly tense as the PRC stepped up its international pressure on the ROC. Richard Nixon went to China, the PRC replaced the ROC in the UN, and Tokyo broke off diplomatic relations with Taipei.

In 1975 Chiang Kai-shek died, and Chiang Ching-kuo became the most powerful figure in Taiwan. The economy took off (per capita income passed US$5,000), much infrastructure was built, and there was much talk of reform. Chiang Ching-kuo began to draw more Taiwanese into the government, and grass-roots pressure for reform grew. Don't cover this story

In 1977, independent candidate Hsu Hsin-liang defeated the KMT's nominee for Taoyuan County executive by a huge margin. There was also a riot in the city of Chungli, in Taoyuan County, to protest alleged cheating by the KMT candidate. Newspapers were initially told not to cover these events, but as rumors spread through society, several days later the UDN ran a large eyewitness story. Fortunately, since the eyewitness report was less critical of the authorities than the rumors, the government actually saw the advantage of allowing the media to report the story. This was a step forward for press freedom. But it was not all plain sailing thereafter. In 1978, the legislative elections were canceled after the US announced it would switch diplomatic ties to the PRC. Many in the opposition camp (represented by the newly published magazine Formosa) favored working for change through street demonstrations, as opposed to the traditionally safer line of "reform through the system." On December 10, 1979, the Kaohsiung riot occurred, and most of Formosa's leaders were imprisoned. Democratization and the multi-party system were thus postponed.

In the mid-1980s, Chiang Ching-kuo, his health failing, opted to initiate a process of liberalization. The first opposition party, the Democratic Progressive Party, was established on September 20, 1986. Martial law was lifted in July 1987, and travel to mainland China was permitted from November the same year. Restrictions on the founding of new newspapers were lifted on January 1, 1988. Chiang died twelve days later. Flood of freedom

The trickle of reforms turned into a flood of democratization. Full elections were finally held for the legislature, and later for executive officials, culminating in direct election of the president. Meanwhile, new laws governing the broadcast and cable media have led to an explosion in the amount and diversity of information. With the elimination of the Publication Law this year, the last symbol of the old system of media control is gone.

Current GIO director Cheng Chien-jen was instrumental in promoting the decision to scrap this law. Though the law had in fact rarely been implemented for many years, it still hung like a shadow over the industry.

Ironically, however, in today's hotly competitive and commercialized media environment, the media's anything-goes tactics to get scoops, attention to gossip and scandal, and sensationalism have led to public outrage and calls for more government controls. After half a century of efforts by journalists to win freedom, will we go back to square one? After the Pai Hsiao-yen kidnapping and murder, the media began to discuss ways to exercise more self-control in its reporting. For a while many legislators were mooting bills to control the media. Will popular disgust with the media undermine freedom?

What other threats are faced by the media in Taiwan? Many journalists think that Article 310 of the Constitution, governing slander, should be stricken. In a recent meeting hosted by the China Times, its president Huang Chao-sung noted that the number of slander cases has been rising since the lifting of martial law. Because the law is very vague, judges can reach radically different judgments.

UDN president Chang Tsuo-chin favors eliminating criminal penalties for slander, preferring instead to deter it by large civil compensation payments, which might be more effective in protecting people's privacy and reputations.

Needed: Freedom of information

While legal restrictions rankle, the commercialization of the press is even more depressing to many journalists. Ho Rong-hsing, first president of the Taiwan Journalists' Association, raises a good example. Recently there have been a series of disputes between consumers and beauty centers, but newspapers, fearing a loss of advertising revenue, refuse to name the centers involved. Another problem, says Chang Tsuo-chin, is that while political controls are largely gone, reporters still face "carrot-and-stick" incentives. Most disturbingly, the huge number of media outlets creates a crowding out effect, or else each outlet becomes the cheerleader for a given political figure, so that "free speech" becomes meaningless.

Is press freedom really an illusion? Ho Rong-hsing says the real problem is that today's press freedom is superficial, because politicians can ignore the media "like a train being chased by a dog." Restrictions on access to information keep reporters from getting all the information they need from the government. Journalists must work for freedom of access to information to give more substance to their reports and truly fulfill the role of the "Fourth Estate."

There are also calls for internal democratization in the media and the use of "editorial room contracts" to shield reporters from undue influence by the owners of their outlets. When city councilor Chen Cheng-chung bought the Independence Post papers in 1994, many in the media, in support of their colleagues, began urging the establishment of editorial room contracts. Though advocates were unable to muster enough power to achieve this goal, many reporters still have this ideal in their hearts.

Journalistic doyen Antonio Chiang sighs that it is too painful to recall the past. Yet, today, we can say happily that most journalists look forward to the future with hope. Isn't the establishment by Chiang of a new English newspaper evidence of that very hopefulness?