Every night starting at 8:00, cable television viewers, grazing among 50 or 60 channels on offer, view or flick by such shows as "2100: The People Speak," "Long Live Elections," "Crossfire of Extremes," "The True Face of 1995," "Speak Your Mind," "An Appointment with the President," "Democracy's Front Line," and "Logically Speaking." The names may vary, but the shows differ little in character. All are talk shows, some of whose names label them immediately as those of a political stripe. Most of them leave time for viewers to participate directly by calling in.

On any given show, the principal actors are the host and his guests: politicans with clear stands and the occasional scholar, bureaucrat or business leader. Their appearance turns the TV set into "a daily window on politics in Taiwan," as one scholar has put it.

These talk shows have even drawn the notice of CNN. In April of this year, the American cable network sent reporters to interview DPP legislator Shen Fu-hsiung and sociologist Ting Ting-yu, co-hosts of "Crossfire of Extremes." The show was supposed to represent the new diversity of opinion in Taiwan.

Cable stations have been described as "the monster that ate programming." As talk shows proliferate on every channel, whose needs are being met, the stations' or the public's?

Lowest-cost programming

If one program can represent diversity of opinion, then more than ten programs of the same kind should show even more amply how much our society has opened up. But with talk shows proliferating on so many channels, even members of their production teams can't help admitting, "There's nothing fresh about them any more."

In that case, why are producers still swarming like hornets to do the same kind of program? There are two main reasons: First, this kind of show doesn't present any technical difficulties, simply requiring good guests. And second, costs are low. Once the backdrop in the studio is set up, there aren't any new costs. There's no need for post-production editing. Some shows don't even pay their guests' taxi fare, for there are always attention seekers who regard it as a personal honor to be on television.

But these assets are also the shows' biggest liabilities. Copying call-in radio talk shows (especially those on underground radio), they have forced a radio format onto the television screen, completely wasting the screen's ability to transmit images. The camera simply shifts from face to face among the host and his guests. It's repetitive and boring.

When election time rolls around, the shows bloom in greater abundance, as channels feel the pressure to attract viewers. One operator went so far as buying fiber optic cables and microwave transmission vans so that the caller's image would appear on screen. He called the result a "show-in."

Do calling in and "showing in" make talk shows more worthwhile? It's hard to say. People who are concerned about this question wonder about the effects of the information passed along on these shows.

"Just what kind of 'diversity' is this?" asks Chang Mao-kuei, an associate researcher at the Academia Sinica. "Ought we not reflect on these shows, and ask 'who is making them,' 'how are they made,' 'why are they made' and 'what kind of viewpoints are they constantly repeating?'"

The semblance of balance

"People" and "topics" are the essentials for any talk show. The guests are often those who either won't get invited or will refuse invitations to similar shows on the over-the-air television stations. This is one reason they attract the audience's attention. And the topics are increasingly controversial and inflammatory, a trend that draws criticism.

Antonio Chiang, publisher of The Journalist, says that the public debate shows were at first somewhat interesting, but now all the topics are debated by representatives of the three parties, and the discussion has become overly politicized. "Politicians' stands are very clear. If on television a politician said anything that disagreed with his party's positions, he'd catch flack for it later."

"In this kind of forum one rarely hears voices outside the three parties," Chiang Mei-kuei notes. "Yet if everyone gets too used to the set number three, then these shows will cease to convey the diversity in society."

Observers don't like this trend, and even some members of the three parties invited aren't happy with this "semblance of balance."

Newspapers say that Chien Han-sheng, director of the KMT's Department of Cultural Affairs, believes that call-in shows always work to the disadvantage of the KMT, because in comparison to enthusiastic participants from the opposition parties, KMT supporters tend to stay on the sidelines, giving the impression that virtually no one supports the KMT positions.

The department once got in touch with producers to suggest that not all topics be so political. Take the reunification vs. independence debate. If a caller isn't fervently pro-independence, then he's fervently pro-reunification. Rarely does one hear a voice from the middle. This seems to suggest that many people in Taiwan support independence, which is far from the case.

To reverse their fortunes on these shows, the KMT's media strategy, determined by the party's central committee, is to encourage party members and supporters to call in more often.

"The People Speak" on TVBS is at the vanguard of talk shows. It premiered in August of last year in the run-up to the hotly fought mayoral and gubernatorial elections, and proved immediately popular. Host Li Tao recalls that even the elderly men and women he came across would talk of nothing but the elections.

Recently, "The People Speak" has startled people once again. First, the show left the studio, taking a tour around the island. The topic for discussion was, "What kind of president do the people of Taiwan need?" When mainland China was test-launching missiles in the sea not far from Taiwan, staff from the show flew to Kinmen and asked people there to talk about how best to protect Taiwan. On October 8, ROC National Day, they went on line to New York and talked with overseas Chinese for three hours about the future of Taiwan.

Tsai Shih-ping, an assistant editorial writer for the United Evening News, says that a topic like "What kind of president do the people of Taiwan need?" is harmless in and of itself. Yet he notes that the station as usual invited representatives from the three parties, who got emotionally riled up by the audience in an outdoor plaza. The result was that the show got "overwhelmed by the emotionalism of the reunification-independence debate, issues of provincial origin, and inter-factional disputes," Tsai says. "It was obvious that the panelists weren't going to agree upon anything."

"If you want to discuss the future of Taiwan-- even if you went on-line around the world for 300 hours--you'd never come to any collective conclusions," noted The Journalist.

Host Li Tao says that for too long opportunities for cultural leadership have been confined to the cities. Going outside them was meant to give the people a chance to participate.

Framing discussions around conflicting extremes only makes for growing confusion. "You can't expect any talk show to clarify an issue in one program," Li Tao says. Independence vs. reunification needs long-term discussion. What the talk shows do is just make everyone sit up and take notice. Of course, the guests do more speech-making than discussing, but at least they share something: the belief that Taiwan comes first.

Remember that before the repeal of martial law, discussions of independence vs. reunification were avoided like the plague. Now supporters of diametrically opposed positions can at least sit on the same podium. This in itself represents progress.

Fighting for guests

Because "The People Speak" was the first call-in talk show on television and has high ratings, other shows view it as their biggest rival.

"All the shows face the problem of not being able to find guests," says Wen Tsung-tao, who produces "The True Face of 1995," "Please Speak Your Mind," and "An Appointment with the President" for three different channels. Everyone wants well known people, and so the same faces keep popping up. A list of frequent guests would include the DPP's Shen Fu-hsiung and Yan Chin-fu, the New Party's Ju Gau-jeng and Li Ching-hua, and the KMT's Wei Yung, Ting Shou-chung and Cheng Chien-jen.

"The People Speak" and "The True Face of 1995" have twice fought over guests. Legislator Ju Gau-jeng once said he would attend one show and then changed his mind. The producer of the show that Ju stood up didn't learn about it until he went home at night and turned on his television. Another time the same thing happened over Cheng Lang-ping, the writer of T-Day, 1995, a book outlining a scenario for a PRC military invasion of Taiwan.

Ever since the government decided to license new stations, all taboos have been lifted, and no topic is off limits. There's no need to spend too much energy on producing a show. If you're taping a show at night, just open today's newspaper and "go with the hot story"-- the most controversial and sensational one.

One day, shows on at least three different channels were discussing invitations to ROC National Day printed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' office in Atlanta, which said "The Republic of China on Taiwan" instead of just "The Republic of China." Once a topic involves the name of the country, all hell is sure to break lose. "There's going to be a lot of noise and no meeting of minds."

"Is the entrance exam for the doctoral program in management at Taiwan University fair?" The stir this topic caused was no doubt partly due to the ambiguous nature of the relationship between the hubbub's leading figure Lu An-ni, who said the department unfairly rejected her, and her Masters' thesis adviser Wang Wen-hsiang, son of Taiwan Plastics founder Wang Jung-ching. Lu was invited to show after show, but didn't seem to make the audiences any clearer about the matter.

Copying creatively

Not all experts can explain a complicated topic clearly in front of the television camera. And many more topics are simply unsuitable for discussion on a talk show," says social critic Yang Chao. Take, for instance, such topics as "Which candidates do you support?" or "Which party will win?" Topics like these, for which opinions break down along basic party lines, don't suit call-in talk shows, "because they invite people to repeat the same old rhetoric."

What news topics with short shelf lives need most is detailed information. Hence, for the "Lu An-ni incident," the focus shouldn't have been on whom the audience believed, but rather on professional in-depth reporting to let people understand the news background and the bigger issues involved. "Otherwise, with members of the public asking questions, they'll begin to feel that journalists aren't necessary," Yang says. "It will distort the definition of news."

Yang, who hosts a cable talk show himself, does his best to stay away from the day's hot news, and he asks guests first to spend some time explaining relatively difficult concepts, such as "How does international law view the problem of sovereignty over the islands in the South China Sea." Yet he has discovered that the audience still asks simple-minded questions and that once the discussion goes to any depth few people call. But he thinks it is worth paying this price.

Dealing with controversy

Cable television is "the monster that ate programming," Yang says. He believes that the public doesn't need so many repetitive and uncreative programs. "They more suit the stations' needs than the public's."

With the elections approaching--presidential no less--and all the controversy over the long-term future of Taiwan, the issue of independence vs. reunification is sure to constantly resurface.

CSTV's General Manager Wang Chih-lung says that independence and reunification will definitely be talked about in the run-up to the elections, but he observes that the issue this time won't be as hot as before, "because all three parties are stressing stability."

Wen Tsung-tao also believes that there is already too much discussion about independence vs. reunification, and that whenever the topic comes up things immediately become very polarized. One side says that Taiwanese independence is already a reality, and the other says that Taiwanese independence threatens the safety of 20 million people. "They can't get outside of these two boxes." Hence, he too hopes to avoid this issue.

"The partisans in the independence vs. reunification war appear to want to continue their fight, but in reality there is little room left for debate," Yang says. There's no new meaning in rehashing the same old arguments.

One can say that sensitive, controversial, and polarizing issues don't suit discussion with a simple vocabulary, shallow logic and limited time, but one shouldn't stop discussing such issues altogether. Tsai Shih-ping believes that it is precisely when topics are controversial that "it is most important to talk about things calmly and rationally according to the rules of the game, and not to let politicians turn things into a political show."

If everyone is talking, does this represent diversity? Can it be that talk shows are like the stage, where the performers bow before leaving the drama and its world behind? Perhaps the talk shows could talk about this.

[Picture Caption]

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Talk shows have become favorite gabbing grounds for legislators and county councilors. They love the exposure and can ramble on to their hearts' content.

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Cable stations have been described as "the monster that ate programming." As talk shows proliferate on every channel, whose needs are being met, the stations' or the public's?