Cheng Li-wun hits ground in Changhua

With fewer than 50 days to go before election day, the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) has finally appointed a director-general of the campaign headquarters for Changhua County commissioner candidate Wei Ping-cheng (魏平政). KMT Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) on Oct. 12 announced that she would be taking on the role.

The KMT’s incumbent Changhua County Commissioner Wang Hui-mei (王惠美) has enjoyed strong support in the county, but has distanced herself from Cheng’s handpicked successor candidate, Wei. The party had originally hoped that Wang herself would chair Wei’s campaign, but to no avail. The waiting dragged on so long that it became hard to watch, and Changhua voters have long grown weary of Wei. Wang is ostensibly worried about being scapegoated if the KMT were to lose the race.

After Wang’s refusals and Cheng’s announcement that she would lead the campaign, pan-blue newspapers jumped on Wang for being a turncoat and for biting the hand that feeds. One editorial resorted to old-fashioned emotional blackmail, emphasizing how Wang had been nurtured by the KMT throughout her 30-year political career from councilor to township chief, legislator and county commissioner, but now, because of a nomination dispute over her successor, she is willing to let power fall into the opposition’s hands rather than work with Cheng. It denounced Wang’s “unprecedentedly hardline stance.” With such impassioned criticism, the editorial made the KMT resemble a scorned lover: If it could not have Wang for itself, it must destroy her.

Since becoming KMT chairwoman, Cheng’s parachuting of Wei into the Changhua race has been one of the few major nominations she has directed. With Wei’s campaign showing unmistakable signs of weakness and his chances of winning appearing slim, Cheng is the obvious first target for blame. Plenty of eyes are watching to see her stumble. Remaining tied to Wei might be more of a political liability than an asset, but allowing the standoff to continue would expose the party to ridicule. With few alternatives, Cheng chose to wade in personally to clean up the mess.

It is notable that her role as party chairwoman has become increasingly marginal to this year’s election campaigns.

Candidates in other administrative regions have repeatedly asked her to stay away; Changhua has become one of the few stages on which she can still appear. Her frequent visits only underscore how unwelcome she has become at the local level.

Cheng’s opening move was to assemble a group of former KMT technocrats to act as policy advisers to Wei’s campaign. Convenor for agricultural economics Lin Hsiang-nung (林享能), a former Council of Agriculture chairman, is a nonagenarian. Convener for transport George Chen (陳世圯), a former acting transport minister, is 88. Convenor for science, technology and economics Hsueh Hsiang-chuan (薛香川), a former secretary-general of the Executive Yuan, is a comparatively sprightly 81. All three held public offices two or three decades ago and have long since fallen out of step with rapidly changing policy developments; none are particularly familiar with Changhua. Cheng has brought the advisory team to lend Wei their support, but at best has achieved a half-day excursion for retired officials whose ability to rally voters remains negligible.

By taking over as director-general of Wei’s campaign headquarters, Cheng has further cemented the impression that a vote for Wei is a vote for herself. As for whether Cheng proves to be a burden or an asset at the ballot box, that is up to Changhua voters to decide.