On June 25, Texas State Senator Wendy Davis held an 11-hour filibuster that successfully delayed the passage of a new abortion regulation in the state. In order to block the bill that would close most of the abortion clinics in Texas and ban abortion for women over 20 weeks pregnant, she needed to keep talking on the rostrum until midnight when the legislature session ended. She was not allowed to drink, eat or have a toilet break. She could not sit or lean on anything or anyone. She had to stay on the rostrum and on topic if she wanted to keep the floor.
Her herculean endeavor not only blocked the bill but also transformed Davis from a little-known local politician into a national star among the Democratic Party. Her marathon speech went viral online and was featured in news bulletins worldwide. U.S. President Barack Obama mentioned her in a tweet even as she was holding the filibuster, saying in the microblog: “Something special is happening in Austin tonight.”
The tactic of speaking a bill to death (or at least to a delayed arrival) has been used since the late Roman Republic, with notable examples being two cases of the practice against proposals made or sponsored by none other than Julius Caesar. In the modern U.S. Senate, filibuster is used by lawmakers to forestall the passage of bills that enjoy majority support and can therefore not be defeated by vote.
At around the same time, Taiwanese politicians were also making international news with their brand of filibuster, one that involved physical clashes rather than speech. Ahead of a scheduled discussion of a referendum over the fate of the Fourth Nuclear Power Plant on June 25, an all-out brawl erupted among lawmakers of the ruling Kuomintang (KMT) and the opposition Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). It reportedly started with DPP lawmakers launching an attack to wrest control of the rostrum from their KMT counterparts. These elected officials pulled, shoved, bit, throttled, as well as doused water and coffee on each other right inside the heart of Taiwanese democracy. A KMT lawmaker was hit by friendly fire (or rather friendly water thrown by her colleague) while a DPP legislator complained of being groped in the scuffle.
While rules around a filibuster are strict in the Texas Senate ― no water, no food, no restroom break, no sitting, no leaning and nothing off-topic ― filibusters are much more relaxed in Taiwan. Lawmakers are not only allowed to sit, they can even sleep inside the Legislative Yuan. Last year, opposition legislators slept for four nights in sleeping bags to keep the rostrum and the Legislative Yuan President seat off-limits from the ruling party. Eating is also allowed, provided it is the bill one is ingesting (that happened in June 2007). All that is missing, apparently, are words.
Some call filibusters a waste of time and a disruption of the democratic progress. When abused, it can indeed lead to prolonged political deadlock. The procedure, however, is a valuable safeguard against the tyranny of the majority, provided it comes with stringent requirements. As Davis’ case has shown, to speak for 11 hours without rest on the same topic requires determination and deep understanding of the issue at hand. Even if one does not agree with her opinion, one cannot help but admire her undertaking and the system that allows her to do it.
Taiwanese filibustering, on the other hand, is nothing more than a laughing stock and an embarrassment to the nation, especially when it is an open secret that these “fights” are just for show. The lawmakers who are at each other’s throats on screen are probably sharing a drink afterwards. Taiwanese filibusters constitute pure denial of access and refusal of communication. To throw a fight inside the Legislative Yuan is not democracy at work; it is just lawmakers’ lazy attempt to catch the limelight.
(The China Post (Taiwan))
(Asia News Network)
