A Fresh Look at the Same Old Judicial Cliché in the Lai Su-ju Case

Lai Su-ju was found guilty of corruption, with the court of first instance sentencing her to ten years in prison on the grounds that she abused her official powers of "interpellation and review" in the council to shield the Twin Towers project and accepted a NT$1 million bribe. In fact, it is entirely natural and righteous for elected representatives to use interpellation and review to freeze budgets and demand cooperation from administrative agencies. The difference lies in whether one acts purely for the public interest, which is admirable; secondly, balancing public interest with the interests of financial backers; or at the lowest level, sacrificing public interest for private gain. Of course, if money is accepted without a direct quid pro quo, yet allows financial backers or oneself to gain power and profit, the public feels intensely resentful yet helpless, and can only blame themselves for electing the wrong person. However, even if an elected representative accepts money, does it necessarily constitute a crime?

From Chen Shui-bian and Lin I-shih to Lai Su-ju, these are all the same old judicial clichés. They find themselves in an awkward position because they indeed "took the money." Whether this constitutes corruption remains highly controversial. What is common amidst the differences is that they all argued this was "political donations" rather than "bribes" under corruption charges.

The Anti-Corruption Act is Both Hollow and Unbalanced

Indeed, many people in Taiwan expect politicians to be completely untainted and unable to accept any funds whatsoever. This is an idealized imagination of "sage rulers" who "find joy even in a single bowl of rice and a single ladle of water." However, until the rules of the electoral game change, entering politics inevitably burns money. Rather than merely trying to block politicians from taking money, it is better to channel, dredge, guide, and direct them. The former approach aligns more with the thinking of the Anti-Corruption Act, while the latter aligns with the Political Donations Act.

Discerning critics have long criticized the Anti-Corruption Act as thoroughly flawed, viewing it as a typical product of the traditional mindset of "using severe punishments in troubled times." With an imbalance between the severity of crimes and punishments, the legal elements lack clarity. The consequence of vague and loose statutory requirements combined with harsh penalties is that courts are prone to excessive leeway when interpreting and applying the law, ultimately harming both others and themselves.

The "substantial influence doctrine (expansive interpretation)" from the Chen Shui-bian case continues to reverberate painfully in judicial practice. The "statutory duties doctrine (restrictive interpretation)" from the first-instance judgment of the Lin I-shih case has only intensified the tug-of-war. In particular, the Supreme Court's repeated failure to provide any reasoning while "shrinking away" from legal interpretations is the primary culprit behind the severe blow to judicial credibility.

Comparing the Lin I-shih case and the Lai Su-ju case makes the matter all the more intriguing. Lin I-shih engaged in "lobbying," but the court deemed that this "did not count" as his "job." Lai Su-ju used "interpellation and budget-freezing" to provide cover, which indeed constituted an elected representative's "job." Lin I-shih merely "bluffed and intimidated" rather than committed corruption, and thus received a lenient sentence. Lai Su-ju, on the other hand, received a heavy sentence.

Politicians Are Hypocritical and Harm Themselves

However, from the perspective of the public's legal sentiment, using lobbying or interpellation as a means does not seem to be the main point. The crucial factor is that they "accepted money to get things done," and the public cares little about whether this "counts as" their job. In fact, this legal sentiment is quite genuine—one need only look at the Political Donations Act to find similar underlying notions. Yet, its provisions are as meticulous as cow hairs, leaving those genuinely wishing to abide by the law completely at a loss, while truly effective penalties are entirely absent.

For instance, donating political donations and then soliciting or promising improper benefits (Article 9) is only punishable by a fine of "twice the political donation," with zero criminal penalties (Article 27, Paragraph 1). This means that if Lai Su-ju took NT$1 million, she would face no consequences simply by returning NT$2 million. Ah-Bian [Chen Shui-bian] could similarly avoid prison time by returning his "NT$1.4 billion from the ends of the earth."

Even more absurdly, taking money from contractors with government procurement contracts is illegal (Article 7, Paragraph 1, Subparagraph 2), or exceeding the limit on donations (Article 17); yet, as if fearing that a double fine would be too harsh, the law even stipulates that it "shall not exceed NT$1 million." Is this not a joke? The provisions of the Political Donations Act are airtight, yet its penalties are utterly weak and impotent. Coupled with the difficulties of proactive investigation, it is hardly surprising that the public can only pin their hopes on the Anti-Corruption Act to "uphold justice."

In fact, the Control Yuan has limited manpower, and since Control Members are now nominated by the President, their decisions are also easily susceptible to political interference. Foreign legislative examples often require politicians to proactively disclose the sources of their donations to reduce the consumption of investigative manpower, and use this to determine whether a bribery relationship exists (those with a clear conscience will report it). Politicians who fail to proactively disclose information either face criminal penalties directly or are subject to unfavorable inferences.

The fact that politicians in our country have chipped away at the "sunshine laws" governing political donations is obviously driven by ill intentions and a desire to evade oversight. By evading oversight, one must gamble with their own luck. Once caught within the hollow and harsh Anti-Corruption Act, it is tantamount to placing one's life in the hands of prosecutors and judges, leaving oneself at their mercy with no one else to blame.

Perhaps some politicians believe they have the ability to manipulate the judiciary. However, this is ultimately nothing more than a war extending politics into the judicial realm. While there may indeed be incompetent judiciaries that remain perpetually controlled, politics rarely produces figures who stay in power forever. No one can guarantee they will not be subjected to political purges and struggles; a stable and fair judiciary is the ultimate safeguard for everyone, and is something discerning politicians would do well to ponder deeply.

The Judiciary Does More Harm Than Good When It Fails to Speak Out

If this is indeed the case, the judiciary suffers the heaviest blow. Whether politicians directly intervene and manipulate or indirectly leak statements and launch attacks, both actions destroy public trust in the judiciary. However, the judiciary must also strive to improve itself. Aside from the Supreme Court providing reasoned arguments, stabilizing legal interpretations, and refraining from unhelpful interference, judicial administration—under the premise of respecting independent adjudication by presiding judges—must also offer maximum assistance and clarification.

Taking the Lai Su-ju case as an example, major societal cases of this nature inevitably attract commentary and public discussion from the media and various factions. Issuing a press statement to explain is merely a baseline duty; a mere 1,500 words cannot explain much. It is our sincere recommendation that the full judgment should be published simultaneously upon sentencing.

The meaning of "judges do not speak" refers to the fact that all judicial convictions and reasoning have already been articulated within the judgment text—meaning that "everything that needs to be said has been said"—rather than being tight-fisted with words. Allowing reporters to speculate blindly and television pundits to spout nonsense, only to issue clarifications later and accuse everyone of reckless chatter and defamation, is simply too late. It is difficult to convince the public that this is a genuine effort to uphold judicial dignity.

Furthermore, the judiciary should act openly and transparently, avoiding intentionally or unintentionally releasing judgments right before journalist deadlines, which compresses the time reporters have to process their copy. Every important judgment is also a vital lesson in civic legal education for the entire public. One should not cling to an arrogant mindset, habitually refusing oversight, or lacking the magnanimity to withstand various critiques. Otherwise, the judiciary is not far removed from politicians who lack accountability and evade sunshine laws.

What we anticipate even more is that the courts should view the outcomes of every major judgment more proactively, directly responding to the social impact they generate. Through judicial rulings, we can guide our nation's system and legal framework toward a better state.