Lee Loves Chen?

He'

s past his 78th birthday, and his ailing heart has more shunts than a railway switchyard, so former Taiwan President Lee Teng-hui might be expected to slow down in retirement. But instead of tending his stamp collection while listening to his favorite opera, Gounod's Faust, Lee is preparing his own final aria. And it should be quite a number: Lee appears to be breaking with the Kuomintang (KMT), the party he ruled for 12 years, and, as an encore, this month he will help to launch a rival political faction.

Lee may be doddering a bit, but he certainly suffers from no lack of vanity, and the old patriarch still has plenty of clout. During his decade-long presidency, Lee earned the admiration of the Taiwanese for standing up to Beijing and ushering in democratic reforms that broke the grasp on power held by an aging group of mainland Chinese anticommunist exiles. What baffles most Taiwanese is: Why is Lee risking his faulty ticker and his elder statesman reputation on a last-gasp comeback?

It's a combination of revenge and a profound sense of mission. As an old man's final testament, Lee wants to make things right for his loyalists—and punish those who defied him. According to his aides, Lee feels betrayed that his anointed successors in the KMT are discarding his tough approach to Beijing. Also, Lee considers President Chen Shui-bian, 50, to be a protégé, even though Chen belongs to the erstwhile opposition and now ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Both Chen and Lee are native Taiwanese (traditionally the political Elite was dominated by mainlanders) and, most importantly, they share a common vow: never to bargain away Taiwan's independence to China.

Right now, the President can certainly use Lee's help. Chen's ruling DPP is blocked at every turn in the legislature by the KMT, still seething over the end of its 50-year reign. With a majority in the 225-seat legislature, the KMT has thwarted Chen's agenda and has virtually frozen his government. Elections are coming up in December, and Lee is wagering that a new, middle-of-the-road party could steal away the KMT's majority and give Chen a freer hand in reviving Taiwan's listless economy.

But Lee's return has its perils. Political analysts say that Lee's legacy could be a Taiwan bitterly divided—mainlander from Taiwanese, and pro-independence supporters from those who seek eventual reunification with China. Says National Taiwan University political scientist Chu Yun-han: "We're witnessing a real polarization." Older generations still recall the White Terror, which lasted from 1947 until the late 1960s, in which thousands of Taiwanese natives were killed, arrested or hounded into exile by the imperious mainlanders, who make up barely 15% of the population. Until the 1970s, it was still uncommon for mainlanders and Taiwanese to marry, and choice government jobs went to the former. Even today, schools teach mainly Mandarin, not Taiwanese, and students are more familiar with the history and geography of China than of their own island state.

That polarization was apparent from the minute Lee's flight landed at Taipei airport last Tuesday after a 10-day private trip to the United States. Because so few countries recognize Taiwan, Presidents and ex-Presidents don't travel much, so when they do, their return home is accompanied by great fanfare. This time, though, the KMT's chairman Lien Chan was absent, while thousands of pro-independence supporters, many waving banners from Chen's party, acclaimed Lee as their champion. It had all the makings of a political campaign rally, with the charismatic Lee flashing his gleaming, kilowatt smile and punching the air triumphantly. "Let's all give (Chen's) government another two years to do its best," he urged. Lee didn't seem to care that the KMT's octogenarian Old Guard were already calling for his expulsion from the party. Former KMT legislative speaker Liang Su-yung fumed: "He's betraying the party and adding to ethnic tensions."

Lee doesn't intend to sever ties with the KMT, not yet. Speaking to a Taiwanese crowd in Los Angeles, he vowed: "I will stick with the party until the day I die." Most likely, he'll wait for the party to dump him first, gaining voters' sympathy for his martyrdom. Says DPP legislator Shen Fu-hsiung, "For the KMT to get rid of him would be like giving spinach to Popeye." It's doubtful that Lee will take over the actual running of the new party, which still lacks a name and a roster of its future candidates. The leadership will probably be handled by Lee's confidant and right-hand man, ex-Interior Minister Huang Chu-wen. Lee will assume a more spiritual, Olympian role. "It would be diminishing Lee for us to claim him as our leader," explains Huang. "He is a man of national stature who transcends any particular political group."

This aloofness is also a useful strategy if Lee's plan backfires. On paper, it seems foolproof: the new party will aim for the middle ground between Chen's separatist stance and the KMT's call for eventual reunification with China, drawing away enough votes from the KMT in the December polls to obtain about 30 seats in the legislature. Tallied with the DPP's goal of 85 seats, that would be enough to rob the KMT of its majority. Lee's party would also aim for the blue-collar voters who see their jobs in textile and electronics factories threatened by the outpouring of Taiwanese capital to China where workers are plentiful and cheap. Taiwan's unemployment rose from 4% in April to 4.2% in May, according to government figures.

But plenty could go wrong. Many of the new party's candidates are likely to be disgruntled losers from the KMT and the DPP primaries, virtual nobodies. Also, Lee's men could end up stealing votes from the wrong place: Chen's DPP instead of the KMT. The new party will also draw Lee and Chen's two quarrelsome enemies closer together. In the past, both KMT leader Lien and James Soong, chairman of a KMT splinter group known as the People First Party, looked up to Lee as their mentor, but they have broken publicly with him. Soong, an ambitious former Governor of Taiwan province, was peeved that Lee selected the phlegmatic Lien as the KMT's candidate for the March 2000 presidential race. Now, Lien and Soong's dislike for Lee may force a reconciliation. The parties often vote as a bloc in the legislature, and they may coordinate their election strategies.

Lee's reemergence is also a mixed blessing for Chen personally. The patriarch treats the younger Chen like a son—that is, with affection tinged by condescension, say DPP insiders. "It can be a bit insulting, at times," confides one DPP official. Also, a pact with Lee is sure to rile Beijing, which hates Lee's pro-independence views. The China propaganda machine refers to Lee as a "splittist," the same insult reserved for that other arch-enemy, exiled Tibetan leader the Dalai Lama. Lee's return, says political scientist Chu, is "definitely a nightmare for Beijing." It could also be a nightmare for Chen; any new idea he proposes for improving ties with China is likely to be received suspiciously by Beijing, who will see it as Lee's handiwork.

Chen's maneuverability with Beijing may be hamstrung by Lee in other ways. Lately, the notion of a "confederation," a linkage between China and Taiwan as equal, sovereign states, has been gaining currency in Taiwan. This may be a solution to the impasse between China's demands for reunification and Taiwan's yearnings for total independence. To Lee, this could sound dangerous. The latest polls show that 70% of Taiwanese still oppose China's "one country, two systems" formula, but these attitudes are shifting slightly. The downturn at home has many Taiwanese asking themselves if their economy might rev up if it were hitched more closely to China's.

For the first time, a poll shows that only 52% of Taiwanese consider themselves better off than their fellow Chinese across the Strait. But Taiwanese wages go a lot further on the mainland. Already there are Taiwanese communities near Shanghai with Taiwanese karaoke bars, restaurants and cable TV bringing in 44 Taiwanese stations. Says Chu: "It comes down to values. What matters more: independence or economic prosperity?" With Lee's return to battle, those choices are now in sharper focus.