The Parallel of Two Leadership Elections

Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) is once again facing a leadership race, while Taiwan’s Kuomintang (KMT) is holding its own chairmanship election. Both are century-old parties that have defined the trajectory of their respective political systems, yet they now stand at very different crossroads. The LDP, despite remaining in power, has seen its approval ratings plummet and failed to secure a single-party majority in the most recent parliamentary elections. By contrast, the KMT is out of power but commands a majority in Taiwan’s legislature and has pulled off two consecutive victories in high-profile recall campaigns. The juxtaposition is striking: one ruling party struggles to retain legitimacy, while the other, though in opposition, shows signs of revival.

The LDP’s Crisis of Leadership vs. the KMT’s Path to Revival

For Japan, the LDP presidential election has always been more than an internal reshuffle—it is often a referendum on the party’s ability to govern. Since its founding in 1955, the LDP has embodied Japan’s “one-party dominance.” Yet today it is haunted by structural challenges: an aging population, stagnant growth, and intensifying security threats. Internally, the re-emergence of factional politics has turned leadership races into exercises in balancing rival bosses rather than genuine contests of vision. The party’s failure to secure a parliamentary majority without its coalition partner Komeito (公明党), a smaller centrist party with roots in the Soka Gakkai religious movement, combined with historically low approval ratings, underscores its precarious position. The LDP’s leadership contest is therefore not just about personalities; it is about whether the party can still claim to be the unchallenged steward of Japan’s future.

The KMT, by contrast, confronts a very different dilemma. It is not the ruling party, but it holds a majority in the legislature. Its challenge is not how to defend power, but how to win it back. Put differently, the LDP’s race is a defensive struggle to hold on, while the KMT’s is an aspirational test of whether it can return. This contrast—between a dominant party fighting to preserve legitimacy and an opposition party trying to reassert relevance—frames the significance of both contests in ways that Japanese readers can immediately relate to.

Candidates and Generational Gaps in the KMT

The KMT chairmanship race has attracted six candidates: former legislator Cheng Li-wun, current legislator Lo Chih-chiang, former Changhua County magistrate Cho Po-yuan, former Taipei mayor Hau Lung-bin, former National Assembly member Tsai Chih-hung, and Sun Yat-sen School president Chang Ya-chung. Only Cheng and Lo can realistically be considered “middle-generation” contenders. The others are all veteran politicians whose careers stretch back to an earlier era. This lineup reveals the KMT’s enduring generational divide. Unlike the LDP, which despite its factionalism has institutionalized leadership turnover, the KMT has struggled to cultivate younger talent. Its chairmanship ballot therefore looks more like a roster of the past than a map to the future.

The Seven Challenges Facing the KMT

Before delving into details, it is useful to distinguish between two layers of challenges. The first five reflect themes widely noted by media coverage and voter concerns—issues that dominate headlines and public debate. The final two, however, highlight deeper structural problems that are less discussed but, in my view, will be decisive for whether the KMT can truly reinvent itself.

1. The Challenge of Generational Succession

The KMT is often described as a “party of elders.” Its decision-making remains dominated by senior figures, leaving younger members stuck in peripheral roles such as media outreach or online mobilization. This structural imbalance makes the party unattractive to voters under forty. While calls for youth participation are loud, few mechanisms exist to translate them into real influence. Unless the new chair can institutionalize pathways for younger voices to rise, “generational change” will remain a slogan rather than a reality.

2. Reframing the 1992 Consensus

The “1992 Consensus” has long been the KMT’s touchstone for cross-Strait engagement. To older supporters it symbolizes dialogue and peace. But for younger and centrist voters, it has become a political liability, increasingly framed as code for “concession to Beijing.” Beijing itself has left little ambiguity, openly declaring that the 1992 Consensus means acceptance of the “One China” principle. This hardening stance makes it even more difficult for the KMT to sell the concept domestically.

Reclaiming agency over this narrative is therefore vital. Without reinterpreting the consensus in terms compatible with democracy and security, the KMT will continue to bleed support. The next chair must decide whether to update, abandon, or defend it—each choice carries significant costs.

3. The “Palanquin Bearer” Role for 2028

Looking ahead, many within the party see Taichung mayor Lu Shiow-yen as a potential KMT presidential candidate for 2028. If so, the new chair will act less as a leader and more as a “palanquin bearer,” tasked with uniting factions, minimizing infighting, and preparing the ground for her candidacy. The chairmanship thus becomes a role of coordination rather than personal ambition. Failure to manage this responsibility could easily replay the divisions of 2024, when disunity crippled the party’s presidential bid.

4. The Possibility and Perils of Blue-White Cooperation

Talk of cooperation between the KMT (blue) and the Taiwan People’s Party (white) is inevitable. Legislative arithmetic makes collaboration tempting, but deep distrust remains. The KMT worries about being constrained by a smaller partner; the TPP fears being swallowed by the larger party. Without shared values or long-term strategy, any alliance risks looking like opportunism. Yet if cooperation collapses, the two opposition blocs could simply split the vote, leaving the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) to reap the benefits. The chair will need to strike a delicate balance between pragmatism and principle.

5. Financial and Organizational Constraints

The freezing of KMT party assets has left the organization strapped for cash. Fundraising lags far behind the DPP, and grassroots vitality has suffered. Financial scarcity weakens policy innovation and limits investment in training younger politicians. The more the KMT depends on local factions and traditional patronage networks, the harder it becomes to present itself as a modern party capable of governing a 21st-century Taiwan. Any chair who cannot resolve this funding dilemma will struggle to sustain momentum beyond a single election cycle.

6. The “Authoritarian Shadow” in Party Culture

Beyond these familiar debates lies a more profound challenge seldom discussed in daily news: the persistence of an authoritarian legacy in the KMT’s organizational culture. Perhaps the most overlooked obstacle is the KMT’s organizational culture itself. Although Taiwan’s authoritarian era ended decades ago, remnants of that top-down decision-making model remain embedded in the party. Authority is concentrated in the hands of senior elites, while rank-and-file members have little say. Younger politicians who do enter the system often find themselves constrained by an entrenched hierarchy that reproduces itself generation after generation.

In contrast, the DPP—despite its factional struggles—has traditionally drawn vitality from civic groups, social movements, and youth activism. Yet here too cracks are showing. Recent scandals in once-solid green bastions such as Kaohsiung, involving allegations of collusion between local officials, factions, and illicit construction waste dumping, suggest that the DPP is not immune to the corrosive effects of entrenched patronage. Both parties, in their own ways, remain weighed down by legacies of hierarchy and factionalism.

For the KMT, this “authoritarian shadow” does more than stifle innovation; it cultivates a mindset of dependency and conformity, limiting the party’s ability to adapt. Even when the KMT puts forward new faces, the underlying structure remains unchanged. Unless this cultural inertia is addressed, leadership change risks becoming mere cosmetic surgery rather than genuine reform. More broadly, this suggests that Taiwan’s party politics as a whole—not just the KMT—requires structural renewal to remain credible in a changing society.

7. Ambiguity in International Positioning

Another underexplored weakness is the KMT’s international stance—an area often overlooked in media narratives but central to Taiwan’s strategic choices in the Indo-Pacific. As U.S.-China rivalry intensifies and Indo-Pacific strategies reshape the region, Taiwan’s global role is under unprecedented scrutiny. The DPP has anchored itself in a pro-U.S., anti-China narrative, while the TPP has positioned itself as pragmatically centrist. The KMT, meanwhile, continues to emphasize “peaceful cross-Strait relations” without offering a broader foreign policy framework.

This ambiguity carries three risks. Domestically, it alienates younger voters wary of China. Internationally, it erodes trust among partners such as Japan and the United States, who remain uncertain whether a KMT-led government would stand firm on security commitments. Regionally, it leaves Taiwan absent from broader Indo-Pacific conversations, where Southeast Asian states are actively shaping hedging strategies.

Without a compelling international vision, the KMT risks being confined to domestic debates over China policy, undermining its claim to govern in a complex global order. In contrast, while the DPP—despite its flaws—has articulated a clear narrative situating Taiwan within the Indo-Pacific, both the KMT’s vagueness and the TPP’s silence reveal a dangerous vacuum in opposition politics. In particular, without a clear vision for Taiwan-Japan relations, the KMT leaves one of its most critical partnerships clouded in uncertainty.

Conclusion: Can the KMT Rewrite Its Destiny?

The KMT’s chairmanship election is more than a contest for party leadership. It is a litmus test of whether the party can modernize its organization, renew its message, and reconnect with society. Media coverage often highlights familiar themes—generational gaps, the 1992 Consensus, Blue-White cooperation, or financial woes. But the deeper issues lie in the party’s authoritarian cultural residue and its international ambiguity.

If the new chair cannot break through these constraints, the KMT will likely remain stuck in a cycle of nostalgia and frustration. But if the party can confront its structural weaknesses, embrace genuine reform, and articulate a credible vision for Taiwan’s place in the world, it may yet turn revival into reality. For now, the KMT stands at a crossroads—between being an opposition party with a past, and a governing party with a future.