Opinion Piece: The 3/4 Shackles and the No-Confidence Trap—How the Presidential System Destroys Taiwan's Constitutional Order

Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an, riding high on the success of a recent food safety protest, has floated the idea of a no-confidence motion, sparking heated online debate. While online polls show as high as 86% emotional support for such a move, key figures like Legislative Yuan Speaker Han Kuo-yu and party leadership remain skeptical, with some KMT lawmakers privately calling it a 'short-term gain with long-term losses' that cannot be realized. This political storm precisely reflects Taiwan's current constitutional tragedy: although public anger is intense toward the arrogance of a minority government, society—and even some politicians—still harbor unrealistic fantasies about 'toppling the cabinet.' As many clear-headed netizens have pointed out: 'A no-confidence vote is useless. If Cho Jung-tai resigns today, tomorrow another presidentially appointed scapegoat will take over, and the ruling party will remain unchanged.' The reality is that a no-confidence vote cannot achieve a change in power; instead, it only forces opposition legislators to risk their seats and resources in a suicidal re-election. The false momentum generated by Chiang Wan-an’s proposal proves that Taiwan urgently needs to move beyond this blind obsession with cabinet toppling, deeply examine the institutional traps under the presidential system, and refocus the battlefield on the Legislative Yuan’s substantive oversight of budgets, legislation, and appointments.

From Hungary’s recent constitutional shifts to France’s cohabitation precedent, revisiting Taiwan’s semi-presidential system suggests that the real question is not whether to initiate a no-confidence vote, but whether the current system still aligns with democratic principles of accountability and checks and balances.

When 'Liberalism' Turns Authoritarian—Hungary’s Cautionary Mirror

For a long time, authoritarianism has been assumed to arrive in the guise of 'anti-liberalism' or 'strongman rule,' but Europe’s current political landscape is challenging this notion. As political scholar Rodrigo Ballester recently revealed, Hungary’s new Prime Minister Péter Magyar, after taking office in 2026, quickly launched a 'liberal autocracy' under the banner of 'justice, pro-Europeanism, and restoring the rule of law.' Magyar’s government, holding a two-thirds parliamentary supermajority, launched 'retroactive legislation'—tailored constitutional amendments to permanently disqualify the former prime minister and half of the opposition lawmakers from running for office. It forcibly ended the legal presidential term, dismissed constitutional court judges, cut off public media signals, and even used judicial forces to raid opposition party servers.

This case reminds us that democratic backsliding does not always come wrapped in nationalism or authoritarianism. Once a ruling power secures an overwhelming parliamentary majority and continuously alters institutional rules and reshapes the judiciary and executive, even under the banners of rule of law, democracy, and pro-Europeanism, it can establish a political order increasingly difficult for opposition forces to challenge. What truly warrants caution is not any particular ideology, but the moment any political force gains absolute power to rewrite the rules—democratic checks and balances begin to erode.

Hungary’s experience is worth reflecting on not for its left-right divide, but because it highlights a more fundamental issue: in a democracy, what ultimately determines power is not a no-confidence vote, but who holds the ability to change institutional rules.

Has the KMT forgotten how the DPP used its legislative majority to enact, pass, and interpret laws, using transitional justice as a pretext to slowly dismantle an unaware and passive KMT?

The Game Theory Trap of Taiwan’s No-Confidence Mechanism—The Institutional Absurdity of 'Legislators Lose Everything, President Gains All'

If Hungary’s case illustrates how ruling powers exploit 'majority thresholds' for institutional overreach, Taiwan’s post-1997 constitutional system presents another form of 'institutional temptation' and 'game imbalance.' Amid the current dilemma of a minority government and a legislature dominated by the opposition, there are frequent calls for the legislature to initiate a 'no-confidence motion' as a way out. However, a rigorous game-theoretic analysis reveals that Taiwan’s current mechanism of 'no-confidence motion triggering passive legislative dissolution' creates a severely unbalanced game where rights and obligations are skewed, and the opposition is destined to be the sole loser.

The Costs and Rewards After a No-Confidence Motion:

Ruling Party / President: Loses one 'presidentially appointed premier' (a replaceable scapegoat), but gains the opportunity to 'reshuffle the Legislative Yuan.' Even if they lose the next election, they can appoint a new party member, or the former premier can continue as acting head, further humiliating the legislature.

Opposition Legislators: Must self-fund millions in campaign expenses, face high risks of losing seats, and suffer extreme exhaustion of personal and grassroots resources. They gain nothing. DPP legislators who lose can become policy officials or appointed positions; where can opposition members go?

Remember, the president has absolutely no obligation to nominate the legislative majority leader to form a cabinet.

Thus, a no-confidence motion is a 'guaranteed losing bet,' rooted in two institutional absurdities:

First, the premier is essentially just the president’s 'bulletproof vest' and scapegoat. In true parliamentary systems (e.g., UK, Japan) or semi-presidential systems with cohabitation norms (e.g., France), the premier is the real executive core, and a no-confidence vote means 'change of government' and policy reset. But in Taiwan, the premier is appointed solely by the president without legislative approval, serving merely as the president’s policy executor and political firewall. When the opposition initiates a no-confidence vote, they only pierce this firewall; the real power holder—the president—remains unscathed.

Second, the presidential system creates a highly distorted 'imbalance of rights and obligations.' The current constitution does not require the president to appoint a premier from the legislative majority or someone with legislative confidence. This means that even if opposition legislators risk millions in campaign funds, high defeat risks, and extreme grassroots depletion to trigger a no-confidence motion and legislative dissolution—and even if they win a more dominant majority in the election—the president can still use constitutional privileges to appoint another loyal party member as premier. The result? 'Public opinion has spoken, but the executive remains indifferent.' The no-confidence mechanism becomes a political trap that punishes legislators while letting the executive pay no price.

In the Deadlock of Unamendable Constitution: What Real 'Leverage' Does the Opposition Have?

In other countries, 'legislative dissolution / no-confidence' functions as a healthy democratic mechanism because of corresponding incentives and constitutional conventions:

Parliamentary Systems (e.g., UK, Japan): After a no-confidence vote or dissolution, the leader of the winning majority party automatically becomes prime minister. For opposition legislators, this is a 'rational high-stakes gamble'—winning means taking direct control of executive power.

France’s Fifth Republic (semi-presidential): Though the president holds great power, France has a strong 'cohabitation' constitutional convention. When the legislature is controlled by the opposition, the president appoints the opposition leader as prime minister, handing over domestic affairs while focusing on foreign policy and defense.

Since the 'no-confidence' weapon is designed as a 'suicide bomb,' the opposition cannot follow the president’s expected path of 'no-confidence / legislative dissolution.' Instead, they must leverage the Legislative Yuan’s substantive control.

First, exercise 'full veto power' over budgets and legislation (Stalemate Strategy). While the opposition cannot seize executive power, they control the executive’s lifelines—money (budget bills) and law (policy legislation). If the president refuses to share power and insists on a minority cabinet, the legislative majority can use budget review as leverage, passing only essential government operations while blocking all new ruling party initiatives. This 'government paralysis' pressure directly rebounds on the president, forcing them to negotiate policy compromises or personnel concessions.

Second, fully boycott 'personnel confirmation powers.' Blocking appointments to independent bodies like the Grand Justices, Control Yuan, and Examination Yuan prevents the executive from using these institutions to suppress the legislature. If key appointments remain vacant or highly contested, the president’s ability to expand power through judicial and oversight systems is severely constrained.

Third, appeal to public opinion to force the president to establish a 'cohabitation convention.' The opposition should not blindly initiate no-confidence votes, but in every executive-legislative conflict, clearly argue: 'It’s not the legislature that seeks confrontation, but the president who refuses to respect the majority’s right to form a cabinet.' Only by turning 'the president’s disrespect for the legislative majority' into a political liability for the president can Taiwan, without constitutional reform, push toward its first 'coalition cabinet' or 'cohabitation convention.'

In short, under an unamendable constitutional structure, what the opposition can truly play is not the 'fantasy of regime change,' but a long-term war of attrition through 'paralysis and exposure'—using budget, personnel, and public pressure to convert institutional inequality into political costs the president must face.