※ 引述《yabition0411 (最初的夢想)》之銘言：
: https://instagram.com/p/4E5cQqK6yU/
: TIME雜誌的instagram
: 不過蔡英文這樣感覺好兇
: 沒有什麼柔和感XDDDD
: 旁邊留言好多強國人崩潰
Tsai Ing-wen is making breakfast. The presidential candidate cracks five eggs
and lets them bubble with bacon in the pan. She stacks slices of thick, white
toast. It’s a recipe adapted from British chef Jamie Oliver, but the
ingredients, she can’t help but say, are pure Taiwan. The meat comes
courtesy of Happy Pig, a farm near her spare but tasteful Taipei apartment,
the bread from a neighborhood bakery. She offers me an orange. “Organic,”
she says, in English. “And local, of course.”
蔡英文正在做早餐。這位總統候選人打了五顆蛋，讓他們在平底鍋裡和培根攪和。她還堆
起一片片厚白的土司。這是來自英國廚師Jamie Oliver的食譜，但蔡英文忍不住說道，裡
面的食材可全是來自台灣。培根肉來自一個叫"快樂豬"的農場，離她在台北那間簡單卻有
品味的公寓不遠；麵包則是從附近的麵包店買來。她遞給我一顆柳橙：「有機的。」她用
英文說道，「當然也是在地的。」
This is not an average breakfast for the 58-year-old lawyer turned politician
running to become Taiwan’s next President- —most days she grabs a coffee
and books it to the car. But it is, in many ways, oh so Tsai. The
Taipei-raised, U.S.- and U.K.-educated former negotiator wrote her doctoral
thesis on international trade law. As a minister, party chair and
presidential candidate (she narrowly lost to two-term incumbent Ma Ying-jeou
in the 2012 race), Tsai gained a reputation for being wonky—the type who
likes to debate protectionism over early-morning sips of black coffee or
oolong tea.
對這位５８歲，自律師轉戰政壇並參選台灣下屆總統的她來說這頓早餐可不馬虎－她大多
拿杯咖啡就匆匆上車；但這可是十足蔡式風格。這位出身台北，在美國和英國受教育的前
談判員以國際貿易法作為她的博士論文主題。當過部會首長、黨主席和總統候選人（她在
２０１２的大選中以接近票數敗給現任第二任期的馬英九），她被視作是十分奇詭的，那
種喜歡大清早就一邊喝著黑咖啡或烏龍茶，一邊辯論著貿易保護的人。
Now, as the early front runner in Taiwan’s January 2016 presidential
election, her vision for the island is proudly, defiantly, Taiwan-centric.
Tsai says she would maintain the political status quo across the strait with
China—essentially, both Taipei and Beijing agreeing to disagree as to which
represents the one, true China, leaving the question of the island’s fate to
the future. But Tsai wants to put Taiwan’s economy, development and culture
first. While Ma and his government have pushed for new trade and tourism
pacts with Beijing—China accounts for some 40% of Taiwan’s exports—Tsai
aims to lessen the island’s dependence on the mainland by building global
ties and championing local brands. “Taiwan needs a new model,” she tells
TIME.
而此時此刻，作為在台灣2016年一月的總統選舉中，提早起跑的候選人，她對這塊島嶼的
願景是驕傲的、義無反顧的以台灣為中心。蔡英文說她會維持兩岸的政治現狀，而這十分
必要；台北和北京都不同意對方代表著真正的中國，並將有關這個島嶼命運的問題留給未
來。但蔡英文想要將台灣的經濟、發展和文化放在優先順位。當馬政府力推與北京簽署有
關貿易和旅遊業的新協定之際－而中國已佔台灣總出口的４０％，蔡英文所瞄準的方向則
是以建立台灣與全球的連結和型塑本土頂尖品牌來降低這座島嶼對中國大陸的依賴。「台
灣需要一個新的模式。」她如是告訴ＴＩＭＥＳ。
Whether voters share her vision is a question that matters beyond Taipei.
Taiwan is tiny, with a population of only 23 million, but its economy—
powered by electronics, agriculture and tourism—ranks about mid-20s in the
world by GDP size, with a GDP per capita about thrice that of China’s. Ceded
by China’s Qing dynasty to Japan after the 1894–95 First Sino-Japanese War,
colonized by Tokyo for half a century, then seized by Nationalist forces
fleeing the Communists at the end of the Chinese civil war, Taiwan has long
been a pawn in a regional great game. It is a linchpin for the U.S. in East
Asia alongside Japan, South Korea and the Philippines, and, most important, it
’s the only real democracy in the Chinese-speaking world. “This election
matters because it’s a window into democracy rooted in Chinese tradition,”
says Lung Ying-tai, an author and social commentator who recently stepped
down as Culture Minister. “Because of Taiwan, the world is able to envision
a different China.”
Taiwan’s politics irritate and befuddle Beijing. To the ruling Chinese
Communist Party (CCP), Taiwan is the province that got away, a living,
breathing, voting reminder of what could happen to China if the CCP loosens
its grip on its periphery, from Tibet to Xinjiang to Hong Kong. Beijing is
particularly wary of a change in government from Ma’s relatively
China-friendly Kuomintang (KMT) to Tsai’s firmly China-skeptic Democratic
Progressive Party (DPP). When Tsai ran for President in 2012, Beijing blasted
her, without actually naming her, as a “troublemaker” and “splittist”—
CCP-speak reserved for Dalai Lama–level foes. “A DPP government means
uncertainty for cross-strait ties,” says Lin Gang, a Taiwan specialist at
Shanghai Jiao Tong University’s School of International and Public Affairs.
To the U.S., which is bound by the Taiwan Relations Act to come to the island
’s aid if it’s attacked, Taiwan is a longtime friend and unofficial ally,
though the strength of that friendship is being tested by China’s rise.
Washington worries that Taiwan’s people, especially its youth, are growing
warier of China, and that any conflict between the two might draw in the U.S.
“What this election has done is crystallize the changes, the shift in -
public opinion,” says Shelley Rigger, a Taiwan scholar at Davidson College
in North Carolina and the author of Why Taiwan Matters. “I don’t think
cross-strait relations are going to be easy going forward, and that’s not
something U.S. policymakers want to hear.”
The KMT has yet to formally nominate a candidate for the top job, but the
favorite is Hung Hsiu-chu, the legislature’s female deputy speaker.
Nicknamed “little hot pepper” because of her diminutive stature and feisty
manner, Hung, 67, would be a contrast to the more professorial Tsai should
she get the KMT’s nod. “I don’t think [Tsai] is a strong opponent,” Hung
tells TIME. Yet the DPP’s choice, who has already started pressing the flesh
islandwide, is spirited too. “People have this vision of me as a
conservative person, but I’m actually quite adventurous,” she says. And
possessed of a sharp sense of humor—when I compliment her cooking, Tsai
looks at me with mock exasperation: “I have a Ph.D., you know.”
Tsai grew up in a home on Taipei’s Zhongshan Road North, a street named
after Taiwan’s symbolic father, Sun Yat-sen, the Chinese revolutionary who
helped overthrow the Qing and co-founded the KMT. Her own father, an auto
mechanic turned property developer, was of the Confucian kind: he encouraged
her to study hard but also expected her, as the youngest daughter, to devote
herself to his care. “I was not considered a kid that would be successful in
my career,” says Tsai.
After attending university in Taiwan, she studied law at Cornell in New York
because, she says, it seemed the place for a young woman who “wanted to have
a revolutionary life.” From there she went to the London School of
Economics, where she earned her Ph.D., also in law, in less than three years.
“That pleased my father,” she says. When he called her home, she obliged,
returning to Taiwan to teach and, in 1994, to enter government in a series of
high-profile but mostly policy