Sitting in the cluttered office of his architectural practice in downtown Taipei, Lin Jou Min spoke in measured tones. He regularly took lengthy pauses, searching for the right expression to convey his thoughts. But when it came to his overall assessment of the events he was describing, Lin did not mince words.
“This is the worst of the worst urban planning projects to have ever happened in Taipei’s development history,” he told The Diplomat.
Lin was referring to the latest revelations in a corruption scandal that has engulfed Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) Chairman Ko Wen-je. Last week, Ko was detained and held incommunicado by investigators probing allegations that he profiteered by allowing property developers to exceed the legal limits for the floor area ratio (FAR) on a major real estate project, during his tenure as Taipei mayor, which ran from 2014 to 2022.
The FAR refers to the measurement of floor space in relation to the size of the parcel of land on which it is located. A higher ratio increases a property’s value.
The investigation is focused on the Core Pacific City shopping mall, with the building’s owners accused of bribing Taipei City officials to increase the FAR in order to gain illegal profits of up to NT$40 billion (US$1.23 billion), according to the estimates of Taipei City councilors from the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Also known as Living Mall, the complex had reportedly been losing money for some time when Core Pacific Group, which operated the premises, applied to have it dismantled and converted into commercial and luxury residential buildings. The building was demolished in 2019, with construction on the new project approved in October 2022, just two months before Ko left office. Bribes were allegedly paid to seal the deal just weeks after ground was broken at the site.
Ko was first arrested early in the morning on September 1, then released without bail on September 2 after the Taipei District Court ruled there was insufficient evidence to keep him detained. However, he was promptly rearrested on September 5 after the High Court ordered the District Court to review its decision, which resulted in a reversal. Ko has been in detention since.
Given Ko’s professed commitment to “housing justice” – a key concern among the younger demographic that has formed his core constituency – the accusations have been particularly damaging to his carefully cultivated image of probity.
But they come as no surprise to Lin, who served as Ko’s director of urban planning from 2014 to 2018, before resigning, in frustration over the then-mayor’s reneging on campaign pledges and concerns over his dubious decision-making.
“At the time, our department kept clear records of everything – meeting minutes, memos, and so on,” said Lin. “After we did anything – reviewing, approving, research – we all reported to Mayor Ko.”
Because of this – and the perception that Ko was throwing civil servants under the bus – Lin came forward last week to address Ko’s claims that he was unaware of the inflated FAR figures. This followed Lin’s appearance before the Agency Against Corruption (AAC) under the Ministry of Justice, where he answered questions regarding the FAR case.
Echoing comments he made to local media, Lin told The Diplomat that, regardless of Ko’s claims of ignorance over the illegal FAR increase, “every one of us has the right answer in their mind.”
He went further. “There’s no way Mayor Ko can convince me that he did not participate [in the decision-making process],” Lin declared. “That’s his job.”
Furthermore, Lin noted that he had expressed his concerns verbally to Ko and also submitted a signed memo flagging the issue.
Ko has denied any wrongdoing. Both Ko and the TPP – the political outfit he founded in 2019 – claim the case against him is a political witchhunt on the part of the DPP.
But representatives from anti-corruption watchdogs share Lin’s view that Ko must have been aware of the situation. “Many of those summoned [by the AAC] have said they warned Ko that this [the Core Pacific City mall’s FAR] exceeded the regulations and could be in violation of the law,” said Kevin Yeh, chair of the Taiwan chapter of Transparency International. “ And in a lot of cases, he signed his name on documents [that indicate he was aware of this].”
Yeh drew a distinction under Taiwanese law between the intention to favor a third party without any obvious benefit to oneself while carrying out public service (tuli) and the more serious charge of engaging in an act of bribery or corruption as a quid pro quo (huilu). By signing off on certain decisions, Ko may have left himself open to the former, lesser charge at least, said Yeh.
Prosecutors “will go for tuli when the evidence for the money trail and transfers is not so robust,” explained Yeh, who is also a professor in the Department of Public Policy and Management at Shih Hsin University in Taipei.
As of this writing, the question of Ko’s direct participation in the FAR case – not to mention other alleged violations, including the embezzlement of campaign funds – has yet to be resolved. In contrast, the evidence against some of his former staffers seems overwhelming.
As the former chief financial officer for the TPP, Lee Wen-tsung oversaw Ko’s campaign expenditures during his 2024 presidential election bid.
At a press conference last month, Lee ostensibly took responsibility for the “discrepancies” in the party’s declaration of donations and expenses, though a contracted accountant was ultimately saddled with the blame. Since then, much more substantive evidence of criminal wrongdoing has come to light.
Lin has been outspoken in his condemnation of his former colleague at the city government. In comments to Taiwan’s Chinese-language media last week, Lin accused Lee of attempting to falsify records of findings related to the Taipei Dome. Also known as the Farglory Dome, the 40,000-seat sports stadium was constructed under a build-operate-transfer (BOT) arrangement between the Farglory Group, a major property developer, and the city government. Construction on the complex was completed in 2023.
At several interdepartmental meetings in 2018, Lee served as Ko’s representative and announced that he was there to “supervise the whole process,” said Lin. In one meeting, toward the end of the year, Lee stunned officials from the city’s sports and legal affairs departments, among others, by demanding that meeting minutes be altered to create a more favorable impression of the building’s value.
It was “a non-secret,” said Lin, that Farglory “was always trying to sell” the operating rights for maximum profit.
Protocols from meetings of the urban design review team were among those Lee wanted “revised,” according to Lin. “He didn’t like the minutes and wanted me to change them,” Lin said. “I told him I’d never heard of such a thing.”
Lee’s main objection, said Lin, related to the Dome’s occupancy load – the number of people the stadium could accommodate based on available space. This figure was specified in an environmental review, but Lee wanted it raised. “To put it in plain language, the higher the load, the more income through ticket sales,” said Lin. “But my answer was very clear: My department’s responsibility is public safety, not Farglory’s financial success.”
Appalled by Lee’s attempts to fudge the figures, Lin reported the matter to the Taipei City Department of Government Ethics in early 2019. “It was unethical, unprofessional, unacceptable,” he said.
Aside from the obvious question of malfeasance, Lin also denounced Lee’s brazenness in acting outside his jurisdiction with an assumption of impunity: “What was his job description? He was one of Mayor Ko’s chief operators, carrying out his will.”
The issue of civil servants “overstepping” the mark by interfering in review processes, often based on vested interests, is pervasive in Taiwanese politics, Yeh of Transparency International argued. “Lee Wen-tsung obviously went too far. In his position, he cannot do this. He is only an aide and shouldn’t be making decisions on the mayor’s behalf.”
Aside from the sheer number of allegations, which are accumulating at a dizzying rate, Ko’s personality has made his downfall even more compelling. His background as a surgeon, dressed in white – his party’s chosen color – has been played up as a symbol of innocence and honesty. To see him hoisted by his own petard is poetic justice to those who have long been wary of his populist brand of politics.
Local media reports have suggested that he is hemorrhaging support, with even high-profile “little grasses” – the nickname for his young diehard fans – jumping ship. More than any other factor, growing evidence of misappropriated political contributions is thought to have influenced this.
TPP supporters wear “little grass” headbands during an election rally on Jan. 12, 2024. Photo via Wikimedia Commons/ Jason22.
“Without the donations scandal, there would have been many more of his supporters protesting outside the court [following Ko’s initial detainment],” said Rex How, a publisher and one-time culture adviser to former President Ma Ying-jeou of the Kuomintang (KMT). “It could’ve been 20,000 people; instead, it was about 200.”
After publishing an article detailing the risks of Ma’s China-friendly Cross-Strait Service Trade Agreement (CSSTA) in 2013, How resigned in protest at the underhand passage of the bill. He subsequently threw his weight behind the 2014 Sunflower Movement, which helped prevent implementation of the agreement. Ko was originally associated with the movement as well, but last year he effected a volte-face by calling for the CSSTA to be resuscitated.
Ever ahead of the curve, How drew attention to Ko’s untrustworthiness and lack of scruples in a chapter of his 2023 book “Taiwan Unbound,” which featured interviews with Ko’s staffers, some of whom have spoken out against him in recent weeks.
Presciently, How highlighted the FAR issue in his book, noting that Ko had reversed reforms introduced by his predecessor as mayor, Hau Lung-pin of the KMT. These amendments were designed to end the practice of developers donating land to the city government in exchange for an increased FAR.
Ko also backtracked on his promise to reverse the “five major corruption cases” he had identified during his mayoral campaign. Prominent among “the cases” was the Hau administration’s award of the Dome development rights to Farglory for “virtually zero” royalty.
“Not only did he [Ko] fail to illuminate the case,” How wrote, “he also sidestepped the subsequent discovery of design and construction issues …”
Ko’s refusal to address safety concerns was the final straw for Lin. He resigned soon after.
While some commentators have seen the strength and depth of the prosecutors’ case as a sign of a healthy justice system that is finally getting serious about graft, How is doubtful that the tentacles of the law will extend to local government, which continues to be plagued by black gold – a phrase denoting the intersection of organized crime and politics.
“Central government and even Taipei City are totally different from what happens on the local level,” said How, who has written several articles about the interplay of the two spheres.
Using an appropriate metaphor, he compares government talk of reform and “democratic transformation” to a building with a well-maintained roof, but rotten foundations. “The roof might get repaired, but the basic structure isn’t changed,” he explained. “It might seem like the building is new, but in reality, everything remains the same.”
Corruption and patronage, according to How, are “in the DNA” of local politics. Tracing the origins of black gold activity to Taiwan’s martial law era under the KMT dictatorship, he said that central and local politics overlap through the “outsourcing” of criminal conduct.
“In the old days, some dirty things that the KMT didn’t want to do directly, they would use local heidao [underworld gangsters] for,” he said. While this began with acts of intimidation against dissidents during martial law and the early stages of democratization, it soon became embedded in the system.
How also pointed out that, while legislators must declare their interests, there is no such requirement for local representatives. “All the money laundering and things like that can be done by these local officials for their big brothers in the legislature,” he said. “Because the local politicians don’t need to make their wealth public.”
This analysis is supported by James Kan, deputy executive director of Citizen Congress Watch, a nongovernmental organization that monitors the performance of Taiwan’s legislators.
“Almost all [high-level] politicians come from local politics,” Kan pointed out, citing former President Tsai Ing-wen of the DPP as a notable exception. “You learn there, do some networking, and with enough effort have the chance to become an MP or [work in] central government”
A bottom-up spoils system is thus cultivated, with high-ranking politicians both relying on their old connections and rewarding useful cronies. The problem is that these affiliations can return to haunt high-profile figures by exposing past misdemeanors.
“If they have some bad history from their hometown, maybe [former associates] can hold the evidence until someday the person becomes really influential,” said Kan. “Then, they can destroy them.”
While stressing that Ko “is not this type” of patronage-based politician, Kan believes the former mayor’s fall from grace has similarities to other recent corruption scandals in this regard. He cited the case of former Vice Premier Cheng Wen-tsan of the ruling DPP, who was indicted on bribery charges related to an industrial development project during his time as mayor of Taoyuan, a city in northern Taiwan. “The issue was a long time ago,” said Kan. “But only now is it being used as a weapon by prosecutors or those who control the justice system”
Another example is the case of DPP lawmaker Lin Yi-chin, who faces charges of embezzling public funds during her time as a councilor in the southern city of Tainan. “This was 10 years ago, but the evidence has just shown up now,” said Kan. “Why? Because there was competition over the primary for the mayoral election [in 2026].”
This points to a deeper problem of potential political interference in the justice system. Although most Taiwanese have faith in the independence of the judiciary, said Kan, recent events have raised concerns about prosecutors “asking or at least seeking advice” from “higher up” about whether to bring charges.
Yet, Kan is optimistic that things are gradually improving, partly due to urbanization. “This kind of [patronage] system is not easy to use in a densely populated area,” he said. “So, I think these scandals will decline as cities develop. It’s not easy to bribe or even connect with people in somewhere like Taipei.”
As for the specific problem of corruption in the property development sector, Lin is doubtful that things will change in the short term and about what reform might look like.
“I don’t have the answer,” he said. “But I don’t think this is limited to Taiwan. It’s a universal problem.”