◎ Li Zhongxian
Recently I saw the story of Chen Qimai’s daughter, and I thought about BMW heiress Susanne Klatten. She is the heir to the BMW Quandt family and one of the richest women in Germany. When she was working at BMW when she was young, she deliberately changed her surname to "Kant" instead of Quandt, a surname that would make everyone know her as soon as she said it. The reason is actually very simple: if everyone knew that she was the daughter of a major shareholder of BMW, who would dare to treat her as an ordinary employee?
This is the most troublesome thing about privileges. For really powerful privileges, you don’t have to use them at all, you don’t have to call, you don’t have to talk, you don’t even have to say a word. As long as others know who your father is, your treatment may be different.
Chen Qimai's daughter also did something similar. When I was in junior high school, I chose to leave the father column blank in the school information. After entering Kaohsiung Girls' High School, I kept a very low profile. It wasn't until Chen Qimai showed up at the graduation ceremony that the principal didn't know that the mayor's daughter had been studying in his school for three years. Later, she worked for Zheng Yunpeng's campaign team. She did not tell anyone that she was the daughter of the mayor of Kaohsiung. Like other young staff, she went out early and came back late, exposing herself to the elements and moving things. According to the later recollections of the staff at the time, if she went to my father's own team, everyone would know who she was, "Who would dare to really ask her to do something?"
Who dares to ask the mayor’s daughter to move things?
This sentence is almost the simplest explanation of privilege.
On the surface, Chen Qimai's daughter has lost the comfort and convenience that the mayor's daughter could have enjoyed. In fact, she may have gained more: being truly required, being truly criticized, truly being an ordinary person, and accumulating her own life experience. Parents take away some privileges for their children. Sometimes, instead of letting their children suffer, they are giving real life back to them.
On the other hand, if a person rarely needs to leave the protection provided by his identity from childhood to adulthood, it will be easy for him to gradually understand the "legality" of the system as the "natural" of ethics. This is perhaps what political families need to be most vigilant about.
Jiang Wanan has been fond of talking about Kaohsiung in recent years. When Taipei City Councilors ask about things in Taipei, he sometimes answers Kaohsiung. When discussing Taipei's municipal affairs, he often compares Kaohsiung with Kaohsiung. Since I like to talk about Kaohsiung so much, and my son’s affairs have caused controversy recently, I think I really should take a look at Kaohsiung. Chiang Wanan's son was admitted to the Taipei City Education Bureau's international exchange student program, which triggered discussions about qualifications, subsidies and avoidance of benefits. The Beijing Municipal Government emphasized that everything was in compliance with regulations. Jiang Wanan also said that he had no involvement and later decided not to receive the subsidy. However, the municipal government still refused to give up the honorary treasure.
I don’t think children should be attacked in this matter. Children of politicians are not guilty of original sin. Of course they can study well in school, go abroad, and participate in exchange programs. But "complying with regulations" is only the minimum standard, and "whether you actively avoid benefits" is another level. Especially when this limited public opportunity comes from a government led by dad, what really should be tested is not the children, but how the adults in power understand their position.
There is an old concept in Europe: noblesse oblige, those who enjoy a higher status must also bear greater responsibilities. The European aristocracy is of course full of unfairness, and there is no need to romanticize it, but at least it leaves a question worth thinking about: Since we enjoy more land, wealth, education, and political power, should we also assume more public responsibilities? In the past, many children of European aristocrats entered the army. In World War I, many young people from upper-class British families died on the front lines. During World War II, the later Queen Elizabeth II also joined the auxiliary service and received driving and vehicle maintenance training. In modern times, Prince Harry even served in Afghanistan twice.
This also reminds me of Taiwan’s military service system. In a democratic society, there is no legal aristocracy, but there is a de facto advantaged class. From birth, the next generation of political families, business families, and wealthy and powerful people may have better education, connections, information, overseas residence, and even nationality choices. These are not sins. It is human nature for parents to create good conditions for their children. But if a society gradually becomes "advantages can be inherited, but obligations can be avoided," problems will arise.
Children from ordinary families receive military orders and must interrupt their studies and work to fulfill their national defense obligations; families with more resources are often more able to arrange other options. Everything may be legal when taken apart, but the real question in public ethics is not only "whether it is illegal," but also: Are you willing to let your own children bear the responsibilities you ask other people's children to bear?
What interests me is actually not the children of any political figure, but how we understand privilege. Susanne Klatten turned Quandt into Kant, and Chen Qimai's daughter worked hard to prevent others from knowing who her father was. What they took away was not just a name, but the power behind the name. A truly good tutor is not to tell the child: "Dad is powerful, so he can help you get something." It is to let the child know: "Just because dad is powerful, you have to stay further away from some things than others."
Montaigne has a saying that I like very much: "Even if we sit on the highest throne in the world, we are still sitting on our own asses."
This sentence is crude, but very accurate.
Power, wealth, titles and surnames can put a person very high, but they will not make him a higher person. What parents can really leave to their children may not be to remove all the stones on the road for them, but to occasionally take away their names and let them move a few stones by themselves.
Because one day, his father is gone, his name is taken away, and his power disappears. He still has to stand on his own two feet.
