※ 引述《yabition0411 (最初的梦想)》之铭言：
: https://instagram.com/p/4E5cQqK6yU/
: TIME杂志的instagram
: 不过蔡英文这样感觉好凶
: 没有什么柔和感XDDDD
: 旁边留言好多强国人崩溃
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。这位总统候选人打了五颗蛋，让他们在平底锅里和培根搅和。她还堆
起一片片厚白的土司。这是来自英国厨师Jamie Oliver的食谱，但蔡英文忍不住说道，里
面的食材可全是来自台湾。培根肉来自一个叫"快乐猪"的农场，离她在台北那间简单却有
品味的公寓不远；面包则是从附近的面包店买来。她递给我一颗柳橙：“有机的。”她用
英文说道，“当然也是在地的。”
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.
对这位５８岁，自律师转战政坛并参选台湾下届总统的她来说这顿早餐可不马虎－她大多
拿杯咖啡就匆匆上车；但这可是十足蔡式风格。这位出身台北，在美国和英国受教育的前
谈判员以国际贸易法作为她的博士论文主题。当过部会首长、党主席和总统候选人（她在
２０１２的大选中以接近票数败给现任第二任期的马英九），她被视作是十分奇诡的，那
种喜欢大清早就一边喝着黑咖啡或乌龙茶，一边辩论著贸易保护的人。
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.
而此时此刻，作为在台湾2016年一月的总统选举中，提早起跑的候选人，她对这块岛屿的
愿景是骄傲的、义无反顾的以台湾为中心。蔡英文说她会维持两岸的政治现状，而这十分
必要；台北和北京都不同意对方代表着真正的中国，并将有关这个岛屿命运的问题留给未
来。但蔡英文想要将台湾的经济、发展和文化放在优先顺位。当马政府力推与北京签署有
关贸易和旅游业的新协定之际－而中国已占台湾总出口的４０％，蔡英文所瞄准的方向则
是以建立台湾与全球的连结和型塑本土顶尖品牌来降低这座岛屿对中国大陆的依赖。“台
湾需要一个新的模式。”她如是告诉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