Opinion | When 'Freedom Isn't Free' Becomes a Slogan, Democracy Pays the Real Price

That risk was on full display after American Institute in Taiwan (AIT) Director Raymond Greene（谷立言） invoked the familiar refrain “freedom is not free” in a public address. The sentiment itself is uncontroversial. But using it to justify a NTD$1.25 trillion special defense budget—while bypassing meaningful democratic scrutiny—transforms a moral principle into a tool of political pressure. In doing so, it risks undermining the very freedom the slogan claims to defend.

President Lai Ching-te（賴清德） has since echoed the phrase to press opposition parties toward unconditional support for the package. Yet if freedom truly “is not free,” its price cannot be measured solely in budget lines. The real cost of freedom has always been borne in responsibility, sacrifice, and democratic consent—not in blank checks issued under rhetorical duress.

If freedom must be quantified, an obvious question follows: how much is enough?

Taiwan has already committed roughly $500 billion in investments to the United States in the context of trade negotiations. U.S. Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick publicly described this sum as merely a “down payment.” In the same breath, he acknowledged a critical reality: the United States cannot protect advanced semiconductor manufacturing facilities located 4,000 miles away in Taiwan.

That admission is revealing. Taiwan's payments have not purchased security guarantees; they have instead relieved Washington of any obligation to provide them. Freedom may not be free—but paying for it without leverage can be self-defeating.

The Trump administration's tariff war has yet to deliver clear benefits for the United States, but it has undeniably accelerated Taiwanese capital flows into America. For TSMC, expanding U.S. capacity makes commercial sense. Strategically, however, Taiwan's long-touted “silicon shield” is quietly relocating offshore—without translating into stronger security assurances.

What Taiwan has received in return are lectures about resolve. The message is blunt: commercial interests and military commitments are separate. Once most semiconductor capacity sits on U.S. soil, Washington will feel even less strategic pressure to defend Taiwan. In that light, arms sales are no longer a symbol of partnership but a reminder of self-reliance.

Yet even here, Taiwan's agency is limited. Does Taipei meaningfully influence what systems are sold, when they arrive, or how they are integrated? The Lai administration has shown little capacity—or inclination—to negotiate. Decisions are deferred almost entirely to American discretion.

This brings us back to the central question: what, exactly, are Taiwanese being asked to fight for?

Many would be willing to defend a free way of life. But that presupposes a political system that respects democratic process at home.

The handling of the NTD$1.25 trillion special defense budget suggests otherwise. The day before the proposal reached Taiwan's legislature, Lai presented its rationale to American readers in an op-ed published in The Washington Post. Legislators, by contrast, received a two-page summary listing procurement items. Taiwanese citizens learned details of more than NTD$300 billion in planned purchases from a U.S. State Department press release—before hearing them from their own government.

Only after Huang Kuo-chang（黃國昌）, chairman of the Taiwan People's Party, directly communicated with U.S. officials did the Defense Ministry finally hold a press conference outlining the full package. The administration now accuses the opposition of obstruction, yet the legislature's defense committee was not briefed until January 19. When the People's Party proposed an alternative special budget framework, the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) responded with ridicule rather than engagement.

Unity cannot be commanded while consultation is withheld.

Historically, Washington played a constructive role in Taiwan's democratization—supporting elections, institutional checks, and civilian oversight. Today, however, U.S. engagement increasingly bypasses those mechanisms, dealing almost exclusively with a compliant executive branch. This risks eroding the very democratic architecture the United States once encouraged.

The irony is striking. The DPP now invokes American pressure—including past threats of punitive tariffs against allied legislatures—to warn Taiwan's opposition against dissent. Yet comparable cases elsewhere have demonstrated a functioning separation of powers, where legislatures act in what they judge to be the public interest. Taiwan's ruling party, by contrast, appears willing to let external pressure weaken domestic oversight.

In that context, repeating “freedom is not free” rings hollow.

Defending Taiwan does not mean defending any single party. When a government treats defense budgets as political weapons rather than national responsibilities—and substitutes slogans for accountability—it ceases to be freedom's guardian. At that point, no slogan, however stirring, can compensate for the loss of democratic trust.

Original Article in Chinese

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