A former Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC) engineer was sentenced to ten years in prison last week for leaking trade secrets under Taiwan's National Security Act. Most public commentary has focused on whether the sentence was too lenient. But the more fundamental question has gone largely unasked: was the National Security Act the right tool for this case at all?
What Actually Happened in the TSMC Trade Secret Case?
The facts are not in dispute. Chen Li-ming (陳力銘), a former TSMC engineer, repeatedly pressured current employees to hand over sensitive technical information on behalf of Tokyo Electron Limited, a Japanese equipment manufacturer — seeking to qualify it as a supplier of mass-production etching equipment for TSMC's 2-nanometer process. Both Chen and Tokyo Electron admitted to the conduct.
This is the first conviction under National Security Act amendments targeting "national core key technology" theft, which explains much of the attention. But public outrage over the sentence length should not foreclose the harder question of whether the law itself was correctly applied.
Was This Really a National Security Threat?
Article 3 of the National Security Act bars disclosure of "national core key technology" trade secrets to foreign governments, mainland China, Hong Kong, Macau, or hostile foreign forces. Violations carry five to twelve years in prison.
None of those categories fits here. The recipient was a Japanese private company. The motive was commercial: a vendor wanted more TSMC contracts. There was no hostile foreign power, no intelligence operation, and no meaningful threat to national security.
TSMC had every right to pursue legal redress — but this was a corporate espionage case, not a national security incident. The conduct fits squarely within criminal breach of trust or theft under the Criminal Code. Invoking the National Security Act may have produced a deterrent effect, but it did so by misapplying a law designed for a categorically different kind of threat.
How Loose Is the Definition of "National Core Key Technology?
A deeper problem is how vaguely "national core key technology" is defined. The law delegates that determination to Taiwan's National Science and Technology Council, in consultation with other agencies. In practice, this invites over-inclusion.
Semiconductor processes at 2, 3, and 5 nanometers span a wide range of sub-technologies. Some are genuinely critical; many are peripheral or incremental. But bureaucratic institutions tend toward caution, and they respond to political signals. When TSMC is publicly framed as Taiwan's "guardian mountain," the incentive is to classify broadly. The near-unanimous online verdict that Chen's sentence was "too light" reflects exactly this: when a company's commercial interests become fused with national survival in public consciousness, precise legal standards become politically inconvenient.
Does Taiwan Even Need the National Security Act for Cases Like This?
No — and that is perhaps the most straightforward objection. Taiwan already has a comprehensive legal framework for protecting corporate trade secrets.
The Trade Secrets Act covers methods, technologies, processes, formulas, programs, and designs, with its own criminal penalties. The Criminal Code addresses breach of trust, theft, and unauthorized access to computer records. The Labor Standards Act governs non-compete clauses and confidentiality agreements. The Fair Trade Act prohibits recruiting employees to obtain trade secrets. Any of these would have been more precisely calibrated to the actual harm involved. Reaching for the National Security Act when targeted instruments already exist is not merely disproportionate — it is a category error.
A Broader Pattern Taiwan Should Watch
This case does not exist in isolation. Over a decade in government, the Democratic Progressive Party has steadily expanded the national security register. Individuals contradicting the government in private messaging groups have been summoned to police stations under the Social Order Maintenance Act — echoing Taiwan's authoritarian past. Chinese cultural products are routinely labeled "cognitive warfare." Extending that framing to corporate trade secret disputes follows the same logic applied to a new domain.
Invoking national security is not inherently wrong — but the standard must be genuine, not rhetorical. Once that label is applied, consequences grow more severe, procedural protections shrink, and proportionality narrows. A government that claims to prioritize human rights should be the first to recognize that risk.
There is an old warning worth adapting here: "National security, national security — how many wrongs are committed in thy name." Taiwan's courts, lawmakers, and public should be asking that question more often. （Related： “AI Validation Quarter”: Big Tech Cloud Earnings Show Returns Are Finally Here ｜ Latest ）
