In Japan, Taiwan’s model of digital democracy is often presented as an advanced example. The digital transformation efforts symbolized by Audrey Tang offer many lessons for Japan, but there are several important caveats to keep in mind.

(1) Surveillance-Oriented Digital Democracy

Taiwan’s digital democracy is frequently praised as “participatory,” but its foundation rests on comprehensive state-driven data integration. For this reason, I call it a “surveillance-oriented digital democracy with limited freedom of choice.” In essence, Taiwan’s current digital government is an extension of the centralized personal management system built during the martial law era.

When compared with Estonia—another highly digitalized nation—the contrast becomes clearer. While Taiwan’s digitalization is an extension of administrative control, Estonia’s is a system designed from the outset on the premise of democratic values.

For example, Taiwan’s swift response to COVID-19 was made possible not only through internal government data integration linking citizens’ ID numbers with health insurance data, but also because personal ID numbers were linked to private-sector mobile phone numbers.

By connecting mobile numbers to personal IDs and enabling location-based tracking, the government could monitor citizens in real time. During emergencies like the pandemic, data usage was often mandatory rather than opt-in, leaving citizens with little real choice.

In contrast, in Estonia, mobile numbers are also linked to personal ID numbers, but during the COVID-19 response, the Attorney General explicitly rejected the use of location data from phones, citing privacy protection and constitutional concerns. This difference reflects the distinct awareness each society has toward privacy and the risks of digital surveillance.

From a digital democracy perspective, Taiwan can be seen as a society where digital governance is pushing democratization forward, while Estonia represents a democracy that governs and limits digital power.

Taiwan’s digitalization is rooted in the administrative control of the martial law era (1949–1987). The household registration system and national ID cards established strict personal identification, which later evolved into government system integration centered on national ID numbers—linking health insurance cards, mobile numbers, and tax data. During the pandemic, this infrastructure enabled rapid mask distribution, contact tracing, and quarantine management.

Thus, behind Taiwan’s digital achievements lies a structural element of data integration as a foundation for citizen management and surveillance. The open-government and participatory-democracy initiatives led by Audrey Tang were attempts to redesign this existing digital foundation in a more democratic direction. However, because that foundation itself is rooted in a control-oriented information system, it is not easy to overcome its institutional constraints.

Estonia, on the other hand, designed its democracy and digital state simultaneously in the 1990s after regaining independence from the Soviet Union. Although personal ID numbers and digital IDs (electronic identity cards) are issued by the state, the use of personal data always requires a legal basis and individual control. Access to all administrative data is transparently logged through X-Road audit trails, allowing citizens to see “who accessed their data and when.” In this way, Estonia established—through both technology and law—a system where citizens monitor the government.

When Estonia’s government proposed using mobile location data during COVID-19, the Attorney General rejected it, declaring that excessive government surveillance of citizens would violate fundamental rights. This reflects a clear legal boundary: the state may use technology, but never beyond the rights of its citizens.

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(2) The Dual Nature of Taiwan’s “Digital Democracy”

In Taiwan, public trust in government is considered relatively high—especially during the Tsai Ing-wen administration, when confidence increased thanks to the pandemic response. However, this trust is not so much “earned through the criticism of power” as it is “derived from reliance on governance.”

Taiwan’s martial law period (1949–1987) was one of the world’s longest, lasting 38 years. During that time, information control, surveillance, informant networks, and ideological policing became normalized. The belief that “the state maintains order” became deeply ingrained in society. Even after democratization in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the gradual transition meant that the structure of administrative authority was never fully dismantled.

As a result, practices such as “surveillance” and “data use” have been more easily accepted culturally—as means by which “the state protects the people.” Consequently, measures such as mobile-based monitoring of citizens proceeded relatively smoothly, with little visible public opposition.

Audrey Tang’s advocacy of radical transparency and open government represents admirable democratic ideals. However, in Taiwan these concepts often function less as instruments of democratic oversight and more as symbolic embellishments that reinforce the government’s modern and progressive image.

During the pandemic, tools like the “mask map” and “infection route visualization” were celebrated as symbols of transparency. Yet the processes governing the use and deletion of personal data remained unclear. While the government promotes “open data,” it simultaneously maintains strict secrecy over military, security, and administrative surveillance data—without clearly defining where the boundary lies. As a result, the branding of an “open state” does not always correspond to an effective system of governmental accountability.

Audrey Tang holds a unique position in Taiwanese society as a symbol of technology and diversity. Personally, Tang embodies liberal values, transparency, and collaboration. Yet much of Tang’s work relies on the state’s existing information infrastructure—such as the centralized ID and health insurance systems—which imposes institutional limits. Consequently, while Tang is celebrated domestically and internationally as an icon of digital democracy, Taiwan’s actual political system remains centralized and bureaucratically driven.

Today, Taiwan’s digital democracy should be understood not as a “transparent state,” but rather as a “state where control has become more sophisticated.” Tang’s vision represents an internal reform effort—an attempt to democratize an administratively controlled digital system—but it remains in an early, developmental stage that has yet to take deep root in society.

Taiwan is now in a period of transformation in its governance culture.
The symbol of that transformation is Audrey Tang.
Yet beneath the surface, the institutional structures of the martial law era still remain.

Recognizing these three points allows us to understand Taiwan’s model of digital democracy more accurately—avoiding both overestimation and underestimation. What Japan should learn from Taiwan is not the technology itself, but the awareness of how that technology is embedded within a particular governance culture and set of values.