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Editorial: There's unity in tunnel vision

After nearly 15 years, billions of dollars and the deaths of several construction workers, the Hsuehshan Tunnel (雪山隧道) opens to traffic today, linking Ilan County to Taipei and the rest of northern Taiwan by freeway. The economic benefits of the project for Ilan should be plentiful, though the environmental impact of the expected increase in development of the Lanyang Basin and points south remains an open question. If the freeway extends to Hualien and Taitung as planned, there is every reason to expect a transformation of this beautiful region into something wealthier but rather less beautiful.

The extent of the return on this massive investment is open to conjecture, but the naming of the freeway has been an all-too-rare instance of peace and harmony between the pan-blue and pan-green camps -- or, at least, those among them who care about such things.

The Chiang Wei-shui Freeway (Freeway No. 5) is named after the Ilan native (蔣渭水, 1891-1931) who figured prominently as a political and cultural activist when Taiwan was ruled by the Japanese. Chiang advocated greater participation by Taiwanese in the affairs of the island and the Japanese nation, ideas not popular with the governors general that ruled Taiwan as a colony.

Chiang adopted a grand nationalist mindset based in Chinese culture rather than take the socialist road, and it is this side of him that clearly appeals to Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九), who first suggested his name be used for what was eventually dubbed the Formosa Freeway (Freeway No. 3). That was two years ago.

This time Ma was more successful; his suggestion was greeted warmly by Cabinet officials (Ilan natives among them), who note that Chiang was a trailblazer in the empowerment of ordinary Taiwanese.

Ma Ying-jeou's support for commemorating Chiang (who is no relation to the family of Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石)) complements his attempts to rehabilitate Mainlander intelligentsia, military figures and others who were executed or otherwise persecuted during the martial law era. Anyone walking past the former KMT headquarters opposite the Presidential Office in recent months could not miss the huge posters featuring these victims and their achievements. It was as close to the words "We're sorry" as one might hope to hear from the KMT. And Chiang's sudden return to the spotlight suggests that Ma's group within the KMT are, despite toxic evidence to the contrary in recent weeks, still interested in appealing to moderate green camp voters.

This consensus on a name -- and certain principles Chiang upheld -- for what is likely to be the nation's last major freeway alignment is a welcome respite from the daily stupidity that passes for political debate. But there is still something disappointing about it all.

It is hardly unusual for nations to name major infrastructure projects after political figures. What grates is that after so many centuries of colonial remapping of the landscape, the privileging of political figures over other fine people, places and things remains the norm. It needs to be said: There's more to life than politics, and there's certainly more to Taiwan than historical roll calls of political luminaries -- of whatever stripe.

Considering the overexposure to political figures and ideological elements on street signs that motorists suffer every day, it would have been refreshing to have a freeway to and from a beautiful place reflect that beauty: the Lanyang Freeway, perhaps, or indigenous names for the area. Instead, we will have to continue to make do with references to politicians courtesy of other politicians.
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