Taipei's oldest food market at Jiancheng Circle was consigned to history on July 2. A massive reconstruction project to rebuild the market was undertaken after it was damaged by fire in February 1999, at a cost of as much as NT$200 million (US$6.18 million). The result was a cylindrical building of glass that had pretensions of becoming a local landmark -- but totally failed to meet practical needs.
If we examine the Taipei City Government's eight-year urban renewal plan -- from Lungshan Temple's withdrawal from an underground mall project to Shilin Night Market's poor performance since being relocated -- a great amount of government money has been spent without any result.
Taipei is inferior to major cities in neighboring countries in terms of traffic management, quality of goods, discounts for shopping and the degree of internationalization. The city government is obsessed with the number of visitors who arrive, and often ignores that a substantial improvement in tourism usually comes from an increase in the value offered to tourists. It has obliterated the humanity and history of the city, with officials only doing their development planning from inside their offices.
The hawker stalls that made up Jiancheng Circle are part of the city's history. Most of the vendors are still doing good business today in other locations nearby. Evidently, the market's poor performance was not caused by the vendors and consumers. Rather, it was the lack of parking, a poor design that had no clear lines of movement on the first two floors, as well as narrow seating areas and aisles.
Unfortunately, the city government has been unable to face the problems objectively, attempting to turn it into a promotion center for traditional food after all the food vendors left.
Food is a mixture of tradition, culture and even emotions. It cannot be replaced by festivals that look good in appearance only. Blaming the market's failure on the public is irresponsible and immoral. But worse is that the city councilors passed a huge budget and allowed the city government to ignore local residents' petition. They even claimed that the policy mistake was a result of people's outdated dining habits and different historical backgrounds. I strongly hope that the public can see through this political trickery and buck-passing.
We must demand that those councilors who claimed they were concerned about this issue take responsibility and review the failure of the market. They should not show concern only when elect-ions approach, or when vendors, housing prices and the public are already hurt. Such concern is as meaningless as the money wasted on rebuilding the market.
Lo Ying-wei is a project manager for the Taiwan Solidarity Union.
TRANSLATED BY EDDY CHANG
China’s supreme objective in a war across the Taiwan Strait is to incorporate Taiwan as a province of the People’s Republic. It follows, therefore, that international recognition of Taiwan’s de jure independence is a consummation that China’s leaders devoutly wish to avoid. By the same token, an American strategy to deny China that objective would complicate Beijing’s calculus and deter large-scale hostilities. For decades, China has cautioned “independence means war.” The opposite is also true: “war means independence.” A comprehensive strategy of denial would guarantee an outcome of de jure independence for Taiwan in the event of Chinese invasion or
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) earlier this month said it is necessary for her to meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) and it would be a “huge boost” to the party’s local election results in November, but many KMT members have expressed different opinions, indicating a struggle between different groups in the party. Since Cheng was elected as party chairwoman in October last year, she has repeatedly expressed support for increased exchanges with China, saying that it would bring peace and prosperity to Taiwan, and that a meeting with Xi in Beijing takes priority over meeting
The political order of former president Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) first took shape in 1988. Then-vice president Lee succeeded former president Chiang Ching-kuo (蔣經國) after he passed, and served out the remainder of his term in office. In 1990, Lee was elected president by the National Assembly, and in 1996, he won Taiwan’s first direct presidential election. Those two, six and four-year terms were an era-defining 12-year presidential tenure. Throughout those years, Lee served as helmsman for Taiwan’s transition from martial law and authoritarianism to democracy. This period came to be known as the “quiet revolution,” leaving a legacy containing light
Taiwan no longer wants to merely manufacture the chips that power artificial intelligence (AI). It aims to build the software, platforms and services that run on them. Ten major AI infrastructure projects, a national cloud computing center in Tainan, the sovereign language model Trustworthy AI Dialogue Engine, five targeted industry verticals — from precision medicine to smart agriculture — and the goal of ranking among the world’s top five in computing power by 2040: The roadmap from “Silicon Island” to “Smart Island” is drawn. The question is whether the western plains, where population, industry and farmland are concentrated, have the water and
RSS