There used to be a rarely-seen beautiful Chinese cypress forest in Chilanshan (
I was recently invited to attend a seminar on the issue of forest protection. Taiwan was originally an island covered with lush vegetation. A Japanese philosopher once said that the Japanese are proud of their forest civilization. Two thirds of Japan used to be covered with forests, 40 percent of which was left unexploited. The reason the Japanese kept their lush forests is because they began to grow rice relatively late -- and when they did, they grew it on the plain. It is said that the Japanese outlook on life has been influenced by the forest civilization, which resulted in cooperation between peoples as well as smooth intergenerational relations.
Fifty-eight percent of Taiwan is also covered with forests; but, sadly, in the last century or so, our nation was under the control of foreign colonizers who had no intention of preserving natural resources. We could have enjoyed beautiful forests on Taiwan, but what we frequently see is seriously depleted woodland. What we see in satellite photos are the scars on our nation.
In 1980, I wrote a poem titled "Stream," where I mourned the dwindling of our forests:
When losing forests, we also lose all the streams,
No more singing and murmuring of the flowing water,
No more nourishment and moisture,
The image of drought and death reflects the pain of the day,
The image of corruption and vanishing hides the sorrow of the night.
The loss of forests means the loss of forest civilization -- and the deterioration and incomple-teness of the nation. Due to long-term self destruction, our nation has become the symbol of drought, death, corruption and loss. The pain of the day is reflected by the sunshine; while the sorrow of the night is hidden by the moon beam. The faces of the demonstrators in front of the Council of Agriculture rose in my mind. Many went to protest the exploitation of the forest. On their faces, I saw their love of our nation and their passion for our society. How they feel for our nation is full of pain and sorrow.
Lee Ming-yung is a poet.
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus whip Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) has caused havoc with his attempts to overturn the democratic and constitutional order in the legislature. If we look at this devolution from the context of a transition to democracy from authoritarianism in a culturally Chinese sense — that of zhonghua (中華) — then we are playing witness to a servile spirit from a millennia-old form of totalitarianism that is intent on damaging the nation’s hard-won democracy. This servile spirit is ingrained in Chinese culture. About a century ago, Chinese satirist and author Lu Xun (魯迅) saw through the servile nature of
In their New York Times bestseller How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt said that democracies today “may die at the hands not of generals but of elected leaders. Many government efforts to subvert democracy are ‘legal,’ in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy — making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption, or cleaning up the electoral process.” Moreover, the two authors observe that those who denounce such legal threats to democracy are often “dismissed as exaggerating or
Monday was the 37th anniversary of former president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) death. Chiang — a son of former president Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), who had implemented party-state rule and martial law in Taiwan — has a complicated legacy. Whether one looks at his time in power in a positive or negative light depends very much on who they are, and what their relationship with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is. Although toward the end of his life Chiang Ching-kuo lifted martial law and steered Taiwan onto the path of democratization, these changes were forced upon him by internal and external pressures,
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus in the Legislative Yuan has made an internal decision to freeze NT$1.8 billion (US$54.7 million) of the indigenous submarine project’s NT$2 billion budget. This means that up to 90 percent of the budget cannot be utilized. It would only be accessible if the legislature agrees to lift the freeze sometime in the future. However, for Taiwan to construct its own submarines, it must rely on foreign support for several key pieces of equipment and technology. These foreign supporters would also be forced to endure significant pressure, infiltration and influence from Beijing. In other words,
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