Taipei Mayor Hau Lung-bin (郝龍斌) launched, to much fanfare, direct flights between Songshan Airport and Shanghai’s Hongqiao Airport on Monday. Previously, anyone flying between Taipei and Shanghai had to make a stopover in Hong Kong or Macau, which could take the better part of a day. Direct flights will only take 90 minutes. However, the Songshan-Hongqiao link was made without any negotiation and there are still a lot of unresolved issues.
Songshan was Taipei’s original gateway to the rest of the world, but when Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport opened, most international flights went through there instead. In February 1979, Songshan was opened to domestic carriers, and in its heyday, Songshan saw more than 100 domestic flights a day. After the construction of the Taiwan High Speed Rail, however, a fast, safe and less expensive alternative to flying was available. Flights to the west coast of Taiwan all but disappeared, and domestic carriers now mostly serve east coast destinations such as Hualien and Taitung, and the outlying islands. Suddenly, Songshan’s very survival became an issue in Taipei.
When the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) was in government, the Cabinet rejected developing Songshan for cross-strait flights because of environmental and national security concerns. As part of their election campaigns for Taipei mayor, Lee Ying-yuan (李應元) and Frank Hsieh (謝長廷) pledged to relocate the airport outside the city, open an MRT link between it and Taoyuan Airport and transform the original site into a municipal park.
The government has chosen to rush through plans for direct flights from Songshan, forgoing public consultation and throwing away the chance to have a new park in the city. The result on the first day was chaos. With the rather modest facilities at Songshan, the press wondered whether they had landed instead in Sunan International Airport in North Korea. Songshan cannot compete with Hongqiao Airport, let alone Haneda in Japan.
At the moment, the Ministry of Transportation and Communications wants to classify Songshan as a commercial airport so that it can fast-track business travelers through the airport. But is serving a minority of corporate customers with private jets and a small number of commercial carriers really the best use of the site? What about the rest of the people in the city?
A few days ago, President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) inspected the MRT Airport Line construction site, and said he wanted to reduce the commute from Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport to Taipei City to under 25 minutes. We now have two airports serving Taipei, both of which have limited capacity. Is Songshan really necessary when there is another airport 30 minutes away? One has to ask what sense this makes financially.
The debate over the use of the wetlands around Nangang’s (南港) 202 Munitions Works brought to light the severe shortage of green space in and around the city. Wouldn’t the public prefer the Songshan site to be transformed into a park? Let’s assume Songshan becomes commercially successful: Is the public prepared for the noise pollution and environmental damage this will lead to?
The way the government has handled the opening of direct flights demonstrates a total lack of transparency and a complete disregard for consultation. One suspects this is less about what the public wants, and more about Hau’s re-election bid in the November elections.
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,
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
Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) Acting Chairman Huang Kuo-chang (黃國昌) has formally announced his intention to stand for permanent party chairman. He has decided that he is the right person to steer the fledgling third force in Taiwan’s politics through the challenges it would certainly face in the post-Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) era, rather than serve in a caretaker role while the party finds a more suitable candidate. Huang is sure to secure the position. He is almost certainly not the right man for the job. Ko not only founded the party, he forged it into a one-man political force, with himself