As millions of Taiwanese hit the road, took the high-speed rail or flew home to celebrate the Lunar New Year last week, one area of Taiwan had nothing festive about it: Three years on, many parts of Greater Kaohsiung devastated by Typhoon Morakot in August 2009 continue to bear the scars of nature’s fury and government inattention.
Traveling the area, one is struck by how little has changed since Morakot, the most damaging Typhoon to hit Taiwan in decades, swept through southern parts of the nation, causing billions of dollars in damage and killing as many as 700 people.
Most roads around Siaolin Village (小林) and Namasiya Township (那瑪夏) remain unpaved, making it very difficult for vehicles to drive around and subjecting visitors to unbearable dust clouds.
In Siaolin, a single, forlorn house that by pure luck was spared in a landslide that killed hundreds, remains defiantly. Underneath the heavy canopy of rocks lie the remains of bodies never uncovered, a reminder of our powerlessness against the forces of nature. The area is filled with dry rivers filled with rocks, crushed roads and tunnels, and the sundry remnants of man-made objects pulverized by a much greater force.
Nearby, parts of Namasiya Township look like they belong in war zones in Iraq or Afghanistan, not in a modern, wealthy country. The town has seen little rebuilding since 2009. Schools and community centers all lie empty, the walls still bearing the signs of waters rising to unfathomable levels.
New, slightly out of place pastel-colored bridges are being built, with several others standing temporarily. The entire zone has the feel of an immense construction site, with cars and trucks negotiating gravel roads at a snail’s pace, often near dangerous cliffs.
Some communities have been rebuilt, such as one with the assistance of World Vision, but the progress is largely insufficient and has been far too slow to compensate for the thousands of households that were wiped out during the deluge. One wonders whether the small communities that have been rebuilt — often with little attention paid to the traditions of the Aborigines whose homes were destroyed — were not erected simply to show that the government was doing something and providing convenient photo opportunities when necessary.
More than three years after the catastrophe, surely there should be more signs of progress. That this is not the case highlights the lack of commitment by local and central government to sustained and durable efforts to help rebuild the lives of those hit by the typhoon.
Given the magnitude of the devastation, the Greater Kaohsiung government alone cannot be responsible; this requires a coordinated effort at both local and national levels, with investment to rehabilitate the largely Aboriginal part of the nation.
The little progress that has been seen serves as a reminder that governments often regard Aborigines as second-class citizens, leaving them to fend for themselves, while the rest of the country presses ahead with science parks, glitzy shopping malls, casinos and extravaganzas of all sorts.
Worse is that while other emblems of social injustice — from government-sanctioned theft of agricultural land to the exploitation of workers — manage to make the news and become part of the national discourse, the inhabitants of the wastelands left behind by Morakot are simply ignored, compassion for their ongoing plight having faded a long time ago.
There is much evidence that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is sending soldiers from the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to support Russia’s invasion of Ukraine — and is learning lessons for a future war against Taiwan. Until now, the CCP has claimed that they have not sent PLA personnel to support Russian aggression. On 18 April, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelinskiy announced that the CCP is supplying war supplies such as gunpowder, artillery, and weapons subcomponents to Russia. When Zelinskiy announced on 9 April that the Ukrainian Army had captured two Chinese nationals fighting with Russians on the front line with details
On a quiet lane in Taipei’s central Daan District (大安), an otherwise unremarkable high-rise is marked by a police guard and a tawdry A4 printout from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs indicating an “embassy area.” Keen observers would see the emblem of the Holy See, one of Taiwan’s 12 so-called “diplomatic allies.” Unlike Taipei’s other embassies and quasi-consulates, no national flag flies there, nor is there a plaque indicating what country’s embassy this is. Visitors hoping to sign a condolence book for the late Pope Francis would instead have to visit the Italian Trade Office, adjacent to Taipei 101. The death of
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), joined by the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP), held a protest on Saturday on Ketagalan Boulevard in Taipei. They were essentially standing for the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which is anxious about the mass recall campaign against KMT legislators. President William Lai (賴清德) said that if the opposition parties truly wanted to fight dictatorship, they should do so in Tiananmen Square — and at the very least, refrain from groveling to Chinese officials during their visits to China, alluding to meetings between KMT members and Chinese authorities. Now that China has been defined as a foreign hostile force,
On April 19, former president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) gave a public speech, his first in about 17 years. During the address at the Ketagalan Institute in Taipei, Chen’s words were vague and his tone was sour. He said that democracy should not be used as an echo chamber for a single politician, that people must be tolerant of other views, that the president should not act as a dictator and that the judiciary should not get involved in politics. He then went on to say that others with different opinions should not be criticized as “XX fellow travelers,” in reference to