The latest caution about the impact of the nation’s low birth rate was issued on Tuesday.
Low birth rates are a problem being experienced in many nations. It is not a sudden phenomenon, it is part of a long-term trend, with its roots in the shift in a nation’s socioeconomic makeup, coupled with pervasive historical trends.
However, Taiwan is in a particular bind, even compared with other nations.
According to the CIA World Factbook, Taiwan ranks 219 in the world in terms of birth rate. That is seven from the bottom.
While some might suggest a densely populated nation such as Taiwan could perhaps do with fewer people, it is not that simple.
The percentage of the population aged 65 and over is expected to exceed 20 percent in 2026, making Taiwan a “super-aged society.” It is this aging demographic that is at the core of the dangers the phenomenon presents.
Last year, the nation’s total fertility rate — how many children a woman has in her lifetime — was calculated to be 1.2. In 1951 it was 7.05.
A total fertility rate of approximately 2.1 is needed to maintain a stable population. So the population is already shrinking, as is the percentage of young to old.
Fewer babies means an aging population. A higher percentage of senior citizens places a huge burden on tax revenue, pensions and healthcare. Fewer young people means falling international competitiveness, as well as a shrinking pool of talent and potential military recruits.
It also means there are fewer students going through the education system.
The problem was first felt in elementary schools more than a decade ago. Schools closed, teachers lost their jobs and their job security. Then it hit high schools. Now university departments cannot attract enough students and some universities are facing closure or having to merge.
In the immediate post-World War II period, Taiwan was still an agricultural society. In rural society extra children meant extra labor on the farm. Having more babies also increased the chance of producing a male heir — very important in agricultural, Confucian societies. Now, even one child entails a major financial burden on a couple.
People are increasingly living in cities. The decision to have children now involves different criteria, many related to cost.
Can a couple afford to have a child?
Clothes, an extra bedroom, food, school fees, cram-school fees and the need to run a car, as well as childcare fees — it does not come cheap.
Then there are the comforts and freedoms parents need to forgo to look after their children, especially when consumerist-driven media tout the ideal of individual life fulfillment. For many, having a child in an urban environment necessitates both parents working.
In addition, women are increasingly seeking more professional jobs and marrying later or not at all.
The nation’s marriage registration rate is declining, while the vast majority of babies are born — even if not conceived — in wedlock. There is also an increasing trend for women to give birth to their first child in their 30s.
Consequently, one-child or no-child families are becoming more common.
So what is the answer?
Local governments have been offering financial incentives for each child born, as well as childcare subsidies. Clearly, these are not working.
In April, the Ministry of Health and Welfare announced that it would set up an office tasked with introducing policies to counter the effects of the nation’s declining birth rate. It had better come up with something good — and soon.
The term “assassin’s mace” originates from Chinese folklore, describing a concealed weapon used by a weaker hero to defeat a stronger adversary with an unexpected strike. In more general military parlance, the concept refers to an asymmetric capability that targets a critical vulnerability of an adversary. China has found its modern equivalent of the assassin’s mace with its high-altitude electromagnetic pulse (HEMP) weapons, which are nuclear warheads detonated at a high altitude, emitting intense electromagnetic radiation capable of disabling and destroying electronics. An assassin’s mace weapon possesses two essential characteristics: strategic surprise and the ability to neutralize a core dependency.
Chinese President and Chinese Communist Party (CCP) Chairman Xi Jinping (習近平) said in a politburo speech late last month that his party must protect the “bottom line” to prevent systemic threats. The tone of his address was grave, revealing deep anxieties about China’s current state of affairs. Essentially, what he worries most about is systemic threats to China’s normal development as a country. The US-China trade war has turned white hot: China’s export orders have plummeted, Chinese firms and enterprises are shutting up shop, and local debt risks are mounting daily, causing China’s economy to flag externally and hemorrhage internally. China’s
During the “426 rally” organized by the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and the Taiwan People’s Party under the slogan “fight green communism, resist dictatorship,” leaders from the two opposition parties framed it as a battle against an allegedly authoritarian administration led by President William Lai (賴清德). While criticism of the government can be a healthy expression of a vibrant, pluralistic society, and protests are quite common in Taiwan, the discourse of the 426 rally nonetheless betrayed troubling signs of collective amnesia. Specifically, the KMT, which imposed 38 years of martial law in Taiwan from 1949 to 1987, has never fully faced its
When a recall campaign targeting the opposition Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) legislators was launched, something rather disturbing happened. According to reports, Hualien County Government officials visited several people to verify their signatures. Local authorities allegedly used routine or harmless reasons as an excuse to enter people’s house for investigation. The KMT launched its own recall campaigns, targeting Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) lawmakers, and began to collect signatures. It has been found that some of the KMT-headed counties and cities have allegedly been mobilizing municipal machinery. In Keelung, the director of the Department of Civil Affairs used the household registration system