Every time a stalker turns violent, lawmakers and civic groups reiterate the need to urgently enact legislation to pre-emptively deal with such situations before the next tragedy befalls.
They called for it in 2017 when a student stabbed a classmate whom he had been stalking and harassing for five years. They called for it when a Malaysian student was murdered last year by a man who had a history of stalking women. They called for it last month on International Women’s Day, naming stalking as one of the “three great beasts” that need to be taken down through legislation, along with workplace harassment and revenge porn.
However, little has been done, as the bills are stuck in legal limbo.
Tragedy struck again last week, when a woman surnamed Tseng (曾) was allegedly abducted and killed by a man surnamed Huang (黃).
Tseng had filed multiple police reports earlier this year against Huang for alleged harassment and stalking, but police could not do much under the law.
She could not obtain a restraining order, as those are only allowed for current or former spouses, romantic partners or relatives, and the suspect was let off with a warning.
How much longer will the nation wait while similar incidents pile up?
Only the cases that turn violent make the headlines, but the National Police Agency said it receives about 8,000 stalking reports every year.
The bills that government agencies try to enact continue to disappoint proponents of anti-stalking legislation, and eventually get stuck in the Legislative Yuan due to the scope, definition and number of institutions the issue involves.
The 2018 version was panned for being too specific in defining stalking and giving police too much time to investigate complaints — the point is for the victims to obtain immediate protection so that things do not escalate.
Last year’s version was also heavily criticized. The government apparently fails to understand that the only thing that can help people targeted by stalking is immediate intervention. When perpetrators take more extreme actions that break the law, it is often too late.
Last week’s incident only proves that point — it took merely a few months for Huang’s actions to turn from stalking to alleged murder.
The Judicial Yuan last month expressed concern that it would not be able to handle a large number of restraining orders and hoped that the law would focus more on police intervention.
Meanwhile, police want to narrow the scope of the bill to stalkers who want to pursue a romantic or sexual relationship with their target, saying those are the most common and most likely to turn violent, while proponents want the bill to cover any type of “prolonged and sustained behavior designed to instill fear in a reasonable person.”
This is not the time for lawmakers to shirk their responsibility and further bog down the process.
If the law is powerful enough and can curb stalking, then the workload for police and courts should drop eventually.
It would take time, but that is the only way for real change to happen.
Otherwise, incidents would keep happening and public criticism would only grow, which is not good for either side.
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something
RSS