The rebranding of “compassion seats” (博愛座) as “priority seating” (優先席) is a move toward clarity — a name rightly chosen, a concept aptly conveyed. With this change, supplemented by clear guidelines and sustained public awareness, the controversies once tied to these designated seats might gradually fade.
For many visitors to Taipei, the MRT leaves a lasting impression — not only for its cleanliness and order, but also for its compassion seats. Even during peak hours, these seats often remain vacant, reserved for those truly in need.
Yet in recent years, disputes over these seats have tarnished their original goodwill. Some who appear young and healthy — but might have needs that are not visible — find themselves shamed or even harassed for not yielding to elderly passengers. What begins as moral judgement escalates into verbal clashes, sometimes even physical altercations.
The term “compassion” is an inherent expression, appearing in classical texts more than two millennia ago. It calls for love beyond oneself — beyond family and friends — extending to strangers in a spirit of universal care.
Historically, “compassion” also translated the French revolutionary ideal of fraternity, or brotherhood, alongside liberty or freedom and equality. Here, it embodies the sentiment that “all under heaven are brothers.”
According to Taiwan’s Revised Mandarin Chinese Dictionary, a compassion seat is “a priority space for the elderly, infirm, pregnant, disabled or others in need, typically located near the doors of MRT trains, buses or other public transit vehicles.” This definition has evolved — years ago it was simply “seats near bus doors reserved for the elderly, women, children and the disabled.”
The concept originated in the West. During my doctoral studies in the US in the 1990s, buses and subways featured priority seating — functionally identical to Taiwan’s compassion seats, with the key word being priority. That is, those with needs come first; if none are present, others can sit.
Also called courtesy seating, these spots rely on consideration, not compulsion.
Compassion is an ideal. Courtesy reflects cultivation. Priority is practical. Returning to the essence of priority helps resolve disputes. Yet habits run deep — even renamed, many might still avoid these seats, wary of judgement. Changing this requires not just advocacy, but time.
Hugo Tseng holds a doctorate in linguistics, and is a lexicographer and former chair of the Soochow University English Department.
China’s supreme objective in a war across the Taiwan Strait is to incorporate Taiwan as a province of the People’s Republic. It follows, therefore, that international recognition of Taiwan’s de jure independence is a consummation that China’s leaders devoutly wish to avoid. By the same token, an American strategy to deny China that objective would complicate Beijing’s calculus and deter large-scale hostilities. For decades, China has cautioned “independence means war.” The opposite is also true: “war means independence.” A comprehensive strategy of denial would guarantee an outcome of de jure independence for Taiwan in the event of Chinese invasion or
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) earlier this month said it is necessary for her to meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) and it would be a “huge boost” to the party’s local election results in November, but many KMT members have expressed different opinions, indicating a struggle between different groups in the party. Since Cheng was elected as party chairwoman in October last year, she has repeatedly expressed support for increased exchanges with China, saying that it would bring peace and prosperity to Taiwan, and that a meeting with Xi in Beijing takes priority over meeting
Taiwan no longer wants to merely manufacture the chips that power artificial intelligence (AI). It aims to build the software, platforms and services that run on them. Ten major AI infrastructure projects, a national cloud computing center in Tainan, the sovereign language model Trustworthy AI Dialogue Engine, five targeted industry verticals — from precision medicine to smart agriculture — and the goal of ranking among the world’s top five in computing power by 2040: The roadmap from “Silicon Island” to “Smart Island” is drawn. The question is whether the western plains, where population, industry and farmland are concentrated, have the water and
The political order of former president Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) first took shape in 1988. Then-vice president Lee succeeded former president Chiang Ching-kuo (蔣經國) after he passed, and served out the remainder of his term in office. In 1990, Lee was elected president by the National Assembly, and in 1996, he won Taiwan’s first direct presidential election. Those two, six and four-year terms were an era-defining 12-year presidential tenure. Throughout those years, Lee served as helmsman for Taiwan’s transition from martial law and authoritarianism to democracy. This period came to be known as the “quiet revolution,” leaving a legacy containing light
RSS