According to recent reports, a trash collection worker in Taipei with more than 30 years of service picked up a discarded rice cooker from a recycling truck and gave it to an elderly woman who scavenges for a living. Although the rice cooker would fetch just NT$32 (US$1.06) at a recycling plant, the Shilin District Prosecutors’ Office indicted the worker, surnamed Huang (黃), according to Article 6 of the Anti-Corruption Act (貪污治罪條例) for “misappropriating private property or equipment that is in his or her possession due to official position, but not for official use,” as trash collection workers are city employees.
The penalty is no less than five years of imprisonment, with a possible additional fine of up to NT$30 million. If convicted, he would also be dismissed from his post and permanently barred from holding public office.
In principle, corruption committed by public servants should be classified as malfeasance under Part 2, Chapter 4 of the Criminal Code.
However — because corrupt officials ran rampant during the late Qing Dynasty and the early years of the Republic of China (ROC) — starting from when Chinese provisional president Yuan Shikai (袁世凱) promulgated regulations on the punishment of corrupt officials, laws were passed to address the issue. In 1920, Yuan’s Beiyang government in Beijing passed provisional statutes for the punishment of crimes related to relief efforts, while in 1938, the ROC government passed a provisional statute for the punishment of corruption — which was amended in 1943 and renamed the Statute for the Punishment of Corruption. In 1953, the Statute for the Punishment of Corruption during the Period of National Mobilization for Suppression of the Communist Rebellion was promulgated until it was amended and renamed in 1992 to the present-day Anti-Corruption Act. These measures dramatically increased the statutory penalties for crimes already covered under the Criminal Code, effectively rendering its provisions obsolete.
In this case, the moment the discarded rice cooker was lifted onto the recycling truck, it was deemed by the Environmental Protection Bureau to have become public property. By privately handing it to the elderly woman, Huang is considered to have misappropriated property “due to official position, but not for official use,” thereby contravening the act. On the surface, this appears procedurally sound, but as some have pointed out, waste that is not properly disposed of might actually end up having a negative value due to the fees associated with recycling and disposal. From this perspective, Huang’s actions reflected the spirit of recycling and deserve praise.
I am familiar with a similar case in which the defendant distributed surplus meals from a student cafeteria to his colleagues. Like Huang, prosecutors indicted the defendant under Article 6 of the act for “misappropriating” the food.
However, the defendant was acquitted in 2007 by the Northern District Military Court of the Ministry of National Defense. Judgement No. 53 said that the defendant’s distribution of leftover meals from the student cafeteria to colleagues on campus who were not part of the meal program was not enough to establish an intent to misappropriate the cafeteria’s surplus food, so his actions did not constitute a contravention of Article 6.
It said that the defendant’s decision to share the food with his colleagues stemmed from a genuine desire to avoid waste, and to act with gratitude and appreciation. It was done in good faith and in accordance with prevailing social norms.
The judgement said that resources are limited and if people would cherish all things through frugality, it would not only sustain the planet’s resources, but also purify hearts.
The defendant — with permission from his superiors and the students participating in the meal program — distributed the leftover food to his fellow colleagues on campus to avoid waste, it said.
It was a well-intentioned act rooted in kindness — a virtuous deed that deserved recognition, it added.
However, that ruling was handed down prior to 2013 under the old military court system. The three presiding military judges did not adhere rigidly to “conceptual jurisprudence” — a formalistic approach that focuses narrowly on abstract legal concepts, often at the expense of practical justice — but instead provided a thorough interpretation of the law’s meaning. It is commendable that they treated the defendant fairly and with justice without resorting to complex German criminal law theories.
Judges in ordinary courts should also demonstrate open-mindedness and empathy, rendering judgements in corruption cases with a balance of logical reasoning and compassion before the act can be amended to align with public sentiment.
More importantly, legislators should reflect on the fact that the act has endured its own “century of solitude.” Originally promulgated to severely punish corrupt officials in the initial years following the ROC’s establishment, it should be asked whether — given the tremendous changes the nation has undergone in the past century — is still truly appropriate for today’s Taiwan.
Chao Hsuey-wen is an assistant professor and holds a doctorate in law from Fu Jen Catholic University.
Translated by Kyra Gustavsen
Taiwanese pragmatism has long been praised when it comes to addressing Chinese attempts to erase Taiwan from the international stage. “Taipei” and the even more inaccurate and degrading “Chinese Taipei,” imposed titles required to participate in international events, are loathed by Taiwanese. That is why there was huge applause in Taiwan when Japanese public broadcaster NHK referred to the Taiwanese Olympic team as “Taiwan,” instead of “Chinese Taipei” during the opening ceremony of the Tokyo Olympics. What is standard protocol for most nations — calling a national team by the name their country is commonly known by — is impossible for
India is not China, and many of its residents fear it never will be. It is hard to imagine a future in which the subcontinent’s manufacturing dominates the world, its foreign investment shapes nations’ destinies, and the challenge of its economic system forces the West to reshape its own policies and principles. However, that is, apparently, what the US administration fears. Speaking in New Delhi last week, US Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau warned that “we will not make the same mistakes with India that we did with China 20 years ago.” Although he claimed the recently agreed framework
The Office of the US Trade Representative (USTR) on Wednesday last week announced it is launching investigations into 16 US trading partners, including Taiwan, under Section 301 of the Trade Act of 1974 to determine whether they have engaged in unfair trade practices, such as overproduction. A day later, the agency announced a separate Section 301 investigation into 60 economies based on the implementation of measures to prohibit the importation of goods produced with forced labor. Several of Taiwan’s main trading rivals — including China, Japan, South Korea and the EU — also made the US’ investigation list. The announcements come
Taiwan is not invited to the table. It never has been, but this year, with the Philippines holding the ASEAN chair, the question that matters is no longer who gets formally named, it is who becomes structurally indispensable. The “one China” formula continues to do its job. It sets the outer boundary of official diplomatic speech, and no one in the region has a serious interest in openly challenging it. However, beneath the surface, something is thickening. Trade corridors, digital infrastructure, artificial intelligence (AI) cooperation, supply chains, cross-border investment: The connective tissue between Taiwan and ASEAN is quietly and methodically growing
RSS