In 2022, the Constitutional Court ruled that the exclusion of Pingpu from the Indigenous Peoples Status Act (原住民身分法) was unconstitutional — a delayed reckoning with a forgotten history. On Oct. 17, the Legislative Yuan passed its third reading of the Pingpu Indigenous People’s Identity Act (平鋪原住民族群身分法). It was a long-awaited response to a 20-year struggle for recognition from Pingpu groups and a milestone in Taiwan’s transitional justice process.
The question is whether legal recognition could truly provide genuine protection of rights. There is discussion on the likelihood of this separate legal framework — which acknowledges identity first and leaves rights to be debated later — creating a second-tier indigenous class. The decoupling of identity and rights would be a low-budget form of recognition at best. The acid test for the credibility of the legal changes would be what happens in the education system. The recognition of Pingpu groups brings three major challenges — and opportunities for reform — for education in Taiwan:
The first challenge is resource allocation. As hundreds of thousands of indigenous Pingpu potentially claim recognition, would the budgets and special admission quotas for indigenous education be diluted to the point of insignificance? This question is a cause of genuine concern among indigenous communities. It would be a slap in the face of any notion of transitional justice if the government leaves marginalized groups to compete among themselves under the pretext of “limited national resources.” Taiwan instead should see this moment as an opportunity to expand investment in indigenous education and address injustices. It is the time for determination to expand the pie, not a zero-sum resource scramble that pits ethnic groups against one another.
Second is the question of the curriculum. History textbooks have long painted Pingpu as a Sinicized or “disappeared” ethnic group, but this cannot remain with their existence recognized in law. What this change should not look like is simply appending a paragraph. Instead, Taiwan can reform and decolonize the curriculum’s systematic Han-centric standpoint, affirming the key and agentic position of Pingpu in its history. It would give next generations the chance to learn that Taiwan’s story was never one of a single voice.
Third is the challenge of teacher training. Who will teach this new curriculum? The teacher training system has serious gaps, and most teachers have little to no knowledge of the culture or history of Pingpu groups. That risks teachers unintentionally re-running stereotypes in the classroom and causing further damage to students with Pingpu heritage. It is essential that courses on ethnic relations and historical justice in Taiwan become a mandatory component of teacher training, and that teachers are upskilled as a matter of urgency.
Legal recognition is a first step, but the road ahead is long. The question is how to go about transforming an education system that has long neglected indigenous voices. The answer would serve as a touchstone for the integrity of Taiwan’s commitment to transitional justice.
Taiwan must avoid legislation that creates a situation in which there are different rights within the same ethnic group, and it should in the long term return to a singular status for a given identity. This is not just an issue for the Pingpu, but for all Taiwanese. How exactly the Pingpu are treated would define what kind of nation this is.
Ultimately, it is through education that Taiwan might prosper as a multicultural and just society.
Chou Hui-min is an educational researcher.
Translated by Gilda Knox Streader
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