Two ways to look at envoys (like Wu Poh-hsiung)

Wu, left, and Xi, right, meet in Beijing last week

Are the visits to China by KMT members who no longer hold office really that worrying? Or is their role simply to keep Beijing distracted? 

As he faces China’s leader across the long wooden table, a gigantic mural of tall mountains, valleys and temples as a backdrop, there are two ways of looking at the significance of this pudgy envoy and what his presence there means for the future of Taiwan. 

The first is to regard former Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chairman Wu Poh-hsiung (吳伯雄) as a threat. The man no longer has a position in office, nor did Taiwanese elevate him to some position with their votes. No, Wu is like a shadow, operating behind the scenes and free, it seems, of the restraints that apply to elected party officials or government figures. 

Across from him sits Chinese President and Chinese Communist Party (CCP) General Secretary Xi Jinping (習近平) and a few CCP cronies. Wu and Xi are heading a KMT-CCP summit in Beijing, the first since Xi’s ascension to the leadership. Wu is accompanied by former National Security Council secretary-general Su Chi (蘇起) — a Beijing regular — KMT Deputy Chairman Hung Hsiu-chu (洪秀柱) and former KMT vice chairman Chan Chun-po (詹春柏). This is, we are told, the first meeting to be held under the “one China” framework rather than the so-called “1992 consensus.” 

As expected, Wu said everything that Beijing wanted to hear, and in the days that followed last week’s meetings, the CCP promised a whole new series of measures to win the “hearts and minds” of Taiwanese. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

Philippines seeks air defense systems, MLRS from Israel

The Rafael Iron Dome in action

Alarmed by a dispute with China and unhappy with lack of U.S. support, the Philippines may be turning to other countries as it seeks to bolster its defenses 

Notorious for dragging its feet on defense modernization, the Philippine government may finally be putting its money where its mouth is thanks to a territorial dispute with China and the belief that the U.S. is unwilling to come to its defense. According to media reports, the Philippine military intends to procure surface-to-air missiles (SAM) and multiple-launch rocket systems (MLRS) from two Israeli defense contractors. And this time, it seems to mean it. 

An unnamed source told the Manila Standard, late last week that Philippine Defense Secretary Voltaire Gazmin could head for Israel this week to sign agreements with the two firms, which have been identified as Rafael Advanced Defense Systems Ltd. and Israel Military Industries Ltd. (IMI). 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Wind turbine troubles — the Yuanli case

A group of residents in Miaoli County have banded together to halt the construction of wind turbines close to their homes. But corporate interests are getting in the way 

“Where do you want to go?” the old taxi driver inquired as we approached his car outside the Yuanli (苑裡) train station in Miaoli County, a small stop reminiscent of train stations in an old Western movie. “Please take us seaside, where they are building the wind turbines,” we said. 

The driver, assuming we were ordinary tourists, had evidently not expected such a request. “Why would you want to see those?” he asked. “There are much better things to see here — there’s a puppet show.” 

A man walks by the seashore

But we insisted. While driving, he pointed toward a small community behind the vibrantly green rice paddies, right by the seashore. “Those wind turbines are trouble. People are protesting,” he said. 

The residents of Yuanli Township launched their resistance movement against InfraVest GmbH, a German wind power company, in September, after a concerned Chen Ching-hai (陳清海), a local artist and owner of the Xin Diao Ju (心雕居) wood sculpture gallery, attended a pre-construction information session for residents living within 250m of the planned wind turbines. He learned that the firm intended to build 14 wind turbines, each capable of generating 2,300 kilowatt hours (kWh) of energy, along the township’s 2km pristine coastline. 

A counter-protest at the site

But something wasn’t altogether right: records of the meeting showed that only 18 people in the four affected communities were present at the briefing. Worried about the density and close proximity of turbines to their homes, Chen and the residents formed the Yuanli Self-Help Group (苑裡反瘋車自救會). In all, of the 7,682 residents of Yuanli, 4,281 signed the petition opposing the construction of so many turbines in their neighborhood, and so close to their homes. It wasn’t hard to imagine why the villagers opposed the plan. (Removed from printed article: On our two-hour train ride from Taipei to Yuanli, we’d encountered several dozens of the 80m-tall structures, the long metallic stems, the egg-shaped cores, bringing to mind scenes from H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds. We’d expected laser beams to start zapping all life forms at any instant.) 

Since September, members of the self-help organization have protested at the Bureau of Energy, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the Executive Yuan, the Control Yuan and in front of the InfraVest office in Taipei. Chen, the leathery-skinned group leader, went on hunger strike for 10 days and had to stop after he began throwing up blood. 

The electronics box

The organization claims that InfraVest manipulated data and paperwork to obtain approval from the EPA. They also allege that the firm submitted a single application for Yuanli, Tongsiao (通宵) and Jhunan (竹南) townships for the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) to create the illusion of a much larger area for the wind farms and to avoid the 10 percent land usage quota. By doing so, it also avoided having to address the three townships’ idiosyncratic environmental specifications. After receiving conditional EIA approval, InfraVest submitted a Difference of Environmental Impact (DEI) evaluation and requested that five wind turbine sites be shifted to Yuanli, bringing the total there to 14 and above the 10 percent limit. 

The face of opposition

More importantly, the residents accuse InfraVest of not following the distance requirement in the company’s own DEI report, which clearly states that “the wind turbines should ideally be erected away from other structures, and for the wind turbines facing north or south, the turbines should be at least 350m away from each other. For the wind turbines facing east or west, the distance between the turbines should be at least 210m.” 

This feature article, co-written with Ketty Chen, was published today in the Taipei Times and continues here. See this article for my coverage on the thugs hired by InfraVest to scare off protesters ... and journalists. (All photos by the author)

In defense of political journalists

A street in Tainan

Rather than actually counter arguments, critics of journalists often come up with theories about ulterior motives, as if everybody were willing to sell their soul 

If this writer could somehow encompass all the character traits of which he has been accused over the years, or if he were afflicted by all the mental conditions that self-made psychiatrists have identified in him, he would have been institutionalized long ago, and would be sharing a dank cell with Cinicinnatus C. 

Who is this writer? What is he? He writes about politics, mostly, as a journalist who also often tips his toe into the dangerous waters of opinion. He is motivated by an urge to explore, to understand, and to tell. He does it because he cannot conceive of himself doing anything else, and because he suffers from a serious case of hypergraphia. He regards his work as a responsibility — not only to conduct his work honestly and professionally, but also to demonstrate an ability to learn, to grow, and to progress, even if, in the extreme, this results is positions that contradict his previous work. He believes, above all, in the need to be the antithesis of stasis. 

The late Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuscincki, writing about Herodotus, perhaps put it best: “The man who ceases to be astonished is hollow, possessed of an extinguished heart. If he believes that everything has already happened, that he has seen it all, then something most precious has died within him — the delight in life.” 

It would be reasonable to assume that most journalists, at least those who regard the profession as a calling rather than simply a job, are animated by feelings that approximate those stated above. And yet the expectation from readers, many of whom seem to take devilish pleasure in hating journalists, is that reporters should be little more than propagandists, that their work should not challenge their assumptions, but instead support, or reinforce, their preconceived ideas. When a journalist refuses to do that, those readers react in horror, and rather than parry with a solid counterargument, they come up with sundry reasons to explain why the journalist has lost his way. Here are some of the theories that have been advanced with regards to this writer over the past two years. Every single one of them does away with human agency, with free will; each one hints rather emphatically at ulterior motive:

He criticizes the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) to please his masters, the “green camp,” and the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP); he publishes an article about Chinese espionage in the Wall Street Journal on the orders of the Liberty Times and/or the DPP to make the KMT and the Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) administration look bad ahead of an important U.S. arms sales announcement; he calls for expatriate humility because he suffers from Stockholm Syndrome after the KMT threatened to expel him for his piece in the Journal; he “hates old people”; he points out successes in the Ma administration because he needs to maintain access to high-ranking officials; he writes for the money and therefore cannot be trusted (a theory that could only be advanced by someone who has never worked as a journalist); or he “shifted to the right,” as a friend wrote recently, because he is angling for a cushy job at a think tank in Washington, D.C. 

All of this is wrong — cheap, and downright insulting, in fact. Things are far more simple, or complex, depending on how one looks at it. Most journalists worth their salt will not sell their souls, period. They accept crappy salaries, equally crappy work hours, constantly fight with their bosses so as to be able to do their job, and will even accept pay cuts, demotions, to join news organizations which they perceive are closer ideologically to their own views. 

If this writer’s sole motivations were glory, comfort and riches, he would not have abandoned a promising career in Canadian intelligence, let alone write a highly critical book about the agency he’d worked for, at some personal risk. He would not be constantly subjected to criticism — threats, even — from managers at his current job. Every day, other journalists go through similar trials as they conduct their work, and will on occasion put their personal safety on the line for the sake of a story (this much cannot be said of their critics). Yes, there are bad journalists oout there, plenty of them, unfortunately. But not all of them are rotten, and in fact, the rotten ones are those who ceased to be astonished, who have seen it all. 

This writer’s views on politics in Taiwan have indeed shifted in recent years, but not for the reasons invented by his critics. He has made a journey, and if he has become more critical of the green camp, it is because he generally sees it to be failing, its ways self-defeating, its constituents incapable of moving beyond a past that long ago ceased to be valid. Money, future jobs, the urge to please power, Stockholm Syndrome, have nothing to do with it. 

We’re human, we make mistakes, and we’re certainly not always right. But give us some credit: we have free will, agency, and we are not, despite the polluting, corrupting nastiness of the politics we come in contact with on a daily basis, cynics who will sell our principles for the sake of a few more dollars, or the chance to secure a more prestigious job in the uncertain future. We’re not all Adrian Leverkuhns. Most of us have a rigidly ethical and principled approach to journalism and will never agree to write something we don’t believe to be true.

Let go of the past, it's the future that matters

Various swords at a temple in Tainan

If the only thing that Taiwan’s supporters can summon to protect Taiwan are dusty archival documents, then this nation’s prospects are indeed bleak 

Given Taiwan’s idiosyncratic international situation, it is often — and understandably — tempting to turn to the past for clarity and proof in pronouncements made by political leaders, or written in official documents, that Taiwan is not part of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), as Beijing claims. 

Over the years, many ardent supporters of Taiwan have unearthed a variety of documents to demonstrate that Taiwan was never a part of what is now known as China, or the PRC. Some have made the case, and not unconvincingly, that Taiwan could not be considered to have ever been part of China since the height of the “mainland’s” influence occurred at a time when the latter was itself a Manchu colony. 

Others have turned to historical documents to make the case that after Japan’s defeat in World War II, Taiwan became a protectorate of the UN, part of the US’ territory, or that its status remained in limbo, that it was never officially “returned” to the Republic of China (ROC) government, let alone communist China. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

Wind power firm hires thugs to protect site

Security personnel guard the site in Yuanli

A German firm is hiring muscle as security at a controversial construction site in Miaoli, but there is a problem: The guards are operating well beyond their authority 

It became clear as the taxi entered the narrow road, hemmed in on both sides by lush rice fields, that we were not welcome there.

The moment the cab driver brought his car to a halt and rolled down his window, a group of individuals who were sitting on rocks, smoking cigarettes, stood up and approached the car. Most of them wore white construction helmets, simple white shirts and black pants. 

Work continues at the site

The yellow construction cranes jutting above the tree line indicated that we had reached our destination. We were in Yuanli Township (苑裡), Miaoli County, at the site of a controversial wind turbine project by German wind power company InfraVest GmbH, which for the past eight months has met growing opposition by villagers, most of them farmers, who claim that the devices are intrusive and too close to their homes. 

Security takes a break

We stepped out of the car and were immediately approached by one sunglasses-toting white shirt, who curtly asked us who we were and what we wanted. A few meters away, a group of men, one of them busily chewing on betel nut, cast hostile glances in our direction. 

My article, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

RT-2000 multiple rocket launchers on Matsu?

A RT-2000 during HK29 on Penghu

The military may have inadvertently confirmed the deployment of the Ray Ting-2000 on the outlying island of Matsu, less than 1 km from China 

Taiwan has deployed a powerful multiple rocket launcher (MRL) on the outlying island of Matsu capable of hitting targets in China’s Fujian Province, reports are saying, less than two months after the launcher was made the centerpiece of the annual Han Kuang military exercises. 

Located less than 1 km from the coast of Fujian, the Matsu group of islets — there are 36 in total — have served as a forward defense for Taiwan’s military and a key interception point against Chinese amphibious forces. About 5,000 Taiwanese soldiers are deployed on the islands, from a peak of approximately 50,000 during the Cold War. The steady drop in military personnel there can be attributed in part to improving relations between Taipei and Beijing in recent years. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Canada’s engagement with Asia is overdue

Defense Minister MacKay, left, with Chang Wanquan

If Canada is to have any influence politically in the Asia-Pacific, its pivot must include more than just military talks with China 

For a Pacific country, Canada has been a relative latecomer to the Asia-Pacific. But if this week’s visit to the region by Defence Minister Peter MacKay is any indication, the government may finally be taking the first steps in engaging a part of the world will be hugely significant for our nation’s security in the future. 

Up to the present, Canada’s principal focus in East Asia has been economic, with little effort by Canada to play a more active, if not significant, political role within a region that, quilt-like, is an mixture of liberal democracies and repressive authoritarian regimes, and where simmering conflicts have the highest likelihood of sparking a major — possibly nuclear — war. Tellingly, it is also the only region where military spending has been rising. 

For those reasons, and given the implications for Canada’s trade relationships as well as the safety of its citizens based in the region, a reorientation to the Asia-Pacific, both institutional and psychological, is long overdue. Canada can no longer afford to treat major political issues in Asia as if the outcomes were of negligible import to our nation. Nor can our universities, government agencies, and think tanks continue to remain fixated on the Americas and Europe. 

My op-ed, published today in the Ottawa Citizen, continues here.

A serious warning from Hong Kong

Chen Ping, founder of iSun Affairs Weekly

A coincidence, or a random act? Perhaps, but given how China treats freedom of expression, one can be forgiven for assuming the worst 

As those who care about such matters take a moment to commemorate tge 24th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre, an incident in Hong Kong on Monday was a reminder of just how fragile freedom is, of how vulnerable it is to those who would cage it for their own selfish interests. 

Just as he was leaving his office in Hong Kong’s Chai Wan district, Chen Ping (陳平), the 58-year-old billionaire publisher of the political weekly iSun Affairs, was assaulted by two baton-wielding thugs in their 20s or 30s, sustaining injuries to his head, arms and chest, and requiring hospitalization. An investigation has been launched and it is not known who was behind the attack, but one can guess. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

NOTE: This development is of special significance for me, as just last month I was publishing my first article (translated into Chinese) in Mr. Chen's publication, iSun Affairs Weekly.

The Chen Shui-bian drama gets weirder

Former president Chen is escorted by police

Sensing that history (and his former party risks) leaving him behind, Chen appears to be resorting to theatrics 

Taiwan’s Ministry of Justice confirmed on Monday that former president Chen Shui-bian, who is serving a 20-year jail sentence for corruption, attempted suicide by hanging on the evening of June 2, the latest in a long list of dramatic events involving the controversial former leader. 

According to reports, the 62-year-old, who served as president from 2000-2008, tried to hang himself with a towel in a bathroom at Taichung Prison’s Pei Teh Hospital, but was stopped by a guard, who immediately sent him over to medical staff for examinations. 

My article, published today in the University of Nottingham’s China Policy Institute Blog, continues here.

Japan mulls preemptive strike capability

A JSDF uniform

A greater sense of threat, a more hardline government, and a permissive set of circumstances could make this a reality 

Finding itself in an increasingly complex and hostile security environment, Japan has taken the first steps towards developing a pre-emptive first-strike capability. This is a controversial move in a region that remains wary of a potential return to Japanese militarism. 

Just a few years ago, the idea that the Japan Self-Defense Forces (JSDF) would be given the ability to conduct operations that go beyond “self defense” would have sounded ludicrous, not to mention that offensive capabilities would have contravened a longstanding interpretation of Japan’s pacifist constitution. 

But North Korea’s continuing belligerence and pursuit of nuclear weapons and ballistic missiles, as well as China’s growing assertiveness and sovereignty claims, both appear to be changing Tokyo’s calculations. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Of dignity and the battle for the Losheng Sanatorium

Once again, humanity and the dignity of the individual, of the weakest among us, stands in the way of what the government defines as ‘modernity’ 

The old, musky concrete building, which formed a U and gave onto a small courtyard, was now but an empty shell. The Japanese-style shingle roof, darkened by decades of exposure to the harsh elements, no longer provided shelter to any of its former inhabitants, nor did the metal structure, propped by beams, that had been erected above it — a roof over a roof, really.

The Losheng community

The flimsy green door, animated by a spring that slaps it shut if you don’t hold it, creaked opened. Inside the small room were the remains of lives lived: a mattress, an empty wooden closet, a small light-blue pillow laid on top of a small desk, as if a small child had last taken a nap there. There was a kitchen, or that is, what used to be a kitchen. Lavatories. Another room, this one empty but for a mattress propped against the wall, and a closet that had not been emptied: one of its doors was open, and there were still clothes in it, which gave off the sweet smell of garment that hasn’t been washed, that hasn’t even been moved, dusted, in years. On the otherwise bare wall, a calendar remained pinned, fixed in time. November 2008. Presumably the time when the room’s last inhabitant had left, perhaps in a hurry, or maybe for a more final, irreversible reason.

This was one of several community buildings that, for decades, had served as home to Taiwanese suffering from Hansen’s disease, also known as leprosy. Braving 35-degree Celsius temperature, a tyrannical sun and extreme humidity, we’d decided to pay a visit to the Losheng Sanatorium (樂生療養院) in New Taipei City’s (新北市) Xinzhuang District (新莊).

Losheng, or “Happy Life,” was built in the 1930s, when the Japanese still ruled the island. The area had been chosen because of its remoteness from everything, where the carriers of this unknown disease, which first manifested itself by the apparition of red dots on one’s legs, before the bacteria moved on to devour the cartilage in one’s nose, then the joints, until the sufferer lost fingers, legs, and so on, could be kept away from civilization.

Residents of Losheng

As Mr. Huang, one of the few remaining residents we sat down with for pu-erh tea, told us, Taiwanese from as far away as Kaohsiung, where he was from, or Hualien, Penghu — Kinmen, even — were all brought to Losheng, usually against their will. After being seized from their homes, the authorities often put them in a small van, on which the contents and monstrous nature of their human cargo were clearly inscribed, which made sure to attract fearful glances and a few insults, and take them to Losheng. The disease, where it came from, what it was, and whether it could spread — all of that was little understood at the time. And as is usually the case, ignorance led to inhumanity. Lepers were monsters, a blight, a curse upon one’s family. They needed to be taken away, forgotten.

We sit down at a small wooden table with four of the about 100 residents who still live in the sanatorium, which sits on a lush, dense hillside. Above us in the trees, the cicadas sing their uninterrupted song of summer. There’s a large aquarium to my left, filled with bright busy fish. To my right, behind Mr. Huang, a large furry animal with a large tail dances furiously in a small cage. It’s a squirrel. Further back, cages are filled with rabbits and guinea pigs. A small black dog, Black Dragon, joins us. Black Dragon has many friends, Mr. Huang tells me, referring to the students and activists who often come to provide help. It’s a good thing Ketty is with me, as aside from Mr. Huang, all the others speak Taiwanese, and Mr. Huang’s Mandarin has a thick Taiwanese accent. I know enough words, and enough of the context of our discussion, to understand some of what they are talking about, but the nuance, the essence of their story, is lost on me, and so Ketty fills the gaps.

Work on the MRT depot

One of the reasons we decided to visit Losheng was that it is at risk of being destroyed forever, as a massive mass rapid transit (MRT) depot is being built at the foot of the hill. Unlike what some would believe, this is not a new issue. In fact, plans for the depot were first made in 1994. Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) was president when the first protests took place — protests against the project, which endangered the historical site, and against the forced relocation of the sanatorium’s elderly residents. It was the DPP that decided to build a brand new hospital next door to house the residents, without ever asking them if they were willing to move there, let alone consulting them on what the building — a cold, dark, utterly depressing affair of multistory concrete that we briefly walked through on our way to the old sanatorium — should look like. It was former vice president Annette Lu (呂秀蓮), Chen’s colorful running mate, who told them — no, berated them — that they should be grateful to the government for building this expensive hospital for them, that surely they wouldn’t want all that money to go to waste. It was Su Tseng-chang (蘇貞昌), currently DPP chairman but premier at the time, who had protesters taken away by police when they showed up at his home, the same Su who today sides, purely out of political convenience, with the same residents and protesters accusing Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) KMT administration of ignoring the rights and liberties of the residents (they are right, except that the DPP is equally guilty).

We walked through that hospital, we saw the KTV lounge on the ground floor, where the security guard sang alone, went up the small elevators, and saw some of the residents there. A home it isn’t, nor can it generate the sense of community that the now depleted old Losheng provided over the years. It’s a hospital, a prison, a place where one goes to die. Since it was completed in 2005, and since May 2008, when the government began trying to convince the old residents to move to the new building (free electricity, who could say no to that?), more than 300 Losheng residents have died, Mr. Huang told us. I couldn’t help but remember the calendar I’d seen on the wall. November 2008. Had the room’s former occupant been forced to move to the hospital, or had he perhaps died as a result of the stress? Why hadn’t he taken his clothes with him? Three hundred people in what, five, eight years? This brought to mind the three residents of the Huaguang Community (華光) in Taipei who couldn’t, in their old age, fathom the terror of a move, of forced eviction, of government fines, and who had dropped dead just as the bulldozers were raping their homes, the only homes they had ever owned.

Construction continues

The MRT depot could have been built elsewhere, but yes, that would have been more costly. The first site proposed was immediately behind Fu Jen Catholic University, but the residents said no. In the end, it was the old, the weak, the powerless, those who for political calculators have exactly no value, who were the chosen ones. They were disposable, they and the community that they inhabited, which had been home to them over decades, stood in the way, aah yes, of modernity. Who cares whether the soil composition at the site, as some experts in geophysics have already pointed out, is not suitable for such a project, that the entire hill, Losheng included, could one day swoop down like an avalanche upon it? Who cares that large fissures have been appearing along walls, on the floors, of buildings in the area? Who cares that the Losheng Sanatorium truly is a heritage site, even if, by the definition of the (much more recent) Ministry of Cultural Affairs, it isn’t old enough, hasn’t passed the arbitrary 100-year mark that makes it eligible for non-destruction, for preservation?

There are about 100 residents left, out of 400 back in 2005. Three hundred have died, despite the “nice new machines” and “shiny medical equipment” that Lu and Su were so proud of as they contemptuously refused to listen to the wheelchair-bound residents — residents, not patients, as they are cured, they are not contagious, and they are, for the most part, independent. One should see the bedrooms. No green things, as Mr. Huang said, and only a small window on the balcony, which has so many horizontal bars across it that it might as well be a prison. Do they fear that the Losheng residents will jump off the balcony? Why deny them the natural environment that has become their home? Why the attempt to even deny them a view of the hill? Might it be that the architects, the wise government officials who came up with that wonderful plan, fear that by seeing symbols of their old lives, the elderly will mutiny and request to be sent back into nature, where they belong, and where they deserve to spend the few years they have left?

A woman in a red shirt shows up. It’s not even three in the afternoon yet and she’s preparing dinner. Dinner at the Losheng Sanatorium is at four. Since we’re on the subject of food, Mr. Huang tells us of how, in the early years, people from the outside world would bring the food up to a certain point on the hill and drop it there, whereupon the residents would send someone to go pick it up and bring it back. One couldn’t leave Losheng; in fact, it was surrounded by a metal fence, to prevent escape.

Construction, Losheng

The reason why nearly eight years on the protests haven’t abated, why students visit the residents of the sanatorium every week to help them, to talk with them, or entertain them with concerts, is that people, however weak and ailing and forgotten, want dignity. All their lives, the residents of Losheng were treated like criminals, like monsters, forced into a life of isolation. Over the years, as they were cured, and as the world began to understand more about the disease, their prison became their home, and the former inmates, the patients, those who hadn’t died, who hadn’t committed suicide by hanging when the pain of the medical experiments became unbearable, became their friends, their family. This was home. They didn’t even want to go back to their initial homes back in Kaohsiung, in Hualien, Penghu, Kinmen, a world that had left them behind and that they, too, had left behind.

Now that the residents are in their 70s, the government is once again trying to send them to prison to await death. But they’re not dead yet, and some are in fact still quite alive. One of them told us, with no trace of irony, that he hopes one day to take the MRT to Taipei, but added that he would have to be accompanied, as he has little education and fears he would get lost. “I should have a sign on me that tells people where I live, that I’m in Losheng,” he said, smiling the but-two-incisive-tooth-missing smile of Hansen disease patients.

According to Mr. Huang, the government may have decided it will not force them to leave. Whether that is true remains to be seen. But if that is the case, the sustained protests likely played a role in that decision, and would once again demonstrate that a third way, a mobilization that transcends the ossified green-blue divide, is what this nation needs above all.

They asked us if we wanted to have dinner with them. We politely declined, said our good-byes, and went on our way. As we climbed down the hill and left Losheng behind us, we came upon the construction site, the breaking of ground, drilling, sawing, soldering, a gigantic, crushing, cold behemoth made of concrete. A perfect symbol for everything that is wrong with this whole project.

(All photos by the author)

China’s amphibious game changer?

A Zubr LCAC during sea trials

The European Bison, the largest Landing Craft Air Cushion in service, could play a major role in amphibious operations in the South China Sea 

Amid simmering tensions in East Asia over a series of sovereignty disputes at sea, where new, unpredictable bouts of escalation are always around the corner, China has continued to build up the capabilities it will need should it one day decide to use force.

 The latest addition to its growing arsenal — the world’s largest Landing Craft Air Cushion (LCAC) vehicle — reached Guangzhou earlier this month, and could enter service soon. 

The vehicle in question, a Ukraine-built “Zubr” amphibious hovercraft (also known as the “European bison”), is part of a US$315 million deal signed between China and the state-owned Ukroboronprom defense conglomerate in 2009. Under the agreement, two LCACs, developed by the Ukrainian Almaz Central Marine Design Bureau, are to be built by the Ukraine-based Feodosia Shipbuilding Company, and two more by Chinese shipyards, under the supervision of Ukrainian engineers. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Growing threat to Taiwan’s airspace

A Taiwanese F-16 lands at Hualien AFB

By continuing to provide China with advanced military technology, Russia has become a key destablilizing factor in Asia 

The planned purchase by China of S-400 surface-to-air missiles (SAM) from Russia, which this newspaper first reported in March last year, is one of many reminders that despite warmer relations in the Taiwan Strait, China is relentless in its efforts to achieve complete military dominance over Taiwan. 

As Defense News reported this week, Beijing is in talks with Moscow for the acquisition of the S-400, which has a range of 400km. If everything goes as planned, the missiles could be deployed as early as 2017. At present, China’s air defenses in its Fujian Province rely primarily on the S-300 PMU2 and the HQ9, a local variant of the S-300. Both have a range of about 200km, which puts parts of northwestern Taiwan within range, while ensuring complete coverage within China’s side of the median line in the Taiwan Strait. 

With the deployment of the S-400, all of Taiwan would fall within range of Chinese missiles, which would put Taiwan’s aircraft at great risk from the moment they take off. Because negotiations are ongoing, it is not yet known how many systems the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) intends to purchase and whether this would be sufficient to threaten Taiwan’s airspace. Furthermore, Taiwan cannot rule out the possibility that the S-400 will not be deployed in Fujian Province, but rather near major cities or critical military installations further inland. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

Notes on a crisis and the ugly side of human nature

Taiwanese express their anger

Online comments about the ongoing dispute between Taiwan and the Philippines are giving us a glimpse of the ugly side of human nature 

International disputes, such as the one that has gripped Taiwan and the Philippines following the gunning down of a Taiwanese fisherman by a Philippine coast guard vessel on May 9, inevitably arouse strong passions among the public; nationalism flares up as people rally round the flag. In the Internet age, everybody feels entitled, and has the ability, to share his or her opinions on everything. One unfortunate consequence of this empowerment — unprecedented in human history — is that it makes experts of each and every one of us, however ill informed or bigoted one might be. With the emergence of blogs, Twitter, Facebook, and the comments section on news Web sites, the traditional filters of education, expertise, and experience, which in the past promised a modicum of professionalism, are no more. As a result, when crises occur and tempers are set aflame, things can get ugly.

The spat between Taipei and Manila is no exception.

Two things have stood out since self-made experts and netizens began broadcasting their views on the Internet. The first, mostly on the Taiwan side, has been the tendency among some (invariably Caucasian) expatriates to accuse Taiwanese who were angered over the killing of one of their own of racism — “Han chauvinism,” even. Taiwanese who didn’t think Manila had shown enough contrition, who agreed with how the Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) administration was handling the matter, or who criticized it for not doing enough, all were supposedly animated by a superiority complex vis-à-vis “lesser” brown men.

Little did they know that their assessment of what motivated and united Taiwanese, their belief that Taiwanese were acting irresponsibly, were being racist, chauvinistic, fit perfectly well in an equally racist hierarchy of being, with the Wise White Men at the top of the food chain, free to pass judgment on the lowly colored races below them. Those who accused Taiwanese of chauvinism never sought to understand what it was about the incident that mobilized a large, politically heterogeneous segment of society. Instead of interpreting the reaction as nationalistic sentiment (normal in every society) and anger over a perceived injustice among a people that is continually victimized by the international community (mostly by “Han Chinese,” ironically), the wise arbiters needed to come up with theories as to why the usually meek Taiwanese were now up in arms. And instead of evaluating the Ma administration’s policies as a response to those domestic considerations, they instead came up with alternative explanations and conspiracy theories (Beijing’s hand). Some even flirted with the idea of unwitting “Han chauvinism,” which played right into China’s strategy for taking over the whole damn South China Sea, was at play. In the latter theory, Taiwanese are depicted as unaware, perhaps even “brainwashed.”

Meanwhile, those same critics who often deplored Taiwan’s inability to act like a normal country were now conjuring alternative ways to explain its response, including Taipei’s insistence on a government-to-government apology from Manila rather than its less-than-optimal response under its “one China” policy. As if that policy was invented by Taipei, and not the result of Chinese aggression and the willingness of the international community to play along. Critics also saw signs of racism in Taiwan’s decision to escalate with the Philippines, arguing that it unlikely would have been as hardline had it been China, or Japan, that had killed the fisherman. But here again, the reasons are far simpler: Taiwan is more powerful than the Philippines, but is much weaker than Japan and China. Which leader in his right mind would play David versus Goliath? The Taiwanese Navy cannot intimidate the People’s Liberation Army Navy or the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Forces. But it can certainly flex its muscles against the much weaker Philippine naval assets. It’s a law of international relations — the stronger pick on the weaker and usually avoids unnecessarily picking a fight with those who are stronger than them. But somehow it was beyond the ability of the Wise Ones to accept the fact that Taiwan was reacting like any other normal country would have reacted in such a situation.

Did Taiwanese get carried away and allowed nationalistic sentiment to cloud their judgment? Probably. Did the Ma administration overshoot when it tapped into that upsurge of emotions and didn’t know when to stop drinking from that fountain? Very likely. Countries, governments, people the world over commit such mistakes all the time. But there’s little more to it than that. Skilful or flawed, there is nothing unusual about Taiwan’s response. The second ugliness, which this time does have something to do with race, occurred mostly on the Philippines side.

The comments sections under the articles I have written on the subject for The Diplomat, or articles I edited for the Taipei Times, are filled with expressions of hatred. Granted, some Taiwanese commentators — even legislators — have used less than flattering language when describing the Philippines, alluding to the corruption that haunts the country and how vastly disorganized the place is. But in the racial-name-calling game that accompanied the crisis, the Filipinos have gone well beyond what the Taiwanese have mustered. Here are a few cringe-worthy examples. See if you can see the trend:

•  “Chinks, keep away from our waters/land or else die”; 
•  “Taiwanese and Chinese are just one blood one attitude! They must both vanish to [sic] this world!”; 
•   “Taiwan is an island that can never be country. Dream on Taiwanese”; 
•   “These poaching thieves robbers Chinese are or will never be in moral high ground. We just know them Chinese. In their racists [sic] eyes, they think they can kick a ragtag doll which they believe the Philippines is”; 
•   “Idiot chinese attitude [sic]! Rude.” 

 There are many, many more.

Two themes stand out. The first stems from the Philippines’ inferiority complex and focuses primarily on reminding Taiwanese that Taiwan is not a country, but merely an island or a province of China. You may be stronger and wealthier than us Filipinos, it says, but at least we have a country. That point is often made in reference to the inability of Taiwan of applying international law because of its unofficial status, or to the illegality of its EEZ claims, since it cannot be a signatory of UNCLOS. What they fail to realize is that EEZs are customary international law, which means that even non-signatories are bound and protected by them.

The second, more prevalent one is meant as an insult. It compares Taiwanese to Chinese, which were are repeatedly told are of “the same blood.” It is meant as an insult because, as we know, the large majority of Taiwanese do not regard themselves as Chinese (another blow to the “Han chauvinist” theory). Filipinos know that, and are equally aware that the comparison will sting. Perhaps one positive offshoot of such rhetoric is that it demonstrates awareness among Filipinos that Taiwanese are indeed not Chinese.

What a fascinating subtext to this very complicated story!

Xi’s memo is a wake-up call

Chinese President and CCP Secretary-General Xi Jinping

For the CCP, there is nothing more dangerous and threatening than for Western 'pollutants' to be picked up, internalized and adapted by 'Chinese' societies 

Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) and his comely wife, Peng Liyuan (彭麗媛), may be the most outwardly attractive first couple to lead China in several generations, but behind the smiles and the glamor lies a hardline streak that Taiwan should not — cannot — ignore. 

For months before he became president and chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), China watchers were divided on whether Xi would be a reformist in the same vein as former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev or the continuation of more conservative elements within the Chinese leadership. 

That speculation came to a head last week, when sections of a secret memo to Chinese officials were briefly made public in Chinese media. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

How Taiwan (ultimately) bungled the Philippine crisis [UPDATED]

Taiwanese protest against the Philippines

Taiwanese diplomats missed a golden opportunity to de-escalate when Aquino dispatched MECO Chairman Amadeo Perez to Taipei to convey his apology 

The art of diplomacy involves not only the ability to maximize the returns for one’s country but also a keen awareness of the most propitious time to cease escalation. The dispute between Taipei and Manila over the killing of a Taiwanese fisherman by a Filipino coast guard vessel is a case study in how initially skilful diplomacy can quickly be undermined by missed opportunities. 

During the first days of the crisis, Taiwan indisputably had the moral high ground. Hung Shih-cheng, a 65-year-old Taiwanese fisherman, had been killed when a Philippine coast guard sprayed the Kuang Ta Hsing No. 28 with machine gun in disputed waters between the two countries. As a joint investigation had yet to materialize, it still wasn’t clear whether the ship had ventured into the Philippine’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ). Regardless, the 45 bullet holes discovered on the hull of the Kuang Ta Hsing pointed to a disproportionate response by the Philippine authorities. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

UPDATE:
The New York Times/IHT picks it up.
The Manila Standard also picks it up, and adds criticism against the Aquino government.
For an example of selective and self-serving use of my article, see ABS-CBN News.

Announcement: Working on a new book – Official Facebook page

Readers may have noticed that my output has diminished somewhat in recent months. There are two principal reasons for this — one that I will not discuss for the time being, and the other, which is that I have been writing my third book. I have finished drafting Officially Unofficial: Confessions of a journalist in Taiwan (it stands at about 78,000 words), and am now hard at work editing it.

The book uses my personal experiences as a foreign journalist in Taiwan as a point of departure for a meditation on the role and significance of journalism in the modern age, freedom of expression, and the larger issue of politics of Taiwan. (To find out more about the first reason why my output has dropped, you'll have to read the book!)

Please visit the official Facebook page for news updates, publication details, and the occasional excerpt!

Cool heads needed in Taiwan-Philippines row

DPP members protest on Monday

Taiwanese have been even-handed in their response to the killing of one of their own. Overzealous theatrics, such as burning the Philippine flag, does no good 

The small group of city councilors from the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), accompanied by DPP Legislator Pasuya Yao (姚文智), formed a half circle on Monday morning as they burned reproductions of the Philippine flag and images of Philippine President Benigno Aquino III outside the Manila Economic and Cultural Office (MECO) in Taipei. 

Yao and the participants at the small protest were expressing the outrage many Taiwanese feel at the Philippine Coast Guard’s killing of a Taiwanese fisherman on Thursday. They were joined by dozens of members of the 908 Taiwan Republic Alliance, a pro-independence group, who, along with DPP city councilors, lobbed green flippers at the office. 

Their anger at the use of indiscriminate force against an unarmed fishing vessel — regardless of whether it indeed crossed into the Philippines’ exclusive economic zone, as Manila claims — was entirely justified, as were their calls on President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) administration to ensure that the matter is resolved in a just and timely manner. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

Asia’s next high seas drama — tensions rise between Taiwan and the Philippines

A Lafayette-class frigate accompanies a CGA ship

Taipei has reacted with restraint to the killing of a fisherman by the Philippine coast guard last week. But escalation could easily ensue if the crisis is not handled properly 

The 15-tonne Kuang Ta Hsing No. 28 was docked at the Ta Fu fishing port on Siaoliouciou, off Pingtung County in Taiwan’s south. Forensic technicians were busy photographing the 55 bullet holes, some in thick parts on the port side, that had been discovered on the fishing vessel — evidence, preliminary analyses said, that a heavy-caliber machine gun was used. 

Two days earlier, on May 9, the fishing boat had been fired upon by a Philippine government vessel while operating some 164 nautical miles southeast of Taiwan’s southernmost tip. The unarmed crew took cover in the cabin, but for Hung Shih-cheng, a 65-year-old Taiwanese fisherman, it was too late. He was killed when a bullet penetrated the right side of his neck. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Taiwan’s military flexes its muscles: A photo essay on Han Kuang 29

Main battle tanks ready to unleash their fury

The recent Han Kuang series of exercises on Penghu Island was a serious display of Taiwan's military power 

The Taiwanese military recently held the 29th edition of its Han Kuang series of exercises with a display of force unseen since President Ma Ying-jeou came into office in 2008. A total of 7,682 soldiers from the Air Force, Navy and Army took part in the counter-assault exercise on the outlying island of Penghu that simulated an amphibious attack by the People’s Liberation Army. 

My article — and photos — published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Let the conspiracy theories begin

Map of the incident on Thursday morning

The killing of a Taiwanese fisherman by the Philippine coast guard on Thursday is already fueling rumors of a joint Taiwan-China plot

Here we go again. Something happens, the Taiwanese government reacts like a normal country, and some people in the opposition camp — people who presumably hope that Taiwan would be recognized and treated as a normal, sovereign state — instead interpret Taipei’s reaction as a sign that there is a conspiracy afoot.

Just last month, some critics of the Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) administration were arguing that there probably was more to the fisheries agreement that had been signed between Taiwan and Japan in April. Without providing a shred of evidence, they posited that somehow the Ma administration must have struck a secret deal with its “master” in Beijing, some quid pro quo, before it could ink a pact with Tokyo that had remained elusive for more than sixteen years.

Prior to that, those very same critics had claimed more than once that there were “evident signs,” such as sorties by fishing boats, that Taipei had allied itself with Beijing against Japan in the Diaoyutai Islands (釣魚台) dispute. Taipei issued dozens of denials, and senior advisers to Ma’s Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) stated in no uncertain terms that they would never join forces with pro-unification “crazies” in the dispute, but those signals were never sufficient to convince Ma’s detractors that such cooperation did not, in fact, exist.

The Ma government had created some noise to ensure it was not ignored in the triangular island dispute, and had succeeded in reaching an agreement with Tokyo that upheld the rights of Taiwanese fishermen in waters near the islets, but the other camp couldn’t bring itself to admit that what it had accomplished was a success. It couldn’t be diplomacy. It couldn’t possibly be as simple as that, a government acting in the interest of its constituents. Heaven forbid that they could say or write anything that would make Ma “look good.” It was safer, therefore, to stick to “unprovables” and conspiracy theories.

Now an incident at sea on Thursday in waters between Taiwan and the Philippines, in which a Philippine coast guard vessel opened fire on the Kuang Ta Hsing No. 28 (廣大興28號) Taiwanese fishing boat, killing 65-year-old Hung Shih-cheng (洪石成), along with Taipei’s reaction to the matter, is again fueling speculation that the Ma administration is up to no good. And here again, the specter of a secret deal with Beijing is raising its sinister head.

As both governments investigate the incident, Taipei has done what any government would do in such a situation and has asked Manila to apologize and provide compensation to the family of the victim.

China, which is involved in various territorial disputes in the South China Sea, weighed in on Thursday; the Taiwan Affairs Office strongly condemned what it called a “barbaric” shooting and also called for an investigation. There is nothing new here. Every chance it has, Beijing will try to demonstrate that it sides with Taiwan in regional disputes, and will call for unity with the island to counter common external threats. It did that several times at the height of the Diaoyutai dispute, and this is what prompted senior officials in Taipei to deny, time and again, that such cooperation existed. This is Chinese propaganda, and somehow critics of the Ma administration seem to swallow it, well — hook, line and sinker.

If Beijing’s usual response wasn’t enough for Ma’s critics, KMT Legislator Alex Tsai’s (蔡正元) comments on his Facebook page on Thursday night certainly provided the ammunition they needed. No sooner had Tsai remarked that the killing was not an accident, but “war with the Philippines” than Ma’s detractors saw signs of foul play behind the scenes. It goes like this: Beijing claims the entire South China Sea and has overlapping claims with the Philippines; all it needs is an incident, such as the killing on Thursday, to justify intervention; by calling for “war,” Tsai — and probably other KMT officials — showed that he is part of a well orchestrated plan between Taipei and Beijing to take action.

Then again, wouldn’t every government in a normal country react with some indignation when one of its citizens is killed? Tsai’s comments are over the top — in fact, they’re downright ridiculous, as were similar calls for war with Japan a few years ago when fishermen got into trouble near the Diaoyutais. But proof that Ma is part of a conspiracy involving China to seize islands in the South China Sea? Come on. Occam’s razor, people.

Approaching China with intelligence

TAO Deputy Director Sun Yafu speaks at a forum in Taipei

The majority of cross-strait cultural events are handled by Chinese intelligence officers, and they are components of an aggressive political warfare campaign 

As the Democratic Progressive Party’s (DPP) China Affairs Committee takes shape, now is a good time to start thinking about how to best engage China. 

Two principles stand above all others in how Taiwanese should interact with their giant neighbor: First, engagement is unavoidable, though the scope, breadth and nature of such interactions should continue to be determined by the Taiwanese side; and second, such engagement should be conducted under the premise that the entire enterprise is part of a large united front campaign orchestrated by Beijing. 

Consequently, the Taiwanese side must never lose sight of the dangers that stem from interacting with China, and should therefore arm themselves with sufficient intelligence about their interlocutors before making contact with them. They should also be ready to launch their own counter-propaganda campaign to defuse the primary message that Beijing wants to drill into people’s minds, and that is the “historical inevitability” of “reunification.” The worst that the DPP, or any other Taiwanese organization, for that matter, can do is walk in unprepared and assume that the Chinese side is well-intentioned. It is not. 

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

Israel’s target in Syria was Hezbollah, not Assad

IDF aircraft in flight

Iran and Hezbollah may fear that the collapse of the Assad regime would close an important arms conduit into Lebanon 

At first glance, the two series of Israeli air strikes inside Syria on Friday and Sunday may suggest that Israel is no longer reluctant to take sides in Syria’s two-year-old civil war. But the likelihood that Jerusalem would seek to precipitate the by-now almost inevitable toppling of the Bashar al-Assad regime by cooperating with the rebels is low. Based on what is known, the target of the air strikes, which reportedly killed as many as 42 Syrian soldiers, were Iranian arms bound for Lebanese Hezbollah. 

The reason is simple. For all its other faults the Assad regime has ensured a relatively stable border with Israel, and whatever comes after its downfall — likely, a mixture of Islamist rebels, some of whom have pledged allegiance to al-Qaeda — would likely be more threatening to the Jewish state. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Why Taiwan’s youth movement matters (sow a wind)

Protesters show what they think at a protest in late April

Vague talk about how to ‘protect’ Taiwan is no longer sufficient. What the times call for is action, and a group of young Taiwanese is doing just that  

How refreshing the past few months have been! At long last, a group of young people, still relatively small, yes, but certainly mobile, and extremely canny, has achieved what well-funded and established political parties, concerned as they are with continuity, can only hope of accomplishing. 

The new phenomenon, which sprouted legs sometime in the middle of last year, is the youth movement, which over time has expanded from a single-issue group into a multifaceted and cross-pollinating entity that mobilizes wherever injustice rears its ugly head. From Tsai Eng-meng’s (蔡衍明) now-defeated efforts to create a media goliath through the acquisition of Jimmy Lai’s (黎智英) Next Media outlets in Taiwan to an ongoing campaign against the destruction of the Losheng Sanatorium (樂生療養院) and the forced eviction of elderly residents of the Huaguang Community (華光), the several hundreds of highly educated, connected, Internet-savvy youth who form the core of this group are showing the way ahead for Taiwan. 

It would be easy to dismiss their protests as simple show, of protest for the sake of publicity, were it not for the fact that their acts are serving as instruments of education. The social media platforms that have been created in parallel with the protests are by themselves often more current and learned than anything one will find in the media. Furthermore, their mobilization, with support from a number of academics, is engendering essential public debate on issues that otherwise would be ignored. 

Even more important is the fact that their protests are actions, not the hollow talk we are usually served by politicians from both sides of the political divide. And those actions are, in turn, prompting reactions. And occasionally, those reactions are overreactions, such as the targeting of young students like Chen Wei-ting (陳為廷) by both Mr. Tsai’s media empire and government authorities, or just this week, the Miaoli County Police Department’s handling of the protests over the wind turbine project in Yuanli Township (苑裡). Through its actions, the youth movement is bringing out the best and the worst in government officials and ordinary people alike, which inevitably creates a clash in values and interests. 

When peaceful protests in Yuanli are broken by police who ride roughshod over the law, using disproportionate measures such as handcuffing the activists at the site, or threatening their immediate arrest if they turn out again today (May 2), it forces people to scrutinize how our law enforcement agencies, along with the Ministry of the Interior, are abiding by the rules of a democratic system. And using every electronic tool at their disposal, the young protesters, aided by a pool of stalwart journalists, make sure that everything is well documented. When the authorities fail, as they evidently did in Miaoli in the past week, senior officials come under fire, as occurred on May 1, when Minister of the Interior Lee Hong-yuan (李鴻源) faced heated questions (here, here and here) in the legislature, and promised an investigation. Look how this focuses the minds of DPP legislators.

When’s the last time, really, that political parties forced all of us to look at articles of the law, or to think about such fundamentals as freedom of the press or the right to property? In the past year, the youth movement has dared to dream and to take a stand in the defense of the values that are supposed to serve as the foundations for this nation. Unlike the politicians who speak in abstract terms and often seem to take those values for granted, this nascent youth movement is willing to fight for them, and to teach us lessons in the process. 

The time has come for rejuvenation, and for that to happen, what is required is action — physical involvement, and the catalysis of anger in the face of injustice. Yes, such mobilization causes disturbances and sometimes leads to clashes, but it’s now clear that this is what is necessary to shake the majority of Taiwanese out of their comfortable stupor … before it’s too late. (Taipei Times version here.)

The rape of Taiwan

A protester is taken away by police on April 29

Police can no longer be allowed to be complicit in a system that cracks down on innocent Taiwanese who are fighting for the future of their country, while allowing Chinese visitors to get away with murder 

At the drop of a word by a pugnacious superintendent, the young protesters were suddenly handcuffed and brusquely forced to the ground by police officers before being dragged away, some screaming in pain, others at the brutality with which their peaceful sit-in had been broken up.

The dozens of activists, many of them veterans of other campaigns in recent months, were in Yuanli Township (苑裡), Miaoli County, to support local residents who oppose a controversial wind turbine construction project that has been forced upon them by an intransigent county government. Amid the commotion, the superintendent, who earlier had been caught on film saying he “doesn’t understand the law,” warned the protesters they could be charged under articles 304 — causing, by violence or threats, another person to do something they have no obligation to do, or preventing another person from doing something that they have the right to do — and 306 — unlawfully entering a dwelling or structure of another person, the adjacent or surrounding grounds, or a vessel belonging to another — of the Criminal Code. Articles 304 and 306 carry a maximum of three years and one year imprisonment respectively.

My unsigned editorial, published today in the Taipei Times, continues here.

「漢光軍演」恢復實彈演練

2009 年以來，台灣馬英九政府一直謹慎處理軍事演習，減少實 彈對抗操演，以緩和兩岸緊張局勢。然而上週「漢光軍演」，馬英九首度全程檢閱，秀出各種新式武器

 4 月17 日，台灣軍方在漢光舉 行一年一度的軍事演習——「漢光 29 號軍演」，這是馬英九2008 年上 任以來，首度全程檢閱台軍年度最大 規模演習。雖然陣容龐大，但從實際 意義上講，此次軍演更多被看成是安 撫島內民眾的政治砝碼，同時也被看 成是在炫耀本土作戰實力的秀場。 為了緩和兩岸緊張局勢，改善與 中國大陸的關係，自2009 年，馬英 九政府決定減少漢光演習中實彈對抗 部分，而更多採用計算機模擬作戰對 部隊進行訓練。盡管馬政府對外大肆 宣稱，基於對環境問題的考量，部隊 已經停止進行實彈演習，但事實上漢 光演習實戰對抗部分從未徹底結束， 其他軍演，如「聯勇102-3 號三軍聯 合操演」、「聯興102-1 號兩棲登陸 作戰操演」，實彈操作也未停止，火 力對抗仍佔整個軍演的很大一部分。

My article on the Han Kuang 29 military exercises, published in this week's issue of iSun Affairs Weekly (陽光時務), is available at newsstands in Taiwan and Hong Kong.

China’s Shifting Cyber Focus on Taiwan

A communications officer during Han Kuang 29

A new report by Taiwan’s spy agency claims that the PLA has shifted its cyber warfare priorities to the civilian sector 

Hackers from the Chinese military appear to have shifted the focus of their attacks against Taiwan from government institutions to the civilian sector, including think tanks, telecommunications, Internet nodes, and traffic signal control systems, the island’s top civilian spy agency said in a new report. 

The report, submitted by the National Security Bureau (NSB) to the Legislative Yuan prior to a briefing on countermeasures on April 29, did not venture reasons why the PLA’s General Staff Department was now turning its sights on civilian infrastructure, nor did it indicate whether this alleged shift was part of a larger trend or was specific to Taiwan. 

Rather than focus on government facilities and diplomatic missions abroad, think tanks, firms in the information technology sector or outsourced factories and businesses, network nodes — primarily industrial computers that are not protected by firewalls or invasion detection systems — broadband routers, factory-grade microcomputer controllers, cloud storage and traffic signal switches, were identified as the probable principal targets of Chinese hackers. 

My article, published today in The Diplomat, continues here.

Huaguang and the dance of modernity

Modernity showed its face today, and it was to be found in the hearts of those who defied the authorities in the name of humanity 

What is modernity? What is progress? Is it the sprouting of multibillion-dollar glitzy hotels and shopping malls, or is it how human beings deal with one another, in a society that strives for non-zero-sum outcomes?

Judging from the latest round of forced evictions and the demolition of houses at the Huaguang Community (華光) in Taipei, one would conclude that the march of progress was all about rejuvenation through the removal of the old and the eventual emergence of the new.

A large police force was present

I woke up at 4:45 this morning and jumped in a cab to Huaguang, where student protesters, who had gathered at the site since early evening the previous day, were facing off with several hundred policemen (it could have been worse; the previous Wednesday, I’d had to get up at 3:15am to attend the Han Kuang 29 military exercises on Penghu). An entire row of houses and small businesses were scheduled for demolition by construction workers dispatched by the Ministry of Justice (MOJ).

To make a long story short, through some of the residents of Huaguang have lived there for more than half a century, the land reportedly belongs to the central government, which means that they have been occupying it illegally. Although previous administrations had chosen not to enforce the law, the Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) government earlier this year decided it could no longer wait and moved in swiftly, presumably because of the tremendous pressure it must have been receiving from land developers. The government’s handling of the dispute has been awful at best, with the MOJ filing multimillion-NT-dollar lawsuits against the impoverished and elderly residents for illegally profiting from the land, seizing a portion of their bank accounts, and charging them for the demolition of their homes (it also allegedly charged the residents NT$500 per police officer that had to be deployed to the site during a pervious protest). Many of the residents are in their eighties and of ill health; some are not entitled to social assistance, and most cannot afford to pay the rent in the limited social housing made available, on a priority basis, to them. The community is broken, with old friends losing their homes and friends, as they are dispersed in places as far away as Nangang and Wanfang.

On both ends of the street, protesters were prevented from accessing the site by rows of police officers and temporary barriers. Only journalists had been able to penetrate the urban slaughterhouse, and police were checking their i.d. before they went in. The big question was whether they would allow a foreign reporter to enter as well. After minutes trying, and failing, to identify the commanding officer, I saw a small group of Taiwanese reporters glide through the row of police officers on their way back to the site. I immediately jumped in, expecting to be stopped at any moment. The night before, rumors had circulated on the Internet that police would not allow foreign reporters to come close to the area.

Police behind the lines

It worked. A couple of cops exclaimed out loud that there was a foreigner among them, but nobody intercepted me. The trick on such situations is to act as if one owns the place, to pretend that everything is perfectly normal. Furtive glances, rushed movements, or nervousness will inevitably attract the attention of the authorities. It also helped that I had made sure to keep all the tags I had been issued by Air Force officials during my trips with the military attached to my camera. I’d also brought a notepad. I looked legit, as in fact I was.

So I was in, and I realized that we had total freedom to walk around, chat with the few remaining local residents who were busily gathering their belongings before the demolitions, to enter houses selected for demolition, and to snap pictures at will. After an hour of doing so, I had become part of the scenery, and police no longer paid attention to me. Some even apologized (mostly in Taiwanese) whenever they bumped into me or asked me to make way for them.

Protesters and police clash

The situation turned ugly on two occasions, when protesters tried to break through the barricades. The previous night, fourteen young people had been taken away by police for trying to do so, and were now being arraigned. There was some serious pushing and shoving, with some youth sustaining minor injuries as they were hit and crushed by the police shields. A small girl in a yellow shirt, who could not have been older than in her early twenties, was pretty banged up and had a split lip. She and a friend managed to slip by the cops and briefly entered the site, but minutes later both were dragged outside by female officers. The injured girl sank to the ground in a daze. One protester seemed to have fainted and spent about one hour inside the zone lying on the ground and speaking incoherently to nobody in particular. He, too, was eventually taken away, along with a few others.

A protester is dragged away

Some police officers grumbled among themselves that the MOJ had mucked things up and that this was why they were in such a mess. The demolition trucks should have been brought in the night before, but this hadn’t occurred, they said. One elderly police who was facing the students directly observed that this was the “highest quality of protesters” he had seen since he’d entered the force — of course, as many of them were from National Taiwan University; hardly the betel nut-chewing type. Another one said the protesters were “just kids” and just stood there. He obviously didn’t want a violent confrontation with them.

Police officer, really?

Conversely, there were also among the ranks of the police officers men who didn’t wear uniforms and whose behavior and countenance made them look like gangsters. One of them, who wore a white T-shirt and gloves, and looked like he’d just chewed on betel nut, was among the roughest people pushing back the young protesters (he saw her push the injured little girl mentioned above). There was a handful of them, and it was impossible to know whether they indeed were police or were local thugs hired for the occasion.

The rude MOJ enforcer (center)

As some local residents gave tearful interviews to the media, the MOJ enforcer and her minions, carrying piles of documents, showed up and visited every single house. The enforcer had a record of showing great condescension towards the residents and protesters, and once again she didn’t disappoint, hollering at one of the elderly evictees who appeared to be struggling with the documents and was trying to contact someone on the phone. Only later, when the bulldozers were ripping buildings apart, did the MOJ woman appear to relax. She even smiled. An additional fine of NT$1.6 million (US$53,700) was announced against the owner of a noodle shop, on top of the NT$6 million lawsuit they were already facing.

The district head and other local officials were also overheard taunting some of the residents. One woman who was helping an evictee, Mr Zhan (詹), commented afterwards about how they were treated. Here’s just one excerpt from her testimony:

這時突然一個地方人士現在鎮暴警察堆，看來是同一夥的 不屑的語氣用大嗓門的對詹伯伯說：『呦，這麼多人幫你搬家阿，真好命阿，不是一個月前早就告訴過你趕快搬走了嗎！站著茅坑不拉屎！你們這些垃圾！』

Then word got round that all the journalists on site were required to present themselves at a table and show their press passes, whereupon the Taipei Detention Center would issue them an official pass. Anyone who did not have the pass would be forced out.

I expected to be among those who would be asked to leave. After all, the night before, some reporters had been turned away when police pretended that they did not know the media organization they worked for, or that they were not on “the list.” I showed my Taipei Times card, which technically isn’t a press pass. The man looked at it briefly, wrote my name in Chinese and organization (misspelling it) down on a pad, and said I was OK, but that they had run out of badges. Me and another journalist immediately protested, saying that without a badge, cops who couldn’t know we’d been cleared were bound to take us away. Someone eventually found a bag full of badges, and we both received one. It was odd to be given a badge by a detention center. This was also a new practice, never used before. I wonder if this might not have been an attempt by the authorities to limit the ability of activists to spread images and video of the destruction on the Internet, which during past demolitions had served to embolden the opposition to the government’s actions at Huaguang.

Ghost money

At 9am, the protesters held their last stunt and threw ghost money in front of the police. Speeches followed, and then the protesters dispersed, most of them going heading for the prosecutor’s office, where the fate of their friends who’d been taken away the night before was being decided.

Police told reporters to stand behind a low-lying gate for their protection during the demolition. We waited for about half an hour, during which time one of the local residents being evicted, whom I had seen earlier marking boxes with addresses in the Philippines and Malaysia, brought us a crate of juice, crackers, and a handful of umbrellas. I had one of her drinks, a Vietnamese cocktail of some sort made with leaves. It was very green. Not bad, but after that I limited myself to taking water bottles from the police, though I stayed away from their sandwiches.

A home is destroyed

The demolition proceeded quickly, and the decrepit structures that had served as homes for more than half a century were no match for the gigantic steel monsters that were unleashed to tear them down. The huge claw tore sheet metal roofs and walls like some titan sent from above, while a man hosed the area to limit the dust emissions. We snapped out pictures. Most journalists looked on with sadness; some were laughing among themselves. A few residents sat on the sidelines, crying. Mr Zhan smoked one cigarette after another.

While this was going on, on the other side of the police line a few local residents were heckling the protesters and accusing them of being disruptive and selfish. One woman blamed the protesters for creating a scene and keeping her awake all night. Another one said it was a good thing that the neighborhood be razed, as its residents stood in the way of progress, and their houses were decrepit anyway. As she is not a journalist, Dr Ketty Chen, who had accompanied me to the protest, was unable to reach the site as I did, but her being out there with the protesters allowed her to listen to those conversations. As she pointed out to the churlish passer-by, today it was the poorest residents of the community who were being targeted by the rich and the powerful. After the glitzy Roppongi-style neighbor rises, it’ll be her forty-year-old house that looks decrepit. What will she do, then, when the government rules that her part of the neighborhood is too unsightly and decides to wipe it clean?

Another protester is taken away

I remember the first thing that British journalist Martin Jacques told me when I interviewed him in Taipei a few years ago, just after his book, When China Rules the World, had been released. This was his first visit to Taiwan in years, and he was shocked, on his way from the airport into the city, how little construction there was, and how quiet it was compared with the construction boom that was going on across China and other countries in the region. He was disappointed, Jacques said. It didn’t feel “modern.”

I thought to myself back then that Taiwan’s construction boom had occurred about a decade and a half prior to that in China. It had gone through that phase already. Therefore, modernity and progress had to mean something else, something more than skyscrapers MRT lines, which were still popping up all over the city. Maybe the new phase — call it Taiwan’s post-modern era — involves social justice, and the realization that the injustice visited upon the weakest today could very well be the fate in store for those who tomorrow find themselves in an equally disadvantageous position. Maybe modernity is the embracing of a non-zero-sum society, the coming together of a people in opposition to the wealthy vultures, as a prophylactic against future abuse.

The face of modernity?

While the rich seem to have President ma by the balls, I saw the face of modernity in Taiwan today. It wasn’t the bulldozers or the aloof MOJ officials who had the weight of the law to animate them. And it wasn’t the plans that are being drawn for this future neighborhood for the super rich. No. It was to be found in the eyes of the young protesters who set aside politics and ethnicity (most of the Huaguang residents are “mainlanders” who fled from communist China) and who defied the authorities, once again, for the sake of humanity, dignity, and justice. It’s their future, and what they make of modernity and progress is theirs to decide. (All photos by me.)