Over the past few days, volunteers and Netizens across the nation have turned their compassion into action, serving as rescue workers and searching for typhoon victims and transporting relief aid, or donating money and disseminating rescue and missing persons information via e-mail, Twitter, Plurk, Facebook and other social networking Web sites.
Yet the broadcast and print media continue to be filled with heartrending images of frightened survivors recounting narrow escapes, tearful villages wailing for their missing or dead loved ones and horrifying scenes of villages annihilated by water, rocks and mudslides.
There is only so much that individuals and charity groups can do when a disaster of this magnitude strikes. The most effective resources lie in the hands of the central government, which is the sole organization with the authority to integrate and mobilize rescue operations.
The government so far has rejected offers of material assistance from Japan and the US, with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs saying that Taiwan has “sufficient resources” and that “the disaster relief mechanism is working well.”
President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) has ruled out declaring an emergency decree, stating — perhaps not unreasonably — that existing legislation provides the executive with all the authority and resources that are necessary and that government mechanisms are functioning properly.
Arguments over the reach of the law and the utility of a presidential emergency decree will continue for some time, but for the moment, it is dumbfounding to recall that the president, speaking at the Central Emergency Operation Center on Saturday, shifted responsibility to local governments. He said it was those governments that should act as prime movers in rescue work and that the central government would act as an auxiliary. Given that local governments enjoy no authority to deploy military resources, Ma’s little lecture was as nonsensical as his verbaling of the Central Weather Bureau for failing to predict the enormity of the disaster.
Cabinet Spokesman Su Jun-pin (蘇俊賓) on Sunday said the scope and speed of the central government’s rescue work had exceeded that of the 921 Earthquake almost 10 years ago.
But a cursory comparison suggests this is not the case. Hours after the quake struck on Sept. 21, 1999, the Hengshan Military Command Center ordered the deployment of forces to disaster zones and commenced rescue work. Within a day, more than 15,000 personnel were stationed in quake-ravaged regions and advanced helicopters such as the OH-58D, which carries laser range finders and thermal imaging sensors, were deployed for rescue operations.
How ironic it is that a large number of the nation’s military bases are in southern Taiwan, yet three days after Typhoon Morakot slammed into the area on Friday, the military had deployed a mere 8,500 personnel to stricken areas, and without provision for advanced aircraft.
When disaster strikes, every hour counts. The earlier manpower is dispatched on search and rescue efforts, the more lives can be saved. At a time of disaster, leadership must come to the fore to minimize suffering and financial loss.
Clearly, this has not happened, and this failure will emerge as a profound test of the Ma administration’s credibility.
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus whip Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) has caused havoc with his attempts to overturn the democratic and constitutional order in the legislature. If we look at this devolution from the context of a transition to democracy from authoritarianism in a culturally Chinese sense — that of zhonghua (中華) — then we are playing witness to a servile spirit from a millennia-old form of totalitarianism that is intent on damaging the nation’s hard-won democracy. This servile spirit is ingrained in Chinese culture. About a century ago, Chinese satirist and author Lu Xun (魯迅) saw through the servile nature of
In their New York Times bestseller How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt said that democracies today “may die at the hands not of generals but of elected leaders. Many government efforts to subvert democracy are ‘legal,’ in the sense that they are approved by the legislature or accepted by the courts. They may even be portrayed as efforts to improve democracy — making the judiciary more efficient, combating corruption, or cleaning up the electoral process.” Moreover, the two authors observe that those who denounce such legal threats to democracy are often “dismissed as exaggerating or
Monday was the 37th anniversary of former president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) death. Chiang — a son of former president Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), who had implemented party-state rule and martial law in Taiwan — has a complicated legacy. Whether one looks at his time in power in a positive or negative light depends very much on who they are, and what their relationship with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is. Although toward the end of his life Chiang Ching-kuo lifted martial law and steered Taiwan onto the path of democratization, these changes were forced upon him by internal and external pressures,
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) caucus in the Legislative Yuan has made an internal decision to freeze NT$1.8 billion (US$54.7 million) of the indigenous submarine project’s NT$2 billion budget. This means that up to 90 percent of the budget cannot be utilized. It would only be accessible if the legislature agrees to lift the freeze sometime in the future. However, for Taiwan to construct its own submarines, it must rely on foreign support for several key pieces of equipment and technology. These foreign supporters would also be forced to endure significant pressure, infiltration and influence from Beijing. In other words,
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