If a corporation or individual spent NT$1.3 billion (US$41.2 million) on a vast area of land, but could not develop it, the owner would probably have to wait for an opportunity to gain a return on its investment — for example, when the population in the surrounding area increases or the land is turned into a public project — in the meantime leaving the land idle and letting it undergo ecological succession.
The Buddhist Compassion Relief Tzu Chi Foundation is a humanitarian foundation that has spent NT$1.3 billion on taking possession of a vast green plot of land in Taipei’s Neihu District (內湖).
Why not just accept karma for what it is and restore the destroyed habitat?
The land could be used to build ecological ponds and plant trees to create a forest, which could serve as a place to facilitate education about nature and the environment, and as a place for meditation to nurture the body, mind and spirit.
Even though this 16 hectare plot is smaller than Taipei’s Daan Forest Park — which occupies 26 hectares — the land that Tzu Chi purchased is inside a conservation zone, which means that this land holds more advantages than Daan Forest Park.
If Tzu Chi can put together a team of visionary volunteers, academics and experts, they would no doubt be able to build an ecological education park of exquisite beauty that could be used to enrich the body, mind and spirit.
It could be called the Tzu Chi Bodhi Ecological Park.
When the Suao-Hualien Highway Improvement Project was under development, Tzu Chi’s Dharma Master Cheng Yen (證嚴法師) urged the government not to overdevelop the land, saying: “Wherever humans go, destruction follows. Non-stop drilling and digging destroys the environment. Taiwan is not a big place; we should protect it.”
It is true that parts of the Neihu conservation zone have been destroyed, but, through ecological engineering, the site could be rebuilt into a place that is both beautiful and natural.
Ponder this possibility: The site could be turned into an ecological education park for the body, mind and spirit, with volunteers taking visitors to the park’s ponds, ditches and paths.
There, they could be taught about the park and learn to appreciate and immerse themselves in the natural beauty of the flowers, fish, insects and birds around them.
Visitors could sit on the lush grass and meditate or share in the wisdom of Master Cheng Yen and the Buddha, while listening to the humming of insects, the singing of the birds and the whispering of the wind.
Would such a place for the enjoyment of the body, mind and spirit not be the Buddhist epitome of a peaceful world?
Would it not be the feast for the mind and spirit that the Tzu Chi people have been seeking?
As Buddhists say: “Compassion has no enemies; wisdom breeds no vexation.”
Many Neihu residents and environmental protection groups are protesting against Tzu Chi’s Neihu development project.
If Master Cheng Yen and the Tzu Chi organization would let go of their karma and restore the conservation zone, building instead a Bodhi ecological park for the body, mind and spirit, they would earn more respect and praise from the public.
Perhaps with Tzu Chi taking the lead in ecological restoration, a new trend would begin.
Would this not be a good deed on a grand scale for Taiwanese ecology?
Yang Ping-shih is a professor at, and former president of, National Taiwan University’s College of Bio-Resources and Agriculture.
Translated by Ethan Zhan
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