Why stay in Taiwan?

It's the little things...or is it?

You probably don’t care about my life, but here’s the deal. I’ve had a somewhat tumultuous week professionally, although nothing that ended up being terribly deleterious. I don’t want to say too much about it, but I’ve been feeling frustrated about the limitations of teacher training opportunities in Taiwan for residents like me, despite how much we can help in the face of Taiwan’s push for internationalization. 

I have no desire to discuss the details behind this; it’s insider beef that you really don’t need, and might be wrong of me (or at least harmful to me) to divulge. 

I've also been feeling more frustrated than usual about Taiwan's naturalization laws. Nothing has changed since the 2007 reforms, opening up a pathway for magical stardusted special and senior foreign professionals, basically saying most foreigners who call Taiwan home -- whether they're white collar like me or blue collar like most immigrants here -- are garbage. Not worth caring about. 

Yes, the road to dual nationality may be narrow now, but there's room for it to expand. But I fear it will happen when I'm too old for it to matter. I'm not sure exactly how I will grow old in Taiwan as planned, because I can't get a mortgage and don't have local family, but landlords don't like to rent to the elderly. What am I supposed to do when I'm 80? If the law changes when I'm 60, that's a little too late to fix the problem. 

There's something to be said for fighting for something so that the next generation can enjoy fairer access. And yet, recently I've been wondering if this is enough. Wondering why I bother. 

With all this in the background, I’ve been trying to blog about politics to get my mind off it. Nothing comes out right, though. I have a few half-finished posts that I might wrap up and publish anyway, or perhaps not. We’ll see. Maybe I just need to not with the politics right now. 

Instead, I thought I'd examine something else. I know perfectly well that I'm not actually going to leave Taiwan (which, to be honest, is part of the problem. Maybe I should be more open to doing so). So rather than stewing in my own angry juices over this, perhaps I should talk a bit about why I stay. 

People love to ask why I moved to Taiwan. That story isn't very interesting. Studying in India made me want to learn more about Asia in general. I spent a year in China and didn't love it. And yet, I still felt there was a lot for me to learn, and I like the general feel and pace of life in large Asian cities. So, I came to Taipei mostly out of curiosity. I certainly didn't know much about it. 

Why I stay, though? Maybe that's worth discussing. I've been here for 18 years now. The pay isn't that good. Career opportunities are middling at best. I do have a fantastic local network, but most of my close family live on the other side of the world. Nobody loves Taipei's weather. My apartment is nice, but apartments in Taiwan generally aren't. There's the ever-looming China threat (though I imitate local residents in living my life as though that's not a thing). 

And yet here I am. Still. I've been thinking about this for awhile -- it's easy to rattle off reasons to leave. Any article about the "ghost island" can do that. The more fruitful area to examine is why I stay.

I've identified five very generalized reasons why, despite its faults, Taiwan is the country I chose to call home. These are five things that I think are important for any country I might live in long-term, and Taiwan happens to excel at them.

For my own reflection as much as yours, here they are: 

1.) Generally good infrastructure, including (most especially) public transit

Not all of Taiwan has good public transportation, but Taipei does, and it's fairly easy to get to any other town you might want to visit. Getting around that town might be a challenge, but you can always get there. I live in Taipei, though, and this city has some of the best public transit in the world. In general, I appreciate infrastructure that works. That includes buses that run on time, a clean metro system, convenient trains.

Compare that to the US, where the only city that has public transit that comes close to meeting my standards is New York. That also happens to be a city where I couldn't possibly afford to live. I tried living in Washington DC for seven years without a car. People say transit there is good. I say it's a nightmare. 

Still, assuming I'd never move back to the US, I could enjoy good public transit in Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, Singapore. If we're talking inter-city, even Vietnam. Europe, too, but there aren't really good jobs for me there. China, generally, has reasonable public transit. What could knock some of those countries off the list?

2.) An open and democratic government

Well, there goes Singapore, Vietnam and Hong Kong. China is an obvious no-go. I once considered moving to IstanbuI, but I can't get past the importance of a reasonable system of government. I might not have the right to vote, but it's important to me that my local friends do; I would find it very hard to exist as an admittedly privileged American in a country where I could send my ballot back every few years, but locals I knew wouldn't have access to human rights that I consider fundamental. 

For myself, well, I like to opinionate. It's important to me to live in a country where I can do so without fear of government retribution.

Beyond that, there's just something depressing about living in an unfree society. You may or may not have access to good journalism. Random bullshit things may be banned. Your friends can't say what they really think; you may not even know what they really think, depending on how severe the repression is. 

Being in Taiwan for two -- soon to be three -- presidential handovers, countless protests, a legislative occupation, and all manner of public debates? That may seem unimportant or ineffable to some, but it matters to me. Taiwan's democratic society is a big draw. 

South Korea and Japan are democracies too, though. Why not move to one of those?

3.) An acceptable level of gender equality

I'm not saying Taiwan doesn't have sexism and misogyny. Of course it does. The gender pay gap is still above 15%. But, compared to the rest of Asia, I daresay it's doing fairly well. 

Brendan has told me stories about Korea, where he would see job ads that openly offered men and women disparate pay for the same work. 

I know someone in Japan who once detailed many little ways in which women face discrimination; she once saw a pregnant woman stand up on the train for a salaryman! Discussing why that would happen, locals told her that the pregnant woman has an easier, more restful life while the salaryman is tired from hard work, so of course he should get the seat. I don't know that this happens frequently in Japan, but that it happened at all tells me that it may be a fine country to visit, but it's not a place where I think I'd be very happy living. 

Everything from work culture to beauty standards feels so much harsher in those countries. The fact that women make up such a small percentage of the workforce in Japan and are deeply underrepresented in politics are other strikes against it. I'll take the country that elected a woman twice, thanks. 

Korea is similar; the gender wage gap there is astounding (Japan is almost as bad). I've enjoyed visiting both countries. As a woman, I want to live somewhere with more equality. 

That brings me to my next point. 

4.) A high level of public safety

It's not just pay, work, politics and beauty standards. All three countries have very high levels of public safety, including for women. As an American, this matters to me. It wasn't fun growing up in a country where it wasn't safe to be outside alone at night. But Taiwan manages the high public safety with a whole lot less of the ridiculous discrimination.

This matters not just for me, but for my LGBTQ+ friends. South Korea, for instance, is not a very safe place for many people dear to me. Public safety isn't just about whether or not you're likely to get mugged or pick-pocketed. It is also deeply related to who you are. I wouldn't want to live in a country where I might be targeted because I'm a woman, or where my friends might be targeted for being gay, nonbinary or trans. 

This, of course, knocks many countries off the list -- including the United States. 

I considered adding "a high level of overall development" to this list, because so many of my points are oriented around that. Advanced economies are more likely to have good public transit and safety, higher levels of gender equality and functional democratic governments. 

But not always -- the United States fails on most of these counts. Plenty of countries that aren't rich do have democratic governments. Besides, I don't think anyone wants a middle class white lady to prattle on about how she wants to live in an advanced economy. In fact, it's not actually one of the key criteria.

Instead, my fifth point is more specific but is still related to overall development markers. 

5.) National! Health! Insurance!

As an American, I cannot express how much this matters to me. I spent the first half of my twenties kinda miserable because I needed to see some doctors, but couldn't afford any of them. My lack of access to affordable health care in the US is directly responsible for the back surgery I needed during my first year in Taiwan. 

This really matters! Health insurance alone is enough to make me forsake the US forever. 

That said, this point has been bugging me recently, because I'm in the middle of a tooth implant that isn't covered by Taiwan's NHI. All told, it will cost me about NT$87,000. The dentist has been clear that for me, it's a necessity (another one of my crowns is in danger if I don't get a tooth put in next to it). And yet, it's entirely out of pocket. 

I think NHI should cover it. After all, it's an absolute necessity for me unless I want to literally be toothless in a few years. 

But, all of that aside, I'm grateful that the many times I've needed to see a doctor in this country, that I could actually afford to do so. 

I'm still not feeling entirely all right about the state of my life in Taiwan these days. It hurts to want to commit to a place, without seeing a clear future there, especially in old age.

There is another reason I stay, but it's intensely personal: I truly believe in what Taiwan stands for. To me, Taiwan means standing up to a dictatorship that landed on your soil and tried to force you to submit, turning the country instead into a functioning and peaceful democracy. It means refusing to shatter under the constant threats from yet another dictatorship that wants to annex you by any means necessary. It means building one of the more advanced and liberal societies in Asia -- if not the most liberal -- on the back of a tragic and bitter history of colonialism and oppression.

That, to me, is worth fighting for. It's worth staying for. It's not on the list because it's not a specific thing Taiwan has, it's more of a narrative that Taiwan embodies.

It does help, however, to think through the reasons why I've stayed, and run through the possibilities of other countries where I might relocate. None quite hit the five criteria -- gender equality, health insurance, democracy, public transit and public safety -- that Taiwan does. Most countries can be exciting, interesting, historically noteworthy, or absolutely lovely. 

But I can't think of another one that actually meets these five benchmarks, all of which are crucial to me. Can you?

The Newest Taiwanese

A long and unclear path

As the November elections neared, the social media posts piled up. Things like "Can't wait to vote for the first time in Taiwan!" and "Voting in my first Taiwanese election!"

A few years ago, I didn't know many dual citizens who were not born Taiwanese, and of them not a single one who could vote. As the shadows grew long on 2022, however, it became clear that something had shifted. Changes to the laws surrounding dual nationality enacted in 2017 were starting to bear some modest fruit: a small but significant minority of people I know were posting last month about how excited they were to vote in a Taiwanese election for the first time.

I was genuinely happy for them, in that friendly envious way that bears no ill will. To me, they represented small dots of light: these friends, for example, don't all come from the same background. Some work in business, some are academics, some in tech, and some do work for the government. Most have indeed acquired dual nationality, although one chose to renounce their original citizenship. Before 2017, there was essentially no path to dual nationality if one had no Taiwanese heritage. Post-naturalization, one could petition to regain their original citizenship, but not all countries grant it (the United States certainly doesn't). Or, finding Jesus and building a life as a missionary was always an option: perhaps as a nonagenarian the government might bestow the honor.

Now, anyone deemed a "foreign senior professional" -- a classification that differs from Gold Card-eligible "foreign special professionals" -- has a pathway to becoming Taiwanese. The eligibility requirements remain restrictive -- perhaps unfairly so -- but at least there is a path.

I thought, with the election well behind us, that it would be interesting to talk to some of these newest citizens about what it was like to acquire citizenship, what challenges they faced and how it felt to vote. Some agreed to have their real names published; others asked to remain anonymous.

Participating in Democracy

The first thing that jumped out from everyone I talked to was a passion for participating in the democratic process. Ben Homnick, formerly a vice president at a technology company in Taiwan, summarized it well: "I think it finally hit home," he said, "when I was walking back from the voting booth, and I realized that I finally have the ability to participate in the political process of the place that I’ve been calling home for more than ten years. Whether or not I agree with the outcome of the election, at least I have some measurable amount of responsibility for what those outcomes are."

Kerim Friedman, a professor at National Donghwa University, said he found personal meaning in voting for the first time. "For me, voting is kind of an important civic ritual," he said. "I’ve watched Taiwan, I came here for the first time in 1991 right after it had just democratized, so watching Taiwan’s transition to democracy has been a major part of my life intellectually and personally, having been here observing it."

"I was in tears," said Uma, who gave up her original nationality. (Uma is a pseudonym; she preferred to remain anonymous.) "I left [my native country] when I was a kid, I've never actually been back during elections." Uma's country of origin doesn't allow absentee voting. "I've always wanted to be part of the democratic process."

Jerome Keating, voting for his first time in Taiwan put it this way, "If you believe in democracy, and care for the place where you live, you want to be part of the process." 

Some voting experiences were more neutral. Another friend, "Ted" (a pseudonym), works in the tech industry. He said he expected voting to "feel like a triumphant rite of passage." But when actually going through with it, he described the process as "largely confusing and empty. Despite spending many hours preparing, there was much that was novel. There were a lot of assumptions they didn't explain -- I didn't realize you couldn't take anything into the booth with you and I didn't realize the city council was FTPT [first past the post] with a multi-member district. The ballot doesn't list party affiliation...even though I prepared, I didn't know the numbers of my candidates, and was a bit lost without the parties [as there was no guide allowed in the voting booth]."

Uma agreed. Although she speaks Mandarin, she believes that "Taiwan needs to have more information for people who don’t speak Chinese. People didn’t know how many council people to vote for, and I wasn’t the only one. I asked how many people to vote for, and they said just one. And I was glad I asked that question."

Friedman described the process as "remarkably quick." He said, "You take all these papers and stamp them and put them in the boxes. I was surprised, I’ve voted in the states. It’s also often in schools in New York City, but I’ve always had to wait on line. There was no line at all, it was just in and out." 

Friedman had no issue as a foreigner voting for the first time. "I twas all very cute and they stamped me, as I was at the counter and they were stamping me, the two women were speaking Chinese and I heard something about foreigners but they were all nice and polite and it was very quick."

Homnick and Uma also described the process as very fast. Uma added that with more and more foreigners gaining the right to vote, election workers didn't appear to be very surprised by her presence. There are guides -- Uma mentioned that there's a guide outside the booths that describes what is a valid or invalid vote, and the boxes where you place the various ballots are all color-coded, and there are people around to tell you what to do. Before the election, all eligible voters receive a newspaper-like bundle describing the candidates, with a picture, party affiliation and space for each to extol their platforms. The same paper is also displayed at the polling place.

However, that doesn't necessarily mean the process will be clear to dual nationals. "One Taiwanese guy tore his up, he was on the news. Two new immigrants form Hong Kong they brought theirs out. They were brought to the police station," Uma said.

Despite some of these issues, the overall feeling was jubilant. "In the US we’re so used to doing this. But inTaiwan [if you can't vote], you feel like you’re a passenger. You’re watching the election with your friends on election night, you’re kind of passive about it. Actually having some skin in the game, it feels different," Homnick observed. 

"I was definitely elated to put my vote in," Keating added.

Becoming 'The Newest Taiwanese'

The actual process of getting Taiwanese citizenship and emotions around acquiring it seemed to influence how these new citizens felt about participating in the 2022 election. 

Ted said he "didn't expect citizenship would change" how he felt or how his life worked. "I just wanted to belong. Boy, was I wrong. I feel like a totally different person. The US has fully become 'the old country'," he said. 

One example is his attitude toward US policies. "I noticed that it made me way more ambivalent," he continued. "I wouldn't say my US politics have changed. I like Millenial socialism in theory, but find actual Millenial socialists a bit much. But it just takes up way less headspace than it used to."

For Ted, the most important change has been his ability to open businesses and protect his partner. "We are unable to marry as his home country doesn't recognize same-sex marriage, so instead of having a marriage, I have a business that sponsors his ARC."

Uma, who gave up her original nationality, said she felt like she was "betraying" her native land, and wished she'd perhaps waited longer to see if she qualified under the new regulations. "We did it because my daughter was graduating from school, and she was going to go to the Netherlands for college. She had a logical argument, she wanted to get Taiwanese nationality so she could travel around Europe freely, and didn’t want to go through the visa process," she said. (Uma's original nationality doesn't usually qualify for visas on arrival). "[My daughter] was under 20, and in Taiwan that’s considered not an adult, so one parent needed to do it with her. So I did it."

Homnick described the process as "bittersweet", pointing out that it feels like only a small step in the right direction.

"In some ways it’s the culmination of 13 years in Taiwan and calling this country my own," he observed. "On the other hand, it’s often a publicity stunt. There's always a press release, and they make the giant ID card. It's like, 'hey look how international we are', without always being super international. And I think it’s great personally, obviously there are benefits to having an ID. But does it really serve the purpose of paving the way for more acceptance of dual citizenship? I think it probably does — any sort of cracks in the long-time policies of excluding most immigrants from citizenship are probably a good thing, even if it’s just getting visibility to starting a conversation."

Ted did not experience the publicity 'circus', however. There was no press release and after some thought, he declined to be interviewed by the media.

Friedman also pointed out the narrowness of the path to dual nationality, but added that there is a logical explanation for it. 

"I’d like to see Taiwan become more multicultural," he said. "The vast majority of foreigners in Taiwan are Southeast Asian workers. So if Taiwan did open [dual nationality to more people], they would be the main beneficiaries. If Taiwan were to shift to becoming more of a Southeast Asian country, and more of an immigrant country the way the US and Europe are more immigrant countries....wherever that’s happened, it’s sparked anti-immigrant backlash mostly sparked by false information and false ideas about who immigrants are and their impact on the economy. Most studies show that immigrants are actually good for the economy and don’t cause rises in crime. But you know Taiwan’s media landscape...and you can imagine how that’s going to be spun by the media."

He went on to emphasize that much of this backlash is sparked by political and media disinformation. "Fearmongering from some politicians and the media are going to be a challenge. So I don’t blame the government for being a little cautious."

In terms of the difficulty of actually acquiring dual nationality, experiences varied quite a bit. All encountered challenges, though some, such as Friedman, found the process smoother than others. Some found the challenges, including significant ones, to be less than expected. Others encountered more difficulties than they'd anticipated. The only universal was that no one's journey was entirely without obstacles.

For Homnick, the whole process took about a year and included an initial rejection. "I applied thinking that I had been a vice president with a tech company for awhile, I’d done some open source projects that had to do with TW as well.  I figure that would be enough...the first time I actually got rejected. They were pretty good about giving feedback, they said, 'we felt you didn’t have enough contributions to Taiwan.' It was good of the committee to give me the feedback, even though I think the standards are ridiculous. So I went back, got a bunch more recommendation letters, and really focused my application on contributions to Taiwan." 

He added that some fields seem to provide easier paths to dual nationality than others. Academia in particular, he said, "seems to be one of the reliable ways to get through the committee. You have to be an associate professor, and if you have that you are pretty much greenlit." 

Ted had a more difficult time of it than either Homnick or Friedman, calling the process an "unparalleled chore." He applied through the Ministry of Science and Technology, and submitted his tech portfolio as proof of contributions to Taiwan. He also noted that one has to have Mandarin language proficiency. 

"[For] the second phase review, my local HRO (Household Registration Office) demanded 39 separate documents, including an FBI background check translated into Chinese, verified by TECRO, and then again by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, then notarized, then translated, then notarized again," Ted recounted.  The local office rejected the translation twice...after giving them all that, they said that I wasn't qualified. It took the intervention of my new employer, lawyers, the Ministry of Science and Technology and the National Development Council to convince the HRO to forward the application." 

However, he states that he's not resentful about the process. "I actually thought it would be worse," he quipped. 

Uma also faced challenges as a new citizen. Receiving citizenship doesn't necessarily grant all the rights of citizenship immediately, as she found out to her detriment. 

She said, "There’s a lot of paperwork you need to give up your own nationality. After that, it’s better if you don’t travel for a period, maybe a year. You just have a passport but it does not show your ID card [because] you don’t have a household registration. So you don’t have the visa-free entry to anywhere in that year. If you have to travel, you have to wait two years to get your household registration. So we didn’t travel for that year, and I lost a lot of job opportunities by staying. After one year we got the national ID the household registration and everything, the works. [Since then] it's just been like a Taiwanese citizen [for me]."

While Homnick noted that gathering paperwork was the most time-consuming part of the process, Friedman emphasized that it comes in two steps, and one is smoother than the other. 

"The first step is to get approved as a special foreign professional," he said. "Once that comes through you are allowed to apply for citizenship without having to give up your passport. That’s fairly simple and straightforward. The first part is occupation specific, and each occupation has their own procedures.

As a professor, I go through the Ministry of Education....The fact that you’ve already been given tenure is proof that you’re a special foreign professional. For a filmmaker, unless you’ve won an Academy Award or something. Some of these professions are made for it, like basketball players, or if you have a Plum Blossom APRC [which] is already proof that you are a special foreign professional. There are certain disciplines where it’s much easier to do it than others."

"It’s a little arbitrary," he continued. "But if you happen to be lucky enough to fit into one of these slots — priest, basketball player…then it’s not that hard. Usually if people have problems, it’s because their institutions weren’t supportive of them. I think as time goes on, more and more institutions [will be] willing to do the process."

Uma agreed, saying that "I used to think you have to be 90 years old and build 90 churches to get citizenship, and that’s too hard. Even now they’re not very realistic. Even now, people who’ve really contributed and who really deserve it are falling through the cracks. It’s getting better, Taiwan is like that." 

Homnick added that it seemed as though someone who didn't have specific institutional backing would need to "win a Nobel Prize" to qualify.

Who's a Foreigner? Who Isn't?

Everyone had something to say about how Taiwan regarded them in the context of being newly, officially local, both in general and in the context of last month's election. Most didn't cite ongoing discrimination, however, it bears mentioning that of the people I interviewed, only one was a person of color. 

Friedman said that when he went to vote, "the two women were speaking Chinese and I heard something about foreigners but they were all nice and polite," and that more than voting itself, talking to others about becoming a citizen might have some kind of impact. "But it's hard to know," he admitted. He also noted that he talks about how perceptions of him as an "American Taiwanese" are likely to be quite different than Taiwanese who gain US citizenship and become "Taiwanese Americans". 

In line with Friedman's earlier point that it would benefit Taiwan to be more multicultural, Homnick noted that while he does have neighbors who will sometimes complain or assume the "foreigner" is at fault, the doormen of this building will stand up for him, especially now that he is a citizen. "They'll stand up when people say 'waiguoren'," he said, "they'll say 'he's not a foreigner!'" 

"It's going to take awhile to get over that stuff. Having people who break conceptions of what a Taiwanese person looks like are probably good in the long run. And I think that’s really in the benefit of Taiwan in the long run as well. You look at China which has tried so hard to become this ethnonationalist state, anything Taiwan can do to set themselves apart from that is a good thing." 

Uma described her experience when voting: "I think there are more and more foreign faces with ID cards now, so they’re not that surprised. First they said, 'do you have an ID?' I said yes. I had my ID in hand so they understood I was a citizen."

"I no longer care if people mislabel me as a foreigner, or try to speak English when Chinese would be easier...I have nothing more to prove, but seeing my partner face so much discrimination is heartbreaking. As a foreigner, I always felt like citizens had so much untapped power, but now as a citizen I feel this kind of surreal helplessness. I'm safe, but I cannot extend that safety to others," Ted added.

Homnick also noted discrimination against Southeast Asian immigrants in Taiwan, citing a bulletin in his building requiring families to sequester any domestic workers in their apartments during the pandemic, and not let them leave. "That's definitely illegal," he clarified. "I said, 'if you don't take this down I'm calling the police." (The notice was taken down.) 

While voting and being part of the political process is the most meaningful benefit Homnick says he's derived, the one he feels on a daily basis is having a regular Taiwan identity card. "The biggest quality of life improvement is having the number that works on websites, he said. "Which is funny because they said they were going to solve this issue by standardizing the ID numbers, but their solution didn't fix anything!"

Homnick also noted that access to government subsidies and other services is a major benefit, but that he's never tried to get something like a mortgage. "Some things haven’t changed," he added. "I still get called laowai, waiguoren, people still ask for an ARC. I went to Chunghwa Telecom to renew a contract and they still wanted to see an ARC, and I needed to explain that I don’t have [one]. There’s still some discrimination by banks. It’s more about being born outside of Taiwan."


The November Election

One thing struck me as I talked to this group of new Taiwanese with many divergent experiences: the extent to which they agreed on the November election. 

"Politically, I have way less patience for the KMT than I used to. I was never a tankie, but I was educated by them and felt they had good points on some issues [such as nuclear power]. But I'm not willing to entertain them because I don't trust them to handle China, and if they don't get that through their heads, the party and country will suffer. The Communists might not allow me to leave the way a foreigner could," Ted observed.

Homnick is similarly worried. "I am a lot more wary of China," he said. "I don’t think I’ll ever go back to China. I think the national security law probably applies to me now. Even if it doesn’t, it’s not worth taking the risk. What if they start arbitrarily detaining Taiwan citizens? What happens to citizens if there is some kind of conflict?"

"I didn't have a lot invested in who was elected to the city council," Friedman said. "but I really cared a lot about the referendum [to lower the voting age to 18], and I’m very upset about that. I didn’t expect it to win. I was for it [but] I was shocked by now disinterested and now unmotivated people were to make sure that it passed...for me, it seemed an important measure in terms of Taiwanese democracy. And it’s again something I’ve talked about with my students. I have had students who said they thought they weren’t mature enough to vote. I showed them a map of how in other countries, 16 or 17 year olds might [have voting rights].  'Do you really think you’re less mature?'"

He continued, "Then they started thinking, maybe you have a point. Even young people seem to buy into [the attitude that they shouldn't be voting.] I found that very depressing, I think it’s important for young people to become civically engaged and start participating in the process. Politics shouldn’t be left to just old people either."

Homnick agreed, saying he was "disappointed but not surprised" regarding the election results. "I feel like I don’t have a good understanding of why people vote the way they do. I’m not sure I have a good understanding in the US either. I don’t see why anyone with Chiang in their name is still relevant these days. [My girlfriend said] her friends said they voted for him because he's handsome, or their parents told them to. [But] if you want to pick the most handsome candidate, you have the right to. No matter how I feel about it, it’s your choice. I was disappointed about the referendum on voting age. A lot of the justifications for people voting against that: '18 year olds are not mature enough to make decisions like that.' Well they’re not going to be if you treat them like children!"

Friedman tended to agree regarding the election of Chiang Wan-an as Taipei mayor. "It's hard for me to know how much of a factor it played, it's obvious that Wan-an is cashing in on the Chiang name, which is weird that that would have resonance for people. One argument is 'well, they didn't really vote for him for that reason', [but] the fact that he chose that name didn't hurt him either. It's like in the Philippines with the Marcos family getting re-elected. The parallels are interesting."

"I’m really sad the referendum thing didn’t go through," Uma concurred. "The voting age should be 18. They’re saying there wasn’t proper education about it. There might have been some misinformation as well. People were saying that older people thought that people aged 18-20 could also run for elections as a candidate, and older people didn’t like that, so they voted against it."

Not everyone expressed a specific opinion on candidates, but Uma offered one perspective: "Chen had a town hall for foreigners, when he started [campaigning], when he first announced, and I got to go. And I interacted with him and…I watched him for 900 days. I was very excited to have the possibility of being mayor. So that was quite sad." 

In the end, Friedman and Uma offered up perspectives that perhaps summarized the feeling of participating in a democratic process as citizens rather than foreign residents. 

Although Friedman described voting as "a little anticlimactic", he didn't mean it in a negative way. "For democracy to be kind of boring is a good thing," he said. 

In fact, Friedman pointed to social movements as another vital part of civic engagement and the democratic process. "When the Sunflower movement happened, the students we had comment to university were very politicized. Since [then], that faded into the background, young people seemed less politically involved. It’s interesting, because my general feeling is that the quality of education is improving in Taiwan, and the quality of college students is improving, [but they seem] less politicized...Wage justice, environmental justice -- there are some, but broadly speaking people tend to be more focused on their personal career. Social movements invigorate people and get people involved in politics."

"Because when we say Taiwan is a beacon for democracy in Asia, it’s like the front line against an autocratic country," Uma concluded. "I feel like I’m part of it. And I’m not sure whether it excites me or scares me. Family back home, [ask] 'aren’t you scared of living in Taiwan?" Because the media really hypes up the whole China thing, [such as] when Pelosi came and [China's military drills]. I said no...it’s just like part of our daily lives. It’s something we’re used to...Taiwan is upholding this light of democracy,  and Taiwan is dealing with that on a daily basis. Being part of the voting processes [and] making sure they don’t sell Taiwan out to China is an important part of that." 

Permanent residency for foreign blue-collar workers: the good, the bad and the political

Migrante Taiwan at the 2017 Labor Day protest -- note that they're asking for home care workers to be covered under the Labor Standards Act, not permanent residency

The Ministry of Labor recently announced a path -- if you can call it that -- for foreign blue-collar workers to gain permanent residency. This has been a long time in the making: the ministry has been talking about this since at least 2015, and lawmakers have been discussing it for at least a year. 

I initially called the announcement "fantastic news", but honestly, it's only fantastic in that the gate to even begin a journey to permanent residency has been firmly shut to foreign blue-collar workers until now. On ICRT Donovan Smith said the door has been opened just slightly, more as a signal than as an actual practical policy to help such workers gain permanent residency. I'd put it similarly: the new rules provide a gatekeeper who will unlock the gate for a lucky few who can answer his riddles three. 

In other words, the rules are so Byzantine and unachievable that they will apply to approximately zero people. Under the new guidelines, foreign blue collar labor can apply for permanent residency after five years if they have an Associate's degree or some sort of technical or professional certification, along with earning a minimum monthly salary that is about NT$3,000/month above the average for such jobs.

By the end of that, there's an even higher minimum salary requirement (about NT$50,000/month) which approaches what many white-collar workers make in Taiwan -- including foreign white-collar labor. I'm not sure if that requirement is for both pathways.

Even Taiwanese with university degrees might not get entry-level offers much higher than that, so it's deluded to think employers, who recruit foreign labor for blue-collar work through the deeply corrupt brokerage system, are going to do so.

Another option is to work for 6 years in the same industry and be classified as "intermediate skilled workers", which then kicks off a 5-year wait for a total of 11 years. 

Such a salary is unattainable by most blue-collar workers, foreign and Taiwanese alike and creates other hurdles: it's not uncommon to come to Taiwan with a job in, say, fishing, and then switch categories to factory work. Some fields pay better than others, and while all are exploitative toward foreign labor to a degree, some are worse than others (fishing is among the worst, though domestic work, often done by women, is rife with abuse -- including, occasionally, sexual assault.) In other words, some workers change industries to make more money or find work they prefer. Others do so to escape exploitative or abusive situations.

Forcing workers to choose between changing industries and having their time in Taiwan count toward permanent residency is cruel, in a system which is already far too cruel. Not that it matters much, as almost nobody will qualify under the current requirements. 

What's more, it's rather discordant to give foreign blue-collar workers a path to permanent residency -- however impossible actually attaining it may be -- but still not include many them in the Labor Standards Act. That's right -- foreign home care workers are still not covered unless they're from Thailand, because the Thai government requires it. Workers in other industries are, but it's extremely common for employers to simply, well, ignore that.

For more of an idea of what life in Taiwan is like for foreign blue-collar labor, I highly recommend reading Joe Henley's Migrante. 

And before I get into this further, I suggest listening to Donovan Smith and Sean Su on ICRT's Taiwan This Week. They cover the issue nicely, and I will recap what they've pointed out below. 

But first, it's important to point out what foreign workers themselves seem to be saying about this. It comes up about a third of the way through in the 2/18/22 episode, Putting Medigen on the Map. I don't speak Tagalog, Cebuano or any of the Bisayan languages but the commentary is pretty clear in translation. So what are they saying about it?

Many say that the change doesn't mean much until salaries increase so that more people will benefit from or at least qualify for the new pathway. Some say their pay is as low as NT$17,000 a month -- how would they ever reach the minimum threshold? Several say that it would have been a better move to first include domestic/home workers in the Labor Standards Act, an issue which has been strongly campaigned for by migrant worker groups for some time. 

Some call it "useless" -- "just work [in Taiwan], save some money and go home. It's hard to care for old people anyway." One person joked that they hoped to qualify in 20 years. Others straight-up call it "false hope" or "tiring."

"It's like passing through the eye of a needle," one comment read. "You'll still suffer, there are a lot of countries [to work in], just apply to another one." In fact, many pointed out that this is why more workers go to Hong Kong (although foreign workers are just as exploited in Hong Kong, the pay is usually better) or other countries in Asia. 

"Just extend the number of years we can stay, we don't need permanent residency," one person said. Many had something to say about the low salaries on offer in Taiwan.

It goes on like this -- a debate on the same page about including home care workers in the Labor Standards Act got hundreds of replies (with no disagreement I could find). The permanent residency announcements did not even reach 50 comments each, and I struggled to find a single person unequivocally supporting the move. Not everyone on these threads was dismissive of the idea, but almost nobody thought it would be a real possibility for them or actually address the issues they face.

That brings me back to the good, the bad and the political. 

As Donovan pointed out on ICRT, this is how the Taiwanese government operates when it comes to foreigners. They open up the door a sliver, and it's not particularly helpful -- but the door is then open, so the next move is a little easier to make because it's building on something that came before. Eventually, the regulations reach the point where something useful is actually provided to the foreigners in question.

The same thing happened with white collar labor: first it was difficult to even get a visa to teach English in Taiwan. Then, work visas were possible but permanent residency wasn't for all but a select few. Now, permanent residency is fairly easy and the process streamlined, and for certain people it can be gained in just three years instead of the usual five. With dual citizenship, the door remained firmly closed but all for a few aging missionaries. Then it opened a slice, just a few years ago, and helps very few people (though I know someone who obtained citizenship that way). It certainly doesn't help me: the job I would need as an educator in my field to qualify for dual nationality does not meaningfully exist in Taiwan. 

This could be for political reasons: Sean noted that an entire community tried to kick out its Southeast Asian residents. Years ago, I passed a protest on the bus, where people were waving signs saying "foreign labor go home" in Mandarin, and I knew they weren't talking about people like me. In my neighborhood, I had a few confrontations over racist signage that admonished people not to litter in big-font Indonesian, and then an itty bitty Mandarin translation. Of course, my Indonesian neighbors generally don't litter. I'm often up late enough to see who does -- Taiwanese teenagers. 

In other words, there might be opposition from enough voters to matter if these changes happened quickly. Few are likely to notice if it's done slowly. 

It could also be for legislative reasons. I once asked Freddy Lim about immigration -- many of the people who worked on the documentary about him are foreigners living in Taiwan who want dual nationality. He indicated support for the idea, but pointed out that a lot of more conservative legislators don't. So, change comes slowly because if huge steps are taken all at once, a backlash would be far more likely -- however unfair it may be.

My experience as a white professional in Taiwan differs profoundly from a blue-collar Southeast Asian immigrant here. But the legislative mindset seems to follow some of the same slow-moving currents -- although the benefits always come to people like me far earlier, and certainly that's unfair. 

The point is, it's not necessarily wrong to do it this way. There are reasons why it happens. And I understand that the government makes these rules because they think they're doing what's best for Taiwan. I don't agree that they are -- Taiwan benefits from immigration and it knows it -- but that's what they believe. 

However, I tend to think of these things at the human level. 

The result is that such processes take decades. Decades mean a generation or more. That means eventually the rules might change and the gates might open. Eventually the riddles three will become the riddle one, and some time after that that riddle will be fairly easy to answer. But in that canyon of time, one or more generations of immigrants to Taiwan will never be able to benefit from a fairer system. They'll grow old and die, choose to leave or be forced to leave before it can help them.

The turnover is likely much higher for the foreign blue-collar community. They're limited to 12-14 years in Taiwan unless they get permanent residency (still unlikely), switch to a white-collar job (possible for some, but also unlikely) or marry someone who can give them residency (reasonably common). 

By the time the wheels of political change turn far enough to meaningfully help foreign workers, the ones currently here will already be gone. I know it's not common for governments to consider it from that perspective, but perhaps they should. 

And perhaps they should ask the actual foreigners these new rules would affect, and see what they really want. I bet they'll find the answer is better labor conditions, higher salaries, the ability to stay longer (perhaps forever, but perhaps not) and to include home workers in the Labor Standards Act. Perhaps some would want a path to permanent residency too: I don't know, I can't speak for them. But anyone can read the commentary -- it's not hard.

All of those are possible, but they have immediate consequences and will receive immediate backlash from employers and brokers alike. How dare you force us to stop abusing people and apply the law to every worker! If we didn't exploit workers, our business might be somewhat less profitable! Do you think I got this Mercedes Benz by paying workers fairly? 

This would also help Taiwan. Despite the sluggish legislative response to these long-standing issues, they must know foreign blue-collar labor is vital to the country, that other Asian countries offer better pay at the very least, and that the human rights record for treatment of Southeast Asian workers in Taiwan is abysmal, tarnishing Taiwan's reputation as a whole. They must know, as Donovan and Sean pointed out on ICRT, that if they were serious about the New Southbound Policy that these would be the obvious moves to make.

Still -- that is what the Ministry of Labor would do if it actually wanted to help foreign blue collar workers. It would ask them what they need and want, and then...y'know, do that.

Not being racist is free, but some companies still insist on skirting the law

 

Update: very soon after the original post, Wistron changed their policy and now, they only lock employees in their dorms most of the time, rather than almost all the time! The new notice is above. It's not a big improvement. Do better, Wistron.

The original notice and post are below.

Over two weeks ago, the Ministry of Labor announced that companies who restrict the freedom of movement of their employees (such as factory workers in a company dormitory) are in violation of the law, and any such restrictions will be "regarded as a serious matter".

While in theory this applies to all employees, it's common knowledge in Taiwan that the dormitory residents are almost entirely (if not entirely) foreign workers from Southeast Asia, and their rights are the ones being restricted. In fact, the MOL pointed out that this is also specifically a violation of laws pertaining to hiring foreign workers, and that the company could see its permit to employ such workers, and the quota they are able to employ revoked. The UDN article above also mentions possible prison terms.

That doesn't seem to have stopped some companies, however. I knew something was amiss when I heard that some workers were being allowed out for just 45 minutes a day.  This is despite Miaoli County (the worst offender, but not the only one) being "reminded" by the central government to follow the law, and the county government subsequently ending the restrictions on foreign workers' movements. 

The government never said anything about 45 minutes a day that I could find, but it turns out these are restrictions coming from the companies. Other than a tweet from a friend that this was the news going around, I couldn't prove it until now, however. 

It seems Wistron -- a company I have worked with before, so I hope a few of my former contacts are reading this -- is one such company, restricting dormitory residents to leaving the dorms in at least one location for no longer than 60 minutes a day. You can read the notice yourself up above. It's dated July 13, so well after they would have received notification that they cannot restrict workers' freedom of movement.

Upon hearing that it was illegal to lock foreign workers in dormitories, apparently some companies are trying to skirt the law by allowing them to leave in very restricted time frames. I suspect this might still be illegal, as according to UDN the law requires "freedom of movement" and treating all workers the same regardless of nationality (which would also imply that it's illegal to restrict workers residing in dorms over ones who have their own accommodation). As most if not all dorm residents are foreign workers, it amounts to treating foreign workers differently, and still is a restriction on "freedom of movement", just a less harsh one. 

There's a good legal case to be made here that these companies are still acting illegally, and should be held accountable. (I am not a lawyer, but it certainly does seem like there's something here to go on). 

At the very least, companies like Wistron are violating the spirit of the law, if not the letter of it, and I must hope that that's not enough of a loophole to keep them out of trouble. 

It's still frustrating that there isn't much the rest of us can do about this. However, if you would like to donate to organizations fighting this sort of discrimination, you can do so here (one of the choices works with migrant workers) with a credit or debit card. This site makes it easy to do in English. If you are in Taiwan, you can make a bank transfer donation to TIWA here (TIWA is the Taiwan International Workers' Association). There's also a monthly donation option but it's a bit more complicated.

An Open Thank You Letter to the Taiwan CDC

Something about this scene just makes me think of "home in Taiwan" even though my place looks nothing like this.

There have been a lot of complaints about the new quarantine regulations announced for returnees to Taiwan. Essentially, families cannot quarantine together -- one child per parent -- and home quarantine is no longer allowed. Government facilities are available for NT$2000/night (the hotel options are nicer, but more expensive). There have been reports of hotels quoting inflated rates, but that's an issue for law enforcement -- it's a scam, not government policy. The government facilities are plain, but livable. 

A lot of people are unhappy about this, especially those with children who were planning to travel this summer. 

The thing is, family quarantine hasn't been much of an option for awhile -- "one person per residence" has been the rule for months, although there were exceptions if you had your own rooms with bathrooms (how many families have one bathroom for every member?) and minors. 

I understand the frustration: I haven't seen my 95-year-old Grandma since 2018. I was always aiming for the holidays, but any chance of an earlier visit is now shattered. Not all travel is a choice: emergencies happen. And, of course, some people had already left to travel thinking that they could quarantine at home upon their return. This does make their lives more difficult, and I sympathize. It's tough, and we're all stressed. 

That said, most travel is a choice. I miss the country of my birth too -- well, some of the food and people in it anyway. But ultimately most travel plans are optional, and can be canceled. The convenience of people who chose to travel does not trump the good of the country.

The people who created these new rules are medical specialists with more expertise in how to contain something as scarily transmissible as the Delta variant. It's an inconvenience and a cost burden to quarantine away from home, but do people really believe they are better qualified to decide if home quarantine is safe in light of the Delta variant's spread than actual epidemiologists? 

I'm also a bit distraught that people are buying into the idea that Taiwan was late to acquire vaccines. As far as I'm aware, negotiations started as early as possible: the "lateness" was more due to what companies like Moderna and AZ could provide and when, which was influenced by a global vaccine shortage. And, of course, we all know how China created the BioNTech drama.

They -- mostly foreign residents, from my observation -- are  upset that life in Taiwan is not as normal as it has been for the past 16 months, and are turning on the government that gave them those months of normalcy because things have changed.

I do not care for this: when I feel the Taiwanese government is being unfair to foreign residents -- be they blue-collar workers or well-off expatriates -- I'll speak up. But I just don't think that's true here: the good of the country takes precedence over our own convenience.  The government is not perfect, but they are not being unfair.

Perhaps the government facilities should be free for all, but then again, why should they be? Most travel is a choice. 

A reimbursement program for true emergencies would be a kindness, but there is no reason why the government should pay for quarantine after travel one chose to do. Offering rooms with facilities for very young children would be smart; some kids need cribs, and not all families can afford the pricier hotel options. However, it would be reasonable to suggest this without writing entire "complaint" letters. 

In other words, the Delta variant does not care if you would prefer to quarantine together, or at home.

Although I am still distraught that the central government did not do enough to stop the racist treatment of foreign blue-collar workers, I think overall they've been working diligently since the beginning of 2020 to keep Taiwan as safe as possible.

As a result, I feel safer here than I would in the US (yes, still), and I notice that Taiwan is still continuing strict measures despite having fewer per capita cases than countries which are opening up (and probably shouldn't be). Yes, there was an outbreak because some people didn't follow the rules, but Taiwan contained it faster than just about any other country could. 

So rather than complain to the CDC, I wanted to thank them, while reminding them that blue-collar foreign workers still need to have their human rights protected more decisively. 

Of course everyone is free to voice their own opinion, and if you're one of the unhappy people, my "thank you" letter doesn't take away from your ability to write a complaint. I don't agree -- in fact I think it has the potential to cast the foreign community in a bad light as most of us are comparatively well-off, or at least have the resources to consider traveling at all. But it's still everyone's right to write whatever they want. I, personally, chose a "thanks". I can only hope others will do so, as well. 

Or, if you do have a suggestion, to write them a thank you for all those months of keeping you safe, and then add it in: better children's facilities. Emergency travel payment exemptions. Whatever you want. But complaining? I do not encourage that.

This is the letter I wrote. You can write your own here.

Hi,

First, I just wanted to thank the CDC for working hard to keep Taiwan safe. I know you are getting a lot of complaints right now, but I understand what you're doing and why it's necessary and I am grateful that the outbreak is being contained in Taiwan due to your hard work. I feel safer in Taiwan than I would in the country of my birth thanks to Taiwan's excellent response, even though times are hard now.

However, I do want to suggest that the central government should do more to stop the racism against Southeast Asian blue-collar workers. I've heard that Miaoli County hasn't actually stopped the restrictions, just relaxed them to let workers out for 45 minutes a day, and some companies are still locking them up like slaves or animals. It's not right. Since the CDC was able to revoke other local orders when they didn't comply with CDC regulations, I think you could do more to stop this. It is wrong and blatantly racist, and it really looks bad for Taiwan's human rights record. Clearly, you have the ability to stop it, so you should.

In fact, foreign blue-collar workers should be prioritized for vaccines, as their living and working conditions create danger of an outbreak, and they do mix with Taiwanese as well. I know this is politically difficult to do (probably a lot of Taiwanese would complain about them getting priority), but it's the right thing to do. At the very least, the blatant racism has got to be stopped. If local governments won't do it, the central government should take a stronger stand.

Thanks again for your hard work and for managing the pandemic well for over a year. Taiwan did a lot better than most other countries due to your efforts and they have not gone unnoticed.

I hope others will follow my lead and put the good of the country first. If this is our home -- not a playground where we get all our desires met -- we should act like it. 

BREAKING NEWS: Racism Still Racist

Except it's not just Miaoli, is it?

Now with updates! Don't worry, the updates are still about how racism is racist.

Yesterday, news broke that Miaoli County was ending the forced containment of blue-collar migrant workers (quoted at length because Focus Taiwan makes their archives inaccessible after a few months):

A controversial stay-at-home order imposed by the Miaoli County government on migrant workers earlier this month will end Tuesday, as the number of new COVID-19 cases recorded among the group has fallen.

In a statement, the county government said that while some migrant workers continue to test positive for the disease in Miaoli, they have all been in quarantine because they were contacts of previously confirmed patients....

The Miaoli County government banned migrant workers from going outside, with the exception of traveling to and from work, on June 7....On June 10, the order was partially relaxed to allow migrant social welfare workers, such as caregivers and domestic helpers who usually live with their employers, to go out when necessary, such as buying basic necessities.

I refuse to call it a "stay at home order" as Focus Taiwan does. Honestly, these were closer to internment camp conditions as the dormitories where many factory workers live are overcrowded, poorly ventilated and frankly, perfect sites for fast viral spread. 

Update: it's unclear that the order was indeed fully rescinded. Some reports indicate that it was merely relaxed:

Yesterday the restrictions on Miaoli cluster dorms were "lifted". Now they are allowed out... for 45 mins.

— michaelturton (@michaelturton) June 29, 2021

Focus Taiwan: if this is indeed the case, your reporting leaves something to be desired.

Before you say "but I only go out for 45 minutes a day!" or whatever, remember that nobody is forcing you to do that. Besides, you almost certainly live in better conditions than most foreign blue-collar workers. You probably don't live in a cramped hellhole where 6 people share a room meant for perhaps 2.

Despite human rights groups rightly calling the order discriminatory (or in my words, racist), Miaoli County Magistrate and Racist Clown said...well, here's the quote:

In response to the criticism, Miaoli Magistrate Hsu Yao-chang (徐耀昌) said the county government was forced to issue the order to curb the spread of COVID-19 in migrant worker clusters and to prevent a transmission of the virus in communities.

"If new cases, more deaths are reported, how can human rights protection be possible?" Hsu argued at the time.

In other words, he refused to admit that the racist thing he did was racist. And it was racist, as the people forced to stay in their accommodations were decided based on national origin (that is, they are not Taiwanese), and Taiwanese coworkers of the affected groups were not subject to the same order. Foriegn white-collar workers in Miaoli were not subject to the order, or we'd be hearing about cram school teachers in Nanzhuang forced to stay in their apartments.

The forced internment of these workers was not due to contact history with infected individuals, and the Miaoli county government was not "forced" do to anything. It chose to be racist. 

But of course, Hsu will never admit that. And sadly, he doesn't have to: foreign workers can't vote, and Taiwanese voters most likely don't see this as a critical issue. Certainly there has not been strong agitation for change despite being aware of how badly most Southeast Asian immigrants are treated, and some even (wrongly) defend such practices. Nobody in Miaoli is going to lose their elected office over this, even though arguably most of them should. 

Obviously, trying to avoid accountability for such actions is a global phenomenon: I could imagine a political suit from just about any country refusing to own up to their own racism (some, including several former US presidents, build entire brands on it). 

What I'm curious about is this: 

When questioned by reporters, Central Epidemic Command Center (CECC) officials said on June 9 that it had "reminded" Miaoli authorities that it could only enforce orders that were in line with the national Level 3 COVID-19 alert.

The CECC did not revoke the order, however, as it had done previously with other local government policies it had not authorized.

I freely admit that I haven't paid much attention to which local government policies the CECC has revoked. (Update: here's one example of where they did just that).

This implies they always had the power to just shut the Miaoli government's racism down, yet chose not to. The Tsai government, sadly, has a track record just as abhorrent as previous administrations on human rights for blue-collar immigrants: a weak spot in an administration that is competent in most other ways. There's a chance they simply don't care enough, or did political calculations on what this would cost them and made a choice. There are a lot of questions there that I simply can't answer (but feel free to leave observations in the comments). 

There are some bright spots, however. The international media, which until recently tended to ignore Taiwanese domestic issues or presented them only in the light of "China tensions" somehow mysteriously being enrisen-ified, took up this issue across several media outlets (including Channel News Asia, which is usually more of a concern troll regarding Taiwan than actual reliable news). 

Locally, there's been some movement too. Not just on the part of human rights groups either. To vent my own rage, every few days I go into Hsu's Facebook page and call him a racist, because he is one (this has zero effect but makes me feel better). Generally, even though sometimes I get lazy and post in English -- I think enough Taiwanese know the word "racist" that it probably doesn't matter -- there are often locals doing the same thing. This issue does seem to have brought more attention to the overall issue of foreign worker treatment in Taiwan.

It's hard to say what happened. I find it hard to believe that the Miaoli government decided to be slightly less racist (without apologizing at all) because it was making Taiwan look bad internationally. International media attention does tend to have an effect nationally, so it's possible that the CECC's public "reminder" came with stronger behind-the-scenes recriminations. But would the KMT-led county government really care what the DPP-led national government had to say? Did getting slammed by human rights groups make a difference? Probably not: this is the KMT, it's not like they care about human rights! 

More likely -- and I am wildly speculating here -- the national KMT apparatus realized it was getting dunked on an international scale, called up their Miaoli people and told them to quit it. 

That possibility carries a lot of implications. Generally, I've concluded that international media exposure is a one way to get the national government to stop dicking around. Overall, while it's good for critical domestic issues to receive international attention for this reason, I find it wise to try to promote a positive image for Taiwan internationally. I have less confidence that it has an effect at more local levels. However, if the international media can (potentially) help create change by getting one of the major parties to rein in their own? Well, that matters.

Racist treatment of foreign blue-collar workers in Taiwan continues

From Pinoy Taiwan News

A week ago, I was mentally preparing to draft a positive post about Taiwan's handling of the current outbreak. The main thesis? That the government had made mistakes, but coverage of those mistakes was devolving into taking potshots: people are frustrated, anxious, possibly out of work (our income has decreased, but we'll pull through) and it's leading to them kicking at Taiwan to a point I felt was unfair.

The shortened quarantine of pilots? A bad move, but few complained about it when there were no outbreaks. The slow vaccine rollout? Come on -- y'all didn't want AZ when it was available, and people like me signed up for self-paid shots because we thought we were saving them from the garbage. That Taiwan is facing Chinese interference and a global vaccine shortage? Not Taiwan's fault. That the government hadn't kept up with evolving data on the emerging variants? Not great, no -- but Taiwan is shut out of the WHO; was this entirely an issue of complacency? The worrying use of data to monitor people in outbreak areas such as Wanhua? Not ideal, but people who don't want to use the QR codes (a level of contact tracing that other countries never even attempted) can still register on pen and paper.

Basically, I was a bit annoyed that, as the rest of the world got an F in its coronavirus response (the US seems to have done a bit of extra credit and might squeak by with a D-), Taiwan was getting kicked because it got an A on the last test but only a B on this one. Like people were ready to turn on an administration that had competently seen us through 16 months of safety -- 16 months made necessary by the fact that (again!) the rest of the world couldn't get its shit together. 

I had intended to say that while some people in the Chinese-speaking public discourse sphere were indeed being constructive and offering ways to do better next time, some were absolutely using this as an opportunity to attack the Tsai administration, CCP-style. Some members of the foreign community were being outright ridiculous in their willingness to buy the bullshit the KMT, CCP and their associated compradores were selling. Although I can't influence local discourse, I was going to state that I would not be a party to this in the foreign community, and that while there are valid criticisms to be leveled at the government, I would not feed the growing toxicity of the discourse in English.

The thing is, I no longer want to write the longer version of that post. I'm angry. 

I can forgive a few mistakes. I can point out where constructive criticism turns toxic. What I cannot forgive is unconscionable racism towards the Southeast Asian immigrant community, which the central government isn't doing enough to combat.

We were all angry when the Miaoli County government forbade foreign blue-collar workers, who are generally from Southeast Asia, from leaving their quarters (most live in cramped factory dormitories or live with the families who employ them as caregivers). We all felt that relaxing restrictions for some foreign workers was completely insufficient.

The move can not be justified on any grounds except discrimination: those workers mix with Taiwanese workers at factories and Taiwanese families in homes, so locking them up while their Taiwanese colleagues and employers are free to move about makes these measures even more cruel and meaningless. The domestic workers are often tasked with running errands which include taking elderly charges out, refilling medication or accompanying them to the doctor. Unable to do this, families would have to do these things themselves -- what purpose did it serve, if other members of the household could still go out?

But now it's not just Miaoli. This is happening in Tainan, in Changhua, and beyond. The central government have handled this issue weakly at best, and have implemented their own restrictions, mostly regarding employee transfers. They have not done nearly enough.

As a result, it hasn't stopped, and with the central government limited in their ability or willingness to shut down the actions of the local governments, I'm not sure how it can be stopped.

I'm not really sure how it is that the government can lay claim to all our data -- including data we weren't asked if we wanted to provide and weren't told was being collected -- but not shut down the completely unacceptable treatment of these workers across the country.

Like a virus, it's spreading. It gets stamped out in one place and breaks out in another. Blame the foreigners. And not just any foreigners, blame the most marginalized foreigners (who happen to also be the majority of foreigners) in the country. If you thought barring foreigners from restaurants and cafes was bad -- and it was -- this is exponentially worse. The former was a form of unfair discrimination. This is outright, blatant, unacceptable and disgusting racism. 

Let me repeat: this is not acceptable. There is no justification. From an epidemic prevention standpoint it doesn't even make sense, because people do not spread diseases on the basis of their national fucking origin. The immigrants who live here interact with Taiwanese and will continue to interact with Taiwanese, because they're still going to work. Forcing them to stay in disease-prone crowded dorms with poor ventilation will only make it worse. 

If you think it is justified, then fuck you.

It's not about race plenty of Taiwanese citizens are from Southeast Asia because they married in and gave up their...no.

 

But COVID is spreading in those communities so it makes sense even though they're still interacting with locals who have freedom of moveme...no.

It is about race, and you know it's about race. 

There's a class element as well, but those factories also have Taiwanese workers who are not locked in, so it is primarily just plain old racism. 

Some companies even try to spin these lockdowns as "helping" the workers, rather than literally jailing them:

                       

In fact, the right move both isn't just to end these racist practices immediately, but to reform the entire blue-collar labor system, top to bottom. It's to proactively prioritize these immigrants on the vaccination list because their living and working conditions increase chances of an outbreak, and to improve those living and working conditions in the long-term. This isn't just for them, but for the country: to prevent further spread, and also ensure the outbreak doesn't shut down vital industries.

What frustrates me -- and why I'm taking it out here -- is that I don't know what to do about it. 

When it was cafes banning foreigners I could contact them privately, and I spent hours doing so, among other actions. Most agreed to change their policy when presented with a reasonable argument and the chance to save face before their businesses got review-bombed. When it's something like trying to wheedle Last Week Tonight into doing an episode about Taiwan, I have a plan for balancing relentlessness with comedy that I hope will work (please sign, by the way). When it's discriminatory Youbike rules, I can write to Taipei City government. 

But this? Yes, we can donate, and should (see the links at the bottom of this post for places where you can do so). We can sign this petition. I suppose I could write to each government to lodge my complaints, but if they're not listening to the CECC, why would they listen to me? So I just don't know what to do except write about it. 

That is incredibly frustrating. I would help occupy the street outside of one of these factories if I thought it would do any good, and if public gatherings were possible. I would write up a letter in Mandarin, if I thought I could influence the discourse, but there are native speakers more eloquent than me with a more local perspective who are better qualified to do this. 

In fact, there is one positive I can think of: there are locals angry about this too. On the social media of politicians promoting these restrictions, the pushback has been local (with a few of us angry foreigners mixed in too). Local friends have been sending me the aforementioned petition so it's getting local attention. Not everyone in Taiwan is as awful as those clowns in Miaoli.

In other words, I feel completely impotent in the face of this issue which angers me so very deeply. It's hard to even write more than a few pieces on it because "Racism Continues To Be Racist" only has so many variations. Your suggestions are welcome.