Why are Taiwan's emergency rooms overflowing?

 

The photo isn't really related to the post; I took it in Japan last year. But I like the visual concept

A friend’s husband was recently in a serious accident.

"Well, fortunately we're in Taiwan," you might think, "so he'll get a stay in the hospital and effective treatment, and it won't cost much."  After all, Taiwan’s accessible, affordable healthcare is consistently well-ranked. The Taiwanese public seems to agree: in general, satisfaction with the system reaches heights that most Western nations could only dream of, reaching almost 90% in 2019. All of this is possible through far less government expenditure than in most other nations, including the US – just 6.6% of GDP. Despite this, you'd only be partially right.

My friend’s husband will indeed get affordable treatment. However, he ended up spending two days and two nights in the emergency room, in critical condition, before he was allocated a hospital bed. And his condition was -- is -- so serious that he'd been put at the front of the queue to get that bed at all! My friend had some very complicated feelings about this, noting that others had been in the ER for even longer. Some would be waiting for a bed for up to a week. 

It's not news that Taiwan has a hospital bed shortage. News outlets have been reporting on it for at least a year. A physician who spoke to United Daily News earlier this year estimated that 10-20% of hospital wards have closed. In 2023, CommonWealth reported that emergency room stays lasting more than a night had tripled, and the wait for hospital beds had doubled. Around the same time, TaiwanPlus pointed to Taipei’s Mackay Memorial Hospital closing 200 beds.

How does a system that was founded on the idea of streamlined access, and informed by research on the benefits and drawbacks of systems in other countries, end up with such a massive bed shortage, and emergency room visits that, in some cases, are as long as typical hospital stays?

The surface-level cause is clear: insufficient nursing staff to attend to the patients who would usually occupy those rooms. Nurses are quitting in droves, they say, resulting in crisis-level turnover. Taiwan regulates the nurse-to-patient ratio at approximately 1:9, with higher patient loads during the day and lower ones at night. A shortage of nurses, therefore, translates directly into insufficient beds.  

The reasons for this mass exodus are as predictable as they are insidious: as with female-dominated professions in general, nurses in Taiwan are overworked and underpaid. Taiwanese nurses are frequently asked to do overtime and have trouble taking time off, but even experienced ones earn on average just $46,000-$55,000NT per month. Although Taiwan graduates more nurses than it needs, so many quit the profession out of frustration, exhaustion or both that new graduates aren’t stemming the shortage. Despite a surfeit of students studying nursing, Taiwan is almost always several thousand nurses short of what it needs for its hospitals to function at capacity. Taiwan has approximately 310,000 registered nurses, but only about 60% are currently working.

The good thing about obvious problems, one would think, is that they tend to come with obvious solutions. Offer better working conditions with less overtime for more pay, and all of those nursing students will remain nurses. Despite this blindingly obvious fix to a problem that should have never existed in the first place, the media, the government and hospital leadership all seem to be giving themselves enemas with their own heads. 

Initially, the government threw money at the problem without taking concrete steps to ensure nurses were paid well to work reasonable hours. Billions were given to hospitals through the 2010s to address the shortage; slightly less than half of those hospitals hired more nurses or increased pay. Many did nothing, or decreased their nursing staff.   Last year, the government also announced plans to ease the examination requirements for new nurses. While allowing nurses who would have otherwise failed the exam to practice seems likely to lower-quality care, the bigger issue is that it doesn't solve the core problem: bringing in more nurses won't stop the hemorrhaging on the other end. If nurses are not paid well to work reasonable hours, even potentially less-skilled ones will eventually quit.

More recently, the government has introduced new rules that increase the nurse-to-patient ratio and overall offer night shift bonuses. Of course, higher patient loads only increase stress on nurses, and bonuses to keep nurses working to their physical breaking points do nothing to address the overwork causing them to quit in the first place. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Different levels of hospitals can offer different bonuses to nurses; unsurprisingly, district hospitals, where nurses have the highest patient load, would offer the lowest bonuses.

As one might predict, nurses aren’t keen on the scheme. Nearly 57% “reject” it, saying it won’t alleviate the shortage, isn’t fair to day nurses, and will make scheduling shifts even more difficult. 

Apparently “pay nurses fair wages to work reasonable hours” is simply too difficult for those in power to comprehend.

Taiwanese media isn’t helping much to report on the issue. UDN mentions overwork, but doesn’t discuss improved pay and promotion schemes. Instead, it examines the enrollment quota for nursing students and recommends improving safety measures, neither of which are in the same galaxy as the real problem. In the Liberty Times, the head of the Yunlin branch of National Taiwan University Hospital suggests streamlining nurses’ work to make it more efficient and less repetitive. While this isn’t a bad idea, it’s also, still, not the problem. 

Chi Shu-ching of the Taiwan Union of Nurses Association said recently that there is "no one policy that will replenish the ranks [of nurses] straightaway", but that's not entirely true. Though it will also take some time, the obvious solution of paying nurses more to work reasonable hours will be the fastest possible way to convince nursing students not to quit their programs, and registered nurses to stay or return to the field. The government keeps setting aside funds for other initiatives and incentives, so clearly it's willing to throw money at the problem. How about throwing some of that money at nurse remuneration, and not just in exchange for more work? In other words, everyone seems to know "why" Taiwan has a nursing shortage that seems more entrenched and unsolvable each year, but few really seem to understand why.

Or perhaps they do, but they can’t bring themselves to pay women a fair wage for reasonable hours of professional work. Until this changes, Taiwan may well not live up to its global reputation for accessible, prompt healthcare.

One more time at the legislature, with feeling

I don't have time to make this pretty, so let's talk about what's happening at the Legislative Yuan right now. 

After adjourning on Friday, not having passed the most controversial aspect of the legislative reform bill -- the "contempt of the Legslature" clause (clause? I don't have time to check) -- lawmakers were to re-convene today to finish discussing it.

"Contempt of the Legislature", if passed, would allow the legislature to drag just about anyone they want in for question-and-answer sessions, and they could be sent to court if the legislators don't like their answers. This is meant to criminalize lying to the legislature, concealing evidence, procrastinating or refusing to appear -- which seems reasonable, but isn't. More on that below, or just read my last post, or whatever you want in English. I probably won't cover it in full in this post. 

Today, thousands gathered at the Legislative Yuan to protest the bill yet again. Miao Poya (I mention her here and here) spoke to a crowd of about 3,000 this afternoon. By the time I arrived in the late afternoon, the crowd was clearly bigger than that, though I can't begin to estimate. It had gone well past the large tent cover set up in front of the main stage and was starting to spill onto Zhongshan Road. 

My friend's photo:



When I arrived, police buses ran down what I believe is Jinan Road (I didn't really check), and you could see people streaming toward the venue. I haven't seen a police presence like that in years, nor a protest big enough to warrant one. (Arguably no protest warrants one, but...discussion for another day). 

I saw a lot of old-school protest imagery: sunflowers, for the Sunflower Movement, the ubiquitous black t-shirts, teal-colored stickers, headbands that said "if the KMT doesn't fall, Taiwan won't be good" (國民黨不倒，台灣不會好 -- it sounds better in Mandarin) which might be new, or might have been dug out of retirement by former protesters. There were even pro-Hong Kong flags as well as several rainbow flags from the marriage equality rallies.

People were quite literally grabbing whatever they had at home from the past to join this protest. I'm sure once the stickers and t-shirts and bandannas and banners become available, there will be a cohesive design to it all, but remember, all the left-of-center protests of the past -- some labor protests excepted -- seem to follow a similar design language. It all works together. It's cohesive, and gives the element that in Taiwan, all of us with our various causes come out to support each other.



I say "us", but I really mean them. I can go, and chant, and stand in the rain, but I'm not Taiwanese. I'm there to support, I don't know what else I can do. Regardless, I love to see it. 

In fact, one of the speakers while I was there directly referenced Hong Kong, likening this bill and the method being used to pass it to the undemocratic processes that are now the norm in Hong Kong ever since the protests were quashed and pro-Beijing elements (I'd call them fascists but hey) took over. 



Of course, being a Taiwanese protest, there were chants calling to send back the bill, "Go Taiwan!" and "Go democracy!" (台灣加油，民主加油), "oppose the black box" (the tactics being used to pass the bill without anyone knowing what's in it is locally referred to as "black box" politics), "No discussion, no democracy" and at least one call for Huang Kuo-chang (黃國昌), the former Sunflower leader who is now colluding with pro-China elements and their assorted simps, to step down. I can't think of anyone whom the activist community reviles more today than that man.

Funeral-like flowers for the KMT:



While there, a speaker rallied the crowd by saying they'd grown to 12,000. I don't know if that's true -- upper estimates put it at 8,000 -- but it was quite a sight regardless, not something we've seen much of during Tsai's tenure and the DPP's legislative majority. Tsai also left office with a surprisingly high favorability rating, for Taiwan.

That could be because the DPP's general platforms -- with some imperfections -- are closer to the general consensus in Taiwan. It could be because the DPP legislature more or less did a competent job. It could be because KMT supporters simply lack the vim and vigor of sustained activism and protest. Most KMT protests seem to be oldsters bussed in and given a free lunchbox. 

These protesters were...not that. They are young, mostly, and they are angry. They remind me of the Sunflowers. If this is Taiwan's Gen Z, then the kids are going to be alright. 

Back to the protest: partway through my time in the crowd, it started pouring. People handed out free ponchos. I was given one, but got soaked anyway. Speakers asked the crowd to move forward as much as possible to get more people under the cover, and to use ponchos rather than umbrellas, which is smart in a crowd. People came through not long after to distribute drinking water. 

I love to see that sort of cooperative action in protests and movements. 

The rain only got worse, but here's the thing: not many people left. Of course, in any protest, especially one that spans hours, people will come and go over time. But I didn't see any substantial number of empty seats even when it really started to drench the crowd. Thunder boomed, but people stayed. Someone handed out a bunch of signs run on a printer and slipped into plastic covers. 

On the way to the protest I talked to an older man trying to park his bike. He said he was outside to support the Sunflowers a decade ago, and he's back again to stand up for democracy now. His daughter, he said, was already in the crowd. 

While we were getting utterly rain-blasted, I traded sorrowful looks with the woman next to me. Without prompting, she said, "this is democracy". She did not leave. Neither did I. 

I'm telling you, the kids are gonna be alright. 



My phone got soaked -- it currently won't charge with a cable -- my leather bag got soaked, my pants got soaked, my shoes got soaked. The ground beneath our feet turned into one massive puddle. Still, people stayed, I went to put my phone back in my bag, wet despite being under my ill-fitting poncho. A young man (early 20s?) used his plastic-covered sign to keep the rain off. 

At about 7pm, the session seemed to be still ongoing, with the DPP playing the old Sunflower anthem Island Sunrise. The KMT started raising patches of the ROC flag (which has the KMT emblem on it). 

I left when I started to genuinely worry about my phone, and was shivering from being soaked. I also happen to be sunburned from yesterday's inauguration, which is not a great combination. The woman who'd said "this is democracy" urged me to go, saying "health comes first" and there will be other chances to protest. 

At about 8pm, a friend of mine messaged me a bunch of photos -- one his, one from the protest's Line group -- showing the protest had spilled out into Zhongshan Road.  A verbal estimate put the crowd at over 15,000.

Here's the Line group photo:



So what's wrong with the bill? 

First, there's what it could mean. From Michelle Kuo on Twitter: 

China publishes a list of Taiwan independence activists, those legislators can summon them to be questioned. The [activists] can be fined from 20,000 NTD to NTD 200,000. This is written in article 25, the amendment they just passed. And that completely bypassed committee review.

 

From Chen Yen-han: 

The bill would give the LY power to summon essentially anyone and make them answer questions.

This is not necessarily bad. What is bad are the proposed criminal penalties when the LY deems someone’s answer a refusal or falsehood.

This would give a partisan coalition a monopoly on truth, which is very bad.

A minister who refuses to divulge classified information could, under the provisions of this bill, be punished.

There is at least one current MLY who leaked sensitive info on Taiwan’s defense programs.

You should also read this entire thread from Michael Turton. Here's a snippet:

We know what tactics they will follow because they've done that before. One way they will use this power is to subpoena local DPP politicians to again smear them and even better, toss a few in the clink...

The KMT can simply refuse to act on taiwan's defense by claiming their too busy with internal investigations. This will tie up the legislature for years. Further...they will investigate government ministers and bureaucrats hoping not only to interfere with the functions of government, but to bring to light information on government connections with other government and on defense and weapons programs....The subpoena powers can be used against Ordinary People. Members of the Foreign Press should recall the era of Visa denials of journalists. Under this law there's nothing to stop the legislature from subpeona-ing a foreign journalist whose coverage they do not like.

There's also a great Youtube video with English subtitles from Puma Shen, the activist and legislator who was pushed off a table and fell on his head on Friday.



 One of the biggest problems is that nobody really knows what's in the bill, as a last-minute version cobbled together from all proposed versions was not read out in full and not made available to legislators in time for the vote. This was apparently done by KMT caucus whip (and criminal, and sex pest) Fu Kun-chi, speaker Han Kuo-yu, and former Sunflower and New Power Party founder-turned-TPP supporter Huang Kuo-chang, who right now might be the most reviled of the three. Remember, he was once on the same side as the people out there protesting tonight, and now he's working with his former enemies and enemy-adjacent randos. (No, I will not attempt to phrase that more elegantly). 

Secondly, the KMT and TPP keep insisting that "substantive discussion" of the bill has taken place, and thus have ushered it to a vote. (There are also a bunch of infrastructure bills to be discussed, and nobody's talking about what might or might not be in those, so that's not good either). 



This is absolutely a lie, spearheaded by Huang Kuo-chang. The DPP was intentionally kept from participating in said 'substantive discussion', their own proposals dismissed before they could even be considered. Essentially, the KMT and TPP are railroading everything and calling it "democracy" because they have a thin majority coalition. 

The votes themselves are being done by a 'show of hands' rather than individual votes with names recorded. While this is technically a legal mechanism for voting, as far as I know, it's not typical and hasn't been used in Taiwan in decades. The KMT/TPP would insist that it's necessary as the DPP keeps blocking a more traditional vote. Apparently, the "show of hands" vote tallies keep getting messed up, which is extremely suspicious and unnerving. 

I'm not the only one who is likening this to Sunflowers 2.0 -- they protested black box politics too -- and the White Terror. And if something in Taiwan reminds you of the White Terror, well, that should be terrifying. 

Legislature erupts in chaos, the KMT still sucks, and the spark of fresh resistance

Lawmaker and activist Puma Shen gets pushed off a rostrum head-first by KMT opponents

First, I just want to acknowledge that I haven't been blogging very much. I know. I've had other writing projects, but beyond that work is both a challenge and a treadmill. By that I mean it both requires creative energy (fantastic) but also feels a bit insurmountable (not fantastic). At least I'm happy with where I am career-wise, which I wouldn't have said six months ago. 

I felt a bit knocked out of my blogging stupor on Friday, when a fight broke out in the Legislative Yuan over a proposed bill to expand the powers of said legislature. Not only is the bill deeply undemocratic, but the method by which the majority coalition -- they wouldn't call themselves a coalition, but they effectively are one -- attempted to pass it. 

The sum of it: the KMT, with the TPP as their lapdogs, are trying to pass a bill that would require the president to give an address before the Legislature every year, and be subject to immediate questioning after. More chillingly, it would expand the legislature's ability to conduct investigations -- they already have some authority, such as access to documents -- and introduce the concept of "contempt of the Legislature" which would work like this:  

Those who refuse a demand by the Legislature or delay in responding, conceal information, or provide false statements to the Legislature during an investigation, inquiry, or hearing or when it reviews documents can be fined or, if serious, seen as "contempt of the legislature," according to the KMT lawmakers' bill. 

This would be a criminal offense, and refusing to appear or accused of lying to the Legislature would be punishable by fines or jail time. Those required to comply would not only be government entities, but private ones as well. 

The issues, legal scholars and others note, is that it's not clear where that power begins and ends. For example: 

Lin Chih-chieh (林志潔), a legal professor and a DPP legislative candidate in the January election, warned at a public hearing that if the bills passed, the Legislative Yuan would be able to demand the presence of, for example, TSMC founder Morris Chang (張忠謀) and accuse him of contempt of the Legislature if he refused to attend.

The Legislature could also ask TSMC or other enterprises to provide sensitive information related to their commercial secrets, Lin argued.

(I'm quoting at length from Focus Taiwan as their articles don't remain publicly available for long.)

What's more, what constitutes "lying", "delay in responding" or "concealing information" is not particularly clear. How it will be determined that someone called to testify has done these things is not, as far as I know, defined in any known way. The problem here should be obvious: with no clear, impartial mechanism to determine what constitutes a delay, a lie or concealment, who's to say what might be called, for example, a "lie".  Anyone can insist anyone testifying has "lied", threatening criminal punishment, and it's extremely unclear how that power might be wielded fairly. 

People whose testimony (or lack thereof) dissatisfies legislators -- again, this whole thing should chill you to the bone -- can be sent to court 'to impose a sentence' (it's unclear whether the court can overturn the legislators' decision). In other words: 

Furthermore, how contempt of the Legislature is determined, by whom, and the criminal elements of contempt of the Legislature are not explicitly stated in the KMT proposal. Critics believe that if the legislator does not like the content of the official's answer to the question, does not like their attitude, or "interrupts" the official who is answering the legislator's question...under a loose determination, it may be possible that legislators will use their own subjective desires to imprison the official under questioning through court resolutions.

(Translated from Initium Media)

Does this remind you of any other period in Taiwan's history? Perhaps a period of several decades, under which the government could pull you in for questioning and jail you if they didn't like your answers, using ill-defined powers with essentially no oversight? 

I don't think that the Legislative Yuan is going to start mass murdering dissenters or anything like that, but if this doesn't give you Big White Terror Energy...it should.

This lack of clarity seems very much by design: the bill bypassed a line-by-line reading as well as an article-by-article discussion, and according to Initium Media, all versions of the bill from the KMT and TPP were sent to committee while all DPP versions and proposals were blocked. Laws in Taiwan have a period of discussion (sometimes called 'freezing') where parties are meant to negotiate and come to a consensus on new legislation, which is between one and four months -- four months is the norm, but the 'freezing' of some crucial legislation may be shorter. In that period, the KMT refused to engage in any substantive negotiation or discussion with the DPP on this bill.

Because there was no line-by-line reading, and all versions were sent to committee (if I'm reading this correctly), it's unclear which version would have passed the vote on Friday. Not all versions are available publicly, in fact, I'm not even sure if the legislators themselves know what's in the bill. This is very wrong: in general, new legislation under consideration should be publicly available, discussed in detail by lawmakers, and the final version that goes to a vote known. 

It's also worrying that how the bill would play out against previous Constitutional Court rulings, specifically ruling #585, which states that the Legislative Yuan has the power to conduct investigations related to its own functioning but not beyond that: 

Under the principles of separation of powers and checks and balances, the scope of the targets or matters subject to the Legislative Yuan’s investigative power does not grow unchecked. The matters to be investigated by the Legislative Yuan must be substantially related to the exercise of its powers under the Constitution. And, in addition, whenever a matter is related to the independent exercise of powers by an organ of the State that is guaranteed by the Constitution, the Legislative Yuan may not extend its investigative power to such a matter.

This interpretation already gives the Legislative Yuan the power to 'compel' testimony on matters under its jurisdiction, but it's unclear if attaching criminal penalties to this would be within the scope of the interpretation. In addition, unlike other countries that have contempt of Congress or Parliament laws, Taiwan already has an investigative body, the Control Yuan.

This body is in charge of impeachment, censure and audit. If they already have the power to investigate government officials, why exactly does the Legislative Yuan also need this power? Indeed, according to Interpretation #585 above, to take that power might well interfere with the "independent exercise" of the Control Yuan, making it unconstitutional. 

Of course, we don't know exactly which powers this will grand the Legislature and whether they step on the Control Yuan's toes, because we don't know what's in the bill! Even the Taipei Bar Association has weighed in with concerns about the bill. It's Bad News Bears, you guys, 

It's pretty clear that the goal of the legislators is to increase their own power during a term when the KMT has a legislative plurality, but the DPP has the presidency. It's not about punishing those who lie -- KMT legislators lie all the time -- and not really about filling a much-needed gap in the government's ability to function, as there's an investigative body that already does this. In other words, it's exactly what critics have called it: a power grab.

If this seems reminiscent to you of some of the black box politics characteristic of the Ma Ying-jeou era, that's because it is. The same sort of 'let's push this through and not make it entirely clear what the legislation entails' is the exact sort of authoritarian bullshit attitude that helped spark the Sunflower Movement in 2014. While the details differ, broadly speaking, the strategy feels quite similar to the attempted passage of the Cross-Strait Services and Trade Agreement (CSSTA or 服貿) in that year. 

With the KMT more or less back in power in the Legislative Yuan, it's not surprising that they are exactly who they've always been. 

Friday was voting day for the bill, and anyone could have predicted that fights over it would break out in the Legislature. Again according to Initium Media, the clause requiring the president to address the Legislative Yuan and then answer questions (which is somewhat unprecedented in ROC history) was passed by a show of hands -- meaning the names of those voting for and against were not recorded as is custom -- but due to the physical altercations, all other parts of the bill have yet to be dealt with. 

I'm not sure exactly why, but the violence in the Legislative Yuan on Friday somehow seemed more serious, or touched a deeper nerve, than scuffles I've read about previously. To me, the three most notable instances of scuffles or outright violence were DPP Legislator Kuo Kuo-wen (郭國文) grabbing the documents and sprinting out of the legislative chamber with them, which, to be clear, that guy rules.

Chung Chia-pin (鍾佳濱) of the DPP tackled the KMT's Chen Ching-hui (陳菁徽) while both were on the podium; Chung claims he slipped on a piece of paper, and from the video evidence, that seems likely. Notably, in some reports, pan-blue mouthpiece TVBS, despite offering a pretty awesome metal-lite background to the footage, seems to have edited out the part where Chung fell. 

Finally, DPP Legislator, democracy activist and founder of Doublethink Lab Puma Shen (沈伯洋) was  pushed off the rostrum and landed on his head. Shen was hospitalized along with five other lawmakers, though his condition at the time appeared to be the most severe. 

As of today, Shen appears to be in recovery -- or at least, he's conscious -- telling the public that the TPP's three-point statement on the issue is, essentially, three lies, and that they are the ones in "contempt of the Legislature". 

According to CNA, the TPP claims that only some reforms were on the agenda for that day, and the "contempt of the Legislature" was not. I'm honestly unclear on this point, but Shen claims it's wrong. Second, the TPP claims that the DPP either "didn't understand" the timing of the discussions, or put forward excessive motions to adjourn so no discussions could take place. Shen counters that in truth, the DPP called for adjournments because the KMT and TPP wouldn't discuss the bill, and accuses them of confiscating or dismissing DPP proposals, so what could the DPP do but resist the process? Finally, the TPP claimed that the 'show of hands' method of voting is a legal and recognized method. Shen points out that the vote counts are still unclear as a result -- some of them don't match up -- and as the tools to register names of who voted for what were available, intentionally not using them is not a good method. 

For anyone thinking "well that's just majority party strategy", the DPP as far as I can remember never did this to the KMT in eight years of having control.

In the aftermath, the DPP's Chung has apologized to Chen (the woman who was tackled), and clarified that he was also in pain from the fall. The KMT, as far as I can tell, has not apologized for injuring Shen or anyone else, with caucus whip Fu Kun-chi daring the DPP to sue the KMT over their actions. 

Not to get too biased or anything, but that corrupt sex pest really is a massive wet sack of steamy garbage juice.

Fu has also called the DPP "thuggish", despite arguably the worst injury being sustained by a DPP legislator. That's to be expected, though, the KMT loves characterizing the DPP as ignorant rednecks who could not possibly wield power with the grace and authority of the educated KMT. It's a also a time-honored tactic around the world used to discredit activist movements. Want to turn the public against a group? Call them thugs!

Of course, the DPP weren't the ones who terrorized Taiwan for decades under the White Terror and Martial Law dictatorship like thugs.

Anyway, calling anyone "thuggish" is pretty rich coming from, yet again, a corrupt sex pest. 

Speaking of the old dictatorship, the KMT also accused the DPP of being "used to monopolizing power". Hmm, let's review: which party imposed decades of Martial Law so heinous that it made the Japanese colonial era look like a paradise in comparison? Sent dissidents to Green Island, tortured them and killed them, claiming they were all "communists" (not all were, and regardless it shouldn't have been a crime in the first place)? Engaged in mass killing sprees after 228? Let the dictator's son run the secret police, deciding more or less on personal whims who lived and who died? 

Which party ruled Taiwan with violence for so long, and so horribly, that the people started organizing to force it to end? Which party's crimes against the people are now memorialized in prisons-turned-museums on Green Island and in New Taipei? Was that the DPP?

Which party, out of approximately thirty years of democratization, has held a majority in the Legislature for twenty of them (so, about two-thirds), even when the opposition had the presidency? Was that the DPP? Which party engaged in legislative chicanery so preposterous that a bunch of students occupied thei chamber and rallied many, if not most, Taiwanese to their cause? Which party's president is leaving office with unprecedented popularity, as opposed to her KMT predecessor who wishes he could have hit double digits?

So, which party again can we perhaps accuse of trying to monopolize power? Because it sure as hell doesn't look like the DPP.

With the inauguration tomorrow and fresh deliberations over the bill set for the day after, it's unclear what's next. I have noticed, though, that with the old KMT tactics of black-boxing their trash and calling the DPP "thuggish" for resisting, that perhaps a spark of that old civil disobedience is coming back. 

It's not that protests simply stopped after Tsai took office. There's been a Panay Kusui-led protest encampment in 228 Park for a very long time, focused on Indigenous land rights. There's a laor protest more or less every year, though they don't have much staying power. There were the marriage equality rallies. 

But it sure does feel like civil society has gone somewhat quiet in these years. I don't think I've attended a protest/rally since marriage equality (though, to be clear, my health took a tumble during the pandemic as my career picked up, so often I just haven't got the time). Many have commented that younger Taiwanese, now almost a generation removed from the Wild Strawberries and Sunflowers, and two generations from the Wild Lilies, don't seem to have that same activist spirit, aren't worried about China (and thus care less about the KMT's foreign policy of basically selling out Taiwan) or aren't the angry young protesters who helped bring Tsai to power in 2016 -- in fact, they're not necessarily enamored with the DPP at all. 

On the one hand, I've kind of noticed this, too. The desire to go out there and fight for something better hasn't seemed as alive of late. Perhaps it's because President Tsai, unlike her predecessor, actually did a good job leading Taiwan -- and I do think, with some criticisms and imperfections, that she did. Perhaps they're just used to the DPP being 'in power', and the people with the power are usually not the ones that inspire the youth. 

But now KMT avarice is laid bare once again, which was always going to happen once they were given national-level power again. I'm not sure why so many people didn't see it coming, and while it's certainly not a good thing, maybe the old fire will come back. Maybe the next generation will see once again what utter rapacious dipshits their parents voted for, and stand for something better. 

Spontaneous protests broke out outside the Legislative Yuan on Friday night, and on Saturday Internet celebrity and commentator Four-Pronged Cat (四叉貓), known for infiltrating and subverting KMT protests, held a "pilgrimage" to the street below the home of KMT legislator Hsu Chiao-hsin (徐巧芯). She's the one who pulled out a musical instrument during the fighting and played the ROC national anthem -- honestly, don't ask. Apparently, people passing Hsu's house deemed to be protesters had been interrogated or otherwise documented by police, which frankly feels quite undemocratic. For a small-scale action, it's still impressive that, apparently, hundreds of people showed up. 

These are small numbers by the Taiwan protest standards I'm used to, but it feels like a step in the right direction as we head into the unknown territory of a third-term DPP presidency, and a KMT-led legislature that seems more cupidinous than ever. We're going to need that vim and vigor from everyone, not just Gen Z Taiwanese, to do something about it.

Defining Ma Ying-jeou's "relevance"

He deserves an unflattering screenshot

I recently read with interest Donovan Smith's analysis of the continued relevance of former president and slightly burnt mannequin Ma Ying-jeou. Smith argued that despite being called "irrelevant" by the pan-green camp, that his power player position in the KMT meant he could not possibly be so. 

Donovan makes a good point. When it comes to shaping KMT policy and which puppet or inveterate Very Good Boy he'll trot out as his skin mask at rallies and for elections, and whose prior image he'll eviscerate in order to turn him (they're always male) into his next puppet, Ma is frighteningly relevant. 

In fact, I'd argue one cannot discuss KMT policies and directions without at some point discussing Ma. Even when he's not got his talons into this or that KMT candidate, his vision for what the KMT -- and Taiwan as a whole -- should be still shape the policies, platforms, desires and wet dreams of hardcore deep blue supporters. While their numbers may be dwindling, they're still a political force and not dismissed so lightly. 

So yes, in that sense, Smith is right. Perhaps, though, we should consider what these commentators mean when they call Ma "irrelevant" -- because it depends somewhat on how you define the term. 

The thing is, one might interpret political relevance as requiring being at least somewhat in touch with the general (or at least popular) consensus. You're relevant if your own ideas and commentary reflect the national mood, however roughly. If what you say resonates with the public and perhaps most importantly, the voters. 

In this sense, Ma is indeed irrelevant. It would be easy to point to his Deutsche Welle interview just before the election. He laid down some real whoppers here. Leaving aside "Taiwan can never win a war with China" (debatable, but I'll give him that based on the power imbalance), Ma stated that we should "trust" Xi Jinping, a point so ridiculous that it was basically an own goal for the KMT. I don't think it lost them the election, but it didn't help. However, if we're talking about Ma's relevance, I found this bit more alarming (and mendacious): 

Unification is something that our constitution says [sic]. So it's actually acceptable to Taiwan. But it has to be done peacefully, and through a democratic process. If that can be done, the chances are people in Taiwan may be interested in accepting this.

He says that again later on -- "if it is peaceful and democratic, the people of Taiwan will probably accept this." It's not a slip.

The constitution doesn't actually say that -- if it ever did, the series of amendments adopted from1990s through 2005 extirpated it -- but whatever.  It's not even the ludicrous notion that unification could possibly be peaceful or democratic when the government Taiwan would be unifying with openly doesn't care about democratic norms, and their massive military preparations indicate they don't care much about peace, either. 

What renders him irrelevant is the second half of that quote: the idea that because the constitution says it and theoretically it could be voted for (which would mean no immediate war), that "chances are" Taiwanese people would be "interested in" such a path. 

Every major poll, whether we're talking status quo or Taiwanese vs. Chinese identity, and the past three presidential elections have shown that the people of Taiwan are not interested in peaceful unification. Whether or not it's peaceful is not the point; they don't want unification period. They want to continue to govern themselves under the sovereignty Taiwan has as a result of the so-called 'status quo'. That is, a form of independence  (depending on how you define 'independence' -- my definition includes Taiwan's current state and so does President Tsai's). 

For such a thing to be "democratic", Taiwanese people would have to vote for it in a state of non-coercion and without political interference from China. Ma seems to think they might, if dialogue continues. The polls, however, say otherwise. If unification is deeply unpopular, and most Taiwanese don't even identify as Chinese, chances are that won't change. 

It wouldn't avoid a war, by the way. In the highly unlikely event that Taiwan chooses this path, once they see that they've quite literally used their democracy to vote away said democracy, and brought all sorts of oppression upon themselves the second they 'democratically' diverge from Beijing's plans for Taiwan, all hell will break loose. It will make Hong Kong look like a children's birthday party. There will be a war of some sort, and there will be violence and slaughter.

There is no such thing as peaceful unification with the PRC, because even if Taiwan 'agreed' to it (which they wouldn't, because most people are not that stupid), the mass death starts when they realize what they've lost and begin to resist. 

To even imply that democratic and peaceful unification is possible, and that Taiwanese would be interested in it -- or that they'd be so gullible as to believe it were possible -- is such an extragalactically out-there thing to say with a straight face that I simply cannot reconcile it with any notion of "relevance". Ma's finger isn't even on his own pulse, if he has one, let alone the pulse of the nation. 

He doesn't stop the Chundertown Express at any point during this interview, by the way. When it's pointed out to him that Taiwanese don't identify as Chinese, especially among the youth, and reject unification and the 1992 Consensus, he says those young people need to "understand" what cross-strait relations and the 92 Consensus mean "to them" -- one China, respective interpretations. He takes it for granted that this interpretation (which China has never agreed with, they've never accepted the 'respective interpretations' aspect, so it's not a consensus at all) would be popular and accepted among Taiwanese. 

But it wouldn't, because to do so, they'd have to fundamentally believe they are Chinese, which they do not. (Ma does not engage with the poll results showing most Taiwanese do not identify as Chinese; most likely he believes that forcing pro-China changes to the education system will sufficiently brainwash that notion out of their minds). 

His off-the-rails commentary (or lack thereof) on public opinion and what Taiwanese "will probably accept" is so far removed from what Taiwanese seem to actually be thinking that I simply cannot call it "relevant". 

When the presidential candidate you taxidermied into your own little puppet boy publicly distances himself from your words, you might still be a political player but when it comes to public opinion and the path Taiwan is on, again, you're not exactly relevant. 

On that note, Ma only remains relevant within the KMT because their stance on China has not evolved to be more palatable in Taiwan. You might argue that they're hanging onto him because they have nothing better -- he's the last KMT candidate to win a presidential election. I'd argue the opposite: the KMT's platform is stuck in the dark ages because Ma has his talons in it; he won't let it evolve or modernize. 

I suppose that's a form of relevance, but not in the way most people likely mean.

To be truly relevant, you do indeed need to have some basic understanding of current public opinion, why it is what it is, and how to present your ideas in such a way that they might at least be considered in that light. Ma is constitutionally incapable of this -- pun intended.

It's not surprising, of course. This dude is deeply in love with Chinese-style authoritarianism and seems to wish more than anything that the KMT itself had the ability to be just as authoritarian. You know, like in the bad old days when they could just drag anyone who disagreed out back and shoot them.  

Looking at it another way, consider commentary about Ma's irrelevance to be a backlash against the way he acts every time he goes to China, and much of the resulting media coverage. He certainly traipsed around that country like he was some sort of ambassador on an official dialogue and peace mission. Whatever part of his brain had a stroke leaving him unable to empathize with Taiwanese people seems to have been filled with delusions of grandeur, that he can represent a side of the 'Republic of China' that China can talk to, because they agree they're part of some interpretation of China.

Even basic reporting on the visit implied (without saying outright) that his visit was somehow relevant to Taiwan's current government, even though Ma wasn't there in any official role. He was basically a glorified tourist-cum-useful-idiot. Other media make it sound like he is some sort of rational, peace-seeking emissary with the potential to "build ties" and -- again it is implied -- reduce tensions. That no serving Taiwan president has visited China is mentioned in such reports to imply that it matters to Taiwan if a former president does so. But I'm not sure it does, when his party doesn't even have the presidency. In terms of Taiwan's policy vis-à-vis China, he is irrelevant and his visit is irrelevant.

I even heard a radio segment in the Western media on his visit that I can't find again (so it's not linkable), but which astoundingly managed to get every basic fact right, while getting the story completely wrong. It implied again that he is some sort of peaceful messenger from Taiwan, creating hopeful dialogue and averting war unlike that dastardly Lai Ching-te whom Beijing dislikes for unspecified reasons. 

No discussion of how Ma's party had just lost the election in a historic third term for the DPP, possibly helped along a bit by that DW interview. No discussion of why Beijing dismisses Lai, or who exactly is refusing official dialogue (hint: it's not Lai). No mention of how unpopular Ma's opinions are in Taiwan, and how profoundly he misunderstands and outright ignores public opinion. 

Listeners abroad who don't follow these issues might take that hopeful note to heart -- oh look, a former Taiwan president is looking for dialogue with China, that can only mean a reduction in tensions! They'll completely miss the context that he's not speaking for the government, his trips are not affecting current policy, it's not even Taiwan who doesn't want dialogue but rather China gumming up the process, and his views do not enjoy broad social support.

That is, the take-home impression might be that Ma Ying-jeou is more relevant than he actually is.

When that's what the rest of the world is reporting about the guy who left office as the most unpopular elected president in Taiwan's history, like he's a beacon of hope in ever-escalating tensions (which are implied to be created by the DPP when in fact they are entirely manufactured by China), then perhaps one does want to call him irrelevant in response, no?

Because he's not an emissary. He has no official role. He's not in China to build ties between the two governments, because he no longer works for the Taiwanese government. He's not "building cultural and social ties" because his own views are completely out of tune with Taiwanese society and culture. He's promoting himself and the KMT to their support base.

While he's not quite sunk to the level of "local resident surnamed Ma" or "Taipei area man", he doesn't enjoy the broad social respect that a former president might expect. According to one poll, less than 40% of voters approved of his last trip to China in 2023, and that one was ostensibly of a more personal nature. 

Of course, it really wasn't: he was attempting to set the groundwork for the KMT's China policy, giving the KMT's presidential candidate less room to offer their own interpretation of cross-strait affairs. That worked for awhile, with Hou Yu-ih seeming to capitulate to Ma on matters of policy.

As we saw in the DW interview, however, Ma eventually seemed to take it a step too far and ended up with Hou declining to sign on to the broader Ma vision for the rejuvenation of the great Chinese nation.

Ma himself seems to think his actions, and especially these trips to China, have an effect on cross-strait relations, but from what I can tell, they don't. He seems to believe he can convince Taiwanese voters of the fundamental correctness of his vision, and their Chineseness. It has not worked. He tried to Frankenstein an opposition candidate to the DPP, and failed.

So when we say he's "not relevant", we mean that his actions do not reflect a broad social consensus and don't actually change much in Taiwan. When his actions are reported on as though he actually were the highly-respected elder statesman he believes himself to be, it gives the wrong impression to readers who don't know the whole context. 

When Ma actually has a policy success as an elder statesman that enjoys the support of the electorate, maybe we can talk about his return to relevance. When he lays out a groundwork for cross-strait policy that the ruling party doesn't feel they have to distance himself from, that might matter. And it would be unfair to dismiss him as completely irrelevant. His lightly-melted spectre haunted Hou's campaign and continues to rattle his chains in the halls of KMT headquarters too much for that to be true.

But if you define 'relevant' as "taking actions which have a tangible impact on Taiwan's governance", or as "engaging in statesmanship which enjoys broad support", he's not exactly relevant, either. If you include "has some understanding of public opinion and incorporates it into his actions and statements", he's so deep in left field that he's left the stadium and is wandering alone in the woods. He doesn't even seem to understand that public opinion exists, let alone that he should consider it.

And if a rando in the woods babbles on and on about how Taiwanese will choose "peaceful unification" and no-one's there to agree with him, did he really say anything at all?

Would Xi Jinping congratulate a drag queen?

She'll be in your head all weekend

I mean...no, but let's talk about it. 

This past weekend, Taiwanese American drag queen Nymphia Wind won RuPaul's Drag Race, and everyone I know in Taiwan went mad with joy. From friends' pictures (I was at home, being boring), I could see Ximending erupting into a party. She is amazing, by the way.

It was also a massive soft power win for Taiwan. The type of soft power that a thousand politicians brainstorming in a thousand breakout sessions for a thousand years could not have engineered. Taiwan is in the international news right now on its own terms -- not amid rising tensions with China -- showing that we need drag queens, and black metal bands, theater festivals and the support of pro basketball players. No amount of ads on the side of buses will ever generate this much buzz.

You might be tempted to leave China's ongoing bullying of Taiwan out of all this, but Nymphia doesn't seem to be. After winning she exclaimed "Taiwan, this is for you" and openly calls Taiwan a country. In her acceptance, she said to "live fearlessly" -- perhaps not intended as a nod to Taiwan's refusal to give in to China's threats, but it sure felt relevant.

Notably, even the international media who reported her win, identity and calling Taiwan a 'country' continued in their own writing to label Taiwan as merely an island. They couldn't bring themselves to call Taiwan what their subject herself calls it. 

The media is incorrect, by the way: yes, the main island is also 'Taiwan', but Taiwan as a country is not an island, it's an archipelago. Editors, get your act together. Reporters, chastise your editors! 

I've already tweeted that we can all see how culturally different China and Taiwan are by the fact that President Tsai congratulated Nymphia on Twitter (the only thing I will deadname) -- something Xi Jinping would never do if a Chinese or Chinese-American drag queen had won. 

Even if they said "China, this is for you!" Especially if they said that, I bet. He'd hate the notion that China or Chinese culture might be associated with drag.

In fact, the very idea that Xi or the CCP would embrace drag or anything associated with the LGBTQIA+ community almost does not compute. It would never happen. Beijing, which certainly wants to dominate the world both culturally and literally, doesn't even seem to be aware that these spaces and communities exist and are vectors of soft power, let alone want big soft power wins or representation. 

Of course, discussions of her win are, according to the Washington Post, being downplayed in China: 

In fact, Chinese fans of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” seem to be going out of their way to avoid talking about Nymphia Wind’s success, apparently afraid of being caught up in the escalating tensions across the Taiwan Strait. “Drag Race” fan accounts on the Chinese microblogging site Weibo said they would minimize discussions about Nymphia to “protect their nascent drag scene.”

I can understand wanting to protect China's drag scene, but I genuinely do not think LGBTQIA+ equality in Taiwan can be divorced from China's aggression. China insists that Taiwan is Chinese, but this is one way in which China and Taiwan culturally are very, very different. There are many others. 

Perhaps this is an unfair assertion. It's not like queerness is unheard of in China, even historically. It's impossible to know with much certainty what most Chinese citizens think about LGBTQIA+ issues, because it's impossible to conduct such polls in totalitarian systems which oppress those communities from the top down. I would surmise that if you did ask, most Chinese would express some form of disapproval, but it's also unfair to ignore the state's active and intentional quashing of discussion of the issue. It's like that ridiculous poll finding 95% approval ratings for the CCP -- as though it were even possible to conduct such a poll and get a valid result in China! 

In other words, we won't know whether Chinese society might evolve to be tolerant of, or even embrace, LGBTQIA+ communities until the government is no longer a dictatorial nightmare. If China ever democratizes, then we'll see. 

But for now, though? The CCP is trying very hard to control the Chinese cultural narrative -- to be the sole arbiters of what is and is not "Chinese culture". At this moment, that does not include anything that Nymphia Wind represents. 

Taking it even further, those who want to force Chinese identity on Taiwan -- cultural or otherwise -- similarly do not have room in their tiny, sad worldviews for people like Nymphia Wind. Could you imagine CCP bootlicker Ma Ying-jeou congratulating her the way President Tsai did, were he still president? I can't. People like him, including everyone who shakes their cane and yells at clouds insisting that Taiwan is Chinese, ancient Chinese culture, 5,000 years, etc. etc. whatever shut up, simply do not understand Taiwan.

No matter what people like Ma and Xi shriek about Taiwan and China sharing a culture, they fundamentally misunderstand what culture is. Either they think it's just blood and DNA (it isn't), or that every nation or culture requires an associated ethnicity (they don't), or they point to fairly superficial manifestations of culture like architecture or holidays or even language. 

Culture is so much more than that: it's the means by which a group of people understand the world. Metaphorically speaking, it's a lens. And not just the outside world: culture is the lens through which you see your own community's touchstones, including architecture, holidays and language. It's what those things mean to you. It's how you relate to others, and how you treat others. In this case, it's how your country generally sees and treats its LGBTQIA+ community. In this, China and Taiwan are simply not the same. 

It's not like LGBTQIA+ acceptance is incompatible with various Asian cultures. Thailand is inching closer to being the second Asian country to recognize marriage equality. We may see it within the year. Singapore, which pretends it's a full democracy but, well, isn't, has finally been making moves in the right direction. Even Japan is figuring this out, with most Japanese supporting marriage equality. There are already openly-operating activist networks there. With luck, we'll see it happen there within the next decade. With a lot of luck, in the next five years. A girl can hope, anyway. 

In Taiwan, the first Asian country to legalize same-sex marriage no matter how much WaPo wants to demote it to an island, it's not necessarily just the young anymore: 

While Nymphia Wind is a role model for younger queens, she’s trying to reach a wider — and older — audience in Taiwan.

She hosted a groundbreaking drag show at a Taoist temple in Taipei in October, unfurling a giant rainbow flag from a pagoda-like stage as young and old celebrated a queen who, as she put it, had “descended from heaven to bless the queer mortals.”

“Old people are my target audience. I just feel like they could have a bit more fun, you know?” she said in an interview after the temple performance.

Such an evolution is clearly possible in China, it's just not likely as long as the country is ruled by brutal, reactionary genocidaires who want to control not only their own country's cultural narrative, but also Taiwan's. 

Remember that famous line from Princess Leia? The more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers. The more the CCP insists on defining Chinese culture and then demanding that Taiwan follow along, the more Taiwanese will continue to live fearlessly.

Teacups vs. Plate Tectonics

All of us two weeks ago, on the Buluowan Suspension Bridge, which probably no longer exists

Like just about everyone in Taiwan last week, my Wednesday morning started with a massive shake-up. I sat on the couch drinking my morning coffee with a hefty dollop of doomscrolling and thinking about an upcoming workday which, at 7:57am, was about one minute away from not being a workday at all. 

When the alert hit my phone, my half-caffeinated brain took about two seconds to register that it was not only telling me in English to a coming quake and the need to take cover, but also in Mandarin that it was "significant", with "strong" shaking. I don't know how common it is for alerts to state so clearly the expectation of a major seismic event, but it did give me about three seconds to dive under my dining table and hold on. 

I don't have a particularly interesting story to tell: in fact, the most notable thing about my big earthquake experience is how little I was affected. My clients asked to postpone that day as we were all pretty stunned, and a few cracks appeared in my walls. That's about it. I continued with my plans to go camping the next day, after the organizers of the group confirmed the safety of the site and the tricky road to get there.

Even my teacups survived, and they were adhered to their curio shelf with nothing more than tiny globs of Blue-Tack. This was a particular surprise: one of my thoughts as I crouched under that table afraid for my life had been oh man, those teacups are goners!

Not everyone was so lucky; though no one I know was injured, many others were, and for the rest of the day I watched pictures of my friends' trashed apartments roll across my feed.

And yet, I spent the rest of the day -- now suddenly free to let my mind wander -- in low-grade freakout mode. 

Of course I was worried for Hualien, but this went beyond concern for the welfare of a nearby city. It was something personal; it came from the core. 

These teacups survived the 2024 earthquake

While I crouched under the dining table, my husband (wisely) stayed right where he was in bed, seeing as the frame is too low for either of us to fit underneath it. It was indeed scary to be in two different rooms, able to communicate but not see or help one another. Both of our cats bolted to their favorite inaccessible hiding places; in a truly life-threatening emergency, I would not have been able to grab them. 

Was this the source of my slow-rolling panic attack? Was I spooked that I'd be separated from my core family in Taiwan if the roof literally or figuratively caved in?

That surely played a part, but my gut knew that wasn't the whole of it. 

In Taipei the quake felt like it could have been a real emergency, but in the end it wasn't one. Countless articles have already been written on the surprising resilience of Taiwan, when other countries hit by seismic disasters of similar magnitudes have been devastated. Turkey comes to mind: the Antakya earthquake killed many more. (This strikes a nerve with me as my ancestry weaves through Antakya. I'd been hoping to return).

Or perhaps it's not so surprising: Taiwan also impressed the world with its COVID response, and has built a successful, developed nation despite the world's lack of recognition and the unceasing threat from China.

A death toll that stands at 13 -- though I think it's likely to go up in coming days -- is indeed impressive: like Taiwan's COVID response, it shows that when the country goes through a humanitarian disaster, whether the 1999 earthquake or 2003 SARS epidemic, it learns from it and does better next time. 

Knowing this doesn't seem to have improved my mental state, however.

Perhaps my inability to calm down and face the day stemmed from a trip we'd taken two weeks previously. We took visiting family on a 環島, or 'round the island' journey by train and car -- starting in Hualien. 14 days before the earthquake, almost to the hour, we were in Taroko National Park, navigating the cliff overhangs on the Shakadang Trail. You know, the one where some hikers were killed. We walked on the suspension bridge that appears to no longer exist. We drove over the bit of Suhua Highway that collapsed. Our driver for the day dropped us off at Dongdaemun Night Market to kill time between our day at Taroko Gorge and our dinner reservations; she waited for us across the street from the Uranus Building. 

Was it that? Having been in the exact location of all of these calamities so recently that I hadn't even shared pictures with my in-laws yet? Realizing that I saw Taroko Gorge just two weeks prior to its indefinite closure?

That certainly had something to do with it. It is unnerving to look at a bit of landslid trail or collapsed infrastructure and realize you were just there. But no, that was an insufficient explanation and deep down, I knew it. After all, those who were actually there when the quake happened either didn't survive, or had it immeasurably worse.

Unable to comprehend my own reaction, I sat on my couch, drank tea and stared at my teacups. Almost all of them were Taiwan-made, either by local artisans or a Taiwanese company. Two have a floral pattern commonly associated with Hakka culture (although I'm not sure how accurate the connection is). A few are Japanese and one came from an import store in New York. They're all very delicate, but they've survived up there for longer than anyone could reasonably expect them to. Any number of earthquakes should have brought them crashing to the floor by now. 

I stared at them and dreamed up an alternative reality, or a possible future, where I sit on that same couch drinking that same kind of tea, hearing an alert pop up on my phone as air raid sirens start a horrifying crescendo. I conjured fictitious (for now) Chinese missiles landing nearby. They create more cracks in my walls. My husband is somewhere else; I can't reach him. The cats flee to their secret spots. The cement crumbles, the furniture shakes, and the first teacup is forced free from the sticky tack holding it in place. Then another, and another. 

In this other world, they all eventually tumble and shatter. There is nothing I can do about it. 

It's not quite the same as an earthquake. The missiles are man-made; they're not the result of a natural process. They're not entirely random, and they're not inevitable. Tectonic plates move because that's just what they do. For them to behave differently, Earth would have to be a fundamentally different planet. These missiles I imagined were decided by someone. Earth didn't decide to kill 13 people this past week; it moved because it moves, and 13 people died. But missiles don't just fall on a city; someone fires them. A leader orders them. They are part of a chain of events in which some people choose to kill others.

And yet it is sort of the same as an earthquake, too. In Taiwan, a Chinese attack, like an earthquake, is an ever-present danger. There is little I will be able to do if it happens except dive under my table and hang on. If my husband isn't with me there will be no way to change that.

There's also nothing I can do to stop it from happening in the first place. Sure, someone decides to make bombs fall, but in that moment, what will matter to my life is that, like the earth shaking, bombs are falling.

There's not much Taiwan can do about it either. Diplomacy doesn't work when the other side doesn't keep promises and won't even come to the table unless their counterpart renounces their sovereignty, as China is insisting Taiwan do. Dialogue doesn't work when China isn't interested in hearing Taiwan's utter lack of interest in unification. Assurances don't work when the only assurance China wants -- that unification is possible -- isn't one that Taiwan can sincerely or reasonably offer. 

China will attack Taiwan when it thinks it can win, and no amount of playing nice will change their calculus. Only making the odds of winning less favorable will stop it, and there's only so much Taiwan can do in that regard. 

Like an earthquake, you can prepare, and analyze, and improve the nation's resiliency. A Chinese invasion is not inevitable simply because China could choose not to invade, but sitting here in Taipei, does it matter? It doesn't feel like Taiwan can truly stop China, just as it can't stop an earthquake. If China is determined to start a war because Taiwan can't give it the only thing it wants, there isn't much Taiwan can do to avert it. As with earthquakes, it can only make itself and its public institutions much harder to topple. 

I didn't do anything wrong on Wednesday morning: I dropped, covered and held on when it seemed like it really mattered. Sure, I repeatedly shouted "fucksnacks!" through the whole thing, but that's an understandable reaction. When the shaking stopped, I forced myself to get up, check on my husband, locate my cats' hiding places, survey the apartment to make sure there was no obvious major damage, and start messaging people that we were okay. 

The fear and anxiety didn't subside, though, and I wasn't particularly proud of the fact that all I really wanted was to cower under that table for awhile longer. I didn't want to get up, dust off, check for damage and start communications; I wanted to curl up and hide. That desire amplified the anxiety. Then I started to feel anxious specifically about the anxiety, which made the original anxiety worse. That deterioration led to more anxiety, which accelerated the spiral, and so on.

That's really what drove it: I experienced an almost-emergency over which I had no control. This was as close a taste as I'm likely to get of what it would feel like if China attacked Taiwan without warning. And I did everything right, but I still had a panic attack, and then I had a panic attack about my initial panic attack.

My insistence that I'm going to stay and fight suddenly felt like a hollow gasconade. That I did everything right didn't feel like proof that I have steel nerves, because it was necessary to force myself to accomplish any of it. What if I'm a liability rather than a help because I can't get it together?

That helplessness is utterly terrifying, and it does not matter whether it's a severe earthquake in progress or bombs from some brutal genocidal regime that might kill you.

Like most people who live in Taiwan, I'm always aware of the threats faced by the country I call home. I don't usually let them get to me; a life lived in fear is not really a life. At some point you have to get up, dust off, and go to work. Pay your bills, see your friends, do your chores, do your job, drink your drinks, cook your food, take your trips, read your books, call your parents, feed your cats. 

The Commentariat sometimes fires up this weird narrative that Taiwanese people don't care enough about the threat from China, that they're complacent or ignorant, and thus unprepared. While Taiwan could probably be spending more time and effort on this, the notion that its citizens are blissfully unaware of the looming threat isn't just nonsense, it's a funhouse-mirror distortion of reality. 

People living in Taiwan are aware of the threat pretty much all the time, as they are for earthquakes. But it's not healthy to live in a constant state of heightened anxiety -- that leads to real mental health problems, and I would know. It's also not possible to maintain, and not helpful. 

Living with it for just a day affected my mental state all weekend. Imagine living it every day in a war zone. Some people are living it now, and someone, somewhere, has lived it every single day any one of us has been alive.

Now imagine that, but you're not even in a war zone. You're at the supermarket, or in a cubicle, or in class, hyper aware at all moments that your big bully neighbor could start raining death on everything you love. 

It's no way to live. 

Nobody expects people in an earthquake zone to live in constant fear; they know it pickles the brain. Yet they express surprise that Taiwanese people don't do so as a response to the threat from China. Why?

Taiwan has survived for longer than many thought it would, showing the world the benefits of learning from mistakes and having a plan, as well as taking practical steps so that when disaster strikes and the plan must be executed, it actually works -- Democratic norms, public institutions and civil society must all be robust and well-maintained. Budgets approved, regulations promulgated and double-checked.

These norms and institutions so often seem like abstractions, and the realpolitik crowd would like you to believe they are fragile, easily broken, no real defense against the inevitability of a subjugationist strongman. Yet at least in Taiwan, they appear to be both fragile and surprisingly resilient, at the same time. Teacups can survive an earthquake, if they're well-anchored. Porcelain can stand up to plate tectonics, and win.

I don't know if it's enough, but I suppose it has to be -- for everyone living here including myself.