Lighthouse Taiwan

On June 18, 2025, the county of Huaiji (懷集) in Zhaoqing, Guangdong Province disappeared beneath historic floodwaters. Streets vanished under rushing brown currents. Power failed. Emergency boats navigated through submerged city centers as over 180,000 residents were affected and 68,000 forcibly evacuated. The Suijiang River (綏江) breached its 1955 record, cresting at 55.22 meters — the highest since records began — in what officials declared a once-in-a-century flood. But this flood was not a natural accident. It was the outcome of decades of systemic negligence and a centralized governance model that rewards speed, secrecy, and short-term growth over transparency, resilience, and safety. In the People’s Republic of China, ruled solely by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), floods like Huaiji’s are not unfortunate events — they are inevitable products of authoritarian design. Dams Built to Serve Power, Not People The CCP's hydro-infrastructure has long been framed as a triumph of soc...

In its struggle against Russia’s full-scale invasion, Ukraine has not only resisted militarily but has also launched an assertive campaign on the cultural front. Through legislative measures passed in 2023, Ukraine banned the import of books and music produced by Russian citizens after 1991—unless those individuals have publicly denounced the Kremlin’s aggression. It also mandated greater representation of Ukrainian-language content in media and broadcasting. These moves are not symbolic—they are strategic, reflecting an understanding that language, memory, and identity are central to national sovereignty. Taiwan, similarly under constant threat from a powerful authoritarian neighbor, might do well to ask: Has it truly reckoned with the scope of China’s cultural influence? And more pointedly—has Taiwan begun to decolonize its language, education, and cultural spaces from the legacy of Chinese domination? Despite Taiwan’s vibrant democracy and resilient civil society, the pr...

Language, symbolism, and the problem of state-centered memory in a Taiwanese political documentary In Invisible Nation, a new political documentary directed by Vanessa Hope, viewers are invited to witness Taiwan’s journey from authoritarianism to democratic consolidation. Through elegant cinematography and tightly edited interviews with President Tsai Ing-wen and her key advisors, the film constructs a narrative of resilience, sovereignty, and progressive leadership. Yet beneath this polished presentation lies a deeper structural contradiction — one that ultimately compromises the film’s ability to fully represent the very nation it claims to make visible. I attended a screening with my teenage daughter. As the credits rolled, she turned to me and said, “That’s not the real Taiwan.” She was troubled not just by the sanitized treatment of the 228 Massacre and White Terror — events relegated to the film’s final few minutes — but also by the unsettling image of President Tsai ...

By Lōa Tiong-kiông (賴中強) China is no longer waiting for a change in Taiwan’s presidency to achieve its political aims. Instead, it is actively pursuing a strategy to paralyze Taiwan’s democratic institutions from the periphery inward—a strategy I call the “Lebanonization” of Taiwan. This approach is unfolding across four key beachheads: Taiwan’s offshore islands, the eastern regions of Hualien and Taitung, Indigenous communities, and local governments through fiscal decentralization. Together, they form the foundation of a new kind of influence operation aimed at weakening the authority of the central government. What Is “Lebanonization”? In 2016, China's state-run Global Times published an editorial warning the U.S. not to underestimate China’s resolve over Taiwan. It stated explicitly: “We must be capable of ‘Lebanonizing’ Taiwan if necessary, and make full military reunification a realistic option.” The reference to Lebanon is no accident. Much like how Iran built its influence ...

Not long ago, I was talking to an American friend about the NBA Finals. The conversation drifted to geopolitics — the Middle East, Ukraine, and eventually, the Taiwan Strait. He said, almost casually, “China might attack Taiwan soon. But it seems like Taiwanese people don’t really like talking about it.” He’s not wrong. In Taiwan, we prepare rigorously for university entrance exams, professional certifications, even overseas travel. But when it comes to war — the possibility of an attack from China — our collective instinct is to look away. There’s a viral saying in Taiwan: “If you tell someone they have an exam in two years, they’ll buy books and study. But if you tell them someone might try to kill them in two years, they’ll do nothing.” It’s meant as a joke. But it isn’t funny anymore. Just this week, Taiwan’s former president, Ma Ying-jeou, stood on Chinese soil and advocated for “peaceful, democratic unification.” A top Chinese official responded by saying the future of Taiwan mus...

When my grandparents greet neighbors in Sin-káng, Ka-gī, they do so in the lilting tones they have always called “Tâi-gí”—Taiwanese. The greeting is older than the Republic of China, older than Japan’s colonization, and certainly older than the bureaucratic term “Minnan,” a label imposed in the 1970s to bury a language’s name under layers of politics. Half a century later, it is time to exhume that name and restore it to public life. A Name With a Longer Pedigree Than the State Itself The word “Taiwanese” (臺語) first appeared in print in 1852, four decades before Japan seized Taiwan from a fading Qing empire. By 1895, Japanese officers, stunned that their Mandarin‐speaking interpreters were useless on the ground, rushed out phrasebooks such as Tâi-ôan Gí to talk with local Hoklo laborers. For the next half-century Tokyo’s colonial offices, Christian missionaries, and early Taiwanese writers—among them Liân-Ông and the radical newspaper Tâi-ôan Mín-Pó —used “Taiwanese” or...

At a recent youth event organized by Hakka communities in Taoyuan, Taiwan President Lai Ching-te quoted a well-known Taiwanese (Holo) proverb "Ka-tī phāiⁿ hông-kim, koh the̍h lâng khòaⁿ hong-súi"  and asked the audience, “Do you understand Taiwanese?” What should have been a moment of cultural warmth became political fuel. Critics, including Kuomintang (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu, accused Lai of disrespecting Hakka identity by speaking in a language associated with Taiwan’s majority Hoklo population. Online voices went further, claiming this was yet another case of “linguistic oppression,” asking, “Why should Hakka people understand Taiwanese?” or “Why is Holo assumed to be the Taiwanese language?” These arguments, though cloaked in the language of cultural respect and political correctness, betray a deeper historical amnesia and a flawed understanding of Taiwan’s linguistic landscape. Let’s reframe the question. If it is controversial to ask whether Hakka people unde...

In Taiwan, the political debate over nuclear energy has long followed a familiar script. Supporters argue that nuclear power is essential for energy security and decarbonization. Opponents cite safety risks, environmental justice, and a preference for renewable alternatives. But beneath the surface of this polarized discourse lies a problem that transcends ideology and persists across administrations: radioactive waste. While Taiwan has made ambitious pledges to transition toward renewable energy and move beyond nuclear power, it has not resolved what to do with the nuclear legacy it already carries. And unless it does, the country’s energy policy will remain incomplete and internally contradictory — a house built on radioactive sand. A Problem Older Than the Debate Nowhere is Taiwan’s nuclear waste dilemma more visible — and more politically fraught — than on Lanyu (Orchid Island), home to the Indigenous Tao people. Since the early 1980s, the island has hosted roughly 1...

By Lîm Cho̍k-súi (林濁水) In a recent speech, Taiwanese President Lai Ching-te made a bold symbolic move: identifying the flag of the Republic of China (ROC) as representing “ROC loyalists,” while the green flag of the Taiwan independence movement represents the “Taiwan camp.” His call for both to unite in defending sovereignty, democracy, and Taiwan’s future was not just political theatre. It was a deliberate effort to bridge one of the deepest identity divides within Taiwanese society—and to recast the framework of national unity in an era of heightened geopolitical tension. Domestically, Lai’s remarks may be read as a reaffirmation of the Democratic Progressive Party’s long-held view that Taiwan is already a sovereign nation—one that doesn’t need to declare independence because it already governs itself. For pro-independence voices wary of excessive emphasis on the ROC framework, Lai’s message offered validation: that “Taiwanese” and “ROC” identities need not be mutually e...

By Tân Ka-hông (陳嘉宏) As Taiwan’s unprecedented recall movement gains momentum, with more than a million citizens rallying to remove over 30 legislators, it’s tempting to read the moment as a backlash against the Kuomintang’s (KMT) recent power grab. But to understand how we got here — to this point of constitutional brinkmanship and civic outrage — we must look not to the usual suspects in the Blue camp, but to an unlikely figure: Huang Kuo-chang (黃國昌). Once a symbol of progressive aspiration as a leader of the 2014 Sunflower Movement, Huang now operates as a party-list legislator, shielded from direct electoral accountability. And from this unaccountable position, he has become one of the chief enablers of Taiwan’s constitutional and legislative crisis. It was Huang who appeared at KMT chair Eric Chu’s side last month to call for the recall of President Lai Ching-te — a move that generated headlines but, tellingly, no follow-through. When asked weeks later what had happene...

By a Southeast Asia-based supply chain manager For years, China’s global ambitions have been framed in terms of dominance: building the Belt and Road, scaling AI and green tech, rewriting the rules of trade. But standing on the factory floors of Southeast Asia today, I see something far less triumphant—and far more desperate. It doesn’t feel like a rise. It feels like a clearance sale. Across industries—solar panels, electric vehicles, steel, home appliances—Chinese goods are flooding international markets at prices that defy logic. Not efficiency. Not even state-backed competition. But loss-leading liquidation. From my vantage point inside the manufacturing networks of Thailand and Vietnam, what’s unfolding looks less like economic expansion and more like an attempt to offload unsustainable overcapacity before the music stops. The Illusion of Expansion On paper, China’s export engine appears intact. In reality, it’s wheezing. Factories are pushing goods out the door at cos...

At the recent Straits Forum in Fujian, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) revived one of its more curious narratives: the claim that the Austronesian peoples—including Taiwan’s Indigenous populations—originate from China’s southeastern province of Fujian. Presented through exhibitions and speeches, and even attributed to top-level diplomacy by Xi Jinping himself, this so-called “Fujian Origin Theory” is part of a broader campaign to culturally bind Taiwan—and even the Pacific Islands—into a singular Chinese civilizational arc. Behind the veneer of archaeology and anthropology lies a clear strategic aim: to bolster Beijing’s political claim over Taiwan and extend its influence among Pacific Island nations through a contrived notion of shared ancestry. It is a textbook case of soft power being weaponized as political mythology. Rewriting Origins to Serve the State The theory itself dates back to 1999, when Chinese authorities claimed fishermen had retrieved early human fossils...

For years, Taiwan has been caught in a quiet but persistent anxiety: stagnant wages, long working hours, and a creeping sense that productivity is slipping. Policymakers talk about transformation. The government promotes “upgrading.” But in the background, a more profound shift is already unfolding—one that Taiwan, like much of the developed world, has yet to fully reckon with: the rise of artificial intelligence. The question is no longer whether AI will reshape Taiwan’s economy. It already is. The real question is whether Taiwan will channel that transformation toward shared prosperity—or allow it to erode the very foundation of its white-collar middle class. A Country of Contradictions On paper, Taiwan is a global tech powerhouse. It produces the world’s most advanced semiconductors, and its manufacturing giants—TSMC, Foxconn, MediaTek—anchor critical supply chains. Productivity in these sectors is world-class. But that’s only half the picture. Outside the industrial cor...

By Lōa Tiong-kiông (賴中強) In May of last year, Taiwan’s Legislative Yuan passed a sweeping bill—dubbed the “Legislative Power Expansion Act”—championed by the Kuomintang (KMT) and Taiwan People's Party (TPP). This legislation, driven by party heavyweights Fu Kun-chi, Huang Kuo-chang, and Weng Hsiao-ling, drastically shifted the balance of power, enabling legislators to override constitutional norms and target both citizens and officials with invasive demands. The bill granted individual legislators powers to compel disclosure of private personal data, business trade secrets, and organizational documents within five days. Lawmakers could effectively summon or demand reports from private citizens, military units, civil groups, or corporations—with limited checks on their authority. Failure to comply could result in legal penalties. Meanwhile, legislators could lie without consequence, but any perceived dishonesty from officials could be punished with imprisonment for “co...

In an era where artificial intelligence can instantly generate flawless presentations, analyze markets, and even simulate empathy, one question is worth asking: What role is left for human leaders? The answer is not found in knowing more—it’s found in knowing how to ask. From Authority to Curiosity: A Shift in the Leadership Mindset Taiwanese companies have long valued expertise, efficiency, and decisiveness. It’s part of what helped our economy evolve from an export-driven manufacturing base into a high-tech powerhouse. But today, leadership is undergoing a quiet revolution. No longer is it enough for managers to be the ones with the most experience or the fastest answers. The new economy—driven by innovation, agility, and generational change—demands something deeper: the ability to create space for others to think. The best leaders today aren’t just decision-makers. They are question-askers. And their most powerful tool isn’t advice. It’s listening. Advice Feels Good, But...

On June 13, 2025, President Lai Ching-te stood before a crowd at the National Palace Museum to celebrate the opening of From Impressionism to Modernism: Masterpieces from The Met . He offered a sweeping vision: that the Palace Museum should be “Taiwan’s museum” and “the world’s museum,” a bridge between local identity and global recognition. But behind the soaring rhetoric lay a telling omission: not a single word about Taiwan’s own cultural subjectivity. The exhibition itself is undeniably a coup—81 major works on loan from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, curated with integrity and respect for the Western art tradition. And yet, this triumph of cultural diplomacy inadvertently exposes a deeper crisis: Taiwan’s most symbolically important cultural institution still speaks in the voice of a long-dead empire. The National Palace Museum remains rooted in a Chinese imperial narrative. Its vast collections, looted from Beijing’s Forbidden City during the Chinese Civil War and ...

On June 10, Taiwan’s Ministry of Economic Affairs released an updated list of 601 foreign entities subject to export controls on strategic high-tech goods. The list includes Chinese firms such as Huawei and SMIC, as well as organizations based in Russia, Iran, Pakistan, and Myanmar—entities flagged for involvement in activities related to weapons proliferation and national security risks. At first glance, this development might appear largely symbolic. Most major Taiwanese ICT and semiconductor companies had already aligned their export practices with U.S. controls. But the decision to formalize a sovereign list of restricted entities signals a critical shift: Taiwan is no longer merely adapting to the rules of others—it is beginning to shape its own role in the emerging global tech order. Strategic Alignment, Sovereign Action The update reflects a maturing awareness within Taipei’s policymaking circles: that control over advanced technologies is a form of strategic power. ...

Later this summer, voters across Taiwan will head to the polls—not for a general election, but for a wave of citizen-initiated recall votes that could reshape the nation’s political landscape. The campaign, led by civic groups rather than political parties, targets over two dozen sitting legislators and one mayor. If successful, it will mark the largest coordinated recall effort in Taiwan’s democratic history. At the center of this movement is widespread public concern over recent actions taken by the Kuomintang (KMT) and the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP), which together hold a legislative majority following the January 2024 elections. Over the past year, the KMT-TPP coalition has advanced an aggressive legislative agenda—framed by its supporters as "reform," but described by legal experts and critics as a dangerous overreach of parliamentary authority. Among the most controversial initiatives are constitutional reinterpretations that would require the president to ...

When Taiwan shut down the Maanshan Nuclear Power Plant’s second reactor on May 17, it crossed a historic threshold: becoming Asia’s first fully nuclear-free country. Critics quickly pounced. In an age of intensifying energy demand—especially from AI, data centers, and industry—some argue that this bold step is a strategic misstep. They claim nuclear power is clean, stable, and essential for Taiwan’s economic competitiveness and carbon neutrality. But these critiques are based on assumptions that don’t hold up under scrutiny. In fact, Taiwan’s nuclear-free transition is not only rational—it’s imperative. The risks of nuclear energy on a densely populated, earthquake-prone island are unmanageable. The costs are high, the waste unsolvable, and the promise of nuclear revival more myth than reality. Taiwan’s future lies in smarter, safer energy—not in extending the life of outdated reactors. The Inconvenient Geography of Nuclear Power Taiwan’s geographic vulnerabilities are not ...