Air Pollution: A Forgotten Issue - 空氣污染

by Charles DeBenedetto

(Air pollution in Taiwan today. The only place you ought to be exercising in is the east coast. Screenshot taken from: waqi.info)

I never really knew what air pollution was before coming to Asia, and that makes me very fortunate. As a child, whenever it was not raining it was fine to go outside, and I took that for granted. When something is overly abundant, we often do not cherish it, and so many days that I could have been playing outside, I spent inside with my television and video games. I told myself that it was the summer mosquitos that prevented me from going outside, but it was laziness.

I regret that now. Back then I had no way of knowing that one day I would live in another country. I would not have known that my future home, although excellent in many ways, would suffer from air pollution. This drastically changes the quality of life, despite Taiwan’s many modern conveniences, many of which are superior to the United States.

There are a lot of reasons for air pollution in Taiwan, and I will briefly summarize them. Most people might assume that air pollution comes from Mainland China, and that is certainly true when the wind is blowing from the northwest. But, most of Taiwan’s pollution is homemade. Partly it is our culture, since we regularly burn incense and “lucky money” during religious festivals. Partly it is our cramped society, with all of the scooters (mopeds) and cars on the road. But mostly, it is our fear of nuclear energy. Taiwan has nuclear power plants, but many are closed, as the public has expressed fear of a Fukushima-like nuclear meltdown.

And so, Taiwan burns a lot of coal. Infamously, the Long Jing coal-burning power plant in Taichung City is the largest emitter of carbon dioxide in the world. That is a world record that certainly does not belong in the Guinness Book.

(Long Jing Power Plant. Photo Credit: Taiwan News)

I wonder why the Taiwanese people are not constantly protesting outside of Long Jing. I have been in Taiwan for almost five years, and the air has been a problem since I arrived here, but friends I have talked to have said that the air quality has become continuously worse over the past decade. Unfortunately, part of the reason it was so easy to get people to wear masks during this covid-19 pandemic is because people already wear masks regularly to combat air pollution.

But wearing a mask does not fix the problem. It should be seen as a temporary solution to a problem that has not been fully addressed. And we think we can solve the problem by planting trees, as the Taichung City mayor has initiated a project called the “Mayor’s Trees,” but that is just distracting us from the root cause (pun intended). Others will assert that they are doing their part by riding an electric scooter, but, when the electricity comes from the coal-burning plant, how much good are you actually doing?

The Taiwanese government has made more windmills and solar panels, and that is great, but what we really need is nuclear energy. The reality for most Taiwanese people is that every day we check the weather forecast, not for rain or sunshine, but solely to check the air quality. Every day we check, hoping for the air-quality index to be green, so we can go for a walk, or a run, or a bicycle ride, and not have to wonder about the simultaneous benefits to our muscles and hurt to our lungs. But most days, we are disappointed.

I live in the countryside, a good distance from the city. Most days, when I ride my scooter home, the sky is a continuous white blanket, no blue sky between clouds, which is a good indicator that the air is polluted. I wear a mask every day when I ride, regardless of the air quality index, because of the exhaust of so many scooters and cars around me. There is no backdrop beyond the road to look at, because the air pollution conceals it.

But occasionally, when the coal-burning plant is not running at full capacity, I can see the tall, green mountains that are always there, but so seldom seen.

I pull over to the side of the road, stare, and forget to take a picture.

I feel like a tourist in my own neighborhood.

Perhaps if I saw them every day, I would take them for granted, too, like I did the beautiful natural world of my home in rural America. But when those mountains finally do come out, I’ll stare at them until the last rays of the Sun fall, and I’ll wonder when the next time I’ll see green mountains under blue skies again will be…

(If only we could always see these mountains. Photo Credit: https://www.erv-nsa.gov.tw/en)

Shi Ti Ping: The Small Space Between Gods - 石梯坪

by Charles DeBenedetto

 

(A view of the mountains and ocean from Shi Ti Ping. Photo Credit: K.H.)

Taiwan is an island. That sounds obvious, but it is also very easy to forget. The island is large enough that the average Taiwanese person probably does not often see the ocean, and yet the ocean plays a large role in the Taiwanese story. The first people to come to Taiwan arrived here about 5,000 years ago, somehow traversing the rough waters of the Taiwan Strait on what must have been extremely fragile boats. Then, roughly 400 years ago, Han Chinese peoples started to cross over from Fujian and Guangdong provinces. The most important goddess in Taiwan, Mazu, is the goddess of the sea and fishermen, and the ocean still is the provider of life for many people here. 

But in the picture above, it is clear that Taiwan is not your average tropical island, with flat sandy beaches stretching out into the distance. Instead, looming green mountains sit right on the water’s edge, a physical reminder of the island’s origin story of the collisions of numerous tectonic plates. Looking at this view, I see that the Taiwanese people carved their lives out of the extremely small space between gods. The mountain god takes the entire central spine of the island, the ocean god surrounds it, and then there is the tiny patch of flatland leftover. That is where Taiwanese society happened.

(The Pacific Ocean from Shi Ti Ping. Photo Credit: K.H.)

These pictures are from Shi Ti Ping, a scenic spot on the coastline of Hualian County, in eastern Taiwan. The road to get here is treacherous, and new. While indigenous peoples have been here a long time, only recently have roads been built here. First, the Japanese developed railroads through the mountains, and later Han Chinese blasted tunnels to make roads. The drive here is on a sliver of road that looks over a precipice, with waves crashing below. Road signs alert you to the danger of falling rocks, and tunnels that last for over ten kilometers give you a clue as to the enormity of the mountain you are driving through. The lush flora on the mountains looks like it belongs in a Jurassic Park movie, and I feel a calming feeling at the thought that much of this landscape still has been untouched by humans.

At Shi Ti Ping, there is nothing to do really, and that is why I like it so much. There is nothing to do but think. So I look at the waves crashing, and I think, “No wonder the Greek and Roman gods of the ocean were angry, muscular men with weapons in their hands.” I think, “No wonder Mazu, who is said to be a very graceful and beautiful woman, is who the Taiwanese pray for to calm the seas and protect fishermen.” I look at coconut trees growing next to rice paddies, and admire the ability of rice to adapt to so many different environments, growing both in tropical Taiwan and in temperate Japan. And I look out at the Pacific, which takes up a full quarter of our Earth, and I think about how on the other side of it, from Canada to California, all the way to South America, society is shut down and panic is widespread, while here, life is normal, and the Pacific lives up to its name of being able to pacify.

(A view from Shi Ti Ping. Photo Credit: K.H.)

Despite the lack of people, there is still a cacophony of noise. The ocean waves are incessant, the wind passes by, and the birds never end their songs. It feels as though people here have been able to live more in harmony with nature than those of us on the west coast have. I understand why people here are hesitant to allow the government to build a highway down the east coast, because, even though it would surely result in economic gains, the inevitable surge in tourists would hurt the ecology here.

My home in America is rural, with mountains, rivers, forests, ocean, and clean air every day. Having come from such a background, it is difficult for me to adapt to polluted air and city life, despite how long I have been here. In a search for clean air, there are very few travel destinations left for me, except for high mountains and the east coast. And so, going to Shi Ti Ping felt like a homecoming for me, and, although the economic opportunities for foreigners on the east coast are few, I will do my best to eventually relocate there if possible.

Oasis of Normalcy: Taiwan's Response to the Virus - 武漢肺炎

by Charles DeBenedetto

(A shipment of Taiwanese masks. Taiwan will be donating 10 million masks to various countries in need. Photo Credit: Focus Taiwan)

I don’t need to report on how society seems to be falling apart around the world; the daily barrage of news, which used to report on a whirlwind of changing topics every thirty seconds, now reports on only one thing. Even the ever-changing name, from Wuhan Virus, to Corona Virus, to Covid-19, and now, really, to “the virus” is telling. It is now “the virus.” It does not need a name, because we all know which virus you are talking about.

But, while every evening I am watching the news like everyone else, and praying for the safety of family and friends, my life in Taiwan goes on as it always did, but only slightly differently. It is now required for all teachers at my school to wear masks while teaching, and the security guard checks our temperature before we enter the building, which are arguably good practices in normal times, too, to prevent any kind of sickness from spreading. Besides those minimal changes though, life continues. But it feels…fragile. I go to a coffee shop during my lunch break because, who knows, maybe society will shut down tomorrow and I won’t enjoy that luxury anytime in the near future.

Despite the feeling of fragility, I still ask myself, "how is Taiwan one of the only first-world countries that is still functioning normally?" Europe is in a state of chaos, America’s healthcare system has finally been exposed as horribly inadequate, Japan compromised the health of the Japanese in a bleak effort to try to keep the Olympics running, and, despite China’s claims that everything is getting better there, we cannot and should not trust their Communist Party official news propaganda. And here is little Taiwan, with no community transmission, and donating ten million masks to the world. Taiwan is leading the world in the fight against the virus.

I don’t want to say what has already been said elsewhere, but clearly the most important thing is that Taiwan learned from the SARS outbreak of 2003, in which hundreds of Taiwanese people died, and the World Health Organization said “Sorry, but you’re on your own,” because they were afraid of China’s petty politics. Taiwanese people suffered and died as a consequence, and Taiwan learned that, if they truly are on their own, then they have to be ready for when the next pandemic happens. And so they prepared for seventeen years for this day, while the rest of the world was blindsided by the rapid spread from Wuhan to elsewhere in Asia, Europe, and the Americas.

Compare the change in rhetoric. During the SARS epidemic, the conversation sounded like this: “Taiwan is in trouble! Taiwan should be allowed in the WHO because Taiwan needs our help!” Now, during the Covid-19 epidemic, the conversation sounds like this: “The world is in trouble, and Taiwan is the most competent country in the fight against the virus! Taiwan should be allowed in the WHO because the world needs Taiwan’s help!”

While the rest of the world was dragging their feet over whether to shut down or not, Taiwan immediately delayed the beginning of the spring semester by two weeks. Taiwanese soldiers immediately went to work making medical masks in factories 24/7, so that we would have adequate numbers. People coming home from abroad were transported home in “quarantine taxis,” so they would not infect people in train cars or buses. Taiwan has been the example that the world should follow, and news outlets have slowly been picking up on this.

The soft-power gains for Taiwan are enormous, and the world is tuning in to Taiwan and its world-class medical system and democracy.

As a foreigner in Taiwan, I feel so proud of my host country. I feel thankful for every day that I can go to work, do my best to help Taiwanese children receive a good education and contribute to the society that has accepted me, and then go home and spend my leisure hours in a way that I find meaningful. I am grateful for every day I walk into a grocery store and it is fully stocked, and I am grateful for knowing that when I need medical attention, the facilities and resources will be sufficient and inexpensive. And I am grateful to be in the safest country in the world during these extremely uncertain times.

As a foreigner in Taiwan, I have also wondered about the potential risks of living here. Will my life be shorter than it would have been back home, because I am more likely to develop lung cancer as a result of air pollution? Will I eventually be in a scooter accident, leaving me partially handicapped? Will Mainland China finally decide to invade one day, and will I be caught in the crossfire?

I never thought about the potential risks of being home, and not in Taiwan, but now I see that they exist. If I were home, I would probably have lost my job, having it deemed “unessential,” and I probably would have lost the benefits associated with that job. My health insurance situation would probably not be great, and, even if it were, I probably could not get adequate medical attention because our brave doctors and nurses do not have enough resources to help everyone right now.

My prayers go to my compatriots back home, as well as to people everywhere who have been affected by the virus, either physically or economically. I realize the calm in Taiwan may not last forever, and so we must be extremely cautious moving forward. But, I want to leave this post here as a reminder to myself, when the world does eventually return to normal, that Taiwan has been a haven of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic world.