The environmental nightmare of the economic miracle: Land abuse and land struggles in Taiwan

Abstract

This is an article about gut feelings: The kind of gut feeling you get when you step out of an elegant wood-paneled coffee shop in Taipei, where you have sipped a dense European brew at U.S. $6.00 for a small cup, and are assaulted by a whirl of grit and trash in the humid eddies of air, the noxious fumes of motorcycles, and the growl and honk of nearby traffic. The mounting nausea you feel when you cannot avoid eyeing slop spilled from restaurant pails left for pickup by pig farms, mounds of used styrofoam bowls and drink cartons, mangy dogs rooting in the corner garbage heaps awaiting early morning collection, and scraps of rotting wood and rusting metal from long-abandoned carts. The unease you feel when you seek escape from the congested city center and find debris from construction sites egregiously scattered in supposedly scenic spots, and industrial and household waste piled up on every otherwise open piece of land, whether vacant lot or graveyard knoll. The choke and dry cough that becomes habitual after a few days of too many hours in stop-and-go city traffic, evenings of endless banquets with chain smokers, and nights in which the smoke of chemical emissions from faraway factories—venting illegally but with impunity under cover of darkness—seeps into your apartment, where you thought you were safe with your cool tiled floors and humming air conditioners.