Kuo Ming-cheng, a retired teacher from Puli Vocational Senior High School, is a descendant of Chief Mona Rudao, leader of the Wushe rebellion against the Japanese colonial forces. Yet before going to senior high school he had never heard of this incident, and he knew little about his ancestors' heroic history of resistance.
Having seen Teng Hsiang-yang's Dana Sakura (a drama series about the Wushe Incident), Kuo Ming-cheng began to seek his roots more than ten years ago. He started calling on old people who had lived through those years and digging through dusty old records, and little by little he unearthed previously unknown stories about the Wushe Incident.
"The Wushe Incident was over in 1930, but it continued to affect the Atayal people for many decades," says Kuo Ming-chen. "To manage the Aboriginal people more easily after the Wushe Incident, the Japanese colonial government launched a forced mass resettlement campaign that severed their social framework and tribal connections. The tribal settlement of Chingliu (known as Alan-Gluban in the Atayal language and as Kawanakajima in Japanese) in Nantou County is a case in point.
In 1931, the Japanese forcibly resettled a group of Atayal Aborigines to Chingliu near today's Puli. They were unable to adjust to their new surroundings and within five years their energy had been sapped to the point where they could no longer put up any resistance against the Japanese.
"Forced to move from the Wushe area at an altitude of 1200-1500 meters to Chingliu at 400-500 meters, many Aborigines failed to acclimate to their new environment and died of various illnesses. Some suffered from tremendous mental and physical exhaustion and hanged themselves," writes Kuo Ming-cheng in his History of Chingliu.
State intervention
The Wushe Incident was a specific historical episode. But as the Aboriginal poet Walis Nokan has written, "As far as the Aborigines are concerned, during the ROC period the government has forced whole villages to relocate in the same way as the Japanese did during their occupation. That is why Aborigines are so disconcerted by the prospect of village relocations."
"During the Japanese occupation, resisting a resettlement order was no use, because the authorities were prepared to use force of arms to achieve their goals," says Walis. "From the days of the Qing dynasty to today, a great many Aboriginal communities have suffered the pain of forcible resettlement and having their lives and livelihood uprooted. These memories are deeply engraved. It's no wonder that Aborigines often refuse government resettlement demands."
"But the other side of the psychology of resistance is to say, 'since you want me to move, you had better solve all my problems,'" says Hsieh Chih-cheng, executive director of the 921 Earthquake Disaster Reconstruction Foundation (EDRF).
The Executive Yuan established the EDRF to push forward the post-quake reconstruction effort. Initially, the EDRF focused its rebuilding efforts on valley villages, but in recent years it has mounted an all-out effort among distressed mountain communities. Acting as a mediator between the government and the local people, the EDRF has smoothed the way for the resettlement.
The EDRF closed up shop in February 2006, once the first phase of the relocation of the seven tribal villages was completed. Hsieh Chih-cheng says with a smile that the biggest lesson learned from the project is this: "In future the government ought to think twice before helping people move their villages!"
"Why has the Juiyen situation dragged on for six years? In fact, the government raised the villagers' expectations much too high and failed to come through for them. It promised them land, subsidies, jobs, and educational opportunities, and in the end it was unable to deliver all that," says Hsieh. "What's more, we have yet to talk about economic, social, and cultural reconstruction after the resettlement, or about psychological guidance."
"Relocating a village is a long-term project that requires a high investment in human and material resources. Experience in other countries suggests that it usually takes more than ten years from start to finish." Looking back on how contractors in Juiyen dragged their feet and at the time it took until a contractor finally began to work properly, Huang Jung-te, head of the Nantou County Bureau of Aboriginal Affairs, asks candidly, "What other options do we have apart from relocating villages? How about building more solid apartment complexes in the affected areas and coordinating timely evacuation and temporary resettlement? Or simply having the government hand out disaster assistance payments to enable them to find a new home on their own?"
Compared to resettlement, apartment complexes and financial assistance for relocation have the advantages of speed and economy, "but they make it impossible to preserve the whole range of functions traditionally performed by tribal villages," says Walis Pelin, head of the Council of Indigenous Peoples. "In the past we have seen families that fell victim to natural disasters take government relocation assistance payments and give them to their children to buy homes in the city, while they remained in rundown dwellings in high-risk areas."
"Tribespeople should ideally be able to engage in a dialogue with the government, to communicate what they need," notes Walis.
Tribespeople have their say
All the same, given Taiwan's limited experience with democracy, the respective roles of government and the local communities in the relocation process remain unclear, as is the best way for the two to carry on a dialogue.
"Prompt financial assistance allowed Sunghe Village to rapidly complete its resettlement," says National Chi Nan University lecturer Huang Mei-ying. "But there has not been enough communication with local residents, and problems are beginning to surface as a result."
"The government chose the construction materials, building style, and location. Because 'charitable funds' were used, everyone just accepted what they were given," says Walis Pelin. "But many Aborigines who wanted to relocate were unable to do so because housing in the new location was in short supply. They have complained that the review process is unfair. We have yet to find solutions for the tribespeople's economic and day-to-day life problems."
"In Juiyen, on the other hand, the process may be drawn-out, but the residents are being listened to," says Huang Mei-ying. "The whole process has been transparent, from the choice of location, to the financial responsibilities the residents have to shoulder, to the final selection of contractors. As a result, the tribespeople feel secure and respected."
Confronting disaster
Environmental overuse in the past, frequent natural disasters in recent years, and the relocation of Aborigines to unfamiliar surroundings far from the mountains and their tribal lands, are all legitimate subjects for national debate.
In June 2005 Typhoon Haitang battered southern Taiwan, seriously flooding low-lying coastal fish farms because of land subsidence caused by long-term overextraction of groundwater. In response to the floods, the Ministry of Economic Affairs immediately announced that it would give NT$10 billion in emergency aid, buy out 20,000 hectares of low-lying coastal land in Yunlin, and coordinate the resettlement of villages. But as the disaster recedes, the debate over village relocations has for now been put out of mind.
Numerous lessons have been learned along the bumpy road of village relocations. The experience has also raised a number of questions. Territorial planning, drafting laws and regulations, and the ability of local communities and the government to engage in dialogue are all knotty problems, but we must face them with courage--and we must do so before the next disaster strikes.