Above and Beyond--High-Speed Rail Official Chiu Chin-hsiang
Teng Sue-feng / tr. by Minn Song
March 2005

Many people suppose that civil ser- vants with their guaranteed lifetime employment would never overwork themselves. But in fact, over the past few years, with pressure to improve international competitiveness ratings, government agencies with working hours extending late into the evening have become commonplace. And the civil servants working so assiduously, subject to the pressures from within the government bureaucracy, professional demands, and the expectations of the citizenry, may pay the ultimate price due to long-term fatigue and stress.
Recalling the death of her husband ten years ago due to overwork, Lee-in Chen Chiu grows tearful.
Chen Chiu is a researcher at the Chung-Hua Institution for Economic Research specializing in the mainland Chinese economy. Her husband Chiu Chin-hsiang was one of Taiwan's few high-speed rail experts.
In 1988, when the Ministry of Transportation and Communications was considering whether to build a high-speed rail system in Taiwan, Chiu, who had previously been a transportation planner at the MOTC and had worked on the planning of the Taipei MRT, had just returned to Taiwan after obtaining a PhD in urban and regional planning at the University of Pennsylvania; he had also worked for the New Jersey Department of Transportation. He was recruited into the MOTC's Institute of Transportation to research and promote the building of a high-speed rail system. When the government decided to go ahead with the HSR, he transferred to the newly created Preparatory Office of the High-Speed Rail System (POHSR) to serve as deputy chief engineer, and subsequently chief secretary. He participated in everything from route planning, international tender solicitation, financial administration, and procurement plans for the core systems.
A true professional
Tragically, in Taiwan, professionalism is often sacrificed at the altar of political expediency. Planning for the HSR was impeded by a series of obstacles, and the resolve of those involved was sorely tested on many occasions, such as changes to the proposed route, and legislators increasing the number of stations from seven to ten in an effort to benefit their home districts. Aggrieved by the possibility of unqualified outsiders interfering with the plans he had so painstakingly created, Chiu considered resigning. However, recalling how he had made the building of the HSR his personal mission, and unwilling to allow his results of expertise to be compromised and distorted, he decided to stay and continue the struggle.
In May 1993, the HSR budget was slashed by the Legislative Yuan, and as a consequence, the POHSR fell into a dark period during which it desperately defended the value of the HSR system. Chiu joined in the battle, communicating with the legislature and explaining issues to outsiders. He often worked, with neither sleep nor even rest, to organize materials and write articles. He participated in public debates, contacted legislators, made presentations, and laid strategic plans of campaign. Under these adverse conditions, POHSR staffers faced numerous challenges. Outsiders could have no inkling of the extraordinary mental and physical stress they endured.
"He had a powerful sense of mission, and was a perfectionist. He demanded a lot of himself, and of his team," Chen Chiu says. Because of his stubborn idealism, and the difficulties the HSR encountered during its construction, his workload grew heavier, causing his health to deteriorate.
Giving it his all
Back at work after the Chinese New Year's holiday in 1994, Chiu's co-workers often heard him coughing. They thought it was just a stubborn cold. But a regular physical exam in April showed Chiu's white blood cell count to be abnormally high at 40,000. On examining Chiu, the doctor believed there were signs of leukemia, which required hospitalization for treatment.
At the time, Chen Chiu was in the US with their children, working for a year as a visiting scholar. Initially, Chiu thought of concealing his illness from his wife, afraid it would affect her itinerary. However, on learning of his leukemia, she immediately returned to Taiwan to take care of him and be with him as he began chemotherapy.
After a first bone marrow transplant Chiu's condition stabilized somewhat, and he returned to work. At the time, the Legislative Yuan was in the middle of considering a bill providing incentives for private sector participation in transportation projects, and Chiu threw himself into the work of compiling advocacy materials for the HSR. His colleagues and wife urged him to rest, but he said, "The budget is tight. If I can do my part, there is more hope for the HSR project. I will take care of my health."
Chiu lost his parents as a child, and was raised by his elder brother and his wife. Even as a student he worked, spending his vacations transporting the catch around the Nanfang-ao fishing harbor. By the time he had finished school, Chiu had already been trained to endure bitterly hard work, developing an optimistic outlook. Even on his sickbed, he retained this cheeriness, sharing with colleagues his views on healthy living.
Despite three bone marrow transplants, Chiu's condition deteriorated precipitously. In May 1995, the Legislative Yuan approved a special two-year budget for the POHSR to cover 1996 and 1997. This good news bolstered morale at the POHSR, but three months later came news of Chiu's passing. He had battled his illness for a year and three months, but had finally succumbed, still in the prime of life at 42 and leaving behind his wife and two young children.
A tragic end
Several days before Chiu died, his immune system collapsed. Chiu was suffering from severe bleeding, and the hospital tried to save his life with constant blood transfusions. Perhaps because he was in too much agony, Chiu told his wife to "give up," saying, "Don't waste any more of the country's resources." Many of his co-workers were heartbroken to hear him say this, and told him that if transfusions could save his life, it was surely no waste of resources.
Even today, Chen Chiu blames herself for not having been by his side during the ten months she was abroad, to take heed and take care of his health. Having lost her beloved husband, Chen Chiu laments that Taiwan's government, with its demand for administrative efficiency, the legal system, and even the academic community do not give the new generations of technocrats the support they deserve as they seek to make breakthroughs within a rigid bureaucracy.
"We should encourage talented people within the government to devote their efforts to establishing new projects and a new system. That's the only way to enable Taiwan to make a fresh start amidst the intense international competition," Chen Chiu says. She hopes that youthful talents such as Chiu who are full of a sense of mission about national development will not have their lives and time wasted because of the constraints of the old system.
"Chin-hsiang believed the HSR was critical to Taiwan's future development, and that is why he wanted to devote himself to that cause. That idea, plus a sense of public service, and his diligent nature, were the ultimate cause of his death," wrote Mao Chi-kuo, then a deputy minister of the MOTC, in a eulogy for Chiu.
To commemorate this model civil servant who gave so much of himself in service of the public, the MOTC collected Chiu's life writings and professional monographs. Two enormous volumes of essays are full of the affection of his superiors, colleagues, teachers, and students.
One of Chiu's co-workers observed that while many people might have his skills, nobody could put his whole life into his work as he did. At such a time, we can truly understand the implications of the phrase "for country."