By William R. Stimson
I would never have guessed what a reward it could be to stumble across the living evidence of what I had known for more than two decades. With a foolhardy outsider’s ignorance, I had set out to save from extinction a nesting population of invasive African tilapia fish that my bungling Internet search had caused me to confuse with the critically endangered Taiwanese landlocked salmon (Oncorhynchus masou formosanus).
Now, long after conveniently allowing that whole presumptuous endeavor to sink entirely out of my memory, I stood for the first time deep in the remote interior of Taiwan’s high mountain Shei-Pa National Park (雪霸國家公園), peering through the trees at the fast-moving mountain stream that the plaque in front of me identified as the section of the Dajia River (大甲溪) where the real Taiwanese landlocked salmon still survives.
Further along, I came to a small museum dedicated to the vanishingly rare salmon that exists only here in Taiwan, and only along this one stretch of the river.
Like the foolish foreigner that I was, I had thought, almost immediately after coming to Taiwan, to improve the place because it was not like what I had known back home. Since I had a doctorate in biology from Columbia University, I had also assumed my knowhow would be essential here.
I discovered at the little museum dedicated to the rare fish in the nearby stream that the highly professional measures taken to preserve the endangered species, and keep people away from the stream, had been initiated by Taiwan’s former Japanese rulers, probably before I was even born.
Interestingly enough, even before I walked out of that wonderful museum honoring the fish, with a heart full of gratitude to Taiwan and the lengths to which it has gone to preserve this relic of the last ice age that had gotten separated from the ocean — “Taiwan’s treasure,” the museum had called it — my thinking pivoted to the People’s Republic of China and the very different way it had handled the freshwater dolphin baiji (Lipotes vexillifer) that existed only in the Yangtze River system.
Modern, as well as classical psychology, says that minds focused on power could be challenged when it comes to loving, and those most capable of love do not really concern themselves much with power. A dictatorship like China’s is clearly focused on increasing the power of the Chinese Communist Party — whether it is over Taiwan, Tibet, Hong Kong, the Uighurs of Xinjiang or its own Yangtze River for that matter.
During the Great Leap Forward, Communists denounced the traditional veneration Chinese people had for that river’s remarkable cetacean. Subsequently the species was hunted and neglected into extinction as the Chinese government simply did not care. That kind of dolphin no longer exists.
China’s extinct dolphin and Taiwan’s extant salmon speak volumes about the stark contrast between Taiwan and China, and reveal what separate and distinct nations they are. Taiwan’s treasure is its heart. All that China knows how to value is its power. It would be hard to find two more dissimilar nations than these.
William R. Stimson is an American writer living in Taiwan who has taught an adjunct course at several Taiwanese universities.