The government of President Tsai Ing-wen has made several efforts to highlight the rights of Taiwan’s indigenous peoples. But an ongoing court case is being held up as proof that more concrete actions are needed.
Indeed, while the island’s indigenous peoples have cautiously welcomed the Tsai administration’s overtures, many of them also agree with some observers who say that the moves can be traced mainly to the government’s desire to differentiate Taiwan from mainland China.
Tsai belongs to the Democratic Progressive Party, which asserts that Taiwan is an independent state. China, however, considers Taiwan as its renegade province.
Taiwan has 16 officially recognized indigenous groups, which make up about 2.4 percent of the island’s 23.9 million population. There are at least 10 more indigenous groups in Taiwan; known collectively as peoples of the “low plains” or Pingpu, these groups have a combined population of about 400,000.
Taiwan’s indigenous peoples are believed to be descendants of the island’s first settlers, who had preceded migrants from mainland China by thousands of years. While the indigenous groups used to control much of the island before the 17th century, they have been largely relegated to the sidelines in modern Taiwan.
During her first term as president in 2016, Tsai, on behalf of the government, made a historic apology to Taiwan’s indigenous peoples “for the four centuries of pain and mistreatment you have endured.” In the same speech, she also announced the creation of the Indigenous Historical Justice and Transitional Justice Commission that would be under the Office of the President.
Then just last May, Tsai issued her very first presidential pardon, which she granted to Talum Suqluman, a Bunun who had been convicted in 2015 for using a “modified firearm” to kill two protected wild animals. The Bunun are among the recognized indigenous peoples of Taiwan. Numbering some 60,000, they have communities in Nantou in central Taiwan, Kaohsiung in the south, and Hualien and Taitung in the island’s east coast.
It is Talum Suqluman’s case that indigenous groups say shows just how their culture and traditions have been misunderstood and taken for granted by the state. While they appreciate the president’s pardon given to Talum Suqluman, they point out that amnesty does not assume innocence and only means that the person granted it would not have to serve his or her sentence.
Assessing the laws
Talum Suqluman had been sentenced to three and a half years in prison, which he had yet to serve at the time of the pardon because his case was on appeal. By then, too, the Constitutional Court had issued Interpretation No. 803 regarding the laws used in Talum Suqluman’s case.
A lawyer representing the Bunun hunter said that the interpretation was “90 percent” against him. Sociology and anthropology professor Scott Simon of the University of Ottawa meanwhile summarized the justices’ findings this way: “To the delight of animal rights supporters and to the dismay of indigenous rights activists, the ruling upheld the existing legal structure. The court declared that firearms legislation does not violate constitutional principles of clarity and proportionality but that regulation of self-made weapons is insufficient. The court ruled that traditional culture includes self-consumption but does not justify hunting endangered species. The court thus supported the laws used to persecute Tama Talum.” (“Tama“ is uncle or father in Bunun.)
For sure, the case has also put the spotlight on hunting, which animal rights groups have been quick to condemn. To some of these organizations, hunting has caused the population of many wild animals to decrease. They also argue that since the hunting process involves killing, the constitution should not protect it.
Many conservation experts, however, say that the threat to wildlife populations comes mainly from habitat destruction due to development, and not from indigenous hunters. Other scholars have also argued that due to cultural taboos and restrictions, indigenous hunters limit their kill; their practice even helps maintain the balance of wildlife populations in a region.
Talum Suqluman, for one, was far from having killed a herd in the incident that led to his court case. Now 62, he had gone hunting in 2013 at the behest of his then 90-year-old mother. He shot and killed two deer, a Formosan serow and a Reeve’s muntjac. He was caught by police on his way down the mountain. They assured him that he was not in trouble, although he would have to sign some papers. In the end, however, he found himself charged with criminal acts.
Hunting is an integral part of indigenous culture, as the hunted game is used not only for everyday meals but also for rituals and traditional celebrations. Yet while Taiwanese laws allow indigenous peoples to hunt, existing regulations border on the absurd.
For instance, the Wildlife Conservation Law requires hunters to file applications a month in advance, detailing the exact type and quantity of game they aim to bring home. The Act Governing the Control and Prohibition of Gun, Cannon, Ammunition, and Knife meantime says that a hunter’s gun must be 38 inches long and should not be able to fire continuously. Moreover, it restricts indigenous peoples to homemade muzzle-loading shotguns, which should be loaded only with gunpowder and fillers such as steel or lead balls, or glass shards. They are not allowed to use modern cartridge bullets. Supposedly, the rationale for these rules is to prevent such guns from being used in criminal acts.
Striking a balance
Indigenous groups have noted that it is impossible to know a month in advance what one is supposed to hunt, much less when, since many events — like death — that would call for such are unpredictable. Listing the type and quantity of a hunt also goes against their beliefs; among indigenous peoples, predicting a hunt’s outcome can anger the forests and mountains, and result in a hunter returning empty-handed or encountering an accident.
As for the regulations on firearms, more indigenous peoples have injured themselves using homemade guns than there have been victims of violent crimes. Apparently, barrels of homemade guns are prone to explode, causing injury to the hunter. Not surprisingly, many indigenous hunters have opted to use better firearms, which have resulted in more than a hundred of them being sentenced to prison so far.
In a conversation with this writer, Talum Suqluman had said, “No one would have caught me if I had run that day.” This declaration by no means questions the capability of the police of capturing him in his native environment. Rather, it underlines his belief in the ways of his ancestors, as well as his decision to trust the police and the judicial system.
At the press conference following the Constitutional Court’s release of Interpretation No. 803, Talum Suqluman’s lawyers said that the justices were far from understanding and respecting multiple cultures. They suggested that the magistrates go to the mountains and observe indigenous hunting culture rather than relying on “imagination.”
The lawyers have vowed to fight on to secure a not-guilty verdict for Talum Suqluman. The Supreme Court, for its part, has said it will continue to hear the case in spite of the hunter’s presidential pardon.
On September 10, President Tsai reiterated that her government is continuing its efforts to promote ethnic reconciliation even as it pushes for historical and transitional justice for the island’s indigenous peoples. For those like Talum Suqluman, the government can perhaps start with striking a balance between the traditions of the indigenous peoples and the legal system of modern Taiwan. ●
Savungaz Valincinan is a member of the Indigenous Youth Front and former Secretary General of the Association for Taiwan