Some say, here is a barren land. But some say here is Utopia; a fairy island on the sea. Let the dust and dirt of your mind subside into winding mountain trails, aged banyan trees, old temples, stone houses, battlefield relics, beaches, fishing boats in the sunset....
Matsu--Hsieh Chao-hua
Any place that provokes such mixed emotions in the space of a single stanza must surely be special. The Matsu Islands cover some twenty-nine square kilometers and consist of about twenty islets that have been likened to a string of pearls scattered around the mouth of Fujian's Min River. The archipelago is composed of igneous rock and has a climate characterized by monsoon rains during the winter and fog in summer. Nankan is the chain's main political, economic, cultural, and educational center.
The scenery is spectacular, making the cluster of islands a magnet for speculators in search of a resort to develop. The mostly hilly terrain is host to a unique blend of military facilities, historic monuments, traditional southern Chinese architecture, and even a scattering of clean beaches. A lot of people see Matsu as a potential pleasure-fishing resort, because numerous deep channels in the surrounding seas are abundant with fish, both indigenous and migrating. The archipelago is aglow with flora, many of them rarities: More than 250 species of birds, most of them migratory, have been recorded. Earlier this year, eight of the islets were listed by the Council of Agriculture (COA) as Taiwan's twelfth wildlife refuge.
Indeed, Matsu's biggest potential lure may well consist of its wildlife. This August, domestic and international media homed in on the area after the discovery of eight Chinese Lesser Crested Terns, an endangered species of sea bird, together with four nests, on one of the smaller islands. The COA puts the total world population of these terns, first discovered in 1863, at below a hundred. "The Chinese Lesser Crested Tern can almost be said to be a mythical creature," says Lucia Liu, a researcher at the Academia Sinica's Institute of Zoology. "No one knows where their breeding grounds are, and there are no documented reports concerning their behavior and ecology."
This all adds to the air of remoteness and mystery that distinguishes Matsu, which takes its name from the Goddess of the Sea. Legend has it that she was born the daughter of a fisherman in the Sung dynasty (960-1279) on an island just off the coastal province of Fujian. As a child, she showed exceptional abilities and deep filial piety. Her remains are said to have been buried on Nankan, the largest island in the group, after she drowned while trying to rescue her shipwrecked father. Pious locals erected a temple to commemorate her courage, and to this day fishermen revere Matsu, crediting her with miracles that occur at sea, be they big or small.
With so much going for it, how come Matsu was not long ago developed into a resort island? Some locals point out that the coast, though wild and spectacular, has few beaches suitable for swimming. But the real answer can be summed up in two words: the military. Wherever tourists go in Matsu, before long they hear the sound of marching feet. The island group lies less than six miles from the coast of mainland China, and for five decades now it has been heavily defended against invasion by PLA forces.
The overwhelming military presence has proved a mixed blessing. Servicemen stationed there have built roads, reservoirs, and utility plants, which benefit the civilian population. They have also helped soften the appearance of the island's numerous barren outcrops of igneous rock by planting trees and other greenery. Most islanders grew vegetables and raised poultry and livestock (and some still do so), which they sold to the army's procurement officers, while a number of small service businesses sprung up to serve both locals and military personnel.
Liu Li-chyun is head of the Lianchiang County Government, which is the local administrative organ responsible for Matsu. He points out that Matsu's residents can never forget they are living on the frontline. In past decades they had to endure aggression from the mainland, sometimes loudspeaker propaganda broadcast across the strait, sometimes shelling (although mercifully that stopped a long time ago). Moreover, local economic development has always played second fiddle to the needs of national defense.
For many years prior to 1992, annual infrastructure development subsidies from the central government were capped at NT$50 million (US$1.6 million). Starting in 1993, they slowly began to rise until now they stand at NT$2 billion (US$64.5 million). With this contrast the position of its southern neighbor Kinmen, another offshore island group with a strong military presence, which in 1991 had a budget of NT$700 million (US$22.6 million), rising to NT$4.8 billion (US$154.8 million) in 1999 and NT$5.7 billion (US$183.9 million) this year. The dearth of funds put a brake on the development of the Matsu archipelago, and even today its growth rate lags far behind the rest of Taiwan's.
But relaxation of tensions across the strait, coupled with the gradual streamlining of Taiwan's armed forces, has led to a significant change in Matsu's primary role as a fortress. The island group has been under civilian control since 1992. The people of Matsu, like those of Kinmen, now enjoy the same rights as other Taiwanese, including the right to participate in local and national elections, and freedom of movement between Taiwan and its outlying islands.
The lifting of martial law left Matsu still dependent economically on military personnel, whose numbers have been reduced from a peak of 40,000 in 1970 to approximately 10,000 today. This hit many small enterprises hard, especially those in the food and entertainment business. Until recently, Matsu's population was shrinking. Thirty years ago it was home to 17,000 people. Today, just 6,000 live there.
The decline of the service sector, as well as a lack of employment opportunities and institutions of higher learning, caused a big exodus of young people. The list of Matsu's traditional industries reads like a sad commentary on why most youngsters seek to make their lives elsewhere: fishing, simple agriculture, and manufacturing kaoliang liquor from sorghum. At present, most of the residents are either employed by the civil service or run small businesses.
"All my brothers and sisters have moved to Taiwan, and I've got only one friend left," says Chen Yen-hsu, 25, who works as a contract civil servant in a local township office. "Life here is very boring. My parents want me to stay, but once I've saved some money I'd like to move to Taiwan, so that I can have career options and a more exciting life." Her parents run a store that rents out comic books, but business is slow and getting worse.
Apart from the heavy military presence, Matsu has another mixed blessing to contend with. Because it is remote, it is relatively unspoiled; but it is also hard to get to. The airport is small and does not have an instrument landing system to help guide incoming traffic. After a couple of weather-related fatal crashes involving commercial aircraft, Matsu became blacklisted in many people's minds as a dangerous place to visit. The journey by sea takes a long time, and the route lies through waters that are often choppy and uninviting, most notably during the winter monsoon and summer typhoon seasons.
County chief Liu Li-chyun not surprisingly believes that his most important task is to improve transportation to and within the archipelago. The airport on Peikan Island, the second largest in the Matsu chain, is currently being upgraded at a cost of NT$700 million (US$22.6 million). The runway is being lengthened and relocated, and mountains that render the final approach path dangerous will be leveled. The construction of a completely new airport on Nankan Island is scheduled to be completed by the end of next year. When it is finished, larger and better-equipped planes like the DASH-300 will be able to fly to Matsu, doubling the number of available seats.
At present, only one vessel plies the sea route between Matsu and the port of Keelung in northern Taiwan. The Tai Ma offers fairly Spartan accommodations, and Liao Yuan-long, director-general of the Matsu National Scenic Area Administration of the Ministry of Transportation and Communications (MOTC), is urging the addition of a casino, dance floor, and karaoke bar, which would make the seven- to eight-hour journey more fun. Recognizing the benign power of competition, he is also trying to interest other shipping companies in servicing the route.
Once tourists land on Matsu, their problems are far from over. Public buses connect only towns and villages, without detouring to scenic spots. During the winter months, interisland boats are often cancelled because of rough seas. Liao, himself a Matsu resident, is therefore urging the local government to forge links with civilian helicopter operators, in the hope of upgrading interisland transfers, and purchase shuttle buses to ferry visitors around.
A number of other ongoing infrastructure development projects will help the islands get on their feet: Roads, reservoirs, telecommunications, piers, and scenic spots are all due for improvement. Liu notes that these plans have already had one encouraging result, in that over the past two years the islands' population has, after a lengthy period of decline, started to rise again.
What does the future hold for Matsu? "At present, the economy is still heavily dependent on consumption by servicemen," Liu says. "In the near future, however, we mean to change the main focus to tourism and cross-strait direct transportation links." Liu is particularly confident about the archipelago's tourism potential. "You can think of Matsu as the last Shangri-la. Because it was shut off from the world for so many decades and doesn't suffer from industrial pollution, its ecological environment and coastal scenery are intact. Visitors can also appreciate the rich cultural and historical heritage of the Min River delta. It's a sleepy sort of place, where people can take time to view the flowers and smell the coffee, rather than just racing around the shops before they hop on the tour bus again."
It is true that many Taiwanese do now have more leisure time available, and some of them are using it to get to know their homeland better. "I'm really impressed with the natural beauty of these islands," says first-time visitor Rose Chang, who has come to Matsu with her husband and two children. "It's just fantastic! There are things here I've never seen before: underground tunnels, battlefield relics, traditional villages with age-old granite structures. Will I come back again? Definitely!"
But there are drawbacks. Because of the lack of public transportation, Chang and her family either have to tour the islands in a taxi that charges the local equivalent of US$20 an hour, or rent motorcycles, which are dangerous, given the hilly terrain. And they are disappointed by the shortage of decent hotels and restaurants. "We ended up eating several meals of instant noodles in our hotel," she says.
Chen Sai-hsiang opened the first hotel on Nankan about four years ago, anticipating an upsurge in business following the islands' return to civilian rule. "At the moment, our best customers are still military personnel and their relatives," she says. "There aren't many tourists. I don't think we have enough recreational facilities and decent transport to attract visitors all the way from Taiwan." Occupancy rates in the summer are tolerable, but in winter business slumps. Chen and her husband make ends meet by dispensing with employees and doing all the chores themselves.
Liu Li-chyun admits that the islands are not yet ripe for tourism, given their inadequate infrastructure. Preliminary environmental evaluations of their ability to absorb a transient tourist population suggest that the number of visitors should not exceed 5,000 a day. "We don't want to make the same mistake as Kinmen by promoting tourism before we're ready," he says. "We want to offer quality, so that visitors will feel like coming back." Liu knows all about Kinmen, another offshore island group to the south. When its military establishment was downsized and it opened up to tourism, the number of visitors jumped dramatically from 20,000 to 200,000 a year. But because facilities were inferior, tourism on Kinmen has recently gone into a decline.
The MOTC intends to launch a four-year development plan, starting 2001, with funding of more than NT$1 billion (US$32.2 million) which it will use for renovation and management of scenic spots and related facilities, training tour guides, and producing tourist literature. The ministry's Matsu National Scenic Area Administration also lends the local government a hand with conservation of ecological resources and historic buildings.
Matsu's chief scenic area administrator, Liao Yuan-long, points out that the islands have a number of unique features. In addition to spectacular coastal scenery, they boast traditional villages characteristic of the eastern part of Fujian Province, with houses made of granite having brick and tile roofs. There are also battlefield relics, lighthouses, ancient temples, stone inscriptions, and of course the ubiquitous military facilities. "Everybody now agrees that the future of the offshore islands lies with tourism, particularly in light of the reduced military consumption that used to be a major source of income for most residents," he says. "The problem is knowing how to package the tours and improve the necessary facilities and services."
Matsu was for long ruled by men (mainly military men), not by law, and although it has been some years since martial law was lifted, many restrictions remain. "In the past, the Lianchiang County Government's priority was military preparedness and defense," Liao says. "So you couldn't fault it for imposing certain restrictions on the civilian population. But following the relaxation of cross -strait tensions, the scenario's changed. The military needs to adjust its thinking and relax a few more rules."
Many of the island's most spectacular landscapes are still under army control, subject to bans on the taking of photographs and entry by civilians. Liao wants to see the number of such areas reduced to a handful of locations that are of truly strategic importance. Better yet, he would like to see visits to military installations added to the typical tourist's schedule, as they are on Kinmen. This would enable Taiwanese to have a better understanding of the hardships servicemen endure when defending their country. Liao claims to have received a favorable response from the military authorities, although what will happen in practice remains to be seen.
Matsu contains many splendid examples of traditional southern Chinese architecture, and several concerned local people have come together to assist with preservation work. Tsao Yi-hsiung, a member of the Lianchiang County Council, is one of the most active organizers. "Conservation is a lot more difficult than construction, and you can't delay it--the work has to be done before it's too late," he emphasizes. But he has met with much skepticism. "Some people think what I'm doing is absurd, given that the economic climate is so bad, and they ask what's the point of conserving these historic buildings. But it's vital to emphasize that culture can benefit people economically as well."
Tsao believes that once these old houses have undergone renovation, they can be occupied by tourists who want to get a sense of how people lived in the olden days. Some of them could be converted into teahouses, coffee shops, artists' studios, or simply attractive venues for social and cultural events. "A lot of people want to get back to the simple life and enjoy nature," he points out. "They want some peace of mind. Old houses are terrific for that. One day, we want to be able to claim that Taiwan may enjoy an affluent lifestyle, but Matsu has quality of life."
Some local residents are enthusiastic. "Development and tourist projects can be launched at any time and carried out step by step," says Cheng Chih-jen, who spent his two-year military service on Matsu after earning a degree in architecture and now lives on one of the islands. "But if the traditional villages go, they're gone forever. These historic sites are unique to Matsu, something well worth showing to visitors. It's only by making maximum use of resources like this that Matsu can hope to become an international tourist destination." The Lianchiang County Government has recently come on board, establishing a task force to deal with conservation and related improvement projects.
Another role that Matsu might play in the future is that of pleasure-fishing resort. But Lin Jih-fu, chief of Tungyin township on Tungyin Island, points out that in recent years an increasing number of mainland fishing boats have penetrated Taiwanese waters. Their nets garner a rich haul, which is bad enough, but in addition mainland fishermen frequently use explosives, something Matsu's fishermen would never stoop to. This has led to a drastic reduction in the number of fish, and cast a threat over the area's maritime ecological environment.
"In the old days, we liked to say that the sea was our refrigerator," Lin says. "Whenever we had guests, we just went down to the seashore and caught ourselves a feast of fish, crabs, clams, and shrimp. But that's all gone now, thanks to those mainland fishermen and their illegal ways." In Lin's township, the number of fishermen has dropped from approximately two hundred in 1990 to twenty today.
Lin thinks that the Coast Guard Command ought to conduct more frequent patrols to protect Taiwan's territorial waters. He argues that the island's garrisons should arrest mainland crews and confiscate their boats and equipment if they ignore repeated warnings. "Protection of our ocean resources has become the top priority," he says. "Something needs to be done now."
Opening up direct transportation links with mainland China is another possible way of bolstering Matsu's prosperity. Lianchiang County chief Liu Li-chyun stresses that these links are necessary and should have been initiated earlier. "They have a considerable role to play in promoting bilateral economic and trade exchanges," he says. "Once they're up and running, we can use the ensuing contacts to resolve the political crisis step by step."
The formation of trading alliances has become a global trend, according to Liu, who cites the European Union as just one example. With proper planning, the ROC government could transform Matsu and Kinmen into entrepots modeled on Hong Kong, sales centers for Taiwan-made products targeting the millions of Chinese mainlanders who live in the coastal regions of Fujian.
"Tourism and cross-strait direct links are the two major goals that we should be aiming at here in Matsu," Liu reiterates. "Only that way can Matsu earn itself a better future and become a golden goose laying eggs in government coffers, rather than a drain on government resources." Meanwhile, Matsu's dwindling population must cling on and hope that if the government builds it, the tourists will come.