No civilian organization will ever assemble enough resources to enable it to discharge all the duties of a responsible government, and few would wish to. But in the wake of the recent earthquake, many of the island's charitable and religious groups showed what can be done, given the right stuff.
The biggest earthquake to hit Taiwan this century left Taipei relatively unscathed, but the tremor did destroy a twelve -story bank-hotel-apartment complex located in Sungshan, in the eastern part of the city. Moments later, fire trucks were at the scene, drenching the smoking rubble with gallons of water. Police units quickly cordoned off the area--a necessary precau tion, with so many residents still in shock swarming on to the streets. No one knew what was happening, where to go or what to do. Chaos reigned.
Meanwhile, a small group of neighbors methodically set about contacting one another. Shortly after two o'clock, a bare quarter of an hour after the quake, they assembled in a cordoned-off area that was supposed to be reserved for firefighters and police officers. Half an hour later, they had already finished putting up a tent. By the time five o'clock came, they had prepared a hot meal for the rescue workers and victims. As dawn broke, this group of volunteers had swollen to more than a hundred people, all wearing the same shade of dark blue clothing.
These men and women were volunteer workers with the Tzu Chi Foundation, a Buddhist charity group founded in 1966 that has established an enviable track record for helping the needy both in Taiwan and in other parts of the world such as Africa, mainland China, and Turkey. The group's workers have become a local legend--a byword for speed and efficiency, to say nothing of genuine, unassuming kindness. And never does their reputation shine brighter than when natural disaster strikes. Many inhabitants of Taiwan regard Tzu Chi as by far the best charity group on the island; it is certainly the best -known. "If you're with Tzu Chi, they'll let you get close to the disaster site to help," says Chang Chun-hsiang, who is responsible for coordinating one of Taipei's Tzu Chi emergency-rescue teams. "The minute we arrive, we get busy looking for something to do without being asked." He likens Tzu Chi to "a 7-Eleven rescue team" because it can provide almost anything, whether it be hot food and batteries, or protective facemasks and shovels.
Its remarkable efforts in the wake of the earthquake did nothing to diminish the charisma of Taiwan's foremost Buddhist relief agency. Citizens were outspoken in their praise, insisting that this time the group had done a better job than the govern ment. "That's because we've been doing rescue work for more than thirty years," notes Her Rui-chan, herself a thirteen-year veteran of the organization. "We have such extensive experience of what to do and how to do it." So what is the secret of Tzu Chi's success? Almost certainly, its ultra-efficient grassroots networks. "We'll often rush first aid to disaster victims before we take time out to report to our superiors," Her says. "But in the civil service, orders filter down from top to bottom, and the procedures take up a lot of time."
Tzu Chi has about 15,000 accredited members, but it can also call on the services of many other volunteers around the island. The sheer weight of its numbers, plus its organizational efficiency, ensured that the first proper meal most rescue workers and victims ate after the big tremor was supplied by Tzu Chi. Within two days of the disaster, the organization had already begun to distribute emergency relief funds--NT$5,000 (US$156) for every hospitalized victim, and NT$20,000 (US$625) for the relatives of anyone who died.
Her also draws attention to the methodical manner in which Tzu Chi approaches disaster relief. Without proper assess ment, well-meaning donors may end up misdirecting their efforts, which in turn leads to waste, sometimes of tragic propor tions. "When disaster strikes, we'll evaluate the situation first and only then decide what we can do and what we ought to do," Her says. "We've learned that lesson through years of experience."
By coincidence, earlier this year Tzu Chi sent aid to earthquake victims in Colombia and Turkey, and in this field its pooled experience probably overtops that of any other non-governmental organization (NGO), or even that of the govern ment. But it is certainly not the only civilian group to provide effective assistance. I-kuan Tao, or "the Religion of One Unity," is a religion that seeks to synthesize principles drawn from all of the world's major faiths, and with more than 900,000 followers on the island, it is Taiwan's third most popular religion. Like Tzu Chi, I-kuan Tao has a name for good deeds. "My faith teaches me that I should help others whenever disaster strikes," explains Chuang Su-chen, who with other I-kuan Tao adherents prepared free meals for volunteers in Nantou County's devastated Chichi township, near the quake's epicenter.
Every morning at six-thirty, Chuang leaves her home in neighboring Changhua County and drives her van to Chichi, where she stays until around five in the afternoon. "I think this is very meaningful work," she says. "I don't get tired when I'm in Chichi, but after I get home I feel totally exhausted." She notes that some of her fellow volunteers have daytime jobs and had to ask for time off in order to help. She and her team of helpers will step down soon, but another batch of I-kuan Tao followers is already preparing to take over their responsibilities.
Christian organizations also performed strongly in the relief effort. World Vision, an international partnership of Chris tians committed to the relief of poverty, has about 400 staff members in Taiwan. According to Tim Shao, executive director of World Vision Taiwan, the organization mobilized more than 5,000 volunteers, sending them to rescue stations where they provided food and other necessities. "The rescue work being done by civilian organizations and the military is efficient," Shao readily admits. "But the outstanding feature this time around was the speed with which civilian volunteers responded to the tragedy."
The popular response also demonstrated that one does not have to be religious in order to want to help others. The day after the earthquake struck, the Chinese-language China Times, one of Taiwan's leading newspapers, took the initiative in bringing together more than twenty media organizations, including TV companies and radio stations, to facilitate the relief program.
At first, this formidable alliance concentrated on transporting much needed supplies to the worst-hit areas. This first stage of their operation lasted from September 22 to September 30. Capitalizing on its unique ability to spread the word, the alliance was able to garner goods rapidly from every corner of Taiwan and channel them to distribution centers based at the China Times' twenty-two bureaus around the island, where they were sorted and forwarded to the front line.
According to Wu Lin-lin, an assistant general manager of the China Times, every day the 18,000 square-foot plaza at the paper's complex in east Taipei was piled high with mountains of donations. "We had vehicles of all kinds, full of supplies, lined up around the block," she says. "Some people actually walked here, with stuff in their arms. They all just came and left things. But nobody wanted to leave a name."
The next step was to arrange a round-the-clock roster of volunteers whose job it was to prepare the goods for distribution in central Taiwan, where the damage was greatest. "Soldiers and police officers came to help, too," Wu recalls. "The work load was unbelievable, but I was glad to be involved. I felt privileged to see so many people devoting their time and energy to helping others in need."
Once the supplies reached the disaster area, civilian organizations were ready and waiting. In picturesque towns like Chichi and Puli, along with dozens of other less well-known places, Buddhist volunteers got busy preparing vegetarian food. Professional chefs from around Taiwan could be found cooking up a storm in tents by the roadside. In yet another tent, barbers were giving quake victims free haircuts. Teams of opticians were on hand to aid victims who had lost their glasses in the rubble.
The medical profession was well represented throughout. One group was headed by Kuo Chen-sheng, an osteopath from Kaohsiung. He brought a number of his students to Puli, where they treated residents who were suffering from sprains and dislocations as a result of the earthquake. Soon after their arrival, a few local inhabitants got together and arranged for them to occupy free accommodation in a nearby resort hotel. A local cable TV operator advertised their presence, and soon hordes of people were showing up for treatment, not only from Puli, where the visitors were based, but from neighboring towns as well. "I sense a tremendously powerful force stirring among the people of this island," says Kuo, whose group treated as many as 300 patients a day without charging a cent.
Kuo's sentiment is echoed by many others. The earthquake may have claimed more than 2,300 lives and ruined numer ous families, but Taiwan is already starting out along the road to reconstruction. "I don't know how many civilian groups have come here to help: There are too many to count, and that's why I feel so touched," says Chen Fang-tze, a native of Puli who used to run a restaurant before the disaster. "They come here, and when they leave it's only to go collect more supplies and come right back."
"You find that some people go away, but then other civilian groups just step into the breach," says Chen, who became a volunteer worker after the quake. Her husband, Wang Tze-hwa, a ceramist who moved to Puli from Taipei fifteen years ago, is also impressed by the relief efforts. "Before the earthquake, I never knew there were so many brands of mineral water," he jokes, in a reference to the superabundance of supplies dispatched by civilian organizations. "And the victims have become closer to each other. They talk, and they show that they care about their neighbors. I think this quake has really helped people bond."
Donors do not confine themselves to sending food and other supplies. The public has also contributed huge amounts of cash. A poll conducted two weeks after the disaster by Academia Sinica, Taiwan's most prestigious academic institution, indicated that around 80 percent of residents had donated money to reconstruction projects, while some 50 percent would continue to offer further financial aid in the future. The experiences of many NGOs bear this out: As of late September, for example, United Way of Taiwan, an affiliate of the Washington-based international fundraising organization United Way International, which specializes in devising the most effective ways of channeling voluntary donations, had received NT$9 million (US$281,250) earmarked for victims of the quake. According to official figures supplied by the Ministry of the Interior (MOI), as of October 12, more than NT$16 billion (US$500 million) had been donated in total.
Another poll, this time by a local cable TV company, came up with an interesting spin on how this money had been raised. It showed that 52 percent of donors chose to give money to charitable organizations, 13 percent to various local governments, and only 7 percent to the central government. The clear inference is that Taiwanese people have greater confi dence in NGOs, which are relatively free from red tape, than in their own government. But with more than a hundred separate civilian groups currently sponsoring fundraising activities, checking whether all of them are trustworthy has become an urgent priority. "In Taiwan, it's not unusual to find that the public's compassion is being abused," notes Chou Wen-chen, secretary-general of United Way of Taiwan. "The fact is, we lack proper mechanisms to monitor and channel the money that comes in."
In an attempt to alleviate the situation, the National Alliance for Post-Earthquake Reconstruction, an association of private individuals headed by Lee Yuan-tseh, Nobel laureate and president of Academia Sinica, was set up in early October. Its managing committee consists of representatives of local bar and accountancy regulatory bodies, the Consumers' Founda tion, and United Way of Taiwan. The organization's aim is to coordinate relief work and make the best use of money coming in. It will also supervise and accredit NGOs, as a means of helping them enhance their image with the public. The alliance has no legal powers to enforce accreditation, but its members know full well that public opinion is heavily in favor of some kind of regulation for bodies that receive donations, and about forty groups have already sought affiliation. The number is ex pected to grow rapidly.
The alliance plans to develop strong links with the media, thus enabling it to regularly update and publicize its list of accredited groups. It is also calling on people to report any organizations that solicit money without being on the approved list. "Then we can have prosecutors investigate them," Chou says. "My hope is that, once the quake is behind us, supervision of voluntary fundraising will become a normal, accepted part of the culture."
Financial donations and food parcels provide much needed help, but as the relief operation moves into the resettlement stage, more is needed if genuine recovery is to be guaranteed. "Reconstruction work doesn't just mean building new houses," Chou Wen-chen says. "It should also involve the long-term goal of mending broken hearts."
High on the list of society's priorities come children who were orphaned by the earthquake. According to the MOI's Department of Social Affairs, as of mid-October, 125 children under the age of twelve had been adopted by relatives after losing their parents, and social workers are urgently continuing their search for more orphans in the disaster area. But what about those children who do not have close relatives able or willing to take them in? Groups such as the Child Welfare League Foundation can help them find permanent homes. To date, more than 700 families islandwide have contacted the foundation, a non-profit organization established in 1991 to monitor all aspects of child welfare, signifying willingness to adopt quake orphans. These would-be foster parents will be strictly screened. They will also receive lengthy training and counseling, because the foundation regards adoption as a very serious matter.
Some commercial enterprises have also taken a special interest in the fate of these children. For example, Aetna Life Insurance Co. has announced that it will provide a monthly education allowance of NT$10,000 (US$312) for each orphan up to the age of twenty, or twenty-two if still in receipt of full-time education.
Such generosity can bring problems of its own, however. A child orphaned by the earthquake is likely to acquire large sums of money from a number of agencies, both governmental and non-governmental, to say nothing of individual dona tions. This is one reason why MOI social workers insist on carrying out thorough checks of putative adoptive parents--to make sure that they are not in it just for the money. Even when officials give the green light to adopt, the story is far from over. "No matter how keen relatives are to raise these children, the only question we ask is whether the child is being brought up properly," Chou says. Consequently, social workers will make regular visits to ensure the welfare of these adopted children.
If the young are being taken care of, what about the elderly? Many of them were bereaved by the disaster, and many more are homeless. Civil organizations such as Tzu Chi can give them temporary housing, but "spiritual" shelter is no less important. Similarly, the Taiwan Catholic Mission Foundation has offered to accommodate senior citizens in its ten hospitals and nursing homes around the island, but so far there have been remarkably few takers. "We've prepared everything for them, but not many come," says one of the foundation's voluntary workers. "I guess most of them are being taken care of by friends or relatives."
There is also widespread recognition of the need for trauma counseling in the aftermath of the disaster. Tim Shao of World Vision Taiwan says that his organization attaches a great deal of importance to comforting the injured and bereaved as a key part of the overall reconstruction process. "Since we're an international organization, we plan to bring in overseas experts," he says. "They'll train teams of local counselors, who will then do the actual work. That's our long-term goal here."
One question that has to be asked is how long this enthusiasm for doing good will last. Will people start to suffer from "compassion fatigue," as often happens elsewhere, or can the momentum be sustained? There are a number of encouraging signs. United Way of Taiwan is already pushing ahead with ambitious plans to rebuild welfare organizations in the damaged areas. The media alliance made possible by the China Times remains in existence, since the participants recognize that post -quake reconstruction work will take a long time to complete. "The idea is that the moment the government comes up with an important relief project, we can get together and lend a hand," says the paper's assistant general manager Wu Lin-lin. Tzu Chi is another organization that is in for the long haul. "Our care for the needy is always long-term," Her Rui-chan says. "We don't just show up and then disappear."
The road to recovery is bound to be arduous, but there are numerous indications that while the earthquake loosened bricks and mortar, it served to harden the social cement that binds Taiwanese together. As long as the recent astonishing outpouring of compassion does not evaporate, Taiwan seems likely to emerge from the tragedy stronger than ever before. It may also be an infinitely better place to live and raise a family.