From house hoarding to unsustainable flood management, Taiwan’s cities must tackle a myriad of issues to reach their sustainability goals.

STORY AND PHOTOS BY STEVEN CROOK

If Taiwan’s efforts to embrace sustainability and tackle climate change are to have meaningful impact, its cities will have to be front and center. Urban areas cover less than an eighth of the island’s land mass, but they are home to more than four-fifths of Taiwan’s population. The characteristics of these towns and cities shape behavior and consumption patterns for the country as a whole and affect the overall carbon footprint.

The “built environment” influences how much time people spend outdoors, how often they turn on their air-conditioning, how they get to work or school, and even – as recent research suggests – how likely they are to be prescribed antidepressants. Urban planning can also either mitigate or exacerbate extreme heat, drought, and flooding.

“Industry leaders are pushing Taiwan’s built environment in the right direction,” says Shawn Jang, the Taichung-based managing director of RCI Engineering, a consulting firm focused on decarbonizing and inspiring a net-zero future. “Requirements for public buildings are becoming more rigorous.”

Within the private sector, he says, there are growing incentives to obtain certifications, such as those awarded through the Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) rating system in the U.S. or Taiwan’s EEWH equivalent that covers ecology, energy, waste reduction, and health. Listed companies on Taiwan’s TWSE and TPEx bourses now also face strict ESG disclosure requirements that include greenhouse gas emission data and goals.   

In addition, local architecture schools have begun to teach sustainability, “which they didn’t when I first got here in 2012,” says Jang, a Marylander on the faculty of Feng Chia University in Taichung who currently teaches what he believes is Asia’s first LEED Lab course. 

“I’m fortunate to work with companies that are leaders in the industry, but sometimes it’s still a bit of a tug-of-war, trying to educate property owners as to why there’s an urgency to construct more efficient buildings and to be considerate of the environment and human health,” he says.

Jang notes that many of Taiwan’s property developers see little reason to invest in energy efficiency or rainwater harvesting. Utility bills will be paid by tenants, after all.

But Jang also has clients who demonstrate exceptional environmental consciousness. “One is aiming for an 80% reduction in waste during the construction phase, so we’re looking into how this can be achieved by recycling and choosing different materials and construction methods,” he explains.

Jang’s company, RCI, has also guided several clients to improve the operation and maintenance of longstanding commercial properties. “Each time you renovate, it’s an opportunity to make your building greener and reduce carbon emissions,” he says. During a recent project, RCI helped the owners of a 15-story hotel in Taichung reduce electricity consumption by 18%, water consumption by 10%, and waste from remodeling by 12%.

Producing concrete and steel requires a great deal of energy, yet the environmental impact of Taiwan’s build-demolish-build cycle goes beyond construction-related carbon emissions. For reinforced-concrete structures, every square meter of floor area generates an estimated 1.8 kilograms of dust and 0.14 cubic meters of solid waste during construction, plus a further 1.23 cubic meters of solid waste when the building is eventually demolished. Unsurprisingly, it is often said that “the greenest building is the one that already exists.”

In Jang’s view, buildings scheduled for demolition should be evaluated to see if any materials can be recovered and reused. He says that some prospective green-architecture projects have been stymied by what he describes as “overly restrictive” regulations. For example, Taiwan’s green building standards stipulate that the window area-to-wall ratio should not exceed 1:1. 

But Jang now sees a greater understanding among government officials of the “heat-island effect,” in which asphalt and concrete absorb and retain daytime heat, resulting in city-center temperatures far above those in the suburbs. To make it easier for residents to extend balconies or decks that add greenery to the neighborhood, some local governments have amended rules that prevented homeowners from expanding their living spaces.

In an overheating city, adding foliage is always a good thing. Trees and plants reduce temperatures through evapotranspiration and by blocking direct sunlight. Leaves trap particulate pollution and dampen traffic noise. Several local governments recognize these benefits – among them Taipei, Tainan, and Kaohsiung – and encourage residents to create rooftop gardens that nurture insects, in turn sustaining birds and bats.

Utilizing nature

City parks, often part of urban sustainability efforts, rarely reach their full potential in terms of biodiversity due to overzealous tidying, as pointed out in a 2020 article published by the nonprofit media Environmental Information Center, which called for greater ecological awareness among citizens and urban planners. Although many parkgoers prefer an environment free of fallen branches and leaves, the report said, dead leaves make for healthier soil and “seemingly useless deadwood is often home to insects and some birds.”

According to Liao Kuei-hsien, an associate professor at National Taipei University and director of the Taiwan Rivers Network, official policy relies too heavily on physical infrastructure while neglecting nonstructural measures. Trees and plants, for example, can help mitigate flooding in urban areas by slowing raindrops and absorbing water. Most rivers and creeks flowing through Taiwan’s cities are hemmed in by floodwalls and levees or have been heavily channelized. This practice, together with dams and diversion channels, typifies the authorities’ traditional approach to flood management.

Humans are not the only creatures that are impacted. Unpolluted, unmodified rivers host frogs, fish, insects, and various plants and microorganisms that support bird and reptile populations. The encasement of smaller waterways in concrete – known among local engineers as sanmianguang (三面光, “three smooth sides”) – “eradicates entire stream ecosystems,” Liao says.

While lamenting how “urban waterways have been managed as if they only create flood hazards and have no other value whatsoever,” Liao acknowledges that central and local governments are starting to appreciate the ecological and recreational functions of urban streams and rivers.

Rivers and streams are at times redirected to enable floodwater to drain faster, which may protect one location, but often increases flood risk downstream. Liao notes that transferring risk from one community to another raises questions about environmental justice.

“Another problem is that such infrastructure creates a false sense of security,” says Liao. “People often wrongly assume that flooding will no longer occur. However, there’s always the possibility of a flood exceeding the infrastructure’s limits. Extreme flooding is even more likely in the face of extreme storms.”

If society can prepare and adapt, flooding incidents don’t have to turn into disasters, Liao says. Stressing that it is impossible to eliminate flooding, she calls for a paradigm shift in flood risk management.

“We should seek to prevent flood damage and reduce losses,” she says. “This requires an understanding that flood risk is always there, and we need to stay alert. This goes back to people having a false sense of security. If the government reassures everyone that they’ve spent a gigantic amount on flood control infrastructure – which they have – it’s unlikely citizens will imagine they need to do anything.”

“There’s an increasing call for nonstructural measures,” Liao adds. “For example, land-use planning to avoid the development of flood-prone areas, planting more trees to intercept rainfall before it flows into drains, flood insurance, and adaptive measures at the level of individual properties. However, these still play a very, very minor role, and the general public wrongly considers flood management to be solely the responsibility of the government.”  

Liao says she is pleased to see that the “Sponge City” concept – which aims to alleviate flood risk, water shortages, and urban overheating – has been gaining traction throughout Taiwan, even if the implementation has been “far from perfect.”

She points to efforts by the Water Resources Agency of the Ministry of Economic Affairs and the Soil and Water Conservation Bureau of the Council of Agriculture to explore nature-based solutions to flood management and recent amendments to the Water Act as evidence that “mindsets and practices are gradually shifting in a better direction.” Nonetheless, Liao says that “most urban streams and rivers are still in an awful state, so I hope the government can be more aggressive and move faster.”

Wasted space

In the opinion of Lin Jen-jia, a professor of geography at National Taiwan University, the building of MRT systems is not always beneficial in environmental or social terms. In the July 2020 issue of The Bulletin of the Geographical Society of China, Lin raised the issue of “MRT-induced gentrification,” which causes tenants to face massive rent hikes once their neighborhood gains a metro station. Those who can stay notice that many of the businesses that previously characterized their communities – such as family-run noodle stands – disappear and are replaced by chain stores, the only businesses able to afford the higher rents for storefronts.

Aside from the question of social justice, the phenomenon decreases the overall environmental benefit of building a metro system. Workers displaced from gentrified areas may ride scooters for part or all of their (now longer) commutes. In addition, extending MRT lines contributes to urban sprawl.

Jang suggests that to help preserve what remains of rural Taiwan, the government should further incentivize the redevelopment of brownfield sites (abandoned or idled industrial and commercial properties), including those that require soil or groundwater remediation. At the same time, environmentally sensitive areas should be better protected. Instead of demolishing old buildings in historic neighborhoods, Jang would like to see them imaginatively revitalized.

In theory, Taiwan could achieve a significant cut in greenhouse gas emissions simply by curtailing overbuilding. Every unused structure represents not just a huge waste of construction materials but also a plot that could have been devoted to agriculture, flood mitigation, or carbon-capturing forestry.

According to a report by Business Today, the number of vacant dwellings in Taiwan rose from 1.23 million to 1.66 million between 2000 and 2020. In contrast, England – which has a population more than double that of Taiwan – had 600,000 vacant homes in late 2020.

Inherited ancestral homes and properties that are too shabby or remote to attract buyers account for some of Taiwan’s unoccupied houses and apartments, but a surprising number of empty buildings are new. Of dwellings completed less than five years before 2020, 32% of those with one to three rooms were unoccupied, according to a survey by the Ministry of Interior. The rate for buildings with four to nine rooms was 43%. For those with 10 or more rooms, it was close to 62%.

As Taiwan Business TOPICS reported last November, the authorities have taken a series of actions to curb “house hoarding,” or the purchase by one person of several properties, to increase the supply of affordable housing. It is too early to say if these efforts will have much effect, but in the first seven months of 2022, property transactions in the six major municipalities fell by 1.4% compared to a year earlier.

Protecting Taiwan’s natural and semi-natural landscapes should be a priority for any government serious about sustainability. Politically, implementing a law that permits new construction only if the new building doesn’t exceed the carbon footprint of the previously existing building would be extremely difficult, even though it would help keep Taiwan from being gradually enveloped by concrete.