Last week, Taiwan held its annual air raid drills.
Streets emptied for 30 minutes. Sirens rang. Pedestrians rushed home, soldiers ran into the subway, and foreign correspondents rushed to file yet another dispatch about the “imminent threat of war” across the Taiwan Strait.
You probably heard about it. But what you've probably not heard is that Taiwan is in the middle of one of the biggest democratic movements of the year.
There is no shortage of international coverage when Chinese jets approach Taiwan’s airspace, even if it’s for the 100th time. But when Taiwanese citizens mobilise to recall nearly a quarter of their parliament, it barely makes the news.
Let me be clear: the recall campaign currently underway in Taiwan is one of the most significant political events of the year in the Indo-Pacific, possibly in the democratic world. But apparently this is not glamorous enough for Western headlines.
Here’s what’s going on.
A massive grassroots effort has gathered the signatures required to trigger official recall votes against 31 sitting members of Taiwan’s parliament, the Legislative Yuan. Most recall votes will happen on 26 July and a few more in the subsequent weeks.
These are not symbolic gestures. In Taiwan’s recall system, if enough people vote yes in the next stage, those legislators are out. They cannot run again. If their parties want to keep the seat at the subsequent gap election, they must field a new candidate.
This isn’t new to Taiwan. A few years ago, Kaohsiung’s mayor was recalled in a landslide after merely a year and a half in office. That same mechanism is now being used across the country.
And yet, outside of Taiwan, there’s barely a whisper. Instead, we get more analyses about “what would an invasion look like”. Even when nothing happens.
Part of the problem lies in how foreign media see Taiwan. There’s a script: China growls, the United States hesitates, Taiwan trembles, the world reacts.
The backdrop matters.
In the January 2024 general election, the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) held onto the presidency, but lost its majority in parliament. The opposition Kuomintang (KMT), traditionally more open to engagement with China, gained enough seats to form a majority coalition in the Legislative Yuan. Since then, the new parliamentary majority has attempted to push through a series of bills on defence, media, budget, and national security. Such reforms are widely seen as weakening Taiwan’s democratic resilience and playing into Beijing’s hands.
In response, civil society rose. And not only with street protests. Volunteers, many of them women, set out to collect signatures, setting up tables and placards to invite people passing by to sign recall petitions. I’ve seen them work. I’ve watched strangers stand in line to sign forms aimed at removing their legislator from office.
So why isn’t it making headlines? Why, when we constantly hear Taiwan praised as a “vibrant democracy”, are we ignoring the moment when this democracy is the most vibrant?
Part of the problem lies in how foreign media see Taiwan. There’s a script: China growls, the United States hesitates, Taiwan trembles, the world reacts. Editors are quick to greenlight stories on missile drills, but hesitant when things get messy, complicated, and local. Even though the outcome of the recall will determine the course taken by the country that stands at the hinge of the region.
The KMT legislators being recalled are playing the press skilfully as well. They have accused the government of orchestrating the campaign. They’ve offered no proof. They play on the stereotypical view held overseas that Taiwanese people are incapable of a genuine, spontaneous, grassroots movement. They tried to retaliate by initiating recalls against DPP legislators but they did not gather enough signatures.
Considering the long history of activism displayed by the Taiwanese, such as the Sunflower movement of 2014 that protested closer bonds with China, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that they can set up a mass recall campaign.
Campaigners, on the other hand, have faced real threats: online doxxing, vandalised cars, and even violence. They show none of the sophistication of a party machine. They started on Facebook groups that grew into a monstrously efficient mass movement, while still retaining a distinctively amateurish flavour.
But it’s easier to quote a press release than to talk to a volunteer holding a clipboard in the sun. And in a media world saturated with “China experts,” field journalism has become a rare commodity.
This is worsened by the tired fear of appearing “partisan”, as if explaining the reasons why campaigners are putting so much effort in removing these legislators was somehow agreeing with them. But see it this way: when American, British, French, or Australian voters protest against their leaders, surely you want to know why they are doing it – and being told about their motivations doesn't equal agreeing with them. Why should Taiwan be treated differently?
Let’s be honest: the world doesn’t need more speculative takes about war. Especially when it has been demonstrated time and time again in recent years that China leads a war of narratives and of political influence much more than a military one. We need more coverage of how democracies defend themselves before the bullets fly.
Taiwan is doing exactly that, by using the rule of law, institutional tools, and civic participation to hold power accountable. It’s not sexy. It doesn’t come with fighter jets. But it’s real.
And if we truly care about democracy in the Indo-Pacific, we should start paying attention to what’s unfolding on the ground, not just what might happen in the air.
