CW: Discussions of rape, violence, and murder which may be distressing to some readers
As I sat down to write this article, I glanced at my phone to find a news alert from the BBC: “Two MET police officers charged with sexual assault while on the job”.
This is a sobering reminder of the dangers women face, not only from potential attackers on the streets, but also from those tasked with protecting us. In the UK, we not only fear people, but we are also at risk from the very institutions that are meant to keep us safe. This poses the following question; do we need harsher laws?
Returning to England from Taiwan, after experiencing a year of almost unrelenting safety, has been reawakening. I now find myself recalibrating to a life where simple acts—like walking alone at night—require constant vigilance, where my keys are firmly gripped between my fingers. In Taiwan, even in the dead of night, the streets were welcoming. There, I could walk freely, without a second thought, even in unfamiliar areas. London, by contrast, feels like a labyrinth of potential threats.
This stark contrast has made me realise just how different life is for women in East Asia compared to the UK. While in Taiwan, I never realised I had the luxury of walking freely at night until I returned to a reality where safety is never guaranteed. I’m constantly reminded of the necessity to re-acclimatize to a society where safety is not an inherent given.
Fear of the Law vs. Fear of the People
A fundamental reason for inherent safety in Taiwan is because of the law. In Taiwan, the rule of law is not just respected, it is feared.
Harsh penalties, including the potential for capital punishment in cases of rape, create a powerful deterrent and thus keep its women safe. In the UK, by contrast, the legal system is far more forgiving, emphasising rehabilitation over retribution. While this approach aligns with the principles of civil liberty, it fails to provide the same level of safety and security.
From what I’ve seen, Taiwanese society operates on the principle of “fear the law, not the people.” This manifests itself in a profound sense of personal security. Contrast this with London, where even the most mundane activities, like commuting home at 5 pm in the winter months, often come with an undercurrent of unease.
In England, women’s fears extend beyond potential attackers to even include those tasked with their protection: the police force. The case of Sarah Everard, who was abducted, raped, and murdered by a serving police officer, Wayne Couzens, is a chilling reminder of the vulnerabilities women face even within the structures designed to ensure their safety. This evidences the systemic issues in a society where trust in law enforcement has eroded, leaving women questioning if anyone can truly be trusted to protect us.
The Taiwanese Approach to Safety
Taiwan’s low crime rate is a point of pride, and it is not an accident.
The country enforces laws that many in the West might consider extreme. Penalties for violent crimes are severe, and the judicial system takes a zero-tolerance approach to such offenses. The possibility of capital punishment for rape sends a clear message: certain crimes are intolerable, and the consequences are non-negotiable. This legal framework shapes societal behaviour. Broadly speaking, Taiwanese people are deeply aware of the consequences of unlawful actions, and this awareness fosters a culture of caution and respect. The result is a society where women can move freely, day or night, without fear.
Comparatively in the UK, crimes of sexual abuse can lead to a sentence as short as a few months. For victims, this disparity is not just about punishment; it is about the message sent by the legal system. In Taiwan, the severity of the penalties reflects a commitment to protecting women and ensuring their safety. In the UK, the leniency of sentences often leaves victims feeling betrayed by the very system that is supposed to deliver justice, and the low conviction rates for sexual crimes contribute to a pervasive sense of helplessness and distrust in the legal system.
Civil Liberty vs. Collective Safety
Critics of Taiwan’s approach might argue that harsh laws infringe on civil liberties. However, having experienced the tangible benefits of such a system, the trade-off can seem worthwhile. While living in Taiwan, I felt an unprecedented sense of freedom—a paradox, perhaps, given the strictness of the laws. The absence of fear was liberating. It allowed me to explore, travel, and live without the constant shadow of danger that accompanies my life as a woman in many other parts of the world.
One night in Taipei, I found myself walking home alone after midnight, slightly tipsy after a night out with friends. The streets were quiet, the neon lights casting long shadows on the pavement. Despite the hour and my vulnerability, I felt no fear. A group of young men passed me, laughing and chatting among themselves, and I felt safe. Such encounters were routine; unremarkable. Contrast this with an evening in London, where a similar situation would never even have occurred as women are taught to never head home alone. Had it been in London, every sound, every passing figure, would have been scrutinized. The same group of men, encountered in a dark street, would have set my heart racing—not because of any specific threat, but because of the pervasive culture of fear that women navigate daily in the UK.
Taiwan’s model offers valuable lessons for societies grappling with issues of safety and security. While the exact policies may not be directly transferable, the underlying principles merit consideration. Stricter laws, robust enforcement, and a cultural emphasis on respect and accountability can create an environment where safety is the norm, not the exception.
This is not to say that harsher laws are a panacea. Taiwan’s approach works in part because it is supported by a cohesive social fabric and a collective commitment to the rule of law. Importing harsh penalties without addressing the broader cultural context would likely be ineffective. However, a more balanced approach, one that combines accountability with rehabilitation, could bridge the gap between the UK’s current system and the safety we deserve.
Rethinking Safety
As debates about law and order continue, it is worth reflecting on the experiences of countries like Taiwan. The trade-offs between civil liberty and collective safety are complex, but they cannot be ignored. For women, the freedom to move through the world without fear should be a fundamental right, but it is one that is overlooked in discussions about criminal justice.
The case of Sarah Everard serves as a stark reminder of the UK’s failure to protect its women, both from predators and from systemic shortcomings within law enforcement. It is a tragic illustration of a society that prioritizes the rights of the accused over the safety of its most vulnerable. Returning to London has reminded me of the fragility of that freedom. It has made me question the effectiveness of our current system and the values that underpin it. Most of all, it has reaffirmed my belief that safety should not be a privilege, but a guarantee—one that requires courage, compromise, and a willingness to learn from others.