Those Standing in the Middle / Those Who Made a Choice

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

This quote is often used to condemn those who remain silent, calling them accomplices as well.

At first, I agreed with this sentiment—until I remembered the “gap instinct” (or the binary fallacy) discussed in the book Factfulness. The binary fallacy refers to dividing the world into just two groups. In the real world, however, there is always a “spectrum.” Not speaking up doesn’t necessarily mean indifference—someone might be working silently behind the scenes without you ever noticing. Likewise, speaking out doesn’t always signal true commitment; it could just be a casual like and share before going right back to scrolling through social media.

What I mean to say is that everyone exists on a spectrum regarding every issue. When it comes to political and social matters, some will naturally delve deeper, while others simply understand the general idea.

Moreover, when reflecting on these topics, we often overlook time as a crucial factor. When I was a six-year-old child, all I cared about was eating donuts and rushing to the park after school. As we grow older, the issues we care about naturally evolve with our age and career.

Today, I want to talk about those who fight while bearing scars. First, let me tell a story:

Back in high school, I rode my bicycle to school every day. One day, a man on a scooter frantically approached me and asked, “Could you lend me 100 NTD? I need to ride back to Fengshan right now, but I’m out of gas. Please, I’m begging you.” Naive as I was back then, I hesitated for a moment, because 100 NTD meant an entire day’s worth of meals for me. In the end, I decided to take out the money and hand it to him.

“I’ll pay you back next time I see you around here,” the man said with a smile, riding away into the distance. Of course, I never really expected him to return the money.

A few weeks later, I saw him again at the very same street corner, pulling the exact same routine. Was he waiting specifically for me? Of course not. I watched him as I rode past; he was using the same trick to scam money from passersby. Honestly, it was a far more lucrative hustle than regular begging.

Later on, charity pen scams became prevalent. Every time I set foot in Zuoying Station, I would see them aggressively pitching pens, calling over their peers the moment they sensed someone taking the bait. I was one of the victims.

Without having seen the news or encountered such schemes before, it was easy to be moved by the ideals they preached. A single charity pen cost 300 NTD. Even though something felt off, I chalked it up to being supportive and paid up. I still remember the predatory glee on their faces as I pulled out the cash.

In college, I’d occasionally see people in wheelchairs selling chewing gum and pocket tissues on the sidewalk. Once, needing tissues, I bought a pack. I only remember it cost far more than regular tissues, and the material inside was poorly made, rough recycled paper.

On my way home from a part-time job (around 11 PM), a man approached me and asked if I could lend him 300 to 400 NTD for a highway bus ticket back to Taichung. Having been burned before, I peppered him with questions to see if he was genuinely taking the bus. He sounded sincere enough, so despite my inner conflict, I gave him the money. Yet sure enough, a week later, I saw him once again on the exact same street in Taipei.

None of these experiences seem that serious on the surface—at least I wasn’t trafficked to Cambodia, maimed, or stripped of my life savings—but they were enough to leave a lingering shadow.

While there are certainly people out there who genuinely need help, finding them feels like searching for a needle in a haystack. When your own life is barely getting by, having your hard-earned goodwill trampled upon after offering it to someone stings. It feels far more practical to save that money for a couple of video games or a few cups of coffee.

I believe there are also those who once stepped forward to speak out and take action, only to be attacked, deceived, and ultimately silenced. How many people in this world have stepped up with bright ideals, only to end up battered, bruised, and gradually disillusioned—only to be labeled “the silent ones”? Among those who manage to stay in the public eye, who isn’t covered in scars?

Stop judging others with your binary standards.