Taiwan’s Migrant Exodus: Escaping Oppression to Find Freedom on the Edge

This piece was created in collaboration with the Pulitzer Center.

Taichung City, Taiwan – Bernard lives with a sense of trepidation.

As he navigates the bustling streets of Taiwan on his way to work, the 45-year-old Filipino migrant worker carefully avoids eye contact and frequently adjusts his mask to maintain his anonymity.

In an effort to disguise his accent, he often speaks softly.

He frequently declines social invitations from his compatriots, fearing that there might be a “betrayer” among them who could alert the authorities.

Having arrived in Taiwan legally for work at one of its electronics factories in 2016, Bernard’s situation changed drastically in June 2024 when he became part of a growing number of undocumented workers. He attributes his current plight to his broker—an employment agent commonly assigned to migrants.

His broker attempted to seize his passport, he claims, and pressured him to resign, waiving severance benefits from his employer.

After resisting both efforts, their relationship soured, Bernard recounted to Al Jazeera. “Brokers only approach you when it’s time to collect payments or when they want to deceive you,” he explained, requesting the use of a pseudonym out of fear.

In Taiwan, brokers take a significant portion of migrant workers’ earnings and exert considerable influence over countless aspects of their lives, making room for potential exploitation.

Upon his contract’s expiration in 2022, Bernard found himself blacklisted by his broker among other employers.

Desperate to afford his daughter’s education back in the Philippines, he made the difficult decision to overstay his visa and take on irregular construction work. “I feel like a bird trapped in a cage,” he admitted.

Publicly, Bernard refrains from uttering the word “undocumented,” opting instead to communicate non-verbally about his escape.

The situation for undocumented workers in Taiwan is worsening rapidly.

This January, there were an estimated 90,000 unregistered migrants living on the island, a number that has doubled over the last four years, according to the Ministry of Labor.

Despite Taiwan’s reputation as one of the few liberal democracies in the region, many Southeast Asian migrant workers find themselves constantly imperiled by potential deportation and lack of access to essential social services.

The island institutionalized its broker system in 1992 to simplify labor recruitment.

Brokers have considerable sway over nearly every facet of a migrant worker’s existence—from housing arrangements to meal provisions, employment contracts, and access to public services.

Advocates for migrant rights argue that this degree of control is contributing to a significant number of workers fleeing their jobs.

Official data shows that over one-third of migrant complaints to the Ministry of Labor relate to broker issues.

As of January 2025, the Vietnamese community represented the largest group of undocumented workers at 57,611, followed by Indonesians at 28,363, and Filipinos at 2,750.

Joy Tajonera, a Catholic priest who operates a migrant shelter named the Ugnayan Center in Taichung City, contends that the government has been too lenient on this pressing issue.

“The system empowers brokers in ways that negatively impact migrants,” Tajonera stated. “Employers often feign ignorance.”

Brokers typically charge migrant workers a monthly fee between $50 and $60, along with additional charges for services such as job transfers, health insurance, and documentation.

Some brokers even set age limits for specific job opportunities.

Tajonera noted that many undocumented workers could earn more without a broker, but they would lose all social protections and health insurance, leading many to feel they have no other choice but to abandon their brokers.

‘Shameless and reckless’

The Taiwanese Labor Ministry recently attributed the spike in undocumented migrants to disruptions caused by the pandemic that delayed deportations.

The Ministry has announced measures to enhance conditions for migrant workers, including wage increases, routine inspections of recruitment agencies, and methods to suspend agencies with high absconding rates.

“Through pre-employment orientations for industrial migrants and one-stop orientation sessions for household caregivers, the ministry aims to raise awareness about legal obligations and the risks of going missing,” the ministry added.

However, it has also raised the maximum fines for overstaying a visa from $330 to $1,657 since last year.

Lennon Ying-Da Wang, director of the public migrant shelter Serve the People Association, condemned the government’s decision to increase penalties, calling it “shameless and reckless.”

“Rather than addressing the root causes that lead migrants to abscond, this simply discourages them from coming forward,” he told Al Jazeera.

According to Wang, insufficient protection measures, particularly in sectors such as childcare and fishing, are critical factors driving many migrants to flee.

Neither industry is governed by Taiwan’s monthly minimum wage of $944 as dictated by the Labor Standards Act.

Wang highlighted that many migrants effectively earn only half of that amount after broker deductions.

“Migrant workers are simply seeking fair wages,” he said. “But some brokers have an unspoken rule against hiring workers who reach out for help from shelters. This often forces them to escape.”

Despite his compassion, Wang, as the leader of a state-funded facility, is unable to accept migrants who have fled their employers due to the risk of deportation.

Nestled on a quiet street in the outskirts of Taipei, Harmony Home provides sanctuary for undocumented young mothers and children.

While the women and children at Harmony Home cannot be deported for humanitarian reasons, the state is not obligated to cover their care or medical expenses.

The NGO has welcomed over 1,600 children in the past two decades, and founder Nicole Yang reports a significant increase in minors seeking assistance. “Last year, we took in around 110 new children. By April this year, we’ve had 140,” she informed Al Jazeera. “We also support 300 others at home while their mothers work.”

Li-Chuan Liu-Huang, a labor expert at National Chung Cheng University, indicated that although dismantling the broker system may be complex, the government could enhance regulation by making recruitment processes and fee structures more transparent.

In Lishan, a mountainous region of Taichung, numerous undocumented Southeast Asian migrants harvest peaches, pears, and cabbages for local farmers. The presence of these workers, many of whom have escaped abusive conditions on fishing vessels, is often tolerated and even relied upon for crops.

Liu-Huang advocates for allowing such migrants to work legally with proper labor protections, but she acknowledges that public acceptance may be challenging.

“The government must engage in meaningful dialogue about this issue,” she insisted.

Mary, another worker who preferred to use a pseudonym, left her job in childcare due to insufficient wages and a lack of responsiveness from her broker, opting instead for illegal work at local mountain farms.

While sitting beside a cabbage patch, the 46-year-old expressed her ongoing anxiety about police presence in the city.

In Lishan, however, she found the dynamics to be different, claiming that landowners maintain unspoken agreements with authorities regarding undocumented workers.

“It’s impossible for the boss not to know someone in the police. He always alerts us when they are coming and tells us to stay indoors,” she explained.

However, even in the mountains, mistreatment persists.

After harvest season, employers sometimes withhold pay, threatening to report complaints to the authorities, Mary said. “If I raise the issue of unpaid wages, I risk being reported. Who will help me?” she lamented.