For generations, Li Cheng-chieh and his family have lived off the tidal flats along Taiwan’s west coast, harvesting oysters and selling them to homes and in local markets. Four years ago, thick cables to transmit power from a new offshore wind project landed ashore, and workers dug trenches to bury them, churning up layers of sediment and debris that slowly killed nearly all their oysters.
“I often say I will be the last generation of oyster farmers here,” Li told Rest of World as he walked through his field, his feet sinking deep into the cold, thick mud. “There’s no way we can fight this.”
Li lives in the coastal township of Fangyuan in Changhua county, which is on the frontline of Taiwan’s offshore wind expansion. With its shallow waters and steady winds, it has drawn billions of dollars of investment in recent years, becoming the island’s most concentrated wind power zone. The energy is needed to meet the demand from the semiconductor industry, which produces advanced chips that power artificial intelligence systems worldwide. The sector’s energy demand is expected to grow eightfold by 2028.
Homegrown TSMC, the world’s largest contract chipmaker, has pledged to run on 100% renewable energy by 2040. Big tech firms like Apple and AMD are also pressing their suppliers in Taiwan to decarbonize. To meet those demands, Taiwan is aggressively expanding renewable energy, pledging that 20% of its power would come from green sources by 2025 — a goal it has missed.
Renewable energy contributed to about 12% of Taiwan’s power mix at the end of 2024, with wind accounting for a growing share. About 170 wind turbines operate off Changhua’s coast, built by state-backed and foreign developers including Taiwan Power Company, and Denmark’s Ørsted and CIP. That number is set to reach more than 400 this year.
The rapid expansion has already disrupted rural communities. Since installation of the offshore cables began around 2022, silt buildup has increased, coating oyster shells with mud, shrinking viable farming areas and cutting yields, Li and three other oyster farmers in Fangyuan told Rest of World. It is set to get worse for the more than 500 oyster farmers in the area.
An additional 21 cables are planned to cross Fangyuan’s tidal zone, according to Shih Yueh-ying, secretary-general of the Changhua Environmental Protection Union, which monitors environmental impacts in central Taiwan. “By the time these projects are completed, oyster farming here could have disappeared entirely,” Shih told Rest of World.
TSMC declined to comment on the social and community impacts associated with the renewable energy projects that supply its power. Taiwan Power Company, which owns the wind farm and landing cables linked to the disruption of Li’s farm, did not respond to a request for comment.
The company had earlier said it “places importance on the livelihoods of local fishers,” and that it has provided options, such as hiring them to operate guard vessels and training them to run maintenance vessels. It said it aims for “coexistence between offshore wind power and fisheries and the shared prosperity of wind farms and fishing grounds.”
Chips manufacture, which makes up nearly one-fifth of Taiwan’s gross domestic product, consumes large amounts of water and electricity. The government’s prioritization of the industry over traditional sectors has led to growing resentment among farmers, fishers, and others. The push for more land for solar farms and the deployment of more wind turbines to reduce emissions are causing conflict — much like in other countries including Norway and Kenya.
In Taiwan, the disruptions are not limited to those who farm the tidal lands. Lin Kuo-wen, 52, has been fishing in the waters off Fangyuan for more than two decades. He works from a small bamboo raft, setting gillnets along currents that once carried abundant fish along the coast.
When large vessels to level seabeds and drive turbine foundations appeared about five years ago, Lin’s nets pulled up debris instead of fish, he told Rest of World. Fish appear less frequently and at different times, disrupting patterns he had relied on for years.
“Before, on one trip, we could earn 10,000 to 20,000 New Taiwan dollars [$318–$635],” he said. “Now, even a few thousand feels lucky.” Many of the area’s 600 fishermen had quit, he added.
125 The number of wind turbines in Changhua, out of a total of more than 400 in operation.
Compensation from the developers has been uneven, Lin said. Only licensed fishing vessels are eligible, and oyster farmers are compensated only if cables pass directly through their farm. Lin’s raft is not considered an official vessel, and the cables didn’t cut through Li’s oyster farm.
“If you fall outside the system, there’s nothing,” Lin said.
Offshore wind farm developers are required to compensate fishermen for losses incurred during construction, a spokesperson for the Energy Administration at the Ministry of Economic Affairs told Rest of World. They are also required to contribute funds to “mitigate impacts on fisheries operations.”
The compensation ignores disproportionate impacts on gillnet fishers, who are particularly affected because turbines and exclusion zones directly obstruct their operating areas, some fishers said. Many have staged protests by surrounding construction platforms at sea.
The conflict is rooted in how Taiwan governs the sea, according to Lu Hsin-yi, a professor at National Taiwan University who has studied offshore wind and fisheries for more than a decade. The government retains ownership of marine space and delegates management to fishery associations.
To justify development, projects must demonstrate that earlier uses of the sea, especially fishing, are of relatively low economic value, Lu told Rest of World. At the same time, offshore wind is presented as a mark of technological progress and innovation.
That framing “forces them into a defensive posture,” she said. “They have to show their fishing grounds are productive and valuable just to argue they shouldn’t be displaced.”
The push for wind energy has also moved inland. Fangyuan and neighboring townships in Changhua now host some of the densest clusters of onshore wind farms in Taiwan. Of a total of more than 400 onshore wind turbines in operation, Changhua accounts for the largest share with 125 turbines, the spokesperson from the Ministry of Economic Affairs said.
In Fangyuan’s Hanbao village, Chuang Chuan-lung lives beside a clam farm now surrounded by 20 turbines — the closest is less than 200 meters from his home. As the sun sets, the spinning blades cast flickering shadows on his windows and walls. At night, the low frequency noise from the turbines leaves him with ringing ears and sleepless nights, the 78-year-old told Rest of World.
More than 650 families depend on clam farms. Chuang believes the vibration and noise cause his clams to shut their shells and stop feeding, while dust and other residue from the turbines that wash into his ponds have killed them. Decades ago, Chuang harvested more than 18,000 kilograms per hectare (nearly 40,000 pounds per 2.4 acres), he said. Today, yield has fallen to less than 4,200 kilograms per hectare. Supermarkets that once bought his clams no longer accept them because of their poor quality, he said.
At least five of the 20 turbines have leaked oil into the ponds directly beneath them, according to Hanbao village chief Cheng Peng-feng. WPD Taiwan, Shinfox Energy, and TCC Green Energy, which operate the turbines in Hanbao, did not respond to requests for comment from Rest of World.
Developers are required to conduct public briefings and comply with environmental and noise regulations, the spokesperson from the Energy Administration told Rest of World. “Information disclosure and community engagement are intended to balance renewable energy development with local livelihoods.”
Villagers are pushing back. Since 2023, proposals for about 50 onshore wind turbines in Fangyuan have triggered demonstrations. But with more turbines planned in nearby areas, Chuang fears the worst is yet to come.
“The government says it needs green energy, I get it,” he said. “But rural communities like us have nowhere else to go.”
