Siaolin Stands Up

Bouncing over ruined roads washed out by Typhoon Morakot (some roadbeds have been transformed into river beds), a group of scholars (including myself) drove to the township of Chia-hsien 甲仙 (Kaohsiung County) on August 18 to attend a press conference marking the formation of the Reconstruction Committee for Siaolin’s Plains Aborigine Culture (小林平埔文化重建委員會). Arriving in Chia-hsien, one is soon struck by the roar of helicopters and generators, as well as the smell of flood debris and betel nut juice, which serve to cover up other odors. Power has been restored, but there is still no running water, which puts a huge strain on the limited number of Port-a-pots available to disaster victims now sheltering in local temples. Relief supplies are relatively plentiful, but distribution remains haphazard, and appeals for needed items are issued on a regular basis.

The press conference was held to initiate planning for the rebuilding of Siaolin Village 小林村 (Xiaolin; Sio-na in Southern Min), once a center of Taiwan’s Plains Aborigine (平埔族) culture. Today, all that remains is a massive tomb of mud containing the corpses of hundreds of victims buried under a five-storey landslide that engulfed the village when two nearby mountainsides collapsed (Recent reports allege that the landslide may have been caused by a faulty water diversion project (越域引水工程), which involved dynamiting mountainsides to build a massive tunnel from two major rivers to a nearby reservoir). Searchers have started to find some remains, including those of a mother and child hugging each other during their final moments on earth. They are also digging up body parts, some surrounded by pools of blood. Local tallies list a total of 491 individuals missing and presumed dead, but they have yet to be granted to the dignity of being recognized by the state. According to government statistics posted on the Center for Disaster Prevention and Relief (災害防救中心) website on the day of the press conference, 136 people have been listed as dead and 337 missing, with 71 of the dead and all of the missing coming from Kaohsiung County. As for the Siaolin villagers, their status is currently "under investigation" (查證中).



The difficulties surrounding the aftermath of the Siaolin tragedy reflect larger problems with the overall disaster response and relief effort, not to mention reports of high-ranking officials going out for banquets, wedding parties, and hairstyling appointments during and immediately after the typhoon. The result has been a tidal wave of disappointment, disbelief, and disgust that has transcended the usual party lines. One on-going Yahoo forum contains 3,818 essays commenting on President Ma’s performance (up from over 1,000 just two weeks ago), while a recent ICRT poll had 14,998 people (96%) responding in the affirmative to the question of whether Ma should step down, with a mere 513 (3%) saying there was no need for him to do so.

All this is of little import to the Siaolin survivors, however, who are simply trying to cope with the magnitude of their loss. The press conference we took part in, which started just after noon, was packed. It began with a deeply moving film prepared by Professor Chien Wen-min 簡文敏, who has been studying Siaolin’s Plains Aborigine culture for over a decade. For 4 minutes, we watched scenes of Siaolin’s vibrant village life before the disaster struck, followed by images of devastation and mourning, but concluding with survivors expressing their wish to rebuild. Dozens of villagers showed up while film was running, so it was shown a second time. Chien then explained the Reconstruction Committee’s goals, namely to build a safe and secure community that would be healthy and eco-friendly, while also preserving the essence of Plains Aborigine culture (安定、安全，具有平埔文化特色的健康生態社區). This was followed by remarks by village leaders (林建忠 and 蔡松瑜), scholars, and other outside experts. Villagers also had a chance to express their feelings of grief, frustration, and anger. In their closing statements, the village leaders called for an end to all tears in favor of a new sense of self-reliance, so that Siaolin’s future would be assured (there are now plans to establish a private foundation to help achieve that goal). Finally, the leaders left the podium and joined the villagers in loud chants of "Go Siaolin!" (小林加油). The Reconstruction Committee starts its work this Friday, while a second set of mourning rituals for the victims (二七) will be held on Saturday.

If history is any guide, the prospects for recovery are not as dim as they might seem. Residents of this part of southern Taiwan have suffered worse calamities in the past, especially during the Ta-pa-ni Incident, which caused thousands of deaths. Those who have toughed it out are fiercely independent and resilient. They have rebuilt before, and they certainly have the ability to do so again. However, many other communities have also been devastated. It will take much more time and a lot more hard work before the job can be fully and well done.

Fell Rains

The people of southern Taiwan are suffering the ravages of the worst flooding to hit the island in 50 years. This tragedy was brought about by Typhoon Morakot, which combined with a tropical depression near the Philippines to produce a blob of tropical moisture nearly 1,000 kilometers in diameter that dumped between 6-7 FEET of rain on Taiwan's southern regions from August 7-9, 2009, with the most severe rainfall occurring on August 8 (Taiwanese Father's Day or 八八(爸爸)節). The resulting floodwaters and mudslides have toppled buildings and buried entire villages. Current casualty figures stand at 103 dead and 45 injured, with hundreds of other people unaccounted for (some reports claim that the authorities have begun to acquire 2,000 body bags). Thousands of other people are homeless.

The areas that have been worst affected encompass the mountains of Nantou, Chiayi, Tainan, Kaohsiung, and Pingtung counties, including many villages that my research assistants and I visited while doing fieldwork for my book about the Ta-pa-ni Incident. Their inhabitants are in many ways least prepared to cope with a disaster of this magnitude. Most are poor or lower middle class wage earners, entrepreneurs and agriculturists, who struggle to scrape out a living from cash crops like bananas, betel nuts, and taro, most of which have been destroyed. Others have profited from the tourism industry, especially hot springs hotels, but these have been washed away. They are also an ethnically diverse group, including numerous Hoklo descendents of migrants from Fujian, but also sizeable percentages of Hakka, Plains Aborigines, and Mountain Aborigines. Through the years, these men and women have struggled to overcome the ravages of natural and man-made calamities, and I have never ceased to be amazed by the inner strength they have shown in coping with intense adversity, as well as their willingness to move forward despite the odds against them.

Now those fortunate enough to survive face the prospect of trying to recover after having lost everything. Unlike an earthquake, where people can salvage items that have not been crushed under the rubble, personal possessions that have been drenched in water or mud are utterly unusable. In addition, the flooding has wiped out crops and decimated livestock, with the fouled waters posing the very real risk of sparking outbreaks of contagious diseases. The government is doing its best, but faces the usual problems of inefficiency and competing political agendas. The afflicted regions have the additional misfortune of being in the south, which has long been neglected when it comes time to distribute flood control funds (this represents a longer-term problem of favoring the north over the south or 重北輕南). After Typhoon Nari ravaged northern Taiwan in 2001, for example, effective flood control measures were enacted; the same cannot be said for the south, which has suffered disastrous flooding for years with no sign of relief. It probably does not help that this region is the DPP's last remaining stronghold.

One consolation is that the devastation is bringing out the best in many of Taiwan's citizens. One leading humanitarian group at the forefront of the relief effort is World Vision Taiwan, while the unstinting efforts of Buddhist and Christian groups are especially striking. For example, the Buddhist Compassion Relief Merit Society (Fojiao Ciji gongdehui 佛教慈濟功德會) has mobilized 15,000 volunteers, while Buddha Light Mountain (Foguangshan 佛光山) and Dharma Drum Mountain (Fagushan 法鼓山) are raising funds and performing Buddhist services (法會). Members of the Presbyterian Church of Taiwan (台灣基督長老教會) are also busy organizing relief efforts at the local level.

Perhaps even more impressive are the efforts of Taiwan's vibrant Internet community. One group of Netizens has put together a website providing updates about damage and casualties, with visitors being able to post messages about missing persons or ask for assistance. There is also a section for donations. A second website contains similar information, but also uses Google Map to help users locate communities in need. Leading citizens are also stepping forward, including the island's most renowned artists and athletes. Yankee pitcher Wang Chien-ming, who comes from Tainan, has made a donation of NT$2.6 million, while players from Taiwan’s own baseball league (the CPBL), many of whom are southerners, have been active in fund-raising efforts as well.

More is needed. While the disaster has received extensive international news coverage, it will soon begin to fade from memory, while the long and hard recovery is expected to take years. News articles posted on the Taiwan's news websites list many websites and post office accounts where donors can make contributions. At present, food, clean water, and medical supplies are of the utmost urgency, but the needs of disaster victims will change as time goes on. Let us do what we can, and do our best.

Another Anniversary

In Taiwan, June 4 marks another anniversary, namely the 185th day of Chen Shuibian's detention without having been convicted of a crime. Chen was first ordered to be held in custody on the night of November 11, 2008, with actual detention beginning on November 12. Taking into account the few days during which he was released in December, Chen's incarceration has lasted almost 200 days now, with no end in sight. In principle, he can be held in detention indefinitely due to the fact that he has been charged with a felony, and because prosecutors have expressed concerns that Chen might flee the country, engage in collusion with other suspects, or tamper with evidence and witnesses. If a judge agrees with these arguments, an extension can be granted every two months. Efforts by Chen and his legal team to challenge prosecutorial evidence in court have also served to lengthen the term of his detention.

Despite the fact that his detention started on November 12, the Supreme Prosecutors' Office did not indict Chen until December 12, charging him with accepting bribes, laundering political donations, and looting public funds. The extent of Chen's corruption (as well as that of his family members) is said to have extended to the tens of millions of U.S. dollars, and lasted throughout his 2000-2008 presidency. Legal proceedings are currently underway to determine the guilt or innocence of those accused. Chen's wife has also been indicted, while just yesterday his son and daughter were listed as defendants and may be charged with perjury.

When the state decides to break an individual, it can draw on an array of weapons in its arsenal, including torture, imprisonment, harassment (often extending to loved ones and friends), confiscation of property, and the denial of citizen's privileges, all of which involve the stripping away of an individual's human rights. Another form of this abrogation is detention, with its resulting loss of freedom and daily humiliations.

This is not to deny the legitimacy of detention in democratic nations. It is certainly justified when suspects are hardened and violent criminals who threaten society, but this is clearly not an issue in Chen's case. Detention can also be viewed as legitimate if it is regularly utilized in certain types of cases (such as corruption and tax-evasion). In Taiwan, however, detention of politicians on such charges is almost unprecedented. Over the years, numerous politicians of all stripes have been accused of corruption. Some have been found guilty and sent to prison, while others have been proven innocent. Only a small percentage has been subjected to detention (most are allowed the right to bail), although many suspects have fled the country and are currently living high on the hog (swine flu notwithstanding) in China and the U.S. Apart from Chen, however, no Taiwanese politician has been detained for such a long period of time on corruption charges without having first been convicted of a crime.

Regardless of whether Chen is found guilty as charged, Taiwan's judiciary has come under considerable criticism for its handling of the detention process, and in particular the decision to change judges during Chen's detention hearings. Following his indictment on December 12, the three-judge district court panel originally presiding over the case decided to order Chen's release (without bail), something that is often allowed once suspects accused of non-violent crimes are indicted. In Chen's case, however, this ruling prompted prosecutors to appeal twice to the Taiwan High Court. During the second appeal, the original panel was replaced (amidst rumors of pressure from ruling KMT lawmakers), and the new panel ruled on December 30 that Chen's detention could continue.

The events described above have prompted questions about the circumstances and motivations underlying Chen's on-going incarceration. Concerns have been raised about other aspects of Chen's case as well, including a skit performed by prosecutors at a Justice Ministry party that appeared to mock Chen's behavior when he was placed under arrest. As President Ma Ying-jeou's Harvard Law School mentor, Professor Jerome Cohen, has observed, ''At what point does the presumption of innocence becoming meaningless and pre-conviction detention morph into punishment for a crime not finally proved?''

And that is the tragedy of the current situation, for having a top-ranking politician found guilty after a trial deemed fair and impartial would constitute an immense boost in prestige for Taiwan's judicial system, while also sending a crystal-clear message to all politicians facing similar forms of temptation. However, a conviction following proceedings that suggest Chen is presumed guilty and likely to be found guilty as well would represent a major step backwards, and risk causing a reversion to traditional views of the law as being simply a tool to enhance state interests.

The other tragedy involves Taiwan's human rights record. The detention of a former president who may have committed at least some of the crimes he stands accused of hardly compares to the violence that took place in Beijing 20 years ago, not to mention the horrific abuses of human rights (and especially those of women and children) that ravage our world every day. Nonetheless, the deprival of any individual's liberty and dignity constitutes a challenge to the values that people hold dear. Understandably, Taiwan's judicial trials rank rather low on most leaders' ''to do'' lists, and after the Abu Ghraib and Guantánamo fiascos it is hardly our place to lecture others about human rights. Nonetheless, indifference would not seem to be the answer, for only when people effectively question the state's authority does it grudgingly relinquish the assertion of its might over the rights of its citizens.

Dutch Treats

One of the most exciting developments in the field of Taiwan history has been a steady stream of publications that shed new light on the island's development when it was being colonized by the Spanish and the Dutch. Notable achievements include Chinese translations of Dutch and Spanish sources by Chiang Shu-sheng 江樹生 and Lee Yu-chung 李毓中, a volume of collected essays by Chen Kuo-tung 陳國棟, and an in-depth study of Spanish rule by Jose Eugenio Borao (鮑曉鷗). This scholarship represents the fruits of unstinting efforts by Leiden scholars like Leonard Blussé, as well as venerable Taiwanese academics like Ts'ao Yung-ho 曹永和 and Wang Shih-ch'ing 王世慶, who have trained next generation of students. It is also reflects the dedication of pioneers in the field of Taiwan history like John Shepherd. Of equal importance has been the utilization of new primary source materials, especially the Dutch East India Company archives.

Two recent books have made noteworthy contributions to our understanding of this important phase of Taiwanese history. The first, How Taiwan Became Chinese by Tonio Andrade, was originally published electronically as part of the Gutenberg-e project, with a Chinese version having been released as well. This book is particularly noteworthy for its analytical framework, and in particular the concept "co-colonization", which stresses that Taiwan might best be viewed as one of East Asia's many "hybrid colonies", where both the Chinese and the Dutch worked to enhance the island's economic growth.

Andrade also explores Taiwan's early colonial development in the context of modern East Asian history, including the extent to which the Dutch competed with the Japanese for control of the lucrative silk-for-silver trade, as well as how the victory of Koxinga (Zheng Chenggong 鄭成功; 1624-1662) over the Dutch represented the potential for the establishment of a Chinese maritime state. Another striking example involves Andrade's portrayal of 16th and 17th century China as a global "silver sink" sucking in the precious metal from all over the world, thereby affecting the economic development of Europe, which might be of interest to those concerned with China's impact on world energy prices.

Other interesting topics covered in this book include the role of smallpox, with Andrade noting that while Old World diseases proved devastating to the American Indians, this was not necessarily the case for East Asia's indigenous peoples, many of who had already been exposed to Eurasian pathogens. The ritual facets of Dutch colonial rule receive full treatment in Chapter 9, which examines an annual ceremony known as the landdag, a symbolically charged event during which the Dutch governor of Taiwan held an audience for aboriginal elders and bestowed them with staves symbolizing their authority.

The second book, The Colonial 'Civilizing Process' in Dutch Formosa, 1624-1662, is by Chiu Hsin-hui 邱馨慧, one of Blussé's former students who is currently teaching at National Tsing-hua University). Published by Brill in 2008 as part of the TANAP Monographs on the History of Asian-European Interaction, this work documents the expansion of Dutch hegemony over Taiwan not only in terms of political power and economic exploitation, but also the role of Christian missionaries. At the same time, however, Chiu also places great emphasis on Taiwanese agency by focusing on the history of local populations during the colonial encounter, thereby placing Taiwan in the broader context of Austronesian history.

One moving example of the tragic aspects of Dutch colonial rule involves the massacre and subsequent forced migration of Lamey (小琉球) islanders, who hid in caves to escape the invaders only to be (literally) smoked out. One contemporary source estimates that of 1,200 inhabitants, 405 died in the caves while the rest were shipped off to Taiwan and Batavia. Some Lamey boys managed to climb the ladder of colonial success and become Dutch East India Company servants, with a few even making the long journey to the Netherlands.

Chiu also presents fascinating data on intermarriages between Lameyan women and European men, as well as an informed discussion of the "culture shock" that accompanied the imposition of a European legal system (particularly in terms of public punishments). There is also a detailed examination of the religious aspects of Dutch colonialism, and not just Christian proselytizing but also Sirayan religious traditions, including tables listing indigenous deities and festivals. This book is also graced with a useful glossary, as well as maps that neatly delineate the spatial characteristics of Dutch rule.

A Year of Telling Tales

"Tales from Taiwan" also celebrated its first birthday recently. Since our inaugural posting on January 14, 2008, Peter Zarrow, Jennifer Liu, Yong Chen, and I have been contributing pieces about various aspects of Taiwanese culture. In terms of readership, here is a bit of numerology provided courtesy of the China Beat's web wizards:

The general page for "Tales" received 1,297 views as of February 5, totaling approximately 500 fewer than the tenth-most viewed post for the China Beat (Five Sites for Lesson Plans and Teaching Materials on China; 1,775 views).

Our Taiwan top five reads as follows:

1. The KMT Backstroke = 453 views
2. The Great Diversion = 372 views
3. Wild Strawberries = 267 views
4. Where Do We Go From Here? = 236 views
5. Trauma and Memory: 228 in Taiwan Today = 217 views

(Note: The category "views" simply records the number of readers who clicked a particular story; our wizardry does not extend to divining how many perused the story on the China Beat's main page when it was first posted).

A few posts attracted considerable discussion, some of it heated:

1. State of Siege = 16 comments
2. Wild Strawberries = 10 comments
3. The KMT Backstroke + The Return of the Two Nationalisms = 6 comments (tie)
4. Taiwan Top Five = 5 comments
5. 2008 Retrospective: Olympics in Taiwan + Trauma and Memory: 228 in Taiwan Today = 4 comments (tie)

It is a bit disappointing that the pieces about Taiwanese culture (movies, sports, festivals, etc.) seem to have attracted less attention than those about politics. However, "Tales" will continue to address both of these topics, while also devoting some space to the plight of Taiwan's underprivileged.

Incense Power, Incense Peace

Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote,
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
So priketh hem Nature in hir corages-
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, Prologue, Chapter 1: Lines 1-2, 11-12

Taiwan's pilgrimage season, which tends to peak around the third lunar month (Chaucer's April) has long been a time of intense religious devotion, with moving scenes of worshippers (especially elderly women) walking for days from one sacred site to another. There are also mammoth processions, fireworks, dramatic performances, etc. Pilgrimage season is also big business for the island's leading temples, which compete to attract worshippers and enhance their financial and symbolic capital, referred to as "incense power" (香火權威).







One of the most famous temple rivalries involves the venerable Chaotian Gong (located in Beigang, Yunlin County; 雲林北港朝天宮) and the Fengtian Gong (in Xingang, Jiayi County; 嘉義新港奉天宮). While these two temples stand a mere three miles apart, tensions over which one could lay claim to being this nation's oldest Mazu 媽祖 temple (開台媽祖) ended up sparking a religious cold war that has lasted 60 years, with neither temple willing to support or take part in the other's activities.

Now a historic reconciliation is at hand. On February 4 (the tenth day of the first lunar month, which also happens to be 立春), the Fengtian Gong will reroute its annual procession to stop by the Chaotian Gong, where representatives of the two temples will exchange incense in a rite known as "會香" (a neutral term that avoids any hint of spiritual hierarchy). Taiwan's impressive technological know-how will be devoted to documenting the joyful moment, including minicams on Mazu's palanquin (a palanquin-cam?), GPS, and live broadcasts on temple websites that can be played on 3G cell phones).

One of the most striking aspects of the 甲子-long rivalry between these two sacred sutes is the role played by the another famous Mazu temple, the Zhenlan Gong (located in Dajia, Taizhong County 台中大甲鎮瀾宮). This temple gained increasing prominence during the 1970s, a time of successful economic development (meaning more money for religious activities) that also coincided with the rise of new group of local elites with links to KMT, most notably Yan Qingbiao 顏清標 (shown here with Legislative Yuan Speaker Wang Jinping 王金平 and Taizhong City Mayor Jason C. Hu 胡志強). As the Zhenlan Gong's incense power increased, it chose to challenge its supposedly subordinate relationship with the Chaotian Gong, and when negotiations stalled rerouted its annual procession to stop at the Fengtian Gong instead.

It is also interesting to note that these temples have been prominent actors on the political stage. During the 2000 presidential election, supporters of candidate James Soong (Song Chuyu 宋楚瑜), including Yan Qingbiao, held divination rituals at the Zhenlan Gong to demonstrate that the goddess was solidly behind Soong. Even though Soong's bid was unsuccessful, these same elites then proceeded to pressure Chen Shui-bian 陳水扁's DPP government to allow a direct pilgrimage to Mazu's ancestral temple in Meizhou 湄州 (located in Putian 莆田, northern Fujian), efforts that have now finally borne fruit. For its part, the Fengtian Gong played a leading role in supporting Taiwan's bid to rejoin the United Nations.

Elites from the Chaotian Gong and Fengtian Gong were instrumental in achieving this year's reconciliation, especially their two Chairmen of the Board, Zeng Cai Meizuo 曾蔡美佐 and He Huangda 何煌達. As Cai put it, "There is only one Silent Maiden Lin (=Mazu). Our gods haven't met in decades. It's time for them to drink tea and chat together" (林默娘也有一個，已經幾十年沒有見面，讓祂們喝喝茶、聊聊天). Local worshippers are ecstatic as well, often quoting the expression "Where Mazu goes, peace and harmony follow" (媽祖到，平安到).

There are high hopes that the peace-making between the Fengtian Gong and Chaotian Gong will extend to other rivalries. However, it remains to be seen whether the Zhenlan Gong will resume its annual pilgrimage to the Chaotian Gong, or whether the Chaotian Gong will choose to stop by the Fengtian Gong during its own annual procession.

Note: For more on the temples described above, please see the work of Chang Hsun 張珣, Huang Mei-ying 黃美英, Lin Mei-rong 林美容, Murray Rubinstein, Stephen Sangren, and Mayfair Mei-hui Yang (楊美惠).

Everything Old is New Again

One year ago today, I posted an essay entitled "What Shall We Do with the Dead Dictator?", which discussed the DPP government's efforts to further the cause of transitional justice (轉型正義) by reexamining the legacy of former ROC President Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). A number of related policies ended up sparking considerable controversy, included renaming the CKS International Airport as Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport, and especially changing the name of the National Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall to National Taiwan Democracy Memorial Hall.

The KMT regained power just two months later, following which things began to move in reverse. Most recently, the Ministry of Education, in one of its last policy decisions during the Year of the Rat, announced that in July 2009 the Democracy Hall's name plaque will be removed and the original plaque restored. This was based on an Executive Yuan decision to withdraw the former government's request to abolish the Organic Statute of the CKS Memorial Hall< (國立中正紀念堂管理處組織條例廢止案), as well as a resolution by the Legislative Yuan that the Hall's name be changed back to Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall.

Although the Ministry of Education had originally proposed holding a public forum to discuss whether or not to change the plaque, no such event was arranged. According to one top-ranking official, this was due to concerns that such a forum might spark tensions between DPP and KMT supporters. While it is true that political discussions in Taiwan tend to be heated, and can even turn violent, one cannot help but recalling the observation that Judge Damon Keith made in a 2002 federal appeals court ruling, namely that "Democracies die behind closed doors".

Another rejuvenation of the past involves the redeployment of the Hall's honor guard in time for the Lunar New Year holiday, which means that tourists and other visitors can once again see soldiers marching (goose-stepping?) in front of Chiang's statue (an image of the guard also adorns the new home page of the Hall's website). One of the few things that will not change is that the Liberty Square (自由廣場) inscription at the entrance to the hall is to remain untouched.

Party politics aside, one cannot help but wonder when Taiwan's leaders will choose to promote the examination of the complex facets of Chiang's rule, positive and negative alike. In contrast to nations like Argentina, Rwanda, South Africa, South Korea, etc., Taiwan has yet to entrust a truth and reconciliation commission with the task of investigating past wrongdoings (its sole "Truth Commission" was created in order to delve into the 2004 presidential election shooting). Fortunately, scholars have made considerable efforts to pick up the slack, with Jeremy E. Taylor and his colleagues organizing a conference entitled "Reassessing Chiang Kai-Shek: An International Dialogue" to be held at Queen's University, Canada on August 7-9, 2009. In addition, the Institute of Modern History at Academia Sinica has organized a Chiang Kai-shek Research Group, which includes participants from Taiwan, China, Japan, and the United States. Perhaps with time some form of justice will prevail, for only after a nation's triumphs and tragedies have been accorded the thorough study they deserve can true reconciliation take place.

In Case You Missed It: Cape No. 7

By Peter Zarrow

“Cape No. 7” (海角七號) is an energetic bon-bon of a film that is Taiwan’s official entry for the Oscars this year, in the “best foreign film” category. Who was it who first compared a certain type of movie to the bon-bon? The Taiwanese film sensation “Cape No. 7” fits the description perfectly. Light romantic comedy with an edge of tragic love lost. And above all, let’s all rock together—Hoklo, aborigines, young and old, Japanese—even an energetic Hakka!—invited into the mix. Not a corrupt politician or political judge in sight. The film even had, now that I’m thinking of confectionary, an otherwise completely pointless set of cute triplets for the frosting.

I like bon-bons as much as anyone, and while not a great film, “Cape No. 7” is a perfectly fine two-plus hours of entertainment with a number of very witty jokes. I laughed, I wept, I thought of Oscar Wilde (One must have a heart of stone to read the death of little Nell without laughing), which wasn’t really apropos but still came to mind. My inner curmudgeon was summoned forth, as is perhaps increasingly the case with age. Other reasons will appear below.



The plot, in brief: Aga阿嘉, wannabe Taipei rock star, returns home to Hengchun and becomes a postman. Meanwhile, his stepfather, a town councilman, forces a local hotel that is putting together a big rock concert to use local talent to open the show. Slowly, a band is put together, led by Aga, and even more slowly an attraction develops between Aga and Tomoko 友子, the Mandarin-speaking Japanese given the job of putting the band together. Aga is not exactly a prize specimen (lazy on his postal route as well as moody pretty much all the time) but his pout is so cool that he can do anything. Tomoko is actually more interesting and makes things happen. In an undeliverable package, Aga discovers letters originally written in 1945 by a Japanese teacher to his Taiwanese lover, also named Tomoko. Narration of these letters provides a tragic wrap-around story—a small sour plum in the middle of the bon-bon.

Bloggers and critics have complained about the wrap-around, which does seem a little forced and completely irrelevant till the end of the film. But the film would have been no less sentimental and even more arbitrary without it. The sixty-year-old love story not only has a certain gravitas but links “Cape No. 7” with Taiwanese memory and a set of films that touches on the Japanese colonial experience. Furthermore, the wrap-around story does lead to the climax of the film, when Aga finally actually does something, and he and Tomoko declare their love in front of the concert’s fans, who were enthusiastic although, strangely, not one of whom looked stoned.

The question I then ask, is how this pleasant but inconsequential film became the country’s most successful box office, within three months of its release last August the second top grossing film here ever (after only “Titanic”). And this mostly by word of mouth, without a great marketing budget. In December, “Cape No. 7” won several Golden Horse awards (Taiwan’s Oscars for Chinese-language films). And it has launched or revived several careers.

Sociologically, the question can only be asked with prejudice, for it brackets the issue of aesthetic worth. Some of the film’s popularity might have reflected the attraction of recognition. There are actors themselves—pop stars and walk-ons by a few winners from the “Taiwanese Idol”-type TV shows. Plus the sheer range provided by local yueqin (月琴) master Lin Zongren 林宗仁 and J-pop star Kousuke Atari 中孝介. There are Taiwanese social types to identify with, particularly disaffected (but not too disaffected) youth, and the obnoxious but sad entrepreneurs just trying to get what’s theirs. Not to mention the one falling-down drunk obligatory at every wedding. There is certainly the music, mostly contemporary pop but also various folk music and even a climatic Guomindang-era song once learned by every school kid. Finally, there is the geography, such as the beaches of Kenting—the film literally begins with the hero, disgusted and disappointed, heading out of big ugly Taipei. Thus we can spend the next two hours in more bucolic surroundings—emerald isle rice fields and the broad ocean, to which both our tormented hero and his very untormented stepfather turn for comfort. And the number of clear-sky rainbows is simply surreal. I originally had hopes of that stepfather, a rude and pushy city councilman who could have made a good villain. However, he turned out just to be a lovable—crude but well-meaning—local town booster.

The question of identity does have a political side as well. It is no accident that the plot revolves around the growing friendship of people from different backgrounds and two Japanese-Taiwanese love affairs. A bunch of racially mixed foreign models appears at the beginning of the film but they promptly disappear. Still, they perhaps make a point about Taiwan’s cosmopolitan nature—that the real Taiwan is a product of its own peoples.

I think even more of the success of the movie came from its insidious flattery of its audience. There is not the slightest hint of social criticism. Even the hotels that monopolize the very limited shoreline are just a part of the condition that is, after all, necessary for us all to make beautiful music together. So perish the thought they might be a despoiling presence. Granted, bon-bons are not supposed to deconstruct the problems of society, but for “Cape No. 7” it is as if there is no larger society at all. This is notwithstanding the somewhat grim Guomindang soldiers who appear at briefly the reprisal of the parting of the lovers in 1945—but that’s long, long ago and even far, far away (perhaps Gaoxiong).

This brings me to a final point. By the Hollywood standards of “romantic comedy” there is rather a lot of tragedy and mishap. A film without a good deal of sadness would surely feel incomplete or somehow just wrong in Taiwan. But as long as the film-makers avoid virtually any hint that there might be something wrong with contemporary Taiwan, tragic elements remain sentimental indulgence. The wrap-around story of the 1945 separation of the Japanese teacher and his Taiwanese lover—that small sour plum in the rock’n’roll bon-bon—reminds us just a bit of the cruelties of the colonial period, but even more speaks of reconciliation, now that Aga has his new Tomoko. The West is irrelevant. The Mainland isn’t helpful, as the 1945 shot of the parting lovers, framed with the Guomindang slogan “The Recovery of Taiwan,” makes clear. The slogan seems either ironic, from the point of view of Taiwanese separated from Japanese friends, or just irrelevant, from the point of view of the younger generation.

It has been professionally predicted (“Variety,” Nov. 7, 2008) that “Cape No. 7” will not do so well in the West. But it would be interesting to see how it plays in China—if it ever does. It was originally slated to become the first Taiwanese film allowed in for over a decade, but recent news reports suggest that censors have had a rethink. I wonder if they are having trouble with that small sour plum, or with the Taiwanese bon-bon itself.

Magic Lanterns

In the midst of this year's bitter winter, a glimmer of hope shines through: the Lunar New Year is rapidly approaching: New Year's Eve (除夕) is on January 25, followed by New Year's Day (初一) on the 26th. In Taiwan, one of the main events marking this holiday is the annual Taiwan Lantern Festival (台灣燈會), which is now entering its twentieth season. This year's Festival is timed to start on February 9, which also happens to be the date of the traditional Lantern Festival (元宵節, also known as 上元節 or the more popular 小過年), celebrated on the fifteen day of the first lunar month. It will be held in Yilan 宜蘭 County over a two-week period, marking the first time that this event has been staged on the island's east coast.

Visitors to the festival (as well as the mass media) pay special attention to the Festival's main theme lantern (主燈). Because next year will be the Year of the Ox, the new theme lantern is a movable golden-colored statue of the Taiwanese Water Buffalo (台灣水牛; representing the perseverance and dedication Taiwan's citizens), which towers over 14 meters in height atop a 4.3 meter high pedestal. This particular theme lantern will also be measured against its mighty predecessor of 12 years ago, a giant ox that weighed in at 13,950 kilos, earning a place in the Guinness Book of World Records. However, one wonders if the fate of this year's theme lantern will be any different from those before it, most of which have ended up being left to rust and rot. In addition to the theme lantern, approximately 130,000 handheld lanterns called Starlight Ox (星光牛) will be distributed to visitors, especially children.

Apart from all lanterns great and small, one conspicuous feature of the Taiwan Lantern Festival is corporate sponsorship (and the accumulation of symbolic capital). For example, this year's theme lantern has been sponsored by Chunghwa Telecom (中華電信), while lanterns at previous festivals have been donated by the Grand Hotel (圓山大飯店), the Grand Formosa Regent (台北晶華酒店), and the Fubon Group (富邦集團). Another aspect of the Festival involves marketing. This year's event, for example, will promote sales of renowned products like Pinglin Baozhong Tea (坪林包種茶) and Dragonfly Glazed Beads from Pingtung (屏東蜻蜓雅築). Similar phenomena have marked the staging of earlier Taiwan Lantern Festivals, the first of which was organized by the Tourism Bureau (觀光局) in 1990 as part of a set of activities known as Tourism Week. The festivities have grown exponentially over time, with celebrations like the 2007 Lantern Festival in Chiayi 嘉義 and the 2003 Lantern Festival in Taichung 台中 attracting tens of thousands of people (resulting in massive traffic jams), not to mention leading politicians who take part in the lantern-lighting ceremonies. The cost of a theme lantern has risen as well, and now exceeds NT$10 million (approximately US$300,000).

All this indicates that the Taiwan Lantern Festival is both a major celebration and big business. Even more interestingly, however, it represents one instance of how Chinese officials and elites have attempted to "secularize" what had originally been a highly religious event. Standard representations of the Lantern Festival today tend to emphasize the importance of children carrying decorative lanterns, games of "guessing lantern riddles" (猜燈謎), and the consumption of dumplings known as yuanxiao 元宵 (after 元宵節) or tangyuan 湯圓. Such depictions also feature legends about the Festival's origins, the most commonly cited of which involve tricking the Jade Emperor (玉皇大帝) into believing that a village had been punished by fire, or a means of showing respect for the Buddha by a historical emperor. The religious aspects of the Lantern Festival continue to thrive in Taiwan, however (see below).

It also striking that recent news reports claimed that the Tourism Bureau was planning to terminate its role in hosting the Taiwan Lantern Festival. Such reports were quickly denied, with leading government officials announcing instead that plans were in the works for encouraging local groups (including non-governmental ones) to assume sponsorship of the Festival. If this proves to be the case, it would signify a remarkable shift of the Lantern Festival back to its origins, when it was a "popular" ritual in every sense of the word. For example, as John Lagerwey and his Chinese colleagues have shown in their path-breaking Traditional Hakka Society Series (客家傳統社會叢書), the traditional Lantern Festival consisted of numerous religious events (including enormous dragon lantern processions (遊龍燈)), most of which had as their goal the rejuvenation of vital yang 陽 forces, with the word for lanterns (燈) being roughly homophonous with that for sons (丁) in numerous southern dialects, including Cantonese, Hakka, and Minnan.

For hundreds (if not thousands) of years then, the Lantern Festival was a radiant ritual held to celebrate light and life. All this changed during the early years of the twentieth century, with recent research by Prasenjit Duara, Vincent Goossaert, Rebecca Nedostup, and David Palmer showing that one aspect of KMT and CCP campaigns against "superstition" (迷信) involved the suppression of most traditional festivals, with a select few (including Lunar New Year celebrations like the Lantern Festival) being bestowed modern connotations and incorporated into a new Gregorian calendar enacted in 1912. In fact, prior to the Tomb-sweeping Festival (清明節) and Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋節) being declared public holidays in China just last year, the Lunar New Year had the distinction of being the only traditional festival that had continuously enjoyed government recognition. The religious aspects of the Lantern Festival declined over time, and it became instead merely an occasion for lanterns to be displayed on the streets and in temples, or carried around by children.

All this changed in Taiwan beginning in the late 1980s due to this nation's democratization, economic development, and increasing recognition of the legitimacy and value of indigenous cultural traditions. The realization on the part of officials and local elites that festivals could enhance the tourism industry provided an added incentive for their revival. As a result, many ritual events held on the date of the traditional Lantern Festival have experienced phenomenal growth in popularity.


One example is the Fireworks Festival held in the village of Yenshui 鹽水 (Tainan County), which is said to have been first staged back in 1875 as part of plague expulsion rituals involving the deity Guangong 關公. The most renowned aspect of this festival is the "bee hive" fireworks (蜂炮), which consist of bamboo frames holding hundreds of bottle rockets that are set off simultaneously, providing an opportunity for thrill-seeking tourists to test their bravado (not unlike the running of the bulls during the festival of San Fermin in Pamploma).

Another fiery Lantern Festival rite is Taitung 台東's "Blasting Lord Handan" (炮炸寒單爺), held in honor of the local God of Wealth (財神). As Avron Boretz has shown, this festival is especially noteworthy for its powerful expressions of the yang 陽 forces of masculinity and virility, as it features the participation of half-naked young men (many of whom have gangster backgrounds<) who impersonate the god. Riding atop open palanquins, they are subjected to being bombarded with firecrackers thrown by the locals, all ostensibly in the interest of a prosperous New Year.

The renowned Pingsi Sky Lanterns (平溪天燈) festival of northern Taiwan, also held on the traditional date of the Lantern Festival, further emphasizes the importance of fire, albeit in a less obviously religious context. Legend has it that during the Qing dynasty this area suffered from attacks by robbers and aboriginal peoples, prompting residents to use sky lanterns as a form of signaling to their friends and relatives. This local custom has now grown into a major international event attracting tens of thousands of people who release countless sky lanterns covered with wishes for good fortune, despite concerns about their environmental impact (see below).

The religious aspects of the Lantern Festival are also making a comeback in parts of China. One example involves the revival of a centuries-old festival in the town of Pucheng 蒲城 (Zhejiang Province), which I describe in an article originally published in the Journal of Ritual Studies Journal of Ritual Studies and subsequently reprinted in the volume Asian Ritual Systems. Pucheng's festival is timed to overlap with Lunar New Year festivities, particularly the Lantern Festival. Although it is generally referred to as the “Nocturnal Battle” (ba wugeng 拔五更) after a nighttime exorcistic rite and relay race held near its conclusion, the entire festival lasts two weeks, from the 4th to 17th days of the 1st lunar month. Banned during the Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution, the festival was revived in the early 1980s and has grown more elaborate by the year.

In Taiwan, the revival and breathtaking growth of traditional festive events coinciding with the Lantern Festival has not been without its challenges. In Taitung, for example, the prominence of gangsters (as well as the brothels that helped sponsor the event) prompted the authorities to ban the Blasting Lord Handan festival between 1983 and 1989, and it was only allowed to be performed after local leaders signed an agreement to oversee the behavior of potentially problematic participants. These rites gained added legitimacy beginning in 2001 as a result of their performance at state-sponsored cultural events, as well as in the presence of visiting dignitaries from Taiwan's remaining diplomatic allies like Palau. In the case of Pingsi, a fascinating article published last year in the International Herald Tribune details how Taiwan's Environmental Protection Agency (行政院環境保護署) set up its own "virtual sky lantern" website in order to encourage people to release digital lanterns rather than real ones, a decision prompted by the fact that many sky lanterns end up littering the countryside. One particularly misguided missile ignited a blaze near the Taoyuan International Airport, with the smoke forcing officials to temporarily close down a runway. This policy, which resembles efforts to ban Mid-Autumn Festival barbeques (see my previous post), promote the burning of "virtual" paper money, and discourage the slaughter of divine pigs (神豬), also represents the on-going tensions between "modern" ideals and "traditional" practices, which in the case of Pingsi is further complicated by the fact the sky lanterns represent a sizeable source of income for local residents.

Even the state-sponsored Taiwan Lantern Festival is not immune from the influence of popular beliefs. One report recently published in the China Times cited as an example the "Flying Tiger" theme lantern (飛天虎主燈) of 1998. When this lantern was first lit, its glowing green eyes were viewed by many as an ill omen, and sure enough once it was moved to the east coast following the festival the area was plagued by a series of air disasters. Local officials then pulled the tiger's teeth, but this was followed by numerous auto accidents, so a geomancer was brought in to remedy the problem (which ceased to be a problem once the lantern was shredded by the mighty winds of Typhoon Bilis in 2001). A second example occurred in 2001, the first time the festival was held outside of Taipei (in Kaohsiung). The theme lantern for that year (the Year of the Snake) was a mythical creature known as an aolong 鰲龍 (part dragon, part sea turtle). Some were reminded of the Qing military commander Oboi 鰲拜 (1610?-1669), and wondered if that lantern would shape the career of then mayor Frank Hsieh (謝長廷). His presidential ambitions have yet to be realized.

So enjoy the beauty of the Lantern Festival, as well as the guessing games and of course the dumplings. But do keep in mind the ritual facets of this holiday, especially what they can tell us about the power of light to overcome darkness and despair.

2008 Retrospective: Olympics in Taiwan

China Beat will be running a series of 2008 retrospectives over the coming weeks--pieces that both look back at events of the year (some well-trod ground, others largely unnoticed) as well as tying those earlier events into on-going trends and situations. In this piece, Jennifer Liu reflects on Taiwan's 2008 Olympic experience, memories of which take on a different hue in light of Taiwan's tumultuous autumn.

By Jennifer Liu

Olympic fever still hasn’t waned in China (especially in Beijing), but when I was living in Taiwan this summer, it seemed Olympic excitement had already run its course or maybe it never even took off. While China was gripped by Olympic fever, its “rogue province” took a much more detached attitude to the proceedings. According to Nielsen’s ratings, China, along with South Korea, had the highest rate of viewership for the Games – 94 percent of the total population watched some portion of the Olympics. Ratings in the U.S. were an impressive 69 percent. But in Taiwan, none of the cable channels even broadcast the Olympic Games – only the opening ceremony was shown. Furthermore, the single sport the Taiwanese seemed passionate about was their national one: baseball.

Baseball alone rallied Taiwanese crowds in similar ways to the Olympic excitement across the Straits. For Chinese Taipei’s first game against the Netherlands, the McDonald’s located on Xinsheng nanlu (across from National Taiwan University) provided patrons with a large screen showing the entire game. The fast food restaurant also gave each spectator (many of whom had eagerly lined up for hours outside before the game began) red thunder clappers and a free hamburger. At the Shinkong Mitsukoshi (新光三越) department store complex near Taipei 101, cheerleaders rallied the crowd. Some fans symbolically ate poached eggs (荷包蛋, hebaodan) – the Chinese word not only sounds like “Holland posting a zero,” but further implies it since an egg is shaped like a zero. The phrase was also a play on the notion that the Chinese Taipei team was going to “bomb” Holland, and indeed it did in a 5-0 victory.

Fans with blue thunder clappers watching the game between Taiwan and the Netherlands on a big screen in the Shinkong Mitsukoshi plaza
The next game was against Japan. I went to the same McDonald’s to watch (this time, no thunder clappers or free hamburgers), and unfortunately, the Chinese Taipei team suffered a crushing 1-6 defeat to the Japanese. Nonetheless, the Taiwanese were confident their team would win in the next day’s game against China. That wasn’t the case, and many were shocked and dejected when China, not known to excel in baseball, upstaged Chinese Taipei 8-7.

Fans watching the game between Taiwan and Japan at McDonald's
Hidden beneath the baseball scores and unfortunate losses, however, was a strange turn of Olympic scheduling: Taiwan’s first three games were all against countries that have a share in the island’s complex history. The Dutch colonized Taiwan in the early seventeenth century until Zheng Chenggong (Koxinga) expelled them from the island in 1662. After a Chinese armada defeated Zheng’s grandson, the Qing dynasty annexed Taiwan and placed it under the jurisdiction of Fujian province. Following its defeat in the Sino-Japanese War, the Qing ceded Taiwan to Japan in 1895. After fifty years of Japanese colonization, Taiwan experienced a “glorious return” (光復) to China at the conclusion of World War II. However, some argue that when the Guomindang retreated to Taiwan and set up an authoritarian regime, its rule was also a form of colonization.

As Susan Brownell wrote about earlier this year at China Beat, sports have long been a form of communication between Taiwan and the mainland – the competition between the two entities has mainly been good-natured, yet sometimes fraught with tension. I wondered then what went through the minds of the Taiwanese, especially when their team was defeated by both Japan and China. On the one hand, although the Japanese colonized the Taiwanese and treated them as second-rate citizens, many of them still admire and imitate Japanese culture today (for instance, Taiwanese youth prefer to visit Japan over the U.S.). On the other hand, many Taiwanese resent China’s heavy hand, leading frequent mass protests on the streets against President Ma Yingjou for his “friendly” policies toward the mainland. When Ma allowed direct flights between China and Taiwan, the media reported negative stories of mainlander tourists who escaped from their tour group. One television report chastised seven mainlanders who went to Shilin Night Market, ordered one oyster pancake between them, then demanded seven chopsticks (providing a stereotypical example of how mainlanders are cheap).

This week Ma took another dramatic step in improving relations with China as a way of reviving Taiwan’s tepid economy, as well as building the island’s long-term security and fostering peace with the mainland. Starting on December 15, direct, regularly-scheduled passenger flights from Taiwan and China finally commenced (flights have been ongoing since July, but not daily – only tourist-group charters on weekends and holidays). Under the landmark agreements signed last month, the number of passenger flights was increased to a maximum of 108 per week, up from 36. Furthermore, the two sides launched the first direct postal and shipping links across the strait.

After the Guomindang retreated to the island, it gradually limited the flow of mail to the mainland before completely restricting communication in 1954. With the restoration of the “three links” – direct air, shipping, and postal – these connections end the tedious and costly practice of routing passengers, goods, and mail via a neutral port – usually Hong Kong or Macau. This breakthrough under Ma’s leadership occurs at the same time that Taiwanese prosecutors are indicting former President Chen Shui-bian and thirteen others, including his wife, son, and daughter-in-law, on graft charges and money laundering. Chen had been detained since November 12 on suspicion of corruption, but was released without bail on December 13 around 1:00am to prevent immediate commotion and protest. Taiwanese critics assert that the chief judge who released Chen is a closet DPP supporter because of his decision. Meanwhile, Chinese media are mum on the subject for fear of taking sides and facing accusations from the DPP that mainlanders favor the GMD. Nonetheless, Chinese are paying close attention to the trial, devoting large amounts of news coverage in hopes of using it as an example of how government corruption should be dealt with in their own country.

Thus, despite the “three links’” potentially increasing harmony between both sides, suspicions still remain. Likewise, even though observers deemed the Beijing Olympics a major success, no one has noticed that the Taiwanese consumed the Games with much less enthusiasm than mainlanders.

Jennifer Liu is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of California, Irvine.

Taiwan Top Five

By Paul Katz

As we prepare to ring out 2008, here are a few thoughts about some of the leading stories that have shaped Taiwan during the past year:

1. Back and Blue: Ma Ying-jeou sweeps into office as Taiwan's new president, winning a convincing majority of the popular vote based on a platform promising a more stable relationship with China, economic prosperity, and clean government. Cross-Straits tensions have declined markedly, while the opening of direct links should bring great benefits to the citizens of both China and Taiwan. At the same time, however, the economy remains in the doldrums (see #2) and there are also concerns about the future of the judicial system (see #3). The KMT's return to power has also witnessed the rehabilitation of Chiang Kai-shek's reputation (plus the name of his memorial hall), attempts to interfere with the mass media, and occasional expressions of anti-Japanese nationalism.

2. Hard Times: The TAIEX, once expected to top 10,000, is now languishing in the 4,000s, but it's the working class that is truly suffering. As of November, the number of men and women who had lost their job had topped the half million mark, with Taiwan's 4.6% unemployment rate being one of the highest in East Asia and having the dubious distinction of topping the four little dragons. Other workers are being forced to take long periods of unpaid leave, which allows them to keep their jobs but not earn enough money to make ends meet. It looks to be a cold, dark winter, but hopefully things will improve once the world economy rebounds.

3. Justice For All? The vigorous prosecution of corruption cases involving current or former DPP officials (including unprecedented reliance on pre-trial detention), extensive use of police force against protestors, and switching of judges during judicial proceedings all suggest that Taiwan's legal system is at risk of being transformed from a means of furthering the growth of civil society into a tool for the state to silence its rivals. Meanwhile, investigations into allegations of corruption against KMT figures appear to be going nowhere, while a KMT legislator shown to have dual citizenship is still enjoying plenty of perks from her prestigious and powerful position.

4. And Then There Were Four: Now entering its 20th year, Taiwan's professional baseball league (CPBL) has shrunk to its original size of just four teams, with two others having been disbanded due to financial losses and gambling scandals. The local basketball league (SBL) is rumored to be in trouble as well, but baseball has always been at the heart of this country's sporting scene, embodying both the best (exuberance, dedication) and the worst (inefficiency, corruption) aspects of Taiwanese culture. However, the smaller number of teams, combined with an influx of players returning from abroad, may spark improvements in the quality of the game and a return of its fan base. There is always hope.

5. The Pandas Are Coming! Actually they're here, having arrived as an early Christmas gift on December 23 aboard a chartered 747 from Chengdu. Currently under quarantine in their lavish US$9.24 million Panda House at the Taipei Zoo, Tuan Tuan 團團 and Yuan Yuan 圓圓 (whose combined names mean ''reunion'') are scheduled to be available for their adoring admirers just in time for the Lunar New Year. Some people have raised concerns about sovereignty (according to CITES, the panda gift is an ''internal/domestic trade'' transfer), but who could resist such cute and cuddly comfort from concerned communist cousins? Moreover, their arrival should do wonders for the local economy, especially in and around the Taipei Zoo.

So let us end the year on a note of optimism. Despite the troubles it has faced during the past year, Taiwan remains a symbol of openness and opportunity. Let us hope that the future brings tidings of comfort and joy.

Divine Justice

By Paul Katz

As China ascends to its place as a leading nation on the world stage, questions have arisen concerning the role of its legal system. As Joseph Kahn noted in a feature article entitled Deep Flaws, and Little Justice, in China’s Court System, “Justice in China is swift but not sure.” Many protests in China today center on the issue of justice, with one blogger responding to the January 2008 fatal beating by parapolice officials of a man trying to videotape a protest by lamenting “Where is justice? Where is the law? Aren’t there any rules in China?”

My newest book, Divine Justice: Religion and the Development of Chinese Legal Culture (Routledge 2008) considers these issues by examining the ways in which religious beliefs and practices have contributed to the formation of Chinese legal culture. It does so by describing two forms of overlap between religion and the law: the ideology of justice and the performance of judicial rituals.

The former covers beliefs about how the gods intervene in human affairs in this life and the next in order to ensure the attainment of justice. Because this ideal is rarely realized in earthly courts, many people place their faith in underworld deities who have the power to pass judgment on both the living and the dead.

The latter extends to the realm of practice, and involves instances when men and women perform oaths, chicken-beheadings, and underworld indictments in order to enhance the legitimacy of their positions, deal with cases of perceived injustice, and resolve disputes.

These rites coexist with other forms of legal practice, including private mediation and the courts, comprising a wide-ranging spectrum of practices that I refer to as the judicial continuum. Individuals ranging from high-ranking officials to chaste widows have performed judicial rituals for centuries, and such rites have shaped the legal histories of overseas Chinese in colonies like Batavia, the Straits Settlements, and Hong Kong, as well as those who immigrated to countries like Australia and the United States.

Despite the fact that China is experiencing a period of rapid religious revival, the fate of its judicial rituals is unclear, especially since religious beliefs and practices labeled as “superstition” (mixin 迷信) still face the very real threat of state persecution. Judicial rituals remain largely underground, meaning that the judicial continuum in China today remains fragmentary and inchoate. Inasmuch as the effective functioning of any legal system requires a certain degree of entirety, the extent to which the Chinese government proves willing to tolerate the performance of judicial rites may influence its citizens’ confidence in their ability to obtain true justice.

Penitents dressed as criminals process in front of a Hsinchu police station, with McDonald's sign in the background
In contrast, judicial rituals are an integral part of legitimation and dispute resolution processes in modern, high-tech nations like Taiwan, where people rely on such rites to deal with problems that are not readily addressed in the courtroom (particularly family tensions) or even resolve disputes that have already entered the formal legal system. The role of such rites in Taiwan’s current political environment remains to be seen, however, as its legal system faces many new challenges. The present state of affairs has prompted Amnesty International to issue a public statement urging the authorities to investigate concerns centering on charges of excessive use of police force, and to conduct legal procedures in a “fair, transparent, and timely manner in compliance with international standards.”

While some Taiwanese prosecutors have been quoted as asserting judicial authority by making statements such as “Suspects in certain cases investigated by prosecutors need not be convicted of a crime, but we can use [the legal process] to teach them a lesson” (檢察官辦案不一定是要當事人被判有罪，但至少要讓他們得到『教訓』), it might be worth bearing in mind the late Attorney General Robert Jackson (1892-1954)’s definition of what it takes to be a distinguished prosecutor: “The citizens’ safety lies in [someone who] tempers zeal with human kindness, who seeks truth and not victims, [and] who serves the law and not factional purposes.”

Web Portals to Taiwan's Past

One of the blessings of the Internet Age is the availability of valuable information about the past, in this case Taiwanese history. This post introduces a few English and Chinese websites that I have found most interesting/useful. The list is hardly meant to be exhaustive, and people should feel free to recommend other sites that would benefit all those interested in this topic.

1. The Gerald Warner Taiwan Image Collection -- Put together by Paul Barclay at Lafayette College, this website contains 340 photographs and postcards gathered by Warner from 1937 to 1941 during and after his tenure as U.S. Consul in Taiwan. Barclay rightly reminds us that many of these images were produced for commercial purposes during a period of colonial hegemony. Nonetheless, they provide precious insights on how Taiwan's diverse culture was shaped by Chinese, Austronesian, Japanese, and Western influences. The collection covers a wide range of subjects, including flora, fauna, material culture, religion, and Aboriginal life. Users will also benefit from its Supporting Material section (especially the weblinks), as well as its extensive Bibliography. An additional 1,000 images are due to be posted early next year.

A related web source is Barclay's translation of Kondō "The Barbarian" Katsusaburō 近藤勝三郎's travelogue/memoir, which is now appearing on Michael Turton's blog. Kondō was a Japanese merchant and official who married into Aboriginal lineages in the Puli 埔里 area (in today's Nantou 南投 County), thereby gaining first-hand knowledge of key players in the Wushe 霧社 (Musha) Rebellion of 1930. This gripping account of Kondō's life was published as a serialized version of 29 installments in the Taiwan nichinichi shinpō 臺灣日日新報 (Taiwan Daily News) between December 20, 1930 and February 15, 1931.

2. Formosa Index -- This website, the result of years of dedicated research by Douglas Fix at Reed College, contains an impressive body of largely Western accounts of Taiwan and its people, most of which were published in books and journals during the nineteenth century. Complete versions of travelogues, reports, ethnographies, and general surveys can be found in the Texts section of the website, which also contains useful biographies and annotated bibliographies. The Images section allows visitors to view numerous illustrations about Taiwan's landscapes, people, and material culture, while the island's geographical and ethnological features can be readily appreciated by checking out the Maps section.

3. Yang-Grevot Collection of Taiwan Aboriginal Art -- Those interested in Taiwan's Aboriginal cultures might wish to start their inquiries at this website. In addition to a detailed catalogue of well-annotated images, this site also features plenty of links to museums, other collections, and relevant research, as well as bibliographies in English, French, and Chinese.

4. The Takao Club -- This website, established by a non-profit organization based in southern Taiwan, provides a comprehensive vista of this area's history and culture. Some of its most fascinating sections include biographies of renowned rebels like Lin Shao-mao 林少貓 (1865-1902) and Mona Rudao 莫那魯道 (1882-1930), as well as colorful descriptions of camphor, opium, and betel nuts (including betel nut beauties!).

5. Taiwan History Institute, Academia Sinca -- THE essential starting point for anyone wishing to undertake Chinese-language research, this website proves especially valuable for its Academic Resources (研究資源) section, which has links to the Taiwan Collectanea (臺灣文獻叢刊資料庫) and Governer-General's Office (臺灣總督府檔案) electronic databases. This site is also noteworthy for its remarkable collection of digitalized images (圖像資料庫).

6. Taiwan Historica -- This organization's website contains electronic databases for key government documents from the Japanese colonial and early postwar eras.

7. Taiwan History and Culture in Time and Space -- Representing the fruits of a pioneering interdisciplinary research effort, this website allows users to better appreciate the spatial aspects of Taiwanese history. While requiring some effort to master its various hi-tech features, great rewards await those with the patience to learn how to use its numerous maps, some of which can be downloaded and modified for one's own research purposes. This website also contains maps from my own research project on the Ta-pa-ni 噍吧哖 Incident, the details of which may be found on a Chinese-language website that my research assistant and I have prepared.

Wild Strawberries

The past week has witnessed the appearance of the Wild Strawberries Student Movement (野草莓學運; see website), formed in the aftermath of state attempts to curtail peaceful expressions of free speech during the visit of ARATS Chairman Chen Yunlin 陳雲林. These actions prompted over 200 students to launch a sit-in outside the Executive Yuan, and after being evicted from their original location the students transferred the sit-in to Liberty Plaza (自由廣場). They have received petitions of support from over 500 university professors, while other sit-ins have been staged throughout the island.

At this point in time, the movement's goals include: 1) Apologies from President Ma Ying-jeou 馬英九 and Premier Liu Chao-shiuan 劉兆玄; 2) The resignations of National Police Agency Director-General Wang Cho-chiun 王卓鈞 and National Security Bureau Director-General Tsai Chao-ming 蔡朝明; 3) Amending the Parade and Assembly Law (集會遊行法) by removing an article that obliges rally organizers to apply for police approval prior to staging an event.

The students have had to cope with a wide range of "tests", including bad weather, midterms, convincing politcal figures not to take part, and coping with the occasional oddball trying to take advantage of the sit-in to make her or his own statement. Whether this movement will be as successful as the Wild Lily Student Movement (野百合學運) of the 1990s remains to be seen. The number of participants has been relatively low, but both the ruling and opposition parties have responded positively to the possibility of amending the Parade and Assembly Law. However, there has as yet been no response to student insistence on apologies and resignations. Student protests have always been a thorn in side of Chinese governments, be they imperial dynasties, authoritarian states, or democracies; it will be interesting to see how things progress.

In other news...

1. An 80 year-old former KMT party member attempted self-immolation near the sit-in to protest heavy-handed police actions against protesters carrying the ROC flag at sites Chen Yunlin was visiting. He is hanging on to life in the Taiwan University Hospital ICU.

2. Former President Chen Shuibian 陳水扁 has been placed in detention following 6 hours of questioning at the prosecutor's office and a marathon 11-hour detention hearing interrupted by a trip to the hospital to investigate Chen's claims that he had been roughed up by court bailiffs (doctors determined that he had only suffered a minor muscle tear). The hearing concluded with the judges voting 2-1 in favor of detention on grounds that Chen might tamper with evidence against him.

This action marks the temporary conclusion of a formal investigation into allegations of corruption by Chen that began on May 20, the date of Ma's inauguration. He is now the tenth person being detained in connection with the case. As Chen was led out from the prosecutor's office, he put his handcuffed hands in the air and shouted "Political persecution! Long live Taiwan!" He has only drunk water during first day of his detention, which suggests that he may be initiating a hunger strike.

3. Yunlin County Commissioner Su Chih-fen 蘇治芬 is persisting with a hunger strike to protest her detention on charges of corruption. She is now being kept alive through a court-ordered IV drip. For a moving letter she wrote to her son, click here.

Here are some aspects of what penal detention in Taiwan entails: up to four months confinement in a small cell with just one hour of exercise per day, a rectal examination each time one re-enters the cell block (to prevent the smuggling of contraband), etc...all without having been formally indicted, not to mention convicted of a crime. To be clear: for centuries (if not millennia) corruption has been a scourge of civilization. Politicians guilty of such crimes deserve to be locked up in a dank and dark dungeon...but only following a conviction resulting from a fair trial. One should also note that while corruption cases in Taiwan have been quite common over the years, it is relatively rare for accused politicians to be subjected to detention. There are increasing fears that Taiwan's reputation as being governed by the rule of law is being eroded, and it might be worth considering this recent comment by AIT Director Stephen M. Young (楊甦棣): "The only thing I would say (about the Chen case) is that not only Taiwan, but your friends around the world would be watching the process very closely. And we believe it needs to be transparent, fair and impartial."

Like the student sit-ins, protests against the above-mentioned detentions have been relatively limited in size (celebrations over Chen's detention have also been muted). Some people may be disgusted by the moral decline of DPP politicians, while others may be intimidated by recent wave of detentions. All in all, however, it seems that most people are just too busy trying to make ends meet to engage in acts of protest. However, recent events have led to a sense of sorrow and frustration...and only six months after the new government was sworn in. Let us hope for a brighter future.

Note: In the interests of sustaining a harmonious blogosphere, all references to Taiwan as a country or nation have been omitted from this post.