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[twtranslationproject]

Follow-up on verdict in Sunflower Movement trials

This is a follow-up to my translation of the original news that broke.  It contains more details, some personal thoughts, and translated legal analysis.  Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, so a lot of the legal stuff might be wrong or vague or mistranslated.  Please let me know if you see anything!

First, the court opinion has been released and can be accessed here.  I might try to translate it in the future.

Second, in my earlier translation I translated “煽惑他人” as “inciting public disorder.”  It means an action which is not usually illegal, or which has criminal intent but was not executed, but due to the person’s criminal intent, incites crimes by other people.  It appears there is a legal term for this which I did not know: “incitement.”  See this for more.

Third, more information has come out about the court opinion, which I find fascinating, in particular because it appears (to me, a layman) to place Taiwan decidedly to the left of the United States on the issue civil disobedience.  In particular, the court opinion argued that the defendants did not incite crime or trespass “without cause” due to the notion of civil disobedience.

The following is a partial translation of a pair of articles (one and two) by Storm Media Group.  Some added text is mine, for organization.

Courts use the notion of “civil disobedience” for the first time!  22 Student Sunflower Movement defendants cleared of all charges

Taipei District court presiding judge Liao Jian-yu [廖建瑜] explained that the not guilty verdict is primarily a result of the notion of “civil disobedience,” which is being applied in Taiwan for the first time.  Liao pointed out that during the hearings of the “318 Student Legislative Yuan Occupation Case” [318學運佔領立法院案], Huang Kuo-chang and others, during their arguments, introduced the notion of “civil disobedience” [公民不服從] as a [legal] right to resistance in Germany.  When the judges gathered information, [綜合國內外學?] had said that they felt this case fell under the concept of “civil disobedience,” as there were reasonable grounds, and was not of an essentially illegal nature.

Liao Jian-yu also expressed that the judges determined that civil disobedience has seven necessary characteristics:

the protest must oppose an illegal or unjust action by the government or in public affairs [抗議對象是與政府或公眾事務有關重大違法或不義行為] 

must be of open nature and non-violent [須為公開及非暴力行為] 

must exhibit concern for the public welfare in their goals [須基於關切公共利益或公眾事務目的] 

must be in accordance with the principle of appropriateness [符合適當性] 

must be in accordance with the principle of necessity [符合必要性] 

must be in accordance with the principle of narrow proprtionality [狹義比例原則] and 

must be carried out in a way that is open to the possibility of reconciliation with their opponents [抗議行為須與抗議對象間具有可得認識的關聯性].

It was found that the seven criteria for civil disobedience were entirely satisfied in the case of the Sunflower Student Movement leaders. Firstly, the CSSTA was a public affair, and the defendants felt that the legislature was unable to honor public opinion.  Their occupation of the legislature, aside from expressing their demands, in reality also succeeded preventing the legislative session on March 21, 2014, and so, these methods were necessary and contributed to accomplishing their goals.  Furthermore, considering the context at the time, after the CSSTA was sent to legislative review, objectively speaking there was already no possibility of a mechanism for review [無開啟後續審查機制的可能].  Therefore, the act of occupying the legislature was in accordance with the principles of necessity and narrow proportionality.

Regarding the prosecution’s case:

Liao Jian-yu expressed that the prosecutor’s case consisted of three parts: (1) incitement and tresspassing in the Legislative Yuan (2) causing pubic disorder outside the Legislative Yuan and (3) obstructing government administration inside the Legislative Yuan.

Regarding (1), the courts ruled that when the defendants expressed their views many people had already scaled the walls to occupy the Legislative Yuan.  Moreover, their views were expressed as personal views, and did not incite that view in others, and so objectively cannot be considered as incitement.

The bounds between police maintaining order and the right to freedom of speech

As for the portion dealing with illegal assembly, the defendants had gathered outside the Legsilative Yuan but within its walls to express their opposition to the CSSTA.  The prosecutors maintain that this is an illegal assembly.

Regarding this, the courts ruled that the assembly was orderly and peaceful, were non-violent and without incident, and furthermore the police manpower deployed at the scene should have been enough to maintain order.   Furthermore, the signs raised by policemen indicating that the assembly was illegal were raised too briefly — for only ten to twenty minutes — and also they were raised within 45 minutes of assembly, which is not sufficient time for people to express their appeals.

Because of this, the courts ruled that the raising of signs by policemen [舉牌警告, policemen raised signs warning that the assembly was illegal] cannot be considered without flaw, and that the defendants did not disperse under the flawed orders from the police did not violated the Assembly and Parade Law article 29 [集會遊行法第29條, which reads: If the relevant bodies governing assembly give a dispersal order which is ignored, participants who continue their assembly are subject to at most two years of imprisonment or detention.]

Obstructing the administration of government — not enough evidence, actions do not constitute violent force

Regarding “obstruction of government administration,” the court, after debate, found that there was not enough evidence to justify the charge.  For example: the prosecutors were unable to prove that the defendants targeted any particular individual, and were unable to say which police officer felt fear due to the defendants’s words.

Regarding their methods, the court ruled that the defendants’ actions were “not an extreme” attack, and that when the defendants attempted to break away from the police, the collision of bodies that resulted was not enough to constitute obstruction or assault of officials.

I was particularly interested in the reference by the Sunflower Movement defendants to a legal “right to resistance” in Germany.  I am translating 抵抗�� as the “right to resistance” as opposed to 抗議權, the “right to protest.”  In particular, I am interested how Taiwanese view such rights, and also how other legal systems and countries view such rights.

For the first, I found the following answer to a question asked on Yahoo (not the most rigorous source, but I’m not writing an academic paper here).

The “right to resist” [抵抗權] refers to the people’s right to resist, as derived from natural law, when a government has engaged in an improper [不正] infringement on the law [法律侵害] or supression of human rights.  This right is explicitly stipulated in the Constitution of Federal Republic of Germany.  As stated in the constitution, the main reason is the consideration that a system cannot be perfectly robust, even to prevent an event like the rise of Hitler, and so to prevent such an event from happening, the people are given a right to resistance [反抗].  In reaction to a legal but improper and unconstitutional act of government, such acts of resistance are guaranteed to be not illegal and are considered “civil disobedience.”  An act of civil disobedience refers to an illegal act which has its origins in good conscience, and is deliberate, open, and collective.  Furthermore, it appeals to a subjective interpretation of the law, and also participants accept the possibility of legal punishment, and must act outside of their individual personal interest.

In civil law systems, there are instances of narrow interpretations and broad interpretations of civil disobedience.  An example of the former would be criminal law, and an example of the latter would be executive orders and civil law.  Generally speaking, the methods must be non-violent, but since the line between violence and non-violence is not clear, precedent is often used to determine this.  

In the following translation of the German constitution, Article 20 reads:

[Constitutional principles – Right of resistance]

(1) The Federal Republic of Germany is a democratic and social federal state.

(2) All state authority is derived from the people. It shall be exercised by the people through elections and other votes and through specific legislative, executive and judicial bodies.

(3) The legislature shall be bound by the constitutional order, the executive and the judiciary by law and justice.

(4) All Germans shall have the right to resist any person seeking to abolish this constitutional order, if no other remedy is available.

It appears that, by the German constitution, the right to resistance is tied to unconstitutional acts by government.  On the other hand, there is no such right stipulated in the Constitution of the Republic of China (translation).   Instead, the court uses the notion of civil disobedience to argue that the defendants did not incite crime or trespass “without reason.”  In particular, they argue that Zhang’s actions in rushing the bill to the floor violated an agreement between the KMT and DPP, and that the bill had great social importance, which constituted an illegal or unjust act by government which could justify civil disobedience. 

本件張慶忠所為「視為已審查、送院會存查」之行為，已違反先前黨團協商之決議，非無未依正當法律程序審查議案之情事

Translation: In this case, Zhang Qing-zhong’s act of “regarding the review as complete and sending the act to the floor” violated the earlier agreement between the parties, as the honest procedural review of the facts regarding the act had not occurred.

The relevant text from the court opinion is below the fold, yet to be translated.

就被告黃國昌、周馥儀、黃郁芬、陳為廷、魏揚、林飛帆、曾柏瑜、陳廷豪及民眾進入立法院是否「無故」部分

本件檢察官所指煽惑他人犯刑法第306條之罪，所稱之「無故」，係指無正當理由擅入他人住宅或建築物而言，而所謂「有無正當理由」，不以法律有明文規定為限，即習慣上、道德上許可，而無背於公序良俗者，亦屬之，因此，究竟有無正當理由中需依違法阻卻事由之一般原理，視其行為是否具有社會相當性以為斷，是所謂「無故」，乃本條犯罪之違法性構成要件要素，是否該當此要素，自應為實質違法性之審查。

本件佔領立法院之行為，被告黃國昌等人既主張並非無故侵入，按前說明，自應就其等所抗辯公民不符從之概念，據以審酌本件佔領立法院之行為是否具有社會相當性而有正當理由。參酌國內外學說及實務見解，概認公民不服從之要件為：抗議對象係與政府或公眾事務有關之重大違法或不義行為；須基於關切公共利益或公眾事務之目的為之；抗議行為須與抗議對象間具有可得認識之關聯性；須為公開及非暴力行為；適當性原則，即抗議手段須有助於訴求目的之達成；必要性原則：無其他合法、有效之替代手段可資使用；狹義比例原則：抗議行動所造成之危害須小於訴求目的所帶來之利益，且侷限於最小可能之限度。

本件張慶忠所為「視為已審查、送院會存查」之行為，已違反先前黨團協商之決議，非無未依正當法律程序審查議案之情事，且此舉確實引發各界批評抗議，則此等審酌與公共事務相關服務貿易協議之立法行為，客觀上非無重大瑕疵。被告黃國昌、周馥儀、黃郁芬、陳為廷、魏揚、林飛帆、曾柏瑜、陳廷豪因認立法院無法表彰民意，遂以佔領立法院之方式進行抗議，為達到阻止立法院院會草率通過服貿協議之目的而為之象徵性暨政治性言論，且因服貿協議影響之行業及領域甚廣，與個人經濟、社會生活密切相關，攸關國家未來政治、經濟發展甚鉅，足認其等前開動機及目的與公眾事務有重大關聯。又其等抗議對象係立法院及立法委員，抗議地點在立法院，依照一般智識人民之生活經驗，客觀上可明顯得知其等之抗議訴求與抗議對象之關聯性。再其等之行為及言語均係在現場已有許多民眾聚集之情況下，為不特定多數人得以共見共聞之情形，係屬公開行為，且其等並未積極對警方施以攻擊或破壞立法院之公物及設備，所為尚屬平和，究非惡意暴力攻擊行為。本件為抗議張慶忠前揭逕自將服貿協議宣布送院會存查之舉，且為避免服貿協議於3日後之103年3月21日在立法院院會中草率表決通過，而以佔領立法院之方式表達訴求，實際上亦造成立法院院會於103年3月21日無法順利開會，其等前開抗議手段有助於訴求目的之達成。復依照立法院向來審查議案之慣例，以立法院職權行使法第61條、第62條規定用行政命令審查之議案，若視為已審查並送院會存查，嗣後均未經院會實質審查，即全部生效，即使院會交回委員會，委員會亦不會將議案排入審查議程，經過3個月後，即依照前開規定視為已審查而自動生效，是張慶忠宣布將服貿協議視為已審查，送院會存查後，服貿協議即送到院會存查，並依照過往慣例而自動生效，實際上已無再經過院會或送回委員會進行實質審查或議決之可能。而在立法院即將於3日後之103年3月21日召開院會之急迫情形下，以當時之客觀情狀，實際上已無期待可能即時可資救濟之有效管道。再立法院議場縱經民眾佔領，立法委員仍可在院區內之其他地點召開會議，並無重大影響或遲滯議事程序之進行，是本件佔領立法院議場所造成之危害，與其等反對服貿協議輕率送院會存查通過，並主張立法院重新實質審查服貿協議之訴求，二者相較衡量，其等行為所造成之損害顯然小於訴求目的所帶來之利益。是被告黃國昌、周馥儀、黃郁芬、陳為廷、魏揚、林飛帆、曾柏瑜、陳廷豪前開行為已符合上述公民不服從之要件。佐以本件佔領立法院行為持續近1個月期間，立法院不僅並未主動執行驅離，且試圖進行溝通對話，以瞭解此等行為目的訴求，甚至其後也未就此表示要進行訴追之意，更可證明立法院對此等公共事務政治意見表達予以容認尊重，而此正為立法院係國家最高民意機關，由人民直接選舉之立法委員代表人民行使立法權，本即應廣為傾聽並接納各種民意，不應對反對意見有差別待遇或抗拒不同意見聲音之本質所使然。是就整體法規範之價值體系觀之，尚與一般社會倫理規範無違，具有社會相當性，自無予以非難之必要，本件縱有如公訴意旨所指號召他人進入立法院之行為，惟此等意見表達既不具實質違法性，屬有正當理由之情形，而與刑法第306條「無故」之構成要件有間，則此等號召行為，自與煽惑他人「犯罪」之要件有別。

綜上所述，被告黃國昌、周馥儀、黃郁芬、陳為廷、魏揚、林飛帆、曾柏瑜、陳廷豪所為，客觀上並非煽惑他人犯罪之行為，主觀上亦無煽惑他人犯罪之犯意，且此等對公共事務之政治性意見表達，合於社會相當性，自無法以煽惑他人犯罪之刑責相繩。

[twtranslationproject]

Huang Kuo-chang, Lin Fei-fan, Chen Wei-ting of the Sunflower Movement Legislative Yuan Occupation, cleared of all charges

Original article from Storm Media Group.

On March 18, 2014, student leaders Lin Fei-fan, Chen Wei-ting and others, to protest the careless review of the Cross-Strait Service Trade Agreement [CSSTA, 海峽兩岸服務貿易協議], led a mass occupation of the Legislative Yuan.  Legislator Huang Kuo-chang and student leader Lin Fei-fan and Chen Wei-ting were charged with obstructing government officials [妨害公務] and other crimes; today, the Taipei District Office cleared them of all charges, subject to appeal.

KMT legislator Zhang Qing-zhong [張慶忠], then head of the Internal Administration Committee of the Legislative Yuan, in the midst of a heated debate [朝野紛擾], had hastily declared that as the CSSTA had exceeded the three month deadline for review, and that the review would conclude and the bill sent to the floor for a vote.  This was named the “half a minute” [半分忠, a pun, “minute” is replaced with homonym “zhong” in Zhang’s name] incident by the public.  The next day student groups charged the floor of the Legislative Yuan, marking the birth of the influential “Sunflower Student Movement” [太陽花學運], and did not leave until twenty-three days later on April 10th.

Those who participated in the occupation of the Legislative Yuan floor primarily belonged to the “Black Island Youth Front” [黑色島國青年陣線, or 黑島青 for short], including Taiwan National University political science graduate student Lin Fei-fan and Tsinghua University sociology graduate student Chen Wei-ting.

During court proceedings the Taipei District Court summoned Lin Fei-fan, Chen Wei-ting and Huang Kuo-chang, and the court reviewed videotapes and accounts of many policemen in order to clarify the course of events during the mass occupation of the Legislative Yuan and determine whether their actions constituted a crime.  Lin Fei-fan and others maintained their innocence, and that at the time was that Ma Ying-jeou had violated the constitution in pushing the CSSTA through the Legislative Yuan using “black box” methods, putting Taiwan in danger of gradual annexation.  They argued that in this context, the people had the right to exercise a right to resistance.

In a related case from the same time period, the Taipei District Prosecutor’s Office [北檢] charged 132 people in two groups in relation to the 323 occupation of the Executive Yuan, but last year when the new government took office the Executive Yuan dropped charges against 87 people for trespassing [侵入建築物] and vandalism [毀損], but the student movement leader Wei Yang [魏揚] and 21 others were charged with obstructing government officials [被控的妨害公務], destruction of public property [毀損公物], inciting public disorder [煽惑他人], and burglary [竊盜].  A verdict has not been reached yet for this case, and the Taipei District Court [台北地院] is still hearing arguments.  The case is set to conclude before the end of the month, and a verdict will be reached on April 10th at 4pm.

[twtranslationproject]

Beef Noodle Soup

擔仔麵The following is an excerpt from 柯仔煎的身世：台灣食物名小考 [The History of the Oyster Omelete: A Quiz on Taiwanese Food Names] (books.tw, readmoo) on 牛肉麵, beef noodle soup.

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Beef noodle soup has already become the most representative of Taiwanese foods; the Taipei city government even runs a beef noodle soup festival.  It’s hard to believe that in the early post-war period, eating beef was taboo in Taiwan, and even today many people do not eat beef.

Early Taiwan had two kinds of cattle: yellow cattle [黃牛] and water buffalo [水牛], and both came from outside the island.  In the seventeenth century, the Dutch in Tainan developed an agricultural economy based on sugarcane, and so cattle were brought from Southeast Asia or Penghu, which was developed earlier than Taiwan, to till the fields.  Afterwards, Han Chinese immigrants began to cultivate rice paddies, and brought along water buffalo.

In Taiwan’s early agricultural societies and village life, cattle were the most important farming partner, and oxen-drawn cars were the most important mode of transportation, and they were traded in makeshift markets called gû-hi [牛墟].  In those times, if a cow became sick or died, a family’s livelihood would be severely affected.  Because of this, Taiwanese people developed a deep bond with their cows, and relationships as if they were family.

In the Japanese era, famous Taiwanese sculptor N̂g Thóo-Suí’s [黃土水] heirloom piece was “A Herd of Buffalo” [水牛群像].  Japanese writer Yuzo Yamane [山根勇藏] wrote in her collection of essays “Sights and Notes on Taiwanese Folk Customs” [original Japanese title: 台灣民族性百談] described how the way Taiwanese farmers cared for their cows had really moved her.  She described a Taiwanese farmer bring two cows into the paddies, one tilling the field and the other eating grass on the side.  When the farmer noticed that the tilling cow was tired and was not moving, he wouldn’t whip the cow but rather took a break himself.  When the cow still did not want to move, he removed the plow and had the other cow do the work.

Up until the post-war period, some Hakka villages still kept the custom of feeding cows rice balls [湯圓] on the Winter Solstice Festival, and worrying that they would be too sticky for the cows to swallow, they would wrap them in vegetable leaves so that the cow could eat them together.  Some even consiered the Winter Solstice as the cow’s birthday, which continued up until cattle were replaced by “steel cattle.”

Taiwanese people considered cows to be a spiritual animal.  There’s a Taiwanese proverb: “pigs know to walk, but not to die; cows know to die, but not to walk” 「豬知走，毋知死；牛知死，毋知走」.  That is, when cows see people coming to catch them, they don’t yell or run, but instead they shed tears, because they know that they are about to die.

Another Taiwanese proverb goes: “do not eat cows or dogs, and honor will not come; eat cows or dogs, and hell is hard to escape”「毋食牛犬，功名袂顯；食了牛犬，地獄難免」That is, although in Chinese history there are many heroes who ate beef and dog meat, they can’t escape hell.  Because early Taiwanese settlers believed that eating beef or dog meat would lead to hell, they did not generally eat beef, and some farmers would not even sell old cows so that their hardworking cows could retire and enjoy their twilight years until a natural death.

Of course, one can’t say that all past Taiwanese did not eat beef, but to begin eating beef as a common practice, and to invent beef noodle soup as cuisine, was an influence that was brought to Taiwan after World War II by waisheng (mainland Chinese) immigrants.

Before discussing beef noodle soup, we must first discuss noodles.  Taiwan’s climate is conducive to planting rice, but very few places can grow wheat (mainly in Daya 大雅 district in Taichung 台中), and up to the early post-war period, Taiwanese people’s staple crop was rice.  Noodles were not a main course, so the famous Ta-a Noodles [擔仔麵] of Tainan was originally a snack.

In 1954, the Taiwanese government hoped to turn rice into an export crop, and the United States at the same time was looking to sell its excess wheat production, so the Taiwanese government enacted the “Flour for Rice” policy, encouraging people to eat noodles rather than rice.  At the same time, in 1949, about one to two million immigrants from various provinces of China immigrated to Taiwan, including northerners whose traditional staple is noodles.  Thus, a rich culture of noodle-based cuisine developed in Taiwan alongside the traditional Taiwanese rice-based cuisine.

Where did Taiwanese beef noodle soup come from?  Commonly cited is former National Taiwan University history professor and food critic Lu Yao-dong [逯耀東]: along the Yangtze River there are many different forms and flavors of beef noodles and beef noodle soup, but the so-called “Sichuan style” beef noodle soup is a Taiwanese creation, not present in the province of Sichuan.  After the war, air force officers from Chengdu, Sichuan moved to Gangshan [岡山，Okayama in Japanese] in Kaohsiung.  Their military villages being mainly Sichuanese, they used the methods from Pi [郫] County to make bean paste, and then used this bean paste to simmer “Sichuan style braised beef noodle soup.”  So one could say that Taiwanese beef noodle soup started in Gangshan, and later found its way to Taipei.

I met Liang You-xiang [梁幼祥] in early 2011 when he was my teacher for a training class for foreign language tour guides.  He is the long-standing organizer of Taipei’s International Beef Noodle Soup Festival competition and food critic, and he had just published a book called “Flavor” [滋味] where he mentioned the origins of Taiwanese beef noodle soup: “National Taiwan University professor Lu Yao-dong says that beef noodle soup originated from Gangshan’s mainlander troops, but there are others that say its origins are in Taipei’s Chunghua Road [中華路].  In any case, it’s certain the flavor had come from retired veterans who started noodle stands to try to make a living after retirement.”

So, I can conjecture: in the early post-war period most Taiwanese people did not eat beef, but mainlanders did not have this kind of taboo.  Families in military villages of the time combined the flour provided by the government and used it to make a variety of noodles, thick or thin.  As such, beef and noodles combined to become “beef noodle soup,” and although it was first sold in stalls run by mainland veterans, in the end it became a high-grade folk dish enjoyed by waisheng mianlanders, bensheng Taiwanese, Japanese, and Westerners alike.

Today, aside from the main style of braised beef noodle [紅燒], there are also the clear broth [清燉], tomato [番茄], curry [咖哩], Taiwanese BBQ [沙茶], spicy [馬拉], et cetera, flavors.  Then, how does one make a tasty beef noodle soup?

====================

I decided to end my translation here.  The rest of the section talks about what kind of beef noodles are generally considered “good.”  I prefer to let the eater decide that for himself.

I’ll end with a plug for some of my favorites in Taiwan, if you ever visit.  If you’re just transiting through the airport, Chef Hung might be a decent choice [洪師父牛肉麵] -- though you can get this in various American cities now (I haven’t tried).  If you’re visiting Taipei, my favorites are Yongkang Beef Noodles 永康牛肉麵 for the hongshao (spicy, flavorful) kind, and Ah Niu Beef Noodles 阿牛牛肉麵 for the qingdun (clear broth) kind.

[twtranslationproject]

A “pivot” to... something

I’ve decided to expand the scope of this blog somewhat; in particular, I might start translating excerpts from books, poems, and whatever I feel like.  I’ve also decided to begin inserting my own commentary when I feel it’s appropriate.  

I want to explain why.  Up until now, my methodology on this blog has been to take a news article, read the title, and then begin translating.  In particular, sometimes I might come across an interesting sounding title and then toward the end I might really dislike the article.  Despite this I’ve tried to keep commentary at a minimum.

Another reason is that I have a few dozen unfinished translations of news articles sitting in my drafts pile.  Some of them, I lacked the stamina to complete and some of them I just got bored (because as with English language news articles, I read them until I get the point and then quit).  With excerpts from books, there isn’t this feeling that I have to translate the entire thing, and I think they will be more interesting anyway.

I will probably still translate the occasional article.  Anyway, here’s to hoping that this results in more posts and more translations!

Last thing: I should probably change the title of the blog, but I think Tumblr won’t let me change the actual URL.  Maybe this will happen someday.

[twtranslationproject]

Chen Yu-chin: I am the new second generation, of a Fujianese veteran father and an Chinese-Indonesian mother

Original article in Storm Media some time ago.  The article is an interview with Chen Yu-chin [陳又津], a writer, who has recently published a book.  Commonweath Magazine has a recent article in English.

Chen Yu-chin: “I flew on a plane by the time I was five; my classmates thought it was so cool.”

Chen Yu-chin, born in 1986, now twenty-nine years old.

Living in Sanchong [district in New Taipei City], her family members are her mother and a pair of cats.  After graduating she worked in writing, and ran or swam almost every day.  Her hair is short, she wears metal black-framed glasses, and she is wearing a blouse and jeans.  What’s notable is her room lacks, for the most part, decoration or memorabilia; there is only a cabinet, a bed and books, almost as if it were an office.  This house was left by her father, and nearby is the old district [老社區]; it’s easy to live there, and although the author feels that it is a convenient place, to outsiders, it’s a place without landmarks, a place where you have to be very careful crossing the road.  The roads are often closed for Din Tao [陣頭, a kind of Taiwanese folk art], and red lanterns hang everywhere.

Her speech is fast, her elocution clear, her speech intertwoven with auxilliary words [語助詞] and interjections [感嘆詞].  She talks of her background as a multi-national child openly, and of her time after college.  Although her mother is Indonesian of Chinese descent and her father is a veteran of Fujian, she can only speak Mandarin; she cannot speak neither Indonesian nor Nothern Min [感嘆].  She can more or less understand Hakka, but she communicates with her cousin using English since her cousin is not fluent in Mandarin nor Hakka.  She has gone back to Indonesia with her mother four times: when she was five, twelve, twenty-two and twenty-eight; she’s been to Fujian only once when she was twelve.

Interview:

After working for some time, I quit my job and stayed home to focus on writing.  This isn’t because my royalties were great, but because I found a subject that I wanted to write about, something I just had to start writing about immediately.  To tell the truth, it’s more like those people who love to travel, who go off to live somewhere else every year or two.  For me, the best life is one where I write, exercise, and have something to eat.  This way is perfect for me.  I really like to read; all kinds of books, but mostly novels.  Because I like to read, so I tried to write books, all I need is a book to read and it’s not a problem if I never leave the house.  I don’t watch TV or read the newspaper, since it feels like it’s too much of a waste of time compared to reading books, and even when I talk with friends I don’t follow the discussion, but they’re used to that.

I don’t know if it’s because of that, but it was easy for me applying to schools.  I saw a report recently that said children of trans-national marriages tend to be behind in school, but I feel like how can that be, what pair of eyes looked and saw that?  If you say that I’m behind then what do you say about people whose grades are even worse?  If people want to compare then fine, when I was young I participated in Mandarin speech competitions, which should prove that parents’ accents and children’s pronunciation aren’t necessarily so related.  Also, the idea of only using grades to measure a person is a flawed kind of value in the first place!

Our family only had one child, but I don’t think there’s anything special about that.  My mom would say that even if she had two kids, if she lost one it would be painful anyway.  There are some things that just can’t be measured.  Before elementary school, I would often play with kids of similar backgrounds (veteran father, Indonesian mother), but nowadays I don’t really have friends like that, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t even know.  It’s just the friends that my mother still calls, she’d tell me what their kids are up to.  Other than those international calls, there isn’t much connection between our family and Indonesia.  At most, when we buy clothes and shoes and see the words “Made in Indonesia,” there’s a feeling that we are supporting the country.

When I was in high school, I finally realized there were other classmates whose parents were born in Indonesia, but after asking it turns out their parents were college classmates who freely fell in love [自由戀愛, “love marriage” as opposed to say, arranged marriage], so in this way their parents’ identities were somewhat different from mine.  When I was young the ideas I had about transnational marriages from Southeast Asia was just as written on the cement wall outside our house: “foreign bride \ guaranteed to be a virgin \ definitely no price hikes \ definitely eighteen years old \ if she runs you can marry another for free” [外籍新娘＼保證處女＼絕不加價＼十八萬全包＼跑掉免費再娶一位].  In such an environment it was difficult for me to say anything to my classmates about it.  At the time some people would point at my nose and laugh, ha ha your mom is a foreign bride, and at best people would have some suspicions and ask, is your mom Taiwanese?  I would laugh and reply, what do you think?  In fact most [“eight or nine out of ten”,十之八九] questions in the world can be answered like that.  Besides, back then in the nineties there were a lot of overseas Chinese, there were a lot of middle-aged people whose Mandarin wasn’t very standard, so it really wasn’t that strange.  I don’t really like to ask people questions, I figure if they want to talk about it they will even if I don’t ask, and pressing people for answers will just get you a crappy answer.  But of course, there are some who only know what they want to say when faced with a question, so in that case you have to see how much that person trusts you.

In the summer when everyone would talk about going back to their home village, if you asked our family where we went, I would mainland China or Indonesia.  To be five years old and have flown on an airplane, that was really cool to my classmates.  When others ask my mother where are you from, she would sometimes say Hakka, sometimes she would say Hong Kong, and in any case they can’t tell.  In a general sense, it’s true anyway.  If someone asks me, I just say overseas Chinese.  It wasn’t until I was in college that I could see a bit more clearly, that overseas Chinese implied a Chinese cultural background and love marriage, and that transnational marriages were labeled love labor [愛之名的勞動], and that the labor of these immigrant workers had an expiration date and material reward.

What was more difficult was parent-teacher conferences; my mother probably only went once, she went to some place for who-knows-what.  The next day there were classmates that asked me, was that your mom yesterday?  Because my mom was only thirty when she gave birth to me, in comparison my classmates’ mothers were likely a bit older.  To me, parents’ age is a more difficult issue than an immigrant identity, since it’s not something you can just find some excuse for and have people move on.  But nowadays, having a child when you’re thirty is considered good, so my mother was really ahead of her time on that one.  My mother had no understanding of Taiwan’s education system, and so I stamped [instead of signatures, people would have name stamps] the contact books [聯絡簿, teachers frequently wrote reports on students, e.g. grades, in these books, and parents had to sign] and report cards myself.  From early on I “legally” had a stamp of our family seal, and further these parent-teacher conferences were not very friendly for the blue-collar class, to take a vacation day to listen to some things you had no interest in, if it were me now I wouldn’t go.  Also at the time I didn’t think too highly of teachers, but I didn’t have to worry about grades or absences, as long as the teachers had their worries on others it was fine.  Nowadays I understand the teaching profession a bit better: it’s a way to put food on the table, and it’s not like it’s someone’s life’s work.  I’ve met and admit there are teachers like that, but probably no more than five of them, and after all going it alone against the education system is really difficult.  Like graduation ceremonies, entrance exams, these things that people take time off work for, I just went by myself, and seeing other people’s parents cheering in the front and hugging in the back [前呼後擁], I thought, is this really such a problem?

Actually, my understanding of Indonesia is only slightly better than my understanding of America.  When I go back my head is totally empty, I just let my relatives decide where to go; private cars and drivers take us to a place, and I have no idea where we are.  But, I might as well go ahead and say what I know about Indonesia.

My maternal great-grandfather moved from Mei County in Guangdong to Kalimantan, Indonesia, in Borneo, but this was over a hundred years ago.  At that time, I think it was the Qing dynasty.  My mother was born in a farming village in Kalimantan, she has an older brother and two younger sisters, and that entire village had no more than fifty people.  Our family had some land, and my mother would take Chinese classes for half a day, helping with farmwork and business for the rest of the time.  In 1965 when the massacres in Indonesia began my mother was around twenty years old, but all she knows is that one day she was attacked by “natives,” and many Chinese people became poor and homeless [流離失所].  Their family left for the busier town [阿永安, can’t find the actual town name] in the care of relatives, staying a gold store that they had opened.  They fled by bus and only brought a pot and clothes; a few years ago my grandmother went back to visit, but many people haven’t gone back even after half a century.  I never heard about the details of their flight, I only know this one-sided narrative.  

Afterwards, my mother’s family went to Jakarta.  Her brother was an apprentice in a gold shop, and afterwards he founded a clothing factory, employing ten or so Indonesian laborers.  My relatives in Indonesia mostly run factories in the chemicals and raw materials trade and live a middle-class lifestyle.  They live in Western-style houses three to four stories tall; their homes have a shrine to Taoist gods in the first or second floor balconies [在自宅一樓或二樓陽台奉祀福德正神].  When they go out they always drive, and they also employ Indonesian drivers; they hire Indonesian maids from small farming villages who sleep in very small and cramped bedrooms and who have their separate squatting toilets.  When I see the Chinese district, they have small flower gardens or garages in front of their houses, and an Indonesian security guard stands at the entrance to the district, a community walled off by metal fences two or three stories high.  The other side of the fence is all wooden bungalows, and the people who live inside live off river water.  I know from a Chinese language volunteer teacher that some of the rich build their houses as big as a movie studio, and on the other side of the river are slums.  The wealth disparity in Indonesia is enormous.  When I enter and exit the malls with my relatives we are required to walk through metal detectors in order to prevent terrorist attacks.

Despite the drivers that take them in and out and the are servants in the household, and that my cousins frequently hold Blackberries in their hands, when they hear Islamic chants or when they drive by a mosque they are very afraid.  My Indonesian cousins have Indonesian first and last names; my uncles and aunts speak Hakka and Fujianese with each other, but my cousins only speak Indonesian.  I don’t speak Indonesian, and my cousins and I can only understand Hakka, but not speak, and so in the end the way we communicated was Taiwanese-accented English against Indonesian-accented English.  Racial discrimination is a large factor in Chinese-Indonesian emigration, but what compelled my mother to go to faraway Taiwan was the popular culture and economy at the time.

My mother really likes Teresa Teng’s songs, and on the internet you can find a lot of her songs that she sung in Indonesian, for example “Story of a Small City”《小城故事》was even released as an album in Indonesia.  I only later realized that “Sweet”《甜蜜蜜》was originally an Indonesian folk song《Dayung Sampan》.  At that time, I tihnk the connection between Taiwan and Indonesia was deeper.  Indonesian theaters played King Hu’s [胡金銓] wuxia films, so my mother was very familiar with Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, and the Two Lins and Two Chins [二秦二林].  Simply put, she was crazy about popular movies and music.  My mother considered whether to marry to someone in Hong Kong or Taiwan, and in the end chose Taiwan.  After a quarter century later, my and my cousin talk about the Japanese anime Doraemon; when I asked what he knew about Taiwan he took out a pirated Hanazakarino Kimitachihe [Taiwanese TV drama] DVD to show me.  Anyway I was the more ashamed; I hadn’t seen Hanazakarino Kimitachihe, and I knew nothing about Indonesian culture: I couldn’t think of a single example.

My mother says that when she was twenty-five, she had the opportunity to go to Hong Kong, but at the time she didn’t have the money for a plane ticket, and if she went she would have to find a husband.  She waited until she was twenty-nine and sold off all her gold -- enough to buy a small apartment in Jakarta -- but exchanged it instead for a one-way ticket to Taiwan.  She obtained a tourist visa and came to Taipei and made necklaces and shirts, and in this half year she looked for a way to marry to obtain identification.  What made her different from her fellow sisters was that she bought her own marriage rather than going through a broker.  She had the power to choose her groom (even though the choices were few), and the betrothal money from the wedding went entirely to her.  Even though she learned Chinese in the countryside she had more or less forgotten it entirely after ten years, and when she arrived in Taiwan at age twenty-nine she couldn’t speak a word.  When she first married into Taiwan she spoke to distant relatives in Hakka, and after twenty years she could ride the bus, take the subway, watch the eight o’clock dramas, and even sing the Minnan folk song 《家後》.  Usually when she buys things, the market vendors speak to her in Minnan, she speaks back in Mandarin, and they have no barriers to communication, as if the vendor didn’t even realize that she was speaking Mandarin.

In the last thirty years, she went back to Indonesia three times: when I was five, twelve, and twenty-two.  Our house doesn’t have anything from Indonesia, no records, books, or anything.  We speak Mandarin at home, and my mother has almost forgotten how to speak Indonesian, speaking Hakka with her overseas relatives over the phone.  When she saw an Indonesian helper pushing a wheelchair in the park she was curious; at hte time I was in college and I felt like there was no need for her to worry about being mistaken as a migrant worker, so I told her she could talk to them, after all their lives were pretty hard, so having the diversion to talk to someone wouldn’t be so bad.  At first my mother was stuck at her Chinese [華人] appearance (meaning being Taiwanese) [剛開始我媽礙於華人的外表], and she had forgotten most of her Indonesian, but luckily her counterpart spoke pretty good Chinese, so the two chatted in Indonesian peppered with Chinese.  In a park in another country, these two would have never spoken to each other in Indonesia, but here they suddenly became countrymen.  When the migrant worker was leaving for home, she even said goodbye to my mother.

Taiwanese people often [三不五時] ask my mother, do you have enough money?  Are you going back to Indonesia?  She feels that it’s very weird, and she says, “I’m Taiwanese, I have a Taiwanese passport, my child and my property are here.  Why would I go back?”

── What happens when you let people know your identity?

The friends I made after growing up have a pretty good idea about immigrants, so they wouldn’t say things like you’re a foreign worker or anything.  Although, most people still don’t really know what to say.  However, a lot of people go to Jakarta to do business, this to me was really unexpected.  Recently when I was doing interviews of second-generation adults, even though my identity might not be strictly considered that of a second-generation immigrant, but I still wanted to sweetly say [引用荊子馨所說] “what’s important isn’t to use our monopoly on the marginalized ‘oppressed other’ to embrace it, but to come to face with the relationships living in the space between ourselves and others which first allowed this other-ization to become possible”「重要的並不是以『被壓迫的他者』的專利邊緣性去擁護它，而是去正視最初讓他者化成為可能的那種介於自我和他者之間的構成關係」; what’s important isn’t the labels of “Southeast Asia” or “overseas Chinese,” but the impact our parents’ journey has had on ourselves.  Because Vietnamese and Thai people are different, Chinese-Indonesians and Chinese-Burmese are also different, it doesn’t matter if you’re from Southeast Asia, or if you came from the south to the north, or went from Taiwan to China, from east to west, our parents have some things which are similar and some things which are unfamiliar.

── Do you have any desire to go to Indonesia to work or live for awhile?

Not really.  I don’t speak the language, it’s too much work to learn it from scratch.  Unless there’s some kind of disaster in Taiwan and I have to flee there.  I’m a person that feels like disaster is never too far away, so I’ve actually thought about it, if I have to flee then I would definitely go to Indonesia, but it would be best if there wasn’t any kind of nuclear disaster or earthquake.  Before when I just entered society, my mother had a really cool document which would let me go back to Indonesia to teach Chinese.  I heard you could make good money, but I can’t speak Indonesian at all, and teaching like that is too hard.  Also, I’m planning on taking advantage of the time that my mom can still walk, to take her on a trip of return from flight [重現逃亡之旅], I feel like this would be something meaningful.

[twtranslationproject]

Marital rape in Taiwan

This is not a translation.  It is a result of me poking around on the internet trying to answer the question: is marital rape illegal in Taiwan (and to what extent)?

The English language Wikipedia page lists Taiwan as a country for which marital rape is criminal, but the source is broken.  It lists China as a country for which marital rape is not criminal (but I did not look into this).  The Chinese language Wikipedia page is more informative, and points to article 229-1 in the Criminal Law of the Republic of China.  Here is the text:

對配偶犯第二百二十一條、第二百二十四條之罪者，或未滿十八歲之人犯 第二百二十七條之罪者，須告訴乃論。

Translation: Spousal offenders under articles 221 and 224, or offenders under the age of 18 under articles 227 [this article regards statutory rape] are to be prosecuted only if the victim makes a complaint [告訴及論].

The legal concept of 告訴機論之罪, which seems to go by the German name Antragsdelikt in the Western legal world, meaning a category of offense that is only prosecuted if a victim makes a complaint.  I couldn’t find other references to marital rape in the legal code, in particular that explicitly say it is criminal, but article 227 seems to imply that it is, though the victim must make the complaint.

[twtranslationproject]

Geng Yi-wei: The decade of film when we caught the show’s tail

Original article by Geng Yi-wei [耿一偉] in The Reporter.

In elementary school I would skip school to watch movies.  It was around third grade when I went to Chungmei Theater [中美電影院] for the afternoon showing; that was across from what is now the Hualien Cultural Creative Industries Park [花蓮文化創意園區], occupying a big piece of land on Chunghua Road.  In the past this theater would play all of the Shaw Brothers’ [邵氏, from Hong Kong] wuxia films.  I’ve already forgotten which movie I’d seen, but I remember when I left the theater I ran into my neighbor who had just seen the same film.  He saw me wearing my student uniform, on top of that not being a normal time to be off school, and his eyes filled with suspicion, but he didn’t say a word.  And so I left in a hurry to go home, and for the next few days I was worried that he would come over to our home and complain, but this never happened, and afterwards I never again dared to skip class to see movies.  There was just no way, Hualien is too small, there are people I know everywhere.

I grew up in the seventies, and at that time Hualien had six movie theaters.  They included Tianxiang [天祥], Tianshan [天山], Kuosheng [國聲], Chungmei [中美], Haohua [豪華] and Meiqi [美琪.  These movie theaters belonged to different circuits, and they played different movies.  The aforementioned Chunghua specialized in playing the Shaw Brothers, Tianxiang played Hong Kong films from Cinema City Company [新藝城] et cetera, and Kuosheng specialized in foreign films [主攻洋片].  Chunghua, the theater I skipped class to go to, was constructed from wood, and there were food stalls [小吃販賣] set up on the sides of the auditorium where one could buy food, drinks and snacks anytime without worrying about missing any of the movie.  In the past when theaters had balcony seating, when the movies got boring, you could look over the railing to see what the viewers downstairs were doing, or you could throw seed shells over the edge.

I’ve asked many people from different places, and it doesn’t matter if they’re from Keelung, Taipei or Yunlin, it seems as if back then there was a tacit understanding between all of Taiwan’s movie theaters: often around ten minutes before the end of the movie, they would open the exit doors and pay it no mind.  Back then kids who didn’t have money to see movies would wait outside at the door to wait for the moment it opened, and would immediately rush inside, standing behind the back row seats, staring at the screen, mouths wide open, taking in the ending climax, and on the road home after they left the theater they would use their imagination to put together what the rest of the movie was about.  This was called “catching the show’s tail” [撿戲尾].

Nowadays I often think that those years of catching the show’s tail had a big influence on my creative work later in life, because it cultivated a pleasure in using my imagination.

There are many reasons I love movies, and one key cause is that before kindergarten, because my father came home late from work, my mother would often have already have turned off the lights and already in bed.  Back then every Friday evening around nine-thirty or ten, Taiwan TV [台視] had a half-hour program anchored by Sheng Chu-ru [盛竹如] introducing the movies opening in cinemas that week, and one to two minutes of selected clips were shown for each movie.  I really liked watching this program, and I remember it to this day, the small black-and-white TV on the small table next to the bed flashing in the darkness, me sitting on the wooden floor, raising my head and staring at Sheng Chu-ru with my mouth wide open.  My deepest impression is a regularly played Longines [watch company] commercial; shot from the sky, it showed a motorboat pulling a beautiful water-skiing girl behind it.  I was attracted to this commercial because of the song that accompanied it, a Western oldie that was popular at the time; I didn’t know until high school that this song was called “Rain and Tears” sung by Aphrodite’s Child.

A few years back I had the chance to visit Geneva, and seeing the Jet d’Eau I realized where this commercial was shot.  It was shot where famous watches are sold left and right, on the shores of Lake Geneva.

When I was in sixth grade, my interest in the Meiqi Theater (now a hotel) near my home began to fill.  Every time I passed by, I would, mouth wide open, stare blankly at the display window where the movie posters and stage photos were advertised.  I don’t know why, but back then the industry was really self-regulated in terms of rating movies .  According to my classmates, as long as you were in middle school and had student identification, you could go see movies.  And so the first day of middle school, my personal rite of adulthood was to go to Meiqi Theater and see a movie.  The lady at the door, seeing my shaking right hand holding my student ID, still emitting the smell of fresh print, was without expression.  She tore my ticket, and gestured to the man behind me. 

Back then the format was the short film.  The film wasn’t entirely brilliant scenes, but rather they would show a totally boring drama film (or perhaps we just thought that most movies were boring, we weren’t going to see stories), and then halfway through they would suddenly insert two minutes of a feature segment, this was the so-called “insert film” [插片].  In that low-information era, being able to see this insert film, even though it was just a minute or two, was just as good as going to Geneva, and meant becoming an adult who has seen the world.  But I only ever went to Meiqi Theater three times.

This was because the third time I went, halfway through the movie, a middle-aged man suddenly ran over and sat next to me, and after some time he abruptly put his hand on my leg and asked me: “little boy, do you think movies are fun to watch?”  In shock, I turned to look at this stranger, and even though the theater was dark, by the flashing of the screen I noticed his other hand below the seat, moving continuously like a tremor.  Startled, and without thinking, I cursed his mother and ran out of the theater.

After this, I never went to Meiqi again.  I only used my imagination.

[twtranslationproject]

Opinion: How does the Japanese media view the Taiwanese election?

Original article in The Reporter by Nojima Tsuyoshi 野島剛.

Being a newspaper journalist is not much more than running the news, writing reports, and getting published on the paper.  Sometimes heaven doesn’t give you what you want [天不從人願], and no matter how hard you work on writing, as soon as there’s a bit of distance from the demands of society you immediately fall out of favor [打入冷宮, literally means to be consigned to the palace where emperors confined wives or concubines who fell out of favor].  The existence of news reports has its origins in the demands of society; conversely, if the demand fades away, no matter how a journalist racks his brains [絞盡腦汁], it is all futile anyway.  Newspapers have spreads [版面], TV news has segments; in the inner workings of any media outlet there are journalists or newsmakers in a mutual struggle, struggling for their forts.  This article of mine is a special column in an online paper, where the biggest difference with the large media groups is that the character limit is more lax.

For a long time actually, the rate of Japanese media coverage of Taiwanese news has not been high.  For one, the main reason is that there isn’t much demand for Taiwanese news in Japan.  Secondly, the content of Japanese media reports on Taiwan is often tedious [枯燥乏味], and doesn’t attract the attention of readers.  Previously, the only large-scale Japanese newspaper that dispatched a foreign correspondent to Taiwan was the Sankei Shimbun《產經新聞》, and other media outlets relied mostly on local reports and calling over the telephone to collect information.  Even in the 1980s, when Taiwan still was ruled by the Chiang [Kai-Shek and Ching-Kuo] father and son, under the one-party dictatorship by the KMT, the Japanese people had little interest in Taiwanese news.

After Taiwan embraced democracy and started carrying out presidential elections in 1996, the Japanese media has one after another set up news gathering outposts in Taiwan, because if Japanese media outlets seemed like they could not provide the latest news and movements on this accompanying tide of democratization,, then they would not be able to meet the high expectations of the Japanese people.

Afterwards, domestic Japanese news reports on Taiwan began to slowly increase.  For the special correspondents in the Japanese media, the highlight of their coverage was the presidential election occurring every four years.  In general, unless there was a big natural disaster, it would never be that a press release from Taipei could grab an entire newspaper spread in a Japanese newspaper.  By contrast, special correspondents in Washington or Beijing have frequent opportunities to be featured in the newspaper days in a row, and even in the current geopolitical atmosphere [國際情勢], this is perfectly understandable [無可厚非].  And so, to the reporters stationed in Taipei, an election four years represented a rare chance to make up some lost ground [扳回一城].

In the past when I worked as a special correspondent in Taipei, the 2008 presidential and legislative elections were conducted separately.  The KMT first won a landslide victory in the legislature, and at the time, the Asahi Shimbun《朝日新聞》carried the results on its front page.  Two months later for the presidential elections, seemingly carrying the momentum, whether it  was that Ma Ying-jeou seemed certain to win or that Ma Ying-jeou had won the election, it all made the headline news.  By lucky chance, both of the election reports that I wrote made it to the front page.

So this time around, how did the Japanese media cover Taiwanese elections?  The day after the elections on January 17th, every newspaper reported it on the front page, but since this had been the practice before this is nothing surprising.  But this time the reports continued further to the second page and third page, an in the international news section were many detailed analyses and reports.  In the 1996, 2000 and 2008 presidential elections, we hadn’t seen anything like this.

As domestic Taiwanese media has pointed out, in this election “even Japanese newspapers have paid much attention.”  This much is true, but one can’t purely use the headlines on January 17th to speak to it.  What’s worth noticing is, starting from two to three months before the election, each big Japanese newspaper and television news channel has successively conducted reports.  For example, the special programs that NHK’s well-known half-hour program Close-Up Gendai《クローズアップ現代》 and a one-hour program on BS ran on Taiwan’s elections had a multi-faceted material collection even dispatching news teams to Taiwan to conduct a deep investigation, and so the quality of the resulting reports they broadcasted were quite substantive.  In the past the convention was to put out a report the day of, but this time, there was news and reports leading up to the election, and not only that, this seems to be a trend that materialized independently in each Japanese media outlet.

The reason for this has to do with the large increase in Japanese interest in Taiwan and the increase in demand for Taiwanese news amongst the Japanese people, especially following the 2011 earthquake in Japan when Taiwan donated up to 100 million yen in disaster relief, ranking number one in the world, shocking the entire Japanese nation.  Because of this, for this friendly neighbor -- demand for Taiwanese news has more than doubled [整整翻倍].  However, for a time, the Japanese media’s reaction was a bit sluggish, and often one would hear from Japanese people who have frequent dealings with Taiwan that “Japanese coverage of Taiwan is really too little.”

When Japanese news outlets edit the international news sections, they often use global standards and Japanese interests as a benchmark.  Of course, first place is the United States, and next is China, and next is the Middle East or Europe, then Korea, and then after Korea it’s Taiwan’s turn.  Even now, these benchmarks have not changed.  However, if one wants to cut through the media’s clamorous surge in understanding Taiwan, when the public opinion reaches a certain point, it will begin to influence the existing benchmark judgements, and only then will coverage on Taiwan emerge like spring bamboo after the rain [雨後春筍].  I feel that it’s not that the media deliberates in high-level meetings to “cover more Taiwanese news,” but rather, in an environment where people thirst for information on Taiwan, the newspaper bosses won’t have much opinion on increasing coverage of Taiwanese news even though they don’t much understand Taiwan.

In other words, in the consciousness of the Japanese people, “valuing Taiwan” begins to have a mutual and tacit understanding.

For someone like me who has long kept tabs on Taiwanese news, I certainly welcome this phenomenon.  Japan and Taiwan have historical ties, our peoples have frequent exchanges, and Taiwan has for a long time been friendly to Japan.  However, at the same time they are neighbors, and coverage on South Korea or North Korea far exceeds that on Taiwan, they are incomparable.  As I’ve felt unsatisfied at this inequitable state of affairs, my gloom can finally be broken, as it seems that the analyses and opinions I’ve published on the Taiwanese elections this time have all received a rather high level of readership.

Since there has been much coverage in Japan on the Taiwanese elections, then, how has it been reported?  For example, it’s common to see Japanese media interpret the DPP’s Tsai Ing-wen’s victory as a rejection of Ma Ying-jeou’s China-centric political vision by the Taiwanese people, but does it really reflect the reality in Taiwan?  This is the question worth asking.

For example, we can compare the headlines on various newspapers on January 17th.  Asahi Shimbun《朝日新聞》ran the headline “A desire to change the China slant,” Sankei Shimbun《產經新聞》ran “An end to the China slant,” Yomiuri Shimbun《讀賣新聞》ran “A stop to getting closer to China,” and only Nikkei Shimbun《日本經濟新聞》wrote “Cross-strait relations maintain the status quo.”  I personally feel that Nikkei Shimbun’s headline most closely resembles the public opinion in Taiwan.

Of course, in Taiwan, the Ma administration’s cross-strait policies did not fail to cause worries to surface due to being “too irritable” or “too close.”  However, this is a secondary reason that the KMT lost the election, the main reason being “antipathy toward the KMT and Ma administration” reaching its upper limit.  If we recall the background of the 2014 Sunflower Student Movement as being opposed to the Ma administration’s black-box operations [i.e. backroom deals], when students were so angry they took to the streets, the anti-China sentiments were secondary for most people, and these two situations are basically similar in character.

In other words, Taiwanese citizens casting votes for the DPP this time around is not necessary because the Ma administration was too close to China and was thus rejected, but because Ma Ying-jeou can no longer satisfy the people’s expectations as a president.  According to many opinion polls, the Ma administration’s economic policies, social welfare policies, and environmental policies are all poorly rated, and only his cross-strait policies were relatively well-received.  The Taiwanese people were simply fed up with the KMT’s bureaucracy, conservatism, and lack of communication with the people.

Furthermore, many Japanese editorials take the vein of “saying NO to China” as a reason in analyzing Tsai Ing-wen’s victory.  For example, Yomiuri Shimbun《讀賣新聞》wrote “one could say that the results of this election show the Taiwanese people stepping hard on the brakes with regard to getting closer to China,” or Mainichi Shimbun《每日新聞》wrote “the guarded attitude toward being overly reliant on China and the possibility of unification sowed the seeds of the KMT’s defeat” et cetera; and other opinions basically also used “rejecting closer ties with China” as the main argument for their reports.  Although it’s impossible to exclude opposition to “the KMT’s cross-strait road” as a reason, but to view it as the most important reason for the DPP’s victory is something I cannot agree with.

The China policy Tsai Ing-wen has held high is to “keep the status quo,” and this of course includes continuing Ma Ying-jeou’s cross-strait policies, and one can be sure that it does not mean saying no to China, or to choose to completely cut off with China, and it is precisely because of this that Taiwanese citizens could feel safe in casting their vote for her.

Tsai Ing-wen’s election, perhaps may cause a cooling across the strait, but this is not a reason for the change in government but a result.  It is a cost of changing governments from the KMT to the DPP, and the Taiwanese people are surely aware of this price.  At the same time, the facts already clearly showed during the eight years under President Ma, however cross-strait ties improve, no matter who is in power, they won’t be allowed to “sell out Taiwan” again.

The problems with these reports also reflect that the Japanese media is still thinking under the old framework.  To explain it in a sentence, in the minds of Japanese people, there is only one China no matter what, and they relegate problems of Taiwan to “problems of China,” and the media feels that only such reports are in accord with the mental expectations of the people, that if they don’t mention China then it would seem like they had lost a good chunk of the reasonableness in reporting on Taiwan, and would cause some psychological stress.

However, according to the situation in reality, Taiwanese elections are not like they were before.  There already seems to be little interference from mainland China, and 23 million Taiwanese people rely on their own reasons and motivations to cast that sacred vote.  Is this not enough to exhibit the social value that “Taiwan is Taiwan?”

Of course, in every country’s international reportage, prejudice due to that country’s position and consciousness are unavoidable.  However, regarding how to interpret the results of this Taiwanese election, I feel that it’s about time that Japan rids itself of its overly China-centric analysis of Taiwan.  Taiwanese society’s mainstream trend is that “Taiwan is Taiwan” and different from China, and Japanese media should report from this standpoint.  Otherwise, they become a laughingstock for the Japanese readers who already have some familiarity with Taiwan.

[twtranslationproject]

Viewpoint: Must patriotism imply hanging a portrait of the founding father?

Original article an opinion from Storm Media Group.

In Taiwan when we hang the flag, it is common to also hang a portrait of Sun Yat-Sen [孫文], underneath, and in many ceremonies, especially at the national level, will involve the rite of three bows [to his portrait].  Recently, a Kaohsiung middle school abolished a rule requiring students to salute his portrait (in the past, every school strictly enforced this rule), and in recent days pan-green legislators have desired to change the law, stressing “no cult of personality [個人崇拜] in democracy” as a reason for the government to stop hanging the portrait.

Of course, the KMT response has been fierce, but looking at it from another angle, is this issue really something that can’t be touched and can’t be discussed?

There’s no doubt that Sun Yat-Sen is a thinker and founder of the Republic of China, and nobody will doubt that his greatness and his special representative status in the Republic of China.  But as a democratic country, is it right to apply the traditional Chinese “patriarchical” [家父長] thought to Sun Yat-Sen?  Sun Yat-Sen loved “Three Principles of the People” [三民主義], and it was thus that he created the Republic of China, but those who actually sacrificed their blood and life [拋頭顱灑熱血] were his followers.  By comparison to another founding father, the United States’ Washington personally led battles against England.  In comparison, Sun Yat-Sen was more like a logistics supervisor and propogandist in nature.  Though it’s true that Sun Yat-sen was a leader and pioneer, are those who shed their blood in his following not just as great?  The pan-green legislator’s reasoning for not hanging and saluting the portrait are somewhat empty.  But from another standpoint, there are many who established the Republic of China, so isn’t it a bit unfair to only remember Sun Yat-Sen?

Looking at the United States’ example, Americans call Washington’s group in the beginning the “founding fathers” [創立者們; a note is that the way this is written does not refer to “fathers” and is gender-ambiguous as opposed to my English translation, which is more culturally standard], who also have statues and memorial halls.  But their portraits are not hung under the flat, and there is no salutation ceremony.  When the president and government officials take office, they stand in front of the flag and the Chief Justice holding the Constitution, they touching the Bible with one hand and raise the other to swear an oath.  The flag is the symbol of a country, not the founding father nor any president.  Right now in Taiwan, when the national anthem is sung, when there are no lyrics and without a backing chorus, who can sing it completely and correctly?  Is the saluting a leader’s portrait patriotism, or is it recognizing the flag from the bottom of one’s heart, and deeply loving the land, people and spirit of that flag and constitution?

[YouTube video of Barack Obama’s 2013 inaguration]

Starting at 35:09 in the video, President Barack Obama’s hand touches the American constitution, and he reads the oath of office to the Chief Justice.

Those who saw the title of this article and started to criticize, ask yourself first, today, who is calling to put back Chaing Kai-Shek’s bronze statue, or when you see the founding father’s statue do you really salute?  As far as the lives of the Taiwanese people, is the founding father important as a topic in school textbooks, or is it important only when you buy things with a 100 yuan note?  Does hanging a portrait and and doing many salutes count as loving the Republic of China, or is it only when one rises to its defense when others disgrace that flag of blue sky, white sun, and a full ground of red that counts?  In Asia, aside from North Korea saluting the portrait and statue, only North Korea and Taiwan are left.  Excluding Japan and Thailand having emperors, even the People’s Republic of China across the strait does not do three bows in front of Mao Zedong.  Of course you might say that challenging Sun Yat-Sen’s status as a founding father is unnecessary, but isn’t the issue of saluting something everyone can discuss?  Of course, having the portrait of the founding father in the  presidential palace and the central Five Yuan [five branches of central government] is necessary, because even in the White House of the United States, they hang portraits of all past presidents, and Sun Yat-Sen has held the office of president of the Republic of China before.

[twtranslationproject]

Geng Yi-wei: A night of Karaoke with the presidential candidates

Original article in The Reporter by Geng Yi-wei [耿一偉].

Franky, because I hadn’t heard any of songs during this year’s presidential elections this year, they have felt rather cool.  It’s not that these election songs didn’t exist, more that the candidates were not in the mood for music.  This may have something to do with their conservative attitudes toward cultural policy.

The authors of the 2011 book Stop Thinking About The Music: The Politics of Songs and Musicians in Presidential Campaigns emphasized: “The use of music by politicians during elections is very rational.  Music becomes an effective tool for the people in recognizing who the candidates are, and can even change how they vote.  Music can activate a connection between the candidates and a certain feeling.  Music can even create a glue between the candidates and the people.”

In July of last year, Tsai Ing-wen’s campaign team conducted a poll to select her campaign song.  On September 4th, at the issuing conference of the new album “Taiwan: A Beautiful and Happy Land” 《台灣美樂地》, Tsai sang awkwardly and loudly, and she had to ask her staff members to turn the microphone volume down.  Although her main song “Bright Spot” 〈亮點〉echoed Tsai’s campaign slogan of “Light Up Taiwan” 「點亮台灣」, this song, which she sang in a chorus along with the campaign manager, Fire Ex [滅火器, a band], Pig Head Skin [豬頭皮, musician], Chen Ming-chang [陳明章], Shi Wen-bin [施文彬], Suming [舒米恩], Huang Lian-yu [黃連煜], and other gold-award winning singers and musicians, although it was built up for the duration of her entire election campaign, it still did not play a major role.   By contrast, during the 2000 presidential elections, Chen Shui-bian’s song “Happiness March”〈幸福進行曲〉was heard all throughout the city.  It seems that Tsai has forgone the DPP’s demonstrated ability to go on this emotional offensive.

As for Eric Chu’s situation, from his hurried entrance into the arena up until now, I still haven’t discovered any kind of announcement of an election song, but the blue camp tends to use as a substitute the national anthem and the Ode to the Republic of China.  These two songs, having been integrated into our institutions such as in school morning assemblies and New Year’s flag raisings et cetera, has a certain ability to bring out emotions.  However, the lyrics and melodies of these two songs are unable to create any substantive interaction with the lives and experiences of today’s voters (“The grasslands of Qinghai, cannot be seen all at once”「青海的草原，一眼看不完」).  Furthermore, having been used over and over these few years has diminished their capacity to arouse emotion.

If we analyze the popular “Happiness March,” we realize that it it sung like a Taiwanese folk song, using natural scenery and experiences as a metaphor for its message, which is the easiest way for it to resonate with the public: “Because of you, winter has already become the stamens of spring.  Because of you, the geese fly here a thousand miles and a beautiful dream following.”「因為你，冬雪已經化成春天的花蕊。因為你，雁行千里美夢來相隨。」  From another chart-topping election song from an earlier time, “The Stamens of Spring” 〈春天的花蕊〉to Tsai Ing-wen’s most popular election song “Flower of Taiwan”〈台灣花〉, we can realize that the Taiwanese natural experiences of “wind and rain”「風雨」、“rays of light”「天光」、“the ocean shore”「海岸」、“the earth and soil”「土地」、“spring”「春天」、“heavenly king”「天星」、and “flower stamen”「花蕊」et cetera, are adhesives used to express a feeling of nativism.

Using these kinds of descriptions of extrinsic landscapes to guide the listener’s intrinsic identification with a group are the greatest distinguishing feature of Taiwanese presidential election songs.  In comparison with American presidential election songs, we can see a big difference.

American presidential election songs often are pre-existing popular songs (Wikipedia’s entry on “Campaign song” has a complete list of such songs), and candidates simply choose these songs to say who they are.  What they need to be more mindful of is that these songs frequently use the words “I” or “we,” and that the song titles all stress a verb, functioning as a call to voters to mass mobilize.  Compared to the aforementioned Taiwanese election songs, which often have nouns as their song titles or prefer descriptions of external landscapes, this is very different.

In the 2012 [United States] presidential elections, Obama chose blue-collar king Bruce Springsteen’s “We Take Care of Our Own,” and in 2000 George W. Bush chose Southern rock veteran Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down.”  These songs are not only pleasing to the ears [耳熟能詳] of the people (regardless of whether they are Republicans or Democrats), but after their announcements, to some extent they let the voters get a feel for the tastes of these candidates and what kind of music they listen to.  Just like how at the beginning of the year when James Soong announced his campaign song, the electronica song “Just Soong”〈宋就好〉, it didn’t seem like his own song, and instead seemed more like a counter-productive [逆勢操作] hail mary [孤注一擲].  In any case... it’s all good [爽就好].

Donald Trump has made some noise in the news lately; originally he used Twisted Sister’s 80s hit song “We’re Not Gonna Take it” as his campaign song.  Twisted Sister is a heavy metal band, a style of music with strong white roots, and was thus well-suited to his tone.  But after his series of racially prejudiced remarks, in December the lead singer Dee Snider publicly stated that he would reconsider whether or not to let Trump continue to use that hit single.

If we are to compare this round of Taiwan’s presidential elections with the American ones, the campaign songs are more reflective of the campaign team’s line of thought than the candidate’s personal character.  Does this phenomenon reveal an increase in rationality in the voters and the candidates, or a repression of their inner feelings?  Or perhaps, some might say it isn’t important, it’s getting elected that matters.  However, I feel that campaign songs and cultural policy have both had their volumes turned down in this campaign.  This might not affect the election result, but if you ask me, it is a bad omen.

It doesn’t matter, because culture is up to ourselves, and we can sing to ourselves as well.  Come, “We are the Champions,” teacher, music please [來，老師，音樂請].

[twtranslationproject]

2016 Taiwan presidential election victory and concession speeches

Tsai Ing-wen’s victory speech

Friends gathered here tonight, friends watching on their televisions, young friends watching the live stream on the internet, and all the people in our Taiwan -- hello and good night.

各位現場的朋友，各位電視機前面的好朋友，網路上收看直播的年輕朋友，我們全體的台灣人民，大家好，大家晚安

Our running mate Dr. Chen Chien-jen, our campaign manager mayor Chen Chu, and also all of our campaign staff have all worked hard.  We are all very happy to have the former vice-president and former premier join us today in this historical moment.

我們的競選搭檔陳建仁院士，競選總部主任委員陳菊市長，還有我們所有的競選總部的同仁，各位辛苦了。我們今天很高興，我們幾位前副總統和前主席，一起來參加這歷史的時刻。

I’ve said it before, and I’ve done all I can, to turn your tears into smiles.  And everyone, we have done it. 我說過，我拚了命，也要把各位的淚水轉化成笑容。各位，我們都做到了。 So, if you still have tears in your eyes, please dry them.  Let us greet the start of a new era in Taiwan with a merry mood, okay? 所以，如果你的眼中還有淚水，請大家把它擦乾。我們一起用快快樂樂的心情，來迎接台灣新時代的開始，好不好？ My colleagues have told me that right here starting at noon there were supporters waiting for the votes to be counted. 我的工作同仁告訴我，今天我們的這個現場，從中午開始，就有支持者坐在這裡等開票了。

Is everyone a little happier?  Is everyone a little happier? 大家有歡喜某？大家有歡喜某？ I know that these few years that you’ve had a small bone to pick with Tsai Ing-wen.  And that is that people felt that I am excessively rational and that I never openly express my feelings.  And so, here and now, I want to say to everyone, if everyone is truly happy, let us have one big cheer for Taiwan, is that okay? 我知道，這些年來，你們對蔡英文有一個小小的抱怨。就是大家認為，我太過理性，從來不公開表達自己的情緒。所以，在這裡，我要跟大家說，如果大家真的很高興，我們就大聲為台灣歡呼一次，好不好？

Together, we’ve finished an important task for Taiwan.  Right now, this is how I feel.  I actually feel very calm, because I know that my coming responsibilities will be very heavy.  I thank everyone for supporting Tsai Ing-wen and Chen Chiang-jen, for supporting the Democratic Progressive Party.  As a representative of the Democratic Progressive Party once again, I send all of the people of Taiwan my deepest gratitude. 我們一起為台灣完成了一件重要的事，這是我此時此刻，心裡的感覺。我的心情其實很平靜，因為，我知道，未來我的責任將會很重。感謝大家對蔡英文、陳建仁的支持，感謝大家對民主進步黨的支持，我再一次代表民主進步黨，向全體台灣人民，致上我最深的謝意。 I thank all of the people of Taiwan; together, we’ve accomplished the third transfer of power between parties in the history of Taiwanese democracy.  We have lit up Taiwan, and let us again use our actions to tell the world that Taiwan is democracy, and democracy is Taiwan. 感謝所有的台灣人民，我們一起，完成了台灣民主史上第三次的政黨輪替。我們點亮了台灣，我們再一次用行動告訴全世界，台灣等於民主，民主等於台灣。

I want to thank my two opponents in competition, chairman Chu and chairman Soong, as together we have written a new page in history for the democratic government of Taiwan.  I understand their hopes for this country.  In elections there are the victors and the defeated; however, in the end, the victors will always be Taiwanese democracy.  In this, I sincerely invite them, as this country, and the road to future reform, cannot be without you. 我要謝謝我的兩位競爭對手，朱主席和宋主席，我們一起為台灣的民主政治，寫下了歷史新頁。我了解他們對這個國家的期待。選舉有輸贏，但是，最終勝利的永遠是台灣的民主。在這裡，我誠摯地邀請他們，這個國家，未來改革的路上，不能沒有你們。

I want to further thank my colleagues, our support groups, and our volunteers.  You have sacrificed your weekends, sacrificed time to spend with your families, and whether rain or shine, regardless of sickness, you have stood by me in battle.  You are the strongest team of all.  To be able to walk this fine stretch of road with you all is the greatest honor in my life. 我還要謝謝我的工作同仁，我們的後援會，我們的志工。你們犧牲假日，犧牲陪伴家人的時間，無論晴天雨天，就算生病感冒，都跟我並肩作戰。你們是最強的團隊。能跟各位一起走完著最後一里路，是我這一生最大的榮幸。 I also want to specially thank my young colleagues and workers in the campaign office, especially the party staff.  In all these years, there is something I’ve wanted to say to everyone.  This party has lost before, but I always tell myself, there will be a day when I can let everyone who wears this party’s colors walk outside and feel confidence and responsibility fully in their hearts.  We have done that. 我還要特別謝謝這次競選總部中年輕的工作同仁們，尤其是黨工。過去，這麼多年來，我心中一直有一句話想跟大家說。這個黨曾經失敗過，但是，我一直告訴我自己，總有一天，我要讓大家穿著這個黨的制服，走到外面的時候，心中是充滿著信心和責任感。我們做到了。 And so, I want to thank our friends who, during these elections, made a small contribution, using a piggy bank or other methods, who contributed money or effort.  Because of you, the DPP knows again that we are the Taiwanese people’s party of choice. 接下來，我要謝謝每一位在這次選舉中，貢獻小額捐款，用小豬或其他方法，出錢出力的好朋友。因為你們，民進黨再一次確認，我們就是台灣人民的政黨。 Voting is done in a day, and elections in a few months, but to change this country we need to persist and work every day.  Tonight, we can celebrate, everyone can happily celebrate.  Tomorrow when the sun rises, for the sake of this country, we need to bear the duty of reform. 投票是一天，選舉是幾個月，不過，改變這個國家，卻是每一天都必須持續的工作。今天晚上，我們可以慶祝，各位可以高高興興的慶祝。明天太陽升起的時候，我們就要為這個國家，負起改革的責任。

Taiwan here and now, has many elderly people, currently waiting for a more robust care system. 此時此刻的台灣，有很多老人家，正在等待一個更健全的長照系統。 Taiwan here and now, Taiwan’s youth, are currently waiting for a fairer environment for housing. 此時此刻的台灣，台灣的年輕人，正在等待一個更公平的住宅環境。

We cannot forget, there are still many medium-to-small sized industries which are currently waiting for the opportunity to go big. 我們不能忘記，還有很多中小企業，正在等待升級轉型的契機。 We also cannot forget, there is a pension system that is near bankruptcy, currently waiting for our rescue. 我們也不能忘記，還有一個快要破產的年金制度，正在等待我們去挽救。 We also have not forgotten, supporting safety in the Taiwan Strait and peace and stability in cross-strait relations, is a common expectation amongst all, and is something both sides of the straight must work hard toward.  “Keep the status quo” is the promise I made to the Taiwanese people and to the international community, and I will keep my word.  I also guarantee that in future cross-strait dealings, we will vigorously communicate, we will not provoke, and there will be no incidents.

我們更沒有忘記，維持台海安全及兩岸關係的和平和穩定，是大家共同的期待，也是兩岸要一起努力的事。「維持現狀」，是我對台灣人民以及對國際社會的承諾，我一定說到做到。我也向大家保證，未來我處理兩岸關係，會積極溝通，不挑釁，也不會有意外。 My dear Taiwanese people, the victory of democracy is something we made together; reform is something that we push for together.  We will meet many challenges in the future, and the path of reform will surely be difficult, but no matter what the adversity, the Taiwanese people have never been knocked down. 親愛的台灣人民，民主的勝利，是我們共同創造的；改革，也要由我們一起來推動。我們將會面對很多挑戰，改革的過程一定會很辛苦，但無論是怎麼樣的磨難，台灣人從來不曾被擊倒過。 The first step toward reform has already begun.  All we need is to help each other and to resolutely walk on, and a more free, more democratic, more prosperous, and more just country is in front of our eyes.  Isn’t that right? 改革的第一里路，已經開始。只要我們相互扶持，堅定走下去，一個更自由、更民主、更繁榮、更公義的國家，就在我們眼前。對不對？ On February 1st, the new parliament will begin.  The DPP will prioritize the laws that people are concerned about.  We will turn the energy for reform all the way up, and at the same time, we will turn the unrest from reform all the way down. 二月一號，新國會即將開始。民進黨會優先處理人民關心的法案。改革的能量要放到最大，同時，改革的動盪會減到最小。 The Democratic Progressive Party is now the majority party of the country.  We have a majority on our own, and so we will honor the promise we made to the voters, and we must honor the promise we made to the voters.  Reform cannot be left half-finished. 民主進步黨，現在是國會的多數黨。我們單獨過半，我們就要兌現對選民的承諾，我們一定要兌現對選民的承諾，改革絕對不能剩一半。 This is the first time that the legislature has changed parties in Taiwan.  The responsibility we bear is more serious than before.  I stress again, the DPP will not clasp the entire bowl.  We will continue to open up the DPP, and work hard to listen to those voices which did not make it into the legislature.  At the same time, along with the KMT, the PFP, the NPP and all other parties in the legislature, we will do all we can for reform. 這是台灣第一次的國會政黨輪替。我們身上的責任，比以前沉重。我再一次強調，民進黨不會整碗捧去。我們會繼續開放民進黨，努力傾聽那些沒有進入國會的聲音。同時，我們也會和包括國民黨、親民黨和時代力量在內的所有政黨，一起為了改革全力以赴。

And now, as president-elect, and as the chairperson of the party, to all the party employees of the Democratic Progressive Party, issue my first command: be humble, humble, and even more humble. 在這裡，我要以總統當選人的身分，也要以黨主席的身分，對民主進步黨全體黨公職人員，下達第一個命令，謙卑、謙卑、再謙卑。 The people of Taiwan, whether blue or green, regardless of party, regardless of ethnicity, have the strength to reform this country in this new era.  This is Tsai Ing-wen’s promise.  This is Tsai Ing-wen’s guarantee. 台灣人民，不分藍綠、不分政黨、不分族群，在新時代裡，一起為改革這個國家努力。這就是蔡英文的承諾。這就是蔡英文的保證。

On the eve of the elections last night, I saw Su Beng, an o’jii-san [respectful term toward elderly man] of ninety-eight years, in such cold and rainy weather, still make it to the front of the stage to cheer me on.  It was already difficult for him to speak, but I knew, o’jii-san was telling me that to be the president of Taiwan, one needs ambition, one needs resolve, and one needs to be strong. 昨天的選前之夜，我看到已經98歲的史明歐吉桑，在那麼冷的天氣裡，淋著雨，還來到舞台前面，為我加油。他說話已經很困難，但是我知道，歐吉桑是要告訴我，做台灣的總統，要有志氣，要有決心，要堅強。 And now, I want to tell o’jii-san that I will surely be strong.  In facing Taiwan’s predicament I will be strong in every minute.  Only if Tsai Ing-wen is strong will the Taiwanese people be strong with me.  Taiwan is a democratic and free country.  What makes this country so great is that everyone has the right to be themselves.  This country guarantees all its citizens the right to freedom of choice.  And here, as president-elect, I solemnly call on everyone to respect this freedom. 我在這裡要跟歐吉桑說，我一定會堅強。面對台灣的困境，我每一分鐘都會堅強。蔡英文堅強，台灣人民才會跟著我一起堅強。台灣是一個民主自由的國家。這個國家偉大的地方，就在於每一個人都有做自己的權利。這個國家，保障所有國民，自由選擇的權利。在這裡，我要以總統當選人的身分，鄭重呼籲，任何人，都必須尊重這份自由。

Today upon the completion of these elections, we prove to the world that Taiwanese people are a free people, and Taiwanese people are a demoratic people.  From the first day I am president, I will work hard so that none of my citizens will have to apologize for their identity. 今天的選舉結果，是向世界證明，台灣人就是自由人，台灣人就是民主人。只要我當總統的一天，我會努力，讓我的國民，沒有一個人必須為他們的認同道歉。 My dear people of Taiwan, a new era has already begun.  “The sky gradually brightens, and here a group of people, in order to keep vigil over our dream, become a braver people.” 各位親愛的台灣人民，新時代已經開始。「天色漸漸光，這裡有一群人，為了守護我們的夢，變成更加勇敢的人」。

We are exactly that group of people.  Through this round of elections, we’ve become braver.  Starting tomorrow, we will continue to work hard for our fellow citizens and for our next generation. 我們就是這一群人。經過這次選舉，我們已經更加勇敢。明天開始，我們要繼續為我們的手足同胞，為我們的下一代而努力。 I want to thank again all my friends here tonight, and thank all of the people of Taiwan. 再一次謝謝所有現場的好朋友，謝謝所有的台灣人民。

Dignity, solidarity, and confidence, is the new Taiwan.  Thank you everyone, and God bless Taiwan [I am employing a Christian analogue here, original reference is non-religious]. 尊嚴、團結、自信，這就是新台灣。謝謝大家。天佑台灣

Eric Chu’s concession speech

To everyone, I am sorry, Eric Chu has let everyone down.  We’ve lost, the Kuomintang has lost.  We didn’t work hard enough, we didn’t live up to the voters’ expectations, and we didn’t live up to our responsibility toward the Republic of China.  Being the chairman of the party, and also the presidential candidate, I cannot escape my responsibility, and the greatest blame is on me.

對不起大家，朱立倫讓大家失望，我們失敗，國民黨敗選，我們努力不夠，我們辜負所有選民期待，我們辜負對中華民國的責任，身為黨席、也是總統候選人，我責無旁貸，我要負起最大責任。

My friends, Eric Chu apologies to you, and effective immediately I will resign from my position as the party chairman.  I need a thorough self-review and self-reflection.  But you may be at ease, because I will not give up on my confidence in the Kuomintang, on the country, on society, and on the faith of the Taiwanese voters. 各位好朋友，朱立倫對不起大家，我即刻宣布辭去黨主席職務，我要徹底自我檢討、自我反省，大家放心，我不會放棄對國民黨的信心，對國家、對社會、對台灣選民的信心。 Congratulations to chairwoman Tsai Ing-wen, congratulations to the Democratic Progressive Party for its victory.  This is the choice of the people of Taiwan, and is also their passing of responsibility to chairwoman Tsai and the DPP.  I sincerely wish chairwoman Tsai and the DPP the best of luck, and hope that in their victory they can lead the Republic of China, lead Taiwan, to a happier and more beautiful future.  I want to congratulate the voters even more, for Taiwanese democracy is the biggest winner, as they have let us know that our parties start and end with the will of the people, and the trends of public opinion. 恭賀蔡英文主席、恭賀民進黨贏得勝選，這是台灣人民的選擇，也是台灣人民對蔡主席、對民進黨責任的付託，我深切祝福蔡英文主席跟民進黨，能夠在勝選後帶領中華民國、帶領台灣，走向更幸福美好的未來，我更要恭賀所有選民，台灣人民是最大贏家，使人民讓我們朝野政黨知道民意依歸、民意動向。 Friends, the KMT must remember the serious defeat we suffered in this election.  In addition to deep reflection, in addition to listening to the message that the voters have given us through their votes, in the future we also need to fill the role of a vigilant opposition party. 各位好朋友，我們國民黨必定要記取這次大選所遭受最嚴重的一次挫敗，我們除了要深自反省以外，要傾聽人民透過選票透露出來所有的訊息以外，未來我們也要扮演好監督反對黨的角色。

The KMT has lost the election, but as an opposition party out of power, we will serve as watchmen over the government of Taiwan.  We must be oppose for the good as much as we can, take the responsibility of watchmen, so everyone can rest easy that the KMT will be a honest opposition party.  We will observe public opinion, reflect public opinion, and be a good watchman.  We will exude good intentions at all times, which come from our honest love for Taiwan. 國民黨敗選了，但是我們在野的反對黨，做為台灣政治的監督者，我們也必當在未來善盡反對、監督的責任，請大家放心，國民黨會做一個忠誠的反對黨，我們會體察民意、反映民意，做好一個監督者，一切發乎善意，出自真誠對台灣的愛。

There is only one Taiwan.  I’ve said this before the election, and I will continue to say it after: ONE TAIWAN, there is only one Taiwan. 台灣只有一個，我在選前這樣說，我在選後一樣堅定相信，ONE TAIWAN，台灣只有一個。

During the election, our different parties had different philosophies and different values.  Though we competed intensely, after the election there is only one governing party, and only one government, so we must choose the voters’ choice and we must trust the democratic system.  After the election, Taiwan still has a earnest and hard-working opposition party, and the KMT will sincerely self-reflect. 選舉的時候，我們政黨有不同理念、不同價值，激烈的競爭，選後只有一個執政黨，只有一個政府，我們要尊重選民抉擇，我們要相信民主機制，選後台灣依舊有一個認真努力的在野黨，國民黨必定會誠懇反省。

Why we have been the ruling party for eight years, governed for eight years, and then became the opposition party again: if we self-reflect wrongly or not deeply enough, in four years we won’t have the qualifications to say that we can rise again, that we have a chance. 為何我們做了8年的執政黨，執政了8年，會再度成為在野，如果我們反省方向不對、深度不夠，4年後我們依舊沒有資格說我們可以再起、我們還有機會。

Friends, I know your all your feelings in this moment, and supporters, I know your feelings.  They are extremely sorrowful, and our emotions have suffered a heavy blow, but I must say to everyone, we do not have a right to hesitate or to pessimism.  From now on, we must ponder what we should do and where we should go. 各位好朋友，我知道這一刻所有好朋友的心情，所有支持我們民眾的心情、內心非常悲痛，我們情感受到重創，但是我要告訴大家，我們沒有遲疑、悲觀的權利，從現在開始，我們就要思索我們應該要怎麼做，往哪裡去。 Why public opinion has had such a big shift these few years and why there has been such a great disparity in our observation of public opinion -- our policy standpoints, the way we employ people, and the words and attitudes we use to connect with society -- haven’t problems emerged in all of these? 過去這幾年為什麼民意會有如此巨大的轉變，為什麼我們國民黨對民意的體察會有那麼大的落差，我們的政策主張，我們用人的方式，以及我們跟社會溝通連結的語言與姿態，是不是都出現很大的問題。

Why has our self-reflection and self-review not been complete enough and could not work out, why we lost the executive government and also the legislative majority, is a great change that the KMT has never experienced before. 為什麼我們的反省檢討不能夠徹底，不能真正落實，失去中央執政，而且我們也失去國會多數，這是我們國民黨史無前例的巨變。

In fact, in the nine-in-one elections two years ago, we lost a lot of local governments, and that already exposed the great danger we were in.  If you ask me now what was the best thing to do at this occasion, I must say that from now on, we will start at local roots, and nurture good talent starting from the local levels, and after a few rounds of elections, we will let the young world, future leaders and future talents, nurtured from the grassroots level, enter the parliament and executive government.  Only by this road can we extinguish the flames and be reborn.  The KMT seeks to win the approval of the people, and our only chance is to start at the roots. 其實，前年底九合一大選，我們失去地方多數的執政，就已顯露出我們巨大的危機，如果此刻問我該怎麼做是最好的時機，我必須說就從現在開始，我們從地方開始扎根，從地方基層開始培養好的人才，透過一次次選舉，讓年輕世代，未來的領袖、未來的人才，從基層開始培養，進入國會、政府，才是浴火重生唯一的一條出路，國民黨爭取民眾認同，我們要從根做起的唯一機會。 As for the DPP executive government, we sincerely wish them the best; however, political parties and politics are the struggle over different policies and ideals, and the KMT’s blueprint for develpment of the Republic of China, of Taiwan, is different in some segments.  Although we lost this round of elections, in the future, regarding the country’s direction of development, we still have responsibility.  We have sincere worries about the new government and new ruling party, and this is a duty that the opposition party must perform.  Where Taiwan goes is not the matter of a single party, but the common matter of twenty-three million people. 民進黨執政，我們誠摯祝福，不過，政黨政治就是不同的政策與理念的競爭，國民黨對中華民國、對台灣的發展藍圖和民進黨有不一樣的區隔，雖然這次選舉我們輸了，但未來對國家發展大方向，我們依舊有責任，對新政府、對執政黨表達我們的關切與憂心，這是一個負責任的在野政黨必須要做的，台灣往哪裡走不是一個政黨的事，是2300萬人民共同的事。 The KMT lost the election, but we will not lose our love for Taiwan, our love for the Republic of China.  This is a promise we made to all Taiwanese voters, and we deeply thank all our friends who never left and never gave up on the KMT up to the last moment.  You are our supports and you are the courage that we fight for. 國民黨輸了選舉，不會輸掉對台灣的愛，對中華民國的愛，這是我對所有台灣選民做出的承諾，我感恩所有最後關頭仍對國民黨不離不棄所有好朋友，是你們支撐我們奮戰的勇氣。

Regarding those friends who from start to finish who have stayed silent, you have encouraged us to unceasingly self-reflect, to self-critique.  To friends who did not vote for us, you have aroused in us a complete self-review.  Everyone has given us the request of continued reform and change, and after four more years of competition, a newly risen strength. 對於那些始終默默不語的朋友們，你們激勵我們不斷反省、自我批判，對於沒投票給我們的朋友，你們也激發我們要徹底檢討，大家給我們繼續改革求變，爭取4年之後重新再起的力量。

The election is over, and after tonight, the victors will carry the responsibility, and us defeated wholeheartedly wish them well.  I will self-review, be vigilant, and do a complete self-reflection.  Taiwan’s democracy is the social pride of the Chinese people, and I treasure my candidacy this time around, and I want to thank everyone again, for together we have accomplished a great feat in the history of Taiwanese democracy. 選舉結束了，今天晚上後，勝選的要扛起責任，敗選的我衷心祝福，自我檢討、惕勵、徹底反省，台灣的民主是華人社會的驕傲，我很珍惜這次的參選，再一次感謝大家，我們共同完成台灣民主史上的一次壯舉。

Elections have winners and losers, but Taiwan’s future cannot be lost; it must be won.  The KMT will take root in this valley floor, we must extinguish the fire and be reborn, and amidst the trust or critique in every vote, completely change our system.  This is something we must promise to do, and it is also our duty.  We will look up to the sky from the valley floor and ponder the future, and strive for progress.  To everyone, we are sorry, and to everyone, thank you. 選舉有輸贏，台灣的未來不能輸，必須要贏，我們國民黨要在谷底扎根，要能浴火重生，要在每一張選票的託付與指責當中，重新改變我們的體制，這是我們必須要做承諾，也是我們的責任，我們會在谷底仰望天空、思索未來、努力進前，對不起大家，謝謝大家。

[twtranslationproject]

Opinion: Huang An’s great achievement -- from independence hunter to unification Terminator

Original article in Storm Media by the main editorial board.

Nothing is too weird for election season, but mood in this year’s elections have tended to be cool.  Aside from a man pouring ink on himself in Pingtung, there haven’t been many strange events, so it stands to reason that something ridiculous has surfaced: singer Huang An, who has immigrated to China for many years now, and has repeatedly denounced Taiwanese artists as pro-independence such that that their performances in China have been hindered, and has also denounced Taiwanese exchange students in China such that their schools have made statements that the schools are anti-Taiwanese independence but reject personal attacks.

This is a Taiwan where all kinds of things happen; indeed, it is a Formosa of free expression and many clamorous voices [百花齊放眾聲喧嘩].

Huang An, regardless of his identity and his profession, regardless of whether he supports unification or independence, has freedom of speech, just like how the New Power Party say they are youths for independence, or how not a minority of young people call themselves “naturally for independence” [天然獨], or just like how Chang An-lo can swagger [表大剌剌] on the streets advocating his pro-unification stance.  These all fall under the category of freedom of speech, and whether you like it or not, you can still laugh, and if you feel it’s not enough to just laugh, you can go on Facebook and write a post and curse the pro-unification or pro-independence camps a bit.  It’s all okay, and no one can stop you, unless your cursing is a menaces others or lets them feel afraid, which is a different story [另當別論], since that kind of disturbance could result in a civil or criminal offense.

However, even though Huang An enjoys freedom of speech, at the same time he has “crossed a boundary” [越界].  Even though has his own opinion, and has a “practical operation” [實際行動] to report those who voice different opinions, what is extreme is that with a step he steps over the Taiwan Strait and then reports those on the other side who are totally outside the bounds of Taiwanese law, those who he reports and whose lives and even livelihoods he affects do not know whether or not they can raise the issue with the Taiwanese judicial system to seek justice.

It’s not that Taiwan does not have “a person you report to” [檢舉達人].  For example, if you litter or toss your cigarette butts on the street or violate traffic laws, et cetera, and you are photographed or reported, the relevant authority will handle it, because the aforementioned activities violate certain laws and ordinances, and those ordinances also encourage reporting violations.  However, there are no legal restrictions on personal opinions or political preferences, in fact they are protected under the constitution, so what would there be to report?  If you report such things people will think you have a metal disorder.

Huang An knows that his reports only have effect on the other side of the Strait, and with a flippant post on Weibo the artists he points out on the mainland must stop their actions.  Maybe he isn’t aware of this, but his denouncing only confirms how different things are on each side of the strait, and only shows how the other shore does not have freedom of speech, and furthermore, how this freedom is already restricted to the point that even unconfirmed stories can give a person a “guilty” status.  Forget about judicial procedure; at that point one is in violation of the “United Front” [統戰] across the strait.

And whether the artists or students that he denounces hold a [Taiwanese] flag in their hands, or stand on stage with a non-KMT politician, or stand in Tiananmen Square with a “Light Up Taiwan” sign [the campaign slogan of Tsai Ing-wen], ask yourself, in Taiwan, when someone holds a flag, what is there to report?  Didn’t they agree on “one China different expressions” [一中各表]?  What is the problem with standing on stage with a New Power Party candidate?  Didn’t they say to understand that the system of government on the two sides of the strait are different?  Since when is taking a photo with “Light Up Taiwan” advocating for Taiwanese independence?  Is it possible that China should inspect everyone who enters for business, studying, or even just for travel [took a liberty here, 交流], to see if they supported the DPP?  As Beijing makes its psychological preparations for a change of party in Taiwan, isn’t this kind of reporting just looking for trouble?

Huang An probably does not have the political intelligence to understand that his denouncing is not necessarily welcomed in Beijing.  But how can this person, who panicked and worried of taking a beating upon his return to Taiwan, who proactively asked the “white wolf” Chang An-lo to “protect his person,” this kind of person, who thinks of himself as in the unification camp -- how can this person be a “independence hunter” [台獨獵人]?  His position seems more like a “unification Terminator” [統派終結者].  If he wants to come back to Taiwan, that is his personal right, and who is stupid enough to harass him?  If anyone strikes him, then according to Taiwanese law they would be charged with personal harm.  And as far as “seeing oddities and keeping a straight face” [見怪不怪] goes, this oddity is self-defeating, and if he wants to use such a stupid method to terminate the unification camp, then no one can stop him and he can have at it.

[twtranslationproject]

Jian Xin-chang: Scooter Taipei

Original article in The Reporter.  Photographs and article by Jian Xin-chang [簡信昌].

Translator’s note: This is a short article which serves as an accompaniment to the photographs.  See the original article (linked above) to see the photographs.

In a big city such as Taipei, even though the metro and buses are the modes of transportation people have the most familiarity with, most laborers and office workers are part of the scooter subculture.  Because of this, it isn’t hard to find scooter tracks in this big city where people do all the things they have to do to meet their basic needs, but very few people have really recorded the scooter community’s story in Taipei.

Scooters are omnipresent in Taipei, and for the people of this city, it’s very easy for us to see that scooters accompany them with their every little step.  And we can also see, from these small details in their lives, how they struggle in this competitive environment to find their own way to live.

Ever since these scooters had become something we are used to seeing embedded in Taipei life, it has apparently become easy for us overlook many scenes worth savoring.  Through photographs, I hope to record subjects which are very close to everyone’s lives, and through these images I hope to evoke a common memory in those who had once toiled in this city.

[twtranslationproject]

Ko Wen-je: We lack an investigation report at the national level

Original article in The Reporter. Author: Zheng Han-wen (鄭涵文) Photograph: Wu Mian-hua (吳逸驊)

Translator’s note: I took a lot of rhetorical liberty in this one.  I didn’t think too hard about how to capture Ko-P’s voice in translation and mostly tried to get the content.  Hopefully I didn’t misinterpret anything.

On December 2, at four in the afternoon, Taipei mayor Ko Wen-je walked out from a conference room already late for his scheduled interview with The Reporter by half an hour.  Our interview room was no more than fifty steps from the conference room, but between us were television journalists holding microphones and also an advisor fighting to squeeze in a report before our interview.  Mayor Ko’s path has always been like this, and one can only say that he uses every second to its fullest.

“This topic you want to ask about (Formsa Fun Coast incident) is really big right now, so you guys are the specialists in the room more than us.”  At this, the faces of his numerous advisors who organized the interview faces relaxed more than a little.  Perhaps this is topic which Ko-P, who served a long tenure as an emergency room doctor for the National Taiwan University Hospital, wants to talk about most, and with which he is most familiar.  Surprisingly, the interview was not cut short, and he gave us over an hour of time; it was a rare experience to interview him at such ease. 

We asked: “With regards to the FFC incident, how many points would you give the government and medical sectors?”  His answer was that something never experienced before cannot be handled well, and so he wouldn’t give a score.  But what if something similar happened again?  Ko Wen-je opened up his box of words, and gave his suggestions to central and local governments alike.

Q: Looking back at the Formosa Fun Coast incident, what is the thing that you feel the most?

A: Ah, what I’m about to say will be unfavorable to Eric Chu again.

When the incident broke, there was a day when we held a conference at city hall, and the environmental minister said something that sent chills down my spine.  He said that Lu Zhong-ji (呂忠吉) had organized activities in Taipei before and was fined 70,000 NTD [2,000 USD], which he was really angry about and brought someone in to lobby on his behalf.  The environmental minister didn’t care and upheld the fine, so Lu Zhong-ji went and did the event in New Taipei City.  When I heard this, Amitabha [阿彌陀佛] (hand gesture)!  If this happened in Taipei there would have been even more casualties.

So yeah, no small good deed is too small to do, no evil deed is too small to ignore [勿以善小而不為，勿以惡小而為之].  If he had just been fined back then there would be no problem.

It’s just like the recent Ting-Hsin incident, how could this kind of thing happen, and is this something new to today?

In 2013 there was the fake oil incident, which wasn’t taken care of, and in 2014 there was the gutter oil incident!  It wasn’t dealt with in the first place, and then there was another incident, and everyone in the government came out screaming, like the government became passerby Joe [路人甲], it’s laughable.

The funniest thing is, right before the 2014 elections, President Ma even came out to denounce Ting-Hsin.  I felt like this was weird, because, aren’t you the ruling party?  So I said again and again, if the government isn’t right at the head, it soils itself at the end [政府源頭不絕，後面就搞爛自己].  So, you ask me about the Formosa Fun Coast incident... if at the time, New Taipei City persisted in the fine, there wouldn’t be an incident later.

Q: It’s been almost half a year since the incident; in your view, what has Taiwan learned from it?

A: In everything, improvement takes time.  That’s it!  Formosa Fun Coast was half a year ago, so the first question is: the central government, ministry of environmental projection, ministry of public health and welfare, have they come out with a list of problems, and do those problems have solutions, and do they have plans to implement them?  Let’s go back to that first, has that been done?  It’s only been the Taipei City government quietly writing out a report.

I always say other people’s failures are important, and you have to study them closely, because if it happens to you what will you do?  To face a problem is the first step in solving it, that is to reflect and improve.  People ask me, you’ve been mayor for one year, what’s your first impression?  I think it’s the ability to reflect and improve.

Q: In your view, you feel the government is completely unable to review and improve?

A: I think it’s like this: from bad to good, there are steps, but what these steps are, they are to recognize errors, reflect on them, and then improve.

One has to first say, we were wrong, and then think about where to improve on.  So, I ask, what was the biggest problem in the Formosa Fun Coast incident?  It’s very simple: was there a national report or review?  No, there wasn’t, it’s just like this, things just move on and they’re gone.

The city government took a month to write a Typhoon Soudelor report, and to make changes it took three months.  From Typhoon Dujuan to now, every improvement took several months to complete, and if you don’t do it, things will just happen again.

Q: But, recently the ministry of public health and welfare announced it wanted to make changes to the law to allow the central government to commandeer and coordinate hospitals in emergency situations.  What do you think about this?

A: You say you can make all the adjustments, okay, make them, but then what?  You still need SOP (standard operating practice)!

There is a thing called a mass injury simulation, where you do a simulation first so that you know what kind of problems might come up before you go and write [the SOP].  For how many injured people, how many levels do you make?  You have to separate them into levels, don’t just throw out some buzzwords.  Let specialists handle specialized problems, and this is a very specialized problem.

When the central government was talking about this, I thought that the Taipei Health Department should be first.  I’ve explained mass injury simulations to them before, so they can be first in line!  If some day, a cruise missile hits Taipei 101, like in 9/11, and all of a sudden you have 5000 injuries, how will you deal with it, this is something we have to do in a simulation.

When I was at NTU [National Taiwan University] directing the injury and trauma department, I wrote a large amount of the SOP for the NTU Hospital, but I’ve never overseen all of Taipei.  If Taipei suddenly had 5000 injured people, what are the SOP?  I haven’t looked into it yet.

Q: The central government needs a investigation and report on a national level, but what can the local government do?  What has Taipei learned from this?

A: As for New Taipei City, and Eric Chu, whether or not he’s made many improvements, I don’t know, so you should go ask him.  We learned a lot from FFC... that day, Eric Chu called me for Taipei to provide assistance, so we lent all of our ambulances to them, and we realized that they were all on the road and couldn’t get in, all the roads were congested.

That day the biggest problem was that the ambulances couldn’t get in, because a bunch of people ran out of the venue and traffic was a complete mess.  So our emergency management center should say, next time there’s an incident, there should be traffic control within one or two kilometers of the site, I feel that this is something we’ve learned.

Q: When the FFC incident broke and the injured flooded Taipei hospitals, we spent a lot of time redeploying them, can this be improved on?

A: The Taipei health department has discussed this question.  If we did it one more time according to a standard it should be this way: the incident happens, at three or four four kilometers we set up roadblocks and control the traffic.  Then, there needs to be a forward command going to the site, and what they do is judge, how serious is this, how many people are there, and then start to effectively examine the injured and separate them into levels.

For FFC the problem was, there was an incident, and the injured kept coming out, so the hospitals were full, full, full.  Of course they first send them to the big hospitals, you wouldn’t start out by sending them to the mid-sized ones, so the big hospitals fill up first.  But this is exactly the problem, often the first wave that is sent through isn’t the most critical wave, so the big hospitals are completely full of minor wounds, and then they send the next wave to the mid-sized hospitals.  And then what do we do in the first week?  We have to reshuffle the injured, for example send them from Cathay General Hospital to NTU Hospital.  If only it were clearer from the beginning how to separate them...

But how is this hard?  If this were the fire department, they would already have this kind of training.  So, this is why the Taipei city government spent a lot of money to design forward command vehicles, so that when an incident happens, the forward command vehicles have to get there, and then they set up a command unit, and the first thing they have to figure out is how serious it is, and how many people.

When I was the director of the trauma center at the hospital, I already figured out with Eric Chu how to rank the patients in Taipei and New Taipei.  That is to say, the forward commander should have the ability to exercise a level one plan, level two plan, or level three plan.  If it’s level one, that means very few people, then just let them rush, but for serious injuries, send them directly to the big hospital.

This is called a self-review, write out very clearly the SOP, but as far as I know it hasn’t been written.  If, one day, Taipei sees 5000 people injured in an incident, how do you classify the injured?  Now that you mention it, I should write this down and give it to the health minister to do as a task: in a mass injury event what SOP does Taipei carry out?

Q: The day after the incident, it was discovered that the hospitals were over-capacity, and it seemed like every hospital had problems transferring patients?

A: The first week was really messy, like playing Chinese checkers, shuffling patients around.

Q: We interviewed an emergency room doctor, their response was that the shuffling was very difficult?

A: Do you know why?  The first day, we had to compile the patient statistics: how many levels, how many levels, and then we have re-dispatch.  In fact there should be someone on day one with a plan on how to dispatch them, right?

Q: Should it be the health and welfare department doing this?

A: There’s a popular saying, [不教而殺謂之虐, from Confucius, literally means “if you don’t instruct someone on what is right, and then killing him for doing wrong, this is called tyranny”], if you don’t instruct someone on what is right, and then you kill him for doing wrong, that is tranny, so you have to write the SOP.

Every time I say SOP, everyone says that that it’s weird.  But you have to write one and then put it aside, and when you do a drill you don’t dare say it’s 100% accurate, at best it’s not too far off [雖不中亦不遠], and can be used in at least 70% of scenarios.

If a mass injury event happens, the ideal scenario is of course, the first time, the right people go to the right place, but this is really difficult, because the first responder to get there is the fire chief, and he doesn’t necessarily have medical knowledge.

When I was at NTU as the trauma center director, I was sent around as an instructor, and I taught all the New Taipei City fire departments for one class.  They don’t need to know how serious their injuries are, but at least they need to know whether their injuries should be considered serious or not serious, at the very least using five rules to separate them, it’s very simple.

So these rules shouldn’t be too complicated and should be very simple, so the fire chief in the first responders can make the decision, that this should be categorized as a mass injury on what level... we should write something out like that.

Q: At the time, this Koo Foundation Sun-Yat-Sen Cancer Center did not receive patients, and everyone criticized them as cruel.  How do you see this?

A: If you don’t instruct someone on what is right, and then you kill him for doing wrong, that is tranny [不教而殺謂之虐].  That hospital usually doesn’t have this kind of emergency training, and if you ask them to do it, the result won’t be good anyway.  Right, usually, they don’t even have emergency services, so how can you ask them to do it, there’s just no way.

They are a cancer specialty hospital, they’re not equipped for emergencies, so even though they could have, we shouldn’t deal with every hospital in that kind of populist [民粹] way.  If it’s clear this is an ear, nose, and throat specialty hospital, America has a lot of these kinds of specialty hospitals, what are you sending them emergency patients for.

Q: What if you had to give a score on the handling of the FFC incident?

A: No way!  I actually feel like, because we’ve never seen this before, the first time is going to be a huge mess, so it’s not worth it to single people out for blame.  The important thing is, have you done a review, and have you improved.

When SARS hit, advanced cities like Singapore And Hong Kong have so many casualties, but Vietnam had very few, and do you know why?  Central air conditioning!  They didn’t have central air so they opened their windows.  It wasn’t until SARS that I found out that there could be problems like that; before that, I didn’t know that central air was this blind spot.  So, to deal with SARS, we had to set up a separate ward with its own ventilation.

I actually feel that it’s not like as if because there’s an incident, there must have been something wrong... the important thing isn’t to go curse someone, the important thing is whether or not, after the incident, we’ve improved.  So about FFC, you ask for my overall judgement, I won’t say the performance that day was bad.  What I want to say is, what did we do to improve?  If nothing has improved, then that’s not right.

[twtranslationproject]

How I learned my first Taiwanese sentence in an election rally

Original article in The Reporter by Ma Jia-hui [馬家輝].

I held in my hand a notebook I had written in thirty-two years ago in 1983, when I had just come to Taiwan from Hong Kong to study in the psychology department at Fu Jen Catholic University, a “Hong Kong boy” [港仔] exchange student; everything I saw and everything I heard was fresh, and so in this “New Life and Study Journal” [新生活學習日記] I diligently recorded my thoughts and feelings.

Turning to page 29, an entry from the night of November 27th, I found that the twenty-year version of myself wrote this strange sentence: “Shelve noodles at exaggerated lu do bad, linked reeds, wow oh is veggie grandpa!” [擱麵當lu誇lu do 爛，簫連，哇唔是青菜公公！ I kind of haphazardly translated this, it’s not essential.]

Unintelligible, right?

Of course, this was just a phonetic code I made for myself.  In my memory, other than phrases like “thanks” and “excuse me” [歹勢], this is the first Taiwanese sentence that I officially learned.  My code is made from Cantonese and English, and its translation into the more commonly understood Mandarin is: “The more you see the KMT the more it’s like stabbing your balls, young man, I’m not just saying that randomly!” [國民黨愈看愈賭爛，少年，我不是隨便講講！, 賭爛 is Taiwanese slang literally meaning “stabbing oneself in the privates”].

These are cursewords.  Some people say to learn a language, it is easiest to start with the cursewords, and for me Taiwanese was no different.

The setting that night was a middle school near Wanhua District [in Taipei], and I along with two college classmates took a bus from Xinzhuang to Taipei.  We had eaten something like oyster pancakes and vermicelli soup and walked to the middle school plaza where people had long ago amassed, where they were standing or sitting or crouching or wandering around, eyes toward the stage erected in the open square where a few people were sitting and standing, taking turns giving speeches.  The people in the plaza, whether on or off the stage, all wore impassioned expressions in their eyes.

The only speaker I know was Chi Cheng [紀政, an athlete]; when I was young in Hong Kong, you saw her and Yang Chuan-kwang’s [楊傳廣] names often in newspapers and on TV channels, she was the master, the “flying woman” [女飛人], the “national hero” [民族英雄].  So I said to my classmates, “Wow, it’s Chi Cheng, she’s great!”

My classmate Kai Liao scoffed and snorted coldly, “Bah!  She’s fucking KMT!”

He was from the south, and I had never heard him curse this party or that person while talking and joking with him on an everyday basis.  This night he suddenly revolted, and in my shock I could not muster a response.  But a neighboring midle-aged man who we did not know cut in and said: “Shelve noodles at exaggerated lu do bad, linked reeds, wow oh is veggie grandpa!”

My classmate nodded his head and laughed but I did not understand, so I asked him to explain.  He translated for me word-by-word through clenched teeth [咬牙切齒], and with his grief and anger he opened a small crack a door to learning Taiwanese for me.  And so the election rally became my first Taiwanese language classroom, and in that cold winter night, in that hot-blooded atmosphere, I learned the Taiwanese curseword “stab balls” [賭爛], and also understood that this “national hero’s” transposition from the athletic arena to the electoral arena was, in the hearts of many, merely a transformation into a coward [狗熊].

That night when I returned to my dormitory, I asked my classmate to repeat the sentence to me, and I wrote it into my journal using Cantonese and English phonetics.  It was fun to me, and I often would dictate it out loud for the following thirty two years until today.  This is still the only bit of Taiwanese I can say passably.

Thirty two years ago was the fourth supplementary election [四次增額選舉] for the first Legislative Yuan [一屆立委, see Wikipedia for details], and the competitors included Chi Cheng, Eugene Chien [簡又新], Gao Zhong-xin [高忠信], Cai Chen-zhou [蔡辰洲], Hong Wen-lian [洪文楝], Chiang Peng-chien [江鵬堅], et cetera, and also the emigrant candidates, e.g. one candidate from the Hong Kong and Macau district was Bu Shao-fu [卜少夫].  I heard my father say his name once, because he and Bu both worked in journalism, and they had a somewhat unfriendly relationship, but I felt that the title “emigrant candidate” was somewhat flashy.  Back then when I read Bu’s name in the newspaper, I was secretly envious, and also secretly wanted a taste of what it was like to be a legislator, and even afterwards there was a period of time of internal struggle: should I be an emigrant legislator and enjoy the security and preferential treatment that comes with it [備受保障優待的僑選立法, at the time, districts from the mainland were permanent members], or throw my hat into the ring for a real election?

This thought persisted with me until I was it was completely banished while I was studying in America for a Ph.D, and it was only because I finally understood that the degree of vulgarity in political fights is far greater than I could have imagined, and that if I was also to be this vulgar I could not bear it.  Yes, it was really really vulgar, and I thought, something best avoided [避之則吉].

However, I continued to vote, to exercise my civil right and responsibility.  That’s right, I was born overseas, but later married a Taiwanese woman and obtained a Republic of China passport.  I had full voting rights, and during the legislative and presidential elections, if I had the time, I would fly back from Hong Kong to cast that vote, that vote which I could not say whether or not was sacred.

The strangest time was in 2004.  It wasn’t because Chen Shui-bian [陳水扁] and Annette Lu [呂秀蓮] were suddenly shot at.  Whether or not it was real, for better or worse they lived on.  What was strange was that, because of Chen and Lu, I met a person who is no longer alive today.

Let’s start the story at Hong Kong International Airport.

The tense mood during that election had already begun at the airport.  I was with a “Taiwan Election Observation Group” [台灣大選觀察團] en route to Taipei, and while I was waiting in line to check in there was some bustling among the people ahead and behind me, their expressions filled with tension and excitement, which surely was the advance surge of “election hormones” [選舉荷爾蒙] which they couldn’t hold back.  The airline representatives, perhaps because the workload had multiplied over a normal day’s, put on rather ugly faces, and a young woman whispered to another young woman: “This many people, it’s so busy!” to which the other replied: “it’s the elections, that’s what it is!”

As I entered the cabin from the terminal, that mood continued to fill to the brim.  Luckily, I met a friend from Taiwan who was sitting a few rows behind me.  She saw me and nodded with a smile, raised her right hand and raised two fingers to mean number two Lien-Soong [the candidates are randomly assigned numbers, and Lien-Soong was the KMT ticket], and put her thumb down to mean number one Chen-Lu.  This was the pan-blue camp’s way of greeting each other, a specialty during election season.

Sitting down, the man sitting next to me had his head buried in the election section of a newspaper, his world long shrunk into the black-and-white of the spread, and there was nothing between heaven and earth more important than this.  After half an hour we took off, had our meals, and I ventured to chat with him.  I mentioned the election, and this taciturn man immediately spouted a torrent [嘰哩呱啦, 滔滔長江東逝水] to no end, his spit spraying my face.  It turns out he was Taiwanese business [台商], it turns out he was throwing down his business in spite of the facts and rushing to Taiwan to vote [不顧三七二十一拋下生意趕回台灣投票].

“I heard that 80% of Taiwanese businessmen support Lien-Soong?” I asked him curiously.

“Bullshit!” the businessman replied angrily.  “People around, especially in China, in other people’s lands, have to be careful, of course.  If someone comes and asks, of course you say you support Lien-Soong, the locals don’t like it when you support Bian [Chen], so I told them I would definitely vote number two, but back in Taiwan, what can they do!”

Amidst the spit and sound of the businessman the plane floated to a landing, and the subject had concluded.  As I walked out of the cabin and out of the terminal into the hall, I met a sea of flags, some blue some green.  The campaign teams came here to yell, number one!  Number two!  Number one!  Number two!  With sincere faces and eager expressions, those passing through the lobby instantly felt as if they were of unprecedented importance.  It turns out the elections are a passion for the collective and also a baptism for the individual; this was Lien-Soong and Chen-Lu’s battle as it was my battle and his battle and her battle, and in the touching delusion of “my vote can make a difference,” we become angels next to God, playing sacred music.

I took a cab to Taipei, and from the south of the city to the north banners covered the sky, advertisements were everywhere, every inch drowned in a carnival of slogans, and every person you met could analyze assuredly the battle reports from the election for at least fifteen minutes.  The ten reasons to support Bian again, or the hundred reasons to vote Lien-Soong, who is up and who is down, what the frontrunner should do, what the trailing candidate should do, what big plans will save the country, and up to the election it was as if everyone turned into Zhuge Liang [a historical military mastermind], as if everyone was qualified to be the next president-elect’s national policy adviser.  Unfortunately some people realized that this “Observation Group Member” [觀察團成員] could vote, and then the fifteen minutes of analysis immediately grew to forty-five minutes of speech, as if it was an immutable fact that my vote was theirs to dictate, and that I had no reason to say no.  Give it to me give it to me, elections are just the wrestling and conquering of spirit and thought.  Please lend me your mind for a moment of use; every rotten apple, at the first bite, will seem moist and sweet [美哉爛蘋果，先咬一口，自會覺得香潤甘甜].

Regarding whether an apple is rotten or not, I don’t really have much of an opinion, because if I could know who is rotten and how rotten, with information about the election in such a chaotic state of affairs, then it would be me standing up on the stage instead of them.  The only thing I can be sure of is, it might be that there are more to things than the slogans “change the president, save Taiwan” on all those advertisements which settle things so simply and neatly, because after all, Taiwan is a Taiwan of twenty-three million people and not a Taiwan of one president, just as a tree is filled with fruit and not a tree with only one rotten apple.  Even if the apples grow bigger and bigger, it is whether the truck is thick and study which is enough to decide whether the orchard master is honorable or dishonorable.

And so I hopped from lively rally to the next all day, looking and looking hard for a good fruit, the old the young the men the women, the blue the green the red the yellow, the famous and the obscure and the living and even the dead, from their stretched-tight complexions I spied into the landscape of Taiwan, and thought to myself: if we changed the “president” in “change the president, save Taiwan” to an unknown “XX”, that’s right, “change XX, save Taiwan,” maybe we can further arouse people’s faith and hope.

“XX” could be “public morality,” where everyone doubles their considerateness and how they cherish the things around them; protecting the environment on the grand scale, and picking up the garbage in the aftermath of election night rallies on the small scale.  It could be “courtesy,” where everyone doubles their agreeability and politeness to strangers, and no longer sees others harshly and stops cheating each other.  It could be “patience,” where everyone doubles their caution and prudence in exercising their power, and no longer holds high the “only those who risk everything will win” rule of the jungle.  It could be “equality,” where everyone doubles their conscientious treatment of other peoples, and no longer feels that Taiwan is the greatest and themselves are the most honorable.  Substitute “president” for “XX,” and then substitute every beautiful hope from every aspect of life for “XX,” and you will realize that “save Taiwan” is a game of life that is a hundred times more interesting, and much easier, direct, effective, practical, and quick than casting a vote for president.  Two million in the green camp linking hands?  Three million in the blue camp on the streets?  If these five million people could in their every day lives -- or at least during the election season -- could create less hatred between groups, print less propaganda trash, and move their limbs a little less, then Taiwan will really have a little more chance of being saved.

I’ll say it again: elections are a passion for the collective and also a baptism for the individual.  When we stood in front of the stage raising our hands yelling “change the president, save Taiwan,” if the person on stage could have yelled back “change XX, save Taiwan,” and if we were willing to earnestly listen and translate it into action, then everybody would be the best of presidents; who the president actually is, does it make a difference?

Walking through the city north, walking through the city south, the city doesn’t sleep, but I have to return to my hotel to rest.  There are activities tomorrow and the day after that, and after all I have to follow the activities of a “Observation Group Member.”  Finally there was a day when I had time to sit down and read the newspaper, I saw on the front page right hand side of United Daily News was a small obituary reading: “Memorial service for Li Da-kang [黎大康].  Our good friend Li Da-kang passed away on February 21, 2004 peacefully in his sleep in his Beijing home at the age of 47.  On Saturday March 20 at one in the afternoon, at the Bread of Life Christian Church in Taipei [台北靈糧堂], please join us in his memory.”

I was in a daze; what is this?  How could this be so coincidental?  [Note: March 20 is also the date of the election.]  In 1984, I transfered from Fu-Jen University to Taiwan National University, and graduated in 1987 to join Mother Earth 《大地》magazine as a journalist, where Li Da-kang was my colleague.  We got along fairly well, and we went out to eat and drink often.  But as I went far off to America in the 90s we had little contact, up until February of 2004, when Li Da-kang abruptly called me from mainland China.  It turns out he already immigrated from Taipei to Beijing, and said he would be in Hong Kong at the end of the month for business and would like to catch up with an old friend who he hadn’t seen in awhile.  But even now in March I hadn’t heard a word from him, and I even thought to myself of this that this person is such a flake.  I also usually only read China Times [a newspaper in Taiwan, also note this is pre-Tsai Eng-meng takeover], and only rarely read United Daily News.  That night I did not see the former and only the latter in a convenience store, so I bought the only one they had without knowing that I would read that obituary.  And it turns out that he has already left this world.  How could the name of a friend that I hadn’t seen in seventeen years reunite with me in such a circuitous way?

I came back to this city, I saw it, I heard it, and on March 20 the most important thing for me to do was not to vote but for me to see off an old friend.  That day I attended the memorial service and saw his black-and-white photos, and finally, my eyes met with Li Da-kang’s.  It was a reunion and a goodbye.  And so I say, elections are a passion for the collective and also a baptism for the individual; after a long and tiresome journey [萬水千山], after doing a few circles [繞了幾圈], we return to a place and it is unclear whether it is a beginning or an end.

All of a sudden, I feel powerless in this way.

All those years of elections I’ve experienced in Taiwan, this one would count as the strangest.

[twtranslationproject]

Yuen Siu-cheng: After reading, you won’t dare immigrate to Taiwan

Original opinion piece in Intium Media [端傳媒], which is based in Hong Kong, by Yuen Siu-cheung [袁兆昌].  The original article is a book review of Island, Floating City 《島嶼．浮城》by Koey Lee [李雨夢].

Subtitle: From the sixteen stories in Island, Floating City -- fifteen from interviews, and another overarching story spun out by the author -- one understands that the difference between Hong Kong and Taiwan’s fates is the just that of being doomed and being slightly less doomed.

Another round of anti history curriculum protests is stirring the minds of Taiwanese and Hong Kong youths.  In Hong Kong one recalls the past experience of many middle school students and parents during the anti-MNE [Moral and National Education, 育及國民教育科, short 國教科] protests at the Central Government Complex, and in Taiwan Lin Guan-hua [林冠華] has recently organized another round of dialogue between his group of high school students and the government.  Taiwan and Hong Kong have always been this close and this distant, little by little discovering that the two islands are being more and more enveloped by the shadow of the giant on the opposite shore, targeted by the verbal cannons of its numerous Internet navy [在網絡以億計的水軍嘴砲中] spouting that we are no more than a spoiled little Hong Kong and a not-so small-but-fortunate [小確幸, a phrase coined by Haruki Murakami] little Taiwan being tricked by the government into making trouble, just bitches making trouble [賤人就是矯情], all just ignorant bandits taking financial aid from external powers.  Amongst such noise and amongst our current state of affairs, it becomes even more important to read this collection of stories, which, under the perspective of Hong Kong writer Koey Lee and her generation, pierces ten years of interwoven illusions of Taiwan.

We really can’t find a way out.  It’s not the first time Hong Kongers, in this half-asleep, half-awake frame of mind, have made preparations to immigrate, as in ‘89, as in ‘97, as in ‘03, and as during the Umbrella Movement.  From the sixteen stories in Island, Floating City, fifteen from interviews, and another overarching story spun out by the author, one understands that the difference between Hong Kong and Taiwan’s fates is the just that of being doomed and being slightly less doomed.  Taiwan’s protest movements in this century have shown clearly that its post-democratization leaders have barely tried to conceal their authoritarian boorishness, and even more clearly the complicity of the opposition party.  It doesn’t matter if you hide in Taiwan or Hong Kong, red capitalism still closes in on all four sides [四方八面 -- if anyone knows what the 八面 refers to I’d be happy to know], the government has its back up against the wall in terms of policy, and those in power are no more than businessmen whose social missions headline their magic shows [在位者不外是個掛了社會使命這名堂的生意人罷了].  And in this context, Lee found a very enlightening turn of phrase: the loop of using books to lead people, using people to lead events, and using events to lead books, is close to the attempts of literature [以書帶人，以人帶事，最後以事帶書，是個環狀結構、近乎文學實踐的嘗試].  Every interview is a story that she wants to tell; her stories simultaneously sketch stories and review history, and from their blending [混沌] emerges a crisper and clearer new voice.  She writes of the Sunflower Student movement which she had attended; in the interview sections of her book where she briefly describes the protests there is a macroscopic point of view, such that the reader cannot say that she was really there.  Some of these Hong Kong bit-players living in Taiwan during such a big era have difficulty feeling a connection between the politics and themselves.  Through her stories, Lee draws us to their backgrounds, their murky reasons, and some ideas that are hard to say clearly yet absolutely important, all bringing us back to the story she wants to tell.

How to survive, and dispel illusions

As for these interviewees running to Taiwan for their ideal life, it would be better to say they’re living desperately.  A few years ago, Taiwanese travel magazine Taiwan Step《走台步》ran a column titled “Hong Kongers in Taipei” on how people in the two places imagine their lives.  The path Lee takes never crosses imagined life; what she writes of more is how to survive and dispel illusions.  But nothing in life can rid itself of politics!  This is the public mission of those who write: for people not to never pause in their own enlightenment, and to participate in one’s own fashion but also to pay a price.  Lee writes in her introduction her dissatisfaction with the saying “today XX, tomorrow YY.” To read her piece on the owner of the food stand “Thirty Kinds of Cow Parts” [十三座牛雜] and his honest thoughts and feelings outside of the mainstream media, her selection and comprehensive analysis of quotations from varied sources and interviews, reading insights and perspectives of characters from interviews in other magazines, one can almost be sure that Island, Floating City, from its collection of source material to thinking and writing stages, has an ambition greater than most interview anthologies, especially given that literary interviews have been plentiful in Hong Kong in recent years and given the success of independent journalists, her journalistic character slowly shows through in her writing, and as the the reader can see, the stimulus the interviewees gives the interviewer is so extensive that she can salvage no further clarity.  And the words that Lee writes, and the roads that she walks, is one that is without experienced veterans, one where the writing is often excessively prudent.  If one wants to recognize its literary quality, or even to like the author on a personal level, this book has not achieved that.  But, isn’t she writing a prudent and serious book?  Readers accustomed to VIVA [暢讀, VIVA Mobile Media, is a media group in China] magazine-style interviews might not understand that the author is also a youth who participated in such social movements -- protest-youths [社運文青] in general have their own accent, and the author abandons that kind of accent as if she has insufficient energy [沒多花氣力, a bit unsure here], and finds new form of writing somewhere between being a journalist and being an author.

This book does not have novelty value and does not have any information on how to live life; it seems like a sort of immigrant guidebook, but really is a curious book serving as a guide [藥引, short for 引藥歸經, a concept from Chinese medicine, an additive which guides other medicines through the right “channels,” see here for more] for social movements.  In my view, it is a Umbrella Movement book -- it isn’t actually talking to you about ideals or feelings in “losing sight of the original intent” [勿忘初衷], but is really bitterly declaring that Hong Kongers cannot escape their fate.  This is not to criticize the rest, but only to state a fact: to wish to survive, and to wish to prove their own worth to society, people, where ever they arrive at their dream, is it not all the same [不也一樣]?

None of us can escape.  Finish reading as soon as you can, and say goodbye to Taiwan.

[twtranslationproject]

The Selfish Road

Original article in The Reporter by Wu Ming-yi (吳明益), author of The Illusionist in the Skywalk (天橋上的魔術師) [a book I really enjoyed].  Note that what I write as Qixing Beach [七星灘] is often romanized Chihsingtan Beach.  I opted for the standard Pinyin romanization initially and am now too lazy to change it.

Editor’s note: On the seventeenth of this month, the Hualien county government will hold an environmental change analysis meeting [環境差異分析審查會] to decide on the “County Road 193 Widening Proposal” regarding the road leading to the famous sightseeing attraction Qixing Beach.  The Reporter commissioned author Wu Ming-yi to write a special correspondence on the eve of this meeting, to reflect on the necessity of this act, and to closely examine the value of the graceful and intimate Hualien County Road 193.

　

“Ninety percent of roads are not congested ninety percent of the time.” - Martin Wachs [This is a translation of a translation, I could not find the original quote.]

Those who have long lived in Hualien know well that there are three roads from Highway 9 to Qixing Beach [七星潭]: two are Huaxi Road [華西路] and Minyou Street [民有街] and one enters alongside Sanxian Creek (三棧溪).  This latter road, which links the two sides of the bay, and passes through numerous small villages, protected forests and seaside cemetaries, is County Road 193.  It is a hidden treasure for bicyclists, and at most times, a quiet and beautiful coastal road.

After opening up to mainland tourists, Qixing Beach became a must-visit attraction for them.  Either by directly taking the train to Hualien, or by taking a tour bus from Su’ao along the Su’ao-Hualien Highway, they often first stop over in Hualien City before coming here.  Because of this, at specific times, the southern portion of County Road 193 experiences traffic congestion far exceeding what it has ever seen in the past.

There has been occasional talk in recent years that County Road 193 could be widened, and the other day, the Hualien County transportation department ratified a proposal to widen the road from 16 meters to 20 meters.  The reasoning was “to open a route for the flow of tourism along Taiwan Highway 9″ [疏導台九線觀光車流], and further to allow kilometers zero to six of this road to accommodate any type of large tour bus.  According to the county government, after County Road 193 is widened, it will become a “scenic road” for tour buses, bicycles, pedestrians.

The problem is, to widen this roughly eight kilometer stretch of county road will cost upwards of 700 million dollars [NTD, roughly 20 million USD], and also begs the question: can it really solve the county’s congestion problem?

When I read Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do (and What It Says About Us) [by Tom Vanderbilt] I came across a description of an American study on adding lanes and widening roads.  Some traffic engineers realized that after completion of construction, contrary to initial predictions that traffic would ease, traffic would remain roughly the same as before, as if the road itself coughed up the vehicles on it; they called this effect “latent demand.”  “This kind of demand is unable to materialize due to systemic limits,” the transportation engineer explained, “but if the system increases its supply, then demand will emerge and consume the excess supply.”  Simply put, traffic that avoids a road which is too congested will suddenly fill that road once it is widened.  (Tom Vanderbilt, 2009 : 194)

This kind of phenomenon is called “induced travel,” and the idea is that a widened road invites new vehicles.  Originally, these commuters may find other methods (for example, travelling during non-rush hours to Qixing Beach) to avoid congestion.  After adding a lane, the congestion problem will improve at first, but after some time, it will return to as usual or be even worse.

Returning to the issue of County Road 193, the Chinese tourists who come to Qixing Beach mostly do not stay for very long, and because nearby businesses are few, instead of an increase in commerce during these times the result is a transportation headache for nearby residents.  According to information provided by the county government, parking needs around Qixing Beach peak around ten to eleven on weekdays; this implies that that the worst congestion occurs at this time plus or minus one to two hours.  After widening the road, of course these times will still see the greatest use.  Qixing Beach is a popular tourist attraction with limited hinterland; if the wave of visitors is further amplified, then we might see a different, more frightening kind of congestion on the beach and in the shallow water, and ensuring tourist safety may become difficult.  Is it not exploitation to let the beach become so crowded?  Is injecting a scenic area with all the negative qualities of tourism how the country government hopes to promote tourism?

Just from brainstorming, the county government still has several solutions which they still have not explored, so it’s baffling that they’ve opted to go forward with the most expensive option of widening the road.  These solutions include: restricting entry of cars, broadcasting the current traffic conditions (so that tourists can choose better times to visit), developing a public transit system, assigning specific times for even and odd numbered plates to use the road, a carpool system [高承載], collecting tolls, et cetera.

The problem of limiting the number of tourists (after all, Qixing Beach is open access) is difficult, but collecting tolls per car at specified times could be a reasonable solution.  For one, it could provide some relief in the number of holiday tourists, and further, one can use these small and appropriate fees from outside tourists to repair the road which suffers from wear due to the volume of tourism.

Transportation specialist Martin Wachs has said: “Ninety percent of roads are in an uncrowded state ninety percent of the time.”  That the country government wants to widen County Road 193, which most outsiders do not know exists, may mean that it lies an even emptier waste of resources while it is being unused.  To spend such a large amount of resources to satisfy a few swellings of the tide of people, I would venture to call this a “selfish” road.  This selfish road will give its residents on its two sides and the tourists looking for a quality experience the dust, noise, and “a menace to relaxation, beauty, calm, and safety.”

And we shouldn’t forget, this road, whose sides will be planted with “grass to feed the butterflies,” will repeatedly require expenditures to maintain after typhoons (the locals all know of the astonishing winds around Qixing Beach; even palm trees can’t grow, and only in the precious protected forest and prostrated beach can grass survive).

In her classic The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Jane Jacobs writes of a 1960s New York City neighborhood protest movement in Greenwich Village (which she was involved in), resulting in the closure of a road passing through Washington Square Park.  They felt that cars did not belong in parks, and also opposed a subsequent plan to widen the roads surrounding the park in order to accommodate the detoured vehicles.  The city’s transportation planners predicted that the traffic in the area would quickly worsen, but in fact the opposite occurred: since there was no way to directly pass through the park, drivers stopped viewing it as a shortcut.  The total traffic therefore decreased, and the traffic around the park and surrounding neighborhoods were not affected.  Up until today, the park remains a public asset to its residents.  And further, while travelling in Europe, one often notices that near tourist attractions, road design is governed with protecting and honoring the natural viewing of these attractions in mind.

If we use County Road 193 to enter Taroko National Park, we can see the intertwining of the natural and cultural scenery: villages, tribal burial grounds, protected forests, wind protection forests, with the Pacific Ocean flashing in-between.  This is exactly County Road 193′s value and unique charisma.

Qixing Beach is of course an important public good for the residents of Hualien and the people of Taiwan, and should not be exploited for the benefit of short-term sightseers.  Widening the road will obviously allow more vehicles and people to flow through, but it cannot solve the congestion problem.  But I feel that the focal point of this controversy will further emphasize the political and social connotations of this “widening” proposal (for example, why we ignore the fact that tolls are collected on roads in other counties for various reasons, only to build another unnecessary highway): what kind of life and work do we want?  What kind of Qixing Beach do we want?  What kind of future do we want?

Perhaps we can just “live today and forget about tomorrow” [活在當下]: we can blindly develop tourism, debase and forget about the public goods and natural resources for future Hualien, and just forget about issues well worth considering.