Please stop implying the name "Chinese Taipei" is Taiwan's choice

Borrowed (ok, yanked) from Chen Yen-han's Twitter feed

So much has been said about the name "Chinese Taipei" that I hadn't been intending to blog about it at all, especially as I Do Not Watch The Olympics (in capital letters). But there's a particular strain of thought that's been bugging me this time around, and perhaps it's worth addressing. 

That is, the idea that "Chinese Taipei" exists because of a decision -- just about any decision on Taiwan's name or laws -- made and currently affirmed by the government of Taiwan, so Taiwan itself is to blame for it. Even worse, this carries the implication that the geographically nonsensical name was somehow Taiwan's choice. 

I'm choosing to leave aside all the other arguments here: that "Chinese Taipei" exists because Taiwan is part of China, which is so wrong it doesn't deserve anyone's attention, or that it's the unfortunate result of international political give-and take -- which is basically true, but dispiriting. There's also the argument that Taiwan not being independent is a matter of 'international law', which is simply not true. Under any international laws that apply (and not many, if any, do), Taiwan's status is either undetermined, or it's a country. The UN and various diplomatic recognition questions don't change that. 

Besides, if it were a matter of "international law", Hong Kong and Palestine would not be fielding teams, as Palestine also lacks a seat at the UN and is denied autonomy by Israel, with US backing. Hong Kong is a recognized part of China, unfortunately. If only countries could field teams, the refugee team wouldn't exist. Countries, territories, states battling for recognition and groups of people who aren't even from one country can all participate in the Olympics, and name changes simply aren't a matter of international law. 

That's not the point, though. The big problem here, the one that my brain won't release, are the implications that the name "Chinese Taipei" was somehow Taiwan's decision or Taiwan's fault. It is neither.

Let's be clear: if the people of Taiwan had any say at all in what their Olympic team was called, it would be Taiwan, period. Nobody in Taiwan says "Chinese Taipei", they refer to their teams as 'Taiwan'. In 18 years, I have seen exactly one (1) person wearing a piece of Chinese Taipei merchandise, and frankly, he was getting a lot of stink-eye for it. I've never seen a piece of Chinese Taipei merch on sale in Taiwan. Some do watch, and when Taiwan wins, they talk about how Taiwan won, not Chinese Taipei. 

"But the official name of the country is the Republic of China! If they want to be Team Taiwan, they should change the country's name!"

Sure, I want to see a Republic of Taiwan too. The sooner the better, and it would be preferable if it didn't involve a war. But this argument is disingenuous: the name of the country isn't "Chinese Taipei". What Taiwan is called at the Olympics is simply not related to the official name of Taiwan. If it were, they'd be "Team Republic of China". That sounds silly to me, but I suppose it would be accurate at some official level. It might be locally be accepted, with a few groans. 

What's scarier about this is the Catch-22 such commentators intentionally create for Taiwan. They insist that in order to be called Taiwan, the country's name has to change, but will be the first to blame Taiwan if war breaks out because the country changed its name. There's no way for Taiwan to 'win' in the scenario they set up, and I refuse to believe everyone who makes such comments is so brain-addled that they don't see this.

No country, no people, should have to risk a devastating war just to have their sovereignty affirmed, especially if they are already self-governing. Frankly, even if they aren't -- but that's a different, rather irrelevant debate for Taiwan.

Regardless, Taiwan doesn't have to change anything internally to ask the IOC to reconsider now that Taiwan has democratized and seen drastic changes in beliefs, desires and identity. (How drastic, we'll never know -- it's not like anyone was polling what Taiwanese people thought in 1970). Plenty of nations, groups and territories request changes. The IOC is free to grant them. There's nothing stopping them except China. 


"But Taiwan itself claims to be China, so they themselves don't want to just be Taiwan!" 

No, it doesn't. If the constitution could ever have been said to claim all of China, that was put to rest in the 1990s. I could talk at length about what the ROC constitution itself does and does not say, and what the amendments do and do not mean, but I've already done that here. 

All you really need to know is that the constitutional court declined to rule on constitutionally-specified borders of the Republic of China. In other words, they wouldn't take it up as a constitutional question because they consider it a fundamentally political one, with the constitution not clarifying either way. 

Thus, the constitution makes no specific claims about ROC borders, which means it fundamentally cannot be used to claim PRC territory. 

That's leaving aside the amendment specifying that the ROC only claims to govern 'the free area' -- which is Taiwan and its outlying islands. Not the PRC. 

There really is no law that specifies borders, at least not one that I can find. As for comments, almost every elected administration of Taiwan has upheld that Taiwan is Taiwan, and its name is the Republic of China. Several elected presidents, with really only one exception, have stated that the PRC and ROC are two different entities, and neither is subordinate to the other -- or that relations between them are at the state-to-state level. 

At the highest level of office, Taiwan simply does not claim to be all of China.


"But Taiwan had the chance to be Team Taiwan and turned it down!" 

This is technically true. Taiwan was offered the opportunity to compete as Team Taiwan at one point, and has competed under other names. I'm going to quote at length from Focus Taiwan here, as they tend to make their articles unavailable to the public after a time, and I think that's silly:

The PRC stayed away from the Olympics throughout the 1960s and early 1970s, enabling the ROC to compete under the names of "Formosa" in 1960, "Taiwan" in 1964 and 1968, and "Republic of China" in 1972.

During that era, the Kuomintang (KMT) leaders of the ROC wanted the national Olympic team to compete under the "Republic of China" name to get international backing for the ROC's legitimacy, according to the documentary. For the KMT, this was especially important after the United Nations recognized the PRC and expelled the ROC in 1971.

In 1976, when the ROC delegation was asked to join the Olympic Games under the name "Taiwan" instead of "Republic of China," it refused to change its name and withdrew from the games in Canada, which broke diplomatic relations with the ROC and established ties with the PRC in 1970. [Emphasis mine]

The IOC executive committee then passed the "Nagoya Resolution" in 1979, which both the PRC and the ROC governments ultimately agreed to follow.

The resolution recognized the PRC's Olympic Committee as the "Chinese Olympic Committee" and the ROC's Olympic Committee as the "Chinese Taipei Olympic Committee."

After missing again from the Moscow Olympics in 1980, Taiwan was allowed to compete starting from the 1984 Olympic Games under an agreement with the IOC in Lausanne, Switzerland, in 1981.

The "Lausanne agreement" -- viewed by some as a compromise by Taiwan -- required Taiwan's team to compete under the name "Chinese Taipei," use a non-political flag, and not play the ROC national anthem.

CNN puts it more succinctly, pointing out that this agreement wasn't exactly embraced by Taiwan, but was rather a negotiation mostly between the PRC, IOC and host nations that Taiwan signed: 

In 1976 and 1980 Taiwan boycotted the Olympic Games, after the host nations refused to allow its team to compete under the ROC moniker.

When Taiwan returned to the 1984 Olympics it was under the name “Chinese Taipei” following the 1979 agreement between the IOC and China that allowed the island to compete, but not use its own name, flag or anthem.

 

That doesn't sound like agency to me, but rather defeated acceptance. Of course the KMT dictatorship wouldn't have accepted "Taiwan" in 1981, but "Chinese Taipei" wasn't exactly Taiwan's idea either. The KMT wanted "Republic of China", which is quite a different thing. The name was never popular in Taiwan, not the leaders and not the people. 

First of all, this happened under the old Chiang dictatorship. Chiang Kai-shek made these decisions, not Taiwan. He not only did not listen to the will of the Taiwanese people, one might argue he would have been actively opposed to it, if he'd cared what the will of the people was. (He didn't.) What "Taiwan" wanted was never a consideration then.  Chiang screwed this up for Taiwan, not Taiwan. He screwed a lot of things up for Taiwan, and most of the "development" of the nation attributed to him and his son was the KMT fixing their earlier muck-ups of Taiwan's infrastructure, economy and industry.

What this tells me isn't that "Taiwan" chose Chinese Taipei, because it didn't. It tells me that at one point, the IOC was open to Taiwan being called Taiwan, or Formosa, or Republic of China. That changed, and the only reason for the change was political pressure from China. It had nothing to do with Taiwan's actions. 

Because if Taiwan were in the same position today, you could wager real money on Taiwan choosing 'Taiwan'. 

"But they held a referendum and rejected the name Taiwan for the Olympics!" 

There was a referendum, true, and it did fail. However, that referendum was subject to massive disinformation attacks, leading many to believe that choosing to ask the IOC to change the name "Chinese Taipei" would result in Taiwan being 'forced to forfeit' the Olympics, which would be bad for Taiwan's hardworking athletes. To be fair, according to the link above (which I'm not sure I entirely trust), the IOC itself implied this. 

In truth, only a minority of voters actually cast a vote in that referendum. Had it passed, the Taiwanese government certainly would not have wanted the bad press of forfeiting Taiwan's participation in the Olympics under any name. The likely outcome wouldn't have been Taiwan insisting on "Taiwan or nothing", but rather asking once again to participate as Taiwan...and being rejected. In CNN's words: 

A referendum is unlikely to unravel that binding commitment, known as the Nagoya Resolution, which Taiwan signed in 1981.

In a statement to CNN on Thursday, the IOC said that the 1979 agreement “remains unchanged and fully applicable.”

You can call the referendum performative, you can call it meaningless. Perhaps it was. But it most likely wasn't a threat to Taiwan's participation.

We can also be quite sure that the results of the referendum aren't actually what Taiwanese want, if they could choose without threat of war or forfeiture of Olympic participation. There's a poll showing it: 

"The poll showed that 80.5 percent of respondents agreed that the nation should participate as “Taiwan” at events organized by world bodies, while 12 percent disagreed...

When asked what name the nation should use at global events, 51.2 percent of respondents said “Taiwan,” while 33 percent said the “Republic of China,” 9.7 percent said “Chinese Taipei” (中華台北), 0.6 percent said “Zhongguo Taibei” (中國台北), and 2 percent said “Separate Customs Territory of Taiwan, Penghu, Kinmen, and Matsu,” while 0.1 percent said other names, 2.9 percent said they did not know or had no opinion, and 0.5 percent refused to answer."

That's a solid majority. I think we know where Taiwan actually stands.

* * * 

None of this has made me change my mind on watching the Olympics. I Did Not Watch It, I Do Not Watch It, I Will Not Watch It. However, whether you want to support Taiwan (as Chinese Taipei) and accept the vagaries of international politics and Chinese threats, or just call it Taiwan, please don't blame Taiwan for the existence of the name. It's not fair, and it's not true. 

The Black Cat Shoe Drop

Zhao Cai (招財) in the back and Tiberius (台幣) in the front

Content note: this post deals with the suffering of animals. If that’s not something you can or want to engage with right now, then this post may not be for you, and that’s OK.

This is also going to be a weird start to what will eventually turn into a trauma dump. Stick with me if you want, don't if you don't. 

If you need 24-hour emergency veterinary care in Taipei, I recommend Eden Veterinary (伊甸動物醫院) in Dazhi.

* * * 

A wise friend of mine once defined belonging to a ‘culture’ as not just ‘how we make sense of the world’ (a very typical definition) but something more: how many of your core life experience takes place within that culture. He'd married in this culture, bought a home in this culture, worked a job in this culture, hit all sorts of life milestones here in Taiwan, not where he came from. 

While this might not make one a member of a culture exactly, it does create frames of reference within that culture that one might not have in the culture they were born into.  

I can say with honesty that the only place I’ve lived in long enough to call it my own adult home has been Taiwan -- 13 years in the same apartment. Most of my adult friendships formed during my time in Taiwan. Although our wedding took place in the United States, we planned it from Taiwan. I had two health scares not in the US, but Taiwan. I've had two friends die and attended my first and only non-family funeral here. I got sued by a truly heinous person in Taiwan (the usual “slander” nonsense — the case was dismissed). My husband fell off a mountain and survived in Taiwan. 

I grew up with pets, but have only ever had my own pets in Taiwan. In fact, nothing makes me feel more like a Taipeier than wheeling our two chunguses in their somewhat ridiculous double cat pram to see the vet down the road. The only reason we don’t take them to the night market or Carrefour is that they don’t like going out. Does anyone in the US take their cats out in a cat pram? 

This doesn’t make me Taiwanese. But it does mean that nearly my entire frame of reference for being an adult is situated in a Taiwanese context, and that’s not nothing. 

So here’s where we get dark and weepy: one of my cats — Tiberius, or 台幣 — had a sudden heart attack early on a Thursday morning. I’ll spare you the heart-wrenching details of what that looks like. We sped off in our pajamas, Ubering to the only 24-hour vet we know. We truly believed we were going to lose him, and the vet believed it too. I’ve lost family pets before, but never been solely responsible for making hard decisions for pets anywhere but Taiwan. I’ve only ever had to sign a DNR for my cat in Taiwan. I've only sat on a low stool outside an animal oxygen chamber watching a beloved pet -- not a child, but the closest I have to one -- fight for survival in Taiwan. I heard them say he was going hypoxic in Taiwan. He turned a corner and survived in Taiwan.

Tiberius ultimately spent two nights in an oxygen chamber. He's since come home, but was diagnosed with stage C congestive heart failure and has a prognosis of months, not years. 

Perhaps this more or less how it would play out in the US, but when I recall those family pets who passed, the light falling within those mental images is simply…different. More than once, we’ve been told that a pet’s condition was terminal, and my parents decided to let them go sooner rather than later. 

As a pre-teen, I had a sweet ginger cat named Mango. When he fell suddenly ill with what appeared to be extremely acute liver failure. The vet recommended giving him a comfortable, quick exit, and that's what happened.

I don't know if such a quick recommendation came as a result of this specific vet's worldview, or because in the US vets routinely suggest such things. Perhaps it was a money thing — while not poor, I know life was not always financially smooth for us, and expensive treatments that would only extend a terminal diagnosis were out of the question. 

All I can say is that as I watched my beloved dumdum struggling to breathe in that chamber, in far worse condition than Mango had appeared to be all those hazy years ago, nobody in Taiwan suggested the same thing. I'm glad they didn't, as I might have okayed it, prioritizing ending his suffering over his possible survival. 

Again, perhaps it was simply the policy of this particular vet not to broach the topic of euthanasia until the owner does. It felt, however, as though despite their commendable efforts to keep Lord Tibblesworth comfortable, the default was a natural, and possibly uncomfortable, death. 

I quipped to a friend some time later that His Majesty the Hamburglar and his older brother, Whiny McScreamer (officially known as Zhao Cai 招財), seemed to get better overall medical care than I did when young. He sees the vet more frequently than I saw the doctor. If either of them seem slightly ill, off we go. Young Lao Ren Cha, however, was given some NyQuil and told to sleep it off. I once had an undiagnosed kidney infection for weeks because Mom and Grandma were convinced it was just menstrual cramps and all I needed was a hot pad and some peppermint tea.

Perhaps, again, this is more personal -- and again, really about money. Bluntly, I have some. Not enough, but some. I can afford to pamper Prince Dainty Fellow and Monseigneur Tibs with the best medical care Taipei has to offer. Sending your kid to an American doctor, even with insurance, was an expensive proposition even back in the late 20th century. 

In other words, I strongly suspect that if my mother had been in our position on Thursday morning in an American veterinary office, with her beloved cat suffering from a massive edema, that she would have been advised to make -- and made -- a different choice. Maybe it would have been culture, maybe her specific worldview, maybe money. 

In fact, it felt slightly wrong to sit on the other side of that chamber talking nonstop to Tiberius (it seemed he could hear us) but unable to provide any other comfort. We had no way of knowing he’d make it; the vet had even said he probably wouldn’t. 

In terms of what it cost to save his life, I'll give the number just in case you're worried about the price tag if it happens to you: NT$45,000 for his emergency care and three days/two nights in the ICU. HIs first outpatient checkup cost over NT$10,000. He will need more checkups as long as he's with us.

To be blunt, in the best possible scenario, Tiberius’s health deteriorates to the point that we can decide to let him go in a comfortable way, and we can be there with him. The next best scenario is that it’s very sudden. However, it is likely he will be in great pain again. There are many worse things than can happen, which I will not describe. 

It feels wrong to know this, and simply let it play out, although every day I have with Tibs the Fat Moron is a stolen blessing. When I originally wrote this post, he was still clearly in recovery. He held his head funny for days and briefly forgot where his food bowl was. Now, he's more or less back to normal, although the prognosis is the same. It no longer feels cruel, though; it feels like a few more months of enjoying a good life. 

Our regular vet keeps trying to reassure us -- less than a year is just a statistic! A few cats in his condition live longer! Sometimes all symptoms go away and they can top taking blood thinners! You never know!

Sure, but I'm not sure if they go so hard on the optimism in the US. I'm struggling with this liminal state; the unpredictability of when and how it will happen haunts me. "But it could be alright!" doesn't really help. Whether that's common among Taiwanese veterinarians or specific to Tiberius's vet is unclear. 

It also may not matter in my specific situation. To be frank -- and skip this part if you want -- what I watched him go through that early Thursday morning looked too similar to my own mother's final moments. While I thank gods I don't believe in that I was able to be there with her, all the optimism of her short-lived remissions, followed by the blood clot that formed and went to her heart, were too many blows to my  psyche, delivered entirely too fast.

I slept a lot in those months. It's my stress response. I slept a lot in the wake of Daft Batman's emergency, too. Of course, a cat is not a mother, and I wouldn't go so far as to call it PTSD -- more like a garden-variety trauma response -- but there were flashbacks. Optimism hurts a little now. I'd rather hear it straight: be there for your cat, because this is what will most likely happen. 

I haven't been myself since. Even when I'm not recovering from a traumatic experience, I struggle to avoid distraction on the best of days. My impostor syndrome creates writer's block even when I'm not going through anything in particular. Travel gets me out of my own head, but we can't travel together as long as His Grace requires two pills a day, which only we can administer. Things are, in a word, weird. I don't know when I'll come out of it. 

But I can at least say that I've had nothing but supportive responses from employers, who've given me a lot of grace as I go through whatever it is I need to go through -- because there's no way this is just about Tiberius. It can't not also be about my mom. 

It’s like this: a few months ago I was at IKEA with friends. One bought two of their rocks glasses, remarking “maybe I’ll find someone to have a drink with”. She called it the pessimism glass (if you buy only one) and the optimism glass (if you buy two). At the register, one of the glasses dropped and shattered. 

“This is why I can’t have an optimism glass, you guys,” she said. “Because my optimism glass has shattered too many times!” 

What I have is this: on those nights when I can't sleep at two, three, four o'clock in the morning, I can still plop down on my couch with my computer and Sir Tibberts, Earl of Tibberton will curl up next to me and respond to my pets with his little prrts, for now. So my pessimism glass is at least half full.