Ukraine, Taiwan, musical satire and the values we fight for

I don't really like to compare Taiwan and Ukraine. They're different countries, and Russia and China are different aggressors as well.  However, I'm not sure it still works to refuse to compare them when it's clear China is watching what happens in Ukraine closely -- while quietly sidling up to Russia as it pretends not to take a side. 

I could go the depressing route on this and point out that they use the same bullshit rhetoric to justify annexationism and subjugation: same culture, same history, territorial integrity, the Ukrainian government/Nationalists in Taiwan are actually Nazis so we're just stopping Nazis and that makes us the good guys, this conflict was cooked up by the US/NATO to make big bucks from the war machine.

I could point out that they are actively encouraging milquetoast liberals (I'm a liberal, but I'm no milquetoast) to cry that we can only prevent World War III through appeasement of Russia so the "Ukraine conflict" won't escalate beyond Ukraine. It's not an accident that those same milquetoast liberals have been crying about how we can only prevent World War III by appeasement of China so the "Taiwan conflict" won't escalate beyond Taiwan. 

Implicit (and sometimes explicit) in this is the assumption that the Taiwanese and Ukrainian people are disposable. Acceptable sacrifices. 

If people truly believe appeasement stops world wars, however, I have some very bad news for them. It's never just about Taiwan or just about Ukraine, as it wasn't just about Sudetenland. When you make it clear a country can take over any other country they want if they can win, they will do just that. (And the US certainly has experience with this; they should know.)

The truth is, World War III is prevented by Russia losing, and soon. I don't see another way.

I could point out that Russia is alleging genocide in certain regions of the Ukraine but offering no evidence, whereas China is shouting at piles of evidence of their genocide and insisting it's all fake. Very soon, when people point out that Russia hasn't substantiated its genocide allegations, the same people who say the Uyghur genocide is fake are going to start screaming that if we believe allegations against China, we must believe them against Ukraine. 

The fact that there's clear evidence for the former but not the latter won't matter. They'll scream it all the same. 

And on, and on, and on it goes. We know Ukraine and Taiwan aren't exactly comparable, but I'm not sure Russia and China realize that. 

So, if we're gonna ride this train, let's ride it all the way to Leather Town and talk about queer video parodies that seek to mock dictatorships. At least that's fun! 

In 2014, Volodymyr Zelenskyy got together with some actor/comedian friends and used a song by Ukrainian boy band Kazaky to create a pro-Ukraine, anti-Russian government parody. The original song (called Love) isn't very deep or meaningful, The parody, however -- titled Made in Ukraine -- was absolutely a nose-thumbing at the Russian government. 

If you're thinking huh, that reminds me of how Made in Taiwan is used as a bit of a pro-Taiwan slogan against Chinese aggression -- yes, that's the direction this train is headed. Leather Town's a big place, apparently.

In the video, Zelenskyy and his buds tear off traditional Ukrainian Cossack costumes to reveal leathery, BSDM-inspired gear and dance around in stilettos. It's similar to the original video (which, despite being marketed toward women, is extremely homoerotic and audiences noticed), but says a lot more. And, as the Los Angeles Blade points out, in the wrong hands this could have come off as deeply offensive. 

But Zelenskyy and Co. used the imagery as a way to quite literally say that Ukraine is a country of acceptance, freedom and equality. That's not entirely true -- marriage equality is still not a reality in Ukraine. But, it seems to be doing a lot better than its Eastern European neighbors, especially Russia. In fact, Russia is practically leading the anti-gay crusade.

China is engaging in anti-LGBTQ+ crackdowns too, not unlike Russia. Remember that, because we'll be coming back to it.

Yet, seeing a bunch of straight men (as far as I know, Zelenskyy is straight) prance around in stilettos, perfectly at ease with their sexuality, saying that they'll dance traditional dances, carry traditional weapons and drink against the Russian invaders, "for freedom" and "for Ukraine"? That's a statement. They add that everything Russia hates (drag gear like lipstick on men and Pride parades) is "the entire Ukrainian Parliament" and they glitter-bomb and spit on Russian spies (I am not a fan of the stereotypical fat shaming when they caricature the Russian spy as a pig trying to eat a varenyky, but this fat lady is gonna let it slide. Fuck Russian spies!) 

What does this have to do with Taiwan?

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy

Remember, not that long ago, when washed-up joke Fanny Liu wore a Chinese-flag evoking horror show of a dress and sang a flaming garbage truck of a song about how she loves China, and it will take Taiwan because they have things like pay apps and home delivery? (Nevermind that Taiwan has those too.) 

Remember how straight out of the patriarchy (pun intended) that video was, where basically the only draw was sexy dancing ladies half-heartedly twisting to cringe trashpop so badly that a few Taiwanese funeral strippers could out-do them easily? To really drive home the annexationism, most of the song was just chanting out names of provinces and how they're all okay.

Perhaps you don't, because Brian Tseng's parody of it (called Taiwan) got more than four times as many views.

I wrote about it at the time, and said similar things: it wasn't just about writing a funnier tune to mock Fanny Liu's garbage propo song. It entailed a group of Taiwanese male comedians, perfectly comfortable in their sexuality, dancing around in dresses and chanting the counties and cities of Taiwan. They even hired the same muscle dude! 

That song started out mocking Chinese tourists for wanting stuff in Taiwan (like tea eggs) or things China doesn't always have (like doors on the toilets and TSMC), which perhaps wasn't great. But later on, they went for the meat of it: here in Taiwan we can talk about Falun Gong (even if we don't like them) and Tiananmen Square. Through it they point out that Taiwanese have better musical taste than to listen to Fanny Liu, and there aren't too many CCP bootlicking artists.

At the end, Brian whispered that we also have masks, no rumors of organ harvesting, and the right to vote. Implicit in the song was an acceptance of different sexual orientations and ways of expressing yourself and your gender identity. 

I could see how someone might be offended by a bunch of straight men strutting around like drag queens (when they aren't drag queens), but all in all, I think that video pulled off exactly what it intended. From my perspective, it's great when men aren't hung up on acting super masculine or are afraid to don clothing gendered as female.

See the parallels now?

The songs are even stylistically similar, in that they're both dancey technopop in style and incorporate a lot of lyrical chanting, with a group of dancers in sexy outfits not taking themselves too seriously.

Both call on cultural or geographical touchstones to make it clear that their big bully neighbor's subjugationist propaganda has no purchase: Taiwan with its naming of the parts of the country as it throws Fanny Liu's trash right back in her face, and Made in Ukraine with its talk of the food, weapons and dances of the Ukraine. Both tie democracy and freedom to these ideas, and implicit in both is acceptance, not authoritarian hyperconservatism. 

Both are important reminders that in the face of seemingly insurmountable authoritarian pressure from an annexationist neighbor, especially when they're having trouble being heard by the world, comedy is one of the most important outlets people have to fight back. It's how you get people engaged, get a message out, make a point. No, I do not think comedians are today's philosopher kings (most comedians just aren't), but comedy as an art form matters in the fight for a more progressive world. 

Not just the comedy, but the music. China has tried repeatedly to put out pro-China, anti-Taiwan songs well beyond Fanny Liu's F-grade work, with some pretty horrible music that is apparently labeled "rap", except instead of Fuck the Police it's all about respecting totalitarian authority. Russia probably does too, I just haven't listened to any of it. 

Taiwan, on the other hand, consistently puts out pretty good music which might come across as patriotic or nationalistic but generally espouses love, acceptance, knowing your history and, well, good values in general. And these songs aren't even the newest ones out there!

Notably, just as Tseng's video focused on Taiwan, not how much the CCP sucks, Zelenskyy's focused on what was great about Ukraine and when it referenced Russia, stuck to spies and "Moscow" -- the Russian government more than Russia as a country. That they were both smart enough know the difference matters.

And trust me, I know the difference. In researching my own family history, I came across the anthem of the Dashnaksutiun, the Armenian liberation party my great grandfather was very active in for awhile, in the early 1920s. The lyrics are all about bloody flags, killing Ottomans, and standing with the party as a way of standing with Armenia. 

I'm pro-Armenia generally,  but it isn't good. It isn't funny. It isn't about the progressive and democratic values I hold dear. And it was a bad song. These songs are about countries, yes. They evoke tradition or geography. But they're not about allegiance to parties, but ideals. 

And they both show, as President Tsai herself has said, that progressive values can take root in traditional societies. They can and do flourish together. 

Good morning #Taiwan. Today, we have a chance to make history & show the world that progressive values can take root in an East Asian society.

Today, we can show the world that #LoveWins. pic.twitter.com/PCPZCTi87M

— 蔡英文 Tsai Ing-wen (@iingwen) May 17, 2019

China, of course, bans that music and even bans some Taiwanese musicians from Hong Kong. When their own musicians stand up, they get arrested. They get arrested in Russia, too.

And this use of comedy and music hasn't stopped with Tseng and Zelenskyy. Namewee and Kimberley Chen put out Fragile (玻璃心) not long ago, mocking sappy Mandopop love songs by saying how sorry they are that they are breaking poor China's heart by refusing to be annexed. 

Music matters, comedy matters, art matters. In this, I think we can compare Taiwan and Ukraine -- their use of comedy and music to make a point. Of course, not only are Russia and China moving in the opposite direction, towards repression and patriarchy, but these videos can't even be made in those countries. Democracy, liberty, acceptance, freedom of expression, progressivism, equality -- these values are related.

This is why it's not just about Ukraine or just about Taiwan. Both songs talk about countries, but they also talk about values. Allowing an authoritarian government to invade a neighboring country is wrong no matter what, but in these cases, it's happening to democratic countries that are moving toward progressivism, and share our values far more than Russia or China.

Appeasement doesn't work. But even if it did, at some point we've got to defend our values when they're threatened. Maybe we do that with comedy, or music. Maybe we do it by refusing a ride and asking for ammunition. 

If we don't, then our values don't mean anything. We can't even be said to hold them.

Chiayi: Taiwan’s Underrated City

Through the years, I’ve written up accounts of my travels to different parts of Taiwan, though not every trip. But through all that, I had managed to spend 15 years in Taiwan making only the most cursory visit to Chiayi city. It’s just not a place I’d thought to spend much time. I was aware that there were things to do there, but the lack of local public transit in what is a reasonably-sized town and the attractions of places I know far better kept getting in the way.

I had an 'errand' to run, really more of an excuse to head to the city and poke around. Knowing my primary destination (the Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles) was small and would not take all day, I also picked out a few other things to do in Chiayi before meeting a friend for dinner in Taichung. I chose a weekend when I knew I’d have to be in Taichung on Sunday, so that my HSR tickets would be reimbursed.

The Chiayi Koji Pottery Museum appears to be permanently closed — a shame, as I had been able to enjoy such an excellent exhibit on it only a few weeks previously in Xuejia. However, I put the City God Temple, the Japanese-era prison, a Japanese residential area (now the “Hinoki Village”) and the Kagi Shinto shrine (now a cultural center, but the building is still intact) on my list. The train station is also worth a quick moment to admire.

In addition to the museum, I only made it to the City God Temple and the shrine; there just wasn't time for the prison and old residences, but it was a day well-spent and I now have reasons to return! 

I took the overcrowded but free bus from the HSR station, which is inconveniently far from town. Dropping my overnight bag in a locker at the train station as the regular left luggage counter was closed for lunch, I headed off. The museum is a short but somewhat unattractive walk from the train station. 

I didn't head that way, but I want to point out that near the train station, just behind the tracks, is a neighborhood called Fanzigou 番子溝 which translates literally to "Savage Ditch" -- I bet there's not much to see there now, but I suspect that's where the border ditch would have been between Indigenous and Han territory, perhaps not that long ago.

The Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles 臺灣花磚博物館

Recently, I’ve come to really appreciate the work of the Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles, which produces its own Taiwan-made Majolica-style tiles. The originals can be found on old farmhouses and mansions across the country (there are some good examples in my last travel post, about Xuejia). The museum/company not only saves tiles from old houses being demolished, but produces both factory-manufactured and hand-made tiles, as well as a variety of products using the tiles or their patterns. Although there are branch shops in both Taipei and Tainan, I resolved to visit the museum’s main location in Chiayi. 

I had a mission, too: I knew that they sold bathroom mirrors with tile borders, and I wanted one if I could get it in a custom size, to fit my space specifically. The Taipei store in Ximen’s Red House market assured me that the manager, Ms. Liou, would be able to help me with a custom order. 

I had Ms. Liou's Line, but figured that this would be a good excuse to check out the museum itself. Although she isn’t the founder (that would be James Hsu), she seemed involved enough that if I popped down there, she’d likely be around.

 

The Museum of Old Taiwan Tiles is small but very much worth a visit. Hundreds of vintage tiles are preserved in frames or in rooms furnished with vintage furniture in a lovely old building that was once a timber shop. 

You can touch the vintage tiles, but not buy them (everything for sale is new, but of very high quality — some machine-made and quite affordable, and some hand-painted and far pricier), and there are a few places to sit and just enjoy your surroundings. Many locals come to take posed photos with vintage backgrounds. A few tablets discreetly placed upstairs detail aspects of tile making or the history of decorative tiles in Taiwan; one is bilingual. One can really admire the commitment to preserving the original tiles from structures that have been torn down and incorporating them into the museum, as well as making affordable, newer and made-in-Taiwan versions available for sale. 

Fortunately, I did manage to meet Ms. Liou, and indeed discussing the specifications for my mirror didn’t take long as I already knew what size and tile pattern I wanted. It was an expensive purchase, but I think worthwhile to support the museum’s work. They would begin immediate work on my custom mirror, and I could expect to receive it at my door within a few weeks.

Some more photos:

Lunchtime!

From there, I headed up Minsheng Road towards the City God temple, stopping at Chiahe Turkey Rice 家禾火雞肉飯 for lunch. It’s not famous, but frankly almost any turkey rice place in Chiayi with decent Google reviews are going to be good. 

Another option would be to head back to the train station and walk up Xirong Street 西榮街 or Zhongzheng Road 中正路, stopping to admire the architecture of the Chiayi Pharmacy 嘉義藥局 on the way. I don't know the history of this place, but the Art Deco design is lovely. Then eat at the well-known Yanjing Turkey Rice 眼鏡火雞肉飯 (not sure why it's called Glasses Turkey Rice) before heading across town. I've been that way before, and it's a pleasant walk through atmospheric streets.

This is not the Chiayi Pharmacy, just another interesting old building I happened to photograph.

From my direction, I turned on Zhongshan Road towards the center of town. The traffic circle features a golden statue of a baseball player, a tribute to Chiayi’s place in Taiwanese baseball history. There are a few 'circles' on the map near here which also hide some interesting lanes and alleys; just have a nice wander around.

I did quickly come to appreciate Chiayi’s compactness on this walk. If you don’t drive in cities (and I try very hard not to), in a place like this you basically have to go on foot. Fortunately, you can make it from one end of town (the train station) to the other (the Shinto shrine at Chiayi park) in about 45 minutes of determined walking, with only one hill. 

Chiayi City God Temple 嘉義城隍廟

The City God temple is indeed quite beautiful, and situated easily in the most interesting part of town. This neighborhood is worth wandering around in; around the temple and the circle, there are several markets, market streets and streets full of stores specializing in various wares. Not surprisingly, between the circle and the temple is a long street full of shops that sell temple items — tall god heads, incense burners, palanquins, embroidery and more. There is some priceless Koji ceramic work in temple itself, but it’s hard to see as it’s well above human height and behind protective glass. It’s an atmospheric place to spend a few minutes, however, and as with most temples, there are several benches where you can sit and take a rest. 

Sadly, the priceless ceramic works are difficult to appreciate and photograph

This temple dates from the early 18th century, and is among the most well-known in the area. It was renovated in the Japanese and ROC eras. The aforementioned pottery sculptures of the glaze and type made by Ye Wang 葉王 as well as those from another glazing method, from a different master (Hong Kunfu 洪坤福). If I'm reading the history right -- and I might not be -- the two sculptors' whose work features there (Lin Tianmu 林添木 and Chen Chuanyou 陳專友) -- were respectively the grandson and apprentice of these two great artists.

The temple is one of the few remaining ones where a ritual "atonement for sins" ceremony takes place (with participants wearing symbolic paper "cangues" rather than actual wooden stocks). 

Backstreets and under-appreciated architecture

I recommend first enjoying a wander around the backstreets in this neighborhood, then eventually taking the road that runs along the side of the temple on the left (if you are facing the temple entrance) and staying straight on it. This road will take you directly past the baseball stadium to Chiayi Park. 

An under-appreciated aspect of Taiwan's architectural heritage are its more decorative mid-century houses. You will pass many fine examples on this road; take your time and enjoy them.

Then, hoof it up the poorly-shaded hill past the stadium -- there is a Donutes cafe that is fancier than it has any right to be if you need a pick-me-up, and a few benches on the way up.

Chiayi Park and Relic Shrine 嘉義市史蹟資料館

Soon enough, however, you'll find yourself at Chiayi Park, which overlooks much of the city. The park itself is attractive, and in addition to the former Kagi Shrine, a Japanese Shinto Shrine built in 1915 and renovated in the 1940s. The main hall was turned into a Martyrs' Shrine by the ROC and later destroyed, however the arch remains. The temple office and water purification hall remain and are open to the public as a museum space and historic site. 

Nothing here is in English, and I'm self-conscious about my slow Mandarin reading, so I tend not to read museum signage. However, it was worth a look around. It also houses a cafe and small shop stocked with locally-made souvenirs. 

The cool breezes rustling through the trees at the park and golden late afternoon sunlight on Japanese-era relics gave the whole area a feeling of being lost in time, despite it being somewhat crowded. This is a good place to take a rest after a long and likely sweaty walk. 

The park also houses the Sun Shooting Tower (the design was inspired by an Indigenous myth, though I have to say I don't find it particularly attractive), the Chiayi Confucius Temple and other things to see; a walk around is worthwhile. I was tired, however, and chose instead to drink iced tea the Chinese-style pagoda nearby, admiring the Japanese architecture from afar. 

Had I been planning on dinner in Chiayi, I certainly would have headed to Chu-ju Teahouse 竹居茶樓. I have no idea if the buildings are truly old or not, but it looks stunning. If I hadn't gone alone that is -- it's set up for groups more than individual diners. But I had plans in Taichung that evening, so I called a cab from Chiayi Park, picked up my bag at the train station and grabbed the next available train north. 

A Denouement 

Over the next week, Ms. Liou and I discussed the size, layout and borders of my custom mirror through Line. Soon after that, there was a knock at my door back in Taipei: my very expensive mirror had arrived just before Christmas! It would be New Year's before we could get it hung, but once we did, it tied the whole bathroom together, including the painfully-oudated orange and green tiles that were original to the mid-80s construction of our building. 

It was worth it to not only make my bathroom look intentionally retro instead of just old and cringey, but to support a local business and historic preservation initiative.

Because I haven't spent a lot of time in Chiayi, I'm not able to write the sorts of in-depth posts I can offer for Taipei and even Tainan. However, I enjoyed my time there. The food was delicious and unpretentious, the weather pleasant, the city walkable, and cabs (as well as rare city buses) exist for when the distance is just too far. It's an underrated city; I recommend checking it out for its own merits sometime rather than using it as a stopover on the way to more famous places like Alishan.

         

Book Review: The Astonishing Color of After

The Astonishing Color of After
Emily X.R. Pan


I like to situate my book reviews in the real world - whatever is going on in my life, I try if possible to relate it to what I've read. I do this because I'm not a professional book reviewer, and I want to offer something more unique than a bog-standard review you might read in a newspaper.

As it so happens, I read The Astonishing Color of After - which deals with depression and suicide - during a time when I was (am?) coping with anxiety, mostly related to graduate school. I don't have depression - anxiety is not the same thing - but what drew me in was a line towards the beginning of the novel - the colors around me were all wrong. I was lucky, if only because I was able to see that something was wrong in time to seek professional advice (it turns out that my case is mild and I don't really need anti-anxiety medication if I make a few lifestyle changes - breathing exercises, no social media before bed, that sort of thing). But what really helped me connect with this novel was realizing that while I'd always known intellectually that sometimes brains just don't work the way they're supposed to, I hadn't really understood personally - viscerally - what that could be like, even mildly. Now I do.

The Astonishing Color of After is, theoretically, YA (Young Adult) literature. The writing style is fairly straightforward, the first-person viewpoint character is a teenager dealing with teenage issues and it fits nicely alongside other YA classics. Because of this - and despite it being quite fat - it's a quick read for adults. I didn't realize that when I picked it up, but I'm happy things shook out that way - I'd just finished my dissertation proposal and needed some mental rest with easier prose. It surprises me that it doesn't seem as though this novel has gotten a lot of press among English-speaking Taiwan bibliophiles. I knew when Green Island, Lord of Formosa, My Enemy's Cherry Tree and Wedding in Autumn all came out, but hadn't heard of this book until I came across a copy at eslite. It's a shame, too - YA literature about Taiwan that can be enjoyed by anyone, even if they have no connection to Taiwan, is a niche that needs filling. That kind of soft power helps.

That said, because the narrator is a 15-year-old girl, the prose is written a bit too...muchly. There's explicitness where something might be implied, melodrama where subtlety and implication would suffice. It works, though - the story is told as a 15-year-old might tell it. You can almost envision what the journal entries of the narrator would be like.

Without spoiling too much, the story follows Leigh Chen Sanders, 15-year-old American-raised daughter of Dory Chen and Brian Sanders. When her mother, Dory, commits suicide, Leigh is convinced she's turned into a huge red bird, and eventually seeks answers to her mother's family history in Taiwan. Leigh not only grapples with her mother's death, family secrets and feeling lost in an unfamiliar country, but a father who can barely cope himself as well as a very common teen issue: wanting to do something creative with your life as one of your parents pushes you down a practical path that you are entirely unsuited for.

This struck home for me too. I'm not a teenager anymore, and I'm not in a 'creative' profession (writing is a hobby, not a consistent income source). But along with my dissertation, I've been grappling with exactly why I chose to become a teacher when I don't feel the money I earn really justifies my choice (and don't always feel appreciated in a professional capacity either). I know people think foreign teachers out-earn other professions here, but that's really only true early on. When you hit your thirties, gain experience and professional development and credentials, you start to notice that if you'd gone to work for some corporate machine you'd be earning more by now. But, as with art or music, there are other reasons to choose teaching.

Taipei is rendered as accurately - if generically - as post-smartphone suburban America, and the story is deeply engaging. Pan does a great job of narrating the difficulties Leigh has with Mandarin - a language she is familiar with but doesn't really speak and can't read at all - and Taiwanese, which is incomprehensible to her. The flourish of her Taiwanese mother not really wanting to return to Asia despite her American father being keen do to so - and that same American father speaking and writing fluent Mandarin as his Taiwanese wife avoids her native language - presents a flourish to the story that upends stereotypes readers may have. Frankly speaking, it's a circumstance I've seen play out in real life, and it was interesting seeing it depicted in fiction. It reminded me of how my own grandfather, himself not a native speaker of English, purposefully never taught any of his children Western Armenian. As a result, I never learned it either.

I'm of two minds about Pan's depiction of Taipei. Everything was accurate - the alleys, the doors, the weather, the parks, the house slippers, the apartment shrines, the shops and temples. The depiction of supernatural events fits fairly well within Taiwanese religious beliefs, and the touch that Leigh's mother would visit both a Taoist and a Buddhist temple and not see any problem with that sort of syncretic belief (a fairly common thing to do in Taiwan) was a thoughtful flourish. Leigh's grandparents could be any number of older couples in Taipei city.

But...but. I wish she'd been more specific. Which street with brick arches did she reference? Was it Dihua Street? If so, the temple she described looks nothing like the most famous temple on that street. Was it Longshan Temple? It could have been. But if so, what street? What neighborhood did the Chens live in? Which spot on the North Coast did they actually go to? (Jiufen is referenced but then not much more is said about it or what the scenery is like.) One thing I love when reading novels that take place partly or entirely in Taipei is reading about the author's description of very specific places that I can go visit, if I like. When Pai Hsien-yung talks about Longjiang Road and a park which is obviously 228, I have specific mental images I can conjure up to give life to the story. There's something to be said for referencing a generic residential lane, a generic neighborhood park - the Chens could be anyone and there's literary merit to that - but I like my fictional Taipei to be grounded in a reality that I can personally reference.

I was intrigued by the very common Taiwanese family story of the Chens - a grandmother born in Taiwan and growing up in poverty, and a grandfather who came with the ROC military from China. Leigh's grandmother speaks Mandarin and Taiwanese (her grandfather's linguistic background is less clear). When we start to see flashbacks of Leigh's mother's life in Taiwan, one reference concerns her marrying someone "Chinese" (me: not Taiwanese?) but later that's references as "Chinese or Taiwanese". Which...huh.

There's a lot of digging that could be done into family political dynamics there, a lot of engagement in that particular issue that Pan - and by extension Leigh - could have pursued. But it's left there; there's no further discussion of issues of Taiwanese linguistic, historical or cultural identity. I suppose that'd be a bit much for a YA novel not necessarily marketed only to readers familiar with Taiwan, but it would have been interesting to explore.

Where the novel does a little better is discussing Taiwanese religious beliefs and superstitions, especially regarding ghosts and the afterlife, and Ghost Month in particular. Although I wish the novel had actually gone to Keelung for Ghost Month after explicitly referencing it, beliefs about ghosts roaming the earth and burning items for them to use in the afterlife, I think foreign readers will find these descriptions interesting.

All in all I'm happy I read The Astonishing Color of After, especially when I did. Its ideas and plot threads came through at a time when they could resonate especially strongly for me, and its clear prose was an inviting fictional place for my mind to escape to when it very much needed an escape.

Even better? I think you can still buy it at eslite!

At LSE, Taiwan is still Taiwan...for now.

The World Turned Upside Down as of April 6th
(photo from a friend)

I'd actually prefer not to do these sorts of media analyses, because I'd rather that the media got stories right. Sadly, that doesn't seem as though it will be the norm anytime soon.

This time, the dodgy reporting is centered on the new LSE (London School of Economics) sculpture entitled The World Turned Upside Down by artist Mark Wallinger, which is basically a globe turned upside down, at an angle not typically considered by most.

I don't really need to outline the Chinese-student-manufactured "controversy" around the sculpture, you can read about it in a number of places, including The News Lens, the Taipei Times and The Telegraph (which, in my opinion, has the best journalism on the issue).

But what I do want to highlight is how confusing so many other news reports have been, some of which are putting out facts that are simply not correct. I don't mean "up for debate", I mean demonstrably false. So let me state right here: I have a friend in London (more than one actually) who works near the LSE campus. On April 6th, he put up a photo pointing out that Taiwan had not yet been altered to be depicted as a part of China, and the dot representing Taipei had not been downgraded from a red dot representing a capital city.

And yet...

From New Bloom a few days ago: 

In the original version of the sculpture, Taiwan was depicted in a different color from China, as was Tibet. Taipei and Lhasa were also marked as the political capitals of Taiwan and Tibet respectively. However, following protests from Chinese students, Taiwan was repainted to be the same color as China and the red dot that originally marked Taipei was changed to a black dot, downgrading Taipei to the status of a Chinese city rather than a political capital.

From Taiwan News on April 4th (so before the date of my friend's photo), with a headline beginning "LSE forced to change color of Taiwan...": 

Huang Lee-an (黃立安), a Taiwanese student at the university, told CNA that after the school convened a meeting with student representatives to discuss the matter, it decided to change Taiwan's color from pink to yellow, to match that of China. The student said they also had the red dot labeled Taipei, changed to black, demoting it from a capital city of a country, to a mere city in a province of China. 

The student said that "REP. of CHINA" was also unceremoniously removed from the artist's work.

I also find this headline odd because nobody "forced" LSE to do anything. LSE made a bad decision on its own, then walked it back.

Thinking, "huh, that's weird! After the Taiwan News report, my friend posted that picture and Taiwan's color and name had not been changed", and then reading New Bloom and reacting with "wait, so, the university said it has not come to a decision yet, but it was changed between when they said that and now?", I rang up my friend again and asked him to pop by the sculpture whenever he was able. He's not in the UK now but reported back the results of someone else's walk past the globe, and...

...it was never changed. 

I have no reason to disbelieve my friend, who provided photographic evidence, so I find it highly unlikely that he is wrong and these news pieces are right.

So why did New Bloom say it was changed, and why did Taiwan News strongly imply it?

Beats me.

But it doesn't help the case for a robust free press in Taiwan when the free press - in English or any language - can't get these things right.

I mean, come on. Beijing and its army of angry Internet commenters and international students already screws Taiwan over so hard. When we've had something like a small victory (very small - who knows whether the sculpture will continue to depict Taiwan accurately?), why are we rushing to pretend as though we've been screwed? It lowers our credibility, makes it harder to report on even these small wins, and makes it harder still to update stories accurately, if the facts in question weren't correctly stated in the first place. 

From Taiwan News (link below).
The caption is misleading, if not outright wrong: the sculpture still looks like that, and was never changed. 

One more thing before I let this go. (If you don't care about my opinion on LSE's decision, you can stop here.)

I've been wondering for awhile how it is that all those Chinese universities get ranked so highly on global university ranking lists, when one cannot even realistically study History, Political Science or pretty much any of the humanities with any hope of getting an education that reflects international consensus or plain old evidence in whichever non-STEM field you're specializing in.

In a similar vein, I've also been wondering - LSE's a great school, yeah? Ranked something like 26th in the world. So how is it that with all its talk of discussing the world "from a different angle" with this sculpture, and educating the next generation of the world's brightest leaders-to-be with frank discussions of political realities and the history of imperialism and oppression that turned our world upside-down, that they can't even get this right? That they talk big about great minds taking critical approaches to real issues - perhaps critically evaluating Israel's treatment of Palestine, Georgia's claim on Abkhazia (where some of the anti-Abkhazia arguments will sound familiar to Taiwanese used to Chinese distortions of history), frank discussions on Tibet...

...and yet when it comes to Taiwan they suddenly go all stupid?

Seriously, LSE - a bunch of Chinese students told you "Taiwan has been Chinese since antiquity" and you just bought that? Are you joking? Would you like a crash course in Chinese and Taiwanese histories, where even the most neutral reading of the facts of history call these Chinese students' claims into deep question? Because I can give you one, and you seem to need it.

A case was made that these are the UN borders and you didn't even question whether China being on the UN Security Council has anything to do with that, and how that might render UN borders non-neutral?

Really?

You couldn't look at the words that were meant to inspire the entire point of the sculpture in the first place and made your decision appropriately: 

The World Turned Upside Down is a famous ballad from the English Revolution. It was used as the title for Christopher Hill’s classic account of radical underground movements from that time, and Leon Rosselson’s song in tribute to Gerrard Winstanley and the ideals of the Digger Community: 

‘When once the earth becomes a common treasury again, as it must ... then this enmity of all lands will cease, and none shall dare to seek dominion over others, neither shall any dare to kill another, nor desire more of the earth than another.’ [Emphasis mine.] 

- Gerrard Winstanley 1649, The True Levellers Standard Advanced.

And if this is about Chinese student tuition fees - but they'll be so mad if we don't change it! - then how can you say you are one of the best institutions of higher learning in the world, when at the end of the day the most important thing is getting your hands grubby for those sweet, sweet international fees? To be one of the best, shouldn't you aspire to something higher?

There's still time, LSE. Nothing's been changed.

Do better.

Go see "Nude" in Kaohsiung - and Taiwan, promote your events better!

Go see Nude!

Last weekend, I had the good fortune to go to Kaohsiung for a few days to take part in a tourism-related conference. That part was interesting, but not something I feel the need to blog about.

Being down there, however, gave me the chance to see one of my oldest and closest friends in Taiwan. Helping to run the family business mean she doesn't have a lot of time to come to Taipei, so we often see each other when I'm able to head down south. For those of you who think I'm a public transit snob who won't grace an old-school Taiwanese scooter with her precious princess bum, I actually had a blast riding around Kaohsiung county (technically 'city' but that was a stupid change and I won't dignify it) and downtown on the back of her scooter. I just won't drive one myself, because I value my life.


 


Anyway, we decided to check out the Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Art, which is currently hosting "Nude", an exhibit of works on loan from the Tate Modern in London.

The theme of the exhibit is nudity in modern art, and it discusses (with well-planned wall panels in English and Chinese) the evolution of nudity in art through the late 19th century to the modern era. It includes some stunning - and some head-scratching - cutting-edge modern work along side classics by Matisse, Rodin, Renoir and Picasso.

To be frank, it was just an amazing exhibit. It was fine art of a high calibre which is a real treat in Taiwan, with a smattering of well-known masters but not necessarily focusing only on the big names. It featured Rodin's Kiss, which is one of the great works of Western sculpture. The evening we went, a concert was being planned around it featuring modern works of classical music.

Photographs were not allowed, so you'll have to make do with a shot of the brochure and some postcards I purchased.

A Matisse and a Nevinson

The exhibit runs through October 28 and costs NT$280 (with concessions including a student discount), so you still have time. Go see it!

I mean, I was just in London. I went to the Tate Modern. I didn't get to see stuff this great there!

Here's what keeps nagging me: I had heard that this was taking place through the local grapevine, though it wasn't promoted in any way that made a huge impact on me. I had forgotten that it was still running, and in fact though I wouldn't get to see it as I was away for most of the summer. My local friend had to remind me that it was still an option.

When I got back to my hotel, I searched a bit to see where news of the exhibit could be found by tourists (plenty if information is available in Chinese, and the exhibit seemed to be locally popular, with the museum staying open until 8:30pm that Friday). A few articles from over the summer mentioned it, including the Focus Taiwan one linked above. After that, nothing.

A visitor searching for events in Kaohsiung in September or October (perhaps even August) would have trouble finding out that this exhibit existed, especially if they were a foreign tourist searching in English. The information is there, but it's hard to find for travelers. About to attend a conference on tourism promotion in Taiwan, this struck me as especially strange.

As a traveler in Kaohsiung - although a domestic one, as Taipei is my home - I was keen to see the exhibit, and yet would likely not have thought to go if not for my friend. And I actually had known about it! Imagine a foreign tourist here who hadn't seen any of the local news items featuring it when it opened. They'd have no idea.

Here's an example of what I mean. If you search for events in Kaohsiung, you might come across this website by the Kaohsiung City Government. It's actually a pretty good website in a variety of languages, which is already exceptional for Taiwan (where websites in English are often so terribly-designed, unclear and devoid of real information that they are essentially unusable and, I have to assume, only exist for decorative purposes or so that someone could give their nominally-English-speaking nephew a website development contract).

But if you actually search for events, say, this weekend, this is what you get:

Same thing for no keyword, "art", "museum" and "nude"

Nothing.

Put in some keywords (I tried "museum", "art", "nude" and "tate") - still nothing. A tourist using this site would never have found the sublime exhibit I was lucky to see.

It really seems as though events in Taiwan are either heavily publicized but terrible, or great but not promoted well or consistently.

So, hey, Taiwan. You can do better. You have interesting events that travelers will want to know about. Make sure they do!

A review of Metal Politics Taiwan - my latest for Ketagalan Media

”He has a devil inside him,” Chthonic guitarist Jesse Black Liu says of Freddy Lim, the subject of German filmmaker Marco Wilms’ latest documentary, Metal Politics Taiwan. But he’s also a suited-up politician, elected to the national legislature.

In  my review of the film, I make the case that Freddy is Taiwan and Taiwan is Freddy - that the country, too, has a devil inside it.

Metal Politics Taiwan will screen again this Saturday at the Urban Nomad Film Festival. Get tickets here.

My latest for Ketagalan Media: an interview with artist Lin Ching Che

Moving in the Space Between Light and Rain
Lin Ching Che, 2017
(used with permission of the artist for this piece)

I know it seems like I'm writing more for other people than for Lao Ren Cha, but rest assured, that's because I'm balancing writing with grad school, and I only have time for some writing. When my papers are done, you'll see more content here again. I'm not someone who'd start a blog, run it for awhile and then use it only as a vehicle to link my work elsewhere.

With that said, I am super excited about this interview with talented watercolorist Lin Ching Che, who paints beautiful rainy night scenes of Taipei - the soft and the gritty alike. I tell a personal story (which I've touched on before), we learn what Taipei looks like from someone who grew up there and loved it enough to paint it, we talk about neglected alleys, the meaning of the rain, 7-11 and "cha bu duo".

I tried purposefully to weave together ideas concerning light and dark, inner and outer life, smoothness and imperfection, detail and abstractness, being at home and being a foreigner, belonging and loneliness, city and country and beauty and ugliness, all through the back-and-forth of a conversation about painting that focuses on the comparison and contrast of two different personal experiences: one of the local painter, and the other of the foreign viewer. But, I have no idea if any or all of those ideas came through.

In any case, don't miss it.

Cool MRT Art (For Once)

I know that's a little unfair - I do kind of like the art at NTU Hospital Station, after all, especially the weird entwined-fingers-and-palms bench.

But otherwise, the MRT seems to be a repository for weird hanging things, fiberglass primary color sculptures without much hidden meaning, sometimes-good, sometimes-not art from winners of local contests, terribly-photoshopped advertisements, and occasional poetry (again from some local contest), most of which I don't particularly care for.

I passed one small bit of public art, though, at Zhongxiao Fuxing Station on the mezzanine above the blue line, that I really liked. 

It's a cartoonish MRT train (eh), but in each window is a lovely diorama depicting different scenes of life in Taipei, with both modern and historical street scenes - in some cases intertwined. There's a night market:



A school building rife with Chiang Kai-shek iconography:



A Dihua-like Old Street:



A shadowbox of evolution from mom-and-pop midcentury store to convenience store:

 

...and more.

I often lament that the East District, which feels like it's slowly taking over Taipei with its shiny storefronts and air-conditioned department stores, has little of interest. Little to no good public art, few if any historical buildings, and a lot of expensive crap I don't want or need (and a lot of expensive bars I don't care for). I've always preferred looking westward in Taipei - West of Xinsheng/Songjiang and I may like it, east of Xinsheng and I probably don't.

This little smidge of public art proved that it's not all doom and gloom - there are still occasionally bits of actual culture as you head east. It's not all Sogos and Luxys.

Taiwan's Invisible Innovation

India's Invisible Innovation

Interesting talk, especially when he quotes people who say "Indians don't do innovation...they aren't good with the creative stuff...it has nothing to do with Indians, it's their schooling, based on rote memorization".

This reminds me of what a lot of people say about Taiwan - oh, it's not that Taiwanese aren't creative, it's their schooling which beats creativity out of them and doesn't value opinion, independent thought and artistic expression" - what I myself have said about Taiwan, although I'd like to take a lot of that that back.

I do think the teaching methodology and ideas about education in Taiwan are screwed up: I feel that the education system here doesn't foster creativity, and they don't value opinions, independent thought or artistic expression. There is a lot of regimentation and rote learning, a lot of teaching to the test, a lot of cramming and very little encouraged inquisitiveness. My opinions in that regard have not changed.

BUT...

Despite this, creativity breaks through - more than most Westerners think. In fact, I'm beginning to believe it's snottiness as well as possibly mild (but probably unintentional) racism. It's true that I've noticed trends: students who reply to a question asking for an opinion with a fact ("what, my opinion matters?"), students who come into a class believing that cramming their head with new words or phrases - which they will forget or use incorrectly - is more important than taking the time to practice fewer new lexical items and gain more fluency, students who think that formal usage is always better, or that grammar accuracy always trumps fluency, or who think that fluency is something that can be memorized.

BUT, again...

I've also noticed that there are many creative souls in Taiwan, and that there are people who love to ask questions or who just enjoy gaining the confidence and fluency to talk in a language as naturally and effortlessly as possible. There are so many more inquisitive people, thoughtful people and artistic people than many foreigners give Taiwan credit for having.

All this, not because of but despite the cramming and test prep that defines Taiwanese schooling (both government-run and cram school-based).

So why do I still hear the same "blah blah blah Taiwanese don't do creativity" bullshit, which I myself have been guilty of spewing? Why don't people see it?

Because, like India, a lot of it is invisible. I mean, you have a lot of artistic types who make things, who create, who cover walls with art, who run booths selling their work at markets and fairs, all that terrible poetry from poetry contests published on the MRT (I'm sorry, I'm not a fan) - and you have the entrepreneurial types who get creative when starting up their small businesses. But so much creativity in Taiwan goes into products that don't get branded as being created in Taiwan. "Made in Taiwan", maybe, once upon a time, but not created here. Not innovated here. And yet, in many cases, they were.

Who do you think designed the technology that allows you to stream video on your smartphones? A bunch of Taiwanese R&D guys, that's who (and some other folks, too, but the R&D labs of Taiwan were involved). Who is behind the push to make ever smaller, more powerful semiconductor wafer technology? Taiwanese R&D guys. A lot of apps, branding and design come out of the USA, but a lot of graphics, games and innovation not meant for end users (or meant for end users but not branded as having come from Taiwan or, more generally, Asia) comes out of Asia, including Taiwan.

Basically, everything Nirmalya Kumar says about India in the talk above could also be said about Taiwan - possibly more so (although I don't want to get into a debate on that, I can't really say for sure).

Taiwan is home to innovation, and it is home to creativity. A lot of creativity. You just don't see it because it's not branded that way. It's in the research, development, design and production of components within a product that you think was innovated entirely in the West.