An Audio-Visual Garden of Weeds

Fun fact: the original title was "an audio-visual weed garden" but that would have raised questions not answered by the post.

Outside my window I have a weird little garden. Two under-pruned and overgrown money trees, a bougainvillea, lemon balm started from a cutting that fell onto my casement from an upstairs neighbor and is now taking over my house. Hipster-approved succulents because I can keep those alive. A snake plant because they're difficult to kill.

And weeds: I'll sometimes leave out pots of unplanted soil and see what blows in. On one side I have a big ol' fern because a fern seed decided to grow there. On the other edge, I have an unruly crown-of-thorns, again just a weary traveling seed that likes my windowsill enough to stick around.

I don't have any specific goal for this window or these weeds, for whom I am now an adoptive plant mom. I figure that if a random plant is going to choose my window as a good place to grow, it's probably going to be very easy to grow. As a black thumb, that works out great for me. 

I'll let you decide what this has to do with language learning, but in my own weedy head, there is a connection. 

Soon after I wrote my last post on learning Armenian and Taiwanese at the same time, I signed up with the Armenian General Benevolent Union (AGBU) free online beginner Armenian class. Brendan joked that I could fuse both languages into some sort of new tongue, and that one language would be more efficient to study, but I thought taking an online course would be easier. 

While imperfect -- there was a lot of Audiolingual style drilling, some of the language and grammar points went by far too quickly with inadequate practice, the tests were far easier than the content, and I hardly had to speak at all -- it was something I had to do every week, which pushed me to commit to studying. It improved my letter recognition quite a bit. It was highly audio-based: pictures, yes, but mostly listening to other people speak Armenian and choosing appropriate words, pictures, or sentence completion items. There were online meetings, but it turns out that Yerevan time is not very convenient for me in Taipei. I still scored 100%, because again, the tests were too easy. 

Հայերեն շատ դժվար է, բայց ես լավ ուսանող էի:

For much of my class, however, I wondered one thing.

Why isn't there a free online Taiwanese course? Why aren't there several at different levels?

I could imagine the descendants of Taiwanese who immigrated abroad might have some interest in that, if they didn't learn the language at home, or didn't learn it very well. Foreigners who live in Taiwan or those around the world married to Taiwanese might also find it of interest. Perhaps not many will go on to seriously study the language to gain high-level proficiency, but perhaps that isn't the point.

It's doubtful that the AGBU expects everyone who takes its free courses to go on and become fluent speakers of Armenian. Most of my cohort were, like me, diaspora with an interest in the language of their ancestors that they did not speak. Will some association that parallels the AGBU in Taiwan ever decide to offer this for anyone who wants to sign up?

It wouldn't result in a cohort of fluent speakers, but it might help with awareness that Mandarin is not the only language in Taiwan, and in fact is the newest language to be introduced (forced) here. It would promote Taiwanese identity as something separate from Chinese identity, and help clarify that Taiwanese is not a "dialect" of Mandarin; it is a language, mutually unintelligible with Mandarin.

This would serve slightly different purposes to the AGBU courses: nobody except perhaps Azerbaijan is going around saying Armenians are not a distinct group of people with their own history and culture. I don't mean that in an ethno-nationalist way; whatever you think about borders, it's just true. AGBU is trying to connect սփյուռքահայ like me with their roots. While anyone is welcome to join, they don't seem to necessarily expect that non-Armenians will do so in great numbers.

A free Taiwanese course could have this goal as well, but also attract non-Taiwanese (like me!), spreading cultural awareness beyond Taiwanese communities here and abroad. Again, to offer a first step for people who are beginning to realize that Mandarin is not the end-all and be-all of language in Taiwan, and is certainly not the only option. And it would probably be more effective than ICRT's We Love Hakka for the Hakka language!

It would be amazing if other languages of Taiwan could start this up too. A free Hakka course? Cool. A free Amis For Beginners course? I would take that, honestly. I'd sign up for Atayal, Paiwan, or any of the others, as well. Language preservation efforts are underfoot in those communities already; I'll let the experts speak about whether or not that would be feasible or useful. 

I suspect most foreigners who come to Taiwan would still learn Mandarin, because it is a lingua franca, at least in Taipei. And many don't quite have the anti-CCP sentiment that I do; they likely figure Mandarin will be more useful globally than Taiwanese. And they're not wrong! But wouldn't it be great to give people more of a choice and get that minority who isn't learning a language purely for its utility? 

Beyond that, I just think Taiwanese sounds better. Goa khòa* Tâi-gí bō sim-míh ho-kóng, m-ku chīn ho-thia*! Words like koai* (to close) and cha-hng (yesterday) are fun to say because they're almost entirely pronounced in the nose. It's also much better than Mandarin at short replies. I don't know how to write these, but the ho, heh and hei-a are much more fun than “是的” and "好"! And I'd much rather say chhong-sía than 幹嘛. It packs more of a punch.

Honestly, for Taiwanese, the hardest part was finding a teacher. I started when I did because that was when a freelance teacher was recommended to me. Some of the Mandarin centers offer Taiwanese -- a friend of mine took a course at TMI, but they aren't widely advertised and I can't vouch for their methods.

In fact, a big problem with both Armenian and Taiwanese is that teaching methods are quite outdated. TESOL has been going on for years about communicative approaches -- this is a broad set of methodological principles that can involve Natural Approach, immersion, lexis-based or task-based methods -- and Mandarin seems to have just now figured out that communicative approaches work better over time than drills and tests. You may remember (?) that I quit Shi-da's Mandarin Training Center many years ago, mostly for this reason. I simply could not with those old Practical Audio-visual Chinese textbooks, lack of authentic speaking practice and demented over-testing. Nevermind their blue bent, and  that I got sick of the heavy lean towards standard PRC Mandarin. 

But my Armenian textbook, which I'm working through now that my course is over, is still a fully grammar-based notional syllabus that only hints at certain functional uses for the language. The design makes it readable, it doesn't overload with new vocabulary, it explains grammar fairly clearly, and has review built-in. But fundamentally you're still doing exercises and translations before creating your own sentences. The dialogues are inane ("How are you today?" "I'm not good." "I am good. And where is the French Embassy?") but it still hasn't taught me useful things for actually visiting Armenia like, say, "how much is it?" or "I'd like lahmaçun, sarma and a Coke Zero, please". 

My Taiwanese textbook is even worse, made bearable only by my lovely teacher, who adds as much actual language practice as she can and only tests rarely. It was typed out, likely by hand, sometime in perhaps the 1980s and doesn't appear to have been updated. It's Maryknoll, created by Christians to teach missionaries, and as such it does weird things like teach you the words for minister, priest, nun and monk before you ever learn how to address a woman (the minister's wife, however, makes an appearance early on. Lots of wives in this book, not many single women who aren't nuns).

There are essentially no comprehension tasks; it's composed almost entirely of a dialogue (some weirder than others), extensive vocabulary notes, and then some grammar notes. There are a few translation exercises at the end of most units. My comprehension is tested only because my teacher tests it. The book never does. 

The actual materials are really no better (and are in some ways worse) than the old Practical Audio-visual Chinese books that I hated so much, but I'm more motivated to learn Taiwanese -- yes, it's political -- and I like my teacher more. She doesn't go around like my old MTC teacher being all "我們中國人"! In fact, I think she'd rather drop dead than say anything of the sort.

Though the whole "we Chinese" business was my MTC teacher's right to say -- we can all identify how we please -- that's not how I feel about Taiwan, and to me that's not a helpful way to gain a closer perspective into Taiwanese culture, society and language. 

Other materials exist: my friend who took a Taiwanese course at TMI used 生活台語 and called it "okay". Chieh-ting Yeh (a friend of mine) and Alice Yeh wrote Harvard Taiwanese 101. Phillip Lin's highly inconcise Taiwanese Grammar: A Concise Reference is a solid reference material. 

Not a lot beyond my Eastern Armenian coursebook exists for Armenian. Reviews call it "innovative", and I was touched that when you buy it, the author mails you a copy herself from Yerevan. But really, it's just the best of a very limited field of otherwise terrible textbooks. 

Neither textbook, Armenian or Taiwanese, seems to have much in the way of visual aids. For Taiwanese, it's a good thing I speak Mandarin, as my teacher won't use English, because the book will pretty much never support you with pictures. On the upside, learning Taiwanese has been the biggest boost to my Mandarin in years. Have you tried to learn a third language through your second language? It's a real trip.  You get better at both. It helps that my teacher is a fierce gossip, offering all of her political opinions and deets on her annoying neighbors.

The result of these two modes of study -- one online weekly with a teacher, and one almost entirely at home or in a cafe by myself -- have led to two very different areas of proficiency in each language. My Armenian writing is so much better because all I really do is write. I have a much bigger lexicon because it's easier to look up whatever I want to know. With Taiwanese it's always a question of whether and how a tone changes, and whether it's rendered in some obscure character I can't really read, or Pėh-ōe-jī. I'm more limited to whatever is covered in the unit. 

And the current Taiwanese unit, by the way? "Would you like a smoke?" "No thanks, I don't smoke." "If you won't smoke, then please have a banana!" 

But with Armenian, I can hardly speak. I know what it should sound like from growing up hearing it, but I don't have anyone to practice with, and I won't for awhile. The grammar is complex enough (it has cases! Like Latin! Murder me, please!) that I have to stop and think before I create even a sentence. Taiwanese as fairly smooth grammar, so it tumbles out more easily. It helps that I can use it on a mostly daily basis.

My Taiwanese lexicon is much smaller, but I'm a far more proficient speaker. And yes, I know how to ask how much something costs, and I'll likely understand the answer. 

The main issue as I navigate my two baby languages is lack of extensive reading. I'm not exactly a Krashenite; I don't believe that extensive reading and listening are the only keys to fluency. But they are one very important key to fluency, and one I'll also admit I've fallen down on vis-à-vis Mandarin. In Taiwanese it's just a lack of literature I can read. My Armenian reading is much better,  but nowhere near the ability to actually read what interests me -- a key issue with the idea that extensive reading for pleasure is the only meaningful way to gain fluency. What if you can't yet read what you would normally read for pleasure? It's the eternal question of adult beginners who aren't engaged by materials for children but can't yet read, say, a novel. 

As I wrote the last time I covered this subject, I fill that void with music. It does work; I can look up lyrics so I know what is being said, and gain a clear idea of how the language sounds and flows together. It's not enough, but it'll do for now. It's a good thing I genuinely like the sound of Fire EX, because they comprise most of my Taiwanese listening practice now, with Ladaniva doing a lot of heavy lifting for Armenian. 

All of this leads me down a winding, weedy path of where to go next, and why. Like a pot of dirt left out to the elements, I don't have specific goals for either language. Whatever grows there, grows. I'm learning one language for heritage reasons, the other mostly for political and cultural ones. Or rather, both are political, if you take the view that choosing to learn a language at all, especially not for utilitarian reasons, is a fundamentally political act. If I wanted to learn a language that would be helpful in Armenia but more broadly useful, I'd have chosen Russian. Any foreigner in Taiwan can tell you that the language of greatest utility is Mandarin. I've decided I don't care. 

Even my Taiwanese friends will sometimes say they aren't concerned with whether their children learn Taiwanese because it's "not useful". It is, though! What about befriending your elderly neighbors? Getting people to like you in the south? Sealing a sale or contract where relationships matter? Making a clear point about the cultural and historical distinctness of Taiwan? Not necessarily wanting to be understood by Mandarin speakers? Those are all technically uses.

One language I might be able to use in daily life soon (I've already started incorporating it), the other may never be used that way. For Taiwanese, I may never achieve full fluency, but I might be able to use it in a majority of my daily interactions, and it does make a point. Maybe that point is this white lady is crazy. Maybe it's hey, there are foreigners in Taiwan who care about the country beyond a place to live well and make money. Maybe. After all, my Taiwanese teacher has said all of her students are foreigners. None are local Taiwanese. She charges a bit more than a typical tutor, and still has clients. Clearly, the interest is there. 

For Armenian, who knows. I find myself at a խաչմերուկ -- an intersection. There are a lot of weird things about this language that I want to better understand. Which bits seem to have non-Indo-European origins. Words like խնձոր (khndzor, or apple) came from somewhere, and no one knows exactly what the Hayasa/Urartu/Ararat people spoke. Why does every other language in the region call a couch a sofa, divan, settee or canapé, but Armenian calls it a բազմոց (bazmots)?  

Here's what I envision: perhaps never full fluency, but online classes once I get my dental situation sorted out (don't even ask). Then, a savings account. Approximately ten to fifteen thousand dollars. In...let's say...2025? I hop a flight to Yerevan, rent a short-term apartment, sign up for language classes and a conversation partner, and go live my life in Armenian for three months. If I save, I can probably afford three months, no? There are all sorts of things I missed the last time I went to Armenia, including the extremely old and fascinating dragon stones, cuneiform tablets, petroglyphs and weedy, overgrown fortresses.

I have a hankering for the unspeakably ancient, and now I can do that հայերենով --  in Armenian. 

Brendan's already on board with this, and would come to see me off. After all, he liked Armenia too. 

Do 'most' Chinese really favor outright war with Taiwan? (Sort of, but not really.)

Don't ask how Taiwan should cross the red bridge. Ask whether.

Much fuss was made of a recent study in the Journal of Contemporary China assessing public support in China for various means of annexing Taiwan to China.

The authors don't don't use the term 'annexation', but that's what it would be -- not only does no option for peaceful dialogue leading to mutually-agreed unification appear in their so-called "full range" of policy options, but such an option is indeed unlikely to work. There's no plausible scenario in which Taiwan would want unification with China, and the resultant coercion to achieve that goal is, by definition, annexation.

I'm getting ahead of myself, however. I want to talk about the main finding from this article, published in media such as the South China Morning Post. Their headline reads "Just over half of mainland Chinese people back full-scale war to take control of Taiwan, poll finds". 



                         



I can't read the whole SCMP article as I'm not a subscriber and not interested in becoming one, but it leads with the assertion that "55 per cent in favour of “launching a unification war to take back Taiwan entirely”, with a third opposing it and the remainder saying they were unsure."

That sounds scary indeed. What are we to make of it? To be honest, not that much. I obtained a copy of the original publication -- not necessarily easy as I lost my academic access a few years ago -- and read it to see if it really does support the idea that most Chinese are "in favour" of all-out war to take Taiwan.

Well, that is indeed one possible interpretation of the results. However, I think it's a bit exaggerated, if not outright skewed. I don't just mean that the authors come to more moderate conclusions (though they do), but that I genuinely don't think a careful reading of the study supports the idea that so many are "in favour" of war, so much as they believe war to be one acceptable possibility among many. I'm no master of methodology, but I also think the study has some methodological issues and interpretation bias. 

Let's start with the finding heard 'round the China Watcher Circles. It comes from this figure: 

Yes, it's true that 55% of respondents said they supported "full scale war", with 33% opposed. The opposite -- "separation" -- had 22% acceptance, with 71% opposed. 

I am putting "separation" in quotes because it implies a change in the status quo. However, China and Taiwan are already separated under the status quo -- the PRC does not govern Taiwan -- so there would be no act of separating. It's a telling clue that the authors, despite their best intentions, are biased.

In other words, everything but "separation" was acceptable to the majority. This doesn't imply they are "in favour" of full-scale war. It means they find it one of four acceptable policy options presented, with less-aggressive options also on the table. The exact same number of people support the status quo as full-scale war, with likely quite a bit of overlap.

Although it's impossible to say without more data, one might reasonably infer that many such people would prefer not to resort to full-scale war unless other options are exhausted. Or perhaps many don't actually feel strongly about fighting a war for Taiwan, but feel they have to indicate acceptance for any number of reasons. 

It's still worrying, as when those options fail -- which they will -- these respondents say they find full-scale war an acceptable solution.

However, it's not as scary as 55% of Chinese wanting to go straight to war. I don't know if SCMP clarifies this later in the article as I can't read it, but you wouldn't get that impression from the free-to-read blurb.

The authors, to their credit, do point this out. They even mention that only 19 (not 19%, but 19 respondents total) supported full-scale war as the only option. Not 55%. Not even 19%. 19 people. Here, they explain it a little further: 

A closer look at the data suggest that the respondents largely fall into three categories based on their answers. First, 313 respondents (17.1%) are ‘pacifist’, who found either or both of the two non- aggressive options (‘status quo’ and ‘separation’) acceptable while rejecting the other three options. Second, 572 respondents (31.4%) are ‘bellicose’, who found some or all of the aggressive options (‘sanction’, ‘military coercion’, and ‘full-scale war’) acceptable while rejecting the other two options. Finally, the remainder of the respondents are ‘ambivalent’ (939, or 51.5%), as they endorsed both aggressive and non-aggressive options or were unsure on some or all of the policy options. Importantly, this simple partition of the respondents points to an even smaller share of citizens in support of the aggressive policy options. [Emphasis mine]. In fact, only 19 out of 1,824 respondents (or about one percent of the sample) rejected all but the most extreme option of armed unification.

Basically, to say more than half of respondents "favor full-scale war" is not quite right. More accurately, about half of all respondents favor some move toward unification, but it need not be war and indeed, might be peaceful. One-third view it as unacceptable, and the same percentage who do find war acceptable also 

The authors removed respondents who found all five options acceptable or unacceptable, for a total of 259 removals: 70 who found all options acceptable, and 189 who found all options unacceptable (I'm very curious about what this latter group tends to think are optimal policy options instead, but doubt I'll ever know). That's more people removed for finding both "separation" and "full-scale war" acceptable than people who favored only full-scale war. I do understand that such a response means they probably didn't take the survey seriously, but that it outweighs the number who only support the most bellicose option is, I believe, telling.

Frankly, this isn't surprising. In fact, given the extremely skewed and brainwash-prone education system in China, I would have thought support for military coercion, if not all-out war, would have been higher and support for Taiwanese independence would have been lower. That about one-third of respondents are fine with Taiwan maintaining its independence is actually more hopeful than I would have predicted! 

The authors point this out, too: that support for full-scale war is not as clear-cut as it may seem, and Chinese leadership should understand this. 1/3 of Chinese accepting Taiwanese independence whereas only half wanting war -- and almost no one wanting war as the only option -- is not the solid wall of public support that the CCP needs to attack Taiwan. I can imagine that quite a few Chinese who find war an "acceptable" last resort would nonetheless be very angry if a war were launched without attempting more "peaceful" means first. 

I also want to point out that the authors did not, in fact, include "all" policy options. Although I don't think unification would come of it -- frankly, none of these options would bring about "peaceful" unification, as Taiwanese simply do not want it, and being sanctioned isn't going to change that -- they fail to include "dialogue", "persuasive incentives" or "supporting preferences for unification among Taiwanese" (that is, helping out the unificationists in the KMT or more radical parties such as the New Party), or any truly peaceful means of pushing their agenda. This really isn't a full slate of policy options! 

They further separate "the status quo" and "separation". I could call this bias, but I'll be generous: perhaps they rightly believe that Chinese view these two concepts differently. Perhaps they view "separation" as China officially giving their blessing for Taiwan's sovereignty, and 'the status quo' as China neither recognizing Taiwan's independence nor doing anything about it. While I don't think there's a big difference -- the status quo is that Taiwan is not governed by the PRC, period -- I can understand that Chinese citizens might. 

The authors are indeed fairly reasonable in their interpretations of the data gathered. I'll quote at length here as this study is not readable to all: 

Conventional wisdom holds that the call for armed unification has been ramping up in mainland China in recent years,60 setting the stage for ‘an all-out war . . . devastating to all’.61 Despite the media hype, there is scant empirical evidence indicating the extent to which the Chinese public would support such a war rather than non-violent means to unification. Understanding mass support for the different policy options Beijing could adopt to ‘resolve the Taiwan Question’ is important because we know this is one issue about which public opinion holds sway over Chinese leaders....

We find that at the aggregate level, only a slim majority of the respondents are explicitly supportive of waging a unification war, which has been the focus of current policy debates and academic research, and a third of them are explicitly opposed to it. These numbers are consistent with a survey conducted on an urban sample in 2019,62 thus bolstering our confidence in the external validity of the findings. This also suggests that public support for armed unification has remained relatively stable, despite the rapid deterioration in Beijing’s relations with both Washington and Taipei....

Our study has important policy implications. Both pundits and policy makers who sound the alarm for an imminent or inevitable war in the Taiwan Strait, one that likely would involve the US and its allies, implicitly assume that Beijing’s hands are tied because most Chinese support ‘wutong’ and the public’s patience is wearing thin. An ambitious paramount Chinese leader who cares about his domestic audience can only make things worse. Our findings suggest that this pessimistic outlook may be based more on myth than on reality.

That said, I am not at all sure that they controlled for "social desirability bias" despite claiming to attempt to control for this (however, at least they mentioned it!) Having respondents analyze each option isn't a bad idea, but avoiding social desirability bias first requires guaranteed anonymity -- something that is impossible online in China and that any thoughtful respondent would realize was not necessarily a given. They might have opted in, but also been thinking (not without reason) that someone, somewhere was monitoring the answers.

Avoiding social desirability bias also requires evaluating questions carefully so as not to induce answers that respondents might think are "acceptable". The authors claim to have done that by avoiding the term "Taiwan independence" (smart), but as above, they did not offer all the possible non-military policy options, instead presenting two non-coercive and three somewhat or very coercive choices. That is, more coercive choices than non-coercive ones. Respondents might therefore feel a nudge that it's "better" to choose some form of coercive method, even if it's just sanctions, rather than none at all. Given the chance to say any or all given option is acceptable, why not also choose the one that the government so plainly wants you to support (war), as you can also choose the one you might think is more reasonable (such as sanctions)?

Regarding that bias, the authors do point out the role of the education system in China. They're clearly aware of the role of oft-repeated propaganda. That said, I'm still not sure they truly understood the impact this might have on the results. When people are fed fairly simple slogans (think "national rejuvenation of the great Chinese nation!" or, in Taiwan years ago, "long live the Three Principles of the People!") they might repeat those slogans in a "normal" and peaceful environment. It's so normalized that there probably isn't much of a second thought -- you repeat the slogan without much thought for the actual policy underpinning it or its details. How many Taiwanese once chanted "long live the Three Principles!" without thinking or caring much about what the Three Principles actually were?

I don't see a way to control for this: as with polls showing most Taiwanese are willing to fight to defend Taiwan, we can only gauge what respondents say they believe about war in the moment, not what they'd think or do under actual wartime circumstances. However, Taiwanese aren't pushed by society, education and the government every day to engage in sloganeering and not think too much: everyone is free to say they'd fight or not. You won't be put on a watchlist. That is to say, it's more difficult if not impossible to truly control for social desirability bias in an authoritarian regime. Offering five different options for analysis is insufficient to counter such inculcation. Why not acknowledge this?

Although I applaud where the authors attempt to either reduce or confront bias regarding outcomes, some parts of the introduction and analysis have me scratching my head. Towards the end they reference "The Taiwan Question" -- a heavily loaded term that has connoted genocide when used to describe other groups such as Jewish people and Armenians -- seemingly without much thought. They treat the 1992 Consensus as a real agreement between the two sides, when it was not a consensus and not even called such until 2000. Taiwan/China history is presented in a way that makes it seem as though Taiwan actually was fully controlled by China before 1895, when it wasn't. It was considered and treated as a colony, and for most of the centuries China "controlled" Taiwan, they only really controlled the western third or so. Total Chinese governance of all of Taiwan didn't last long at all. 

To their credit, they do not use the term "reunify" except in quotes, although they pepper the term "mainland" a little too liberally and do call it "returning" and "national unification", forgetting that, of course, Taiwan is not part of the current PRC "nation" and that Taiwan does not have a mainland. Taiwan "returning" to China is used only in reference to what respondents might believe; nevertheless, it's not in quotes -- it's treated as the appropriate term. While overall the authors do take a moderate tone, little things like this worry me.

They spend a lot of time going over China's position, and the US's as well. Taiwan's position doesn't get much space, however. It's limited to Tsai's "refusal" to accept the "1992 Consensus" (which is not called out as fabricated at any point), and this half a paragraph:

In Taiwan, the Election Study Center of National Chengchi University, which has been tracking the unification versus independence stances of the Taiwanese since 1994, reported the smallest pro- unification margin in 2022. In the same year, as much as 73% of Taiwanese explicitly expressed their willingness to fight should the mainland use force.

Cool, but they don't actually say that unificationism enjoys support that is more or less tied with the margin of error, and they don't mention that most Taiwanese identify as solely Taiwanese, not Chinese at all.

Towards the end, the authors imply (although don't outright say) that unification would be a good thing. They do directly state that Taiwan's annexation would be a "return": 

One contribution of our survey is that we move beyond the focus on armed unification. In doing so, we provide a more nuanced understanding of public preferences for a broad range of peaceful and non-peaceful policy options that Beijing could adopt in achieving unification during Tsai’s second term: military coercion short of full-scale war, economic sanctions, and embracing the status quo and waiting patiently for Taiwan’s return.

Okay, but why would anyone outside China want to "achieve unification"? Yes, the point is to see how Chinese feel about these policies the CCP "could adopt", but something about the tone is off. The authors are careful academics who do not say that the less violent but still coercive options might be good choices for China, but it sure reads as though they assume that putting some short-of-war pressure on Taiwan might not necessarily be a bad thing.  

Even where they don't offer a fully China-centric perspective, their word choices give questionable vibes:
 

Furthermore, we find all of these policies receive levels of support similar to that for full-scale war. And quite surprisingly, about one fifth of the respondents even find acceptable the unthinkable option of allowing the two sides to go their separate ways, which is tantamount to de facto independence for Taiwan.

What does "de facto" mean here? Taiwan is already de facto independent; that's a present reality. Why treat it as a future outcome? "Go their separate ways"? China and Taiwan are already governed separately! And sure, Taiwanese independence is "unthinkable" to the Chinese government. But why is Taiwan independence unthinkable in any broader sense that justifies its use without quotation marks? It is indeed very thinkable -- I think about it all the time! 

Although the authors do state a Chinese victory would be "pyrrhic", their choices regarding what background to include, as well as their word choice, indicate to me that they view the somewhat-coercive policy options as part of a potentially reasonable, justifiable endgame.  It all sounds very neutral on the surface, but I have to ask whether the language choices reveal a potential bias.

Of course, there is a difference between gauging what respondents think and what is actually true. For example, a discussion of what Chinese responders might think of the KMT and its ability to "facilitate the peaceful resolution of a cross-strait crisis" might differ markedly from what the KMT could actually do: that is to say, not a lot without general public approval. They might win in 2024, but that does not mean they have a mandate from the Taiwanese people to negotiate away Taiwan's sovereignty. They simply do not.

Also consistent with existing survey findings about Chinese public attitudes towards the western world,53 respondents with better knowledge about PLA development are more likely to prefer the more aggressive policy options. And those who believed that a KMT government could better facilitate the peaceful resolution of a cross-strait crisis in the future were more ambivalent, possibly hoping the KMT will win the 2024 election after Tsai’s second term. 

It's telling, however, that they don't differentiate much. They call it a "peaceful resolution of a cross-strait crisis" as though that's what selling Taiwan to China would actually be; they are not clear that this is how Chinese respondents might view the situation. They do not examine the possibility -- dare I say likelihood -- that a KMT win does not mean that Taiwanese are receptive to unification. There is difference to be explored here, and the authors do not explore it. They seem to equate "cross-strait peace" with the pro-China leanings of the KMT, as though the only obvious way to ensure "peace" is to move toward unification. The opposite is true: a decisive move toward unification is just as likely to precipitate war.

All in all, I do believe the researchers had good intentions. They don't seem to be unificationists even though some of the language employed and assumptions made were at times questionable. There was insufficient differentiation between language used to describe general sentiment in China (not "the truth", but Chinese perspectives), and the actual situation between Taiwan and China. 

Some flaws in the study, e.g. the difficulty if not impossibility in guaranteeing confidentiality, without which controlling social desirability bias is impossible, were not discussed from a methodological perspective. 

While the authors were circumspect and careful in their own interpretation of the findings, SCMP's portrayal of them, at least the lede presented in the 'free' nubbin of text, is highly questionable. I may have questions about the study, but the media is the bigger problem here. Can we really say that 55% of Chinese "favor" full-scale war when the exact same percentage can be said to "favor" the status quo?

Although I have some questions about the study itself, the overall findings don't fill me with concern, and they shouldn't worry you all that much, either. 

Although SCMP may not agree, if Liu and Li's research should keep anyone up at night, it's CCP officials who do need solid, large-majority public support for a full-scale war for Taiwan. Without it, everything from protests to difficulty conscripting soldiers who will fight fiercely for Taiwan will be more difficult and internal governance will be far more challenging. Right now, it seems they don't actually have the support they truly need. 

Perhaps they should heed the 55% who find the status quo acceptable, not the 55% who find war acceptable. If they're not the exact same 55%, it's probably pretty close.

And no one at all should heed the South China Morning Post.

Hou You-yih: Just, like, my opinion, man

The KMT: promising a deep bucket of candy they can't deliver since 1945 (or earlier)

I have been so busy lately that keeping up with Taiwanese politics as presidential campaigns kick into gear has been a challenge in itself. Having opinions is tiring; distilling them into coherent points and typing those points out feels insurmountable. It hardly matters: there are so many insights from sharper people than me that you can read, including Donovan Smith, Chieh-ting Yeh and reporting from Nectar Gan, who does the "Taiwan history blurb" better than just about any journalist. If you're still writing "since 1949" in your articles, stop, read Gan's version, and yell at your editor. (Trust me, if they're the "amid rising tensions, China is provoked" type, they deserve it.) 

But I do have opinions, watching the Year in Taiwan Politics unfold as I try to just exist and make all the moving parts of my life cohere into some sort of forward-moving apparatus. Today, I feel like sharing my opinion on the KMT presidential candidate Hou You-yih.

Hou is...interesting. He was chosen by fiat -- for the primary, party chair Eric Chu essentially grabbed the gavel and shouted "Mine! I choose!" But also not: it seems quite clear that Chu doesn't care for Hou personally or politically. I think he'd prefer himself, or some other born-to-be-blue descendant of the China '49ers, certainly not someone who doesn't always toe the party line as envisioned by, say, Ma Ying-jeou. When Chu has all the power, why choose Hou? 

Because, of course, Chu thinks Hou can win. Even when you have all the power, and no matter how deeply embedded your dismissiveness and condescension toward people with ancestral Taiwanese roots, in a democracy you still have to take seriously the person who might be able to win over the public. 

I should be at least mildly relieved: the other big name candidate was Foxconn chair and general asshole-about-town Terry Gou, whose message centers Taiwan's economic development but doesn't even try to hide his slavering desire to sell Taiwan to China for his own "everyone's" profit. Gou tried to position himself as the potential CEO of Taiwan, but all he ever inspired in me was the sort of visceral hatred you have for your worst-ever boss. After all, there are many types of "successful" CEO: the ones who care about both people and business and foster supportive and satisfying work environments, and the ones who focus entirely on money and don't care that their company is a shit place to work.

There's a reason Foxconn has a reputation for a place you park yourself for awhile to make bank, but not a good place to work long-term. Thus, it could be deduced that he might be focused on money, but he wouldn't make Taiwan a better place to live.  For obvious reasons, I absolutely did not want to be any kind of employee in Gou's promised Taiwan, Inc. 

Hou, in comparison, seems like the less-terrifying choice. Apparently, he was once considered a potential DPP recruit. Thus far he's mostly avoided professing the deep-blue pro-China nonsense that disgusts me and turns off most Taiwanese (support for unification with China enjoys no meaningful support, and most Taiwanese don't identify as Chinese). Some of his comments have been pretty sus, though -- for example, that "the Republic of China is a cup, Taiwan is the water", which I won't even dignify with a response. Do enjoy this meme, though:

I could point to other substantive reasons why I don't care for Hou: for example, while I didn't like Mayor Ko, I can't deny that Taipei improved in some measurable ways under his leadership. New Taipei under Hou? Friends who live there complain of sidewalks, where they exist, paved with slippery kitchen tiles, a reduced but still overly-prevalent gang presence and public transit options that have improved but remain frustrating (for example, there are still very few straight-shot transit routes from Luzhou to Taipei; most meander in circles). 

Does it really matter, though? I think we all know that I just don't like the KMT because I think Taiwan is clearly already independent, and the KMT thinks it is some iteration of "China". I am against mass murder; the KMT makes ridiculous excuses for its mass murders in decades past. 

I don't particularly like the DPP's Lai Ching-te, but I simply wouldn't support any candidate the KMT chose, ever. In their current form, any KMT candidate would be too sympathetic to China and not sufficiently willing to defend Taiwan to the last. I'm willing to admit my bias, and I am not even remotely sorry. 

The deepest greens will point to one of Hou's greatest historical mistakes: his involvement in the death of activist, writer and Taiwan independence supporter Nylon Deng. As a police captain, Hou led the raid on Deng's office, which led to Deng's self-immolation. 

Image of Nylon Deng from an exhibit at the Tainan Fine Arts Museum (since ended)

Hou has said he was "just following orders" and it was his duty to uphold "justice", regardless of the "party in charge". He's said he doesn't have any regrets. 

I don't think Hou should go to jail. I don't think he should be excommunicated from Taiwanese society. I think, given appropriate contrition, forgiveness is possible: after all, Hou did not directly murder Deng. 

However, I do not think a man such as Hou should be the president of Taiwan, now or ever. 

The Nylon Deng Memorial Foundation has pointed out that before his death, Deng said "they can only take my body, they will never take me alive" -- sending a clear message about what would happen in just this circumstance. One might argue that a suicide threat should not prevent the police from "doing their job", but I do believe Hou had the means to understand that message and thus the likely consequences of his actions at the time. When he says the police mission had "also been about saving a life" but was "not successful", the disingenuousness is palpable. He knew that the mission in fact caused a death, and he had the necessary information to predict it would happen.

I do believe, somewhere deep down, Hou You-yih has the ability to understand what it means to be ethical and principled. In 1989, he had knowledge to understand that what he was doing was wrong. On some level, I suspect he surely knew that he was not upholding "justice" and doing it "regardless of party". I can't prove this, but I think Hou knew that the law Deng allegedly broke, which precipitated the mission, was not just. 

Of course, people act in ways they know are wrong and unjust all the time, and justify it to themselves. "Just following orders". "My boss told me to do it." "That's the rule." I'm the sort of person who will walk away from just about anything if I believe it is wrong, whether that's a toxic person harming others, or a workplace whose actions I cannot defend. Certainly I know people who've said they might do something against their principles if it's necessary to keep their job. Okay -- but they're not running for president. 

A worthy leader needs to know and be able to elucidate right from wrong. They need an inner fortitude that carries them through a clear reflection on their past actions, and the ability to admit they acted unjustly. They need to at least acknowledge the existence of the truth, even if their political career forces them to skirt a direct confrontation. 

When they know something is not right, they need to focus on the steps required to improve the situation. Their solutions may not be perfect, but they need to at least be headed down a vaguely correct path. For example, President Tsai has been fairly weak on labor rights, hasn't delivered quite the necessary changes in immigrant rights and is perhaps somewhat weak on energy policy. But she's oriented in more or less the right direction, and that's good enough for me. It has to be.

And when they see something is truly, deeply wrong, they need to own up to that. This may require walking away. The people I want to lead Taiwan would walk away from their cop job because they were fully aware that the actions they were ordered to carry out were a miscarriage of justice. They'd walk away because regardless of the law, it was wrong -- not for partisan reasons, but ethical ones.

Of course, I'm not stupid. I know Hou would never have done the right thing. Most people wouldn't. It doesn't make them wholly irredeemable. But then, most people aren't trying to be president.

The future president of Taiwan needs a certain strength of character which, from his own statements, Hou does not possess. To point to your "orders" or call something "justice" that you know is unjust is to be weak. 

To be asked about it years later and remain unrepentant makes forgiveness impossible. He could have done better. I cannot imagine ever supporting a KMT candidate, but I wouldn't be so deeply averse to him if he could just face the past honestly and clarify that he understands what justice means -- to admit that he now understands that the law was wrong, and he erred in carrying it out.

Right now, it is not at all clear that he indeed does know what justice means, or perhaps he doesn't care. And a leader who doesn't understand or care about justice is exactly the sort of spineless jellyfish leader who would surrender Taiwan to China without a fight because he was ordered to do so by a sufficiently threatening entity. I don't think Hou would abjectly or directly hand Taiwan to China in the way Terry Gou so clearly wants to, or Ma Ying-jeou tried to, up to and including his solo acoustic 2023 China Jackboot Apology Tour (which probably gave the KMT heart palpitations -- they don't like to say the quiet part quite that loud).

Hou isn't Ma or Gou -- but he wouldn't be Taiwan's greatest defender, either. 

I'm not Taiwanese. Nylon Deng's history is not my history -- but not even I can forgive this, simply because I know right from wrong. Hou is weak, and he is wrong. In refusing to reflect honestly on his past actions, he shows a lack of principles, spine and character.

Hou You-yih may not be an entirely terrible person, but he is a weak man with a weak character who is not fit to lead the country. 

The ROC constitution is not the argument winner you think it is

Continue?

In a spin-off of my last post, I wanted to talk some more about the ROC constitution.

In that post, I described Taiwan independence bait & switchers in that post: people who talk about Taiwanese sovereignty as though it doesn't already exist, but make those statements in relation to China, not in relation to any sort of discussion or debate happening in Taiwan. When it's pointed out that Taiwan is indeed independent of that China, they snottily retort that Taiwan claims to be the "Republic of China", and therefore isn't independent from...that?

Nevermind that they began by talking about the PRC, and the ROC and PRC are different governments regardless. Both governments fundamentally acknowledge this: Taiwan now openly states it, and the PRC talks about how "Taiwan will be ours", which is an admission that Taiwan is not currently theirs.

I mentioned then that a lot of these people will point to the Republic of China constitution, insisting that its wording proves that Taiwan considers itself "part of China", if not the "real China" which claims the territory currently governed by the PRC. 

This is arguably false. I've talked about this before, but have more to discuss, and want to zoom in a little more. As Brendan likes to say, people who want you to swallow China's (or the KMT's) narrative on Taiwan don't want you to learn more about Taiwan. Their arguments work better if you remain ignorant. Those of us who advocate for Taiwan welcome everyone to learn more: the more you learn about Taiwan, the clearer it becomes that it isn't part of China, and doesn't want to be. 

In the spirit of "learning more", I'll be drawing on a useful Twitter thread that deserves a more permanent discussion. 

What are "existing territories"?

In the thread, Drew points out the oft-cited Article 4 which discusses the "borders of the Republic of China": 

The territory of the Republic of China according to its existing national boundaries shall not be altered except by resolution of the National Assembly.

I've discussed this as well -- the article never clarifies exactly what the borders are, and that matters -- but Drew takes it further. He points out that the vagueness was intentional, as the boundaries at the time were indeed somewhat fluid and the language of the constitution had to account for that without any change potentially invalidating the document. That's not just his opinion: he's quoting the Council of Grand Justices:

Article 4 of the Constitution provides: "The territory of the Republic of China according to its existing national boundaries shall not be altered except by resolution of the National Assembly." Instead of enumerating the components of national territory, a general provision was adopted, and a special procedure for any change of national territory was concurrently provided. [Emphasis mine]. It is understandable that this legislative policy was based upon political and historical reasons.

A years-old Taipei Times piece offers a clearer interpretation of this fairly terse ruling: 

First, Article 4 has been ruled “non-justiciable” by the Council of Grand Justices. Asked whether Mongolia was still a part of ROC territory, the council in 1993 issued Interpretation No. 328, which ruled that the legislative intent of the term “inherent/existing” was specifically to avoid setting down precise boundaries, since the areas controlled by the ROC in China at the time were continually shifting with the tides of the Chinese Civil War. The interpretation thus held that the phrase is a political question that cannot be assigned any fixed legal definition. The practical impact of this ruling is that it is legally impossible to “violate” Article 4, since anyone could assert any notion of “inherent/existing national boundaries.”

Essentially, "non-justiciable" means that the Council of Grand Justices has declined to rule on the meaning of Article 4, as the wording is intentionally vague, which is a fundamentally political issue. Thus, it can mean anything to just about anyone. Which, of course, indicates that it means just about nothing at all.

Article 4 is technically no longer in force, but the same wording ("existing national boundaries") is used in the updated additional article, so I'm applying these ideas to both. There's more to discuss here; it will come up again below.

In other words, the judiciary branch of the Republic of China refuses to enforce any legal interpretation of that article, including that it must include territory currently governed by the People's Republic. At this point, the government that currently runs Taiwan has not actively claimed "mainland China" for decades, and continues to decline to comment on any such claim.

And lest you think that this was some sort of partisan judge hack job: in an otherwise jibberish article, even the KMT praises the wisdom of this ruling! I suspect it was meant to be a bit of a smack at the DPP, who had sought to shed new light on what the constitution means to modern Taiwan by getting the judiciary branch to clarify the so-called territorial claims. However, it ended up being a boon to Taiwan advocates: if the wording of "existing national boundaries" is so vague and political that it cannot be meaningfully interpreted by the court, then it can't really be meaningfully be interpreted by anyone. Therefore, it is not meaningful.

Chen Shui-bian is quoted by the Financial Times (and here, the Mainland Affairs Council) pointing out that the question of dubious claims such as Outer Mongolia aren't even the point -- when the Republic of China was founded, Taiwan was a colony of Japan. A 1936 early draft of the constitution did not include Taiwan, which further shows that these "existing borders" are indeed malleable. 

In addition to the Grand Justices, we've now had two presidents of the Republic of China who have insisted that it is an independent country and does not claim the territory of what the world considers to be "China". Three, if you count Lee Teng-hui and his "state to state relations" (and I do). Every elected leader of Taiwan except one has been clear on this. How many government officials clarifying this will it take before people stop making this dead-end argument?

Let's look at the last part of Article 4. I occasionally hear these "Checkmate, Splittists!" commentators say that this needs to be changed by a referendum, but that's not actually true. 


The Additional Articles

The original article states that it can only be amended by the National Assembly, although the amended article, which dates from the early 2000s, gives that power to the Legislative Yuan. The National Assembly no longer exists, and hasn't since 2005, when the replacement article took effect. 

As Bo Tedards pointed out all those years ago, from the Taipei Times link above: 

Second, Article 4 is no longer in effect. It was replaced in 2000 by paragraph 5 of Additional Article 4, which itself was amended in 2005. Although Additional Article 4 contains almost the same phrase, “the territory of the Republic of China, defined by its existing national boundaries,” surely the use of the term “existing” in 2000 or 2005, without qualification, does not mean “existing as of 1947.”

For the sake of comprehensiveness, here's what that paragraph says:

The territory of the Republic of China, defined by its existing national boundaries, shall not be altered unless initiated upon the proposal of one-fourth of the total members of the Legislative Yuan, passed by at least three-fourths of the members present at a meeting attended by at least three-fourths of the total members of the Legislative Yuan, and sanctioned by electors in the free area of the Republic of China at a referendum held upon expiration of a six-month period of public announcement of the proposal, wherein the number of valid votes in favor exceeds one-half of the total number of electors.

The original additional articles to the constitution were promulgated even earlier than that, in 1991. The early-noughts replacement to Article 4 does differentiate between the "territory of the Republic of China" and "the free area of the Republic of China", but I find it hard to believe that many Taiwanese in 2005 -- one year before I moved to Taiwan -- truly believed that their votes from Taiwan could or should have any bearing on, say, Tibet or Mongolia.

Perhaps a few centenarians and some KMT diehards clung to this, but in 2005 most people in Taiwan identified as either purely Taiwanese or both Taiwanese and Chinese. Almost nobody believed themselves to be purely Chinese, a downward trend that began in the mid-1990s. There's no way the general electorate in 2005 still had some inherent notion that unification was desirable. Not even the pro-China Ma Ying-jeou, elected a few years later, dared to say otherwise at the time.

It's difficult, then, to disagree with Tedards. If the sentence "existing national boundaries" was written in 2005, and the Council of Grand Justices has already said it's a vague, political phrase that takes into account the possibility of changing boundaries, then the boundaries referenced in the 2005 replacement of Article 4 can only sensibly mean the Republic of China as it existed in 2005.

Why do the additional articles exist?

When the original additional articles went into effect, President Lee described the re-defined relationship with China as "state to state" or "special state-to-state" relations. Even China saw this move as a blatant shift toward "Taiwan independence". Here's a nice long turducken quote from my previous post on the topic (linked above):

This article is extremely biased to the point of affecting the quality of the scholarship, but it offers up a real quote from Lee and a taste of how angry China chose to be:

According to the transcript released by Taipei, Lee said that since 1991, when the ROC Constitution was amended, cross-strait relations had been defined as "state-to-state," or at least "a special state-to-state relationship." Cross-strait relations, he maintained, shall not be internal relations of "one China," in which it is a legal government vs. a rebel regime, or a central government vs. a local one. Lee's controversial statement, not even known beforehand by Su Chi, Chairman of Mainland Affairs Council (MAC), sent shock waves to Washington as well as Beijing. [Note: Su Chi is the same guy who fabricated the "1992 Consensus" well after 1992].  

For Beijing, Lee Teng-hui's "two-state" theory was identical to the claims by Taiwan independence forces, that treated Taiwan and the mainland as two separate states. Lee had completely abandoned the unification guidelines of 1991, not even paying lip service to the one-China principle. The spokesman of the State Council's Taiwan Affairs Office criticized Lee for playing with fire....In Beijing's eyes, Lee had made an open and giant step towards independence. The "state-to-state relation" theory went beyond the limit of "creative ambiguity" around the one-China principle and represented a major shift towards de jure independence. 

As Drew points out, Chen Shui-bian extended the "special state-to-state" theoretical framework, later calling the relationship with China "one country on each side". Although Ma Ying-jeou represented a break from this clear trajectory, Tsai brought it back into fashion, calling Taiwan "independent" (also linked above). In other words, since democratization there has been exactly one president of Taiwan who has conceived of Taiwan's relations with China as anything other than "state to state", and this framework is directly linked to the constitution as it existed after 1991. 


Miscellany: Tibet, Mongolia and the Provincial Council

The ROC constitution tryhards don't give up easily; they'll often point to mentions of Tibet and Mongolia in the document. To that I say: so what? The Mongolian and Tibetan Affairs Commission was dissolved in 2017/2018, and most mentions of those old claims are either tied to rules regarding the National Assembly which no longer exists, or play no meaningful role in the current government.

The Provincial Council was also dissolved -- you need to use the Wayback Machine to access its old website. Because the constitution stipulates that something like the Provincial Council must exist, a government worker technically fills the lead role, but draws no additional salary. It exists in name only. That whole framework is a ghost, a shadow. It says a lot about the entire ROC-oriented framework of the document as a whole, frankly.

Cherry-picking these bits and pieces of the constitution to make the case that Taiwan actively claims "all of China" as the Republic of China actually makes your case weaker, because there's just so little there there.

Taiwan does not claim China, nor does it claim to be "the real China". It hasn't since the 1990s and that position has only been cemented in the 2000s. The constitution itself says this, if you bother to read it carefully. Only one elected president has ever paid it lip service, and he's hilariously unpopular. 

The entire thing is a massive straw man: it's easy to argue against Taiwanese sovereignty even when one can't deny its de facto existence if one can point to a document and say, "hah, see? Even Taiwan agrees it's China!" But the document doesn't say that, at least not any longer, and few in Taiwan still believe it should.

To be honest, I don't think these constitutional truthers want what's best for Taiwan, nor are they interested in understanding or learning more about Taiwan. If they were, they'd know this already, or be open to hearing it.


So why not change the constitution?

Taiwan did change the ROC constitution -- that was what the additional articles were all about! 

But, I see the point here, and I'll bite: why not amend the core document, rather than add to it? Why not abolish the vestiges of the Provincial Council? Why officially "delegate" responsibilities for these defunct assemblies to other government agencies, rather than change the document that states they must exist? The Legislative Yuan has that power, so why not do it?

I believe the Taiwanese electorate does mostly want this, but it's a deeply unfair question. Why indeed? If it can be done, and Taiwanese people would likely support it, it shouldn't be difficult to deduce the reason why it doesn't happen: not Chinese control, but Chinese threats. 

Taiwan isn't controlled by China now, so changing it doesn't change China's power in Taiwan (that it has none). So why do it, when they're threatening to slaughter you?

Taiwan absolutely does not want a war, for exceedingly obvious reasons. We can all agree it would be a terrible outcome; the only entity who seems to want war is China. If Taiwan is already self-governing and doesn't need to specifically amend the constitution to maintain its sovereignty, and China has threatened to subjugate and annex Taiwan if it makes those changes, with millions of Taiwanese dying as a result, why would Taiwan do so?

Taiwan can and should make these necessary changes when China has resolved not to use force, not to invade, and to respect the wishes of its neighboring country. Until then, what purpose vis-à-vis the PRC would it serve, at such a terrible cost?

Insisting on constitutional amendments that don't change Taiwan's current sovereignty therefore doesn't make any sense, unless you're looking for a reason to blame Taiwan for China's actions. I suspect most of the ROC constitution truthers are doing just that.

It's that same old Catch-22: insisting that Taiwan cannot be "independent" until it makes declarations or constitutional amendments that may cause China to attack, but then blaming Taiwan for "provoking China" if it actually makes those declarations or amendments. There's no way to win, which is exactly what the anti-Taiwan, China-simping ROC constitution truthers want. 

Don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about.

Book Review: Taiwan Studies Revisited

None of the online images were any good, so here's my own

In the past, I'd found it difficult to access the Routledge series on Taiwan research. The hardcovers are expensive (they're priced for university libraries) and it can take time for more affordable paperbacks to come out. There have been improvements in this situation, though. Paperbacks are coming out more frequently, making more titles available. I've thoroughly enjoyed reading Taiwan's Green Parties, Social Movements Under Ma Ying-jeou -- which I read years ago but didn't review -- and now Taiwan Studies Revisited. I'm currently working my way through The Spirit of 1895. If I can find a more affordable copy of Perverse Taiwan, it's next on my list. 

Today, I want to talk about Taiwan Studies Revisited. The central concept of the book revolves around authors of well-regarded books about Taiwan from decades past discussing the research and career trajectories that led to their publications, their arguments at the time, reviews and criticisms and how they feel their ideas have held up. There is another line of synergy running through each chapter, centering on the use of "China", as compared to Taiwan, as a conceptual touchstone, and how authors may have felt obligated or pressured to position their work as China-focused research.

Throughout, contributors also reflect on the evolution of Taiwan Studies over the last several decades, from the 'desert' of the 1990s to the relative prestige of today. Is Taiwan Studies still a marginalized area of inquiry, at best subsumed under China Studies, at worst seen as a career dead end? Taiwan Studies Revisited doesn't directly answer this question, but does reflect on it from multiple angles. Generally speaking, the outlook is positive. 

Featured academics include Simon Long, Melissa Brown, Anru Lee, Henning Klöter, Thomas Gold, Dafydd Fell and Michael Hsiao, among others, and was edited by Fell and Hsiao. It would take forever to recap each chapter; with regrets, I'll discuss only a selection of the ones I found particularly thought-provoking.

Overall, I enjoyed the 'recaps' of all of these fantastic works. Taiwan Studies Revisited can act as a sort of a collected Cliff's Notes of important research from decades past, either refreshing one's memory of books read long ago or giving you ideas about what to prioritize reading next. For example, Gold's chapter was a solid review of State and Society in the Taiwan Miracle, which I read ages ago, before I was doing book reviews. Brown's chapter focused on Is Taiwan Chinese? made me move that book -- sitting on my shelf but as-yet unread -- to the top of my list.  

While I was less interested in the conditions that precipitated the authors' specific research or their paths to becoming Taiwan-focused academics, it was notable to me how many started out interested in China but moved to Taiwan -- in Gold's case, finding the topic too interesting to abandon in favor of China. Yes, many encountered pressure to position their publications within a China framework as research on China tends to be higher-profile and get more attention than Taiwan, but those who actually began by wanting to focus on China and shifted toward Taiwan had the most interesting stories. 

I'm aware that Taiwan-based academics have held this debate among themselves: is Taiwan Studies part of a greater China-focused research area, what does it mean that to study Taiwan? Many must enter or work within the China Studies programs at their universities -- is this acceptable? 

Not that it matters, but I have my own opinion on this: if you are forced by circumstance to work within a China-focused framework but are aware of the inherent problem with that positioning, I have all the sympathy in the world. We do what we can in the circumstances we are handed, and not every university has a Taiwan Studies program. 

If, however, one actually sees oneself as ultimately within the China Studies paradigm, but studies Taiwan, then -- well, the kindest thing I can say is that I'm not impressed. I view all China-based observations, research, journalism and approaches with suspicion. If one actively positions Taiwan as part of some greater China-focused area of inquiry, to me that is a fundamental misunderstanding of Taiwan's uniqueness, even as I admit that China has greatly (but not entirely) influenced Taiwan. I will always take such work with an entire Tainan salt mountain of skepticism.

In other words, it's understandable to do what one can within a non-ideal academic environment. Moving from China to Taiwan-focused inquiry and comprehending what that means is also not a problem. In fact, it should be welcomed. But to see Taiwan-based research as ultimately one aspect of China-focused research, if that research is not directly related to the influences China has had on Taiwan? I'm out. 

Another thread I noted that spanned several chapters centered on social welfare in Taiwan. This is a good example of what one can learn from Taiwan Studies Revisited as several books across multiple areas of research are brought together.

It comes up in Joseph Wong's chapter on Healthy Democracies and Welfare Politics in Taiwan, Dafydd Fell's reflection on Party Politics in Taiwan, and Mikael Mattlin's discussion of Politicized Society. The development of, say, National Health Insurance (NHI) was an interplay of political and social forces: while it was ultimately promulgated by the KMT, early proponents and activists pushing for a nationalized health insurance system actually stemmed from the Tangwai, which eventually coalesced into the DPP. It's too simplistic to say that the KMT merely stole the opposition's idea for their own electoral gain (though in a sense, they did) -- the "race to the top" of benefit offerings was the result of both parties trying to buff up their social welfare bona fides during elections.

That said, before universal programs were pushed, the KMT regularly enacted highly discretionary welfare programs. Many citizens received little or no benefit from these, and they effectively created support blocs for the KMT (the book doesn't say this outright, but it is a logical conclusion and was borne out by the fight over pension reform several years ago). Here's what it does say: in changing this, groups that received the most benefits did "lose out" as their extra privileges were eroded, but the outcome was more universal -- though imperfect -- access.  

Here's something I didn't know: Wong notes that at one point, the KMT attempted to offload NHI through privatization. I believe this would have been disastrous. Fortunately, it never happened: opposition parties and social groups kept NHI under government purview, which probably kept it affordable and accessible for citizens. 

With that, I want to make an appeal: let us never again declare that the KMT should get all the credit for programs like NHI. Certainly, they enacted it, but they were not the only player in that game. 

I also found Melissa Brown's chapter to be of specific interest, in terms of both pressure to orient Taiwan-focused research as being under a China umbrella, and the specific issues women face in academia. Brown was the only female contributor to talk about sexism, but when a woman says she's faced discrimination, I tend to believe her. To see her tackle this issue head-on and even name some names was phenomenal (though I am sure those named were less than enthused). It's difficult to do this: as a woman, I know what it's like to ask myself, "is it really just me? Am I simply wrong, or less capable as an individual? Or is this an issue of unexamined sexism in which my ideas are given less credence simply because I'm a woman?" It can be hard to tell, and when I face what I feel is systemic sexism (and I have), I still struggle with being sure. 

Even if one is sure, it's even more difficult to speak up. Women who do so are regularly called irrational, emotional, "just angry", troublesome. People do say it's just us -- this or that woman is simply jealous or bitter that her individual star doesn't shine as bright, and it has nothing to do with her sex -- even when it's not true. It's hard to fight. An individual woman is not necessarily as capable as any given man simply because she's a woman, just as an individual man is not necessarily better at academia than any given woman simply because he is a man. You might be sure, but good luck trying to convince others of that. 

To come out and say it takes courage, and willingness to throw entire jungles' worth of shade. I'm here for it. 

One can say that Brown has not experienced much sexism -- after all, she wrote and published a fairly well-known book in the field, which was considered worthy enough to be included in this volume. Here is why I think Brown might have a point, though: Is Taiwan Chinese? -- a title she herself takes some issue with -- was published in 2004. It makes a very clear case for Taiwanese identity and elucidates the dynamics underpinning it. It's 2023, and people are still debating these dynamics as though she hadn't said anything at all. As though Taiwanese people "don't know who they are" because of how they answer the status quo poll, while the Taiwanese identity poll, which shows a clear consensus, is so often ignored. I find it a bit weird, to be honest. 

I also enjoyed this chapter because, as a woman not in, but interested in, Taiwan Studies, it's great to see women like Melissa Brown and Anru Lee -- whose focus is more domestic, on women and labor in Taiwan -- in publications like these. Often, I have been disappointed by other prominent Taiwan-focused women who take weird KMT-ish stances and pretend they're objective, or propagate viewpoints I think are simply wrong -- i.e. that somehow Taiwan and the US are "provoking" China rather than the truth: it's other way around. China creates the tensions, China decides what the provocations are, China expects everyone to dance around their arbitrary red lines. I want female role models who don't buy into this trap. 

There are a few more observations from other chapters worth mentioning. Gold is quite correct that Taiwan's story is more sociopolitical than economic. I'm happy to see that he finds Taiwan interesting in its own right. The interplay of private grief with public issues was fascinating in Lee's chapter, which focused on the 25 Ladies' Tomb in Kaohsiung. Long's chapter was interesting, but I found some of the conclusions faintly ridiculous. He outlines possibilities for the future which include "reunification on Beijing's terms" (as though Taiwan will ever agree to peaceful annexation by the CCP) or "unification on a compromise" (as though the PRC is willing to compromise and it would actually allow Taiwan sufficient autonomy). Most of them are not possible, and that should be immediately apparent. 

Klöter's chapter was of specific interest to me, as I'm currently learning Taiwanese with a private tutor (my Taiwanese still sucks, but I am getting somewhere.) I had always assumed use of a Romanized writing system was simply an invention of missionaries and not ideal. To learn that many view it as superior because it doesn't use Chinese characters -- that it's preferred because it's not rooted in Chinese culture and renders Taiwanese as something more unique to Taiwan -- was both fascinating and, to be honest, kind of cool. 

Mattlin points out several things I already knew, but it's great to see them in publication: that the KMT party elite's self-conception of their 'right to rule' (and yes, the KMT does in fact feel that way, although I suppose you could argue the DPP does as well albeit for very different reasons) is rooted in the system and symbolism of the ROC, which is why they fight so hard to preserve it. Mattlin calls the ROC "the raison d'être" for the KMT, and I can't deny that he was spot on then as he is now. 

All in all, Taiwan Studies Revisited is absolutely worth reading, either to see where the contributors stand now vis-à-vis their past work and how it's held up over time, or to get a condensed version of a range of books to help you better understand the field, or simply pick which book to read next.

Chiang Wan-an, Chiang Ching-kuo and 228

Let me be upfront: this is an off-the-cuff post that I honestly need to research more. When I have the time, I'll try to update it accordingly. Please understand, I have a huge writing assignment coming due and have just been diagnosed with diabetes resulting from post-COVID complications, so I'm not as focused as I should be. 

With that said, I want to talk about Taipei Mayor Wayne Wan-an Chiang, his grandfather Chiang Ching-kuo, and the 228 Massacre. While speaking at a 228 memorial event today, Chiang was heckled by protesters waving white banners and demanding he "kneel and apologize" for the crimes of his ancestors. Other protesters -- legislators Lin Liang-chun, Wu Pei-yi and Miao Po-ya -- held signs in the audience saying "Stop Idolizing Dictators", "Return Records to the State" and "Remove Authoritarian Symbols" (my translation). 

Miao, on point as usual, said that authoritarian symbols (such as Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall) have no place in a democracy, that Mayor Chiang's speech was full of well-worded rhetoric but "beautiful words don't matter as much as what the words actually do", that many families were not participating in commemorative activities due to deep sadness, and that truth, justice and reconciliation in that order are vital for transitional justice. 

One might say that it's unfair to demand that Chiang, grandson of one dictator and great-grandson of another, apologize for the crimes of his ancestors. He is not the same person as his ancestors, and he was on stage acknowledging the fact of the 228 Massacre.

No, not the 228 "Incident". Massacre.

There is an alternate universe somewhere in which I agree with this: it's the one where Chiang is still surnamed Chang despite legal agreement that he is the grandson of Chiang Ching-kuo, but chose not to change his name because he understood the implications. It's the one where he ran for mayor without tying his legacy to the memory of Chiang Ching-kuo who was, again, a dictator. It's the one where he acknowledged the crimes against humanity committed by both of his legally-recognized ancestors, and promised that truth, justice and reconciliation without idolizing one of them or attempting to draw on his name.

That's not the universe we live in. We live in the one where he puts Mass Murder Grandpa on his campaign flags.

Still, you might say, the Chiang whose reputation he called upon to bolster his own campaign wasn't the perpetrator of 228. Chiang Ching-kuo wasn't the same as his father.

That, I must say, is a distinction without a difference. First of all, although it's true that even Mayor Chiang understands that Chiang Kai-shek's image should not be on his campaign flags, he absolutely stands for the continued existence of his great-grandfather's memorial hall with its statue in situ -- a memorial hall built to make him seem like a great man, not the butcher he was. That is, a memorial hall that continues to enshrine the worst of the KMT dictatorship and obscure, not confront, the worst of its horrors. 

That should be enough, but wait -- there's more! Chiang Ching-kuo, the ancestor that Chiang Wan-an idolized so much that he put the guy on his campaign flags, might not have been the chief perpetrator of 228, but it's wrong to say he wasn't involved at all. 

After the slaughter had begun, he arrived in Taiwan on March 17, 1947: 

By the 17th, the Army were declaring victory. Defense Minister Bai Chongxi (白崇禧) arrived in Taiwan with the generalissimo's son, Chiang Ching-kuo (蔣經國), and wired a message to Chiang Kai-shek that "order is mostly restored, and we are in pursuit of the last remaining rebels that joined forces with armed thugs.”

It's more likely than not that Chiang agreed with this depiction of events -- one in which the victims ("thugs" and "rebels") were at fault and the government was "restoring order". 

NewTalk describes his work around March 17th as "telegraphing the arrest list", after which further crackdowns were carried out. Is NewTalk the definitive source on this? Not necessarily, but Chiang was with Bai and others in Taiwan to deal with 228. The arrests and executions -- both organized against dissidents and indiscriminate -- continued. Chiang's hands are not clean.

After their arrival, Bai and Chiang toured the island, visiting Keelung, Chiayi and Kaohsiung among other places. I mention these cities specifically because they're known for being places where the KMT committed especially egregious massacres. Chiang and Bai visited Chiayi the midst of mass executions taking place in that city. Did he personally order the executions? Probably not, as some occurred before his arrival. Many, however, occurred after, including the execution of 70 individuals in Chiayi. 

Did he know about them and approve? Surely.

Some of those executed were tortured as well. Thinking Taiwan describes the treatment of Dr. Pan Mu-chi, who had his nails pierced with iron and was doused in gasoline.

If the son of the dictator visits a city with the Defense Minister in the midst of mass executions, broadcasts a message following the wishes of his father, allegedly telegraphs an arrest list, and then that many people are executed if not heinously tortured, how can one possibly say that that dictator's son holds no culpability?

Let's move to Kaohsiung. Here's Chiang shoulder-to-shoulder with Peng Meng-chi, known as the "Butcher of Kaohsiung". I took it from Taiwan Gazette, but it's also available on Imgur: 

Best Buddies

Here's what Peng did: 

The narration describes Taiwan governor Chen Yi as the main culprit, along with Peng Meng-chi (彭孟緝), the garrison commander, who gave the order to the military to attack the train station, the Kaohsiung Middle School, the Kaohsiung Municipal Government and to shoot all the city councilors, who were in the process of negotiating a settlement for the 228 Massacre.

Here's more: 

In Kaohsiung, where protests had also broken out, fortress commander Peng Meng-chi (彭孟緝) was losing patience. On the 6th, Peng gave orders to move on protesters that had gathered at the train station, city hall and Kaohsiung Senior High school. Three of Kaohsiung’s most prominent community members were arrested and later executed, including Tu Kuang-ming (涂光明), Fan Tsang-jung (范滄榕) and Tseng Fengmin (曾豐明).

Peng's Kaohsiung massacre happened on March 6th, Chiang Ching-kuo arrived on the 17th, after it had taken place. They seem extremely friendly. What are the chances that Chiang either didn't know or didn't approve of Peng's actions?

Chiang would go on to become the head of secret police, helping his father carry out the White Terror. For decades before he was said to usher in democracy (an honor he does not deserve), he wrote consistently of his disdain for democratic elections and Taiwanese identity, calling them useless, tools of the "Communist bandits" and others who seek to divide the state. He stated that the opposition should never be allowed to form a political party, and that Taiwan independence activists were "reactionaries" supported by those same "Communist bandits" who "sought to turn small issues into big ones" (you know, such as recognition of the mass murder of their loved ones) with "insidious and vicious scheming". 

His bestie, The Butcher of Kaohsiung, would become the head of the Taiwan Garrison Command among other high-ranking or honorable political placements. 

These words and actions may not be directly related to 228, but they spring from the uncaring, trigger-happy attitude to Taiwan that both helped cause 228, and became that event's legacy for decades to come. There is no evidence that Chiang Ching-kuo was ever remorseful for what his government had done, or his role in it. That role may be dwarfed by the actions of Chiang Kai-shek or Chen Yi, but he did play a role, and that matters.

Where does that leave us with his grandson, the mayor? 

Well, when you take a man like Chiang Ching-kuo and make him one of the main thrusts of your campaign for political office, you best be willing to acknowledge and atone for his sins, as well. Some still hold residual goodwill towards Chiang Ching-kuo for his infrastructure projects, perceived role in the Taiwan Miracle and the notion that he helped usher in democratization (he did not). Chiang Wan-an very obviously wanted to capitalize on this, to stir nostalgia for the "good old days" in oldsters, at least the ones who never had a family member dragged off and shot.

Otherwise, as a friend put it, Wan-an wants all the advantages of being a Chiang, with none of the downsides. That's not how these things should work. It is ethically wrong to grasp for one while refusing to acknowledge the other. If he wants to connect his political career to his grandfather's legacy, that must include the entirety of said legacy; there's no ethical way to pick and choose.

If Chiang doesn't want to be held accountable for this, he should take his Mass Murder Grandpa's face off all his damn flags. If you want the face of the man to be one of the faces of your campaign, you should indeed "kneel and apologize" for all of the horrible things he did. If that sounds unappealing, well, there's a reason why.

Chiang Wan-an is not only not "clearing authoritarian symbols" as Miao Po-ya demanded and any reasonable person would want. He is quite literally using them to climb the political ladder. That is disgusting and Chiang should be ashamed of himself. Kneel and apologize. 

Until then, others should follow the Taiwan 228 Care Association's example and make him persona non grata at 228 events. I don't care if he's the mayor.

As that's not likely, just imagine there's a sign on his forehead that says "heckle me harder", because that's what Chiang Wan-an deserves.