PLACE IN RETURN BOX to remove this checkout from your record.
TO AVOID FINES return on or before date due.
MAY BE RECALLED with earlier due date if requested.

 

DATE DUE DATE DUE DATE DUE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/08 K:IProj/Acc&PresIClRC/Date0m.indd

 

 

NEGOTIATIONS OF TAIWAN’S IDENTITY AMONG GENERATIONS OF
LIUXUESHENG (OVERSEAS STUDENTS) AND TAIWANESE AMERICANS

By

Robert Edmondson

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulﬁllment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Anthropology

2009

ABSTRACT

NEGOTIATIONS OF TAIWAN’S IDENTITY AMONG GENERATIONS OF
LIUXUESHENG (OVERSEAS STUDENTS) AND TAIWANESE AMERICANS

By
Robert Edmondson

This multi-locale ethnography explores conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity
among generations of liwcuesheng (overseas students) and second-generation Taiwanese
Americans, for insight into the way “homeland” is deﬁned, represented, and remembered
among diasporic populations. Original contributions are made to collective memory
theory by expanding historic generation models to accommodate immigrant historicity, as
well as discussions in diaspora studies of intra— and inter- generational dynamics. This
research recognizes that “Taiwanese” and “Chinese” are social constructs, reiﬁed and
contested. By studying the identity of a place, the Taiwanese/Chinese identity dichotomy
in academic and popular discourse is de-centered, creating greater theoretical space to
consider collective memory and historic generation formation in diaspora.

Without formal recognition in the United Nations since 1971, the people of
Taiwan have come to a broad consensus to maintain the status quo of strategic ambiguity,
an arrangement rejected by a fringe minority advocating rapid reuniﬁcation with China,
as well as those who call for an immediate declaration of dejure independence. During
four decades of martial law in Taiwan (1947-1987) politically active overseas students re-
deﬁned concepts of the “homeland” from a province of China to a more Taiwan-centric

identity. Competing student associations served to localize intra- and inter-generational

negotiations, with ofﬁcial Republic of China student associations existing alongside
unsanctioned Taiwan-centric groups, and joined in the mid-19905 by second-generation
Taiwanese American student associations.

.Based on interviews with generations of liuxuesheng leaders and activists,
participant-observation with student groups, a comparison of “homeland” tours, and an
analysis of student association websites, this dissertation presents contrasting
conceptualizations of Taiwan held among generations of Iiuxuesheng and Taiwanese
Americans. “Formosan” Taiwan emphasizes Taiwan’s colonial past, and emerged from
the counter-hegemonic pathos of a people long subjugated by foreign rule. Members of
subsequent cohorts of liuxuesheng, faced with the repression of local traditions and
language in Taiwan, emphasized Taiwanese cultural authenticity as the foundation of
national identity. The youngest generation in the US. simpliﬁes cultural nationalist
discourse to create markers of Taiwanese “authenticity” in the context of
multiculturalism in the US. “New Taiwan” emphasizes the four ethnic groups who share
a common history of migration, and a future of common fate. Each of these contrasts
with earlier conceptualization of Taiwan as a Japanese colony, and as a province of
China. Finally, Taiwan may be the moral destination of a search for a lost heritage,
roots-seeking, often with ambivalence toward the issue of national sovereignty. This
research further indicates that conceptualizations of Taiwan held by generations of
liuxuesheng were shaped by powerful events experienced in youth and young adulthood,
including, for elder informants, a radical redeﬁnition of the “homeland” once abroad. In
contrast, second-generation Taiwanese Americans exploring Taiwan in terms of cultural

“roots” rarely adopted anti-Chinese nationalism.

In loving memory of my grandmother Margaret, who knew when I was a kid that I would

become a teacher. And write in incomplete sentences.

iv

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to express my gratitude to the Chng family for their candor, generosity, and '
hospitality, along with Li-lin and Hiro, Gabriel, and Uncle Chang and Dun-mei, whose
homes were opened to me throughout my ﬁeldwork.

My appreciation for the advice and insight of my guidance committee cannot be
overstated. Bernard Gallin and Rita Gallin provided historical depth to my work. I am
particularly grateful for Rita’s help in revising the ﬁnal drafts. Sheng-mei Ma’s insights
into the subject matter nuanced my data interpretation and added the dynamism of
interdisciplinary writing. I am indebted to Judy Pugh, whose appreciation for the use of a
wide range of methods, data sources, and theoretical approaches was validating. My
analysis of collective memory was shaped through the insights of the late Jacob Climo; I
view my dissertation as a modest contribution to the far-reaching discussions advanced
through his research and writings. Andrea Louie’s work on Chinese diaspora ﬁrst
attracted me to the anthropology program at Michigan State University, and as the
chairperson of my guidance committee, she has proven invaluable in her feedback, and
saintly in her patience.

This work would not have been possible without the unwavering support and
encouragement of my parents, Drew and Linda, and aunt Anne on South Mountain.
Finally, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my wife, Andrea, for her patience
and support. It was only through her generosity and sacriﬁce that this dissertation was

completed.

PREFACE

I ﬁrst became involved with Taiwanese student activism in 1996 as a graduate
student in the Asian Studies department at the University of Texas, Austin, after returning
from a year teaching English in Tianjin, China. Because I was studying the relationship
between ethnic nationalities in China and constructions of Chineseness, colleagues
recommended that I consider Taiwan, where state-constructed Chinese national identity
was contested by a Taiwanese independence movement. At that time I considered
Taiwanese nationalism a reactionary political movement. Like others in my department,
I was interested in studying the real China and left unexamined the assumption that the
people of Taiwan were “ethnic Chinese,” living on the geographic, political, and cultural
fringe of Chinese civilization. After some preliminary research I wrote an article based
on a series of interviews with witnesses and survivors of a 1947 uprising in Taiwan
known as the February 28th Incident, an event credited by some as the origin of
“Taiwanese consciousness.” During a trip to East Lansing, Michigan to present the paper
at a Taiwan studies conference, I met a high-proﬁle Taiwanese independence activist
who had taken advantage of her US. citizenship to further the goals of the movement
beginning in the mid-19705. After a weekend of interviews in which she described the
inner workings of the independence movement, we began to make arrangement for me to
conduct my Master’s thesis research on the 50th anniversary commemorations of the
February 28th Incident in Taiwan. Because of this research I was regularly invited to give
presentations to Taiwanese groups, and over the years I’ve developed relationships with

members of student organizations and independence activists across the country. The

Vi:

social capital of being a white male academic with some literacy in Taiwanese society,
conversational Mandarin language skills, and prior residence in Taiwan and China,
helped establish my legitimacy as a researcher and build rapport. For some informants,
participation in this dissertation research was part of a broad strategy of raising the US.
public visibility of Taiwan and the independence movement. Further, I acknowledge that
my presentations on Taiwanese history at student conferences may have encouraged the
development of Taiwanese consciousness and historicity, topics central to this study.

Throughout my dissertation ﬁeldwork I introduced myself as an anthropology
graduate student interested in the role of Taiwanese student associations in the
development of Taiwanese identity, though it was often the case that for my informants,
the February 28th Incident overshadowed my actual dissertation. As a result, many of my
interviews were punctuated by moving narratives of the Incident by eyewitnesses, as well
as those who would relate their experiences of ﬁrst learning of the event. I was told
chilling descriptions of the social environment in Taiwan in the ﬁrst decades of martial
law, a time of political purges, assassinations, disappearances, torture, and panoptic
surveillance. Knowledge of my past research interest may have increased the frequency
with which narratives of the Incident were communicated. However, the signiﬁcance I
attribute to the Incident in this dissertation reﬂects not only the content of my own
interviews, but also the degree to which it appears in ﬁlms, novels, poetry,

. documentaries, art, and other social science research in Taiwan and abroad.

vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF FIGURES .......................................................................................................... xi
KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS .......................................................................................... xii
INTRODUCTION .............................................................................................................. 1
I. Dissertation Overview ................................................................................................ l
A. Central Topic ........................................................................................................ 1

B. Research Design ................................................................................................... 3

C. Terminology: The Complexity and Power of Names .......................................... 4

l . “China/Chinese” ............................................................................................... 4

2. “Taiwanese” ...................................................................................................... 8

3. “ABC/Ts: Arnerican-Bom Chinese/Taiwanese” ............................................ 10

11. Methods ..................................................................................................................... 11
A. Student Associations and Multi-locale Ethnography ......................................... 11
B. Websites ............................................................................................................. 13
C. Madison’s Puppetry and Curling ....................................................................... 14
D. Conﬁdentiality, Authorship and Citation ........................................................... 17
III. Theoretical and Historical Context ........................................................................ 19
A. Nations and Diaspora ......................................................................................... 19
B. Locating Taiwan in History ................................................................................ 22
C. Taiwan’s National Identity in the US. ............................................................... 30
D. Research on the Political Orientation of Taiwanese Student-Immi grants ......... 32
IV. Chapter Summaries ................................................................................................ 35
A. Chapter One: Formosan American ..................................................................... 35
B. Chapter Two: Taiwanese Puppetry and Curling ................................................ 36
C. Chapter Three: Liuxuesheng Historic Generation ............................................. 38
D. Chapter Four: www.tsa.edu ................................................................................ 39
E. Chapter Five: Second Generation Taiwanese Americans .................................. 40
F. Chapter Six: Discussion ......................................................................................... 41
CHAPTER 1: FORMOSAN AMERICAN ....................................................................... 43
I. The Post-War Generation and the Origin of Taiwanese History .............................. 43
A. Taiwan’s Identity in a historical Context ........................................................... 43
B. The February 28th Incident in History .............................. 52
C. Autobiographical and Vicarious Memory of 2-28 ............................................. 58
II. Extraterritorial ROC .................................................................................................. 66
A. Disciplining Non-student Huaqiao .................................................................... 66
B. Formosan Exiles in the US. ............................................................................... 69
III. Liuxuesheng on American Campuses .................................................................... 74
A. Relations with the Nationalist Government ....................................................... 74
B. Dual Student Associations and Alternative National Imaginations ................. 78
C. Taiwan as Formosa, Island of the Colonized ..................................................... 82

viii

CHAPTER TWO: TAIWANESE PUPPETRY AND CURLING ................................. 85

I. Situating the Field ..................................................................................................... 85
A. History of Madison Student Associations .......................................................... 85
E. Madison as a Field Site ...................................................................................... 89
C. Gateway Inforrnants ........................................................................................... 92

11. Performing Culture: Scripts and Subtexts ................................................................. 97
A. Puppetry Past and Present .................................................................................. 97
B. The Presentation ............................................................................................... 105
C. “Millionaire Chou ............................................................................................ 108
D. “Grand Aunt Tiger” .......................................................................................... 112
E. “Dr. George Leslie MacKay” ........................................................................... 114

IH. Representing the Motherland ............................................................................... 115
A The Fighting Yams ........................................................................................... 115
B. Chinese Taipei .................................................................................................. 121
C Salience of Taiwan’s Identity among Curlers and Puppeteers ......................... 126
D. Discussion. Multicultural Taiwan across Generations ..................................... 140

CHAPTER THREE: LIUXUESHENG HISTORIC GENERATIONS .......................... 144

1. Analytical Framework ............................................................................................ 144
A. Memory, History and Generations ................................................................... 144
B Index Events ..................................................................................................... 147

11. Historic Generations ............................................................................................... 148
A Japanese Era ..................................................................................................... 148
B Bao-diao and the Collapse of Legitimacy (1971-1972) ................................... 152
C. The Formosa Incident and the Rise of Identity Politics (1979-1980) .............. 155
D Democratization and Social Mobilization (1985-1987) ................................... 157
E Wild Lilies Demonstrations in Taipei (1990) .................................................. 158

111. Discussion: Historic Generations and Taiwan’s Changing Identity .................... 160
A The Chng Family .............................................................................................. 160
B Counter-History as Displayed in 1976 and Remembered in 2004 ................... 166
C. Historic Generation, Index Events, and Vicarious Memory ............................ 171

CHAPTER FOUR: WWW.TSA.EDU .......................................................................... 17 8

1. Student Association Websites as Field Sites and Texts .......................................... 178
A. Diachronic and Synchronic Analysis: Ethnography and Time in Cyberspace 178
B. Titles in Academic Discourse: When is a CSA a TSA? .................................. 180
C. Data Collection ................................................................................................. 187

II. Articulations of Taiwan’s Identity .......................................................................... 190
A. Taiwan as China ............................................................................................... 190
B. Syncretism and Negotiation ............................................................................. 192
C. Non-Chinese Taiwan ........................................................................................ 196

111. Student Associations, Index Events, and Historic Generations ........................... 197
A. Democratization (1986-1987) .......................................................................... 197
B. Missile Crisis and the Election of Lee Teng-hui (1995-1996) ......................... 198
C. The Politics of Political Neutrality ................................................................... 201

IV. Discussion ............................................................................................................ 202

ix

 

A. Reading Websites ............................................................................................. 202

B. Taiwan as the Republic of China, Taiwan as Cultural China .......................... 209
C. Advantages and Limitations of Intemet-based Research ................................. 211
CHAPTER 5: SECOND GENERATION TAIWANESE AMERICANS ..................... 213
I. The Second generation Taiwanese American Movement ...................................... 213
A. WUF I Kids: Formosan Americans and the Children of the Revolution .......... 213
B Taiwanese American Student Associations ..................................................... 217
C Brown University ............................................................................................. 220
D. Berkeley Students for a Sovereign Taiwan ...................................................... 226
E. The Webolution: CyberGarden of Yams and YamWeb .................................. 228
II. Cultural Odysseys and Identity ............................................................................... 231
A Are We There Yet?! Xungen and Xiangtu ...................................................... 231
B Chinese American Cultural Odysseys as Nation—Building Projects ................ 234
C. Overseas Chinese Youth Study Tour to the ROC ............................................ 236
D Counselor OC Ben's Closing Ceremony Speech and a Loveboat Rap ............ 249
E The Formosan Tsunah Program ....................................................................... 252
111. Summary and Discussion ..................................................................................... 263
A. Heterogeneous Historicity Within “Generations” ............................................. 263
B Roots en Route ................................................................................................. 266
C. Conservatism and Activism among Taiwanese Americans ............................. 269
CHAPTER SIX: DISCUSSION .................................................................................... 273
I. Generations and Taiwan’s Identity ......................................................................... 273
A. The Chinese Nation-State and Formosa on Taiwan ......................................... 273
B Counter-Hegemony and Taiwan as Formosa ................................................... 279
C. Cultural Nationalism and Multiculturalism ...................................................... 284
D “New” Taiwan: Multi-Ethnic Island-State of Immigrants ............................... 291
E. Taiwan as Greater China .................................................................................. 300
II. Findings and Implications ....................................................................................... 307
A. Diachronic and Synchronic Cyber-ethography ................................................ 307
B. Homeland in Diaspora ...................................................................................... 318
C. Future Research ................................................................................................ 323
APPENDICES ................................................................................................................ 327
I. Puppet Script: Millionaire Chou (Alan Chen) ........................................................ 327
H. Puppet Script: Dr. George Leslie MacKay (Alan Chen) ........................................ 333
REFERENCES CITED ................................................................................................... 342
I. Authored Publications........., ................................................................................... 342
11. Student Association Websites ................................................................................. 358
III. Chrlture Tour Participants’ Writings ..................................................................... 362
x

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1: Taihoku (Taipei) in 1943 ................................................................................... 45
Figure 2: Liuxuesheng in the US. from 1950 to 2000 ...................................................... 75
Figure 3: TSA Taiwanese Puppet Troupe in Madrson ...... 89
Figure 4: Puppeteers Performing in Milwaukee Cultural Festival ................................. 109
Figure 5: Fisherman and Mr. Chou Discuss the Almost Supematural Eel. .................... 110
Figure 6: Grandaunt Tiger after the Performance ........................................................... 112
Figure 7: Fighting Yams Curling Team Logo ................................................................ 116
Figure 8: Li-lin Curling for Taiwan in the 2003 Asian Games ....................................... 118
Figure 9: “Chinese Taipei” Skating Union Logo in English while hanji reads “ROC”. 122
Figure 10: Taiwan History Display Panels and Text ..................................................... 167
Figure l 1: Three China-Taiwan Dichotomies ................................................................ 186
Figure 12: Frequency of TSA Website Establishment ................................................... 189
Figure 13: Indigenous Dress and Contrasting Flags at TSA Events ............................... 195
Figure 14: Democratic Republic of Taiwan Flag Quoted in Association Iconography . 207
Figure 15: Three Flags with Taiwan Silhouettes ............................................................ 207
Figure 16: The “Nativization” of Website Iconography ................................................. 208

Images in this dissertation are presented in color.

xi

KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS

1.5:

2-28:

CHLA:

CMC:

CSA:

DPP:

FAPA:

FFF:

FOB:

IOC:

KMT:

PCC:

PRC:

ROC:

ROC SA:

ROT:

SAROC:

TAM:

TASA:

TC:

One-point-ﬁve, between 1St and 2“d-generation immigrants
February 28th Incident

American-born Chinese

American-bom Taiwanese

Chinese Hand Laundry Association
Computer-mediated communication
Chinese student association

Democratic Progressive Party

Formosan Association for Political Action
F ormosans for a Free Formosa ‘

Fresh off the boat (recent immigrant)
International Olympic Committee
Koumintang (Nationalist Party)

Paciﬁc Curling Championship

People’s Republic of China

Republic of China

Republic of China student association
Republic of Taiwan

Student Association of the Republic of China
Taiwanese Association of Madison
Taiwanese American Student Association

Taiwanese Collegian

xii

TECO:

TI:

TIM:

TRA:

TSA:

UF I

WUFI:

Taiwanese Economic and Cultural Exchange Ofﬁce
Taiwanese independence

Taiwanese Independence Movement

Taiwan Relations Act

Taiwanese student association

United Formosans for Independence

World United F ormosans for Independence

xiii

NEGOTIATIONS OF TAIWAN’S IDENTITY AMONG
GENERATIONS OF LIUXUESHENG (OVERSEAS STUDENTS)
AND TAIWAN ESE AMERICANS

INTRODUCTION

I. Dissertation Overview
A. Central Topic

This research explores the ways in which Taiwan has been conceptualized among
Iiuxuesheng (overseas students) from Taiwan, the “1.5” generation” who immigrated in
their pre-college years, as well as second-generation Taiwanese American university
students, in order to develop new understandings of the ways in which “homeland” is
imagined and negotiated among diasporic populations. Though affective bonds to a
homeland are often thought of as a natural part of the immigrant experience, this research
proceeds from the position that “homeland” is a discursive construction informed by
social relations in a speciﬁc historical context. One’s “native place” should not be
thought of as a ﬁxed, timeless, and self-evident locality to which one may someday return
(or re-discover). Rather, terms such as “homeland,” “native culture,” and “roots” should
be viewed as empty signiﬁers in spaces of contest, whether referring to nation-states,
regions, cities, or neighborhoods. As Doreen Massey points out, places have no single
identity, nor do they unproblematically equal community (Massey 1994:152-3). This
dissertation is a historical ethnography of “Taiwan” as a place-based signiﬁer, exploring

the ways in which its meaning has been negotiated among generations of Taiwanese

living in the US. since WWII. Thus, in addition to making contributions to discussions
in diaspora studies, this dissertation explores new approaches to collective memory
research.

Taiwan is an instructive case study for such inquiry because its status as a nation-
state is highly contested, widening the range of differing conceptualizations of Taiwan’s
identity, and raising the stakes as differing views are negotiated. Although the exiled
Republic of China government on the island of Taiwan was recognized by the UN as the
ofﬁcial ruling body of mainland China from 1947 to 1971, Taiwan is no longer
considered an independent Chinese nation by the international community, nor has the
state declared itself openly to be a sovereign Taiwanese nation. The lack of formal
recognition in the international community and a complex colonial history have created
more ﬂexibility in the domains of national and cultural identity for individuals from
Taiwan compared to most nation-states, characterized in this case by a complex
relationship with China and Chineseness.

Through the course of this dissertation I identify a series of views regarding
Taiwan’s identity, each derived from ethnographic materials, roughly following the
contours of historic generations, beginning in Chapter One with a discussion of
conceptualizations of Taiwan among the earliest generation of immigrants from Taiwan
in the US, and concluding with an analysis of the differing ways second-generation
Taiwanese Americans relate to their “homeland” Taiwan in Chapter Five. The
concluding chapter presents an analysis of the differing conceptualizations of Taiwan in
terms of overlaps and interdependences in an effort to gain greater insight into the

experience of “homeland” among extraterritorial populations.

 

B. Research Design

I draw insights from a wide range of ﬁeld sites and sources of data both grounded
and virtual, including interviews with thirty-eight subjects ranging from octogenarian
Taiwanese independence activists to college freshmen. University student associations
and cultural programs in the US. were selected as ﬁeld sites because they have
historically been the contexts for students to experience the events that inﬂuenced their
long-term socio-political views. Fieldwork included participant-observation at ﬁfteen
local and regional Taiwanese student organizations’ events across the US, as well as
participant-observation with a Taiwanese student puppet troupe and curling team.
Narratives of Taiwanese American students’ impressions of Taiwan are discussed
through an analysis of two homeland cultural tours for second-generation immigrants. In
addition, this research is nuanced by extensive work in virtual ﬁeld sites, including a
content analysis of 172 student association websites spanning a ten-year period (1993-
2003.) Website content related to conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity included,
among other indicators, graphic iconography, group mission statements, types of
activities, discussion boards, and links to other websites. A research population limited
to members of co-ethnic student associations and participants in cultural programs
provides a uniquely structured social context: a highly localized space of continuous
inter- and intra-generational interactions, in some cases spanning decades. Collectively,
these ethnographic locations and sources of data provide opportunities to further
elucidate the diverse ways in which a “homeland” can be conceptualized and experienced

among populations in diaspora. Over the course of this dissertation, I will discuss six

 

conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity as represented and remembered by the
generations involved in their construction and negotiation. In brief, they are:

1. A Chinese nation-state identity rendering Taiwan a province of China;

2. Formosa, a anti-colonial formulation formulated by those who experienced the
transition ﬁ'om Japanese rule to Nationalist administration in 1945;

3. Cultural Taiwan, formulated by cultural experts interested in maintaining
Taiwanese traditions as the foundation of a national consciousness;

4. Multi-cultural Taiwan, the simpliﬁed and commodiﬁed elements of
Taiwanese culture selected for display at events such as international fairs on
college campuses;

5. New Taiwan, 3 conceptualization of Taiwan based on the ethnic identity;

6. Taiwan as Greater (Cultural) China, a discourse common among scholars who
emphasize the growing signiﬁcance of the margins of China in the Paciﬁc
Rim economy, including Hong Kong, Singapore, and overseas Chinese
around the world.

C. Terminology: The Complexity and Power of Names
1. "China/Chinese "

One of the underlying discourses that circumscribe Taiwanese difference within
the domain of Chinese identity revolves around the term huaren, a reference to Chinese
culture, and Chinese civilization, what Tu Weiming (1991) and others call “cultural
China.” When describing the case of Taiwan, Tu points out that the “sedimentations of
Taiwanese history,” referring to the Dutch and Japanese colonial regimes, and more
recent American inﬂuence, are “superimposed on the Chinese substratum,” and have
been inﬂuenced by increased interest in indigenous culture and “nativistic sentiments.”
When combined, Tu observes that these factors render “the claim of Taiwan's
Chineseness problematic” (9-10). “Nativistic sentiments,” here, refers to Taiwanese
native-place (xiangtu) identity. For example, I asked one of informants about what he

would teach his own child about his heritage:

When I was small I descended from China (I was told) my great, great
grandparent came from China, so lam Chinese. But, I will tell my kids no, you

were born in Taiwan, you grew up in Taiwan, you are not Zhongguoren. You are
Taiwan. American citizens may have immigrated from Great Britain, or Italy,
and other European countries. They don't call themselves British, or Portuguese.
They call themselves American, so we should call ourselves Taiwanese.

Of course I will tell them that you have Chinese heritage. . . . First I will let him
know much more about Taiwan, which I myself have never studied until college.
I will let him know that Taiwanese has a very long history, that a long time ago,
the Portuguese were in Taiwan, and then came the Dutch and they invaded and
occupied Taiwan. So Taiwanese has some Dutch heritage. And then the
Japanese, who also colonized Taiwan, which is why our grandparents spoke such
good Japanese. And they considered themselves part Japanese. And then later
they lose the war, and here comes the Chinese. I will explain to my kids that the
KMT did not want to control Taiwan well, they just sent their worst general to
Taiwan. But they lost the war to the communist party, so they had to retreat to
Taiwan. The Taiwan underwent a series of reforms where everyone was educated
they were Chinese - but actually there were only about 20-30% mainlanders, but
the others were from Japan, or aborigines, so we can say we have heritage from
Japan, from Dutch, from aborigines, so with all the inﬂuences of different
cultures, you should call yourself Taiwanese.

The narrative above indicates a heterogeneity and ﬂexibility in the content of
Taiwanese identity, creating a tension between nativist sentiment and pan-Chinese
identity discourse. “Cultural Chinese” was explicated in a 1991 Daedalus issue titled
“The Living Tree: The Changing Meaning of Being Chinese.” Tu articulated the widely
held view that Taiwan is part of the increasingly important periphery of China, with
Taiwanese difference as a new “center” of hua Chinese culture which locates Taiwanese
identities such as the one narrated above within the rubric of hua cultural and ancestral
“background” (22). The outermost periphery of hua Cultural China includes multiple
generations of Chinese Americans, as well as non-Chinese Sinologists.

In a subsequent essay published in a special issue on Taiwan in The China
Quarterly, Tu (1996) refers to a Harvard conference earlier that year as the context in

which he ﬁrst “explored the issue of ‘Taiwanese consciousness’” in discussions with

Taiwanese graduate student participants. In the article, Tu argues that Taiwanese ethnic
identity is a reactionary and anti-Chinese sentiment in a newly-established, over-
stimulated and “commercialized” public sphere obsessed with political correctness:

Newspaper editorials and television talk shows are the popular arenas in which

these cultural battles are waged. The popularity of phone-in radio and television

programmes indicate a new form of participatory democracy, unprecedented in

Chinese history. However, as these are highly charged emotional issues, the push

toward radicalism is strong, and the temptation for sensationalism on the part of

the host, guests and audience seems irresistible (1116).

He goes on to warn of the danger this movement poses to cross-Straits relations,
arguing that “indeed, cultural identity is the core problem deﬁning Taiwan’s position in
the Chinese world, East Asia, the Asia-Paciﬁc region and the global community.” The
alternative articulation shengmin gongtongti (community of common life) - one of the
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity discussed in this dissertation — is viewed by Tu as
a “political ploy” that is nonetheless gaining support in the public sphere (1117). Rapid
liberalization and the political appropriation of spontaneous sentiment, despite the fact
that “[people on Taiwan] are aware that such rhetoric is contrary to Taiwan’s self interest
and, in the last analysis, a threat to its survival,” may lead to “unpredictable consequences
beyond rational control” (1121). To put his statements in historical context, the people in
Taiwan were facing a second round of Chinese military maneuvers in the Taiwan Strait —
including live-ﬁre missile testing off the coast of Taiwan — on the eve of the ﬁrst open

presidential election in Taiwanese history. Lee Teng-hui, a native Taiwanese in the KMT

party, won the ofﬁce.

Tu presents Taiwan as a “cultural vortex” where “Taiwanese authenticity
inevitably clashes with Chinese identity” (1121).l Here, he is using the term
zhongguoren, and though he asserts that this simply means “person of the middle
kingdom,” in Taiwan it is understood to mean a person from mainland China. 2 He
proposes that most Taiwanese independence supporters would consider themselves both
huaren, and racially Han Chinese , and goes on to state: “It is likely, once the ambiguity
between political affiliation and ethnic identiﬁcation becomes clariﬁed, that the majority
of Taiwanese will refer to themselves as Zhongguaren rather than huaren” (1133). The
implication is that eventually, if the Taiwanese people are rational, they will recognize
their own self interests and become a sub-ethnic group with'Chinese citizenship. l
highlight Tu’s opinion that Taiwan’s national identity is spurious to contrast more
nuanced alternative understandings of Taiwan’s identity expressed by informants,
including a more complex relationship to the discourses of hua and Han than Tu
hypothesizes.

Throughout this dissertation I point to instances where Taiwan, people in Taiwan,
Taiwanese culture, immigrants from Taiwan in the US, and Taiwanese Americans are
included within overarching narratives of China, Chinese culture, Chinese immigration,
Chinese diaspora, transnational Chinese, and Chinese Americans. Although Taiwan’s
history has been linked to that of China through migration from the Chinese mainland

since the 16th century, I am suggesting that Taiwan should not be considered

 

' Like Tu, Chu’s (2000) central position is that identiﬁcation with Taiwan is inherently a denial of Chinese
identity, but Chu does not go so far as to invalidate Taiwanese nationalism out of hand. “Behind all the
obsessions for a new Taiwan-centered identity, or in its most provocative form of Taiwanese independence,
primarily lies the impulse to ﬁght for a sovereignty that can guarantee an unconstrained international space,
rather than a nationalist motive to cut off all cultural and racial identiﬁcation with China” (307).

2 The Republic of China is Zhonghua Minguo; the full title of the PRC - Zhonghua Renmin Gonghegzto
(central glorious people's united country), is usually shortened to Zhongguo, China.

7

unproblematically Chinese, no more than, say, Tibet, Mongolia, or Xinjiang — regions
also ruled by the People’s Republic of Chinese with local populations periodically at
odds with the central Chinese government. It is important to ask, as the title of Melissa
Brown’s 2004 ethnography suggests, “Is Taiwan Chinese?”, because Taiwan-as-China is
only one of a range of conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity discussed here —- some of
which reject the idea entirely. This dissertation is careful to avoid conﬂating Taiwan and
China, and to point out when others have done so, as it speaks to the unequal power
relations making some conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity more valid than others.

2. “Taiwanese ”

The multiplicity of imaginations of Taiwan creates a dilemma in English language
terminology as “Taiwanese” may be meant to refer to an economic entity in the Paciﬁc
Rim known as one of Asia’s “little dragons, a cultural tradition that would include
Taiwanese puppetry, an ethnic group to be distinguished from “mainlanders,” an ethnic
group that includes all residents of Taiwan —— known as “New Taiwanese identity” - to be
distinguished from people of Chinese citizenship, or a population meant to be
distinguished from ethnic Chinese by racial and cultural markers. When speaking of
’ elder generations in Taiwan, this dissertation will employ terminology commonly used in
Taiwan to distinguish between those of Fujianese descent living on the island prior to
1945, known as benshengren (of this province,) while those who immigrated from China
with the Chinese Nationalist government after Japanese retrocession in 1945, known as
waishengren (from outside the province.)

Just as this dissertation seeks to avoid presuming that residents of Taiwan should

be considered Chinese, it also will not consider them unproblematically “Taiwanese.”

 

9, 6‘

This text will consistently use the terms “students from Taiwan, members of student

9, C6

associations, associations of students from Taiwan,” and the like, over “Taiwanese
students” and “Taiwanese student associations” in order to avoid claiming a Taiwanese
identity on behalf of all residents on, and immigrants from, Taiwan Bendao (Taiwan
Island.)

Although the terms “Taiwanese student” and “Chinese student” will be avoided,
this dissertation will refer to members of the second generation in the US. — children of
immigrants from Taiwan -— as “Taiwanese Americans.” Although the term is not
universally embraced, with some preferring to be called Chinese American or America-
bom Chinese (ABC), the descriptor “Taiwanese” in this case refers to a geographic
location from which their parents immigrated. Taiwan itself is meant to indicate a geo-
political entity, an island state approximately 100 miles across the Taiwan Strait from
Fujian Province, on the southeastern coast of China, north of the Philippine islands and
south of Japan, along with a collection of islands and atolls under its political control, and
should not be taken to confer the legitimacy of claims of national sovereignty.

Discursive encompassment of Taiwan within Chinese meta-narratives was ﬁrst
identiﬁed as a problem endemic to academia by Stephen 0. Murray and Keelung Hong,
(1994) who composed a comprehensive exegesis of social science research conducted in
Taiwan, demonstrating that practices such as translating Holo terms and names into
Mandarin, downplaying benshengren local cultural variations while highlighting
practices thought to be more Chinese, avoiding topics of benshengren ethnic identity, and

titling monographs and articles as “Chinese” research, supported speciﬁc interests and

ideologies; ultimately, Murray and Hong argue that “researchers who wanted to study

China were welcomed by a government pretending to be China” (38). They have
appealed to social scientists, research institutions, and publishers that more theoretical
space and ethnographic attention be provided for benshengren difference. The authors
suggest that Sinologists’ desire for China legitimated the Nationalist govemment’s
political, economic, and ideological monopolies, and ultimately Cold War American
foreign policy. Just as l have argued that place-identity is ﬂexible and deﬁned through
social relations, so it is important to note than “China,”

3. “ABC/Ts: American-Born Chinese/Taiwanese ”

The distinction Murray and Hong worked to highlight in order to dispel the
“invisibility” of Taiwanese culture has become less salient among younger generations,
and due to increased intermarriage between waishengren, benshengren, indigenous
groups and Hakka, these broad categories become problematic with each passing
generation. Taking the lifting of Martial Law, legalizations of the DPP, and the election
of Lee Teng-hui as a watershed period of liberalization in Taiwan, I shiﬁ terminology
when referring to overseas student populations in the US. and no longer specify the
provincial status of immigrants’ parents, but rather — when relevant — use other indicators
of political orientation, such as which candidate their family supported in the 2000
presidential elections, or stated positions on the independence/uniﬁcation question. The
heterogeneity in background of the younger generations of overseas students is
concomitant with the emergence of a wider range of issues being debated in the public
sphere, where position on the independence/reuniﬁcation issue may be less salient than,
for example, environmental protection or liberalization of trade with China. At the time

of this research, Lien (2006) reports that among Taiwanese living in the US, 33 per cent

10

 

said that they identiﬁed themselves most often as Taiwanese America; 38 percent

preferred Chinese American.

11. Methods
A. Student Associations and Multi-locale Ethnography

As phrased by Gupta and Ferguson, the Intemet-based ﬁeldwork described in my
dissertation moves "ﬁom spatial sites to political locations" (1997az36). Ethnographies
focusing on a single, “face-to-face” territorialized community sometimes miss the
translocal relationships that deﬁne locality, and fail to appreciate the extent to which such
locations are intersections of bodies in transit, transected by global processes, and
appropriated by nation-states. The concept of “locality” should not be limited to a
discrete place, but rather be seen as a process, a space constituted by ﬂows of people,
ideas, and power (Massey 1994). For example, efforts to establish and maintain a nation-
state draw on the concept of locality to create bonds of identity among extraterritorial
populations. Following Fouron and Glick-Schiller (1997), this dissertation identiﬁes
nation-state building as “a set of historical and affective processes that link disparate and
heterogeneous populations together and forge their loyalty to and identiﬁcation with a
central government apparatus and institutional structure" (281). Because nation-state
building involves multiple points of intervention in the everyday lives of those being
targeted for inclusion (and exclusion), so ﬁeldwork must be based on multiple points of
investigation.

With this understanding of locality in mind, this should be considered a multi-

locale ethnography, what Clifford (1997) has called “subway ethnography,” involving

11

 

sporadic encounters and moments of participant-observation, textual deconstruction and
Intemet-based data collection. As a prime example, one of the sites of student
association research is a transitory ethnographic location, a public event organized by a
transient student population: an international cultural fair. On campuses across the
country, students groups come together periodically and set up booths, arrange
performances, and prepare samples of traditional cuisine. Alongside cultural elements,
students at such events display national ﬂags, maps locating the country in relation to
other nation states, and other information about the homeland, including histories and
descriptions of traditions. The students’ booths often include the soft propaganda
material found in government-produced tourist pamphlets, guide books, and websites.
They reproduce the iconography and “invented traditions” that provide the historical and
cultural underpinnings of the nation-state (Hobsbawm 1983). Joel Hinton, participant in
one of the cultural tours described in Chapter Four, lamented the lack of accurate
information about Taiwan in the US: “Five years ago, I knew almost nothing about
Taiwan except the few bits of recent history mingled with military-dictatorship- era KMT
government propaganda that wormed its way into all of the American travel guides about
Taiwan.” Following Gellner’s terminology (1983), student association displays and
performances reproduce and reify the ofﬁcial “national culture,” thereby legitimating and
naturalizing the connection between the territorial “homeland” and the state among
overseas populations.

The ﬂourishing of international student groups in the 19905 should be viewed in
the context of the policies of multiculturalism in the US, where each student group is

expected to demonstrate “authentic” cultural elements. The groups are encouraged by the

12

university, other co-ethnics in the surrounding community, other student associations,
and home nations’ governments, to participate in these micro-international communities.
In the case of Taiwan, students (some of whom have never visited Taiwan) are expected
to demonstrate Taiwanese authenticity in the context of “Chinese culture” represented by
other student associations on campus. The insights drawn from events such as these
emerge from an interpretative approach to the performances, images, texts and discourses
presented and omitted. Given Taiwan ’5 undetermined national status, I begin with the
premise that associations of students from Taiwan, student networks, co-ethnic
conferences, and cultural programs should be viewed as always/alreaajz embedded in
competing nation-building projects, and thus sites for negotiation of Taiwan 's identity.
B. Websites

In this dissertation student associations are examined in three distinct ways. First,
as grounded ﬁeld sites, student associations provide opportunities for participant-
observation of localized practices, such as student association events and chapter
meetings, camps for overseas students, cultural fairs, night-markets, pot-luck dinners,
birthday parties, and so forth. Second, in addition to direct participant observation, local
practices can be glimpsed through the medium of student association websites, 3 form of
ethnographic voyeurism that uncovers traces of past events in photo albums, activities
calendars, announcements, and so forth. Because this study builds on a synchronic and
diachronic analysis of 172 websites, approaching a 100 percent sample of student
associations in the US, organizations that emphasize Chineseness, politically neutral
associations, and those that emphasize Taiwanese identity are represented. In addition to

providing access to an organization’s practices, this research views student association

13

 

webpages as historical relics and cyber-spatial texts. They may be deconstructed,
considering elements such as imagery, informational content, design motifs, functional
aspects, and institutional persona. On this level of analysis, the websites themselves are
the units of analysis rather than the student associations as grounded ﬁeld sites. Websites
may be viewed as a component of what Appadurai has identiﬁed as a technoscape, where
information and ideas move at high speeds across various kinds of previously impervious
boundaries" (Appadurai 1996234). In this case, website research provides historical depth
to Appadurai’s analytical ‘-scape” model, traversing not only geographic boundaries in
the present, as he describes, but also using technologies to trace communications of
meaning across time and space.

Third, in addition to local practices and cyber-texts, student associations are
considered to be nodes embedded within trans-local and transnational ﬁelds, and in some
cases, integral to a broad nationalist movement. Such connectivity is structured not only
by synchronic networks, but also in relation to the past, connecting the present to past
events through hyper-links to historical texts and narratives of the past. In the same
manner that analysis of student association practices and website deconstruction are
given historical depth through cyber-archaeology, so too can we learn about changes in
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among students from Taiwan by noting changes
in website content and connectivity over the life of the website. By combining these
modes of analysis, this dissertation maximizes the potential of student associations as
primary ﬁeld sites in this research.

C. Madison’s Puppetry and Curling

14

 

Many of the voices recorded in this ethnography emerged from interviews during
ﬁeldwork in Madison, Wisconsin, where I conducted participant-observation with
members of the Taiwanese community connected to the Taiwanese independence
movement, as well as with student association members, the students in a traditional
Taiwanese puppet troupe, and members of a Taiwanese curling team. This multi-
generational sample permitted an analysis of changes in the meaning and salience of
being from Taiwan to overseas students over time. Because students from Taiwan in
Madison were faced with dual, sometimes competing, student associations, representing
incongruous conceptualizations of Taiwan, this ﬁeld site also provides instructive
examples of the tensions between such organizations as they were experienced over the
past years and decades.

Although founded by a key independence activist from the 19703 and supported
by local senior-generation sponsors in the Madison Taiwanese community, the puppet
troupe is presented as a politically neutral organization. Members of the troupe included
students whose political leanings ranged from independence activism, studied political
indifference to, strong pro-China sentiments. The troupe thus provided a cross-section of
students’ political and cultural perspectives, and allows a case study of the relationship
between participation in a Taiwanese cultural program and the development of
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among its members. Additionally, this study of
the Madison puppet troupe and the growing popularity of Taiwanese puppetry among
college students across the country allows for an analysis of the increasing importance of
this speciﬁc cultural form to younger generations both in Taiwan and among students in

the US. The practice is promoted as a modern expression of Taiwanese traditional

15

culture, and serves as point of entry for activists to gain access and inﬂuence among
younger generations. The elder generation’s conceptualization of Taiwan, identiﬁed here
as Formosan Taiwan, views Taiwan’s identity is that of a culturally distinct post-colonial
(would-be) nation-state denied the sovereignty guaranteed by UN’s commitment to self
determination, a dilemma perpetuated by ongoing political pressure from mainland
China. Many of the students, however, interpret Taiwanese puppetry as a non-political
expression, a marker of Taiwanese cultural authenticity.

Taiwanese university students in Madison also competed internationally in
curling competitions as the “Fighting Yams.” This explicit expression of Taiwanese
nationalism in the international arena, though not related to Taiwanese national culture
per se as curling is not presented as an indigenous sport, was nevertheless meant to
increase the visibility of Taiwan among other nation-states. While sponsors of the puppet
troupe emphasized the promotion Taiwanese culture among students and worked to raise
public awareness about the uniqueness of Taiwan, the Fighting Yams operated without
the traditional cultural moorings generally characteristic of nationalism. They
emphasized universality, rather than the particularity, of Taiwan as one nation-state
among all others as indicated by membership in international bodies such as the UN and
the World Health Organization, and participation in the World Olympic Games under the
name “Taiwan” rather than the current “Chinese Taipei,” or “Republic of China,” as
requested by the central government in Taiwan.

In addition to interviewing senior independence supporters and current members
of the University of Wisconsin, Madison student association, ﬁeldwork in Madison also

revolved around the local Taiwanese puppet troupe. I interviewed the current and past

16

 

members, comparing their experiences with the expectations of the cultural expert who
established the troupe. The Madison group was one of many he formed and trained
across the country over the last decade, hoping that participation in the activities by
younger overseas students and Taiwanese Americans would develop in them a
commitment to promoting Taiwan’s national identity based on a unique cultural tradition.
D. Confidentiality, Authorship and Citation

Following the wishes of informants, pseudonyms have been used in some cases.
The identities of those who have been in leadership position in student associations are
public record and have not been altered. Further, details of Internet documents have not
been altered to protect privacy, but rather are reproduced in the original form to grant
authorship. Unless reproduced in full, selections of materials published on publically
accessible websites have been treated as open documents not subject to use permission
requirements or use notiﬁcation. This research operates under the assumption that
authors who publish materials on the Internet have no expectation of privacy, a position
toward information similar to that of a notice posted on a bulletin board or a public
performance. In cases of website graphic design, authorship is granted to the
organization rather than the webmaster, photographer, or any particular graphic artist
involved in image production. In most cases, permanent citation references have been
provided for each.

The most important data collection instrument making possible the analysis of a
large number of student associations was made possible through the use of a database of
archived student association websites. The Internet Archive (www.archive.org) was

established in 1999 when several large collections of images, texts, moving images, and

17

music found on the Internet were consolidated and synchronized in a virtual “Library of
Alexandria” that continuously records “snapshots” of the Internet. A 501(c)(3)
organization, the Internet Archive is designed to provide “permanent access for
researchers, historians, and scholars to historical collections that exist in digital format.”
Just as it is possible to compare ﬁrst, second, and third editions of books, the Internet
Archive makes it possible to view the genealogy of a website URL. Websites may be
recorded, including in most cases external links referring to other websites of the same
time period.

Because this analysis deals with changes of a website over time, it is important to
clarify the manner in which student associations will be cited. Following the American
Anthropological Association style for public lntemet documents, the access date will
refer to the Archive.org URL of the speciﬁc version of the student association website
being referenced. Unless a speciﬁc author is indicated, authorship of the document will
be attributed to the student association. The date of the document’s publication, however,
will refer to the version of the site being discussed without a notation of the year in which
the student association website ﬁrst appeared on the Internet, or was ﬁrst published on
Archive.org. The website version date (including month and day) and student association
URL both appear in the Archive.org URL. For example, an Archive.org reference is
composed of the following parts: :http://web.archive.org/web/” indicates that the URL
refers to the web-recording section of Archive.org. This is followed by a date and time
referencing precisely when the website was recorded, “20010507113651/,” followed by
the original URL: “cmsu2.cmsu.edu/~yxc21810/csa/greeting.htm.” A typical citation

following the American Anthropological Association format will appear in this way:

18

Central Missouri Chinese Student Association

20013 Greetings Letter. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200 I 05071 13651/cmsu2.cmsu.edu/~yxc21810/csa
/greeting.htm, accessed October 14, 2007.

2001b Home Page. Electronic Document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200105071 1365l/cmsu2.cmsu.edu/~yxc21810/csa
/home.htm, accessed October 14, 2007.

2005 Greetings Letter. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20050507l 1365l/cmsu2.cmsu.edu/~yxc21810/csa
/greeting.htm, accessed October 14, 2007.

The References Cited section is divided into three segments: off-line published

materials, websites of student associations, and essays and other writings composed by

Taiwanese students and published online.

111. Theoretical and Historical Context

A. Nations and Diaspora

First emerging in 17th and 18’h century Europe, the nation-state model of

political, economic and cultural organization has been appropriated and adapted to
speciﬁc geopolitical arenas to such an extent that by the end of the 20’h century, nearly all
of global human geography is claimed as the sovereign territory of a nation-state. These
geo-political formations are mutually legitimizing; by formal recognition and state-level
relations, borders of states and the legitimacy of regimes are institutionalized, naturalized
and reproduced. When social scientists ﬁrst turned their attention to the nation-state as
an object of study in the mid-19805, they suggested that the most basic assumptions about
the nation are actually a complex set of political mystiﬁcation. The ideal is a culturally
homogenous group of subject-citizens who share a common heritage, culture, and

language, and who live together within the clearly deﬁned territorial borders of an

19

ancestral homeland, a timeless and essential unit of culture in the world. Once
deconstructed and historicized, the nation is better understood as a political product, an
“imagined community” created through print media (Anderson 1983), the narrations of
universal education (Gellner 1983; Bhabha 1990), invented traditions, and ofﬁcial
national culture (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983) which includes the standardization of a
particular dialect into a national language (Gellner 1983). Bits and scraps of local
traditions, oral histories, and a selection of symbols and practices of ethnic cultures are
pulled into an ongoing process of iconization to become national representations
(Herzfeld 1997). Thus the nation is never quite “accomplished”; it is always incomplete,
improvised and contingent (Bhabha 1990a). Although, as Smith (1986) points out, there
is often “pre-national” ancestral, geographic, linguistic, and cultural continuity over time,
it must be recognized that these are also socio-political goals maintained and formalized
to create disciplined national citizens.

Just as nation-states are meant to have clearly deﬁned geographic, cultural, and
economic boundaries, so national identity is meant to be totalizing, superseding all other
aspects of communal identiﬁcation. The “identity” of a nation-state, for example, is
shaped through narration of a history that includes a formal name, a population bound by
a shared culture living in their ancestral homeland, sharing common past tragedies and a
common future fate. Such narratives should not be mistaken for objective histories, as
the production of history is a crucial element in the creation and perpetuation of a speciﬁc
national identity that lends legitimacy and authority to the ruling regime. The
development and dissemination of a national past, discourses that would give a sense of

continuity, mask what Homi K. Bhabha described as “the impossible unity of the nation”

20

(l990b:l). To maintain a sense of coherence, in common terms, national narratives are
“multi-media,” illuminated with highly symbolic graphic elements such as ﬂags, a score
of anthems and folk songs, styles of architecture, and a literary tradition. A nation’s
identity may be packaged and marketed for internal and external consumption through a
tourism industry, and embodied by generations of veterans who’ve worn the nation’s
uniform.

The modern totalizing nation-state model, however, is currently being revised to
account for some of the changes characteristic of late modernity. Inexpensive
transportation and technological advances such as computer-mediated communication
(CMC) have allowed for greater mobility of people, products and information across the
territorial boundaries of nation-states. The technological advances which enable “post-
F ordist” de-centralized production are said to create a kind of “time-space compression”
(Harvey 1989). This allows media and markets to move beyond the bounds of discrete
nations to create a “global culture” where subject positions are increasingly fragmented
and ﬂuid (Appadurai 1996). From this perspective, cultural authenticity and depth is lost,
and grounded local discourses of national identity are being co-opted by the processes of
global capital (Jameson 1984; Miyoshi 1993; Ohmae 1995).

Dirlik (1999), however, notes that globalization tends to produce regionalization,
and forges unpredictable links between the two levels of organization. Thus, it is critical
to "reconsider relations between places, between places and trans-place or supra-place
organizational forms, and, ﬁnally, across national boundaries, to imagine alternative
possibilities in the reorganization of spaces" (50). Such ﬂexibility in the relationship

between space and place runs askew of the traditional model of the nation-state, which is

21

 

dependent on the idea of a traditional “homeland.” As we shall see, informants
articulated a wide range of conceptualizations of Taiwan, ranging from an interest in
ancestral villages to contemplating Taiwan in terms of globalization and Paciﬁc Rim
economic and political relations. Such conceptualizations do not form in a vacuum, but
are shaped by family and ﬁiends, media representations, and oftentimes the cultural
knowledge acquired through “reethnicization” in the context of state-sponsored
culturalist projects in the US. (Louie 2004b:34). Describing the experiences of US.-
born Chinese Americans who lack “authentic” Chinese cultural knowledge, Louie
(2004b) points out the irony that those in her study are “on the one hand seen as perpetual
foreigners or as too ‘Asian,’ and on the other hand as not Asian enough in a US. society
that celebrates symbolic diversity and parades ethnicity” (25). This creates pressure to
discover ethnic roots in order to be an authentic cultural minority in American.
B. Locating Taiwan in History

In the case of Taiwan, the potential unraveling of the nation-state is particularly
complex because of its historical and contemporary cultural and political indeterminacy.
Taiwan has been identiﬁed as part of “greater China,” “residual China,” the “Chinese
diaspora,” and “cultural China.” Ong (1999) locates Taiwan on the fringes of China’s
graduated sovereignty, a concept that describes the varying degrees of political control
the People’s Republic of China (PRC) can exert over different economic regions, zones
and markets within its national borders. Taiwanese-mess then becomes part of a Chinese
“third culture.” Taiwan’s status is interpreted as a “novel social arrangement” produced
by globalization (Nonini and Ong 1997:11), a notion that resonates with Appadurai’s

description of a “postrration” with diasporic populations making up a “global ethnoscape”

22

(1996252). To some Taiwanese nationalists, creating a more clearly deﬁned and less
permeable “hardened” (Duara 1995) Taiwanese national identity conﬂicts with the
notions of Taiwan as a location of “ﬂexible” citizenship of Chinese modernity (Ong
1993).

The Taiwanese independence movement has historically been grounded in
opposition to an established nation-state claiming to represent all of China. Thus, Taiwan
is China in microcosm. Nationalists have constructed counter-histories which de-center
hegemonic Chinese nationalist discourses established by the Republic of China (ROC)
government beginning in 1945, when rule of Taiwan was transferred from Japanese to
ROC control, as well as claims to Taiwan made by the People’s Republic of China on the
mainland. The governments on both sides of the Taiwan Strait shared the overarching
framework of Taiwan as China, that Taiwan should be understood as a province of China.
Such is the historical gravity faced by the independence activist under martial law,
working to create a compelling national narration which claims the island as a “native
place,” without the advantages of control over public education curriculum, mass media,
national holidays, and all the others myriad ways China is inscribed onto the surfaces of
everyday life of those in Taiwan.

In the case of Taiwan’s counter-hegemonic identity, the period of transition from
Japanese rule (1945) to the time when the Republic of China was wholly relegated to
Taiwan (1949) is a pivotal historical moment in what would become the widely
understood (though highly contested) notion of Taiwan’s identity as an independent
nation-state. The central event in that period -— the focal point that provided the powerful

narrative elements for a counter-hegemonic Taiwanese nationalism — was the February

23

28th Incident in 1947, commonly referred to as 2-28. As will be detailed below, and
explicated throughout this dissertation, the February 28th Incident made Taiwanese
history knowable, not simply through its sufﬁciency as a historical cause — the impact it
had on those who witnessed the event itself — but also through a complex and ongoing
process of interpretation, iconization, and deployment, what Jameson (1981) has called
the “absent cause” of narratological agency. The event’s long-lasting significance —
spanning three generations -— highlights the dynamic relationship between what we think
of as the “facts” of history, and the process of their construction. The issue for the social
scientist, then, becomes not so much a true account of the past, but rather a treatment of
the past and its accounting, searching for strands of power and interest revealed by
exploring the “irreducible distinction and yet . . . equally irreducible overlap between
what happened and that which is said to have happened” (Trouillot 1995:2). Bhabha has
called this a kind of “double-time” that circumscribes national identity:
The people are not simply historical events or parts of a patriotic body politic.
They are also a complex rhetorical strategy of social reference where the claim to
be representative provokes a crisis within the process of signiﬁcation and
discursive address. We then have a contested cultural territory where the people
must be brought into a double-time; the people are the historical “objects” of a
nationalist pedagogy, giving the discourse an authority that is based on the
pregiven or constituted historical origin or event; the people are also the
“subjects” of a process of signiﬁcation that must erase any prior or ordinary
presence of the nation-people to demonstrate the prodigious, living principle of
the people as that continual living process by which the national life is redeemed
and signiﬁed as a repeating and productive process. The scraps, patches, and
rags of daily life must be repeatedly turned into the signs of a national culture,
while the very act of the narrative performance interpolates a growing circle of
national subjects (1990bz297).

This improvisation, however, is masked as it becomes national pedagogy or

oppositional narratives. Among extraterritorial populations such as those involved in my

24

research, the medium of formal education is largely unavailable, leaving
conceptualizations of Taiwan more piecemeal, tentative, ﬂexible, contextual and highly
contestable in terms of what elements of the past should be selected to index a national
History. In this chapter I will consider the genre of the national narratives and counter-
narratives in terms of their localized construction, modiﬁcation, and contestation, shifting
attention from seemingly permanent things to “the processes whereby permanence and
thingness are achieved” (Herzfeld 1997:57). It is a shift from studying the cultural object
— whether an event or a national identity — to studying the process of its historical and
rhetorical construction.

Transnational processes have required social scientists to develop and nuance the
generation-based assimilation models of immigration and to account for a range of new
(or newly recognized) factors (Portes 1997), including immigrant mobility, cultural
hybridity, transnational professions and lifestyles, and the continuing participation in the
political and social affairs of sending countries (Basch et al. 1994; Glick Schiller 1999;
Lowe 1996; Ong 1999; Mahler 1998). Transmigrants can be an important part of national
economies and inﬂuence national policies in both the receiving and sending state. As
Anderson (2000a) has pointed out in reference to Taiwan, electronic media and migration
have caused “a virulent new form of nationalism” that does not depend on being located
in the “home country” (13).

F luidity and mobility, however, do not mean a lack of desire for a ﬁxed and
coherent national identity, or an association with a speciﬁc geographical territory.
Sometimes the strongest, most coherent discourses and symbols of national identity are

constructed outside of the nation proper by immigrants, dissidents, and exiles (Malkii

25

1997a). Gupta and Ferguson explain that "as places and localities become ever more
blurred and indeterminate, ideas of culturally and ethnically distinct places become
perhaps even more salient" (l997a:39). Rather than losing one’s sense of ethnic identity,
displacement may be strengthening immigrants’ sense of a “homeland” (Schein 1997;
Massey 1994). However, case studies have suggested that such radical departures of the
modernist view of national identity, and the status of the nation-state, may only apply to a
small number of cases. This dissertation is particularly interested in the ways in which
these multivalent processes change conceptualizations of a nation’s identity — in this case,
Taiwan — among populations living beyond the geographical boundaries of the nation-
state, speciﬁcally, how conceptualizations of the “homeland” are created and
communicated within and between generations of overseas students.

Rather than a population of hyper-mobile “deterritorialized” subjects, the
informants and historical ﬁgures described in this ethnography would be more
appropriately called “extraterritorial” (Goldring 1998). "Extraterritoriality" suggests that
although populations may live beyond its geographic borders, the homeland continues to
have some degree of salience. Distance in space can be mediated by temporal continuity
and the simultaneity of collective memory and shared culture. For a state to gain and
maintain the loyalties of immigrant groups to a national imagined community — in order
to nationalize them — the state must be able to effectively communicate discourses of
affinity grounded in a shared traditions and a common past narrated in such a way that is
both convincing and meaningful.

With economic globalization and the concomitant development of complex

transnational ties between extraterritorial populations and sending countries, a new set of

26

 

questions emerge regarding attitudes toward national identity among extratenitorial
populations. As a working deﬁnition to approach this issue, I draw on Basch et al. (1994)
who have deﬁned “transnationalism” as:

The processes by which immigrants forge and sustain multi-stranded social

relations that link together their societies of origin and settlement . . . social ﬁelds

that cross geographic, cultural, and political borders. . . . Transmigrants take
actions, make decisions, and develop subjectivities and identities embedded in
networks of relationships that connect them simultaneously to two or more

nation-states (7).

The phenomenon raises the question of why, given the new pressures of life as an
immigrant in a foreign nation-state, populations continue to be engaged in nation-
building projects in their countries of origin. Ong (.1993) points out that in Asia, and
China in particular, transnational ties have very much shaped cultural production, identity
discourses, and shifts in state policies, which have strengthened rather than weakened the
nation-state. It is not uncommon for nation-building projects to be primarily
extraterritorial, with the homeland a moral rather than geographic location (Malkii
1997a). Though focused on the heterogeneous and contradictory imaginations of a
place, this dissertation research is situated in a theoretical approach generally used to
discuss national identity construction in general. It represents an effort to understand one
aspect of how these ties of afﬁnity are communicated, reproduced, and politicized among
would-be national subjects living beyond the territorial bounds of the nation-state. As a
place, a geo—conceptual location, homeland-as-nation is only one of a range of
conceptualizations of homeland. In this case, Taiwan’s identity is negotiated beyond the
national register, for example, by those for whom Taiwan is a location of nostalgic

reﬂection on the Japanese era, an unresolved political project focused on sovereignty, the

point of origin for a minority group in the US, or the destination of second-generation

27

immigrants searching for their cultural heritage. The “search for roots” concept itself
must be understood as a recent phenomenon, part of US. discourses of multiculturalism,
where minority groups are expected to represent their “native culture” in highly symbolic
practices and performances.

The unresolved question of the ultimate fate of Taiwan continues to inform
negotiations of identity by university students from Taiwan in the US, and second-
generation Taiwanese American youth. With education reforms and the removal of re-
uniﬁcation from the ofﬁcial Nationalist platform, the public sphere is open to debates
over the ultimate future of Taiwan, and an individual’s relationship to Chineseness is one
of self—exploration rather than indoctrination. A 2003 study of public opinion regarding
the issues of reuniﬁcation and independence showed that 79 percent of the population
preferred maintaining the status quo, including:

Status quo now, decision later; status quo now, uniﬁcation later; status quo now,

independence later; and status quo forever. . . . approximately one-third (34.3

percent) of these respondents supporting "status quo now, decision later." Those

supporting independence or uniﬁcation as soon as possible accounted for only 7.2

and 2.0 percent, respectively, a result consistent with past polls (ROC

Government Information Ofﬁce 2004).

China has used its position on the UN Security Council to block Taiwan’s
membership in the World Health Organization and other international bodies, including
compelling the International Olympic Committee to require that Taiwan compete in the
Olympics Games as “Chinese Taipei.” This assertion of sovereignty over Taiwan is

strengthened by the US. adherence to the “One China” principle as outlined in the 1972

Shanghai Communiqué signed by President Richard Nixon, and re-afﬁrmed by each

28

succeeding presidential administration (United States Information Service 1972).3
Conversely, the Taiwan Relations Act (TRA), enacted by US. Congress in 1979,
C omits the US. to defend Taiwan if China takes unprovoked military action, and to
‘ ‘provide Taiwan with arms of a defensive character” (United States Code 1979)]4 China
h as responded by taking the position that not moving toward reuniﬁcation in a timely
manner is in itself provocative and justiﬁes military action according to legal provisions.
Claims of sovereignty over Taiwan made by an increasingly militarized mainland
3 ubvert assertions of Taiwan’s national identity in the international community; the rights
0 :f self determination guaranteed to the people of Taiwan in the United Nations Charter
( United Nations 1945) have not been asserted due to China’s veto power. They could
e ffectively block all decisions by the UN Security Council over the issue. With the 2006
e l ection of Ma Ying-jeou of the Nationalist party as President, and the downfall of former
P resident Chen Shui-bian amid serious charges of using Taiwanese independence
0 rg anizations for the purposes of embezzlement and money laundering, popular support
For normalization of trade and travel with the PRC has dramatically increased. This
‘2 OIi'rplex relationship between the PRC on the mainland and the ROC on Taiwan has
a glued prominently in the historical development and discursive parameters of Taiwan’s
id eIntity held among people from Taiwan since the Japanese surrender and initial

I ationalist military occupation of Taiwan in 1945, both in Taiwan and abroad.

 

\

1
m[ be Act speciﬁes that “the United States acknowledges that all Chinese on either side of the Taiwan Strait
a1 htain there is but one China and that Taiwan is a part of China” (United States Information Service

‘4 97 2). Ironically, the document is dated February 28‘", 1972, the 23rd anniversary of the 2-28 Incident.
e Act speciﬁes that “any effort to determine the future of Taiwan by other than peaceful means, [will be

QSFES idered] a threat to the peace and security of the Western Paciﬁc area and of grave concern to the
“lied States.” The TRA also reserves the right for the US. to “resist any resort to force or other forms of
coercion that would jeopardize the security, or the social or economic system, of the people on Taiwan”

nited States Code 1979).
29

C. Taiwan’s National Identity in the US.

From the mid-19505, exiles in Japan and elsewhere, as well as graduate students

from Taiwan in the US, began to play key roles in the formulation and dissemination of
the narratives of Taiwan’s national identity (Meisner 1963; Shu I973; Mendel 1973; Shu
Wei-der 2002). Students from Taiwan in the US. prior to the 1987 lifting of martial law
i n Taiwan were able to view their home from a critical distance and, if they chose,
explore the factual and interpretative discrepancies in the Sinocentric pedagogy of their
youth with alternative perspectives supported by oral and textual accounts revealing
d etails of the violence and corruption of the Nationalist government in Taiwan. They had
the opportunity to discuss with other students from Taiwan alternative national
i Imaginations. The vast majority of these students remained in the US. (Chen 2002).
I will be addressing the tensions, contradictions, and dynamics between differing
C Onceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among overseas students from Taiwan living in
th e US. over the last four decades, beginning with the clandestine Taiwanese
i IFl<ieperrdence organizations in the mid-19503. Student associations, networks, and
3 L1 1 tural programs, because they are the context of negotiations of identity, have been
targeted by competing interests as locations of intervention. They are seen as potential
S QIlrces of support for speciﬁc agendas, often dealing with the balance of power between
an i ﬁcationists and Taiwanese nationalists (Kaplan 1992; Liao 1997; Wang 1999).
Immigrants from Taiwan and second-generation Taiwanese American
1th1rependence advocates in the US. work to help shape the future of Taiwan by
hei ghtening awareness of the Taiwan-China issue in the US, to gain political support

and apply pressure to change US. foreign policy, and introduce “Taiwanese culture’ to

30

students’ understandings of Taiwan’s identity, with one of the primary objectives being
to create more support for the Taiwanese nationalist cause. These cultural events,
lectures, camps, and tours are also shaped by the demands and desires of overseas
students and Taiwanese Americans, as they explore Asian/Chinese/Taiwanese “roots”
with others in their generation.

For many overseas students, Taiwan-centric student associations were the
locations of ﬁrst exposure to counter-hegemonic historical narratives, information, and
ideologies that revealed the incomplete and often fraudulent nature of the Sinocentric
ROC nationalist pedagogy instituted by the Nationalist government. Because
experiences in early adulthood shape the consciousness of historic generations, and
student associations were a commonly experienced organizing factor in the everyday
lives of overseas students, the associations themselves become locations to study
negotiations of Taiwan’s identity among overseas students ﬁom Taiwan and their second
generation progeny among transient subjects during identity-forming periods in their
lives.

The biographical sketches in the 2004 Republic of China Government
Information Ofﬁce’s annual “Who’s Who” in Taiwan will show that overseas
independence supporters were instrumental in driving the democratic reform process
fOl'ward, and continue to play key roles in the governance of Taiwanese affairs, working
alon88ide those who had belonged to competing student association in the US. It has

been noted that student associations have been targeted as locations of intervention and

31

 

 

 

Potential sources of support for speciﬁc agendas by competing interests, often between
unificationists and Taiwanese nationalists (Kaplan 1992; Liao 1997; Wang 1999). The
degree to which overseas Taiwanese independence supporters impacted democratic
reform is not a question directly addressed in this dissertation. The perception by some
activists in the US. that current university students will have an impact on Taiwan’s
status in the international community, however, is an important factor as it speaks to the
motivations behind the actions of agents and agencies in this research. Overseas
s tudents who return from abroad with advanced degrees have historically held prominent
positions in Taiwanese society, in both public and private sectors. Others who elect to
S tay in the US. often continue to be actively involved in Taiwanese political affairs and
a ttempt to shape US. foreign policy, whether for maintaining the status quo, promoting
Taiwanese self-determination, or pressing for eventual reuniﬁcation with China. Given
t he currency of the perception of eventual inﬂuence, conferences, camps, and cultural
p regrams designed for second—generation Taiwanese American university students
8 eElrching for “roots” are always/already engaged in multiple nation-building projects,

g i Ven the context of Taiwan’s undetermined national status, and are contexts for

n egotiations of Taiwan’s identity.
D. Research on the Political Orientation of Taiwanese Student-Immigrants

In the late 19603 there was an inﬂux of graduate students from Taiwan studying at

D‘h‘due University, Kansas State University in Manhattan, Kansas, University of
W i sconsin, Madison, University of Oklahoma, Norman, University of Michigan, Ann

Arbor, and Michigan State University, East Lansing, and a scattering of other affordable

research institutions with a demand for graduate students in mathematics, engineering

32

and other scientiﬁc ﬁelds. University faculty from Taiwan, some of whom sympathized
With the independence movement, recruited students — often the best and brightest from
National Taiwan University — to study as graduate students and research assistants.
Although many people from Taiwan in the US. were careful to avoid participating in
political activities, and most would agree that people from Taiwan were both racially
(Han) and culturally (hua) Chinese, a signiﬁcant portion of the overseas population

expressed dissatisfaction with the Nationalist government.

My dissertation research contributes to a sparse collection of work in English
dealing with the attitudes of Taiwanese in the US. during the period of martial law in
Taiwan. Douglas Mendel (1973), a political scientist, conducted an extensive study of
S tudents, teachers, and businessmen from Taiwan between 1963 and 1968, with over 600
i nterviews on topics related to Taiwanese independence, democratic reform, attitudes

t OWard the KMT, and future career plans. His work carried legitimacy among supporters
0 f Taiwanese independence due in part to a series of presentations and papers Mendel
g ave during the research period. He found that about 20 percent could be considered
L ‘Dolitically active,” indicated by their participation in a range of activities from open
pro tests to participation in discussion and study groups categorized as illegal by the
N ationalist government. His research showed that the majority of Taiwanese active only
i 11 S ocial organizations were nonetheless “sympathetic” to the Taiwanese independence

Q ause (161). Mendel’s research provides a sense of how widespread the dissatisfaction

' i th the Nationalist government was at that time, and provides a baseline percentage of

potential activists among the overseas student population.

33

 

Shu Yuang Chang (1973) continued this line of questioning, publishing “China or
T aiwan? The Political Crisis of the Chinese Intellectual” in the journal Amerasia. Shu
administered a survey instrument to professionals and students from Taiwan through mail
i n 1970 which revealed wide-spread anti—Chiang, pro-democracy sentiment. Among her
ﬁndings, 17 percent of respondents listed “escape” as reason for leaving Taiwan. This
ﬁ gure resonates with Mendel’s data in terms of the percentage of those in the US. who
were strongly opposed to Nationalist rule. From a different perspective, by focusing his
research on a sample of early overseas student supporters, Shu Wei-der’s 1998 study
relied exclusively on in-depth life-histories of a limited number of individuals selected
t hrough pre-existing relationships with activists. He found that his informants were
aware of each others’ activities and backgrounds, but struggled to initiate collective,
translocal action. Instead, they focused on local recruitment of incoming generations of

O Verseas students. These studies collectively provide insight into the situation and

r11 entality of overseas students from Taiwan in the mid-19605.

A more contemporary study that resonates with my own research may be found in
the work of Ma Ai-hsuan (1999), who investigated the social dynamics among students
15‘er Taiwan in the US. by describing the residence decision-making processes of
&‘aduate students from Taiwan and China. Despite taking a narrow, political view

re garding Taiwan’s identity in particular, categorizing the distinction as a difference of
i qeology, Ma was careful to make distinctions between those who self-identified as
Taiwanese, Chinese ﬁ'om Taiwan, and Chinese from China. Moreover, she saw student
asSociations and their e-mail list-serves as ﬁeld sites, and analyzed student association

aCtivities and e-mail discussions as data sets, a research approach similar to my own.

34

1". Chapter Summaries
A. Chapter One: Formosan American

Chapter One provides a description of the historical context for the ﬁrst
generation of liuxuesheng in the US, beginning with an analysis of one of the pivotal
events in Taiwan history: the February 28’h Incident. The impact of the event continues
to be felt — particularly among the most senior generation of the research population —
and has in large part shaped the relationship between Iiuxuesheng in the US. and the
Nationalist government. Chapter One also presents a brief history'of relations between
Chinese nationalist government and populations from China and Taiwan in the US, and
the establishment of the ﬁrst overseas independence organizations. Further, this chapter

presents the basic structure that would characterize student association dynamics on
C ampuses in the US. for four decades — that of dual student associations, one ofﬁcial and
another unofﬁcial, the latter being viewed as seditious by the Nationalist government. In
t h i s regard, the organizations often represent divergent views of Taiwan’s identity.
The ﬁrst conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity discussed is grounded in the
e 3": perience of the Japanese era generation: Taiwan as Formosa, island of the colonized.
Th e issue of Taiwan’s identity faced by those with a living memory of the Japanese
C Q l onial era was framed broadly, with an awareness of Taiwan’s place in global geo-
D0 1 itics. Many of this generation ﬂed Taiwan to watch from abroad the island be
transformed into a province in the Republic of China. Moreover, the province would
come to represent all of China after 1949, further marginalizing conceptualizations of .
T aiwan as a discrete space with a history of its own. This generation’s emphasis on

deﬁning Taiwan would be geared toward maintaining the political and historical

35

 

eXistence of Taiwan facing the risk of invisibility and erasure through the machinations
of Cold War geopolitics. As an example of this formulation of Taiwan’s identity, the
Chapter concludes with a description of a 1976 student presentation of Taiwan at a
Community multicultural event. The segment includes an analysis of the content — both
textual and graphic — as well as an interview with the creators of the presentation.
B. Chapter Two: Taiwanese Puppetry and Curling
This chapter presents a general description of the Madison ﬁeld site to illustrate
examples of intergenerational negotiations centered on differing imaginations of
“Taiwan’s identity. As a location of early unofﬁcial student associations, Madison is part
of the history of the construction and promotion of Formosan versions of Taiwan’s
i dentity that challenge ofﬁcial Chinese nationalist narratives that would identify Taiwan
as a province of China, as well as a conceptualization of Taiwan as an culture apart from
China and Chineseness. Differing in emphasis from Formosan Taiwanese discourse, the
e 11 ltural nationalists believe that Taiwan’s unique heritage should earn the population the
ti ght to be recognized in the international community as a people with the right to self-
d etermination. Drawing on the cultural repertoire of cultural nationalists, more recent
g'C‘——lrerations have negotiated Taiwan’s identity is a very different context, the movement
i 1'1 the US. to recognize and celebrate cultural difference. “Multicultural Taiwan,” then,
qi Stinguishes Taiwanese traditions from mainstream American culture, while at the same
t i the negotiating distinctions between Taiwanese and Chinese culture, all in the context of
being a racialized minority in the US. The politics of recognition at the center of
multiculturalism, however, masks alternative modes of identiﬁcation such as class and

gender. Further, multicultural Taiwan creates disjunctures between earlier Formosan

36

 

diS<:ourse, causing F orrnosan—era nationalists to encourage “a-political” expressions of
Taiwanese culture. The local student association inherits the mobilizing mission of early
'F ormosan independence activists, but view the purpose of celebrating Taiwanese culture
from very different perspectives.

I detail the historical and contemporary signiﬁcance of Taiwanese puppetry and
discuss the intent and motives of the cultural experts and sponsors supporting the group.
The plot and signiﬁcance of each of three scripts are considered, as well as the differing
ways in which troupe members frame their participation, not only in terms of the practice
of puppetry, but also the attitudes toward Taiwan’s identity in the context of a cultural
Club that performs on campus and in the community, representing Taiwan.

The chapter concludes with a discussion of the way Taiwan’s identity is presented

i n the international community by a Madison-based curling team. The effort to present
the island-state in the international Olympic Games and elsewhere as “Taiwan,” rather
tJinan the Republic of China, or the mandated “Chinese Taipei,” does not draw on the
t1"()pes of cultural authenticity, but rather on the more straightforward logic of self-
d etermination as fair play, portraying China as “bad losers,” and by doing so operating
more closely to the anti-colonialist orientation of the Formosan Americans. The
Q Qticeptualization of Taiwan’s identity based on international recognition is illustrated in
the philosophy presented by the Fighting Yams curling term, whose effort to raise
aw areness of Taiwan’s awkward place in the international community is not dependent
011 references to Taiwanese culture. Indeed, it is the novelty of “Asian on Ice” that the
team members are capitalizing on to attract attention to Taiwan’s identity as a nation-

State not afforded appropriate rights in the international community

37

 

 

C. Chapter Three: Liuxuesheng Historic Generation

From a description of inter-generational relationships on the local level and in the
international community as viewed through the Madison ﬁeld site, the dissertation moves
Onto a more general discussion of historic generations, the index events that deﬁne and
inform them, and the memory groups through which these localized process of mnemonic
socialization take place. Some moments in the stream of history that mark a generation
continue to be salient in the course of future events as they are experienced vicariously
and reinterpreted by subsequent generations. Such index events become the subject
matter of inter-generational negotiations of Taiwan’s identity. Moving forward in time
from the 1947 February 28‘h Incident presented in Chapter One, this chapter outlines a
series of subsequent generation-shaping events through the 1990-1992 Wild Lily
demonstrations.

A shift becomes apparent beginning in the mid-19805 when the dominant
articulation of Taiwan’s identity in the public sphere was focused on discourses of
democracy, sovereignty, human rights and self-determination. This is associated with
POlitical liberalization and the end of many of policies that had marginalized Taiwanese
cultural practices. However, although such discourses of democracy and self-
determination take strong hold in Taiwan in what has been identiﬁed as “civic
nationalism,” notions of Taiwanese cultural authenticity continued to be prominent in
Taiwanese independence discourse in the US. as described in Chapter Four through an
analysis of practices of student associations across the country. Rather than
marginalization by the government, however, Chapter Three suggests that it is the

marginalization of the diasporic condition, and the ongoing contact with other student

38

associations that continues the salience of conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity based
on cultural authenticity, a topic that will be explored in greater detail in Chapter Four.
D. Chapter Four: www.tsa.edu

After discussing the experiences of the ﬁrst generation of overseas Taiwanese and
the establishment of dual student associations in Chapter One, and examining several
examples of inter-generational negotiations of Taiwan’s identity in Chapter Two, Chapter
Three introduced a broad outline of the events shaping subsequent generations’
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity. Chapter Four will examine student association
websites to further nuance and distinguish varying conceptualizations of Taiwan’s
identity among overseas students, particularly as they are interpreted (or ignored) by
younger generations.

Student associations’ practices, and the websites themselves through which traces
of their activities may be found, are telling in a number of ways, including the strategies
used by students to differentiate Taiwan from China at multi-cultural events, and the
nature of the iconography included on the website. Student association websites are
viewed as a symbol-laden texts which reveal (whether explicitly or implicitly) the
groups’ position regarding Taiwan’s identity. The cyber-ethnographic research methods
underpinning the website analysis provides opportunities to discuss questions about the
advantages and limitations of working with/on/through the Internet, the subject of a
rapidly growing and exciting body of academic literature.

An analysis of website content related to Taiwan’s past provides a picture of how
the authors view past events, the meanings attributed to them, and the degrees of salience

afforded them. In this case, the chapter will describe a key event in Taiwanese history

39

not presented in the generational model found in Chapter Three. The 1995-1996 Taiwan
Strait “missile crisis” and 1996 presidential elections in Taiwan were powerful events for
some in this generation, and will be explicated as they were presented on-line by the
generation who experienced them in diaspora,

Evidence presented in Chapter Four also indicates that post-1996 websites were
increasingly syncretic, as the sharp distinction between conceptualizations of Taiwan’s
identity were less pronounced among incoming overseas students, reﬂecting the more
inclusive “New Taiwanese” identity in Taiwanese public discourse.

E. Chapter Five: Second Generation Taiwanese Americans

The ﬁrst conceptualization of Taiwan presented in this dissertation - that of the
post-war generation leaving home, and then struggling to deﬁne their homeland from
abroad, appears in reverse or in negative with second-generation Taiwanese Americans
who are searching to deﬁne Taiwan, and distinguish it from cultural China, in terms of
their roots, the “main stem” of ethnic identity. Should they consider their “homeland” to
be China or Taiwan? This question was posed to early immigrants to the US. when
asked to choose to identify with China — as represented by the Nationalist government on
Taiwan — or Taiwanese locality as their home.

Early cohorts of the second-generation Taiwanese Americans — following the
pattern of their parents and grandparents — founded the ﬁrst Taiwanese American student
associations and networks across the country, especially in the top-tier universities and
colleges, which were strongly focused on Taiwan. Subsequent generations of leadership
in these organizations shifted the focus to emphasize their experiences in the US. as

Asian immigrants, following the pattern of liuxuesheng, as well as a general shift in

40

 

Asian American politics. Taiwan as distant homeland — imagined roots - characterized
this generation, though the political valence of that conceptualization differs widely
within the generation, as will be revealed in the ethnographic materials presented in
Chapter Five. Materials for analysis include content from a broad range of organizations,
programs, website archives, Intemet-based networks, discussion boards, and forums
involving second-generation Taiwanese Americans, student association mission
statements, autobiographical essays, discussions about Taiwan’s identity in publications
and graphic designs embedded in the web pages themselves. Two contrasting cultural
tour programs are also considered in terms of their itineraries, stated objectives and
missions, underlying themes, and the personal narratives of students participating in the
programs. The analysis highlights one of the ways in which Taiwanese Americans are
located within competing nation-building projects, as well as discusses the negotiations
that take place between those agendas and the expectations and desires of the students
themselves.
F. Chapter Six: Discussion

Chapter Six explores the implications of this research as it is situated at the
juncture of two areas of literature. First, in terms of our understanding of historic
generations and how they are shaped, past research has failed to explore the highly
localized and multi-dimensional ways in which index events are experienced. In addition
to direct, autobiographical memories and formal histories, individuals experience the past
vicariously, through face-to-face narrations, secondary texts, ﬁlms, Internet sources, and

myriad other mediums. This dissertation describes some of the ways in which mnemonic

41

 

socialization occurs, how memory groups are created and maintained across multiple
generations through the communication of index events.

The second body of literature this research addresses deals with the various ways
in which extraterritorial populations experience “homeland.” Speciﬁcally, this
dissertation provides insight into multiple generations’ conceptualizations of Taiwan’s
identity, particularly in the context of overarching discourses of Chineseness. Chapter
Six discusses the conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity outlined in previous chapters,
and then puts these two areas of investigation in dialogue, making a contribution to each,
developing new understandings of the ways index events inﬂuence the formation of
historic generations of extraterritorial populations, and how those populations (re)deﬁne
the “homeland.” Finally, I address some of the advantages and pitfalls of Intemet-based

research methods.

42

 

CHAPTER I: F ORMOSAN AMERICAN

Jan Huygen Van Linschoten stood in the crow’s nest of a Portuguese war ship
bobbing like a cast iron tub in the turbulent Paciﬁc. The Dutch navigator scanned
the horizon for hints of the cutter’s position in the cobalt marble seas. The year
was 1590 and the warm South Paciﬁc sun and air had bleached his normally
alabaster skin red and taut. His ship raced with the wind to the aft and cut like a
knife through a deep blue crystal. Through his glass he spied to the west the
green peaks of a tropical island, which grew on the horizon to the starboard side.
“Ilha Formosa, Ilha Formosall” The navigator hailed to the crew. . . .

Almost four hundred years later, I was born on November 5’”, 1966 in the
Women’s Hospital, the old wing of St. Luke’s Hospital in Manhattan, New York.
My birth certiﬁcate read, to Father Poppet Jui-Chang Y u and Mother Charlene
Chao- Ying Yeh of Formosa. Born at 5:33 am, I was their third F orrnosan
American child. I was born a Formosan American, a race constantly in transition,
a race possibly earmarked for extinction.

- Autobiography of James Yu, Formosan American: From Pirates
to Taiwan Semiconductor (2003:52-53).

I. The Post-War Generation and the Origin of Taiwanese History
A. Taiwan’s Identity in a historical Context

In this chapter I will establish the historical context in which the question
underlying James Yu’s observation, that F orrnosan Americans may be “a race possibly
earmarked for extinction.” When reframed in the discussion of Taiwan’s identity, the
“Formosan” identity of Taiwan presents the possibility that Taiwan was at the time of his
father’s escape was considered by residents to be a discrete political and cultural entity
threatened by erasure, reduced to a province of a Chinese nation as represented by the
Nationalist party under Chiang Kai-shek. The island Taiwan bendao has been on the
margins of global and regional powers for four centuries, having been ruled, or occupied,
at different times by the Dutch, Portuguese, Ming loyalists, and the Manchu Qing

dynasty. In Chinese history the island was intermittently discarded as non-Chinese,

43

ruled, and declared “off limits” to Chinese subjects. In 1684 Taiwan was declared a
prefecture by Kangxi emperor under the administration of Fujian province, and was
granted full province status in 1885. Ten years later, as a concession to Japan at the end
of the Sino-Japanese War, the Qing relinquished full rights of sovereignty over Taiwan to
Japan “in perpetuity” (Taiwan Documents Project 2007). Led by the local Chinese elite
seeking self-determination, the Democratic Republic of Taiwan was established in 1895,
in the months between the departure of Qing Mandarins and the arrival of Japanese
troops. They framed their desire for independence from Japanese and Chinese rule in
terms of national sovereignty, and sent a Declaration of Independence to Western
governments hoping to gain the rights claimed by modern European-style nation-states.
Although the 1895 defeat by the Japanese has been marked by historians as giving rise to
nationalist sentiments in China, it would not be until the 1920s that a sense of Taiwan’s
national identity began to be expressed by people on Taiwan (Chang Mau-kuei 2003).
As their ﬁrst colony, the Japanese adapted Western colonial economic and social
structures. Taiwan, identiﬁed as T akasago Koku (Highland Nation,) was surveyed,
measured, and appraised. Ethnographic studies were conducted among the indigenous
peoples (after a protracted resistance movement), and gradual economic restructuring
began. The island was to become the agricultural counterpart to industrial Japan. The
colonial project was more than economic; rather than simply exploit the resources and
labor of the colony (the Japanese colonial strategy in Korea,) the Japanese were interested
in bringing to Taiwan selected aspects of Japanese culture. They encouraged colonial
subjects on Taiwan to adopt Japanese family names, dress, customs, and Shinto religion.

The colonial administration developed an extensive education system in Japanese, and

44

brought the most promising students to Japan, from the periphery to the metropole, for
advanced training. As the Second World War escalated in the Paciﬁc, these assimilative
policies were stepped up to insure loyalty during the Japanese occupation of China. The
people on Taiwan were to become Kominka, “the emperor's people'" (Gold 1986; Su
1986). By 1945, Taiwan had become more than an agricultural colony. It was
developing into a promising industrial center supporting the Japanese advance into
Southeast Asia. Note in Figure 1 that the Qing era city walls and comer towers gates
became streets and trafﬁc roundabouts under the Japanese.

Figure 1: Taihoku (Taipei) in 1943

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From 1914 to 1918 there was a movement in Japan to assimilate the people of
Taiwan into the Japanese body politic after a period of re-education and civilization. The
high degree to which people on Taiwan tolerated Japanese colonial rule and adopted
Japanese culture indicated what Chang Mau-kuei calls a “collective identity crisis”
(2003:30 ) While still considering themselves Han Chinese, a racial category, their
history had diverged from that of mainland China since the 1911 Republican Revolution
and the tumultuous, competing nationalist movements that followed. As Japan
transitioned from an empire to a modern nation-state, they promoted a conceptualization
of the people on Taiwan as Japanese second-class citizens of minority Han Chinese

descent (Chang Mau-kuei 2003). In 1920 there were some 400 Taiwanese of a new
generation studying in Japan, a population that increased to 2,000 by the end of the
decade. This generation of Japanese-educated Taiwanese elite saw that they had
commonalities with other colonized people in the world, and began to think of Taiwan in
terms of anti-colonial liberation and self-determination. This set of progressive ideas had
lasting inﬂuence on the generation’s conceptualization of Taiwan, and was in sharp
contrast to the general lack of education and provincial outlook of the rank-and-ﬁle
Chinese soldiers who came to Taiwan after the Japanese surrender. Chang Mau-kuei
(2003:32) makes the argument that there was an understanding of the Taiwanese
“people” or nation under Japanese colonial rule. The terms “Taiwan” and “Taiwanese”
became stable signiﬁers in literature and common usage to represent the people as a

S0cial, political, economic, and cultural body, as a location of identiﬁcation, and a base

for collective action.

46

It is important to note, however, that Japanese-era notions of Taiwan’s identity
were in relation to Japan, and were not a denial of Chineseness, per se. The people of
Taiwan were caught between a Chinese racial heritage and Japanese cultural citizenship,
what Chang Mao-kuei calls an “ethno—national ‘sandwich’.” Taiwanese people “could
not feel comfortable being Chinese, because they were cut off from China, and were
despised for having Chinese roots. On the other hand, they could not be Japanese either,
for they were treated as unqualiﬁed colonial subjects pressed into assimilation”
(2003:33). Scholars of Taiwanese social history generally agree that during the ﬁve
decades of Japanese colonial rule, a group identity and worldview developed among the
people of Taiwan, particularly in relation to the Japanese, that did not carry a strong anti-
Chinese sentiment (Kerr 1965; Gates 1981; Lai et al. 1991). As I noted in the
Introduction, the February 28th Incident is cited as the origin of the anti-Chinese, pro-
independence Taiwanese nationalist movement. The most senior informants in this
research have ﬁrst-hand experiences with the Japanese education system and the
establishment of the Nationalist govemment’s rule in Taiwan.

Though violent events occurred, the 2-28 Incident being pivotal, the solidiﬁcation
of the KMT hegemonic order in Taiwan was achieved not through coercive forces, but
from a long-term strategy centered on a Chinese Nationalist pedagogy, Mandarin
language policy, and discourses of the superiority of Chinese high culture, with the
school-age Taiwanese as the ultimate locus of KMT power. A seventy-three year old
woman explained her experience this way:

In my family, my ﬁrst language, in my family, was Holo. The other one, my

mother’s, was Hakka. In school it was Japanese. We never learned Mandarin.

We never knew it was supposed to be our language until our new elementary
school [after 1945]. Then, all of a sudden, the teachers said, ‘Oh no, no, no, no...

47

you are Chinese, so you are supposed to speak Chinese Mandarin,’ so we had to

learn that. And the teachers started telling you, ‘What you are speaking is a

barbarian language,’ or ‘low class,’ or ‘country folks.’ . . . They were using

words like tsaobei lang, but the way they were saying it was terrible. Tsaobei
lang in Taiwanese actually doesn’t mean anything bad — just country folks -

‘grass-land people.’

What’s wrong with that? But the way they mean it was ‘those hillbillies,’ so that

was a shock, it meant that I was second-class, so I have to learn, to catch up, to be

equal. It was a very humiliating. At that time, I didn’t even know I was being
humiliated. I just knew that I had to work hard to be worthy of [them]. It was
like it was my fault to be born a Taiwanese, and it is because of their kindness that
they are trying to teach us something better. I was so easy to fool Taiwanese,
because we trusted our new government. So we tried so hard to catch up, to be
good Chinese.

Taiwan’s national identity emerged from a sense that KMT rule was not only
oppressive but foreign. The J apan-educated elite were able to raise their discourse to the
level of national sovereignty. Over the following decades, drawing on Western models
of the modern nation state learned in Japan, an oppositional Taiwanese national identity
would take on additional meaning ﬁom issues including indigenous rights, environmental
protection, gender equality, and labor empowerment in Taiwan, with Taiwanese self-
deterrnination as an ultimate political horizon.

Taiwan’s national identity, however, was never fully articulated in the public
sphere in Taiwan under the authoritarian Nationalist government. Before the gradual
“Taiwanization” of public education after the lifting of martial law in 1987, the ofﬁcial
histories in Taiwan had been Sinocentric, presenting China, not Taiwan, as the national
homeland, and Mandarin Chinese as the national language (guoyu) rather than the
commonly spoken H010 and Japanese. The Chinese nationalization of Taiwan under the

KMT simultaneously appropriated and marginalized local identities. The nationalists

silenced the collective memory of their violent ascent to power and limited public

48

discourse through coercion and fear in order to create a Chinese national subject whose
personal subjectivity is deeply embedded in state-produced discourses of national
identity.

Upon defeat in WWII, the Japanese formally relinquished control of the island to
Nationalist government forces led by General Chen Yi on October 25, 1945. By
establishing a permanent regime in Taiwan, Chiang Kai-Shek abrogated a series of
international agreements that guaranteed Taiwan UN trusteeship and self determination
upon Japanese surrender. The 1941 Atlantic Charter, to which the ROC was a signatory,
agreed that in the course of the war, signing countries should “seek no aggrandizement,
territorial or other” (North Atlantic Treaty Organization 1941). The Charter also stated
that they “declare to see no territorial changes that do not accord with the freely
expressed wishes of the people concerned.” Finally, the document protected “the right of
all peoples to choose the form of government under which they will live,” and to see that
the “sovereign rights and self-govemment restored to those who have been forcibly
deprived of them.”

The 1943 Cairo Conference of President Roosevelt, Premier Churchill, and
Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, usually cited as the legal agreement granting the ROC
sovereignty over Taiwan, stated only that Taiwan should be renounced by Japan. The
1945 Yalta (Crimea) Conference Protocol stated that “territories detached from the
enemy as a result of the present war” should be granted the trusteeship of “World
Organizations” (United States Department of State 1950:23). Later that year, the United
Nations conﬁrmed the Yalta Protocol by granting trusteeship to “territories which may be

detached from enemy states as a result of the Second World War” (United Nations 2003).

49

 

However, for Taiwan, self-determination was superseded by the necessities of Cold War
geo-politics.

Many people on the island in 1945 considered the retrocession a "return to the
motherland." The ﬁrst Nationalists to arrive in Taiwan were received as liberators, but
the relationship quickly soured as the Nationalist government established its policies and
practices. The period between Taiwan's retrocession to China and February 1947 was
marked by a general collapse of order as the rule of law established under the Japanese
decayed to something like a military occupation by the Nationalist government. In
January 1947, it was announced by Chiang Kai-shek in Nanjing that the newly ratiﬁed
constitution of the Republic of China would not apply to Taiwan. The building tensions
erupted in February when a small dispute over a case of an abusive Monopoly Bureau
agent in Taipei erupted into widespread protests.

In response, the Nationalist government troops sent from the mainland killed
between 10,000 to 28,000 benshengren in the ﬁrst weeks on March, including most of the I
intellectual elite and local leaders (Kerr 1965; Su 1986; Lai et al. 1991). This incident is
generally recognized as the origins of the anti-Chinese, pro-independence movement.
Part of the Chinese Nationalists' claim to Taiwan rested on ethnic continuity, but because
Han has been conceived of in both cultural and racial terms, the Nationalist government
took the position that after 50 years of exposure to the Japanese, the cultural
"Chineseness" of benshengren was tainted (Su 1986). Those on Taiwan would need to
be re—Siniﬁed. Just as the Japanese had removed the Qing dynasty walls around Taipei

to make room for Taihoku, the capital city of a model colony, so the Nationalist

50

government dismantled Shinto shrines and re-naming streets to create a Chinese capital,
China in microcosm.

The Republic of China on Taiwan, which gained an additional identity as “Free
China” throughout the Cold War, implemented a series of policies intended to instill
Chinese national identity and suppress local traditions, language, and collective memory.
Discourses of Taiwan’s identity and narratives of local counter-history were slow to
develop in Taiwan because of state repression. State surveillance, control of information,
and harsh punishments limited the degree to which alternative national constructions
could be formulated and articulated. With absolute control over pedagogy and mass
media during four decades of martial law, as well as mandatory military service after
graduation, the Nationalist government’s Chinese identity project proved effective.
Under these conditions, early articulations of Taiwanese nationalism were not voiced by
those in Taiwan, but instead emerged in Japan and the US. among exiles and overseas
students.

For this generation, Taiwan’s identity crisis was not a threat to Taiwanese
traditions. The cultural aspect of Taiwan’s identity would emerge in national discourse in
later generations. James Yu’s conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity was that of
Formosa, emphasizing its colonial legacy and independence from narratives of the
Chinese nation-state that emerged at the turn of the 20th century. A F orrnosan American
would become extinct not because of a decline in immigration from Taiwan, but rather
from an erasure of the consciousness of “Formosa, island of the colonized” altogether.
To further explore this particular conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity, the pivotal

moment in Formosan history — the February 28th Incident — should be explicated, both in

51

 

terms of the actual events as they unfolded, but also the process of its narrative
construction, its eventual immigration to the US. as an element of the Formosan
independence nationalist narrative, and ultimately its function as an access point for
second-generation Taiwanese Americans to begin to understand the history of their
Taiwanese “homeland.”
B. The February 28th Incident in History

During the half century of Japanese colonization of Taiwan (1895—1945,) when
Taiwan was known as Takasago Koku, the island underwent a thorough modernization
project. The Japanese civilian administration had established a stable rule of law,
provided comprehensive public education, introduced local-level democratic institutions,
and trained intellectual elite at universities in both Taiwan and Japan (Gold 1986:44).
Further, inﬂuenced by the liberal political philosophy current in 19105 and 19205 Japan,
home-rule organizations were established by Taiwanese advocating greater rights and
political voice within the Japanese empire (Chen I-te 1972). These developments were
held in stark contrast to the ﬁrst decades of Nationalist rule. Although the Chinese forces
were at ﬁrst greeted warmly, and there was a general sentiment that Taiwan was
returning to the “motherland” China, as Su (1986) and Chen I-te (1972) have shown, an
alternative ideological perspective would soon develop, interpreting their rule as yet
another colonial regime: recolonization rather than decolonization. In many ways, both
practical and symbolic, the Nationalists were unable to distance themselves from the
Japanese who ruled before them. They moved into Japanese residences, ﬁlled the most
important administrative posts, replaced the Japanese police force, and nationalized the

largest industries previously owned by the Japanese. Portraits of the Japanese emperor

52

were replaced with pictures of Sun Yat-sen and Chiang Kai-shek as the new objects of
daily state-worship.

Leading up to the February 28‘h Incident, Lai et al. estimate that around 17
percent of Taiwan’s GDP was nationalized and disposed of, and as many as 36 thousand
Taiwanese were forced out of public sector jobs (1991:170). Mandarin Chinese, which
very few Taiwanese spoke, was declared the national language (guoyu) replacing
Japanese, the language of the educated under the previous colonial administration. Social
order in all sectors was strained, outbursts of violence between government agents and
local residents were increasing, and public health risks including cholera appeared on the
island for the ﬁrst time in decades.

The uprising began as an isolated event on a Taipei street corner and escalated to
encompass the broad divide between waishengren and benshengren. On February 27’”,
1947, Taipei Monopoly Bureau agents assaulted and robbed an elderly street peddler for
selling untaxed cigarettes. A bystander was shot and killed as the agents ﬂed the crowd
that had gathered. A group of Taiwanese marched to the police station and demanded
that the shooter be handed over. When they were refused, a petition was drafted
overnight asking for the execution of the agent responsible for the shooting death, and for
reforms in the monopoly laws. The petition was taken to the Monopoly Bureau, where
no one would emerge to receive it. When the growing crowd marched on the Governor
General’s headquarters to present the petition, several Taiwanese were killed when they
were ﬁred upon from the roof of the building (Kerr 1965:254-300).

A general uprising in all the major cities ensued once these events were broadcast

island-wide ﬁom the commandeered Taipei radio station. Rioters attacked and looted

53

 

Monopoly Bureau buildings and other government ofﬁces, causing most ofﬁcials and
soldiers to hide in their homes or retreat to military bases on the outskirts of cities. In the
following days, Taiwanese students organized to serve as police to keep order in the
cities, and on March 9, settlement committees of Taiwanese elites met with the KMT
leadership to negotiate major political reforms. As Kerr describes it, "Once a formal
Settlement Committee was established, the spontaneous outbursts of anger gave way to a
new public mood and a rather remarkable show of public cooperation with Formosan
leaders who, for nearly a week, formed the effective government" (19652270).

On March 10, a major KMT military force from China landed in northern and
southern ports, straﬁng the docks with gunﬁre before disembarking. Nationalist
administrators had been negotiating in bad faith, aware that the troops requested from
Chiang Kai-shek were on their way. In the weeks that followed, troops speciﬁcally
targeted for execution the settlement committees’ members, as well as the student police
force, teachers, lawyers, newspaper editors, and other educated Taiwanese and landed
elite (Kerr 1965:299-300). Resistance to the Nationalist regime was driven underground,
or overseas, primarily to Hong Kong and Japan.

The February 28th Incident narrative is particularly well-suited for nationalist
interpretations because it includes anti-colonial elements, identiﬁes the Nationalist
government as a military occupation, and allows for a sharp distinction to be imagined
between residents of Taiwan and recently-arrived mainland Chinese with congruent
ethnic, linguistic, and political dimensions. Because the escalation of the war effort in
Taiwan in the last years of the war and the transition between regimes had created such a

sharp contrast, and the February 28‘h Incident was such a traumatic event in many

54

people’s memories, this generation with a living memory of the period of transition
between colonial regimes, and the ﬁrst decade that followed as the Nationalists
established their rule, is sharply defined when compared to subsequent generations of
Taiwanese who grew up in a more stable — albeit authoritarian — social environment.
Rigger (2006) identiﬁes Lee Teng—hui as the iconic ﬁgure of this historic generation,
which I am identifying as the Formosan generation. Rigger suggests that his university
years at Kyoto Imperial University had a profound inﬂuence on his sense of Taiwan’s
identity, despite nearly ﬁfty years’ service in the Nationalist government. After his
presidency, Lee became an outspoken supporter of Taiwanese independence. His
political identity, Rigger suggests, was formed when he was part of the Japanese empire,
creating ambivalence toward Chinese identity, despite the Chinese nationalist discourse
of his party (35-36).

In terms of historical depth, my analysis of historic generations is tethered to the
living memory of the most senior informants in my research. The eldest strata includes
those born before 1931, and are deﬁned primarily by their common experience with the
Japanese education system before the end of WWII, their exposure to the events
surrounding the February 28th Incident in 1947, and the establishment of the Nationalist
government. Some had studied in Japan, Europe, or the US. for higher education prior to
the war. Local elite under the Japanese were among those who had represented the
Taiwanese people in negotiations with the Nationalist government in the turbulent ﬁrst
years of their occupation. Other informants had been members of the groups of college
and high school students who formed patrols to restore and maintain order in the months

after the February 28’h Incident. They were in a position to compare the Japanese rule and

55

the newly arrived Chinese government, and they had biographical memories of the
purges and fear tactics involved in establishing Nationalist rule, a period in the 19505 and
19605 that would come to be known as the White Terror.

Leading up to the February 28lh Incident, the Japanese colonial rule was the most
immediate comparison available for the residents of Taiwan, and the newly-arrived
residents had not yet achieved the same level of administrative efﬁciency of their
Japanese predecessors. Andrew Chang, who was 6 years old in 1945, articulated a
sentiment widely held among the senior informants in this research:

The reason I sound so pro-Japanese was probably a reaction because the Chinese

took over, so maybe because of the disappointment and frustration I became

disillusioned and nostalgic. People started to become nostalgic. They were very
clean, with no corruption at all. When the Chinese came, the local people referred
to the change —- the Chinese were pig, and the Japanese were dogs. What do the
pigs stand for? Dirty, greedy... and the Japanese? Fierce and loyal. My parents

had very close Japanese friends. . . .

When they were deported at the end it was really sad. A lot of them had never
seen Japan proper. They were born and raised in Taiwan. It was their native
place. Mainlanders came to Taiwan as captors and never made Taiwan their
home.

Indeed, the long-term sustainable operation of Taiwan was not the central goal of
the KMT on Taiwan. It was viewed instead as an expendable resource to be exploited as
needed in the war on the mainland. Many of the elder Taiwanese whom I interviewed
shared a positive view of the Japanese colonial administration.

The discursive perpetuation of Chinese nationalism and “civil war” were the only
tools available to the Nationalist government to legitimate their continued monopoly of
power. They possessed neither the land nor the people of China, Coronil’s (1997) two

“bodies” of a nation. However, they controlled the army, police, state apparatus and a

well—trained work force on Taiwan. Urban spaces were re-ordered with place-names

56

evoking a motherland with few benshengren had ever seen. It was an entirely new way
to conceptualize Taiwan’s identity, supported by impressive sysmbols of national
legitimacy. The National Palace in Taipei, for example, held the cultural treasures of
China, an unparalleled collection of artifacts taken from the Forbidden City when the
Nationalist leaders were forced to withdraw from Beijing. The Nationalist legislative
body convened in Taipei with representatives from each province in China. Julian Shay,
born in 1939, recalls the way Taiwan was imagined before the state apparatus and
Sinocentric education system was in place:
My great, great, great grandfather came to Taiwan and made Taiwan his home.
He manied a native. He became Taiwanese because he loved the island as his
home. He knew he would die there. My great, great, great grandmother was
native people. That line was native. They were here a long time. That should be
combined together, and I am not Chinese anymore. Most people had this way of
thinking before, but not so many anymore. That is because of the brainwashing.
That is the only way to say it. I want to go to Taiwan and de-program people.
In China, this kind of propaganda they do pretty good. They lie one time, two
times, three times, ten thousand times — now everybody in China thinks pretty
good that Taiwanese are Chinese, that Taiwan is part of China, that Taiwanese are
Chinese.
The ROC was further supported by the “encompassment” of Cold War policies
which, with the support of the China Lobby in Washington DC, created the chimera of
“Free China” on Taiwan.5 In this conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity, the Taiwanese

were only due the political rights of a Chinese province, rights that were to be suspended

until the successful conclusion of the anti-Communist civil war.

 

5 During the two decades after Japan’s surrender in 1945 - a piece of the past in Taiwan overshadowed by
the memory of the February 28th Incident and the White Terror - the United States transferred more than 4
billion USS in foreign aid to the Nationalist government (Gold 1986). Based on the consumer price index,
34b. in 1955 was worth about $30b in 2005 dollars.

57

 

The February 28th Incident was minimized or absent from ofﬁcial histories.
However, Taussi g (1992) has argued that state terrorism itself can generate a kind of
“unforgetability” of powerful events, a pattern consistent with the February 28th Incident
collective memory. With the govemment’s efforts toward erasure, which included
forbidding its discussion in public, minimizing and distorting the event in history texts,
and so forth, the people of Taiwan —benshengren and waishengren alike — were presented
with what Bhabha calls “the obligation to forget” which is inherent in nationalist
discourse. In order to conceive and remember the nation, subjects must “forget to
remember . . . the violence involved in establishing the nation’s writ” (l990b:310).
Further, the “invisibility of Taiwan” perpetuated by the Nationalist and US. foreign
policies was also reproduced in Western and local social science discourse, an
increasingly important arena as political struggles moved toward the language and tropes
of identity (Murray and Hong 1994). From the perspective of the Formosan Taiwanese,
the internationally recognized identity of Taiwan shifted from T akasogo Koku to Taiwan
Province, home to the entire Republic of China military and administrative apparatus,
Free China.

C. Autobiographical and Vicarious Memory of 2-28

In an interview at my host’s home in Madison, Mrs. Wen, reﬂecting on the
transition between the Japanese and Nationalist administrations, pointed out the irony of
the origin of the distinction between Chinese and Taiwanese. Mainlander soldiers and
ofﬁcials did not view Taiwan as part of China. They were considered to be polluted with

Japanese ideas. Their own “Chinese arrogance” created the problems they faced in the

58

 

early years of nationalist rule in Taiwan. Without such state-ordered violence, a non-
Chinese identity may have never emerged:

When the Chinese troops went to Shanghai, Nanking, or other Chinese cities, they
went to recover part of China. When they came to Taiwan, however, they came
to occupy, not to recover Taiwan. They never thought of Taiwan as part of China,
though other countries had that idea. Only the Taiwanese thought of Taiwan as
part of China. This was very strange. The differences between the Chinese and
Taiwanese built up the conﬂicts between the two. Chinese ofﬁcials thought of
themselves as occupation forces, having the power to seize anything they wanted.

If the 2-28 Incident had not occurred, the Taiwanese would not have the urge to
seek independence. During Japanese occupation prior to the incident, the
Taiwanese viewed themselves as Chinese. Because of the 2-28 Incident and the
ensuing White Terror, the Taiwanese realized that they are not Chinese, by all
factors - cultural, social, economical, and political. Even the Chinese did not
recognize Taiwan as part of China.

Because of the 2-28 Incident, the Taiwanese also recognized that according to
international law, Taiwan is not a legal entity of China. The recognition of these
differences would not have been brought up for public debate, nor would the
Taiwanese have the urge to seek independence had it not been for the 2-28
Incident. Therefore, it is fair to say that the Taiwan Independence movement has
been heavily inﬂuenced by the 2-28 Incident.

Without the 2-28 Incident, the Taiwanese would not have any motivation to seek

independence, even at the urging of Japan or the US. The victims of 2-28 did not

die for nothing. Their deaths brought the Taiwanese to the realization that they
are not Chinese, and that they should seek independence.

Mrs. Wen draws the connection between 2-28 and the desire for independence, to
establish a non—Chinese and non-Japanese state. Ironically, prior to the take-over, she
notes that Taiwanese people considered Taiwan as part of China — a conceptualization of
Taiwan which would ultimately be promoted in formal education — while people in the
Nationalist government at the time of retrocession did not see Taiwan as part of China.
Pre-occupation conceptualizations of Taiwan among Chinese from the mainland

associated Taiwan more closely with Japan. What I am calling the Formosan identity

emerges in the interstices between these two conﬁgurations.

59

However, the link Mrs. Wen makes between a denial of Chineseness and support
for Taiwanese independence is not universally embraced, and was not the central
narrative for early Taiwanese independence activists. Members of the generation who
experienced the event ﬁrst-hand and were able to escape Taiwan in the aftermath, though
few in number, founded the ﬁrst Formosan independence organizations, ﬁrst in Japan,
then in the US. in the 19505, and developed the core ideology of Formosan nationalism.
They would inﬂuence Iiuxuesheng who began to arrive in the US. for graduate study in
the 19605 and throughout the 19705, individuals who had been raised during the White
Terror and received a comprehensive Chinese Nationalist education, and often had little
or no knowledge of the February 28th Incident.

One of the key historical texts commonly referenced by informants was Su Bing’s
1962 tome 400 Years of Taiwanese History (1986). The book, ﬁrst published in
Japanese, armed the ﬁrst generation of opposition leaders with a History of Taiwan, a
Marxist critique that focused on waves of colonial occupation and hegemonic rule,
beginning with the Dutch, and concluding with the Nationalists. This analysis provided a
narrative of the birth of Taiwanese national consciousness, including graphic accounts of
the February 28th Incident and other incidents of state violence. For Su Bing, Taiwanese
nationalism is seen as both revolutionary in the Marxist sense, and a natural product of
the link between the people and the land. Su details a number of historical records that
indicate Qing ambivalence toward the island, and outlines how key contradictions
established under the Dutch were deepened as the population of the island grew, its

extant material base increased in value, and exploitative relationships widened the gap

60

between the rulers and the ruled. Thus, the Taiwanese people and Taiwanese society
“never became one with China,” and animosity only increased.

Su Bing describes an ethno-genesis as time passed based on a shared ecological
and cultural environment, an identity that overcame Han “tribal” characteristics. In this
analysis, the awareness of the Taiwanese being a separate ethnic group from Han Chinese
emerged prior to the nation-state, contrary to the cases of a Taiwanese nation being
“invented” by a state. Su describes the birth of a nation, including a strong geographical

image near the heart of the conceptualization of Taiwan Su is promoting:

Year in and year out, the natural climate and social customs of Taiwan exerted
their subtle inﬂuence. This process, step by step, overcame the attitudes and ways
of thinking of the Han immigrants from the mainland. The natural climate of
Taiwan made them change to an island people and an island society. In other
words, the Taiwanese people and Taiwanese society, in the course of more than
200 years of colonial rule by the same Han tribe . . . separated themselves from
the Chinese mainland society. This was a decisive developmental phase in
growing and becoming the unique ‘Taiwan Nation’ (1986: 23).

Peng Ming-min, a well-respected independence activist and scholar, also
published widely on the topic throughout the 19605, including his inﬂuential 1964 essay
“Declaration of Formosan Self-Salvation.” He made the argument that Taiwanese
culture, though seemingly similar to Chinese, was different in spirit. Peng suggested that
Taiwanese history has always been about a quest for freedom and self-determination, and
that early settlers built a culture of independence. These differences had been suppressed
so Taiwanese would not develop their own identity. He also spelled out the legal
arguments in international treaties. Peng’s 1972 biography, A Taste of Freedom:
Memoirs of a Formosan Independence Leader provides a ﬁrst-hand narration of the
February 28’'1 Incident, as well as a powerful description of his experiences as a political

prisoner and fugitive.

61

Pursued by the Nationalist government, Peng was assisted by Amnesty
International to escape to Sweden, and returned to the US. with a visa to teach at
Michigan University until 1990. In 1986 he was the opposition Democratic Progressive
Party’s presidential candidate (Wang 1999:185-6). Peng framed activism and resistance
in terms of a long struggle against colonial oppression, not simply power politics between
the opposition and the Nationalist government:

The movement for Formosan self-determination has not been conceived as a

political party movement, but has grown out of universal protest against the

exploitation experienced by one and all since 1945. As an organization it has
become a symbol of the aspirations of the great majority of Formosans since the
tragic experience of February and March, 1947. That experience destroyed
popular trust in the continental Chinese and revived the old antagonisms of the

18th and 19th centuries (1972:255).

This narrative locates the origin of the Taiwanese opposition identity in an
ongoing struggle against Chinese economic exploitation. It is not a reference to ethnicity
or identity, but indicative of counter-hegemonic and class—based conceptualizations of
Taiwan’s identity. Both Su Bing and Peng Ming-min frame the present relationship
between Taiwan and the Chinese as class-based exploitation. However, while Su Bing
identiﬁed a pre-national ethnic group identity that served as the foundation of a nation-
state —- albeit overdetermined by class relations, Peng located the class oppression in the
context of prior relationships with China, without ess‘entializing the Taiwanese character.
The February 28’h Incident reinforced class consciousness in both cases, but made no
reference to culture, unique heritage, genetic familiarity, or pre-national identity.

The most frequently referenced source of information dealing with the February

28‘h Incident among overseas students was George Kerr’s Formosa Betrayed (1965),

which tells a compelling story of the Incident based on his own and others’ eye-witness

62

accounts. Kerr estimates that between 10,000 and 20,000 benshengren were killed.
Several informants related that people were afraid to check the book out of the library,
and when they did so, they used chop-sticks to turn the pages to avoid being identiﬁed
through ﬁngerprinting.

Mrs. Wen described a violent shift toward a more critical subjectivity after her
encounter with the text:

All the way during your growing-up years you never questioned your inferiority

and that supposedly they were superior to you. It was just drilled into you. And

look at how easy it was for them — that job. As kids we came into them as white

boards, and they wrote such dirty things on us. I think that is why later on, when I

learned the truth, I was so angry. The anger — it is so difﬁcult to describe. Even

today I can’t tell you that feeling of being so betrayed, of being. .. it was almost
like you just realized that you had been raped, all over, all the time, and you
didn’t even know, and they were telling you that it was good for you, until that
day when you realized that you were so violated. I was in the United States
already, and I already had 4-A, and I went to the library and I got hold of a book
by George Kerr — Formosa Betrayed — and I started reading. That was the book,
the one book in my life where I cried over almost every page. It shattered
everything.

For many Taiwanese studying overseas, where more information was available in
the form of texts and media reports, witnesses were more open to discuss the event,
learning of the February 28th Incident had a powerful “eye-opening” impact, often
leading to disillusionment and anger with the Nationalist government and their Chinese
nationalist agenda. Although shifts in subjectivity were highly individualized, there
were commonalities in the way Taiwan was re-conceptualized due to widely shared
experience in Taiwan, ROC, as well as common elements of recovered history, ﬁrst
among them, the February 28th Incident.

When the Nationalist government brought Chinese nationalism to Taiwan, they

chose to marginalize what they considered to be non-Chinese social elements such as the

63

 

Holo language, certain local traditions (including glove puppetry, as will be discussed in
Chapter Two,) and the collective memory of the Nationalist govemment’s violent rise to
power in Taiwan. These disjunctures between KMT Chinese nationalism and Taiwanese
local culture, practices, and memory produced what Werbner calls “unﬁnished
narratives”:

Popular history in which the past is perceived to be unﬁnished, festering in the

present - these are narratives which motivate people to call again and again for a

public resolution to their predicament. Subjected to buried memory, people do

not so much forget as recognize - and often ever more forcefully - that they have
not been allowed to remember. Though not always obviously or immediately,
such situations are potentially explosive, when people feel compelled to unbury
the memory and reject their past submission (l998:9).

While the trauma of the event was very present in this sense, in the following
generations of Taiwanese, its impact, inﬂuence, and meaning became more complex.
Some witnesses saw it as their obligation to inform their children about the events, and
encourage them to resist the Nationalist government, while others passed it on as a quiet
but urgent warning to stay away from politics. Most, however, did not speak of the
February 28th Incident for decades. For example, Frank came to the US. in 1971 as a
chemistry graduate student at an Ivy League school, and, like most Taiwanese of that era,
chose not to return to Taiwan after receiving his advanced degree. He is now a university
faculty member and serves as the advisor for the campus Taiwanese student association.
His experience was one of fear and caution:

Q. Before you came to the states, were you politically active at all?

A. No. Well, at that time, you still were not allowed to... well, it was dangerous to
be involved in politics. We got a lot of warning from parents, relatives, things
like that: ‘just study - don’t get involved in politics.’ And our town was very,
very tiny. Under martial law — we called it the ‘White Terror.’ People

disappeared; no one knows what is going on. There are a lot of stories, and I
think that probably most of them are true. So that is why they warned us, every

64

>9>p

day warned us: ‘don’t get involved in politics, it is dangerous, you might
disappear.’ And then you don’t talk about politics because Chiang Ching-kuo6
has some system, installed some system. You don’t know if your parents would
report you, or your friends would report you. So you don’t express any kind of
political thinking, or your own opinion. You might end up in jail.

. Were your parents involved, or do they remember the 2-28 Incident?

They remember it. And they saw, they saw... my parents are not political active,
but they saw people disappeared, shot, be put in jail. And those people — they
knew those people who were shot or jailed. They were respected people in
society. This is why they say don’t get involved in politics.

Did they talk about that event in particular?
No.
When did you ﬁrst ﬁnd out about the February 28th Incident?

Since I come here, and I had a — almost like a mentor. He was Lai Yi-yan; he
was my brother’s friend. So he invited me to his house for Christmas dinner, and
he began to re-educate me, so I began to express these things. I got to know about
Taiwanese history, and I became very, very angry about what was going on. And
you know, and therefore, after that, I became very involved — became an activist.

Yeah, I think 1 got the story from my mentor, so I had that advantage. The other
people didn’t have that so they had other opinions. But once I got involved, I
really got very active. You can appreciate that I did not get very much money
from the scholarship. They would pay ma about $300 a month, and I put half of
my money to publish a magazine [laughs] an underground magazine.

The conceptualization of Taiwan as Formosa, island of oppositional anti-colonial

history, may be characterized as a nation whose current state was seen as an occupying
force presenting a sharply contrasting national narrative. The Formosan identity of
Taiwan, however, ﬁrst developed during the Japanese era, became widely shared only

after the events in February and March 1947. As it was articulated abroad, the narrative

 

6 Chiang Kai-shek’s son, “CCK” was in charge of all secret security operations in Taiwan until he ascended
to the presidency upon his father’s death in 1975. A complex historical ﬁgure, CCK is both notorious for
his strong-arm state terror operations, and lauded for his reform policies leading to the “Taiwanization” of
the KMT party in the 19805, a party which had been dominated by Mainlander Chinese since 1949.

65

of Taiwan was based not only on a historical anti-colonial legacy, but also the
antagonistic relationship with Nationalist government agents experienced by some
Iiuxuesheng while overseas, the experience of being alienated from homes and families,

and of being an immigrant minority in the US.

II. Extraterritorial ROC
A. Disciplining Non-student Huaqiao

Although this dissertation presents a critique of discourses that categorize people
from Taiwan in the US. as a new wave of Chinese immigration, there are clear historical
continuities between Chinese Americans and overseas students from Taiwan. Those of
Fujianese descent, for example, could be considered Chinese immigrants whose ancestors
lived in diaspora for several centuries prior to immigration to the US. Waishengren may
be represented — and often self-identify — as Chinese immigrants to the US. for whom
Taiwan was a way-station. For Iiuxuesheng, however, a more speciﬁc and immediate
historical link is forged in the context of Nationalist policies toward overseas Chinese,
huaqiao, which in their view included all individuals who came to the US. — whether
from the mainland, or from Taiwan after 1945, or diaspora, regardless of their place of
birth.

Overseas Chinese have been integral to Chinese nation-state building for over a
century. Beginning in the mid-19th century, Chinese from the mainland began
immigrating to the US, predominantly from Taishan in the Southeast coastal area, to
work on railroad construction and mining in California. Most were unskilled peasants

who faced harsh working conditions, discrimination, and ethnic violence. Anti-Chinese

66

sentiment culminated in the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act which disallowed Chinese from
becoming US. citizens and prohibited further Chinese immigration, permanently
separating male immigrants from their families in China. Further anti-Chinese
immigration laws continued to prohibit Chinese coming to the US. until President
Roosevelt lifted the restrictions in 1943. Immigrants from Taishan established the ﬁrst
Chinatowns in the US. and their descendents continue to populate the Chinatowns of San
Francisco, New York, and elsewhere.

Systematic repression of Chinese populations in the US. over whom the
Nationalist government claimed sovereignty began more than a decade before the ﬁrst
overseas students from Taiwan arrived. Most notably, historian Renqiu Yu’s well-
documented account of the Chinese Hand Laundry Association (CHLA) in New York
(1992) provides insight into the ways in which the early Nationalist government was
operating in the US. among Chinese Americans. In the 19405 members of the CHLA
were openly resisting the KMT using arguments based on U.S.-type democratic
principles. Through this mobilization they saw themselves as agents for progress and
change in China instead of just monetary donors. Yu shows that when the Nationalist
government was relegated to Taiwan in 1949 the conservative merchant elite in the
Chinese American community re-afﬁrmed its long-time support of the Nationalist
government on Taiwan, which greatly increased pressure on the CHLA and other groups
and individuals who had spoken out against the corruption of the Nationalist government.
They endured FBI harassment, lost membership, and the leaders' families in China were

labeled and persecuted as families of capitalists.

67

Distressed by the anti-democratic practices of the KMT, the CHLA ultimately
chose to support the Chinese Communist Party, and were opposed by members of the
Chinese Consolidated Benevolent association, who collaborated with agents from the

Nationalist government, FBI and CIA, and used intimidation tactics and surveillance to
silence opposition. The political relationships between China, Taiwan and the US. since
the Korean War have been deeply felt within Chinese American communities, and by the
early 19505, membership in the CHLA had fallen from several thousands to 200. The
CIA was able to enhance its collaboration with the KMT from the mid-19505, particularly
with Ray Cline as CIA Station Chief in Taiwan from 1958 to 1962, who had cultivated a
close relationship with Chiang Kai-shek and others in the Nationalist government
leadership. For example, it was KMT ofﬁcials who asked policy makers in Washington
to use the terms "Red China," "Communist China," and “Free China.” As Kaplan
explains, “by the mid-19505, the KMT controlled American Chinatowns in a way never
before possible. By virtue of its anti-Communist witch—hunts, the United States had
effectively ceded control of an American immigrant community to a foreign power. . . .
The China lobby had come of age” (1992:114-5). Based on parallel anti-Communist
agendas, the CIA trained and supplied Nationalist government intelligence agents at
bases in the Ryukyu Islands, some of whom returned to the US. to spy on Chinese
immigrants, and ultimately students born in Taiwan studying in the US. from the mid-
19605. Nationalist-FBI collaboration, which would eventually shift to surveillance and
intimidation of overseas students coming from Taiwan, began in the late 19605 under

Herbert Hoover (Mendel 1973:160).

68

The complex relationship between the ROC government ofﬁcials and Taiwanese
youth who began to stream to the US. beginning in the mid-19655 was an extension of
the Republic of China authoritarian state’s efforts to maintain control of its citizens who
live overseas. Collaboration with US. intelligence agencies re-enforced the external

legitimacy of ROC in the US. Liuxuesheng were never quite away from home, though
many were physically separated from family and ﬁiends for many years. Thus, the
Nationalist government maintained control over the lives of extraterritorial populations in
the US. through coercion and surveillance, essentially extending the power of the
authoritarian state to include populations living within the geographic boundaries of
another sovereign nation-state. The construction of place-based identities employing the
metaphors of roots and native soil does not necessarily take place within the borders of
the “homeland” being constructed. Rather, they are often produced by extraterritorial
populations (Glick-Schiller and Fouron 1998). In this case, for several decades the
Taiwanese independence movement was active primarily in Japan and the US. One of
their goals was to produce the narratives and symbols of a Taiwanese nation state,
including a national History, a ﬂag, a national language, a conceptualization of a
geographically speciﬁc ancestral homeland.

B. Formosan Exiles in the US.

In the weeks and months after the February 28th Incident many of the surviving
intellectual and political elite from Taiwan, now formally identiﬁed as the Republic of

China, escaped to Japan and Hong Kong where they set up a number of opposition and

69

proxy government organizations.7 F ormosans for a Free F orrnosa (FF F) was the ﬁrst
Taiwanese independence organization in the US, founded in 1955 by three key activists
who would eventually gather about twenty people from elite universities in Taiwan to the
US. for graduate school. FF F produced ﬂiers and targeted other students from Taiwan
for recruitment to become Taiwanese independence supporters on campuses across the
US.8 In 1957 the F FF was disbanded when they were asked by the FBI to register as a
proxy government organization, a move which would make public the names of the
membership.

When the ﬁrst post-WWII graduate students from Taiwan began to arrive in the
US, Nationalist government agents kept close surveillance of all student activities, and
unofﬁcial organizations were deemed illegal. Trained agents were sent from Taiwan to
act as liaisons between student informants and the nearest consular ofﬁce, a security
network of surveillance aggressive enough that ofﬁcials in the US. were concerned.
Cohen (1991) notes that Michael Glennon’s study for the Senate Foreign Relations
Committee regarding the Nationalist government agents’ activities in the US. reported
that KMT agents “have conducted extended harassment, intimidation, and surveillance of
the United States residents here on American soil.” The surveillance was tolerated by the
FBI, however, because the US. was concerned about pro-Communist activities among

Iiuxuesheng on campuses, and the conceptualization of Taiwan as a Formosan nation-

 

? The brothers Thomas and Joshua Liao were key elder ﬁgures; both had been raised in the Japanese era,
and had advanced degrees from schools in the US. Thomas Liao had an MA from the University of
Michigan and a Ph.D. from Ohio State University. Joshua had an MA from the University of Wisconsin in
Madison, and a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. This is the pre-WWII beginning of a pattern of
opposition student mobilization at academic institutions in the US, and in particular several Midwest
schools. Like Peng and Su, they argued that the Taiwanese people were a distinct ethnic group, yet did not
rule out the possibility of re-unifying with a democratic China, an ideological position which was
ultimately rejected by the Taiwanese independence opposition movement being established in the US.

8 There were approximately 2,500 Taiwanese in 1955, 4,500 in 1960, 6,800 in 1965, and 12,000 in 1970.

70

 

state was antithetical to the US. position that Taiwan — the Republic of China — was the
sole legitimate government of China.

To avoid putting themselves, their visas, and their families in Taiwan at risk, they
re-organized the next year in the more clandestine incarnation the United Formosans for
Independence (UFI), and began publishing the English-language Ilha Formosa (Mendel
1973; Shu Wei-der 1998). The same year, Li Thian-hok (1958), published an article in
Foreign Affairs critical of the One-China policy, warning of the awkward position the
US. military will be in if armed conﬂict were to break out between China and Taiwan.
He also pointed out the economic impact if China were to gain control of the Taiwan
Strait. The arguments were practical and compelling. They represented a main discourse
in Formosan Taiwanese advocacy. However, beneath the discourse of global geo-political
exigencies lay a subtext — discernable to those from Taiwan — which emphasized a
counter-hegemonic collective memory: the new organization held its ﬁrst open press
conference explaining their purpose and goals in 1961, coinciding with the 14th
anniversary of the February 28th Incident. At that time, participants in the organization’s
demonstrations wore masks so that the Nationalist government and FBI agents (who
would compare notes and photographs) could not identify them (Kaplan 1992).

In 1963 ROC Vice President Chen Cheng visited Washington DC, drawing a
large protest which received national publicity. Similarly, a UFI demonstration outside
the ROC embassy on February 29th, 1964, also received national and international media
coverage. The next year, a key ﬁgure in the Taiwanese independence movement in Japan
defected, joining the KMT in order to free his nephew from prison, and regain his vast

family wealth and property, effectively shifting the center of the Formosan independence

71

movement from Japan to the US, thereby producing a greater sense of urgency and
responsibility among supporters in the US. In June 1965, Peng Ming-min published the
“Manifesto to Save Taiwan” in the New York Times while the US. government was
debating whether to admit the PRC into the UN. In October, the core Formosan
independence students from the student groups, and UF I members from Philadelphia
organized the “Formosan Unity Leadership Congress” in Madison, with representatives
from the Ontario-based Committee for Human Rights in Formosa, and other groups in the
US. and Japan (Shu Wei-der 1998), with Douglas Mendel as the Keynote speaker. This
meeting led to the formation of United Formosans in America for Independence.

The thirty original members of this organization became the core of the Formosan
independence movement in the US. for the next two decades, and many continued to
hold important positions during the period of this research. At that time they began
publishing the bi-lingual F ormosagram, and within ﬁve years the consolidation of groups
from US, Japan, Europe and Canada resulted in the formation of World United
Formosans for Independence (WUFI) in 1970. Most WUFI members in the US. were
Iiuxuesheng immigrants who began to use the increasing number of unofﬁcial student
associations as locations for networking and mobilization.

Graduate students from Taiwan in the US. prior to the 1987 lifting of martial law
were able to view their home from a critical distance and explore the factual and
interpretative discrepancies in the Sinocentric Nationalist pedagogy of their youth,
comparing ofﬁcial ROC narratives with alternative perspectives given in oral and textual
accounts. They had access to details of the historical and ongoing violence and

corruption of the Nationalist government in Taiwan. Some met privately to discuss the

72

 

“Taiwan question,” explore Taiwanese culture and history, discuss alternative national
imaginations. They worked to develop strategies to effect political reform in Taiwan, and
inﬂuence public perceptions of the Nationalist government as an authoritarian regime
rather than “Free China”:

Just being a Taiwanese descendent, I care about Taiwan’s future. And then, when

you are not in Taiwan, you see it more clearly because you are dealing with the

whole world and you analyze Taiwan based on your knowledge. When you are in

Taiwan, you are only thinking about China. You never really consider on a global

scale does China have the power to do it? Consider the international community.

It is not that we are talking big here; we are just talking realistically to help

Taiwan. Otherwise, we all have good jobs, good life here. Why would we want

to spend time on a grass-roots campaign? We spend money, you know? We

spend our energy, and we spend time to educate — why would we do that if not for
our love for Taiwan?

The inter-generational relationships seen in Madison from the 19605 to the
present research could be found on campuses across the country. Recollections in
interviews with the ﬁrst waves of Iiuxuesheng still resonated with the optimism and fear
felt in their ﬁrst months and years in the US. They described not only the challenges of
overseas graduate studies, and oftentimes the deeply troubling loss of one’s cultural and
political moorings, but also the anxiety engendered by the fear of surveillance and
retribution by the Nationalist government. Inforrnants spoke over yellowed photographs
and memorabilia of political resistance: a white mask worn at a protest to avoid being
recognized by Nationalist government security agents operating in the US, a form used
by “professional students” — a euphemism for campus informants — to report seditious
activity, a “Blacklist” notice in the form of a cancelled visa signaling the loss of freedom
to return to Taiwan, and worn copies of counter-historical texts in English, hanji and

Japanese that challenge the Nationalist government’s claim to sovereignty. These are

mnemonic traces and artifacts infused with nostalgia, alienation, romantic notions of

73

revolution, and visceral resentment toward the KMT. As these experiences were shared
by cohorts spanning generations, the affective bonds to Taiwaneseness among Taiwanese
student-immigrants deepened, and a conceptualization of Taiwan not ruled by the

Nationalist government began to coalesce among Iiuxuesheng.

III. Liuxuesheng on American Campuses
A. Relations with the Nationalist Government

Until public U.S.-based Taiwanese advocacy and lobbying organizations were
established in the 19805, activists worked primarily through secondary organizations such
as student associations and community groups (Meisner 1963; Shu 1973; Mendel 1973;
Shu Wei-der 1998). Few early independence supporters were professional political
agents; most were students in the technical sciences with no experience in political
organization, clandestine mobilization, or the production of nationalist discourse.
Nevertheless, by 1969, a coterie of activists traveled the country identifying and
contacting Taiwan—centric student associations and independent organizations, creating
both translocal and transnational opposition mobilization networks.

Many overseas students applied to American schools because of their English
language abilities, and universities were eager to accept talented people, especially those
trained in math, science, and technology who could help ﬁght in the Cold War against the
Soviet Union and “Red China.” Drawing from Arrigo (2005), Figure 2 indicates that the
number of individuals from Taiwan coming to the US. for graduate studies increased

steadily throughout the four decades of martial law in Taiwan.

74

Figure 2: Liuxuesheng in the U.S. from 1950 to 2000

Taiwanese students in the U.S. from 1950-2000

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

40,000 ....... _-_.

]

35,000 Aw”

Aso\ l

30,000 . - - 3 9 f 3.7

29,234]

25,000 .._-_._______-___-,_______ - - --.;-._._----_.-_,___ ____- _.
20,000

15,000 «We«Heme—“.mwww. _._..__..--m_,_e MM“-..

10,000 ' i

5000 ”so 1

MW 1

0 . . . . . s I . In A.

19501955196019651970197519801985199019952000

Of the 16,825 students that came to the U.S. between 1960 and 1969, only 561
returned to Taiwan (Chen 2002). Many students enjoyed the greater freedoms and
opportunities available in the U.S. Some stayed in hopes of a better future for their
children, and others stayed speciﬁcally to work for the independence movement.
Concomitantly, during the mid 19605, the surveillance and harassment by Nationalist
government agents in the U.S. were greatly expanded. Kaplan (1992) explains that they
used the same tactics Chiang Kai-shek had been employing to generate the loyalty of the
population of Taiwan, “a heavy dose of indoctrination, a huge net of informants and
spies, and pervasive fear and intimidation” (150).

Students were required to attend a training session organized by the Overseas

Work Commission focused on the dangers of the Taiwanese independence movement, as

75

well as the “United Front” propaganda of China under Chairman Mao. They were also
informed of names of people to avoid. The Nationalist government agents were
particularly interested in recruiting benshengren informants because the independence
movement spoke Holo. Student informants inﬁltrated Bible classes, student
associations, and social clubs, while Political Warfare Academy graduates acted as
liaisons between student-informants and the consulates. Students were offered cash,
cheap airfare, career advantages, and scholarships as incentives to inform on their
classmates. Nationalist government agents distributed forms that asked details about
overseas Chinese populations, with a rubric to rate each person as either “patriotic,”
“neutral,” “pro-communist,” or “Pro Taiwanese independence.” The forms also
requested that ﬁve individuals be chosen for more detailed observation and analysis.
Photos, tape recordings, and publications were expected. These were processed in the
U.S. and sent to the Garrison Command in Taiwan to be added to collected letters, taped
phone calls, and other accumulated information about overseas students. The students
were expected to complete these forms with “black information,” so they often
fabricated information acting on personal vendettas, and engaged in sexual and ﬁnancial
blackmail (Kaplan 1992: 15 1—2).

Compared to Taiwan, however, university campuses in the U.S. provided more
opportunities for independence supporters to compete for the hearts and minds of
overseas students, and to contest the ofﬁcial Chinese Nationalist narratives. Early
activists were limited in their ability to recruit supporters, however, as distrust among
activists and limited ﬁnancial resources made extended networks of opposition groups

difﬁcult to create and maintain. By participating in activities deemed illegal by the

76

Nationalist government, students could lose their government scholarships, and face

future career advancement difﬁculties in Taiwan, or exile to the U.S. Being placed on the

“Black List” meant that return visas would not be approved, which could separate

overseas students from their families for years, even decades.

Jeff, who came to the U.S. for graduate work in 1967, was contacted by the

clandestine independence organization WUFI shortly after his arrival. Their efforts were

geared toward recruiting (dc-programming, as Jeff called it) Iiuxuesheng on campuses

across the country, as well as raising the proﬁle of Taiwan’s state among the general

public:

Q. How did you ﬁrst get involved in Taiwanese independence activism?

A. In New York, before February 28th, a WUFI member he send me an ad. He

wanted me to place the ad in the campus news paper. So, you know there was
such a massacre, and we remember. This February ’68. Yeah, okay, so see
what happened: I put the ad to the newspaper... Then I met a girl from
Taiwan, and the girl said “Oh what is this?” “Well this is an ad.” And then,
“Oh what is the ad?” She started to write down the words. “Oh, and what is
your name?” And so forth and everything.

Q. Was she a pretty girl?

A.

Q.

Very pretty, with a smiling face, but I think something was wrong.

Because she liked you?

. Well [laughs] you know, somehow you have that instinct, so later I asked

people and they told me “Oh, she graduated from the warfare academy, you
know?” That’s the KMT watchdog military school; they watch the military
people! So now she’s on duty in the US.

Her job is to watch the military?

But at that academy, after they graduate, they would be in KMT military units,
and their job was to watch everybody...

Right, so they’re like the police of the military.

77

A. Yeah, yeah. But it was a different kind of police — though police. So I knew I
was in trouble. I knew I was in trouble.

Q. So she saw the ad...

A. Yeah, she saw the ad. She was actually a spy, you know, spying on people on

campus. So, you know, I was in exile for twenty-four years.

Activists from this era created and promulgated alternative narratives of events in
Taiwan based on face-to-face eye-witness testimonies, and texts written by foreign
observers. Exposure to these sources of information informed and galvanized an ethnic
identity and political ideology among overseas students of Taiwan-as-Formosa, island of
the colonized. Some would return to become key actors in opposition politics when it
emerged as a political force in 1979, and again in the mid 19805 (Shu Wei-der 1998).

The romanticized narrative often associated with exiles returning to lead the democratic
opposition against the corruption and oppression of Nationalist government, however, has
been interrupted by the arrest and prosecution of former opposition activists — including
past President Chen Shui-bian — on corruption charges involving money laundering
through overseas Taiwanese independence organizations. The interpretation of
Taiwanese independence movement as a reactionary movement focusing on ethnic
identity and nativist sentiment is growing as public sentiment in Taiwan — now an open
democracy — continues to shift toward normalizing relations with China. Increasingly the
most vocal supporters of Taiwanese independence are senior generation activists living
overseas whose interest in Taiwan’s future may be grounded in émigre' nostalgia and a
distraction from their position as a racialized immigrant minority.

B. Dual Student Associations and Alternative National Imaginations

78

In response to authoritarian rule in Taiwan, from the mid-19505 Taiwanese
graduate students in the U.S. developed an anti-government political orientation, with
some individuals playing key roles in efforts to push for political reform in Taiwan and
gain ofﬁcial international recognition of Taiwan as a sovereign state, conceptualized here
as Formosa. On major university campuses across the U.S., the Nationalist government
established student associations in the early 19605 to provide support for overseas
graduate students from Taiwan. Most students were required to go through an orientation
prior to leaving Taiwan. They would pledge their loyalty to the ROC, and were
encouraged to join the KMT party. Students were also warned that they may be
contacted by Taiwanese student agitators once in U.S. and were instructed to report any
contact to the local party ofﬁcial. This was also an opportunity for the government to
make arrangements with certain students to act as Nationalist government spies. It was
common for students who were planning to go overseas to be contacted by the sponsor of
the ofﬁcial student organization prior to their departure, and students were required to
make contact with the advisor upon arrival.

Group advisors were most often waishengren with direct ties to embassies or
representative ofﬁce. Because the U.S. government did not recognize the PRC as the
legitimate government of China, the ofﬁcially sanctioned groups were able to adopt the
name “Chinese” (rather than “Taiwanese”) in student association titles, a pattern
discussed in greater detail in Chapter Four. The use of “Taiwan” or “Formosa” in
organization titles in the U.S. was uncommon as it could be interpreted as indicative of

anti-govemment sentiment among its members. It would draw unwanted attention to the

group.

79

With the start of the Korean War, the U.S. began sending billions of dollars in
foreign aid to the Nationalist government as part of its efforts to contain Communism.
U.S. educational ﬁmding promoted an American curriculum and provided English-
language college textbooks. However, economic aid simultaneously encouraged an
export-based industrial economy that limited opporttmities for more highly trained and
skilled individuals in Taiwan. As a result, by the early 19605 there were a sizable number
of college-educated people with few positions commensurate with their level of training.
At that time, the Ministry of Education in Taipei began promoting study abroad as a
means of controlling possible unrest (Shu 1973; Appleton 1970). Shu (1973) reports that
a high-ranking Ministry ofﬁcial admitted: "We purposely encourage our brain to drain
and we are content with this so-called severe phenomenon. The Kuomintang rule could
not contain such potential intellectual elements, particularly those dissident ones, in this
small island, not only socially and economically but also militarily and politically" (64).

Through the 19605, 19705 and 19805, political opposition activities both in the
U.S. and in Taiwan increased steadily. Alternative Taiwan-centric student associations
were founded on campuses across the country. Typically, the ofﬁcial organization would
hold social events, while the others would sponsor seminars and activities related to
Taiwanese culture and politics. As will be discussed in Chapter Four, with each
successive wave of students from Taiwan, these politically-oriented organizations were
able to increase their support base, hold more activities, and create regional and national
networks.

One early activist reminisced that in his ﬁrst semester at Kansas State, he agreed

to participate in a campus-wide international culture activity. The students represented

80

 

Taiwan by performing indigenous groups’ dances in traditional costumes. The local
Nationalist government monitors sent letters to overseas students warning them to not
participate, but he did not take it seriously. “What could be so threatening about an Ami
farmer’s dance?”, he asked himself. From the perspective of Taiwan-as-Formosa, the
indigenous groups in Taiwan were an integral part of the anti-colonial struggle. Because
of his participation, the Nationalist government agents identiﬁed him as a dissident
engaged in a political protest. The older students who invited him to participate were
seeking support for their nascent nationalist movement. They made available reading
materials banned in Taiwan which detailed the history of the Nationalist g0vernment’s
rise to power and early rule in Taiwan, and introduced him to sympathetic faculty and
members of the local Taiwanese community.

Because most overseas students from Taiwanese participated in student
association during their years of study, these organizations have historically been
recognized by various interests as a space in which to compete for the loyalties and
commitments of the most inﬂuential of the next generation. Indeed, for many Taiwanese
international students, “Taiwan-centric” student associations were the locations of ﬁrst
exposure to counter-hegemonic historical narratives, information, and ideologies
undermining the Sinocentric pedagogy of the Nationalist government. For many,
encountering alternative, contradictory conceptualizations of Taiwan manifested through
inter-organizational dynamics was a memorable experience, often associated with the
excitement of self-discovery; as well as anger toward the Nationalist government for

what they considered to be a thorough, duplicitous “brainwashing.” Informants described

81

experiencing shame at being duped, sorrow for silenced tragedies, and the ossiﬁcation of
personal commitment to advancing political reform in Taiwan.
C. Taiwan as Formosa, Island of the Colonized

The ﬁrst generation of F orrnosan independence activists and supporters
experienced the Japanese colonial government, the establishment of Chinese Nationalist
rule, and educational reform. They had lobbied for UN protection after the Japanese
surrender, just as their predecessors one half century prior had sent declarations of
independence to Western governments for protection against Japanese colonization.
These appeals described Taiwanese as an ethnic group, but not an essentialized and
timeless racial community; rather, “F ormosans” were conceptualized in early opposition
literature a population long subjugated by foreign powers. Narratives of ethnic identity
were grounded in the common experience of colonization. The idea of a Taiwanese race
based on biology and genetics would only be promoted in Taiwanese national discourse
in the 19805. The key issue for the Formosan activist was self-determination, the rights
of the people living on Taiwan to determine their own future.

This conceptualization of Taiwan as a nation formed by the common experience
of repeated colonization, with no need to justify the right to self-determination other than
on the postcolonial position, continued to be evident in the following decades. Indeed,
the Portuguese title “Formosa” itself is a reference to that colonial past, one which
contrasts with “Chinese occupation”, but makes no claim to national legitimacy based on
a shared culture. Commenting on the title of Kerr’s 1965 Formosa Betrayed. Tu Wei-
ming (1996) has observed (with some derision) that the term “Formosa” indicates a

greater distance from China than the title “Taiwan”:

82

The celebrated case of Formosa Betrayed clearly indicates that Taiwan
independence movements, more fashionably labeled as struggles for Formosan
independence, had already gathered in the 19505. Although their activities,
concentrated in Japan and the United States, were primarily political protests
against the KMT, the ‘I am Formosan’ self-identiﬁcation often carried with it the
implication: therefore I am not Chinese”’(52).

This dissertation research, however, ﬁnds that the rejection of Chineseness is
overstated by critics of the independence movement. Contrary to Tu, James Yu’s (2003)
use of the word “race,” and Peng’s (1972) use of the word “tribe” are not characterized as
an identity of Taiwan as the land of the non-Chinese F orrnosan. The denial of
Chineseness in Formosan discourse was limited to the political rule of the ROC and PRC,
based not an essentialized racial identity, but rather on the violation of a colonized
people’s right to self—determination.

The younger generation who followed the Japanese era dissidents to Japan and the
U.S. as Iiuxuesheng, however, lacked a global sense of Taiwan in world history, but
instead were impacted more directly through the imposed silences of local history and
culture in Taiwan under the Nationalist government. Their challenge would introduce an
additional aspect and develop a unique deﬁnition of Taiwan: not Formosa, but rather
cultural Taiwan, 3 people united by a unique cultural tradition, rather than merely the
inherent rights of self-determination based on anti-colonial liberation. The introduction
of James Yu opening this chapter hints of this transition from anti-colonial to inherited
ethnicity. The concept of “Formosa”, meaning Taiwan’s identity as a post-colonial
population seeking the rights of sovereignty from the Nationalist government without

rejecting the inﬂuence of Chinese culture, was being joined by a more ethnocentric

formulation, one which drew on the tropes of cultural authenticity.

83

 

In this chapter I have outlined the historical context of the emergence of a
conceptualization of Taiwan as Formosa, an island with a deep colonial past
characterized by a complex relationship with China and Chineseness. The generation
who witnessed the transition between Japanese and Chinese nationalist rule were deeply
inﬂuenced by the events, particularly the February 28"?I Incident. In the U.S., F ormosa-
era activists drew upon biographical memories and historical texts to develop a Formosan
discourse of Taiwanese independence. 1 have also described the circumstances
Iiuxuesheng found themselves in upon arrival on campuses in the U.S. Dual student
represented competing national imaginations based on incommensurate
conceptualizations of Taiwan.

In the next chapter, Formosan Taiwan will be juxtaposed with alternative
conceptualizations of Taiwan among younger generations. Two areas in particular will
be explored: the meanings and signiﬁcances attributed to traditional Taiwanese puppetry
among a group of Iiuxuesheng, 1.5, and second-generation Taiwanese Americans, and the
goals of a Taiwanese sports team with Olympic ambitions. While the world-class
athletes perform in order to raise visibility of Taiwan in the international arena, the
puppeteers are performing as Asian/Chinese/Taiwanese in the context of U.S.
multiculturalism, a regime that “aestheticizes” ethnic difference and removes Asian
immigrants from history (Lowe 19969). As representatives of a racialized minority, the
students are expected to demonstrate cultural authenticity (Louie 2004b); puppetry is
their primary symbolic practice. I argue that there are clear points of disjuncture between
imaginations of Taiwan as F orrnosa, and U.S.-based conceptualizations of “multicultural

Taiwan.”

84

CHAPTER TWO: TAIWANESE PUPPETRY AND CURLING

I. Situating the Field
A. History of Madison Student Associations

As one of the campuses that developed a clear challenge to ofﬁcial govemment-
sponsored student associations in the mid 19605, Madison is an instructive ﬁeld site in
which to explore some of the everyday practices that reveal how differing
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity are expressed through overseas student
associations across multiple generations. As described in the previous chapter, over the
last three decades many college campuses with sizable populations of students and
faculty from Taiwan hosted two student associations. One were government-approved
groups, sometimes titled Republic of China Student Association, or simply Chinese
Student Association, that functioned as a resource for new students as well as an informal
extension of the Nationalist govermnent, including as an instrument of surveillance of
overseas students’ activities. Alternative associations, the second type, began to emerge
in the late 19605 and 19705; they focused on Taiwan-related issues, sponsoring seminars
and talks related to Taiwanese culture and politics. With each successive wave of
overseas students from Taiwan, the Taiwan-centric organizations were able to increase
their membership, hold more activities, and sometimes form regional and national
networks for concerted political action and the sharing of resources and information.

Contrasting student organizations and social networks in Madison, in effect,
raised the issue of Taiwan’s identity among entering students; dichotomously aligned

groups, representing and being informed by dichotomously aligned national narratives,

85

created a space for negotiations of Taiwan’s identity unlike anything possible in Taiwan
at that time. Madison saw a unique proliferation of such groups, including the Taiwan
Research Club, Taiwan Discussion Club, Taiwanese Student Club, and Taiwan Lake-side
Club, established by Taiwan-bom overseas students in the 19605 and 19705. This trend
heightened Nationalist security efforts in the community, which included recruiting
students to become informants responsible for monitoring the activities of overseas
students who showed signs of questioning the Sinocentric Nationalist order. In Madison,
the earliest ofﬁcially recognized campus organization for students from Taiwan was the
Student Association of the Republic of China (SAROC), established in the early 19505, a
time when Taiwan-born scholars and students in the U.S. were few. Supported by the
ROC ofﬁces in Chicago, the function of SAROC was to serve as the primary social
network for all students and scholars from Taiwan.9 The Chicago consulate ofﬁce
coordinated pre-immigration orientations especially for students preparing to study in
Madison, warning the students that the campus was a hot-bed of anti-government
sentiment. Inforrnants coming to Madison as recently as the early 19905 reported going
through a required orientation in Taiwan where organizers warned them to avoid the
political activities of the unofﬁcial student association.

Early Taiwan-centric student organizations’ meetings often included Iiuxuesheng
immigrants from the community, and the primary community organization, the
Taiwanese Association Madison (TAM), served as a pro-Taiwan social organization for
students when they were unable to maintain a registered Taiwan-centric student

association. In the late 19605 the Taiwanese organizations in Madison were meeting

 

9 When students from China returned to university campuses in the late 19705, the PRC established
equivalent groups, usually titled “Chinese Students and Scholars Association.”

86

sometimes as often as several times a week to “criticize, theorize, and organize,” as one
activist put it, relying primarily on prior relationships and references from ﬁiends and
relatives in Taiwan to assess who should be trusted and whom to avoid. By the mid-
19703, there was almost no overlap in activities or active membership between the
Taiwan-centric student association and SAROC, a pattern which was still evident at the
time of the current ﬁeldwork.IO Beginning in the 19805, however, fewer and fewer
students coming to study in Madison were interested in maintaining a Taiwan—centric
student association to provide an alternative to SAROC-sponsored events and social
networks. One informant called it a “lull in Taiwanese consciousness” among arriving
overseas students A decade had passed before a new Taiwanese student organization
was registered with the university in 1996.

In a broader historical context, other factors contributing to an increased interest
by overseas students to organize a TSA include the 1995 live-ﬁre missile tests off the
coast of Taiwan, and the Chinese naval exercises on the eve of the 1996 presidential
elections in Taiwan. As will be discussed in Chapter Three, these events had a
signiﬁcant impact among overseas students in the U.S., and once again sparked
Taiwanese nationalist sentiment among overseas students as well as second-generation
Taiwanese American on campuses in the U.S. A shift was taking place, however, as the

target of protest was not the Nationalist government, but the PRC.

 

'0 Because SAROC includes all students from Taiwan to their membership list, whether they attend
meetings or not, “membership” here refers to being a member of the community associated with a student
organization. Yeh (1989) discussed similar examples of parallel Taiwanese organizations in his research,
ﬁnding that while some membership overlap exists between multiple student associations, in these cases
individuals are inactive in one or the other, a member in name only.

87

 

The TSA took as its original mission “to care about Taiwanese affairs, promote
Taiwanese culture and raise Taiwan’s international status.” In 2001, the TSA voted to
add the goal “to assist new overseas students adjust to life in America,” thereby
paralleling the primary purpose of SAROC. Unlike the government-sponsored
organization, the TSA had a formal membership list and charged annual dues. At the
time of this research the TSA active membership e-mail list included 48 names, and thirty
dues-paying students attended at least one TSA event per semester, with a core dozen
attending monthly meetings and social functions on a regular basis. Although in 2003
there were 207 entries in the organizational directory, the list includes TSA alumni in the
community reaching back to the mid 19605. The list is used as a phone book for the
overseas student community, an indication of how deeply the TSA legacy is embedded in
the Taiwanese overseas student community in Madison. Members of TAM continued to
provide ﬁnancial support and play an active role in many TSA activities, but students
described what they called ideological conﬂicts; they felt that older Taiwanese in the
community were placing too much emphasis on political issues rather than social
activities such as men’s basketball, ski trips, picnics, and pot-luck dinners.

Given the indeterminacy of Taiwan’s position in the international community,
many independence supporters do not separate the expression of Taiwanese culture from
the political statement it makes. This perspective however, did not resonate with many of
the youngest Iiuxuesheng, members of the 1.5 generation who came to the U.S. before
college, and second-generation Taiwanese Americans in Madison. They preferred to
distinguish between the identity question — exploring their Chinese and Taiwanese

cultural “roots,” — and their position on the reuniﬁcation/independence issue. In the

88

 

ﬁamework established in this dissertation, the younger generations were negotiating
distinctions between conceptualizations of Taiwan as a “homeland,” a heritage (which
does not exclude the accommodation of things Chinese,) and Taiwan as a nation-state.
B. Madison as a Field Site

In fall 2001 I saw the TSA Puppet Team from the University of Wisconsin-
Madison perform at the Michigan State University Global Festival, an event showcasing
cultures from around the world as represented by members of international student
organizations. The Taiwanese puppet troupe regularly performed at university cultural
events, public schools, and community events in Madison and other universities in the
Midwest. Preceding the plays, puppeteers would present a narrative and PowerPoint
slideshow emphasizing that Taiwanese culture is unique, not simply a local variation of
Chinese culture. At the Michigan State event, the puppet troupe was the only
participating organization that did not use their home country’s formal name. In their
promotional literature and presentations, the puppet troupe uses “Taiwan,” rather than the
“Republic of China,” and the ROC ﬂag does not appear. In Figure 3 the troupe displays
Taiwanese glove puppets and related information at an open house event in Madison.

Figure 3: TSA Taiwanese Puppet Troupe in Madison

 

89

I introduced myself to the puppeteers, described my academic background in
Taiwanese culture and history, and expressed my interest in conducting ﬁiture
dissertation research on conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among overseas students
in the U.S. In January I was invited by Gabriel, the president of the TSA and troupe
coordinator, to Madison to give a February 28th Incident commemorative presentation to
mark the 55’h anniversary. I would be part of program that included poetry readings,
songs, and the recollections of three witnesses to the events. My presentation was well
received and the program was viewed as a success, with about ﬁﬁy students and
members of the community in attendance. I was able to extend my stay for several days
as the guest of a Taiwanese family who introduced me to a close-knit community of
Taiwanese professionals, academics and retirees, many of whom had advanced degrees in
medicine and engineering from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, and other major
research institutions in the Midwest.

Overseas students and community members who were aware that I was in the
process of designing my dissertation research on Taiwan’s identity encouraged me to
conduct ﬁeldwork in Madison. My host and others offered to allow me to be a guest in
their homes, to grant interviews, give access to historical materials, and recommend me
to other Taiwanese supporters living in nearby communities and around the nation.
Based on the assumption that I was sympathetic to the Taiwanese independence
movement, they would vouch for my “TI-mindedness” (support for Taiwanese

independence) to those who would be hesitant to speak with a stranger — particularly an

90

Anglo-American, in English — about their personal experiences and political activities. ”

Because my master’s thesis research in 1997 analyzed the 50th anniversary
commemorations of the February 28‘h Incident, an event closely associated with the
emergence of conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity and the independence movement,
my research gained greater legitimacy among overseas students who experienced the
Incident itself, and its silencing during the nearly four decades of martial law in Taiwan.
By afﬁrming the historical gravity and ongoing signiﬁcance of 2-28, evinced (and
reproduced) by the commemorative talk I presented, I was reinforcing the credibility of
my dissertation research among the subject population, and creating opportunities to
develop rapport with key informants, though alliance may be a more accurate description
of the relationship.

Most of the Taiwanese overseas students with whom I worked in Madison
belonged to one or more of the ﬁve national Taiwanese organizations with chapters and
representatives in Madison. The Formosan Association of Public Affairs (FAPA),
headquartered in Washington, DC, is the most active Taiwanese public relations and
governmental lobbying organization in the U.S., with a nation-wide network of
supporters and organizers. I was able to attend meetings and conduct interviews with
members, many of whom had served the organization in state and national leadership
positions in the past. Graduate students in Madison who belong to the national student
activist network Taiwanese Collegian (TC) also played key leadership roles in the TSA

and had a major impact on its direction and agenda at several points in its history. Local

 

” The English abbreviation “Tl” has currency among many Taiwanese activists, and is expanded to terms
such as “TI-minded” and “TI-leaning” to describe support for Taiwanese independence. Its usage parallels
the Mandarin “tai-du,” a contraction for “Taiwan duli” (Taiwanese independence.) The KMT popularized

a “Tai-du” homophone by replacing du (E) with du (3), meaning poison.

91

members of TC included UW—Madison on the itinerary of traveling guest speakers,
encouraged participation in cultural events, and collaborated with an activist cultural
expert to establish the puppet troupe with whom I worked. Other Taiwanese
organizations with active chapters include the World United F orrnosans for Independence
(WUFI) described in the previous chapter, and the North American Taiwanese Women’s
Association, both of which were founded in Madison.

Most non-student Taiwanese in this study belonged to the Taiwanese Association
of Madison, and provided ﬁnancial support for TSA activities, as well as organized
events with the local F APA chapter, and the Taiwanese Economic and Cultural Ofﬁce
(TECO) in Chicago. Although Taiwanese Association of Madison has an open
membership policy and is ofﬁcially non-political, most members supported Chen Shui-
bian in the 2000 presidential elections agree with the principle of self-determination for
Taiwan. Because this dissertation explores the relationship between past events and
conceptualizations of Taiwan, Madison was an instructive ﬁeld site due to its historical
centrality in the development of Taiwanese nationalist activism, and because subsequent
students from Taiwan continued to negotiate the issues of Taiwan’s identity through
interactions with multiple generations of their Iiuxuesheng immigrant predecessors.

C. Gateway Informants

During my visits to Madison I lived with Uncle Chang and his wife Dun-Mei in a
comfortable suburban home, borrowing the rooms in the upper ﬂoor that had been
converted to guest space since their youngest of three daughters moved away to college
in 1999. Most mornings, Uncle Chang and I would eat soft tofu with soy before dawn

and go mall-walking at a nearby up-scale shopping center. During my stays in Madison,

92

 

 

Uncle Chang and Dun Mei would help arrange interviews with other Taiwanese in the
community, particularly senior Formosa generation activists. We discussed their youth
under the KMT, undergraduate years, military training, their involvement in student
associations, the overseas student experience, identity-shaping events, Formosan
activism, perspectives on discourses of Taiwanese and Chinese identity, the machinations
of the current Taiwanese independence movement, and local politics in the Taiwanese
community.

Dun Mei worked fulltime for the city of Madison, and Uncle Chang was retired
from a career in electrical engineering in 1999 at the age of 68. As a second source of
income, he had become a ginseng merchant, collaborating with two Taiwanese ginseng
growers in the area. His temperature-controlled basement was crowded with drying bins,
piles of roots divided by size and qualities, shipping boxes, and leftover campaign
materials from Chen Shui-bian’s successful presidential bid in 2000. Wisconsin ginseng
is considered to be of particularly high quality, and is desired in the US market. The
special characteristics of Wisconsin ginseng so appreciated by his Chinese customers
come from founding plants tended in the mountains of Taiwan by generations of families
who have kept the secret maps of the locations of the root sources.

According to Uncle Chang, the special characteristics of Wisconsin ginseng
appreciated by his customers come from the historical lineage of the plant with roots in
Taiwan, rather than the Wisconsin soil and climate. Holding up a freshly washed root the
size of a baking potato, he explained that

this is wild ginseng from the mountains in Taiwan. The locations of the roots are

kept secret in families, from one generation to the next generation. Most of the

ginseng plant is hidden underground. Fathers take their sons through the forest to
the secret locations of the source roots. The source roots have been cultivated for

93

centuries, and they have become especially Taiwanese, more potent and sweeter

than Chinese ginseng. Chinese ginseng not as strong because the Chinese people

do not love the earth the way Taiwanese people love Taiwan.

Uncle Chang describes Taiwan’s identity through the metaphor of native soil,
homeland. It is the timeless intimacy and knowledge of the land by Taiwanese, the very
“root” of nationalism that makes Uncle Chang’s ginseng of such high quality. As he
explains this, he enjoys the irony, and leaves the impression that his ginseng trade is a
small revolution. He donates the proﬁts to F APA and WUFI as a small contribution to
the cause of Taiwanese independence. Referring to his Chinese customers who are aware
that the ginseng is originally from Taiwan, Uncle Chang reﬂects disparagingly that “even
when they know, they still buy it, because it is so good. They don’t agree with it, but
they give money to T1 anyway, just because they want this kind of ginseng. That is a
Chinese mind.”

In other conversations, he described Chinese people as greedy, dishonest, militant,
close-minded, xenophobic and provincial. These negative characteristics were extended
to the Nationalist government, and waishengren in Taiwan. These shortcomings were not
associated with Chinese people as a race, but rather the product of a Sinocentric
education in general. In this regard, a “Chinese mind” could be cultivated in
benshengren. The root of the mindset stemmed from; indeed, one of the criticisms senior
generations of activists made of subsequent generations of independence supporters was
that their thinking is contaminated with a “Chinese mentality” because they were raised
in Chinese schools. Corruption among independence supporters and opposition political
ﬁgures in Taiwan is presented as being wholly new to Taiwan, arriving with the KMT

Chinese nationalist culture in 1945. Elder Taiwanese reﬂecting on the Japanese colonial

94

era often claimed (erroneously) that Taiwanese (and, according to some, Japanese)
language had no word for “corruption,” or “bribe” before the KMT arrived.

Dun Mei, at the same time, brushes Uncle Chang’s ginseng revolution aside as
hyperbole, telling him that his monthly pledges to F APA were not having much impact.
She jokes that he is still stuck in “the old WUFI mindset,” when “every little thing
mattered, every dollar mattered, everything was like a battle.” She is referring to the ﬁrst
two decades of their residence in the U.S., from 1968 when they arrived as graduate
students under surveillance by Nationalist government security agents, to about 1986-
1987, when the Democratic Progressive Party put forward Dr. Peng Ming—min as a
candidate in the presidential election and the KMT lifted Martial Law. Monthly pledge
aside, the Chang family has consistently provided ﬁnancial support for local activities of
the student groups and non-student voluntary organizations in the area, hosted events in
their home and volunteered their time to help manage events in the community and on
campus.

My primary point of access to younger generations of students in Madison was
facilitated by another couple in Madison whose experiences were inﬂuenced by senior
supporters in the area, but whose time was devoted to encouraging younger generations
of overseas students, one-point-ﬁves, and second generation Taiwanese Americans to be
interested in Taiwanese culture. The Taiwanese traditional glove puppetry troupe
rehearsed and stored their stage and puppets alongside the Taiwanese curling team
equipment in the home and garage of two of the founding members of both the troupe
and the curling team, Li-Lin and Hiro. Their home, a Queen Anne in a neighborhood of

turn-of-the-century homes near campus, was a meeting place for troupe and team outings,

95

birthday parties, pot-luck dinners, and sometimes TSA meetings. Li-Lin, Hiro and I were
about the same age (mid-thirties) and at similar places in our academic careers. We
would sit visiting over drinks in the living room, or in better weather on their back patio,
after the troupe members had returned to their apartments and dorms. Through their
familiarity with the TSA, puppet troupe, curling team, and the Taiwanese community,
they were crucial to my understanding the history and complexity of the Taiwanese
Iiuxuesheng immigrant community. Like the elder generation of supporters, Li-Lin and
Hiro helped facilitate this research with the philosophy that the more the general public
knows about Taiwan, the better.

They had made a priority of encouraging TSA members to take pride in
Taiwanese culture and “get excited about being Taiwanese.” During their time with the
students, they would try to discuss aspects of Taiwanese history and contemporary issues
facing Taiwan. Li-Lin, for her part, saw a lack of historical perspective as a major
problem:

They don’t always know where they ﬁt in the big picture. If they haven’t already,

they are going to ﬁgure out soon that being Taiwanese is a little more complicated

than they thought, and that earlier generations were afraid to even say, ‘I am

Taiwanese, not Chinese,’ because he would be punished by the government.

Most students and professors at U-W from China believe that Taiwan should be a

part of China, and that Taiwanese culture is just local Chinese culture. If they

choose to care about it, great, and they can help preserve Taiwanese culture and
work to become a member of the UN. But we have to show them how things got
to be the way they are today, the ROC, KMT, DPP, PRC.

Uncle Chang and Dun-Mei, Li-Lin and Hiro mediate Articulations of Taiwan’s
identity discourse across multiple generations. Li-Lin and Hiro were raised during the

waning years of martial law in Taiwan and relate to the experiences of more senior

supporters in the community, having experienced of a Sinocentric pedagogy promoted by

96

an authoritarian regime. However, unlike their elders, they were more tolerant of the
ambivalence toward the ambiguity of Taiwan’s national identity shown by those who
were exposed to more Taiwan-centric pedagogy and experienced a politically reformed
and economically vibrant, pluralistic Taiwan. Li-Lin and Hiro were often asked to
negotiate inter-generational conﬂicts, particularly in situations that involved public

representations of Taiwan, as described in the next segment.

II. Performing Culture: Scripts and Subtexts
A. Puppetry Past and Present

Liuxuesheng in Madison formed a traditional puppet troupe in 1997 with
instruction and support from a senior Taiwanese independence activist, Professor Alan
Chen, director of the Taiwanese Cultural Foundation in Chicago. Alan would travel to
universities throughout the country giving Iiuxuesheng and second-generation Taiwanese
Americans intensive “crash courses” in Taiwanese puppetry, stage building, scripts, and
troupe promotion. He also facilitated access to puppets, by loan, gift and purchase. He
has written contemporary Taiwanese puppet plays and directs professional troupes in the
U.S. and Taiwan. A trained performer and director, Alan began his career in Japan
studying under Akira Kurosawa. He creates pre-recorded “karaoke-style” performances
that include the spoken narratives, sound effects and music, allowing him to concentrate
on puppet technique and performance with the students.

I worked with three generations of Taiwanese and Taiwanese Americans involved
with the puppet troupe in order to explore some of the ways different generations viewed

Taiwan, Taiwanese culture, China and Chinese culture. During my time with the puppet

97

 

troupe I went to rehearsals, troupe social activities, performances on campus and in the
Madison community. On three occasions I was able to travel with the troupe to other
universities in the region, each time drawing on my Madison connections to facilitate
meetings with older generations of Taiwanese student-immigrants from the area, and
making new connections with other Taiwanese in the community. As noted at the
beginning of this chapter, student cultural performances by international students
representing their home country have become ubiquitous on campuses and in
communities.

A member of Taiwanese Collegian studying at the University of Wisconsin,
Madison ﬁrst invited Alan to help establish a puppet troupe ﬁom among members of the
TSA. She arranged for him to give a speech about the signiﬁcance of Taiwanese
puppetry and to provide a demonstration. Alan would eventually host ten students in his
home for training in the art form, and offer advice about how to begin and sustain a
student troupe. Alan makes a point to explain to the younger puppeteers the complex
heritage of Taiwanese glove puppetry, and the ways it has been used to both support and
undermine powerful regimes over the last century.

The puppet troupe membership in the 2003-2004 school year included two
undergraduates born in the U.S., three in the one-point-ﬁve generation, another three
Iiuxuesheng undergraduates, and two Iiuxuesheng graduate students. Although three of
the puppeteers are not members of the TSA, the puppet shows are the main activity of the
organization. Puppet troupe performances were 11 of the 25 planned TSA activities for
the 2002-2003 school year, 6 of 13 events in 2002-2001, and during the 2000-2001

school year puppet shows accounted for 16 of the 37 TSA events.

98

Alan would explain in his presentations and writings that the glove puppetry
tradition was ﬁrst developed in the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) and came to Taiwan from
Fujian in the late 1911. century. Known in Taiwanese as po—té-hi, (Mandarin: budaixi), the
craft did not last beyond the Qing dynasty on the mainland. The original stories were
based on Chinese classic literature such as the Journey to the West (xiyouji) and serial
tales such as “Romance of the Three Kingdoms (sanguo yanji) and marital genre - “the
Water Margin” (shuihu zhuan). The Japanese did not impose strong restrictions on
Taiwanese local culture in general, but puppet troupes were censured for anti-Japanese
parody. Instead, they were expected to perform new stories supportive of the colonial
rule and the empire, and steer clear of the Chinese classic stories; Alan makes the case
that it was Chinese - not Taiwanese — nationalist sentiment that the Japanese were most
concerned about in Taiwan. Similar to the Japanese sponsoring pro-government
performances, the Nationalist government, in essence, nationalized Taiwanese glove
puppetry troupes to promote anti-communist and anti-Russian themes. The puppeteers
used Mandarin Chinese instead of H010, and the puppets wore contemporary clothing.
The Nationalist government had derided and suppressed folk traditions on the mainland
as well, seeing them as a waste of resources that could otherwise be put into the war and
nation-building project. Even before the decline of local public activities that came with
urbanization and technological development in Taiwan, the Nationalist government was
actively discouraging large-scale public activities. For example, the 1952 “Frugality
Policy” outlawed the largest festivals and restricted the amount of money that could be
spent on smaller local festivals and public occasions. Hand glove puppetry suffered as a

result; troupes were fewer, smaller, and less professional.

99

Although it was very popular when ﬁrst televised in 1970, glove puppetry
programming was dropped in 1976 shortly after the government required that all
television programming be in Mandarin. '2 However, over the course of the 19705 and
19805, performances were increasingly common in local events, festivals and weddings,
and began to appear as part of political opposition rallies. Though the craft was
originally a Ming dynasty import, in the context of anti-Nationalist activities,
incorporating puppetry was a way to emphasize local Taiwanese tradition, as opposed to
the Beijing opera tradition promoted by the Nationalist government. Puppetry afforded a
way to indirectly criticize the government through the scripts, plot lines, and character
mannerisms.

Alan compared Taiwanese puppetry Western ﬁlm genre in the U.S. in order to
explain his central principle in deﬁning Taiwanese authenticity. Westerns are great ﬁlms
because their “down-to-Earth style is truly reﬂective of America’s past.” Taiwanese
artistic expression, he argues, must take as its subject Taiwan, a position reminiscent of
the nativist literary movement (xiangtu wenxue) begun in the late 19205. Under
circumstances of increased authoritarian rule on the part of the Japanese, discourses of
nascent Taiwanese identity were preserved and reproduced through an underground
literary genre that celebrated things Taiwanese. The nativist literary movement would
eventually become the central organ of expression for democratic opposition in the late

19705.

 

’2 In 1995 a cable television channel was dedicated to a new, high-tech, high-action version of glove
puppetry; in this new form, it became a sensation in the urban Taipei youth culture. They use a hybridized
language of mostly Taiwanese with Mandarin mixed in. It has spread in popularity to the U.S. and Japan,
and is featured in popular ﬁlms based on the martial fantasy genre.

100

His concern at this point deals with the degree to which the art form can deviate
from its “traditional” form before it no longer authentic Taiwanese culture. In the context
of university student associations in the U.S., Alan has selected which aspects of
Taiwanese glove puppetry will be markers of authenticity, and which elements will
literally be “lost in translation.” Alan poses the question:

Why can’t we have theater that focuses on the true Taiwanese past? . . . What I

tell people as I travel and speak is that when they have to choose as their artistic

material, ...concentrate in Taiwan. You do not have to be political. But
everything... you are born in Taiwan, you are from Taiwan. Taiwan has a lot of
raw materials waiting to be used. Anything: drama, movies, literature, poem,
music, everything. Whatever you need you can ﬁnd it in Taiwan. You don’t have

to go out. . . .

Although Alan emphasizes that puppetry does not have to be political, one of the
foundational assumptions of this research is that, because of Taiwan’s indeterminate state
in the international community, and because Iiuxuesheng have historically shaped the
future of the China-Taiwan-U.S. relations, all student association activities are political
locations. It follows that student association activities, from soccer tournaments to
indigenous dances, have a political valence.

Similar to Li-lin, Alan is speaking of maintaining Taiwanese identity among
students in the U.S., including forging links to Taiwanese heritage through traditional
stories. Alan’s satire is not addressing Chinese culture per se, but promotes Taiwanese
culture in the context of Taiwan’s identity being re-deﬁned by Chiang Kai-shek:

The KMT was not so happy. I promoted Taiwanese culture, and some of my

plays were critical of the KMT. I have one play called "Statue": In the park,

there is a statue. It is Chiang Kai-shek statue. They asked for a lot of money to

erect the statue but they couldn't make it because everybody along the way took a
bite of the funds, so they didn't have enough money. All the corruption. Without

101

the money they cannot make a real statue. So the higher-ranked government

[ofﬁcial] was coming to have an opening... They ﬁnally came up with a solution.

“Why don't we get somebody and paint him like a statue and stand there and

hopefully it won't be for long.”

I was thinking this was political satire. And I can do it just like a skilled

playwright. I let them play this kind of play. Everybody was so happy. I don't

have any slogan, I don't condemn Chiang Kai-Shek, I don't condemn KMT, but
everybody knows I am criticizing the KMT.

Although Alan never used Chiang Kai-shek’s name, the actors used makeup and
costume design to appear like Chiang. “The campus spies hated me, and reported me. I
love these plays, and I did it better than anybody. That is when I found out I was black-
listed.” Nevertheless, in 1987 Alan Chen returned to Taiwan with the World Taiwanese
Congress en masse to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the February 28’h Incident,
and demonstrate the strength of the overseas Taiwanese independence movement. He
recalls that during the week-long event,

. . . they had a humorous puppet show that parodied the Nationalist government.

Right there in front of the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial. There is power in humor.

They were doing this in the U.S. too in the 19805. They would pick a funny

political situation, and use particular accents and body language and make people

laugh. This is a misuse of the puppet, but it is ok. They don’t know anything
about the culture, but that is not their fault. They were educated by the

Nationalist government; they never teach you anything about Taiwan.

Developing a different conceptualization of Taiwan’s local tradition, the
Nationalist government began to incorporate puppetry into their programs in the early
19905, “to preserve Chinese culture,” with nationally televised Art Heritage Awards
(Bosco 1994:400). The ﬁrst puppetry exhibit of the Cultural Gallery in the National
Concert Hall in Taipei, sponsored by a Cultural Planning division of the executive branch

in 1992, was billed as “an Exhibit on Traditional Chinese Glove Puppetry,” and meant to

“attract the public to search for its roots and come to know of Chinese Traditional folk

102

culture” (Wu 1995:111). KMT candidate James Soong used puppetry in his successful
bid for Taiwan province governor in 1994, the ﬁrst time the post was democratically
elected. In 1996 then president Lee Teng-hui, the ﬁrst benshengren to lead the KMT
party, had a renowned puppet master designated a “National Treasure,” and Taipei Mayor
Ma Ying-jeou — a waishengren leader of the KMT party — represented himself as Shih
Yen-wen, a popular puppet character, in promotional materials.

The signiﬁcance and political valence of glove puppetry in Taiwan had become a
highly contested ﬁeld, a practice integrated in two differing, but not entirely contradictory
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity: a local practice that sets Taiwan apart from
mainland China with the potential to be used as a form of critique of the Nationalist
government, and an example of Chinese culture in Taiwan, emphasizing the Chinese
identity of Taiwan. Indeed, glove puppetry from this perspective, because it is no longer
practices in China, presents Taiwanese local traditions as more authentic example of
Chinese culture than can be found on the mainland.

Alan Chen admitted that at ﬁrst other Taiwanese independence supporters were
ambivalent about his cultural approach. Although he was criticized for limiting his
commitment to the opposition movement to (merely) producing pro-Taiwan glove
puppetry theater in the 19705, his work gained credibility over time. Alan recalled,
“people in Taiwan and here in the U.S. who are interested in activism like my work.
They like it now. People did not take culture seriously at ﬁrst.” He answered critics who
said that working with culture was too slow an approach by reminding them of the
Communist rise to power on the mainland; the cultural movement in Shanghai served as

the foundation from which they were able to strengthen their military power and take

103

over China. Alan further suggests that in the current political arena, culture is not
emphasized as much as in the past, which may work against the Taiwanese independence
movement.

To tell you the truth, the DPP has no cultural policy at all. That is understandable.

But they have no policy - what to do with culture. I understand why it is still only

political. They don't have the energy to pay attention to culture, but this is a very

serious situation because usually if you want to do things right, you have to lay
the cultural foundation ﬁrst.

Alan lamented that as the opposition grew stronger and the DPP party gained
power, they marginalized some of the constituent elements of the opposition movement,
including the Leftists, environmentalists, women’s rights activists, farmers’ unions,
indigenous groups’ empowerment, as well as “cultural nationalists” of the Formosa
generation like himself. Again building the cultural allusion on top of a geographical
identity, he expresses a concern that “New Chinese culture is invading Taiwan step by
step. [The students] still don't know what Taiwanese culture is.” He continues by
describing a concern that without understanding the struggles over deﬁning Taiwan —
whether a Japanese colony, an occupied state known as the Republic of China, or a
democracy — the students will lose sight of the need for self-determination. The key to
maintaining this value in them is simple:

With the KMT, and now the People's party - they don't have the time or money or

energy to think about the culture. So all of the young people are confused. All

the people understand - because of their experience of their life. They have seen

Japanese, they have seen KMT, and now they are facing this chaotic situation.

They are in their twenties, early thirties; they don't know about anything the

Japanese, the White Terror era, the KMT, but the [DPP], they can't give them

anything kind of cultural education, so that is a problem.

And here in the Taiwanese community, in the U.S., there are very few people like

me. . . . You have to adjust your cultural concepts. I have a simple slogan,

something I have had for myself, the concept I tell them, the ﬁrst thing I tell them:
Taiwanese culture is not Chinese culture.

104

The issue of whether Taiwanese culture is Chinese culture raised by Alan was a
central theme of Taiwan’s identity discourse among key informants in Madison as well,
and perspectives varied widely among those interviewed, ranging from establishing racial
divisions based on genetic analysis, to ambivalence toward discussions of “identity” in
any regard. Younger generations in particular, who cannot be as easily categorized in the
benshengren/waishengren dichotomy as more senior generations, approached Taiwanese
puppetry with a broad range of motivations that are no longer limited to the questions
regarding cultural authenticity as a support of Taiwan’s identity as a sovereign nation-
state based on a distinct culture.

B. The Presentation

The puppet troupe assembled the eight-foot tall stage from steel pipe, paned ply-
wood and drapery in about twenty minutes, speaking English and Mandarin, as
elementary school teachers visited with Gabriel about arrangements. Suzy, who came to
the U.S. before her third birthday, would listen to the Mandarin discourse around her and
use English to interject with an opinion or question. Others in the troupe would usually
respond to her in Mandarin, which she understood well. The other puppeteers easily
accommodated her preference for spoken English.

As the students pull on black sweatshirts and arm socks, the puppet stage stands
open without props, exposing a backdrop of blue sky and white clouds. The front stage
drape is crossed by a banner title written in hanji, with a translation on a second, lower
banner reading “Taiwan Student Association Puppet Team.” The program begins with a
lO-minute PowerPoint presentation of information about Taiwan and puppetry narrated

by one of the puppeteers, who will ask audience members a few quiz questions for small

105

prizes at the end of the presentation. This is followed by one or two puppet plays, each
lasting about twenty minutes. During intermissions and after the performance,
puppeteers come forward to allow others to play with the puppets. A description of the
dramas, Alan’s intent with each, and students’ interpretations and perspectives, will
provide insight into differences between generations as they approach Taiwan’s identity.
In the opening presentation, the puppeteers present Taiwanese culture as having
been inﬂuenced not only by China, but also the Malayo-Polynesian groups indigenous to
Taiwan, the Japanese, Dutch and Portuguese. Alan Chen makes the argument to
puppeteers in Madison and elsewhere that with a distinct culture, language, and territorial
homeland, Taiwan should be recognized as a sovereign nation in the international
community based on the principle of self-determination, and hopes that they are able to
communicate that message to their audiences. For some puppeteers, participation is a
self-conscious political act, a performance within a long tradition of resistance and
opposition inﬂected with the notions of a Taiwanese nation-state. They promote
puppetry as a way to educate Taiwanese about Taiwanese culture, and to draw them into
participating in other TSA events, some of which focus on Taiwanese culture, history and
politics. While there is a general consensus among puppeteers that the troupe is
operating with the intent to raise awareness of Taiwanese culture, for some students, this
is an element of a broader political agenda to inﬂuence U.S. foreign policy. In this
regard, the brief PowerPoint slide-show program presented by the students is the key
instrument for delivering multiple messages based on contrasting conceptualizations of

Taiwan’s identity.

106

 

1.1;-

i .
.ll.

 

 

 

 

They describe they history and styles of Taiwanese puppetry, accompanied by
maps to locate Taiwan in the world. They show how far away Taiwan is from Madison,
and mention that it takes half a day to ﬂy there. They point out that Taiwan looks like a
yam, a sweet potato you can buy in the supermarket, and that although Taiwan is only
one fourth the size of Wisconsin, 24 million people live there. The yam reference itself
has a political and cultural valence which may or may not be pointed out the narrator, that
the yam is an apt metaphor for admirable aspects of Taiwan’s character, as will be
described in greater detail below. They describe the sub-tropical weather, snow-capped
mountains for good skiing, and featured aspects of Taiwanese cuisine such as bubble tea,
a “unique part of Taiwanese culture.” The historical context outlining the colonial legacy
of Taiwan emphasizes the distinctiveness of the art form, distancing Taiwanese puppetry
from Chinese culture:

Throughout 400 years of history, Taiwan has been ruled by the Dutch, Spanish,

Chinese and Japanese. Although Chinese culture has exerted a considerable

inﬂuence on local traditions, Japanese and Western cultures have as well. There

are also some uniquely Taiwanese aspects of local culture, such as opera,
puppetry, folk music, literature and ﬁlm.

Although they stress the unique aspects of Taiwanese culture, several of the slides
feature the indigenous groups of Taiwan. During this segment one of the male troupe
members sometimes displays a colorful shirt in the style of the Bunnin indigenous group
in Taiwan. The captions of the ﬁrst set of slides read:

0 ‘People of Taiwan.’ Aboriginal women from the Ami tribe pose with their

traditional festival ﬁnery during the tribe’s harvest festival.

0 ‘People of Taiwan.’ Colorfully dressed aboriginal women from the Bunun

tribe of Nantou in central Taiwan pose in their festival ﬁnery.

0 ‘People of Taiwan’ Middle school students perform a lab experiment in

chemistry class. Science is emphasized in school in Taiwan
0 ‘People of Taiwan.’ (an image of street food vendors in a night market)

107

The next segment is composed of images and information about the natural
beauty and geographical characteristics of Taiwan. This is followed by images of the
Taipei skyline, the elevated train system, and pictures of hand puppets with the caption
that glove puppetry “was introduced to Taiwan in the Ch’ing dynasty (end of 19’h
century) from southeast China.” The presentation is narrated with varying degrees of
enthusiasm, emphasis and detail depending on the troupe member speaking. Those who
more strongly identify with the cultural nationalist imagination of Taiwan promoted by
Alan Chen, including Gabriel and Hiro, emphasize the unique aspects of Taiwanese
culture, while others with less interest in the political issues surrounding the
independence movement emphasize the distinctions between types of Taiwanese
puppetry and the natural beauty of the island.

Although the political message in the presentation is overt, if mediated by
students’ varying degrees of enthusiasm in impressing the central message to the larger
public, the scripts themselves require more deconstruction and interpretation to tease out
their political dimension. In this segment I discuss the three scripts being performed or
prepared for performance during the time of my ﬁeldwork. The scripts in their entirety
are included as appendices l and 2.

C. “Millionaire Chou

In “Millionaire Chou,” the play being performed in Figure 4, the fall of the
principle character stems ﬁom his departure from the rural immigrant culture after
gaining wealth without effort. For Alan and others in his generation, greed and arrogance
are Chinese characteristics, while fairness and tenacity in the face of hardship are

associated with Taiwanese people.

108

The ﬁrst narrator is a disembodied female voice on the pre-recorded soundtrack:

Hundreds of years ago, many suffering people emigrated from southern China to
Taiwan. At that time, Taiwan was a new and unexplored frontier. The
immigrants hoped to prosper in this new place. Today, I am going to tell you a
story about Millionaire Chou, how he lost all his money through his own fault.

Figure 4: Puppeteers Performing in Milwaukee Cultural Festival

 

The ﬁrst character is God of the Earth, a bald man with a long, white wispy beard
dressed in a regal white robe. He narrates that hundreds of years ago, Mr. Chou “could
not ﬁnd a job in his hometown,” so the impoverished Chou couple “crossed the Taiwan
Straits to reach Taiwan, and start a new life.” They saved money through hard work and
were eventually able to open a small store, which survived because the Chou couple was
honest, fair, and a “little stingy.”

Mr. Chou stands in front his store front and complains to his wife that because she

has not given him a son, he must work extra hard to ensure their well-being in their old

109

age. It is Mrs. Chou who tells the audience how badly they had hoped to have a son, “to
carry on the family name,” but after ten years, they are still without a son. She prays to
the gods to bless them with a son, and weeps slowly off stage right, while white mist
begins rising from stage left, the vapor of a chunk of dry ice in a cup of water held by one
of the puppeteers, as the white—robed God of the Earth move to stage center. God of
Earth reports to God of Heaven that the crying he hears is that of Mr. Chou’s wife who is
upset because they do not have a son. Because it is her immutable destiny to live without
a son, God of Heaven decides to compensate the Chou couple with wealth.

Mr. Chou became the wealthiest man in Taipei. His clothes have been changed
from a patchy rough robe to red embroidered in gold (Figure 5), the moment when,
according to Alan, Taiwanese humility is replaced by Chinese elitism, here represented
by Mr. Chou’s new red and gold raiment, the traditional colors of Chinese officials.

Figure 5: Fisherman and Mr. Chou Discuss the Almost Supernatural Eel.

 

110

Mr. Chou is convinced by a ﬁsherman to pay him to catch a very large, old eel,
one that could improve his health and extend his life. When the ﬁsherman returns with
the live eel, God of Earth arrives claiming to be a man who lives nearby whose counsel is
trusted by others. He begs Mr. Chou not to kill the eel because it is hundreds of years old
and has magical powers; it is “almost a supernatural being.” Mr. Chou agrees to spare
the eel, but once the God of Earth leaves, he buys the eel to eat.

Eel complains to God of Heaven of the injustice of being killed because of one
man’s greed, and God of Earth reports that in addition, Mr. Chou broke his promise not
to eat the eel. God of Heaven decides to take back the wealth granted to Mr. Chou by
returning Eel to earth as Mr. Chou’s son, Dai Zhang, to ruin his wealth in whatever way
pleases him. The narrator explains that as a young man, Dai Zhang lives an extravagant
lifestyle and wastes much of his parents’ wealth. When a tropical storm destroys all of
Millionaire Chou’s trading ships, Eel reveals himself to Millionaire Chou and explains
why he wrought his downfall. The narrator explains that people continue to be greedy
and selﬁsh, but by behaving in this way, you run the risk of losing everything.

In the opening lines of the drama, China is associated with suffering while
Taiwanese is a land opportunity. Alan explains to the students that the greedy, arrogant,
disrespectful Millionaire Chou and the expression of his son through the eel incarnate
represent China on multiple levels: as the corrupt Nationalist government on Taiwan, and
contemporary rapidly militarizing China across the Taiwan Strait, and a disparaging
stereotype of the Chinese mentality and character. In describing the plot to me, and often
in their public appearances, puppeteers emphasized the basic moral aspect: that greed and

arrogance will lead to your downfall, rather than the broader historical context.

lll

D. “Grand Aunt Tiger”
The anti-Chinese message is communicated more directly in the “Grand Aunt
Tiger” script, but like “Millionaire Chou,” it would be easy to miss if Alan did not
explain the deeper signiﬁcance. On one occasion, Gabriel hinted to the audience before
the performance that there is a hidden message about Taiwanese history, the layers of
meaning described by Alan in his training sessions and speaking engagements, but Gabe
did not elaborate alter the performance.

Figure 6: Grandaunt Tiger after the Performance

 

The story itself parallels elements of the Brothers Grimm version of Little Red
Riding Hood. Two children, Akim and Akiu, are warned by their mother that when she
leaves they should be certain to lock the door and not let anyone in, especially the tiger,

(Figure 6) who likes to eat children. Ominous background music and roaring precede a

112

tiger entering from stage right, who announces, “I am the most powerful tiger in the
whole world.” The tiger, who can change shape, becomes an elderly lady, famished for
her favorite food, children. She talks her way into the children’s home posing as an
elderly relative, even though their mother warned them against strangers. After
Grandaunt Tiger eats the sister, Akiu, brother Akim escapes through the window and is
chased up a tree. He explains to Grandaunt Tiger that he is willing to come down and be
eaten, but because he is so hungry, if she eats him now, he will become a hungry ghost
and forever haunt her. And he is too thin to be a good meal. He convinces her to bring
him a kettle of boiling peanut oil, ostensibly so that he can cook birds and be plump when
he climbs from the tree to be eaten. Akim pours the oil down Grandaunt Tiger’s throat,
causing her to transmute into her original tiger form and die, wailing in a cloud of dry ice
mist. “Remember this important lesson: never let a stranger into your home,” the show
soundtrack concludes, with Taiwanese music played on traditional instruments in the
background.

Alan Chen noted that the story itself is over a hundred years old, and was widely
recognized; “everybody heard that story, ‘hungry hungry tiger.’ Your grandmother or
your mother would tell you that story. Why? Because this story is a kind of educational
story.” Mind your parents, come inside before dark, stay away from strangers, or be
eaten by the tiger. However, Alan confers additional layers of meaning to the story:

This one also had something to say about China. Because Taiwan has no Tiger.

But why does Taiwan have a Tiger story? Only China has a tiger. So this tiger

must come from China. This evil tiger can transform itself into a human shape,

cheat the Taiwanese people, and eat them. I can not get away from this kind of

ideology. But a story like this, if I didn't tell you the ideological idea behind it,
you don't know. Only after I tell you, you might. So this is my way.

113

In this respect, there are two audiences for each play. For the viewing public, the
plays are representative of authentic Taiwanese culture, and suit the expectations of non-
Taiwanese as an appropriate expression of Asian culture. They raise public awareness of
Taiwan as having a tradition independent of China. Perhaps greater awareness of
Taiwan’s identity as a cultural tradition independent of China will ultimately effect
change in popular attitudes toward the Taiwanese independence question. The second
audience, however, are the puppeteers themselves. Unlike the general audience, the
puppeteers are made aware of the Taiwan-centric themes in the scripts and appreciate the
conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity being presented.

E. “Dr. George Leslie MacKay”

Another of Alan Chen’s scripts chronicles the life of George Leslie MacKay, a
missionary of the Canada Presbyterian Church who in 1872 moved to the Tamsui area of
northern Taiwan, then a mainly unexplored frontier region to Europeans. He was given
the epithet “black beard barbarian” by the lowland indigenous groups and Hoklo in the
area. He was eventually accepted into local society due in part to his skills as a dentist
and his choice to learn the local language. He married an indigenous woman and over
the course of his lifetime established churches, schools and clinics throughout northern
Taiwan. Notably, MacKay met with the Japanese Governor-General Maresuki Nogi in
1895 on behalf of the people of Taiwan after Japanese colonial rule was established.

“Yes, there are Japanese in the play,” Alan pointed out. Because the original
puppetry tradition is from Southern China, the stories and costumes have maintained the
Chinese forms. Alan’s plan to “modernize” the craft involved re-shaping the faces of the

puppets themselves so that they look more Taiwanese than the commercially available

114

puppets manufactured in China. This involved sending them back to Taiwan to have a
craftsman raise cheekbones, darken skin color, and alter other features according to
Alan’s instructions. The changes are meant to represent, if not reﬂect, the mixed heritage
between Han and the Malayo-Polynesian indigenous groups on the island. He also used
Taiwanese stories and altered clothing to reﬂect Taiwanese origin rather than Ming
period costumes. Another aspect of Alan’s modernization model includes the characters
themselves. In traditional theater, he pointed out, they only include Han Chinese:

Only Holo. H010 and Hakka. They don't separate them, they are all Taiwanese.

In other words, they are Han, they are both Han people. There are no aboriginal

people, there are no Japanese, there are no Caucasians. But in real life, actually

all of these kinds of people, these kinds of people were already there. In the 17th

century the Dutch were already there. But they are not in the traditional theater. .

. . And this was in Taiwanese puppet theater for more than one hundred years.

They could not break through this tradition, so I try to do that. That is what I am

doing.

Although the scripts most often performed by student groups are only 20 minutes
long, Alan had written extended script that could lasts as long as 40 minutes, depending
on the audience. The performances include Japanese and Caucasian characters, as well
as puppets in indigenous clothing hunting wild game. “Starting from this play,” Alan
remarked, “I am going into the construction story of Taiwan. You know how I was

talking about all the plays about opposition? Well now it is time to go into the positive

side of the story.”

III. Representing the Motherland
A. The Fighting Yams
This segment of the dissertation takes the Fighting Yams curling team as a point

of departure to discuss Taiwanese state identity and the “international community” in the

115

context of international sports competitions. Whereas the political orientation of
Taiwanese puppetry is grounded in the idea of a Taiwanese cultural tradition, curling is
not indigenous to Taiwan, and carries none of the legitimizing potential of discourses of
cultural authenticity; indeed the team is counting on the novelty of “Asians on ice,” as
one team member put it, the comedic quality conveyed in team iconography (Figure 7), to
draw attention to the team in regional, national and international competitions. This
conceptualization of Taiwan sharply contrasts with the cultural identity represented by
Taiwanese puppetry. The playful nature of the Fighting Yams has more in common with
Taiwan as Formosa, as it focuses Taiwan’s position in the international community,
emphasizes the contrast between the open fairness of the Olympic Movement and
Chinese domination, irrespective of cultural distinctiveness.

Figure 7: Fighting Yams Curling Team Logo

 

Founded In 2000 a Madison Curllng Club

MMM

 

 

 

116

Curling, invented in Scotland in the 17th century, involves sliding 42-le polished
granite stones down sheets of ice. The “curl” is the spin given to the stone when it is
released. Two of the four-person team sweep the ice in front of the stone to affect the
stone’s rate of deceleration. Curling is increasingly popular in Canada and the U.S.,
especially in the Northern States. It has been an ofﬁcial Olympic sport since 1998.
Although a Taiwanese curling team seems improbable, other Asian nations such as South
Korea and Japan have entered teams in international competitions. Belarus and Taiwan
are late additions; China is also developing a team which will compete with Taiwan.
Indeed, one of the early driving forces behind the Taiwanese curling team in Madison
was the possibility of beating China to the Olympic Games. The team website includes a
narration of their inception:

On a cold winter night sometime after 98' Nagano winter Olympics, Forrest (Yu-

Feng Lin), Li-Lin (Cheng), and I were sipping one of those nice and smooth

Wisconsin microbrewery beer and talking about doing something cool for our

beloved country, Taiwan. . . . We all had one sport in our mind: Curling. Yes, the

“funny” looking sport invented by golf-loving and whisky-sipping Scots! We

were not sure whether we could master this cool sport, but we were quite

conﬁdent that we would enjoy the ﬁnesse and the strategies of the game; and it
could be an excellent sport to promote in Taiwan. Deep down, I think we also
want to show others how we can fulﬁll our "Taiwanese Dream"! Once the goal
was set, next task was to ﬁnd a name for our team. Actually, naming was pretty
easy. We decided to call us “Fighting Yams”.

Liuxuesheng established the Taiwanese Curling Club in 1998, taking the Fighting
Yarns as their team name. In 2001, they competed in the 11th Paciﬁc Curling
Championships (PCC) in Konju, South Korea, and returned in 2002 in New Zealand. In
2003, they competed in the Asian Winter Olympics, and the 13‘h Paciﬁc Curling

Championships, both of which were held in Aomori, Japan. Team members were proud

to compete in the Asian Games, even though it is not linked to the Olympic Games,

117

 

 

ET]

P.’

because they were allowed to use the name “Taiwan” as their country of origin. In the
more prestigious Olympic Games, however, team members would be competing on the

national team as “Chinese Taipei.”

an n—uwa—r
All 5 lea/u (38)

m.

r

1.75..

«I» -o‘.
.-r v, "

   

 

q I, ,5

“‘ﬂmﬁen

Mayer—4
ﬁmgiﬂl‘d‘
7b)'C" 17/\“
t?) ‘0')U73,T
lgitlgﬁéyglri
OIUEJ’fﬁr‘L
jJtA 3*“
a. {123:0
QMER boncoe
07:) ° °7I‘

rveceaoti

w
~u
-&

Figure 8: Li-lin Curling for Taiwan in the 2003 Asian Games

Part of their inspiration to compete internationally (Figure 8) came from the story
of the Jamaican bobsleigh team popularized in the movie Cool Runnings (1993).13 The
Jamaican team ﬁrst participated in the Calgary Olympics Winter Games in 1988, and
though the team performed poorly at that time, in the 1992 games the four-person team

ranked 14’", placing ahead of the French, Russian, Italian, and U.S. teams. The

 

'3 The ﬁrst two hanji characters in the upper left comer of Figure 8 are read “Taiwan”.

118

Iiuxuesheng in Madison appreciated that the Jamaican team was excelling at a non-
indigenous sport, a counter-intuitive combination of a tropical country and ice sports.
Moreover, they were in the beginning an obscure team which despite obstacles achieved
success and earned respect. In addition to representing Taiwan in local, regional,
national, and international competitions, the name of the team, the Fighting Yams, carries
its own meaning in discursive domain of Taiwan’s identity. Characteristics of the plant,
its living environment, and its place in the Taiwanese diets are encoded in narratives of

i the Taiwanese nation, the Taiwanese people, Taiwanese culture and Taiwanese in
diaspora.

The example most germane to this research comes from early Internet-based
Taiwanese activism, what contributors called the Taiwanese “webolution”. In 1995 two
Iiuxuesheng established the Yam Workshop, a server on the Internet created as an
alternative to the govemment-controlled Internet server in Taiwan. Although Yam.com
is now a mainstream commercial website, it was originally an information-sharing
resource of the opposition movement (Yam Taiwan 1996). They described the
Nationalist government control of access to the Internet a form of “information
apartheid,” and for two years operated a non-proﬁt organization to facilitate a social
reform movement in Taiwan.

The CyberGarden of Yams (Y amWeb 1996a) hosted a regularly-updated on-line
publication of essays and information on a wide range of progressive movements in
Taiwan, and in the context of the growth of the use of the Internet as a space for identity-

based community-building and political mobilization in the 19905.

119

Several of the meanings of the yam icon were described on the CyberGarden of
Yams website (2002) in these terms:

"Yam", as a linguistic entity, denotes a kind of naturally grown food. But, for

Taiwanese, it means more than that. Geographically, the Formosa have a similar

shape as yarns. As a kind of food, it was part of major source of sustenance for

Taiwanese. In addition, yarn can grow and proliferate in many sterile lands.

Strength of sustainability and the will to struggle with harsh livings not only

identify with the history of Taiwanese, but also become part of the nature of

Taiwanese. "Yam" is the same term, of identity and of aspiration, as "Taiwanese".

The title of another page on the site, “Taiwan, Our Beautiful Motherland,”
includes the following unattributed poem: Mother is the river and the creek; Mother is
the ocean, the deep blue sea; Mother is the highest mountain peak; Name of my Mother,
Taiwan it shall be; Mother is my Conscience; Mother is my Justice; Mother is the Spring
for you and me.”

Pei-chi Chung’s research on alternative media culture in Taiwan (2002) explains
the meaning the founders associated with the yarn, including its ability to spread its roots,
similar to the way information moves through the Internet, and its ability to thrive “even
in bad soil,” a metaphor representing the difﬁculties faced by the ﬁrst use of lntemet
technology as a form of political resistance. Chung notes that the “yarn has long been
considered a totem that reﬂects the oppositional tradition of the Taiwanese spirit. Thus,
Yam revealed [the founders’] determination to build a historical database that was
different from what the KMT had created for the Taiwanese public” (98-9). The
oppositional tradition Chung is referring to is based on the dichotomy between Chinese
and Taiwanese beginning with the Nationalist government occupation in 1945. In this

form, benshengren were represented by the yarn, while the taro symbolized waishengren.

Although use of the taro as a sign in Taiwanese popular has declined, the yam continues

120

 

to be present in the popular imagination. The similarity in shape between the plant and
the island is the most obvious and familiar connotation; however, the yarn icon carries
layers of meanings in discourses of Taiwan’s identity. As one essayist in the
CyberGarden explained, “the yarn can grow and proliferate in many sterile lands.
Strength of sustainability and the will to struggle with harsh livings not only identify with
the history of Taiwanese, but also become part of the nature of Taiwanese.”

Finally, as Hiro points, out, yams are a part of the Taiwanese diet:

In truth, we eat a lot of yams as side dishes and dessert in Taiwan; its like the

potato in Western society. Furthermore, the shape of the island is precisely like a

yam. . . . Hence we often refer to our country as ‘Country of Yams’ and ourselves

as the ‘Children of Yams’.

B. Chinese Taipei

While Taiwan has no ofﬁcial standing in the UN,'4 they do compete in the
Olympic Games under the name “Chinese Taipei,” a concession to the PRC. With 203
national Olympic committees, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) has more
members than any other international organization, including the UN with 192 member
nations. The Olympic Games are the most widely experienced moment when the
“international community” actually happens, when representatives of each nation-state
interact with each other as athletes, coaches, audiences, spectators, family, media agents
and friends from nations around the world. In those moments, the international
community is Olympic in public imaginations shared by citizens of all participating

nations-states.

 

'4 Indigenous groups from Taiwan, however, are permitted to participate in UN conferences dealing with
indigenous issues.

121

Here, the nation-state is embodied and displayed, with ﬂags, national colors and
national ﬂavors, while commentators weave information and images of the sport, the
athletes, and their homeland. This has the effect of reifying each participating nation-
state in the public imagination, and marginalizing geo-political entities not represented.
In the case of Taiwan, competing as “Chinese Taipei,” no less than “Republic of China,”
reinforces the perception that Taiwan’s identity is Chinese and the concomitant ideas of
cultural and racial affinity. Participation in the Olympic Games means inclusion in an
imagined international community, but one without the tangible beneﬁts of participation
in the UN, World Health Organization and other international bodies that determine the
distribution of wealth and resources in the world. The Olympic Games are unique in that
they provide each nation-state an opportunity to publicly claim the legitimacy of national

sovereignty, to be recognized as a full member of the international community.
Participation also confers authority to the ruling state to the extent that athletes are

welcomed as emissaries of a legitimate government.

 

Figure 9: “Chinese Taipei” Skating Union Logo in English while hanji reads “ROC”.

The standardization of sports regulations can be seen as an extension of the laws
regulating the relationships between nation-states, particularly the inviolability of
territorial boundaries, diplomatic relations, rules of fair trade and military engagement.

The awkward requisite use of Chinese Taipei rather than Taiwan (Figure 9) is easily

122

[1:33:3th In
sits of m
news;
this and

ilili’ll'iiaie i

i‘l‘lmiiiiﬁ
[Th
Soil
OI a
1111:
Ea
”38 0f]
t“

u
5'“.

interpreted as a violation of the Olympic spirit of fair play, with equal and unfettered
rights of participation. The same rules governing nation-states’ mutual recognition of
sovereignty, and athletes on the ﬁeld, should apply to each team equally. Given the high
visibility and popular interest of the Olympic Games, and the deeply-ingrained notions of
nation-state that are associated with the Games, raising awareness of Chinese hegemony
over Taiwan’s identity in the international community is more evident to populations
around the world during the Olympic Games than their ongoing absence in the UN
general assembly.

Drawing from the mission of the United Nations, the International Olympic
Committee (IOC) proposes that participation in sports is a human right (2004):

[The Olympic spirit] requires mutual understanding with a spirit of friendship,

solidarity and fair play. . . . Any form of discrimination with regard to a country

or a person on grounds of race, religion, politics, gender or otherwise is

incompatible with belonging to the Olympic Movement.

Each nation narrates its involvement in the international community of sports as a
source of national pride, claiming the accomplishment of individual athletes for the state.
The ofﬁcial history of the Chinese Olympic Committee’s participation in the context of
the struggle for legitimacy between the ROC and PRC spans a century. They trace the
organization of national sports to 1910, in the early years of Chinese nationalism. China
joined the IOC in 1922, and again after the founding of the People’s Republic of China in
1954. However, the PRC narrative omits that in the years intervening, 1949 and 1954,
the Chinese National Olympic Committee was sponsored by the ROC government in

exile on Taiwan. Although the IOC voted to invite teams from China and Taiwan to the

1952 Helsinki Games, the ROC teams withdrew in protest when the PRC agreed to send

123

nmslo

ll)“ )1‘"

, h
. HL'JuH

’ 2 .' f‘ -.
.fm.) iiU

Aim 0
§

4 ' . .
1.. (317.:

131113;.

3“” r'-I
stiumd"

teams. Four years later, when the 10C invited the teams from Taiwan to attend the
Melbourne Games, the PRC boycotted the competitions, calling the IOC’s move to invite
teams from both sides of the Taiwan strait a “‘two Chinas’ plot.” Between June and
August of 1958, China left 15 other international federations.

In 1959, the IOC ofﬁcially revised the title of the team from Taiwan to “Republic
of China Olympic Committee.” Although the IOC would have considered using the title
“Taiwan Olympic Committee,” the Chiang government on Taiwan and U.S. policy ’
makers preferred that the name reﬂect the position that the ROC on Taiwan was the
legitimate government of China. Upon being reinstated in 1975, the PRC inﬂuenced the
IOC to disallow Taiwan from participating in the 1976 Montreal Games under any name
that had “China” in it. Taiwan’s “China” delegation withdrew one day before the games
began. Aﬁer years of discussion, the arrangement that was agreed upon in response to
this impasse was to use the title “Chinese Olympic Committee” to represent the PRC, and
“Chinese Taipei Olympic Committee” to represent Taiwan (Chinese Olympic Committee
2004)

International sports became the historical expression of an imagined community
where nations, embodied by the competitors themselves, recognize one another, and are
meant to be recognized as equal agents on a shared playing ﬁeld. In one germane case,
the sport was table tennis. During the 1971 World Table Tennis Championship, held in
Japan, the U.S. table tennis team and a small group of journalists visited the PRC, the
ﬁrst Americans to do so since the fall of the ROC in 1949. They initiated what became
known as “ping pong diplomacy” which would ultimately lead to President Richard

Nixon’s historic trip to China in 1972 and the normalization of U.S.-PRC relations. The

124

UN voted to recognize the People’s Republic of China as the representative government
of China in 1972.

One Fighting Yams team member reﬂected on the problem of not being able to
use the title Taiwan in Olympic Games in this way:

I just think it is crazy. And embarrassing. I mean, these athletes train their entire
lives to represent their motherland to the world, for the international community
to say, ‘hey — Taiwanese people are strong, graceful, fast — what a great country! ’,
and then to see that they are actually just another Chinese team. Chinese Taipei.

They claim our gold! When [the Chinese] count how many medals they won at
the end, they include ours. I don’t think that’s right. We are all losers when that
happens, when we can’t be ‘Taiwan’ - it is more than just a name. It is our name.
We are Taiwanese, not Chinese; we are Taiwan, not China, and the Olympics is
one of the few chances when we have the opportunity to show the whole world
we exist.

The objectives envisioned by team members resemble the practice-oriented
approach associated with the puppet troupe. Hiro explained the philosophy of the
Fighting Yams in these terms:

We just wanted to show our love for Taiwan, to do something for Taiwan. Are
we making a difference? Yes. First, right here, we get the kids [undergraduate
and graduate students] together to have fun. The more often Taiwanese kids hang
out together, the more signiﬁcant their connection to Taiwan becomes, even if
their only connection is knowing other Taiwanese. That is Taiwanese
consciousness. Second, out there, we are quietly shouting “Hey, here we are! We
are Taiwan, we compete, we exist, we are not China. Hey, doesn’t Chinese
Taipei sound strange?!”

It is subtle, but slowly these things build up in American consciousness, Taiwan is
a country. And they have a curling team.

Third, me and Li-lin know about Taiwanese history and culture, and we talk about
things when we get together after a match, or whenever. The kids think it is kind
of funny sometimes, that we keep mentioning things, but other times we have
good discussions, and people who came just for fun start to learn more about
Taiwan, about their roots.

125

The curling team and the puppet troupe are locations where students are
encouraged to conceptualize Taiwan’s identity, framed as a negation of China in name
and heritage, as well as geological elements such as “roots,” and yarns. Further, the
groups serve as elements in a broad-based publicity campaign to raise awareness of the
PRC’s seemingly unsportsmanlike domination over Taiwan. In this regard, they are also
contexts for intergenerational transmission of ideas, from ideology to historical trivia.
Unlike the cultural nationalist ideology of the puppet troupe, the curling team competes
in international games in a non-indigenous sportwhile representing Taiwan as an
autonomous political entity, one nation-state among all others, ﬁelding athletes who, by
right of participation, embody Taiwanese dujure sovereignty in the international
community of the Olympic Movement, where fair play and equal access are deeply
ingrained. Participating students and sponsors however, differ in their relationships to
these broad goals, and the relative salience of Taiwanese national and cultural identity.

C. Salience of Taiwan’s Identity among Curlers and Puppeteers

The wide range of experiences in the spaces between Taiwan and the U.S. defy
categorization. Being raised in Taiwan does not necessarily indicate a greater interest in
things Taiwanese, and the experience of being raised in the U.S. does not produced a
homogenized Taiwanese American subject position. Most immigrants fall somewhere
between the ontological categories used to describe diaspora youth. For example, Amy
has no ﬁrst-hand memories of Taiwan, and calls herself ABC — American-born Chinese -
though she spent her ﬁrst six months in Taiwan. She is ﬂuent in Mandarin, but only after
studying for three years in college and participating in a summer emersion program.

When I asked her about the acronym ABT - American-bom Taiwanese — adOpted by

126

some of the other puppeteers in Madison, she was casual about the ABT/ABC distinction,
and expressed ambivalence toward the identity project. As she explained her perspective
on ABC, she indicated that only indigenous groups could legitimately call themselves
“Taiwanese”. Amy explains,
I have come across the ABT people. I don’t know what to think about that. I just
try not to think about it; I still have to give it more thought, and I have not come
up with any solutions. I feel like — if you go back, we are all from China, unless
you are Taiwanese Taiwanese, I mean native Taiwanese. So I don’t know. I have
personal biases when it comes to that, but at the same time I don’t. It is kind of

weird. As far as 1 am concerned, it’s like, suibian — whatever. I don’t feel real
touchy about it either way.15

Although she had some unanswered questions about Taiwanese and Chinese
identity, the distinction was not as meaningful to her as a more general dichotomy
between American culture and China in a broad, historical sense, including Taiwan,
Beijing, and Hong Kong, even the Chinatowns of San Francisco and New York. When
we met she had recently returned from a year-long culture and language program in
Taiwan. “1 just felt like that was something I needed to do for myself,” she explained, “in
terms of ﬁnding someplace I belong, and to come to terms with identity. I knew it was
there, and I felt like it was important to me, and I thought that the only way was language
— to get past that barrier.” Mandarin was the medium through which Amy explored her
identity, both Taiwanese and Chinese. She compared her relationship to Taiwan to that
of her two cousins:

They can speak Taiwanese and Chinese, and they have all these newspaper

clippings about Taiwan and China on the walls. It is deﬁnitely different. . . .

When we would go and visit them, there was a gap. A different perspective and

experience from growing up here. My mom was just limited when she got here.

She did go to college in Taiwan, and majored in Chinese and English, but when
she got here she didn’t ﬁnd anything to work with that — nothing professional.

 

'5 Sui bian (casual) here, means an indifferent “whatever.”

127

Although her uncle was recruited to the U.S. by 3M to work in advanced
electrical engineering, Amy’s parents arrived as part of a growing number of non-student
skilled professionals and others immigrating in the 19803, facilitated by loosened
emigration restrictions in Taiwan, increasingly affordable international travel, and
support networks created by relatives already living in the U.S. Amy, like many of my
informants, described receiving strong advice from parents and grandparents to avoid all
political activities, sage counsel from elders who were raised under an authoritarian
regime. In the case of Amy’s immediate family, who work in a local food manufacturing
plant, the focus was also on practical concerns such as learning English and keeping
employment. Amy describes her family members’ ambivalence toward Taiwan after
immigration in these terms:

I would have to say that my parents, and my aunt and uncle — they came here and

the wanted to forget. Not forget, but just not deal with Taiwan. Some people

come here and they want to preserve what they had. My family wanted to come
here and move on. I don’t know the details, but I don’t think they came here just
because they had the opportunity. I think they came here because they wanted to
escape. They wanted to get away. But I don’t know the details — I know there are
things they haven’t told me about. My parents wanted to escape. My mom is
happy here — doesn’t want to go back. Aﬂer my grandmother passed away, there
was nothing for her there. '

When Amy was ﬁrst involved in the puppet troupe she spoke English most of the
time. Her younger sister, who was born in the U.S., has better Holo skills because she
went to Taiwan and lived with her grandmother when she was younger, though she is not
as comfortable with Mandarin as Amy. The puppet troupe was Amy’s ﬁrst exposure to

Taiwanese culture, and the idea of promoting Taiwan through puppet performance was

appealing. “I was deﬁnitely able to experience more than puppetry. . . Just being around

128

[other Iiuxuesheng], at the extra events, and being able to talk to them — especially Li-lin
and Hiro.” Hiro would ask her opinion on China-Taiwan relations, something Amy had
never been encouraged to consider before. It would be her year in Taiwan, however, that
would cause her to consider the more general questions of cultural identity.

It was odd because it took me going across the ocean to realize just how
American I am, and to realize that, even though my family was Taiwan, I still
didn’t know a lot about the culture.

Basically, it has been a quest to ﬁgure out where I belong between American and
Taiwan, my identity, where I want to ﬁt. And I went there thinking, ‘maybe this
is a place I can identify with.’ Once I was there I was feeling like I was still kind
of different, that I can’t completely assimilate into this culture, because there were
some things I couldn’t quite ﬁt with.

Q. Did those experiences in Taiwan change you idea about what you wanted to do
with your major?

It did, and I didn’t realize it except in an unconscious way. When I got back from
Taiwan... You know that drive and motivation, before, I was like, on the Chinese
track, studying it, and hopefully working with it academically. I came back and
that changed. I felt like — I am still trying to ﬁgure it out. I feel like maybe what I
wanted out of studying Chinese has been fulﬁlled, and I want to move on to
something else.

I want to say that what happened after Taiwan — it isn’t that it isn’t important to
me, but learning about Taiwan is not a priority as it was before. I was really into
it, and I wanted to learn as much as I could, and now it is like I can do other
things — still ﬁguring it out, but not such a big deal. So puppet troupe, it is sort of
like a way to get to know other people from Taiwan, but it isn’t exactly the means
for me to learn about Taiwan anymore.
Richard’s parents, like Amy’s, emigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1982. But
unlike Amy’s blue-collar background, Richard’s father was employed by Lucent
Technologies as an electrical engineer. Further differentiating the two puppeteers,

whereas Amy grew up as one of only a few Asians in her high school, Richard was raised

in the Chicago suburbs around Lucent headquarters, surrounded by the children of other

129

Lucent employees from Taiwan. Like Gabriel and Julie, Richard would return to Taiwan
with his parents periodically, in Richard’s case, once every two years, usually for the
summer. Like many second generation Taiwanese Americans visiting Taiwan, his
strongest impressions are of problems with trafﬁc, sanitation, bad food and pollution.
Some of his friends were “parachute kids,” children of Taiwanese parents who spend
much or most of their time in Taiwan and elsewhere, or in constant travel, whom Ong
(1999) calls “astronauts,” referring to hyper-mobile residents of Hong Kong. In the case
of one friend, “his parents basically dropped him off in the Chicago area, enrolled him an
academy, a boarding school, and that was his high school career. He enjoyed it there. He
is in the typical suburbs, so there isn’t much trouble he can get in.”

Richard’s parents speak Holo as their ﬁrst language, but used Mandarin around
the house throughout his. childhood, ensuring that Mandarin was Richard’s ﬁrst language;
he learned English in pre-school and has no discemable accent. His parents decided on
Mandarin over Holo because it was the more widely spoken of the two. Rather than
language, what ﬁrst drew Richard’s attention to the issue of Taiwan’s identity came in
the context of a Chinese classmate’s derision:

Back in High school, I remember this kid. His parents were from the Mainland.

Unless you were really academically outstanding, he kind of looked down on

Taiwanese people. Snobby looks, blow you off, give you a hard time here and

there. I just ignored him. That was the ﬁrst time that I realized I was Taiwanese

in that sense, in terms of Chinese.

It is strange because people in Chicago know about Taiwan, but people here in

Madison think well, isn’t Taiwan 3 part of China? It is just a little island, right?

It bothers me. It is a big international issue.

I tell people I am Taiwanese American. ABT, for fun. Unless if a Chinese person

asks me, I don’t want to stir up any political issues so I just tell them, ‘1 am
Chinese. My parents are from Taiwan.’ I don’t want to tick anyone off with the

130

whole Taiwan/China thing, so I say my parents are from Taiwan; I was born here
and raised here all my life.

Although members of the puppet troupe had a wide range of language skills, none
suggested that it was a problem. Amy’s older sister Suzy, also active in the troupe,
speaks very little Mandarin and no Holo. Gabriel distinguished between the differing
language expectations of the TSA and puppet troupe,

Suzy is Taiwanese American, so she doesn’t feel so comfortable in the TSA with

all the Taiwanese. In the puppet troupe there are people who can speak very good

English. The puppeteers are really friendly too, so she stays in that group.

Conversations moved between the three languages, one more often than the others
depending on who was present. Although the students in the troupe did not ﬁnd it
problematic, the students’ language competencies were scrutinized by elder student-
immigrants, who expressed concern that the younger generations are losing access to
authentic Taiwanese culture as their language skills decline, even while participating in
the puppet troupe. In a more general sense, English-language Taiwanese student
puppetry is viewed and experienced as a political act, and among others a politically
neutral distraction; able to be represented as authentic Taiwanese culture, or be devalued
as a spurious art form, a caricature of a national treasure.

Fluency in Mandarin may play a key part in a future in international business for
Richard. His formal language training began in kindergarten, attending Mandarin
language school on Saturday mornings. Immigrant parents from Taiwan would volunteer
to teach the kids reading and writing, together with a few Cantonese speakers, bi-racial
and adopted children. His mother spent additional time after school during the week
tutoring him in reading and writing. He sees his language skills as one of his greatest

accomplishments, considering he was born in the U.S. According to Richard, this was

131

one of the primary motivations for being involved with the TSA, and for avoiding Asian-
American student groups. With the TSA he can learn about Taiwanese traditional art
forms and maintain his Mandarin at the same time. “If I am speaking English, I’d rather
be playing basketball. If we can speak Chinese, I’ll play with puppets. With the cultural
part, and the language, I kill two birds with one stone.”

Born in Taiwan, Julie moved to South Africa when she was ﬁve years old, and
came to the US for high school. Now, a as freshman at UW, Madison, she would fall into
the 1.5 generation of Taiwanese, Taiwanese who come to the U.S. before college after
spending childhood in Taiwan. She came to the U.S. ﬁve years younger than Gabriel;
who would be called “FOB” (fresh off the boat.) However, her relationship to Taiwan
was limited to spending intermittent periods of time - typically several weeks in the
summer to see grandparents — in Taiwan in her youth. She uses the terms ABC to
describe the Taiwanese who were born in the U.S., and says that she doesn’t mind being
called (and sometimes refers to herself as) Chinese, depending on the context. In the
interview she spoke of herself and others in the puppet troupe using the terms Chinese
and Taiwanese interchangeable, and made the comparison between real “Taiwanese” and
Native Americans. She became involved in the puppet troupe to access “typical”
Taiwanese cultural practices of others in her generation who grew up in Taiwan:

It looked fun. I saw it when I was a little kid, in Taiwan, and here -— it just looks

like it could be something to do that isn’t school. It is like a club in Taiwan -- in

school, you are supposed to join lots of clubs and be really active. Well, I didn’t
get to do that, so this is a chance for me to do that.

She does not feel the need to make a distinct difference between cultures of

Taiwan and China. She also pointed out that she was a business law major and wants to

132

have the opportunity to work in China. One of the factors for her to consider is the limits
placed on her career by her inability to speak Taiwanese. Rather than politics, her main
interest in Taiwan is based on consumption and popular culture, and seeing her family.
She said of her most recent trip to Taiwan over winter break, she said that “it is a lot of
fun — so much to do. Like KTV. Over here, the mall closes at nine o’clock. In Taiwan
it is all night. So much to do — everything is open. Night markets, shopping, Karaoke,
just a great place!” Malkii (1997) notes that in discussions of borders and interstitial
zones, it is important to be aware that what is not always bodies in motion, but rather a
“‘cultural displacement’ of people, things, and cultural products” (53). On this most
recent trip, visiting Taiwan was more akin to a shopping vacation than a “search for
roots.”

All of Julie’s friends are Asian, and many of them are, in her words, ABCs like
herself. She emphasized to me that she has a few friends from Beijing. Julie said that
she would probably marry an Asian person because in terms of “Asian American
culture,” they “just get it.” Julie’s closest friends are people she knows from her time in
South Africa who now live in countries around the world. Her roommate like Fox TV
while she watches MTV’s Real World on her computer as uses real-time Internet
messaging to keep up with her friends.'6

Whereas Gabriel, who came to the U.S. for college from Singapore when he was
twenty-two, self-consciously developed a strong sense of Taiwan’s identity in his ﬁrst

years in Madison, Julie had ambivalent feelings about the identity question, and does not

 

'6 She mentioned [M as her platform, which stands instant messaging, originally a trademark of Microsoﬁ.
At the time of this writing (August 2009), most real-time Intemet-based communications take place on
F acebook, Twitter, text mail, and others, supported on a wide range of platforms.

133

make strong distinctions between Taiwanese and Chinese culture. Nor is she personally
invested in taking action to further particular political goals for Taiwan. Julie, for her
part, ﬁnds the pre-performance presentation about Taiwan unnecessary and a distraction
from the puppetry. She enjoys the company the puppet troupe offers, but is skeptical of
its broader political signiﬁcance and indifferent to the political agenda that the troupe was
supposedly contributing to.

She sees the TSA as very pro-DPP, and politically active, her family is for James
Soong and she has no interest in politics. In fact, she sees the independence movement
(and the activists) as radical and dangerous. She doesn’t understand why people would
ﬂy back to vote since “their lives are here, and their vote doesn’t matter anyway, and it is
so expensive to return!” When she was raised in South Africa, she didn’t feel Taiwanese,
only South African. She would expect that if you are born in the U.S., you should just
feel American. She is impressed with Amy — a “real Taiwanese American” — because she
is active in the TSA and went to Taiwan to “ﬁnd her roots.”

By one measure, she belongs to what has been described as the one-point-ﬁve
generation: Traveling to Taiwan for brief visits, or a summer, during childhood was a
common experience reﬂecting transnational patterns of return among second-generation
immigrants. This is also the case of Gabriel, who was raised in Singapore. In her
demographic research model, Lien (2005) distinguished between ABCs and F OBs based
on place of socialization. Compared to the Chinese Americans whose families may have
been in the U.S. for three or more generations, most U.S.-born Taiwanese Americans are
second-generation immigrants, some with school-age children. Many of the students’

cultural tours’ writings described having visited Taiwan during childhood, and

134

remembering only that it was loud and dirty. Some remember grandparents speaking a
foreign language, while others picked up a little Holo ability over the summer. These
individuals do not ﬁt neatly into categorical schemes. While the 1.5 demographic applies
from the perspective of Julie’s arrival in the U.S., her route was more circuitous,
mediated by her experiences in a third nation-state, South Africa.

Hiro refers to his own mixed heritage, a Japanese father and Taiwanese mother, to
illustrate the constructed nature of identity. “I could pass for Japanese. In fact, some
people will not allow me to be otherwise. Sure, I am half Japanese, but I grew up in
Taiwan and all of my memories are from Taiwan, and I claim Taiwanese culture as my
own.” He emphasizes that it should not be important what kind of identity other people
impose on a person, but rather how that person self-identiﬁes. He ﬁnds racial
essentialism and narrow cultural deﬁnitions of Taiwanese “authenticity” problematic, and
illustrated his by relating an experience with a Taiwanese octogenarian raised in the
Japanese education system. He told Hiro that because his father, rather than his mother,
was Japanese, Hiro is racially Japanese according to Japanese custom, but in Taiwan, he
would be known as Taiwanese because of his mother. Hiro believed that drawing racial
categories based on arbitrary inheritance laws and blood-lines was meaningless. Upon
ﬁrst glance, he is commonly identiﬁed by others as Japanese, but he has developed strong
affective ties to Taiwan, not Japan, and chooses to call himself Taiwanese:

Just look at Gabe. Here he is, the president of the TSA, a puppeteer, and he

would be on the curling team if he had the time. Even though his parents are

Taiwanese, because he was born and raised in Singapore, he didn’t know too

much about Taiwanese culture before he came to college. He can’t speak H010,

and his Mandarin sounds like a mainlander. But he loves Taiwan! How can
anyone say to him that he is not a real Taiwanese? If this is the identity he wants

to develop, he should be encouraged, not discouraged. You are going to close off
Taiwan ﬁ'om Taiwanese Americans if you go that way.

135

Hiro’s personal reﬂections and observations of Gabe are representative of one
perspective of identity and relationship to Taiwan, based on personal affective ties and
cultural familiarity that can be learned and cultivated. These ties are based on effective
communication of narratives of collective memory and history, meanings of culture-
speciﬁc symbol systems, icons of identity that produce what Anderson (1983) has called
an “imagined community,” a sense of connectedness between heterogeneous populations
not likely to ever meet in person, yet nevertheless believing themselves to share in
common cultural values, traditions, loyalties and responsibilities to the “community,”
whether envisioned as a nation-state — the national identity —— or a community of common
heritage and future, a conceptualization of Taiwan that is wholly contained by the
discourses of the Taiwanese nation-state. Gabriel, ten years Hiro’s junior, was another
degree removed from Taiwan; although Hiro has a rich living memory of Taiwan
underpinning his conceptualization of Taiwan, Gabriel has developed an appreciation of
Taiwan based on brief visits and encounters with Taiwanese activists in the U.S. Hiro
describes the issue in these terms:

Whether [the elder activists in the Madison community] want to admit it or not,

the future of Taiwan depends on the passion of Taiwanese in the U.S. This is

what we are trying to do with our puppetry and curling. We want to let

Taiwanese here feel good about being Taiwanese, and show the public what

Taiwan is all about, and impress the idea on students, the public, and the global

village that Taiwan is not China. Taiwan is our motherland.

Though cultural experts have criticized Alan Chen for promoting English-
language “karaoke-style” puppetry as an authentic expression of Taiwanese, Hiro takes

the position that, like it or not, these are effective strategies to further the goals of

Taiwanese self-determination. For Hiro, cultivating an affective bond with Taiwan-as-

136

homeland is enough, but others’ conceptualizations of Taiwan establish narrower
deﬁnitions of who may or may not identify themselves as Taiwanese, deﬁned not by
blood, but rather through the cultivation of speciﬁc markers of identity. “I know these
hard-core types,” referring to some of the elder members of the Taiwanese community in
Madison, “who say I can’t be ‘true’ Taiwanese because I don’t speak Holo. Well that
kind of attitude is turning off the younger generations, cutting them off from exploring
their roots.”

Freed from the constraints of Taiwan’s national identity, ﬁgures such as “roots”
and “homeland” are ﬂexible, compelling metaphors touching on desires for stability,
permanence, historical depth and sense of collective belonging in an increasingly
unstable and alienating world. Gupta and Ferguson observe that "as places and localities
become ever more blurred and indeterminate, ideas of culturally and ethnically distinct
places become perhaps even more salient" (1997cz39). For some students, Taiwanese
puppetry was an avenue for self exploration, for seeking a cultural heritage they felt to be
lacking in their lives. Others were participating in the troupe for personal enjoyment, and
were ambivalent about political agendas, discourses of cultural authenticity and the sharp
distinctions some puppeteers make between Taiwanese and Chinese cultural forms.
Gabriel, while supporting the Taiwanese public relations campaign strategy in the U.S.,
concedes that they may have very little impact, but despite a weak sense of efﬁcacy in the
short-term, be fully embraced the approach to cultural performance in general, and
puppetry in particular. Like Alan, Gabriel saw the future of Taiwan linked to the salience

of Taiwan’s identity among future Taiwanese stake-holders, both in Taiwan and in the

137

U.S., given that an increasing percentage of students from Taiwan in higher education in
the U.S. are returning to Taiwan for employment.

A second perspective Gabriel expressed, also a key component to early
mobilization strategies, was an acknowledgement that the future of Taiwan was to a great
extent determined by U.S. foreign policy, which is to some extent shaped by public
opinion and media relations. Creating an awareness and appreciation in the minds of
non-Taiwanese in the U.S. of Taiwan’s national identity could also be critical in future
political contingencies. With these ends in mind, Gabriel presents a seemingly
politically neutral program whose goals are to educate Americans about Taiwan, and get
Iiuxuesheng and second-generation Taiwanese Americans interested in Taiwanese
culture:

How many people can we reach? How many will remember? We don’tknow,

but we are doing something. What if, ﬁfty years down the road, Taiwan has

become a part of China, and the real Taiwan is lost, you will have to look at your
life and say I did nothing to help Taiwan, to teach people about what is special
about Taiwan, and so I never tried to make a difference. This is the way we are
trying, at this point in our lives.

It is most important to try, even though you are not too sure what it will lead to.

If we can get students interested in Taiwan, then after they return, maybe they will

continue to look for ways to help Taiwan, could they join a political party and do

grassroots, become politicians? I don’t know, but the ﬁrst step is to get people
interested.

Taiwan’s identity is not created in the practice of Taiwanese puppetry as an
isolated act, but rather it is given its political and cultural signiﬁcances through discourse
that occur through participation in the puppet troupe. The development of Taiwanese

national identity — a Taiwanese subjectivity inﬂected with the will to realize a Taiwanese

nation-state — is, for Gabriel, Hiro and Alan a circuitous process that takes place in

138

everyday life in and around participation in the puppet troupe. Gabriel described the
process in these terms:

The puppet troupe brings people together. It doesn’t really change your idea
about doing something about Taiwan. It just brings people together to do
something fun - for people to have fun. Aﬁer you bring people together, the
sharing of ideas, teaching the younger generations of people about Taiwan can
take place. For puppeteers, you have to be interested in Taiwanese culture to
learn more about it. If you want, you could just perform and not bother with the
deeper tradition behind it. But when people get together, it just happens, it is
what we end up talking about, and learning about - just because we are doing it.

Cleo [second generation Taiwanese American got involved in the puppet troupe
ﬁrst, and then learn more about what our TSA does, and want to learn more about
Taiwanese issues, so they join the TSA. It is the puppet troupe where you can
recruit more members into the TSA. People do that for fun, then, if it seems like
they want to do more for Taiwan, they can come join the TSA. I can also refer to
FAPA, or [Taiwanese Collegian]. This is one of the things the puppet troupe is

trying to do.

They might continue to be involved, or at least vote for better candidates, or
presidents. Before I was involved in this I never really listened to what the
candidates had to say, or what the issues under discussion were about. Aﬁer I got
to know more about the issues, and as I got older, I pay a lot more attention. I
don’t think all Taiwanese are doing that, and I think it is important for them to
care about these things — what the candidates are saying, and vote for a good
president. So as far as the puppet troupe, and this TSA, it isn’t important that they
go into politics, or run for ofﬁce, something that is direct like that, but they will
know more and make better decisions for Taiwan, and they will teach their
children more about Taiwan, and help them learn to love their country. I think
this is good enough.

The ultimate political horizon of the puppet troupe, as conceived by Gabriel and
more senior activists, is two-fold: ﬁrst, to develop an affective bond with Taiwan among
the puppeteers, Taiwan deﬁned as the location of their roots. Second, to raise public
awareness of a non-Chinese identity of Taiwan. It is not a rejection of all things Chinese,
but rather an effort to emphasize the distinction between the places: “we exist.”

As an example, I asked Amy about her participation in the troupe as to whether or not

there was a “big picture” aspect:

139

Yeah, I was deﬁnitely able to experience more than puppetry. Just being around

them — and extra events, and being able to talk to them — especially Li-lin and

Hiro — talking to them. Hiro would ask me about china-Taiwan relations, and my

opinion about it. I had never really thought about it before. And in their

conversations I would overhear, I would feel dumb because I didn’t really know

that much. But you learn a lot from interactions and hanging out with other kids.

Li-lin, Gabriel and Hiro mediate the sometimes strained relationships between
senior generation Formosan and cultural nationalists, and a younger generation
characterized by heterogeneity of experiences and relations with Taiwan. They navigate
the inter-generational waters, by, for example, Hiro apologizing to Uncle Chang on
behalf of a senior chemistry major for making a “Chinese New Year” ﬂier. They have
been able to spark discussion and interest in Taiwanese puppetry, and learning about
Taiwan, the circumstances for intra-generational transmission of knowledge. The
institutional framework within which these interactions take place is an ofﬁcial student
group and a major research institution.

D. Discussion: Multicultural Taiwan across Generations

Chapter One described the circumstances leading to contrasting student
associations on university campuses in the U.S. beginning in the 19505, and the origin of
an identity of Taiwan as Formosa, a nation based on a history of anti-colonial struggle.
Formosan identity articulated and institutionalized though a series of organizations and
publications, was grounded in discourses of democracy, human rights, self-determination,
and other Western tropes commonly deployed to legitimize nation-states. This
extraterritorial objective involved redeﬁning space to include, or more precisely to be

constituted by, social relations beyond the bounds of the “homeland.” As Massey (1994)

points out, asserting that all social relations have a spatial form in their realization, means

140

that places must be looked at in terms of their wider social context. It is not enough to
view changes in an area as having a wider context (global capital, national policy, local
problems,) but "it is also that the very formation of the identity of a place — its social
structure, its political character, its 'local‘ culture - is also a product of interactions. The
'character of an area' is no more the product of an internalized history than are the recent
fortunes of its manufacturing industry. The global is in the local in the very process of
the formulation of the local" (120).

Nationalist government agents attempted to extend their authoritarian rule over
Taiwan into Chinatowns and onto campuses in the U.S., creating an environment where
Iiuxuesheng were exposed to radically divergent conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity,
institutionalized by competing student associations. The campus of the University of
Wisconsin, Madison, the focus of Chapter Two, was a hotbed for the development of
Formosan nationalism, with several key organizations being founded by overseas student
and early immigrants from Taiwan, many of whom continue to live in the area. At the
time of this dissertation ﬁeldwork, the campus continued to host two student associations
— each carrying the legacy of dichotomous conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity,
through primarily mediated through senior generations of immigrants from Taiwan living
in the community.

The Taiwanese puppet troupe when viewed from the perspective of the founder
represents a project to instill a sense of Taiwanese cultural authenticity among younger
generations, differing from Formosan identity as it emphasizes Taiwanese local tradition
as the foundation to Taiwan’s identity as a nation-state. Cultural nationalism requires

creating a recognizable and easily communicated set of markers drawn from local

141

minim:
incur.
a firm.
recreatio
were:
are m
lhuang
minimal]
getting

.
”fr”. .
amgﬂh

traditions, and to distinguish cultural Taiwan from Chinese culture. The puppeteers,
however, negotiate the meaning of Taiwanese puppetry based on their own experiences
as Iiuxuesheng, one-point-ﬁves and Taiwanese Americans. Most viewed puppetry as a
recreational activity, an access point to Taiwanese tradition without the political
overtones of cultural nationalism woven into the scripts and presentation. Other contexts
more immediate than Taiwanese sovereignty issues inﬂuence their interpretations of
Taiwanese culture. While senior generations of Formosan intemationalists and cultural
nationalists were focused on political objectives in Taiwan, students in younger
generations were facing other pressures and expectations related to their relationship with
“mainstream society.” For those born in the U.S. particularly, Taiwanese Americans are
put in a position to represent a culture they may know little about.

Andrea Louie’s (2000,2003,2004b) work with Chinese American. youth is
instructive in understanding the context of being a racialized minority, where the students
are “on the one hand seen as perpetual foreigners or as too ‘Asian,’ and on the other hand
as not Asian enough in a U.S. society that celebrates symbolic diversity and parades
ethnicity. Thus, they feel compelled to demonstrate Chinese cultural competence and
cultural authenticity, even in asserting their ‘Americanness”’ (25). In this case study,
cultural experts like Alan Chen provide the materials and skills to meet the expectations
of other students, the public at large, the university, and the state. Taiwanese cultural
nationalist may, if they choose, help younger generations construct multicultural Taiwan.
While cultural nationalists imagine Taiwan as a self-evident land with a culture than

emerges from the native soil, a timeless tradition, the challenge of representing

142

multicultural Taiwan lies primarily with distinguishing Taiwan from China at campus
international fairs and other public events.

The Fighting Yams, however, draw on all conceptualizations. They operate in the
international community to highlight the control the PRC exerts over Taiwan, something
which might be perceived as incongruous with the theme of the Olympic Movement. In
this regard, the Fighting Yams are reminiscent of the Formosan identity of Taiwan, an
outward-looking conceptualization seeking international recognition based on Western
discourses of self-determination, human rights, and democracy. On the other hand, the
Fighting Yams and puppet troupe are contexts in which Li-lin and Hiro can discuss a
wide range of aspects of topics related to Taiwan, including folk culture, Holo language,
biographical experiences from their youth, and contemporary politics. Finally, they help
the puppet troupe by hosting meetings and rehearsals, and storing equipment in their
home. In this regard, they are participating in the reproduction of multicultural Taiwan.

In the next chapter, a broad outline of events shaping the political views of
multiple generations of overseas students will be presented. Chapter One focused on the
powerful impact of the February 28th Incident in shaping the conceptualization of Taiwan
as Formosa among the most senior generation in this study. This discussion will be
continued in Chapter Three, which will deal with similarly powerful events shaping
overseas students’ conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity, including the ongoing impact
through student association website — the focus of Chapter Four — and the ways in which
second-generation Taiwanese Americans negotiate conceptualizations of Taiwan’s

identity presented by elder generations, the topic of Chapter Five.

143

[lilllll

1. 11121)!

A. ll!

[1. 1‘.-
. 1.1.1501"! :

lilil’an C
Camus 1
ii!“ 3n 3:
{imam
m '1

Lt’l',‘ ‘
. .15 ten.

CHAPTER THREE: LIUXUESHENG HISTORIC GENERATIONS

1. Analytical Framework
A. Memory, History and Generations

Intergenerational dynamics among the overseas student immigrant community in
Madison such as those described in Chapter Two occurred as local manifestations of
broad historical processes and trends that shaped overseas students’ conceptualizations of
Taiwan contemporaneously on campuses across the U.S. Multicultural community and
campus festivals, commemorations of the February 28m Incident, pot-luck dinners,
Taiwanese puppetry performance, lunar new year celebrations, and “night markets”, are
common features on student association multicultural calendars, a topic this dissertation
revisits in Chapter Five. And, as with Madison, such events oﬁen involve negotiations
between the conﬂicting goals of F orrnosans, cultural nationalists, and the students, whose
time is further taxed by family obligations, schoolwork, and participation in other groups,
including Asian American Paciﬁc Islander associations, Chinese diaspora groups (which
include Chinese from Hong Kong, Singapore, the PRC and elsewhere.) Multicultural
events are seen by senior generations as points of intervention, opportunities to shape the
way younger generations think about Taiwan and things Taiwanese. When events of
“historical signiﬁcance” to Taiwan have taken place, the intra- and inter-generational
relationships established through student association activities have been key locations of 3
collective memory formation. In this chapter I will focus on the ways in which collective
experiences of (re)memorable events shape conceptualizations of Taiwan within speciﬁc

age cohorts or historic generations.

144

 

lit
generatior
I.
millilitllll‘
ale: 10!
Lenses 1'
ad earl}-
lE' fifth:
iC'lT.Og3n
illfflem
iitiﬁc e
if hill El!
”pining
iﬂiﬁalic
1'33!le
’l’ii'ESis
Serum
1'31ng 55 i
:13. 536:-

Eileen

1‘

i‘i'mc it

The analytical strategy being developed is grounded in the concepts of historic
generations, age spans deﬁned by a collective consciousness or identity shaped by
commonly experienced and memorable events, often of a dramatic and traumatic nature
(Mannhein 1952). Event-speciﬁc generations are not evenly spaced across time, but
rather follow the contours of living memory. Further, research testing tested Mannheim’s
theories (Schuman and Scott 1989, Lang et al. 1993) show that the years of adolescence
and early adulthood are the most inﬂuential time for the formation of political identities.
To further nuance this research, I highlight that a historic generation is not a
homogeneous subject position; instead, there are discemable patterns of widely
experienced differences, often yielding directly opposing interpretations and reactions to
speciﬁc events within given age cohorts. There are a wide range of conceptualizations
of Taiwan’s identity. Such heterogeneity is possible because generations do not
experience history, individuals do. Individuals personally experience history as a
generation, but we witness and encounter representations of historical events in highly
localized settings where intersubjective remembering — mnemonic socialization — takes
place. Moving from a macro-level analysis of historic generations to a micro-level
analysis of how generation-speciﬁc subjectivities are actually formed to more localized
moments of remembering and interpreting, such as face-to-face encounters between
witnesses and audiences at student association events, individuals reading historical texts,
the screening of historical ﬁlms, and other ways in which individuals encounter the past.

Maurice Halbwachs is credited with the ﬁrst scholarly attempt to understand
“collective memory,” and identiﬁed “memory groups” — face-to-face social segments that

in some way collectively remember — to nuance to the work of his mentor Emile

145

 

classes. it!
memories

conception
semis; E

St
titration
nrtinuxtj
continua
artist \1
than
ind m

liar: '

.lllt‘.

ml?! 3:
b

g
UW-
mm,

51

.7!“-
but];

Durkheim, whose works he felt focused on overly broad demographic categories without
addressing everyday life experiences between moments of collective effervescence
(Coser 1992). In his approach to collective memory, Halbwachs proposed that “social
classes, families, associations, corporations, armies, and trade unions all have distinctive
memories that their members have constructed, often over long periods of time” (Coser
1992:22). This dissertation research focused on the development of extraterritorial
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity by taking student associations as the primary
memory group.

Student associations are well-suited for explorations of cultural memory
formation because, following Halbwachs’ formulation, they are a context that provided a
continuity of inter- and intra-generation interaction due to overlapping cohorts and
continuous interaction with co—ethnics on faculty and in the community, as well as
contact with organizations whose missions involve working directly with student groups
to encourage students to be interested in things Taiwanese. Student associations have
broad participation among overseas students during a time in their lives when political
identities are being formed. It is in the context of student association that Iiuxuesheng
might gather to discuss events of historical signiﬁcance to the “homeland,” which would
include, in this case, watershed elections, natural disasters, internationally publicized
internal political unrest, and precipitous regional instability. Further, in the case of
Taiwan, the question of national identity was often a consideration in the decision of
which (if any) student association to be most active in. Given this formulation of the
process by which historic generations are formed, in the case of Taiwan, which widely

experienced events have informed historic generations of Iiuxuesheng?

146

B. Index Events

Chapter One and Two developed an understanding of the dual nature of
historicity, that individuals are buffeted by the course of life events, threads in a broad
historical tapestry, and at the same time they play an active role in shaping the
interpretation of events, including forging collective memories from disparate
biographical experiences among the memory groups of everyday life in speciﬁc local
contexts. This active role is then forgotten, in order to experience the past as self-evident.
It is this aspect of the construction of collective memory that exposes seemingly objective
history as fragmented, transient, and to some degree contingent upon the needs of the
present. According to this model, analytically useful generational descriptions of
immigration from Taiwan should be possible by focusing on speciﬁc moments in time
that have inﬂuenced the subjectivities of individuals in the same age cohort, revealing
varying, often conﬂicting interpretations of the same moment in time. This plurality of
possible interpretations reveals the impossibility of describing an “event” in the singular
form. Further, moments of collective memory shape not only on the participants’
generation, but may also continue to impact subsequent generations in discemable ways
as vicarious memories (Climo 2002). This creates a point of reference for cross-
generational analysis, a stable location like an echo in history being re-interpreted with
each successive generation. Identifying such events allow for an indexing of the past.
Index events, then, are remembered moments in history whose impacts reach across
generations. In the case of this research, the emergence of new conceptualizations of

Taiwan may be linked to speciﬁc key events, whether experienced ﬁrst-hand, or

vicariously.

147

The index event — mediated now through moments of narration, performance and
contextualization — is interpreted by each generation in distinct ways, a layering of
collective memories shaped in part by the differences in the previous generations’
experiences. The complexity of historic generations reﬂects both the speciﬁc
circumstances of event itself, as well as pre-existing intra- and inter-generational social
divisions which render some narratives of the past more salient than others for differing
groups. In this sense, there are as many index events as there are memory groups, some
of which are highly localized in effect, while others are widely experienced but in very
different ways by different segments of the population. This heterogeneity and ﬂexibility
to become differentially meaningful extends over time. Meanings of index events change
in salience and interpretation among groups with autobiographical memories of the event,
as well as subsequent generations who experience the event as a vicarious memory,
counter-history or ofﬁcial national History. In the next segment a series of events will be
discussed that meet the general model constructed by combining Mannheim’s notion of
historic generations (1952), research identifying youth and young adulthood as critical
times of political subjectivity formation (Schuman and Scott 1989; Lang et al. 1993), and

Halbwach’s concept of memory groups as presented by Coser (1992).

II. Historic Generations
A. Japanese Era
As an index event, the regime change from Japanese colonial administration to
the Nationalist govemment’s rule are often combined with the February 28‘h Incident in

1947, an event generally credited as the origin of a distinctly “Taiwanese” national

148

identity and collective memory. The event itself, however, is a point of narrative
condensation used to reference a more general social dynamic at the time. In Chapter
One, Andrew Chang described the nostalgia many people felt toward the Japanese
colonial regime after the Nationalists took over. Wu Ming-chi, the sixth president of the
Formosa Club in Madison and long-time member of WUFI, described the generational
shift in terms of cultural differences based on the way people were socialized:
Of course under the 50 years’ colonial rule by the Japanese you can argue that the
Japanese shaped them into a certain kind of culture. But right after the Second
World War, after the Chinese army occupied Taiwan, you can see that there was a
distinct culture clash. It is very different the way Taiwanese were back then than
now. Because of the 50 years’ education by the Chinese it has changed a little bit,
well, not a little bit, changed totally back to Chinese way of thinking. But still I
will say that the Japanese inﬂuence is still there, for people who are over middle
age. . . .
What is the difference between Taiwanese under Japan, and the Chinese?
Discipline. They are law-abiding people, and the Chinese are lawless [laughs].
On paper, they will have all the good rules . . . but in practice e, it is totally
different. Let me give you one example. There are quite a few anti-Japanese
scholars, particularly the writers. They were there during the Japanese
occupation, and the Japanese follow the rules. If you want to picket, ﬁne. But if
you were picketing without a license, you would be in jail for 30 years. But the
Chinese government are lawless. Even though the law says 30 years, it could be

that you just disappear. . . . that’s really the cultural difference. Unfortunately, all
those cultural things from Japan are all almost disappeared now.

As noted in Chapter One, the generation inﬂuenced by Japanese education and
regime change to Nationalist government rule was joined in the U.S. by students coming
for graduate study beginning in the mid 19505, and steadily increasing throughout the
19705 and 19805. The younger generations of Iiuxuesheng were raised with a thoroughly

Sinocentric education. Wu Ming-chi noted that the “DPP is KMT-educated, so a lot of

their thinking process is very similar. Even if their ideology is different. That makes

149

them very different from the mentality of the WUF I in the U.S.” Like many in his
generation, he views the younger generation’s interest in maintaining the status quo for
Taiwan with skepticism. He notes that they are primarily interested in conducting
business in China, and thus prefer to stay ﬂexible regarding their identity, and they way
they represent Taiwan to others:

This is the reason most people prefer status quo. But that cannot stand one day, it

is going to be either/or — you cannot have the status quo forever. What do you

want to choose? You have to choose. Sure, if you want to keep the status quo,
but this is not forever. Sooner or later you have to make a decision whether you
want to be Chinese or Taiwanese.

For Wu’s generation of activists, such ambiguity would lead to Taiwan’s demise.
Although they felt very strongly about the issue of sovereignty, their resources were
limited. Through the end of the 19605 most student activism in the U.S. was limited to
small-scale events, short-lived local publications, low-proﬁle university study groups,
low-budget poster and letter-writing campaigns, and clandestine regional network-
building. During this time, the ﬁrst generation of Iiuxuesheng activists were recruiting
younger in-coming students to become involved. The younger overseas students had no
direct experiences with the Japanese era, but were inﬂuenced nonetheless through
mnemonic socialization among their elder cohorts on campus. James Lu, for example,
came to the U.S. in 1967. He recalls that “it was the white terror era when Chiang Kai-
shek was exerting an extremely tight control over Taiwan. Everybody was very much
aware that each individual was under close surveillance by the KMT spies.” His ﬁrst

encounter with “TI elements” came almost immediately after he arrived. He was invited

to stay overnight with a couple from Taiwan:

150

That night, a few of their friends gathered for supper. Their conversation made me
feel uneasy because much of it centered around criticizing the KMT government.
They did not tell me directly how I should view the political situation in Taiwan.
But during the long bus ride to Missouri, I started to wonder why that group of
young Taiwanese would risk their freedom and life to talk about something that
did not appear to have any direct bearing on their daily life.
After he arrived on campus, he was met by a few other students from Taiwan who
invited him to dinner most evenings, and helped him build a social support network.
“The topics in the gatherings all centered around the oppression and corruption by
Chiang Kai-Shek’s KMT regime,” he recalled. “I gradually realized that politics was not
unrelated to my personal life. After all, if it did not have anything to do with me, why
was I feeling so scared when l was only listening to those students’ hot debates?” One of
his friends gave him a copy of F ormosagram, an early Taiwanese independence
newsletter. He was touched by the articles, but was also fearful enough to hide the
magazine when strangers were in the apartment. Having personally only experienced the
White Terror, he was inheriting the independence mission from the historic his senior by
less than a decade, those who could recall the transition from Japanese rule to the
Nationalist regime:
Several of us new students ﬁnally overcame the fear and started to believe that if
each of us was willing to do something for our motherland and to continue to
spread the TI message, there would be always hope for Taiwan. We accepted the
mission handed over by our predecessors when they graduated and followed their
model of preaching TI. We took care of new students. We initiated many social
gatherings in which we talked about the KMT regime’s harm on Taiwan’s well-
being and future as well as the desirability of an independent Taiwan.
The decade of the 1970s, when James Lu would become a key activist in the

Midwest, was characterized by much more wide-spread and public dissent — both in the

U.S. and Taiwan — organized by an increasing number of student-immigrant supporters

151

using both durable and transient trans-local networks for information sharing and
collective action. This new density and intensity of opposition networking was
punctuated by the Diaoyutai movement of 1971-1972,'7 which marked the beginning of a
period of growing public unrest in Taiwan, culminating with the Chengli incident in
1977, and the Kaohsiung Incident of 1979. '8 After decades of near silence in the public
sphere, the February 28th Incident was increasingly referenced by the opposition as well
as the Nationalist government, in the former case as an opportunity to organize
commemoration-protests, and in the latter as an opportunity to evoke fear in the
population, such as the Lin family murders on February 28‘“, 1980, described in greater
detail below, and again in Chapter Five in the context of second generation Taiwanese
American collective memory.

B. Baa-diao and the Collapse of Legitimacy (1971-1972)

The Bao-diao movement was a response to a failure by Nationalist government to
secure tenitorial sovereignty of a disputed region. By yielding in the face of challenges
by the U.S. and China, the Nationalist government caused a widespread and complex
backlash. The U.S. State Department announced on April 9, 1971, that President Nixon
and Japanese Prime Minister Sato Eisaku had signed an agreement to return the
uninhabited Paciﬁc island chain known as Diaoyutai from U.S. protection to Japan, along
with Okinawa and other islands, in 1972. Japan’s claim to the archipelago was contested
by both the ROC and PRC, and the discovery in 1969 of signiﬁcant oil deposits in the

region heightened the importance of what was already a matter of national pride to all

 

'7 The Diaoyutai movement was also referred to as the baoa’iao yundong, or “protect the Diaoyutai Islands

movement”.
’8 The Kaohsiung protest is alternatively named the Formosa Incident in English and the Meilidao Incident

(meilitao shijian) in Mandarin.

152

 

three states. Unwilling to jeopardize its relationship with the U.S., the Nationalist
government did not strongly challenge the decision; their moderate display of discontent
was seen by many overseas students as inadequate, particularly when compared to the
vociferous reaction of the PRC. The more demonstrable display of Chinese nationalism
on the mainland robbed the Nationalist government of respect and legitimacy among both
benshengren and waishengren in Taiwan as well as the U.S. This disquiet was
compounded by China’s ascendance in the international community as the UN
recognized the PRC as the legitimate government of China in 1971, and President Nixon
made his high-proﬁle visit in 1972.

The public discussion began in the summer of 1970 when Japan issued a formal
declaration of sovereignty, and President Nixon afﬁrmed the claim. In response, students
from Taiwan met in Madison and Princeton to collect funds and plan protests. In these
discussions, they made comparisons to the May 4th Movement, and framed their actions
as anti-colonial resistance (Chang 2003:149). The growing Bao-diao movement was
based in the U.S. as information about the sovereignty question was limited by the KMT-
controlled press in Taiwan. In April 1971, the formal U.S. State Department
proclamation sparked a mass movement in the U.S., and, encouraged by overseas
Taiwanese, demonstrations began to erupt among students in Taiwan. These protests
were the ﬁrst major public demonstration since the February 28th Incident, and indicated
the beginning of a shift in Taiwanese activism from the U.S. to Taiwan.

The political orientation of the protests was complex and multi-directional. To a
great extent, the early demonstrations were expressions of Chinese nationalism, with anti-

Japanese, anti-American, and anti-colonial overtones. There were some students who

153

turned their allegiance toward the PRC government in China, primarily the children of
waishengren, according to Taiwanese independence activist Linda Arri go (2005). Others
remained loyal to the idea that the ROC state was the legitimate government of China,
but protested the weakness of the Nationalist government. Some rejected both the PRC
and ROC governments as non-democratic, and advocated a democratic Greater China.
Demonstrators would eventually be classiﬁed by the Nationalist government as tongpai,
meaning uniﬁcationist, or zuopai, meaning leftist. As the movement developed, voices of
Chinese nationalism were joined by a growing segment of overseas students in the U.S.
who began to openly support Taiwanese independence for the ﬁrst time. Peter Kwong
observed that “the KMT faced a wholesale defection of its students in America” (Kaplan
1992:151). A new generation of Taiwanese independence supporters emerged in Taiwan
in the mid and late 19703 driving calls for democracy in Taiwan into the public sphere, a
social activism which eventually led to the lifting of martial law and democratic
liberalization in the mid and late 19803.

Arrigo (2005) recalls that until 1970, the overseas Taiwanese independence
movement was relatively quiet, but a precipitous change occurred between 1970 and
1972, a conﬂuence of the Boa Diao demonstrations, the ROC leaving the UN, the escape
from Taiwan of senior independence activist Peng Ming-min, and the WUFI
assassination attempt against Chiang Ching-kuo in New York.19 Local Taiwanese
American Associations were being founded in communities across the country as a

growing number of overseas students moved into middle-class professional careers.

 

‘9 Linda Gail Arrigo was a colorful public ﬁgure at that time. She married Shi Ming-deb in order to save
him from imprisonment due to his participation in opposition activities. He served as a lawyer for those
arrested in the Kaohsiung Incident.

154

Arri go connects the Bao-diao movement’s rapid growth and broad counter-hegemonic
discourses to the anti-Vietnam war movement and anti-colonial/Westem sentiments

I”

present on campuses in the U.S. She explains that the wave of nationalism, anti-
imperialism, and Marxism set off ripples on Taiwan's intellectual scene in the following
years, most notably embodied in the magazine China Tide” (2005:8). This association
with the emerging opposition magazines is key to understanding the transitional phase of
the student opposition movement as activism moved from campuses in the U.S. to
campuses in Taiwan.

None of the student association websites in this study included information
related to the Bao-diao movement, including those with Taiwan-centric historical
narratives. This raises an interesting question regarding the nature of index events and
collective memory. Inforrnants pointed to the protests as a watershed moment in the
opposition movement, an event that radicalized a generation. The event itself is not
“memorable” insofar as it is not collectively remembered or contextualized in narratives
of the past, though it clearly had a lasting impact on those directly involved, and thus
shaping the historic generation of Taiwanese student-immigrants, some of whom would
go on to be the leaders of the democracy movement in the mid- to late 19703.

C. The Formosa Incident and the Rise of Identity Politics (1979-1980)
The 1979 Kaohsiung Incident (also known as the Formosa or meilidao Incident) is
actually the center of a constellation of closely-related events including the 1977 Cheng-
li protests against local election fraud, as well as the Lin family murders and Formosa

activists’ trials in 1980. On October, 15, 1978, ﬁve new activists emerged as power

players; they were 35-40 year-old benshengren inﬂuenced by the Formosa generation

155

 

 

discourses of democracy, self-determination and anti-colonialism. They agreed to bring
together the scattered independence supporters and groups — in both the U.S. and Taiwan
— into a coherent transnational Taiwanese independence movement, and took as their
symbol the raised clenched ﬁst, borrowed from the African American civil rights
movement. Arrigo, however, suggests that in the decade leading up to these events, the
overseas intellectuals were becoming less important when compared to the local
Taiwanese activists:
The young Taiwanese who were to be the leaders of the democratic movement
emerged from the highest institutions of learning, National Taiwan University and
National Chengchih (Political) University, in the mid-19603 and established
themselves in society in the early 19703. Peng Ming-min, the professor of
international law arrested in 1964 after printing a handbill on Taiwan
independence, can be seen as a forerunner of this group. Appropriately, they
studied law and political science, and even studied abroad. (The bright young
men who studied medicine, engineering, and natural sciences went abroad and
didn't come back -- now they are the Taiwan Independence Movement abroad, but
so embedded in American life that little "movement" is in evidence) (2005211).
However, many of those whom she described as being key activists in Taiwan had
been graduate students in the U.S., lending credence to the idea that, while overseas
student immigrants may have played a relatively minor role in the actual political
progress in Taiwan in the 19703, those who studied abroad and retuned were key players.
In addition to Peng Ming-min, whom she mentions, Yao Chia-wen and Chang Deh-ming
— two key ﬁgures — studied in the San Francisco Bay area with funding from the Asia
Foundation, and opened a Taiwanese legal aid center which was instrumental in gaining
government protection for returning independence supporters with U.S. citizenship.
The political opposition in Taiwan began to mobilize en masse in public in 1979

when disparate groups crystallized into an “integrated political force around the magazine

Formosa (Meilidao).” This became the propaganda machine for the Dangwai (literally

156

“outside the [Nationalist] Party”) opposition leaders, “while its local distribution centers
served as ‘party’ branches and its subscribers were treated as potential members” (Wu
1995:35). The movement, after staging a number of illegal demonstrations across the
island, was nearly crushed by KMT forces at a march in Kaohsiung on December 10.
The action brought international attention to the excesses of the Nationalist govemment,
and was a watershed for the Taiwanese independence movement, marking a shift of
Taiwanese independence activism from university campuses in the U.S. to the public
sphere in Taiwan.

Activist Lin Yi-hsiung, who would later become an opposition party leader, was
arrested after the Kaohsiung Incident, and during a brief prison visit in February 1980
told his wife of his torture in jail. According to Arrigo, her phone call revealing the
details to a human rights worker in Japan caused the government security agencies to
retaliate. On the morning of February 28th, Lin’s mother and twin daughters were
murdered at home by an unknown assailant, introducing the Kaohsiung Incident and Lin
family murders into the February 28th Incident collective memory among some memory
groups. Lin would go on to found the Tsunah tour of Taiwan for second generation
Taiwanese Americans described in Chapter Five, an ll-day “cultural odyssey,” that .
emphasized the unique traditions of Taiwan and highlighted the struggle for democracy
in Taiwan. The tour begins with a stop at the former home of Lin — now a church -
where he narrates the story of his 1033.

D. Democratization and Social Mobilization (1985-1987)
The democratic liberalization in mid 19803 was a turbulent era of rapid change,

uncertainty and broad social unrest. It would be several years in the wake of the 1979

157

 

Kaohsiung Incident before dissidents in Taiwan began to exert pressure in the public
sphere again. Although the campus unrest in the early 19703 sparked by the Bao-a’iao
movement was quelled by renewed restrictions on campus life, including control over
student press and government, and monitoring student organizations, dissidents continued
to pressure the KMT through the early 19803. The most common were public
commemorations of the February 28’h Incident.

Taiwan’s economy was thriving, bringing improvements in standards of living,
increased ease of travel, and more opportunities to study and work overseas. A popular
consensus around the need for democratic reform emerged with the growth of a
professional middle class, and the Taiwanization of the KMT party. Issue-speciﬁc social
movements ﬂourished, oftentimes ﬁlling the streets of major cities with protesters and
riot police. The “identity question” was ubiquitous in the public sphere, not only in the
periodic Taiwanese independence demonstration, but also in literature and ﬁlm, and in
public policy as the nation-state transformed from an authoritarian party-state to a multi-
party democracy.

E. Wild Lilies Demonstrations in Taipei (1990)

The democratic reforms of 1986-1987, which included the establishment of the
Democratic Progressive Party and the lifting of martial law, were the culminating
accomplishments of the work begun by the Formosa generation, and opened the door for
younger generations to pursue further political objectives. In the March 1990 elections,
Lee Teng-hui was conﬁrmed by the National Assembly, dominated by a cadre of 670
members, most of whom had been elected in the decades prior to the KMT moving to

Taiwan. This system had insured the re-election of the KMT presidential candidate in

158

Taiwan for ﬁve decades. Excused from the public opening ceremonies, a large
contingent of “wheelchair members” had a closed-door swearing—in ceremony to avoid
international embarrassment; the sight would give the impression that Taiwan was not a
democracy, but rather an oligarchy of octogenarians. Around twenty National Taiwan
University students sat in front of the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial protesting the National
Assembly process: “Countrymen, how can we tolerate the oppression of 700 emperors?”
Within a few days the small demonstration had expanded to several thousand as students
from other universities in Taiwan converged in Taipei. The students organized a
coordination center to manage the demonstration. It was called a “tiny Tiananmen” and
“Taipei Spring” in the overseas pro-Taiwanese independence publication Taiwan
Communiqué (April 1991 :1). Their demands included dissolving the National
Assembly, withdrawing the 1948 “Temporary Provisions Effective During the Period of
Communist Rebellion” that preserved many of the martial law restrictions despite having
formally lifted martial law four years prior, and opening a national discussion on
constitutional reform. The DPP held a concurrent protest attracting an estimated 20,000
participants, after eleven DPP assembly members had been excluded from National
Assembly meetings.

President Lee’s initial response to the students was viewed as dismissal as it did
not address any of the four issues raised in the students’ petition. Dozens of students
began a hunger strike, a move that pressured Lee to announce a commitment to hold a
national conference to discuss democratic reforms after the upcoming elections, and to
announce a timetable for reforms in his inauguration speech. The wild lily was selected

as the icon of the movement, marked by a seven-meter lily sculpture erected by the

159

protesters. “The ﬂower was chosen as a symbol because it represents purity, strength and
the grass-roots aspects of the student action. The wild lily can be found only on the high
mountains of Taiwan, and it blooms in the Springtime” (Taiwan Communique 1990: 1).
The student group, which had grown to as many as 10,000 over six days of peaceful
protests, disbanded.

This dissertation will discuss the Chinese live-ﬁre missile tests and the open
presidential election of Lee Teng-hui (1995-1996) and the 2000 election of Chen Shui-
bian as President of Taiwan as index events in the next chapter, as they are closely
associated with the rise and demise of Taiwan-centric student associations. The next
segment of this chapter accounts the background and perspectives of a benshengren
family of overseas students and second-generation Taiwanese Americans who’ve played
important roles in Taiwanese political and social movements. In addition to selections
from interviews, a Taiwanese history display presented at a multicultural fair in 1976 is
discussed in terms of index events and the nature of Taiwan’s identity being represented.
The chapter concludes with a working model of historic generations of overseas students,
and the index events that may have shaped their collective conceptualizations of

Taiwan’s identity.

[I]. Discussion: Historic Generations and Taiwan’s Changing Identity
A. The Chng Family
Strong Chng ﬁrst came to the US in 1965 to study engineering at Kansas State, a
university already viewed by the Nationalist government as a center of political student

unrest. He met Joyce, his wife, the following year, when she joined the more Taiwan-

160

centric of the two associations of students from Taiwan on campus in her ﬁrst year of
graduate studies in education. Over the next three decades, Strong and Joyce would be
instrumental in the overseas Taiwanese independence movement, and their two children —
Tim and Rolla — would be in the vanguard of the second-generation Taiwanese American
movement in the early 19903. Joyce explained the circumstances surrounding the
concentration of Taiwanese graduate students in the Midwest, and at their school in
particular, in terms of ﬁnancial limitations and academic opportunity, rather than their
interest in opposition politics:
The tuition there was cheaper, and at that time the Taiwanese . . . needed
scholarships, so that’s [why] there were so many student at K. State, especially
engineering. There was a Taiwanese professor there in chemical engineering, so
he helped about sixteen students, all from National Taiwan University. He knew
how smart there were, and how hard they worked, how they produced lots of
papers, and he became very famous in the US, in the world.
Like many Iiuxuesheng who arrived in the U.S. during martial law era in
Taiwan, Strong ﬁrst began to learn about the excessive violence and duplicity of
the Nationalist government in his ﬁrst year in the U.S., a time when the Formosan
independence movement was ﬁrst emerging on a number of campuses in the
Midwest. About a dozen student activists had gathered in secret at another
school, and dispatched what they called “emissaries” to seek out current and
potential supporters at universities in order to communicate the agendas
established, and further develop the network among Iiuxuesheng in the Midwest.
Getting to know the older students who were politically active and the encounter
with the activist emissary were powerful experiences for Strong. He had just

completed two years’ mandatory military service in Taiwan, and had a life-long

experience with govemment-controlled pedagogy and media, three key elements

161

of what he called “Chiang Kai-shek’s brainwash system of the Chinese
nationalism.” After just a few months in the U.S., he was exposed to a broad
range of new information that he had not had access to in Taiwan. He described it
as a dramatic and sudden transformation:
I was so curious, so surprised, so shocked, so touched; so moving that I couldn’t
sleep. I was thinking day and night. It was an awakening of a sleeping soul. And
now, suddenly awakened, I became a different person. Same person, same heart
beating, same physiological composition, but totally different mind, thinking,
actions; it was this Taiwanese identity thing. I had been awakened so I suddenly
had quite different emotions, actions, everything.
Nearly forty years later, during a period in my research when I was living with
Uncle Chang and Dun Mei, Strong and Joyce drove to Madison from their home in
northern Wisconsin on the occasion of the annual Celebrate Madison multicultural
festival to visit with old friends also in attendance, coming from other cities including
Milwaukee and Chicago. They arrived in mid afternoon, Saturday, as the Madison civic
center was ﬁlling up with people. Strong was a smallish man with a sunken face that
became animated when he spoke. When they were younger, as graduate students in the
late 19603, their friends teased that Joyce was too beautiful for him. Today, she is close
by his side as they move slowly down the row of tables reserved for the Taiwan displays.
The Taiwanese Association of Madison always had a booth, a row of three tables, and
they would work with the local Taiwanese students at the university on performances,
including Taiwanese indigenous dances, glove puppet shows, and vocal performances.
On the green table cloths were arranged a bricolage of material related to Taiwan,

including travel brochures published by the ROC Tourist Bureau, crafts collected from

the living rooms of members of the Taiwanese Association of Madison, and eight

162

beautifully designed and decorated glove puppets from the collection of Alan Chen.
When we returned ﬁ'om the Celebrate Madison event to Uncle Chang’s house, Strong
slipped away for a nap in the spacious guest rooms upstairs. He said that as he was
recovering from this most recent bout with cancer, his “engine works ﬁne, but there is a
smaller gas tank.”

The next day, I drove Strong and Joyce to their home. As we visited in the
kitchen, Joyce prepared a mix of various dry seeds for tomorrow’s doujiang, pulverizing
them in an industrial-grade three-horsepower blender to soak overnight. The extra power
in the expensive appliance was necessary, she explained, to shatter seeds open to release
their natural healing properties, much of which is lost in more common methods of
preparation. She apologized for having only simple foods like raw vegetables, ﬁsh, seed
shakes, and fruit. I was comfortable in the. Chng household, and intermittently tape-
recorded long segments of discussions, less interviews than one continuous conversation
mixing topics related to my background, their childhood memories, their grandchildren’s
grades in school, and the dangerous years of student activism. I believe that their
openness to me arose from their appreciation for my interest in their experiences,
something that few students from Taiwanese my age and younger had exhibited. In
addition, I am the same age as their children, and I knew them both. In Madison I had
been living in the home of a close friend of theirs. They made me feel like a friend of the
family.

Strong, Joyce, Tim and Rolla were each mentioned in numerous descriptions of
student activism by informants, though much of their work had been behind the scenes

organization rather than as formal ofﬁce holders. Speaking of her husband’s understated

163

role in this important work, Joyce commented that, “not many people knew it was him
because it was so secret. Just like when he went to Taiwan [in 1988], not many people
knew that he was the ﬁrst one to get back in to Taiwan to represent WUFI and openly
challenge KMT in Taiwan. He was the ﬁrst one. But in the recent writing of the
histories here, he is not mentioned; he is not the one to get the fame.” They had tried to
balance their commitment to the cause of Taiwanese independence with the
responsibilities of raising a family and building a career. Considering that both of their
children would go on to be leaders of the Taiwanese American student movement, I was
interests in the environment in which they were raised. To what extend did their parents’
activism inﬂuence their Childhood experiences? I asked Joyce if it was difﬁcult for the
kids:

It was hard. Ever since my girl was born we were riding around every weekend
organizing the Midwest conference in the early stage, early stages, start from
visiting University of Illinois, the students there, always running around. And he
was always going away. We were always scared because when he wasn’t home,
it was just me and two kids. And sometimes we had funny phone calls at
midnight, no one would say anything, and sometimes we had threats. The kids
could understand what we are talking about and our home always a lot of people
and we could not — you see, when the people come to the house, my duty is to
cook, feed them. I cannot ask who are you and what is your name, because they
are so scared.

Even the members visiting each other you are not supposed to ask them their
name. Even if they stay at our house in the basement for a week, I don’t know
who they are, or their names. I cannot ask. So people say ‘oh, you can really
cook!’ well I have lots of practice. I had to cook for 30 people, sometimes,
several days, and the kids observed so they know something is different. So that
is why one time when the school asked Tim to write down his address, when we
had moved to the other house, he wouldn’t do it. He was crying, and they asked
why, and he told them that if he told them, the KMT would send people and come
and kill our family. '

Tim, commenting on the original mission of the Intercollegiate Taiwanese

American Association (ITASA), acknowledged that growing up an a household

164

such as his, and being in contact with the children of parents also victimized by
the nationalist government and campus spies, instilled in him a sense of
responsibility to his family and the political causes they supported. This was
contrasted with later leaders of ITASA. In the beginning, however:
It was completely political and ideological. It was all about getting
political prisoners out of jail, like uncle whoever is in jail, uncle whoever
is in jail... the people who came to these ﬁrst key meetings were the
Taiwanese American kids of these political prisoners, the WUF I kids.
Strong recalled with reticence of modesty that people years later had told
him that his work had been inﬂuential in promoting people’s commitment to the
independence movement. He said that he would not be telling me of his
inﬂuence, out of modesty, but was simply repeating what others had said. Strong
had composed seminal essays, slogans, manifestos and organization mission
statements which were published anonymously, or under pseudonyms:
When I came to this country I read a lot of articles, and had been
awakened, with all the passion, I wrote all night about that material a lot,
with full heart . . . aching about how important solidarity was, some
ideology about why we want independence, why we need independence, a
long essay, and published in Japan. That had a big impact, because many
people later on — they passed it around the factor was actually me, because
all that time, I always used a different name. No one used their real name,
but all the activist knew it was me, so they asked me to go to this meeting,
or communicate... anyone someone said a few years later that that article
stimulated many, many activists on various campuses. So when you ask
me why this happened, there are many reasons but I was one of those
reasons
Similarly, Tim and Rolla, as will be described in greater detail in Chapter Five,
were instrumental in recruiting others in their cohorts to establish local student

associations, and were key organizers of conferences which promoted translocal political

mobilization. Although they were leaders in their own school Taiwanese student

165

communities, their inﬂuence in terms of advice and coordination reached far beyond
local contexts, and outside of formal organization positions.

Strong’s return to Taiwan for the ﬁrst major gathering of Taiwanese
independence activists in diaspora in 1988 as the representative of the opposition
movement in the U.S. was another formative moment for him, as well as for his family.
“At that time, everything was scary,” he said. “In Taiwan, when I entered Taipei, it was
like entering a foreign land.” Joyce added that he had written his ﬁrst will just before his
departure. The ﬁrst year’s theme of the two-week-long protest-conference was “to
establish the dignity of Taiwanese.” He said that when he got a standing ovation for ﬁve
to seven minutes as a representative of the overseas independence movement, it was one
of the highpoints of his life. In a characteristic humor, he joked that perhaps the ovation
was because his statement was very short. There were between 20 to 30 thousand people
in Chiang Kai-Shek Square. However, during this moment of recognition, he had been
whisked into hiding. They called his name, and all cheered, but he was hiding with the
activists underground for safety. The next year, Strong and Joyce were unable to attend,
but both Tim and Rolla went in their stead. The event had a powerful impact on the two
teenagers as described in chapter ﬁve, a discussion of Taiwanese American activism.

B. Counter-History as Displayed in 1976 and Remembered in 2004

During one of our interviews we paged through a thick photo album of city-wide
cultural events the Chng family had participated in as “Taiwan” during their years in
Cincinnati, dating back to 1967. They were particularly interested to show me the panel
boards of “Taiwan’s History” from the 1976 Cincinnati city-wide I was able to see the

original hand-painted boards, which were stacked in their garage. Referring to the recent

166

Celebrate Madison event in comparison, Joyce commented, “you can tell, we were trying
to educate. Not like the night before where they just had random things without
thinking,” referring to the Celebrate Madison tables of various Taiwanese craﬁs.
Descriptions and images of “The History of Taiwan” display panels (Figure 10) reveal a
Taiwan-centric perspective on the history of the island, portrayed as a series of
migrations and foreign intrusions.

Figure 10: Taiwan History Display Panels and Text

 

167

1. THE FIRST INHABITANTS OF TAIWAN (MAYLAY POLYNESIAN STOCK)
i. Atayal tribal woman
ii. Paiwan tribal children
iii. Ami tribal beauty

2. MIGRATION OF THE MAINLAND SETTLERS (15-16th CENTURIES)
i. Route to Green Island
ii. New World

3. RULED BY SPANISH, DUTCH AND PORTUGUESE (16-17TH CENTURIES)
i. An old castle of the Dutch remains
ii. Dutch invasion (1624)

4. THE KINGDOM OF KOXINGA (1662-1683)
i. Koxinga attacks Zelandia Fort
ii. Dutch surrender
iii. Koxinga
iv. Chi-Kan: The Zelandia Fort today

5. ABUSIVE RULE BY MANCHU (CHING) DYNASTY (1683-1895)
i. Ruler: Prime Minister Li and Yar-Men (Govemor’s Mansion)

ii. Ruled: Poverty life of the Taiwanese
6. FORMOSA REPUBLIC (1895) - HER NATIONAL FLAG -

7. A COLONY OF JAPAN (1895-1945)
i. Kabayama —— the lSt Japanese governor and his headquarter, an architecture
symbolized military rule
ii. Japanese entered Taipei
iii. Leader and his base of 1915 uprising. 3000 were massacred
iv. Modernization

8. OCCUPIED BY CHIANG GOVERNMENT (1945-)
i. Feb. 28, 1947 Revolution: 20,000 Taiwanese were massacred by Chiang
government
ii. Chiang — the President and his headquarters
iii. Hard working Taiwanese

9. FUTURE: SELF-DETERMINATION FOR THE PEOPLE OF TAIWAN

The Chng family, ﬁiends and members of the local student association were

aware of the risks, but felt that they should take the opportunity of these types of events

168

to raise awareness of Taiwan among the general public, as well as encourage others from
Taiwan to become more active.

We were very proud to show our ideas about the future of Taiwanese self-

deterrnination. All this was very difﬁcult for Chinese to swallow, so they

reported to Chicago’s ROC ofﬁce and they dispatch special people, they make
mass phone call to students to not to help or participate in this festival. 1 know
because many people received the call at the same time, they were threatened that
if they went they would have difﬁculty going back, or your passport won’t be
extended, or something. They made all kinds of threats. But some courage
students with Taiwanese identity - still came with masks, or they were behind the
curtain cooking egg rolls. People tried to get in there and see people; people were
very scared.

There were very few students who came to participate. [Other students from

Taiwan] came and openly challenged the booth, condemned it, argued with the

people there, they were very hostile. We told the police that at night, when we go

home, you had better watch it because at night they will try to destroy the booth.

They said “no problem, that will never happen”. Then, in the morning, we could

see that they tried to take away parts of it. At that time it was really exciting. It

was like a battle ﬁeld, truly like a battle ﬁeld.

The “Occupied by the Chiang Government” panel (Figure 10) contains a stylized
pair of heads bearing teeth at each other across a chasm ﬁlled with circles and triangles.
The left face, on black with a blue star of the KMT, represents Taiwan, and the right face
framed by a red ﬁeld represented the PRC. Although not immediately apparent to an
observer, the geometric symbols in the space between the faces represent Taiwanese
independence, referencing an ideograph Strong had popularized at that time: the character
for tai, of Taiwan, graphically represented as a triangle over a circle, was being displayed
as a symbol of deﬁance to the Nationalist government in Taiwan in the form of grafﬁti.
Limited in avenues to express disagreement with the government, stenciling the triangle

and circle logo onto a wall or light post was meant to let sympathizers and authorities

know that there were supporters of Taiwanese independence in their midst.

169

Looking backward across time, the ultimate historical horizon lies with the
indigenous groups in Taiwan, most often represented by women in colorful dress
performing traditional dances. Taiwanese history is portrayed as a series of colonial
regimes challenged by local uprisings. The display is represented as a historical record
rather than a political protest, though it is both. Borrowing the genre of historical
objectivity as an organizational principle to communicate alternative national
imaginations —- as opposed to an explicit protest demonstration — is in some ways more
threatening to a regime whose foundation rests on a Sinocentric historical world-view
perpetuated primarily through control over the production of History.

Looking forward, to the future, the historical horizon speciﬁed is “Self
Determination for the people of Taiwan” (Figure 10). The way in which Taiwan is
represented in the panels follows the central thread of the Formosan Taiwanese identity.
One of the keys to differentiating conceptualizations of Taiwan relates to the way the
Nationalist government is portrayed. Here, the ROC is an occupying force, a foreign
power shaping the destiny of a people denied the right of self-determination.
Multicultural Taiwan is not deﬁned in relation to a foreign occupation, but rather a more
abstract threat. By suppressing local traditions and language in Taiwan, the nationalist
government created the conditions for a grass-roots, culture-based opposition movement.
In this environment, it became increasingly important to be able to distinguish Taiwanese
from Chinese culture. Following the central theoretical assumption of this dissertation,
drawing such distinctions should not be thought of as recovering roots, but rather as a

constructive process. Alan Chen, for example, must make the case that although the

170

puppets came from China, and were inﬂuenced by Chinese operatic tradition under the
Japanese and Nationalist governments, they are nonetheless authentic Taiwanese culture.
C. Historic Generation, Index Events, and Vicarious Memory

Generations of Taiwanese opposition activism are usually identiﬁed with a
powerful event in which they play a prominent role. The event memories that shape a
historic generation are powerful because they are both emotion-laden and intersubjective.
Powerful external events are internalized in adolescence and early adulthood, and then
shared through social remembering among peers. The historicity and generational culture
that emerges is informed by the events themselves, as well as a mnemonic dialogue.
However, in the case of the February 28th Incident, the collective remembering of the
trauma of the events surrounding the Incident was severely limited through fear of
reprisal of discussion. What discussion took place was behind closed doors, and public
remembrance was outlawed. The few witnesses who moved from Taiwan to Japan and
the U.S. were freer to discuss the event and share their experiences with others, both
within their cohort and subsequent generations. In this regard, the historic generation that
was most affected by the 2-28 Incident was not the generation with biographical memory
of the event, but rather those who experienced the event as a vicarious memory.

The moment of learning of the event, however, was sometimes so powerful as to
be considered an immediate, biographical experience of moral shock associated with the
event, overlaid with the complex feelings evoked regarding the Chinese nation-building
project into which they had so thoroughly been socialized. Although Iiuxuesheng were
having similar experiences on campuses across the U.S., the “awakening” is unlike other

index events insofar as it was a very personal experience. In this regard, the speciﬁc

l7l

event being vicariously remembered is less signiﬁcant than the change in perspective, the
shift in the way Taiwan is conceptualized. Although the February 28th Incident was
frequently mentioned as the most signiﬁcant event in their political orientation, there
were many sources of information that would facilitate the de-mystiﬁcation of the ROC
and create the necessity to re-conceptualize Taiwan from a Sinocentric to a Taiwan-
centric space.

The Kaohsiung Incident and related subsequent developments such as the Lin
family murder and trial of the Kaohsiung Eight, had a formative impact on those in their
late teens at the time, not participants but the observers who would enter universities in
the early 19803 and begin to press for liberalization in campus affairs. Eventually they
would provide support for the opposition dangwai political movement leading to the
founding of the DPP in 1986 and the lifting of martial law in 1987, the crowning
accomplishments of the F orrnosan Taiwanese generation. The events of the decade from
1977 at the Chengli Incident to the lifting of martial law shaped the subjectivities of a
third generation, those involved in the Wild Lily demonstrations in 1991.

When speciﬁc events are viewed as points of reference in history, the constructed
nature of history is revealed. The claim to the “true story” is often highly contested, both
within and between generations. Indeed, one of the bedrocks of legitimacy for a regime
is the power to construct the ofﬁcial historical narrative of the nation-state. In national
pedagogy the ofﬁcial conceptualization of Taiwan is outlined, emphasizing its
Chineseness. Taking this Sinocentric identity as a baseline as it was universally
experienced among Iiuxuesheng, alternative views are more easily differentiated. Within

living memory of the informants in this study, a series of events should be highlighted as

172

having shaped conceptualizations of Taiwan. Biographical and vicarious memories of
these events were shared within and between generations.

Strong connected his own experiences to those of the younger Taiwanese student,
and describes how moving it was:

Recently I have seen a similar pattern which touched me a lot. When I saw [the
student] from Arizona State - when I read his article - this all happened in the last
few months. When I had a chance to read his words and could see the same
process of so-called ‘awakening.’ It is like the new understanding of myself some
40 years ago. That kind of experience for me at my age is very unusual, and very
precious, so very, very precious.

This trip [to a WUF I recruiting and training camp] I was so low energy; I didn’t
even notice there was a young member like Michael Ho there. After I came back,
Jolan sent me Michael’s article, writing how he met qian bei [respectful terms for
older generation], and how he was awakened because of my book — my ﬁrst book,
which he found in the university library, maybe at Arizona State university
section on Taiwanese books. And the title of my book was “Overseas Taiwanese
Dream to have an Independent Taiwan.” Something like that. He was curious by
reading that title, so he reached out his hand. And this traditional education about
Taiwanese independence is poisonous, that concept, it immediately affected his
actions, and he reached for the next book, about the Taiwanese aboriginal people.
And the second time he went to the library, he just could not just take the one and
read it; he immediately was drawn into the emotion, like when I was young. He
just cannot stop until he ﬁnished the whole book.

That kind of description — that kind of essay — so shocked me that at the same
time when I receive that I went to the doctor about the cancer, and he said “oh,
you are all clean!” So that proves that love heals, that love has the power to heal.
In this case, Mike was so strongly inﬂuenced not by an immediate experience of a
speciﬁc historical event, but by a narrative of another’s experience learning the details of
powerful historical events told to him by an eye-witness. Moreover, Strong learned of
Mike’s transforrnative experience when he published it on a Taiwanese college list-serve

With the intention of encouraging others in his age cohort to learn more about Taiwan and

the sacriﬁces of previous generations of activists

173

To summarize, the index events described in this dissertation include, ﬁrst, the
transition between Japanese and Chinese colonization, punctuated by the February 28th
Incident of 1947. These events shaped the Formosan political identity among
Iiuxuesheng as they established the ﬁrst independence organizations in Japan and the U.S.
Their political agendas were framed in the discourses of anti-colonial struggle and self-
deterrnination. This index event was followed by the White Terror, less a single event
than an era when public discourse was strictly limited, including references to the
February 28lh Incident, creating circumstances leading to a pattern of “eye-opening”
experiences in inter-generational memory groups: associations of students from Taiwan
on university campuses in the U.S.

Thirdly, the Bao-diao (protect Diaoyutai Islands) protests, the ﬁrst major broad-
based political dissident mobilization among extraterritorial populations, was
characterized by a range of reactions among those involved in the events, including both
Taiwanese and Chinese nationalism. Dissent was in the open for the ﬁrst time since the
February 28th Incident. The generation inspired by the Bao-diao demonstrations would
lead the democracy movement in the late 19703 and early 19803, punctuated by the fourth
index event included in this analysis, 1979 Kaohsiung Incident (also known as Meilidao,
or F orrnosa in English), which includes the “Kaohsiung eight” trials and the Lin family
murders. The mid-19803 democratic transition is the ﬁfth index event under

consideration, including the lifting of martial law, the legalization of the opposition

174

Democratic Progressive Party, and the emergence of a wide range of progressive reform
movements.

The sixth index event informants mentioned as being signiﬁcant in shaping their
conceptualizations of Taiwan is commonly known as the Wild Lily movement of 1990,
when a new generation of Taiwanese activists — many of whom were students or recent
graduates from Taiwanese National University (and other universities, though to a lesser
extent) — mobilized large-scale demonstrations to pressure Lee Teng-hui to enact
constitutional reform early in his presidential tenure. Many of the Wild Lily protesters
who enrolled in graduate school in the U.S. in the early 19903 would go on to organize
the demonstrations in the U.S. protesting the Chinese missile tests on the eve of Taiwan’s
ﬁrst democratic presidential election in 1996. The seventh index event concerns what has
become known as the 1995 and 1996 missile crises. China conducted live-ﬁre military
maneuvers off the coast of Taiwan, including on the eve of a historic presidential
election. The demonstration of military aggression sparked wide-spread protests on
campuses in the U.S. and around the world, culminating in the March 22nd Vigil (“322”)
event co-organized by Taiwanese Collegian and WUFI, representing the convergent
mobilization of three historic generations of overseas students as well as second-
generation Taiwanese Americans.

And ﬁnally, the eighth index event involves the election of former political
prisoner and opposition leader Chen Shui-bian to the presidency in 2000, widely viewed
as the completion of democratic reform in Taiwan and resolution of the “identity
problem” with the popularization of an inclusive, geographically deﬁned “New

Taiwanese” identity. The post-Chen era, however, is marked by a dramatic decline in

175

political engagement by Taiwanese youth. Protests in 1990 and 1996 were far less
“memorable” to Iiuxuesheng than the elections themselves. With the elections of Lee
Teng-Hui, a benshengren, in 1996, followed by the 2000 election of Chen Shui-bian of
the opposition DPP party, younger generations have been less drawn to Taiwanese
politics than their seniors by only a few cohorts.

While comparing names of some of the most active student leaders in the U.S.
from the early to mid-19903 with Jeff Tsai, I pointed out that the Taiwanese
independence movement is still active in the U.S. through the Wild Lilly cohorts in and
around graduate schools. They are working to raise awareness of Taiwan among the
younger Iiuxuesheng and Taiwanese Americans. I was thinking of Hiro and Li-lin,
among others. It is the younger group that concerned him most. They have the same
“roots,” he said, “but they do not have the same value system.” When I asked him about
the causes behind this shift in the way younger generations viewed their relationship to
Taiwan, he pointed out a similar pattern in the U.S.:

You know, you look at people in the United States, you see the same thing. You

know people of my age — they were so concerned about social justice, social

liberty -— yes, there was even — what — unrest? My age, I think you know there
were people on the streets protesting this, protesting that... You know I think
their sense of justice and social responsibility was very strong. Now, but look at
the younger generations of Americans. .. they don’t seem to care anything about
that. They care about, you know, good jobs, a nice car. ..

In the chapters that follow, the events outlined above will be pointed out as they
appear in the data gathered from an extensive survey of student association websites over
a ten-year period. Some of the events will not appear, while others will be emphasized,

even incorporated in the narrative of the groups’ origin and purpose. As index events

emerge from the data, they will be discussed in relation to other perspectives within and

176

between generations. Applying this analytical strategy to Internet-based research allows
the researcher to create historical depth while working with asynchronous ﬁeld-sites. In
other words, the appearance of index events will anchor the website to a ﬁxed event in
time, as well as all other interpretations of the event throughout the literature and data

collected for this dissertation research.

177

CHAPTER FOUR: WWW.TSA.EDU

It was a very cold night of February 23, 1996. The piercing wind shook people's
body but not their heart, like the missile launched by China shaking merely the air
but nothing to Taiwanese people's conﬁdence for their ﬁrst public presidential
election in Taiwan. There were about twenty enthusiastic Taiwanese students and
professors met together in the basement of Krannert at Purdue University for the
discussion of “What can we do for Taiwan?".

- I Love Taiwan Club at Purdue University (2002).

I. Student Association Websites as Field Sites and Texts

A. Diachronic and Synchronic Analysis: Ethnography and Time in Cyberspace

In this chapter I explore conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among

Iiuxuesheng through an analysis of student association websites. In the previous chapters
1 have described the historical index events that have to some extent shaped
conceptualizations of Taiwan among generations of Iiuxuesheng, and how historical
interpretations have been negotiated between generations in local settings. The scope of
this analysis will now be broadened by examining a wide range of local settings across
time, through the lens of student association websites, with three main purposes in mind.
First, student association websites may provide insight into index events described in the
previous chapter among younger generations who’ve experienced the events vicariously,
revealing inter-generational negotiations of historical interpretation and degree of
signiﬁcance. Next, the content of student association websites should provide a greater
understanding of inter-generational negotiations of Taiwan’s identity, given that, as
established in the introductory chapter, all Iiuxuesheng and Taiwanese American student

associations are always/already spaces where competing national imaginations are

178

negotiated by extraterritorial and immigrant populations. Because student associations’
web presence has become the primary mode of expression of group identity in relation to
other organizations of students from Taiwan and China, as well as to other cultural
student groups, the campus community and the general public, they often yield insight
into the range of conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among group members. Indeed,
a website absent of content other than a schedule of upcoming social events — an
increasingly common format — is itself telling of the degree to which a groups’ collective
understanding of Taiwan’s identity need be expressed to external groups, or in any formal
way. Finally, student association website research presented in this chapter yields insight
into the advantages and limitations of Intemet-based research methods.

Insights are drawn from both “synchronic” and “diachronic” analysis. From a
synchronic approach, a single student association website may be viewed as one among
scores of others on campuses across the country that collectively create a historical
snapshot of a generation, say, the heterogeneous sentiments of students in the fall of
1995, as represented collectively through website content. The synchronic “snap-shot”
approach will be described here as “cyber-archaeology” as it seeks to draw insights by
understanding individual strata, multiple websites during a single period in time.

Although websites’ graphic and textual composition are frequently updated,
revised, re-made, relocated, abandoned and ultimately removed from the cyber-spatial
present, few data are ever actually “removed” entirely from the Internet, but are instead
incrementally displaced. Research tools allow for the recovery of previous versions of
websites recorded every month or so by Internet archivists. The strata revealed by

synchronic analysis can then be used to trace the changes of a single website over time, a

179

longitudinal approach referred to here as cyber- genealogy. This diachronic approach
draws on the genre and metaphors of biography; indeed websites often contain narratives
of the group’s founding and other ﬁrst-person collective mission statement, descriptions
of key events shaping institutional identity, traces of shifts in groups’ practices as found
through archived events calendars and photograph albums. Changes in political and
cultural orientation may be discerned from discussion board posting and revisions of
mission statements.

Among the student association mission statements and group descriptions,
oftentimes explicit references are made to the events outlined in the previous chapter.
Notably, a spike of new organizations were founded in 1995 and 1996 that speciﬁcally
mention in their mission statements the Chinese live-ﬁre missile tests on the eve of
presidential elections in Taiwan. Websites have a dynamic relationship to the collective
historicity of group members insofar as they are at the same time expressions of
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among members, as well as locations of memory
through which mnemonic socialization occurs as new students join the group. Changes
in website content including iconography, historical narratives, records of group events,
and the like, in this respect, reveal inter- and intra- generational negotiations of Taiwan’s
identity.

B. Titles in Academic Discourse: When is a CSA a TSA?

The introduction to this dissertation included a discussion of the seemingly self-
evident terms “Taiwanese” and “Chinese.” In Chapter One, the term “Formosan” was
deconstructed, revealing a speciﬁc historical and political valence, one which was

adopted as a descriptor for a speciﬁc conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity, and

180

ultimately appropriated as an analytical term in this dissertation beyond its original
currency. A related issue arises in this chapter when discussing the formal names taken
by student associations. Group names in themselves have historical signiﬁcance as they
are expressions of speciﬁc conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity, whether those of the
members, or those who are able to determine the name of the group regardless of the
members’ preferences. Being named, categorized, by distinguishing inclusions and
exclusions, inherently commits a form of violence against those who would name
themselves otherwise. Because of this, the evolution of student association names is one
of the elements analyzed in the web-based student association study.

This raises a fundamental questions regarding naming and hegemony: is a “TSA”
a “CSA”? The recurring questions surrounding issues of Taiwan’s identity became
manifest in innumerable ways in everyday life among overseas students from Taiwan,
including the ofﬁcial titles of the student associations. A student association changing its
name ﬁ'om CSA to TSA often indicates a shift in the ways students from Taiwan
represent themselves to other Iiuxuesheng, students from China, the campus community,
and the broader public. The majority of student association websites revealed a change in
title at some point in their institutional history, some including a narration explaining the
change.

In The Taiwanese Americans (1998), Franklyn N g proposes that as the population
of overseas Chinese from Taiwan grew over the years, more diversity in the Chinese
student population led to conﬂicts based on “background,” In his segment dealing with
student associations, his ﬁrst example is a case of a “CSA” with an alternating presidency

power-sharing system between “Chinese students from Hong Kong and Taiwan.” The

181

second inter-organizational Conﬂict Ng cites is based on “political status,” as students
from Hong Kong were not interested in commemorating 10-10 day, the national day of
the ROC. A third example of conﬂict within organizations of students from Taiwan and
Hong Kong describes tension over which language to use, Mandarin, Cantonese, or
English. Although he notes that some students from Taiwan objected to Mandarin
because it was the guoyu (national language,) he does not note the signiﬁcance of these
students’ open rejection of the government’s Chinese nationalist discourse, nor does he
include the anti-Nationalist dimension in his more general point that tensions within
CSAs emerged with heterogeneity of student-immigrant “backgrounds.” The decision to
categorize associations of students from Taiwan who adopt “Taiwan” or “Formosa” in
their organizational title as a Chinese organization implies a Sinocentric
conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity. Ng, himself from Hong Kong, presents the
primary dichotomy in student associations being between students from Hong Kong and
those from Taiwan. In his narrative of student associations, although the groups had
managed to negotiate their differences, as Ng put it, “when the number of students from
China increased, and some students from Taiwan favored a distinctive Taiwanese
perspective in the 19803, the structure collapsed” (1998:62). Based on the historical era
he is describing, students “from China” are from The Republic of China. For Ng,
Taiwan as ROC was in negotiations with Chinese from Hong Kong, over the leadership
of the student association for Chinese people, meant to accommodate diasporic
Chineseness, with waishengren representing the Nationalist Chinese Taiwan. Taiwan-
centric organizations were a threat to the balance of power within the Chinese student

“community.” It would be the next generation of immigrants — most of whom were

182

 

Taiwanese — who would shift the axis of discourse from intra-generational negotiations
between Hong Kong and the Nationalists over which Chinese political holidays should
be recognized, discussion of negotiations of language choice for movies, they are
described by Ng to be between Mandarin and Cantonese. With the new generation, the
language dynamic will have shifted to an issue of guoyu and holo languages, with
speaking Holo being a marker of Taiwanese national or ethnic identity, generally
paralleling the benshengren-waishengren divide for two generations.

Following the framework developed by linguistic anthropologist Kenneth Pike
(1954), research operates in two distinct epistemological domains, one grounded in the
subjective understandings of those being studied, and the other resting on the range of
theoretical and analytical approaches employed by social scientists. What he called emic
knowledge refers to the terminology, concepts, technologies, categories, distinctions,
narratives, and other forms of meaning construction that are intrinsic to the social group
being studied. Not structured by any pre-forrned analytical assumptions, the goal of this
epistemological approach is to understand the inner lives and worldviews of groups being
studied. A commitment to emic understanding attempts to close the distance between
researcher and subject, and place greater value on subjective experiences as articulated by
the subjects themselves. This kind of knowledge provides an understanding of the
subject literally “in their own terms.”

Etic knowledge emerges from the analyses of social groups based primarily on the
concepts and assumptions of the social scientists. This approach, though not always in
direct conﬂict with the more subjective perspective, does employ structures that, while

not necessarily inaccurate, are oftentimes alien to the lives of those being studied,

183

creating the potential for error, analytical tautology in the determination of what kinds of
knowledge are intrinsic to the subject group. In other words, there is a possibility that
what is thought to be indigenous emic knowledge or social fact is in fact a category
inappropriate for the subject group; if it is not recognized as an etic structure, the
analytical ﬂaw is submerged within the text itself. The subject evaporates.

This danger is particularly problematic in research dealing with questions of
identity, doubly so when the subject is speciﬁcally addressing contested identity.
However, disjunctures between emic and etic knowledge often provide critical insights.
For example, seeking out incongruities between local and academic knowledge allows
research to explore which agents and agencies determine the boundaries of naturalized
etic categories, and how such categories are reproduced. For the purposes of this
research, the descriptive terms “Taiwanese student association” and “Chinese student
association” are avoided unless referring to speciﬁc organization titles. Instead, terms
such as “associations of Iiuxuesheng from Taiwan,” and the like, will be used.

Websites often include narratives describing the reasoning and process whereby
the formal name of the organization was revised, usually replacing “Chinese” with
“Taiwanese.” For example, the Taiwanese Student Association of Indiana University
(2002) highlighted the consensus and democratic process:

We are the Taiwanese Student Association, former Chinese Student Association.

After series of discussions, meetings, and voting of our Constitution during the

school year 1999-2000, our members ﬁnally passed the change of name.

Although no other information regarding the name change is provided, the
author’s inclusion of the word “ﬁnally” suggests that there were some in the group who

felt that the change was overdue, a possible indication of a divergence in opinion

184

KWhether inter-generational, intra-generational, or both) regarding the overall
understanding of Taiwan’s identity among the group’s membership. In the next
example, the Taiwanese Student Association of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst

(2003) provide a more speciﬁc explanation of the name change:

The forerunner of TSA is ROCSA (Republic of China Student Association),
which was found in 1997. For the past 6 years, TSA/ROCSA has served as a
cultural group for the general public while providing a home—feeling community
for international students from Taiwan. Due to the fact that Republic of China, the
formal name of Taiwan, is not well known, our 5th president, Ming C Kuo, and
vice president, Sam Chen, decided to change the name to TSA, since Taiwan is
better known than R.O.C. By the unanimous vote of over two third of our
members, ROCSA became TSA in spring 2002.

In both of these cases, and in most other name change narratives as well, there is a
notation that the process was open and democratic, a detail which may intentionally
highlight the non-democratic nature of the previous title, and it resonated with a similar
increase in name-discourse in Taiwan, particularly after the 2000 elections. New
Taiwanese identity is based on the idea of four ethnic groups, each descended from
immigrant groups arriving in Taiwan, now bonded by a common fate, and imagined
future. To realize this conceptualization of Taiwan, many Chinese signiﬁers were
removed, including names of companies to passports, thoroughfares, parks, and postage
stamps, all replaced with names in indigenous groups’ languages and Taiwanese. The
“nativization,” and “de-sinicization” discourse represents a contrast between the view
that Taiwan should be purged of Chinese cultural inﬂuence, and the more common

discourse that Taiwanese are Han Chinese ethnic group, one of four on Taiwan.

Concerning the relationship between Chineseness and Taiwanese ethnicity in the

following narrative from the MIT Taiwanese Student Association (2001a):

185

In the beginning...

In 1991, Annie Chang (Course [II '94) had the idea of starting a student group
devoted to activities related to Taiwanese culture. At that time (as there is now),
MIT had a number of Chinese student organizations. However, it was felt that
these groups provided a different ﬁmction for the student body. Annie, along with
Phil Sheu '94, Mike Feng '94, and Dung Vu '94, worked out the idea of a group
that centered more around cultural activities (rather than purely social ones), and
to bring Taiwanese culture to the undergraduate population -- Both those whose
roots lay in Taiwan and those interested in learning more about Taiwanese
culture. '

The Wild Lily generation students at MIT conceptualized Taiwan in a unique
way, decentering the “ROC-based Sinocentric versus Taiwan-centric group” dynamic by
owning, rather than rejecting, the category of “Chinese” student associations, and then
emphasized the Taiwan-centric nature of the organization itself. By pointing out that
MIT hosted “a number of Chinese student associations,” but then noting that none
addressed Taiwanese culture, the student association was subverting and re-conﬁguring
the primary axis of student association distinctions. Locating student ROC associations
in the same category as those from the PRC acknowledged the claims of sovereignty over
Taiwan made by both regimes, and then extracting Taiwan from the discussion of

contested sovereignty of Mainland China.

Figure 11: Three China-Taiwan Dichotomies

 

a. Hegemonic geocentric conﬁgiration: [ROC/Taiwan] ¢ [PRC/China]
b. Syncretic conﬁguration: [Taiwanese/Chinese ¢ Other]
c. Taiwan-centric conﬁguration: [Taiwanese] i [ROC/PRC]

 

 

 

Figure 11 details two common pairs of oppositions represented in mission
statements, and a third presented by the students at MIT. The earliest version in terms of

history, (a) focuses on the ROC/PRC dynamic, while the syncretic formulation (b)

186

indicates an ambiguity in the relationship between Chineseness and Taiwaneseness. In
formulation (c), the MIT group presents a conceptualization of Taiwan based on

identiﬁcation with Taiwan rather than Chinese identity regardless of place of origin.

The organization’s second mission point reads: “To promote interactions between
Taiwanese, Taiwanese-American, Chinese, Chinese-American, and any people with
interests in Taiwanese culture.” The students have presented themselves as closely
related to students from China, and welcome their participation in events, while
maintaining a conceptualization of Taiwan as a separate culture from that of China.
Similarly, students at MIT established their organization “in the interest of the Taiwanese
culture,” and discuss “current issues germane to Taiwan.” The origin narrative locates
Taiwan within the overarching discourse of China, but positioned in opposition to

Sinocentric groups of students from PRC and ROC.

C. Data Collection

Anthropologists favor working in the present because, however disjointed and
difﬁcult to represent as it may be, it is nonetheless accessible (Des Chene 1997). She
notes that “studies that investigate the past make problematic the face—to-face localized
encounter central to our conceptions of the generic and unifying ‘ﬁeld’ . . . The ﬁeld may
not be a place at all, but a period of time or a series of events, the study of which will take
the researcher to many places” (70-1). Archival work is an ethnographic enterprise, and
cyber-ethnography and archival ﬁeldwork are ways to apprehend “cultural phenomena
and political processes across both time and space” (76). Such methodologies allow
explorations of the “structural principles of organization, and who speaks for whom and

in what register.” She further notes than the condensation of archival material into notes

187

is an interpretive task akin to that of writing ﬁeldnotes” (77). The student association
website study informing this dissertation should be understood as a major component of
the ﬁeldwork conducted for this research.

Student association in the U.S. grew apace with the steady increase of Iiuxuesheng
in the U.S., from 22,590 in 1987 to a high of 37,580 in 1994. The rate of increase of
student association websites also reﬂect the overall number of overseas students and
second-generation Taiwanese Americans on college campuses, and the explosion of
Internet capacity in the early and mid-19903, and the rise of multicultural programs on
college campuses and elsewhere. In 1992 there were more than 1 million Internet hosts
and over 4 thousand news groups. In 1993, the number of hosts had doubled. By 1997
there were 19.5 million hosts and one million WWW sites. An additional factor linking
early student association web—presence to the rate of expansion of the Internet involves
the local production of technology, as the major U.S. electrical engineering departments
were supported by faculty and graduate researchers from Taiwan. Finally, student
associations increased along with a general trend of increase in popularity of co-ethnic

organizations and “multiculturalism” on college campuses.

188

Series 1 in Figure 12 indicates the number of student associations established that
year among those reporting their founding dates.

Figure 12: Frequency of TSA Website Establishment

I Series1

 

The population of student association websites in this study was established by
compiling lists of student associations found on individual student association websites,
Taiwanese government sources and non-proﬁt organizations, including the Taiwanese
Collegian. As described above, cyber-archaeologz involves analyzing a wide range of
websites active at the same moment in history. The diachronic approach, what I am
calling cyber—genealogz, traces the development of individual organizations over time.
Cyber— genealogy added to the number of websites in the sample by including the
websites of deﬁmct organizations, and those markedly different from previous
incarnations of active student associations. Compiled, this created a population of 172
student association websites.

The initial proﬁles of active student associations were recorded as Microsoft
Outlook contacts, address entries in an e-mail organizing and planner program with ﬁelds
such as ﬁrst and last name, e-mail addresses, website URL, mailing addresses, as well as

customizable ﬁelds. I originally began working in the Outlook format as part of my

189

involvement in the Taiwanese Collegian (TC) organization, speciﬁcally, as a member of
the Research and Development committee. My primary responsibility in that position
was to construct and maintain a database of all associations of Iiuxuesheng in the U.S.
The database included annotations on the groups’ ideological orientation based on
mission statements, iconographic elements, and hyperlinks, the organizations’ degree of
activity, institutional political history, events calendars, and other details which could be
used to build e—mail lists for speciﬁc purposes. I recorded these elements and
periodically updated the database, noting speciﬁc changes over time. My work with
members of TC and senior activists developed the foundational skills required for this
dissertation’s website research. I learned to thoroughly explore and carefully interpret
website content, looking for patterns and constellations of symbolic elements.

In the next segment, elements of representative sites will be discussed in terms of
the relationship between content and conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity. Although
some sites explicitly present Taiwan as part of Greater China and minimize or omit
references to Taiwan, and others emphasize non-Chinese elements of Taiwanese culture
without mentioning China. Most sites, as will be indicated in the data and discussed in
the concluding segment of the chapter, represent some degree of syncretism in their

conceptualization and representation of Taiwan.

II. Articulations of Taiwan’s Identity
A. Taiwan as China
Recall from Chapter One that the basic structure of student associations emerged

as Taiwan-centric associations were established in response to ubiquitous ofﬁcially

190

sponsored student association most often bearing the word “China” or “Chinese” in the
title, rather than “Taiwan” or “Formosa.” During this dissertation research period there
were twenty-ﬁve dual student association campuses in the U.S. — primarily at large
research institutions and Ivy League schools — though this number continues to ﬂuctuate
as groups across the country split and merge each year.

As will be discussed in the next chapter, Iiuxuesheng student associations co-exist
with groups whose members are primarily second-generation Taiwanese Americans. As
a result, a handful of schools host three Taiwan-related student associations. Groups that
have inherited the legacy of being the ofﬁcially sponsored organizations with Sinocentric
iconography and textual content continue to be the primary group on many campuses.
Conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity in these cases presents Taiwan, and Taiwanese
people, as representative of China and Chinese people. For example, the Central
Missouri Chinese Student Association (2001) presented its mission in these terms:

Thank you for visiting Chinese Student Association (CSA) homepage. This
homepage is designed for people to understand more about the Chinese culture

and provide information for the new student at Central Missouri State
University. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Graphic elements on the page such as the prominent ROC ﬂag and zhonghua
minguo (Republic of China) in hanji, however, clearly indicate the groups is for students
from Taiwan rather than the PRC on mainland China. In a small box on the page are the
hanji characters for Taiwan, Singapore, mainland (da lu,) and Hong Kong. Similarly, the
Chinese Student Association of Taiwan, The Republic of China at George Mason
University (2000b) notes on the homepage (which features a waving ROC ﬂag) that their
purpose is “to provide services and activities for overseas students and staff from Taiwan

and to promote cultural awareness and understanding on the Chinese culture.” The

191

“About Taiwan” page (2000a) provides a geographic and demographic description of the
Island and notes that “Taiwan not only inherits the 5000 years Chinese culture, but also
has high development in economic, technology and democracy.”
B. Syncretism and Negotiation

For the ﬁrst ten years of operation (1991 — 2001), the MIT Association of
Taiwanese Students described above maintained a position that identiﬁed student
associations from the ROC in the same category as PRC — Chinese organizations — as
opposed to their Taiwan-centric emphasis as presented in Figure 10: Taiwan-centric
conﬁguration: [Taiwanese] :6 [ROC/PRC]. The omission of Chinese culture from its
mission and the emphasis on learning about Taiwanese culture and issues was later

modiﬁed in favor of the more common seen syncretic ambiguity:

The Association of Taiwanese Students consists primarily of undergraduate
students with a Taiwanese heritage or an interest in Taiwanese culture. For many
of the members, ATS is a place to make friends with different homes and with
different backgrounds, but share the common interest in retaining and learning
about Taiwanese and Chinese traditions and cultures.

Our activities include celebrating Taiwanese and Chinese holidays, making and
eating authentic Chinese and Taiwanese food, hosting study breaks, broadcasting
our very own "Rhythm of Taipei" radio show, and occasional karaoke and dim-
sum runs. In addition to a myriad of social and cultural activities, ATS is also
very active in intramural sports sponsoring teams in volleyball, basketball, tennis,
hockey, pool, and ultimate frisbee in the past. We encourage any student with an
interest in Taiwanese or Chinese culture to join us at any of our events.

The autobiographical narrative of the association’s inception was removed from
the site, as was the association’s constitution. Whereas in the original conﬁguration,
Taiwan’s identity made no reference to Chinese culture, only allowing itself to be

categorized as one among several Chinese student associations, the more recent

192

incarnation conceptualizes Taiwan as having both Chinese and Taiwanese cultural

elements, as mediated through the repertoire of activities common to student associations.
The Chinese Student Association at Oregon State University

(2003) reveals an incremental shift from a Sinocentric description combined with

Taiwan-centric language:

The Chinese Students Association at Oregon State University is a student
organization formed mostly by the students from Taiwan. This organization has
been established for many years and currently with 100 plus members.

Our organization hopes to help all members and Taiwanese students in making
their adaptation to American life easier and also have a good study life during
their stay in Corvallis, Oregon. CSA offers variety of services to newly arrived
students and holds many social/cultural activities each year to promote Chinese
culture and ﬁiendship among the students at OSU.

We often plan cultural events on campus to give American students the

opportunity to explore Taiwanese culture and to interact with Taiwanese students.

In the past year, we organized many social events such as the New Student's

Welcome Party, ﬁeld trips, Chinese New Year Dinner and many others.

The students themselves are identiﬁed as Taiwanese, while their culture is that of
China and Taiwan. The following year (2004) the association’s name was changed to the
Taiwanese Student Association, the Chinese New Year celebration was changed to
“lunar” New Year, and a “Taiwan Night Market” was added to the activities calendar.

The University of Oregon Chinese Student Association homepage (2005b) does
not directly indicate the student demographic, but the website iconography is clear,
including the ROC ﬂag. They refer to individuals’ Chinese “background” and promote
an interest in Chinese culture:

To All New Students, ,

Chinese Student Association (CSA) welcomes all arriving new students with

Chinese background or anyone who wishes to pursue the Chinese culture. We

understand the difﬁculties that you may face during your studies at the University
of Oregon. We serve as an organization that helps students feel as if they are at

193

home. CSA will occasionally host events that foster opportunities for new
students to meet with returning students and ask about their experiences at
University of Oregon. Once again I congratulate you on your admissions and
from here on, you will be a duck like us.

The “About Us” page (2005a) explicitly identiﬁes members as Taiwanese in one
line, followed by a descriptor identifying those from Taiwan as Chinese:

Chinese Student Association was established by a group of passionate students

who wanted to help the new Taiwanese students feel comfortable in this new

environment - Eugene, Oregon. This group of students consisted of Chinese
students from both Taiwan and USA. Their goal was to share this unique culture
and experience with both the Eugene community and the students at U of O. This
year C SA ofﬁcers hold the same belief that we can make a difference in the lives
of the new Taiwanese students and the community. Every year we host a special
event, which is known as China Night.

This indicates a conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity that includes Taiwan and
Taiwanese people within the Chinese cultural, racial and historical domains, with Taiwan
being a geographic reference, a local identity. In contrast, the Ohio University Chinese
Student Association (2005) notes on a page titled “Understanding Chinese and Taiwanese
Culture,” that:

After Civil War in 1949, Taiwan and China are ruled by two governments.

Although the political system of both sides is different, Chinese and Taiwanese

culture are similar. You also can use mandarin to communicate with Taiwanese

people. There are few links below, and you can know more about Taiwanese or

Chinese culture.

This element of the website was removed in 2006, when the name was changed to
the Taiwanese Student Association (TWSA). The revised and pared content did not
include mention Chinese culture or the historical relationship between the two countries

and cultures:

The Association is currently funded by Taiwanese students, faculty and staff at
Ohio University. The mission of the Association is to serve and connect

194

Taiwanese students at Ohio University and to improve cultural understanding

among Taiwanese students and other communities with different cultures.

Representations of indigenous groups’ culture is often used to represent Taiwan at
multicultural events because it distinguishes the student association from any other that
may be representing Chinese culture, or both Taiwanese and Chinese elements. In Figure
13, male students in Bawan dress each bear a ﬂag: the ﬂag of the Republic of China,
paired with an unofﬁcial Taiwanese ﬂag. Between them a groups of Taiwanese college
students build a human pyramid. The costumes were borrowed from the Alan Chen in

Chicago, and the students used on-line videos to learn “indigenous-style” dances.

Figure 13: Indigenous Dress and Contrasting Flags at TSA Events

 

195

C. Non-Chinese Taiwan

The Taiwanese Student Association at Louisiana State University (2002) has a
history of radical shifts between the extremes of Taiwan-centric and Sinocentric content.
The group, which will be discussed in greater detail below in the segment regarding the
1995-1996 index events, included a notation germane to the discussion at this point,
distinguishing itself from other associations of students from Taiwan and China on
campus. They point out that although members from the TSA and Chinese Student

Association are from Taiwan, they view Taiwaneseness in very different ways:

Ideologically, most of CSA's members regard themselves as Chinese even though
they do not consider Taiwan as part of PR China. On the other hand, TSA's
members support the Taiwanese independence movement and advocate the rights
of Taiwanese to determine their own future. CSSA was formed by the Chinese
students and professionals from PRC. Despite CSA's constitution stating that any
LSU Chinese student is eligible to become a member of CSA, very few PRC
students join CSA. The activities sponsored by TSA include public speeches and
seminars concerning the current issues and perspectives of Taiwan, while CSA
has main activities such as sports, picnics, and festival celebrations.

In 2001, the students from the Taiwan-oriented group fought vociferously for the
right to display the ﬂag of the Republic of China in the university International Cultural
Center, a conﬂict which drew international attention (2002b). The student group from
China had requested the ﬂag not be allowed to be displayed based on the reasoning that
the ROC was not formally recognized by the U.S. government. They were supported by
letters from the Chinese consulate in Houston, and ultimately direct intervention from
Beijing. A compromise was proposed: that they display the ﬂag used by Taiwan in the
International Olympic Games, “Chinese Taipei,” an option the basis of which was

described in Chapter One.

196

111. Student Associations, Index Events, and Historic Generations
A. Democratization (1986-1987)

The Harvard Taiwan Study Club (1999) origin narrative identiﬁes the end of the
martial law era (1947 — 1987) in Taiwan as the immediate context for its formation, and
couches descriptions of its activities in the terminology of democratic participation and
civic responsibility. Moreover, the statement reveals that not only does it address the
pertinent topics of Taiwan in the meeting’s activities, but it is also focused on producing
the next generation of Taiwanese leaders:

Harvard University Taiwanese Study Club was established in the end of 1987, a

year when the martial law was just abolished and all kinds of social issues

suddenly burst out to challenge Taiwan's future. A group of Taiwanese Harvard
students thus took up the challenges. They felt the urgency to realize their
possible contributions to the mother land in the future. They decided to bring their
personal concern into a publish sphere so that they set up this club as a space for
academic exchanges which focus on Taiwan's different problems, past, current,
and future.

The text refers to a speciﬁc subject group of individuals as founders who were
distinguishing themselves from another, less political organization at Harvard, that
Harvard Taiwanese Cultural Society. 20

Unlike other association, the activities of this club mainly includes lectures, panel

discussion, and informal seminars. In the past, the topics covered Taiwan's

economics, politics, history, culture, environmental issues, gender, and labor. At
the present and in the ﬁrture, this club will hold on its tradition based on the spirit
of public forum, open up a channel for different voices, provide a place for mutual
understanding and exchange, and serve as a preparation stage for people who
would devote their personal career to Taiwan's future.

As an index event, the February 28'h Incident commemoration indicates an

interest in Taiwanese history and collective memory, but when taken as a whole, the

 

2° Ng (1998) discussed the Harvard Taiwanese Cultural Society, but neglected to note the existence of
HTSC.

197

content of the page indicates a younger membership whose interests do not involve social
activism in the same way the Taiwanese Study Club (2002) does:

Welcome to the TCS home page! TCS is a student organization at Harvard

University dedicated to promoting the culture and heritage of Taiwan and

Taiwanese—Americans. From cultural workshops teaching mua-ji2| making to

social events like karaoke to events such as our 2-28 Commemoration and annual

Winter Festival, our goal is to enhance awareness of Taiwanese culture and

provide a place for those interested in learning about Taiwan to meet and discuss

their interests. This website provides details of our organization as well as serving
as a gathering place for the Taiwanese community.
B. Missile Crisis and the Election of Lee Teng-hui (1995-1996)

The Harvard Taiwanese Study Club was active from 1988 to 1996, when it
merged with the Harvard TCS in the context of a major anti-China demonstration on
March 15, 1996:

In protest of Chinese missile tests in the Taiwan Strait apparently intended to

intimidate voters preparing to vote in Taiwan's ﬁrst-ever popular presidential

election, TCS, along with fellow Harvard Taiwanese groups HROCSC and

HUTSC, holds a rally on the steps of Memorial Church to voice their support of

the historic milestone in Taiwan's political history, and condemnation of China's

intimidation tactics.

One week prior, on March 7’“, China launched three live missiles 50 nautical
miles off the coast of Taiwan in an apparent attempt to turn popular support away from
Lee Teng-hui in the upcoming popular presidential election on March 23”. On the 18th a
major protest was organized in Washington, DC, on the Mall and outside the Chinese
embassy, with Taiwanese Americans from all around the country and ﬁve U.S. Senators
and Congressmen in attendance. Similar events took place in San Francisco, Houston,

and New York. TC and WUFI collaborated on organizing an unprecedented nation-wide

event on the 22"“, a candle-light vigil on the eve of Election Day. What became known

 

2' A specialty of Hualin (Taiwan), nua-ji is a type of candy made from stick rice.

198

as the 322 Vigil was the impetus for Taiwan-centric student associations to emerge, re-
name, or reconstitute. Figure 11 indicated a signiﬁcant spike in TSA establishment in
1996. A group of students at Purdue included this narrative of the events leading up to

the election on their website:

It was a very cold night of February 23, 1996. The piercing wind shook people's
body but not their heart, like the missile launched by China shaking merely the air
but nothing to Taiwanese people's conﬁdence for their ﬁrst public presidential
election in Taiwan. There were about twenty enthusiastic Taiwanese students and
professors met together in the basement of Krannert at Purdue University for the
discussion of “What can we do for Taiwan?".

The narrative locates the inception of the I Love Taiwan Club at Purdue
University (2002) within the stream of historical events shaping the political landscape of
Taiwan that would inﬂuence the political orientation of a segment of the historic
generation to be wary of the Chinese government, regardless of claims for peaceful intent
regarding Taiwan. The missile crises had lasting effects among the university-aged
students at the time, and reinforced negative attitudes toward China among more senior
historic generations involved in founding the Purdue club. However, according to past
presidents and local Taiwanese immigrants involved in the I Love Taiwan Club, the
leadership and members who experienced these events directly continued to push to
maintain a high level of interest in Taiwanese political issues of Taiwan, while younger
students were more interested in cultural activities such as those presented at a campus
international festival attended by the Madison puppet troupe. In addition to featuring the
puppets and performers of the Madison troupe, the Purdue club also performed a dragon
dance to the beat of traditional Chinese drums. In a conversation with the club faculty

advisor and a representative of TECO in Chicago how the dragon dance represented

199

Taiwanese culture, they lamented that the youngest generation had a loose interpretation
of Taiwanese culture. If Taiwanese history was an amalgamation of different cultures’
practices — including those of China — what difference does it make, the students asked,
whether or not the particular Chinese practice itself was part of Taiwanese traditional
Chinese culture brought to Taiwan by pre-Japanese era immigrants from F ujian
province?

This turn in interpretation of China’s inﬂuence on Taiwanese culture was
problematic for cultural nationalists of older generations in the U.S., and in particular to
those like Alan Chen, who took measures to have the facial features and clothing on hand
puppets constructed in China remodeled to reﬂect the unique nature of Taiwanese

traditions, including those borrowed from China in past centuries.

Purdue (2002) narrates the incident from a local perspective, describing it as part

of the origin of their organization title:

From July 1995, China announced their plans of military exercise and missile test
trying to threaten Taiwanese and to impact Taiwan's presidential election of
March 23, 1996. The war across the strait seemed to be in hair-trigger. We can
smell that the campus was ﬁlled with that intense atmosphere. Disputation
regarding the missile test took over the headline news on Exponent, the campus
news of Purdue. False information was spreading. China's aggression was
dissembled by Chinese nationalism that tried to pick up an excuse for them to
invade Taiwan. This is why we called for the meeting. We should defense the
fallacy as well as the threat. We should speak out loudly that Taiwan is an
independent country and is not a part of China. After long discussion, the decision
had been made that we should establish a student organization for those debating;
moreover, if the war were unfortunately happened, we should organize ourselves
to support our motherland as well as to help Taiwanese students in Great
Lafayette area.

Several titles had been proposed for the name of this organization. People
eventually sympathized with the opinion of Professor Wen-Yih Sun: "Owing to
the historical fallacy and political oppression, Taiwanese people were hardly to
speak out their love to Taiwan in the past decades." Therefore, the organization
was named "I Love Taiwan Club".

200

In the same semester, the Taiwanese Student Association at Louisiana State
University - mentioned above in the conﬂict over the ROC ﬂag — was established in
January 1996, also in the context of an anti-China protests, including the 322 Vigil on the
eve of the presidential elections. Subsequent events included lectures on Taiwanese
indigenous issues, Taiwanese traditional musical performances, a lecture on the
democracy movement presented by Linda Gail Arrigo, and a presentation on Taiwanese
culture, literature and sexuality. They also participated in LSU International Expo events
representing Taiwanese culture. In the ﬁrst years of the organization, the website
included a Taiwan-oriented history, as well as links to information about the February
28th “revolution,” and an essay by senior activist and 1996 presidential candidate Peng
Ming-min. The event information as well as current events updates for Taiwan-related
issues ended in 2001. The webpage stopped being updated in 2003. The revised website
(2004) no longer included links to past news stories about Taiwan, or information about

the ﬂag incident.
C. The Politics of Political Neutrality

Consider the State University of New York, Buffalo Taiwanese Graduate Student
Association (TGSA). The group’s purposes include: “to serve all the Taiwanese
Graduate students at UB as well as anyone else who cares to drop in. We receive new
students then take care of them, and organizeioutings, sports, socials and other functions
for us to get to know each other; basically acting as a focal point for the Taiwanese
community here” (2002). They describe themselves in ﬁrst person: “We are a closely

knit group of students who love to bring the multifaceted, dynamic face of Taiwan to

201

UB.” According to their website they want to “provide a portrayal of Taiwanese culture
in all of its diversity, and share the culture and history of Taiwan with the greater campus
community.” The activities listed include a Taiwanese folk music performance and a
Taiwanese ﬁlm screening. The TGSA statement on political orientation is framed in
terms of open impartiality, but within the text, clear signals are evident indicating a pro-

Taiwanese independence position of its core membership:

Our position on Taiwan politics: As a group, we do not take a position on politics;
however, healthy discussion of Taiwan affairs on campus is encouraged. Our one
common interest is in presenting an accurate image of Taiwan in order to help the
campus community understand Taiwan's position in the global community by
providing proper historical perspective and current information. We set up talks
and discussions with noted ﬁgures such as Dr. Linda, G Arrigo, protested against
China's missile tests off Taiwan in the run-up to the ﬁrst direct presidential
election, and showed 228 Incident_documentary videos.

Although the group explicitly claims political neutrality, a close examination of
the context reveals a series of oppositions including a distinction between a “healthy”
Taiwan-centric discourse, on the one hand, and inaccurate, inappropriate, misleading and
pathological representations of Taiwan on the other. Three index events are referenced
(1947, 1979, and 1996) allowing the primary narrative of Taiwan’s identity to develop
without the inclusion of the 1971 Bao-diao movement. Although the student association
was very active between late 1995 and early 1996, activity quickly declined. The website

stopped being updated in January, 1998 (2006).

IV. Discussion
A. Reading Websites
Multi-locale ethnographies such as this one choose a series of ﬁxed locations

explored as nodes of transfer and transits (Marcus 1986). We are increasingly interested

202

in looking at permeability rather than bounded phenomena, pluralities rather than
homogeneity, yet our notion of ﬁeldwork has traditionally been “a sojourn of at least nine
months, and preferably more than a year, in a geographically deﬁned ﬁeld site remains
standard disciplinary practice” (Malkii 1997bz69). She discusses this as a “growing
dissonance between research projects and research sites and methods.” Thus, studies of
the past do not ﬁt into this model insofar as the “ﬁeld site” does not exist as a
geographically identiﬁable location.

My website analysis developed from a basic understanding of Taiwanese and
Chinese iconography developed ﬁ'om my own previous research as well as instruction
from Taiwanese independence supporters who advised me on basic indicators of political
orientation as part of my responsibilities as a member of the Taiwanese Collegian. In my
notes about each group I would include such iconography and text to determine how to
approach each organization. This database, which would eventually become the
structural ﬁamework for the dissertation’s web-based student association analysis, was
further nuanced during ﬁeldwork as I took note of correlating indicators that reﬂected
overall political orientation, such as an analysis of links, cyber-archaeology of past
incarnations of websites, archived content from discussion boards, photographs of past
events, and biographical narratives found in mission statements. From this work I
developed a model to approach website analysis:

1. Cyber-voyeurism: website approached as a window into the everyday
practices of the organization as viewed through the photographs, event
calendars and commentary 0 11 student association events, elements included
in even the sparsest website. In lieu of grounded participant-observation, this

method allowed me to compare practices of scores of student associations.

2. Cultural artifacts: websites viewed as a space of cultural production and
expression, privileging symbolic elements such as iconography, language use,

203

and links to other locations in cyberspace. This perspective provides insight
into the political and cultural orientation of the membership, as well as insight
into the changing meanings of the symbolic repertoire of identity.

3. Institutional persona: student associations understood as having a biography,
sometimes involving origin narratives that locate the inception of the
organization at an historically signiﬁcant moment in Taiwanese history, and in
other cases explicit statements of political neutrality. In this mode, the
website represents the “subjectivity” of the association, thought of a both an
expression of current membership, as well as a structuring context for
incoming students.

Shifts in the ideological orientation of students in student associations may be
indicated by a careful examination of the totality of iconographic and (hyper)textual
elements on the page over time. Although no single element was sufﬁcient,
constellations of indicators provided enough data to draw tentative conclusions regarding
the general conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity among group members. In terms of
website interpretation in this research, iconographic elements including images of the
Great Wall of China, images of the mainland, dragons, pagodas, the Forbidden City, and
so forth, symbolic features not associated with Taiwan until after WWII, were not
interpreted in this study as signs of pro-China sentiment among members, but instead as
indicators that the members of the association were not acculturated into the community
of memory that identiﬁes these elements as problematic, and would have them removed
from their web presence. In other words, in this research model, Sinocentric iconography
on the web page indicated a conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity that accommodates
elements of Chinese culture and history. More direct indicators of conceptualizations of
Taiwan’s identity that located Taiwan within the Chinese sphere of cultural history were

found in mission statements, constitutions and letters from ofﬁcers to the web-public that

described as one of the organizations’ purposes to promote an interest in Chinese culture,

204

to bring people together who want to learn more about China, and to serve the needs of
Chinese students (from Taiwan) in the college community. Most often, these references
were inherited from previous decades when it was inappropriate to use the name
“Taiwan.” However, it also serves as an indicator that in the intervening years, no coterie
of students took the initiative to institutionalize a change in orientation. 1 identiﬁed these
as Sinocentric not because of an assumption that members necessarily supported
reuniﬁcation with China, but rather that the there was a low degree of salience for
Taiwanese cultural identity as distinguished from Chinese traditions.

Similarly, indicators of Taiwan’s identity that went beyond differentiating the
organization from those of students from mainland China described above, include
archives of pro-Taiwan and anti-China news articles, hyperlinks to Taiwan-centric
organizations such as the Formosan Association of Public Affairs, World United
Formosans for Independence, Taiwanese Collegian, the World Taiwanese Congress, and
the publication Taiwan Communique. Further indicators in this vein included links to
Taiwan-centric English-language texts mentioned in Chapter One, such as Formosa
Betrayed by George Kerr (1965), A Taste of Freedom by Peng Ming-min (1972), Su
Bing’s, 400 Years of Taiwanese History (1986), among others. I included among these
indicators links to sites that dealt with Taiwanese language, culture and history.
However, as far as references to Taiwanese history, I was careful to consider the source
and content of Taiwanese history. Links to the Republic of China Governmental
Information Ofﬁce history of Taiwan were not considered indicative of the group’s sense
of Taiwan’s identity (though Taiwanese independence supporters would argue

otherwise,) but original histories were carefully examined, as some narratives emphasized

205

anti-colonial struggle, the lasting signiﬁcance of 2-28, the authoritarian nature of the
Nationalist government, the valiant efforts of leaders in the democracy movement, the
role of independence activism in pushing Taiwan toward democracy, and the role of
Chiang Ching-kuo — Chiang Kai-shek’s son — as head of the secret security forces during
the White Terror era. Again, although ROC-centric histories cannot be taken as an
indicator of Sinocentric political orientation of membership, it does indicate that students
with a Taiwanese consciousness based on alternative historicity were not present in
sufﬁcient numbers to change the content of the website.

Additional indicators of Taiwan-centric orientation included using “Taiwan” or
“lunar” to describe New Year celebrations, as well as similar choices such as
“Taiwanese” rather than “Chinese” night market, and other circumstances where choices
were made to name events. As described in Chapter One, these choices may be
inﬂuenced not only by the students themselves, but also by senior faculty advisors and
community sponsors. Motifs of indigenous clothing, rural life (water buffalos and yarns,
for example,) and the word “Formosa” emphasize the uniqueness of Taiwanese culture
without references to Chinese traditions.

Use of the ROC ﬂag on student association websites was taken to indicate
Taiwan’s identity as Republic of China, not the People’s Republic of China.
Organizations whose members conceptualized Taiwan outside the rubric of the
ROC/PRC dichotomy, however, would display a wide range of ﬂags, including the ﬂag
of the short-lived Democratic Republic of Taiwan in 1895. In an interesting example, the
original Taiwanese independence opposition movement ﬂag (an eight-pedaled ﬂower on

a white ﬁeld between green bars) has been adapted as webpage iconography of the

206

Berkeley Students for Sovereign Taiwan student club (Figure 14), a group which — as
their name implies — was founded to advocate for Taiwanese national independence.

Figure 14: Democratic Republic of Taiwan Flag Quoted in Association Iconography

- at!"

The shape of the island itself has become a more common alternative to the ROC
ﬂag, or a ﬂag speciﬁcally used to represent Taiwanese sovereignty. However, three ﬂags
in particular have historical signiﬁcance beyond indicating the island of Taiwan. Figure
15 illustrates the WUFI icon (left), the ﬂag of the DPP (center), and an unofﬁcial Taiwan
national ﬂag (right). These graphics were taken as explicit statements of a

conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity as an independent nation-state.
Figure 15: Three Flags with Taiwan Silhouettes

I! 3
[HIE tilll

Images representing speciﬁc practices, artifacts, identiﬁable places and other

 

meaning-bearing signs not wholly appropriated and immediately associated with the
nation-state are also incorporated into website design to indicate conceptualizations of

Taiwan’s identity.

207

In Figure 16, for example, Taiwan is associated with tropics fruit, puppetry,
indigenous groups of Malayo—Polynesian decent living on Taiwan, and rural lifestyle.
This graphic is taken to represent a conceptualization of Taiwan independent of Chinese
inﬂuence.

Figure 16: The “Nativization” of Website Iconography

 

Links locate websites in virtual space and help interpret some of the multivalent
symbolic elements. In addition to meaning-laden images such as emblems of nation-
states, site-as-artifact also allows an analysis of hyperlinks as indicators that provide
clues to what is deemed important to the members, as well as what the members feel is
important for external constituents. Loosening the moorings of the website to a speciﬁc
geographic location and group of individuals, links locate the group web page in
cyberspace, and are therefore critical to understanding the full meaning and purpose of
the website. They indicate what the organization views as valuable, with whom they
prefer to have relations and alliances, what information and institutions the organizations
feels would (or should) be of interest to members and the general public. In terms of
multi-locale and trans-local ethnography, I took the hyperlinks of student association
websites to be an element constitutive of the site itself, and thus a key indicator of the
organization’s overall position regarding the issue of Taiwan’s identity.

A “real world” comparison is always problematic as the dichotomy between

virtual and real is a misleading one. Hyperlinks may be read in the same way the

208

magazines in the lobby of an organization would be as revealing as the organization’s
directly published materials which may not be as revealing of the organization’s
afﬁliations, leanings and ideologies. Another analogy would be the loss of sponsors of an
event. The formal literature of the event may not reveal the underlying orientation
evident in an analysis of the organizations supporting the group’s activities.

B. Taiwan as the Republic of China, Taiwan as Cultural China

Elements of Chinese culture present in TaiWan are highlighted as representative
of Taiwan as China. This can take two forms. In the ﬁrst, elements of Chinese culture
present in Taiwan are highlighted, and in the second, Taiwan’s identity is abstracted to
include all of Chinese culture, whether it exists in a local form on Taiwan or not.

Some websites contained elements that presented Taiwan as a nation-state denied
international recognition. These posed both the PRC and the ROC as hegemonic
discourses. Whereas Taiwan’s Chinese identity could be divided between its political
and cultural elements, Taiwan’s national identity is primarily based on historical
narratives and collective memory, along with elements of local culture distinguished to
some extent from Chinese cultural inﬂuence.

Few of the remaining Republic of China student association (ROCSA) websites
made explicit statements regarding their origin and foundation; most were originally an
extension of the Nationalist government in the U.S. In principle, historically, all students

from Taiwan ofﬁcially belong to the ROCSA.22 The government in Taiwan provided the

 

22 In a similar pattern of ROC-sponsored student associations on campuses, the PRC also established
organizations, most commonly named Chinese Students and Scholars Associations (CSSAs). Reﬂecting
the PRC position that Taiwan is a “renegade province,” or perhaps simply that the PRC represents all
Chinese in diaspora, including those living in Taiwan, CSSAs usually deﬁne a membership which includes
people from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Singapore, and second generation Chinese Americans. Although

209

organization lists and contact information regarding incoming students, and used this
organization as its primary way to communicate with a given school’s Taiwanese student
population. For this reason, students on some campus received e-mail from two campus
organizations of Iiuxuesheng, though they may be active in only one. Their original
function included providing support resources for new students such as information about
housing, travel, school, and so on. The moment of its foundation was not historically
informed by the presence of an alternative Taiwan-centric organization.

Although many student association websites emphasized the importance of
heightening public awareness of Taiwan’s international status, none referenced the need
promote Chinese consciousness or identity, or awareness of Chinese issues in
international affairs. Similarly, one of the most striking differences between Sino- and
Taiwan-centric websites had to do with what I am calling “institutional persona,” taken to
mean the narrative expression of purpose that moves beyond mission statements into the
genre of autobiography: “We, the people...” Although Sinocentric websites sometimes
used the collective voice, as in, “the CSA is a group of students who wish to promote an
interest in Chinese culture. . .,” only Taiwan—centric sites included autobiographical origin
narratives, such as the I Love Taiwan club origin narrative at the opening of this chapter.
Text expressing Taiwan-centric association persona are decreasing in frequency; most
included in this research were found through cyber-archaeology, and date to the mid- and
late 19903.

As the dissertation ﬁeld work drew to a close, and during the subsequent period of

data analysis, I was able to identify an additional trend in this vein. Although many

 

ROCSAs and CSSAs claim to represent all Chinese, in practice, C SSA members are primarily from the
PRC.

210

student association websites included an auxiliary bulletin board of some sort, either built
into the site itself, or an external program such as an MSN or Yahoo group, the emerging
trend was a decline in relative signiﬁcance of the website itself, and an increased use of
the discussion board.
C. Advantages and Limitations of Internet-based Research

Although this approach yielded a wealth of qualitative data, the degree to which
website information can be assumed to be representative of the general consensus of the
collective is limited. Although no systematic method was employed to verify the
assumption that website content reﬂected the current attitudes of the greater part of the
student association membership, anecdotal evidence from conversations with past and
current student association members indicate a series of factors that undermine that
assumption. In some cases, the website was outdated, reﬂecting the views of a group of
students who were no longer active members. This would limit the validity of
correlations between speciﬁc historical events and the attitudes presented on websites. In
other cases, website content was reﬂective of only a few students’ attitudes, while most
members remained indifferent to the speciﬁc content of the site. What may appear to be
widely-shared beliefs about an event may in fact be the sentiments of a limited number of
particularly active and vocal student association members and with inﬂuence over
website content. Widespread ambivalence about an issue may not be accurately
measured through website analysis alone.

Finally, as was clearly the case in this research, the assumption outlined at the
beginning of this chapter — that websites are the primary mode of communicating to other

student associations, incoming students, and the general public, the ways in which the

211

distinguish themselves from other student associations, speciﬁcally others from Taiwan
and China — was increasingly problematic as many student associations abandoned the
website format altogether in favor of bulletin boards, Yahoo!, MSN and F acebook groups

and networks.

212

 

CHAPTER 5: SECOND GENERATION TAIWANESE AMERICANS

I. The Second generation Taiwanese American Movement

A. WUFI Kids: Formosan Americans and the Children of the Revolution

Beginning in the early 19903 second-generation Taiwanese Americans, many of

whom had been inﬂuenced by their own parents’ activism, began establishing their own
networks of student associations, often coexisting with one or two organizations of
Iiuxuesheng already established on campuses. In addition to Taiwanese American
student associations (TASAs), the Taiwanese government and private organizations have
organized cultural tour programs especially for this generation, ostensibly to add depth
and meaning to students’ Taiwanese and/or Chinese heritage. The ﬁrst of the Taiwanese
youth born in the U.S., children of the gradually increasing number of people who came
to study in the U.S. from Taiwan in the 19603 and decided against returning, moved
through the university system in the early 19903, and were in their mid- to late thirties
during my time in the ﬁeld. Among them were children whose parents immigrated to the
U.S. not as students, but rather as transnational labor migrants enabled by immigration
law reforms in the U.S. and in Taiwan. Their undergraduate progeny are removed from
Taiwan through their parents’ exile or immigration; most have not been instrumental in
developing Taiwanese national identity, but approach it as a cultural inheritance, viewing
Taiwan’s identity as primarily cultural and historical. Many have little or no Holo
language skills, and few have spent extended periods of time in Taiwan. Few have a
command of Taiwanese history beyond Lee Teng-hui, the ﬁrst index event they have
biographical memories of, and have been most impressed by the election of Chen Shui-

bian in 2000. His arrest may have a long-lasting negative effect on the Taiwanese

213

 

independence movement, further shifting public opinion toward greater contact between
Taiwan and China.

Although this was a time when Asian American studies programs were forming
on campuses across the U.S., Taiwanese American discourse did not fall neatly into the
broad rubric of Asian American empowerment. The contrast was on the relative
signiﬁcance placed on issues in the U.S. versus issues facing home countries. Glenn
Omatsu (1994), for example, points to the 1968 San Francisco State strike as the
beginning of the Asian American movement. For Taiwanese Americans, however, the
focus has been on events and circumstances in Taiwan, their relationship with the
nationalist government in the U.S., and their experiences dealing with individuals from
mainland China, rather than their position as a racialized minority in the U.S. Lien
(2006) reports that the 22% of the sample of Taiwanese in the U.S. who were supporters
of Taiwanese independence were associated with greater dislike of PRC government, and
that the 33 percent of Taiwanese who identify themselves as Taiwanese Americans were
“uniquely less likely to adopt US nationality” (l9). Germane to the discussion of
Taiwanese Americans’ relationship with the broader Asian American politics, Lien also
found that supporters of Taiwanese impendence were less likely to identify as Chinese
Americans, and less likely to identify as Asian Americans.

For example, turn once more to the experiences of Tim Chng, son of Strong and
Joyce Chng discussed above. Born in 1971, Tim spent most of his early years among
other benshengren professionals, and though many were political dissidents, they were by
trade doctors, engineers, chemists, and successful businessmen. He remembers the

people Joyce described, coming and going in his house, and that he was not allowed to

214

ask names. In 1988 the World Taiwanese Congress — the quasi-ofﬁcial political
movement supported by independence activism abroad — was held in Taipei, the ﬁrst time
the umbrella activist organization met in Taiwan. Many Taiwanese independence
activists returned to Taiwan - including Tim’s father — and at great risk, particularly
because he was a representative of WUFI. Tim remembers that this was one of the most
important moments in his father’s life, and it was a powerful experience to see his
father’s work and sacriﬁces come to fruition. Although his mother said that he never
complained, he nonetheless felt like his father’s sacriﬁces were also his own. The
following year, the 1989 second World Congress meeting was held in Kaohsiung. Strong
and Joyce were not able to go because they were on the Black List by this time due to
their involvement with the independence movement. Tim and his sister Rolla applied for
Visas independent of their parents, claiming that they were unable to write their parents’
Chinese names, which would have revealed their ineligibility due the restrictions placed
on their parents. “It wasn’t lying,” Tim explained, “because my dad only had a
Taiwanese name.” Tim, 18 years old at the time, and Rolla, 19, both described the event
as a formative one. Tim said that he and his sister “got hooked into the whole Taiwanese
movement there too. . . . The energy at the conference was really electrifying, the desire
of the people for wanting to change, and all the things that as a kid growing up seeing my
father working for actually starting to be realized.”

He noted the change between a Taiwan ruled “not by assassins from Szechwan
province who think that Taiwanese people are sub-human,” but rather by benshengren —
even that the troops dispatched to control the returning dissidents were predominantly

benshengren, and would not have followed orders to move against the activists:

215

People are not being afraid anymore, which was all exciting. When I went back
to my university I just wanted to get involved straight up, . . . and there was
already a TSA association there which my father was a part of starting when he
went there earlier. Unfortunately when I went to [college] I found that the Fear
was still there, you know the campus spies were still there, the fear of the
Taiwanese grad students was very present.

It was in April of that year that Taiwanese independence activist Cheng Nan-jung,
in advance of his imminent arrest for the re-publication of a draft of a Republic of Taiwan
constitution, committed self-immolation. A second activist did so during the ﬁrneral
procession. Strong was deeply moved by the events, and attributes the martyrdom as
having created momentum for the movement at that time, both in Taiwan and among
student-immigrants in the U.S.

Tim explained that although he was very educated about the political events in
Taiwan, and among the Taiwanese independence movement in the U.S., the message of
groups focusing on Asian American empowerment did not resonate. “Some of us still
wanted to care about Taiwan.” He said that “in the 803 and early ‘903, the business in
Taiwan wasn’t done. There were still people getting thrown in prison, torturing going on,
terrible injustices, no democracy.” It was not until he and his sister traveled by train
across the U.S. that he ﬁrst saw working-class Chinese and learned about Asian
American oppression in the U.S. He describes the contradictions and disjunctures
between the Taiwanese American experiences with the broader Asian American
empowerment movement, which by deﬁnition included Taiwan in discourses of
oppression in the U.S., though in practice there was little overlap:

So we had a view of Asian as all privileged. So someone comes and says we need

to organize as Asian Americans, someone who is in touch with the whole Asian

oppression history to someone who is completely uneducated about the history of

oppression of the Asian, or the current Asian oppression in the sweat shops or
Asian working class. I had never been to Chinatown at that point. For me it was

216

 

inconceivable that this was very urgent, while in Taiwan we saw a lot of political
prisoners. I was shocked to see an Asian woman doing manual labor outside! . . .

When someone familiar with the West Coast Asian Paciﬁc American oppression

movement is coming to try to sell a Midwestern boy who every Asian person he

knows through his family is an engineer or a doctor, or a professor, or if they are a

business person, they were doing pretty darn well. . . . They don’t seem to be

lacking at all.

So I decided to just dive completely into the Taiwanese movement, and didn’t

really take the American movement that seriously. Which was wrong, because

they are all related, right? But at the time, being a young person totally
bombarded about the history of martial law in Taiwan, all these political prisoners
going through the door, and growing up in the suburbs.

Although many in their generation shared similar experiences, and were shaped
by the same historical contexts, including being raised by blacklisted independence
supporters who shared a collective sense of fear, urgency, despair, and paranoia, one of
the WUF I kids’ generation’s deﬁning characteristics was a commonly experienced sense
of alienation from others in their cohort. As a sub-division within their historic
generation, they were bonded by teen-age experiences shared in common, but not in
concert, until their early college years. In general they were in a better ﬁnancial situation
than their parents’ generation, and unlike their parents, the WUFI kids were most active
during their undergraduate years, single, with no children of their own. Moreover, they
were able to take advantage of new communication technologies which could maximize
the impact of a small number of geographically dispersed individuals.

B. Taiwanese American Student Associations
In 1989 Tim’s family moved to Philadelphia. Until then, they had only attended

annual Midwest Taiwanese American Association (TAA) meetings, which were smaller

and less political than the East Coast Taiwanese American Conference (TAC/EC)

217

meetings. Tim ﬁrst began to understand the potential of young Taiwanese Americans at
the 1990 TAC/EC. There were about 2 thousand adults and 1 thousand young Taiwanese
Americans; of those, Tim estimates that about 250 were dedicated to Taiwanese issues,
and wanted to participate in the political process. Most were college students at Ivy
League schools, but some were still in high school. They realized that there were no
Taiwanese American student associations on any of their campuses, and decided to retum
to their respective schools and establish Taiwanese American Student Associations
(TASAs):
I remember a whole bunch of us also began to think, “well, we are not just
Taiwanese now - we are Taiwanese Americans.” That was an important
difference. . . . This whole notion of Asian American-ism is a new concept for us
Midwestemers; anyone who was not from the West coast, or New York, you
know? So at that meeting, we decided to rename [Intercollegiate Taiwanese
Student Associations — ITSA] to ITASA, Intercollegiate Taiwanese American
Student Association
When they met again at TAC/EC the following year, they decided to begin
building a network organization, wrote a mission statement that stressed activism, and
planned to hold a conference the following year at the University of Pennsylvania.
The impetus was in 1992, WUFI had already gone back to Taiwan, they all got
thrown into jail. They went back, said “We’re back!” and had a big public
relations banquet, and the KMT were like — “Oh, they are letting us capture them
all at once!” And that is exactly what happened. But we had already mobilized
our support: Amnesty International had them all declared “Prisoners of
Conscious”. We had a letter writing campaign at the banquet table in advance. . .
It was completely political and ideological. It was all about getting political
prisoners out of jail, like uncle whoever is in jail, uncle whoever is in jail. The
people who came to these ﬁrst key meetings were the Taiwanese American kids
of these political prisoners, the WUFI kids.

One of the ﬁrst of these new organizations, the Taiwanese American Student Club

(TASC) at University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, was founded by Rolla Chng, who

218

had been to TAC/EC in 1990. They described the organization’s mission in these terms:
“In the spring of 1991, TASC was formed as a student organization at the University of
Illinois at Urbana-Champaign to provide Taiwanese American students with a sense of
unity, identity, and support.” Their objectives: “To educate and promote awareness in
Taiwanese culture, heritage, history, and future; To create a bond with a sense of afﬁnity
and community within the TASC membership; To instill in the individual member a path
of self-identity.” They worked to spread Taiwanese consciousness among those who had
not had the same kinds of experiences and social education growing up which drove the
WUFI kids toward activism, and had a lasting inﬂuence on the historical generation of
Taiwanese American youth. Although the mission of the organization was couched in
the discourse of identity, key elements speak to the subject of this dissertation, that of the
Taiwan’s identity. The ﬁrst objective is key: “To educate and promote awareness in

9,

Taiwanese culture, heritage, history, and future. This resonates with Li-lin and Hiro’s
efforts to educate members of the puppet troupe and curling team about Taiwanese
history and culture. The underlying assumption is that most Taiwanese Americans’
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity lack historical and cultural content. They are
tasked with deﬁning Taiwan in such as way that it will compel members to act in the
interests in Taiwan’s future. It is through the process of informing conceptualization of
Taiwan that a “path to self-identiﬁcation” may be created.

Similarly themed Taiwanese American student associations were established at
Purdue (1992), Brown (1992), University of Pennsylvania (1992), University of
Michigan (1993), Yale (1993), Princeton (1994) , Harvard (1995), Northwestern (1996),

Stanford (1997), Cornell (1997), Berkeley (1999), MIT (2000), UCLA (2001), Wellesley

219

 

 

(2001), and Tufts (2003). Most were founded by the children of early Taiwanese
independence supporters who were raised in households with a heightened awareness of
political oppression — whether from direct experience, the experiences of family members
and family friends, and narratives told by elder generations of past events. Many of
these students attended Taiwanese youth camps and accompanied their parents to
meetings of Taiwanese organizations, and close ties were formed among this generation’s
more politically conscious individuals

In the summer of 1992, Tim was an intern for the Asia Resource Center. This
organization focused on social justice, had advocated against the war in Viet Nam, and
had made public some of the excesses of the Nationalist government in the 19703 and
19803. They funded Tim to travel to the six regional TAA conferences and encourage
Taiwanese American youth there to form organizations, and learn about Taiwan. The
parents were excited for him to arrange a program for their children, as generally the kids
were bored at these kinds of conferences, and he developed a repertoire of activities and
workshops. This type of networking by Tim and others had an inﬂuence on younger
Taiwanese Americans whose households were less dangerous than those of the WUFI
kids, but the events that had such a profound impact on them were not part of the younger
Taiwanese Americans’ immediate experiences. Although most observers put the two
groups in a single category, there is a distinct division in generational consciousness
between elder and junior members of the second generation Taiwanese Americans. The
next segment will present two early Taiwan-centric Taiwanese American student
associations, including comments on the ways in which they have changed over time.

C. Brown University

220

 

One of the ﬁrst Taiwanese American organizations — the Brown Taiwan Society
(est. 1992) - described their mission in the ﬁrst issue of their newsletter The Formosan:

BTS Why are we Here?

Last Fall, several of us Brown students got together to discuss our ideas for

starting a new student organization for the purpose of encouraging dialogue about

Taiwan. Though Brown already had a dozen or so Asian groups, we felt that

none of them could or would address the political, economic, social, and cultural

issues concerning Taiwan and its people. . . .

BTS was founded for more than just discussing political concerns or sponsoring

study breaks. Rather our focus is to promote community awareness of Taiwan’s

rich history, society, and ﬁrture, as well as other interests you may have. It
doesn’t matter whether you consider yourself Taiwanese, Chinese, Hakka, or

100% American. Each one of us has been inﬂuenced by Taiwan in one way or

another. . . . Whether through guest speakers, conversational hours, group

discussions, ﬁlms, dumpling dinners, study abroad opportunities, dances, or even

a GISP, we want to facilitate an exchange of ideas and opinions in hope of

fostering a better understanding of what Taiwan is all about (I: l ).

The group explicitly distinguishes between your self-identiﬁcation (“whether you
consider yourself Taiwanese, Chinese, Hakka, or 100% American”) from an
understanding of Taiwan. At its inception, what is most critical to the founding
members is that they cultivate an understanding of Taiwan’s identity, and work to effect
positive change. In essence, they are proposing that members come together and discuss
their conceptualization of Taiwan, “to better understand what Taiwan is all about.”

In subsequent 1992 issues of The F ormosan, BTS reprinted an LA Times (April,
25, 1992) article describing a violent police crackdown on Taiwanese reform
demonstration in Taipei (1:2), and a “What’s Happening in Taiwan Today?” column

described six recent issues regarding Taiwan and GATT, its relationship with South

Korea, economic news, and Taiwanese sports (1:3). Further, the BTS 1992 Taiwanese

221

Cultural Celebration described the event as an exploration of Taiwanese American

identity:

Everything You Wanted to Know About Taiwanese Culture But Were Afraid to
Ask.
By Alice Tseng.

Are all Taiwanese-Americans (T-A’s) excited to learn about their cultural
heritage? Perhaps not. After all, we live in America. Wouldn’t we want to
become ordinary Americans? Wouldn’t we want cool parents who grill burgers
instead of Chinese cabbage and take us to football games and shopping malls
instead of violin lessons?

On the other hand, many of us have undeniable ties to Taiwan which make us
different. Beyond appearances, we have our own cultures, traditions, and values
which have had a special impact on our lives. “How can I maintain my identity as
a T-A?” you ask. Instead of being sucked in by American culture, you should
learn more about your Taiwanese side and preserve your identity collectively with
other T-A’s.

Those were just some of the many reasons for why BTS decided to sponsor the
Taiwanese Cultural Celebration over the weekend of...” (1:4).

The event attracted over seventy students from twelve schools, primarily in the

Northeast region, but students from Purdue and Stanford also attended. The conference

activities included Taiwanese folk songs and stories, aboriginal and Hakka dances, and

tai-chi. Taiwanese American students gathered “to share their knowledge, to discuss the

purpose of Taiwanese groups, and to meet with others with similar interests.”

Associations met to discuss “the purpose of Taiwanese clubs.”

They broke down into small groups to share their “perspective of and exposure to

Taiwanese culture.” They hosted a Harvard professor recognized as a Taiwanese cultural

expert knowledgeable in Taiwanese folk stories and songs who gave an introduction to

the art forms. The attendees chose between four workshops teaching aspects of

Taiwanese culture: “aboriginal and Hakka tea-picking dances, learning tai-chi, learning

222

Taiwanese folk songs, or learning Chinese drawing. In the late afternoon, the leadership
and representatives of attending organizations met to discuss “the role and agenda of their
respective groups.” The evening was Taiwan Night, a kind of variety show with
humorous skits (a kungfu comedy sketch,) dancing, and a ﬁnal set of KTV. The
weekend ended with a traditional Taiwanese breakfast; “The food was devoured. (Since
when did T-A’s begin liking pickled garlic, 1,000 year old eggs, and chili bamboo
shoots? Mom and Dad would be proud!)”

At this time the BTS established a library of books and materials related to
Taiwan; the organization was clearly functioning as a location for explorations of both
Taiwanese identity on a subjective level, as well as Taiwan’s identity through education.
According to accounts, it was a powerful experience in the lives of the people involved.
Further, recall that one of the objective listed in most TASA groups’ pages deals with
mutual support, and the importance of creating a community or peers with similar
backgrounds and interests. As will be discussed below in the context of study tours to
Taiwan (or Republic of China) often the most powerful experiences are associated with
interpersonal bonding rather than roots exploration or seeking a greater understanding of
Taiwan’s identity. Iris Yen ( 11:2) put it this way:

Looking back on my four years at Brown, a few things stand out in my mind as

especially memorable. Like hearing ‘phallo-logo-centric hegemony’ for the ﬁrst

time, or meeting my ﬁrst-year unitmates, or working on BTS.

When Sabrina Su ’94 and I ﬁrst me to seriously talk about starting a “Taiwan
Club,” I never imagined that it would be as big or active as it is now. BTS has

been one of my most rewarding experiences. . . . You Guys have really made me
feel a part of a group, and I’ll always remember that as one of the best things
about BTS.

223

 

As a graduating senior, Yen would go on to write a response to a warning from a
professor on campus. He had made the comment that, though he was impressed with the
group, he had concerns about its staying power after the original founders leave.
“What??! I,” Yen wrote, “ I say we should take him up on this challenge and prove him
wrong! Good luck in the future, BTS

Arguably the high-point of the ﬁrst generation of ITASA was the 1996 Midwest
conference at Northwestern (ITASA 1996). Titled: “Voice and Vision: Talking About
Today, Looking Towards Tomorrow, the program was led by a guiding committee from
the classes of ’96 and ’97, born around 1974-1975, as well as a coterie of East Coast
ITASA leadership. The conference theme “emphasizes the discussion of current events
with a plan of action for the future. Now more than ever, we need to be aware not only of
our past, but of the here and now. We also need to know in what ways we can devote our
efforts to provide for the ﬁrture. The 1996 DPP presidential candidate Dr. Peng Ming-
Min was the keynote speaker: “Dr. Peng will come all the way from Taiwan to share his
personal experiences and struggles as a Taiwanese leader. Whether you are familiar with
him or not, be prepared for a man with both voice and vision.” This set the tone of the
conference. Other topics in the set of political workshops include: “Current Political
Issues in Taiwan,” and “Grassroots Activism.” The latter was organized by Tim and
Rolla Chng and offered instruction on how to organize a “collective quest for identity”:

As Taiwanese Americans, it is imperative that we preserve our unique blend of

culture and ideas. The best way to keep all this alive is to get together with those

who share those same identities by forming your own group. ITASA, the

Intercollegiate Taiwanese American Students Association, founded by college

students, will share all the tips and secrets to how to form a successful group of
your own.

224

 

Similarly, but reﬂective of another generation, a workshop on the Kaohsiung
Incident delivered by Linda Arrigo presented a historical narrative in which the
experience of biographical memory overshadow events experienced vicariously:

How did the movement for Taiwan's independent identity begin? Who was

involved? What were the consequences of their actions? It all began that one

fateful night in Kao Hsiung with a group of the courageous who fought for what
they believed in.

A second category of workshops addressed “Second Generation Issues Among
Taiwanese Americans,” including a segment by three Taiwanese “non-mainstream”
professionals discussing with the younger generation on the pressures placed on the
second generations by parents who want their children to become doctors. A workshop
also discussed Taiwanese Americans in the Asian American Movement, "Airing Dirty
Laundry."

Where do we place ourselves among the historical, cultural, and political

continuum of Asian/Paciﬁc Americans? How do we understand and critique our

privilege as "brain drain" children in neo-liberal America? Presently, as we watch
reactionary forces in the United States strip poor, working-class Asian immigrants
of their civil and human rights, what positions are we willing to take What
struggles are we willing to engage? Are we even accountable? This workshop will
also draw (potential) linkages between the struggles for Taiwanese independence
and the current struggles on the Asian American left.

Raising the issue of how Taiwanese Americans relate to the Asian/Paciﬁc
American movement opens a new discussion regarding Taiwan’s identity. It shifts
emphasis away from discourse of cultural authenticity toward a class-based critique of
minority relations in the U.S. The examination resonates with the Formosan identity of
Taiwan insofar as it views Taiwan’s position in terms of international relations, yet

differs in that the second generation Taiwanese Americans is in a very different position

in terms of resources, power, and privilege.

225

 

The 1996 ITASA marked a turning point in the organization. When the professor
at Brown warned Iris Yen that the group may have trouble once the founding members
graduate, she hoped that the incoming students would prove him wrong. By 1998,
however, it was clear that there were conﬂicting goals and expectations among the
participants in BTS, and that the original activist mission no longer reﬂected the views of
the membership. In the farewell issue of The Formosan (IV:2), one graduating senior
writes:

I have many great memories of being in BTS with great ﬁiends: taking trips to

ITASA, performing cultural shows, and preparing for various fairs. . . . However,

there is still much to be done in BTS. I hope that future classes will take out

group to another level by expanding our organization from its purely social state
to something more political and cultural in nature. Become more involved in the
growing political and social movements within the United States that are centered
around Taiwan. In addition, make efforts to keep students at Brown and in even

Providence aware of our culture and the issues which are important to us and our

community.

Make BTS distinct from groups like [Korean Student Association] and [Chinese

Student Association] which are completely socially-oriented and have very little

impact on campus. Performing humorous skits at the Asian Arts Festival is ﬁne

but isn’t there much more to what Taiwan or Taiwanese-ness is all about?

The shift in political orientation from activism to social events was apparent in
other TASA programs as well. As the WUFI generation moved into professional private
sector jobs, the interests of new members began to shape the agendas. The orientation
within ITASA reﬂected the shift, with elder members playing key roles in developing a
program that maintained the activist mission while accommodating the interests of non-
political Taiwanese American undergraduates.

D. Berkeley Students for a Sovereign Taiwan

Launched in 1998 Berkeley Students for a Sovereign Taiwan (BST) used their

website as a resource for news stories, legislation related to Taiwan, as well as a range of

226

 

other information about indigenous groups in Taiwan, the plight of Tibet, attacks against
the Fa Lun Gong, and other progressive topics (2004). The site offered a self-descriptive
narration that represented themselves in the broad terms of social movement:

BST's members are grassroots activists concerned about issues pertaining to

Taiwan sovereignty and democracy and come from all ethnic and racial

backgrounds. BST also frequently works in collaboration with other social justice

and human rights organizations such as Students for a Free Tibet and the

Progressive Student Alliance.

Included among these are articles dealing with the relationship between
Taiwanese and Polynesian ancestry, the discrimination against Taiwanese indigenous
groups participating in the UN, Taiwan’s bid for the UN, the WHO, commemoration of
2-28, and a log of a number of local and national protests and demonstrations, letter
campaigns, and news conferences. Tim Chng described their formation in this way:

Students for a Sovereign Taiwan, 1996-7 I think. They decided: “we’re going to

do this.” They established the Berkeley Students for a Sovereign Taiwan, which

was formerly the Berkeley Taiwanese Student Association, primarily a social
club. By their senior year, they were ready to host an ITASA conference; they
had a team of hard-working Taiwanese American students who were deeply
committed. And they ran it, and it was great. Then there were other groups in the

Bay Area, the movement went to Southern California, then Seattle... that was

when the West Coast movement got started. It started with those two girls who

really worked their tails off.

That page lasted through the Spring semester from 2002 to 2003. Last updated of
2004. The Homepage banner was revised to read BST in English without mention of
sovereignty, and in hanji the page was titled “Berkeley Taiwanese Student Association”
(2005b). In addition to a new homepage design, the news stories, reports, and other

documents accumulated over the ﬁrst four years of activity are not included in the new

website.

227

 

 

The clearest evidence of a shift is in the links. The site in 1999 had the following
links to the Presbyterian Church of Taiwan, Taiwanese Collegian, WUFI, FAPA,
websites about Taiwanese history, and environmental groups (both Taiwanese and in the
US), East Timor, Tibet, Mongolia, Eastern Turkistan, and Burma. None of these are on
the site except for Taiwan, Ilha Formosa, a resource page of current events and
information published by Taiwan Communique: “The website for Taiwan’s history,
present and future.”

There are now far fewer links, and those that deal with Taiwan deal with
Taiwanese language. The history of the organization is still available on the site, as well
as the activities and campaigns going back to 1998, but the archive of news stories has
been removed. An example of a pattern emerging across the country, an increasing
amount of communication and sharing of information had shifted to the BBS forum.

E. The Webolution: CyberGarden of Yams and YamWeb

After he graduated from Purdue in 1994, Tim passed the second generation
Taiwanese American address database he had compiled to a younger group of ITASA
leaders, and became less active in the organization. He remembers that Alvin, ﬁve years
his junior, was unhappy with the organization after the 1990-1991 class graduated. The
incoming college students for the most part were less political, a shift which Tim
associated with the 1994 direct presidential election in Taiwan, a watershed in the
democratization process in Taiwan. He continued touring on the Taiwanese Collegian
circuit on the weekends as he worked for a consulting ﬁrm, eventually establishing
YAMS network (1996), the ﬁrst sustained use of the Internet for Taiwanese political

activism. His location between generations, to have been so strongly inﬂuenced by the

228

 

late 19803 era democracy movement in Taiwan and among overseas supporters while in
the vanguard of the Taiwanese American movement, highlighted for him the tensions
between those focused on Taiwan, and slightly younger Taiwanese Americans moving

into the TASAs Tim and Rolla had been instrumental in establishing.

The thing about TC is that they started talking real about issues, like the
environmental issue, women’s issues, indigenous rights issues, zoning issues,
educational reform; these are things that valid issues that might have been better
for ITASA, but the level of discourse is so beyond what the typical Taiwanese
-American’s understanding of Taiwan would even be unable to grasp. There was a
complete disconnect. When ITASA was still trying to tell Taiwanese Americans
what 2-28 was, and for TC that was old, old; like — ‘yeah, yeah, I was shocked by

that when I was 12’ — the typical TC-er, right?

There was an overlap in intemet activism in the mid 19903, with the development
of YamWeb: CyberGarden of Yams, from February, 1995 to January 1996. This site was
mirrored in English and Hanji, with Big5 fonts available. The site was based on “Multi-
Localization Enhancement of NCSA Mosaic 2.4” and was viewable with Netscape, but

not Internet Explorer.

"Yam", as a linguistic entity, denotes a kind of naturally grown food. But, for
Taiwanese, it means more than that. Geographically, the Formosa have a similar
shape as yams. As a kind of food, it was part of major source for Taiwanese. In
addition, yam can grow and proliferate in many sterile lands. Strength of
Sustainability and the will to struggle with harsh livings not only identify with the
history of Taiwanese, but also become part of the nature of Taiwanese. "Yam" is

the same term, of identity and of aspiration, as "Taiwanese".

The main links displayed prominently on the home page were to the Taiwan
Labor F 1‘ Ont; the Frontier Foundation; Taiwan Association of University Professors; the
P r eSbYtel‘ian Church in Taiwan; Taiwan Association for Human Rights; Institute of New

Congress ; Formosa Aboriginal Singing and Dancing Troupe; and other progressive

229

organizations related to indigenous issues, free press, and environmental protection. The
site goes on to explain YamWeb’s central mission:

Most of all, we sincerely invite all ethnic groups of aborigines, new immigrants

and Hakkaians, and grassroots organization for ecological and environmental

protection and preservation, to participate in this grand construction of a brand
new public sphere. If you like to join us, please mail to us.

The June 1995 issue was titled “Webolution,” with the articles such as
“Grassroots in Cyberspace,” “Telecommunication and Democracy,” and “The Promise
and Challenge of New Communications Age,” expressing an optimism about the
liberating potential of the Internet as a means for collective action and progressive
change. YamWeb was supported by a number of academics and professionals in the
electronic engineering ﬁeld from the Institute of Information Science, Academia Sinica
(in Taiwan), the Department of Electronics, Taiwan of Polytechnic Institute Department
of Computer Science and Information Engineering, National Taiwan University.

They also credit “the Task Force of the Formosa on W Project at Frontier
Foundation for their assistance with most of the organizations in writing up their
homepages.” The Formosa on WWW Project was active from 1993 to 1998, the ﬁrst ﬁve
years of the Internet, and a period of rapid growth, measured in periods of months, in
terms of new formats for viewing pages, new scripts for web design, and so on, including
Mosaic; Gopher; World Wide Web; SeedNet, the ﬁrst Taiwanese Internet network; BBS
in Linux; Winsock; Sun; and Chameleon. YamWeb was on-line from 1995 to 1999, with
50 issues and a total of 284 postings by 151 individuals (Rolla, 15; Rosie, 14. Tim, 12;
Wan-Lin, 11; Karen Liao, 7; Lily, 6). Seventeen percent of YamWeb postings were by

Rosie and Lily, Tim and Rolla, a widely distributed degree of participation, particularly

compared to Taiwanese Collegian. YamWeb, established by the WUFI kids’ historic

230

 

generation, was active during the period between two index events: the 1996 missile tests
on the eve of the presidential election, and the 2000 election of Chen Shui-bian. The
participants themselves were inﬂuenced by their exposure to (and to some degree active

participation in) opposition activism in the mid- to late 19803.

II. Cultural Odysseys and Identity P
A. Are We There Yet?! Xungen and Xiangtu

While “roots-searching” practices among Iiuxuesheng is not an uncommon

 

discourse, deployed by elder generations encouraging youth to learn about their own
culture, as well as by second-generation Taiwanese Americans considering participating
on an organized culture tour to Taiwan, “roots—searching” as a more formal trope in
immigration discourse has not developed. Although programs that brought huaqiao to
Taiwan beginning in the 19503 were speciﬁcally designed to develop a sense of Chinese
authenticity in the face of modernity among overseas youth, and a literary genre
developed among overseas students (Iiuxuesheng wenxue) in the 19603 (Ma 2000), the
concept of “roots searching” has not been elevated to a common expression in the public
sphere. In china, however, the term xungen is part of mainstream discourse, associated
ﬁrst with a movement in Chinese music in the mid-19803 promoted to stem the tide of
Western music into Chinese culture.23 The term began to appear in other areas of cultural
production including literature as China opened to the outside world. Xungen discourse
was adopted by the Ofﬁce of Overseas Affairs in China and organizers in the U.S. as they

developed a program to attract Chinese-American youth whose ancestors were from the

 

23 The expression xungen is associated with an older Chinese saying, xungen wenzu, meaning “searching
for roots and looking for ancestors” (Louie 2000: 12).

231

Pearl River Delta region to study their family genealogies and visit their home villages in
China (Louie 2000, 2004). It was thought that after being exposed to Chinese culture and
ﬁnding their “roots,” Taiwanese Americans would develop and interest in Chinese
culture, and because of loyalty to homeland based on race, potentially invest capital in
China (ong 1999).

The term xungen and “searching for roots” discourse has yet to gain popular
currency in Taiwan, as the deﬁnition of one’s native place may be highly-contested. The
majority population of F ujianese descent considers their home village to be in Taiwan,
the home of their eldest male progenitor from Fujian, rather than a particular village in
China. For waishengren, attachment to their home villages on the mainland has been
Complicated by negative experiences while visiting. Being treated as a foreigner in China
caused many waishengren to re-evaluate their conceptualization of homeland. Although
both cultural tours to Taiwan discussed in this dissertation include exposure to the
Participant’s cultural heritage, they have a fundamental difference in deﬁnitions of where
the “homeland” is: Taiwan, China, the U.S.?

In the context of Taiwan, the idea of xiangtu (native place) is more commonly
discussed in Taiwan. The origin of nativist discourse may be found in the context of
Japanese colonial rule. Under the Japanese local elite worked through social

organizations to gain greater access to political power in Japanese society. They
petitioned for the creation of a Taiwanese parliament, and founded a range of formal
associations, including the Taiwan People’s Party, in order to participate in the Japanese
dmnocraCy. When Japan cracked down on such political resistance and critical, there was

no more room to be critical of the government, the newly-forged independence

232

.‘_" “‘3' ‘3 ‘-‘-_

 

consciousness was reproduced and informed in literature and other forms of cultural
expression. They sought to create an independent Taiwan based on a collective cultural
heritage. Beginning in the 19303 xiangtu wenxue (nativist literature) was a key the
survival of Taiwanese consciousness (Wei 1995). In 1932 the Association of Research of
Arts of Taiwan was established in Tokyo, and the journal Formosa announced its goal to
“collect, compile, and study folklore, folk songs, and nativist arts, . . . to restore and
create the genuine arts of the Taiwanese” (133) presaging Wu Zuoliu, author of Orphan

of Asia, set in the context of Japanese colonial rule. "‘ .

 

The opposition movement in the 19703 emerged in the context of a revival of
xiangtu wenxue, with literary magazines as the main publications for Taiwan-centric
discourse. The state began to institutionalize the discourse beginning in the late 19903,
when Taiwan began developing what would become known as (xiangtujiaoyu) “nativist
education.” In 2001 primary school kids had to take at least one local (indigenous)
language. Rather than a turn away from modernity, however, xiangtujiaoyu should be
understood in the context of Chinese high culture brought to Taiwan with the Nationalist
regime. Under Chen Shui-bian, ﬁrst elected in 2000, the process of “Taiwanization” of
Taiwan has stepped up. Taiwanization is often conﬂated with zhonghua qu
(desiniﬁcation), a whole-sale rejection of all things Chinese. A comparison of the two
cultural tours discussed in this dissertation will demonstrate that these two
conceptualizations of Taiwan — a repository of Chinese culture, and a native place for the
Taiwanese people — are still being negotiated by the ﬁrst generations of Taiwanese
Americans with little or no experience with Taiwan or China. As Julie (1.5 via South

Africa) from Chapter Two put it:

233

If I was born here I would not be a part of any Taiwanese clubs or things. I would
just be American. If I was born here, like they were... Like when I was in South
Aﬁica, I felt like I was not Taiwanese, I was just South African. I kind of admire
those people like them who keep those ties. . . . That is very popular in America, to go
ﬁnd your roots. They have programs to go back for a week, or a month in the
summer — they take you around and you do things — but that isn’t for me. It seems
like a waste of money. . . . That is for ABCs.

B. Chinese American Cultural Odysseys as Nation-Building Projects
Carefully choreographed ethnic tours designed for second generation Asian E
Americans, “cultural odysseys,” must be seen as artifacts informing the landscape of ,

middle-class Asian America. They create a highly-mediated experience for participants

 

to encounter native authenticity (Louie 2000,2003; Wong 2001; Lowe 1996). Such
programs introduce students in the 1.5 generation, and U.S.-bom Taiwanese Americans
to the “homeland” in an effort to identify and connect with cultural “roots” lost through
geographic distance and time. Essays, websites, bulletin boards and blog posts provided
what Robinson (1999) calls “unsolicited narratives” describing the experience. Two such
programs are considered in this dissertation, framed in the context of past research on
similar programs to Mainland China.

Comparing two such programs organized by the Chinese government, one in
1972, the other in the 19903, Louie (2003) demonstrates how in each case, participants
shaped the experience through their desires and expectations in dialogue with the inherent
(though differentiated) nation-building projects underlying each programs. Louie (2001;
2003), describes the contemporary Roots program with ethnographic detail based on
participant-observation and interviews while the primary source used for analysis of the
1972 Going Back tour to mainland China was a publication created by the tour

participants with essays and articles, reﬂections on their (re)connection with China, as it

234

 

was presented by the state and contextualized by the participants themselves according to
their own life experiences. Similarly, the analysis of the Tsunah program presented in
this dissertation is based primarily on essays written after the tour by participants and
posted on the organization’s website. The topic, “The Taiwan 1 Know,” suggests
reﬂection on the impact the tour had on their lives, with an unspeciﬁed expectation that
the essay will resonate with the desired goal of the tour, a heightened sense of Taiwanese
identity (Tsunah Foundation 2006).

In 1951, the Nationalist government began sponsoring large numbers of overseas

 

Chinese, especially from Southeast Asia, to come to Taiwan for higher education. In a
series of studies sponsored by Academia Sinica’s Institute of Ethnology, the China
Council of East Asian Studies, and the Harvard Yenching Institute, scholars conducted
surveys and tests designed to compare Chinese tradition and modernity, as well as their
relative worth compared to foreign cultures. Overseas Chinese were seen as “the carriers
of Chinese culture living in non-Chinese cultural habitats” (Li 1966:215). Because of
discrimination in host countries, overseas Chinese culture was more “authentic” than
modernized China, referring to the Republic of China on Taiwan. Thus, upon coming
“home” to the motherland for “formal Chinese education,” overseas Chinese were an
appropriate subject group to evaluate Chinese modernity. In addition, because they live
among foreign cultures, they are also in a position to evaluate traditional Chinese values
vis-a-vis “the host (native) and colonial (Western) cultures of the countries in which they
live” (Li 1966:215). Subjects were chosen from freshmen and sophomores over older
students because the younger students “represent a group with less ‘contamination’ by the

current political atmosphere of the island” (Li 1966:217). The signiﬁcance of this choice

235

in demographics has been discussed in Chapter Three as part of a more general theory
regarding the most impressionable time in an individual’s life course, when life-long
political orientations are formed. This was a focused attempt to shape the collective
understanding of Taiwan’s identity as traditional China.

Established in the mid 1991 by an elder Taiwanese independence activist, the
Tsunah (Chilin) Foundation culture tour program is focused on introducing students to it
Taiwanese history, politics, culture and language (Tsunah 2006). Contrasted with the

much larger and well-known Overseas Chinese Youth Language Training and Study

 

Tour to the Republic of China (“love boat”) tour organized by the Republic of China,
which focuses on Chinese culture and language, whereas the Tsunah tour is oriented
toward the development of Taiwanese subjectivity. Both programs are linked to nation-
building projects, though diametrically opposed in terms of speciﬁc national
imaginations, including differential geography, differing relationships with Chineseness,
conﬂicting historical narratives, ethnic markers and requisites of authenticity. Such
programs are part of the transnational web of relationships involving China, Taiwan, and
Asian America; moreover, because they each represent the nation-state’s territory,
culture, future, and past in different ways, they illuminate the existence of what Nina
Glick Schiller calls a multiplicity of “overlapping transnational social ﬁelds” linking and
differentiating nation-states (1998). In this case, contrasting (trans)nationalist projects
share the same population and geographic space.

C. Overseas Chinese Youth Study Tour to the ROC

The Study Tour, (also known as Chien-tan, one of two university campuses

hosting the program, mei-jia-ying, America/Canada camp, referring to the home countries

236

of the majority of participants, and “Love Boat”,) was begun in 1966. Originally fewer
than 100 students ages 14 — 25, the size of the program grew to as many as 1,200 in the
late 19803 and expanded to other campuses in Taiwan, coinciding with increased
population demographics. The size of the program was scaled back through the 19903.

In 1992 a second campus program was opened in Keelung at Ocean Campus. From 1996
to 2001 Study Tour participants would divide their time between the two locations. The
overall program was scaled back as the DPP cut funding for the Chinese Youth Corp, one

of the organizations contributing to managing the program. In 2001 there were 800

 

participants, but by 2004 the program included approximately 400 second-generation
Taiwanese Americans and Taiwanese Canadians going to Taiwan for a six-week crash-
course in Mandarin and Chinese culture.

The participants practice Chinese calligraphy, visit museums and cultural sites,
and visit recreational attractions, including the National Palace Museum, Chiang Kai-
shek Memorial Hall, Fu Hsing Kang Military School, the Fine Arts Museum, Taipei Zoo,
and Formosa Waterworld. The highlights in the itinerary are related to Chinese culture
and Chinese politics, reinforcing the conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity as the
Republic of China, at least as “Chinese” as the mainland, perhaps more so insofar as the
National Palace Museum, as mentioned above, holds the collected national treasures of
China. They spend most of their time in Taipei and Keelung, followed by a nine-day tour
of the island. Although the amount of government subsidy of the program fee has
declined over the years, the now ﬁve-week Study Tour cost a modest $500, not including
airfare. Around 1,000 students between 18 and 23 years of age are selected from among

as many as thrice that number of applicants (Wong 2001).

237

Wong (2001) notes that in 1998 the stated purpose of the tour is to “assist
overseas Chinese youth to increase their ability to use the Chinese language, to
understand Chinese culture and history, and to see at ﬁrst hand the achievements of the
Republic of China.” Two changes in the mission statement are worth pointing out: First,
the singular “Chinese culture” was expanded to the pluralistic “Chinese and Taiwanese
cultures.” Next, “achievements of the Republic of China” was altered to read “the
establishment and development of Taiwan, the Republic of China.” These changes,

subtle as they may be, reﬂect the process of nativization in Taiwanese society:

 

 

A clear sense of "Asian American identity" for many North American born
Chinese was nebulous at best. Many American-born Chinese who initially did not
have any Chinese language skills and who refused to date a fellow Asian, came
back from the tour expressing a greater appreciation of Chinese language, culture
as well as a greater willingness to date within the Asian community. There were
many reasons for this, but especially for those participants who came from
communities without many Chinese, the Study tour provided a unique forum to
share their common "Chinese North American Experience" of growing up and
needing to reconcile both North American and Asian Cultures in a predominantly
Caucasian society (Nationmaster 2005).

In this framework, Taiwan represents an origin nation of Asian Americans living
in a Caucasian society. Such a conceptualization does not distinguish between Taiwan
and China, but rather conﬂates them, and encourages intra-racial dating. The Tsunah,
discussed in detail below, makes a clear distinction, and does not mention the dating
question, or the problems facing Asian Americans living in the U.S.

The study tour serves as a liminal space between adolescence and adulthood; for
many students, this is the ﬁrst opportunity to spend a signiﬁcant amount of social time
with other second-generation Taiwanese Americans. By design, it is an opportunity to

explore their national and cultural aspects of identity, and by doing so create memory

groups and shape the political and cultural orientation of their historic generation. For

238

some Study Tour participants, this purpose was achieved. In an essay titled “A Study
Tour Perspective,” Pei-ming Chou (2000) speciﬁcally references this element of the tour:
At the young and impressionable age of 18, I left the safety of Orange County in
search of something grand and life-changing. I chose the infamous Chien Tan
“Love Boat” Study Tour as my avenue to my ﬁrst-ever adventure. . . .
She notes that for many participants, going to Taiwan was their ﬁrst experience

from underneath their parents’ control, and an opportunity to experience a culture “in E .

some ways wholly different from our American culture,” and ﬁnally, “perhaps to awaken

 

the ethnic side of our identity that had been buried for so long (i.e. use our Chinese that I -‘
we refuse to use in the States). In short, the Love Boat provided the perfect environment
and opportunity for profound personal growth.” Taiwan, in this description, represents
adulthood: being away from parents, going to a foreign environment, and awakening a
buried ethnicity. The only characteristic among those mentioned related to Taiwan
speciﬁcally is the use of Mandarin, which refers to the legacy of Taiwan as China.

She continues by describing a series of negative aspects of Taiwan: “typhoons,
ﬂying cockroaches, crazy taxi drivers, and overwhelming language barriers in a foreign
environment,” mitigated only by bonding with a group of strangers. Taiwan here is
represented as a hostile environment, an identity repeated often among the Taiwanese
American participants of the Study Tour. The Study Tour creates a bond between
Chinese-Americans, she explains. Finally, Pei-ming reveals that “the best part” of the
Study Tour experience “is that my adventures have never ceased since the Love Boat.
Each new connection brings a new adventure and a new ﬁiend to share a hot bowl of

ramen and a heart-warming conversation.”

239

While the Chinese consciousness aspect of the study tour mission is well known
and explicit, a second social pattern has developed over the decades of the study tour
which, though commonly understood, is nonetheless not part of the ofﬁcial mission
statement. Operators of the program estimate that about 30 percent of the participants
have at least one romantic and/or sexual relationship during the course of the tour, and
claim that as many as 15 percent of the participants of the Study Tour begin relationships
that ultimately lead to marriage (Lin 2004). Tour alumni suggested to me that 30 percent
was a conservative estimate. Although there are no data to support either of these claims,
it is clear that based on what the students discuss on their personal websites, group
bulletin boards (some dedicated speciﬁcally to a particular bus number), reﬂection
essays, and media interviews related to the experience, the bonds between participants are
far stronger that the bonds made with Taiwan and/or China. The original mission was to
establish and strengthen the relationship between overseas Chinese (from Taiwan) and
the Republic of China on Taiwan. One study tour participant (Celeste 2001) described on
her blog the disconnect between organizers’ objectives and participants’ expectations:

Welcome. This site was made to share the experiences and relive those Love Boat

memories. I must admit that in the beginning I was a little homesick, but by the

end, I ended up having an incredible time. . . . I miss my almost daily manguo
bing,24 I miss the late night girl talks till 5am, I miss going to Circle K and
bumping into all my friends, I miss going to the night markets practically every
night, I miss partying literally till the break of dawn, and I kinda miss the culture
classes (yes, I‘m a dork! :-P) - Chinese dancing‘s awesome.

Here, another common theme is introduced: the exciting night-life of Taipei. The

identity of Taiwan is rendered to become a fantastic (literally) shopping mall. The

culture classes she reluctantly admits to liking are representative of Chinese high culture

 

24Mango-ﬂavored shaved ice.

240

 

rather than Taiwanese local traditions, as was the case of the Tsunah tour described
below. The Study Tour participant’s concluding remarks, “and now, back to home and
back to reality,” raises important question of how cultural odysseys are contextualized in
everyday life: to what extent does participation inﬂuence the sense of Taiwanese and/or
Chinese identity? The program is structured around entertainment, and cultural elements
in the program do not clearly distinguish between Taiwanese and Chinese culture. One !
1996 participant (Anonymous 1996) was resistant to her parents’ pressure to attend, and
was not looking forward to the trip. The participant’s parents had commented that it
would be a good opportunity to meet another Asian American of the same socio-
economic status. The participant’s perspective changed once the tour was underway:

Imagine my surprise when I got there and found it to be about two hundred kids

my age who were all just looking to have a good time. And a good time we had. I

would have to say that those seven weeks at Chien Tan mark some of the best

times I've ever had; most people you'd ask would probably say the same.

Ofﬁcial 1997 Study Tour materials place the program in a historical context of
Chinese diaspora. Using the collective voice of the participants themselves, the program
participant-narrator writes:

Though the vast oceans separate the ﬁve continents, they cannot separate the

millions of Chinese living across the world. We may live apart from one another,

but the history, culture, language, and heritage that we all share will always hold
our hearts together.

The Study Tour narrator continues in a participant’s voice, noting that the
program collects “Overseas Chinese Youth from all for comers of the world back to
Taiwan — the beautiful island that symbolizes freedom for all Chinese people.” Here,

Taiwan’s identity represents Free China, a geographic location to which all Chinese

abroad may return to, even those who have never been to China before. The cultural

241

 

programs are designed to give “a deeper understanding of the true essence” of Chinese
culture, and “bridge the gap of geography and generation.” The Tour also helps overseas
Chinese youth strengthen their “cultural identity through this search for roots.”
Participants will return with “the seeds of our culture” (Cheng 1996). As pointed out

above, the metaphor of “roots” is a common one. If Chinese roots are the central

metaphor representing Taiwan’s identity, then “seeds” of culture would mean participants
should continue to learn and teach the next generation about China, based on their

experiences in Taiwan.

 

Students’ recollections of the Study Tour, however, emphasize other things. An
essay written by a 1998 participant (Draco 1998) begins with the rhetorical question:
“What is Love Boat?” The author mocks the formal title: ‘“ 1998 Overseas Chinese

Youth Language Training and Study Tour to the Republic of China.’ Yeah right! All us

9”

Boaters called it simply, ‘Loveboat. According to the author, although the intent is to

learn Chinese language and culture, most people learn other lessons:

We sure learned so much about the culture and language considering that most of
us slept through our language classes because we were so exhausted from
clubbing! Seriously though, there were about 36 classes total, and I think I went to
about 8. And we also learned how to act sick so we get sick leaves, and how to sit
on squat toilets... how to kill 4 inch cockroaches, and how to aide our mosquito
bites. Every night we would get drunk! It's not that hard, though, because the legal
drinking age is 18, and the 7-11's there sell mini Kegs! Ha Ha! Love Boat was a
true experience. Everyone should go on it. All you need is to be 1/4 Chinese. . . .
Anyway, this Love Boat thing seriously was one of the best times of my life. To
be stuck in a foreign country with 2,000 others just like you... it was fun. It was an
adventure everyday. Even though the heat was unbearable and the dirtiness was
disgusting, all of us complained and went through it together. Some of the ﬁiends
I made on this trip are truer to me than any friends back home.

The descriptions of the urban environment in Taipei — both positive and negative

elements — could be applied to many other cities in Asia and elsewhere. In an essay titled

242

“A More Complete Description of the Loveboat,” Alison Dakota Gee (1996) provides an
interpretation of the historical background of the program, that at its inception, “the
people of Taiwan” worried that “full-blooded citizens of the Middle Kingdom” were
raising progeny who were “yellow on the outside and white on the inside . . . creatures
[who] appeared to be Chinese until the opened their mouths and said: ‘Oh my god! 1’, and
were unable to speak their mother tongue.” Alison continues:

Ask these Bananas who Wong F ei-hung is and they say,"Isn't he the head waiter

at Hue's Sichuan Kitchen?" And Sun Yat-Sen? "Isn't he that old guy who used to

get trashed on Jim Beam outside Wong's Fluff and F old?" Waaaaaaaaaaaahll . . .

This would not do, the good people of Taiwan declared. And so, 28 years ago,

they formed the Language Training and Study Tour to the Republic of China, a 6-

weeks programme that would "assist overseas Chinese youth to increase their

ability to use the Chinese language, to understand Chinese culture and history,
and to see at ﬁrst hand the achievements of the Republic of China". In any case,
that's what the handbook says.

The perspective that the “people of Taiwan” strongly identiﬁed themselves as
“citizens of the Middle Kingdom” — a translation of zhongouren (a person of the Middle
Kingdom) inﬂected with the term “citizen,” a reference to legal status in a the modern
nation-state, is problematic, but understandable when coming from a non-Chinese
speaker. In common usage, zhonguoren refers to someone from mainland China, PRC.

It is possible that Alison is referencing zhonghua minguo, a term more accurately
translated “the Chinese pe0ple’s country,” and most commonly translated as Republic of
China.

The reference to blood indicates the ﬁctive kinships based on consanguinity

underlying the notion of race, a discourse that precedes and supersedes the nation-state,

and is at the heart of conceptualizations of Chinese diaspora. In this regard, Alison views

Taiwan as part of the Middle Kingdom rather than a location in the margins and part of

243

 

the Chinese diaspora. Benshengren, to Alison, are Chinese by blood, regardless of any
genetic admixture, whether indigenous, Japanese or otherwise. Wong Fei-hung and Sun
Yat-sen are both part of the historical legacy of China introduced to Taiwan in the ofﬁcial
pedagogy of the Republic of China. The historical, racial and nationalistic messages in
the Study Tour curriculum, however, are commonly mocked as being irrelevant to the

participants themselves. Instead, as Alison points out, the program has become an

 

extended party:

 

Instead of an intensive language programme, it has become an intensive way for
bananas to meet the object of their dreams. Instead of a way fo earnestly
searching for one's past, it has become a way of groping -- in steamy Taipei
nightclubs and crowded dormitories-- for one's future. Chientan has evolved into
what ABCs now know simply as the Love Boat, after the hormone-raddled 19703
American TV series of the same name.

David L. Chen (1996) points out that although the language training program is
available, it is not central to the experience. It is overshadowed by the freedom and
excitement of urban Taipei. David asks the reader: When surrounded by “shopping
centers, night markets, and delicious foods how could one want to study Chinese?”
David, more than participants from wealthier families who are already equipped with
some language skills — either Mandarin or Holo —- because of access to international
travel, was in greater need for language training. He had not been able to have close
interactions with relatives abroad over the years:

Also, most Taiwanese parents assume that us kids should not be out partying and

spending money like many of us do in the U.S. and Canada. My grandfather was

wondering why I spent so much money, after 2000 NT almost disappeared at the
end of the week. In my case, my grandfather with 7 kids needed to be frugal and
save money. Because of money problems, he couldn't afford enough for my

uncles and aunts to have a good education and to this day, three of my aunts and
uncles still live in my grandfather's home.

244

David’s experience was both frustrating and rewarding. He was forced to practice
his language skills as he tried to navigate the cultural and generational distance between
himself and his family in Taiwan. Accounts similar to David’s essay were rare among
the Study Tour reﬂection essays and notes. Although participants may well have had
powerful personal experiences relating to discovering their Chinese or Taiwanese roots,
developing a greater understanding of local culture, and so forth, such feelings were not E
include in the narratives posted on the Internet.

Wong (2001) includes in her writings a social analysis of the Study Tour as .

 

presented by Schenley Chen (Study Tour 1995) in an essay titled “A Common Thread,”
which begins with the questions: What is this study tour? What is this so-called and
somewhat infamous ‘Love Boat’?” Although the Study Tour program in its current
incarnation was established in 1966, Schenley, perhaps referring to the early efforts of
Chinese nationalists to exert control over Chinese in the U.S. and elsewhere, notes that
“the concept of an Overseas Students Study Tour has been in existence since the early
part of the twentieth century.” He presents an inter-generational model of motivation to
support the program. Grandparent, he suggest, consider the Tour to be “an opportunity to
learn more about the Chinese culture and language,” and hopefully get acquainted with
“one’s family and ancestry.” From the perspective of his parents’ generation, however,
Schenley suggests that they want their children to enjoy the trip, make good ﬁiends with
similar backgrounds, “and have a good and safe time.” Esther, a Study Tour participant
in 2005, agreed that the program gives Taiwanese in the U.S. “a chance to go back to
Taiwan and learn about their culture.” She follows her “culture” comment with her

assessment of the inter-generational dynamics at work: “Needless to say, it is also what

245

all parents would like you to do when you go back - TO FIND A FUTURE
HUSBAND/W IF E who is of the same ethnic background!”

The traditions being presented as “their culture” were generic and widely
recognized elements of Chinese culture, including Beijing opera, kung fu, calligraphy,
Chinese knot tying, and Chinese cooking. The program planners provide a schedule to
address the interests of the state, as well as multiple generations of Taiwanese
immigrants. To this end, the days are divided into four six-hour segments. To suit the
goals of the grandparents, the mornings are ﬁlled with classes dealing with Chinese
language and high culture. The second part of the day, which included tours and outings
in and around Taipei, satisfy the parents’ desires that the tour be safe, structured fun, and
that the participants could make friends of similar backgrounds. Wong (2001) highlights
that the participants bring with them a set of expectations and anticipated experiences:

The third six-hour portion in the evening was devoted to exhausting the

inexhaustible energy level of the tour group. Tour members randomly chose to

attend various locales in the vibrant Taipei night-life in search of places to party,
meet others, and maybe participate in other sordid extra-curricular activity. Often,

the evening activity violated multiple rules of the trip such as the imposed 1 1:00

pm. curfew or other such safeguards against late-night partying, but in fact these

safeguards provided even more motivation for tour members to go out in the
evening.

The fourth six-hour portion was for sleep. Everybody needed rest and

recuperation for the day that would lie ahead. The morning would come again and

the cycle would start anew.

Schenley concludes with the remark, “But who said we would need to sleep?”

capturing the prevailing sentiment of the Study Tour accounts found on the Internet

(Wong 2001).

246

 

As an example, a group of ﬁve young men known (at least to themselves) as the Lychee
Boys (2001) built a website dedicated to their exploits while on the Study Tour: In
addition to photo galleries of the Lychee Boys in “gangsta-hip” clothes touring the sights
of Taipei, the site included original artwork. and essays, as well as rap poetry, lines
written in the beat of a recorded pop song. A selection from the rap material
communicates a complex set of observations, feeling, and experiences related to the

identity of a place, yet in a genre unlike other Tour-related texts:

“This Island, Taiwan” (Chiou 2001b)

What is this island, Taiwan?
Somehow a home away from home.
My family roots trace back here,
but Taiwan I've never known.
Blood runs hot in Taiwan.

Patience runs thin.

We're always in a hurry...

but we're always stuck, waiting...
waiting...for what?

for what?

What is this island, Taiwan?

Somehow, like a drink.

I've seen crowded cityscapes,

cabs, clubs, fallen statues

of liberties... planet of the...apes?

Comfort in ﬁlth, beauty amidst destitution.
Roaches run in rice bowls,

Brown bing lang smiles.

Night markets thrive, small streets come alive.
Harmony smells like the sewers.

Hopes and dreams, pride and shame,

good and bad,

crash in a colorful mix of

half sidra and half Citron.

I take a shot.Taiwan makes me...

247

 

 

buzzed.
Buzz. Sick and happy at the same time.

What is this island, Taiwan?
Somehow like a dream.

I've seen Immortal beach heads,
with stoic stone smiles,
wayward waterfalls and indignant
rapids. Ancient forest trees

that hummmmm .......

no wait, those are mosquitos.
Razor edge rock formations,
slicing into historic veins.
Paciﬁc blue beaches that silently
breathe. And mountains,

like green crowned giants
pulling low cloud covers over,
to sleep.

Sleep ..... sleep.

And then I wake up in a different city.

Chiou writes that his only connection to Taiwan was vicarious, through his
parents, making it a “home away from home,” distanced not only by space but
generation-time. His family’s “roots” could be “traced back” to Taiwan, 3 word choice
that illuminated the awkward relationship between roots and routes, where the metaphors
that we use to “ground” our identities in a speciﬁc “native place” (xiangtu) do not reﬂect
our everyday life experiences, which are transected by global, regional, trans-local and
transnational processes (F ortier 2000; Clifford 1997b; Massey 1994).

Although the disparate goals of parents, grandparents, organizers and agents of
the state were sometimes in conﬂict, the priorities and expectations of the participants

were well-established and understood. For most, the Study Tour was ﬁrst and foremost

an opportunity to bond with others in their historic generation, creating transient memory

248

 

 

 

groups and hidden populations that are made apparent only through cyber-ethnography.
In some cases the experience is deeply ingrained in the family history. Rob (2004), who
began a website to keep in touch with his follow “boaters” from 2004, wrote this note as
his ﬁrst discussion board post:

Loveboat changed my life by introducing me to hundreds of new people and

giving me a chance to make friends from around the world. Actually if it weren't

for LoveBoat my parents would have never met and I would not be here now. So,
for all that LoveBoat has done for me I thought I could make a friendster site for
all the 2004 students to keep in touch and network with each other in the future
for events like reunions, get togethers or job opportunities. Thanks for all the

unforgettable memories and great times in the summer of 2004 Loveboat! 1!

The most common depiction of the Study Tour emphasized the participants’
experiences together, including the Taipei night-life, local annoyances (especially air
quality and squat toilets,) and camp antics on the bus trips.

D. Counselor OC Ben's Closing Ceremony Speech and a Loveboat Rap

The concluding remarks of a Culture Tour counselor provide insight into the way
the experienced is shaped from below, where interpersonal relations among cohorts is the
central focus. Ben begins by noting how quickly the time has passed, when “just a few
weeks ago you all came to us wide-eyed and frazzled from your long ﬂights and opened
yourself up to Taiwan's heat, humidity, crazy trafﬁc as well as my 3dead boring2
brieﬁngs.” He let them know they that were a special group, and that the councelors have
had fun “in helping you adapt to this unfamiliar environment. From showing you how to
use the phone cards to telling you the locations of the nearest intemet café and Shimen
Ding.” Ben notes that some of the participants came to the program unable to speak “a

lick of Chinese,” but by the end of the trip you can mindlessly chant 3BOPO MOFO’ And

if you really improved you learned to say 3Sae Shr Nee Du Ba Ba?2 [ who's your daddy?

249

 

 

].” Next, Ben communicates that the camp semi-ofﬁcially sanctions participants to enjoy
the night-life after hours: “And what we counselors will never forget is JUST HOW
WELL DRESSED some of you were for bed check ALMOST as if you were going out?
But we knew THAT couldn't be I.”

The ten-minute speech was ﬁlled with expressions of sentimental attachments and
the sadness of saying goodbye, not only for the participants themselves, but also for the
counselors. It is important to consider the last paragraphs of the text as it cogently
articulates a consensus of attitudes expressed in Study Tour alumni websites. For this

reason, Ben’s concluding comments ( 1997) are quoted at length:

This is one of the special times in your life where you are WITHOUT
responsibilities or worries because we counselors take it all on for you. Never
again will you be able to be in such an International environment with so many
cool and diverse people from around the world. You are all part of a proud
history. It doesn‘t matter what reason you came here for - whether to see Asia, to
learn Chinese or to ﬁnd that! Love of your Life! However, many of you came for
the promise of “Booty” Sam I right J? All joking aside, if you go into this
program with a positive attitude and a desire to make friends you will ﬁnd this
experience as well as the friendships you make very worthwhile.

This Study tour, this Loveboat, up to this year has remained a strong program for
over 30 years. As you know, Taiwan has been changing a great deal these days as
has this program and it's my prayer this program continues as an integral part of
the Overseas Chinese experience. And even though the program has gone through
changes along with rest of the country, there is a certain universality to the
Loveboat experience. Allow me to read to you these Top 10 lists from a Loveboat
in the distant past:

TOP 10 DO's in TAIWAN

1. Do pretend you know how to speak Chinese when giving a taxi driver
directions.

2. Do close your eyes when crossing the street. What you don't see can‘t hit you.
3. Do your best to learn the language. You will provide hours of amusement to a
passerby when you order a steamed newspaper at a lunch stand.

4. Do pick up business cards wherever you go.

5. Do go to KISS. Where else can you see black performers in Taiwan?

250

 

 

 

6. Do go the Night Market. Where else can you get a Rolex for under $20(US)?
7. Do bargain at the Night Market. You can get that same Rolex for $10(US)!
8. Do bring lots of deodorant. Your friends will appreciate it.

9. Do wear insect repellent (red splotches on legs are quite unattractive.)

10. Do schedule a vacation for after this trip to recover.

TOP 10 DON'TS in TAIWAN

1. Don’t assume cars stop at red lights.

2. Don’t breather the air: Bring your own.

3. Don’t walk on the sidewalks: you will cause great inconvenience to the
motorists trying to park there.

4. Don’t be surprised when you ﬁnd footprints on the public toilet seats. Don't
ask.

5. Don’t be alarmed by any trafﬁc you might see(buses climbing tree3,etc) It's all
done with mirrors.

6. Don’t attempt to exercise while in Taipei: Take up smoking instead. It's
healthier

7. Don’t be surprised when a group of locals point at you, saying “Chien Tan”

8. Don‘t eat anything you can't at least identify as animal mineral or vegetable<it
is none of the above

9. Don't drink the water. You may however, use it to remove nail polish and other
enamels. .

10. Don't forget to wear your nametag. NO NAMETAG, NO SERVICE.

 

 

This list comes from a Loveboat from over 10 YEARS AGO. As you can see, not
much has changed. Over time here, you develop a greater appreciation for the
language, culture and the people of Taiwan as well as for each other. This trip has
earned a legendary reputation over the decades because it offers you something in
your lives that doesn‘t happen very often-—-a sense<of magic. You all come to
Taiwan not knowing anyone and not knowing what to expect. You are put with a
bunch of people you do not know and through eating, drinking, slumbering, and
being bussed around with each other you soon establish life-long friendships. It
doesn't matter where you're from, what group you belong to, or what school you
go to. If you're cool and want to make friends on this Tour<you do. This has been
going on for over 30 years and it is my honor to do this program with you all---
one last time.

Thank you for creating and funding this incredible and reputable program for over
30 000 students over the past few decades. Your program has changed more lives
than you know and has become a valued tradition to many Overseas Chinese.

The narrative communicates an inter-generational historicity intra-generational

memory group formation, the salience of which will vary somewhat among the

251

 

participants. However, the Study Tour is a carefully choreographed experience, both by
the organizers, counselors, parents and (especially) the participants themselves. Rolla
Chng agrees that the program serves speciﬁc purposes for different parties; for the
parents, an opportunity for their children to meet other children of Taiwanese American
professionals. The kids are there for the sex. She also pointed out the political
orientation:

Loveboat. It is a kind of junket program — a lot of Taiwanese Americans found

their way to Taiwan on Love Boat because it was affordable, it was cheap, and

fun, and you were treated like a dignitary. Even as late as 1993 when I was riding
around on a motorbike in Kaohsiung there was a bus being escorted by cop cars;
there were red ﬂags everywhere, and they were basically just driving around the
city stopping trafﬁc. That was Chien Tan, that was the love boat. They are
driven around in these busses with escorts and red ﬂags — they don’t even have to
stop for red lights. What kind of way is that to be in a country? What kind of

way is that to travel? It was ridiculous. . . .

Their parents want them to meet other Taiwanese Americans, but the intentions of

the government — the idea is a brainwashing junket, just like they did to

academics. They bring you to Taiwan, they control your entire visit, they showed
you what they wanted to show you and told you what they wanted you to hear. It
is a brainwashing program to try to try to show that the KMT is running a good
country. That was what that was all about.

There are sharp distinctions between the goals and objectives of the organizers of
the program, those who participate, and the parents and grand-parents who encourage or
discourage their participation. Classes meant to instill a sense of cultural heritage and
national pride were frequently ignored or dismissed, curfews were broken, and other
aspects of the program’s agenda were marginalized. Some participants, however, made
a connection to Chinese culture through the activities planned, and most connected to
urban life in Taipei. These experiences will now be ﬁrrther contextualized by examining

the programs and experiences of another cultural tour to Taiwan.

E. The Formosan Tsunah Program

252

 

 

 

Lin Yi-Hsiung, one of the “Kaohsiung eight” activists arrested after the
Kaohsiung Incident in 1979, brings about 35 Taiwanese undergraduates or graduate
students to the Chilin Center every year, a scenic compound of meeting rooms, cottages,
and a small dormitory deep in the hills of Ilan County, just northeast of Taipei. As noted
above, Ilan has a reputation for being very “Taiwanese,” associated with benshengren
and indigenous groups, contrasted with “Chinese aura” of Taipei. In the 19603, a full 60
percent of the population of Taipei was mainlander Chinese (Appleton 1970:39). Fang-
pei, who ﬁrst came to the U.S. as an undergraduate in 1995, once commented with
sarcasm, “oh, you know about Ilan? It is funny because people there are very proud of
themselves - the land is so clean that it has never been touched by the KMT.” Alan Chen
points to Ilan as the source for Taiwanese folk music tradition, and the Taiwanese booth
at the Celebrate Madison community during my ﬁeldwork featured a running video
promoting tourism in Ilan County.

Also known as the Tsunah Center, the compound houses the Taiwanese
Democratic Museum on the third ﬂoor of the main building. The ﬁrst four days of the
eleven-day tour are based in Ilan, the remainder of the tour is in Hua Lien, Taitung,
Kaohsiung, followed by the last three nights at the YMCA in Taipei. The tour is held
during the Christmas break in the U.S. school year, and costs $700, not including airfare.

Jacob Climo (2002), writing in the context of the “symbolic transformation of
American Jewish diaspora identity into Israeli national identity,” points out that analysis
of personal narratives is a crucial source of insight. Social scientists should turn to
“individual narratives of separation and reuniﬁcation, dismemberment and re-membering,

and reincorporation with the lost community” to understand inter- generational dynamics

253

 

 

of transnational populations. “Such re-membering,” he notes, “tends to blur surface
distinctions between family and community, self and collective, past and present, and
space and time” (122). With both the Study Tour and the Tsunah program, such
narratives are readily available as “unsolicited narratives” of participants themselves.
One part of the 2002 and 2004 Tsunah tour program involved writing a short essay upon
return on the theme “The Taiwan 1 know.” These writings are published on the tour
pages of the Tsunah Foundation website (Tsunah 2002; Tsunah 2004). 1 have drawn

selections from these essays to convey the complex and powerful feelings of the

 

participants, particularly as they relate to the tour’s political and cultural orientation.
Unlike the Sinocentric state-sponsored experience created by the Study Tour, the
Tsunah program is steeped in the essence of Taiwanese opposition activism and
embedded in discourses of Taiwan’s national identity. The founder’s life story in itself is
a powerful biography of struggle and sacriﬁce. On February 28'", 1980, while he was
being detained and interrogated by government intelligence agents in response to his
involvement in the Kaohsiung Incident the prior December, the Lin family home was
broken into. His mother and twin daughters were killed, and a third daughter was gravely
injured. Although the police never solved the crime, the Nationalist government
intelligence agents and secret police who kept their home under surveillance at all times
were suspected of being the assailants, or of knowingly allowing the events to take place.
On the day of arrival in Taipei, a stop at the Lin family memorial site on the way
to the center evokes the power of Lin’s biography, something that will soon be ampliﬁed

by spending time with Lin himself at the Center. This mode of historicity is designed to

254

 

 

frame the tour experience as one of intimacy with Taiwan, and emphasizes the local,
personal, traditional Taiwan. One participant (Huang 2002) described it in these terms:

The information was a lot for me to handle due to its shocking nature. Walking

through the Taiwanese democratic museum and visiting the house where the

massacre of the Lin family occurred was extremely moving. It was very powerful
to learn about all the hardships that Taiwanese people have faced. It was also very
inspiring that they had sacriﬁced so much for what they believed in.

The eleven-day tour strikes a balance between group recreational activities and
carefully crafted education experiences. Like the Study Tour program, Tsunah
participants spend recreational time in Taipei, including shopping in Snake Alley and
visiting night markets, and touring the scenic countryside to national parks. The cultural
elements of the two programs, however, differ in emphasis and depth. Tsunah
participants visit with members of several of Taiwan’s indigenous groups and discuss the
groups’ complex historical relationships with Japanese and Chinese governments. The
tour also includes a Taiwanese opera demonstration, a trip to the 2-28 Memorial park and
museum, seminars on current political and social issues, and a roundtable meeting with
local Taiwanese university students.

About half of the participants indicated that they had been to Taiwan when they
were younger, and generally described the associated feelings and memories in negative
terms. They included: crazy cab drivers; dangerous trafﬁc; mosquitoes; humidity and
bad weather; long plane rides; “squat” toilets; stray dogs; and Western chain vendors
such as McDonalds and Starbucks. Both the Study Tour participants and Tsunah
participants reported encountering many of the same negative aspects of Taiwan, though

in the contexts of the tour, they were re-framed as comic, quaint, signs of authenticity,

and minor annoyances in adventure narratives.

255

”a .

' ’. In."
at”

 

 

Several participants described feelings of emptiness, alienation, and searching,
framing the tour as an opportunity to get in touch with their Taiwanese “roots”. As
anticipated, most of the texts contained explicit statements regarding the positive impact
of the program on the development of Taiwanese subjectivity. Of 36 essays, one (Lin
2004) was critical of the program, arguing (correctly) that there is a pro-independence
bias. He felt that the nationalist ideology leaves little room for “rational discussion.” ‘3

The scenery of Ilan speciﬁcally was mentioned in 12 essays, and like the Study

 

Tour participants, most Tsunah students included references to the natural scenery of
Taroko Gorge and other areas outside the urban centers. In addition to comments '
contrasting Taipei in negative terms with the rest of Taiwan, most participants also
described exciting, exotic aspects of urban spaces, such as night markets, the “club
scene,” KTV, stinky tofu, sex shops, betel nut girls, and squat toilets. In this context,
however, as a shared experience with other Taiwanese Americans, the descriptions of
urban Taipei no longer carried the negative inﬂection of their reminiscences of prior
visits in younger years. Like the Study Tour participants’ essays described above, the
negative aspects of urban life were associated with developing strong bonds with other
participants sharing the experience. All of the participants mentioned developing strong
bonds of ﬁiendship over the course of the program.

For many participants, this tour addressed questions regarding the nature of their
parents’ strong feelings regarding Taiwan. In this regard, Taiwan’s identity was an
enigma, a series of unanswered questions. Several of the essays describe part of their
lack of knowledge of Taiwanese culture and history because they grew up in rural mid-

America rather than areas with higher populations of Asians. They described experiences

256

of “ﬁnally being around people‘ like me.” Many of the participants described the tour
experience as “eye—opening,” “life-changing,” and “disorienting.” Seven participants
wrote that the experiences surrounding the Tsunah tour changed their lives to such a
degree that they will devote part of their lives for Taiwan, to become an activist.

Vicky Shi (2002), like Study Tour participants described above, was looking
forward to shopping and taking advantage of the night life in Taipei. However, he was
surprised at the richness of Taiwan beyond Taipei. Like many participants, she noted the
signiﬁcance of Ilan County, associating it with the “real Taiwan.” The visit to the
Taiwan Democratic Movement Museum was also a powerful experience; as she put it, “it
was there that I realized Taiwan had a very rich and unique history ﬁlled with much
turmoil, suffering, and hope.” Seeing an aboriginal village and museum, and meeting
local Bunun, reinforced the idea that other cultures besides China have had inﬂuences on
Taiwanese culture. Her experiences on the tour represent the primary goals of the
Tsunah program. Taiwan’s identity is deﬁned by an association with the land, the
indigenous groups, the opposition (anti—Nationalist) movement, and elements that
distinguish Taiwanese culture from Chinese.

Benjamin Huang (2002), on the other hand, had fewer positive experiences than
Vickie; he participated at the suggestion of his mother, and was hesitant because his last
trip to Taiwan left him with memories of an “excruciating plane ride, humid weather,
polluted streets, strange foods, and overpriced department stores.” He had been 16 years
old. Tsunah, he hoped, would give him access to the rest of Taiwan, and as a recent
college graduate he was increasingly aware of his own lack of knowledge of Taiwanese

culture, language, history and current events. His mother’s two brothers were well

257

 

 

 

known in the independence movement, and his cousins attended the “Taiwanese identity
camps,” but he personally did not have a clear understanding of his parents’ commitment
to the independence movement, and hoped that the Tsunah trip would ﬁll in “missing
pieces.” Unlike other participants, he was able to meet his parents during the course of
the trip, and after introducing them to the Taiwanese Democratic Museum, he reported
that his father went through the history in the museum with more detail, drawn from his
own experiences. Through the conversations, he began to understand his parents’
feelings about Taiwan. As he was writing the essay he was preparing for his next trip to
Taiwan, reading more about Taiwan, and practicing his language skills. He concluded by
drawing the crucial distinction emphasized throughout the cultural odyssey: “I like many
American-bom Taiwanese have grown up with their parents emphasizing that they are
Taiwanese rather than Chinese. Until now, I have never been more proud to agree with
them.”

Similar to Benjamin, Doreen Lee (2002) was raised with a heightened awareness
of her “Taiwanese background” and the political implications of claiming Taiwanese
heritage through her parents, despite the fact that she lives in Tennessee, “a seemingly

99

Asian-less state. Her middle name is “Formosan,” which she compared to being
“branded Taiwanese.” She decided to take a year off after graduating college, recalling a
restlessness: “I was missing something. So, I decided to do something during that year
that would be new, adventurous, and allow me to do some soul-searching in the process.”
Like many participants, prior to the Tsunah program, she had not been to Taiwan in a

decade or more; in her case, since she was 12 years old, and previous trips were generally

negative. It bothered Doreen that she had not returned as an adult, and saw the Tsunah

258

 

 

program as an opportunity to gain a better understanding of her parents’ experiences.
Rather than consider the trip a vacation, as often expressed by Loveboat participants,
Doreen called it a “pilgrimage” to learn more about her parents and Taiwan, reiterating a
common sentiment among Tsunah participants. After the tour, she went to her father’s
and mother’s hometowns “and learned about my parents’ lives in Taiwan by speaking to
relatives. It was a very eye-opening experience in the fact that I gained a very honest and
raw insight into my parents' lives for the ﬁrst time.” When she returned, something had
changed:

It is difﬁcult to explain, but I went to Taiwan to learn more about my roots and I

think that I fulﬁlled a lot of what I was looking for. . . . For such a long time, my

restlessness made me feel a little scattered and lost, but now, I felt that a part of
me was back in place. I found faith in the fact that my Taiwanese was always
intact and always in me.

Doreen indicated that she was raised in a household with a heightened awareness
of Taiwanese political issues. Her parents, aware of the political leanings of the tour,
strongly encouraged her to attend. Unlike most essayists, in her essay composed upon
her return to the U.S., she made no mention of learning about the democracy movement,
the Lin family murder narrative, or information regarding the February 28th Incident.
Instead, her experience was centered on two themes: the recovery of her personal sense
of Taiwanese identity through the use of H010 language, and the deepening of familial
ties in the U.S. after having visited both her parents’ hometowns. Although many
participants felt that the tour helped them understand their parents’ passion for Taiwan,
only Doreen described the experience of recovering her Holo language skills and visiting

her parents’ hometowns. As Louie (2004) points out, “such ‘identity narratives’ are

characteristic of identity politics of U.S. multiculturalism, in which identity is viewed as

259

til—u

 

is. vim-:4 ..1‘
e:
:l_

 

something out there waiting to be discovered” (95-6). Or, in the case of Doreen, she
discovered after her trip that her Taiwanese identity was “always intact and always in
me.” However phrased, identity is experienced as an absence, and “roots” an empty
signiﬁer.

Christina Yu (2004), who had not been to Taiwan since she was eight years old,
wrote that the tour opened new perspectives, not only about Taiwan, but also about other
Taiwanese Americans who wanted to explore their heritage as much as she did. Like
Doreen and many others, Christina associated the trip with gaining a better understanding
of their parents. After the trip, she understood why her parents were involved in political
issues and participated in political events, and why they are “proud to call themselves
Taiwanese.” She noted that after the tour, Taiwan was no longer simply the home
country where her parents were raised, as she had created “a personal connection.” She
summed up by declaring that Taiwan is “an identity of who I am as a person, and I have
never felt prouder to tell people that I am Taiwanese.” Her conceptualization of Taiwan
changed from being little more than her parents’ homeland to a much more personal
conceptualization of Taiwan. Although they seem to be inextricable bound, mutually
constituting processes, the two processes — creating an identity of Taiwan, and generating
a close personal bond to the conceptualization — do not always go hand-in-hand.

Steve Lin (2004), for example, had somewhat different feelings about his
Taiwanese heritage from most other participants, and problematized the way that it is
promoted by the Tsunah tour. He disagreed with the anti-Nationalist position, and
pointed out that the tour was biased toward the DPP. He had doubts about whether

Taiwanese Americans should be involved in Taiwanese affairs when they have no real

260

 

 

 

stake in the outcome; and he chooses to identify with Asian American issues instead of
Taiwan. He noted that “for young pe0ple who feel so strongly about Taiwanese
independence, it is mostly because of their parents.” He recognizes that many people, his
parents included, assert that they are not Chinese, “despite the obvious cultural and
language similarities.” He notes that they use arguments based on geography, history,
linguistic differences, separate governments, and “circumstances” Their arguments stem
from the fact that Taiwan is geographically separate, and has its own unique history,
language, government, and circumstances “that make it quite different from that of
mainland China. Some of these people will often not acknowledge that they are even
ethnically Chinese or Chinese in any form except that their ancestors came from China.”
He wondered if people 50 years ago had such anti-Chinese feelings - likely not, he felt.
To Steve, the denial of Chineseness is “disrespectful,” and he pointed out that there are
many provinces in China that have their own languages, histories, and local cultures, yet
they recognize their Chineseness. Steve suggested that it would be more appropriate to
say, “I am Taiwanese, but ethnically Chinese,” and that people should not be offended
when they are labeled by others as Chinese.

His conceptualization of Taiwan is similar to that promoted by the Study Tour,
and the mainstream discourse under the Nationalist regime. Based on his narrative, it
appears that Steve has a clear conceptualization of Taiwan, based on education, personal
experiences in Taiwan, and familial inﬂuences. He has given much thought to the
relationship between Chineseness and Taiwaneseness, China and Taiwan. However clear
a conceptualization of Taiwan he may have, however, it would be safe to conclude based

on his narrative that he holds the same kind of strong passion for Taiwan as a homeland.

261

 

 

 

Gabriel, for example, who has less immediate experience with Taiwan than Steve due to
his participation in Tsunah and discussions with his family, may have a more emotive
bond to conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity than Steve.

Yvonne Heung (2004) summed up her experience on the Tsunah tour in one
word: incredible. “All of the stories I begged my mother to tell me about my
motherland,” she wrote, “were ﬁnally being painted for me right in front of my eyes — all
in living color, everything in motion picture.” The cost of travel had prevented them
from traveling to Taiwan prior to the Tsunah trip, but she was now able to afford an
opportunity for her to have “a life-changing opportunity to learn about my heritage.” She
gained an understanding of why her parents felt so strongly about Taiwan, a place they
had not returned to in twenty years.

Prior to the Tsunah tour, Eric Lin’s understanding (2002) of the history
surrounding the establishment of the tour, the struggle against the Nationalist
government, and the Lin family speciﬁcally were closer to “an old folktale or an ancient
myth” rather than history, or a lived experience. He saw the primary purpose of the tour
to bring together youth with the same historical background so that they could “unite as
one and form a voice as Americans to strive for an independent Formosa.” Resonant
with a common theme among the participants, Eric associated the experience in inter-
generational and familial terms:

By experiencing Taiwan as a true Taiwanese rather than an outsider, I realized the

true sacriﬁce that my parents made not only in raising their children in America

but the sacriﬁce they made in leaving behind such a beautiful country. Toward

the end of the tour, I think that I speak for the group as a whole in that many of us
didn’t want to go home.

262

 

 

 

Unlike other participants, Michael Chen (2002) contextualizes his experience on
the Tsunah program by comparing it to a wide range of other Taiwanese-centered
activities, camps and culture tours he has participated in. Tsunah is different because it
deals with what Michael calls the “untold truth of Taiwan’s history,” and introduces “the
next generation of what the Taiwanese people went through and what they should be
proud of.”

Similar to Michael, prior to participating in the program, Shinzong Ice (2002)
“could not comprehend why my grandparents spoke to each other in Japanese, why all
the adults I met cursed the KMT or even why my parents always corrected people who
called them Chinese instead of Taiwanese.” The “untold truth of Taiwan’s history,” I
argue, is a conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity that incorporates not only the events
and characteristics previously unknown to him, but also the sense that Taiwan’s identity
is deﬁned by its secrecy among his generation. During his return trip to New Jersey,
Shinzong was visiting with a young woman also returning from a trip to Asia. When
asked if he was Chinese, Shinzong reports saying, “No, actually... I’m Taiwanese,” and

concludes that claiming Taiwan had become a source of pride.

III. Summary and Discussion
A. Heterogeneous Historicity within “Generations”

In discussions of historic generations it is important to recognize that historic
generations should not be thought of as homogeneous subject positions carried by all of a
certain age. They should be thought of as constellations of identiﬁcation reacting to the
same occurrences in history, though in widely divergent ways. This research indicates

that the “second-generation Taiwanese American population,” for example, is divided

263

3;: -_r-
“In“: . .

 

between an early cohorts strongly inﬂuenced by their parents’ activism during the mid-
19803 to early 19903, and those of the same age or slightly younger, who had little or no
direct contact with the social unrest of the era. Thus, within what would generally be
thought of as historic generation — in this case, cohorts of Iiuxuesheng — there are
signiﬁcant distinctions among the populations to such an extent that, without further
elaboration, the “historic generation” model risks losing explanatory power. The nuance
is to give greater attention to highly localized interactions among and between cohorts.
In the case of immigrant populations, generational transmission of collective memory and
shared culture may be dramatically altered, distanced by language gaps and huge
distances. Organized events and activities among Iiuxuesheng are the primary contexts
for historic generation formation, but they are in no way uniform, evenly distributed, or
equally salient among various locales. In the case of Madison, Li-lin and Hiro acted as
brokers between generations and guided the (re)conceptualization of Taiwan among
several younger cohorts.

Website patterns also indicated that one student can dramatically inﬂuence the
political valence and level of activity of a student association for a few years. Individuals
in the groups during this time may be profoundly impacted by an event — such as a
candle-1i ght election-eve vigil — but for students who did not organize a planned event, or
gather to collectively experience the media coverage of the election, the event would
have less salience. The most prescient example in this research relates to the ongoing
inﬂuence of the Wild Lily activists. Though few in number, a memory group dispersed
in the U.S., mobilizing trans-local networks to inﬂuence others in their cohort and

incoming students to devote time and resources to make positive changes in Taiwan.

264

 

 

They did so by moving through the pre-established networks of WUF I and TC, two
organizations that continue to rely of university student groups as their grassroots
infrastructure.

Concomitantly, the period associated with the WUFI kids in the U.S. overlaps two

index events: the democratization of the electoral system in Taiwan (including the

 

legalization of the DPP party and the lifting of martial law,) and the Wild Lily
demonstrations in 1990. They would go on to form the ﬁrst Taiwanese American student
associations, and guide the missions of the groups for years to come. This research
indicates a shift away from the activist missions over time, coinciding with the election of
Lee Teng-hui to presidency in 1996, and even more so with the election of Chen Shui-
bian of the DPP party in 2000, as well as the graduation from college and graduate school
of the most active of the second-generation Taiwanese Americans. Whereas the ﬁrst two
index events mentioned inﬂuenced a cohort within the ﬁrst wave of second-generation

Taiwanese Americans to become politically active, the political reforms and milestones

 

of the late 1990s and 2000 coincided with a shift toward disinterest in political affairs of
Taiwan among both Iiuxuesheng (as noted in Chapter Three) and Taiwanese Americans.
The tension between activist missions and non-political agendas, as well as
tensions between activist missions and identity-based agendas, can be seen through an
analysis of website content, using both archaeological (synchronic) and genealogical
(diachronic) data. Program content for ITASA meetings, for example, show a shift from
in emphasis on education and activism to effect change in Taiwan, to a much more
heterogeneous agenda that included career development, Chinese cultural traditions (Tai

Chi, for example,) and the role of Taiwanese Americans in the broader Asian American

265

movement. The result is a montage of conceptualizations of Taiwan, ranging from
Taiwan-as-political project to Taiwan, the geographic determinant of Asian American
positionality. While the former is indicated by education, consciousness and activism,
the latter does not require any speciﬁc knowledge of Taiwan or sense of Taiwanese
identity. They each rest on conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity, though with
divergent implications for the everyday lives of the individuals.

Decades after the original conceptualizations of Formosan Taiwan, the Fighting
Yams draw on a similar notion as they attempt to raise awareness of Taiwan’s
disadvantaged position in the international community, not grounded in a unique culture
per se, though communicating information about Taiwan to younger generations is a goal
of the team organizers, but instead as a sense of fair play among nation-states, granting
that all national identities are constructions, and that Taiwan should have full rights as a
sovereign state, regardless of internal discussions of ethnicity, Chineseness, the
authenticity of Taiwanese culture, or any other discourse other than universal human
rights guaranteed in the UN Charter.

B. Roots en Route

The ﬁnal stanza of the Lychee Boy’s rap poem (Chiou 2005) illustrates the need
to problematize the notion of roots-seeking, allowing theoretical space to consider the
participants’ tour — their search for Taiwanese roots — as a constituent part of the
Taiwanese American experience. Rather than thinking of the participants’ tour as a
search for cultural authenticity, consider that the meaning of being Taiwanese American
is constituted in the routes between Taiwan and the U.S., or for J iao (2005) between

Taipei and LA.

266

 

I've seen ravens and jackals preying on

each other, more desperate than

the street side vendors selling

nothing.

I've seen sad, lonely souls roam

hallways like ghosts.

Memories, pictures,

frozen slices of time.

I've seen love, lust,

and a whole lot of pretending.

F akers, ﬁghters,

losers, lovers.

A small slice of time.

A small slice of LA.

A home away from home.

In Chiou’s text the “home away from Home” in the ﬁrst verse referring to an
unknown place, his parents’ (and therefore his own, by extension) roots. The poem is
bracketed by a second reference to home, the city of Los Angeles, which for a “small
slice of time” he brought with him to Taiwan: the same characters, motives, and
pathologies, captured, frozen in time, brought home, and then stretched across time and
space through the Internet. He was not referencing Taiwan the nation-state, but rather the
urban teen tourist nightlife and interpersonal drama. He referenced scenery, both
romanticized and stark, and Los Angeles, a global city. It is clear that, as Dirlik (1999)
points out, globalization — including the culturalism deployed to maintain the class/ethnic
relations in the U.S. — highlights the need to more closely examine the “the relationships
between places, between places and trans-place or supra-place organizational forms, and,

ﬁnally, across national boundaries, to imagine alternative possibilities in the

reorganization of spaces" (50). As an example, consider the biographical proﬁle Dracil

267

 

 

(2004) posted on the bulletin board of the inactive Berkeley Students for a Sovereign
Taiwan website:

Statistics:

928 entries, 58 images; Join Date; September 28th, 2003
Location: United States » California » Berkeley
Occupation: Student

Birthdate: August 28, 1982

Nomad

Born in Taiwan.
Raised in Thailand. '
Went to an International School (American System). 1
In the US for college. I '
Global Nomad as a result (read: I don't belong anywhere).

Description: a

 

I can read/write Chinese (I can read newspapers and novels, but don't make me
write essays) and can converse in Mandarin. Can sort of understand basic
Taiwanese, and I'm currently taking an intermediate level Taiwanese class. Also
self-leam Cantonese for fun occasionally since a lot of friends speak Cantonese. 5
years of Japanese means some Japanese literacy, but I don't really converse in it.

Can understand some Thai, but illiterate.

I'm pro-status quo for Taiwan, but will support reuniﬁcation once China

democratizes (and gets rid of the stupid Simpliﬁed Chinese system while they're

at it). . .

Most of the e—mail addresses of her conversant are from Berkeley, alongside
avatars from Japan, China, Taiwan, Hong Kong. Consider that her mobility represents a
family, probably following professional opportunities. These kinds of multi-stranded and
multi-generational ties are part of a larger “transnational social formation” (Guamizo and
Smith 1998) that encompasses the lives of many from Taiwan, whether as individuals
they are in motion between localities, or the inhabitants of the places created through
transnational mobility. This illustrates a shift in the way cohorts of extraterritorial

populations relate to their “homeland,” moving from essentialist notions linking identity

with place to a more ﬂexible conceptualization based on personal relationships with

268

 

 

family and ﬁiends which link the U.S. and Taiwan. In the case of Dracil, she has
demonstrated a conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity wholly in the context of the
uniﬁcation question. Her attitude toward being nomadic exposes the constructed nature
of the “roots” metaphor and disrupts what Malkii (l997a:68) calls “root-thinking.”
Dracil’s proﬁle is explicitly up—rooted, an example of what Fortier described as a shift
“from a culture of roots to a culture of routes and generations” (2000:88-89). E
C. Conservatism and Activism among Taiwanese Americans I

In contrast to the WUFI kids, Omatsu (1994) describes a neo-conservative trend

 

among Asian Americans in the early 19903. Though not all non-political Taiwanese
Americans fall into this category, he notes that many young Asian professionals are less

inclined to support mass organizations, government entitlements, afﬁrrnative action, and

 

so forth, and see the economic problems of various ethnic groups in cultural terms, rather
than as structural or institutional ones. They emphasize "Asian values" such as
discipline, conservatism, family, complicating the "model minority" debate. He goes on
to point out that today's Asian American discourse is saturated with the views of these
young professionals, and academic elites, and so does not reﬂect the vast majority of the
community of Asian Americans, who are workers. His emphasis on both the material
changes of activism (in the 19603 and today) and the changes it produces in
consciousness is important insofar as it addressed how certain events may inﬂuence a
generation of supporters’ conceptualizations of their “homeland,” and how that inﬂuence
may go well beyond the immediate material changes of the event itself. As a way to

analyze the inter-generational shifts in Taiwan’s identity, subjectivity, Omatsu explores

269

the idea that “keywords” that can help identify the values and sentiments of certain eras
and movements:
Keywords are terms, concepts, and ideas that emerge as themes of a period,
reﬂecting vital concerns and changing values. For Asian Americans in the 19803
and 19903, they keywords are ‘advocacy,’ ‘access,’ ‘legitimacy,’ ‘empowerment,’
and ‘assertiveness.’ These keywords tell us much about the shape of our
community today, especially the growing role of young professionals and their
aspiration in US society. In contrast, the keywords of the late 19603 and early
19703 — ‘consciousness,’ ‘theory,’ ‘ideology,’ ‘participatory democracy,’
‘community,’ and ‘liberation’ — point to different concerns and values (1994230).
This resonates with the distinctions made between F orrnosan views of Taiwan,
and those of later generations who are more interested in establishing the validity of
Taiwan’s cultural identity. Further cohorts would eschew the political implications of
their search for Taiwanese (and/or Chinese) identity. Saito argues, and my data drawn
from mission statements and interviews reﬂect, that this is an intergenerational process in
which the later generations are inﬂuenced by the accomplishments of the former
generation. In essence, the non-political Taiwanese Americans emerged from the
successes of the activists’ struggles in previous decades. Omatsu notes that “today the
neo-conservatives are mostly young, middle-class professionals who grew up in white
suburbs apart from the poor and people of color.” Recall Tim’s description of his youth
described at the beginning of this chapter. “As students, they attended elite universities.
Their only experience with racism is name-calling or ‘glass ceilings’ blocking personal
career advancement — and not poverty and violence” (1994246).
While this resonates with Tim and Rolla’s description of the younger generation
of second generation Taiwanese Americans, the WUFI kids as well as Li-lin and Hiro

had more in common with the Asian American movement of the 19603, though it was not

in. the context of empowerment and the civil rights movement, but rather due to the

270

 

speciﬁc memory groups associated with the Taiwanese independence movement,
primarily their family, early groups that mobilized around issues of Taiwan’s identity,
and Taiwanese Collegian’s emphasis on progressive issues in Taiwan and other parts of
the world.

Lien (2006), for example, found that supporters of Taiwanese independence were
less likely to adopt “mainstream” American values, and tended to be more progressive in
terms of public and foreign policy issues. This runs counter to Omatsu’s overall
description of the changing political alignments of Asian Americans in general. While
many Taiwanese Americans emerging from elite universities today are politically
conservative, those who continue to be involved in Taiwanese independence activism
have developed a sympathy for other progressive social movements. Tim notes that it is
a difﬁcult choice to make:

Being American is really complex, as in which America are you going to identify

with? A privileged American, or one who identiﬁes with the working class, or

other immigrant Americans, etcetera, etcetera. So when Taiwanese American

Citizens League was founded it was an identiﬁcation with the White Power, and

its goal was to help join that power structure, that group. One of the privileged

ethnic groups that do nothing but further the power of their own group. They had

a vision of citizenship, and followed the rhetoric of democracy. Part of it was

like — look, we don’t have to care about Taiwan anymore.

My analysis indicated that to a certain extent, the differences can be seen in the
divergent programs and experiences of the two cultural tours described above. The Study
Tour represented Taiwan as China, creating an ambiguity in Taiwan’s identity when
compared to the conceptualization promoted in the Tsunah program. Nonetheless, when
discussing the Tsunah program, Rolla Chng pointed out that although it is focused on

Taiwan, far more so than Loveboat, “they are still brainwashing.” Traveling around the

island seeing the beauty and history of Taiwan is still several degrees removed from

271

 

 

Taiwan; they are traveling like a tourist. As a WUFI kid, she has a slightly different
perspective on the Taiwan-centrism of the Tsunah program.

At least it isn’t government funded, and brainwashing you that the KMT is good,
but the problem I have is how insulated it is. . . . You need an exchange program
that is going to immerse you into the society. So I have this model where you
would go and spend three weeks in a classroom environment; you can have
professors come in and talk, but you want people from all walks of life, all the
different aspects of Taiwanese life. You would have leaders of organizations and

groups come in and talk about what they do, and the communities they work with. a l
Obviously my model would be a lot more action-oriented. And then at the end of "I” ,
those three weeks you would choose which of those organizations you want to go .
shadow — for another three weeks. And the group, the exchange program would 2.
try to house you — ﬁnd host families to house you in a sort of home-stay situation.
These organizations are all over Taiwan, they are not just in one city. '

 

Rolla articulates a telling difference between the WUFI kids and their approach to
Taiwanese subjectivity, which is active and focused on empowerment and reform, versus
younger second generation Taiwanese Americans who view the journey to Taiwan as
more of an exploration into their own heritage, and the experiences of their parents. Both
are (re)deﬁning Taiwan’s identity, but for most Tsunah participants, the ultimate horizon
is a personal quest for roots, and inter-generational understanding of their parents’ and
grandparents’ experiences in Taiwan, while for Rolla, Taiwan’s identity is a work in

progress.

272

 

CHAPTER SIX: DISCUSSION

“The Waltz of Taiwanese History” There was a WUFI guy from Texas [who]
presented Taiwan as a man dressed as a woman. . . . but he would go through the
whole history of Taiwan, all of the different oppressors of Taiwan. They would
have some guy as the Dutch, with some dialogue I didn’t understand - making
fun of the cultural stereotypes, and then they had the Manchurian guy, and the
Japanese guy, . . . a sexist Japanese Samurai with a stick, speaking Japanese —
which the audience loved - and then of course they had Chiang Kai-Shek, which

was even funnier. So I spoofed off that, only it was in English. . . . I realized a
that all these Taiwanese American wouldn’t get any of these cultural references,
so we had a narrator. We did a narration, and we took modern American music
that Taiwanese Americans would dance to — dance with all the oppressors, and
then at the end, the last line was: “I no longer need any of this, I am not actually a ;
woman!” And she knees Chiang Kai-shek in the balls and walks off. ' —

 

- Tim Chng

I. Generations and Taiwan’s Identity
A. The Chinese N ation-State and Formosa on Taiwan

My host originally suggested that I meet Mr. Wen, a retired octogenarian from the
Japanese era activist generation, and made arrangement for an afternoon visit. I was
prepared with my interview instrument and recorder, expecting to conduct a one-on-one
interview, but I was not surprised when a handful of other seniors arrived to join us for
the interview. The Chang household frequently had visitors anyway, and Sunday tea
with a young anthropologist interested in Taiwanese identity served as occasion for a
group to collectively remember and reﬂect on past events. With Dun-Mei and Uncle
Chang, Dr. Wen and his wife Whelan, and Mr. Che, the interview had become a six-way
conversation in which my presence was more like participant-observation.

Their house had high ceilings and spacious living and dining rooms, seldom used.

Home life took place in the kitchen, with a small dining table and a television on a

273

 

cabinet. That afternoon, however, Dun-Mei had opened the interior blinds of the living
room. A dozen potted plants were lined along the bay windows, and a piano centered
along the inside wall was decorated with family photos and their daughter’s piano
competition awards. On a side table, a wooden diorama displayed a Taiwanese village
square featuring ﬁgurines of children playing, farmers with straw hats threshing grain and
riding a water buffalo, and a thatched hut with a cutaway wall revealing simple wooden
ﬁrmiture and a woman cooking. A large tank of angelﬁsh with lacey, billowing
translucent ﬁns stands at the far end of the living room, near the front door; in the
opposite comer, a jumbled pile of A-bian campaign promotional material: boxes of tee-
shirts, large and small green and white DPP ﬂags left over from the (then) recent 2004
presidential election.25

I had come with copies of two maps of Taipei in the 19403. Dr. Wen, a retired
octogenarian J apanese-educated civil engineer, poured over the ﬁrst, a birds-eye view
illustrated map of Taipei, 1947, based on WWII-area US aerial photos. He was able to
pin-point where his house had been, the school he attended, and the rice paddy he’d
walked around to get to school every day. The map was published in 1996, leading up to
the 50‘” anniversary of the 2-28 Incident. Dr. Wen’s living memory reaches back to pre-
war Taiwan under the Japanese control, a generation of colonial subjects rather than
citizens of a nation.

Unlike almost all other Taiwanese students, who had studied in segregated

J apanese-language classes, Dr. Wen attended the school for Japanese children due to high

 

25 “A-Bian” is a popular, fond nickname for Taiwanese President Chen Shui-Bian; the wah-wah’s are hello-
kitty-esque dolls, part of an ever-expanding line of toys, key chains, clothing, and other merchandise
decorated with the A-Bian avatar, usually wearing the symbol “@” on his hat.

274

test scores. He took his turn in the weekly rotation of class student-monitors, and his
authority was respected when be disciplined his classmates. His parents had close
Japanese friends, many of whom had spent their lives in Taiwan. Dr, Wen recalled that
“Japan was the foreign country to them. They were born and raised in Taiwan. It was
their native place. Mainlanders came to Taiwan as captors and never made Taiwan their
home.” The second map (Figure 1), a precisely drawn block-by-block grid of Taipei, E ‘
1943, with important buildings, roads, and neighborhoods marked in Romanized 3 J

Japanese. “This is the city I grew up in,” he said, leaning over the map and tracing the !

 

train routes across Taihoku with his ﬁngers. For the Japanese living in Taiwan, their
conceptualization of home was based in Taiwan, as many had never visited their “native”
Japan. Their Taiwaneseness was authenticated by having been born in Taiwan.
However, the divide between Chinese and Taiwanese was clearer, moving beyond
“roots” and cultural knowledge. For example, one of the ginseng farmers who workd
with Uncle Chang serves as the local F APA chapter representative, and is present at all of
the Celebrate Madison activities. Her father was a mainlander Chinese soldier was never
able to see Taiwan as his home, and she was in her own words “thoroughly brainwashed
by the KMT” to believe that Taiwan was a location of exile. It was only after a decade
of living in the U.S. that she began to question her received narratives of Chinese
nationalism, in the context of her involvement with the Taiwanese Association of
Madison. Uncle Chang and Dun-Mei, however, caution me that because she is
waishengren, it was particularly difﬁcult for her to shed her Chinese identity, and that I

should look elsewhere if I wanted the story of the true Taiwanese people.

 

275

 

The Chang living room is a nexus between relationships of time, distance, and
scale. DPP election materials in the comer highlight the transnational relationships
linking the Chang household and Taiwanese “local” politics. And given the tenuous
situation between Taiwan and China, local politics in Taiwan could change global power
relations. A large ﬁsh tank on the right side of the front door hall, and carved statues of
Confucius and Laozi indicate a syncretism that includes elements of Chinese culture, as 5
adapted to upper-middle class suburban life in the U.S. The bucolic diorama, by contrast,

represents Taiwanese authenticity in microcosm: rural, modest, and light-hearted, with a

 

gendered division of labor. The Taiwan area at the Cincinnati cultural fair marked by the
posters in Chapter Three (Figure 10) included a tent decorated as a rural home, with
Joyce cooking egg-rolls in the back, matching the diorama in the Chang living room.
They differ not only in scale, but also in purpose and meaning. Whereas Strong and
Joyce were using elements of rural Taiwan (combined with Americanized Chinese food
to meet public expectations) as an expression of resistance, in the Chang living room the
diorama has become a craft object for display representing Taiwanese culture in the
context of modernity and distance.

The discussion, however, focused on each individual’s relationship to the
Nationalist regime. It is difﬁcult to disarticulate Formosan Taiwan and Chinese nation-
state identity, as they are deﬁned in opposition to each other. The formal title “Republic
of China” clearly marginalizes things Taiwanese by locating Taiwan as a locality below
the national register. In this conceptualization, Taiwan is a province of China in 1945,
the temporary refuge for the entire ROC state and military apparatus in 1949. As the

capital of a nation-state, Taipei was re-ordered to represent China, including the

276

preservation and promotion of Chinese high culture at the expense of local Taiwanese
traditions. The Republic of China took on the mantle of “Free China,” a reference to the
Communist state across the Taiwan Strait. Taiwan was infused with the trappings of a
modern nation-state, including a national ﬂag, currency, a national language, “founding
fathers,” a national song, and an ofﬁcial national narrative. In the case of Taiwan and
other authoritarian states, the government controlled the production of history through a
public schools, the production and dissemination of information through mass media, and

control over the public sphere. Taken together, the result is a Chinese nation-state

 

identity. Dun—Mei explained:

They taught Chinese history, Chinese geography, Chinese culture, very little

Taiwanese. Almost none. No Taiwan history at all. They restrict is from using

Taiwanese at school. History? Taiwanese history started in 1945, and before

that, 50 years of Japanese occupation. Before that, nothing. We were just

Chinese. We believe that all the years until we got out.

Mr. Chang recalled that they were required to sing “huanggong dalu” (recapture
mainland). At this point, several in the room began to sing the song quietly, stopping
mid-way the second verse. They laughed, perhaps surprised and embarrassed at their
own nostalgic feelings of an era they had been describing only moments before as a
particularly difﬁcult part of their lives. Dun-mei quietly continued, “every day; we
learned all of that.” Gesturing to Uncle Chang, she said:

He had to have military training at school, and we learned san min zhu yi [Three

Principles of the People] and all they said at that time was that one day they

would go back to China. We never thought: “We were born here, we grew up

here, why would we want to go back to China?”

Elder informants in this research reiterated that had the Nationalist regime not

carried with them to Taiwan a non-Chinese conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity, a

277

 

compelling construction of an oppositional non-Chinese identity would not have
emerged. In other words, the Nationalists, in treating the province Taiwanese as not-
quite full members of the newly-established Republic of China, established the discourses
that would be deployed against them. This is a key observation as it illustrates the close
relationship between events and relationships in the international arena, and more
localized experiences of everyday life.

The institutional structure shaped (and shaping) the dynamics between alternative
conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity - Taiwan as Japan, as China, as Taiwan — is still
apparent, and was an organizing principle shaping the ﬁeldwork of this dissertation.
Multiple student associations of Iiuxuesheng on university campuses, for example, were
institutionalized echoes of opposing national imaginations. At the time of this research,
however, the differences between groups were less dramatic: non-Taiwanese social
activities versus Taiwan-centric activities; undergraduates versus graduate students;
ABC/Ts versus FOBs. Distinguishing between Taiwan and China was no longer a matter
of oppositional Taiwanese identity versus Nationalist Chinese identity, but rather a matter
of students negotiating distinctions between their student associations from those from
whose members come from the PRC. In this regard, relationships between student
associations on college campuses often reﬂect geo-political dynamics in the international
community. Liuxuesheng arriving on college campuses during martial law in Taiwan
were faced with the opportunity to explore alternative versions of Taiwan’s identity. The
indeterminate status of Taiwan in the international community is reﬂected on the local

level, as seen through student activities, iconography, narratives, and other forms of data

278

 

 

 

 

collected in this research, and ultimately reproduced as university students move into
positions that may effect change in Taiwan’s future.
B. Counter-Hegemony and Taiwan as Formosa

To avoid reifying and privileging any conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity over
another, I chose to proceed (carefully) by using a deceptively neutral deﬁnition: a
geographical location on a grid of coordinates. I originally posited that Taiwan bendao
(island) exists beyond the domain of contested identity. Upon closer analysis, this
assumption becomes problematic insofar as points on grids have no inherent meaning
until they are named, which requires a name-giver, a map maker, a choice of language,
and a historical relationship with the referent of the mapped locality.

Gupta and Ferguson (1997) describe how in general, representation of space rely
on the idea of rupture, naturally discontinuous units, with space as a "neutral grid on
which cultural difference, historical memory, and societal organization is inscribed. It is
in this way that space functions as a central organizing principle in the social sciences at
the same time that it disappears from analytical purview” (34). This structure misses
issues related to border zones (both geographic and subjective), internal diversity, the
hybridity of postcoloniality, and the "topography of power": "F or if one begins with the
premise that spaces have always been hierarchically interconnected, instead of naturally
disconnected, then cultural and social change becomes not a matter of cultural contact
and articulation but one of rethinking difference through connection"(35).

With insights from drawn from Smith and Katz (1993), this research distinguishes
three domains of localization and positionality in order to better theorize the “politics of

space and place.” A location is a point on charted space (in this case, Taiwan) while

279

 

 

position indicates a relationship between two or more locations. Historically, the location
currently deﬁned as Taiwan is positioned in relation to China, Japan, the U.S., Fujian
Province, and so forth, imagined as natural locations with inherent characteristics.
Positions between two or more locations (often referred to as “places”) can deﬁne the
conceptual space in which transnational ﬂows occur. Locations and their positions are
produced by agents and institutions, interactions and negotiations, in a single location,
known in this theoretical vocabulary as a locality: a “two- (or more) dimensional place,
an area within which multiple and diverse social and natural events and processes take
place” (69).

Having indicated that all place-names are historically speciﬁc (rather that
timeless) social constructions (rather than autochonous) involving multiple agents over
time, I focused on word choice to maintain Taiwan’s identity as a charted location. This,
in an effort avoid (as much as possible) reifying contested place-names and conﬂicting
understandings of locality associated with the a priori tabula rossa referents China,
Taiwan, Chinese, Taiwanese, and so forth. This created greater theoretical leverage with
which to explore the ways in which a “homeland” is conceptualized among diasporic
populations.

In Chapter One, the concept of Formosan Taiwan was introduced to contrast with
(and as a reaction to) deﬁnitions of Taiwan as a colony of Japan, a territory occupied by a
foreign Chinese regime, and the conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity as a province of
China. Although “Formosa” was a Portuguese expression, it was adopted as a symbol of
anti-colonial struggle by early activist, and I have appropriated as an analytical term.

Formosan identity of Taiwan emerged during the Japanese era and contextualized the

280

 

 

 

 

 

plight of the F orrnosans in terms of international power struggles, and informed
mobilization discourse for decades. A senior informant recalled the way Taiwanese
independence activism was thought of in the 19703, before WUF I formally rejected the
use of violence to further their cause.

Our model was the Cuban revolution, because we were an island the same as

Cuba, and Chiang Kai-shek’s dictatorship was the same as Cuba under the Batista

regime. We saw Cuba -— Castro’s leadership — they had a revolutionary training

camp in Mexico, and activists there trained. They wrote a book, some 80

determined revolutionaries, landed at midnight and stage a revolution. They were

revealed by a spy to Batista, and a general was ready for them when they landed,
so he dispatched an army, circled around. They were chased to a mountain top,
and stretched their antenna and started broadcasting. Saying that the whole
country was rising up, and that Havana was all on strike... In two years the

Batista collapsed — escaped.

Castro sitting on a jeep, riding into Havana — that picture, how romantic a

revolution is; Taiwan should be like that. So I even wrote a poem with a sentence

like ‘Today’s Formosa, just as Cuba’ — something like that, a similar romantic

sense. It was published in Taiwan Jinnian [Taiwan Youth] magazine in 1965.

That kind of mentality continued, sort of early UFAI ideology was strongly

inclined to be Cuban revolution.

This intemationalist perspective evaporated as the nationalist government gained
control over the ﬂow of information into Taiwan during the White Terror. The original
“oppositional” group imagination, articulated primarily in the U.S., is based on the
common local experience of political, cultural and economic subjection under the
Japanese and nationalist regimes. This “Formosan” discourse was demographically and
politically dominated by those of Fujianese descent, but despite an underlying tone of
Fujianese authenticity, oppositional Taiwaneseness was politically viable because it

articulated with other social cleavages, especially postcoloniality and class (Taiwaner

1996)

281

--—m--*"7anar

 

 

Ma (1998) notes the complexity of subjectivity revealed in overseas Chinese
student literature from Taiwan beginning in the 19603, which always dealt with loss of
Chinese roots, and alienation from American culture:

There exists an utter obliviousness to the larger cultural forces shaping this private

dilemma. Three kinds if forces, like underground waters, surface and join in these

texts: the Chinese tradition, the global postcolonial movement, and the minority
problematic. These three magnets exert opposite pulls on immigrant
subjectivities, rendering them nostalgic for China while eagerly Westernizing
themselves, busily putting down roots on American soil yet apathetic to their own

marginalized status” (1 10).

While Ma is writing of waishengren in the U.S., I posit that the same three forces
are at work among benshengren Iiuxuesheng. Among the most senior generation there is
a palpable sense of nostalgia, often with overtones of the exile disallowed ﬁ'om return.
Formosan Taiwanese nationalists were able to draw two of the three together to shape a
anti-colonial conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity tethered loosely to Taiwanese
traditions (deferring to Taiwanese cultural experts) and with the characteristic disinterest
in their own minority status in the U.S. In the description of the theatrical performance
at the opening of this chapter, Taiwan is represented as a woman being repeatedly abused
by a series of colonial oppressors. When confronted by Chiang Kai-Shek, Taiwan ﬁnally
reveals that she is in fact a man, and capable of resisting oppression. He violently
emasculates Chiang and declares his liberation. The gender ambiguity and overtones of
sexual violence -— though presented in a humorous way — represents an interpretation of
Taiwan’s history based on political violence and cultural subjugation. The indeterminacy
of Taiwan in the skit resonates With contemporary analyses of geo-political entities that

do not entirely conform to traditional models of nation-state formations. As Dirlik (1999)

points out,

282

 

 

"globalism produces its own regionalizations” (49). For this reason, it is important to
conceptualize the place-nation relationship “from below” (Guamizo 1998). Dirlik further
notes that “it is also necessary, to this end, to reconsider relations between places,
between places and trans-place or supra-place organizational forms, and, ﬁnally, across
national boundaries, to imagine alternative possibilities in the reorganization of spaces"

(1999:50). The post-colonial ambiguity personiﬁed in the drama reﬂects the highly

 

volatile situation as conﬂicting claims of sovereignty over Taiwan are negotiated.

For the most senior generations, such imagined alternatives were severely

 

restricted under the Chinese Nationalist education system. While the Japanese education
system enabled a more critical view of Chinese government, those who were younger by
only a few years had a very different outlook. Dr. Wen emphasized to me that those who
grew up in that system “were brainwashed by the Chinese government [and] have a much
different way of thinking. For those of us who received a Japanese education, it is
unthinkable being part of China. But now, the younger generation are brainwashed to
think we are part of China. Dun-Mei interjects that, “well, we were all brainwashed. We

think the way they taught us.” Dr. Wen continued to describe the problem with identity

 

as he saw it:

[It was difﬁcult] especially those who stayed in Taiwan, who were never exposed
to outside information. Those people in Taiwan who believe they are Chinese;
once they come out and stay in the United States of Japan, they change their
minds. They realize, looking back to Taiwan from the outside, they know the
truth. They start to think about what Taiwan is supposed to be. The people in
Taiwan may not realize that. They think only about the days they are living, how
to become well-to-do. They do not realize the international position of Taiwan
because to them there is no direct inﬂuence. Once you come out of the country,
you realize how isolated how Taiwan is, and you become more concerned about
the future of Taiwan.

283

In terms of imagination and articulation, F orrnosan Taiwan emerged,
characterized by an understanding of Taiwanese ethnicity based on layers of colonial
subjugation and distance from the mainland. As the Nationalist party was gradually
dominated by benshengren, and democratic reforms weakened the characterization of the

KMT as an oppressive party, Formosan Taiwan became increasingly anachronistic, found

 

more often among elder overseas activists than among the population in Taiwan (Arrigo

2005). Those at Uncle Chang’s house that afternoon were describing younger cohorts

 

who would come to the U.S. with a much narrower view, and more deeply impressed
conceptualization of Taiwan as China. The Chinese nation-state imagination that '
denigrated Taiwanese culture and erased its history would for many Iiuxuesheng be
ruptured in the ﬁrst years in the U.S. Their response differed in some ways from the
Formosan intemationalists insofar as younger activists emphasized exploring and
Taiwanese roots, including music, literature, and indigenous groups’ cultures.

C. Cultural Nationalism and Multiculturalism

By his second undergraduate year in college, Gabriel had performed as a

puppeteer, served as the puppet troupe coordinator, and stepped into the position of TSA
president after an unexpected vacancy, always with encouragement and support from Li-
Lin and Hiro, as well as Alan Chen. His amenable and deferent disposition was well-
suited to maintain good relations with older Taiwanese student-immigrants in Madison,
as well as create trans-local relationships on an organizational level. Gabe had become
adept at navigating the complex landscape of generations, political positions and legacies,
dealing with issues from the past while working to promote what he saw as a more

important agenda of getting students excited about Taiwan. However, due to his

284

 

circuitous route to Taiwanese identity, his Taiwaneseness was questioned among some
activist. In this example, the issue involved both inter— and intra-generational
negotiations.

At my invitation, Gabriel and I gave presentations at the TC conference on
national trends in TSAs based on early dissertation data, Taiwanese puppetry in the U.S.,
and the unique aspects of Taiwanese student activities in Madison, past and present.
Taiwanese Collegian was an illegal overseas organization under ROC law when it was
ﬁrst established in 1983. With no centralized headquarters, members of the nation-wide
TC network recruited new generations of activists from within student associations,
taking advantage of what Della Porta (1999) calls “indigenous networks” of pre-existing
organizations. Taiwanese Collegian members promote a pro-TI agenda of activities on
their individual campuses, events such as Taiwanese election rallies, China-US relations
protests, participation in university-sponsored “international day” events, and
commemorations of important Taiwanese historical events. At the time of this research it
was the largest Taiwanese student network in the U.S., with ties to student associations
on about 50 college campuses across the country. Because it was the organization’s 20th
anniversary meeting, the people he met were some of the most known and respected
older-generation TI activists living in the U.S.

In an autobiographical speaker proﬁle submitted for the program booklet of the
Taiwanese Collegian 2003 Summer Camp in Washington, DC, Gabriel introduced
himself in this way:

I am a 21 years old Taiwanese who spent half of his life studying in Singapore.

Before coming to Unites States in 2001, I knew little about Taiwan. Through the

participation in the activities in UW-Madison TSA and interaction with older
members, I began to know more about the cultural and history of Taiwan.

285

 

 

Furthermore, I develop a strong identity as a Taiwanese and wanted to make some

contribution to Taiwan. I became the coordinator of our traditional Taiwanese

Puppet Troupe and currently served as the President of our TSA. My goal as the

president of TSA is to bring the new generation of Taiwanese like me to be

interested in issues in Taiwan.

In his self-introduction at the beginning of the conference he used Mandarin to
apologize for having to speak “guoyu” because he lacked the language skills to introduce
himself using Holo, as everyone else had. He noticed a reaction when he made the
comment, but did not know how much of an impression it made on people until he and I
had a conversation about it later that evening. He had been taught to refer to Mandarin as
guoyu, the “national language,” a term created by the Nationalist government to refer to
Mandarin, and a reminder to some of the changes Chinese nationalism brought to
Taiwan, including requirements to adopt an unknown language. When Gabriel learned
from Taiwanese Collegian members that some of the “old-school activists” resented his
use of the term, he pointed to his life trajectory as the source of the problem:

Look, I was born in Singapore. All the while when I was in Taiwan to visit I was

taught to say guoyu. This was introduced by KMT to make Mandarin the ofﬁcial

language, so they called it guoyu — everyone said that. Even though I was never

a supporter of the KMT, I was never told I shouldn’t use the term guoyu. I should

say Beijing hua. No one had ever told me.

In the Taiwanese Collegian central committee meeting, Gabriel’s reference to
guoyu brought to the fore a much-debated issue among TC members: Should Taiwanese
Collegian recruit members among one-point-ﬁves, U.S.-bom Taiwanese and others who
have a limited understanding of political issues in Taiwan and the history of the T1

movement in the U.S.? Although some strongly disagreed the majority felt that as an

organization they would be best served remaining exclusive in membership, a group of

286

highly-motivated activists working with Taiwanese international students who already
had a personal familiarity with Taiwan, rather than U.S.-bom Taiwanese Americans and
one-point-ﬁve generation students whose connections to Taiwan were more tenuous.
Puppetry and curling, they reasoned, would not easily translate into political action.

Those opposed warned that limiting their recruiting efforts to only seeking
committed TI-minded “ready-made” student activists will lead the organization on a path
to anachronistic obscurity. As Hiro put it, “whether [elder ‘hard-core’ activists] want to
admit it or not, the future of Taiwan depends on the passion of Taiwanese from the U.S.
and there are more and more of them, and fewer and fewer ‘pre-cooked’ activists arriving
from Taiwan.” Gabriel would not be among the students Taiwanese Collegian would
target for membership, but another student in Madison was already being considered, a
35-year-old Semitic Studies graduate student Yeh Ching-an. Also described in Chapter
Two, Ching-an came with a high recommendation from a college professor in Taiwan
attesting to his TI-mindedness and desire to be an active participant in the overseas
independence movement. He and Gabriel were acquaintances, but the Ching-an had up
until then eschewed TSA activities — including puppetry — as too “social.” By 2004, near
the end of this dissertation research, although Ching-an never played an active role in the
local TSA, he had become one of the key ﬁgures in the Taiwanese Collegian network.
Gabriel ﬁnally exhausted his efforts to be active in Taiwanese Collegian in 2005 when
Ching-an began to discourage the use of English on internal Taiwanese Collegian email
lists.

Multicultural Taiwan, exempliﬁed by Alan Chen’s puppetry and a range of other

practices highlighted in various contexts as markers of Taiwanese culture, emphasizes

287

 

 

 

 

non-Chineseness to the point that it may conﬂict with a more multi-ethnic articulation of
Taiwan’s identity. However, second-generation Taiwanese Americans are drawn to the
practices of Taiwanese culture as an access point to their “roots” and a way to construct
and connect with their “homeland.” The message that Taiwan should be a sovereign state
based on having a shared national culture, an imagined national community, however, is
often lost on the younger generation. Their biographical experiences and collective
generational memory are grounded in a post-democratization Taiwan, and a multicultural
campus environment where groups are encouraged to explore and display their culture.
Louie (2004), however, points out the “multiculturalism” depends on recognizable
markers of cultural authenticity, outward signs of cultural knowledge. It relies on icons
and symbols that oversimplify and essentialize ethnic minority population. As a result,
some of the Chinese Americans felt unqualiﬁed to represent their “own culture.” '
The dual student association structure that characterized U.S. campus life for
overseas students is no longer dominated by a waishengren / benshengren dichotomy;
indeed, such categories are no longer useful when describing second- and third-
generation overseas students. More often, the two have merged into one organization
displaying a syncretic conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity. Changing the names of
student associations in the U.S. presaging the xiangtu movement in Taiwan. The
syncretism on student association websites also resonates with neologism “New
Taiwanese” identity, which represents Taiwan as a land of four ethnic groups, each of
which represents waves of immigration to Taiwan. Taiwaner (1996), however levels the
same criticism as Louie (2004) insofar as arranging the population into four ethnic groups

imposes an identity regime that will overshadow other modes of alliance based on class,

288

 

or gender, for example. In the next segments a series of conceptualizations will be
outlined and brieﬂy discussed in relation to the ethnographic data informing the
categorization scheme.

From discussions in Chapter One it is clear that a disjuncture existed between

 

those interested in direct political action, including some key members of WUFI, and

others like Alan Chen who felt that, in order for political advances to take hold there must

be a cultural foundation. He lamented that the DPP had no such policy, and attributed

this oversight to the slipping support for the party among Taiwanese youth. His early , ..

 

plays and literary work were designed to ﬁll in the cultural vacuum left by 19603
activists’ singular focus on political reform. It would not be until the late 19703 that the
arts — particularly Taiwanese literature —~ were widely recognized as having an inherent
political power. His more recent work with college student puppet troupes has been a
continuation of that mission, with the idea that, as described in Chapter Two, some of the
puppeteers may go on to become Tl-minded activists. The tension between the Formosan

concept of Taiwanese independence as a political goal based on international subjugation

 

described above, and Taiwan’s identity as a culturally distinct place, is illustrated in an
exchange that occurred at a TC conference. TC was founded on the principles of
Formosan Taiwan, and though they sponsored speakers’ tours with topics dealing with
Taiwanese culture, they were contextualized in the political narrative of traditions that
had been suppressed by the Nationalist government. The founders of the organization
and current members emphasize culture as a means to represent Taiwan as distinct as a

people, a would-be nation-state alongside China. Others who were interested in learning

289

about Taiwanese culture for alternative reasons, such as “roots-searching, were not
considered authentically Taiwanese.

Dun-mei: Part of our ancestors did come from China, so there is Chinese blood in
there. But also we have the Taiwanese people who were there before the
Chinese came, the Yuanzhumin. When you say Yuanzhumin, people think of
a small group, but before, they were a large group who are now all mixed up
with the Han Chinese. So I am not so sure about are Taiwanese really Han.
Anyway, in my opinion, the people who came from Fujian to Taiwan for a
new way of live brought with them something quite different from the
traditional Chinese way of thinking. Maybe a lot of the Chinese people who
came to Taiwan were more like working-class people who carry a different
kind of thinking. Mix this with the native Taiwanese, and I think you have a
more free-spirited kind of people

Dr. Wen: Taiwanese went through so many different eras. At one point, we were
ruled by the Dutch, so there was a Dutch inﬂuence. And of course the
Japanese had a very strong inﬂuence on Taiwanese culture. Also, if you talk
to Zheng Yan-F u in Milwaukee, you will see that racially, if you look at the
DNA of the Taiwanese, it is not Chinese. They have a mixture of Pingpu part
of the aborigines. Taiwanese are mostly mixed blood. So genetically,
historically, culturally... I think the Taiwanese way of thinking is quite
different than the Chinese way of thinking.

Also, island culture is different. At different times there are so many different
people coming to Taiwan, so I think that the Taiwanese are more open to the
outsiders, more receptive. All those things make Taiwanese people different
from Chinese. More open than the Chinese. In fact, they closed Taiwan from
China -— they did not allow people to go to Taiwan, and you were not allowed
to come back.

Dr. Wen: The reason they are so mixed with indigenous is because the earliest
immigrants were just male. They got married to aborigines. So most
Taiwanese have mixed blood, and there is such a different course of history.
For example, I think the Japanese way. And when my mother gets a pain, she
says, ‘ai dai! ’ in Japanese. I say the same thing. The difference in the way of
thinking has to do with generations too.

Mr. Chang: The Koumindang education is that everybody is Han, so they do not
want to admit they are Pingpu.

This is a very clear articulation of cultural Taiwan, one that it outward-looking

and ﬂexible, as having had multiple waves of cultural inﬂuence, but at the same time, she

290

 

 

moves to notions of race and essentialzed characteristics because of consanguine afﬁnity.
Those whose parents are benshengren, regardless of how many generations or nations
removed, have a Taiwanese essence inside them, waiting to be discovered.

Multicultural Taiwan is widely available, including to individuals such as Gabriel
(raised in Singapore,) Hiro (whose mother is from Japan,) Amy (who grew up in the U.S.,
and any others, including culture tour participants. Unlike Formosan Taiwan, there is no
inherent call for political action, and unlike cultural Taiwan, multicultural Taiwan
provides opportunities to learn about Taiwanese “roots,” and to publically represent
elements of Taiwanese culture. In this case, Alan Chen encourages students to perform
Taiwanese puppetry. Other iconographic elements of Taiwanese multi-culture include
folk dances and songs performed by students at international fairs, foods prepared by
parents at Taiwan Night Market events, Taiwanese popular culture, and bubble tea. All
are considered valid elements in exploring the identity of Taiwan in the context of
multiculturalism in the U.S. This differs from the previous conceptualization of Taiwan
as Formosa insofar as it is not a call to action, and it does not require a deep
understanding (and indignation) regarding Taiwan’s colonial past. Duara (1997)
commented that "activist groups with a totalizing vision of community seek to eliminate
these permeable boundaries or transform them into the hardened boundaries of a closed
community (40). More syncretic views of Taiwan, one which allows for greater
admixture of Chinese traditions and iconography, have emerged among a generation who
came of age with a Taiwanese president and a ﬂourishing economy, as well as second-
generation Taiwanese Americans who have interest in “roots.”

D. “New” Taiwan: Multi-Ethnic Island-State of Immigrants

291

The tension between the Chinese nationalism of the KMT regime and the nascent
Taiwanese identity among the local population resonates with Castells’ (1997) contrast
between identity supporting a regime and the resistance identities developed by various
counter-hegemonic groups. Legitimizing identity is reproduced by the dominant group in
society, a kind of national religion communicated in the major public communication
domains, such as national pedagogy, national commemorations, the designation of
national cultural treasures, characteristic cuisine, and so forth, the trappings of a nation-
state and the symbolic foundation of the imagined community (Anderson 1983Gellner
1983; Bhabha 1990; Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983).

Resistance identity, however, is at the heart of communities, and may be the most
important in our society today. It is the source of collective opposition to authority.
Resistance identities are based on identities that are already “clearly deﬁned by history,
geography, or biology, making it easier to essentialize the boundaries of resistance.” It
leaves open the possibility of what Castells terms “the exclusion of the excluders by the
excluded . . . reversing the value while reinforcing the boundary” (9). This makes the
resolution of the tension unlikely, and it must be overcome for a peaceful society.

The 19803 saw dramatic changes in Taiwanese politics. The “Taiwanization” of
the Nationalist party problematized their representation as the “colonizers.” The lifting of
Martial Law, and the subsequent constitutional reforms of the late 19803, meant that
supporters of Taiwanese independence had access to the political system as never before.
Although the related issues of reuniﬁcation/independence, and Chinese
identity/Taiwanese identity, continued to dominate politics, by the late-19903, discourses

of “New Taiwanese” identity, “Taiwanization” educational reform, and greater

292

diversiﬁcation of issues in the public sphere in Taiwan, de-centered these dichotomies
and undermined the validity of political mobilization on the basis of ethnicity in Taiwan
proper. Taiwan as Formosa was becoming less compelling as a new national identity
formulation based on citizenship, syncretic relations between four ethnic groups, and a
sense of a “community of common fate” emerged in public discourse (Wang 1999). This
conceptualization of Taiwan’s identity was introduced into the national education
curriculum at the seventh grade level in 1998. The new text books present a kind of geo-
historical national narrative, beginning with the traces of prehistoric groups, the more
recent migrations of Malayo-Polynesian groups, European colonial outposts, Han settlers,
and ultimately the arrival of the Nationalist government.

Known as “New Taiwanese” identity, the PRC is its primary Other, and the
disruptive “ethnically divisive” politics of the recent past in Taiwan is considered
anachronistic. In this sense, New Taiwanese identity is represented as a development or
teleological effect, and thus historically related to, and in part constituted by, oppositional
Taiwaneseness, and emerges at the very margins of Chineseness, shifting Chinese
heritage from a central organizing principle to an element, among other elements, of
Taiwanese identity, a range of subject positions that cannot be completely contained
under, nor completely disassociated from, the sign Chinese. More than just the insular
dialogue of certain social theorists and Taiwanese activists, this new national identity
formulation is part of a broad public discussion, and was introduced into the national
education curriculum at the seventh grade level in 1998 (Renshi Taiwan: 1997). Revised
text books present a geo-centric national narrative, beginning with the traces of

prehistoric groups, the more recent migrations of Austronesian groups, European colonial

293

 

outposts, early Chinese settlers, and ultimately the arrival of the KMT in 1945 and post-
war Chinese refugees in 1949. A departure from previous China-centered texts, they
present Taiwan as a key point of transit, an ancient and modern economic hub whose
attentions are turned toward the Paciﬁc Rim as much as toward the mainland. New
Taiwanese are narrated as a synthesis of this multilayered history, as they present a deep
history of immigration and settlement, various groups learning together to “identify with
Taiwan,” and the nation as the resolution of those ethnic and historical differences. This
conﬁguration is premised on the a priori identity of its constituent groups, collapsing
ethnicity (as a set of meaningful practices) and identiﬁcation into a rigid parallelism. In
this model, one’s access to Taiwaneseness must be ﬁltered through an ethnic
identiﬁcation, one of four to choose from.

Taken at face value the new national narrative maintains a position of
marginalization — being on the fringes of Chinese empires, European trade routes, the
Japanese sphere of domination, the margin of the Cold war itself — are incorporated as
content, a shared collective experience for the national body, sometimes drawing on the
motif of an “orphan” in literature and ﬁlm (Tu 1996:1118). Several related but distinct
modes of being less-than-Chinese (cultural, political, racial, and historical) converge in
this imagination of Taiwanese national identity. In this sense, it is a layering of negations
and oppositions, a nation expressed and constituted by its own historical marginalization
and invisibilities. Tu Wei-Ming asserts that “the current Taiwanese cultural orientation
opts for Taiwan as the ‘prodigal son’ of Cultural China,” his alternative to the description
“Orphan of Asia,” a familiar reference to Taiwan originating in the title of a book written

in Taiwan under Japanese rule in WWII (1991 :26). However, Tu makes a more

294

problematic argument when he proposes that the Taiwanese “community of common
life” articulated as new Taiwanese identity is a spurious, ideologically motivated and
“artiﬁcially constructed ‘lifeboat’ mentality” (1996110). He suggests that the increase in
interest of Taiwanese to trace their indigenous heritage — usually by identifying with the
now-assimilated Pingpu people — is an attempt to create an “imagined rather than a real
community,” implying that Taiwanese identity lacks authenticity and credibility (21).
The authenticity granted to China is implied, but impossible to mistake.

When I was small I descended from China (I was told) my great great
grandparent came from China, so I am Chinese. I will tell me kids no, you were born in
Taiwan, you grew up in Taiwan, you are not Zhong guo ren. You are Taiwan. American
citizens may have immi granted from GB, or Italy, and other European countries. They
don't call themselves British, or Portuguese. They call themselves American, so we
should call ourselves Taiwanese.

Of course I will tell them that you have Chinese heritage. You are a Taiwan...

how do I say that? First 1 will let him know much more about Taiwan, which I

myself have never studies until college. 1 will let him know that Taiwanese has a

very long history, that a long time ago, the Portuguese were in Taiwan, and then

came the Dutch and they invaded and occupied Taiwan. So Taiwanese has some

Dutch heritage. And then the Japanese, who also colonized Taiwan, which is why

our grandparents spoke such good Taiwanese. And they considered themselves

part Japanese. And then later they lose the war, and here comes the Chinese. I

will explain to my kids that the KMT did not want to control Taiwan well, they

just sent their worst general to Taiwan. But they lost the war to the communist
party, so they had to retreat to Taiwan. The Taiwan underwent a series of reforms
where everyone was educated they were Chinese - but actually there were only
about 20-30% mainlanders, but the others were from Japan, or aborigines, so we

can say we have heritage from Japan, from Dutch, from aborigines, so with all the
inﬂuences of different cultures, you should call yourself Taiwanese.

295

 

 

 

Tu Wei-Ming asserts that benshengren and waishengren in Taiwan share in
common a sufﬁcient degree of “racial, national, religious, linguistic, [and] cultural
heritage” to be seen as being of the same ethnicity (1996:18). In essence, he reveals that
“ethnicity” is based on post-WWII neo-colonial language policies, and the state-centered
pedagogy which narrated an uneven but undeniable connection between Taiwanese
“local” culture and Chinese civilization. He is reifying Taiwan as Greater China identity
while describing the evidence that it is a modern construction. From his perspective,

Taiwanese independence activists drawing on discourses of Taiwanese ethnic identity are

 

a product of an overcharged and liberalized public sphere, at the expense of Chinese
cultural traditions in Taiwan (Tu 1996). While it is often that case that social scientists
use such broad categorization for certain purposes of analysis, it is important to be aware
that the collectivities created are products of a process of objectiﬁcation, and it is critical °
to ﬁrst question and test whether such typologies conform to the everyday lives, thoughts,
experiences, and self-articulations of the people themselves. For example, Julian Shay,
Formosa-generation activist, described waishengren as only seeing Taiwan with an
“attitude of temporary residence.” Even some Taiwanese were like that, “just running
away.” This, Julian explains, is why they do not get involved in American politics. He
has a different view about immigration:
When I came here, I joined a church, I want to become an American. I changed
my name. . . . in Chinese my name is ‘bamboo,’ so I changed it to Julian because
it sound similar. Not too many people like the way I am thinking. They do not
want to become American. They say, ‘I am Chinese.’ You can overhear them
say ‘Meiguoren,’ [(American)] and he means the other guy, not me. And he has
been here maybe forty years. I say I am an American. Because I am ﬁrst

generation immigrant, I might say I am Taiwanese American, but I think it is most
clear to say I am an American.

296

 

 

Do a head count of all those who have come to the United States recently.
Separate them — ask about their family income or his family position in society
before he came to the United States. Most of those whose daddy is a rich man,
maybe owns a corporation, investment in China or somewhere — that guy does not
care. That guy does not have any ideas about... “What the hell, what is Chinese,
what is Taiwanese — to me it means nothing. What difference does it make?
Nothing. 1 just want the good life. I am thinking about to get in a good position
with my daddy’s help.” Just his own personal future.

The narratives of hard work, resilience, humility, and frugality were comr'non, and
resonate with “Millionaire Chou’s son Daichou, who wasted his parents’ hard-eamed
fortune an opulent lifestyle. Dun-mei called them “peacocks.” True Taiwanese to Julian
was based not only on the locality, but also the ethics that are associated with Taiwanese
culture. When you size-up people from Taiwan, he emphasizes that this is an important
distinction to make. A true Taiwanese from his generation “comes from a struggling
family; he is the real one to study. He is totally different from that other guy.” He admits
that he himself belongs to the “rich class,” but more than money, “it depends on how you
up-bring your children.” He describes his friends in Taipei who bring their children up
with all the money they want. The give them money instead of attention due to their busy
lives: These parents:

[These parents] have no sense of responsibility. If you have a good sense of

responsibility you might be more thinking about what freedom means. What
democracy means. That other way is like a Chinese way, the Chinese ruling
group, the tu hui, like the emperors. They rule by their own ideas, whatever they

want. They do not care about democracy. I hope this is not contagious, like a
disease to the Taiwanese in the United States. I think that in Taiwan there are
politicians who think that they can do whatever I want. That is not right.

Based on interviews and website content analysis, this research suggests that these

shifts in attitude were brought to the U.S. with new waves of Iiuxuesheng and

immigrants, with the exception of a population of student immigrants who were strongly

297

 

 

inﬂuenced by the Wild Lily demonstrations. These individuals would continue activist
networks such as Taiwanese Collegian and maintain the viability of Taiwan-centric
student associations that emphasized ongoing involvement with Taiwanese affairs,
working against a trend of syncretism among new members. The dual student association
structure outlined in Chapter One is in decline, and shifting to reﬂect differences in
cohort demographics and immigration status rather than political ideology. Although

differences in conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity continue in these context, they are

 

less frequently centered around the Sinocentric / Taiwan-centric dichotomy, but rather are

 

based on where students spent their most formative years: in Taiwan, FOBs, or in the
U.S. (1.53 and ABC/Ts.) This often further differentiates into associations of graduate
students from Taiwan coexisting with associations of undergraduate students from
Taiwan, with the latter focusing on social activities, and increasing in membership.
Website analysis reﬂects a concomitant decline in associations’ autobiographical
narratives and historicity of content, and an overall shift away from the website medium
in general toward the exclusive use of Internet bulletin boards and social network group
sites such as Yahoo!, MSN, and, most recently, Facebook.

In an essay published in the Taiwanese Collegian English-language magazine
Taiwanese Voices titled “Emphasizing my Taiwanese-ness: Not a Denial of Chinese
inﬂuences” Henry Tan-Tenn (1998) details the ironic hidden heritage of indigenous
groups in Taiwan. His central message concerns the issues of Chinese heritage in
Taiwan. He suggests that there is no need to reject so thoroughly the Chinese part of
their culture; it is obvious to see in the daily lives of people in Taiwan. Instead, this

sentiment is against the KMT, as well as the PRC. He is referring to the oppression of

298

 

 

Chineseness, and proposes that Taiwanese consciousness is “grounded” in a love for the
land itself. Further, he suggests that most Taiwanese are in denial about our indigenous
roots.

Making a similar point, Doris Chang (1999) focuses on studies connecting
Taiwanese to the indigenous tribes, both genetically and culturally, including historical
research that describes how the matrilineal Pingpu lost their names. As the island was
drawn into Chinese political and military affairs in the 18th andl9‘h centuries, the cultural
capital of having pure Chinese heritage increased, leading to the proliferation of forged
family lineages. She discusses “New Taiwanese;” to her, “Taiwan’s vision of statehood
should include all immigrants and indigenous peoples of Taiwan who would consider the
island as their home, regardless of their cultural or racial origin.”

The national identity discourse was promoted by the leadership of both major
parties uniting “the four ethnic groups” (F ujianese, Hakka, indigenous groups, and
Mainlanders) under the sign of “New Taiwanese.” This conﬁguration is premised on the
a priori identity of its constituent groups, collapsing ethnicity and identiﬁcation into a
rigid parallelism. In this model, one’s access to Taiwaneseness must be ﬁltered through
an ethnic identiﬁcation, one of four to choose from. However, privileging the ethnic here
as some absolute social content precludes other possibilities and has speciﬁc political
effects. The central organizing principle of national identity, the Unity the nation seeks
to narrate comes by resolving the conﬂict between four ethnic groups, equalized and
reiﬁed under the nation state. This discourse channels the social discursive resources into
a kind of blind alley, leaving little room for the nation to narrate other unities, such as

between labor and capital, or along gender lines (Taiwaner 1986). It is not that these

299

 

 

 

 

 

 

other discourses are erased, but they are strategically removed from national
constructions. Greater China and New Taiwanese both effect erasures and
essentialization. Conceptualizations of Taiwan based on opposition to the Nationalist
Republic of China discourse have historically been overdeterrnined by other political
issues, including labor, the environment, women’s rights, indigenous rights, and
democratization. New Taiwanese identity, which seems to resolve a “fundamental”
ethnic ﬁssure in Taiwanese society, cannot provide the same kind of discursive terrain
upon which other social contradictions might be mapped.
E. Taiwan as Greater China

In studies of transnationalism and diaspora, Taiwan, and transmigrants from
Taiwan, are encompassed by discourses of overseas Chinese, Chinese diaspora, and
Chinese transnationalism. By a similar logic, Taiwanese immigrants to the US and
Taiwanese Americans are embedded within discourses of “new Chinese” immigration, a
grouping of people from Hong Kong, Taiwan, and SE Asia marked by a high level of
education, skills, and resources (Fong 1994; Wang 1995; Ng 1998; Ma 1998). Nonini
and Ong (1997) have made important steps toward recasting “Chinese culture,” as

discursive tropes:

 

Each with a genealogy, each having been constantly cast in cultural terms by both

Chinese and by Westerners, including academics. . . . These tropes and the

discourses underlying them do not merely explain Chinese identity, networks, and
economic activity; rather, such discourses and their connections to power in large

part constitute Chinese identities and transnational projects, and are therefore in
need of deconstruction and study (9).

Deconstructing the content of Chineseness, as they have suggested, stressing
alternative modalities of being Chinese, is nevertheless highly problematic when we

begin to consider the parameters established within which Taiwan may be deﬁned.

300

Broadly speaking, it is possible to identify two perspectives to locate Taiwan — one ﬁxing
Taiwan as an expression of alternative Chinese modernity, the other explicitly Taiwan-
centric with elements of Chineseness incorporated. These discourses have historically
been heavily reliant on transnational communication and travel between Taiwan and
extraterritorial populations, including the culture tours discussed in Chapter Five, and
continue to be meaningful to overseas populations from Taiwan today.

Yang (1997) sees Taiwanese television as a vision of “alternative Chineseness,”
representing and reproducing a “deterritorialized Chinese subjectivity.” If we take
deterritorialized to mean “Chinese not in the PRC,” then we see Yang’s central
assumptions about Taiwan’s Chineseness.26 Although many academics have studied
China through Taiwan without giving due attention to issues of Taiwan’s identity
(Murray and Hong 1994), more recent analyses have identiﬁed Taiwan as a “third space,”
part of a increasingly important periphery of China, a “node” in the Paciﬁc Rim
transnational socio-economic formation, a space of transit for modern Chinese diaspora,
and a point of origin for hyper-mobile Asian immigration to the U.S., and cultural
Chinese modernity (Tu 1991; Lowe 1996; Ng 1998; Ong 1993, 1997, 1999; Nonini and
Ong 1997; Wang Ling-chi 1998). Taiwan has been identiﬁed as part of “greater China”,
“residual China”, the “Chinese diaspora”, and “cultural China.” Ong (1999) locates
Taiwan on the fringes of China’s graduated sovereignty, and Taiwanese-ness then

becomes part of a Chinese “third culture” a “novel social arrangement” produced by

globalization (N onini and Ong 1997:11).

 

2" This qualiﬁcation or contextualization may be referred to as “caveat identiﬁcation,” meaning essentially:
“I am Taiwanese, but my roots are Chinese,” or “I am Chinese, but I was born in Taiwan."

301

Ma (2007) suggests that the nostalgic sentiment in Asian American subjectivity is
avoided by scholars in favor of a more aggressive tone associated with struggle and
empowerment in America, emphasizing “here and now” rather than “over there in the
past” (xviii-xix). Lowe’s (1996) historical framework, for example, points to a history of
dislocation, erasure from histories, juridical discriminations, and other structural
inequalities experienced by Asian Americans. The collective memory of their
exclusions, she proposes, increases skepticism of citizenship, liberal democracy, and
often the nation-state and its associated hegemonic ideologies. The awkward Waltz of
Taiwanese History at the opening of this chapter is an example, as its primary referent is
a distant history re-enacted in the present, As a performance, the Waltz ﬂirts with
oppressors until the ultimate transformation from colonized feminine to masculine. In
the performance, the gender transformation comes through struggle against the
Nationalist government. However, the proposition that Asian Americans as a group are
in general skeptical of the nation-state, and as a group represent a critique of the U.S.
nation-building project, should be contrasted with the views of many supporters of
Taiwanese independence among Taiwanese Americans. Independence discourse is
grounded in metaphors of place and roots, antithetical to “third spaces,” “ungrounded
Chinese alterity, and other post-national conceptualizations. The constructs of Taiwanese
independence, which have been both revolutionary and conservative, always/already
reify the nation-state and validate the preeminence of national sovereignty and
democracy.

Wang’s research (1998) focuses on the discourses and practices surrounding

transnational Taiwanese as they encounter the structures of the Global Nation Order. A3

302

more and more Taiwanese come face to face with their (inter)national political
ambiguity, (unrecognized passports, being delayed or questioned, being misrecognized as
either Chinese or PRC citizens), a “traveling discourse” emerges in the Taiwanese public
sphere, one that addresses these commonly-experienced “national humiliations.” Taiwan,
Taiwanese people, and Taiwanese identity are contained within, and rendered invisible
by, what has been called a Chinese Racial Formation (Lowe 1996). This conceptual
category is overdeterrnined by global power struggles and ﬂows of capital, and
fragmented by competing Chinese national narrations and transnational subjectivities.
Racial formations are (re)produced both institutionally and in the practicesof everyday
life. In Taiwan’s traveling discourse, encounters with Chineseness are coded oppressive,
and a subjective distancing and dis-identiﬁcation emerges, a kind of self-marginalization
that creates new spaces for communal imagination (Ren 1996).

If we take the new national narrative at face value, we ﬁnd that these positions of
marginalization -- being on the fringes of Chinese empires, European trade routes, the
Japanese sphere of domination, the margin of the Cold war itself -- are incorporated as
content, a shared collective experience for the national body. Several related but distinct
modes of being not-Chinese (culturally, politically, racially, historically) converge and
become available through the discourses of Taiwanese national identity. In this sense, it
is a layering of negations and oppositions, a nation expressed and constituted by its own
historical marginalization and invisibilities. The Nationalists’ international alienation
after the PRC entered the UN seriously undermined their legitimacy in Taiwan, including
the discursive potency of Chinese nationalism. Thus in a dialectical way, this

international marginalization actually afﬁrms the Taiwanese national narrative, both by

303

 

 

decimating the Nationalist reuniﬁcation-oriented Chinese nationalism, and by resonating
with the story of marginalization that informs and politically orients oppositional
Taiwaneseness.

Like the literature on the Chinese diaspora and Chinese transnationalism, Chinese

American discourse tends to incorporate immigration from Taiwan as a Chinese

 

phenomenon; the immigrants are a special demographic, but not beyond the Chinese

immigration category. The literature misses the post-colonial subjectivities of ﬁrst-

 

generation immigrants from Taiwan, who are “a growing segment of the heterogeneous
American society — the middle-class naturalized professionals and their previous
‘incarnation’ as foreign students” (Ma 2000:93). For example, Francis K. Hsu’s 1971
The Challenge of the American Dream: The Chinese in the United States combines
Chinese Americans, Chinese from the PRC, and Chinese (and/or Taiwanese) from
Taiwan into one subject population rather than take advantage of the dynamism between
these identiﬁcations. In Strangers from a Different Shore, historian Ronald Takaki
(1998) writes that Taiwan is a "second point of departure" for Chinese. Similarly, in
Chinatown No More: Taiwan Immigrants in New York, anthropologist Hsiang-shui Chen
(1992) collapses identiﬁcation with Taiwan into a subject position among other groups
and waves of Chinese immigration. He parenthetically comments on the distinction
between Taiwanese and Chinese: “(Today, some people use 'Chinese' to refer only to
those immigrants who have come directly from mainland China, and, for political reasons
some pointedly refer to themselves as 'Taiwanese” (120). In this maneuver, similar to
Tu’s general approach 1991; 1996), Chen reduces Taiwanese subjectivity to a political

position.

304

Timothy F ong’s research in Monterey Park, the basis of his inﬂuential book The
First Suburban Chinatown (1994), is represented as ethnography of Chinese immigrants.
Fong was interested in the social and political dynamics between new Asian immigration
to the area, other recent immigrant groups, and long-time residents, including Anglo and

Japanese Americans. F ong writes about the Asian and Chinese community in Monterey

 

.5
Park, using the terms nearly interchangeably, to represent a research population of
individuals with ties to Taiwan, not mainland China, who differed signiﬁcantly from i
previous waves of Chinese immigration.27 In this text, Taiwanese in Monterey Park are
representative of new Chinese immigration. In another detailed analysis of Monterey F

Park, Saito explores the ways in which political and social interactions inform the
“constitution of ethnic and racial identities, in particular the development of panethnic
identities” (199821). The Asian American community to Saito is framed by the temporal
structure of immigration, which takes as its primary dichotomy the tension between the
well-established Japanese American community and the “new Chinese immigration.”
Citing Lowe (1991) he brackets these stray subjectivities as aspects of heterogeneity,
hybridity, and multiplicity, a move that allows his categorical model to stand un-
interrogated.

Chang (1991a) shows a similar problem of sampling in describing new Taiwanese
immigration to California only by era and neighborhood. She puts them in a historical
lineage of Chinese people coming to California over the last century. Statistics about
“Chinese Americans” and references to the “Chinese community” make no distinctions

between those from Taiwan and those from China.

 

27 Ma (2000) notes that in F ong’s First Suburban Chinatown, Chapter Two is entitled “Enter the Dragon:
Economic Change” (xix).

305

“Who are the Taiwanese Americans?” The question posed in the introduction to
The Taiwanese Americans (1998) by anthropologist Franklin Ng, opens a text which
illustrates common problematic assumptions regarding the categorical and hierarchical
relationship between Taiwan and China, between Taiwanese culture and Chinese culture,
and between Taiwanese and Chinese identities, found in contemporary English-language
academic literature. Benshengren subjectivity is represented as a local, provincial variant
of Chineseness; N g states that "just as the Cantonese identify with Guangdong province
in Southeastern China, so the Taiwanese identify with their island home of Taiwan" (1).
When Ng writes that “aside from the aborigines, the population on Taiwan is Chinese,”
he misrepresents a segment of population in Taiwan who no longer self-identify as
Chinese. For Ng, presumably, they are Chinese who deny their Chineseness.

Ironically, as Sybil Chen (1999) points out, the problems of benshengren erasure
are evident in writings within Asian American Studies, which are thought to challenge
and correct hegemonic and essentializing discourses. Although my research indicates a
persistent, if not ampliﬁed, distinction between benshengren and waishengren among
activists in the U.S., grounded in part in the collective memory of the February 28'h
Incident and the White Terror era, N g’s emphasizes that for most in Taiwanese society,
the distinction between waishengren and benshengren faded in signiﬁcance after
immigration. The result, he suggests, is a stable Taiwanese American community based
on shared memories of life in Taiwan. Inforrnants indicated to me, however, that to a

great extent, benshengren and waishengren composed two communities with minimal
overlap, particularly prior to democratic reforms in Taiwan and the increase in

immigration from the PRC.

306

 

However, Ong (1997) picks up on a critical issue in the matter of self-narratives.
She illustrates how Chinese transnationals as described above often accept the Western
narrative of Chinese Capitalism and its epistemological underpinnings and use it as a
space in which to maneuver, thus resisting the West’s desire for single ﬁxed national
identities. Their efforts to describe one point of resistance, however, limit their ability to
see another. The self-narratives of Taiwanese are silenced, absent from ethnography or
neutered of their non-Chinese content. In the examples above, academic literature
constructs conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity that are both Chinese, and

marginalized.

II. Findings and Implications
A. Diachronic and Synchronic Cyber-ethography

As pointed out in the methods segment of the introductory chapter, I agree with
Des Chene (1997) in arguing that anthropologists tend to work from a synchronic
perspective because, however difﬁcult the ﬁeldwork may be, you are still “out there”
among “your people” collecting data. For my purposes, however, “out there” was often
in cyberspace, or at events lasting only a few hours. Further, with the use of Intemet-
based tools I was able to work diachronically. For example, I was able to trace changes
on a single student association website looking for changes in institutional persona.
“Institutional persona” includes not only mission statements and origin narratives, but
also hyperlinks, iconography, information from photographs of past events, and a wide

range of additional materials.

307

Cyber-archaeology involves the examination of widely dispersed and disparate
phenomena during a particular moment in linear time. With archival tools it was possible
to learn about localized events on the eve of the 2000 presidential election in Taiwan.
Using this method I was able to see not only campus-based demonstrations and candle-
light vigils on a dozen campuses, but also uncover the trans-local and transnational
communications shaping (seemingly) local events. In this example, a co-coordinated
TC/WUFI effort managed to distribute an anti—China, pro-democracy “manifesto” as well
as program plans for vigils, and tips on how to attract and manage media coverage. Thus,
one of the key ﬁndings of this dissertation involves the efﬁcacy and value of Intemet-
based archival research, using both synchronic and diachronic cyber-ethnography. As
anthropologists, in addition to our re-consideration of “the ﬁeld” and the “subject” based
on insightful inquiries into the nature of place and mobility, we must also consider time a
social construct rather than a standard measure. It is only through a re-conceptualization
of time that we are able to explore the nature of inter- and intra-generational negotiations
of “homeland” among generations of Iiuxuesheng and Taiwanese Americans.

In the case of this research, much of the ﬁeldwork was virtual, not only multi-
locale (Clifford 1997) but also multi-dimensional. Through the use of Intemet-based
tools such the Internet Archive the history and historicity of generations of Iiuxuesheng
became apparent. Consecutive cohorts participating in a student association over more
than a single generation constitute a “hidden population” (Schensul et a1 1999) which is
at the ethnographic moment highly “localized” and widely dispersed: localized insofar as
they were involved in the reproduction of student association, shaping its institutional

culture and memory, yet only in a transient way, through face-to-face inter- and intra-

308

 

 

generational relationships; dispersed insofar as in the ethnographic present, such a
population is nearly invisible.

The authors contributing to Anthropological Locations: Boundaries and Grounds
of a Field Science (Gupta and Ferguson, eds. 1997) challenge social scientists to re-
conceptualize “the ﬁeld,” and ﬁeldwork, emphasizing mobility, travel, Internet-based
methods, and other innovations and corrections to anthropology’s hallmark activity: ﬁeld
work. All but Des Chene avoid reconceptualizing ethnographic temporality, a move
which would bring anthropology to the institutional and methodological borders of
history. The extensive use of Intemet-based archival material situates this dissertation
research in this theoretical framework; indeed, rather than an innovation in methodology,
my use of the Internet Archive is akin to a Boasian approach to ﬁeld work: arm-chair
ethnography based on the careful interpretation of historical records (including
missionaries’ descriptions, accounts of collectors of antiquities, reports from travelers,
and so forth) as the basis for an anthropology dissertation. Graduate students did not to
go to “the ﬁeld” until they had acquired a Ph.D.

The processes that shape historic generations are always/already spaces of contest
and negotiation where certain interpretations are privileged over others, particular events
are deemed more re-memorable than others, some narratives are emphasized and
dramatized, politicized, and others silenced, appropriated, and neutralized. To best
understand the way in which the symbolic content of student association websites
communicate meaning, I draw on the concept of cultural memory (Heller 2001; Schudson
1995), a term that refers to the ways in which memory is contained within cultural relics

and practices, the way everyday elements of culture are overlaid and infused with

309

 

 

 

references to a speciﬁc interpretation of the past. Cultural memory, like social memory,
is no less a space of contest and power struggle than culture as a more general concept
(Climo 2000). The terms are more speciﬁc than “collective memory” insofar as they
emphasize the socio-cultural media through which memories are constructed and
communicated from one generation to the next. Cultural motifs, symbols, sayings,
myths, icons, and so forth can be deployed as mnemonic devices, “lieu de memoire”
(Nora 1989). Meanings can be drawn from such symbols and practices, and memory can
be transcribed on cultural forms and bring them into the historical register. Student
association websites can be considered locations of cultural memory, as are
commemorations, ceremonies, celebrations, museums, performances, movies, novels and
so forth. Just as individual student associations are the key inter- and intra-generational
memory groups discussed in this dissertation, the nation is the preeminent mnemonic
community, and the ability to shape socio-cultural memory is key to instilling a sense of
Taiwan’s identity compelling enough to make sacriﬁces of time, and resources. Just as
the past is the key to instilling and legitimating the ideology of state, so too can
alternative socio-cultural memory challenge the nation-state and fuel opposition
movements based on shared identity grounded in a compelling historical narrative.

In the past, Taiwan-centric student association and TASAs have served as context
for the development of oppositional nationalist cultural memory, as localized instances of
memory groups reproducing cultural memory. Regularly held camps and conferences
where multiple generations of Iiuxuesheng interact also create sites where memory
groups “happen” and are reinforced, re—negotiated and redeﬁned. Pierre Nora (1989) has

argued that it is precisely this kind of project that today constitutes social memory - no

310

 

longer a living breathing memory, but one of traces and remnants. What he calls lieu de
memoire, “museums, archives, cemeteries, festivals, anniversaries, treaties, depositions,
monuments, sanctuaries, fraternal orders” and so on come about because we no longer
live in a milieux de memoire:

We buttress our identities upon such bastions, but if what they defended were not

threatened, there would be no need to build them. Conversely, if the memory that

they enclosed were to be set free they would be useless; if history did not besiege
memory, deforming and transforming it, penetrating and petrifying it, there would
be no lieu de memoire. Indeed, it is this very push and pull that produces lieu de
memoire - monuments of history torn away from the movement of history, then
returned; no longer quite life, not yet death, like shells on the shore when the sea

of living memory has receded (12).

Nora links this process with a more general phenomenon with what he calls the
“secularization” of modern society. Memory is sacred, history is secular. He uses the
term memory (or milieux de memoire) to denote what I feel is an overly romantic notion
of living breathing face-to-face recollection, based not on accuracy but imagination. His
sites of memory (lieu de memoire) are the “boundary stones of another age” (12)
Elements take on new meaning, some events — such as the Bao-diao movement — are
forgotten, and new events are introduced and interpreted through narration,
contextualization and other modes of representation and inter-generational
communication. Indeed, as Massey points out, “generational differences serve to unify
the émigré’ culture (86).

Though they may be held in different campuses from year to year, the event is
nonetheless local, formalized and spatially organized: workshops, key-note speeches,

cultural performances, discussion groups, leadership meetings, Taiwanese night market

and talent shows. Though they may seem ﬂeeting, a weekend a year, these are

311

 

 

nonetheless stable locations of cultural memory with recurring practices and themes,
institutional memory, and a self-conscious interest in remembering a uniquely Taiwanese
culture and past-time.

Mnemonic socialization — efforts by a community of memory to inﬂuence new
members’ sense of his or her place in narratives of the past — was happening in the
context surrounding student associations’ events such as those listed above. In some
cases, it was a de-centering of Chinese nationalist discourse, replaced by alternative
Taiwan-centric cultural memories as communicated in extratenitorial contexts, and
sometime brought back to Taiwan. Though mnemonic socialization often happens in
subtle ways, such as when you learn what to remember and what to forget through
conversations among family members, friends and co-workers, popular media and public
sphere discourses, at other time, it is intentional and highly structured, particularly in the
case of extraterritoriality. In the case of this research, there were speciﬁc texts and
historical information accessed by Iiuxuesheng which had a major, often traumatic impact
on individuals, primarily the February 28’h Incident, but the biographical narratives of
early Japanese-era activists, historical literature, ofﬁcial documents, and so forth.

Liisa Malkii (1997) describes groups of memory that are only incidentally
connected as "accidental communities of memory," indeterminate not because the
historical events that inﬂuence them are unexpected or haphazard, but because they bring
together people who might otherwise not have contact. She points out that these
pOpulations are hard for anthropologists to apprehend; it is an invisible community which

evades ethnography, or even recognition. Though they have powerful effects, they are

nonetheless “fragile and easily disembodied." She suggests that these populations can

312

also have “structural, social, political, afterlives" (92). I argue that the discovery of these
materials, and the resulting radical re-deﬁnition of Taiwan, should be considered an index
event itself, though without the simultaneity associated with index events as traditionally
imagined shaping historic generations.

In more recent decades there has been less and less divergence between the
ofﬁcial pedagogy in Taiwan and cultural memory in Taiwan. However, for U.S.-born
Taiwanese Americans, the cultural memory of Taiwan can be powerful experience,

introducing them to a mnemonic community with a tragic past of struggle and oppression

 

which Taiwanese Americans inherit. Members of the mnemonic community - divided
among a wide range of localized memory groups — seek to instill newcomers with the
social identity of the group, in this case, with a sense of Taiwan’s national identity
oriented toward collective action toward Taiwanese nation self-determination. For some,
the identity being promoted is incomplete, the narrative is yet to be resolved, dependent
on attaining Taiwanese independence, while for others, the story reached resolution with
the lifting of martial law, or the election of Lee Teng-hui, or the election of the DPP
candidate Chen Shui-bian to the presidency of Taiwan. Further, for some, the process of
discovering their Taiwanese “roots” and coming to an understanding of the “content” of
Taiwan’s identity is sufﬁcient. This reﬂects the many ways Taiwan’s identity was
communicated in this dissertation research by different generations, and groups within
generations.

The pair of cultural tours to Taiwan for Taiwanese Americans discussed in
Chapter Five illustrate the difference between the intentional development of cultural

memory among a generation that would otherwise have difﬁculty becoming acculturated

313

to the Taiwanese national community of memory, as was the case with the Tsunah
program, and on the other hand the introduction to the multivalent cultural memory of the
Republic of China on Taiwan, whose historical and cultural elements lacked clear
distinctions between the differences between Taiwanese and Chinese culture. Both were
carefully staged and crafted; the ambiguities, silences and distortions were well-planned.
With the challenges posed to the nation-state as a viable container of populations,
cultures, economies, and discourses of shared heritage, the mnemonic community of the
nation is fragmenting to reveal the underlying multiplicity and heterogeneity of the
populations within the tenitorial bounds of a state, as well as those living beyond national
borders. Nations as imagined communities are dissimilating into overlapping, sometimes
clashing communities of memory that interpret cultural elements and narratives of the
past below the national register, or in the form of oppositional nationalism.

The term counter—memory (Foucault 1977), the invocation of lost voices, exposes
the ideological domination of public memory by a central authority, usually a state, that is
part of the overall technologies of power that maintain hegemonic domination. By de-
centering master narratives of the past, counter-memory can be a source of
empowerment. By contrasting counter—memory with ofﬁcial memory, opposition groups
reveal the inherently fragmented, incomplete, contextual and power-laden nature of
representations of the past. But memory is a space for negotiation and contest, where no
single interest can dominate the production of representations of the past. There is a kind
of marketplace of collective remembrance and forgetting in which public and counter-

memory compete, but mediated through the autobiographical memories of individuals

314

(Appadurai 1981). In other words, no single entity has the power to control the content
and political orientation of social memory.

Schudson (1997) points out that the past can be considered to have three
interrelated dimensions. We experience the past personally through biographical
experiences, socially as it is institutionalized in ofﬁcial pedagogy and museums, and
culturally as it is embedded in certain cultural expressions, narratives, symbols and
cultural practices. In the case of the Kaohsiung Incident, for example, those who
experienced it personally felt a mandate to push for reform, those who experienced it as
part of Taiwanese History as presented in text books were less inclined to connect the
incident to their own sense of Taiwan’s identity or be compelled to act, while those who
experienced the event as it was narrated by a survivor in a highly mediated, intentionally
powerﬁrl way, developed a deeper understanding of their parents’ feelings toward
Taiwan, and a deeper respect for the opposition movement and sense of Taiwanese
subjectivity, but not a call to action, to dedicate resources toward the goal of Taiwanese
self-determination.

The decline in distance between ofﬁcial history as represented in text books and
lived, local, collective memory, is lessening with democratization. Encountering sharp
incongruence was often an earth-shattering experience because it cast students’ entire
lived experience in a different light, by redeﬁning Taiwan — from ROC to Formosa. With
democratization, public discourse and education more closely reﬂect (and commemorate)
the lived experiences of the people. The violence of the state is now History, captured in

the past, lessening any “moral shock” experience for the youngest generation.

315

 

 

 

According to Mannheim (1952), the “inventory experience” happens in late
adolescence or early adulthood and shapes an individuals’ long-term worldview. For
Mannheim, the rate of social change matters. The more rapid the change, the more likely
a generational gap will appear and manifest itself. Generational differences drive history
forward. This would explain the long period of time between the Japanese generation
and those involved in the democracy movement in the late 19703. According to this
theory, with communication technologies and heightened mobility, it is more likely that
generation-speciﬁc communities of memory will develop among dispersed populations.

However, the bridge between these generations highlights differences and
congruencies between the conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity of distinct generations,
and how intertwined and reciprocal the experiences can be. By reciprocal, 1 mean that
not only do the eye-witness accounts, narratives, and texts of prior generations have a
profound and lasting impact on subsequent generations; there is also a powerful kind of
feedback - both sorrowful and joyful — experienced by the older generations as they learn
of both the indifferences and inspirations of the younger generations.

Climo (2002) pointed out that this kind of “vicarious memory” as told through
the experiences of another is “a memory that an individual holds with great personal and
emotional commitment, yet it is a memory of an event or experience that the individual
has not experienced directly” (1 18). He suggests that much of our identity is in fact
shaped by memories which are not our own, but those of others of inﬂuence in our lives,
and that they become important to us as immediate experiences, transferring emotional
commitments to identities across generations, in localized student association memory

groups in this case.

316

 

Finally, to conclude this discussion of index events and historical generations, my
ﬁndings indicate that while the key events outlined in Chapter Three - with the exception
of the Bao-diao protests — were evident in data dawn from website analysis and
interviews, the meaning of the events were radically different. Interpretations were
divergent to the extent that they might not be considered the same “events” though as
historical occurrences they coincided in time and space. For example, the democracy
movement in the mid- to late 19803, when activists from the U.S. and Taiwan were being
violently suppressed in some cases, those who were closely involved in the events —
including the WUFI kids whose parents were involved — were deeply impacted, and took
on the mantle to continue strugglingfor further democratic reform. In the U.S. they
initiated the ﬁrst Taiwanese American student associations and established in their
missions a commitment to activism.

Responding to the same historical period, others less immediately impacted by the
turmoil saw the legalization of the DPP and the lifting of martial law as the completion of
a historic journey. The impetus to collective action was undermined by the success of the
opposition movement. 1 other words, where WUFI kids saw the beginning of a new
chapter in the struggle for further democratic reform, others saw the same occurrences as
indicators that the need for struggle was over.

Similarly, in 1990, when the Wild Lily protesters were pressuring the recently
elected Lee Tengihui to enact constitutional reform, others saw 1990 as a watershed
moment in Taiwanese history; it was a cause to celebrate, not protest, an occurrence that
reduced an already awning sense of obligation to be involved in Taiwanese politics. In

1996, when WUFI and TC organized candle-1i ght vigils in the 322 event and hardened

317

 

 

their commitment to protect Taiwan from military intervention from China in the future,
others saw cause to celebrate at Lee’s victory. Evidence in a shift in the way Taiwan was
conceptualized was clear in the website data, as well as in interviews. In this light, the
notion of “index event” becomes more problematic, as in many cases, those inﬂuenced
by the event may be a small coterie with a large population. They can hardly represent a
historic generation, while at the same time, through networking, they are able to have a
major impact on their own, and incoming cohorts through controlling agendas of student
associations.
B. Homeland in Diaspora

Glick-Schiller and F ouron (1997) suggest that in many cases, the state has been
able to “de-territorialize,” thus extending its inﬂuence to extraterritorial populations.
From their perspective, however, the de-territorialization of state encompasses immigrant
groups within two hegemonic systems of power competing for loyalty. Goldring (1998),
however, cautions that de-territorialization might be better phrased “re-territorialization,”
with individuals living in these circumstances considered “extraterritorial.” Smith and
Guamizo: reject "detenitorialization". They use ﬂows, (mentions) the possibility of
"translocal" as a structuring elements in the ﬂows. When Iiuxuesheng from Taiwan
joined the population of Chinese already in the U.S., the Nationalist government was
challenged to intent on maintain the loyalty of overseas Chinese, was challenged Integral
to two powerful nation-state projects, Taiwanese independence activists were challenged
to “build a unity of identity and a sense of commonality amongst people who share
neither territory nor emersion in a single society” (Glick-Schiller and Fouron 1998:133).

Maintaining a sense of homogenizing national culture that legitimizes the state is more

318

 

 

 

 

difﬁcult due to the inherent heterogeneity of transnational social ﬁelds, causing both
sending and receiving states to focus attention on extraterritorial populations to
strengthen state power and perpetuate class inequality (Glick-Schiller and F ouron 1998;
Goldring 1998).

Reﬂecting on another of Appadurai’s “-scapes,” this research resonates with the
central question he poses: "What is the nature of locality as a lived experience in a
globalized, deterritorialized world?" (Appadurai 1996252). Though maintaining the
caveat that “deterritorialization” may overstate the “unboundedness” (Basch et al. 1994)
of everyday life among diasporic populations, questions remain about the inter- and intra-
generational negotiations of Taiwan’s identity as a locality among Iiuxuesheng and
Taiwanese Americans. Through the course of this dissertation I have shown that Taiwan
may be deﬁned in a wide variety of ways, some mutually exclusive (authentic non-
Chinese Taiwan on the one hand, and the locus of Chinese high culture and the seat of the
legitimate government of China on the other.) Most, however, involved a syncretic view.
For example, Taiwan as a home of a racially Chinese people who have developed
uniquely Taiwanese characteristics, and Taiwan as “New Taiwan,” island of waves of
immigration, including (but not privileging) Chinese inﬂuence.

I concur with Massey (1994) in her argument that "what gives a place its
speciﬁcity is not some long internalized history but the fact that it is constructed out of a
particular constellation of social relations, meeting and weaving together at a particular
locus"(154). Just as inter- and intra—generational connections among Iiuxuesheng are
woven through the webs of transnational relations between sending and receiving

countries problematizes the notion of rootedness and home, so symbols and practices are

319

 

re-shaped in the interstices between territorialized nation-states. The more prominent
relationship may be between two localities, however conceived. I suggest that from
many localities in the U.S., Taiwan conceived of as a locality, as deﬁned by Smith and
Katz (1993), capable of having within its discursive and social relations its many
elements discourse of Taiwanese nation-state, Chinese nation-state.

Indeed, Malkii (l997a) challenges the idea of the school atlas idea of nations and
cultures, one which Gellner, Hobsbaw, Gellner and Smith reify in their writings. Rather
than focusing primarily on “roots,” social scientists should think in terms of “rhizomes,”
networks of relationships with multiple and contextual rootedness. If, as Massey
suggests, space and place are dynamic and constituted by social relations, it follows that
rhizomatic connections are similarly (re)produced. Taiwan, when represented as a yam,
is sometimes credited with the ability to survive without deep rootedness. Recall that the
CyberGarden of Yams homepage noted that “yam can grow and proliferate in many
sterile lands. Strength of sustainability and the will to struggle with harsh livings not only
identify with the history of Taiwanese, but also become part of the nature of Taiwanese.”
Independently, founders of YamWeb also used the metaphor of yarns to represent
Taiwan, noting explicitly that the plant has the ability to thrive in harsh environments. In
both cases, the creative use of the Internet to further heighten awareness of Taiwan’s
political situation was framed in the metaphor of rhizomes. Here, the “place” Taiwan is
‘stretched out” across space (Massey 19942158), which in this case includes “cyber-
space.” This metaphor runs counter to a deeply-felt connection between essentialized
notions of places, roots, and identity:

Motherland and fatherland, aside from their other historical connotations,
suggests that each nation is a grand geneaological tree, rooted in the soil that

320

 

 

nourishes it. By implication, it is not possible to part of more than one tree. Such

a tree evokes both temporal continuity of essence and territorial rootedness.

(Malkii l997a:57)

This is “deeply metaphyisical and deeply moral, sinking ‘peoples’ and ‘cultures’
into ‘national soils’ and the ‘family of nations’ into Mother Earth” (Malkii 1997a:61).
Diasporic populations and social scientists alike suffer from “root-thinking” (68).
Multiple conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity among Iiuxuesheng since 1945 have
each drawn on roots metaphors, though in differing ways. The Formosan identity of
Taiwan was based not on biological afﬁnity per se, but rather on a shared experience of
subjugation. This conceptualization of Taiwan was to a great extent a response to roots
discourse propagated by the nationalist government which inseparably linked culture,
race, geography and the nation-state. Among this generation, and in subsequent cohorts,
cultural nationalist would borrow the discourses of “native soil,” “roots,” and local
traditions to fashion a national culture, including ﬂags, a literary genre, and counter-
hegemonic historical narratives that emphasized the uniqueness of Taiwanese culture.

The cultural elements selected and reﬁned by cultural nationalists to represent
Taiwanese authenticity from abroad were shared with subsequent cohorts of Iiuxuesheng
in the U.S., as well as the ﬁrst generation of 1.53 and U.S.-bom Taiwanese Americans.
The WUF I kids, as they’ve been identiﬁed here, shared in common a Formosan
perspective with their parents, differing from subsequent cohorts of second-generation
Taiwanese Americans. With democratization, Taiwanization, and economic prosperity,
oppositional Taiwanese identity discourses no longer resonate with the everyday lives of
Taiwanese Americans. Instead, in the context of multiculturalism in the U.S., they are

nonetheless expected to represent their culture to the broader public. To this end, they

321

 

 

turn to cultural nationalists like Alan Chen for help further simplifying “their culture”
into manageable elements for the students to demonstrate, and the general public to
consume. In Taiwan, the New Taiwanese discourse similarly locates Taiwanese identity
within a multicultural context.

Much of the more recent articulations of Taiwan’s identity among Iiuxuesheng in
the U.S. present a more syncretic view, including elements of Chinese culture, as well as
appropriating indigenous groups’ cultural elements as well. This reﬂects shifts in the

relationship between China and Taiwan and an increase in support for the status quo 1

 

among Taiwanese in the U.S. Though cultural nationalists may feel that Taiwanese
“authenticity” is fading, due primarily to the decline in use of the Holo language, younger
cohorts are redeﬁning what it means to be Taiwanese by selecting from among these
disparate conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity. For example, the Fighting Yams,
because they are not focused on Taiwanese cultural authenticity, draw on a Formosan
perspective of Taiwan’s identity. To a great extent, how a student from Taiwan or
Taiwanese American interprets and experiences Taiwan and develops a sense of
Taiwan’s identity depends on the various memory groups they have been included in.
These include the family, but also, and perhaps more importantly, student associations.
Within student associations, however, there are a wide range of possibilities of inter- and
intra-generational inﬂuence. While the historic generation model is suitable for broad
constellations of subjectivity among populations in the same social “space,” the concept
must be modiﬁed in the context of diaspora populations, as they experience events that
will shape their political views in highly localized contexts, such as student groups.

Because Taiwanese independence activists were (and continue to be) widely dispersed

322

 

across the U.S., there were (and are) many groups without inter-generational translators
such as Hiro and Li-lin, or cultural experts like Alan Chen, or student association
activities based on vicarious collective memory of events such as the 2-28 Incident.

As a further modiﬁcation to the historic generation model, it is important to note
that it is possible to experience a powerful life-shaping moment in history based on
collective remembering, even when the event is experienced as a vicarious memory. In
this regard, it is not the event itself that should be understood to have the powerful effect,
but also the moment of discovery, which may be a very solitary experience, yet widely
experienced among a generation. A second contribution to historic generation theory is
to give additional attention to the signiﬁcance the past has to populations in diaspora in
relations to residents of the sending state. A longing for a past among diasporic
populations should not be considered something lacking, but rather as a constituent part
of the overseas experience. This extends to second-generation Taiwanese Americans
interested in searching for their roots — a desire expected of them as racialized immigrants
in the U.S. — as seen in the analysis of two culture tours. The analysis indicates that there
are multiple conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity available to this population, ranging
from stressing the unique qualities of Taiwan and its history of subjugation (a
combination of Formosan and cultural nationalist discourse) to Sinocentric tours that
emphasize intra-generational social bonding rather than discovering roots.

C. Future Research

Without the constraints of time and resources, this research would have included

interviews with elder Iiuxuesheng who were not active in the Taiwanese independence

movement. For example, authors in the liuxue wenxue (overseas literature) genre, the

323

focus of Ma’s (1997) analysis of immigrant subjectivities, were primarily waishengren.
In many ways they were similarly positioned as the benshengren independence
supporters in this research, including their ambivalence toward their minority status in the
U.S., and their longing for a distant Chinese “homeland,” and lost Chineseness.

However, exploring how/where/when “homeland” is deﬁned and experienced among
mainlander Iiuxuesheng would add depth to the current research and provide added
theoretical leverage to explore lacunae in academic literature dealing with overseas

student-immigrants in the U.S. and postcolonial critique so often missed in academic

 

literature about Asian Americans.

Although the Intemet-based research methods employed here drew from a broad
cross-section of Taiwanese American youth and young Iiuxuesheng, omissions from this
demographic include those who chose not to participate in student association activities,
as well as participants on either cultural tour who chose not to post their experiences on-
line. A full representation of Taiwanese American youth culture would require that these
“hidden” populations be included in the sample. To this end, alternative methods than
the ones used in this research would be required, including actively seeking out non-
members of student associations on multiple campuses, and the use of survey
instruments.

This research was able to take advantage of lntemet-based data sources,
including archival work examining wide-spread patterns in student association
representations (cyber-archaeology), as well as focusing on a single organization over
time (cyber-genealogy) to potentially detect inter- and intra-generational relationships

informing conceptualizations of “homeland” among Iiuxuesheng in the U.S. Although

324

 

cyber—voyeurism, (hyper)textual analysis, and deconstruction of “unsolicited narratives”
of conceptualizations of Taiwan’s identity were central to this dissertation, the medium
itself — computer-mediated communication — was not treated as a speciﬁc subject. This
dissertation creates a foundation for further explorations into the practices and theoretical
implications of online research. Intemet-based research methodology will continue to be
an exciting area of exploration in the social sciences, and I plan on further developing my
diachronic/synchronic, genealogical/archaeological model for website analysis. This will

include rapidly emerging forms of social networking platforms such as (at the time of this

 

dissertation’s publication) F acebook and Twitter.

This theoretical model upon which this research was based involved the
constructed nature of seemingly self-evident cultural formation, including nation-states,
national identities, and the meanings of historical events. Based on this research, it
would be useful to add extraterritoriality as another factor that would alter the ways space
can place may be conceptualized. As Malkii points out:

Physical location and physical territory, for so long the only grid on which

cultural differences could be mapped, need to be replaced by multiple grids that

enable us to see that connection and continuity — more general, the representation
of territory — vary considerably by factors such as class, gender, race, and
sexuality and are differentially available to those in different locations in the ﬁeld

of power (1997:50)

The motivations of senior activists in the U.S. who continued to be involved in
Taiwanese politics were not examined in a sustained analysis, nor were gender
differences considered in a systematic way. Given the critique of multiculturalism in the
U.S. and New Taiwanese identity — that they place the politics of ethnic recognition

above other potential lines of mobilization such as class, gender, sexuality, or otherwise,

an important area of research would be to break from the proclivity to reify such

325

articulations of identity and examine more closely lines of power inequalities not
immediately evident in the context of ethnic recognition. Even so, in the case of
Taiwanese, there is ambivalence toward Asian American issues and their own position as
a racialized minority in the U.S. This is yet another unasked question in the wide
literature of Asian American immigration in the U.S. Thus, possible areas of future
research would include a more focused inquiry into the experiences of student-
immigrants from Taiwan in the U.S. as racialized immigrants in the U.S., thus making a
more meaningful contribution to Asian American studies research.28

From another perspective, the ongoing involvement in the TI movement — and in
particular their emphasis on traumatic events in the past (which I have attributed to an
intentional strategy to recruit younger generations) might also be considered from a
Freudian perspective. Senior activists who witnessed traumatic events may be working
through the event as repetition and composition. As part of the process of working
through the “damaged self,” a memory gains clarity through repetition. Their narratives
become shadows of the events themselves, and vicarious memory across generations as
index events could be thought of as inherited shadows of shadows.298imilarly, an
alternative approach to historic generations may be found in medical anthropology
dealing with “social suffering.” Developed in the mid-19903, the social suffering
approach also deals with intergenerational issues, and would add theoretical dynamism to

my analysis on inter-generational negotiations of collective memory and trauma.

 

28 Andrea Louie ﬁrst alerted me to this lacuna in my research, noting the added signiﬁcance its inclusion
would make to future writing on this topic.
29 I am indebted to Sheng-mei Ma for this suggestion.

326

 

APPENDICES

I. Puppet Script: Millionaire Chou (Alan Chen)

Narrator:
1003 of years ago many suffering immigrants traveled for south china to Taiwan
at that time Taiwan was a new and unexplored frontier the immigrants came with
the hope to proper in this new place today’s story is about Millionaire Chou and
how he lost all his money through his own fault. When Chou was a young man he
worked really hard but he could not ﬁnd a job in his home town so he and his wife 5
crossed the Taiwan straight into T. the Chou couple was very talented and willing
to do any job for wages labor they worked very hard and saved money were able
to open a little store.

 

Mr. Chou, Why haven’t you closed yet, it’s so late.

Yes I know. The harder I work the more money I can get for me and Mrs. Chou.
I want to buy some sugar.

Oh I sell the best sugar good quality at a fair price.

How much?

Only 20 cents

Thank you come again.

Mrs. Chou:
Dear, you’ve been working all day long and haven’t eating anything yet. Rest a
little and don’t work so hard.

Mr. Chou:
Dear wife if I don’t work morning and night how can this little store stay alive. If
we don’t work hard while we are young how will we enjoy our retirement?

Mrs. Chou:
I know, I know. I just worry about your health. I don’t mind working hard and
however after all these years you haven’t given me a son, since we don’t have a
son we need to earn more money to secure our future. I’ll take care of the store
and you go eat.

Mr. Chou:

327

After I eat I’ll come back.

Mrs. Chou:
It’s been ten years since my husband and I have come to Taiwan. We are
dedicated to our store and run our business very honestly. We work so hard, uh
our life is so bitter and trouble. We work so hard to just have this little store. All
these years we were hoping to have a son to carry on the family name but we have
been unable to fulﬁll our goal. Oh dear god, people say god blesses honest people.
Please bless us with a son and grant us an easier life. [Cries]

God of earth, where is that crying sound coming from? .
Report to the god of heaven, the sound is from Mr. Chou wife.

Why is she crying?

 

Reporting, Mrs. Chou is crying because she suffers for a difﬁcult life and desperately
wishes she had a son. She can do nothing but cry.

What is this couple like?

Reporting, they are hard working and very honest in doing their business even though
they are a little stingy they have never hurt anyone

Why don’t they have any kids?
Reporting, it is their fate, it’s the way it’s suppose to be there is no way to change it

Their crying sounds so sad I cannot bear it. I control what happens in this world. This
couple works so hard I should give them some reward but since they are not allowed to
have a son I cannot go against their destiny. The millionaire named Lynn, who has
always cheated people. I’m going to ﬁnd him. I’m going to take his fortune away and
give it to the Chou couple. God of heaven god...

Mrs. Chou:
Dear you have been working all day you need to rest why don’t you ﬁnish
planting crops tomorrow.

Mr. Chou:
No, no, no, it’s almost the New Year, customers are coming. I have to hurry so I
can start to put them so the shelf. You go cook ﬁrst when you are done cooking
call me and I will rest then.

328

Yes dear. ...4. . .. 5.... 6 hey, hey dear, come over come over hurry up hurry up.
I’m cooking.

Come here fast come here and see this

What is this?

It’s gold it’s gold.

I know it’s gold but where did it come from.

It was under these boxes I have no idea where it came from but it’s ours now there is so
much gold, from now on we don’t have to worry. Ha, ha, ha (laughs).

Narrator:
Taking advantage of the money Mr. Chou brought ships and began to manage a
big trading business. The business was very successful and earned more money
than Chou within a couple of years Chou’s business all over northern Taiwan and
he became the richest man in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan. From then on
everyone called him Millionaire Chou.

Ah ﬁsherman, are you here today to give me some more ﬁsh?

Yes, They asked me to come over to bring you some fresh ﬁsh, these were just caught
this morning look how fresh they are, they’re still jumping

My, they do look fresh, how’s business?

The business is well and it’s almost winter and more people buy ﬁsh because of the
nutrition to keep themselves

Oh winter is coming, so has there been any good ﬁsh for nourishment.

Yes, eel is the best. It’s tender and nutritious

Uh, eel is so yummy I want some bring some over tomorrow

....The larger the eel is the more nutritious it is actually there is a very big eel in a deep
pond near by I’ve seen it with my own eyes ﬁnd the eel in the deep of the water bucket,
the length of the eel is over ten feet long and strangely he seems to have a spirit or
some sort of magic power. He can make you live longer.

Oh, you should catch it for my

it is very clever

329

 

If you catch it for me then I will give you lots and lots of silver

Okay, okay, I’ll catch the eel for you tomorrow

After much effort the ﬁsherman came the next day with the eel.

Millionaire Chou, Millionaire Chou, I’ve got the great eel come get it it’s jumping.
Indeed such a huge eel is unusual in its self wow is this eel full of nutrition not only .......
Stop, stop don’t kill the eel

Millionaire Chou please don’t eat it

Who are you?

I live near by and am respected for my wisdom. I am here today to ask you not to kill the
eel.

Why?

It has lived over several hundred years and is a very special creature. The eel possesses
great magical powers and is almost a super natural being. Please let it live, if you really
want to have nutriment for the winter you can easily have any other nutritious ﬁsh

Well...

Please you cannot waste all of its magical talents I know it will appreciate your good
deed if you don’t eat it. Surely fate will reward you

Okay since you’ve asked me this favor again and again I will do what you wish.

Thank you very much now I can live with my mind at ease.

Sir, are you really going to not eat this eel

Of course I will, this eel is not ordinary and it’s a once in a lifetime chance to eat. If I eat
this eel for nutriment and supplement 1 will be happy with my wife, how can I give that
up. Besides I’ve paid you silver already

But you just promised the wise elder not to kill the eel

Uh, the elder is so

I didn’t mean it, lets carry this eel into the kitchen I am going to eat it tonight.

330

 

Who is crying out there?

God of heaven I hope you will bring my justice 1 was a hundred year old eel I was living
in a deep pond in northern Taiwan I had enormous magically abilities and I almost
became a supernatural being. And so I didn’t use my magically powers when I was alive
I have never thought I’d die by a man greediness all my magically power destroyed in a
moment. I am very sad.

Millionaire Chou is that poor businessman money I gave him.

Reporting, indeed he has.

Oh how hateful after Mr. Chou earned all that money he didn’t have good intentions in
his heart and didn’t help the poor or something but instead killed this for a selﬁsh
propose

Reporting, this is not the only evil deed he did I was there when the ﬁsherman brought
the eel to Mr. Chou, I asked Millionaire Chou not to kill it. He promised to let the eel live
but he did not keep his word. I hope the god of heaven will punish Millionaire Chou for
this hateful behavior. Not only is Mr. Chou selﬁsh but he also broke his promise. Okay, I
declare I will take back the money I have granted him. Eel, I will use my powers to turn
you into Mr. Chou’s son as his son you may take...

Thank you god of heaven

I am the son of Millionaire Chou, my name is Daichou and my family is the richest in
northern Taiwan. In order to punish Millionaire Chou for what he did to me, I have spent
the pass several years trying to spend all his money to make him poor again.

My dear son, you must be tired how is studying going?

You too dad, I got all the answers right on my math test my teacher in school said he had
never had such a smart student like me

Ha, ha, ha, is that right you are my son of course you are good with numbers I’m glad
you are so good at math okay go inside and rest a bit.

Dear dad I want some money.
You are asking for more money I just gave you some yesterday
I’ve spent it all

How did you spend the money so quickly you know it’s not easy to make money the way
you waste it how can I make enough in order to meet your needs.

331.

 

Oh dad we are the richest family in Taiwan I could never spend all the money our family
has I am your only son. If I am poor they’ll laugh at me

Nonsense I have earned all my money little by little due to my hard work 1 cannot let you
waste my money this way. No, 1 am not going to give you any more.

Such stinginess you think I don’t know where you hide your money you won’t give me
some then I will go and get it myself.

Sir, sir something bad has happened it’s terrible
What wrong what is this shouting about?

I just came back from the harbor and all your boats have been destroyed by a huge
tropically storm everything’s gone

What?!?!? It can’t be this isn’t true right?
Sir, it is true

Oh honey, honey, come here come here
What’s wrong clear, why are you so upset?

Something’s gone wrong, everything’s gone wrong a giant tropically storm sank all our
ships

What? How could this have happened everything has gone so smoothly all these years
how could it be gone suddenly oh all my investments please calm down clear. This
kind of think happens so unexpectedly sometime in life. Please don’t be sad anymore the
good thing is that we have saved some money these passed years as long as we continue
to work hard we can still earn back our wealth.

I am afraid father that I have spent all the money that you have earned these years.
What?? What are you talking about?

Dear dad why don’t you look carefully at who I am?

I am your son and also an eel that you kill many years ago for your nutriment because of
your greediness because you did not keep your promise, the god of heaven sent me to be
your son in order to punish you I have accomplished my mission and have received my

justice at last. Ah

We don’t have anything now [cries]

332

 

Narrator:

So this is how Millionaire Chou became very rich in one night and lost all of his
property in one day many people in Taiwan know this legend this story tells us
that if we do in kind? continue to be greedy and don’t keep our promises in the

end we will lose everything

II. Puppet Script: Dr. George Leslie MacKay (Alan Chen)

Script Outline

Preface
How Dr. MacKay was related to Taiwan

Act 1

Learning the language from (cowboysl?) herdboys

Act 2
Meeting with A-Hoa

Act 3
(on the way to preach)
Tooth extraction

Act 4
Preaching the native Taiwanese

Act 5
Gratitude from Taiwanese

Act 6
Ending

Postscript

The contributions and inﬂuences that Dr. MacKay had on Taiwan

Dr. George Leslie MacKay

 

 

 

Script
Scenery: Tamsui -— An island scene with a harbor, mountains, water, and ﬁr-trees.
Actions on Stage Sounds Puppets &
Equipment
Narrator: Peaceful,
Taiwan is a democratic country where light
people enjoy the freedom of religions. In music;

 

 

 

 

333

 

 

 

 

 

 

fact, when western religions started being
introduced to Taiwan a couple of hundred
years ago, those pioneer missionaries not
only brought into Taiwan the religious
belieﬂs, but also helped the early
development of a modern society in this
country. Among them, Dr. George Leslie
MacKay had great contributions in
establishing Christianity and modern
western medicine in Northern Taiwan.

Birds
chipping

 

 

Dr. MacKay was commissioned by the MacKay in a MacKay
Canada Presbyterian Church and was steamer travels Steamer
ﬁrst sent to China (Shantou), but he across the stage

resolved to continue his trip to Taiwan. from left to right

Upon his arrival, he was greatly attracted

to the beautiful island and hospitality of

the people. He decided to settle in

T amsui, a port city in the north and began

his missionary work in I 872.

Act 1 MacKay
MacKay: Here I am in this beautiful MacKay gets off Man 1
island, having been led all the way from the steamer from Woman 1
my hometown in Canada by Jesus. God! the right, walks to Herdboy
Please help me to lay the foundation of the center of the Ox?

Christ’s church here with all the courage
and strengths from you.

MacKay: Sir...

Man 1: Mammamia!!! I’ve never seen
such a weird looking man. Get away from
me. Leave me alone!

MacKay: Ma’am, please tell me...

Woman 1: Yahhh... No, no! Don’t come
any closer!

MacKay: (Sigh) What should I do?
People were aﬁ'aid and running away
from me. How could I learn Taiwanese?
How would I be able to preach?

MacKay: Here comes a herdboy. .. Hello,

 

stage, and prays

Man 1 walks over
from the left,
MacKay comes
close

Man 1 runs away,
Woman 1 up from
the left
simultaneously

MacKay walks
toward him
Woman 1 runs
away

 

 

 

334

 

 

 

kid!
Herdboy: Are you talking to me?
MacKay: Yes, kid.

Herdboy: Hey, this is interesting! You
look so different from us, but you can
speak our language!

MacKay: I’ve learned a little bit, but my
Taiwanese is still poor. Kid, would you
be willing to chat with me and teach me
how to speak Taiwanese?

Herdboy: Sure! I come here everyday to
feed my herd. If you want to have
somebody to talk to, come here and ﬁnd
me!

MacKay: This is great! Thank you!
Thank you so much!

Narrator: Through this way, Dr. MacKay
started learning Taiwanese. He was very
studious and worked very hard. Within
ﬁve months, he was able to preach in
Taiwanese.

Herdboy comes up
from the left,
singing,

MacKay and
Herdboy get off the
stage from the right

 

 

A_ct_2.

MacKay: 1 have been here preaching for a
while and I am glad to see some in the
audience were really respectful and
attentive. I miss one young man in
particular, Giam Chheng Hoa. We have
talked a lot about beliefs and religions. I
pray to God to bring this intelligent and
active young man to me.

MacKay: Come in, please.

MacKay: A-Hoa! It’s so nice to see you. I
was just thinking about you.

A-Hoa: I have listened to your preach
several times and had lots of discussions
with you. I love the words and the hymns,

MacKay gets on
the stage ﬁom the

right

A-Hoa comes in
from the left

 

 

Music

Knocking
sounds

 

House
MacKay
A-Hoa

 

 

335

 

 

 

 

and I am convinced that the doctrines you
teach are true. I have thought a great deal
about these things lately, and I am
determined to be a Christian and 1 wish to
study with you more.

MacKay: This is wonderful! Thank God
for answering my prayers and let me ﬁnd
a young man with such gifts as to be
marked out for the sacred ofﬁce.

A-Hoa: I have a lot to learn from you.

MacKay: Well, you will study with me,
and I can learn Taiwanese from you.
From now on, we can study and work
together to send God’s wisdom and to
serve more people!

In fact, I plan to visit the tribes in the
mountains. Why don’t you come with
me? I also practice medicine and you can
assist me, so we can help people on the
way. Let’s go get ready for the trip!

Narrator: A-Hoa became Dr. MacKay ’s
ﬁrst student and later the chief among the
early native preachers. With A-Hoa ’s
assistance, Dr. MacKay quickly expanded
his missionary work. On the way of their
travel, they also helped people with

MacKay and A-
Hoa are happily
chatting and get off
the stage from the
right.

 

 

medical problems.

Ag; MacKay

Man 2: Oh, mine! The toothache is killing Man 2 gets on the A-Hoa

me! (Continue whining) stage from the left Man 2
Suitcase?

MacKay: Look, A-Hoa. The man over
there seems to be suffering.

A-Hoa: Yes. Let me ask him what’s
bothering him.

A-Hoa: Sir, is everything okay?
Man 2: No, I have been having toothache

for days. I can’t eat nor sleep. It’s really
kilang me.

MacKay and A-
Hoa gets on the
stage from the right

A-Hoa comes
closer to Man 2

 

 

 

 

336

 

 

 

MacKay: If you don’t mind, open your
month. I can take a look at it.

MacKay: Well, I am afraid your tooth is
seriously decayed. It’s gonna be hard to
ease your toothache without extraction.

Man 2: Extraction?

MacKay: Yes. Actually I can do that for
you. A-Hoa, bring me the suitcase.

A-Hoa: Sure!

Narrator: Dr. MacKay opens the suitcase
and takes out a forceps.

Man 2: (trembling) What is that? It looks
scary...

MacKay: Don’t’ worry. I have extracted
teeth for many people. Just bear with me.
After I get rid of it, you will feel much
better.

Man 2: (painful sounds)

MacKay: Okay, it’s done! How do you
feel?

Man 2: Wow! How strange! I do feel
much better. The killing pain is gone!
Thank you, Doctor! Thank you so much!

MacKay: Very well. Remember clean
your teeth after you eat. Otherwise you

will get toothache again.

Man 2: Sure I will remember. Thank you,
Doctor!

A-Hoa: It’s great to see people get
healthy and happy again!

MacKay: Yes, certainly. Okay, let’s get

MacKay checks on
Man 2

MacKay extracts
the tooth.

Man 2 acts
surprised.

Man 2 leaves
happily and gets of
the stage from the
left.

 

MacKay and A-

 

Sound
effect

Sound
effects

 

337

 

 

 

on the road again before it gets dark. I
think we should arrive at the tribe
tomorrow.

Hoa leave the stage
from the left

 

 

Act 4

Narrator: The sun rises. Dr. MacKay and
A-Hoa arrive at the tribe.

A-Hoa: Dr. MacKay, this is so pretty!
MacKay: Yes, isn’t it!

A-Hoa: Look, I’ve never seen that kind of
bird.

Man 3: Stop! St0p right there!

Chief: Who are you two invading into my
territory?

MacKay: I am Dr. MacKay. This is A-
Hoa. We are here to introduce you
Christianity and tell you all the wonderful
things that God do to save us.

Chief: We are blessed by our ancestors
and the spirits in the nature. We don’t
need to know whatever God it is.

A-Hoa: Please give us a chance. We have
some stories to share with you. We also
bring some food and we will sing hymns
to you.

Chief: Alright, you two seem to be
friendly. I will let you talk to my people.
Follow me.

 

Put on Mountains

MacKay and A-
Hoa get on the
stage from the
right, walks around
the mountains for
once, chatting

MacKay and A-
Hoa freeze, and
worry.

Chief and Man 3
come out from the
left

Chief pauses to
think, and say

 

Birds
chipping

 

Mountains
MacKay
A-Hoa
Chief
Man 3
(native)

 

 

 

338

 

 

 

Narrator: Dr. MacKay and A-Hoa spend
the night in the tribe. They tell the village
the stories about God and his son, say
prayers, and sing hymns.

MacKay: Thank you so much for having
us last night.

Chief: Thank you for letting us know that
there are other spiritual power in the
world. Take care!

A-Hoa: Hopefully they start believing in
God.

MacKay: I believe the gospel has brought
light to their heart and gives them the
strength they need in this difﬁcult life.

Chief, Man 3,
MacKay, and A-

Hoa leave from the
left.

Chief, MacKay,
and A-Hoa again
get on the stage
from the left.

Chief leave from
the left.

MacKay, and A-
Hoa leave the stage
from the right.

Put down the
mountains

Birds
chipping

 

 

Act 5

Man 1: Dr. MacKay is so kind and gentle.

He really cares about us and teaches us
important virtues.

Woman 1: Not just that. He is really a
good doctor. He cured my husband’s
malarial fever, and continues to check on
him once in a while. I am so glad that we
have him here and his clinic really helped
a lot of people.

Man 1 & Woman 1: How are you, Dr.
MacKay?

MacKay: I am ﬁne, thank you. Is there
anything bothering you so you come here
to the clinic?

Woman 1: No, Doctor. We are here to
visit you. It’s almost New Year, so we

bring you some gifts.

MacKay: Oh, you don’t have to do that.

Man 1 and Woman
1 get on the stage
from the left.

MacKay comes
from the right

 

 

 

Clinic
Man 1
Woman 1
MacKay

 

339

 

 

Man 1: Doctor, you have been doing so
much for us. We really wish to show our
appreciation. Since you treated my wife’s
cutting wound, she has been thinking
about inviting you for a dinner with us.

Woman 1: Yes. Dr. MacKay, please let us
thank you for taking care of us.

Narrator: Although practicing medicine
and evangelizing Taiwanese were very
diﬂicult work at that time, Dr. MacKay
endured for over 30 years. During that
time, he not only pulled over 21,000 teeth,
but also proclaimed the Gospel to many
different people around Northern Taiwan.
In fact, he established more than 60
churches and baptized thousands of
believers.

Man 1 and Woman
1 escort MacKay
and get off the
stage from the left.

Music

 

 

Act 6

A-Hoa: Doctor, you haven’t been feeling
well these days; you really should be
resting at home. I can take care of the
clinic.

MacKay: A-Hoa, as long as I have one
day to live, I shall do what 1 do to serve
God. Caring people is what my life is for.
This is my mission.

A-Hoa: Doctor, have you ever thought
about retirement and returning to your
hometown some day?

MacKay: A-Hoa, I arrived at Taiwan at
the age of 28, and stayed for over 30

 

A-Hoa gets on the
stage from the left,
opening the clinic

and working.

(5 seconds later)
MacKay slowly
walks on the stage
from the left. A-
Hoa comes over to
escort him.

MacKay starts
working. A-Hoa
pauses and says

MacKay pauses to
think, and says

 

 

Clinic
MacKay
A-Hoa

 

340

 

 

years. To me, Taiwan is my hometown.
My wife and children are here, and my
friends are also here. I love the beautiful
island and the genuine people as well. A-
Hoa, I have considered myself a
Taiwanese already. In the whole wide
world, I don’t have any other hometown
but Taiwan. After I die, I also wish to be
buried here to stay with the land and
people forever.

A-Hoa escorts
MacKay, and
slowly get off the
stage from the right

Music

 

 

Narrator: On June 2nd, 1901, Dr.
MacKay died of throat cancer and was
buried in T amshui. By the time,
Christianity had been well established in
Northern Taiwan. T o honor his
contributions not only to religious, but
also medical development in Taiwan, the
MacKay Memorial Hospital was built in
I 912. Until today, the Hospital is still a
highly regarded hospital and provides
medical care for many people in need.
Nowadays, Dr. MacKay is still living in
the hearts of many Taiwanese.

 

 

 

341

 

 

 

 

REFERENCES CITED

I. Authored Publications

Anderson, Benedict
1983 Imagined Communities: Reﬂections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism.
London: Verso.
2000 “Nationalism and the ties that bind.” Taipei Times, April 25: 9.

Appadurai, Arjun
1981 The Past as a Scarce Resource. Man 16:201-219.
1996 Modernity At Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press.

Applton, Sheldon
1970 Taiwanese and Mainlanders on Taiwan: A Survey of Student Attitudes. The
China Quarterly 44:38-65.

Arrigo, Linda Gail
2005 Patterns of Personal and Political Life Among Taiwanese-Americans. Paper
presented at the Asian-American Literature Conference, Chinese College of
Culture, Taipei, Taiwan, May 7.

Basch, Linda, Nina Glick Schiller and Cristina Szanton Blanc
1994 Nations Unbound: Transnational Projects, Postcolonial Predicaments &
Deterritorialized Nation-States. Amsterdam: Gordon & Breach.

Bhabha, Homi K.
1990a. DissemiNation: Time, Narrative, and the Margins of the Modern Nation. In
Nation and Narration, Homi K. Bhabha, ed. Pp. 291-320. New York: Routledge.
1990b Introduction: Narrating the Nation. In Nation and Narration, Homi K.
Bhabha, ed. Pp. 1-7. New York: Routledge.

Bosco, Joseph
1994 Faction versus Ideology: Mobilization Strategies in Taiwan's Elections. China
Quarterly 137: 28-62. '

Brown, Melissa J.
2004 13 Taiwan Chinese? The Impact of Culture, Power, and Migration on Changing
Identities. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Castells, Manuel

1997 The Power of Identity: The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture.
Oxford: Blackwell.

342

 

 

Chang, Dorris
1999 A Historical Perspective: Conceptualizing the Taiwan-China Relationship.
Taiwanese Voices 2(2): 2. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20060714084144/tc.formosa.org/publications/tv99aug
.pdf, accessed April 4, 2008.

Chang Han-pi
1999 Taiwan: Community of Fate and Cultural Globalization. New Brunswick, NJ:
Transactions Publishers.

Chang Mau-kuei
2003 On the Origins and Transformation of Taiwanese National Identity. In
Religion and the Formation of Taiwanese Dientities. Paul R. Katz and Murray A.
Rubinstein, eds. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Chang, Winnie
1991a “No Longer Silent.” Free China Review. 41: 4-19.
1991b “Starting from Zero.” Free China Review. 41: 20-21.

Chen, Edward I-te.
1972 Formosan Political Movements Under Japanese Colonial Rule. The Journal of
Asian Studies 31(3): 1914-1937.

Chen, Grace Yueh-Yin
1999 Social Change and Collective Memory: Taiwan's Two Pasts. North American

Taiwan Studies Conference, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison,
Wisconsin, 1999.

Chen Hsiang-shui
1992 Chinatown No More: Taiwan Immigrants in New York. Ithica, NY: Cornell
University Press.

Chen, Sibyl
2002 Our Treasury: The Shaping of F irst-Generation Taiwanese Americans.
Intercollegiate Taiwanese American Student Association.

Chiang Yi-hua
1999 “The Identity Problem of an Emerging Nation.” Paper presented to the Third
Annual Conference on Democracy on Both Sides of the Taiwan Straits:
Nationalism and Cross-Straits Relations (Harvard University: November 16-17).

Chinese Olympic Committee
2004 The Chinese Olympic Committee. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200402172220lO/http://en.olympic.cn/china/index.ht
ml, accessed December 14'", 2008.

343

 

 

Chiu Hungdah, ed.
1973 China and the Question of Taiwan: Documents and Analysis. New York:
Praeger.

Chu J ou—juo
2000 Nationalism and Self-determination: The Identity Politics in Taiwan. Journal
of Asian and African Studies 35(3) 303-321.

Chung Pei-chi
2002 Crafting National Identity in Cyberspace: The Formulation of a Taiwan nation
and the Rise of an alternative Media Culture. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of
Telecommunications, University of Indiana.

Clifford, James
l997a Routes: Travel & Translation in the Late 20th Century. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press
l997b Spatial Practices: Fieldwork, Travel, and the Disciplining of Anthropology. In
Anthropological Locations: Boundaries and Grounds of a Field Science. A. Gupta
and J. Ferguson, eds. Pp. 185-222. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Climo, Jacob
1992 Distant Parents. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.
2002 Memories of the Jewish Aliyah. In Social Memory and History:
Anthropological Perspectives. Jacob L. Climo and Maria G. Cattell, eds. Walnet
Creek, CA: AltaMira Press.

Cohen, Marc J
1988 Taiwan at the Crossroads: Human Rights, Political Development and Social
Change on the Beautiful Island. Washington, DC: Asia Resource Center.
1991 Being Chinese: The Peripheralization of Traditional Identity. Theme issue, “The
Living Tree: The Changing Meaning of Being Chinese Today,” Daedalus
120(2): 1-32.

Connerton, Paul
1989 How Societies Remember. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cool Runnings
1999 DVD. Directed by John Tureltaub. 1993. Disney Pictures.

Corcuff, Stephane
1999 “The Reform of Political Symbols and the Transition of National Identity.”
Paper presented to the Fifth Annual North American Taiwan Studies Conference
(June 4 - 7). University of Wisconsin-Madison.
1997 “Ritualization and Contest of Political Commemorizations: The Cult of Chiang
Kai-Shek in Taiwan at the End of the Nineties.” Paper presented to the Third

344

 

 

Annual North American Taiwanese Studies Conference (May 30 - June 1).
University of California, Berkeley.

Coronil, Fernando
1997 The Magical State: Nature, Money, and Modernity in Venezuela. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.

Coser, Lewis A.
1992 Introduction. In Maurice Halbwachs, On Collective Memory. Chicago:
Chicago University Press.

Cumings, Bruce.
1993 Rimspeak; or, The Discourse of the ‘Paciﬁc Rim. In What is in a Rim?
Critical Perspectives of the Paciﬁc Region Idea, Arif Dirlik, ed. Boulder:
Westview Press.

Davis, Natalie lemon and Randolph Starn
1989 Introduction. Representations 26(Spring): 16

Des Chene, Mary
1997 Locating the Past. In Anthropological Locations: Boundaries and Grounds of a
Field Science, Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson, eds. Berkeley: University of
California Press.

Duara, Prasenjit
1993 Provincial Narratives of the Nation: Centralism and Federalism in Republican
China. In Cultural Nationalism in East Asia: Representation and Identity. H. Befu,
ed. Pp. 9-35. Research papers and policy studies. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian
Studies.
1995 Rescuing History from the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Fighting Yams
2004 About Us. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20040 l 071 l5620/http://www.ﬁghtingyams.net/html/u
s/us-l .htrn, accessed December 14'", 2008.

 

F inkenauer, Catryn, Lydia lisle, and Oliver Luminent
1997 When Individual memories are Specially Shaped. In J.W. Pennebaker, D. Paez
and B. Rime, eds. Collective Memory of Political Events. Pp. 191-208. Mahwah,
NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Fong, Timothy P.

1994 The First Suburban Chinatown: The Remaking of Monterey Park, California.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

345

Fortier, Anne-Marie
2000 Migrant Belongings: Memory, Space and Identity. New York: Berg

Foucault, Michel
1977 Language, Counter-Memory, Practice. Ithica, NY: Cornell University Press.

Gates, Hill
1981 “Ethnicity and social class.” In The Anthropology of Taiwanese Society. Emily
Martin Ahem & Hill Gates, eds. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

Geertz, Clifford
1973 Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture, In The
Interpretation of Cultures, New York: Basic Books.

Gellner, Ernest
1983 Nations and Nationalism. Oxford: Basil Blackwell Publishers.

Glick Schiller, Nina
1997 The Situation of Transnational Studies. Identities 4(2): 155-66.
1998 Transnational Lives and National Identities: The Identity Politics of Haitian
Immigrants. In Transnationalism from Below, M. P. Smith and Edward
Guarnizo, eds. Pp. 130-64. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction.-

Gold, Thomas
1986 State and Society in the Taiwan Miracle. New York: ME Sharpe.

Goldring, Luin
1998 The Power of Status in Transnational Fields. In Transnationalism from Below.
Michael Peter Smith and Luis Eduardo Guarnizo, eds. Pp. 165-95. Comparative
Urban & Community Research Vol. 6. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction
Publishers.

Guarnizo, Luis and Michael P. Smith
1998 The Locations of Transnationalism. In Transnationalism from Below. Michael
Peter Smith and Luis Eduardo Guarnizo, eds. Pp. 3-33. Comparative Urban &
Community Research Vol. 6. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers.

Gupta, Akhil, and James Ferguson
l997a Beyond 'Culture': Space, Identity, and the Politics of Difference. In Culture,
Power, Place: Explorations in Critical Anthropology. Akhil Gupta and James
Ferguson, eds. Durham: Duke University Press.
1997b Culture, Power, Place: Ethnography at the End of an Era. In Culture, Power,
Place: Explorations in Critical Anthropology. Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson,
eds. Pp. 1-29. Durham: Duke University Press.

346

 

IF

 

Gupta, Akhil, and James Ferguson, eds.
1997 Anthropological Locations: Boundaries and Grounds of a Field Science.
Berkeley: University of California Press.

Harvey, David
1989 The Condition of Postmodemity. Oxford: Blackwell.

Heller, Agnes
2001 A Tentative Answer of the Question: Has Civic Society Cultural Memory?
Social Research 68(4): 103-42.

Herzfeld, Michael
1997 Cultural Intimacy: Social Poetics in the Nation-State. New York: Routledge.

Hobsbawm, Eric
1983 Introduction: Inventing Traditions. In The Invention of Tradition. Eric
Hobsbawm Terrence Ranger, ed. Pp. 1-14. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
1990 Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.

Hobsbawm, Eric and Terrence Ranger
1983 The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hooson, David, ed.
1994 Geography and National Identity. Oxford: Blackwell.

Hsu, Francis K.
1971 The Challenge of the American Dream: The Chinese in the United States.
Belmont CA, Wadsworth.

Huang Chung-hsien
1997 “My Utopia or Yours? Steering Between a Course of National Identity
Formation and Welfare State Making by Reinventing Social Citizenship in
Taiwan.” Paper presented to the Third Annual North American Taiwanese
Studies Conference (May 30 - June 1). University of California, Berkeley.

International Olympic Committee
2004 Olympic Charter. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20060221054714/http://multimedia.olympic.org/pdf/e
n_report_122.pdf, accessed December 14'”, 2008.

347

 

Jameson, Fredric
1981 The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press.
1984 Postmodernism, of the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. New Left Review
(1)146. Electronic document, http://www.newleftreview.org/?view=726, accessed
December 14'“, 2008..

Kaplan, David E
1992 Fires of the Dragon: Politics, Murder and the Kuomintang. New York:
Atheneun.

Kearney, Michael
1995 The Local and the Global: The Anthropology of Globalization and
Transnationalism. Annual Review of Anthropology 24:547-565.
Kim, Bumsoo
2004 Bringing Class Back In: A Critique of Multiculturalism. Paper presented at the 1—1
annual meeting of the The Midwest Political Science Association, Palmer House
Hilton, Chicago, Illinois, Apr 15, 2004. Electronic document,
http://www.allacademic.com/meta/p82938_index.html, accessed August 19, 2009.

 

Kerr, George H
1965 Formosa Betrayed. Boston: Houghton Mifﬂin.

Lai Him Mark
1998 Organizations among Chinese in America since the Second World War. In The
Chinese Diaspora: Selected Essays Volume I. W.L.-c.a.W. Gungwu, ed. Pp. 228-
67. Singapore: Times Academic Press.

Lai Ming-yan
2008 Nativism and Modernity: Cultural Contestations in China and Taiwan under
Global Capitalism. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Lai Tse-han, Ramon H. Myers, and Wei Wou
1991 A Tragic Beginning: The Taiwan Uprising of February 28, 1947. Stanford:
Stanford University Press.

 

Lang, Kurt, Gladys Engel Lang, Hans-Mathias Kepplinger and Simone Ehmig
1993 Collective Memory and Political Generations: A Survey of German Journalists.
Political Communication 10: 21 1-229.

LeCompte, Margaret D. and Schensul, Jean J.

1999 Analysing and Interpreting Ethnographic Data. 7 vols. Volume 5. AltaMira:
Walnut Creek.

348

Li Kuang-Chun
1999 “Some Reﬂections on the Social Orientation of Post-war Taiwanese
Nationalism.” Paper presented to the Third Annual Conference on Democracy on
Both Sides of the Taiwan Straits: Nationalism and Cross-Straits Relations
(Harvard University: November 16-17).

Li Thian hok
1958 The China lrnpasse: A Formosan View. Foreign Affairs 36(3): 437-448.
Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20060106224122/http://www.taiwandc.org/hst-jloo-
fa58.pdf, accessed August 20, 2007.

Li Yih-yuan
1966 Comparative Evaluations of Chinese Culture by Overseas Chinese Students in
Taiwan. Bulletin of the Institute of Ethnology (21) 215-45.
1967 Qiaosheng dui Chuantong J iehun ji J iating de Taidu [Attitudes toward Marriage
and the Family among the Overseas Chinese Students in Taiwan]. Bulletin of the
Institute of Ethnology (24): 27-34.

Liao, Karen
1997 The Taiwanese Diaspora in America: Imposed Silences and Self-Articulations.
Presented at the North American Taiwanese Studies Conference. (Berkeley, May
30-June l).

Lien, Pei-te
2006 "Homeland Origins and Political Identities among Chinese Americans" Paper
presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science
Association, Marriott, Loews Philadelphia, and the Pennsylvania Convention
Center, Philadelphia, PA, Aug 31, 2006. Electronic document,
littp://www.allacademic.com/meta/p l 534l6_index.html, accessed on July 22,
2005.

Lin Chia-lung
1999 “Taiwan’s Democratization and Nation-Formation.” Paper presented to the
Third Annual Conference on Democracy on Both Sides of the Taiwan Straits:
Nationalism and Cross-Straits Relations (Harvard University: November 16-17).

Lin, William
2004 "’Finding a Mate Offshore: ‘Love Boat" tour program is about more than
study.” Toronto Star, August 3. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20040820l 15605/http://www.click2asia.com/about/po
pup.php?x=news3, accessed January 5, 2008.

Louie, Andrea
2000 Retenitorializing Transnationalism: Chinese Americans and the Chinese
Motherland. American Ethnologist 27(3): 645-69

349

 

 

2001 Crafting Places through Mobility. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and
Power 8(3): 349-79.

2003 When You Are Related to the "Other": (Re)locating the Chinese Homeland in
Asian American Politics through Cultural Tourism. positions: east asia cultures
critique 11(3): 735-63.

2004a Chinese San Francisco 1850-1943: A Transpaciﬁc Community.

Ethnic and Racial Studies 24(5): 882.

2004b Chineseness Across Borders: Renegotiating Chinese Identities in China and

the United States. Durham: Duke University Press.

Lowe, Lisa
1996 Immigrant Acts: On Asian American Cultural Politics. Durham: Duke
University Press.

Ma, Ai-hsuan Sandra
1999 Contextualizing Migration Decision Making of Chinese and Taiwanese
Scientists in the U.S. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Sociology, University of
Michigan.

Ma Sheng-mei
1998 Immigrant Subjectivities in Asian American and Asian Diaspora Literatures.
Albany: SUNY Press.
2000 The Deathly Embrace: Orientalism and Asian American Identity. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press.
2007 East-West Montage: Reﬂections on Asian Bodies in Diaspora. Honolulu:
University of Hawaii Press.

Mahler, Sarah
1998 Theoretical and Empirical Contributions Toward a Research Agenda. In
Transnationalism from Below. Michael Peter Smith and Luis Eduardo Guarnizo,
eds. Pp. 64-100. Comparative Urban & Community Research, Vol. 6. New
Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers.

Malkii, Liisa, H.

1997a National Geographic: The Rooting of Peoples and the Territorialization of
National Identity among Scholars and Reﬁigees. In Culture, Power, Place:
Explorations in Critical Anthropology. Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson, eds.
Durham: Duke University Press.

l997b News and Culture: Transitory Phenomena and the Fieldwork Tradition. In
Anthropological Locations: Boundaries and Grounds of a Field Science. Akhil
Gupta and James Ferguson, eds. Pp. 86-101. Berkeley: University of California
Press.

Mannheim, Karl
1952 [1928] The problem of generations. In Essays on the Sociology of Knowledge.
K. Mannheim, ed. Pp. 276-322. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

350

Massey, Doreen
1994 Space, Place & Gender. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Meisner, Maurice
1963 The Development of Formosan Nationalism. China Quarterly 15: 91 -106.

Mendel, Douglass
1973 The Politics of Formosan Nationalism. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Miyoshi, Masao
1993 A Borderless World? From Colonialism to Transnationalism and the decline of
the Nation-State. Critical Inquiry 19(4):217-51.

Murray, Stephen 0. and Keelung Hong
1994 Taiwanese Culture, Taiwanese Society: A Critical Review of Social Science
Research Done on Taiwan. New York: Lanham.

Nationmaster Encyclopedia.

2005 Over-Seas Chinese Youth Language Study and Tour to the Republic of
China. Electronic document,
http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/Overseas-Chinese-Youth-Language-
Training-and-Study-Tour—to-the-Republic-of—China, accessed December 14,
2008.

Ng, Franklyn
1998 The Taiwanese Americans. In The New Americans series. Ronald H. Bayor, ed.
Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.

Niu Cionghai
1962 The formation of the Formosan nation. Formosan Quarterly l(2):46.

Nonini, Donald M. and Iahwa Ong
1997 Introduction: Chinese Transnationalism as an Alternative Modernity. In

Ungrounded Empires: The Cultural Politics of Modern Chinese Transnationalism.
Iahwa Ong and Donald M. Nonini, eds. Pp. 3-33. New York: Routledge.

Nora, Pierre
1989 Between memory and history: Les lieux de memoire. Representations 26
(Spring): 7-25.

North Atlantic Treaty Organization
1941 “The Atlantic Charter”: Declaration of Principles Issues by the President of the
United States and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Electronic
document, http://www.nato.int/cps/en/SID-2788FECD-
8FACF71E/natolive/ofﬁcial_texts_16912.htm, accessed August 6, 2006

351

 

Ohmae, Kenichi
1995 The End of the Nation State: The Rise of Regional Economies. New York: The
Free Press.

Omatsu, Glenn
1994 The 'F our Prisons' and the Movements of Liberation: Asian American Activism
from the 19603 to the 19903. In The State of Asian America: Activism and
Resistance in the 19903. Karin Aguilar-San Juan, ed. Pp. 19-69. Boston: South
End Press.

Ong, Aihwa
1993 On the Edge of Empires: Flexible Citizenship Among Chinese in Diaspora.
Theme issue, positions: east asia cultures critique 1(3):745-78.
1997 Ungrounded Empires: The Cultural Politics of Modern Chinese
Transnationalism. New York: Routledge.
1999 Flexible Citizenship: The Cultural Logics of Transnationality. Durham: Duke
University Press.

Ono, Kent A.
1995 Re/signing "Asian American": Rhetorical Problematics of Nation. Amerasian
Journal 21(1&2):67-78.

Peng Mingmin
1964 Declaration of Formosan Self-Salvation. Electronic document,
http://www.scribd.com/doc/5 199482/Declaration-of-Formosan-SelfSalvation
accessed August 9, 2004.
1972 A Taste of Freedom: Memoirs of a Formosan Independence Leader. New
York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

Pike, Kenneth L.

1954 Language in Relation to a Uniﬁed Theory of the Structure of Human Behavior.

The Hague: Mouton.

Portes, Alejandro
1997 lrnmigration Theory for a New Century: Some Problems and Opportunities.

Center for Migration Studies of New York: International Migration Review 31(4).

Pp. 799-825.

Ren, Hai
1996 Taiwan and the Impossibility of the Chinese. In Negotiating Ethnicities in
China and Taiwan, Melissa J. Brown, ed. Pp. 75-97, Berkeley, CA: Institute of
East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley.

352

k

 

Renan, Ernst
1990 What is a Nation? In Nation and Narration. Homi.K. Bhabha, ed. London:
Routledge.

Republic of China Government Information Ofﬁce
2004 Yearbook. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2004 l 21 1 145 126/http://www.roc-
taiwan.org/taiwan/S-gp/yearbook/P087.htm, accessed December 14, 2008.

Report to Congress
2004 U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission reporting to the
Onehundred and Eight Congress. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2005 1 103 1445 10/http://www.uscc.gov/researchpaper
s/2004/04annual_report.pdf, accessed December 14’", 2008.

Rigger, Shelley
2006 Rising Rationalism: Generation, Politics, and Taiwanese Nationalism. Policy
Studies 26. Washington: East-West Center.

Robinson, Katherine Morton
1999 Unsolicited Narratives From the Internet: A Rich Source of Qualitative Data.
Qualitative Health Research 11(5): 706-714.

Saito, Leland T.
1998 Race and Politics: Asian Americans, Latinos, and Whites in a Los Angeles
Suburb. Baltimore, Maryland: University of Illinois Press.

Saito, Leland T., and John Horton
1994 The New Chinese Immigration and the Rise of Asian American Politics in
Monterey Park, California. In The New Asian Immigration in Los Angeles and
Global Restructuring. P. Ong, E. Bonacich, and L. Cheng, eds. Philadelphia:
Temple University Press.

Schein, Louisa
1997 Importing Miao Bretheren to Hmong America: A Not-So-Stateless
Transnationalism. In Cosmopolitics. Bruce Robbins and Pheng Cheaa, eds. Pp.
163-91. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Schensul, Jean J ., Margaret D. LeCompt, Robert T Trotter 11, Ellen K. Cromley, Merrill
Singer
1999 Mapping Social Networks, Spatial Data, and Hidden Populations. In
Ethnographer’s Toolkit, Jean J. Schensul and Margaret D. LeCompt, eds. Walnut
Creek: Alta Mira.

353

 

Schudson, Michael
1997 Lives, Laws and language: Commemorative Versus Non-Commemorative
Forms of Effective Public Memory. The Communications Review 2(1): 3-17.

Schuman, Howard and Jacqueline Scott
1989 Generations and Collective Memories. American Sociological Review 54: .

Shu Wei-Der

1995 The Emergence of Taiwanese Nationalism: A Preliminary Work on the
Approach of Interactive Episode Discourse. Paper presented to the First Annual
North America Taiwan Studies Conference. Yale University, June 2-4.

1998 Who Joined the Clandestine Political Organizations and Why: Some
Preliminary Evidences from the Overseas Taiwanese Independence Movement.
Paper Presented at North American Taiwan Studies Conference, (University of
Texas at Austin, May 29- June 1).

Shu, Yuan Chang.
1973 China or Taiwan? The Political Crisis of the Chinese Intellectual. Amerasia
Journal 2(1): 47-81.

Smith, Anthony D.
1986 The Ethnic Origin of Nations. Oxford: Blackwell.
1995 Nations and Nationalism in the Global Era. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.

Smith, Neil and Cindi Katz
1993 Grounding Metaphor: Towards a Spatialized Politics. In Place and the Politics
of Identity. Michael Keith and Steve Pile, eds. Pp. 67-83, New York: Routledge.

Stuart, John Leighton
1947 Memorandum on the Situation in Taiwan. April 18, 1947 letter ﬁom Mr. John
Leighton Stuart, United States Ambassador to China, to Generalissimo Chiang
Kai-Shek, Chairman of the National Government of the Republic of China.
Electronic Document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20010419174745/http://www.taiwandocuments.org/22
8_01.htm, accessed December 15, 2008.

Su Bing
1986 [1962] Taiwan's 400 Year History: The Origins and Continuing Development of
the Taiwanese Society and People. Washington DC: Taiwanese Cultural
Grassroots Association.

Taiwan Communique
1990 Taipei Spring? International Committee for Human Rights in Taiwan.
Electronic document,
http://web.4archive.org/web/2004072800l 127/htto://www.taiwirndc.orgjt\vconr/tc4
4-int.pdf, accessed September 18, 2004.

354

 

 

Taiwan Documents Project.
2007 Treaty of Shimonoseki. Electronic
document,http://web.archive.org/web/20070626 l 45 544/http://www.taiwandocum
ents.org/shimonoseki01.htrn, accessed December 14, 2008.

Taiwaner, A.
1996 Pseudo-Taiwanese: Isle Margin Editorials - Alter-Native-Taiwanese: Taiwan’s
Fifth Major Ethnic Group. positions: east asia cultures critique 4:1.

Takaki, Ronald
1989 Strangers from a Different Shore: A History of Asian Americans. Boston: Back
Bay Publications.

Tan-Tenn, Henry
1998 Emphasizing my Taiwanese-ness: Not a Denial of Chinese Inﬂuences.
Taiwanese Voices 1(2): 9-11. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200607140843 l 6/tc.formosa.org/publications/tw_voic
e301_2.pdf, accessed April 7, 2008.

 

Taussig, Michael
1992 The Nervous System. New York: Routledge.

Trouillot, Michel-Rolph
1995 Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History. Boston: Beacon Press.

Tseng Yen-F en
1995 Beyond ‘Little Taipei’: The Development of Taiwanese Immigrant Business in
Los Angeles. International Migration Review 29(1): 33-58.

 

Tsunah Foundation
2006 Tsunah International Youth Camp. Electronic document,
httpz/lweb.archive.org/web/2006 l 2 1006074l/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsuna
h/, accessed December 15, 2008.

Tu Weiming
1991 Cultural China: The Periphery as the Center. Theme issue, “The Living Tree:
The Changing Meaning of Being Chinese Today,” Daedalus 120(2): 1-32.
1996 Cultural Identity and the Politics of recognition in Contemporary Taiwan.
Theme issue, “Contemporary Taiwan,” China Quarterly (148)21115-1140.

United Nations
1945 Charter of the United Nations. Chapter XII: International Trustee System.

Electronic document,

http:l/web.archive.org/web/20030201220129/http://www.un.org/aboutun/charter/c
haptl2.htm, accessed December 14, 2008.

355

...o

United States Code
1979 Taiwan Relations Act. Title 22:48, Sections 3301-3316. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20010126050600/http://www.taiwandocuments.org/tr
aOl .htrn, accessed July 12, 2008.

United States Department of State
1950 Protocol of the Proceedings of the Crimea Conference. In A Decade of
American Foreign Policy: 1941-1949, Basic Documents, Pp. 23-28. Historical
Ofﬁce, Department of State: Washington, DC. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200l 1226155436/http://taiwandocuments.org/yalta.ht
m, accessed March 9, 2005.

United States Information Service
1972 Shanghai Communique. Electronic documents,
http://web.archive.org/web/20010128004500/http://www.taiwandocuments.org/co
mmunique01.htm, accessed July 12, 2008.

van Dyke, Nella
1998 Hotbeds of Activism: Locations of Student Protest. Social Problems, 45:2 (May,
205-220)

Wang Homg-luen
1999 In Want of a Nation: State, Institutions, and Globalization in Taiwan. Ph.D.
Dissertation, Department of Political Science, University of Chicago.

Wang Ling-chi
1995 The Structure of Dual Domination: Toward a Paradigm for the Studies of the
Chinese Diaspora in the United States. Amerasian Journal 21: 1-2.
1998 On Luodi-shenggen. In The Chinese Diaspora: Selected Essays Volume 1.
W.L.-c.a.W. Gungwu, eds. Pp. x-xi. Singapore: Times Academic Press.

Washboume, Neil
2001 Information Technology and new forms of organizing? Translocalism and
networks in Freinds of the Earth. In Culture and Politics in the Information Age:
A New Politics? F. Webster, ed. Pp. 129-141. Transnationalism. New York:
Routledge.

Webster, Frank
2001 A New Politics? In Culture and Politics in the Information Age: A New
Politics? F. Webster, ed. Pp. 1-13. Transnationalism. New York: Routledge.

Werbner, Richard
1998 Beyond Oblivion: Confronting Memory Crisis. In Memory and the Postcolony:
African Anthropology and the Critique of Power. Werbner, Richard, ed. London:
Zed Books.

356

Wong, Jody
2001 A More Complete Description of the Loveboat. Electronic document,

http://web.archive.org/web/2002l 104174405/http://www.geocities.com/jodeman.

geo/loveboat.htm, accessed April 5, 2006.

Wu, Ellen D.

2002 Chinese-American Transnationalism aboard the Love Boat: The Overseas
Chinese Youth Language Training and Study Tour to the Republic of China.
Chinese American History and Perspectives. Electronic document,
http://ﬁndarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb3 167/is_2005_Annual/ai_n29 1 5475 8/,
accessed October 12, 2008.

Wu, Jaushieh Joseph
1995 Taiwan's Democratization: Forces Behind the New Momentum. New York:
Oxford University Press.

Yang, Mayfair
1997 Mass Media and Transnational Subjectivity in Shanghai: Notes on
(Re)Cosmopolitanism in a Chinese metropolis. 1n Ungrounded Empires: The
Cultural Politics of Modern Chinese Transnationalism, Ihwa Ong and Don
Nonini, eds. New York: Routledge.

Yao Linqing
2004 The Chinese Overseas Student: An overview of the Flows of Change. Paper
presented at the 12th Biennial Conference of the Australian Population
Association: Population and Society: Issues, Research, Policy, Canberra,
September 12-17.

Yeh Chung-rong
1989 A Chinese American Community: The Politicization of Social Organizations.

Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Sociology, Michigan State University.

Yu, James

2003 Formosan American: From Pirates to Taiwan Semiconductor. Portland, OR:

Booklocker.com. Inc.

Yu Renqiu
1992 To Save China, To Save Ourselves. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

357

Tm‘fl

 

 

II. Student Association Websites

Association of Taiwanese Students at MIT
2007 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20080131223518/scripts.mit.edu/~mitats/index.php,
accessed December 15, 2008.

Berkeley Students for a Sovereign Taiwan
2001 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2001051808283 l/www.taiwanese.com/~bst/, accessed
June 12, 2007.
2004 Forum. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20040805 191 148/www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~bst/forum/.
Accessed June 12, 2007
2005a Forum. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2005030120463 1lhttp://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~bst/fo
rum/, accessed June 12, 2007
2005b Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200404l7100724/www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~bst/,
accessed June 12, 2007.
2006 Forum. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20060504175411/www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~bst/forum/
, accessed June 12, 2007.

Brown Taiwanese Society

1992 The Formosan. Vol. 1:1 (March 1992) through IV:2 (May 1998). Electronic
document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20060505234843/students.b.rown.edu/bts/history/for
mosan/formosanhtml, accessed December 15‘", 2008.

2006 History. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20060 l 03 l 7273 0/ students.brown.edu/bts/
history/history.htrnl, accessed December 15th, 2008.

Central Missouri Chinese Student Association
2001 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20010506010801/http://cmsu2.cmsu.edu/~yxc2l810/c
sal, accessed December 18, 2008.

Chinese Culture Club, Indiana University, Purdue
2003 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2003 1015090150/http://www.iupui.edu/~ccclub/,
accessed December 14, 2008.

358

Chinese Student Association, Ohio University
2007 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20070425055855/http://www.ohiou.edu/~chinese/
accessed December 14, 2008.

Chinese Student Association, Oregon State University
2003 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2003042300l 1 28/oregonstate.edu/groups/csa/e_index.
htm, accessed December 14, 2008.
2004 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200405 1709591 8/oregons
tate.edu/groups/csa/e_index.htrn, accessed December 14, 2008.

Chinese Student Association of Taiwan, George Mason University
2000a About Taiwan. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20001031083537/www.gmu.edu/org/chinese/frame.ht
m1, accessed December 14, 2008.
2000b Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20000524l52906/http://www.gmu.edu/org/chinese/in
dex.html, accessed December 14, 2008.

Click2Asia.com
2004 Love Boat Study Tour Ofﬁcial Website. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20040616173419/www.click2asia.com/studytour/info
2000.html, accessed August 9, 2007.

Harvard Taiwanese Cultural Society
2002 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2002 l 207222706/http://www.hcs.harvard.edu/~taiwan
/home .htrnl, accessed December 14, 2008.
2007 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://www.hcs.harvard.edu/taiwan/home.html, accessed December 15, 2008.

Harvard University Taiwan Study Club
1999 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/19991001062755/http://www.hcs.harvard.edu/~hutsc/,
accessed December 15, 2008.

I Love Taiwan Club at Purdue University
2002 Origin. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200209272 l 3452/http:l/web.ics.purdue.edu/~iltc/,
accessed February 27, 2007.

ITASA (Intercollegiate Taiwanese American Student Alliance)
1996 Midwest ITASA Conference Program: Voice and Vision: Talking about Today
and Looking Toward Tomorrow. ITASA.

359

2007 Graphic Identity. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200707281 1521 l/http://itasa.org/content/view/ 1 64/20
7/, accessed July 21, 2008.

MIT Taiwanese Student Association
2001a History. Electronic document,
Hihttp://web.archive.org/web/200l0628032903/web.mit.edu/mitats/www/history.
htrnl accessed December 13, 2008.
20% Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2007070823 l 54 l /http://scripts.mit.edu/~mitats/,
accessed December 13, 2008.

Ohio State Chinese Student Association
2005 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2007042505585S/http://www.ohiou.edu/~chinese/,
accessed December 14, 2008.

Ohio University Chinese Student Association
2005 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2005020823 l 244/http://oak.cats.ohiou.edu/~chinese/,
accessed April 12, 2007.
2006 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200609040722 l4/www.ohiou.edu/~chinese/, accessed
April 12, 2007.

State University of New York, Buffalo Taiwanese Graduate Student Association
2002 About TGSA. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200105 122 l 5609/http://wings.buffalo.edu/gsa/taiwan/
, accessed October 1, 2006.
2006 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2005021905263 8/http://wings.buffalo.edu/gsa/taiwan/
, accessed October 1. 2006.

Taiwan Lily
2003 About the Taiwan Lily. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20030425 l40232/http://lilium-
forrnosanum.ngo.org.tw/taiwanlily.html, accessed December 14, 2008.

Taiwanese Student Association at Indiana University
2002 About TWSA. Electronic Document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2001 1220201304/http://www.indiana.edu/~taiwan/,
December 14, 2008.
2005 History. Electronic document, accessed December 14, 2008.
http://web.archive.org/web/200703 171 14718/http://www.indiana.edu/~taiwan/hist
ory/about_twsa.htm, accessed December 14, 2008.

360

2006 Index. Electronic document, http://www.indiana.edu/~taiwan/index2.html,
accessed December 14, 2008

Taiwanese Student Association, Louisiana State University

2002a Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20020l 1 1020552/www.lsu.edu/student_organizations/
tsa/, accessed December 15, 2008.

2002b Current Issues about Taiwan and TSA. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20020l l l020552/www.lsu.edu/student__organizations/
tsa/, accessed December 15, 2008.

2004 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2004040l 154833m_1/lsutsa.org/lsutsa/index.cfm,
accessed December 15, 2008.

Taiwanese Student Association, University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Electronic
document, http://web.archive.org/web/2003050104 l 644/www-
unix.oit.umass.edu/~chinese/, accessed January 8, 2009.

Taiwan Student Club, Polytechnic University
1993 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20020405191233/http://acm.poly.edu/~tsc/, accessed
December 14, 2008.

The 2-28 Incident
2001 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200l0729074418/http://www.eng.buffalo.edu/~cc25/2
28_index.html, accessed December 15, 2008.

Tsunah Foundation

2002 2002 Tour Essays, Electronic document,
http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah/previous_tours/2002/essayframeset.htm,
accessed December 15, 2008.

2004 2004 Tour Essays and Poems. Electronic document,
http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah/previous_tours/2004/essayframeset.htm,
accessed December 15, 2008.

2006 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2006 l 2 100613 3 7/www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah/inde
x.htrnl, accessed December 15, 2008.

University of Oregon Chinese Student Association
2005a About Us. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20050210181532/gladstone.uoregon.edu/~csa/,
accessed December 22, 2007.
2005b Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20050210181532/gladstone.uoregon.edu/~csa/,
accessed December 22, 2007.

361

YamWeb
1996 Taiwan: The CyberGarden of Yams. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/19961219160048/http://www.yam.org.tw/, accessed
July 12, 2003.
2002 Taiwan: Our Beautiful Motherland. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20020602204900/taiwan.csie.ntu.edu.tw/taiwan/index
_e.html, accessed July 12, 2003.

I II. Culture Tour Participants’ Writings

Anonymous (Study Tour 1996)
1996 Chien-Tan 1996. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/ 1 997072 8023 72 1/http://www.rollanet.org/~tien/chient
an.html, accessed August 18, 2009.

aznhybrid (Study Tour 2000)
2000 Taiwan (loveboat). Electronic document,
http:l/outdoors.webshots.com/album/4 l 7689868130tKiz‘?start=0, accessed August
18, 2009.

 

Celeste (Study Tour 2001)
2001 Celeste’s Love Boat 2001 Photo Album. Electronic document,
http://loveboat2k1.tripod.com/index2.html, accessed August 18, 2009.

Chen, David L. (Study Tour 1996)
1996 Getting Your Money’s Worth in Learning Chinese. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2004061 70207 17/http://www.click2asia.com/studytou
r/studytourfeature.html, accessed August 18, 2009.

Chen, Michael K. (Tsunah 2002)
2002 Another... Taiwan Culture Camp? Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200504l305341l/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsuna
h/previous_tours/2002/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Cheng, Wendy (Tsunah 1997)
1997 Taiwan : A Geographical History. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200103 l 1 124255/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsu
nah/wendy.html, accessed July 1, 2009.

362

Chiou, Tim (Study Tour 2000)
2001a "The Bing Lang Song". Electronic document,
http://www.geocities.com/lycheeboys/songs/lyricsl .html#2binglangsong,
accessed July 1, 2009.
2001b "This Island, Taiwan". Electronic document,
http://www.geocities.com/lycheeboys/songs/poetry.html#4island, accessed July 1,
2009.

Chou, Pei-Ming (Study Tour 1994)
2000 A Study Tour Perspective. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200204l4134344/http://www.click2asia.com/studytour
/newsletter2000.html#perspective, accessed July 1, 2009.

Dracil
2004 Proﬁle. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2004061018283 8/http://tabulas.com/~dracil, accessed
June 18, 2006.

Draco (Study Tour 1998)
1998 Loveboat. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200001 15131604/http://www.geocities.com/SouthBeac
h/Marina/6731/loveboat.html, accessed July 1, 2009.

Esther : Group D (Study Tour 2000)
2000 Welcome to Ester’s Study Tour 2000. Electronic document,
http://www.geocities.com/estudytour2000/index.htrnl, accessed July 1, 2009.

Gee, Alison Dakota
1996 A More Complete Description of Loveboat. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20020606235 101/http://www.geocities.com/jodemang
eo/loveboat.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Heung, Yvonne (Tsunah 2004)
2004 Incredible. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200504l3054206/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah
/previous_tours/2004/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Hinton, Joel H.(Tsunah 2002)
2002 The Wealth of Taiwan is Her People. Electronic

document,http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah/previous_tours/2002/essayframeset
.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Huang, Benjamin (Tsunah 2002)
2002 The Taiwan I Know. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20061210070532/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah
/previous_tours/2002/2002essays/05.html, accessed July 1, 2009.

363

Huang, Tammy (Tsunah 1997)
1997 Said in Appreciation. Electronic document,
http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunalr/tammvl .html, accessed March 1 l, 2008.

Lee, Doreen (Tsunah 2002)
2002 The Taiwan I know. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/*/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah/previous_tours/
2002/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Lee, Shinzong (Tsunah 2002)
2002 Cross-Ocean Relations: Bridging Cultural Gaps — Tsunah Cultural Tour.
Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/2005041305341 1/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah
/previous_tours/2002/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Lin, Eric (Tsunah 2002)
2002 The Taiwan I Know.
http://web.archive.org/web/2005041305341 1/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah
/previous_tours/2002/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Lin, Steve (Tsunah 2004)
2004 An Open Minded Perspective on Being Taiwanese American. Electronic
document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200504 l 3054206/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah
/previous_tours/2004/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

Lychee Boys (Study Tour 2000)
2001 Homepage. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200l 1029155907/http://www.geocities.com/lycheeboy
s/, accessed July 1, 2009.

OC Ben (Study Tour 1993,1997)
1997 OC Ben’s Closing Ceremony Speech. Electronic document,

http://loveboat2k1.tripod.com/index2.html, accessed July 1, 2009.

Rob (Study Tour 2004)
2004 Friendster group proﬁle. Electronic document,
http://proﬁles.ﬁiendster.com/ 10974962, accessed July 1, 2009.

Shi, Vicky (Tsunah 2002)
2002 The Taiwan I Know. Electronic document,
http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsunah/previous_tours/2002/essayframeset.htm,
accessed July 1, 2009.

364

Yu, Charlie (Tsunah 1997)
1997 Some Travel Notes on the 1997 Tsunah Tour. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/200103 l 1 05 502 7/http://www.taiwancenter.com/ tsu
nah/charlie.html, accessed July 1, 2009.

Yu, Christina (Tsunah 2004)
2004 The Taiwan 1 Know. Electronic document,
http://web.archive.org/web/20050413054206/http://www.taiwancenter.com/tsuna
h/previous_tours/2004/essayframeset.htm, accessed July 1, 2009.

365