Taiwanese, the Most Dangerous of All Things?

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-125883762888594867.post-4644514098339889412008-03-30T15:39:00.016+02:002008-04-02T13:26:01.523+02:00Taiwanese, the Most Dangerous of All Things?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_K7XlzBl0DHc/R--hAzQEi4I/AAAAAAAAASo/a92G0YsC5o8/s1600-h/7713-dangerous-site.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_K7XlzBl0DHc/R--hAzQEi4I/AAAAAAAAASo/a92G0YsC5o8/s200/7713-dangerous-site.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183538731256417154" /></a>After the defeat of the ruling party in Taiwan’s latest presidential elections, some pro-green opinions reflected the view of the nationalist press that, somehow, the elections were lost because of an overemphasis on the past and on the “Taiwan identity issue”. Also somehow, the use of Taiwanese-only at political meetings was, in part, to blame for disappointing election results for Taiwan’s incumbent party. As if a language should serve political agendas instead of the other way around… The poet Friedrich Holderlin wrote: “Language, the most dangerous of all things, was given to man so that he could testify to having inherited what he is.” An ambiguous quote. It could mean that language itself, irrespective of the particular language one speaks, is a dangerous thing. Unlikely. Or, it intends to stress the importance played by the particular language a community speaks in the transmission of historical memories. Memories only transmitted by language, and meant to increase that community’s sense of identity. What follows is a brief comparison between Belgium and Taiwan with the above issues of language and identity in mind. Language is unavoidably at the core of a multilingual and complex state like Belgium. Unless we don’t mind to see Taiwan become a monolingual and mono-cultural entity, we might want to observe relevant events in Belgium. Belgium, a country with 13 political parties, and where politics often resembles sheer chaos. But a country with a thriving economy nevertheless, and a successful educational system fully respecting the linguistic rights of all its peoples. A country, also, where four million Flemish voters often consider the identity issue as their priority. BELGIUM’S FRENCH-FLEMISH BILINGUALISM Belgian speakers of Flemish and of French alike must abide by law to accept bilingualism as the institutional order of the day. This law came about after student revolts in 1968 against the dominance of French at the largest Flemish university. Now imagine a situation in which the DPP would equally have institutionalized, successfully, Taiwanese as the institutional language of the day. True, efforts were made, but they were often insufficiently thought-through measures lacking respect for Taiwan’s non-Taiwanese speaking population. In case successful measures for fully bilingual Mandarin/Taiwanese institutions had come about, would we still blame those exclusively using the Taiwanese language at political or other official meetings? Or would we consider blaming those who did not respect the official – stipulated by law - Taiwanese/Mandarin bilingual language policy? Moreover, in the absence of such bilingual policy (due to eight years of completely lackluster DPP language policies), are people speaking Taiwanese-only to be blamed? What about those politicians who just “forgot” to give the language of over 15 million people on Taiwan what it deserves: full official status and a firm place in education? The appropriate question should, therefore, not be how many votes the DPP has lost because of its Taiwanese-only language policy, but how many it might have gained if it had implemented a balanced bilingual language and education policy. LANGUAGE AND IDENTITY ISSUE Like the Taiwanese, Belgians do not have a single view of their history. Throughout the 19th century, French was the dominant language, with Flemish consigned to a back-seat role. In the 20th century, the assertion of Flemish in the public life of Flanders and Belgium became a primary feature of Belgian politics. Yet, language is not the only variable of identity. Religion played a leading part in Belgian identity throughout the 19th and first half of the 20th centuries, like the past and current “status quo” with China which still dominates Taiwan politics. Territory has its own importance. This is no less true for the Taiwanese as it is for the Flemish within Belgium. Even though the Flemish now form a plurality, they have maintained – as have the Taiwanese from decades of linguistic and cultural repression - some of the complexes developed during their former marginalized status as the inferior Germanic culture vis-a-vis a superior Francophone one. At the heart of the existential reality of multilingual entities like Belgium and Taiwan lurks the question: “One people or many peoples?” This is not the way most Americans or French look upon the topic of identity. Linguistic pluralism is a fact of life for most countries. As far as fluent speakers of Mandarin as the dominant language in Taiwan is concerned, Mandarin has been the long preferred option at the level of central government. In the name of accommodating perceived challenges from Taiwanese political (and thus linguistic) forces, by the end of the 80s, Mandarin speakers came to accept Taiwanese as the order of the day at the informal level in Taiwan. But this kind of reluctant bilingualism has served the interests of the stronger language more than that of Taiwan’s weaker language communities. Similarly, in Belgium the power of attraction of Flemish for French is a good deal weaker than is that of French for members of the Flemish upper-middle and upper classes. The Flemish have fought tenaciously to ensure that not one square centimeter of what is Flanders fell prey to French linguistic dominance. And there are ongoing battles about the degree of use of French as a semi-official language of instruction and public communication in some of the suburbs surrounding Brussels located in Flemish Brabant. Here, French speakers happen to be in the majority. But don’t expect therefore that Flemish political parties would use French at political meetings to woe undecided voters of mixed French/Flemish descent. Or that Flemish politicians would code-switch from Flemish to French at meetings held in town and villages on or near Belgium's Flemish-French language border. The role of politics is seen as it should: it supports the cause of the Flemish language and Flemish identity, and is not a tool attempting to ‘sell’ identity to non-Flemish speakers. Neither is Flemish used by Walloons to sell francophone identity to a non-Walloon electorate. Likewise, language in Taiwan should never be used to promote the one or other political cause. Conflicts that language and identity can bring are well-documented, in particular in monolingual or authoritarian states. So what, if anything, can tie Taiwan’s different language communities together? The most obvious tie would be that of a shared political citizenship (perceived as possible by some, unwanted by others). By citizenship, Flemish, Walloons, Bruxellois and the inhabitants of the autonomous German region in the east of Belgium are all Belgians. By citizenship, all Mandarin-speaking Taiwanese, Taiwanese, Hakka, and Aboriginal peoples are all ‘Taiwanese’, a notion advocated by Taiwan's president-elect. However, ambiguity is bound to creep into such setup. Belgian-inclined Flemish speakers feel themselves to be Belgian in a way that is clearly not true for hard-line Flemish nationalists, or for autonomist-minded politicians like the ones who won the 2007 parliamentary elections. They argue that the role of the federal government in Belgium should evolve to that of a mere intermediary between the power of the Belgian communities and the powers vested in the European Union. These Flemish internal divisions reinforce the argument that there is a thicker sense of Belgian identity among Walloons and francophone Bruxellois than among Flemish speakers. Similarly, there is a thinner sense of Taiwanese identity among pan-Chinese (in a linguistic, cultural and often political sense) people in Taiwan. And ambiguity might dictate that a shared citizenship for Taiwan’s peoples may not entail the same degree of commitment or loyalty by everyone to the underlying civic, political or symbolic values of what “a country” is perceived to have. Some might live their lives as citizens by merely floating like bubbles in a bucket, prone to any sudden albeit slight movement, fearfully looking down into deeper waters without which they would cease to exist. They seem incapable of understanding why the over 5 million molecules of water below them would choose to stir the surface, while just staying afloat well and thriving would suffice. Citizenship speaks to the concept of the state. Identity speaks more to the concept of nationhood. The fact that the question of citizenship for Flemings or Taiwanese can be – and is - posed shows that secession is an option that minority-type nationalities within Belgium or Taiwan may choose to pursue if they feel their basic interests have not been addressed. And central to those basic interests are language and identity. Choose to ignore that mass opting to fight for their language or identity, and one might have – unwillingly – planted the seed for increased autonomy or even separatism. NO MORE ‘DIVIDING’ IDENTITY ISSUES? The president-elect of Taiwan has promised to ‘heal the wounds caused by the divisive rule' of the outgoing president and his party. But can there ever be closure to questions of language and identity in multi-ethnic and multi-cultural nations (or in Taiwan’s case, proto-nation, if you prefer)? Not in our lifetimes, I think. As long as two or more major linguistic or cultural communities continue to co-exist – however peacefully – within the boundaries of a single (proto-) nation, various issues will continue to bubble to the bucket's surface, dividing majority-type language communities from minority-type language communities. Unless, of course, those minority language communities decide to throw all ethnic, linguistic and cultural identity out of the bucket for the sake of, for example, financial well-being. But in that case we might as well all become bubbles (and part of China?) right now to shorten that road to riches. Montserrat Guiberneau of the University of London has rightly noted on Catalan nationalism: “Globalization is dramatically transforming the context within which political action takes place (…) The post-traditional nation-state is faced with the need to accept the emergence of multiple identities expressing regional as well as supranational allegiances, which are closely connected with the rise of multi-layered forms of governance at a local, regional, national and supranational level.” In: Understanding Nationalism, Polity Press, 2001, p. 42. Taiwan might, judging from nationalists' criticism of people’s ‘overemphasizing Taiwanese identity’, still be trapped in a traditional nationalist-state mindset, outdated and detrimental to the future of its multi-ethnic population. They seem to ignore that the era of globalization that is marking the beginning of the 21st century does not spell an end to questions of linguistic or cultural identity of minority-type nationalities. Neither will the European Union erase the linguistic and ethnic boundaries that characterize countries like Belgium or Spain. Over five million voters in Taiwan have voted like most of Flanders’ four million voters do: out of a sense of belonging, of culture, of language, of past sufferings, of shared memories, of common distrust or hate against perceived adversaries, or of whatever way one might want to define that phenomenon strongly nationalist or authoritarian countries fear most: identity. Postscript: I intend this to be the first and last post I refer to politics that often. Thin at times, alas, is the line between language and politics. For those judging now that, like most foreign bloggers in Taiwan, I belong to the ‘green’ camp, I have to disappoint you. My believe is in a multiparty coalition system. Belgium, for instance, counts 13 political parties; centralized Spain 16. Such systems may often be compared to a “two steps forward, one backwards”-one, but its advantages for cultural and linguistic minorities in EU-states are for all to see. One could only dream what good it would do if Taiwan were not de facto strongly two-party polarized. Only then might Taiwanese be considered for what it is, really: not 'a dangerous language', but a language in danger.Johanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18256951644113086323noreply@blogger.com1