The town of Jiufen rests on the side of a mountain range, overlooking the ocean and the larger city of Keelung.

Summer 2018 Language Fellow – Video Blog: A Trip to Jiufen

Greetings again from Taipei! For my first video blog post, I did a very short video in Jiufen (九份), a town just on the outskirts of Taipei. Please forgive me for the shaky camera work! The town was formerly the site of a gold mine operated by the Japanese during the era of Japanese occupation. Though the Japanese were not the first colonizers of Taiwan (occupiers of the island also include the Dutch and Portuguese), they left the most notable imprints on the island.

As my Mandarin teacher pointed out, the Taiwanese have a mixed view of the Japanese occupation. On one hand, the Japanese built up much of the infrastructure that the island uses to this day (from the post office and bureaucratic system to the roads and the hot spring bathhouses spread throughout the northern part of Taiwan), but on the other hand, the Japanese occupiers did very much exploit the natural resources of the island (including the aforementioned gold and wood).  Today, there is no shortage of admiration for Japanese products, department stores, and food (the Japanese even claim that the best Japanese food outside of Japan is in Taiwan). Additionally, there is a definite mutual admiration for each island nation’s tourist destinations.

Later, I hope to write a post on my daily routine. Until then, 再見!

 

Picture of Lexi Wong in pink shirt

Lexi Wong M.A. International Affairs 2019
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow
National Taiwan Normal University, Taipei

Lexi Wong is a Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow studying Mandarin in Taipei, Taiwan at National Taiwan Normal University’s Mandarin Training Center. Lexi is currently a first-year graduate student at The George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs where she is studying International Affairs with a regional concentration on Asia. 

aerial view of a mountain at sunset

Summer 2018 Language Fellow – Exploring Religious Influences on Conservation in Indonesia with Chloe King

Indonesia, situated in the “ring of fire,” one of the most geologically active regions in the world, is prone to a wide range of natural disasters: volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, tsunamis, landslides, flooding, and drought are all regular occurrences in Indonesian life. The causes of many of these natural disasters also make Indonesia one of the most environmentally productive regions in the world, with nutrient-rich soil and coral reefs lush with fish, and for generations Indonesian people have thrived off these resources. However, both the unpredictability of the landscape and the seemingly boundless riches have combined to create an impossible dilemma: Indonesia is facing some of the fastest rates of environmental destruction in the world, perpetrated by its own population, and there is no solution in sight.

During all the time I have spent in Indonesia, I am continuously surprised by a general “wait and see” attitude in regard to both natural disaster and conservation planning. I have seen this as far east as Raja Ampat and as far west as Java, and this summer I decided to get to the bottom of it. I set out to understand how natural disaster planning and environmental conservation are intertwined in the minds of many Indonesians, particularly around the concept of “pasrah,” or surrender to God. Pasrah is profoundly linked to a wider state of passive acceptance that comes with many kinds of religious beliefs, particularly in Indonesia. It is a concept in which God possesses agency over human fate, in which all that will befall humans is predestinated. To me, this concept seemed entirely foreign; to most Indonesians, it is a concept that rules over everyday life.

In this regard, if it these events are all predestined, then attempting to plan for the future, to avoid natural disasters, is not only pointless, but an insult to God. As one scholar put it, planning in Indonesia is akin to atheism, a concept not only foreign but practically non-existent. This concept is widely seen throughout Indonesia in regard to natural disasters, from the eruptions of Mt. Agung in Bali to the tsunamis in Aceh, and it makes natural disaster planning difficult. Many people around Mt. Agung in Bali have been reported saying, “When the volcano starts erupting, that’s when we’ll go.” Communities often refuse to evacuate from the area despite official warnings, and planning for the event of an explosion has not improved significantly over the past several years. Is this a trend in Indonesian communities, and if so, how does it influence care for the environment? If all is predestined, that there is also very little humans can do to influence the natural environment around them—for better or worse.

Nearly 3,000 meters high, rising in between the Special Region of Yogyakarta and the province of Central Java, Mount Merapi is regarded as the most active of more than 100 Indonesian volcanoes and is among the most dangerous volcanoes on earth; the last major eruption in 2010 killed 347 people and caused the evacuation of 20,000 villagers. Despite the tragedy of these eruptions, recent research has shown that neither the villagers around Mt. Merapi nor the residents of Yogyakarta regard the eruptions as disasters, but rather a warning from the supernatural world.

The town of Salatiga, where my language program is based, is 23 km north of the base of Mt. Merapi, and many of its residents remember the eruptions of the past. Salatiga is the largest town in the high-risk area, with over 170,000 residents. I have interviewed and surveyed over a dozen residents during my time here, trying to understand what the concept of pasrah means to them, and how it influences planning for the future. While the survey sample was small, it became apparent that regard towards “pasrah” and a pre-determined future strongly influenced regard towards the environment. Those more inclined to believe that natural disasters were directly influenced by God were less likely to see humans as the cause of environmental destruction; those who did not view natural disasters as a result of God’s will were more likely to see humanity’s role in environmental degradation.

While pasrah is a concept that initiates from religious teachings, religion can also provide important lessons for overcoming the tragedy of the commons problem. The Quran states: “There is no joy in life unless three things are available: clean fresh air, abundant pure water, and fertile land.” There are over 750 verses in the Quran related to the environment, and Muslims are commanded to respect the environment and “Preserve the earth because it is your mother.” Likewise, the Catholic religion teaches respect for all creation, for “[t]he Lord’s are the earth and its fullness; the world and those who dwell in it” (Ps 24:1). These teachings were widely recognized by the people I surveyed, and added critical perspective to the context of pasrah in everyday life.

In May 2006, BBC news reported that in the villages around Mt. Merapi, “the local people do not listen to government officials. They listen to Marijan, the old “gate-keeper” to the volcano who enjoys an intimate spiritual relationship with Merapi.” It continues to be a struggle for the Indonesian government to prepare local communities for disaster, especially when people generally believe that whatever happens, it is the will of God. Likewise, in recent years Indonesia has experienced unparalleled rates of environmental destruction, from overfishing to deforestation to plastic pollution.

The government has begun several initiatives to both protect its residents against natural disasters and guard the future environment its citizens depend on. However, in order for individuals to realize their role in addressing these issues, religious institutions must emphasize the human responsibility for protecting the planet we live on. While pasrah is a concept that will always pervade Indonesian society, religious teachings can also inform people of their responsibility to care for their future. While the future may remain the will of God, the future health of the world’s environment remains in human hands.  

 

Chloe King scuba diving

Chloe King B.A. International Affairs 2019
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow
School for International Training Indonesia, COTI Summer Studies Program, Indonesia

Chloe King is a rising senior in the Elliot School, majoring in international affairs with minors in sustainability and geographic information systems. She spent seven months in Indonesia in 2017 as a Boren Scholar, researching NGO conservation initiatives in marine ecotourism destinations around the country. A PADI Divemaster, her passion for protecting the ocean keeps pulling her back to Indonesia and some of the most diverse—and threatened—marine ecosystems in the world. 

A green farm near Pyinmalut village in Myanmar

Summer 2018 Field Research Fellow: Past and Present IDPs in Northern Myanmar

 

A farm near Pyinmalut village
A farm near Pyinmalut village.

Tens of thousands of Myanmar citizens today are internally displaced. It is estimated that there are about 100,000 internally displaced persons (IDPs) in Kachin State and northern Shan State alone. Some estimates go as high as 120,000. These estimates are unlikely to include IDPs who have left the camps and attempted to integrated into nondisplaced communities; this means that the estimates do not indicate the cumulative number of civilians who have been displaced as a result of armed conflict between the Kachin Independence Army (KIA) and the Tatmadaw, the armed forces of Myanmar. These IDPs have been taking refuge camps for seven years now, and the amount of aid they receive have dwindled over the years. Several forms of domestic abuse, difficulty in accessing basic education, making ends meet, and young girls trafficked across international border are common challenges faced by IDP families.

This is not the first time that civilians in northern Myanmar have been displaced. In the wake of Kachin armed rebellion in the early 1960s, many families were displaced. Some more were displaced in the subsequent decades. However, this was before the age of media in Myanmar, and international and domestic communities seemed unaware of or easily forgot about their displacement. Furthermore, these families resettled in new places and began their lives anew, further obscuring their displacement. Therefore, it was not until 2011, when fighting resumed in the Kachin region, that people started talking about IDP crisis in the Kachin region. However, it is worth reflecting on the previous waves of Kachin IDPs, for they illuminate invaluable insights on dire implication of armed conflict and displacement on ethnic minority communities in Myanmar. Just a few days ago, I had a unique opportunity of observing just that.

I stayed at Pyinmalut, which is a village tract in Katha Township, Sagiang Region for about three days. It is located along the Irrawaddy River, which is the largest and most important commercial waterway in Myanmar. It is just a few miles south of Kachin State and west of northern Shan State. There I met families who were displaced decades ago from southern Kachin State and northern Shan State. When their villages became consumed by armed conflict, they fled to Katha which offered safe refuge. Decades have passed and by all account, they seemed settled. But there is an undeniable stagnation particularly in education and job security.

The only job available to the villagers seems to be to work as day laborers, usually under 90-degree weather, on surrounding rice paddies. This job pays about 4000-5000 kyats (about $3.5) per day, which would amount to a decent monthly salary (Myanmar standard) if the laborers were guarantee 5 days of work every week. But laborers from this village do not get a full month of work even in July, which is when the bulk of planting occur. Once the planting is done, the villagers then wait for the harvest season when they can expect day laborer jobs. Every now and then, a few villagers would land fruit-picking jobs, which typically involves climbing up trees. Depending on difficulty of tree-climbing and the baskets of fruits picked, the laborers could earn up to 9000 kyats (about $6.5) per day. But there aren’t fruit plantations in the area, so fruit picking jobs usually last a day or two at most. The bottom line is that there is no job security.

Negative implication of the lack of job security in the village is most felt in terms of education. Even without cash in their hands, the villagers cannot hire “tuition teachers” for their children. In Myanmar education system, tuitions are integral part of obtaining formal education. They are usually held before or after school and during weekends by public school teachers for a fee. The parents typically explain that without tuition their students do not perform well in school. Tuition becomes even more important for 10thgrade students who will sit for matriculation exam at the end of the academic year (tuition is perhaps even more so than school itself for 10thgraders. Why students and parents alike believe that tuition is integral to passing the matriculation exam is a discussion for another time). Total tuition fee for a 10thgrade student can average 1,000,000 kyats (about $714) at the lower end. How can villagers making 5000 kyats intermittently afford to pay for tuition? As a result, matriculation exam success rate is fairly low and even those who passed the exams rarely ever achieve subject distinction. The parents cannot afford to pay for university school fee and with relative low passing scores, scholarship or sponsorship from philanthropic families cannot be expected. For the few students who make it to universities, their scores are not high enough to pursue professional majors, which means that they cannot make a living in the cities. Thus, the cycle of job insecurity continues.

This is not to say that every displaced person remains stuck in the village and remains in poverty. Some were able to pull themselves up by their bootstraps because they have family connection, resources and for many other reasons. The lucky few ventured out to the jade mines of Hpakant, Kachin State and became wealthy (chances of this happening are probably the same as that of winning lottery). But generally speaking, displaced families are systematically disadvantaged in their attempt to achieve desirable societal outcomes.

Although poverty is experienced by the Bamars, the ethnic majority in Myanmar, it is important to note that displacement and subsequent implications predominantly affect ethnic minority communities because armed conflicts tend to be ethnic in nature in Myanmar and are waged only in ethnic minority areas. A glimpse of the previous waves of IDPs suggest that even decades after they have resettled, the vast majority of displaced population remain uncertain of their future.

 

 

black and white photo of Jangai JapJangai Jap is a Ph.D. Candidate in George Washington University’s Political Science Department. Her research interest includes ethnic politics, national identity, local government and Myanmar politics. Her dissertation aims to explain factors that shape ethnic minorities’ attachment to the state and why has the state been more successful in winning over a sense of attachment from members of some ethnic minority groups than other ethnic minority groups. She has won the National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship, and her dissertation research has received support from the Cosmos Club Foundation and GW’s Sigur Center for Asian Studies. 

hiking the Great Wall of China on a foggy day

Summer 2018 Language Fellow – First Weeks in Beijing

Hello everyone! 大家好! I’m Kelly Alesio, this summer I have the opportunity to study Mandarin with Hamilton College’s Associated Colleges in China (ACC) program, so I’ll be living and attending classes at Minzu University of China, in Beijing’s Haidian District.

This program is an intensive one, recommended by the university’s Chinese department due to the program’s relatively small student body and individualized instruction, moreover, ACC student must adhere to a language pledge the entire time they attend the program.

I arrived in Beijing in mid-June, and after reaching Minzu University and sleeping for 12 hours straight, I immediately took my language placement exam.

View of outside from an airplane window

In the couple of days between the placement exam and the beginning of classes, the ACC teachers my classmates and I to few well-known sites in Beijing, Tiananmen Square and the nearby Jingshan Park (景山公园), a former imperial garden with an amazing view of Beijing’s Forbidden City.

aerial view of the forbidden palace in beijing

Although I had heard quite a lot about the rigor of ACC’s curriculum, particularly the summer session (it’s only 8 weeks long, as opposed to the spring and fall sessions’ 13 weeks), it was rather difficult initially to adjust to three to four hours of back-to-back language instruction (completely in Chinese!), and took slightly longer to become comfortable expressing myself in everyday life using a foreign language I’m not yet fluent in.

Additionally, the vocabulary learned at each level in ACC isn’t the same as those learned at a similar level in George Washington University’s Chinese courses, so the first week mostly involved adjusting to the workload (fourth-year students are expected to learn over 100 new words a day), and playing catch-up with some of the vocabulary.

My second week at ACC was both more difficult and more fun. The second week marked the start of extracurricular activities, of which I chose Taijijian, a form of the traditional Chinese martial art Taijiquan (太极剑) that includes swords (not sharp ones), and calligraphy, as well as our weekly 800+ character essays and oral presentations.

classroom with desks and chairs scattered around

On the second Friday of the program, after our weekly exam, my classmates and I met our language partners, Minzu University students who would be in Beijing or studying at the university during the summer, and later our met Chinese host families. Additionally, the fourth-year students had the opportunity to visit a museum dedicated to Lu Xun (魯迅, real name Zhou Shuren), a highly influential 20th century author famous for his breadth and depth of work, having produced everything from thought-provoking essays on the Chinese education system, to classical-style poetry, to Chinese translations of foreign literature.

traditional chinese garden and house on a nice day out

In these past three weeks I’ve fortunately found time to hang out with both my Chinese host family and my language partner, and had the opportunity to visit the Mutianyu (慕田峪) section of the Great Wall, explore a popular hutong (a traditional Beijing neighborhood), and visit Beijing’s National Gallery.

hiking the Great Wall of China on a foggy day

three girls posing in front of a traditional chinese gate to an institution

As I go into my fourth week at ACC, which marks both the halfway point in my time in Beijing as well as the beginning of midterm exams, I find that our small student body, regardless of year level or home university, has become increasingly closer, and more confident speaking Chinese in our private lives, whether deciding what movie to watch or debating the merits of the various campus canteens. I’ve eaten a variety of delicious (and strange) meals with these wonderful people, and can already tell these are friendships I’ll want to hold on to even after I return to the States.

 

photo of the article's author eating chinese food   assortment of chinese food at a chinese restaurant in china    girl posing with a big bowl of soup and a bowl of rice

It’s been a fantastic experience so far, having the opportunity to study Chinese intensively along with a group of incredibly motivated and hardworking classmates, and I’m looking forward to what the rest of the summer will bring!

After midterm exams, we’ll travel to Datong, a city in Shaanxi Province (山西省) about 6 hours by train from Beijing, so keep checking back for updates!

 

picture of Katherine Alesio with crowds of people in the backgroundKatherine Alesio
B.S. Civil Engineering 2020
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Study in Asia Grant Recipient
Minzu University of China – Associated Colleges in China Program

front view of Fort San Domingo with country flags lined up in front and a flag at full staff on the roof

Summer 2018 Language Fellow – Exploring the Influence of Foreign Powers in Taiwan with Alex Bierman

18th century cannons on display outside the former British Consulate section of Fort San Domingo

18th century cannons on display outside the former British Consulate section of Fort San Domingo.

The view of the Tamsui River from Fort San Domingo

The view of the Tamsui River from Fort San Domingo.

For much of its existence, Taiwan has not had the opportunity to determine the direction of its own fate. While China has historically been and currently is the major agent of foreign influence, foreign powers have impacted Taiwan’s development for nearly four hundred years. The best place to learn of these influences is Tamsui, a small fishing village turned major port as a result of European imperialist powers. Currently a part of the larger New Taipei City, Tamsui (淡水) is home to Fort San Domingo (紅毛城), a physical embodiment that has preserved the history of foreign influence in Taiwan. The fort’s name translates to “Red Hair Fort,” as the Dutch were often referred to because of the color of their hair.

For much of the 17th century, the Spanish followed by the Dutch effectively maintained control over the island for their own trade benefits. Situated at the mouth of the Tamsui River, Fort San Domingo was originally built by the Spanish in 1628. Four years prior, the Dutch established a base in Dayuan (modern day Anping, Tainan) as an ideal location to intercept Chinese merchant ships from Fujian to Manila, thus disrupting Spanish trade. In response both to this Dutch interception and a surprise ambush by aborigines, Spain seized Keelung and Tamsui, solidifying its presence on Taiwan. The Spanish protected their trade with the help of the wooden Fort San Domingo. In 1642 at the Battle of Keelung – just six years before the Dutch would officially realize independence from Spain – the Dutch defeated the Spanish, becoming the sole major power on the island. While the Dutch East India Company’s rule on the island would only last until 1662, it brought about massive economic development.

After the fall of the short-lived Kingdom of Tungning (東寧), established by the Ming-loyalist Koxinga, the Qing established Taiwan as a prefecture of Fujian province in 1684. While nominally under Qing rule, Taiwan remained a frontier where people struggled to make a living. The Qing repaired Fort San Domingo in 1724, and it would stand unperturbed for more than a century. Then began the so-called “Century of Humiliation” in China, caused by foreign imperialism and intervention. The Qing rented out Fort San Domingo to the British in 1867 to serve as consulate as a result of the Treaty of Tientsin after the Second Opium War. The Mudan Incident of 1874, where 54 Japanese soldiers were ambushed and killed by Taiwanese aborigines, revived heavy foreign intervention in Taiwan. The Japanese launched a punitive mission in retaliation against Taiwan, marking the first successful deployment of Imperial Japan’s military, just six years after the Meiji Restoration. The Qing tried solidifying its position on the island, declaring Taiwan a province in 1886, but the power differential caused by Japanese expansion concurrent to Qing enervation was already drastic. Taiwan would then be subject to 50 years of Japanese rule.

Fort San Domingo would continue as a British consulate until the Japanese took control of it in 1941. In 1948, the British re-took control of the fort, continuing its service as a British consulate until the breaking of British-ROC diplomatic ties in 1972. The fort was then handed over to Australia as a trusteeship but was then handed to the United States once Australia-ROC relations were severed. Not until 1979, as a result of the US-PRC rapprochement, was Fort San Domingo finally handed over to ROC control. The fort has since become a grade-one national historical site in Taiwan, granting tourists the opportunity to learn of the rich history of foreign influence and intervention on the island.

 

Headshot of Alex Bierman with brick backgroundAlex Bierman, M.A. Security Policy Studies 2019
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow
National Taiwan University, Taiwan

Alex Bierman is a M.A. candidate in Security Policy Studies focusing on East Asian security and cyber security. His interests include U.S. policy towards East Asia, Cross-Strait policy, and Chinese politics.

 
Chloe King stands on a balcony overlooking a series of small islands in Raja Ampat, West Papua

Summer 2018 Language Fellow – Exploring Improbable Indonesia with Chloe King

Chloe King waving her arms up in the air, standing in front of Raja Ampat, West Papua.
Raja Ampat, West Papua—stunning both above and below the water, and home to the highest level of marine biodiversity ever recorded.

Whenever friends, family, and perfect strangers ask me why I love Indonesia so much, I find myself seeking an answer as multifaceted as the country itself—a task that is, quite frankly, impossible. I frequently describe the kindness of the people, the towering volcanos and kaleidoscopic reefs, the enchanting playfulness of the language. At times like this—when I can’t explain my infatuation in a few sentences or even a few days—I realize that is the reason I love Indonesia so much: its diversity defies description, no matter how many years I spend trying.

I first came to Indonesia to work as a PADI Divemaster during a gap year before attending GW, and fell in love with the people, language, culture, and underwater world—knowing that each of these terms encompasses a diversity beyond knowing. There are over 8,000 inhabited islands, 300 languages, countless indigenous religions and belief systems, and thousands of coral and fish species. I have since spent just under a year in total in Indonesia, returning again and again, seeking to understand a place so impossible to describe, knowing I have only just scratched the surface.

The beginning of this summer in Indonesia provides a perfect example of the intoxicating complexity of this place. I decided to fly out a few weeks before the start of my language program, knowing that I was about to begin dive hours a day of intensive Bahasa Indonesia training for eight weeks. So naturally, I headed straight for the ocean. I spent several days in Bali for freediving training, in the sea each day till the sun set over the gently smoking Mt. Agung (which would soon spew its ash and cancel hundreds of flights), listening to the tinkling of traditional brass instruments mixing with the evening call to prayer. Days later, I flew to the Raja Ampat islands in West Papua, returning to one of my favorite places on earth to follow up on research I conducted in the region in 2017. From traditional dances to magically ordained soccer games, from birds of paradise to mating sharks, one would be hard-pressed to find a place with so much to see. In no time at all, I was on a flight to Java, the largest and most populous island in Indonesia, driving through winding roads surrounded by rice fields that quickly turned into crowded cities that seemed to have sprung suddenly from the earth.

Far from the ocean and the places and people I had grown to love so deeply, I felt—for the first time in the almost 11 months I had spent in total in Indonesia—entirely out of my element. During the drive from the airport to my new home, I began to feel nervous. As the sky grew dark and neon shop lights flickered to life along the city streets, we pulled into the driveway and I saw the house I would live in for the next eight weeks. My host mother came into view in the doorway, her smile immediate, as she exclaimed, “Chloe! Selamat datang ke Salatiga!” Welcome to Salatiga.

Indeed, in the weeks since my arrival, to say I feel welcome is perhaps an egregious understatement for the joy that is finding a new home in every corner of this magical country. And I have only just scratched the surface.

 

Chloe King scuba divingChloe King B.A. International Affairs 2019
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow
School for International Training Indonesia, COTI Summer Studies Program, Indonesia

Chloe King is a rising senior in the Elliot School, majoring in international affairs with minors in sustainability and geographic information systems. She spent seven months in Indonesia in 2017 as a Boren Scholar, researching NGO conservation initiatives in marine ecotourism destinations around the country. A PADI Divemaster, her passion for protecting the ocean keeps pulling her back to Indonesia and some of the most diverse—and threatened—marine ecosystems in the world. 

Aerial view of the coastline of Taiwan

Summer 2018 Field Trip Fellow – Experiencing Chinese Culture in Taiwan

view of a coast from an airplane Taiwan is a must-come place for those interested in China. Upon arriving at Taiwan, I can’t help to be astonished by the closeness between Taiwan and mainland China in almost every important aspect of social life. The quiet and warm scenario of countryside reminded me of the villages of my hometown Zhejiang. The way in which people talk to children is also telling: on both sides of the strait the interactions with children is a means of education. On the train from Taoyuan Airport to Taipei city, my computer received the warm attention of a lovely boy with glasses, who obviously thought it was an advanced play station. When he tried to observe this wonderful machine more closely, however, his grandma came and told him that other people’s belongings should not be touched. Such educational experiences are very common for Chinese children in both mainland China and Taiwan, and similar patterns probably cannot be observed in other societies.

Another definitely impressing experience is my time at the National Palace Museum of Taipei. No one could deny that the Palace Museum is one of the best place to enjoy the beauty of China’s cultural heritage. From gorgeous jade and porcelain artwork, to the immensely fluent and dynamic calligraphy, and to the traditional Chinese paintings which are relatively static but of infinite transforming potential, I was deeply caught up by charm and appeal of the collections. Apart from its high aesthetic value, the exhibition is also an excellent source to sense the social, intellectual, and ideological world of traditional China.

On the other hand, Taiwan’s experiences of modern Chinese history were also very different from mainland China. Between 1895 and 1945, it was under the political control of the Japanese empire. After 1945, the KMT replaced Japan as the ruler of Taiwan. After 2000, the DPP and the KMT took power in turn. Such experiences determine that there are some perspectives and expertise in Taiwan that are not present in mainland China. For example, Taiwan’s scholarship on the KMT and the Nationalist army is generally of higher standards than that of mainland China. Moreover, the island’s cultural and social landscape is also deeply shaped by its history of immigrants and local inhabitants. The announcements on the Taipei city metro are made in four languages/dialects: Mandarin, English, Southern Fujian dialect and Hakka dialect.

Zhongtian Han wearing a red shirt with a thumbs upZhongtian Han, Ph.D. in History 2021
Sigur Center 2018 Summer Field Trip Fellow
Taipei, Taiwan

Zhongtian Han is a history Ph.D. student interested in modern East Asia and strategic studies. His research focuses on the strategic history of modern China and Japan.

Skyline of Taipei on a cloudy day

Summer 2018 Language Fellow-大家好!

A night view of Taipei in the Zhongzheng district. Taipei is a delicate mess of small alleys, known as 巷 and each given a number and a name that is usually associated with a nearby major road.
Zhongtian district in Taipei, Taiwan.

Greetings from beautiful breezy, dry, cool Taipei!

Just kidding. At the beginning of summer, Taipei is beautiful but it is not breezy (unless a storm is imminent and you are standing in precisely the correct spot). With temperatures ranging in the mid-80s to mid-90s, it’s also far from cool. Umbrellas are ubiquitous throughout the city for the aforementioned exceedingly hot temperatures and for the always looming thunderstorms. I’m told that Taipei in August may be even more brutally hot but receives more washings from the frequent taiphoons. (I’m a huge fan of taiphoons as they used to come regularly in Hong Kong and allow a respite from work)

I’ve traveled to Taipei a number of times (humble brag: mostly for running marathons and half marathons) and each time I’ve been surprised by the lack of skyscrapers in this city as well as the general friendliness of people. It’s unsurprising why many Hong Kongers move here permanently and why so many people are utterly charmed by Taiwan.

In fact, I see Taipei as having far more in common with the calm and quiet of Kyoto than the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong. Perhaps this calm and quiescence is due to the oppressive heat, but I believe it is the spirit of Taiwan that has imbued the Taiwanese with a sense of serenity that is broken only by the constant grindings of scooters on the roads or the general busyness of Ximending.

I’m not sure if this suits me. As a born and bred salt of the earth American and naturalized Hong Konger, I’m accustomed to being busy and walking quickly to and fro regardless of my destination. Even after spring semester of graduate school – which could be arranged to fit next to the definition of busy in the Britannica Encyclopedia – I seek to be occupied by a task.

This morning, I became occupied by the Elephant Mountain hike, which allows hikers to sweat copiously in anticipation of an Instagram worthy photo of the Taipei 101. Luckily, the is a dearth of hiking around Taipei, which I hope to explore and a dearth of vegetarian restaurants to furnish such sweaty hikes. Until then, 再見!

 

Lexi Wong in pink shirt with hand on chinLexi Wong M.A. International Affairs 2019
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow
National Taiwan Normal University, Taipei

Lexi Wong is a Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow studying Mandarin in Taipei, Taiwan at National Taiwan Normal University’s Mandarin Training Center. Lexi is currently a first-year graduate student at The George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs where she is studying International Affairs with a regional concentration on Asia. 

Barrier gates block off sections of a busy street

Summer 2018 Language Fellow – Opening of the New American Institute in Taiwan Complex

 

Two proud supporters of Taiwanese independence protesting the R.O.C. government
Two proud supporters of Taiwanese independence protesting the R.O.C. government
Police matched if not outnumbered the protestors/supporters outside the new AIT complex
Police matched if not outnumbered the protestors/supporters outside the new AIT complex

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

June 12, 2018

I have now been in Taipei, Taiwan for a little more than a week. While I have finally acclimated to the time difference, I have a feeling the same will never be true regarding the weather. Nevertheless, I am incredibly grateful for this opportunity to spend a summer studying Chinese at National Taiwan University’s International Chinese Language Program (ICLP). Without the generous grant from the Sigur Center, I would likely never have had the chance again to devote so much of my time to improving my language abilities.

While most of the Asia policy world was focusing on the Trump-Kim summit in Singapore, another important change in U.S. policy towards East Asia was occurring in Taipei. I, along with scores of elderly Taiwanese avidly advocating for Taiwanese independence stood outside the new American Institute in Taiwan (AIT) complex for its dedication ceremony. While the ceremony itself was closed to the public, members of Taiwan’s Independence Party arrived by the bus load proudly waving their pan-green independence flags and American flags. As far as I could tell, I was the youngest participant by at least 40 years.

Seeing so many eager citizens declare their love for their own country and the U.S. instilled within me mixed emotions. It was heartwarming to see these elderly Taiwanese celebrating this perceived improvement in Taiwan-U.S. relations. Just thirty years ago, Taiwan was still authoritarian. The chance to peacefully petition their government would have been unthinkable decades ago. An elderly man screamed at a row of police that instead of retaliating, just stoically stood in place. Seeing such active participation in Taiwan’s nascent democracy was truly an incredible spectacle. Conversely, being aware of the immense political obstacles that prevent Taiwanese independence made me realize that they will likely never see what they most desire in their lifetimes.

The new AIT complex finally finished years behind schedule and cost more than $250 million USD. One can only wonder if it was a coincidence that the complex’s dedication ceremony fell on the same day when China and the rest of East Asia were so focused on the Trump-Kim summit. The truth is, the new complex does not signal increased U.S. support for Taiwan. Despite rumors that high ranking officials such as Mike Pompeo or John Bolton would attend the ceremony, a lower ranking official was sent instead. Ostensibly, the U.S. refrained from sending anyone too controversial to avoid upsetting China. Since Trump took office, however, the U.S. has done more vis-à-vis Taiwan than it had in the past fifteen years. Small steps like the Taiwan Travel Act and the opening of the new AIT compound may signify more changes to come during the Trump administration. It is incredibly exciting to have the opportunity to be on the ground in the heart of Taiwan during this time of change.

 

Alex Bierman profile picture with brick background
Alex Bierman, M.A. Security Policy Studies 2019
Sigur Center 2018 Asian Language Fellow
National Taiwan University, Taiwan

Alex Bierman is a M.A. candidate in Security Policy Studies focusing on East Asian security and cyber security. His interests include U.S. policy towards East Asia, Cross-Strait policy, and Chinese politics.

Jiangsu Provincial Archive front of the building

Summer 2018 Field Research Fellow – Exploring the CCP Revolutionary History at Nanjing, Jiangsu Province

picture of the Jiangsu Provincial Archives buildingResearching the history of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and associated topics is inherently difficult. First and foremost, every historian of the CCP has to deal with the limited accessibility of archival materials in mainland China. When I began my research trip in Nanjing and at the Jiangsu Provincial Archive, I was surprised to learn that, in contrast to common perceptions, the sources for the revolutionary period (pre-1949) was even more strictly administered than the early PRC period (1950s). In the beginning, they would not allow me to see anything and there is even no archival fond catalog available for the revolutionary period (while there are plenty for early 1950s). After some detailed inquiry about my research topic and suggesting some published primary sources at the archive, I was finally allowed to see three archival fonds, for which I’m truly grateful.

In addition to the limited accessibility, the archivists later told me that during the 1950s, the CCP leadership ordered all materials related to the revolutionary period to be transferred from provincial archives to the central archives. Though the provincial archives certainly didn’t give up everything, there is indeed serious limitations on what scholars can get by using what was left at the provincial level.

Why is the revolutionary period so sensitive for the CCP? Some may suggest that the revolutionary period was violent. But the early PRC period also witnessed much violence such as the “suppressing counter-revolutionaries” campaign. The issue here is legitimacy. For the CCP, its victory in the revolutionary period an important source of its legitimacy. In the CCP’s jargon, its victory and ruling party status is “history’s choice” (lishi de xuanze) and “people’s choice” (renmin de xuanze). Therefore, the party would not allow those revisionist interpretations of the revolutionary period which might undermine its historical legitimacy. The CCP’s sensitivity is not misplaced. Even in mainland China, there are challenges to the party’s interpretations of the revolutionary period. Some suggest that the CCP didn’t fight the Japanese during the Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945), and others doubt the actuality of some revolutionary and anti-Japanese heroes. The party called these revisionist interpretations of the revolutionary period “historical nihilism” (lishi xuwuzhuyi). This particular political sensitivity of the revolutionary period should receive the attention of every responsible scholar in the field. It is the academic community’s responsibility to maintain high scholarly standards, especially for these sensitive topics.

photo of Zhongtian Han outdoors

Zhongtian Han, Ph.D. History 2021
Sigur Center Summer 2018 Field Research Grant Fellow
People’s Republic of China

Zhongtian Han is a history Ph.D. student interested in modern East Asia and strategic studies. His research focuses on the strategic history of modern China and Japan.