Taiwan

Taiwan Journal, Part VII

Everyone says that Taipei is a very hard-working city, populated by very hard-working people. In my observation, this is true.

Now, when you say this, some people get bent out of shape — some Westerners, I mean. Because you’re saying, or implying, that there are cultural differences among peoples. They think you are casting judgment on peoples that are less hard-working.

Well, the dolce vita can be very . . . dolce. The dolce far niente can be very pleasant indeed.

But some European countries aren’t pulling off la dolce vita very well these days. They made some political choices long ago — concerning pensions, concerning work rules — and now they are facing the abyss.

Taipei is a city bursting with industriousness and entrepreneurship. Prosperity here is not an accident. Is prosperity necessarily the highest human ideal? Of course not. It’s just that, if you’re not willing to do what’s required to be prosperous, you kind of forfeit your right to kvetch about not being prosperous.

You know?

I heard something, years ago. Can’t quite confirm it. If you worked for a HUD office in Ohio, you weren’t allowed to check your e-mail — your work e-mail — after 4 o’clock. Quittin’ time. Because that would be, like — work.

Ordered liberty is a high ideal. I think you can see it here in Taipei. There is a comfortable order and tidiness. But plenty of freedom — flexibility — within that order. In some societies, cops are a welcome and reassuring sight. In others: slightly, or not so slightly, menacing.

Here, very welcome. Natural, unobtrusive.

Do you need links to previous parts in this series? I, II, III, IV, V, and VI.

Taiwan is well-known for its shaved ice, and people suggest you try the mango: People are absolutely right. A delicious dessert, and one that gives the illusion (I think the illusion) of health.

Have I mentioned this so far? That women — particularly young pretty ones — wear false eyelashes? I don’t think I’ve seen false eyelashes in America in many years.

A young Taiwanese woman explains to me, with a little bit of contempt, that this trend comes from Japan . . .

One more word about the 7-Elevens, which I think I mentioned in the first part of this journal: You sometimes see them on consecutive corners. How can they all make money? Well, if they’re open, in a free economy like this — they must.

Their rival is a convenience store called Family Mart. Plenty of those too.

Back to a man you met yesterday, Professor Chong-Pin Lin. I ask, “Do Taiwanese fear American closeness to Beijing?” They should, he says. But they are too “inward-looking.” This is somehow a “mental block.” They are reluctant to look beyond the coastline of Taiwan. “Maybe they find despair.” They don’t want to think too much about the international scene.

Are the human-rights abuses of the PRC known here in Taiwan? Oh, yes, says Lin. The media cover them pretty well. There are papers and stations whose owners have big interests in China, and those outlets treat Beijing with kid gloves, of course. But there are still papers and stations that are properly independent (thank goodness).

Lin explains the CCP’s concept of human rights: The biggest human right is to survive. To survive, you must have economic growth. To have economic growth, you must have social order. To have social order — you must be a one-party dictatorship with a gulag.

In the course of my stay here in Taiwan, I meet a man who is involved in talks with the PRC. I ask him, “Aren’t they embarrassed? Are they embarrassed that they’re representing a one-party dictatorship with a gulag, while you are representing a liberal democracy?” He says they’re not embarrassed at all. Mainly, they are proud of the progress that China has made.

With Professor Lin, I talk about Taiwan’s exclusion from international organizations. He speaks of two strong resentments on the island: China’s deployment of missiles against Taiwan, all those rockets; and “the strangulation of our international space.” China wants Taiwan to be a nonentity, a non-person, so to speak, in the world.

But why does the world have to oblige them (say I)?

We address the terrible question of whether the U.S. would defend Taiwan, if China attacked. Lin says it is “increasingly unlikely.”

He reiterates, however, that China’s goal now seems to be the absorption of Taiwan without war — which is consistent with its overall strategy, its grand strategy. The final goal of that strategy, says Lin, is the domination of East Asia: domination without war, but rather through economic, psychological, and other pressures.

But if China did attack — it would want to gobble Taiwan quickly, says Lin. It would want to subdue Taiwan immediately. China’s seizure of Taiwan would be a fait accompli before the world could react — if the world were inclined to react.

We discuss Chiang Kai-shek, the good and the bad. The good has been rising, Lin notes. That is, scholars and other analysts have been emphasizing the good. This debate will be had, I suspect, until kingdom come.

Lin’s father was an Air Force officer. “We were watched,” Lin says: The family was watched. So it went in the old Taiwan.

Lin makes the simple but important point that Taiwan can’t compete with the PRC in military force or money. So what must Taiwan rely on? “Diplomacy, art, science — wisdom.” Taiwan can’t afford to get angry. Taiwan must be cagey and patient.

There are two trends in Taiwan right now, says Lin. The first is to delay unification for as long as possible. (Lin prefers the term “integration” to “unification.”) The second is to intensify Taiwan’s role as catalyst: a catalyst for Chinese democratization.

He talks about Chinese tourists in Taipei, who stay in their hotel rooms, glued to the TV. They could be out enjoying the city’s colorful night life. But they are having too much fun inside, watching the political talk shows, marveling at what you can say and do here.

Lin says that Chinese living just across the strait have long been able to catch Taiwanese TV. The story is told that a Western journalist showed a little boy in a Chinese fishing village a picture of Chiang Ching-kuo (son of Chiang Kai-shek, and the old man’s successor). This was sometime in the ’80s.

“Who is that man?” said the journalist. The little boy said, “Oh, he’s the president of China.”

Tell you something nice about Taipei? Something further nice? When you’re out and about, and people see that you’re not quite local, they may call out, “Hello!” “Good morning!” Unlike the people who do this in Manhattan, they’re not crazy — just friendly. (There might be some friendlies in Manhattan too. Maybe.)

Something that would take a little getting used to, for me? Women in the men’s rooms, doing janitorial work. Just going about their business, or milling around, as though . . . as though . . . Anyway, if they don’t care, I don’t care (I guess).

Thanks for joining me, and see you tomorrow.