Dissident,
writer, activist Bo Yang dies
THE UGLY TRUTH: Bo Yang was
perhaps most famous for writing ‘The Ugly Chinaman,’ but his life and writing
captured much of the essence of Taiwan in the 20th century
By Ko Shu-ling
STAFF REPORTER, WITH AGENCIES
Wednesday, Apr 30, 2008, Page 1
 |
| Bo Yang talks
to the media after being presented with an honorary doctorate by
National University of Tainan on Dec. 12, 2006. The acclaimed human
rights activist died yesterday morning, aged 88.
|
Writer, human rights activist and former political prisoner Bo Yang (柏楊), who
infuriated both the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and the Chinese Communist
Party with his tart critiques of Chinese culture, abusive leaders and
anti-democratic behavior, died early yesterday morning of complications from
pneumonia. He was 88.
Bo had been receiving treatment for pneumonia at the Cardinal Tien Hospital in
Sindian (新店), Taipei County, since February.
Born in 1920 in Henan Province, China, Bo authored more than 200 works. One of
the most prominent was The Ugly Chinaman (醜陋的中國人), in which he pilloried Chinese
culture as dirty, noisy, divisive, obsequious and vainglorious.
The book came as a shock when it was first published in Taiwan in 1984. Although
it was banned in China until 2000, underground copies were widely available.
Last August, Bo began planning a comic-strip version of the book, saying that it
could reach out to young people today who tend not to read.
The New York Times once called Bo “China’s Voltaire.”
Bo, whose real name was Kuo Yi-tung (郭衣洞), followed the KMT government to Taiwan
after the KMT lost the Chinese civil war.
He found work as a columnist for the Independence Evening Post, a small liberal
newspaper, but quickly ran foul of the KMT dictatorship after he blasted Chiang
Kai-shek’s (蔣介石) government over corruption and abuse of power. One of his more
controversial pieces of writing at the time was Foreign Land (異域), a study of
the KMT soldiers stranded in what would become the Golden Triangle after they
were unable to join their compatriots in Taiwan. His reporting on their
destitution embarrassed senior military officials who escaped from the area.
He was then jailed in 1968 following a translation of the American comic strip
Popeye, which was interpreted as criticizing Chiang’s refusal to conduct free
presidential elections.
He served nine years in prison, mostly on Green Island (綠島), after being
convicted of acting as a communist spy — a government catchall for dealing with
troublemakers during the Martial Law era.
Aside from managing a prolific writing career, which included historical
studies, short fiction, journalism and translations of classical Chinese works,
Bo was keen to advocate human rights and served as Amnesty International’s
Taiwan office director from 1994 to 1996.
Bo’s health began to deteriorate in September 2006 and he had been in and out of
hospital several times since then, eventually forcing him to stop writing.
Despite his illness, Bo followed politics closely.
He said he was disappointed at the record of the Democratic Progressive Party
administration, but also worried about the KMT’s return to power.
President Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) yesterday expressed his “deepest regret” over
Bo’s death.
Chen said he would confer a posthumous medal on Bo and asked government agencies
to assist Bo’s family with funeral arrangements.
The Presidential Office statement described Bo as a modern thinker who had been
eminently capable of representing Taiwan. The president said Bo exerted a great
influence on contemporary Taiwanese literature and was held in high esteem in
literary circles, both domestic and international.
The statement added that Chen was grateful for the advice Bo gave him during his
stint as senior presidential adviser.
The president visited Bo in hospital on Saturday. Bo’s wife, the poet Chang
Hsiang-hua (張香華), told Chen at that time that he was the only president to
express respect toward him.
President-elect Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) also visited Bo in hospital on April 16.
Bo is survived by his wife and two sons and three daughters from previous
marriages.
Give Taiwan
credit for democracy
By Charles tannock
Wednesday, Apr 30, 2008, Page 8
While protests over China’s crackdown in Tibet and the debate about Kosovo’s
unilateral declaration of independence continue to fester, the injustice of
Taiwan’s ongoing international isolation has barely stirred a flicker of
interest despite Taiwan’s recent presidential election and referendums on UN
membership. This neglect is not only shortsighted, but may also prove dangerous.
This seeming double standard can be explained partly by a sense of guilt: The
West has, for the most part, embraced Kosovo’s independence in an effort to
assuage its own culpability for not preventing late Serbian president Slobodan
Milosevic’s campaign of ethnic cleansing there. Similarly, much of the world is
protesting on behalf of Tibet because countless millions have witnessed China’s
brutal suppression of Tibetan culture.
Taiwan, on the other hand, does not grab our attention, because it is stable and
flourishing economically. But it has never been part of the People’s Republic of
China. Taiwan is an unrecognized independent state with a vigorous democracy and
high standards of human rights. Because Taiwan has not allowed itself to become
a victim, the world simply does not feel guilty about it, and so ignores it.
But perhaps we should feel some guilt. Taiwan deserves great credit for standing
on its own two feet, despite the international isolation imposed. China blocks
it from participating fully in the international arena, whether through the WTO,
the Olympics, or UN agencies, including the WHO. To its shame, China allows its
political goal of excluding Taiwan from membership in all international
organizations to trump even urgent public health concerns.
The small number of countries that recognize Taiwan diplomatically has dwindled
owing to a mixture of Chinese pressure and blandishments. On top of all this,
Taiwan’s nearly 23 million people go about their daily business knowing that
about 1,400 Chinese missiles are ready to be launched at them at a moment’s
notice.
It is not for me to say that Taiwan should be recognized as an independent
country. To all intents and purposes, Taiwan is already independent, albeit
without formal recognition. Equally, there are plenty of Taiwanese who would
like the island eventually to reunify with China, particularly if China
democratizes and ceases to be a one-party communist dictatorship. However, we
cannot deny that Taiwanese are unjustly being refused their place in the wider
world.
The global community should do more to usher Taiwan into the international
mainstream. Western powers have helped champion human rights and
self-determination within the bounds of international law. The campaigns that
the West waged throughout the 1980s in solidarity with democratic forces in
Soviet-dominated Eastern Europe helped bring about the end of communist
domination. A similar commitment to the democratic rights of Taiwanese could
have salutary effects in China. Moreover, Taiwan is a natural ally of any party
that espouses the values of pluralist politics, free markets and human rights.
It seems particularly shortsighted, indeed hypocritical, for the US and Britain
to seek to spread democracy and human rights throughout the world while failing
to recognize and reward the Taiwanese, a people who have embraced these concepts
wholeheartedly.
Unquestioning recognition of the “one China” policy sends the message that we
appreciate more a country that is a big, communist dictatorship rather than a
small, multiparty democracy. For the record, there are clear precedents for
divided countries to enter the UN as separate states and then eventually to
reunify: West and East Germany, North and South Yemen, and perhaps one day, the
two Koreas.
Ultimately, it is for Taiwan and China to regulate and resolve their relations.
There are already some positive signs of a bilateral thaw as a new
administration prepares to take office in Taiwan, with high-level talks taking
place between Chinese President Hu Jintao (胡錦濤) and vice president-elect Vincent
Siew (蕭萬長). The democratic world has an obligation to support this process — not
only because Taiwan deserves its support, but also because engaging more with
Taiwan could potentially be a powerful instrument of leverage for broader change
in China.
Charles Tannock is the British Conservative Party’s foreign affairs spokesman
and the European Parliament’s rapporteur on the eastern dimension of the
European Neighborhood Policy.
Middle road
a betrayal of the DPP’s principles
By Cao Changqing 曹長青
Wednesday, Apr 30, 2008, Page 8
Following the Democratic Progressive Party’s (DPP) loss in the presidential
election, a strong voice has emerged attributing the loss to the “deep green”
faction hijacking the DPP and urging the party to take the “middle road.”
What is this middle road? The political reality is the “pan-blue camp”
represents China, whereas the “pan-green camp” represents Taiwan. In choosing
between these two definitions of national identity, asking the DPP to take the
middle road is tantamount to asking it to rally around the Chinese nationalism
represented by the pan-blue camp.
This suggestion not only betrays the founding principles and ideals of the DPP,
but it has also proven to be unsuccessful in practice. During the party primary
and presidential election, DPP presidential candidate Frank Hsieh (謝長廷) adopted
an attitude of compromise and willingness to take the middle road — including
emphasizing reconciliation and mutual survival and even defending a
“constitutional one China.” The result was that the party lost by 2 million
votes. Losing is not frightening in itself. What is frightening is when the
loser does not even understand how the defeat came about.
Proponents of the middle road say that the relationship between Taiwan and China
— and the DPP and the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) — cannot be interpreted as
antagonistic. But the fact is China has 1,400 missiles aimed at Taiwan. China
has shown its determination to subsume Taiwan through its “Anti-Secession” Law
and constantly seeks to diplomatically isolate Taiwan. If this is not the
behavior of an enemy, how many more missiles and how much more oppression does
Taiwan need to deal with?
The KMT is undeniably an enemy party of the DPP. Moreover, it is not a truly
democratic party. If the KMT believes in democracy, it must return the public
property it embezzled during the party-state era. Its continued possession of
state property is the greatest testament to corruption in Taiwan. Furthermore,
the party should actively remove the remnants of dictator Chiang Kai-shek’s
(蔣介石) rule and deal with the family’s history of authoritarian rule to realize
transitional justice. In addition, it must truly recognize Taiwan and remove the
character “Chinese” from its title (中國國民黨) to become the Taiwanese Nationalist
Party.
However, not only has the KMT refused to comply with these criteria,
president-elect Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) even visited the Chiangs’ grave to pay his
respects. Vice president-elect Vincent Siew (蕭萬長) and former KMT chairman Lien
Chan (連戰) have also visited China to scratch the back of Chinese President Hu
Jintao (胡錦濤). In doing so, the KMT has sold out Taiwan’s dignity and interests,
while introducing the “one China” ideology into Taiwan.
The KMT also publicly considers the DPP its “main opponent” and intends to unite
with the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to curb Taiwanese independence. This has
not only prevented Taiwan from achieving normal statehood, but also positions
the DPP as a more antagonistic opponent than the CCP.
To those wishful thinkers within the DPP who advocate compromise and taking the
middle road, not only has the KMT never reciprocated this interest, elections
have also proven time and again that this route is not viable.
Any democratic party lacking in core values will eventually be eliminated by
voters. If the DPP does not elect a non-factional leader who can uphold the
party’s ideals, the party’s future will be bleak. As former secretary-general of
the Presidential Office Chen Shih-meng (陳師孟) recently said: If the DPP were to
emphasize the middle road at this point, then one should consider abandoning the
DPP.
Cao Changqing is a Chinese writer based in the US.
New art
wriggles into the Louvre
Some may find Jan Fabre’s
work interesting — but placed among the Old Masters, it just looks silly
By Lynn Barber
THE GUARDIAN, LONDON
Wednesday, Apr 30, 2008, Page 15
Apparently, the Louvre has a new policy of showing bits of contemporary
art but, until now, they have been small, mixed shows taking not much space.
Now, for its first solo show by a living artist, it has chosen a Belgian, Jan
Fabre, and given him the whole of the Northern School wing — 40 rooms containing
top-notch van Eycks, Bruegels, Rembrandts, Rubenses, Vermeers — to play with. He
was allowed to move pictures and rearrange rooms to place his work among the Old
Masters — i.e. he was given just about the most flattering commission any artist
could receive and the big question is: why Jan Fabre?
The catalogue informs us that he was born in 1958 in Antwerp, where he has lived
ever since, and that he was one of the pioneers of the Flemish New Wave of the
1980s, which I admit passed me by. He first came to public attention with his
“Bic Art” drawings in blue ballpoint. He has his own theater troupe in Antwerp
and describes himself as “dessinateur, plasticien, performeur, auteur, homme de
theatre, choregraphe, editeur” which I think translates as jack of all trades.
He also claims to be a descendant of the famous entomologist Jean-Henri Fabre
(1823-1915), which he likes to advertise by including insects and beetles in his
work. Several of his large objects — I hesitate to call them sculptures — are
completely covered with iridescent, blue-green scarabs — an eye-catching conceit
the first time you see it and very, very boring thereafter.
Beetles are just one medium he favors — he also works in Biro, bone, gold
sequins, drawing pins, skulls, vertebrae, synthetic hair, armor, feathers,
stuffed birds and animals. He claims the bone is human bone, but this is
probably one of his “jokes.” A typical work is Nature morte avec artiste, a
full-size coffin covered with blue-green beetles with a peacock’s head, tail and
wings sticking out, which he describes as “a reflection on death, night, absence
and the materiality of the body.” The largest and mercifully last work takes up
the entire floor of the vast Rubens Medici gallery and consists of 470 granite
tombstones lying higgledy-piggledy on plastic grass surmounted by a giant worm
with a human face vaguely resembling Fabre’s. The title is Self-Portrait as the
Biggest Worm in the World or, more excitingly in Flemish, Zelfportret als
grootste worm van de Wereld. But couldn’t he have at least made a decent worm? I
would have thought any first-year art student would leap at the chance of making
a giant worm for the Louvre, but Fabre gives us the sort of standard-issue,
beige draught-excluder you could find at any craft fair.
In the evening, he gives a performance in which he supposedly demonstrates his
skill as a “master of disguise,” i.e. he dons a cloth cap or a stuck-on beard
and wig. This is held in the galerie Daru, which has some fabulous Etruscan
sarcophagi and the Winged Victory of Samothrace. When the audience enters, Fabre
is hiding behind one of the sarcophagi shouting: “Art kept me out of jail!” Then
he runs around for a bit shouting: “Lord protect me from my friends — my enemies
I will take care of them!” Finally, he runs up the stairs to the Winged Victory
of Samothrace shouting: “Art kept me out of jail” and disappears. I hope I
haven’t spoiled the plot.
Seriously, what is the Louvre thinking of? The commissioner in charge, Marie-Laure
Bernadac, explained that they want to use contemporary art to attract younger
people, and also to liven up some of the less-visited galleries. In this I
suppose they might be successful — I’ve been to the Louvre dozens of times but
never set foot in the galerie Daru before. But the effect of Fabre’s gimcrack
installations in the Dutch and Flemish Old Master rooms is less benign. The
whole place begins to feel like some dusty theatrical props storeroom and the
great paintings on the walls are reduced to just another form of prop. It is
sad. And what is really sad is that in a few years time, the Louvre will
probably say: “Oh, we tried having contemporary art and it didn’t work.” Whereas
what they should really say is: “Why on earth did we choose Jan Fabre?”
