In her acceptance speech after winning Best Documentary at the Golden Horse Awards on Nov. 17, Taiwanese director Fu Yue (傅榆) said: “I really hope that one day our country can be treated as a truly independent entity.”
Fu’s statement opened a Pandora’s Box. Fearful Chinese filmmakers rolled out “united front” cliches on stage; the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) publicity department banned Chinese-funded films from participating in future Golden Horse ceremonies.
The films of many winners this year addressed social issues in China. Films that explore topics such as people’s livelihoods, social inequality or medical problems in China have never been shut out of the Golden Horse Awards.
This shows Taiwan’s inclusiveness and its willingness to care about China’s social ills.
However, while these Chinese filmmakers might have the courage to talk about their nation’s social issues, they do not dare to say no to the CCP’s ridiculous territorial demands.
Fu’s documentary, Our Youth in Taiwan (我們的青春，在台灣), is essentially an exploration of Taiwanese’ resistance to China’s influence, how they see themselves, and why there are Chinese willing to stand up and defend Taiwan’s resistance against Chinese oppression.
However, the awards ceremony showed that Chinese filmmakers clearly have no intention of engaging in dialogue. Chinese-language cinema has been damaged to the point of no longer being able to change society for the better.
If those in attendance possessed the courage to point out the social problems where they live, then perhaps they will also be able to consider the root cause of the problem.
Have the filmmakers who criticized Fu’s speech ever wondered how the award organizers, although pressured by Taiwanese who are wary of so many Chinese artists and filmmakers winning, still manage to judge films in a professional manner and often select Chinese winners?
Since Taiwan’s democratization, the government has never asked Chinese filmmakers to side with it politically before they enter the nation, but the Chinese government has repeatedly forced Taiwanese artists to publicly side with it.
Since she received funding from the Ministry of Culture, Taiwanese actress Ruby Lin (林心如) was reported to be a supporter of Taiwanese independence.
There are countless other examples of the Chinese government’s partiality in treating Taiwanese artists, including Lawrence Ko (柯宇綸), Leon Dai (戴立忍), Crowd Lu (盧廣仲), Yoga Lin (林宥嘉) and Chou Tzu-yu (周子瑜).
The Golden Horse Awards ceremony is so valuable because it is a stage without taboos — presenters and winners have no fear about being arrested for what they say.
Art has the ability to break down political barriers, to transcend language barriers — and Taiwanese respect that.
However, before the Chinese government talks about “respect,” it should pull back from the disrespect it has shown Taiwanese performers over the years. More important still, it should start respecting its own artists.
If not, the tightening red grip of state control and censorship over so many years will lead to a chilling effect that makes people afraid of their own shadow — and the two sides of the Strait will grow ever more estranged.
Michael Lin is a postgraduate student at National Taiwan University’s Graduate Institute of National Development.
Translated by Lin Lee-kai
Donald Trump’s return to the White House has offered Taiwan a paradoxical mix of reassurance and risk. Trump’s visceral hostility toward China could reinforce deterrence in the Taiwan Strait. Yet his disdain for alliances and penchant for transactional bargaining threaten to erode what Taiwan needs most: a reliable US commitment. Taiwan’s security depends less on US power than on US reliability, but Trump is undermining the latter. Deterrence without credibility is a hollow shield. Trump’s China policy in his second term has oscillated wildly between confrontation and conciliation. One day, he threatens Beijing with “massive” tariffs and calls China America’s “greatest geopolitical
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) made the astonishing assertion during an interview with Germany’s Deutsche Welle, published on Friday last week, that Russian President Vladimir Putin is not a dictator. She also essentially absolved Putin of blame for initiating the war in Ukraine. Commentators have since listed the reasons that Cheng’s assertion was not only absurd, but bordered on dangerous. Her claim is certainly absurd to the extent that there is no need to discuss the substance of it: It would be far more useful to assess what drove her to make the point and stick so
The central bank has launched a redesign of the New Taiwan dollar banknotes, prompting questions from Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) legislators — “Are we not promoting digital payments? Why spend NT$5 billion on a redesign?” Many assume that cash will disappear in the digital age, but they forget that it represents the ultimate trust in the system. Banknotes do not become obsolete, they do not crash, they cannot be frozen and they leave no record of transactions. They remain the cleanest means of exchange in a free society. In a fully digitized world, every purchase, donation and action leaves behind data.
The Honduran elections seem to have put China on defense. The promises of trade and aid have failed to materialize, industries are frustrated, and leading candidate Salvador Nasralla, who has increased his lead in the polls, has caused Beijing to engage in a surge of activity that appears more like damage control than partnership building. As Nasralla’s momentum has grown, China’s diplomacy, which seems to be dormant since the establishment of diplomatic relations in 2023, has shown several attempts to avoid a reversal if the Liberal or the National party — which also favor Taipei — emerge as winners in the
RSS