Evan Kolb, a senior at Indiana University has been offered an opportunity to pursue what every Chinese-language student in America dreams of — to study in China for one year. Having lived on both sides of the Taiwan Strait though, Kolb is also saving money for a one way ticket to Taipei in hopes of seeking future employment.
“I love both places, but feel better adapted to Taiwan,” Kolb said.
Businessmen, historians, journalists and language students have flocked to China ever since the country opened its economy to the world. China, with its rich ancient history, is seen by many as the new land of opportunity.
Photo courtesy of ICLP
However, an increasing number of Chinese-language students from the US are also choosing Taiwan. Through e-mail correspondence, the Taipei Times spoke with former flagship students from National Taiwan University’s International Chinese Language Program (ICLP), formerly known as the Stanford Program, who have also studied in China. Censorship in China was cited as a reason why Taiwan is becoming an attractive alternative for language students, although they were also drawn to Taiwan’s lifestyle, food and friendly people.
SPEAKING AND LISTENING
Having lived in both Taiwan and China, the students, who were a mixture of arts and business majors, noticed clear differences in teaching styles. Cadence Baugh, another Indiana University student, found it easier to accustom herself to the education system in Taiwan where she said “teachers were more familiar with creative discussion and debate.” Having to conceal her opinions in classrooms in Beijing, Baugh said, was frustrating.
"On the other hand, I learned more about Chinese education culture by experiencing it firsthand in an authentic setting. Although it pulled me out of my comfort zone and left me frustrated some days, I was able to become better aware of what it means to be a Chinese without complete freedom of speech. Both experiences were starkly different yet equally rewarding," Baugh said.
But this pressure to self-censor has been more implicit than explicit. Rather than being advised by teachers in the US to avoid discussing certain subjects, the students instinctively know not to bring up topics such as Taiwan, democracy, ethnic issues or the Falun Gong while studying in China.
“It comes less from outside pressure than from common sense knowledge that they aren’t going to produce a satisfactory answer,” says Michael Nash, a Columbia University alumni.
Bailey Mack, a student from Western Kentucky University added that controversial subjects were never discussed in class anyway. Her textbooks’ sections on “politics,” she said, always consisted of bizarre topics such as a dialogue about a school principal.
Some students didn’t see local politics as being relevant to them. This was the case for a Hunter College student who wished to remain anonymous. He says his experience in Xian taught him that anyone with a decent education is aware that corruption exists but wouldn’t dare question authorities, let along protest openly.
“There is an incredible sense of nationalism that is volatile as well as trivial to me,” he said.
Believing that they weren’t in a position to change anything, other students learned how to give neutral responses when discussing sensitive subjects. Kolb says that while living in Beijing, his usual answer is that he doesn’t have the authority as a foreigner to speak about certain topics. The issue is not entirely about being unable to speak one’s mind, Kolb added; rather, it’s about learning to listen to different perspectives.
Either way, being a young expat in China requires developing the skill to sense when to keep quiet. Michael Chan, a Chinese-American student at Indiana University learned this through trial-and-error. During an event in Nanjing when a group of Taiwanese exchange students were posing for a picture, he jokingly said, “Long Live Taiwan!” (台灣萬歲). Later, a Chinese friend cautioned him that he shouldn’t have said that. Since then, Chan has been more cautious with his wording, especially when applying for jobs in China.
’BLACK PHLEGM’
For the students, China was viewed as a place to advance one’s career while Taiwan was seen as being more comfortable to live in.
“The Mainland is where you go to develop professional connections and network for jobs after studying Mandarin,” said a John Hopkins University graduate student.
Having lived in Shanghai previously, Dallas Taylor, a San Francisco State University student is excited to be moving to Beijing to teach English but says that his “real dream” is living in Taiwan again one day. Taylor misses Taiwan’s beaches and friendly people. When caught in the rain, a complete stranger with an umbrella walked with him for 25 minutes to his dorm, he said.
Other reasons which made Taiwan more livable were food and cleanliness. Chan says that thinking about Taiwan’s night markets makes him “drool,” while Mack is relieved to not “cough up black phlegm every night.” Moreover, the John Hopkins student said he once ate something in Beijing which contained petroleum and tried to force himself to throw up afterwards.
Despite black phlegm and petroleum, the students still valued their experiences for what they were, and didn’t see a need for pitting Taiwan and China against each other. Kolb said that studying in a small village in Hunan province was a “uniquely rewarding” experience. He also added that “Taiwan feels like home.”
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
The following three paragraphs are just some of what the local Chinese-language press is reporting on breathlessly and following every twist and turn with the eagerness of a soap opera fan. For many English-language readers, it probably comes across as incomprehensibly opaque, so bear with me briefly dear reader: To the surprise of many, former pop singer and Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) ex-lawmaker Yu Tien (余天) of the Taiwan Normal Country Promotion Association (TNCPA) at the last minute dropped out of the running for committee chair of the DPP’s New Taipei City chapter, paving the way for DPP legislator Su
It’s hard to know where to begin with Mark Tovell’s Taiwan: Roads Above the Clouds. Having published a travelogue myself, as well as having contributed to several guidebooks, at first glance Tovell’s book appears to inhabit a middle ground — the kind of hard-to-sell nowheresville publishers detest. Leaf through the pages and you’ll find them suffuse with the purple prose best associated with travel literature: “When the sun is low on a warm, clear morning, and with the heat already rising, we stand at the riverside bike path leading south from Sanxia’s old cobble streets.” Hardly the stuff of your
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby