They say you save the best for last, but when writing a book, perhaps that is not always the case.
Granted, Bruce Jacob’s latest effort, The Kaohsiung Incident in Taiwan and Memoirs of a Foreign Big Beard, is geared toward academics or people with a specific interest in Taiwanese history and politics who would probably find the entire book interesting or at least valuable. But the second half of the book, which contains Jacobs’ memoir, is so much more engaging, unique and personal that it could make a fun read for anybody. It is almost a shame to put it last.
Most of it has to do with the organization of the book, which contains two distinct parts. The first half details the events, aftermath and implications of the 1979 Kaohsiung Incident, where a pro-democracy rally organized by Formosa Magazine (美麗島雜誌) turned violent and was used as an excuse for the ruling Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) to arrest most of the political opposition leaders. To Jacobs, this event laid the foundation for Taiwan’s democracy.
Jacobs, a professor of Asian Languages and Studies at Monash University in Australia, also details the murders of the mother and twin daughters of Lin I-hsiung (林義雄), who was one of the key figures arrested due to the incident. Jacobs was personally acquainted with the family, and in the second part of the book, we follow him as he goes from a college student interested in Asia to the “bearded foreigner” who was officially accused of being involved in the murder case and placed under police protection in Taiwan.
Jacobs does begin by providing political context during those times — from the loosening of absolute KMT control through late president Chiang Ching-kuo’s (蔣經國) reforms to the rise of the dangwai (黨外, “outside the party”) movement.
However, even in this section there are so many specific facts and names that it would be hard to become engrossed in the book without much previous knowledge of Taiwanese political history. Because of the sheer amount of details thrown out, the writing at times becomes choppy and a bit difficult to follow. And as the story moves on, I found myself wondering why Jacobs was using a literal translation of terms such as “Black Hand Gang (黑手黨),” instead of “organized crime,” which would have been far clearer for readers unfamiliar with Taiwan. Longer introductions to some people, such as Chang Fu-hsiung (張富雄) — who is only mentioned once without any explanation — would have helped as well.
About 60 pages — a little more than one-third of the book — detail the military trials of the eight key defendants as well as the civil trials of 33 involved persons. For the average reader, it would seem a bit dry, but for research purposes it is valuable information since the original text was published in Chinese-language newspapers. Sleep deprivation, torture and forced or false confessions are frequently mentioned — and it is surprising that newspapers printed transcripts of the entire trials during that time. The fact that these people were still convicted also speaks to the condition of Taiwanese justice under martial law.
Much of this latter information, including the fate of those involved, is told in an ordered, list-like format that is easy to cross reference, and Jacobs does provide analysis on how this event has contributed to Taiwanese democracy.
JARRING HALVES
The tone changes significantly in the second part, as the writing becomes more lively and personal, and this is where the book really shines. You don’t have to be an academic to enjoy this part, as it is a fascinating tale of a foreigner entangled in local politics who must defend himself against a powerful authoritarian state.
Breaking from the previous academic style, Jacobs writes about his emotional reactions to the events, including a scene where he curses out a policeman in Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese), and another one where he ends up in tears.
Much is mentioned about how Jacobs’ ordeal was framed differently in the local press, thereby providing a look into the media environment of those days. What happened to Jacobs is rather bizarre and almost comical since he was eventually able to get away without much harm, but it is chilling when thinking of local political prisoners who did not have such protection as a foreigner during the Martial Law era. It also reflects the absurdness of the security and justice system under the days of one-party rule.
The memoir continues as Jacobs returns to Taiwan throughout the 1990s (still being watched even with the lifting of martial law) and stays well-paced and vivid with many compelling scenes that further add to the absurdity of his situation. The Lin family murders remain unsolved.
Obviously, the second half of the book would make no sense without the context provided in the first part. However, Jacobs inserts himself into the first half on several occasions and also references the first half in his memoir, and this makes one wonder if there could have been any way to take it further and combine the two halves into a part-scholarly work, part-memoir that would be one comprehensive piece without two jarring halves.
Many people noticed the flood of pro-China propaganda across a number of venues in recent weeks that looks like a coordinated assault on US Taiwan policy. It does look like an effort intended to influence the US before the meeting between US President Donald Trump and Chinese dictator Xi Jinping (習近平) over the weekend. Jennifer Kavanagh’s piece in the New York Times in September appears to be the opening strike of the current campaign. She followed up last week in the Lowy Interpreter, blaming the US for causing the PRC to escalate in the Philippines and Taiwan, saying that as
US President Donald Trump may have hoped for an impromptu talk with his old friend Kim Jong-un during a recent trip to Asia, but analysts say the increasingly emboldened North Korean despot had few good reasons to join the photo-op. Trump sent repeated overtures to Kim during his barnstorming tour of Asia, saying he was “100 percent” open to a meeting and even bucking decades of US policy by conceding that North Korea was “sort of a nuclear power.” But Pyongyang kept mum on the invitation, instead firing off missiles and sending its foreign minister to Russia and Belarus, with whom it
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has a dystopian, radical and dangerous conception of itself. Few are aware of this very fundamental difference between how they view power and how the rest of the world does. Even those of us who have lived in China sometimes fall back into the trap of viewing it through the lens of the power relationships common throughout the rest of the world, instead of understanding the CCP as it conceives of itself. Broadly speaking, the concepts of the people, race, culture, civilization, nation, government and religion are separate, though often overlapping and intertwined. A government
Nov. 3 to Nov. 9 In 1925, 18-year-old Huang Chin-chuan (黃金川) penned the following words: “When will the day of women’s equal rights arrive, so that my talents won’t drift away in the eastern stream?” These were the closing lines to her poem “Female Student” (女學生), which expressed her unwillingness to be confined to traditional female roles and her desire to study and explore the world. Born to a wealthy family on Nov. 5, 1907, Huang was able to study in Japan — a rare privilege for women in her time — and even made a name for herself in the
RSS