I never realized that May Chin (金素梅) was an Aborigine until she participated in last year's legislative elections. Only then did I find out that the woman whom I saw on TV when I was a little boy and always thought of as a Han Chinese was really an Aborigine. Nor did I know that Orchid Island is the home of the Yami (Tao) tribe. I have only recently learned a little bit about Aborigines through reports about the anti-nuclear-waste protests. But I'd like to say that the rediscovery of Aborigines by the Han majority, or even by the Aborigines themselves, may not be something worth celebrating.
Perhaps these are only my own ignorant musings, but this kind of renewed recognition of Aborigines may be the result of the gradual maturation of the "Aboriginal niche" in cultural and political circles.
Aboriginal culture has been deemed to have the potential for consumption both by the Han majority and by Aborigines themselves. Through the recent protests, Aborigines have, under the focus of the media, come to symbolize something that can be consumed constantly. It may be consumption based on sympathy for the disadvantaged, a kind of humanitarian consumption where the people in front of the camera seem innocent and pure but find themselves in a miserable situation. The attitude that "Aborigines are really pitiful, we should take a good look at their problems" is not any different from calling them "mountain compatriots that should be helped." Through such humanitarian attitudes we can ease our consciences, but in our hearts we hide an unmentionable cynicism and hypocrisy.
This kind of consumption may be a case of hunting for cultural curiosities -- it has also produced a diversified choice of products. We will always find our way to the Ginmond Temple to eat tofu soup if we go to Kyoto, or buy Chingshui porcelain if we go to Tungshan. It feels as if products for cultural consumption lead us to the core of that culture, satisfying the urban middle class' cultural conceptions about "others." At the very least, we are allowed to try the flavors that culture should possess, just as the TV news anchor excitedly describes to the audience the traditional dress that members of the Yami tribe wear during their protests.
Cultural consumption can immediately and effectively satisfy our desires and needs, but at the same time it is fleeting and one-sided in the same way as souvenirs make us feel as if we have obtained something significant, even though the souvenirs will end up just gathering dust. To a certain extent, the same conditions seem to apply to the current anti-nuclear-waste protests, or at least to the media reports from these protests.
It is not necessarily appropriate to overly emphasize the differences between the Han majority and Aborigines when it comes to these protests. If we don't consider the most fundamental rights a person or citizen should enjoy, but make the ethnic perspective our only outlook, then we will still have fallen for the presupposed Han-centric logic.
When the residents of Orchid Island started their intense protests, they finally shook the nation's technocrats, and they also brought the disputed policy of storing nuclear waste "outside the nation's borders" back to the table. North Korea, China and Southeast Asian nations are all countries that we see as backwards, countries which we do our best to belittle and ridicule. Now we turn around and want them to take our nuclear waste.
This shows us a typical Han-centric hierarchy -- Han people, Aborigines, other backward Asian countries. Given this behavior, what rights do we have to accuse Western multinational corporations of bringing pollution and damage to Taiwan now that we are behaving in the same authoritarian and colonial ways towards "backwards countries?"
Politically, we also have to consider to what extent the rediscovery and renewed recognition of Aborigines relate to Taiwanese nationalism. When we say that Aborigines are Taiwanese or talk about the so-called "four great ethnic groups," can the term "Aborigine" maintain its subjectivity? The implication is that the differences between Aborigines and the Han majority may have been ignored and exaggerated for political reasons.
When policies for foreign workers are being determined, the impact on Aborigines is not considered, but during elections one always hears theories about the percentages of blood relations between different ethnic groups in Taiwan. I wish with all my heart that those politicians with complicated blood ties will not start quarreling because the red blood cells in their bodies belong to different ethnic groups.
Even the "Aborigine" concept eliminates cultural and anthropological differences and characteristics between each tribe. The elimination of such distinctions is very convenient to Han nationalists. The simplification of ethnic groups by saying that "they are all Aborigines" is a necessary move in any nationalist mobilization, and it is even more convenient for promoting the political consumption of "them."
For the Aboriginal movement, the maturity of the Aboriginal sector of the cultural and political consumer markets may be beneficial in the short term, especially in the new economic era that stresses the attainment of huge short-term benefits. In terms of public relations, the Aboriginal sector can bring media attention, while in terms of political competition it may lead to a piece of the pie in the form of more votes.
But how much benefit will it bring Aboriginal culture? Will it really bring substantial improvements to Aboriginal education and the economic situation of Aborigines? Isn't it time to review the Aboriginal movement and what its goals are? What does the word "Aborigine" really mean to the Han majority and to the Aborigines? At a time when Aborigines are becoming the new pet of cultural consumption and an indicator of political correctness, it seems that the concept is becoming gradually blurred.
Chang Chih-wei is a PhD at the Social Research Institute of Tunghai University.
Translated by Perry Svensson
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