Inspired by Japanese comic book and animated movie One Piece, Taipei has been compared to the notorious “kingdom of the celestial dragons” (天龍國), a kingdom for nobles only, in the controversy over a temporary home for sick children.
The label has been turned into a negative symbol for the city’s Da-an District (大安) and its residents as an example of how the cultural and creativity industry can help us see things in a different light. Taking this view helps us to stop thinking about this industry only in terms of production value and economic terms, and it helps us avoid the idea that cultural creativity should be measured by whether it creates business.
The comics and animation industry has always had the potential to make the city reconsider its desire for modernization and that is something it should take pride in.
There is a reason why the desires of the city can be transformed into a shared sense of crisis. In the 1960s, a time when Western capitalism dominated the world, the Italian writer Italo Calvino wrote an inspiring passage in his book Invisible Cities, in which he argued that it was pointless to try to decide whether a city should be classified among happy cities or among unhappy cities.
“It makes no sense to divide cities into these two species, but rather into another two: those that through the years and the changes continue to give their form to desires, and those in which desires either erase the city or are erased by it,” Calvino wrote.
The way of thinking about urban modernization driven by capitalism has become a bad example for urban development. The time has come for us to reconsider urban values.
Let us take real-estate speculation as an example, which is driven by market competition. Some people actually treat it as an ethical way of protecting communities. They claim that they want to maintain a clean and safe environment, but in fact their only concern is whether the price of their home is rising or falling. This is not only an attempt to exclude new or unfamiliar things from their communities, it is also a sense of urban self-righteousness created by the opportunist speculative economy.
Naturally, this has caused a strong protest from the members of the urban middle class who live in these communities and disagree with these values.
In other words, the wealthy are pushing up market prices because they want to protect the value of their property by excluding sick children from their community. Such behavior is of course unacceptable to anyone who is willing to work together with others to safeguard shared urban values. No wonder many Taipei residents were ashamed when their city was called the “kingdom of the celestial dragons.”
The discussion triggered by the comparison of the city to the “kingdom of the celestial dragons” is quite unique because it allows us to observe the greater picture from a small detail.
Indeed, crises are often seen in the city, but as Chinese tourists often say after a visit, Taiwan’s greatest asset is its people.
Frankly speaking, an immigrant society must be tolerant, but it could also easily lose its own identity as a result of external influences.
Still, we should embrace newcomers regardless of their social standing and avoid any analysis based on class differences. In addition, the people’s warmth is the most valuable spiritual resource in daily life. Taipei, as the nation’s capital, has always been praised for the warmth of its people.
When the term danding (淡定), which means “calmness,” first appeared in a dramatic breakup story recently, it caused a sensation online. This was an example of the creative online culture among ordinary people. Comments by people of all ages implied that after having experienced the economic ups and downs of the chaotic urban competition, city residents are looking for a way to express their opinions and live an optimistic and active life of their own, without being led along by their desires.
Looking at the controversy over the “kingdom of the celestial dragons” from the perspective of the warmth of the citizens of Taipei, perhaps the term danding could teach us to pay greater attention to another term, namely “self-liberalization,” as a way to deal with the desires of a constantly changing city.
By doing that, the message would be that in the busy, competitive city of Taipei, we hope to free ourselves from the pursuit of short-term benefits and to free the city from the stigmatization of the “kingdom of the celestial dragons.”
Chiao Chung is the artistic director of the Assignment Theatre.
Translated by Eddy Chang
They did it again. For the whole world to see: an image of a Taiwan flag crushed by an industrial press, and the horrifying warning that “it’s closer than you think.” All with the seal of authenticity that only a reputable international media outlet can give. The Economist turned what looks like a pastiche of a poster for a grim horror movie into a truth everyone can digest, accept, and use to support exactly the opinion China wants you to have: It is over and done, Taiwan is doomed. Four years after inaccurately naming Taiwan the most dangerous place on
Wherever one looks, the United States is ceding ground to China. From foreign aid to foreign trade, and from reorganizations to organizational guidance, the Trump administration has embarked on a stunning effort to hobble itself in grappling with what his own secretary of state calls “the most potent and dangerous near-peer adversary this nation has ever confronted.” The problems start at the Department of State. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has asserted that “it’s not normal for the world to simply have a unipolar power” and that the world has returned to multipolarity, with “multi-great powers in different parts of the
President William Lai (賴清德) recently attended an event in Taipei marking the end of World War II in Europe, emphasizing in his speech: “Using force to invade another country is an unjust act and will ultimately fail.” In just a few words, he captured the core values of the postwar international order and reminded us again: History is not just for reflection, but serves as a warning for the present. From a broad historical perspective, his statement carries weight. For centuries, international relations operated under the law of the jungle — where the strong dominated and the weak were constrained. That
The Executive Yuan recently revised a page of its Web site on ethnic groups in Taiwan, replacing the term “Han” (漢族) with “the rest of the population.” The page, which was updated on March 24, describes the composition of Taiwan’s registered households as indigenous (2.5 percent), foreign origin (1.2 percent) and the rest of the population (96.2 percent). The change was picked up by a social media user and amplified by local media, sparking heated discussion over the weekend. The pan-blue and pro-China camp called it a politically motivated desinicization attempt to obscure the Han Chinese ethnicity of most Taiwanese.