The issue of whether to call the language spoken in Taiwan “Minnanese” (閩南語) or “Taigi” (台語, taiyu, also called Hoklo or Taiwanese) has long been a subject of debate. On the surface, it seems to be a simple question about language, but in essence it is a political question of identity.
Perhaps we could gain some inspiration from the duality of English as a language. English was, at its earliest, the language of the Angles — the Germanic people from the German-Danish border who invaded and settled in what is now known as England, whose name meant the “Land of the Angles.”
Through colonization and the spread of the language across the world, English — even as it melded with and adopted local characteristics and traits from other languages — remained essentially the same. In the US, Australia and other Anglophone countries, English is the name of the language, but the name is appended with a qualifier — the name of the country where it is used — such as American English or Australian English.
There is another aspect to the name English. England being the “Land of the Angles” has led to a linguistic “representation” that eclipses the languages of the original Celtic inhabitants of the British Isles and the Germanic Saxons who later invaded and settled in England from continental Europe. This is also a display of linguistic force, and it is a reality that cannot be anything but accepted.
From a linguistic standpoint, the origins of Taigi come from the convergence of the two parent branches of Tsuan-tsiu-ue (泉州話) and Tsang-tsiu-ue (漳州話). The first speakers of this language in Taiwan sailed across the “Black Ditch” — or the Taiwan Strait — to set down roots in Taiwan. All said, Taigi is a localized amalgamation that historically adopted influences from Dutch, Taiwanese indigenous languages, Japanese and Beijing-based Mandarin Chinese, gradually forming the Taigi spoken today.
If we are to split languages based on their linguistic branching, “Minnanese” is an umbrella term, but as a semantic hypernym, Minnanese has broader connotations and scope. Taigi is more specific, as a hyponym, with narrower connotations and scope, putting it on the same hierarchical level as the Amoy (廈門話) spoken in Xiamen, China, Tsang-tsiu-ue spoken in Zhangzhou, China, and Tsuan-tsiu-ue spoken in Quanzhou, China — all distinct languages in their own right.
People should remember, though, that there is a language in southwestern China and among several groups within Southeast Asia called “Tai” (also written as 台語 in Chinese), of which Thai from Thailand is a major language.
Some claim that using Taiwanese (台語) to refer to “Taiwanese Minnanese” is a form of Hoklo chauvinism and that using the name “Taiwanese” is unfair to other linguistic groups and ethnic groups who have also settled for a long time in Taiwan. How does one ethnic group take hold of the name “Taiwan” and not afford other groups the ability to use the name either?
Circling back to the start, language is power. This is a reality. Groups that are large have more influence and languages naturally coalesce toward power and prestige. The name “Chinese” refers to the spoken word and written script of the official language used in China, but China is also composed of several ethnic groups and peoples.
Using “Chinese” to refer to all languages and scripts spoken and written by ethnic Han people is Han chauvinism, and this is no less unjust toward non-Han peoples.
Taigi falls under the Min language umbrella, just as Mandarin is a part of the Sinitic language umbrella. Linguists emphasize that all languages are equal — that no language is inferior to another or lacking in refinement or sophistication — but power dynamics has always differed greatly from this linguistic principle. Renaming “Taiwanese Minnanese” as “Taigi” is closely related to Taiwan’s self-identity. It is a political question.
Languages are productions based on customs, conventions and the ideas of a population. Languages progress and names evolve. From “Minnanese” to “Taiwan Minnanese” to “Tai-uan-ue” and “Taigi,” the adoption and dropping of names involve the majority of the populace that speaks the language.
Multiple names for one thing or one name for multiple things is a linguistic norm. Politics involves political considerations, and languages operate by the rhyme and reason of languages.
Hugo Tseng is a linguistics PhD candidate at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, and former department head of Soochow University’s English Department.
Translated by Tim Smith
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something
RSS