It’s difficult to tell who Transnational Taiwan is targeted to, although it is well-researched and brings up some interesting points. Content-wise, it’s structured as an introductory primer to the concepts relating to transnationalism and the myriad ways they manifest in the nation’s past and present, but the dense academic language, much of it theoretical and unrelated directly to Taiwan, makes it difficult for the average reader to slog through.
Such writing may be enjoyable to more scholarly-minded folks, but this reviewer cannot speak for them. The formatting doesn’t help. The page-long paragraphs filled with minor quotations, parentheses and in-text citations make some passages nearly impossible to get through. More paraphrasing and leaving citations for the end of the chapter would greatly help.
Between the difficult parts, however, are bits that are quite conversational, including author David Pendery’s personal musings and experiences as a foreigner in Taiwan, insightful editorial-style analysis and interviews with locals who speak to the transnational experience in different ways.
In any event, the transnationalism of Taiwan is an important and relevant topic to highlight, especially as it continues to find ways to connect with the world despite its international political isolation. Pendery asks whether Taiwan can be considered transnational within international conceptions and contexts (despite what China wants the world to think) in the introduction.
The answer is clear: “This ‘nation,’ with all of its rich history, linguistic diversity and peoples (not least indigenous), varied cultures and interlopers of all kinds within its borders, unique geography, interaction in world trade, its own laws, customs, norms, identity and a functioning government — is in more than a sturdy position to be seen as very much, very opulently, very amply, ‘transnational.’”
As an American journalist and scholar who has lived in Taiwan for 20 years, Pendery is a transnational himself. Despite his self-professed language barriers, he’s well-attuned to the social and political fabric in Taiwan as he teaches local students and started a family here. Pendery has written much about the topic in the past, particularly in Taipei Times op-eds as well as his previous book, A Light in the East: A Personal and Analytical Taiwan Study (reviewed on Jan. 14, 2021).
It’s still a valuable exercise to take a comprehensive look at all the ways transnationalism manifests in Taiwan, not just through actual movement but also the daily lives, identities and worldviews of its people. It trickles down to areas we don’t usually think of as transnational, as Pendery highlights, including the fact that most politicians are multilingual, and how indigenous people still remember their ancestors’ ocean-going ways in their rituals.
Only a small portion of Taiwan’s transnationalism is policy-oriented, such as the government’s emphasis on building informal ties with Southeast Asia; much of it is organically driven by the people, who seem to always find themselves in the crossroads of history and geopolitics. This spans from indigenous people expanding into the Austronesian world, to locals studying, doing business and settling abroad, to foreigners moving here — whether it be migrants, expats or international organizations — and beyond.
As Pendery states, transnationalism is nothing new as people, goods and information have been moving across borders since antiquity: take the Silk Road, for example. It’s hard to be a non-transnational country these days with the ease of transportation and communication. One really doesn’t need to overload on complicated theory to grasp the essence of the matter.
More space could have instead been used to expound on how these ideas directly apply to Taiwan and why the concept is especially vital to the nation’s survival. While the connections are apparent, it still feels a bit understated, especially regarding Beijing’s pervasive oppression (not just of Taiwan, but the region) that both directly and indirectly drives many of these forces and movements.
For example, international press freedom watchdog Reporters Without Borders chose to set up its Asia bureau in Taiwan due to China’s oppression of freedom of speech, while the government launched the New Southbound Policy to work around its political barriers and to reduce its economic reliance on China.
It also feels that not enough discussion is given to the Southeast Asian students and “new immigrants” who aren’t migrant workers, and the value and potential that they can bring to Taiwan, especially with its brain drain and low birth rate.
The crux of Pendery’s argument lies in Chapter 8, “Taiwan and Transnational Governance,” where, in light of Taiwan’s international isolation, it could still function as a transnational entity “that does not even need the recognition of others.”
Furthermore, he hopes that this could evolve into “something of the stateless world, populated by ‘world citizens’ who have abandoned those often labored, synthetic attachments to home nations, an idea that has created endless conflict in the world.”
It’s an encouraging sentiment, but as Pendery notes, with the rise of a distinct Taiwanese identity, Taiwanese have become increasingly attached to the idea of a “nation.” How this affects Taiwan’s transnational development remains an interesting point to observe.
In 2012, the US Department of Justice (DOJ) heroically seized residences belonging to the family of former president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁), “purchased with the proceeds of alleged bribes,” the DOJ announcement said. “Alleged” was enough. Strangely, the DOJ remains unmoved by the any of the extensive illegality of the two Leninist authoritarian parties that held power in the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and Taiwan. If only Chen had run a one-party state that imprisoned, tortured and murdered its opponents, his property would have been completely safe from DOJ action. I must also note two things in the interests of completeness.
Taiwan is especially vulnerable to climate change. The surrounding seas are rising at twice the global rate, extreme heat is becoming a serious problem in the country’s cities, and typhoons are growing less frequent (resulting in droughts) but more destructive. Yet young Taiwanese, according to interviewees who often discuss such issues with this demographic, seldom show signs of climate anxiety, despite their teachers being convinced that humanity has a great deal to worry about. Climate anxiety or eco-anxiety isn’t a psychological disorder recognized by diagnostic manuals, but that doesn’t make it any less real to those who have a chronic and
When Bilahari Kausikan defines Singapore as a small country “whose ability to influence events outside its borders is always limited but never completely non-existent,” we wish we could say the same about Taiwan. In a little book called The Myth of the Asian Century, he demolishes a number of preconceived ideas that shackle Taiwan’s self-confidence in its own agency. Kausikan worked for almost 40 years at Singapore’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, reaching the position of permanent secretary: saying that he knows what he is talking about is an understatement. He was in charge of foreign affairs in a pivotal place in
Just far enough out of reach to keep big crowds away, but not so far as to make a day-trip an exhausting affair, Jinhuang Hot Spring (近黃溫泉) is a nice winter escape for your next visit to Taitung County. The pools are numerous, the water is the perfect temperature and the walk in is not too challenging, though you will have to get your feet wet. The adventure starts in the county’s Jinlun Village (金崙), which is accessible by train, but you’ll want to have your own car, scooter or bicycle for this trip. If you arrive by train, walk up
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