Myths of transformation
After a village gains autonomy, will it easily be able to switch from agriculture to eco- or culture-based tourism?
"For both ecological and cultural tourism, neither acquiring the foundation of needed knowledge nor implementing the plan is as easy as one might imagine," says Lin Yih-ren of Providence University. If a village only has homestays, homes on stilts, and local cuisine, but lacks culture-based tourism that is richer and deeper, it's all too easy to devolve into an empty and shallow "search for cultural novelty." At its extreme, this approach can speed the destruction and death of a culture. For instance, can the "hunting experience" that has been very popular in recent years really convey the ecological wisdom of Taiwanese indigenous peoples? Do the cultural performances currently in vogue merely transfer an earlier era's "window dressing" of song and dance to the tribal village?
There are also numerous myths about developing eco-tourism. Many Aborigines and Han Chinese alike believe that Aborigines born and raised in the forest must have absorbed thousands of years of knowledge and wisdom about living in harmony with nature. Therefore it ought to be a piece of cake for Taiwanese Aborigines to develop eco-tourism. Yet they overlook that the last half-century of industrialization has severed these traditions already for a generation or two. How much ecological wisdom do tribes that have been steeped in capitalist civilization still possess? At the same time, the new knowledge and skills required to rebuild the environment are often underestimated.
An example can be found in the campaign of a few years back to create a Magaw National Park that would be co-administered with indigenous peoples.
To protect the virgin cypress forests on Mt. Chilan (what the Atayal call Mt. Magaw) environmentalists have been pushing to establish Magaw National Park. These calls have met with strong opposition from tribal peoples. After discussions were held locally, the two sides agreed to a "new partnership agreement," which was signed by President Chen Shui-bian. The document advocates the government sharing control with Aborigines and drawing up models for Aboriginal control of natural resources, as well as putting some 30 tribal villages near the park on a track toward economic transformation.
The Magaw model is noble in concept, but not so splendid in the way it actually operates. Lin Yih-ren and his students issued that warning after conducting in-depth research about tribal villages for five years. Lin cites the case of Nanshan, which is regarded as the most "modernized" of the tribal villages in the Magaw area. There is a huge gap between the ideal of eco-based development and the reality.
Nanshan Village is located in the headwaters of the Lanyang River and is blessed with outstanding natural conditions. In the 1970s the government promoted cabbage farming in the area. It gradually became a major supplier of summer vegetables to Taipei, and a division of labor developed wiith tribal people responsible for production, and the flatlander produce vendors responsible for marketing.
"The force of modernization has deeply penetrated the village, allowing the economic situation to be much better than in most tribal villages," notes Lin. "But it has come at the price of damaging the environment and sacrificing the health of residents." Lin points out that Aboriginal farmers rely on money for their crops from produce vendors to buy fertilizer and pesticides. They are well aware that the price they get is low and their labor is being exploited. Yet they dare not complain. And because vegetable farms are labor intensive, most of the village's children are pushed to work there as soon as they graduate from junior high. Thus the track to education and work outside the village is broken. The impact has been to limit the horizons and imagination of the village.
With the soil overtaxed for long periods, more and more fertilizers have had to be applied, yet cabbage yields have declined. After Taiwan joined the WTO, the situation grew even direr. Although some villagers realized the need for economic transformation, the "joint administration" and "local control" of the Magaw National Park plan didn't interest them. They were still mostly concerned with the effects on village life in terms of restrictions and development. Five years later, most are still growing vegetables and feeling conflicted, half looking forward to the plan's implementation and half dreading it.
From his experience of seeing how quickly the traditional Atayal gaga rules were lost in Nanshan, Lin recommends that other tribal villages, before opting for an eco-economy, establish an ecological perspective that integrates the traditional with the modern and works in harmony with local community development efforts. Only then is long-term economic development possible.
"Do you want to listen to eight-part Bunun harmonies? Would you like to learn Paiwan hunting techniques? How about experiencing Rukai tatoo culture? This summer there's a special new way of having fun!" All manner of colorful travel ads call to the parched souls of the urban concrete jungle to embrace nature and experience primitive culture. Indirectly, they also urge various tribal villages hoping to experience a revival to come up with "culture" and "ecology" that they are proud of.
Yet, to recall how it was once put in a story: "The hound tells the hare: You better run faster than me. I'm just running for my dinner; you're running for your life!" For Han Chinese society, tribal village tourism adds one more dish to a varied menu of travel choices, but for the villages themselves, these choices are a matter of their very survival. Amid successive tourism vogues, moving tribal villages toward local control and regaining "paradise lost" in practice poses great challenges.
The rebuilding of cultural identification among the tribe can revive tribal villages that had fallen silent. The photo shows the Monkey Festival in the Puyuma village of Nanwang, Taitung; many members of the tribe return for the festivities.
The tribal village of Chenhsipao, which is in Hsinchu County's Chienshih Township, used to be known far and wide for its cypress forests. Although the village had to grope in the dark in pursuit of economic development, because it has a high degree of autonomy, it is regarded as having a lot of potential.