[Editor's Note] Listening to the Voices in the Mountains
Laura Li / tr. by Anthony W. Sariti
March 2006
It was recently reported that a memorial to Aboriginal volunteer soldiers who fought for the Japanese had been erected in Wulai Waterfall Park. Tablets bearing Japanese inscriptions praised the soldiers, and a Japanese flag flew nearby. This sparked a public outcry. The Taipei County Government called for the memorial's demolition, while Wulai Township officials remained silent and the civic group that erected the memorial swore it would protect the tablets. An Aboriginal legislator expressed the hope that history could be interpreted from a different viewpoint and a new monument be erected in Chinese....
In the 60 years since WWII, the position of Aborigines has always been awkward, inextricably tied into three different views of history, those of Japan, China and Taiwan. Even within the Aboriginal community controversy has been ongoing. But for more than 400 years the Aborigines have been of one mind in their opposition to oppression, colonialism and domination, whereas mainstream society's demands for them to obey and conform have never let up, whether under the Dutch, Koxinga, the Qing Dynasty, the Japanese, the Nationalist government or today.
In contrast with the silent suffering and gradual decline that characterized the Aborigines for the past 100 years, today's debate reflects the more relaxed Aboriginal policy adopted in Taiwan in recent years. Aborigines and Han Chinese can grasp this opportunity to talk openly and honestly. Even if there are difficulties from time to time, learning to put aside widespread prejudices, to listen to the other side with humility, and not to be so quick to deny the experiences and feelings of our contemporaries is always a good thing.
In August 2005 when we devoted an issue to the sixtieth anniversary of the end of WWII, editor Tsai Wen-ting lamented the reluctance of Taiwanese to speak openly, the absence of mutual trust and people's inability to listen. Regardless of ethnicity or social class, for many people when they awaken to find that the ideals and philosophy they unquestioningly admired for many years have collapsed overnight because of political changes, a lifetime of steadfast struggle becomes a matter of shame and disgrace. Fearing ridicule or persecution, some hold to nothing and go whichever way the wind blows, while more choose silence. The war has been over for 60 years but the silent fighting continues.
Of course in Taiwan it has become a set piece that when politicians participate in a holiday celebrations they wear Aboriginal garb and shout out the Amis greeting "Nga ayho!" a few times. When Aborigines in colorful costumes perform traditional dances in demonstrations for Taiwan's admission to the United Nations, this is a symbol that further distinguishes Taiwan from China. But in real life, just how many of us have ever chatted with an Aborigine or become friends with one? The Aboriginal movement has made many gains over the last 20 years but a huge gap remains between legal guarantees and reality, a gap we need to fill.
In Mutant Message Down Under, US author Marlo Morgan records how, completely unprepared, she miraculously receives an invitation from an Australian Aboriginal tribe, drops everything and goes with them on a trek into the outback. On the way she learns how to appreciate the living things she meets that are willing to serve as food for her, how to commune with plants, and even more unbelievably, how to open herself up and practice mental telepathy. (What contemporary person, with a mind full of greedy and jealous thoughts, would dare allow others into their mind?) This spiritual journey did not just fall from Heaven: it was a mystical gift repaying her selfless help to the Aborigines many years earlier. She had helped them integrate into mainstream society and they, in turn, taught her how to become a "real person" (as they refer to themselves).
Tied in with this month's theme of identity are Ang Lee and Welly Yang. These two Chinese creative artists who work overseas have the same identity problem. Like many Aboriginal writers, they choose to stand above controversy and look quandaries straight in the eye, proving their talent to mainstream society yet striving to retain their uniqueness, thus enriching their own lives and bringing precious edification to society at large.