For any type of historical material, the hope is that it can enrich our understanding of the past. At the very least it should be able to help reconstruct the historical context. Naturally, oral history is no exception. But recently many historians have been wondering whether the accumulation of so much oral history amounts to historical truth, or just the "collective memory" of a certain group?

Shaping the stuffing to fit the dumpling

There are many people who draw on oral histories as source materials. But just how reliable is the material? When a gray-beard starts talking about the Japanese occupation era, is his memory likely to be objective? Is it always possible to verify things said about an era so long past? Might not interviewees see "the good old days" through rose-colored glasses?

Because oral history is based on one person talking in response to questions asked by an interviewer, a number of variables--such as how the questions are phrased, or the tone of voice, attitude, and (most importantly) point of view of the questioner--can affect the answer.

This is one of the key problems with oral history and a source of many doubts about its value. For example, in some histories of the February 28 incident, there are frequent harsh criticisms of the government. "It seems like, unless there are some quotes of the person cursing out the government, then it fails to express 'the spirit of Taiwanese,'" says Hsu Hsueh-chi, a researcher at the Institute of Modern History of the Academia Sinica. This kind of history, which is in fact determined by ideology, is, as the Taiwanese saying has it, like "shaping the stuffing to fit the dumpling": The form of the final product is predetermined.

Inevitably, interviewees are affected by the viewpoints and personal memories of the interviewer, and by current conditions in society. Given that everyone is exposed to the mass media today, it is hard to ensure that the views and statements that senior citizens express about the past have not been guided by the current context. "It is very possible that, given a certain atmosphere in society, the interviewee knows very well what the interviewer is aiming at, and just tells him or her what they want to hear," cautions Wang Ming-ko, an associate researcher at the Institute of History and Philology at the Academia Sinica.

On the other hand, it is necessary for the interviewer to develop a basis of trust to get the maximum amount of information out of the interviewee. However, often over-familiarity leads the interviewer to develop sympathy for the subject, and to reach the same conclusions as the interviewee. It is also possible that the interviewee will want to hide some things and play up others, only providing a one-sided story.

In many ways, oral history interviewers are like reporters. But whereas reporters try to keep their stories balanced, many oral history interviewers have to focus on certain kinds of people, or take whatever they can find. Unfortunately, for events long past, it is hard to find anyone who was around then, so it is hard to get a balanced perspective.

Fear of ambition for success

Another problem is that the atmosphere of an interview itself can affect what people say. In a seminar, senior citizens recall their wartime experiences under Japanese occupation. After several describe their hunger and suffering, following speakers unwittingly raise exactly the same points. "The statements of the first speakers become the memories of the later speakers," is how Wang Ming-ko describes it. This type of oral history can only produce a "collective memory," and not historical fact per se.

If oral testimony is not treated as pure history, but rather is viewed in the same light as a newspaper report, it can be read and then forgotten. But if oral history becomes the foundation of scholarly writing, or itself becomes printed up as a final product, it is very possible there will be problems.

Another problem with oral history is translation. Whether the original language is Taiwanese, Hakka, or an aboriginal tongue, it is hard to say whether the original statements have been accurately rendered into modern Mandarin, or whether "something has been lost in the translation."

Most worrisome is that today many people doing history are interested in fast returns of fame and fortune.

In 1986, the Institute of Modern History did an oral history interview with Tang Chuan- tsung, a key entrepreneur in the period of economic takeoff. There was a great deal of criticism of then-president Chiang Ching-kuo in Tang's statements. His company asked the Institute to hold off publication until after Chiang's death, and the Institute acceded to this request and did not publish the entire text until 1993.

Today the emphasis in oral history is on getting a book out right away. Forget for a moment that this might cause those asked to talk about people who are still alive to think twice, there is not even enough time to verify the information that is acquired. In rigorously done oral histories, explains Hsu Hsueh-chi, "If the interviewee says she graduated from Taipei First Girls' High School, we try to think of some subtle way to ask her to show us her diploma or a yearbook. Otherwise we have to double-check the information through other sources." Oral history that is not done to such standards does not deserve to be called "history," but rather should only be read as anecdotes or even historical fiction.

Who interprets history?

Of course this doesn't mean that oral history has no value. Wang Ming-ko notes that there are many reasons why those who "explore the past" are working so urgently. Over thousands of years, groups of Austronesians and Chinese came to Taiwan, creating a certain level of saturation. "The people on the island have been divided into groups, competing over who has the most claim to the island's resources," says Wang. But looking back through history with the motivation of supporting one claim or another is quite dangerous, and very easily leads people to find only what they are looking for.

Sometimes oral history is a way to revive long-suppressed memories, to create a tradition and record a past for a certain group, because these collective memories are useful for group solidarity. But there is also risk in this. For example, to excessively stress the past of one group means to deliberately marginalize others.

The goal of some oral history is social justice. For example, in exploring women's history, women are treated as a single collectivity, in order to increase their social status and in hopes that women will not be deprived of their rights and interests by men. Chiang Wen-yu of the Taipei Association for the Promotion of Women's Rights says that behind the oral history book Disappearing Taiwanese Grandmothers lies the hope that the government will pay more attention to social welfare for elderly women. Should other historical reconstructions, for example those about Taiwanese soldiers or the February 28 incident, be seen in a similar light?

Another easily overlooked pitfall of oral history is that the viewpoint of the interviewer or editor will be imposed on the interviewee, or cultural or humanistic viewpoints will be superimposed and unwittingly enter the thinking of the respondent. These external ideas and interpretations may shape the memories of the interviewee, so that he or she ends up spouting someone else's point of view without even realizing it.

Like all historical materials, oral history also runs into the problem of interpretation. Often this is not a problem of the interviewer or the interviewee, but of the overall structure of power.

Wang Ming-ko relates how he conducted interviews about the origins of aboriginal peoples and other historical experiences. When one village elder smoothly recounted their founding legend, a story involving hints of sexuality and other metaphors, in the end his wife, who had been sitting off to one side listening, just laughed and said, "Actually, we don't believe it ourselves." The elder concluded, "In fact, we don't understand very well ourselves. If you want more details, you have to go find the village teacher, or the priest."

Yet, after going through written sources, interviewers often find that the verbal explanations of the priests, teachers, or other controllers of history can be traced back to Han Chinese or archaeologists' interpretations of the past. That is to say, though the interviewees finally have a chance to say their piece, because the group lacks autonomy, their "history" is still based on the interpretations of the dominant culture.

Soldiers into bandits?

Under a given power structure, the memories of certain groups may be overlooked or deliberately repressed, while others may be overemphasized. Parts of the past are constantly being forgotten or resurrected. Much of the history of women has been forgotten; much of the past of aboriginal peoples has been ignored. In Taiwan, for a long time the February 28 incident was politically taboo. These days the "September 18 incident," which symbolized the spirit of resistance to Japan, is now virtually forgotten.

This is where history gets interesting, or bizarre, depending on your point of view. Looking at oral histories of the February 28 incident, for example, the people then punished as "violent rebels" are today seen as victims, and appeals for justice are made on their behalf. Are those who inflicted punishment under the power structure of those days to be made the scapegoats of history?

The distinction between heroes and traitors in history is determined by those in power. Those who read history hoping to separate the heroes from the traitors will increasingly discover that there are great transformations over time in historical interpretation. "To believe everything you read is worse than reading nothing at all." Mencius' warning, made 2000 years ago, is a suitable end note to this discussion of oral history, and it is also the point that keeps us fascinated by history.

Can history be deliberately forgotten? These days, who wants to hear the stories of old soldiers like these at the Panchiao Veterans Home?