Knowledge first
Critic Nanfang Shuo, who has a reputation in the Chinese world for erudite and insightful commentary, says, "Without building one's intellect via knowledge, how can one be an intellectual?" He firmly believes that intellectuals ought to strive toward building a broad and solid base of knowledge.
"No one wants to listen to what we have to say!" Such is the common lament of many of Taiwan's intellectuals, who believe that there is "no market" for their admonitions. With respect to these grumblings, Nanfang Shuo believes that there are many reasons that intellectuals are being "marginalized" or are "losing their right to speak." For instance, the traditional channels through which intellectuals made their opinions known, newspapers and magazines, are withering, and conservative government institutions are disinclined to accept intellectuals' idealistic or imaginative ideas. But he also says that many of Taiwan's intellectuals are lazy, and he suggests that they should engage in a little self-reflection before immediately finding fault with others.
As he sees it, a problem shared by many intellectuals is that they find it hard to transcend their pigeonhole as an "expert." "Typically, experts' opinions deal with technical aspects of an issue, and they can get sidetracked in arcane details," he says. "Intellectuals must go a step farther and perform multi-faceted structural analysis or adopt a longer-term perspective by surveying trends or examining history."
He advocates using the "highest standard," as described above, to examine intellectuals' opinions and commentary. Based on this criterion, not everyone is who is good at writing essays is an intellectual, and, likewise, not all of the chattering-class luminaries who frequently appear on television fit the bill either.
Intellectuals and the media
Following the unleashing of democracy in Taiwan with the end of martial law in 1987, the 1990s were a golden era for TV talk shows. During these years, the hosts of these shows and the social critics and political commentators who were their frequent guests became well known, and many of them began to think of themselves as intellectuals.
The content of intellectuals' speech includes "information" and "opinions," explains Nanfang Shuo. In the past, on the strength of their image as the leading lights of modern knowledge, they used to be able to convey and introduce new concepts, but when highly capitalized media appeared in Taiwan, these began to fill the role previously held by the intellectuals. Consequently lazier and more superficial intellectuals gradually became marginalized, and entertainment industry idols or stars of media sensationalism took over their places in the media.
"For the public, TV commentators act as outlets of anger or serve an entertainment function, but they can hardly count as intellectuals," Nanfang Shuo reminds us. "By the same token, if the essays published in newspapers represent only a certain social class or the fixed ideas of a certain group of people, then you'd be hard pressed to describe the writers of those essays as intellectuals."
Taiwan's media used to be a realm where intellectuals would come together to criticize the powerful. For instance, the China Times held forums for intellectuals in 1982 and 2007, and each made a big splash at the time. The earlier forum was held during the era of martial law, whereas the latter took place after martial law had been lifted. The former focused on social trends and democratic development on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, whereas the latter focused on democracy and social justice in Taiwan. The participating intellectuals also leveled criticisms and expressed expectations about the current government.
Yet, the appearance of what Nanfang Shuo calls "massively capitalized media" had a debilitating impact on the role of the intellectual. In 2003 Hong Kong's Apple Daily came to Taiwan and brought with it a whirlwind of yellow journalism. Serious discussion of social issues became a sales killer. At the end of 2008, Want Want, a company that had risen to prominence selling rice crackers, purchased the China Times. Although it had regarded itself as an intellectuals' publication, the paper now began to find it hard to keep its "ever critical" point of view. It took a softer stance even on such issues as corruption among the powerful.
Last month, Wang Jianzhuang, the unabashedly intellectual former president of the paper, wrote an essay in memory of China Times founder Yu Jizhong. "Once the traditional practice of literary people publishing newspapers was supplanted by the practice of businessmen publishing newspapers," Wang wrote, "once newspaper owners didn't regard themselves as journalists and influence was no longer regarded as the highest value in publishing a paper, once newspapers bowed to state power and became compromised by the rules of the market, then they became media outlets that had forsaken their role in civil society."
Leaving the lectern
In 2008, with the change of ruling party, a series of scandals were brought to light about the previous government involving the sale of political appointments and other corruption. These scandals gave people the feeling that politics truly was dirty. Consequently, many idealistic intellectuals now no longer aspire to work in politics, and many people have become suspicious of intellectuals who are involved in government. Lin Wan-i, a professor of social work at National Taiwan University who served as deputy chief executive of Taipei County from 1999 and as minister without portfolio in the cabinet from 2006, appeals to intellectuals not to forsake their commitment to action. "Politics is an important arena in which to pursue enlightened reform," he says. "Intellectuals shouldn't abandon it."
"The idea that if intellectuals can't bring about a revolution and aren't entering the power structure to seek reform, then all they can do is offer empty words of criticism, is a very narrow concept of the intellectual," argues Lin. If intellectuals are only willing to play the role of outside critics, he says, "They will end up 'like a dog barking at a train' and feel greatly frustrated."
Lin suggests that intellectuals should adopt different methods, some working within the system and some outside it. They can then "attack on two fronts," monitoring each other and providing mutual assistance. "Any organization, including the government, has its strictures and inertia. If you reject the organization for that reason, or even look down your nose at it, then you will not help to promote the public good and will fail to achieve an intellectual's primary purpose.
Lin believes that intellectuals' pursuit of the ideals of freedom, progress, fairness and social justice haven't changed, but they can nonetheless adopt more pragmatic methods. "Intellectuals are no longer like ministers preaching from the pulpit. They can't expect thousands to come on their own accord and pack a stadium to listen to them." He advocates that intellectuals leave their lecterns, walk amid the crowds, and communicate with people in every level of society via their actions.
Awakening the conscience
Commentators point out that amid this post-capitalist, post-modern international atmosphere, "intellectuals are nowhere to be seen!" It's a common complaint in many nations, and Taiwan is no exception. Wang Fan-sen, an academician at the Academia Sinica, points out that as Taiwan's society has grown increasingly democratic, its intellectuals have lost their passion. But now "the era of irresponsibility is past!" he says, making a reference to US President Barack Obama's call for a "new era of responsibility." He believes that the definition of an intellectual can be expanded, but so long as a person has sufficient knowledge and public consciousness, they shouldn't avoid bearing their social responsibilities.
"Fortunately, the appearance of 'experts' has made people who lack knowledge in specific fields no longer able to get riled up and speak out indignantly about any topic under the sun. Unfortunately, the result of this specialization also means that experts are unwilling or too timid to step outside their areas of expertise."
In Wang's view, experts ought to play the role of intellectuals. "They should start from their field of expertise, and use their knowledge as a resource to 'link' to society and 'echo' the age," he says. "In this respect, today's intellectuals differ greatly from those of the May Fourth Movement.
Huang Jong-tsun, president of China Medical University and former ROC minister of education, has great expectations about today's expert intellectuals. He says that Taiwan's intellectuals are no longer those of tradition, who dealt with ideas and offered criticism. More and more of them are throwing themselves into social reform, working for community development, environmental progress, SARS prevention, and post-disaster reconstruction, as well as on behalf of various social and educational endeavors and projects aimed at helping the disadvantaged. "Intellectuals should use their expertise and passion to actively research, analyze and resolve important issues in today's society."
Which is to say that these pragmatic experts must once again set off on romantic and idealistic quests. "Those figures from the May Fourth Movement may have had less expertise than today's scholars, but they were engaged in a passionate quest for democracy and science," say Wang. He believes that what today's intellectuals lack is the idealism and passionate longing for truth that characterized those thinkers connected to the May Fourth Movement.
Idealistic longing provides a motivation for intellectuals to involve themselves in the world. Today, what intellectuals of any type can afford to cast aside their romantic dreaming and cease their questioning and criticism?