A Culturalist Perspective

The culturalist approach is not an easy or clean one for analysts to adopt, any more than it is for the theoreticians and scientists engaged in the study of comparative politics. What is required is an intersubjective cultural approach (Ross 2009: 135), one defined by shared meanings and identities. Anthropologist Clifford Geertz’s (1973) conception of culture famously focuses on symbols and symbolism to transmit meaning, with culture as a medium for shared meaning and meaning-making. As will be seen, such symbols are hugely important in the way Asian states communicate with their polities, and with each other. In Taiwan, politics and the structural approach to how governance is conducted are informed by a Confucian worldview, an appreciation of which helps to understand phenomena such as the unique form of the Taiwanese semi-presidential democracy, which varies greatly from other, structurally similar semi-presidential systems around the world (such as those in France, for example, and around Africa). The Confucian worldview is far from uniform across East Asia, but in broad strokes, it emphasizes the hierarchical makeup of the public administrative sphere (as this reflects the hierarchical makeup of the realm of heaven) and even extends to the family. Of the many spheres of human interaction that are moderated through the Confucian worldview, it is the Confucianism of the family, rather than political Confucianism, that has formative power (Bell and Jayasuriya, 1995: 9).

Familization is a familiar technique, often employed in Taiwan, as a means of understanding and establishing relationships in group dynamics. The idea that members of a collective are akin to a family is a subtle, psychological form of control in which those in charge seek to be viewed as the father-figure, and are thus entitled to obedience in exchange for protection of the community. This is exacerbated by the lower but equally level-oriented roles of big brother, big sister, younger brother, younger sister, and so forth, which are transmitted primarily, though not exclusively, through the Chinese language. In contrast, in America, the

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leader is seen (most often inaccurately) as the antithesis of an elite, but rather a peer: one of many. Even compared to the European practice of democracy, America’s is far more individualistic and bottom-up. As a result, public governance structures and operations reflect these divergent worldviews, with Western structures moving toward a networked model and in Taiwan one that is still very hierarchical. In the words of Marc Ross (2009: 139), “culture frames the context in which politics occurs.”

The assertion that culture provides a framework for interpreting the actions and motivations of others (Ross 2009: 45) is an enlightening extension of this theme, at least insofar as helping to explain some of the problems with adopting Western institutions in other nations, especially nations such as Taiwan.

On the all-important issue of Taiwan’s democracy, popular religious expression provides an ideal blueprint for the development of an informal political organization (Cohen 1969: 217).

It has been noted by keen observers of Taiwanese culture that the celebratory patterns in place for centuries used in temple celebrations find expression in the exercise of democracy, to the extent that a political rally looks no different from a religious event: Both have beating drums, machine-gun firecrackers, chanting and cheering, sounding brass and clanging cymbals. It is perhaps no surprise that, in a young democracy like Taiwan, people should lean on existing, comfortable patterns of communal interaction—those learned from the sphere of religion—when developing new patterns for new social output, such as what democratic expression was in the 1980s and 1990s. The result of this juxtaposition of forms and rituals is the unconscious conflation of democracy itself into an institution with the power and sacredness of a religion.

Clearly, the traditional society of Taiwan has evolved to accommodate quite well the attributes of democracy, respect for human rights, gender equality, and other concepts that can be described as postmodern, all while maintaining the traditional values of hard work, respect for family, etc..., that have contributed to what it means to be Taiwanese. It is therefore not a stretch to assert that the ROC military can likewise find a way to accommodate itself into this society—a task that it has thus far been unable to achieve. As the current research shows, the people of Taiwan want a military that reflects the values of their society. What problems exist (public attitude, poor media coverage) can be attributed largely to this gulf of values.

6.3(i) The Identity Conundrum

This leads to the ever-present problem of identity in Taiwan. If the military is to be reflective of society, how do we identify and define the attributes of that society when the Taiwan identity is very much one that is bifurcated, with those seeing their country and themselves as Chinese being fundamentally at odds with those who see their country and themselves as Taiwanese? This is too big a question, and not one that will be settled here. However, it is important to understand this identity conundrum exists in order to move forward with efforts to reform the military. And reform is needed: in an era when a growing majority of people see themselves as not being Chinese, it does the nation no good to field a military that has never fully shed its image as the KMT Army.

While it would be unfair to say that the ROC military continues to actively inculcate a KMT-centric ethic within the ranks, such aspects of military training as civics and the teachings of Dr. Sun Yat-sen remain subtly influential in molding the ethic of the armed

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forces, and alienating those members who identify differently. For at least a generation, the Taiwan electorate has instinctively understood the hypocrisy behind political rhetoric such as invocations of the “three principles of the people,” and of appeals to a nationalistic brand of public unity (Ling and Shih 1998: 79). Moreover, much of the indoctrination of soldiers conducted by the ROC military has traditionally been to inculcate a Chinese identity, whether covertly or overtly. While this has been toned down in recent years, as a traditionalist institution largely resistant to change, the ranks of the military remain among the most conservatively Chinese of any group in Taiwan, insofar as they still adhere to the ROC identity over a Taiwanese identity. This creates problems in naming China as the enemy.

By all objective accounts, morale among ROC troops is extremely low at this time. How much of this can be attributed to the aforementioned indoctrination regime and the moral dissonance that it would doubtless create in the face of the previous KMT administration’s economic and political embrace of China? To wit, soldiers are taught that the Communists are the enemy: you might have to fight them for the good of the country. Yet the political leaders and media present this same enemy as Taiwan’s partners in economic development: they are our friends. In addition to the psychological effect of this disconnect on soldiers’ morale, this dynamic is a predictor of a poor state of civil-military relations according to the external threat model developed by Michael Desch (1999), which argues that when external threats are high, civilian and military leaders take part in a high level of engagement and cooperation, and civil-military relations are favorable. According to this theory, the aforementioned difference of opinion between the ROC military (which views China as a threat) and the KMT administration (which viewed China as a partner) suggests a poor state of civil-military relations.

Having a military that reflects society’s values is arguably even more important in Taiwan than it is in many Western nations: one’s place in the group is inextricably linked to one’s view of one’s self (Yeh and Hwang 2000: 423). The same forces that compel so many young Taiwanese men to gang affiliations, for example, can contribute to military recruitment. It helps if that institutional affiliation is well respected in society and already represents one’s (or one’s family’s) values and ideals.

Moreover, young Taiwan people of conscription age today are far more politically literate than previous generations (Laskai 2015). As a result, inculcation of ideas they consider old, out of date or otherwise inapplicable in the current social reality of modern-day Taiwan risks further alienating them ideologically, and pushing the military even further from society, rather than closing that gulf. Thus what is needed is the active incubation of a wholly new ethnically Chinese, nor ethnically Taiwanese; and one which has broad appeal on any number of issues. This generation does not adhere to the identities and symbols foisted on them by past generations—they at once object to increased economic reliance on the China market, and yet uncritically accept the ROC flag as the flag of their nation. In a personal conversation with one such student activist, it was explained to the author in no uncertain terms: we are not blue, but we are not green. If a student movement can get past the blue/green divide to pragmatically achieve a cohesive identity for themselves, surely the military can do likewise.

Why is this important? For one thing, in her first speech as president, Tsai Ing-wen declared

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the consolidation of Taiwan’s identity as her major goal: such efforts would go a long way toward realizing that objective and creating unity in society.