Allow me to quote Andrew Yu (游進忠) of the Hakka Affairs Commission, who this week admitted he pulled the plug on an acceptance video by a journalist to whom the commission had just given a major award.
The freelance journalist, Yeh Jih-chia (葉日嘉), had made the fatal mistake of criticizing the Miaoli County Government (full of Hakka, of course, given the county’s unique demographics) for leveling some Japanese-era kilns. On Tuesday, our very own Taipei Times reported Yu, a media officer, as saying:
“If we showed the video at an award ceremony organized by the council, it would be like a government organization attacking the head of another government organization — that’s something we simply cannot do, otherwise we would upset people.”
Journalists upsetting people? The thought of it!
Then, with a flourish, and no hint of irony or embarrassment, Yu said: “There’s no freedom of speech at a government agency.”
That’s the spirit. I say we need more men like this in the central government, because we’re not going to be able to reintroduce authoritarian essentials to governance on the strength of President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) personality alone.
Come to think of it, we could do with more men like Andy in the Taipei City Government, too. If the Department of Rapid Transit Systems had put this rising star in charge of naming stations on the MRT’s new Neihu Line, which opens today, we could have recaptured the can-do spirit of simultaneous brainwashing and backslapping that the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) made us learn to love.
Instead, we’ve settled for literal geography. What a waste!
My ancestral mentor, the curmudgeonly physician Colonfucius (肛夫子), emphasized the importance of zhengding (正鼎) — or making sure that the legs on your ceremonial tripod are about the same length lest the damn thing topple over, thus preventing the tripod’s owner from having a panic attack and seeking out a pissed-off Colonfucius in the middle of the night.
That morsel of wisdom is well and good, but a pragmatic sage has his limits. I doubt Colonfucius said anything about the need for choosing the right names when you need them the most.
Thus we turn to that other master of a bygone era: Confucius (孔子).
Christians talk about the great mysteries, among them marriage, the nativity and death. But in pagan Taiwan, there are only two great mysteries.
The first is how the Chinese Professional Baseball League attracts anyone to its games — apart from the players’ wives and girlfriends.
The second, and more profound, is why even the most obnoxiously rabid Taiwanese independence supporter uses the word dalu (大陸, “mainland”) to refer to China — even though the connotation of the word spits straight in Taiwan’s eye.
Can you see where I’m heading?
The Confucian maxim of zhengming (正名) can mean to conduct oneself in a way appropriate to one’s station, though it can be simplified to something along the lines of “straight talk”: calling a spade a spade, as it were. Making the words of a title correspond to the reality, whether the reality be someone’s behavior or the nature of a thing. In two words: no bullshit.
Now that we look to be stuck with a KMT government for as long as it takes the Chicoms to rip the guts out of Taiwan’s political mainframe, it’s time to ask some pointed questions, such as: Do we start aping the KMT of old and learn to hate our neighbors all over again or is there some kind of new and improved, pet-friendly KMT that we can learn from and emulate?
I hope it’s the latter. And if it is, let me test the waters by suggesting that the president engage in some straight talk on the word dalu. I suggest a mandatory change of Chinese character that retains the sound but has a meaning that reflects the reality. Thus we have dalu (大戮), which can translate as “slaughter,” which renders Zhongguo dalu most auspiciously as “maimland China.”
I do not jest. It’s all about the KMT regaining the initiative in propaganda with the Chicoms now that the DPP are down and close to out. It’s about time that this government got back into the practice of co-opting geographical and infrastructural names and spreading the word.
But I’m not talking about touchy-feely concessions to loyal minorities. Anyway, replacing one or two KMT canonical references with Aboriginal names is so 20th century, no?
I’m looking at the bigger picture. This is what I would have done with the stations on the Neihu Line.
Songshan Airport Station: A dull name named after a dull district of Taipei. Now that cross-strait flights are in full swing, it needs a little something. So let’s change the name of the airport and the MRT station accordingly: Huigui Airport Station (回歸機場站, “Return to the Motherland” Airport Station). The name can be read literally or figuratively; take your pick.
Dazhi Station: I was thinking of resorting to a KMT chestnut on this one: using homonymous characters to make a place sound more auspicious (just like Keelung, which used to mean “chicken coop,” and Fenchihu (奮起湖), which used to be “dung basket lake”). But this wouldn’t satisfy anyone, and anyway, Dazhi is not a real district, so what do these people think they’re entitled to? Instead, we have Zhibin Station (至斌站, “Hau Lung-bin To The Max” Station), which will invigorate the local economy, if not entirely delight disabled people pissed at the Taipei mayor over the new MRT carriages’ cramped interiors.
Jiannan Road Station: The hell with this name. It’s an intersection for a road that few people use and slightly more people have heard of. How about some praise for the KMT, which brought Taiwan to where it is today? Hence: Fundament Of Our Party Station (吾黨所宗站).
Xihu Station: West Lake? Let’s not kid ourselves. There’s no such thing, unless you’re from Hangzhou. So I propose Yinghu Station (迎胡站, “Welcome Hu” Station). No, not another lake, but the MRT equivalent of a welcome mat for the Chinese president.
Gangqian Station: Should be Jin-pyng Station (金平站), obviously, out of respect for the legislative speaker.
Wende Station: A nice reference to certain scholarly qualities, but a little out of date. How about Yuguo Tianqing Station (雨過天青站, “Rapprochement” Station)?
Neihu Station: We would have to keep this name, otherwise the name of the line would change.
Dahu Park Station: In honor of a stalwart Ma ally, this should be renamed Su Chi Station (蘇起站). If the National Security Council secretary-general ever pops by, he’ll be able to walk out the station and go jump in the lake.
Huzhou Station: Even Neihu residents are a bit uncertain about the choice of name for this one. I would have put it to a public competition. The most votes wins for the name from a list drawn up by the Central Standing Committee of the KMT.
Donghu Station: There are lots of retired KMT stalwarts in this area — and we need some praise for the president somewhere in the system. Yingshou Station (英壽站, “Long Live Ma Ying-jeou” Station) is a no-brainer.
Nangang Software Park Station: Time to honor the dead. President Ma may not be able to get outgoing KMT Chairman Wu Poh-hsiung’s (吳伯雄) son into the Taoyuan County commissioner’s seat, so a fallback would be naming this high-tech station after Wu’s uncle, Wu Hung-chi (吳鴻麒), whose bullet-ridden, tortured and — some sources say — castrated corpse was found under nearby Nangang Bridge during the 228 Incident of 1947, courtesy of KMT thugs and soldiers. But there’s a compromise: the English name has to be in pinyin, hence: Hongqi Station.
Taipei Nangang Exhibition Center Station: This would become Hu Shih Memorial Station (胡適紀念站) in recognition of a man who gave people hope that China might one day resemble a civilized country. And it is located near the Academia Sinecure. Ma always did find moderate academics to be better company than entrepreneurs and slobbering strongmen. And let’s face it. You don’t need to be told where you are when you arrive at the exhibition center — just look out the bloody window.
Let’s be blunt: The KMT needs to impose the “let’s all be friends” side of its personality on the landscape. And what better place for some revisionist rehabilitation than a station at the end of the line?
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