There are rock 'n' roll bands that sing about revolution, but only one can claim to have actually inspired one. They are the Plastic People of the Universe, whose Velvet Underground-influenced, psychedelic art rock the Czechoslovak Communist regime found so threatening that in 1977 it sentenced them to prison for "organized disturbance of the peace."
The case attracted international attention and became a rallying point for Charter 77, a civic movement that ultimately overthrew Communism in Czechoslovakia. The Plastics - who play tomorrow night at The Wall - even coined the name for their country's peaceful democratic transition in 1989: the Velvet Revolution.
On Monday, the band participated in a talk as part of this year's Spirit of Taiwan (正義無敵), the latest name for the Taiwan Rock Alliance's (TRA) annual music festival held to commemorate the 228 Incident. They sat down in an auditorium at Eslite's Xinyi branch, joined by Chinese dissident Wang Dan (王丹) and several figures from Taiwan's indie-music scene. The panel was supposed to discuss transitional justice, or how a country comes to terms with past human rights abuses and moves on.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF TRA
"We lived under a Communist regime. If you want to ask us how was it, how it will be, we are ready to answer your questions," said frontman Vratislav Brabenec in his opening remarks. Brabenec was jailed at least 70 times before emigrating to Canada with his wife and daughter in 1983.
But not everyone in the audience of mostly university students wanted to talk about politics. The first person to ask a question noted that most Taiwanese bands break up after a few years. He wanted to know how the Plastics had managed to stay together for four decades. Another said he liked heavy metal and asked what Czech metal bands were good.
When asked about their experiences under Czechoslovakia's Communist government, Brabenec, bassist Ivan Bierhanzl and Eva Turnova, who joined the band 10 years ago, gave thoughtful answers.
"The Communist Party feared us because we are poets," said Brabenec, whose long white beard and round glasses made him look like an aging John Lennon. "We were pushed to be in the political field because of the process against musicians in the Czech underground movement."
But it wasn't until late in the evening that an attempt was made to draw a connection to Taiwanese politics. And the person who made the connection was a Taiwanese politician.
"It seems that in our society in Taiwan people are [more] reluctant to appear politicized or to take a position on matters related to social justice," said Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) heavyweight Hsiao Bi-khim (蕭美琴). What can a government do, she asked, to encourage a sense of transitional justice among artists?
Brabenec responded by saying artists themselves should speak out against the government.
Ko Ren-jian (柯仁堅), singer for indie-rock band LTK Commune (濁水溪公社), said he was impressed by how the Plastics sang about Communist politicians being afraid of artists.
"Bands in Taiwan are a little bit tired about the [domestic political] situation," he said. "The politicians here are not afraid of the bands. They're not afraid of anything. I think it's hard for us to make a change. That's just my personal thought about the difference between [your country] and Taiwan."
"If you cannot tell the truth, don't be an artist," Brabenec said.
That was about as far as anyone seemed interested in going with what was supposed to be the topic of the evening. Not even Wang, the leader of the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests, could steer the discussion back to the issue.
"I don't understand so much about rock 'n' roll music, but in my knowledge I think it has a lot to do with rage and anger," he told the band. "But you don't look like you're angry at all. What has changed throughout these years as you grow in age? Do you stop being so angry? Or are you still angry, and if so why?"
Turnova was the first to respond. She said anger was the other side of sex, then took a dig at her bandmates' age.
"I don't agree, but I like sex," Brabenec said, drawing laughter from the audience.
Despite their role in changing European history, the Plastics never considered themselves to be a political band; they have always maintained that they just wanted the Communist regime to leave them alone.
"It's some kind of joke of history that our band became political," said Bierhanzl after the conference was over. "We are just guys who want to play music.
Also See: National Palace Museum hits the road
July 1 to July 7 Huang Ching-an (黃慶安) couldn’t help but notice Imelita Masongsong during a company party in the Philippines. With paler skin and more East Asian features, she did not look like the other locals. On top of his job duties, Huang had another mission in the country, given by his mother: to track down his cousin, who was deployed to the Philippines by the Japanese during World War II and never returned. Although it had been more than three decades, the family was still hoping to find him. Perhaps Imelita could provide some clues. Huang never found the cousin;
Once again, we are listening to the government talk about bringing in foreign workers to help local manufacturing. Speaking at an investment summit in Washington DC, the Minister of Economic Affairs, J.W. Kuo (郭智輝), said that the nation must attract about 400,000 to 500,000 skilled foreign workers for high end manufacturing by 2040 to offset the falling population. That’s roughly 15 years from now. Using the lower number, Taiwan would have to import over 25,000 foreigners a year for these positions to reach that goal. The government has no idea what this sounds like to outsiders and to foreigners already living here.
Lines on a map once meant little to India’s Tibetan herders of the high Himalayas, expertly guiding their goats through even the harshest winters to pastures on age-old seasonal routes. That stopped in 2020, after troops from nuclear-armed rivals India and China clashed in bitter hand-to-hand combat in the contested high-altitude border lands of Ladakh. Swaths of grazing lands became demilitarized “buffer zones” to keep rival forces apart. For 57-year-old herder Morup Namgyal, like thousands of other semi-nomadic goat and yak herders from the Changpa pastoralist people, it meant traditional lands were closed off. “The Indian army stops us from going there,” Namgyal said,
A tourist plaque outside the Chenghuang Temple (都城隍廟) lists it as one of the “Top 100 Religious Scenes in Taiwan.” It is easy to see why when you step inside the Main Hall to be confronted with what amounts to an imperial stamp of approval — a dragon-framed, golden protection board gifted to the temple by the Guangxu Emperor that reads, “Protected by Guardians.” Some say the plaque was given to the temple after local prayers to the City God (城隍爺) miraculously ended a drought. Another version of events tells of how the emperor’s son was lost at sea and rescued