Many people think that during the height of pro-democracy student movements in the 1980s and 1990s, musicians played a part in the protests. However, the truth is, only a handful of musicians were willing to stand up for the cause at the time.
In an era in which one ethnic group dominated the cultural and entertainment propaganda machine and monopolized the right to expression in music, most musicians in Taiwan chose to cooperate with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) government by self-censoring their ideology and works, distancing themselves as much as they could from the democratic movement that was taking place on the streets and campuses.
Anyone who participated in the pro-democracy movements is very likely to remember that the songs used to boost morale when parading on the streets in protests were a few sad, old Taiwanese songs, such as Bang Chhun-hong (望春風, Longing for the Spring Breeze), Hope You Come Back Soon (望你早歸) and My Hometown under the Sunset (黃昏的故鄉). Young people on campuses could only seek nourishment from the protest songs from the 1960s in the West to nurture the spirit of resistance.
It is often said that music can give one strength and tear down walls. However, most Taiwanese musicians chose to remain silent in that era.
Chiu Chen (邱晨), who passed away on Thursday last week at the age of 72, was one of the few exceptions. He was not only personally involved in the pro-democracy movements, he also wrote songs for them.
In most of the obituaries about Chiu, media coverage focused on the well-known Taiwanese campus folk songs that he wrote, such as Little Jasmine (小茉莉), The Wind Tells Me (風告訴我), as well as popular hits like It’s Tonight (就在今夜) and Why Did I Dream of Him? (為何夢見他). Unfortunately, the songs Chiu wrote during the Taiwanese democracy movement in the 1980s and 1990s were rarely mentioned.
These songs include The Green Flag Raised to the Sky (綠色旗升上天) in support of the Democratic Progressive Party, Taiwan’s first political party to rally forces outside the governing KMT; Taiwan’s first reportage-inspired music album, Tefuye (特富野), which voices support for an indigenous young man, Tang Ying-shen (湯英伸); the Big Banyan Tree in the South (南國的大榕樹), written in memory of Deng Nan-jung (鄭南榕), who set himself on fire in support of freedom of speech; and Crossing the Bridge (過橋), a satirical death song on the so-called “10,000-year legislature” (萬年國會) that he wrote for the Wild Lily student movement, in which I was personally involved.
It can be said that, apart from Chen Ming-chang’s (陳明章) Blacklist Studio (黑名單工作室), Chiu was one of the very few musicians who supported the Wild Lily student movement through music at the time.
In the long history of the world, music, like other forms of entertainment and art, has also played a part in creating countless moving moments in the human rights, democracy and independence movements.
Musicians have incredible power in driving the development of civilization.
May Chiu rest in peace. Hopefully, the music he composed for Taiwan’s democracy movement will still be sung by many generations to come.
Vincent Chen is a manager in the information and communications industry, and former publicity section convener of the Wild Lily student movement.
Translated by Lin Lee-kai
Having lived through former British prime minister Boris Johnson’s tumultuous and scandal-ridden administration, the last place I had expected to come face-to-face with “Mr Brexit” was in a hotel ballroom in Taipei. Should I have been so surprised? Over the past few years, Taiwan has unfortunately become the destination of choice for washed-up Western politicians to turn up long after their political careers have ended, making grandiose speeches in exchange for extraordinarily large paychecks far exceeding the annual salary of all but the wealthiest of Taiwan’s business tycoons. Taiwan’s pursuit of bygone politicians with little to no influence in their home
In a recent essay, “How Taiwan Lost Trump,” a former adviser to US President Donald Trump, Christian Whiton, accuses Taiwan of diplomatic incompetence — claiming Taipei failed to reach out to Trump, botched trade negotiations and mishandled its defense posture. Whiton’s narrative overlooks a fundamental truth: Taiwan was never in a position to “win” Trump’s favor in the first place. The playing field was asymmetrical from the outset, dominated by a transactional US president on one side and the looming threat of Chinese coercion on the other. From the outset of his second term, which began in January, Trump reaffirmed his
Despite calls to the contrary from their respective powerful neighbors, Taiwan and Somaliland continue to expand their relationship, endowing it with important new prospects. Fitting into this bigger picture is the historic Coast Guard Cooperation Agreement signed last month. The common goal is to move the already strong bilateral relationship toward operational cooperation, with significant and tangible mutual benefits to be observed. Essentially, the new agreement commits the parties to a course of conduct that is expressed in three fundamental activities: cooperation, intelligence sharing and technology transfer. This reflects the desire — shared by both nations — to achieve strategic results within
It is difficult not to agree with a few points stated by Christian Whiton in his article, “How Taiwan Lost Trump,” and yet the main idea is flawed. I am a Polish journalist who considers Taiwan her second home. I am conservative, and I might disagree with some social changes being promoted in Taiwan right now, especially the push for progressiveness backed by leftists from the West — we need to clean up our mess before blaming the Taiwanese. However, I would never think that those issues should dominate the West’s judgement of Taiwan’s geopolitical importance. The question is not whether