When Scott Ezell, a US citizen, moved to Dulan, Taitung County, two and half years ago, his main purpose was to escape the distractions of Taipei and concentrate on his main goal in life, which is to make music.
Dulan seemed the perfect place to give his dream a shot. The weather is agreeable, expenses are low, the locals are a colorful mix of Amis tribe Aborigines, Hakka and Chinese and the isolation of his tiny home in the mountains above the village would ensure against unwanted commotion, with the exception of the occasional poisonous snake.
PHOTO COURTESY OF TCM
He set up a studio in one room of a tiny house that he rents from a widow whose husband drove his car off a cliff on the treacherous road that leads up the mountain, and settled into a lifestyle far removed from Taipei's hustle and bustle.
He frequently ate food foraged from the area around his house and spent most of his time working on an album conceived for Taiwan Colors Music (TCM), which had graciously sponsored a translator's visa for him so that he could live in Taitung without having to teach English or be distracted with other work. When TCM had translation work, and it often does, they called Ezell.
The arrangement worked well. Ezell completed several music projects and finally released the planned album of what he calls organic folk music, although ultimately it was with Taiwan's Wind Records and not with TCM.
He also became increasingly involved with the Dulan Sugar Factory, an artist village at the foot of his mountain that has seen a remarkable transformation in the past two years from a run-down, abandoned set of buildings to a buzzing nexus of cultural activity.
How it all started
Around Chinese New Year, Ezell initiated a schedule of shows at the sugar factory called the Dulan Organic Music Series, which now looks like it will be discontinued for the simple reason that Ezell faces imminent deportation for playing guitar at a press conference to promote the weekly events.
His performance was in violation of the law that says holders of Alien Resident Cards are not permitted to perform on stage, whether for money or for free, without obtaining a performance permit.
The illegality of foreign residents in Taiwan performing in a public venue without a specific permit is a fact that most club owners and promoters are either unaware of or choose to ignore.
Even the Taitung County Cultural Affairs Bureau, which lent its support to Ezell's concert series at the sugar factory, has found itself broadsided by the uncommonly resolute implementation of the Employment Services Act (就業服務法), Article 73, which prohibits work for an employer other than the one that sponsored the person's ARC. That law, clarified in two recent interpretations, covers musical performances, both paid and unpaid.
"If the government is going to call a performance of that nature work, and then kick someone out of the country for it, then it's really out of our hands," said the Cultural Affairs Bureau director Lin Yong-fa (林永發). "There should be some way to apply for a work permit retroactively instead of this. ? We feel it's a good thing to have foreigners doing cultural work here [in Taitung]."
The head of TCM, Zhang 43 (張43), who sponsored Ezell's visa, is likewise confounded by the case. "We wouldn't have thought that the authorities would take the case this far. Usually it's just an issue of talking to the right people to smooth over matters."
Going by the book
To perform legally, foreign residents can obtain a permit through the Council for Labor Affairs in Taipei. The application process is free and takes about seven work days to complete. It's not complicated, but it's time consuming.
Most law enforcement officials won't regard performances by foreigners as criminal, anyway. This has created a dangerous assumption among musicians and club owners alike that the police have more pressing matters to attend to, which is not always the case.
A look at club listings in Taipei will include a long list of bands with foreign members and there is a strong possibility that neither the musicians nor the venue's managers have taken the first step to be certain of the legality of the show.
At The Wall, Taipei's largest live-music venue, the managers have never bothered with permits for resident foreigner musicians, despite the fact that a police station is located directly across the street.
The club is registered as a multi-functional commercial space with all the requisite permits to host performances and sell alcohol. "The police seem satisfied that we're not doing anything unsavory here, so they don't give us any problems," said Doris Yeh (葉湘怡), who helps manage the club. "Basically, the cops choose to look the other way."
Ironically, perhaps, dance clubs, which enjoy little leeway from the police due to a major image problem, are especially wary of falling afoul of this law. Last year the popular nightclub Eden was raided and two popular DJs from England were deported when it was found they didn't have the proper permits. Having learned the hard way, music programmers at several of Taipei's most popular nightclubs said it's simply not worth rolling the dice on work permits.
"If it's just a friend who drops by to play some records, it's probably not an issue. But in principle we'll go through the process no matter who comes to DJ, whether it's a resident in Taiwan or a special guest. We just don't need the hassle," said Alex Liu (劉子葦), music programmer at Room18.
Smaller live-music venues and festivals that book amateur bands with foreign residents, however, have mostly escaped the close scrutiny endured by dance clubs, creating a carefree, bohemian-style aloofness with regard to the legal issues surrounding music performances.
This atmosphere is prevalent in Taipei and, at least until Ezell's case, was the norm elsewhere. Nonetheless, the laws exist, ready to be enforced.
"As always, the problem is inconsistent enforcement of the laws," said Roger Wang
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The law's the law
If enforcement of the law is stricter in Taitung County it's thanks in part to foreign affairs police officer Peter Chen (陳允萍). "If you're going to try to skirt the law in my jurisdiction, I'm going to follow you to the end," said Chen, who made the report to the CLA of Ezell's performance, prompting the cancellation of his work permit and setting a 14-day deadline for Ezell to leave the country. His 14 days are up on Wednesday.
Chen described Scott's performance as a "brazen violation" of the terms of his work permit.
"We went there and didn't see any other performers on stage, just Scott playing for a long time. He's a translator, not an artist. ? When a foreign performer plays, it means a local performer isn't on the lineup and the law is there to protect local artists," he said. "Americans in Taiwan think they don't have to follow the law. They never think whether what they've done is right or wrong."
Ezell is enraged by what he sees as Chen's hardline approach to an innocuous performance and by the manner in which Chen invited him to sign a statement that he didn't fully understand at the time, but which amounted to an admission of guilt. That statement was the basis of the CLA's decision to revoke Ezell's work permit. Ezell says he was led to believe the case would be shelved after signing the statement.
In response, Ezell has asked his lawyer, Roger Wang, to file an appeal with the Executive Yuan to have the CLA's decision reversed based on alleged flaws in due process during Ezell's interrogation, after the performance in question. According to Ezell, he was not informed of his right to counsel, nor of his right to remain silent, nor was he provided competent interpretation. Wang is also planning to highlight the sugar factory's official designation as a site for cultural exchange and not as a commercial site. It operates with partial financial assistance from the Council for Cultural Affairs.
Meanwhile, Ezell has filed an application with the CLA to have the deportation order suspended for the duration of his appeal process, which normally takes three months.
The beat goes on
The restrictions on foreigners performing in Taiwan trace back to the post-Vietnam War days, when Filipino cover bands were a ubiquitous feature of Taipei nightlife. Then, as now, the law was evoked as a means to protect local artists from having work opportunities taken by foreigners, as well as an assurance against violations of the terms of foreigners work permits.
"Our purpose isn't to stop foreigners from performing in Taiwan. We're happy to have more cultural interaction. We simply need to ensure that what takes place is done in a legal fashion," said Chen Jui-chia (陳瑞佳), a section chief at the CLA who has overseen the handling of Ezell's case.
Chen's section was mandated on Jan. 15 this year to handle most work permits for foreigners and by Chen's own admission is woefully understaffed. He said Ezell's is the section's first case of a foreigner violating the terms of a work permit by playing music and held out the possibility that the decision would be reversed if the appeal proved there were problems related to due process on the part of Taitung police. He also said the council is likely to approve Ezell's application to remain in the country while his appeal makes its way through the Executive Yuan.
For now, though, Ezell is still awaiting a definitive answer. Without one, the only prudent thing to do is to prepare to leave by packing up the items accumulated during his six years in Taiwan and parceling out the equipment in his studio to friends.
On Friday he was in a Taitung bank changing money into traveler's checks.
He knows that once outside the country, the appeal process will be more difficult to follow and after three months there is no guarantee that he'll have the energy or desire to return and start over again.
The question then will be whether Taiwan is a better place without Ezell around.
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