Is having a universal system of time a necessity or a form of imperialism?

          Having a universal way to tell time can seem like a necessity when economics and global travel of people and information are considered. However, how can one form of time telling be regarded as superior to another?  It seems that colonization imposed a system on time that was considered superior and essential for organizing a society and economy Basically, it was essential to control and organize a population. This is evident in the case of the Amis, who had a traditional system of time telling using natural indicators before colonization and contact with people outside their community. Their traditional system will be discussed and how this transformed after exposure to other cultures. 

          The Amis traditional language does not have a word that translates to an equivalent to “time” (Huang 2004: 322).  The Amis have four traditional ways of time keeping: daytime, nighttime, changes of the moon and the tide. The daytime is made in accordance with the movements of the sun and also form the length of shadows (Huang 2004: 323). If the sun cannot be seen, an Amis can tell the time by when they feel hungry throughout the day (Huang 2004: 323). The nighttime is referred to the period between dusk and dawn and can be told by the movement of the stars (Huang 2004: 323). The moon cycle dictates the agricultural, fishing, hunting and ritual cycle (Huang 2004: 324). The Iwan village where the Amis live faces the Pacific Ocean, so the tide is an integral way to tell time for the Amis (Huang 2004: 325). Villagers are aware of the movements of the sea and are aware the tides association with the phases of the moon (Huang 2004: 325). When the sun cannot be seen to tell time in the day, the tide can aid in its absence (Huang 2004: 325). Some of these traditional ways to tell time are still in use today and are regarded as part of traditional Amis culture; however, contact with outside cultures introduced new ways to tell time, which were often imposed on the Amis (Huang 2004: 326). 

There are four others times in addition to the traditional times: time of the Japanese, Taiwanese, mainlanders and whites. The Japanese introduced an education system that included teaching how to tell time on clocks and watches and practice being punctual (Huang 2004: 326). The system that the Japanese taught the Amis is the Gregorian calendar (Huang 2004: 328), used all over the world today. This Japanese time was experienced through school, local government and forced labour (Huang 2004: 326). Although the time of the Japanese has become an essential part of Amis life, it is not forgotten how this “modern” system was forced onto the Amis (Huang 2004: 327). The time of the mainlanders are considered to be the main rulers of Taiwan and refers mainly to political activities of the government (Huang 2004: 329). The time of the Taiwanese represents when an Amis person needed to ask a Taiwanese person for a date to hold a ritual (Huang 2004: 328). The time of the whites has to do with Amis contact with Christian missionaries, mostly to do with Catholic and Presbyterian rituals (Huang 2004: 329). The introduction of these “other” times to the Amis resulted from external contact, seemingly often forced. The Amis really did not have a choice but to adapt to these external forces. In an increasingly globalized world, it does seem like everyone needs to be on the same page and this page seems to be determined by dominant economic states. However, it does seems important and noteworthy that the Amis still recognize and use some of the traditional time measures. This is extremely important for cultural maintenance as this system is uniquely Amis. 

Huang, S. ""Times" and Images of Others in an Amis Village, Taiwan" Time and Society 2004 13 (2/3): 321-337. 

Taiwan Aborigine Distinctiveness

          In “Rights to Recognition: Minority/Indigenous Politics in the Emerging Taiwanese Nationalism,” Ku focusses on the aboriginal rights movement in Taiwan, which emerged as a part of a larger opposition movement in the early 1980s (2005: 99). In 1984, the Alliance of Taiwan Aborigines (ATA) was established, marking the official launch of the Taiwanese aboriginal rights movement (Ku 2005: 102). The ATA chose the term “aborigines” very specifically because it implied being the first inhabitants of Taiwan (Ku 2005: 103). The term thus indicated that the “aborigines” were the, as Ku puts it, “the original master of Taiwan” (2005: 103). This choice in term gave the ATA movement a strong voice throughout their quest for rights and recognition in Taiwan (Ku 2005: 103). What was of great interest in this article was the view that pro-independence advocates in the DDP held. They claimed that aborigines are the most qualified group to declare independence, as they have always been in Taiwan so the issue of unification is non-existent for them (Ku 2005: 106). To me, this emphasizes the unique position Taiwan has in relation to China and the role that aborigines play in that relationship. The advocacy of pro-independence members of the DDP may not have the rights and recognition at the forefront of their goals, but the power they believe held by the aborigines in this situation seems extremely unique compared to other indigenous groups around the world (or at least the ones that I have studied up to this point). So although activists on behalf of Taiwan aborigines use international examples and laws to demand their government grant indigenous peoples basic human rights and status as distinct groups (Ku 2005: 100), their case of their relationship to the land and what power that could give them could be used as an example and stepping stone for other indigenous groups around the world. 

“Imagining the State: An Ethnographic Study,” by Yang, explores the Bunun, “an Austronesian-speaking aboriginal minority group of central Taiwan” and how they construct the state (2005: 489). The Bunun have constructed their view of the state based on their culture and history of interaction with the colonial state; this has resulted in their view of the state as a provider (Yang 2005: 491). The Bunun are often praised by government officials as cooperative, but also negatively regarded as blind followers (Yang 2005: 490). The Bunun prefer to “sit down and talk things over nicely” with government officials or make requests in person; this all has to do with their construction of the state as integrated with social life and constructed through interaction (Yang 2005: 494). 

So it seems the Bunun, an aborigine group in Taiwan, have very different expectations of the state than those of the ATA. As long as the Bunun can communicate in a civil manner and their needs are met, they are satisfied. However, the ATA has taken a more contemporary approach using international standards and examples when it comes to meeting their needs, rights and appropriate recognition from the government of Taiwan. These contrasts emphasize that not all aborigine groups in Taiwan, or any country for that matter, are the same and that their intra-cultural distinctiveness deserves recognition in addition to their collective rights. 

Ku, Kun-hui. 2005. “Rights to Recognition: Minority/Indigenous Politics in the Emerging Taiwanese Nationalism.” Social         Analysis 49 (2): 99-121. 

Yang, Shu-Yuan. 2005. “Imagining the State: An Ethnographic Study.” Ethnography 6 (4): 487-516.

Pluralism and Environmental Law

          International environmental law seems to be promoting homogeneity rather than cultural uniqueness. This is evident in the research done by Portnoy and Awi on a Rukai community called Taromak in Dongxing Village (2012: 37). The Rukai social structure is extremely connected to their surrounding environment, which forms the customary environmental laws of the group (Portnoy and Awi 2012: 38). These customary environmental laws have a complex and tense relationship with international and national environmental laws, and this is what is explored by Portnoy and Awi.  
          
          The law of the Rukai is called Dualixia and its values are closely connected to the surrounding environment. This include examples like chiefs and nobles “primordial connection to the environment,” the importance of agricultural practices and hunting in the formation and maintenance of social relationships and tribute being paid for land use (Portnoy and Awi 2012: 37). So, the Rukai have a relationship with their environment that is embedded with social and spiritual meaning (Portnoy and Awi 2012: 40). This means that when national laws and projects affect the environment in which the Rukai live, it changes more than just their surroundings. National laws, private property programs and intensive agriculture projects have had tension with the Rukaiʼs customary environmental laws and traditions. Although the traditional local Rukai culture has been impacted greatly by outside forces, like urbanization and globalization, traditional environmental customs like those discussed earlier still exist or at least in part (Portnoy and Awi 2012: 44). So, the challenges the Rukai and their customs face due to government decisions and national law do not only impact their surroundings, but their social structure and spiritual beliefs as well. 

          What seems problematic in the case of the Rukai, as Portnoy and Awi address, is that their customary environmental law is barely taken into consideration in the creation of national environmental law. To Portnoy and Awi, this is viewed as an absence of pluralism which is extremely problematic and the emphasis of their research. Portnoy and Awi view pluralism as extremely important to be able to promote local indigenous culture and ecological sustainability (2012: 45). Portnoy and Awi note that the laws of the Taiwanese government have slightly adjusted toward accepting more pluralistic values of the environment; however, it is also noted that the government still monopolizes natural resource management governance and supervision (2012: 44). Of course it would be difficult to take all cultural groupsʼ practices and customs regarding the environment in a society when drafting national environmental laws, but it seems almost discriminatory not to hold these values at a higher regard and take them into consideration more seriously. It seems as though the Taiwanese government in this case is making the views of other governments, mainly Western governments, more important than those of its own citizens. This is seen specifically in regard to the Forest Law, Wildlife Conservation Act, and Indigenous Peoples Basic Law of Taiwan, which portrayed similar ideas to international protectionism and utilitarianism, which are both based on a nature-society dichotomy (Portnoy and Awi, 2012: 44). I presume this to be a global issue of indigenous peoples and their respective countries, not a unique case for the Rukai. However this case emphasizes the importance of taking indigenous traditions and customary law into account when drafting national laws, especially in an increasingly globalized and homogeneous world.

Portnoy, Caleb and Awi Mona. 2012. “Laws of the Jungle: Conflicts Between International-National Environmental Law and Taromak Rukai-Environment Relations.” Taiwan Journal of Anthropology 10 (1): 21-50.

Mediums in Taiwan

          Tsai Yi-jia’s article “The Writing of History: The Religious Practices of the Medium’s Association in Taiwan” explores a Medium Association and their place in contemporary Taiwan society and modern professionalism. Mediums can be healers, exorcists, fortune tellers and performers in religious festivals in Taiwanese society (Tsai 2004: 44). Mediums are generally seen as holding low prestige in contemporary Taiwanese society, despite their religious medical and political characteristics (Tsai 2004: 44). Mediums thus hold expansive and differing roles among people in Taiwan due to varying respect that people have for them. The founding of the Medium’s Association was inspired by a “divine revelation” that came during a mediums’ meeting in 1988 (Tsai 2004: 47). After the creation of the Medium’s Association made the members “religious professionals” who would attend meeting monthly (Tsai 2004: 48). The meetings are held on the twentieth day of every month and had the goal of calming and overcoming the resentments of the departed souls  (Tsai 2004: 62). The meetings of the Medium Association were the most interesting part os Tsai’s article for me, as I found that this section left me with many questions about the authenticity of mediums.  
          First, the meetings seemed to be only attended by member mediums, according to Tsai’s description (2004: 62). If the meetings are only attended by member mediums, how is anyone to know if the mediums truly did experience physical and psychological indispositions and if they were indeed occupied by spirits? How could anyone know if what the medium expresses as the spirit is true if they are not in attendance at the meeting? If this relies on the word of other members of the Association, this is extremely problematic. The Association members would defend their own as they would not want to belittle the reputation, if low, the Association does hold as they are also a part of it. Also, can the mediums just turn on the medium capabilities on the twentieth day of every month? Does that make it just a rehearsal for others mediums to show off their medium prowess? This seemed very suspicious to me and left me wondering if these occurrences were common on other days of the month. 
          In addition, the idea of mediums as actors performing without a script seems problematic. Who are these actors performing for? Other mediums? If so, this would make the performance more of a rehearsal because they would then be without a true audience as they are among fellow actors. If they are “performing” for someone in particular, as part of a healing ritual or a fortune telling session, whose interests are they “performing” for? Do the mediums know their clients’ background or that of the supposed spirit? Although it seems as though the spirit should come through unbiased, the intentions of the medium, to calm and overcome the resentments of the departed souls, seem hazy. 

  I do not mean to diminish the role of mediums as religious professionals or to paint them as frauds, it just seems that this particular section of the article left me with more questions instead of a thorough understanding of the meetings and practices of mediums. 

Tsai, Yi-jia. 2004. “The Writing of History: The Religious Practices of the Medium’s Association in Taiwan.” Taiwan   Journal of Anthropology 2 (2): 43-80.

Complex Cultural Relationships in Taiwan

        Two of this week’s readings focus on nationalism, and in particular minority groups within Taiwan. Wilson discusses the ways in which the Hakka contest multicultural nationalism in Taiwan through the work of “culture workers;” this is done through an analysis of the second annual “Taipei Hakka Street Festival” (2009: 426). Yang and Chang examine the Waishengren, or mainlanders, in Taiwan, primarily historically. Understanding the ethnic characteristics and history of Taiwan helps to make clear the complex cultural interactions present in Taiwan.  

Taiwan is described as being comprised of four ethnic groups: Hoklo, Hakka, Waishengren (those of mainlander origin), and Aborigines (Yang and Chang 2010: 110). Hoklo account for approximately seventy percent of the population and Hakka constitute for around fifteen percent and according to Yang and Chang are considered to “lumped together” as “native Taiwanese,” as they are descendants of early migrants to Taiwan (2010: 110). However, Wilson does not “lump together” these groups and notes that the Hoklo are primarily referred to as Taiwanese (2009: 417). Aborigines account for two percent of the population (2010: 11). The Waishengren, or mainlanders, make up between ten and thirteen percent of the population but are not considered “native Taiwanese” because they or their ancestors migrated later, between 1945 and 1956 (2010: 110). 

Wilson’s focus, the Hakka, are an ethnic group that has roots in Southern China (2009: 416). The term Hakka is translated as “Guest People” in Mandarin Chinese (Wilson 2009: 416), which holds significance related their status on the island.There seems to be a stigma toward the identification as Hakka, as Wilson points out the increasing prevalence of how people of Hakka descent discontinue to identify as Hakka when they reach middle-class status (2009: 417). However, through Wilson’s research it is clear the Hakka are, at least somewhat, prideful of their ethnicity in that they are attempting to make spaces Hakka and link themselves to structures like government through the festival by taking it to specific locations of Taipei (2009: 429). 

The Waishengren, or those with mainland origin, are civil war migrants and their descendants (Yang and Chang 2010: 110). The civil war migrants are tied to a KMT nationalist identity while younger generations seem to exhibit clear indications of indigenization (Yang and Chang 2010: 115). Contested national identity, which involves opinions on whether to reunite with China, an opinion of the civil war migrants, or attain independence, is seen as the most important factor to explain the division between mainlanders and native Taiwanese (Yang and Chang 2010: 113).

I found the complex relationships between the ethnic groups of Taiwan extremely interesting, but what I found most interesting was how ethnic and cultural identification, as mentioned by Wilson, was dependent on language. Wilson notes that such identification was very much dependent on what language a person spoke (2009: 419). The Hakka were then identifiable by the southern dialect of Chinese that they spoke, which is referred to as Hakka as well (Wilson 2009: 416). As for the Waishengren, local dialects from China were spoken and were often, as described by Yang and Chang, mutually incomprehensible (2010: 121). Although that many of these divisions have become less distinct as newer generations learned Taiwanese, the idea of such strong language distinctions dictating such substantial divisions between the ethnic groups, in this case more than two, within the same entity, an island, is especially interesting to me. 

Wilson, R. Scott. 2009. "Making Hakka Spaces: Resisting Multicultural Nationalism in Taiwan."      Chinese Society. Stanford: Stanford University Press, pp. 131-182. 

Yang, Dominic Meng-Hsian and Ma-Kuei Chang. 2010. "Understanding the Nuances of Waishengren:    History and Agency." China Perspectives 3: 108-122. 

Ethnic Distinction, Social Class, Income and Gender

The ethnic distinction in Taiwan, as examined by Gates, has strong effects on social class relationships in Taiwan. Gate’s explains in “Dependency and the Part-time Proletariat in Taiwan” that class is distinguished by a person’s level of education and ethnicity in Taiwan (387). Ethnicity, as described by Gates, in Taiwan is divided as Taiwanese and Mainlander (388). Despite that generally the social class divisions are thought to be of a Mainlander upper-class and a Taiwanese lower-class, this is not completely accurate as there are members of each ethnic group represented in each social class that Gates describes (388). So although there are members of each ethnic group in each social class, being part of one ethnic group still carries a certain connotation and skews popular conception of an exaggerated ethnic divide. A division is found though in two of the social classes described by Gates; members of the “petty bourgeoisie” are over-represented from Taiwanese natives and jobs considered to be “new middle-class” are occupied largely by Mainlanders (393).  So in a sense there is a correlation between the ethnicity and social class, and this may mean that people of one ethnicity have more opportunities than the other. But this divide between who gets jobs and how much people are paid in Taiwan is even more drastic when comparing gender. 

The focus of this week’s blog now turns, once again, to gender. The divisions witnessed in Gates’ research between ethnicities in Taiwan in reference to social class, despite the fact that people from both distinct ethnicities as described by Gates belong to each social class, is then divided into further subsections because of gender inequalities in the workplace. In Greenhalgh’s “De-Orientalizing the Chinese Family Firm” the author described family enterprises, which were meant to be beneficial for the family as a whole, in Taiwan and the gendered divide experienced in allocation of jobs and pay. In the family firms, the women studied by Greenhalgh often held one job for every two men employed and mostly occupied that did not offer potential advancement or professional development (761). Although the position of the woman in a family decided the type of job and pay she would receive, the lack of professional development was similar. Married women, especially the wives of the head of the family, received the better jobs sometimes dealing with managerial positions, while daughter’s in-law or unmarried daughters received lowering pay, less desirable jobs, often to do with production and being paid by piecework (761). In addition, women were given jobs more out of necessity more often than men, especially because there was a focus that women responsibilities were revolved around familial and reproductive obligations, not professional development or income (761). 

So, it seems that generally native Taiwanese and women, in the time frame that these articles were written, held less desirable, lower paying jobs, though a few exceptions were present. This finding seems almost typical for any country. But what is special about Taiwan, and in a way what these authors describe as “Chinese culture”, is the complex relationship between the native Taiwanese and the Mainlanders and the familial nature of business enterprise. The perceptions of how native Taiwanese and women are viewed in both articles seemed so strong that it seemed it would take many ideological changes to reach equality of opportunity for all. Although the Taiwanese National Statistics website reports that if a gender inequality index was made for Taiwan it would rank fourth place in the world and would be the highest in Asia (, an article in Taiwan Today reads “Taiwan remains on slow road to gender equality,” despite the implementation of the Gender Equality in Employment Act in 2001 (Ho, 2010). Apparently after many decades, much work needs to be done regarding gender equality, including income equality. 

Gates, Hill. 1979. “Dependency and the Part-time Proletariat in Taiwan.” Modern China 5 (3): 381-408.

Greenhalgh, Susan. 1994. “De-Orientalizing the Chinese Family Firm.” American Ethnologist 21 (4): 746-775.

Ho, C. (2010, March 26). Taiwan remains on slow road to gender equality. Taiwan Today. Retrieved from http://taiwantoday.tw/ct.asp?xItem=96865&ctNode=428. 

What is the gender inequality index (GII)? What data does Taiwan have? Retrieved from http://eng.stat.gov.tw/ct.asp?xItem=31070&ctNode=5710&mp=5.

Work Ethic and Gender

 January 26, 2013      
          Stevan Harrell’s “Why Do the Chinese Work So Hard? Reflections on an Entrepreneurial Ethic” tries to make sense of what motivates Chinese men and women economically through a cultural lens. Harrell points out that socialization and material incentives have long though to be the driving force of the so-called Chinese work ethic; however, he finds that these are incomplete explanations as they are missing the important aspect of entrepreneurial ethic (1985: 215). Harrell describes entrepreneurship as an investment in the hopes it will turn into a long-term resource of “material well-being and security” for not only oneself but also to one’s immediate and future relatives (1985: 216). This work ethic to obtain enduring resources and security somewhat differs between the genders. This differential stems from the aforementioned aspect of Chinese work ethic that they work for the benefit of their family, not solely for individual gain. A male works for his family, the same family that he will be tied to for his whole life. However, at the time of the research, Harrell describes a patrilocal society where women would move to the husband’s and his family place of residence (1985: 221).  So in this logic, the entrepreneurial ethic Harrell describes does not make as much sense for women until after they have married as a women is not tied to her own family for her whole life. So, Harrell describes studies that show that women do not show the same hardworking ethic as men before they are married (1985: 220). It was found that women before marriage go to work for more social reasons than men, like finding a partner for marriage (1985: 220). Once a woman is married, and once she has children, her economic interests and work ethic changes to focus on providing for her children and future descendants (1985: 221). The focus on Chinese work ethic is relevant to the study of Taiwan as many people from Taiwan are of Chinese descent and brought this work ethic with them when they emigrated to the island. 

  I found this gendered aspect of Chinese work ethic especially interesting because of the correlations I found between the Chinese women’s work ethic and the experiences of women in Canada and the Western world up until recent times. The women I speak of often did not have careers or gave up their jobs when they got married and had children. Although it is not exactly the same situation, when I was reading about the gendered skewed lens of the Chinese work ethic, I could not help but look for similarities to my own culture. The way the women it seemed that the women in both cultures did not have much economic drive of their own before marriage, after marriage their economic gains and time were very much centered on their new families. The gendered aspect of Harrell’s analysis was especially interesting to me and this is why it is the focus of this week’s blog. 

Harrell, Stevan. 1985. “Why Do the Chinese Work so Hard? Reflections on an Entrepreneurial Ethic.” Modern China 11 (2) : 203-226.