This is a view of the building where I work. The College of Indigenous Studies at National Dong Hwa University, in Hualien, Taiwan.

And here is a picture of the view (on a more typically cloudy day) looking back, from the balcony near my office.

Most of the people who live on the East Coast of Taiwan reside in a narrow valley between the Coastal Mountain Range (top picture) and the larger Central Mountain Range (bottom picture). The valley starts in Hualien city, and continues down about about a hundred miles, to the next coastal city, Taitung. About thirty miles south is the village where I did my fieldwork. Apart from the great scenery and the chance to improve my Chinese, that is one of the main reasons I took this job. But it is now four years since I came here and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve made that thirty mile trip. That’s what I’d like to talk about in this post. I think the reasons give some insight into what life is like as an expat professor in Taiwan, what it means to teach near your field site, as well as some of the unique aspects of my current situation.

There are a number of reasons why I spend so little time at my old field site. One of them is that, as they say, “you can’t step in the same river twice.” It’s been a decade since I did my fieldwork, and the people I knew there have mostly moved on. I worked in an elementary school, and few people stay in the same place for more than four years. Some I’m still friends with. A teacher who teaches in the mountains south of Taipei, a baseball coach who is currently staying at my cousin’s house in Ohio has he studies for his Ph.D., and a few others I see now and then. But there are only a few people I know still living back in the village.

The other reason is that I’m busy. Taiwanese teachers typically have a 3-3 teaching load, as well as the usual advising and bureaucratic responsibilities. Since I arrived here I’ve developed over eleven new course syllabi – all of which I teach in Chinese. I mention this because it means I need to spend about four times as long preparing my courses as I would if I taught in English. The knowledge that almost all of my colleagues completed Ph.D.’s in Western Universities keeps me from making too much of my language situation. One get’s a lot more leeway teaching in a foreign language than one gets as a student, and I certainly couldn’t write a dissertation in Chinese, not to mention a term paper. Even now, for academic promotion, my colleagues are expected to publish and present papers in English whereas I can get by without having to write much Chinese at all.

The thing is, when I came they told me that I could teach in English because the government is trying to promote more English language classes. I tried it for a semester, but soon gave up. For one thing, less than a fifth of the students had sufficient English skills to follow me. Another reason is that we need at least ten students to get full credit for an undergraduate class. Although Taiwanese teachers get double credits for teaching in English – the same doesn’t apply to me as a foreigner, even though the problems I face are the same. But, over time, I’ve gotten better at it. The Ph.D. Cultural Theory course, which used to be the one class I did teach in English, I taught in Chinese (or Chinglish) this year. I still depend mostly on English language texts (giving my students translations when possible), but this semester was the first time I used a Chinese-only text in one of my classes, something I hope to slowly increase over time. [See this post I wrote some time back about the lack of texts in translation.]

But the biggest reason that I return to my field site so rarely has little to do with how busy I am teaching, and everything to do with how busy I am when I’m on break. Just at the time I got this job I was embarking on what turned out to be a four year project working on a documentary film in India. This has been one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done in my life, and I don’t regret it for an instant, but it does mean that when I do have a break I’m often jumping on board a plane to India (as, indeed, I’m doing again in about ten days time).

Despite everything I’ve said, I don’t mean to imply I haven’t been doing new research here in Taiwan. I have! About a year ago I started a series of posts on learning an endangered language and after that I interviewed some indigenous language teachers. While that work has been on hold over the past few months, I hope to take it up again as soon as we return from India. There is a paper I want to do on the subject and my New Year’s resolution is to get a first draft done by the end of the summer, and to turn it into a research proposal by the end of the year (when the National Science Council research deadline is).

Speaking of papers. Although it took me about three years to get into a schedule that works for me, I have lately also begun to figure out how to crank out those papers – something I need to do a lot more of if I’m going to pass the six year review required of all Taiwanese academics. Although there are the first inklings of a shift towards book-length manuscripts at some research institutions, here the focus is still on academic papers. A lot of credit is given for journals listed in the Social Science Citation Index which is annoying, since so many great anthropology journals aren’t listed there. My department has been supportive in giving me some credit for my online and multimedia work as well. I’m hopeful that the documentary film will be able to be included in my review.

One thing I’ve had to cut back on is conferences. It is just too costly and too time consuming to attend too many conferences from here. The school and the National Science Council do give faculty some support, but as much as I’d like to go to more conferences, I need to spend that precious time working on getting those papers out. I think, in general, this is true for junior faculty no matter where you are – but the distance (and jet lag) makes it even more true. To the extent possible, I have been trying to attend regional conferences, which can often be an exciting way to explore the region and (of course) network.

So, that’s why I don’t spend much time in my field site. But I’m learning a lot just by living and working here. For one thing, about half the students in our college are Taiwanese Aborigines, which is quite remarkable when you think that less than two percent of Taiwanese are Aborigines. Being a good teacher and advisor means learning from my students, which means being a good ethnographer. (Hopefully I can write some of that down in another blog post sometime.) Whether it is student term papers on indigenous issues, or problems advisees are facing at home, I’m picking up a lot about indigenous life by osmosis.

Below is video of a graduation day ceremony featuring cultural traditions from many of the different indigenous communities represented at our university:

In a way, I feel like I am now, a decade after I finished up my dissertation field work, finally ready to begin the task I started at that time. I feel that my first four years teaching here have given me a very special kind of training. And the learning process has made being a junior faculty member that much more exciting than it might have been otherwise. So even though I rarely go back to my old field site, it has still been a fantastic learning experience for me. Even though there may be limited opportunities for Ph.D.s to get academic appointments within the US, with the increasing globalization of higher education there are more and more opportunities abroad. I hope that this post might help others decide if doing so is right for them.

If you ask most people, democracy is synonymous with elections. But, strangely enough, few people who live in electoral democracies feel that elections result in a government which truly responds to their concerns. At its best, electoral politics seems to solve the problem of succession which plagued previous forms of government. Although it is not unusual for violence to break out during elections in many parts of the world, my sense is that even the most procedurally flawed elections in a one-party state make for more peaceful transitions between rulers. By this standard a bloodless military coup is actually slightly better than a violent election, so we’re placing the bar pretty low.

I find it much more useful to think about democracy in terms of institutions. Separation of powers has been an important part of democracy since the early Greek City-States, and was a central feature of the Roman Republic. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney have been doing their best to undo this founding principle of democracy for some time. They object to any congressional oversight of the executive branch, and have appointed Supreme Court judges who believe in a strong executive. We all know the endless stream of abuses which have taken place under the Bush White House, many of them posing serious threats to civil liberties. And yet, somehow, the basic building blocks of US democracy remain intact – barely. (True, we are setting the bar pretty low here when we point out that there aren’t black-booted brown shirts patrolling our streets, but still…)

These thoughts occur to me as Taiwan slips back towards one-party rule less than a decade after the DPP first gained control of the presidency. During that time numerous reform measures which would have strengthened Taiwanese democracy were repeatedly defeated in the KMT controlled legislature. It is unclear whether any of these will move forward now that the KMT’s position is secure, although the KMT’s anti-corruption rhetoric during the past election will likely result in at least some minimal reforms.

I find myself reflecting upon my experience working within Taiwanese institutions. At college meetings, every speaker prefaces their comments by mimetically recreating the institutional hierarchy: “Dean, Department Chair, Colleagues, Everyone: Hello.” But those with real power are not at the meeting: the school administration and the Ministry of Education. Every decision is made at the top and trickles its way down the ladder, so our meetings are primarily reactive. Nothing we say or do can really influence the decisions which have already been made on top. And those at top are not particularly interested in hearing our views.

Now, to be fair, this isn’t that different from how institutions work in the US. What is different, however, is that some institutions, at least, have a history of struggle which has resulted in faculty assemblies, teacher unions, and even, in some places, graduate student unions. While these organizations don’t rightly represent a “separation of powers” at the institutional level, they do act as a countervailing force which dampens the tendency for power to concentrate at the administrative center over time. I have not seen any signs of such organizations during my brief experience working in Taiwanese academia.

Another observation is that Taiwanese separation of powers differs in one important respect from that in the United States. The Examination Yuan 考試院, which overseas the testing of civil servants, is one of the five branches of government. Wikipedia compares it to “the European Personnel Selection Office of the European Union or the Office of Personnel Management of the United States of America” but its stature as one of the five pillars of government seems unique (at least with comparison to the US). Scott Sommers has remarked upon these differences as well:

In the occupational selection of modern Western nations, I believe it is occupational practitioners themselves who construct the tests based on their personal ideas about what practitioner knowledge should be. In Asia, it is quite different. In Taiwan, for example, a great deal of the testing and examination that goes on is controlled through a centralized government organization called the Examination Yuan. While the Examination Yuan utilizes highly qualified representatives of the various organizations their tests select for, it is clearly distinct in its functions from the the various occupational groups and their interests.

At the end of that article Scott suggested that “expanded democracy places testing in the hands of occupational practitioners.” I don’t know whether there is truly a general trend in this direction, but this is the kind of thing I have come to think about when I think about democracy in Taiwan. I don’t think this kind of institutional reform can happen from the top down, but so far I see very few signs of Taiwanese professionals seeking to make their institutions more democratic. At my university there is some discussion about allowing Assistant Professors to have a vote in the faculty hiring process – but it isn’t even clear whether current rules allow us to make such changes…

In our discussions about anthropologists in the military the term “ivory tower” has come up again and again, as has its antipode, “the real world.” These terms work rhetorically to oppose academic elitism and detachment against the difficult moral choices one must make in everyday life. A couple of things really bother me about the way these words are used:

First, it seems that “the real world” is always invoked when someone feels the need to justify decisions made which will help the elite. The “real world” requires us to support military dictators, cut jobs, pollute the environment, etc. You almost never hear someone talk about how in the “real world” we must build up the institutions of democracy, support unions, or protect our natural resources. Why are these choices less “real”?

Second, the labeling of anthropologists as ivory tower intellectuals is just odd. Most anthropologists I know are very much engaged in the real-world problems of their informants, love nothing more than to be in the field, and many, many, anthropologists are politically active both at home and abroad. It is true that anthropologists tend to shun the role of “public intellectual” and engagement with mainstream US politics, but they are very active in a large variety of other ways.

Third, it is odd that academics are accused of being “ivory tower intellectuals” precisely at the moment that are engaging politically in the US public sphere. To be passive subjects of military policy would be less “ivory tower” than to speak out against it?

Fourth, I always hated the term “the real world.” Of all the jobs I’ve had in my life – and I’ve done a little of everything, from selling ice cream, to bar-tending, etc. – my experience in corporate america was the least “real” of them all. People in management positions were all white and played solitaire on their computer half the day, when they weren’t gossiping, while minority employees worked their asses off answering phones and sweeping the floor. These privileged yuppies had no idea about the world outside their protected suburban enclaves, and yet they are considered as having jobs in the “real world” because they earn more money?

The fact that the real world involves difficult moral judgments should be a reason for serious academic debate about the basis for those judgments, not a reason for silencing that debate.

(Photo by wallyg)

College of Indigenous Studies at National Dong Hwa University [Taiwan]

http://www.ndhu.edu.tw/

POSITION DESCRIPTION AND DUTIES: The Department of Indigenous Cultures and the Graduate Institute of Ethnic Relations and Culture invite applicants for three (3) open-rank faculty positions in the humanities and social sciences, beginning February 1, 2008. We are seeking applicants who do research in indigenous or ethnic cultural studies, with any of the following disciplinary backgrounds: indigenous art, ethnomusicology, psychology, history, religious studies, anthropology, or sociology.

QUALIFICATION REQUIREMENTS: Ph.D. must be in hand at time of appointment. The applicant should be comfortable working and teaching in Mandarin Chinese.

TO APPLY: Please send cover letter, three letters of reference, curriculum vitae, graduate transcript, a copy of dissertation, and sample course syllabi to Ms. Long, Administrator, Graduate Institute of Ethnic Relations and Culture, National Dong Hwa University, Hua-lien, Taiwan 97401.

Formal review of applications will begin by October 15, 2007 and will continue until the positions are filled.

For further information, please contact graduate administrator sylong [at] mail.ndhu.edu.tw.

Here is the official announcement by Konrad over at the excellent Frog in a Well blog.

Until now.

This semester we just learned of some funds that would be made available for just this purpose. Not nearly as much as is needed, but something nonetheless. Now the discussion is starting about how to best spend these funds. I made the argument that these funds should not be spent on English lessons, as someone had suggested, but on Chinese lessons. A funny argument to be made by someone who can’t tell the difference between his wife and a fish, but based on my experience grading papers last semester I think it is the right one to make.

The Taiwanese school system is focused on the national examinations, and as such essay writing gets short shrift. Research writing seems not to be taught at all. This isn’t much different from the situation in America, where most high school students still don’t know how to write a research paper, but many of the best American universities deal with this through courses known as “Freshman English.” Such courses are not just literature courses, but teach basic writing skills for the humanities. At my university, however, the equivalent “Freshman Chinese” seems to be focused on learning classical Chinese. I don’t disagree that student’s should be familiar with the classics, but it doesn’t help them much when it comes time to write a research paper.

Because it is so hard, some teachers have abandoned assigning papers in their classes, relying on written and oral exams instead. I’m sympathetic. I’m doing this as well in my lower level classes. If it is hard work for native speakers, it is a Herculean task for me! But what does that say about the quality of education our students are getting? In all likelihood they might graduate college still not knowing how to properly write a research paper in Chinese! [Note: The better students understand they need these skills and take classes where they are taught, but this is not true of everyone.]

It is also connected with plagiarism, a big problem everywhere. While some students are simply lazy, I think a lot of students cheat because they don’t know how to properly use citations. Incorporating someone else’s speech into your own while keeping your own voice isn’t an easy task. Just ask the Pope! Students need to be taught these skills so that they can properly quote and cite secondary sources in an appropriate manner.

Unfortunately, remedial writing classes would require small classes and more teachers than we have. Nor can we reasonably rely on our graduate students to teach these skills. So the small amount of money we have been given will probably not be enough to turn things around. What is required is for the university and the Ministry of Education to take its commitment to teaching these students seriously.

UPDATE: More from Jonathan Benda.

While I enjoy the show, it is hard to pin down why. Although he is a very sophisticated writer and performer, the show still has the feel of … a blog; and why would someone want to watch a blog? The only answer I can come up with is this: For the same reason one would read a blog – because it is funny, well written and insightful.

Take, for instance, today’s clip about college. So true …

• 30 Days of Cinétrance
• Anthro Classics Online: Body Ritual among the Nacirema
• Traditional Knowledge Digital Library
• Should You Study Visual Anthropology?
• Anthro Classics Online: Geertz’s Notes on the Balinese Cockfight
• Anthro Classics Online: Shakespeare in the Bush

Also, please take a look at our recent fund raising drive to support teachers at disadvantaged schools in America. Please consider helping buy books and cameras for teacher-submitted projects at Donors Choose!

Finally, fellow Savage Mind Alex Golub is doing a great job with our summer reading circle. Join the fun! This one is going so well we’ll probably do more.

From what I’ve heard about intellectual freedom in China, it follows a very similar model. While blogs and web sites might be filtered for specific forbidden topics and words, and reporters jailed for being too critical, intellectuals have a fair amount of freedom to explore any topic they see fit.

This view is confirmed by Daniel Bell’s wonderful account of his experiences teaching political theory in Beijing:

In subsequent classes, I learned to relax with the students and to go over the material without worrying about sensitive political implications. We discussed Christian, Realist, Confucian, and Islamic perspectives on just and unjust war, with the students doing presentations and debating more issues among themselves. The student from the party school did an excellent presentation on the Maoist perspective. In debate, he made thoughtful and constructive comments, as one might expect of a talented student. To the extent he had a political motivation, it seemed to be the desire to learn theories that may be useful for China’s future reform.

I have to say, his students seem much more interested in debating ideas than the Taiwanese student’s I’ve encountered – despite (or because of?) the greater freedoms they have.