Were it not for
Dr. Tsai Ing-wen’s vision and trust in my ability to help tell Taiwan’s story
to the world, I would not be in Taiwan today
What an
extraordinary week this has been! And what an unexpected journey! Had life
taken its expected course, things would have been a lot different. It’s been a
very busy week, and only now, by this late Saturday afternoon, do I finally
have a few moments to put my thoughts into writing. Bear with me.
Where to start?
In November last year, I guess, when after a seven-and-a-half-year stint with
the Taipei Times I decided to call it
quits. I’d worked as a copy editor, deputy news chief, journalist, editorial
writer, photographer for the paper, and during that period I had also succeeded
in branching out to other publications, among them the Wall Street Journal, Christian Science Monitor, The Diplomat, National
Interest, Ottawa Citizen, Jane’s Defence Weekly and others. Over time, this
also gave rise to invitations to write for academic publications and to give
conferences. This was all well and good, but I was stuck. The Times felt increasingly like a prison,
and for various reasons its management would not allow me to fulfill my
ambitions and decided instead to punish me for trying to accomplish what I
firmly believed were my responsibilities as deputy news editor. (I remember
reading somewhere a comment to the effect that I’d had to leave because I refused
to do my job, which was downright silly. Two months prior to my resignation,
I’d received the highest possible annual bonus, which was based on performance.
Had I not done my job, it’s hard to imagine that management would have done
so.) Anyway, that is all behind me, and despite my highly frustrating and
disappointing last year at the Times,
I would not be where I am today had they not hired me and given me a chance to
make myself known.
I won’t hide
that since late 2012 I had been actively looking for work alternatives in
Taiwan. But there simply wasn’t anything, especially not for someone like me
who wanted to write about politics. Facing budget cuts, international wire
agencies, which would have been a natural outlet for someone with my ambition
to tell Taiwan’s story to a global audience, either had a hiring freeze or,
more frequently, were slashing jobs or pulling out of the country altogether.
Equally aware of the limited opportunities here, the few international
journalists who remained naturally chose not to leave. There were no think
tanks to speak of that would hire foreigners. A few opportunities did come my
way, but unfortunately my non-U.S. citizenship got in the way of that (the jobs
required a security clearance granted by the U.S. government, which cannot be
conferred upon non-U.S. citizens). By the time of my resignation, I had
concluded that it was time to leave the country and to continue to fight for
Taiwan somewhere else.
After quitting
my job, I extended my Alien Resident Certificate for 90 days — the Taiwanese
government did a poor job advertising it, but it’s true; extensions for
white-collar workers are not 90 days rather than 15 as in the past — and
planned to rest a little while preparing for a return to North America (we were
looking for work in Washington, D.C.). I also intended to get married, which I
did in January, and to finish editing Officially
Unofficial, an autobiographical work about my experiences as a foreign
journalist in Taiwan, and putting together Black
Island, a collection of my writing about civil society. I continued to
write articles for The Diplomat and
to post articles on The Far-Eastern Sweet
Potato, which was receiving good traffic. My articles were increasingly
being translated into Chinese, which earned me an entirely new audience,
especially when The News Lens made me
one of their contributors.
After nearly
nine years in Taiwan, I’d accumulated a lot of stuff and spent days sifting
through, throwing out, and packing my belongings. Safely packing my 1,600-plus
book collection was no minor challenge. I tried to remain upbeat and to
convince myself that a move back home was the right thing to do, at least in
terms of my career. But I was doing so begrudgingly, and deep inside I knew
that I wasn’t ready yet to leave what had become my home. A few good things
came my way, including being made an associate researcher at the French Center
fort Research on Contemporary China (CEFC) and senior non-resident fellow at
the University of Nottingham’s China Policy Institute (CPI), for which I’d been
writing for a while.
One day in
mid-January, my partner asked if I would be interested in joining her giving a
talk to the Thinking Taiwan Foundation, the think tank that former DPP
chairperson and presidential candidate Tsai Ing-wen had established after her
unsuccessful election bid. I said yes, thinking that what I regarded as a post
mortem would give me the opportunity to talk about what I regarded as Taiwan’s
— and the DPP’s — shortcomings.
I had nothing to
lose, as we were leaving. So I was very blunt in my presentation. Tsai, along
with some of her board members, listened attentively and didn’t seem the least
offended by my remarks (among other things, I spoke about some of the problems
that I had identified in her presidential campaign, the dinosaurs in the DPP
and among overseas supporters, and Taiwan’s general inability to connect with
the rest of the world). On the latter point, I also mentioned that what Taiwan
needed was a new publication, in English, to tell Taiwan’s story to the world,
unfiltered by the many ideological biases and restrictions that far too often
handicapped existing media here. Above all, that publication should strive to
engage foreign media and officials who more often than not were lazy about
Taiwan and inattentive to its travails.
After our
presentation was over, Tsai asked that we join her in her office for further
discussion. There and then, she offered me a job with her foundation. As far as
I know, I am the first foreigner to join her think tank. One of my chief
responsibilities is to run, as editor in chief, Thinking Taiwan (www.thinking-taiwan.com), a platform created to
accomplish exactly what I told Dr. Tsai during my presentation.
Our small team
worked very hard to put the product together. Twice, events beyond our control
— the Sunflower Movement’s occupation of the legislature and Lin I-hsiung’s
hunger striker over the Fourth Nuclear Power Plant — forced us to delay the
official launch and press conference. Finally, on May 6, we were able to do so.
And while I’d gotten used to giving TV and radio interviews over the years,
this was my first press conference. As I said in my opening remarks, this was
highly usual, as I was used to being on the other side with the members of the
press.
Our line-up for
the launch issue was varied and reflected what I sought to accomplish with the
site. Jerome Cohen, an internationally recognized lawyer and China expert (and
a former professor of President Ma Ying-jeou’s), graciously agreed to write the
pièce de résistance. Other writers
included Mark Stokes of the Project 2049 Institute and Stéphane Corcuff of the
CEFC. We also had new voices, including Aphrodite Hung, one of the
spokespersons for the Black Island Youth Alliance, and Jonathan Lee, who heads
the FAPA-YPG chapter in Northern California. I felt we had succeeded in
striking an ideological and generational balance. Above all, I wanted to ensure
that despite its association with Dr. Tsai’s foundation, Thinking Taiwan was regarded as a neutral publication that provides
a plurality of views and voices.
I’d made that
clear to Dr. Tsai when we sat in her office on that fateful day: I saw no need
in having yet another publication that played sides or served as a mouthpiece
for any political party. I did not want to be seen as a propagandist for the
DPP, and by then it should have been obvious to anyone who followed my work
that I had grown highly critical of the green camp and never hesitated to do
so. That Dr. Tsai hired me despite this is a sign that she understands the need
for a new and impartial voice for Taiwan. The editorial is as simple as it is a
departure from the norm; the baseline is what is good for Taiwan, not for any
political party.
The platform has
received a warmed reception, for which I am extremely grateful. However, some
people have already pointed out that our publication will be “tainted” by its
association with Dr. Tsai and the high likelihood that she will once again be
DPP chairperson. On anonymous commentator on Michael Turton’s View From Taiwan
opined that “a bit surprising to see J. Michael Cole has ‘pinned his flag to
the mast’ of the DPP so publicly, as it will tend to affect how his work is
received.” My answer to this is to ask readers to give us a chance to prove
ourselves, and evaluate our worth by the quality and independence of our product.
Dr. Tsai’s foundation is not the DPP (the party already has its own think tank,
the New Frontier Foundation), and she has made it clear to us that Thinking Taiwan will be regarded as a
separate institution free of her political ambitions. I can already tell
readers that Dr. Tsai is way too busy with meetings and politics to involve
herself in the running of an online publication. I have never been a propagandist,
and I will never agree to become one, which is why I got into so much trouble
with the Taipei Times in 2013. I don’t
think Jerome Cohen or Mark Stokes would have agreed to write for us if they
believed that they were writing for the propaganda arm of the green camp. If
you’re not convinced yet, wait until you see some of the commentators we have
lined up or reached out to for Thinking
Taiwan. I’ve long called for a fresh and honest take on this important part
of the world, and I’m not about to miss that opportunity.
The same
anonymous writer then added, “The site and quality of articles posted so far is
impressive, so it is a shame that is could not have been produced under a truly
independent and nonpartisan banner.” Nobody else had the vision — and just as importantly the
financial means — to do so. Dr. Tsai understood the need to reach out to the international
community, and she trusted me to run the platform that would help us do so. Had
she not done so, I wouldn’t be in Taiwan today. (Photo by Ketty W. Chen)
