Click here for the introduction to the Round and Square series "Fieldnotes From History."
Click below for other fieldnotes dealing with Taiwan's 1985 provincial elections:
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| [a] National RF |
Election 1 Election 2 Election 3 Election 4 Election 5 Election 6
Election 7 Election 8 Election 9 Election 10 Election 11 Election 12
Election 13 Election 14 Election 15 Election 16 Election 17 Election 18
Election 7 Election 8 Election 9 Election 10 Election 11 Election 12
Election 13 Election 14 Election 15 Election 16 Election 17 Election 18
Part of an occasional Round and Square
series that follows the blog’s main theme (east meets
west, round meets square, and past meets present), these
snippets from my early fieldnotes are reproduced as they
were written by hand—and then revised on an ancient
desktop computer—during my first fieldwork stay in Taiwan
(1985-1987). All entries are the way that I left them
when I returned to the United States in 1987—some
nicely-stated and some embarrassing. Although the series began with
my assumption that the entries can stand alone, I have found that
separate comments and notes might help readers understand a world that
is now, well, history. These are always separate from the original fieldnote.
The next several dozen entries in this series represent my memories—in the form of fieldnotes that were already well on their way to being letters—of Taiwan's provincial elections in November 1985. I had taken down what I call "jottings" at the time, and "now," two months later, I was ready to get a little bit more detail down in the form of fieldnotes. If you are somewhat unfamiliar with the five-stage process that framed my work habits even back then, it might be worth a quick look at the introduction to this series. Suffice to say here that in Taiwan in 1985 I was working from "jottings" to "fieldnotes" most of the time. Every month or so, I would write a letter that made it all into a more sustained narrative. Even early on, I realized how powerfully the knowledge that I would be writing letters influenced my fieldnotes. You may see it, too. It has remained my method to this day.
Like many fieldnotes, these were "written
up" (a term I dislike, but am occasionally willing to use) after the
fact. I wonder if most students of anthropology know how common this is.
The implications for research, eye-witness authenticity, and
historiography are numerous. It is a reality that has never gone away
for field researchers of all kinds, though, and I suspect that it never
will.
The next several dozen entries in this series represent my memories—in the form of fieldnotes that were already well on their way to being letters—of Taiwan's provincial elections in November 1985. I had taken down what I call "jottings" at the time, and "now," two months later, I was ready to get a little bit more detail down in the form of fieldnotes. If you are somewhat unfamiliar with the five-stage process that framed my work habits even back then, it might be worth a quick look at the introduction to this series. Suffice to say here that in Taiwan in 1985 I was working from "jottings" to "fieldnotes" most of the time. Every month or so, I would write a letter that made it all into a more sustained narrative. Even early on, I realized how powerfully the knowledge that I would be writing letters influenced my fieldnotes. You may see it, too. It has remained my method to this day.
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| [b] Figures RF |
Comment
This one is important. Let's just say that the challenge of political participation in Chinese history has a fascinating and fragmented legacy. From Confucius to Mao Zedong, "the people" have figured in Chinese political theory, and so has their participation in "politics" under heaven (天下). This Chinese phrase refers in elegant ways to what a Westerner might call "the whole world."
The vast majority of thinkers (not to mention rulers) thought of "the people" as a problem to be solved...or coddled or assuaged. Many of the memorials quoted in the book I have studied for thirty years, the Comprehensive Mirror, speak of the necessity of reassuring the people so they don't boil over like bubbling broth. In other words, this is a key question, and one that (here I go again) I think anthropologists should study just as readily as do political scientists and historians. To be sure, many do (good job, Marissa Smith '08!), but we need even more.
And this is the other reason why some of these notes seem sort of "academic." My training has been in history and anthropology from almost the first day of college, and it has never wavered. In a nutshell, I am interested in political culture, and that is a topic that has multiple dimensions.
The vast majority of thinkers (not to mention rulers) thought of "the people" as a problem to be solved...or coddled or assuaged. Many of the memorials quoted in the book I have studied for thirty years, the Comprehensive Mirror, speak of the necessity of reassuring the people so they don't boil over like bubbling broth. In other words, this is a key question, and one that (here I go again) I think anthropologists should study just as readily as do political scientists and historians. To be sure, many do (good job, Marissa Smith '08!), but we need even more.
And this is the other reason why some of these notes seem sort of "academic." My training has been in history and anthropology from almost the first day of college, and it has never wavered. In a nutshell, I am interested in political culture, and that is a topic that has multiple dimensions.
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| [c] Social (trust me) RF |
Notes
[1] Winckler nailed it here, I think. This "liberation of energy" and "channeling into public affairs" is key to understanding the motives—and the plan—of Guomindang leaders in the mid-1980s. As we will see in the next few notes, this is central to understanding what a millennia-old strategy in new, democratic robes.
16 February 1986
Taipei
“The national elite would like democracy to liberate the energies of the people,” writes Edwin Winckler, a Harvard political scientist studying Taiwan. [It wishes to] “channel them into public affairs, and discipline them into the orderly pursuit of a unified general will.” This appears to be Confucian political philosophy with a modern, somewhat democratic twist. Political participation has always been an issue in China. It simply has rarely been cast in terms of all the people.
In theory, Taiwan’s elite—the upper echelons of the Guomindang—see elections as a way to bring the talents of the most able and conscientious citizens to the aid of government. Like the selection of scholar-officials in imperial times, democracy should provide the country with a vast storehouse of talent, to use, as Professor Winckler puts it, “in the orderly pursuit of a general, unified will.” This phrase combines the rhetoric of Confucianism with that of modern democracy, and therein lies its problem. Therein, too, lies the challenge for Taiwan’s political elite.
“The national elite would like democracy to liberate the energies of the people,” writes Edwin Winckler, a Harvard political scientist studying Taiwan. [It wishes to] “channel them into public affairs, and discipline them into the orderly pursuit of a unified general will.” This appears to be Confucian political philosophy with a modern, somewhat democratic twist. Political participation has always been an issue in China. It simply has rarely been cast in terms of all the people.
In theory, Taiwan’s elite—the upper echelons of the Guomindang—see elections as a way to bring the talents of the most able and conscientious citizens to the aid of government. Like the selection of scholar-officials in imperial times, democracy should provide the country with a vast storehouse of talent, to use, as Professor Winckler puts it, “in the orderly pursuit of a general, unified will.” This phrase combines the rhetoric of Confucianism with that of modern democracy, and therein lies its problem. Therein, too, lies the challenge for Taiwan’s political elite.
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| [d] Fishing votes RF |
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