Published in Gary D. Rawnsley and Ming-Yeh T. Rawnsley (eds), Political Communications in Greater China: The Construction and Reflection of Identity  (London & New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), pp.147–166.

 

   

Communications of Identities in Taiwan:

From the February 28th Incident

to Formosa Television Corporation (FTV)

 Dr Ming-Yeh T. Rawnsley

INTRODUCTION

‘I grew up as a Japanese during the colonial period, became a Chinese under the KMT dictatorship, and may die as a naturalised American, but in heart and soul I have always been a Taiwanese’

 

– Taiwanese in the U.S., in conversation with Huang Huang-hsiung (Tu, 1996: 1124)

 This chapter explores the construction and the reflection of Taiwan's identities in the media over the past five decades since the February 28th Incident (generally referred to as '2–28') occurred in 1947. These issues frame the methods and content of political and social discourse in Taiwan, and structure the form and substance of mediated communications.

Why Identity? What Identity?

To understand politics in Taiwan, it is very important to understand how identities are constructed, as such a construction 'affects people's views of a wide range of choices that must be made about Taiwan's ongoing political and social development' (Wachman, 1994: 79). However, identities are dynamic and rarely exclusive. As the quotation reproduced at the beginning of this section demonstrates, individuals may have multiple, overlapping and sometimes competing identities. Moreover, there are many types of identities that may form the bases for a person's disparate sentiments of identification – political identity, ethnic identity, cultural identity, national identity, and even institutional identity (such as Liberalism versus Communism. see Jiang, 1997: 83). In the case of Taiwan, it can be extremely difficult to distinguish the differences between political, ethnic, cultural, and national identities. So, it adds further complications to the communications of identities when the discourse on Taiwan's national identity is intertwined with the emotional debate of unification versus independence.

            National identity is a multidimensional concept: it is ethnic in terms of origin and generation, cultural in terms of memory and belonging, and institutional in terms of legitimacy and recognition (Jiang, 1997: 84). Therefore national identity ‘is a philosophical problem distinct from the political issue of “unification/independence” of Taiwan' (Jiang, 1998: 165–166). Individuals may identify themselves as Taiwanese while supporting the eventual reunification with the Chinese mainland, while others may identify themselves as Chinese but are in favour of Taiwan's independence. In other words, ‘one’s notion of national identity cannot always be determined on the basis of where one comes from’ (Wachman, 1994: 118); while the debate over the issue of ‘unification/independence’ demands an answer framed in terms of  'either or’, identities can and do coexist. Yet, national identity continues to be one of the most powerful platforms adopted by political activists to champion their particular cause and mobilise sympathisers. This has made it increasingly difficult for the people of Taiwan to separate the quest for an identity from the search for a solution to future relations with the People's Republic of China (PRC), and has subsequently become an enormous and constant pressure placed on the island’s public psyche.

This chapter focuses on how Taiwan’s national identity has been shaped and reflected in the media, especially national television, but avoids passing judgement on the issues of independence and unification. But why are the media, and television in particular, important to the formation and expression of identities?

 

The Importance of National Television

Although the media are not solely responsible for the construction of identities, they can be a significant actor in the process, regardless of whether that identity is cultural, national or political. Because of the development of the modern mass media, identity is no longer confined to specific local contexts, where ‘local knowledge’ and local interaction determined the formation of the self. Access to the media supplements and in time displaces these local constructs, thus broadening the horizons of individuals’ understanding (Thompson, 1995: 211). Narrow local identities can become national identities.  In turn, this understanding, and thus the construction of the ‘self’ will be conditioned by the primary experiences, interactions, and cultural values of the audience, together with any transmission of ideology, all of which are selectively absorbed, interpreted, and retained or discarded according to the framework of their existence – in other words, how the message is internalised. Together, all of these influences assemble an individual’s sense of his/her identity.

The media are a channel of communication between state and society, and within society itself. They give form and expression to identities, and communicate the symbolism associated with them. Because identity provides a symbolic identification of the self, it is emotionally powerful. In this way, the media’s communications of identities provide the framework for audience interpretation. They define, and provide the focus for, an understanding of ‘us’ in relation to ‘them’.

Among all the media, television is the most popular in Taiwan. The criteria that can be used to measure how influential national television is are limited, but figures do exist to illustrate the reach of television in Taiwan. For example, official statistics revealed that almost every household in Taiwan owned a television set by the early 1990s (GIO, 1993: 27). Market research also indicated that 78.8 percent of the Taiwanese population of 10 years old or over tended to watch television evening news on a regular basis (Gallup Organisation, 1994: 84). This result coincided with two academic reports published by the National Chengchi University in 1994 and 1995.[i] Although these figures only indicated the percentage of the population who watched the television evening news, they at least suggest how popular national television could be.

Prior to the lifting of martial law, only the Chinese identities endorsed by the ruling KMT (Kuomintang, i.e. the Nationalist Party) could be expressed in the media, but following liberalisation in 1987, a more open media has permitted a more transparent and less violent debate on identity issues. Cable television proliferated in Taiwan between 1988 and 1992 when it was still illegal, and provided the opposition with an abundant number of channels to express various identities – Chinese, Taiwanese, Hakka, aborigine, together with cross-ethnicity identities such as religion, gender, green issues, and so forth. It must be recognised, however, that cable television synonymous with narrowcasting, and narrowcasting creates its own problems in terms of communicating identities. In particular, it serves to divide the audience even further, since the audience will seek out those programmes that correspond to their own political orientation and thus insulate them further from alternatives. Hence, narrowcasting could never be a substitute for the national broadcasting system. Moreover, while cable television penetrated 70 percent of Taiwanese homes by early 1996 (Free China Review, February 1996: 22), national television networks continued to command the biggest market share (Chiang, 1994: 41–66). This suggests that the three national television companies – Taiwan Television Enterprise (TTV), China Television Company (CTV), and Chinese Television System (CTS) – remained influential and financially dominant even when the cable era arrived in Taiwan. In other words, TTV, CTV, and CTS had been the most popular and powerful channels of information, entertainment, and political communications in the society for over three decades. Their importance in constructing and reflecting Taiwan's identities should never be overlooked.

Structuring the Chapter

From the Tangwai (party-outsider) period to the era of Democratic Progressive Party (DPP)[ii], the opposition had developed their own form of media to advocate their views and identities effectively – first journals, then videos, cable television and call-in radio. However, they were always operated underground and regarded as ‘alternative’ media (Rawnsley, 2000: 576). Therefore, the establishment of the fourth national commercial television network, Formosa Television Corporation (FTV), marked a particularly significant moment of success for the opposition movement. FTV has granted Taiwanese identities a strong presence on national television and has thus legitimised the expression of alternative identities to the ‘Chinese-ness’ that previously dominated mainstream television. Besides, the formation of FTV has reflected the flourishing of a multidimensional and open discussion of Taiwan’s identities, even though the differentiation between the Chinese and the Taiwanese identities, emphasised by national television, may have perpetuated the problems and their contradictions.

To understand how the communications of identities have changed alongside the political and social development in Taiwan since the island was returned to China from Japan at the end of the Second World War up to present days, this chapter will proceed in three steps:

1.                  What are the differences between the Chinese and the Taiwanese identities? Before liberalisation in 1987, how did a Chinese nationalist ideology dominate the indigenous Taiwanese consciousness in the media, and the three national television channels in particular?

2.                  Following the removal of martial law in 1987, how did the opposition movement capture the popular imagination to support the liberalisation of the media and encourage the establishment of FTV in 1997? How did the opposition movement and FTV reflect, and contribute to, a growth of Taiwanese identity?

3.                  In its competition with the three other national commercial television networks, has FTV become an exclusively Taiwanese station and thus intensified the primary division of identities within Taiwan?  The DPP won the 2000 Presidential Election. Does this give FTV an opportunity to continue to operate as 'an opposition television station'? (The Journalist, 21–27 June 1998: 71)

PRE-1987

It may be true that as the ocean isolates an island, island culture will naturally be different from continental culture due to environmental and geographical factors, even though the former might be originated from, and influenced by, the latter (Chen, 1993). But the development of Taiwanese consciousness was not a consequence of simply being geographically separate from the Chinese mainland. If Taiwan does have a distinct identity, it has been influenced by its history of exposure to foreign ideas, images and cultural constructs – especially Japanese and American, together with the identities transposed to Taiwan from the mainland in 1945 by the KMT.

Indeed, the very use of the word ‘Taiwan’ is laden with political and cultural significance, possessing a different meaning to the frequently used ‘Republic of China’ (ROC). Culturally speaking, there is an indescribable ‘something’ that unites the Chinese on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, and wherever Chinese communities are found in the world. As cultural anthropologist Li I-yuan has pointed out, ‘at a basic level, Taiwanese are like Chinese from elsewhere in that they abide by the same notions of the temporal, supernatural, spatial, and cosmological dimensions’. They also share the same mentality toward ‘interpersonal relations – in the family, the community, and the state’, as well as the same ‘attitudes toward food and health’. Hence according to Li, ‘these similarities affirm that the culture of Taiwan is Chinese’ (Wachman, 1994: 101–2).

Yet politically, the differences between Taiwan and China are fundamental and, some would say, irreconcilable. As Alan Wachman (1994: 102) has observed:

The identity Taiwanese feel and the reason why some have tried to promote the idea that Taiwan has a separate culture has to do with Taiwanese reactions to political repression. The frustration Taiwanese have endured has caused them to challenge the legitimacy of the KMT and all it represents. That has created an atmosphere in which regional distinctions that might otherwise have been ignored have become potent symbols of a group consciousness, or identity, that empowers Taiwanese to see themselves as different (emphasis added).

 

In other words, the motivation behind the reconstruction of an independent Taiwanese culture is political. This is why Chang Chun-hung, former Secretary General of the DPP, ‘accounted for the emergence of Taiwanese identity, not in cultural differences, but in persecution and repression’ (Wachman, 1994: 101).

 

Chinese Identities versus Taiwanese Consciousness

During the 1950s the ROC projected an image that it alone was the rightful government of China, confronting a challenge by Communist rebels, and received American support on the basis that it represented a real alternative to the politics practised in Beijing. Here we can begin to discover the origins of Taiwan’s unrelenting confusion, demonstrating how its authoritarian structure was consistent with its non-communist (and therefore, in American eyes, ‘democratic’) credentials. This paradox meant that the political identity of the nationalist government could never be reconciled with, and therefore fully represents, the will of all the people on Taiwan.

But the turning point in the clash between mainlanders and Taiwanese^[iii] predates the onset of the Cold War with Beijing.  The February 28^th incident of 1947 (2–28) provides a dramatic demonstration of how such issues as national identity, cultural reconstruction, and the search for political autonomy have had significant impact on the development of the media. Governor Chen I held the free media responsible for 2–28, believing that their excessive criticism of the provincial government helped to reinforce the division between mainlanders and Taiwanese (Lai, Myers, and Wei, 1991: 76). Following the incident, identities were often invoked as justification for harsh reprisals against those involved. For forty years the trauma of 2–28 haunted Taiwan’s political and social life, and poisoned the relationship between Taiwanese and mainlanders. The KMT had tried to erase the episode from the collective conscience of the nation, and only in 1992 was the ruling party able to acknowledge its role in the massacre. The government formally apologised, erected a memorial to the fallen, and offered compensation to the victims’ families. The opposition, on the other hand, never forgot 2–28 and until the 1980s, used the incident as a powerful election platform and called on the government to narrow the gap between mainlanders and Taiwanese (Rawnsley & Rawnsley, 2001: 35).

Moreover, the incident provided the grounds for the development of a harsh relationship between the government and the media. Governor Chen I closed down all those newspapers that were found to represent ‘different elements outside the Kuomintang Party’ (Lai, Myers, and Wei, 1991: 76). Clearly the KMT now intended to control the media, and this involved the projection of their own interpretation of identities.

Television and the Chinese Nationalist Ideology

So by 1987, the KMT enjoyed a near monopoly on information through the legal media. The party owned four national daily newspapers, the government owned two, and the military five (Tien, 1989: 197). The overlapping character of government/party/military translated into an overwhelming authority over the activities of the print media. Even the remaining twenty newspapers that were privately owned tended to have close corporate ties with the KMT.  Indeed the owners of the two newspapers with the highest circulation, Chung-kuo Shih Pao (China Times) and Lien-ho Pao (United Daily News) were members of the KMT Central Standing Committee. Control over the organisation and output of the media could be severe. It is true that copy was never scrutinised by a censor before publication, but Articles 22 and 23 of the National Mobilisation Law bestowed upon the government powers of confiscation after publication if newspapers printed anything considered to be threatening to political or military interests.  The vague and arbitrary wording, which left such laws open to interpretation, gave the government enormous latitude in exercising its jurisdiction over the media (Jacobs, 1976).

Similarly the television industry became part of the state apparatus. TTV, the first commercial television company in Taiwan, was established in 1962, which was followed by CTV in 1969 and CTS in 1971. While the Taiwan Provincial Government was the biggest shareholder of TTV, the KMT owned CTV, and the Ministry of National Defense dominated CTS (Cheng, 1993: 88–109).[iv] According to the Broadcasting and Television Law, television, like the print media, were closely supervised by the Government Information Office (GIO), a branch of the Executive Yuan. Because party, government and military were an integral unit, TTV, CTV and CTS became simply pure government instruments, despite the fact that they were funded by advertising revenue. The three television companies would always take actions to serve the KMT’s interest, even though the latter might not necessarily issue a formal order to them to do so. The KMT used national television, like other vehicles for the transmission of political values (for example, education), to project its specific world-view and to spread its own version of identities. For the ruling party, all forms of mass communications, and especially television, were obliged to fulfil specific ‘social responsibilities’ (Rawnsley & Rawnsley, 1998: 110).  These all serviced, and were therefore subordinate to the overriding priority – the eventual recovery of the mainland. In this way, the society was forced to adopt those interpretations of identities that were consistent with the KMT’s ideology. Language was an obvious battleground.

The KMT government preferred to use the term ‘dialect’ instead of ‘language’ when referring to Hakka and Min-nan-yu (language of Southern Fujien Province, which is the mother tongue of most people on Taiwan and thus is usually referred to as ‘Taiwanese’, the language of Taiwan). This was a deliberate attempt to foster unity among all the people on Taiwan and to generate a sense of a shared ‘Chinese’ identity. Mandarin became the official language, while Hakka and Min-nan-yu were merely ‘dialects’ of Mandarin. Television celebrated Chinese heroes, while Taiwanese culture was denied a voice within the mainstream media and confined to the private sphere (thus prompting the opposition to seek alternative channels of expression).

At the beginning of the 1970s, the three television channels used Min-nan-yu programmes to compete for advertising revenue; after all, 70 percent of the population spoke the language (Cheng, 1993: 223). However the government accused these programmes of obstructing national unity and the construction of a consistent national identity.  In response the stations reduced their dialect programming in 1972 from 50 percent to less than 20 percent (Lee, 1979: 155–7), and then in 1985 to less than 10 percent of the total (Lee, 1989: 193).

As a result of such a language policy in programming, the prominence of ‘dialects’ (in particular Hakka and aborigine), traditional folk-culture and art forms was eroded. For example, it was discovered in 1989 that: (1) those using the languages of aborigines in everyday life had fallen by 31 percent over three generations; (2) most of the population of Taiwanese origin could not speak Hakka; and (3) only 70 percent of Hakkas could speak their own language (Cheng, 1993: 224).

It is not surprising, therefore, that by the end of 1988 language became a political issue that yet again pitted Taiwanese against mainlanders. The Hakka Rights Promotion Union initiated the first Hakka collective social movement since 1949 and launched a campaign that aimed for ‘Returning My Mother Tongue’. Their tactics included street protests that demanded television and radio programmes be broadcast in their language. They called for the ‘complete liberalisation of Hakka radio programming, and the revision of Article 20 of the broadcasting regulations, which limits the use of “dialects” in broadcasting, to support the preservation of these “dialects” and to create a pluralistic and liberalised language policy’ (Rawnsley & Rawnsley, 2001: 41). Feeling pressured, the GIO consequently persuaded TTV to broadcast a special programme in Hakka on Sundays in 1989 and, from September 1991 onwards, the three national television networks were required to schedule a daily twenty-minutes news programme in Hakka (Cheng, 1993: 266–7).

From the evidence presented above, it can be concluded that national television in Taiwan reflected the domination of the Chinese nationalist culture in every layer of the society. It also demonstrated how the KMT dealt with the issues of identity and communicated its ideology. As Thomas Gold (1993: 171–2) has summarised the situation prior to 1987 in Taiwan:

Although the regime acknowledged that Taiwan had regional particularities, like any other locality in China, the KMT assiduously promoted the idea that the island was the repository and guarantor of Chinese tradition as well as the mainland’s rich diversity. ... Popular culture stressed mainland roots, addressing history and life on the mainland, not the island. Politically and to some extent culturally, then, Taiwan became a microcosm of pre-1949 Mainland China as interpreted by the KMT.

 

1987-1997

It is worth noting that despite the harsh experiences of 2-28, dissident politicians continued to organise anti-KMT activities and organisations since the incident. These opposition elites, as C. L. Chiou (1995: 75) has observed, ‘were not great in number in the 1950s and 1960s, and under the “white terror” of the martial law government of the Nationalists, they could not get much popular support among the severely intimidated Taiwanese people… Their achievements were not very impressive but they were important in terms of sustaining the opposition campaigns and establishing operational models for the following generations’. In other words, prior to the liberalization in 1987, the opposition movement and the various issues surrounding the question of Taiwan’s identities had always been a strong undercurrent running through the society. But the political consequences of such activities and issues were far too risky for ordinary citizens to participate or to discuss openly. It is not that the identities contradicting with the KMT’s ideologies did not exit in Taiwan before 1987, people were simply too afraid to address them.

            However, the lifting of martial law in 1987 enabled the public to openly express their grievances and identities. The activities against the mainstream electronic media – the three national television stations in particular – had also been used as an effective method of mobilising opposition against the KMT government, and the DPP had been especially active in this regard (Fang, 1995: 102–4). As a result, media issues were highly politicised during the process of liberalization and democratisation. The popular demand of opening up television channels became an important part of the opposition movement, which led to the eventual establishment of FTV in 1997.

The Rise of Alternative Identities

The media used by the opposition to promote their platforms certainly contributed to the pressure on the KMT to reform. In fact, the ‘alternative media’ had been a thorn in the side of the KMT since the mid-1970s. Publications such as Formosa, The Intellectual, The Eighties and The China Tide, were short-lived, under-financed, had small circulation, and were subject to the swift and often brutal suppression of the Taiwan Garrison Command. The Taiwan Political Review was banned in mid-1975 after being accused of inciting insurrection, an explanation that echoed Chen I’s suppression of the media following 2–28. These publications nevertheless acted as an extra source of pressure on the government and ‘forced the KMT regime into reformist concessions’ (Chiou, 1995: 129).

Yet the media cannot be held solely responsible for the momentum towards political reform. Liberalisation of the media opened within society a legitimate space where issues such as identities could be discussed. The agenda for change was publicised, and the opposition was granted a powerful and diverse means of expression. Therefore, we can argue that the most important development in this period concerned how the combination of a more liberal media environment and powerful new communications technologies contributed to the creation of new identities that cross ethnic, political, and cultural boundaries. These are not wholly based on the simple dichotomy of Taiwanese or mainlanders (though this remains the strongest focal point), but express also the growth of a civil society to which both the ruling party and the opposition must appeal for electoral success. Cable television, for example, allows for narrowcasting, providing broadcasters (including politicians) to target their messages for specific demographic and geographic audiences. It has been noted that Democracy Television, the group of clandestine cable stations launched by the DPP in 1989, not only promoted the party’s political and cultural platforms (reporting on local affairs in Min-nan-yu), but also campaigned on behalf of anti-nuclear and anti-pollution movements. In this way, ‘Democracy Television ... served as a platform for the grassroots movements whose voices have been absent from the KMT-dominated state television’ (Chen, 1998: 27).

The alternative media, then, were important in asserting a post-martial law identity – an identity that is increasingly fragmented because the centre can no longer represent the fringe. Not only did the KMT and what it represented begin to lose the central ground, but also there was not merely one centre within the opposition movement that voiced only a single identity. For example, the agenda pursued by the DPP was very different from that of the New Party.[v]  Neither were the identities championed by the Formosa faction within the DPP necessarily coherent with its other faction, New Tide.[vi]  Liberalisation of the political system in 1987, and especially the legalization of the DPP, created the demand for a forum free from political restraint and accessible by all. Yet the three national television companies could not keep pace with the radical social changes sweeping the island during the late 1980s and the early 1990s. Nor could the speed of liberalisation in the media environment as a whole parallel the remarkable progress being made in the political landscape. Hence the Campaign of Liberalising the Electronic Media initiated by the DPP was able to catch the public imagination (see below).

The alternative media played a crucial role in satisfying opposition demands for a means of expressing their growing identities, among which an indigenous consciousness was overwhelming. It became significant that, during elections especially, DPP candidates tended to speak in Min-nan-yu in order to appeal to their traditional voters.  This can be proved by the fact that apart from the KMT, the other three sets of 1996 presidential candidates (including those competing in the DPP’s primary election) all used Min-nan-yu in addition to Mandarin as their main campaign languages.  Moreover, the underground radio stations and cable television channels that were supportive of independence also mainly adopted Min-nan-yu as their principal language, while the media that supported unification usually adopted Mandarin. Consequently, cultural, political, and national identities have become entangled with the issues of reunification/independence. The government’s counter-measures, including confiscation of equipment, helped to unite the opposition movements and politicised the media, thus reinforcing the new fragmentation of society.

Eventually when the KMT government recognised the growth of alternative identities, the GIO responded by including new programming within national television services that catered to the indigenous consciousness. For example, in November 1987, the three network television stations were required to include in their schedules a twenty-minute news and weather bulletin in Min-nan-yu, while in 1988, two Min-nan-yu soap operas scooped the National Golden Bell Television Awards (Cheng, 1993: 265–70). But these measures did not go far enough. Research has shown that while Min-nan-yu programming still accounted for less than 9 percent of each station’s output in 1990 and 1991, other dialects remained unsatisfied and thus prompted the ‘Returning My Mother Tongue’ street protest by the Hakka Rights Promotion Union (see previous). While English-language television programmes made up 7.99 percent of the total in 1991, only 0.85 percent of each station’s programmes devoted to the Hakka dialect, and aboriginal-language programming was virtually non-existent (Cheng, 1993: 224). Such discrimination has strengthened the idea that political and social divisions can coalesce around cultural identities. In this way, the campaign for liberalising the electronic media has become a broad church that appeals to minority groups and alternative identities. These are gradually assimilated into a greater ‘Taiwan’ identity during the process, and contribute to an expanding Taiwanese ideology.

Liberalising Television and the Establishment of FTV

In its 1991 proposal to liberalise television, the DPP identified the establishment of a terrestrial national television station as one of its goals (Cheng, 1993: 484). The DPP justified its ambition of creating another party-owned national television company by arguing that this was to break the monopoly of nationalists’ hold of mainstream television. In other words, the launch of the fourth national television channel had a very strong political motive from the very beginning.

In January 1992, a number of DPP National Assembly members and legislators, including Chen Shui-bien (elected President in 2000), formed a Justice Alliance, adopting media issues as their major action point (Tao, 1994: 282). Their platform was able to appeal to social elites, academics and intellectuals in particular, and subsequently to combine with environmental groups and maximise their influence. Under constant pressure from within the National Assembly and especially the Legislative Yuan, together with popular support generated through the opposition movement, the KMT government could no longer resist demands to release frequencies. In March 1992, the Ministry of Transport and Communications first agreed to release fifteen broadcasting channels and eleven regional television channels, and then in October the same year, the GIO agreed to open up FM airwaves in March 1993 and AM airwaves in February 1994 (Chen, 2001).

By the time the Legislative Yuan passed the Cable Television Law in August 1993, the television industry in Taiwan was changing rapidly. As James Robinson (1996: 30–31) has pointed out, ‘since the 1990s, many small, limited-audience cable television stations have been set up, several of them by political figures from the… DPP… Although the… KMT and New Party… eventually realised the value of cable television for their own campaign purposes, the DPP founders got there “firstest with the mostest”’. Clearly the opposition movement stimulated and changed the landscape of Taiwan's television. The public was so dissatisfied with the KMT monopoly of the electronic media that the DPP was able to benefit politically and economically from the campaign to liberalise television. The irony is that if the DPP has become as dominant in the television industry as does the KMT, will the party be seen by the public as corrupt as the KMT and thus lose its credibility in the campaign?

The DPP soon recognised the possible danger. In a meeting in July 1993, the DPP Central Standing Committee vetoed its previous plan to establish a party-owned national television station in order to make a contrast with the KMT. The party also published a White Paper, stating its communication policy to ‘abolish control and to break monopolies in order to establish a new communication order with a diverse and democratic system’ (DPP, 1993: 337). But this policy statement does not prevent politicians being involved as individuals in the television industry. So in reality, DPP politicians are still able to pursue profits and political influence through operating television companies.

On 28 January 1994, the GIO announced the release of a new island-wide commercial television channel, which was designed to be based in Kaohsiung, Taiwan's largest southern city, in order to provide geographical balance to the existing television landscape. Three groups competed for control: The first was Asian Pacific Television (APTV), organised by the Chen Tien-mao family and several Kaohsiung-based politicians, most of whom have ties with the KMT. They invested £0.3 million solely on preparing the proposal and collected £125 million in capital to support the establishment of the station (Lei, 1994). The second group was Formosa Television Corporation, organised by various DPP politicians including Chang Chun-hung (of the Formosa faction), Tsai Tung-jung (a strong advocate of independence), and others with roots in Southern Taiwan. Their proposal cost £0.25 million, and its capital was £75 million, although they raised only one third of the total when they applied for the licence (Chen, 2001). The final competitor was Harvest Television (HTV), organised by Chiou Fu-sheng, a self-made media giant in Taiwan with an estimated capital of £37.5 million.

The GIO set up a special committee consisting of eleven independent members. During the period of the examination by the committee, the press predicted that the APTV, with the most careful plan and a strong financial background, would be the favourite, while others predicted that the HTV had strong chance of winning, since it was the only experienced professional group in television. But the FTV organisers took political action combining threats with persuasion. They organised press conferences and public hearings to publicise the reasons why DPP politicians deserved to be awarded a national television channel. At the same time they warned of direct action if their application was not successful. They also appealed to the U.S. government through the Formosan Association for Public Affairs (FAPA), an effective Taiwan lobby group based in Washington D.C., to help the campaign to liberalise television in Taiwan (FTV Communication, 15 November 1996: 1). Finally the GIO announced in June 1995 that FTV was successful; the licence was granted on the basis of winning six votes from the committee (Fang, 1998: 72–85). The fourth national commercial television channel began transiting in June 1997.

 POST 1997

‘FTV’s highest principle is to ensure that Taiwan will never be swallowed by China. How to protect Taiwan? It is our responsibility to cultivate … Taiwanese nationalism. We shall not allow any colleague use FTV to champion Chinese nationalism. All the programmes and news provided by FTV must be produced under the principle of Taiwanese nationalism.’

 

 – Tsai Tung-jung, Chairman of the Board of Governors, FTV

(FTV Communication, 15 August 1997: 1)

 ‘Viewers’ patience only lasts two minutes. If they do not like what they see, they will switch channels immediately.’

 

‘If a programme does not have (interesting) content, it will not appeal to any viewers even if it was shoot on the Moon. I see programmes as products. As long as products have defined features, they will be able to grab the mass market.’

  – Chen Kang-hsin, Managing Director, FTV (quoted in Chen, 2001)

 The above statements illustrate two major characteristics of FTV – ‘Taiwanese nationalism’ and ‘commercialism’. Since its launch, FTV has competed relentlessly with TTV, CTV, and CTS not only politically, but also commercially. So these are two important perspectives when we assess FTV’s contribution to the communications of identities and consolidation of democracy in Taiwan. 

Taiwanese Nationalism

It is important to recognise that the ‘Taiwanese nationalism’ that FTV fosters has a stronger international dimension than the previously discussed ‘indigenous consciousness’. Prior to liberalisation, the Chinese ideology that the opposition movement rebelled against was a Nationalist ideology represented by the KMT. But the KMT likewise seemed confused. For over four decades, while the KMT and the government ‘relentlessly drummed into the minds of the people their obligation to reunify with the rest of China’, they ‘earnestly tried to reinforce the idea that the communist system and the leaders of the PRC are evil’. So the people on Taiwan attested to ‘feeling as though they were deceived by the KMT about political and cultural realities’ which became cause of intense anxiety. People resented that ‘they were caught between an abstract notion of a remote China’, about which they knew too many ancient facts, ‘and a concrete reality on Taiwan’, about which they knew too little to make sense of their experiences (Wachman, 1994: 76–84).

Democratisation has boosted Taiwan’s own self-confidence, brought it to the attention of the international community, and subjected it to escalating threats from the PRC. The explosive combination of the first direct Presidential election, missile tests, and the American Seventh Fleet steaming into the Taiwan Strait in 1996 forced Taiwan’s increasingly complex identities back onto the agenda. They were political and social issues that the media naturally seized upon and reported. Media coverage accentuated identities, and the differences between the PRC and the ROC were highlighted. So the challenges of ‘Chinese nationalism’ that face Taiwan are not equal to the Nationalist ideology of the KMT, but are forceful proposals for reunification accompanied by military threats and diplomatic maneuvers from Beijing. Hence under Tsai Tung-jung, a strong believer in Taiwan independence, the identities reflected in FTV are not simply ‘Taiwanese’ against ‘mainlanders’ any longer, but ‘Taiwan’ versus ‘China’, ‘Taiwanese’ (people of Taiwan) versus ‘Chinese’ (people of China – a cultural and historical China which is also inseparable with the political China, that is the PRC).

Therefore, since it joined the GIO’s project in April 1998 to provide a daily twenty-minutes news programme overseas (in rotation with the three other stations), FTV has become mired in the political divisions that revolve around identities in the international arena. It has been criticised, mainly by supporters of reunification among the overseas Chinese communities in North America who receive programmes via a satellite feed. Complaints centre on its use of Min-nan-yu greetings; its use of the terms ‘China and Taiwan’ instead of ‘Cross Strait’, ‘PRC’ instead of ‘Chinese mainland’, and ‘Taiwan’ instead of ‘Republic of China’; and their coverage of the opposition activities of Cheng Nan-jung who burned himself to death in protest against the KMT. However, it has also received fulsome praise from overseas Chinese communities that are supportive of Taiwan independence (Kang, 1998: 57).

Domestically, FTV has been proud of the fact that ‘Taiwanese nationalism’ distinguishes the station from its national rivals. It guarantees a large number of news and programmes in Min-nan-yu and Hakka (though the languages of aboriginal are still absent). In addition, from September 1999 onwards, FTV has begun to provide simultaneous subtitles for the major evening news slot, and it is the first television station to do so in order to serve viewers with hearing difficulties (Chen, 2001). Indeed, to compare with TTV, CTV and CTS, FTV has offered more resources and access for other dialect programming and minority groups, and has thus provided a valuable alternative to the Mandarin-dominated television networks.

Similarly FTV has been more radical and provocative in politics than its counterparts. It produced a series of documentaries, news programmes and dramas on various aspects of Taiwan, such as history, natural environment, the 2–28 incident, as well as political and social scandals that were considered taboo under martial law. It hosted talk shows and call-in programmes on debates such as ‘Should Taiwan enter the United Nations?’ and ‘Should the Taiwan Independence Party Constitution be amended?’ (FTV Communication, 10 December 2000: 1). However, it is difficult to distinguish whether this was due to ‘Taiwanese nationalism’ or ‘commercialism’. The programmes were sensational in order to attract the highest possible ratings, but the discussions were generally lack of depth and objectivity.

When it comes to news coverage during elections, FTV was heavily criticised because it favoured DPP candidates especially in the 1998 mayoral elections (Ma, 1998). It was also noticed that, in the second half of the 2000 President election, FTV was biased towards the DPP candidate, Chen Shui-bien. Yet FTV justified its position because it was designed to provide ‘opposition views’ to counter coverage found on TTV, CTV and CTS (Chen, 2001).  By doing so, FTV’s original ambition of acting as ‘an opposition television station' (The Journalist, 21–27 June 1998: 71) was quickly reduced to merely ‘an opposition party’s station’, despite its 1993 White Paper declared that the DPP was against the idea that political parties should own national television stations. Hence, as soon as the DPP won the 2000 Presidential election, the press began to further designate FTV as ‘government television’ (Jin Post, 21 March 2000).

In other words, perhaps the ‘distinct’ television culture that FTV has so proudly claimed to represent is not essentially all that different from that of TTV, CTV and CTS after all. From the perspective of ‘Taiwanese nationalism’, the fourth national television station clearly suffers from a similar level of political involvement as its three national rivals under the KMT's 'Chinese ideology'. The establishment of FTV has broken the Nationalist monopoly over mainstream television, but the public is offered merely a system of duopoly as an alternative, emphasising ‘Taiwanese’ against ‘Chinese’ and thus perpetuating the primary division of identity.

 

Table 1:

How do the people of the Republic of China on Taiwan view themselves?

	Exclusively Taiwanese	Both Taiwanese and Chinese	Exclusively Chinese	Other or uncertain
1992	16.7%	36.5%	44.0%	2.8%
1994	28.4%	49.9%	21.7%	0%
1996	24.9%	49.5%