Two distinct Taiwan experiences

On the surface, a radio interview with Democratic Progressive Party and Taipei mayoral candidate Puma Shen (沈伯洋) hosted by television producer Wang Wei-chung (王偉忠) on Sept. 10 came across as an old-time city resident putting questions to a candidate on the campaign trail. Beneath that, however, it was an encounter between two distinct Taiwanese experiences, two generations and two different political vocabularies.

Wang grew up in a military dependents’ village. His parents came to Taiwan with the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) government, carrying with them the legacy of war, displacement, the loss of a homeland, and an identification with Chinese culture and the Republic of China. The accents, food, family relationships and memories of military dependents’ villages are all part of Taiwan’s postwar history. They are deserving of preservation and should not be erased.

The question is not whether people from military dependents’ villages can tell their own stories, but what place those stories once occupied.

During the authoritarian era, the experiences of military dependents’ villages were intertwined with state education, the military establishment and mass media. They became the centerpiece of the national narrative. The displacement of mainlander communities was portrayed as a national tragedy shared by all, and Chinese history was the primary history taught to the people of Taiwan.

By contrast, the experiences of Taiwan’s local society — including the 228 Incident, the White Terror and suppression of local languages — were forced into decades of silence. Nostalgia surrounding military dependents’ villages is not just about memory; it is also about a connection to power.

Wang is a media professional who has long wielded prolific influence over the production of popular entertainment. He has allowed many people to see the everyday life, humor and family bonds of these communities, preserving a piece of history that is gradually disappearing. However, every narrative has its frame: When the camera focuses on the warmth and nostalgia within the villages, the authoritarian rule of the party-state and the scars borne by local Taiwanese society beyond their walls can recede into the background.

Democratization does not mean erasing memories of military dependents’ villages. It means giving those previously silenced an opportunity to speak as well. It did not deprive mainlanders of their rights, but ended the era in which a single group monopolized the authority to define the nation. Nevertheless, those who took their former advantages for granted may experience equality as deprivation, and those who took their own memories to be a shared history may mistake the emergence of other voices for exclusion.

Wang delivered his questions positioned as a Taipei old-timer, sharing many of his own experiences, cutting in, adding thoughts and presupposing the answers to various questions. His way of speaking to Shen carried something of the air of an elder: I have lived longer than you, seen more than you have, and am better qualified to tell you what Taipei is and how politics should be conducted.

Shen, by contrast, used a different political vocabulary: institutions, data, civic participation and methods of governance. He neither dismisses the experiences of older generations nor accepts experience itself as an answer. Democratic politics can respect seniority and credentials, but policies must still be tested against evidence, procedure and public accountability.

From the outset, the interview was bound to contain points of contention and reflect generational differences and imbalances in who gets to speak and be heard. Nonetheless, the conversation was meaningful. Understanding does not necessarily mean agreement, and dialogue alone does not dissolve prejudice. Its value lies in forcing both sides to see the complexity of the other, making it harder to reduce the other person to the image constructed in their mind.

Military dependents’ villages can continue to tell their own stories; a democratic Taiwan allows everyone to tell theirs. However, only when no one believes that their own memories to be the whole story can a dialogue begin and understanding take place.