Our Kerr biography has a (tentative) title!

Found out the other day that one of the titles in the running for the GHK biography has been approved by the sponsor of the book, the Taipei City Department of Cultural Affairs. The tentative title is  《葛超智傳記：亞洲、冷戰與一段未竟之志》 (roughly, George H. Kerr: Asia, the Cold War, and an Unfulfilled Ambition), and it should be coming out early next year. It's co-authored by Professors 蘇瑤崇 (Su Yao-tsung), 泉水英計 (Hidekazu Sensui), 吉原ゆかり (Yukari Yoshihara), and me. More details when I know more!

Revisiting my dissertation

As I have mentioned a couple of times, I'm going to be participating in a roundtable on the Oberlin Shansi Memorial Association in China and Taiwan. I got an email early this morning that suggested that we are supposed to submit our presentation materials by July 5, which was a bit of a surprise. But I happened to have time today to do some work on it. So I woke up and got going on it. 

The actual presentation (which I haven't done much of even now!) is only supposed to be five minutes long, but I also want to be ready for the roundtable discussion. We have worked up some questions that we'll discuss, so I spent the day going through them and drafting some responses. Doing that required me to read through parts of my dissertation and some of my dissertation notes from 15+ years ago. Some people have told me that they're horrified when they try to reread their dissertations, but I don't feel that way. Oh, there are some cringey places in it, and I've found more typos than I care to think about, but generally reading through it is a pleasurable experience. (As I told my brother, I think it's because my dissertation is so full of quotations of people who are smarter than I am!) 

Reading the dissertation also brings back memories of the process of writing it, which was also (generally speaking) enjoyable. I have heard people talk about how their dissertation process was painful, and I'm sure there were painful aspects to mine, but I actually enjoyed reading and studying the archival documents, interviewing former Shansi reps, and putting it all together.* It wasn't all roses and cheese (to borrow my 11-year-old's phrase--don't ask me what it means!), but maybe because I took so long to write it (9+ years), I had time to "live" with the documents and the interviews and use them to sort of create a virtual Oberlin Shansi world in my mind. Rereading my dissertation brings all of the experience back to mind. It also allows me to make connections between what I knew then and what I have learned since then about Taiwan and about US-Taiwan relations through my work on George Kerr. I think the continued learning and making these connections is something that keeps me alive and keeps my few remaining brain cells working!

*Though it got a little scary when I started having dreams about Nicolas Cage helping me with it...

Summer activities

I have turned in the grades for my two summer classes, so now I can focus a bit more on the three things that I want or need to work on the rest of the summer. A little update:

• Introduction to Rhetoric. I've got readings and a general schedule of activities mapped out, but there are still a few blanks to fill in. I'm meeting with the regular instructor next Thursday on Friday so we can talk over my plans for the course. I'm going in a bit of different direction from the one she takes, but she's OK with that, and there aren't any strict departmental expectations for what students should cover in the class. (Obviously it has to be an introduction to rhetoric, though!) I've been adapting what I did for the "Rhetorics in Contact" course that I taught a couple of years ago. I'm not doing a heavy focus on archival research this time around, though (too many students to take to the archives this time). I'm also planning to bring a lot more reflection into the course by ending it with a reflective portfolio project rather than a big essay.
• Academia Sinica conference. I started a PPT (Google Slides) for this, which I'll fill with mostly images (I don't like slide presentations that are text-heavy, though once in a while I fall into that trap). One thing that has been troubling me about this is that my prepared remarks are supposed to be only 5 minutes max. Not sure what I can say in 5 minutes. ("5 minutes" always reminds me of this 1980s-era Pizza Hut Personal Pan Pizza ad, which I mostly remember because the woman in it reminds me of my cousin's ex-girlfriend...)*
• Ts'ai T'ieh-ch'eng (蔡鐵城) project. Am "scraping" all I can find about him from various archival websites. (By the way, this website from the 國立公共資訊圖書館 is really cool! Tons of digitized old newspapers, Japanese era books, etc. I'm probably the last person in the world to find it, but in case I'm not, here's the link.) Am realizing how big and difficult a project this will be for me, but I'm realizing that I need to keep in mind what I was telling my students last year about the need to be patient and go slowly. I'm working with all sorts of materials and technologies (like the website above) that makes this research, but a lot of this just takes old-fashioned patience, planning, and ... (I need another word that starts with "p"--"persistence"?).

BTW, the GHK book is at the publisher getting proofread. When I know its publication date, I'll post it here.

* OK, now I want to have pizza for lunch...

My college French teacher would be most disappointed

Just noticed that a footnote in my "Formosa Delayed" article (I'm already regretting the title) has the wrong date for Bastille Day:

Hope they don't issue a retraction! Apologies to all of my French reader(s)!

Taiwan Studies+ 2.0 symposium reflection

Yesterday, I attended the "Taiwan Studies+ 2.0" international symposium at Harvard. I found all of the presentations really fascinating, even (especially?) when I didn't know anything about the topics. There were presentations about video games, noise pollution, Japanese-era mountaineering, representations of Indigenous people in ecological literature, capitalism, the "semiconductor shield," diasporic Taiwanese activism, ROC/Taiwan relations, and transitional justice, among other topics. 

Sitting there, I realized how much about Taiwan and Taiwan Studies I don't know. But it was an inspiring feeling rather than a depressing one. It reminded me that my own perspective on Taiwan--one that I've acquired through drilling down on a very niche topic (the life and writings of George H. Kerr)--is in need of these encounters with other perspectives so that I'm not stuck in my GHK bubble. Part of that is becoming more aware of how Taiwan is represented in various academic disciplines, not just history. 

One of the questions that came up in the final discussion was about the current status of Taiwan Studies. There was the positive feeling among participants that they don't have to explain Taiwan as much in their articles as they used to (what I've called the "shaped roughly like a tobacco leaf" approach to writing about Taiwan). At the same time, people expressed concern about how to represent Taiwan in relation to China and to global events, and one participant spoke eloquently of the urgency of representing Taiwan during a period of wars and the potential for war in the Taiwan Strait. I'm reminded of a rhetoric scholar from Hong Kong who wrote on social media a while back that a paper they had written about Hong Kong was rejected with the response that Hong Kong was a dead subject. Hopefully, this won't happen to Taiwan or to the people who study Taiwan.

GHK bio updates

A couple of updates about the George Kerr biography:

• We have a publisher! (I'm not going to reveal the details yet, though. I'm not sure we have signed a contract yet.)
• The MS went out yesterday to be reviewed. Evidently, though, we have more time to work on it as we wait for the reviewers' comments. (I have some hopes about some of the things I'd like the reviewers to say, but I won't go into that here.) 
• As I might have mentioned, this edition of the biography will be in Chinese. I'm hoping, though, that we will be allowed to have an English version done at some point. This is something we'll have to work out with the publishers, I suppose. If you have any suggestions for an English-language publisher, let me know!

OK, now that it's off to the reviewers, I should use the waiting time to get some grading done...

Brief interview for RTI's "Taiwan vs. the World" posted

Julien Oeuillet, who moderates the "Taiwan vs. the World" program on Radio Taiwan International, interviewed me for an episode about books to read to understand Taiwan. I'm talking, of course, about George H. Kerr's Formosa Betrayed. My interview isn't until 35 and a half minutes in, but I also enjoyed the interview with Jason Patterson and Matthew Ryan on marketing in Taiwan. It was quite informative!

Formosa Files interview about George Kerr and Formosa Betrayed posted!

I'm so far behind in posting this that the Formosa Files folks have already posted two new podcasts since my interview! But in case you didn't catch it, I was interviewed by John Ross about Kerr and Formosa Betrayed. The podcast (greatly edited but still a bit long at close to an hour) is here. While you're at it, check out their other episodes--they're always fun and interesting to listen to!

The dangers of long, deep dives into the correspondence of a grumpy former diplomat

I wonder if anyone else has experienced this--you spend hours, days, weeks, months... reading the archived correspondence of your biographical subject as he goes through his life, inevitably aging and perhaps losing some of his inhibitions (if he ever had any) in the way he expresses himself. 

Then you turn to write some emails and find, to your horror (or perhaps not really to your horror!), that you're writing in something very closely approximating his voice. Somehow you've absorbed his jaded, cantankerous style of writing (which might not be that far from how you're feeling anyway--after all, it's pretty easy to feel jaded and cantankerous these days, amirite?), and before you know it, you've hit the "Send" button, and a message goes out that makes you sound like someone who is tired of life and mad at the world. 

Is Kerr doing that to me or are his letters just bringing to the surface what's already there?

2526A Makiki Heights Drive

This was George H. Kerr's address for about 26 years of his life in Hawaii. Out of curiosity, I googled it and was happy to find photographs of what used to be his apartment on the second floor of what's described elsewhere as an "'Old Hawaii' style home in a 'Tree Top' setting with private deck and ocean/Honolulu views." (My wife and I drove by the house years ago on a trip to Hawaii, but I never thought I'd get a look inside!) In case the websites or photos disappear, I'm going to copy them here, knowing that there's a chance that June Maeda Realty will ask me to take them down. (On the other hand, perhaps I'm helping them advertise this apartment!)

The house was built in 1934. I see from the description that the carpeting is new, but I imagine that the stove and the bathtub might have been there when Kerr lived there. It doesn't appear that this apartment has air conditioning, but perhaps the climate on Makiki Heights Drive is/was cool enough that a combination of fans and the large windows would suffice. 

In a letter from 1984, Kerr noted “the imminent loss of my apartment here which I have occupied for twenty-five years.” He had to leave after his landlord died. He moved to an apartment in Wilder House at 1114 Wilder Avenue, Honolulu, which I imagine was a challenging task, considering he was in his seventies at the time.

[Update, 8:12 p.m.] I was right about the last sentence. I just read that shortly after moving to his new apartment, he ended in the Emergency Room at the Queen's Medical Center and had to have surgery. (He doesn't say what kind of surgery.) He spent a couple of weeks in the hospital, it seems. A month later, he reported that he had lost 24 pounds "and apparently all my strength" since moving. He had to have someone help him organize his research materials because he didn't have the strength to do it himself.

First day of classes tomorrow

I'm really working up to the last minute on the GHK stuff. I just sent off some vignettes (?) about Kerr's work on a book about King Kalākaua, the publication of Licensed Revolution, and his failed attempt to write a second book about Okinawa. 

Now I need to turn my attention to teaching. I'm going back to teaching Advanced Interdisciplinary Writing this semester after a detour into teaching First-Year Writing for the first time in a couple of years. Compared to FYW, the advanced writing class is like an old friend. Tomorrow we'll just be introducing ourselves to each other, and I'll briefly introduce the course. It should be fairly typical of previous first days of class. But as I always tell my mom when I end a call with her, "We'll see what happens." Maybe something will surprise me (hopefully in a good way!).

Ha ha...

From a memo from George Kerr to the University Press of Hawaii, concerning their edits to his bibliography for Licensed Revolution.

and this...

Need some motivation

My course materials are "published" ahead of time--classes start Wednesday, although I don't need to meet with in-person students until Friday. I'm trying to spend as much time as possible before then working through some George Kerr correspondence as a contribution to a chapter on Kerr's later years. Lots of uplifting talk of his trials and tribulations with getting Licensed Revolution published; getting Asian art objects sold to keep body and soul together; dealing with aging and being robbed and becoming more and more cantankerous; trying to finish a book about Hawai'ian King Kalākaua, about whom Kerr was becoming less and less enamored the more he wrote about him (how well I know the feeling...). 

Speaking of King Kalākaua, I recently bought a copy of Tiffany Lani Ing's book, Reclaiming Kalākaua: Nineteenth-Century Perspectives on a Hawaiian Sovereign (2019), which promised a more sympathetic evaluation of the man than he has traditionally received. Kerr isn't cited in the book, but that is not surprising, considering that he never published his manuscript on Kalākaua. Ing's book relies more on Hawai'ian-language sources than many of the other books written about Kalākaua. Like the writers of these other books, Kerr did not have access to (i.e., couldn't read) the Hawai'ian language. 

For an introduction to Ing's book--by the author herself--you can watch this video (I need to watch it later because I need to get back to the Kerr correspondence now!):

Formosa Delayed: George H. Kerr’s Struggles Writing About Taiwan

My article about the pre-life of Formosa Betrayed has just come out. Here's the abstract if you don't feel like clicking on the link:

George H. Kerr did not publish Formosa Betrayed, his 1965 book about the Guomindang’s early rule over postwar Taiwan and U.S. inaction during the 1947 massacre of thousands of Taiwanese people, until almost twenty years after those events. While scholars and pundits hold various theories about the reasons for the apparent delay, few have paid attention to Kerr’s attempts to write about Taiwan for the Institute of Pacific Relations (IPR) in the early years of the Cold War. Between 1947 and 1952, Kerr worked on two books, one arguing for the importance of Taiwan to postwar reconstruction in the Western Pacific, the other a more “polemical” study about the 1947 massacres that he had witnessed as a diplomat in Taiwan. Correspondence between Kerr and IPR Secretary-General William L. Holland reveals that several factors prevented Kerr from publishing an account about postwar Taiwan when it might have made the most difference – his inability to meet the IPR’s scholarly, objective expectations; his concerns about the IPR’s reputation during the McCarthy era; and the developing consensus in the United States that Taiwan was no longer a contentious issue. This article also explores why Kerr later constructed a different narrative about his failed publication efforts.

I'm glad that it's out, and I'm looking forward to any response that I get. Now back to the biography of Kerr...

George H. Kerr, on "Correctly English in Formosa"

The following is an essay that George Kerr was working on in the mid-1950s about his experiences teaching English in Taiwan. I found it in the Okinawa Prefectural Archives (GHK4C01004) and thought it might be worth typing up here. 

Note: I've done some editing to the original document, silently removing strike-throughs and doing my best to make sense of Kerr's own edits to his essay. I've kept his language choices even though some of them might be offensive nowadays. I also hasten to add that I don't guarantee the accuracy of his historical information!

Correctly English in Formosa

On February 1 the Palo Alto Times carried this intelligence:

ENGLISH LANGUAGE STUDIED IN FORMOSA

Taipeh, Formosa (AP) -- Just about everyone in Formosa is studying the English language. Bookstores are crammed with textbooks.

Private teachers advertise widely. One says "Correctly English in five lessons".

Eighteen years ago I drifted down to Formosa for six months's study, and stayed three years. To win a Residence Permit and to give myself respectability on the police blotter, I taught something called "A Course in English Conversation" in the Government's schools at Taipei. 

Correctly English study and foreign teachers were not something new in Formosa, even then. Pidgin of the "no tickee, no washee" sort was used at the ports as far back as 1858 or '59. Missionaries from London founded a school at Tainan in the 1870's and in 1880 Oxford College was opened at Tamsui by Canadians. 

The island was declared to be a Province of China in 1886 and the first Governor, much too progressive for his own good, founded a school in which English was taught for the ben[e]fit of telegraph operators and clerks. Nothing much came of it, for the Governor was sacked, and his successor showed no interest whatsoever in the island.

Immediately after Formosa was ceded to them in 1896 the Japanese began to develop schools throughout the island. About 1908 two Americans were hired to teach the English language in higher schools and the subject became compulsory in all the Middle Schools. 

In one of these I taught for six months. One day, in no mood for "conversation" on any theme, I directed my roomful of sixteen-year-olds to write up a simple English dialogue. This they did, and one by one turned in their papers. One of them came up with this bit of candor:

"Last night, were you drunk?"

"I had drunk nothing!"

"You know that Mr. Kerr, teacher of your school, is dying?"

"Dying?" I startled. 

"Yes, Mr. Kerr lay dying."

"Who will benefit by his decease?"

"Students, do you think?"

"Very possibly."

Formosa was well off the beaten tourist path before the war, but the permanent foreign community (there were about fifty Caucasians on the island) took on a pattern familiar in foreign communities everywhere in the Orient. 

There were three well-defined groups: the missionaries were one, the consular and business people made a second, and remittance men and drifters gone native made a third. Teachers were an odd and independent lot whose social alliances with those three groups varied according to degrees of thirst or piety. Of my immediate predecessors one was at theological school in the United States, one was in a mental hospital in Japan, and two were shacked up in Taipei, each with a bottle and a local belle. Only the Italian Consular Agent who taught Latin at the University and English in the Higher Schools, managed to move easily in all three groups. He was an exotic himself, with a background of considerable note among literary men at Oxford in the early twenties. He much preferred to dream and write of the Renaissance in Europe than to wear the black short which his Party politics and consular appointment required of him. 

Foreign language study on Formosa has always been a strange barometer of politics. Just before the war English was not popular: Japan was preparing for the big push to the south, and Formosa was a haven for political refugees and malcontents who were expected to be useful when the great day arrived. Meanwhile they were put to good use as language teachers at Taipei. One of my colleagues was a tall, dour Dutchman from Batavia whose wife loved music. The only thing remarkable in this, however, was the fact that for reasons best known to herself, she turned the music sideways on the rack so that the staves were vertical, and she had to read the notes from top to bottom along each staff and from right to left across the page. 

For a short time a fanatic Sumatran taught Malay at my school; he had been exiled by the Dutch for terrorist activities and was cherished by the Japanese. One day he disappeared without a trace or rumor. I wondered if the police at last discovered as I had done that his sympathies were more Muscovite than Japanese. His place was taken by a young Javan whose aristocratic title Radan Mas meant quite literally "The Golden One". There was an Annamese prince in exile, too, whose suite of about forty aides were maintained at Tokyo's expense. The prince himself stayed in close seclusion, a political spare part, as it were, held against the day when the French machinery would break down in northern Indo-China. This man and a number of his loyal followers were Sorbonne graduates, and one of them from time to time taught French. There were Siamese, German and Filipino strays on Formosa, as well, each with a few students taken privately or with an appointment to one of the Higher schools. 

One of my Formosan students was inspired with poesy fairly early on in his acquaintance with the King's English. Two months after he joined the ranks of my classroom public I left the island, and this, in 1940, was his parting sonnet:

To Going Away Mr. Kerr

Dear, dear, my dear Mr. Kerr, 

On the way home you are,

Good-bye! The day I said,

It made my mind very sad,

Learned times only several,

But for me may be practical;

Always humor you are,

Keep your health clear,

Remember me for ever,

Write me if can some letter.

 

Great you become I hope,

Crown get on your top!

Five years later I returned to Formosa, in uniform, to witness the Japanese Surrender at Taipei. The press took some note, and within a day or two a messenger appeared at my quarters, bringing gifts of fruit and a letter enclosing this welcome:

Meet Teacher Again!

Peace comes over the world,

Begin sing all the bird,

Storm now stop its raging,

Waves become quite their suaging.

 

Our teacher come back here again,

Delightful flower at once bloom begin,

Seems grow a little old man,

Yet he's a kind and gentleman. 

 

Don't lose our dear teacher,

We have a good chance on here,

Talk about, all day long,

Indulge in dance and song.

 

Thanks god for meet in this way,

Keep we be good always.

We can study with dear Teacher,

Please don't forget me forever.

Japanese was the one common language useful throughout Formosa in 1945, but for six weeks or so it was infra dig to use it. Anyone with a smattering of the official dialect used at Nanking could hang out his shutter and fill any available classroom space with "Correctly Mandarin in Five Lessons". Five lessons would have been about enough, for by the end of 1945 the Formosans were disillusioned; "return to China" had turned out to be a return to the lawless condition of the 19th century mainland. The island had been handed over by the Generalissimo to a political General and a rabble of carpetbaggers.

Throughout 1946 Formosan leaders openly sought for some form of United States or United Nations intervention which would rid them of the carpetbagging mainland Chinese and cut them off from the perils and confusions of the mainland civil war. There was a pell-mell rush to study English. English language magazines appeared like mushrooms in a hothouse; radio programs carried English conversation day by day. One of my former students reported to me that his ancient grandmother had given up trying to learn Mandarin and had demanded his tattered English textbooks instead. Tucking her bound feet under his old desk, and with her thimblepipe beside her among the elementary grammars, she was trying earnestly to learn English. In correctly English letters came in to the Consulate asking for concession rights at airfields which America would use, so sure were the Formosans that the United States would move soon to protect the island from further dangers in the mainland war.

On February 15, 1947 a widely representative group of Formosan leaders prepared and presented to the Consulate a petition to the American Government asking for a joint United Nations trusteeship for the island and ultimate independence from all mainland Chinese controls. They sought then the status which the President and the Government at Washington now seek. The petition's English was poor but could not conceal the desperate sincerity of its appeal. The Consul thought the whole thing laughable and silly. 

The Nationalist Government did not, however, Two weeks later there was a general uprising on Formosa, and again there were efforts to invoke American interest and attention. On March 8, 1947, heavily armed forces landed from the mainland. In the slaughter which followed thousands of Formosans were killed or driven from the island. Among the first to die were the men who had led openly in the appeals for American help. 

Interest in Correctly English abruptly died away for the political barometer was at work again. There was to be no more public nonsense about American intervention or United Nations interest. 

Chiang's situation after 1949 brought a change. Today, in desperation, for Formosans correctly English is a must again.

George H. Kerr

Palo Alto, California

----

This is rather roughly written--perhaps that's why Kerr doesn't seem to have published it--but I'm struck by his appreciation of the "desperate sincerity" present in the the Taiwanese petition. (If I were telling him to revise it, I would have suggested adding an example from the petition.) 

The essay takes a typical but nonetheless emotional route from lightheartedness to tragedy--from Kerr's amused (or bemused) memories of his students and colleagues to his reflections on the tragedy of the March 1947 massacres and the role English and Americans played in that tragedy. I can appreciate his recognition of the Americans' inability to see through the language to recognize the seriousness of the Taiwanese efforts. Or rather, perhaps, the Americans' belief that the level of the petition writers' English reflected their intelligence.

Research Update

Last week I received the proof of my paper about George H. Kerr that will come out in the Journal of American-East Asian Relations by the end of this year (I hope!). It's about his struggles to write about what he saw and experienced in postwar Taiwan--the events leading up to and immediately following the March Massacres of 1947. I was able to locate correspondence between Kerr and William Holland of the Institute of Pacific Relations that cleared up (though not entirely!) what happened to prevent the earlier version of what eventually became his most famous work, Formosa Betrayed. I'll let you know when that comes out.

In the meantime, I'm still working with my colleagues from Taiwan and Japan on the biography of Kerr. There have been some delays in the process (as is inevitably the case, I think), so I'm not sure when the book will be out, but it will probably be done next year. (Fingers crossed!)

I've also been invited to take part in a roundtable next summer about the Oberlin Shansi Memorial Association's work in China and Taiwan. If our proposal is accepted, it'll be a chance for me to reconnect with the research I did (and the people I worked with) on Shansi in Taiwan. The last piece I wrote about that research was published in 2013 in a collection about Taiwan church history. It's interesting that this is coming back again at this point in my life. I wonder where it will lead...

[Update, 12/1/25: The proposal for the roundtable was accepted! Yay!]

George H. Kerr on a "Formosa Studies Program"

Came across this "Proposal for a Formosa Studies Program, with Comment" that George H. Kerr sent to Cheng-mei Shaw (蕭成美) on March 22, 1971. 

I record here, for your consideration, some alternative possibilities and ideas concerning a Formosa studies program.

These suggestions are made on the assumption that you will have between $25,000 and $30,000 to spend annually, for a period of five years, and that you are seeking a means to stimulate serious academic support for research and publication.

I. A "Formosa Studies Center", per se.

Under present inflationary conditions it would not be possible to establish a separate "Formosa Studies Center" in an important university for $30,000 annually. Salaries, operating costs, library acquisitions, and overhead must all be considered. (The Berkeley (U.C.) China Studies Center operates on an annual $250,000 budget, subsidized principally by the Ford Foundation.)

II. A "Formosa Studies Program" Within an Established China Studies Center or Department

The question of "Formosa" as distinct from "Chinese" studies rises at once. The introduction of a privately subsidized program within an established academic program would be difficult. University administrations must insist on the academic qualifications and standards applied throughout the institution, and preserve at least the appearance of "objectivity." The "Formosa"-"China" distinction at once takes on a political character at the present time.

III. Grants in Support of Formosa Studies Specialists

It may be feasible to offer scholarship or fellowship funds to an established academic research center or department with the proviso that they be used to support individual scholars seriously involved in Formosan studies. On the one hand, there could be no strings attached nor overt attempts to influence the recipients, and on the other, the continuity of the subsidy must be guaranteed for a specific period.

A variant on this would be the offer of scholarship support across the country, wherever first-rate graduate students are found whose faculty sponsors recommend them for grants. This, however, would inevitably expose them to charges of "bias" or of being "bought," no matter what the subject or the tenor of their conclusions might be.

IV. Support for a Formosan Specialist at Faculty Level

There may be faculties interested in having Dr. Peng Ming-min or other fully qualified specialists join them as Visiting Professors (in History, or Political Science, Law, etc.). If it were known that half the salaries or the full salaries would be met for a guaranteed period, there is some possibility here. With increasing public debate of the China issue, there is certain to be a rising interest in Formosa's role in it.

Since the bottom salary for a full professor at a major university is now say $20,000, this would mean a surplus available for an "outside" (non-university) secretary or aide.

V. An Independent Information Center and Publications Program

Failing a formal establishment within a university program, it might be useful to create a base adjacent to a major university (Ann Arbor, Palo Alto, Berkeley) at which a well-qualified staff would undertake to gather together accurate data, reproduce it in usable form and make it available to academic centers, political leaders, editors, etc.--the molders of public opinion.

This is definitely and obviously weaker and more vulnerable than a formal academic setup, but could perform a useful function. It will be identified as a "Formosa Lobby", and will be equated with the KMT "China Information Service". Nevertheless, by maintaining the highest possible standards of accuracy and candor, it would have a chance to win recognition and respect. It would certainly fill a need. 

Among its services would be a clearing-house agency for public speakers on the subject of Formosa and the Formosan Question. It could undertake to print up the full texts, synopses, digests or summaries of academic theses and dissertations concerning Formosa, giving them a circulation they do not ordinarily have and cannot expect.

To some extent this would overlap the function of the present Independent Formosa, and some understanding would have to be reached on this. It must establish an immediate reputation for accuracy and avoid obviously slanted material. It might produce occasional analyses of the present Taipei government, with accurate statistics and notes on Formosan leaders who must be considered in negotiations on the Formosan Question. It must present the case for Formosan leadership rather than attempt to denigrate or attack Nationalist leaders (that task will be done by others, I am sure, once the big debate begins).

A staff of two principals plus secretarial help could make a useful contribution. It is possible that some research projects could be farmed out to Formosan and other graduate students scattered over the country. Since all non-citizens are vulnerable these days, it would be an advantage to have the staff consist of American citizens, with one perhaps a naturalized Formosan and the other a native-born American. Both should have wide experience in the handling of research materials.

I'd be interested to know what became of this proposal. The University of Washington has an oral history interview of Cheng-mei Shaw (also known as Seng-bi Shaw) from 2017 that might mention this; I'll have to check that. I believe Shaw did support some Taiwan-related programs at various universities, but I can't find information on that right now. Any help would be appreciated!

Source of proposal: Okinawa Prefectural Archives, Folder GHK2G01001.

P.S. I'm struck by Kerr's comment that "all non-citizens are vulnerable these days"--we seem to be in the same situation nowadays. 

Third chapter draft finished!

I just emailed a draft of the third chapter I am working on to my partners. I am not confident in it, but at least it's done. Now I can focus on other things that I need to do, like preparing for the fall semester and pulling weeds in the front lawn. (My son's school bus will stop in front of our house this year, and I don't want his classmates to think that we're the Addams Family.) 

But first, to bed...

Still struggling...

I am close (I think) to finishing this chapter that I'm working on, and I really need to get it done asap so that I can prepare for my courses that start September 3. But instead of diving into some correspondence that I need to go over to write the last section, I keep adding to and tweaking other parts of the chapter. I think I'm scared of how much work it might turn out to be. But I've got to do it. What can this be called? It's not "writer's block" because it's not about the writing. Is there something called "reader's block"?  

One chapter to go, but feeling drained

I managed to finish a draft of the second chapter that I'm responsible for and sent it off on the 9th, but I haven't made much progress on finishing the third chapter. I have over half of it done, I suppose, but there are a few points for which I need to spend some time looking through and organizing some archival documents.

But right now I am not quite in the mood to work on this. Two days before I sent off the second chapter, I heard from my mother that her older sister passed away. Aunt Lucy (married to Uncle Erich, who died in 2014) was 102. When someone reaches that age, you simultaneously feel that she could go at any time and also feel that she will be around forever. Even though we saw her decline in the last year or so--and especially toward the end--it's hard to believe that she's gone. My mother, who talked to her on the phone almost every night for an hour for probably 15 years, has lost the last person with whom she could share--really share, not just talk about--all their childhood memories. And Aunt Lucy was like a second mother to me, especially when I spent the summer of 1985 (40 years ago!) with them in Allentown, working at the family jewelry and clock store. I didn't realize at the time that she was 62 years old (which would have seemed extremely old to me back then); she always seemed young and energetic, even years later when she was complaining about various aches and pains. To imagine (to witness, really) that she led an active life for another 40 years after that reinforces that feeling of almost surprise that she is gone.

I'm not sure how to finish this. I will try to get back to work on my writing now. More updates as needed!