A Non-national Day?

Double Ten Day, the national day of Taiwan’s alias, the Republic of China, has come and gone. There was a big parade in Taipei and President Wang gave a speech about all that he has done for the ROC in the past year and will do in the next. Yet, with his dismal approval rating, I wonder how many people actually listened to him. When I explain to new teachers or folks back home that this is the national day of the country, they imagine parades and fireworks that make kids throughout the States, from big cities to small farming towns, “oooh” and “aaah” on the Fourth of July. However, whereas the Fourth of July probably would rank below Christmas and almost tied with Thanksgiving as favorite holidays for Americans, Double Ten Day probably doesn’t even break into the top five for Taiwanese, lagging far behind the big three of the lunar calendar, Chinese New Year, Dragon Boat Festival and Mid-Autumn Festival. Tomb-sweeping Day, as morbid as it may sound to a Westerner, probably ranks higher in importance, while 2-2-8 reaches to the hearts of most Taiwanese more than a holiday commemorating a historical event in mainland China that occurred when Taiwan was a colony of Japan.

When I first arrived to Taiwan, the Double-Ten parade reminded me of the May Day parades in the old Soviet Union. Military hardware, much of it from America, was rumbled through the streets of Taipei. Tanks, SAM batteries, rocket launchers with new missiles developed by the Taiwanese, troop transports and communication trucks were spaced between brigades of marching soldiers, military police on motorcycles, Navy Seals straddling rubber rafts on the backs of trucks, even the women’s auxiliary strutting their stuff. As martial law was still around, it made sense to make this show of strength, especially since the mainlanders had the same kind of show for their national day festivities.

However, with growing democratization, the parade got mellower. High school bands were invited to perform and floats began to appear. Students dressed as ancient warriors performed dance routines in front of the reviewing stand, where fewer uniforms were present and a growing number of politicians got a better view of the procession. In recent years, instead of soldiers in their pressed uniforms and with their precision movements, ordinary citizens in color-coordinated outfits strolled down Ketagalan Boulevard creating the Double-Ten symbol. There were still some exihibits of martial ability, but the parade come off more as a fun-fest, especially when it was capped off with a well-choreographed fireworks and laser-light display.

Unfortunately, we here in Chiayi could only enjoy the proceedings from our sofas. I remember seeing a parade once going down Jung Shan Road, but it consisted of a few elementary school marching bands and some police officers on their personal scooters, all of them staying on the shoulder of the road. Though the government buildings would be decorated with Christmas lights from the beginning of October to Chinese New Year twenty-something years ago, the effort is rarely made anymore. One year, there was an excellent fireworks show, but it has not been repeated due to a lack of funding.

Apparently such fiscal concerns are going to affect the Taipei parade in the near-future, as the Ministry of Education has announced that there is no money in the budget to fund the performing middle school bands. I wonder if that will lead to the parade reverting to a showcase of Taiwan’s military might. It’s quite possible, since cram school classes and the need for catch up on sleep on the weekend would prevent Taiwanese high schoolers trying to raise money for the band with activities like a car wash or a bake sale.