The relationship between Taiwanese and baseball is a series of interactive processes from colonization to confrontation, searching for subjectivity in different national myths.
Author: Josephine (NGO Member and Gender Equality Advocate)
Translator: Ko Chih-Yuan (Volunteer Translator, Passionately Sharing Taiwan’s Stories)
Published on: 2024-12-04
原始中文版來源：Article Source
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Over the past week, Taiwanese people have been emotional about their national team’s victory in the World Baseball Championship (2024 WBSC Premier 12), posting all sorts of emotional messages, apologies (Note 1), and celebratory messages. Supermarkets, retailers, and mass merchandisers have offered buy-one-get-one-free deals to celebrate the championship, and some netizens have even initiated a campaign to designate the day of the victory as a national holiday.
The next day, the Ministry of National Defense sent four Air Force F16-V jets to accompany the delegation back to Taiwan. Vice President Bi-khim Hsiao even personally arrived to receive the plane. On November 26, the “Valley of Heroes Parade” started from the Presidential Office in front of the departure of the celebration in the center of Taipei City. Although it was a working day, 50,000 people swarmed into the parade routes.
This scene might puzzle Chinese speakers in other countries. How did a sport with seemingly no clear cultural connection to Taiwan take root? And why do politicians and netizens overwhelmingly associate victory and defeat with Taiwan’s identity? While it is not uncommon for emerging and weak countries to hope to be seen by the world and to be proud of their people through their performance on the sports field, it is indeed a very special phenomenon for Taiwan to regard baseball as the “national sport” and to have it deeply embedded in the process of the formation of the national identity.
The relationship between Taiwanese people and baseball is a series of interactive processes from colonization to confrontation and a search for subjectivity in different national myths. This article will examine baseball’s role in awakening and forming Taiwan’s consciousness and why it has become the container that unites and carries Taiwan’s identity.
Baseball has been a companion at every historical moment in recent times.
In 1895, baseball was introduced to Taiwan with the Japanese colonization. At first, public schools in the northern part of the country were the main focus. At the same time, sugar factories, essential production bases for the colonial economy, also set up baseball teams one after another. During the non-planting season from May to September every year, it was the time for the teams of the sugar factories to practice and hold exchange matches, which made Tainan another base of baseball; at that time, baseball was still a sport exclusively played by the Japanese people.
Beginning in the 1920s, with the implementation of imperialized education, primary and secondary schools also set up baseball teams. Some scholars have studied the history of the time, and Japanese sports journals called it “instilling the spirit of Japan so that the people of Taiwan and the people of Taiwan can engage in sports together under the sun and on the earth,” which did not hide its purpose of using modern sports to “discipline” the bodies of the colonized and to achieve cultural assimilation.
However, at that moment, the colonized began to realize that stepping onto the field allowed them to stand as equals to the Japanese, bound by the same rules of the game. On the one hand, native Taiwanese players absorbed the Bushido-inspired spirit of “yakyu” from their Japanese coaches. On the other hand, the shared experience of teamwork and competition on the field gradually fostered a newfound sense of self-esteem and confidence—”We can do this.”
In 1931, just three years after its establishment, the Chiayi Kano Baseball Team, composed of Japanese, Han Chinese, and Aborigines, made it to the Koshien final. The team’s fighting spirit from a remote colony became a nationwide sensation. It was honored by the Japanese media as the “World’s KANO.” In the official narrative from the colonizer’s point of view, this is proof that different ethnic groups can work together. The impact of this game on Taiwan’s people was unprecedented, especially after the Wushe incident in which the indigenous peoples armed themselves against the Japanese. Still, its political significance and impact on the Taiwanese people were once forgotten in history.
The 2014 film KANO, directed by Ma Chi-Shiang and produced by Wei Teh-sheng, precisely focuses on the formation of the Chiayi Farmers and Forests Baseball Team and the historical events leading up to the advancement of the Koshien to reawaken the memories of the people and to disprove the myth of the past, which was dominated by the Kuomintang, and which regarded the Red Leafs and the Golden Dragons Little League as the starting point of baseball in Taiwan. KANO” breaks the imperial perspectives of Japan and the KMT, and the ‘World KANO,’ which had been used as a model for colonial domestication, has a Taiwanese voice: a team from the frontier of the empire has come to the highest temple of modern Bushido, and has shaken the hearts of the people in the center of the empire. While Chiayi Agriculture and Forestry was qualified to represent Koshien, it also challenged the northern part of the country, which had been the center of politics and economics since the Qing Empire.
The movie is a vivid reminder of the Taiwanese consciousness that took shape when families crowded in front of their radios, holding their breath and then shouting with their arms as the games were broadcast. The team’s motto, “Don’t just think about winning, think about not losing,” which came out of their grueling training sessions, also accurately captures the beliefs at the root of Taiwan’s will to resist as the country moved toward democratization from the 1930s to the 1980s.
After World War II, the ruling Kuomintang (KMT) government placed little emphasis on baseball, redirecting national resources toward basketball. At one point, there was a saying: “Locals play baseball, while mainlanders play basketball.” Restrictions on overseas travel and mandatory military service further limited opportunities for local players. Those Taiwanese athletes who had once pursued careers in Japanese professional baseball during the late 1930s gradually faded from the scene. However, the efforts to establish baseball teams across schools began to bear fruit internationally. In 1968, the Red Leaf baseball team achieved a historic victory, defeating Japan’s Kansai Little League team—hailed as the strongest in the world—in two consecutive games. The following year, the Golden Dragons Little League team debuted on the global stage, advancing to the Williamsport Final (the Little League Baseball World Series) and clinching the championship.
From the 1960s onward, Taiwan’s international standing deteriorated as the “two Chinas” vied for global representation. In 1971, the United Nations passed Resolution 2758, recognizing the People’s Republic of China (PRC) as the sole legitimate representative of China, without addressing Taiwan’s status. This left Taiwan in an unprecedented diplomatic predicament, as the Kuomintang (KMT) government insisted on operating internationally under the name “Republic of China” (ROC). During the challenging 1970s, baseball at the three levels—Little League, Junior Baseball, and Senior Baseball—became a vital channel for the “Chinese nation” to project its voice on the global stage. The government actively encouraged military personnel and their children to participate in baseball and mandated public banks and state-owned enterprises to establish adult baseball teams, making baseball nearly the only remaining opportunity for Taiwan to be “seen by the world.”
In 1974, Taiwan became the first-ever triple champion by hosting three baseball championships in the same year (Li-de Little League, Mei-Ho Youth Baseball, and the Chung Hwa Youth Baseball All Stars, which consisted of schools such as Mei-Ho, Hwa-Hsing, North Physical Education, and East Asia). In those “rocky” times, Taiwanese people once again stayed up late to watch international games on TV to soothe the sadness of being an international outcast and to try to get rid of their low self-esteem.
At the same time, because the Kuomintang did not control the international games, they became the stage where the Taiwanese who fought for democracy and freedom had the most incredible opportunity to speak out. 1971, the Taiwan Independence League hired a small plane with a banner that read “Go Go Taiwan” to fly over the stadium during the Williamsport final, even though the Kuomintang government subsidized the presence of the overseas Chinese community to support the game with the slogan “Go Go China.” Although the KMT government subsidized the overseas Chinese community to come to the stadium to support the game with the slogan “Go Go China” and proclaimed that the ROC was the rightful nation, Taiwanese who had fled overseas due to the political persecution by the Japanese government and the KMT also actively went to watch the game and shouted “Taiwan” (Note 2) from the sidelines.
The Dark Side of Nationalism
The national team, burdened with the pressure of “national ball game” and “national rejuvenation,” has the heavy burden of not being able to lose and not being able to lose, so they take advantage of various loopholes in the system, such as lying about their age to allow over-age players to play and using militarized training to outperform players of their own age. Players grow up under high-pressure, authoritarian methods and burn out their passion for baseball. Still, the utilitarian-oriented teams quickly discard them once they get injured or enter a bottleneck. Not many players can make it to the top of the baseball ladder.
This developmental approach, which treats players as mere tools, inherently neglects the protection of their talent and the healthy development of their bodies and minds. In the race for resources, media attention, and the creation of “national heroes,” teams employed various tactics to poach players from one another, resorting to threats and inducements. The gambling craze that emerged alongside Taiwan’s economic boom further laid the groundwork for the dark side of Taiwanese professional baseball, including involvement in gambling scandals, match-fixing, and even mafia coercion involving firearms.
As Taiwan became the “Four Little Dragons of Asia” through export trade and economic development, baseball’s function in building national self-esteem gradually faded. After more than 30 years of hiatus, Lee Tsung-Yuan finally went to Japan to develop his career in professional baseball. He was followed by Kao Ying-Chieh, Lee Lai-Fa, and Kuo Yuan-Ji, all of whom achieved good results in the Japanese professional baseball world.
In 1981, the Lausanne Agreement resolved the issue of Taiwan’s representation concerning China (Note 3). Although the team was burdened with the humiliating name “Chinese Taipei,” it could finally return to the international stage. While their performance did not match the brilliance of Taiwan’s Little League teams two decades earlier, they still achieved notable results, including defeating South Korea in the 1983 Asian Baseball Championship, beating Japan at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, and again overcoming Japan twice in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, earning Taiwan its second Olympic silver medal.
However, many talented players left for overseas opportunities after exiting the international stage. Those who stayed in Taiwan could only join state-owned teams, leading lives akin to civil servants. In 1990, Hung Teng-Sheng, a baseball enthusiast and hotelier, established the Chinese Professional Baseball League (CPBL) and formed the Brother Elephants team, making Taiwan the third Asian country to develop a professional baseball league.
The initial excitement and resurgence of baseball fever, however, were short-lived. Over the following decades, a culture of prioritizing victory at any cost, unhealthy training practices, and cutthroat competition began to take their toll. Team operators often treated teams as extensions of corporate branding, focusing solely on avoiding financial losses. As a result, professional players received only slightly better treatment than the average worker, with limited labor rights. Pay cuts due to injuries or losses were the norm.
These issues steadily eroded the foundation of Taiwan’s professional baseball. Between 1996 and 2009, five large-scale scandals involving gambling and match-fixing devastated the sport, breaking the hearts of fans. Teams, burdened by player scandals, tarnished reputations, and dwindling audiences, faced significant financial losses and were forced to disband. Baseball transformed from a source of national pride to a symbol of national shame, leaving fans disillusioned and unable to hold their heads high.
Chien-Ming Wang, Major League Baseball, and the New Generation of Fans: The Rebirth of Taiwan’s Baseball
As Taiwan’s professional baseball league fluctuated, disheartened fans turned their attention to Taiwanese players abroad. Stars like Chen Chin-Feng, Tsao Chin-Hui, Wang Chien-Ming, and Kuo Hong-Chih ascended to Major League Baseball (MLB), considered the pinnacle of the sport. Television networks began regular broadcasts of MLB games. Between 2005 and 2008, Wang enjoyed his prime years, achieving back-to-back 19-win seasons in 2006 and 2007 and earning a nomination for the Cy Young Award, the highest honor for a pitcher, during his tenure with the Yankees. The “Wang Chien-Ming craze” rekindled the nation’s collective passion for baseball, evoking memories of sleepless nights cheering for games. Every time Wang secured a win, fans scrambled to collect special front-page issues of Apple Daily (Note 4) the following day.
Quiet transformations were also taking place. The younger generation of fans admired Taiwanese players abroad by supporting their professional careers rather than focusing solely on their participation in national teams. A notable example is Kuo Hong-Chih, a prodigy who threw fastballs exceeding 150 kilometers per hour in high school and once posted a Cy Young-caliber ERA. Unfortunately, poor training methods in Taiwan left him with injuries that required eight surgeries on his pitching hand during his career. Nicknamed “The Phoenix,” Kuo inspired awe and heartbreak among fans.
Many began to recognize a pattern in how the media glorified the so-called “Lights of Taiwan.” Whether athletes or professionals excelling in other fields, these individuals achieved greatness through personal perseverance, often with little support. When they finally succeeded, the nation seemed to “claim credit” rather than having genuinely contributed to their growth. This growing discontent shifted public discourse toward the need for reforms in developing and supporting athletic talent.
American baseball’s joyous and community-centered culture began influencing Taiwanese fans through broadcasts and reports. While Taiwan’s professional baseball league remained in decline, a second generation of team owners introduced innovative approaches to revitalization. The Lamigo Monkeys (the predecessor of today’s Rakuten Monkeys) set a new standard by improving stadium facilities, team uniforms, and cheerleading performances. Drawing inspiration from Korean models, they developed dedicated cheerleading squads and merchandise, pioneering “Taiwanese-style cheering.” These changes significantly enhanced the fan experience and spurred other teams to follow suit.
Though not the wealthiest team, Lamigo spearheaded the transformation of Taiwan’s professional baseball and helped it emerge from its dark past. With the return of veteran fans and the influx of new ones, Taiwan fielded its strongest roster for the 2013 World Baseball Classic (WBC). This marked Taiwan’s first major international competition since the International Olympic Committee allowed professional players to participate. The roster included Wang Chien-Ming, Kuo Hong-Chih, NPB star Yang Dai-Kang, and several others with international experience. The WBC achieved record-high TV ratings in Taiwan, peaking at 24.8. Although the team ultimately placed eighth, the tournament reignited national enthusiasm for baseball. Fans even coined phrases like “eating potstickers” (Note: This phrase reflects the sentiment of honoring players despite defeat, humorously likened to the name of a popular dumpling chain in Taiwan).
Fans still hoped for victories but prioritized players’ health, happiness, and enjoyment. In the past, national honor placed immense pressure on Taiwanese players, turning them into emotional outlets for the nation and symbols of “Free China.” Emerging from an era when baseball was a source of disgrace, the sport’s revival carried a new meaning: “We are in this together.” Fans stood by the players, sharing their triumphs and setbacks, united in their journey toward excellence.
This period coincided with a critical juncture in Taiwan’s history, as the country faced pivotal political identity and economic development choices. In this “2.0 version” of Taiwan’s national sport, players were no longer mere vessels for national pride. Instead, they were celebrated as individuals whose efforts and achievements deserved recognition. Representing the country was no longer seen as an obligation but an act of gratitude for the athletes’ willingness to serve.
Following the WBC issues, such as inadequate logistical support for the national team, lack of comprehensive protections for athletes, and outdated coaching methods, ignited widespread outrage among fans. This dissatisfaction catalyzed significant sports reforms. Younger fans openly addressed systemic issues, pointing to poor player development, flawed team management, and neglect of labor rights as root causes of gambling scandals. Inspired by democratic principles, they demanded accountability and championed change.
With public backing, active and retired players began organizing unions to push for improved wages, fair agent representation, transparent international recruitment rules, and better team negotiation terms. They also challenged the Chinese Taipei Baseball Association (CTBA), which held exclusive rights to manage international tournaments, demanding comprehensive reforms. These efforts and growing public discourse drew new fans to stadiums and encouraged teams to invest more in infrastructure. While average player salaries remained below those in the U.S. and Japan, athletes no longer faced financial insecurity or lack of basic medical coverage in case of injury.
Capital investment and modern management transformed baseball stadiums into family-friendly venues. Fans could now enjoy a beer with friends, cheer for their favorite teams, watch cheerleading performances, or bring their children to interact with mascots. These experiences became integral to fans’ daily lives.
Over the past decade, baseball has shed its negative image as an “evil association” (Note 5). The sport’s revitalization extended its influence to other disciplines, such as taekwondo, badminton, and tennis, as well as organizations like the Chinese Olympic Committee and the National Sports Training Center. These changes, further galvanized by milestones like the Tokyo and Paris Olympics, mark a new era for Taiwanese sports.
These developments are deeply tied to Taiwan’s evolving identity and the rise of the “naturally independent” generation. While political party policies and their emphasis on Taiwan’s sovereignty play a role, the key lies in athletes’ growing awareness of their rights and citizens’ ability to objectively evaluate the national team’s performance. This shift signifies that baseball’s value transcends mere victories—it’s about fostering collective pride and resilience.
Why Baseball?
Baseball is a relatively slow-paced and prolonged sport compared to other ball games. Unlike basketball, which is fast-paced and where one or two superstar players can swiftly alter the dynamics of the game, baseball involves numerous variables. Even when a batter successfully hits the ball, scoring still depends heavily on both team’s offensive and defensive conditions.
By its very nature, baseball is a high-failure-rate sport. For instance, a batting average of .300 is considered excellent, which means the batter fails seven out of ten times. Pitch by pitch, inning by inning, games are often decided by a few critical moments. This element of unpredictability offers underdogs a chance to overcome giants, much like how Taiwan, positioned on the fringes of history and empires, learned to endure defeats and quietly await its opportunities.
For Taiwanese people, victories and defeats on the baseball field are not merely athletic outcomes but extensions of the historical sentiment of “challenging the colonizer.” Baseball also serves as a spiritual redemption for a nation whose sovereignty has been constantly suppressed and denied. In the 1960s, Taiwan faced fears of abandonment and invisibility. Today, in the wake of the pandemic and the Russo-Ukrainian War, Taiwan, standing alongside the democratic alliance, exudes defiant confidence. When it takes to the field, it does so to ensure the world can no longer pretend not to see it.
To this day, Taiwan remains internally divided over identity, leading to periodic social and political tensions. However, the line separating “us” from “others” becomes blurred when the national team steps onto the field. The collective yearning for the phrase “We want to win so badly” compels Taiwanese society to confront the unspoken and unrecognized truths buried beneath its political discord: the realization that “we” have intrinsic meaning. Whether one habitually calls the team “Chinese Taipei” or insists on “Team Taiwan,” at that moment, all identities converge into a unified “we.”
For a long time, Taiwan’s naturally independent generation defined itself through rejection—specifically, “not wanting to be like China.” Like teenagers who assert their independence by rejecting parental expectations, this generation shaped its self-identity in opposition. However, in recent years, China’s suppression of Taiwan on the international stage has grown increasingly aggressive. Taiwanese athletes are prohibited from displaying the national flag even on home soil. At the Paris Olympics, spectators’ handmade signs featuring Taiwanese symbols were confiscated, and athletes were constantly threatened with disqualification for unintentionally uttering “Taiwan.”
This pervasive suppression—spanning military, diplomatic, and sporting arenas—has prompted some moderate “Republic of China” supporters to shift toward “natural independence.” Taiwanese expatriates and audiences at home have channeled their frustration over losing their national identity into the Olympic anthem. In recent international competitions, Taiwanese spectators have spontaneously replaced the anthem’s lyrics with those of the “National Flag Anthem,” singing loudly enough to force Chinese broadcasts to cut away from the ceremonies (Note 6). Once viewed as a relic of authoritarianism, this anthem has been transformed by younger generations into a symbol of resistance. Over time, its repeated performance has symbolized Taiwan’s journey from “Chinese Taipei” to “Team Taiwan.” At the 2023 World Baseball Classic, fans in Taiwan’s home stadium chanted “Team Taiwan” for the first time, a declaration of origin and identity that grew stronger as more voices joined in.
Taiwanese baseball, once shaped by colonial assimilation and later by party-state nationalist symbolism, owes much to decisions made by those in power. Decades of watching the game have made it the most culturally ingrained sport in Taiwan. Yet, it has also gradually transcended narrow nationalism, moving toward a civic identity rooted in shared values. Interestingly, the number of people in Taiwan who actively play baseball is far lower than in countries like the U.S. and Japan. However, the Taiwanese public possesses an intimate knowledge of the game’s rules—whether it’s judging a strike zone or calculating scores. Conversations about baseball often delve into tactics and coaching decisions, reflecting its status as common cultural knowledge.
This familiarity, coupled with the shared experience of cheering passionately at stadiums or in front of televisions, has bridged ideological divides. Moments of collective focus on the game have blurred the distinction between “us” and “them.” Over time, people have come to understand that identity is not merely a matter of names or lifestyles but a deliberate choice of values—a commitment to mutual support, protection, and the co-creation of a shared life with the people of this land.
Benedict Anderson, in his seminal work Imagined Communities, identified two principles of healthy nation-building: First, communal feelings must stem not only from belonging but also from shame—a willingness to acknowledge one’s national failings. Second, unlike religious devotion, genuine nationalism requires the capacity to recognize and work to rectify one’s country’s wrongs.
The Taiwanese baseball community exemplifies these principles. It has evolved alongside political and social changes, fostering public discourse beyond sports policies and national pride. For example, after recent games, images of the Taiwanese team captain showing care for his partner and children sparked widespread discussion about gender roles and the challenges faced by women balancing family and career. Similarly, the generational shift in the coaching staff and the high level of trust among players have prompted broader reflections on workplace cultures and the importance of trusting younger generations.
The Chinese Professional Baseball League (CPBL) has also embraced innovation in data analytics. Equipped with comprehensive data and on-site video teams, players can immediately review footage after each inning to make tactical adjustments. This data-driven, professional approach marks a departure from the bureaucratic culture of the past. CPBL President Tsai Chi-Chang emphasized in an interview that while sports science and analytics are crucial, the ultimate goal is for players to transform data into actionable strategies. These advancements, coupled with their inspired public discourse, will likely have a lasting impact across various aspects of Taiwanese society.
A 12-Team Tournament That Further Solidified Taiwan’s Identity
It must be said that the gods of history have smiled upon—and even cherished—Taiwan. This 12-team tournament unfolded like the plot of a heart-pounding sports anime: a Taiwanese team with unremarkable statistics, no star players, and few members with international experience—a team that even its domestic fans doubted and international media ranked as the bottom contender—managed to stage an “underdog’s comeback.” The players never gave up despite losing twice to Japan in the group and knockout rounds. In the final, relying on near-flawless defense, they shut out Japan’s team of professional all-stars to claim their first championship in one of the world’s top-tier tournaments (Note 7). Taiwan’s team aimed to face their opponents directly rather than exploit their weaknesses. They relied on their skills to pitch strikes and hit long balls, earning respect and admiration from the Japanese team after the game.
History has a sense of irony. In the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, Taiwan’s national team was considered the weakest in history, as many top players had joined the newly formed Chinese Professional Baseball League and could not represent the national team. Yet, that year, Taiwan achieved another astonishing feat in its baseball history. From the preliminaries onward, they defied all media predictions. In the Olympic semifinals, pitcher Kuo Lee Chien-Fu faced Japan twice, throwing complete games in both matchups: one a shutout and the other allowing only two runs. Taiwan defeated Japan but eventually fell to Cuba, earning a silver medal.
In the 2013 World Baseball Classic, a Taiwan-Japan showdown saw Hirokazu Ibata, now the Japanese team’s head coach, hit the game-tying run that ultimately halted Taiwan’s progress. This year, three of his former opponents—Wang Chien-Ming, Kao Chih-Kang, and Peng Cheng-Min—served as coaches for the Taiwanese team, achieving a victory that paid the highest respect to their former rivals.
After a 32-year gap, Taiwan again defeated an entirely professional Japanese team in a top-tier tournament. Taiwan’s victory was no fluke but grounded in self-awareness and humility. As head coach Tseng Hao-Chu remarked after the game: “This is just the beginning of catching up to them. We need to work harder to match or surpass Japan truly.” Since losing in the 2013 Classic, Taiwan has identified its weaknesses, adopted sports science training, and modeled its player protections and international competition standards on the Korean and Japanese leagues. While gaps remain between Taiwan’s and Japan’s day-to-day baseball ecosystems, those gaps are no longer insurmountable.
In the past, Taiwan relied heavily on star pitchers and hitters in international tournaments, often depending on their grit and determination. While they frequently played well for most of the game, they would eventually falter due to a lack of defensive consistency and offensive firepower. However, as the intensity of competition has increased, players’ skills have significantly improved, enabling them to execute the coaching staff’s strategies to perfection. Retired star players returning to Taiwan as coaches have also transformed training and gameplay. Trust, communication, and encouragement have replaced the authoritarian commands of the past, fostering a new cultural ethos shared by coaches and players alike.
In stark contrast to their on-field performance was the blank space on the chest of the Taiwanese players’ jerseys, where other teams prominently displayed their country’s name. After hitting a decisive three-run homer in the championship game, team captain Chen Chieh-Hsien pointed to that blank space as he ran the bases. The gesture was not lost on Taiwanese fans, who wept, understanding the silent message about the name they had lost—the “Taiwan” that was forbidden from being printed on their jerseys. Although the Taiwanese supporters at Tokyo Dome roared “Team Taiwan” to the heavens, the players still dream of wearing jerseys that bear their country’s proper name one day.
Taiwan’s long and complex journey toward self-identity can be challenging for outsiders to grasp. Yet sports, as a universal language, provide a medium through which those who understand and love the game can instantly recognize the message “Team Taiwan” conveys to the world. Japanese media described Taiwan’s championship as a “world of bittersweet dreams,” a sentiment that resonates deeply with Japanese baseball fans.
JP Morosi, a Major League Baseball broadcaster, offered an emotional reflection during the awards ceremony:
“Taiwan’s players deeply understand the profound significance of this game—what it symbolizes for Taiwan’s national identity and spirit. They have internalized all of it, yet never allowed the pressure to hinder their performance… I am grateful to have witnessed many great moments in sports throughout my career. Still, few have provided such a deep insight into a nation and its people as I have gained through this team and this tournament.”
The Crisis of Democracy and the Politics of Identity
For a long time, liberals and the Western academic left have harbored a strong aversion to nationalism. This is understandable, given the devastating lessons of World War II, the modern manipulation of nationalism by China and Russia to consolidate authoritarian and totalitarian regimes, Israel’s persecution of human rights under the guise of national survival—sometimes amounting to war crimes—and the democratic backsliding in Eastern Europe, as seen in Hungary and Turkey, where nationalism is wielded to oppose pluralism and undermine judicial and constitutional systems. These examples make it difficult to hold an optimistic view of nationalism.
Viewed through this lens, actions by groups such as Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Ukraine—borderlands of empires that must resist to maintain their subjectivity—can easily be mischaracterized as “bad” or “unnecessary” nationalism. However, for those struggling between empires, constructing a collective identity is a tool to safeguard and realize freedom.
Recent events such as Brexit, Europe’s rightward shift, and Donald Trump’s rise highlight the risks of ignoring the human needs underpinning identity politics. Disregarding these needs leaves democracy vulnerable to populist turbulence and jeopardizes its stability. In reality, pure reason and correctness cannot motivate people to do what is right voluntarily. Voters may even support candidates who harm their interests to feel understood or relish a candidate’s bluntness. Emotional factors, collective experiences, and the projection of shared traumas often play a significant role.
In such a crisis, we must ask whether identity politics can address the need for belonging, provide an emotional outlet, respect democratic and constitutional principles, and use human rights as the foundation of sovereign legitimacy. If identity politics can bridge disparate groups to build essential trust and the capacity for negotiation—both crucial for democracy—it may become a powerful tool for democratic resilience.
This brings us to the relationship between Taiwan and baseball, which offers a unique lens to explore nation-building and identity politics. The core identity of Taiwan’s “naturally independent” generation transcends the traditional blue-green framework of unification versus independence. Grounded in constitutional principles, this generation pursues civic participation and oversight of political and public affairs, addressing issues such as corporate monopolies, media manipulation, generational injustices, and environmental degradation. Their activism fosters a new public sphere and community while opposing China’s imperialist aggression and co-option through economic incentives. The “resist China, protect Taiwan” movement is a natural outgrowth of this civic engagement.
Taiwan’s search for subjectivity and its effort to build a new collective identity align closely with the principles of constitutional patriotism and civic nationalism, as articulated by German scholars after World War II. These principles recognize humanity’s intrinsic need for identity while using constitutional frameworks to mitigate the cultural and racial legacies of the past. They also promote reconciliation among groups and favor social progress and economic self-determination. For a geopolitical hotspot like Taiwan, this “Taiwan identity” has facilitated active global engagement, from expanding green energy to addressing global public health challenges.
In his recent works Identity Politics and Liberalism and Its Discontents, political scientist Francis Fukuyama underscores the power of identity politics and the urgent need to bridge fragmented and siloed social groups to preserve democracy. However, the cohesion of modern nationalism often requires complex inquiry and self-reflection. Even in established democracies, citizens cannot always be expected to overcome emotions, fears, nostalgia, and dissatisfaction through reason alone. In Taiwan, as in other democracies, engaged citizens often find themselves exhausted by demands for unrelenting social and political participation.
The key question is whether we can identify a unifying spiritual force that resonates with diverse groups and inspires collective action. Such a force must enable mutual persuasion and collaboration in building a shared future, even in times of hardship. It must bridge the gaps that reason alone cannot, providing the foundation for civic nationalism and the resilience of democracy.
Taiwan’s relationship with baseball and sports appears to play—and may already be playing—this critical role. Darwin Hsieh notes in his column that sports remind us of our best selves and share the “Taiwan story.” While this story may be idealized, that is precisely the point. Its purpose is not to recreate historical events but to remind us of what we have achieved together and inspire the belief that we can succeed again, even amid disputes, confusion, and challenges.
Of course, no country’s experience can be easily replicated, and cultivating a love for a national sport is not a universal solution to democratic crises. While Taiwan appears stable for now, there is no guarantee that it can maintain these hard-won gains in the face of future crises or global upheavals. This is an eternal tug-of-war, balancing on the edge of tension. Yet, at the very least, we can begin by breaking free from outdated modes of thinking and exploring new possibilities—rooted in neither dismissing nor overindulging human instincts.
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Note 1: Before the tournament, many Taiwanese fans were pessimistic about the team’s prospects, feeling that the lineup lacked quality and had issues with player selection and the coaching staff. Consequently, fans jokingly vowed to compile a detailed list of apologies to the national team.
Note 2: For further details, please refer to the book 100 Years of Taiwan Baseball.
Note 3: Since 1954, the “Two Chinas” dispute has been a focal point of Olympic membership contention, with both sides occasionally withdrawing from the Olympics in protest. In 1959, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) terminated the “Chinese Olympic Committee” membership. It proposed that Taiwan reapply under “Taiwan” or “Formosa.” The Kuomintang government rejected this. During the opening ceremonies of the 1960, 1964, and 1968 Olympics, Taiwan’s teams marched behind the “FORMOSA” placard while holding “UNDER PROTEST” banners, insisting on restoring the name “Republic of China (ROC),” a goal briefly achieved in 1968.
The ROC was diplomatically isolated after the People’s People’s Republic of China was admitted to the United Nations in 1971. Taiwan’s refusal to compete under the name “Chinese Taipei” led to its disqualification from the 1980 Moscow Olympics. Faced with shrinking opportunities for international participation throughout the 1970s, government representatives eventually accepted the Lausanne Agreement. This stipulated that Taiwan must compete under “Chinese Taipei” in all international events governed by Olympic regulations.
Note 4: Taiwan’s Apple Daily ceased publication on May 18, 2021. After Min-sheng Daily, it was one of the most dedicated traditional newspapers covering sports events and Taiwanese athletes.
Note 5: Under Olympic regulations, athletes must register for competitions through their respective national sports associations to prevent political interference. However, Taiwan’s associations have long been criticized for political cronyism, with unqualified individuals in leadership roles. Repeated logistical errors, such as booking flights or transporting equipment, compounded the frustration. Moreover, athletes must share their prize money with these associations. These issues have led to accusations of turning public organizations into private enterprises, earning the nickname ” sports mafia” from netizens.
Note 6: The Olympic anthem of Chinese Taipei shares its melody with Taiwan’s National Flag Anthem. For Taiwanese over 30 years old, this song is tied to the muscle memory of daily flag-raising ceremonies during elementary school. While the lyrics praise the landscapes and revolutionary history of the Republic of China, they have become a shared cultural memory for most, quickly recalled even with closed eyes.
Note 7: Currently, the highest-level international baseball tournaments are the WBSC Premier 12, organized by the World Baseball Softball Confederation since 2015; the World Baseball Classic (WBC), a collaboration between the WBSC and Major League Baseball; and the Olympic Baseball Tournament. The WBC is considered the most prestigious due to the inclusion of Major League Baseball players. However, all three tournaments feature top-tier professional players from outside MLB. Notably, Japanese professional baseball is often considered equivalent to 3A teams in the U.S., placing these tournaments on par.
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Image Source: The Japan Times
On Taiwan’s basebell, the translator’s relate article: 2024 WBSC Premier 12 Champion: Taiwan, The Invisible Name
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Translator’s Afterwords:
Last year, Taiwan’s baseball team captured the world’s attention with an unforgettable performance. Inspired by this moment, I came across an insightful article by Josephine that delves into Taiwan’s baseball history, its struggles with global powers, and the enduring internal contradictions of identity. The depth and brilliance of the piece compelled me to translate it into English.
This 8,000-word article examines the intersection of sports, democracy, and identity, capturing the essence of Taiwan’s unique journey. Despite being an amateur translator, I felt driven to complete this project, believing it’s a meaningful way to share Taiwan’s story with the world.
The article is ready now. I invite you to read and share it with others, helping to shed light on Taiwan’s history, resilience, and aspirations.
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翻譯者後記：
去年年底，臺灣棒球登上世界舞台。在那場令人熱血沸騰的比賽後，我偶然讀到了一篇由喬瑟芬撰寫的文章，深入探討臺灣棒球、國際強權，以及我們內部長存的矛盾。文章視角深刻，文筆精彩，讓人印象深刻。
這段時間，這篇中文寫作的原始文章一直保存在我的手機裡。通勤、做家事時，只要有空檔，我就拿出來慢慢翻譯。文章裡有一個章節提到了臺灣的民主與政治危機。對照此刻臺灣國會的紛擾亂象，讀來格外發人深省。昨晚心想，或許也該是結案的時刻了。
雖然翻譯並不是我的本職工作，也比不上專業人士，但這件事對我有著特別的意義。從我開始看NBA以來，就喜歡用閒暇時間自主翻譯一些不錯的外文報導或評論，與臺灣球迷分享。
當我去年讀到喬瑟芬這篇文章時，心中浮現了一個想法：如果能把這些文字翻譯成英文，讓更多歐美讀者了解臺灣的處境，那該有多好。
這樣的想法驅使著我。即使中途因準備國際競賽而被迫中斷，仍選擇回到這份翻譯工作。
最近幾年常常在想天賦、運氣、能力的議題。從學生時期參與公民運動，走過這麼多年，或許，這就是最適合我的戰鬥位置。
此刻，終於完成了這篇長達8000字的翻譯文章。
若這能讓更多人認識臺灣，那這一切的努力都值得。
現在，準備交棒給各位部落格讀者囉。歡迎你們把這些文字分享到英文世界。
（給中文讀者對照用的閱讀補充）
■ 原文標題：從帝國邊陲到世界之巔：翻越日本高牆後，臺灣棒球的淬鍊與國族認同的重塑
■ 架構與章節（方便中文讀者快速掌握文章重點）：
一、近代每一個歷史時刻，都有棒球相伴
二、國族主義的陰暗面
三、王建民、大聯盟和新世代球迷：臺灣棒球的浴火重生
四、為什麼是棒球？
五、進一步鞏固臺灣認同的12強賽事
六、民主危機與認同政治
