Identity and its Consequences: Indigeneity and Filmmaking in the Sinosphere
Chris Berry, Professor of Film Studies
King’s College London
King’s College London
In Bauki Angaw’s 1997 film from Taiwan, Kavalan of Bird Stepping Stone Village (鳥踏石仔的噶瑪蘭) (1997), his father explains that he did not tell his family they were Kavalan people, because “how could I tell them they were savages?” The term that is translated as “savages” is fan (番), an ancient Chinese term for non-Han people usually understood to be derogatory, and which is often also translated as “barbarians.” By making his film, Bauki Angaw is reclaiming his Kevalan identity and also his agency in determining what that identity is understood to be in Taiwan’s public culture. Of course, he does not refer to himself and his relatives as “savages.” Rather the term he is uses is (yuanzhumin) 原住民, which is the standard Chinese translation of “indigenous” and could perhaps also be translated as “original inhabitant.”
All identities are cultural constructs, which means they are maintained and changed by repeated discursive iterations. As ideas that demarcate “us” and “them,” they are part of the play of power: being labelled as or claiming an identity has consequences. Therefore, who gets to make and circulate those iterations, and whether they are talking about someone else or about themselves is crucial to understanding identities. These notes are about indigeneity in filmmaking as a marker of ethnic identity in what I call the Sinosphere, or the world of Sinitic culture, and especially those aspects that are specific to it.
Many of the elements of Angaw’s narrative in Kavalan of Bird Stepping Stone Village are readily understood by people familiar with discourses of indigeneity in the rest of the world. Taiwan was populated by non-Sinitic peoples before migrants started arriving from the Chinese mainland, followed by various colonial powers, including Japan from 1895 to 1945. In this way, there were parallels with the story of European settlers arriving in the Americas, Australia, New Zealand and elsewhere. And just as with Hollywood’s stories about cowboys and “Indians,” many earlier dramatic feature films about the indigenous islanders by the settlers were derogatory tales that served settler interests and portrayed them as heroes civilizing savages. Ethnographic documentaries by anthropologists also established the discourse of “aboriginality” soon after the Japanese arrived.[1]
Angaw’s film and others like it can be understood in terms of Foucault’s “reverse discourse” pattern.[2] Here the stigmatized and othered push back by claiming that identity, creating their own narratives, and claiming heritage and other rights. In Taiwan, the upsurge in both indigenous politics and indigenous cinema, starting with independent documentaries like Bauki Angaw’s, was part of the transformation of the island’s political system that followed the repeal of martial law in 1987. This was followed by the emergence of a multi-party democracy in which different communities formed and pursued their various interests.
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In Taiwan, the upsurge in both indigenous politics and indigenous cinema, starting with independent documentaries like Bauki Angaw’s, was part of the transformation of the island’s political system that followed the repeal of martial law in 1987. |
Perhaps because it has so many parallels with other places, Taiwan is the place in the Sinosphere were competing discourses of indigeneity are most established. Elsewhere they have been, until recently, much rarer. In Hong Kong, those Chinese who could trace their local roots back to before British colonialism were recognised by the British colonial administration as “indigenous” in 1972, based on special guarantees in the lease agreement that added the New Territories to the British colony at the end of the nineteenth century.[3] In Fredie Chan’s Rhymes of Shui Hao about a village on Lantau Island, Mink Chan is trying to collect the folk songs her mother sang when she was a child. She refers to the inhabitants of the village as yuanzhumin, which is translated in the subtitles as “indigenous.”
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In Hong Kong, those Chinese who could trace their local roots back to before British colonialism were recognised by the British colonial administration as “indigenous” in 1972, based on special guarantees in the lease agreement that added the New Territories to the British colony at the end of the nineteenth century |
In Rhymes of Shui Hao the idea of indigeneity largely follows the 1972 usage. Fredie Chan’s other film, Uneasy Walk, does not specifically use the term “indigenous,” I believe. It begins with his childhood memories of the Shatin Mall as a magical place and how those memories have been violated by the police violence that occurred there during the protests of 2019 and 2020, disrupting his sense of Shatin as his safe and familiar home. Could Fredie be regarded as an indigenous Hong Konger, or an indigenous inhabitant of Hong Kong? The discourse of indigeneity has been adopted in recent years by localist political groups such as Hong Kong Indigenous (本土民主前線). The Chinese term they use for indigenous is not yuanzhumin but bentu. This term is more usually translated as “native”. Why might they want to translate it into English as “indigenous” and why might this word be circulating more in Hong Kong?
The passing of the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007 has given impetus to claims of indigeneity. This document puts the onus on governments that have signed it to recognize and grant various rights to indigenous peoples, including self-determination. Perhaps surprisingly, the UN Declaration does not have a specific definition of indigeneity. Indeed, UN documents recognize the right of indigenous peoples to define themselves, rather than be defined by others. However, UN documents do speak of indigenous people as those who have “historical continuity with pre-invasion and/or pre-colonial societies,” experience “non-dominance,” and “consider themselves distinct.”[4] In these circumstances, claiming indigeneity and UNDRIP rights clearly makes sense for activists who want to maintain Hong Kong’s autonomy from the PRC or even push for independence. However, it should be noted that such a claim rests on the additional and perhaps even more highly contested claim that Hong Kongers are a distinct ethnic group and not part of the Han Chinese majority.
The People’s Republic of China (PRC) is a signatory to UNDRIP. But its government also takes the position that there are no indigenous people in the PRC.[5] This discourse of Chinese exception forecloses on all such claims to self-determination based on ethnicity. Yet, the PRC also defines itself as a multi-cultural state with 56 recognized ethnic groups (minzu), 55 of which are minorities. Why does the PRC state maintain that these “minority ethnic groups” are not “indigenous”? A cynic might observe that the PRC is only willing to follow the international treaties and conventions that it signs up to insofar as it suits the interests of the Party-State. Raising the spectre of self-determination would be worrying for the Party-State, because large swathes of Chinese territory are inhabited by ethnic minorities such as the Tibetans, Uyghurs, Mongolians, and many others.
The passing of the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in 2007 has given impetus to claims of indigeneity. This document puts the onus on governments that have signed it to recognize and grant various rights to indigenous peoples, including self-determination. Perhaps surprisingly, the UN Declaration does not have a specific definition of indigeneity. Indeed, UN documents recognize the right of indigenous peoples to define themselves, rather than be defined by others. However, UN documents do speak of indigenous people as those who have “historical continuity with pre-invasion and/or pre-colonial societies,” experience “non-dominance,” and “consider themselves distinct.”[4] In these circumstances, claiming indigeneity and UNDRIP rights clearly makes sense for activists who want to maintain Hong Kong’s autonomy from the PRC or even push for independence. However, it should be noted that such a claim rests on the additional and perhaps even more highly contested claim that Hong Kongers are a distinct ethnic group and not part of the Han Chinese majority.
The People’s Republic of China (PRC) is a signatory to UNDRIP. But its government also takes the position that there are no indigenous people in the PRC.[5] This discourse of Chinese exception forecloses on all such claims to self-determination based on ethnicity. Yet, the PRC also defines itself as a multi-cultural state with 56 recognized ethnic groups (minzu), 55 of which are minorities. Why does the PRC state maintain that these “minority ethnic groups” are not “indigenous”? A cynic might observe that the PRC is only willing to follow the international treaties and conventions that it signs up to insofar as it suits the interests of the Party-State. Raising the spectre of self-determination would be worrying for the Party-State, because large swathes of Chinese territory are inhabited by ethnic minorities such as the Tibetans, Uyghurs, Mongolians, and many others.
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The People’s Republic of China (PRC) is a signatory to UNDRIP. But its government also takes the position that there are no indigenous people in the PRC. |
The refusal of the PRC to recognize minority ethnic groups as indigenous is also grounded in the refusal to recognize that the Han Chinese majority is in a situation of dominance over the ethnic minorities in the PRC, because the PRC constitution states that all ethnic groups are equal. Furthermore, can it be claimed that the ethnic minorities in China today have a “historical continuity with pre-invasion and/or pre-colonial societies”? There are two obstacles to this claim. First, as a revolutionary state, the PRC does not recognize continuity with the past. Second, is the inclusion of ethnic minorities inside the borders of PRC the result of invasion or colonisation? Unlike the arrival of mainland settlers on Taiwan from the mainland, it can be claimed that the Chinese empire expanded by annexation and absorption. The adoption of Chinese characters, patrilineality and Confucian ethics was regarded as a civilizing process akin to cooking, as people went from being designated as “raw” (sheng, 生) to “cooked” (shu 熟), implying readiness to be, metaphorically speaking, digested.[6]
When we turn to filmmaking inside the PRC, we need to bear this history and the foreclosure on the idea of indigeneity in mind, because many of the patterns inside the PRC invoke comparison with filmmaking about and by indigenous peoples elsewhere. Indeed, the production of ethnographic film played a major role in the efforts of anthropologists launched in the 1950s to classify the ethnic make-up of the population after the establishment of the PRC, and to describe the characteristics of each group the state recognised.[7] This classification project is known as the minzu shibie (民族识别).[8] The idea of minzu means a people united by culture and territory. It was translated from the Japanese minzoku, and it is close to the Russian term narod or the German term volk. Minzu was translated regularly into English from the Chinese as “nationality” until the 1990s, when “ethnic group” became more common. This might have been a response to the break-up of the former Soviet Union, again because of the spectre of national self-determination.[9]
When we turn to filmmaking inside the PRC, we need to bear this history and the foreclosure on the idea of indigeneity in mind, because many of the patterns inside the PRC invoke comparison with filmmaking about and by indigenous peoples elsewhere. Indeed, the production of ethnographic film played a major role in the efforts of anthropologists launched in the 1950s to classify the ethnic make-up of the population after the establishment of the PRC, and to describe the characteristics of each group the state recognised.[7] This classification project is known as the minzu shibie (民族识别).[8] The idea of minzu means a people united by culture and territory. It was translated from the Japanese minzoku, and it is close to the Russian term narod or the German term volk. Minzu was translated regularly into English from the Chinese as “nationality” until the 1990s, when “ethnic group” became more common. This might have been a response to the break-up of the former Soviet Union, again because of the spectre of national self-determination.[9]
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When we turn to filmmaking inside the PRC, we need to bear this history and the foreclosure on the idea of indigeneity in mind, because many of the patterns inside the PRC invoke comparison with filmmaking about and by indigenous peoples elsewhere. |
More recently, the emergence of the market economy and the availability of easy to use and relatively cheap digital video equipment has made it possible for members of the minority ethnic groups to make their own films. These include everything from home video clips posted on the internet to feature films such as those of the renowned Tibetan author and filmmaker, Pema Tseden. They also include those that document their own lives in a self-ethnographic manner, such as Song of Home, The Search, and The Light. These are films that many might think eligible at least for consideration as indigenous self-expression.
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More recently, the emergence of the market economy and the availability of easy to use and relatively cheap digital video equipment has made it possible for members of the minority ethnic groups to make their own films...These are films that many might think eligible at least for consideration as indigenous self-expression. |
Recently, in the PRC, another term has come into use: yuanshengtai (原生态), which shares a character with yuanzhumin, and has become considered as a safe alternative to it. It can be translated as “original ecology” and is used in environmentalist discourse, but also in cultural discourse, to suggest an undisturbed condition. This undisturbed condition can be understood as the state of affairs before waves of Han Chinese migration into the minority ethnicity areas, the market economy, and modernization. Sometimes, these films are referred to as yuanshengtai films.
Whether or not they are regarded as yuanshengtai films, the precondition for making films about non-Han people in the PRC or the non-Han people themselves making films remains that they should not explicitly claim to be about indigenous peoples or indigenous films. There is an irony here. On the one hand, Taiwan is not recognized by the United Nations and therefore cannot be a signatory to UNDRIP. Yet, it accepts the descriptions of indigeneity circulated by the UN and the prescriptions of UNDRIP, recognizing the films and videos made by the descendants of the residents of the island before the arrival of migrants from China as indigenous films. On the other hand, the PRC is a signatory to UNDRIP, but the kind of citizen who might be recognized as indigenous in terms of UNDRIP can only gain agency, including filmmaking, as long as they do not claim indigeneity for themselves. This itself is one of the unforeseen consequences of the adoption of UNDRIP.
Whether or not they are regarded as yuanshengtai films, the precondition for making films about non-Han people in the PRC or the non-Han people themselves making films remains that they should not explicitly claim to be about indigenous peoples or indigenous films. There is an irony here. On the one hand, Taiwan is not recognized by the United Nations and therefore cannot be a signatory to UNDRIP. Yet, it accepts the descriptions of indigeneity circulated by the UN and the prescriptions of UNDRIP, recognizing the films and videos made by the descendants of the residents of the island before the arrival of migrants from China as indigenous films. On the other hand, the PRC is a signatory to UNDRIP, but the kind of citizen who might be recognized as indigenous in terms of UNDRIP can only gain agency, including filmmaking, as long as they do not claim indigeneity for themselves. This itself is one of the unforeseen consequences of the adoption of UNDRIP.
notes
[1] For a survey of indigeneity in Taiwanese dramatic feature films, see: Chris Berry, “Taiwan’s Indigenous People and Cinema: From Colonial Mascot to Fourth Cinema?” in Positioning Taiwan in a Global World: Being and Becoming, edited by Bi-Yu Chang and Pei-Yin Lin, (London: Routledge, 2019), 228-241.
[2] Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume One (New York: Vintage Books), 101.
[3] Selina Ching Chan, “Politicizing Tradition: The Identity of Indigenous Inhabitants in Hong Kong,” in Narrating Hong Kong Culture and Identity, edited by Pun Ngai and Yee Lai-man (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2003), 75-6.
[4] United Nations Human Rights, Office of the High Commissioner, Fact Sheet No.9/Rev.2, Indigenous Peoples and the United National Human Rights System (2013): 2-3.
[5] Michael C. Davis, “China & the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: The Tibetan Case,” E-International Relations 27 May 2014, https://www.e-ir.info/2014/05/27/china-the-un-declaration-on-the-rights-of-indigenous-peoples-the-tibetan-case/, accessed 28 March 2021.
[6] Magnus Fiskesjö, “On the ‘Raw’ and the ‘Cooked’ Barbarians of Imperial China,” Inner Asia 1, no.2 (1999): 139-168.
[7] Jenny Chio, Film the People: Minority Nationalities in Ethnographic Films in the People’s Republic of China 1957-1966 (2003, 22 minutes), https://vimeo.com/46271711, accessed 28 March 2021.
[8] Thomas Mullaney, Coming to Terms with the Nation: Ethnic Classification in Modern China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010).
[9] See Uradyn E. Bulag, “民族/Nationality,” in Afterlives of Chinese Communism: Political Concepts from Mao to Xi edited by Christian P. Sorace (London: Verso, 2019), 149-154.
[2] Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume One (New York: Vintage Books), 101.
[3] Selina Ching Chan, “Politicizing Tradition: The Identity of Indigenous Inhabitants in Hong Kong,” in Narrating Hong Kong Culture and Identity, edited by Pun Ngai and Yee Lai-man (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 2003), 75-6.
[4] United Nations Human Rights, Office of the High Commissioner, Fact Sheet No.9/Rev.2, Indigenous Peoples and the United National Human Rights System (2013): 2-3.
[5] Michael C. Davis, “China & the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: The Tibetan Case,” E-International Relations 27 May 2014, https://www.e-ir.info/2014/05/27/china-the-un-declaration-on-the-rights-of-indigenous-peoples-the-tibetan-case/, accessed 28 March 2021.
[6] Magnus Fiskesjö, “On the ‘Raw’ and the ‘Cooked’ Barbarians of Imperial China,” Inner Asia 1, no.2 (1999): 139-168.
[7] Jenny Chio, Film the People: Minority Nationalities in Ethnographic Films in the People’s Republic of China 1957-1966 (2003, 22 minutes), https://vimeo.com/46271711, accessed 28 March 2021.
[8] Thomas Mullaney, Coming to Terms with the Nation: Ethnic Classification in Modern China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010).
[9] See Uradyn E. Bulag, “民族/Nationality,” in Afterlives of Chinese Communism: Political Concepts from Mao to Xi edited by Christian P. Sorace (London: Verso, 2019), 149-154.
