※ 引述《timshan (軒哥)》之銘言：
: 這是The Diplomat這幾日的Headlines 我想版上應該沒多少人看過
: 另外本文的撰寫者是前Taipei Times的記者 應該是台灣人
: How Technology Revolutionized Taiwan’s Sunflower Movement
: By Vincent Y. Chao
: April 15, 2014
: Underneath the piercing gaze of Sun Yat-sen, the founder of the Republic of
: China, a group of students sat, unshaved, unkempt and basking in the glow of
: their laptops. Amongst stacks of coffee cups, crudely drawn artwork, and
: piles of unevenly stacked office chairs, they were hard at work, plotting the
: next phase of their revolt against the government in Taiwan.
: Three weeks earlier, the group had broken past police barriers and forcefully
: occupied the main Legislative assembly hall, defeating multiple attempts to
: evict them by the police. They sit engrossed: sending out press releases,
: updating the group’s Facebook and Twitter accounts, and sparking discussion
: on PTT (an online bulletin board favored by many of the country’s youth).
: Others are dozing off, or hold a blank stare in their eyes, a product of
: weeks of tension, uncertainty and sleep deprivation.
: Initially there were only a hundred of them – students from Taiwan’s top
: universities energized by a series of controversial land seizures and, in
: this case, upset at the government’s attempt to ram through a wide-ranging
: services trade deal with China. Their numbers subsequently swelled, buoyed by
: 24 hour news coverage, Facebook shares, and, of course, volunteers from the
: hundreds of thousands of enthusiastic supporters that have flooded the
: capital Taipei’s streets in recent weeks.
: Oliver Chen, 26, is a student from Taiwan’s prestigious National Taiwan
: University Law School. His hallmark, he says, is the colorful dress shirts he
: changes into every day. “Nothing else is changed. Shirts are all that I
: brought.” During the protests, he was responsible for the bank of computers
: to the left of Sun’s portrait. His team of English speakers worked with the
: foreign press to arrange interviews with the two protest leaders, Chen
: Wei-ting, 23, and Lin Fei-fan, 25.
23歲的Chen Wei-ting和25歲的Lin Fei-fan。
: Oliver and the rest of the students were organized. Very organized. Even the
: opposition, rumored to have ties to some of the student organizers, admits to
: such. “They could probably run a better campaign than the DPP,” said
: opposition leader Tsai Ing-wen during a media interview. The students have a
: medical center, distribution tables for snacks and goods, and even rooms for
: yoga or singing.
: Oliver and three others, Chen Wei-ting, spokesperson Lin Yu-hsuan, and Sean
: Su, a blogger hailing from New York, worked hard. Revolution is serious
: business. Especially when it comes to answering questions posted on the
: social media site reddit's Ask Me Anything forum, which connects internet
: users from all over the world with the group here in Taipei.
Reddit的Ask Me Anything論壇回答來自世界各國網路使用者po在上面關於學運
: “You guys are so brave,” said one user, SuperRedneck from Florida. “I’m a
: student and I couldn’t even imagine overtaking a Taco Bell.” After taking a
: bite out of his takeout box of stir-fried noodles, Oliver paused for a
: second. He then responded: “Ask most of us here a couple of months ago, and
: we would have probably said the same.”
: Thirty-five years ago, during Taiwan’s march towards democracy, these sorts
: of connections with the outside world would have been unthinkable. Protests
: were local, and even activists elsewhere in the country would have been
: hard-pressed to receive accurate first-hand information about ongoing events.
: Newspapers and magazines were tightly regulated. Phones and letters were kept
: under strict surveillance.
: Instead of Facebook shares and instant messaging, organizers were mobilized
: using underground publications and clandestine meetings in smoke-filled
: university basements. And flyers and posters, not tweets, were how most
: people ended up hearing about any upcoming protests. “They’d hold a rally
: on Friday, and people would start to show up on Saturday and Sunday,” said
: Mattel Hsu, a researcher at Australia’s Monash University, specializing in
: Taiwan’s democracy movement.
: This was the case for much of the martial law era, from the demonstrations
: leading up to the Kaohsiung Incident in 1979, all the way to the Wild Lily
: student movement in 1990. Instantaneous gatherings, much like what the
: students are today used to, were completely out of the question. Meanwhile,
: supporters overseas only learned of their efforts following the publication
: of news reports, if they were published at all.
: Much of this is all ancient history to the students who jumped past police
: lines around the Legislature on the night of March 18. With the internet and
: cell phone signals intermittent in the chambers, the students quickly
: established two centers of command: one inside, and the other based in a
: lecture hall in a National Taiwan University campus a short walk away. They
: wasted no time: volunteers were appointed into security, press, social media
: and research teams, and the revolution was underway.
: At the social media team on campus, Chen Ting-ru’s hands flew furiously over
: the keyboard, her concentration broken only by the occasional gulp of water.
: She was one of the administrators of the Black Island Youth Facebook page
: that was quickly going viral across the country (“likes” would jump from a
: few thousand to more than 200,000 in a few days’ time). Her job was to
: organize information coming out of the Legislature into small, easy-to-read
: snippets that could be readily shared amongst the movement’s supporters.
: She also needed to process information coming in. Sightings of riot police
: and water cannon trucks were given a high priority. Opening a message from a
: supporter detailing the sighting of three such trucks parked on the corner of
: Tianjin Street and Beiping East Road, just a five-minute walk from the
: Legislature, Ting-ru writes: “Can you send me proof? I need photo proof. We
: have reports coming in from everywhere.” A picture duly arrived five minutes
: Nearby, a colleague maintained a publicly accessible Google cloud document
: detailing the list of supplies needed and how donors could contribute. The
: list was closed for two days between March 22 and 23 while donated supplies
: overflowed roadside tents and volunteers scrambled to hand them out. It was
: later reopened (some of the more recent items required: extension cords,
: diesel generators and medical kits), and boxes are neatly stacked underneath
: a distribution center outdoors.
: The other teams were in a similar state of controlled frenzy. At the press
: team, a 25-year-old journalism major was keeping the organizers updated with
: the latest news coming in about their protest. This was done through a group
: on Line, the Japanese messaging app, in 15-minute intervals. Press releases
: were prepared collaboratively on Google docs. And in the research team,
: groups of students, dominated by law majors, scoured online articles,
: statistics and oversea press reports in an attempt to debunk the government’
: s statements on the potential benefits of passing the services agreement with
: Despite their cutting-edge Macbook Airs (the preferred laptop of the
: revolution), smartphones and iPads, facilities in the lecture hall were
: rudimentary. Students slept in shifts on cardboard boxes strewn around the
: concrete floor, hot meals appeared every two days, and most students could
: only exit but not enter the premises between the hours of midnight and 6am
: (due to the school’s policies). “Hello” and “Goodbye” were gradually
: replaced by Xinkule – which roughly translates as “You’ve had a hard day.”
: Outside the relative calm in the Legislature and at the school campus, the
: protest was in full swing. Thousands of supporters were streaming into
: Zhongshan South, Jinan and Qingdao East roads each day in support of the
: student occupation. As with the police, employees of the three 7-11
: convenience stores in the area were on a full 24-hour rotation schedule.
: There was uncertainty in the air, and protestors were wondering when, if
: ever, the police would begin to forcefully eject them from around the
: Jason Lin, 25, was one of the protestors sitting on the corner of Zhenjiang
: and Qingdao East streets, the critical juncture at the northeast corner of
: the legislative building. A postgrad at National Kaohsiung Normal University,
: he arrived in Taipei on the afternoon of March 21 after a browsing through
: Facebook. The official Black Island Youth Facebook page had shared a picture
: calling on supporters to fill the surrounding streets between midnight and
: noon each day, when it deemed police most likely to strike.
: “After watching it on TV for the past two days, I realized that I had to be
: here,” Jason said, sitting alongside thousands of similarly mobilized
: protestors as they listened to student speakers, university professors and
: pop singers take turns on stage to deride the services agreement one-by-one.
: “I think it’s pretty important that this movement goes on so that the
: government is forced to listen to us,” he added, echoing demands by
: organizers that the legislators reject the agreement for a further, more
: substantive, review.
: With Facebook’s penetration rate in Taiwan amongst the highest in the world
: (edging out Hong Kong), that shared picture succeeded beyond expectations. By
: the weekend of March 22, the students were in firm control of the legislative
: chambers and the surrounding streets. Even during the night, thousands slept
: on newspapers, and in rudimentary sleeping bags and tents. But the government
: ’s position had not changed. During a press conference on the morning of
: March 23, President Ma expressed sympathy for the students, but said that the
: services agreement with China would proceed as planned. It was essential, he
: said, to allow Taiwan to compete in an increasingly globalized market.
^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^
我 ㄊㄧㄢˇ 支那 腿
: His response was not unexpected. But inside and outside the Legislature,
: students were growing restless. A self-imposed ultimatum for a government
: response had come and gone. Initially, student organizers proposed to take
: over the rest of the legislative complex. This was discussed but ultimately
: rejected (civic organizations said that it would break a truce with the
: police). But by the afternoon, a consensus had emerged. They would support a
: splinter group of students that would rapidly assemble in front of the
: cabinet offices (Executive Yuan), overwhelm police and occupy the complex.
: This plan was deemed the most likely to further galvanize both students and
: the public.
: For this operation, two factors were identified as essential. First, there
: would have to a method of spreading the message for students to meet in front
: of the Executive Yuan at a specified time (and for students to wear gloves,
: in order to scale the barbed wire barricades). Second, it would have to be
: done covertly to slow the police response. A Facebook event or a Line group,
: thought to be unsafe and susceptible to government infiltration, was out of
: the question. Instead, the students decided that messages would go out
: through word-of-mouth and that only trusted confederates would be informed.
: During the February revolution in Ukraine, a Youtube video featuring Yulia
: Marushevska, a young Ukrainian making an impassioned plea for help, had gone
: viral, reaching eight million views and attracting international attention.
: Not only did she end up on CNN, she also became a rallying call on social
: media websites including Facebook, Twitter and reddit. Organizers both in
: Ukraine and Taiwan were aware that international support was not only
: necessary, but also essential, in the public relations battle against the
: At the school campus, the social media team were looking for a similar story.
: Ting-ru, the Facebook administrator, had taken a microphone onto the podium
: to ask for students to volunteer as speakers and filmmakers. They would film
: messages in Cantonese, Chinese, English and Japanese. Videos would be shared
: on the official Facebook page. Instead of “I am a Ukrainian,” students
: would start with “I’m a Taiwanese,” and end with a plea for viewers to
: share the links with their friends.
: Over the course of the movement, dozens of such videos would be shot and
: distributed on Youtube; some of behalf of the organizers, most others being
: messages of support from around the world. “Don’t let Taiwan become the
: next Hong Kong,” said students from Hong Kong swaying to the tune of John
: Lennon’s Imagine. While none of the videos would come anywhere close to the
: success of the Ukrainian clip, Youtube, unfiltered and not subject to
: commentary from the media, was about to become a defining medium in how the
: revolution was to be shared.
: One of the other mediums, of course, was exposure through the foreign media.
: Ma, Harvard educated and fluent in English, was sensitive to international
: opinion, the students reasoned. As a result, the hearts and minds of people
: worldwide would be essential if they were to force the government to agree to
: their demands, which included at this point the passage of a monitoring
: mechanism for cross-strait agreements, and rejection of the services
: agreement by the Legislature for further review.
: Nick Tan was one of the organizers in the Legislature, attempting
: unsuccessfully to get his internet to work. One of the older members of the
: group, he was about to field a live interview session with the BBC on Skype
: in 15 minutes. A veteran of student protests in the past, including the Wild
: Strawberry movement in 2008, this was his first Skype interview. Searching
: desperately for an open connection, he was frustrated. Extremely frustrated.
: “Forget it. It’s not going to work.”
: Nick and Oliver, the liaison for the foreign press, were two organizers who
: understood the need for a close relationship with the foreign media. Fielding
: upwards of 30 e-mails and an equal number of calls per day, they struggled,
: mostly unsuccessfully, to make their movement relevant in a sea of reports
: surrounding the missing Malaysian airliner MH370. But they didn’t struggle
: alone. Scores of bloggers had also set up shop, sharing real-time video,
: photos and updates from the assembly hall’s second floor balcony.
: A few in particular stood out. A hacker collective (loosely termed) called
: g0v had established a publicly accessible “hackfolder” to consolidate
: information flowing out of the chamber.
It provided easily accessible links
: to 17 streaming video feeds from both the two floors inside, as well as their
: surrounding streets. Meanwhile, three text feeds, included one in English,
: were also updated every minute by bloggers fuelled by caffeine and ramen.
: Tucked away in one corner of the balcony, past a security checkpoint manned
: by volunteers armed with iPads, was Sean Su, the blogger from New York. Sean,
: a web engineer by trade, had arrived in the chamber during the confusion that
: followed shortly after the initial occupation. Equipped with two iPads, he
: rapidly set up a video feed on UStream (tagline: You’re on!), a San
: Francisco-based company with more than 80 million viewers and broadcasters.
: It was essential, he said, that viewers gain unfiltered access to what was
: happening in the Legislature.
(幹! 大神們! 請容我膜拜!)
: Back on the school campus, students were watching the rapidly unfolding
: events at the Executive Yuan. At 7:35 pm on the evening of Sunday March 23,
: two hundred students led by organizers Chen Ting-hao and Wei Yang had managed
: to break past the barbed wire barricades at the main entrance and enter the
: building compound. A small number climbed up ladders and managed to break
: into the building itself, quickly piling up furniture to block the police
: response that was sure to come.
: They were soon joined by more than three thousand supporters from the
: neighboring Legislature, who streamed over Zhongxiao East Road to expand
: their sit-in at the complex. Spirits were high. But so were tensions.
: Initially caught off guard, police rapidly regrouped to the north of the
: complex on Beiping East Road. Thousands of riot police were called in and
: officials promised a swift response.
組織者Chen Ting-hao, Wei Yang帶領兩百個學生突破行政院大門鐵絲網進入前院，
: What followed was a series of puzzling encounters. First, one of the
: administrators on the Facebook account, one that each organizer assumed that
: others knew, posted a widely shared message suggesting that supporters should
: relocate from the Legislature to the cabinet office. This was later deleted.
: But to add to the confusion, another message was sent out just before 10 pm,
: this time via text, asking hundreds of students “on non-official business”
: to return to their campus base of operations.
: The text was troubling. Not only did it lead to the withdrawal of about half
: the key organizers at a critical juncture, it was also sent directly into
: personal, unlisted numbers – many of which were not given out during the
: course of the protest. Students at the campus base were confused to see the
: sudden arrival of dozens of breathless colleagues who were essential to the
: organization of supplies and personnel at the Executive Yuan.
: Meanwhile, some of the Facebook and Line messaging groups used by the
: organizers suddenly ballooned from about 25 to 40 users, many with profile
: names that organizers failed to recognize. Some of their profile pictures
: appeared to be students (wearing a no-nuke T-shirt, for example, reminiscent
: of an earlier protest many student organizers had participated in), but a
: closer look revealed the accounts either to have been recently created, or
: devoid of any further personal information.
: Amid confusion at the operations level, the first wave of riot police moved
: in at half past midnight. Thousands of them in full riot gear – wielding
: batons and shields – methodologically cleared out Beiping East Road. Most of
: the protestors, staging a sit-in, were pulled out. Others who resisted were
: expelled more violently, leading to media images of bruised and bloodied
: students emerging from behind police lines.
: Aided by water cannon trucks, this continued until 7 am. Following Beiping
: East Road, the Executive Yuan building, and the surrounding complex were also
: cleared out before police moved to Zhongshan and Zhongxiao East Road, where
: hundreds remained defiant through the night and the early morning. Prior to
: each eviction, the members of the media were to first be escorted out, some
: forcefully, to prevent pictures and videos of the process to permeate the
: live news cycle.
: At daybreak, Taiwan woke up.
: The country woke to scenes of protestors, mostly students, clutching bloodied
: faces as they blinked, dazed and confused, into living rooms and offices.
: What was initially envisioned by both students and the public to be a climax
: for the movement instead became a catalyst. As far away as the U.S., Canada
: and the U.K., supporters, mostly overseas Taiwanese students and immigrants,
: rallied in public squares in defense of the students. Even Senator Sherrod
: Brown (D) and Representative Ed Royce (R) would release statements in their
表示支持學運學生，就連參議員Sherrod Brown (D) 和州議員Ed Royce (R)都表達了支持
: Many of these scenes – videos and images uploaded on Youtube, Facebook and
: other discussion forums – would end up being taken down faster than they
: could be put up. And with 41 protestors charged due to the Executive Yuan
: protest, student groups organized on PTT, the online bulletin board, began to
: rapidly assemble and compile these files so that they could be used as
: potential evidence further on.
: In the meantime, a full-page advertisement in the New York Times was quickly
: put together by 4 am, by a group of civic activists with loose ties with the
: student organizers. It was a powerful message, featuring students with their
: heads bowed being hosed by a water cannon. “Taiwan,” it noted, “needs your
: attention and support.” The placement costs of $208,000 (inclusive of the
: New York Times ad at $153,000 and another at the Taiwan-based Apple Daily)
: were raised in less than four hours on FlyingV, Taiwan’s equivalent to
: Preparations also began for a larger rally – one that the students hoped
: would capitalize on discontent with both the services agreement and the
: police crackdown. Predominately spread through Facebook, almost half a
: million would end up attending on the afternoon of Sunday May 30, more than
: five times the number that the organizers had envisioned. The occupation had
: evidently hit a raw nerve for the public, and it no longer seemed possible
: that the students would quietly fade into the background.
: Back in the legislative chambers, it was nearing 3 am on April 2, three days
: after the rally. Oliver was tired. With less than 20 hours of sporadic sleep
: over the past week, interrupted frequently by foreign journalists calling at
: all hours, he sat groggy eyed staring at the questions on reddit coming in
: from around the world. Some were essays (“In a proper democracy this is
: where the judicial branch gets involved right?”), others were one sentence
: statements of support (“No questions but I wish I could upvote this post a
: thousand times.”)
: Oliver took a look at the room around him. Dozens of students slept in
: sleeping bags on the floor. The bloggers were still up, giving live
: commentary on the balcony. Lin Fei-fan, clad in his trademark olive green
: jacket sat hunched over his computer, planning, no doubt, the events that
: would come tomorrow. He went back to the statement about the Taco Bell from
: the user in Florida.
: Oliver looked at his response. “Ask most of us here a couple of months ago,
: and we would have probably said the same.” Clearing his eyes for a second,
: he paused again, then he slowly added, “But one day you realize that if you
: aren’t willing to stand up for your country now, there might never be
: another chance.”
: “That’s a pretty sobering thought.”
: Author’s note: The students peacefully ended the occupation on April 10,
: after cleaning up and fixing much of what was broken inside and outside the
: chamber. Organizers Lin Fei-fan and Chen Wei-ting said that they had achieved
: their aims after Legislative Speaker Wang Jyn-ping announced on April 7 that
: he would ensure that a monitoring mechanism be passed prior to a further
: review of the service agreement. Some of the names of the students in this
: article have been changed to protect their identity.
: Vincent Y. Chao is a former reporter at the Taipei Times. He is a writer
: based in Taipei, Taiwan.
而做了修改，Vincent Y. Chao是Taipei Times前記者，現在是台灣在台北的作家。
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※ 文章網址: http://www.ptt.cc/bbs/FuMouDiscuss/M.1397728649.A.D9B.html
→ timshan:你還真有毅力....XD 04/17 18:06
推 Anail:加油 04/17 20:39
※ 編輯: jealic (184.108.40.206), 04/18/2014 02:48:40
※ 編輯: jealic (220.127.116.11), 04/18/2014 03:24:33
※ 編輯: jealic (18.104.22.168), 04/18/2014 23:01:36
※ 編輯: jealic (22.214.171.124), 04/20/2014 18:14:22
推 qmau:太有毅力了 04/20 22:37
※ 編輯: jealic (126.96.36.199), 04/22/2014 23:02:33
※ 編輯: jealic (188.8.131.52), 04/23/2014 11:05:14