By Bonnie Yushih Liao 廖雨詩
A simple orange ribbon has become one of Taiwan’s most unexpected political fashion statements. Supporters of Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Legislator and Taipei mayoral candidate Puma Shen (沈伯洋) have transformed “The Taipei Current” campaign ribbons into roses, stars, accessories and imaginative designs. What began as a campaign symbol has taken on a creative life of its own in Shen’s “Ocean Wave” (洋流).
Who knew an election campaign could inspire a fashion movement?
The phenomenon is more interesting than a passing campaign trend. Citizens are not merely consuming political messages; they are producing and reshaping them. In communication theory, this reflects participatory culture, in which audiences become creators rather than passive recipients.
Taiwan’s politicians are also showing their less conventional sides. Shen plays the clarinet, while the DPP’s New Taipei City mayoral candidate, Su Chiao-hui (蘇巧慧), has demonstrated her piano skills. These performances say little about administrative competence, but they narrow the symbolic distance between politicians and members of the public.
Imagine China’s top leaders inviting similar public playfulness — including jokes at their own expense.
The contrast reveals an important distinction between democratic and authoritarian political aesthetics.
Beijing has devoted considerable resources to cultivating emotional identification with China among Taiwanese audiences. Its cross-strait cultural initiatives increasingly employ documentaries, animation, artificial intelligence-generated films and exhibitions to portray family reunions, shared ancestry and historical belonging.
That approach can be understood as the aestheticization of peace: translating political objectives into visually attractive and emotionally reassuring narratives.
Three mechanisms are particularly revealing. Emotional domestication transforms political separation into stories of family longing. Aesthetic normalization presents closer cross-strait relations through appealing images of everyday life. Cultural depoliticization embeds political messages within apparently nonpolitical artistic and cultural experiences.
Productions such as the documentary Letters Across the Strait (兩岸家書) and the animated short The Reunion Journey (團圓令) illustrate these approaches. Despite their different artistic forms, their institutional presentation repeatedly returns to familiar themes of separation, shared identity and reunion.
The problem is not the authenticity of emotions or the creativity of Chinese artists. It is the predetermined political framework surrounding these narratives. When the preferred conclusion is established before the story begins, even sophisticated imagery risks becoming predictable.
However, cultural appreciation should not be confused with political consent. Taiwanese audiences can enjoy Chinese artistic traditions without accepting Beijing’s political claims.
The limits of this approach become particularly apparent when humor challenges political authority.
Taiwanese comedian Huang Yi-hao (黃逸豪), known for satirizing Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平), was last month injured in a vehicle collision. Taiwanese prosecutors have indicted five suspects, alleging that a China-based suspect financed a staged collision to prevent his performance.
The case highlights the tension between cultural attraction and political intimidation. Soft power depends on credibility and voluntary identification; coercion can undermine both.
An authoritarian political system restricting independent expression faces a structural dilemma: It seeks the emotional appeal of cultural creativity while limiting the freedom from which much of that appeal emerges.
Taiwan’s democracy is noisy, polarized and far from perfect. Nor does a fashionable ribbon make a good mayor. Yet its political culture allows Taiwanese to improvise, parody, disagree and transform public symbols in ways that no campaign headquarters can fully control.
That is a form of democratic soft power rarely captured by official publicity campaigns.
The beauty of The Taipei Current is not that everyone follows the same direction. It is that, in Taiwan, everyone is free to make their own waves.
Bonnie Yushih Liao is an assistant professor in Tamkang University’s Department of Diplomacy and International Relations.