Chang, P. (2016). Wartime interpreting during the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662). Linguistica
Antverpiensia, New Series: Themes in Translation Studies, 15, 51–71.
Wartime interpreting during the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
Pin-ling Chang
Chung Yuan Christian University, Taiwan
pinling.chang@cycu.edu.tw
While wartime interpreting has become a research focus in very recent
years, little research has explored on-the-battleground interpreting for
warring sides in pre-modern times. By examining the Dutch East India
Company (VOC) archival resources and other relevant historical
documents, this study discusses interpreting practices during the SinoDutch War (1661–1662) in seventeenth-century colonial Taiwan, with a
focus on interpreters’ backgrounds, functions and status, issues of loyalty
and trust, and interpreters and translation as a tool of manipulation and
power struggles. The overview of the interpreters and the interpreting
practices in pre-modern wartime viewed against our present experience
shows both differences and similarities in wartime interpreting between
the past and the present; it also indicates that although the importance of
interpreters has been increasingly recognized, they have remained a
symbol of both relief and distrust since ancient times.
1. Introduction
Wartime interpreting has become one focus of attention in translation
studies in recent years (e.g., Baker, 2010; Dragovic-Drouet, 2007;
Inghilleri, 2009; Palmer, 2007; Rafael, 2010; Stahuljak, 2010a, 2010b)
largely because of the occurrence of some large-scale, protracted
international or inter-ethnic conflicts in modern times and therefore the
availability of adequate and varied types of data, such as media reports,
war archives in written and/or audiovisual form, interviews with the
parties concerned and memoirs or books. In contrast, even though the
earliest proof of the use of military interpreters can be traced back to the
third millennium BC around ancient Egypt (Kurz, 1985), the records of
interpreting practice in the conflicts that took place in pre-modern times
are relatively meagre, fragmented, peripheral or indirect (e.g., Alonso
Araguás & Baigorri Jalón, 2004; Wong, 2007), while in some other cases,
even fictional plots are used as the fundamental material for research
discussion (e.g., Beebee, 2010; Cronin, 2006, Chapter 3; Maier, 2007).
This may be caused by the vicissitudes of war, the evanescent nature of
spoken words (Bowen, Bowen, Kaufmann, & Kurz, 1995, p. 245) and/or
the trivialization of or contempt for interpreters (e.g., Li, 2002, pp. 1–5;
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Roditi, 1982, p. 6). Yet, even nowadays with the advancement of
technologies and the elevated status or visibility of interpreters, only very
few previous studies provide direct observation or experience of wartime
interpreting practice, and they mainly concern interpreting for the media
or in asylum, court and refugee contexts (Dragovic-Drouet, 2007;
Jacquemet, 2010; Stahuljak, 2010a).
To compensate for not only the scarcity of wartime interpreting
data in pre-modern times but also the dearth of research into on-thebattleground interpreting practice for warring sides, this present study
investigates the interpreting practice during the Sino-Dutch War in
seventeenth-century colonial Taiwan. This protracted multi-ethnic war
between Europeans and Chinese, which broke out on 30 April 1661 and
ended in February of 1662, involved not only fierce battles but also many
interpreter-mediated negotiations through letters and meetings, most of
which were carefully documented in the archives of the Dutch East India
Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, VOC). 1 The most
detailed documents concerning the Sino-Dutch War include, among
others, Dagregisters van het kasteel Zeelandia (the day-to-day official
reports of Fort Zeelandia, the headquarters of the Dutch Taiwan
administration), the journal of ad hoc Dutch interpreter Philip Meij,2 and
the memoir of last Dutch Taiwan governor Frederic Coyett. In contrast,
the Chinese side left only very limited and indirect records relating to
interpreting and interpreters during this war. Yet, taken in their totality,
the already uncovered historical records of this war finally allow for a
detailed discussion and analysis of pre-modern wartime interpreting,
particularly in terms of the interpreters’ backgrounds, functions, and
status, issues of loyalty and trust, and the use of interpreters and
translation as a tool of manipulation and power struggles. In addition, by
examining and understanding pre-modern wartime interpreting practice
against our present experience, it shall be made clear whether any
differences lie between the past and the present and, if so, what they
might be. This comparison may in turn shed light on the position of
interpreters in conflict situations of all times.
2. The Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
Prior to the Sino-Dutch War, there had been frequent contact and
conflicts over the trade between Taiwan and China (e.g., Chiang,
1999/1986, pp. 10–14). At the time, the southeast coastal area of China
was controlled by Koxinga (1624–1662), who was also known as Cheng
Cheng-kung, a loyalist of Ming China (the Ming dynasty of imperial
China, 1368–1644). After the Manchurians established Qing China (the
last dynasty of imperial China) in the Chinese mainland in 1644, Koxinga
waged war against Qing China in a vain attempt to restore Ming China.
Having suffered heavy defeats in battles against Qing China, Koxinga
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
53
decided to retreat to Taiwan on the advice of Chinese interpreter Pinqua,
who defected from the Dutch Taiwan colonial administration and
suggested making Taiwan a stronghold for Koxinga to contend against
Qing China (Jiang, 1958/1704, pp. 190–191; see also Section 4.1). On
30 April 1661, Koxinga started his attack on Taiwan. Within one week of
the war, he took complete control of Fort Provintia, one of the two main
Dutch fortresses where the Dutch Taiwan colonial administration was
based, but his final victory did not come until he seized the other fortress,
Fort Zeelandia, on 1 February 1662. The protracted war caused both
warring sides heavy losses and pain. The long siege of Fort Zeelandia
brought the Dutch both distress and hope: on the one hand, due to enemy
shelling and a lack of resources, those inside the fort suffered
deteriorating health conditions, both physically and psychologically. On
the other hand, they pinned their hopes on the arrival of reinforcements
from Batavia (known as today’s Jakarta, where the VOC’s Asian
headquarters were based) to turn the war. The Chinese side was suffering,
too: more and more Chinese soldiers were dying from hunger or failure to
acclimatize, with some native communities rising against Koxinga (see
also Andrade, 2008 for the detail of the Sino-Dutch War). The weakening
of the Chinese army and the stubborn resistance from Fort Zeelandia
caused Koxinga to resort to negotiation instead of force, which is why
interpreters played an important role during the war. Note that the
wartime interpreting practices discussed in this study are limited to those
taking place on the battlefield in and around the two aforementioned
Dutch fortresses.
3. Interpreting activity in Dutch Taiwan
To better understand why interpreters played an important role in the
Sino-Dutch War, an overview of the interpreting activity in Dutch Taiwan
is required. Prior to the Dutch arrival in the 1620s, Taiwan had been terra
nullius (no man’s land) lying off the southeast coast of imperial China,
mainly inhabited by mutually exclusive and incomprehensible Formosan3
tribes and some Chinese settlers; it was frequently visited by peoples
from neighbouring countries, such as Japan. To conquer and colonize this
ethnically and linguistically diverse island, 4 the VOC resorted to force
and enlisted the help of interpreters, which was a regular pattern of
European colonization at the time (Bastin, 2009, p. 489; Lefevere et al.,
1995, pp. 148–149). In some other European colonies, such as those in
Latin America, the first generation of interpreters were mostly captive
natives taught to speak Spanish, with a few Spaniards who had lived there
since early expeditions having become interpreters either voluntarily or
involuntarily (Bastin, 2009, pp. 486–487). In contrast, from the beginning
of the Dutch conquest of Taiwan, some Chinese who had settled on the
island and could speak some Formosan languages (Blusse, Everts, &
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Frech, 1999, p. 1, p. 21) were hired either by the Dutch or by Formosan
communities to facilitate negotiations5 (Campbell, 1903, p. 127), with a
very few captive foreigners, such as a Macanese named Salvador Díaz,
being forced to provide interpreting services for the first couple of years
(Borao Mateo, 2009, p. 18, p. 44). The heteronomous system of
interpreting6 was increasingly used in Dutch Taiwan as more and more
Formosans were taught to speak the Dutch language in the schools built
for evangelization purposes (Campbell, 1903, p. 153, p. 242; Chiang,
2003/1996, p. 449). Meanwhile, the autonomous system of interpreting
was also widely used during the Dutch colonization of Taiwan. A few
European interpreters were called to Taiwan, such as François Caron
(1600–1673), who was a French Huguenot refugee turned Japanese
interpreter and who later became one of the Dutch Taiwan governors
(Cheng, 2000, pp. xxix–xxx), while many more Europeans dispatched to
Taiwan by the VOC were requested or encouraged to learn local
languages for administrative, missionary or military purposes (Campbell,
1903, pp. 201–206; Chiang, 2003/1996, pp. 260–261). Some of them
were promoted to the status of professional interpreters (e.g., Chiu, 2008,
p. 121, p. 268), whereas others provided interpreting services on an ad
hoc basis (e.g., Campbell, 1903, p. 203; Chiang, 2003/1996, p. 337).
Both European and local interpreters played an indispensable role
in the Dutch conquest, evangelization and management of Taiwan, just as
their counterparts in European colonies in Latin America had done
(Lefevere et al., 1995, pp. 148–149). Ad hoc interpreters often held
regular jobs as clergymen, schoolmasters, soldiers or tribal chiefs (e.g.,
Campbell, 1903, pp. 540–541; Chiang, 2002/1995, p. 248, p. 252, p. 265),
while official interpreters might serve as messengers, envoys or deputies
(e.g., Campbell, 1903, p. 169; Chiang, 1999/1986, pp. 416–421) or be
appointed as local officials or headmen of Chinese or Formosan
communities in charge of tax, trade, or labour affairs (e.g., Blusse, Everts,
Milde, & Ts’ao, 2000, p. 231; Borao Mateo, 2009, p. 168 ; Chiu, 2008, p.
167). Generally, interpreters under Dutch rule enjoyed high status and
authority, yet civil resentment or revolt against corrupt or bullying
interpreters, whether European or local, was not uncommon (e.g., Blusse
& Everts, 2006, p. 192; Blusse & Everts, 2010, p. 24; Chiang, 2003/1996,
pp. 284–287). What is particularly worth mentioning is that the resistance
of local interpreters to the Dutch authorities was not as passive or
powerless as what appeared to be the case in some other European
colonies, where native interpreters had little choice but to serve as an
instrument for colonizing their own people due to unequal power
relationships between the colonizer and the colonized (Lefevere et al.,
1995, p. 148). Instead, it is often found that the Dutch authorities made
concessions or showed leniency to the resistance from local interpreters.
In one case, when two Formosan interpreters, Waddij and Balou, stated
that they would rather die than accompany the Dutch military to a gold
mine site, the Dutch did nothing but let them leave peacefully for fear that
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
55
displeased local interpreters might stop working for them or even
instigate civil disturbance (Chiang, 2002/1995, pp. 123–124). In another
case, ad hoc Chinese interpreter Hensay was only fined and exiled for
being one of the rebel leaders in the Guo Huaiyi Rebellion in 1652,
whereas thousands of Chinese farmers rose in revolt to meet their death
during that 12-day rebellion (Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 173–174; Chiang,
2003/1996, pp. 285–286). It seems that the use of interpreters had become
a necessary evil for the Dutch to colonize Taiwan, yet it was also because
of the Dutch reliance on interpreters that Taiwan was lost to Koxinga (see
also Section 4.1).
4. Interpreting activity during the Sino-Dutch War
The multi-ethnic nature and the long duration of the Sino-Dutch War
made interpreters indispensable in bilateral negotiations. The evanescence
of spoken words and the vicissitudes of war might have left the later
generations only a glimpse of interpreting practices during the war, yet
the VOC archival resources have allowed for a clear picture to be formed
of such wartime interpreting activity. In the following sections, the
discussion and analysis of the interpreting activity during the Sino-Dutch
War will focus on the makeup, function and status of interpreters, issues
of loyalty and trust, and interpreters and translation as a tool of
manipulation and power struggles.
4.1. Interpreters and interpreting practice
Both professional and ad hoc interpreters from diverse ethnic and social
backgrounds were involved in the Sino-Dutch War. As mentioned in
section 3, the great ethnic and linguistic diversity of Taiwan prompted the
VOC to enlist the help of interpreters with the colonization of Taiwan for
administrative, missionary or military purposes (see also Chang, 2014, pp.
137–142). When the Sino-Dutch War broke out, some professional
interpreters who were on or near the battlefield continued to provide
interpreting services for either warring side; these included Chinese
interpreters Ouhinko, Maiko, Tjoncko, Pinqua, and Maurits (Blusse et al.,
2000, p. 357, p. 360, pp. 397–398; Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r16–18). Yet,
due to the large scale and long length of the war, many more ad hoc
interpreters were involved in the war, such as VOC assistant Willem
Pedel, son of a Dutch military commander (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 362),
and VOC secretary Paulus Ossewayer (Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 400–401;
Meij, 2003/1662, p. r37), with some other unnamed slaves, messengers or
soldiers making a cameo appearance (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 441; Meij,
2003/1662, p. r4, p. r57). Yet others were captured and forced to work for
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Pin-ling Chang
the opposing side, such as VOC land surveyor Philip Meij (Meij,
2003/1662).
Of all the interpreters involved in the war, Chinese interpreter
Pinqua, also known as He Bin in Chinese, might have been the most
active and high-profile. Originally a VOC company interpreter and
wealthy Chinese headman, Pinqua had been heavily relied on by the
Dutch authorities, particularly in terms of negotiation with Koxinga over
the trade between China and Taiwan. In the 1650s, Koxinga, who
controlled the southeast coastal area of China, imposed a trade embargo
on Taiwan in retaliation for the VOC’s interference in his trade with the
other Asian countries. Pinqua went to China, on behalf of the VOC,
successfully persuaded Koxinga to reopen the trade with Taiwan (Blusse
et al., 2000, pp. 157–163, pp. 199–201). Pleased with Pinqua’s
negotiation performance, the Dutch were oblivious to his collusion with
Koxinga that later caused the VOC heavy financial losses (Campbell,
1903, p. 390). When the exposure of his unjust tax collection cost him his
posts and fortune and prevented him from living luxuriously, Pinqua fled
to China and instigated Koxinga to take over Taiwan as a stronghold
where Koxinga and his Ming China army could build up their strength
and contend against Qing China (Andrade, 2011, pp. 100–107; Jiang,
1958/1704, pp. 190–191). During the Sino-Dutch War, in addition to
interpreting Koxinga’s meeting with Dutch representatives (Meij,
2003/1662, pp. r16–18), Pinqua also served as Koxinga’s envoy to call
for the surrender of Fort Zeelandia (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 377) or even
‘spontaneously’ acted as Koxinga’s agent to manipulate Dutch captives
(e.g., Andrade, 2011, p. 138; Blusse et al., 2000, p. 358, pp. 521–522) and
to induce Dutch personnel to defect to the Chinese side (Blusse et al.,
2000, p. 379). That wartime interpreters engage in tasks irrelevant to
interpreting or translation still remains common in modern times. For
instance, the Japanese-American interpreters hired and trained by the U.S.
military during the Second World War were assigned the tasks of
interrogating Japanese war captives, persuading Japanese to surrender,
and helping with propaganda activities (Takeda, 2009, p. 52). In another
case, local interpreters hired by Western media in Iraq during the U.S.-led
coalition force invasion of Iraq in 2003 were expected to perform various
duties, such as selecting local interviewees and making security
assessments (Palmer, 2007, p. 19).
During the Sino-Dutch War, Dutch land surveyor Philip Meij
might have been the most prominent ad hoc interpreter. He had lived in
Taiwan for 19 years and was 40 years old when Koxinga attacked the fort
and town of Provintia (Chiang, 2003/1662, p. 19). Within one week of the
war, Meij went to Koxinga’s camp on behalf of the Dutch side to
negotiate the terms of Fort Provintia’s surrender (Meij, 2003/1662, pp.
r16–19). All the Dutch captives at Fort Provintia were then displaced,
except for the landdrost (sheriff) and some specialists, including Meij,
who were ordered to stay at Koxinga’s service (Meij, 2003/1662, p. r31).
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
57
In addition to carrying out land surveying (Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r32–33),
Meij was frequently summoned by Koxinga to translate or interpret
official letters from or into the Dutch language (Meij, 2003/1662, p. r50,
p. r53, p. r57, p. r62) or to travel between both warring sides for
negotiation over the final surrender terms (Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r61–62).
While a lack of interpreters during initial inter- or multi-ethnic
encounters in colonial contexts often resulted in locals being captured and
trained to speak the colonizer’s language (e.g., Bastin, 2009, pp. 486–487;
Bowen et al., 1995, pp. 258–259), Koxinga’s use of captives as
interpreters during the Sino-Dutch War was not for the same reason.
There was no lack of Chinese or Formosan interpreters at Koxinga’s
camp as many of them had defected to the Chinese side prior to or at the
beginning of the war (e.g., Andrade, 2011, pp. 100–107; Blusse et al.,
2000, p. 374; Meij, 2003/1662, p. r21).
It is very likely that Dutch land surveyor Philip Meij was thrust
into the role of the interpreter because of his high status on the Dutch side,
which might have been influential in shaking the Dutch military’s
confidence and ending the war earlier. More specifically, near the end of
the war, in one letter to the Dutch military personnel that appealed to their
good sense for surrender, Koxinga specified that the letter was written in
Dutch by “Philip” (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 654). It is likely that Koxinga
might have thought that specifying Meij as the translator of the letter
could help increase the authority and authenticity of the letter and/or that
using the first name of Meij showed a sign of friendliness between Meij
and himself, which might soften the Dutch resistance against him.
How interpreters or translators are selected or deployed has been
much discussed in modern wartime interpreting studies. In a study of the
role of interpreters in the international peace operations in BosniaHerzegovina, the British military language trainer Gregory Cook
expresses the view that the concern over the ‘baggage’ carried by local
interpreters may influence their use. That ‘baggage’ may contain their
values, contacts or hidden motives associated with personal conflicts,
family matters, and so on in the complex multi-ethnic and historical
context, and such baggage may undermine the neutrality of interpreters
and possibly the progress of military operations (Kelly & Baker, 2013, pp.
144–145).
However, in another study of local interpreters or translators
working for Western media in Iraq since the U.S.-led coalition force
invasion of Iraq in 2003, the ‘baggage’, or the pasts of interpreters, is
viewed by French journalists as “a useful way of opening doors in Iraqi
society” (Palmer, 2007, p. 18). As indicated, whether an interpreter’s
‘baggage’ is considered negative or positive during wartime may be
associated with the nature of war and the purpose of interpreting tasks. In
the case of Dutch captive-interpreter Philip Meij, his close bond with the
Dutch authorities and his language ability prompted Koxinga to rely on
him in bilateral negotiations, but it was also for the same reasons that
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Pin-ling Chang
Koxinga remained mistrustful of his renditions. On the other hand, for
Meij himself, his ‘baggage’ was both the source of agony and the key to
survival. Thus, arguably, interpreters’ baggage might be both
advantageous and disadvantageous to the warring sides and to interpreters
themselves in pre-modern warfare.
4.2. Status of interpreters
While researchers may investigate the status of interpreters in ancient
times by resorting to the iconography of interpreters and their monarchs
(e.g., Alonso Araguás & Baigorri Jalón, 2004), the detailed VOC archival
resources provide more direct and definite evidence of the status of
interpreters in the seventeenth century. Generally, during the Sino-Dutch
War, interpreters on the Dutch side enjoyed higher status than their
counterparts on the Chinese side, whereas European interpreters tended to
receive better treatment than their non-European counterparts when both
worked for the Chinese side.
First of all, it is found that interpreters’ opinions about the war
developments were often sought or respected on the Dutch side. For
instance, ad hoc Dutch interpreter Meij’s proposal for the early surrender
of Fort Provintia in order to avoid unnecessary casualties was
immediately approved of by the Dutch authorities (Meij, 2003/1662, pp.
r11–12). Moreover, the Dutch tended to refrain from mistreating their
interpreters. For example, to prevent ad hoc Dutch interpreter Paulus
Ossewayer from spreading the news of Koxinga’s kindness towards
Dutch captives (immediately after the surrender of Fort Provintia), the
Dutch authorities at Fort Zeelandia gave him only a verbal warning and
kept him in a room for a few hours (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 374). A second
example is that of the Dutch authorities threatening Chinese interpreter
Kejangh with serious punishment if he gave an unfaithful rendition of a
Chinese captive’s confession. When Kejangh failed to properly
understand the captive’s northern Chinese dialect, he did not receive any
punishment as threatened (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 396).
In
contrast,
non-European interpreters on the Chinese side often suffered worse
treatment than their counterparts on either side. For instance, when Dutch
interpreter Paulus Ossewayer and Chinese interpreters Tjoncko and
Ouhinko went together to deliver a letter to Fort Zeelandia by order of
Koxinga, Ossewayer was on horseback while the two Chinese interpreters
were on foot (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 397). Yet another instance is that,
although Chinese interpreter Pinqua played a significant role in
facilitating Koxinga’s attack on Taiwan, he was held in low esteem on the
Chinese side. More precisely, Pinqua was widely blamed for deceiving
Koxinga into believing it would be easy to seize Taiwan (Meij,
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
59
2003/1662, p. r39) and was even kept in captivity by Koxinga for some
time during the war as punishment (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 509, p. 530).
Why Pinqua ended up being despised by his Chinese compatriots
might be partly because he had been notorious for his craftiness and
corruption as a VOC company interpreter (Andrade, 2007, pp. 10–17) and
partly because his change of allegiance was motivated by self-interest
rather than by patriotism7 (Andrade, 2007, pp. 22–23; Chang, 2014, pp.
145–148). Furthermore, all the Chinese interpreters who defected to the
Chinese side, such as Pinqua, had served the VOC and lived comfortably
in Taiwan for years. They were therefore heteronomous to Koxinga. As
the use of the heteronomous strategy often comes with “the fear of being
misled either by the native interpreter or by the non-native interpreter
going native” (Cronin, 2002, p. 392), it is unsurprising that Pinqua as a
crafty heteronomous interpreter was no more trustworthy than his
European counterparts to Koxinga.
In contrast with Chinese interpreter Pinqua, ad hoc Dutch
interpreter Meij was held in high esteem by both sides. The Dutch side
had a high opinion of Meij as he did not defect to Koxinga or take
advantage of his interpreter’s position out of self-interest. Instead, Meij
tried to bargain for more food or more reasonable treatment for Dutch
captives (e.g., Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r34–35, pp. r40–41) and risked his
life providing intelligence for the Dutch side (Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r39–
40, p. r59). Meanwhile, although Koxinga remained suspicious of Meij’s
rendition, he still relied most on Meij for bilateral negotiations during the
war (e.g., Meij, 2003/1662, p. r57, pp. r61–62) and consulted him about
the situation of the Netherlands and the VOC’s trade affairs (Meij,
2003/1662, pp. r55–57). Koxinga’s trust in Meij was most obvious when
he believed Meij dared not betray him and thus rejected a German
defector’s proposal to put Meij to death (Meij, 2003/1662, p. r49). Meij
also won support from the other Chinese officials. For example, at the
end of the war, when Meij was made an envoy for bilateral negotiations
over the terms of the Dutch surrender and found himself faced with
extremely furious Koxinga, two high-ranking Chinese officials stood by
Meij and helped ease the tension (Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r61–62).
Based on the above discussion, it seems that when wartime
interpreters were heteronomous, they might be more likely to be
recognized or trusted for their character traits than for their language
ability. However, a review of the attitude of the VOC and of Koxinga
towards interpreting and interpreters prior to the Sino-Dutch War may
help better explain why interpreters during the war tended to receive less
respect and worse treatment from the Chinese than from the Dutch. As
mentioned in section 3, the Dutch authorities had been keenly aware of
the importance of competent interpreters so they financially and/or
politically rewarded interpreters for helping manage Taiwan and showed
tolerance and leniency towards the inadequacies, disobedience or
wrongdoing of interpreters (Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 173–174; Campbell,
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Pin-ling Chang
1903, p. 41; Chiang, 2002/1995, pp. 123–124; Chiang, 2003/1996, pp.
285–286). It is then unsurprising that the Dutch continued their positive
attitude towards interpreters during wartime. Also, during the war, the
Dutch Taiwan colonial administration remained under siege for months
with insufficient manpower and resources; they could hardly afford to
lose any interpreter, professional or ad hoc.
In contrast, since ancient times interpreters had been generally
belittled and disrespected in Chinese society (Li, 2002, pp. 1–5) as the
ethnocentric Han Chinese people (the main ethnic group of ancient China)
considered themselves to be better than Others and disdained the
languages and cultures of those they considered inferior to them, which
caused only a few Han Chinese people to be bilingual translators in
ancient times (Hung, 2005). Even until the late Qing China period
(around the latter half of the nineteenth century), the imperial language or
translation schools mainly attracted low-quality students, who came only
for official subsidies (Hsü, 1995, p. 271), while translation was still seen
as “a means to know the strengths of the barbarians to control the
barbarians”, with translators and interpreters often labelled as traitors or
evil-doers due to their connection with foreigners (Wong, 2007, p. 42, p.
54).
It is clear that the deep-seated Chinese sense of cultural superiority
had translated into both a lack of competent Chinese interpreters and the
low status of interpreters, which explains why the Chinese side during the
Sino-Dutch War could hardly find autonomous interpreters and why
interpreters were held in low esteem on the Chinese side.
4.3. Issues of loyalty and trust
The issue of interpreters’ loyalty was rather complicated during the SinoDutch War due to the complex makeup of interpreters and the
developments of war. While wars are widely considered to be of
ethnocentric nature (e.g., Bartov, 1992), the Sino-Dutch War featured
ethnic mixing and cultural hybridity. The forces of the Dutch side were
mainly made up of European mercenaries, and their interpreters were
from European, Chinese or Formosan backgrounds. Whereas Koxinga led
an army made up of Chinese soldiers, his interpreters were all
heteronomous from the same diverse ethnic backgrounds as those on the
Dutch side.
The social solidarity of Dutch Taiwan was actually built and
maintained by means of force, religion or reward, with multiple
cohabiting ethnicities remaining autonomous and separate. More
specifically, mutually exclusive Formosan tribes had no concept of
nationhood (Campbell, 1903, pp. 89–90). Even after they were subjected
to Dutch rule due to military suppression (e.g., Chiang, 1999/1986, pp.
232–247) and/or evangelization (Campbell, 1903, p. 182), they each still
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
61
remained autonomous with their own tribal identity and language.
Meanwhile, most Chinese settlers moved to Taiwan under Dutch rule
mainly to escape the political and economic turmoil caused by the
Manchu conquest of the Chinese mainland and to pursue a better life
promised by the Dutch that needed Chinese recruits to deal with
communication with Formosans and/or to help with agriculture and trade
in Taiwan (Shepherd, 1993, pp. 83–90). Those Chinese were not
nationalist-minded but practical and adaptable.
The Dutch Taiwan colony in the Sino-Dutch War was actually
similar to the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s, where “in moments of
crisis and state reconfiguration, the concept of hybrid identity readily
[broke] down into its constituent identities” (Ballinger, 2004, p. 48).
Therefore, when the odds were in favour of the Chinese side in the war, it
is not surprising to see the Dutch Taiwan society breaking down easily
and its multi-ethnic people switching allegiances. Not only did Chinese
and Formosan interpreters change sides (Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 373–374,
pp. 397–399, pp. 449–451; Meij, 2003/1662, p. r21); some European
soldiers and slaves also defected to the Chinese side and performed ad
hoc interpreting tasks. For instance, a black slave was sent to demand in
Portuguese that a short note from Fort Zeelandia be translated into
Chinese (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 441). On another occasion, the defectors
were gathered by order of Koxinga to confirm the appropriateness of ad
hoc Dutch interpreter Meij’s translation into the Dutch language (Meij,
2003/1662, p. r57).
However, some Dutch interpreters still remained loyal to the
VOC during the war. For instance, while Koxinga attempted to bribe and
threaten Dutch assistant-interpreter Willem Pedel to help facilitate the
Dutch surrender, Pedel stood firm and remained with his Dutch superiors
(Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 363–364). Another instance involved Dutch
secretary-interpreter Paulus Ossewayer, who refused to be recruited by
Chinese interpreter Pinqua, continued his job for his Dutch superiors until
beheaded by Koxinga several months before the end of the war (Blusse et
al., 2000, p. 677). Some other Chinese and Formosan interpreters also
remained with the VOC. For example, Chinese interpreter Maurits
refused to take bribes from Koxinga, who asked Maurits to urge his
Dutch superiors to surrender Fort Provintia (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 360, p.
489). Hence, while the ethnicity and nationality of modern wartime
interpreters may help determine whether or how much they may be
trusted (e.g., Kelly & Baker, 2013; Takeda, 2009), this principle is not
applicable to the case of the Sino-Dutch War.
Issues of divided loyalties remain the main concern of the warring
sides involved nowadays. In inter-ethnic conflicts, such as those between
Americans and Iraqis during the U.S.-led coalition force invasion of Iraq
in 2003, Iraqi interpreters hired by Americans are seen as either “faithful
to their task by being unfaithful to their origins” or vice versa, which
causes them to be doubted by both warring sides (Rafael, 2010, p. 388).
62
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However, in the Sino-Dutch War, ad hoc Dutch interpreter Philip Meij
was loyal to his origin and his interpreting tasks but disloyal to his client
(Koxinga). Meij was found to have adequately fulfilled the interpreting
and translation tasks assigned by his captor Koxinga (e.g., Meij,
2003/1662, p. r55). There was even one clear piece of evidence that
confirms the faithfulness of his rendition.
Specifically, when both warring sides started to negotiate the
surrender terms at the end of the war, Koxinga was inappropriately
addressed in one Dutch letter delivered by two Dutch representatives.
Meij was requested by Koxinga to interpret the letter into Chinese and
then translate Koxinga’s reply into Dutch. It was clearly stated in
Koxinga’s reply that his inappropriate title in the Dutch letter was why he
had refused to give the Dutch representatives an audience (Meij,
2003/1662, pp. r53–55). Meij might have known the inappropriate title
would anger Koxinga, whom he described in his journal as irritable and
tyrannical (Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r27–30), but he interpreted the letter as it
was. In the meantime, Meij had been always psychologically loyal to the
Dutch side. For instance, when the VOC succor-fleet arrived off the shore
of Taiwan around mid August of 1661 (Coyett, 1975/1675, pp. 72–73),
Meij readied himself for the ultimate fight against Koxinga by gathering
whatever weapons he could obtain and by secretly sending a drummer to
provide military intelligence for the Dutch authorities (Meij, 2003/1662,
pp. r39–40). In Meij’s case, he never pledged allegiance to Koxinga but
simply exchanged his interpreting services for his survival. Arguably,
such cases of divided loyalities may be rarely seen nowadays, when
interpreters are generally hired on a voluntary basis.
Meanwhile, it is also found during the Sino-Dutch War that the
interpreters who worked for Koxinga on a voluntary basis might not
maintain the same degree of loyalty all the time. Some might show
sympathy for Dutch captives (e.g., Meij, 2003/1662, p. r45) or provide
intelligence on impulse for the Dutch authorities even though they had no
intention of switching their allegiance back to the Dutch side (e.g., Blusse
et al., 2000, pp. 373–374). In one case, Chinese interpreter Maiko tipped
off ad hoc Dutch interpreter Meij that he should avoid danger by keeping
a low profile as Koxinga meant to have all the Dutch captives killed
(Meij, 2003/1662, p. r45). In another riskier case, when a Belgian
defector reported to Koxinga that Meij had provided intelligence for Fort
Zeelandia, the defector’s words were unfaithfully rendered by an
unnamed Chinese interpreter, who later even deterred the defector and his
companion with death threats from mentioning Meij again and also
advised Meij to remain cautious (Meij, 2003/1662, pp. r47-48). These
examples indeed echo Cronin’s (2006) viewpoint that “[f]or interpreters
in situations of conflict, ... fidelity is a relative rather than an absolute
notion” (p. 86).
Also noteworthy is that both warring sides adopted some measures
to limit the impact of disloyalty and to ensure the faithfulness of
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
63
renditions. Threatening interpreters with severe punishment was one
common way. For example, Chinese tenant and interpreter Kejangh in the
VOC’s service was summoned by the Dutch and threatened with severe
punishment if he failed to interpret faithfully the confession of a Chinese
captive (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 396). On some other occasions, both sides
had their own interpreters join negotiations instead of relying on those
provided by the opposing side, and such joint interpreting should have
prevented unfaithful rendition (Andrade, 2011, pp. 143–145; Blusse et al.,
2000, pp. 362–364).
Meanwhile, interpreting and translation rendition might be subject
to censorship. On the Chinese side, translations might be completed
jointly by two translators of different ethnic backgrounds or verified by
some others who knew both Chinese and Dutch. For example, when a
letter from last Dutch Taiwan governor Frederic Coyett to Dutch
politician-interpreter Hendrick Noorden was intercepted and sent to
Koxinga in late July of 1661, ad hoc Dutch interpreter Meij and another
unnamed interpreter were made by order of Koxinga to jointly translate
the letter into Chinese (Meij, 2003/1662, p. r50). Moreover, before Meij
left Taiwan with the other Dutch captives in early February of 1662, he
was ordered by Koxinga to translate collaboratively with Chinese
interpreter Pinqua the inventory of what was stored in the Dutch
warehouses (Meij, 2003/1662, p. r62). Another example occurred a few
days before the Dutch surrender, when Meij was requested to place his
translation of two Chinese letters on the ground in front of Koxinga so
that all of those defecting to Koxinga could read the translation aloud in
unison and confirm its appropriateness ( Meij, 2003/1662, p. r57).
Checking out the rendition of distrustful interpreters has continued
to be applied in modern wartime in different ways. For instance, during
the Iraqi war in 2003, Western media journalists might paraphrase the
same questions several times to ensure the consistency of the obtained
information, check out the information with other sources, or consult
other journalists about the reputation of the interpreter concerned (Palmer,
2007, p. 21).
4.4. Interpreters/translation as a tool of manipulation and power
struggles
During this war, some interpreters might have taken advantage of their
position and manipulated others out of personal interest. For instance,
Chinese interpreter Pinqua fabricated a letter in the name of Koxinga,
demanding the immediate presence of his former Dutch superiors, who
reluctantly rushed to Koxinga’s tent, only to find there was no such order
(Meij, 2003/1662, p. r24). It is uncertain whether Pinqua meant to fool
these Dutchmen or did so by order of Koxinga; if the former was the case,
Pinqua had succeeded at least in increasing distrust between both sides
64
Pin-ling Chang
and in demonstrating his power over his former VOC superiors. In this
sense, translation is not an instrument in the service of imperial power but
“a kind of power productive of other modalities of empowerment that
comes with crossing and double-crossing differences, linguistic as well as
social” (Rafael, 2010, p. 387).
Meanwhile, interpreters were also found to be objects of
manipulation. For instance, ad hoc Dutch interpreter Willem Pedel and
two Dutch representatives together witnessed fully armed regiments
marching by, one after another, during their long wait for Koxinga to give
them an audience, but they later found some faces reappearing in
different regiments and sensed that the march was meant to frighten them
into believing how powerful the Chinese army was (Coyett, 1975/1675,
pp. 50–52). Similar tricks were played on ad hoc Dutch interpreter Philip
Meij during the war; he alone was shown how successfully Koxinga and
one Chinese officer shot arrows from a bow on a galloping horse (Meij,
2003/1662, p. r54). Just as Footitt and Kelly (2012) point out, “languages
[are] actually embedded within military strategy and operational
concerns” (p. 11). This has been true for centuries, because manipulating
Dutch interpreters was one of Koxinga’s military strategies in this war.
Moreover, interpreting and translation might be used for power
struggles between warring sides in pre-modern warfare. After the Dutch
lost the first major battle against Koxinga, they responded to Koxinga’s
previous written threats with a courteous letter in which they claimed the
delay of a proper reply had been due to a lack of adequate translators
(Blusse et al., 2000, p. 361), which should be only an excuse as this first
Dutch formal letter was followed by frequent correspondence between
both sides. Then, when the Dutch authorities found three unsealed
Chinese letters placed outside Fort Zeelandia in late June of 1661, they
responded with a very short note in Dutch stating that they refused to
accept letters with neither proper inscription nor Dutch translation. The
following day a Chinese official conceded by sending a long Dutch letter
imprinted with his own seal (Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 440–441). Even near
the end of the war, the Dutch authorities still adhered to this principle
when they informed Koxinga of their willingness to surrender by
specifying in a letter that Koxinga should have his reply written in Dutch
if he would like to start the negotiation over the Dutch surrender terms
(Blusse et al., 2000, pp. 651–652). The following day, Koxinga did reply
with two letters in Dutch written by ad hoc Dutch interpreter Meij (Blusse
et al., 2000, pp. 653–655). However, evidence shows that Koxinga did
not follow this principle after the Dutch surrendered. In a letter dated 11
February 1662 from the last Dutch Taiwan governor Frederic Coyett to a
member of the Board of Formosa, Coyett mentioned that he could not
reply to Koxinga’s letter before obtaining its Dutch translation from his
VOC clerk (Blusse et al., 2000, p. 682).
It seems that, conceding the final defeat, the Dutch were in no
position to demand Dutch translation from Koxinga. Also, the fact that
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
65
the Chinese side refused to provide translation in a foreign language
reflects the strong Chinese sense of cultural superiority, as discussed in
section 4.2. While to translate or not to translate had become an issue of
power struggles in pre-modern warfare, the impact of the use of
interpreters on the developments of international or inter-ethnic conflicts
is being increasingly acknowledged and studied nowadays. Not only is
the employment or training of autonomous interpreters highly preferred in
order to address loyalty issues (e.g., Takeda, 2009), but also the ability to
interpret intelligence and prevent mistranslation is becoming key to
winning a war (Apter, 2006, p. 22).
5. Concluding remarks
The multi-ethnic nature and the colonial context of the protracted SinoDutch War made interpreters indispensable during wartime. The role of
interpreters in the Sino-Dutch War did not change a great deal compared
to that in the Dutch colonial context prior to the war. During the Dutch
conquest and colonization of Taiwan, interpreters employed under either
heteronomous or autonomous systems were heavily relied on due to the
great diversity of ethnicities and languages on the island. In addition to
language mediation, they were assigned a wide range of tasks for
administrative, missionary or military purposes. Some of them were
promoted to professional interpreters or interpreter-officials, while others
provided interpreting services on an ad hoc basis. Interpreters under
Dutch rule generally enjoyed high status and authority. They might not
have been as passive or powerless as their counterparts in some other
European colonies. Specifically, they might have shown various degrees
of resistance, pushing the limit of tolerance and leniency of the Dutch
authorities. They served as an instrument at the service of the colonizer,
yet interpreting or translation might be turned into a form of power at
their own service. Despite their vulnerability to the power of the Dutch
colonizer, they remained autonomous and separate, retaining their own
languages and identities. Therefore, some of them could swiftly change
sides when Koxinga and his Chinese army invaded Taiwan, while war
captives might find themselves thrust into the role of the interpreter
owing to their backgrounds.
The overview of the interpreters and the interpreting practices
during the Sino-Dutch War in the seventeenth century set against our
present experience shows some differences in wartime interpreting
between the past and the present. In pre-modern times, when captives
were made ad hoc interpreters, their loyalties were divided – being loyal
to the tasks but disloyal to their captors. Also noteworthy is that although
the Sino-Dutch War is widely regarded as an inter-ethnic war between the
Chinese and the Dutch (e.g., Andrade, 2011), ethnicity did not become
the most important factor in determining whether or how much
66
Pin-ling Chang
interpreters might be trusted as usually happens in modern warfare. More
specifically, the interpreting practice in the Dutch colonial context, the
attitude of those in power towards interpreting, and the complex makeup
of interpreters on either warring side prevented the interpreters’ identities
from being “constructed and enforced by other actors” (Baker, 2010, p.
200) in the war and kept their images from being polarized on the basis of
ethnicity (e.g., Baker, 2010; Kelly & Baker, 2013; Rafael, 2010). These
interpreters might have had fluid identities and allegiances. Their
‘baggage’ or pasts might have been both advantageous and
disadvantageous to themselves and to their employers or captors. They
could be both manipulated and manipulative while turning interpreting
and translation into a form of power that helped them achieve their aims
or survive the struggle between those in power.
There are also similarities in wartime interpreting between the past
and the present. Since ancient times, interpreters have been indispensable
in inter- or multi-ethnic conflicts and generally vulnerable to the
dominant party. They have functioned variously and engaged in a range
of tasks irrelevant to interpreting or translation, such as interrogating war
captives and persuading enemies to surrender. Ad hoc interpreters have
been recruited under the heteronomous system of interpreting, especially
in large-scale and protracted wars. Interpreters’ language ability and
professionalism have not been the main concern of their employers; it is
the issues of loyalty and trust that have continued to trouble both
employers and interpreters. These similarities indicate that wartime
interpreting practices have not changed a great deal over time, and that
although the importance of interpreters has been increasingly recognized,
they have remained a symbol of both relief and distrust.
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_____________________________
1
The VOC empire used to require its colonies to send back documents and letters, which are
now well preserved in the Nationaal Archief of the Netherlands. In recent decades, the VOC
archival resources about seventeenth century colonial Taiwan have been gradually
uncovered, sorted, and translated from the Old Dutch language into Japanese, English,
Mandarin Chinese, etc. In the beginning, relevant publications in Mandarin Chinese were
indirectly translated from Japanese or English. Then, a few Taiwanese historians emerged
and acquired competence in translating from the Old Dutch into Mandarin Chinese. In this
paper, in the event of the unavailability of the VOC archival resources in the original Old
Dutch language, I turn to the literature translated directly from the Old Dutch originals or
produced by the researchers who directly used the original Old Dutch materials.
2
Interpreters’ presence during important cross-cultural encounters naturally makes them serve
the testimonial function (Cronin, 2006, p. 81). In this case, the journal of ac hoc Dutch
interpreter Philip Meij becomes a very important source of information on pre-modern
wartime interpreting practice. The journal has been translated into Mandarin Chinese by
eminent researcher Chiang Shu-sheng (Chiang, 2003/1662), with the Old Dutch source text
attached to the back of the translation, hence the page numbers of the Dutch original
beginning with the letter ‘r’ (meaning ‘rear’).
3
4
Taiwan island was named Formosa by Portuguese mariners in the early sixteenth century
(Mackay, 1895, p. 47), hence the native islanders named Formosans.
A least 25 Formosan languages were spoken on the island at the time (Adelaar, 2007, p. 19),
and they were not in written form until the Dutch taught Formosans to write in Latin
characters (e.g., Campbell, 1903, p. 147). Romanizing local spoken languages for
missionary purposes was very common in European colonies in Southeast Asia (Aveling &
Yamada, 2009, p. 531) and Africa (Bandia, 2009, pp. 314–315). Yet, throughout the Dutch
Taiwan colonial period, the Formosan languages were never banned but promoted through
education and evangelization, and the use of Romanization helped preserve some Formosan
cultures and languages (Campbell, 1903, p. 540). This was contrary to what Spanish
colonizers did in Latin America, where the native languages were neglected, thus causing
the loss of valuable translations and documents (Bastin, 2009, p. 488; Lefevere et al., 1995,
p. 149).
5
Before the Dutch arrived in Taiwan, they had had frequent encounters or conflicts with
Chinese, Japanese, Spaniards, and Portuguese in Asia (Chiang, 1999/1986, pp. 10–14).
Wartime interpreting in the Sino-Dutch War (1661–1662)
6
71
Autonomous and heteronomous systems of interpreting were commonly used in building a
colonial empire. The former is defined as “one where colonizers train their own subjects in
the language or languages of the colonized”, while the latter involves “the recruitment of
local interpreters and teaching them the imperial language” (Cronin, 2002, p. 393).
7
It is intriguing to find Pinqua’s role redefined more than once by his Chinese compatriots in
later times just as the case of Doña Marina, who was a native interpreter that facilitated the
Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire. Marina as an interpreter was not highly approved by
her local contemporaries according to the Florentine Codex by Franciscan friar Bernardino
de Sahagún (1499–1590) (Bowen et al., 1995, p. 261), portrayed as trecherous in postindependence Mexico (Mirandé & Enríquez, 1979, p. 24), and now seen as a positive role
model for cross-cultural exchange from feminist perspectives (Alarcón, 1989). In a similar
vein, Pinqua was described as a double-dealer with insatiable greed by his Chinese
contemporaries (Andrade, 2007, p. 14), a person who contributed greatly to the fight against
the Dutch by Chinese researchers nowadays (Chen, 2000, p. 101), and “a patriotic man” in a
history textbook for young Chinese readers (Lin & Cao, 2002, p. 1111). It seems that the
image of the interpreter may vary with socio-political and cultural contexts.