"I have seen the worst," Candide replied. "But a wise man, who since has had the misfortune to be hanged, taught me that all is marvelously well; these are but the shadows on a beautiful picture." – Voltaire, Candide
The “wise man” in question is Dr. Pangloss, the fictional philosopher who has had the greatest effect on the hero of the eponymous Candide. Armed with Pangloss’ assertion that “All is for the best in the best of all worlds”, the unfortunate young man, with his head held high, braves persecution by the Inquisition, earthquakes, slavery and more while seeing his friends touched by rape, murder, gambling, mutilation, syphilis, and, in the case of his beloved Dr. Pangloss, hanging. After all, how could any of these troubles really be bad if they happen in our world - the world our God has created for us?
Of course, the character of Pangloss is Voltaire’s creation - the ideal vessel for ridiculing the optimism of German philosopher Gottfried Leibniz (1646-1716). Leibniz believed that our universe was the best one that God could have created because God could not create a universe that is less than perfect. He IS the Supreme Being indeed!
We shouldn’t misinterpret Voltaire’s ridicule. The Frenchman is merely criticizing excessive optimism, not all optimism. However, this distinction raises an important question: Under what situations does one's optimism (or pessimism, or any other sentiment) become excessive? Since, depending on the situation, everyone has a different opinion, there is no correct answer. A good rule of thumb: When in doubt about the excessiveness of your emotional expression, err on the side of caution. If you fear that telling the man who has lost his whole family that "every dark cloud has a silver lining" might not be appreciated, just don't go there.
Politicians who owe their careers to the votes of the masses, and who therefore know how to play a crowd, should know this better than anyone. Taiwan President Ma Ying-jeou should be no exception. Alas, Ma is gaffe-prone. During an August 7 visit to Majia Township, a village reconstructed following the catastrophic destruction of Typhoon Morakot, he said:
晚上很涼爽，不需要蓋被，一點都不覺得熱，很舒服，然後非常安靜，很少有這樣的經驗，像到普羅旺斯的感覺。
Last night was cool. I didn’t need to cover up. I didn’t feel hot at all. I was very comfortable. It was also very peaceful. I very rarely have this experience. It was like the feeling of being in Provence.
In this election year, Ma’s detractors were quick to jump on this statement as evidence that Ma was out of touch. "How could he make light of such a bad situation?" they wondered.
Not everyone shared this concern, as a news report about the controversy surrounding his Provence statement shows. Neither of the interviewed villagers in the report seems outraged by Ma’s comment. The first doesn’t really know what Provence is like. The second gives the government mixed marks on reconstruction, claiming that the reconstruction itself is ok but wishing the government would provide work opportunities. This is not explosive stuff. Furthermore, we might forgive Ma by imagining that he was perhaps merely commenting on the natural surroundings. The controversy sounds more like a storm in a teacup rather than an indicator of Ma's poorly placed optimism.
So it is all the more mystifying that, having been slightly burned by his word choice last week, Ma chose to put his hand back in the fire on August 15 by likening another rebuilt village to Peach Blossom Spring, a pastoral utopia that is described in a fifth-century fable by the Han poet Tao Qian.
Now, I don’t think that Ma, channeling some inner Pangloss, really believes that the rebuilt villages are like Provence and Peach Blossom Spring. Despite criticism from the opposition, I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in this regard. I think it is more likely that Ma feels compelled to say something positive to the media about his experiences in the villages, just like any politician in his situation would, but lacks the rhetorical finesse to import the expected touch of gravity into his sound bites.
I am more troubled by what this double gaffe says about the president’s ability to learn from his mistakes. After all, what makes Pangloss (and, by extension, Candide) so ridiculous is not his initial optimism but his incapability to adjust his worldview, and the naive behavior that results from this worldview, in the face of overwhelming evidence that his optimism is excessive. If invoking picturesque Provence earns you jeers of ridicule, why switch to the utopian Peach Blossom Spring? Why not show you identify with your audience instead by adjusting your rhetoric with care?
