2026年5月,牛津大學的研討會上,學者田中義久系統性地宣告了Cool Japan的死亡。這個從2010年代開始、由日本政府砸下數千億日圓推動的文化輸出計畫,最終敗在一個詞:「被看穿了」。
問題不在動漫本身,也不在壽司或和服。問題在於當政府拿著預算表、設定KPI、要求「展現日本魅力」時,那些原本活生生的文化瞬間變成櫥窗裡的樣品。觀眾不傻。他們聞得出來哪些是自然發酵的文化,哪些是被策劃出來的文宣。
NT$55億換來什麼
台灣走的路和日本驚人地相似。2002年「文化創意產業發展計畫」投入NT$28.8億,2009年「創意台灣」再加NT$26.5億,2010年通過《文化創意產業發展法》。華山1914、松山文創、駁二——這些從舊酒廠和倉庫改造的園區,確實漂亮。但走進去時,你總覺得少了點什麼。
少的是那種「不經意」。珍珠奶茶沒有拿過一毛錢文化補助,卻攻陷全球。廟會陣頭從來不在文創產業的13+1個類別裡,卻讓外國攝影師看到發瘋。落日飛車、茄子蛋這些獨立樂團,沒有誰教他們怎麼「展現台灣主體性」,他們只是做自己的音樂,然後自然破圈。
政治主體性的雙面刃
台灣比日本更難。The Round Table期刊的論文點出了核心:台灣的文化輸出同時承載政治主體性訴求。當一場音樂祭、一部電影、一個設計展被解讀為「向國際證明台灣存在」時,文化就不只是文化了。它變成一種宣示,一種策略,一種必須完成的任務。
我在台中教長笛,學生裡有追BLACKPINK的、有迷《鬼滅之刃》的。他們喜歡韓國和日本,不是因為那些國家的文化部做了什麼,而是因為那些內容剛好打中他們。沒有距離感,沒有「我要你喜歡我」的急切。就只是——好看、好聽、有共鳴。
不裝才是穿透力
牛津研討會的結論值得台灣政策制定者貼在牆上:受眾已經能識破政策目的性。當你越想展示什麼,那個東西就越失去真實感。
這不是說政府不該投資文化。基礎建設需要錢,人才培育需要資源,產業環境需要改善。但那些錢該花在「讓創作者活下去」,而不是「讓創作者表演台灣」。前者養出生態系,後者只養出一批又一批精緻的、無害的、可以放進簡報裡的文化商品。
NT$55.3億換來的教訓其實很簡單:文化不是品牌,不能被管理,不能被優化,更不能被賦予「輸出任務」。它只能被活出來。當創作者不再需要證明什麼、不再需要代表誰,只是專心把自己的事做到極致時,那個東西才會真的穿透出去。
就像珍奶。就像那些你根本不知道是誰開始的、但全世界都在喝的台灣手搖飲料。
— 林敏寧
延伸閱讀
Why Bubble Tea Beat Cultural Parks
In May 2026, at an Oxford University symposium, scholar Nobuko Kawashima delivered a systematic obituary for Cool Japan. The initiative, launched in the 2010s with hundreds of billions of yen in government funding, ultimately failed on one word: audiences saw through it.
The problem wasn’t anime, sushi, or kimono. The problem emerged when government officials started working from budget spreadsheets, setting KPIs, and demanding results that “showcase Japanese charm.” Living culture instantly became window display samples. Audiences aren’t stupid. They can smell the difference between organically fermented culture and manufactured propaganda.
NT$5.5 Billion Lessons
Taiwan followed a strikingly similar path. The 2002 Cultural and Creative Industries Development Plan invested NT$2.88 billion. The 2009 “Creative Taiwan” added NT$2.65 billion. The 2010 Cultural and Creative Industries Development Act established legal framework. Huashan 1914, Songshan Cultural Park, Pier-2 Art Center—these converted breweries and warehouses look beautiful. But walking through them, something feels missing.
What’s missing is spontaneity. Bubble tea never received a dollar in cultural subsidies, yet conquered the globe. Temple processions never fit into the official 13+1 creative industry categories, yet drive foreign photographers wild. Bands like Sunset Rollercoaster and EggPlantEgg—nobody taught them how to “demonstrate Taiwanese subjectivity.” They just made their music. Then naturally broke through.
The Double Edge
Taiwan faces a harder challenge than Japan. A paper in The Round Table identified the core tension: Taiwan’s cultural output simultaneously carries political sovereignty claims. When a music festival, film, or design exhibition gets read as “proving Taiwan’s existence to the international community,” culture stops being just culture. It becomes declaration, strategy, mission.
I teach flute in Taichung. My students chase BLACKPINK and obsess over Demon Slayer. They love Korean and Japanese culture not because those countries’ culture ministries did anything particular, but because the content hit them. No distance, no desperate “please like me” energy. Just—good, compelling, resonant.
Authenticity as Power
The Oxford symposium’s conclusion deserves a place on every policymaker’s wall: audiences can now detect policy intent. The harder you try to showcase something, the more it loses authenticity.
This doesn’t mean governments shouldn’t invest in culture. Infrastructure needs money, talent needs support, industries need enabling environments. But that money should go toward “keeping creators alive,” not “making creators perform Taiwan.” The former builds ecosystems. The latter produces batch after batch of polished, harmless cultural products suitable for PowerPoint slides.
NT$5.53 billion bought a simple lesson: culture isn’t a brand. It can’t be managed, optimized, or assigned “export missions.” It can only be lived. When creators stop needing to prove something, stop needing to represent anyone, and just focus on doing their thing to perfection—that’s when it actually penetrates.
Like bubble tea. Like those Taiwanese drinks you don’t even know who started, but the whole world’s drinking.
— 林敏寧