遺留的歷史創傷、無法選擇的後代子孫
- Bruno Huang 黃鼎翰 / 老黑
- 5月21日
- 讀畢需時 4 分鐘
已更新：6月7日
---《看不見的國家》電影觀後感
走出電影院，我的心情很複雜。《看不見的國家》彷彿不只是一部紀錄歷史的作品，而是一面鏡子，照見了我內心長久以來的困惑與掙扎。
我從小在巴西長大，雖然中文不好，但也常在家中聽著台灣父母講述他們眼中的歷史：1949年後的流亡政府、威權時代的白色恐怖、以及逐漸走向民主的艱辛過程。那些故事深刻又悲壯，讓我以為這就是全部的歷史真相。
但到了國中與高中，我被父母送往中國大陸唸書。語文課堂上、歷史課本裡、同學們之間的閒聊，講的卻是另一套版本：台灣是祖國的一部分，國共內戰的勝敗是歷史的必然，統一是未來的必經之路。我被這全然不同的敘述震撼，也更加迷失。
後來我到了香港、澳門與台灣工作。每個地方又有著截然不同的理解與態度。香港在殖民與主權移交間的身分焦慮，澳門的從屬與沉默，台灣的堅持與矛盾，構成了一幅複雜的兩岸三地地圖，不只是地理上的，更是情感與認同上的斷裂。
我開始覺得，我這一代人，好像活在一場父母離婚後的情境中——雙方各說各話，都說是為了孩子好，卻都在要求孩子選邊站。我們既不能選擇自己的出身，也無法改變他們過去的決定，只能在這些敘事中尋找自己的位置。
無論歷史如何紛亂，我始終沒有斷開與大陸、香港、澳門朋友們的聯繫。我們一起長大、一起求學，如今也在各自的城市打拼著。工作上的合作、生活上的互助，都還在持續。說真的，我們誰也不想碰政治。我們只是想友好、安定地過日子。就像兄弟姊妹一樣，沒有人願意因為父母的對立與逼迫，而毀掉彼此的感情。生怕一旦選了邊，未來就再也無法團聚。
問題是，為什麼我們要承擔上一代人選擇的後果？為什麼歷史的爭執與政治的對立，最後卻變成壓在年輕世代肩上的枷鎖？我們只能是聽眾與傳承者，不能是質疑者與創造者嗎？
電影《看不見的國家》帶來的不只是歷史的反思，更是情感的啟蒙。在看似不可能和解的對立中，我們或許更需要的是一種「不選邊」的勇氣，一種能在各種版本的敘述中，為自己說出真實感受的力量。
或許，我們這一代的責任不是去替歷史下定論，而是重新打開對話的可能性。承認複雜，接受矛盾，並試著用自己的語言，建構一個不再只屬於某一方的共同未來。
Caught in the Middle:
A Child Who Won’t Take Sides
About the ‘Invisible Nation’ Movie
Walking out of the theater, I felt overwhelmed. ‘Invisible Nation’ is more than a documentary about history—it’s a mirror, reflecting the confusion and inner struggle I’ve carried for years.
I grew up in Brazil, and although my Mandarin wasn’t great, I often heard my Taiwanese parents share their version of history: the exiled government after 1949, the oppressive years of martial law, and the long, difficult journey toward democracy. Their stories were vivid and solemn, and for a long time, I believed that was the whole truth.
Later, during middle and high school, my parents sent me to study in mainland China. There, the narrative changed completely. In textbooks, classrooms, and conversations, Taiwan was portrayed as a part of the motherland. The civil war was presented as a historical inevitability, and reunification as the future’s destiny. The stark contrast of perspectives was jarring—and deeply disorienting.
Eventually, I worked in Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan. Each place had its own interpretation of history and identity. Hong Kong struggles between colonial memory and the reality of political handover. Macau remains quiet, reserved, and compliant. Taiwan, meanwhile, stands firm—yet torn. Together, these three regions form not just a geographic triangle, but an emotional map full of fault lines and unresolved tensions.
To me, it feels like being the child of divorced parents. Both sides passionately defend their version of the past. Both claim to love you and act in your best interest. And yet, both demand that you choose. We didn’t choose our birthplace. We didn’t shape their decisions. Yet somehow, we’re expected to carry the burden of their conflict and choose a side in a story that predates us.
Despite the complexity of history, I’ve never cut ties with my friends from China, Hong Kong, and Macau. We grew up together, studied together, and now support one another across cities and borders. We work together, help each other in life, and try to stay connected. Honestly, none of us wants to talk about politics. We just want peace and stability—like siblings who refuse to let a parental dispute tear them apart. We’re afraid that once we pick a side, we’ll never be able to reunite again.
The real question is: why must we inherit the consequences of decisions made by generations before us? Why must historical disputes and political divides become shackles on the shoulders of younger generations? Are we only allowed to be passive recipients of these narratives, rather than questioners—or even creators—of our own?
‘Invisible Nation’ doesn’t just offer a historical lens. It opens an emotional one. In a world where reconciliation seems impossible, perhaps what we need most is the courage not to choose sides—the courage to speak honestly about how we feel, in spite of the pressure to conform to one version of the truth.
Maybe our generation’s responsibility isn’t to judge the past but to reopen the space for conversation. To acknowledge the complexity, accept the contradictions, and craft a future that doesn’t belong to just one side—but to all of us.
作者&英文編輯：Bruno Huang 溝通教練
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