Invisible Nation: When the World Finally Sees Taiwan, We Begin to See Ourselves
一部紀錄片能不能改變一個人看待世界的方式？對我來說，《看不見的國家》（Invisible Nation）做到了。這不是那種讓你邊吃爆米花邊瞄手機的紀錄片，而是一部讓你靜下來、專心感受、反覆思考的作品。它溫柔卻堅定、克制卻有力，讓我第一次意識到，原來當我們總說「希望世界看見台灣」，也許，我們更需要的，是自己先看見自己。
Can a documentary change the way you see the world? For me, Invisible Nation did exactly that.
This isn’t the kind of documentary you casually half-watch while scrolling your phone. It’s quiet but powerful, restrained but emotionally resonant. It made me slow down, listen, and reflect. As I sat in the darkened theater, I realized that while we often say we want the world to “see Taiwan,” perhaps what we truly need is to better see ourselves.
從一個導演的視角看一位總統
《看不見的國家》由美國導演葛靜文（Vanessa Hope）執導。她不是台灣人，卻花了七年的時間貼身紀錄台灣首位女性總統蔡英文的執政過程。這段時間剛好涵蓋了台灣這幾年最動盪、也最關鍵的時期：從香港反送中、COVID-19，到中國軍事威脅升級、國際局勢劇變。
身為讀過電影的人，我特別在意導演怎麼說故事。這部片沒有激情的旁白、也沒有製造矛盾衝突的剪接，它選擇了一種非常平穩的方式：讓影像說話，讓鏡頭靜靜觀察。鏡頭貼得很近，近到你可以看到蔡總統坐在沙發上跟貓玩、在總統府裡處理政務、搭專機出訪時跟幕僚對話。這種「貼身」拍攝，既不侵略也不造神，反而讓人感受到一種真實和信任。
我其實很意外，這部片裡並沒有太多關於蔡英文「如何做決策」的細節。導演不是在幫她宣傳政績，而是用另一種方式讓我們認識她：從她怎麼對待來訪的記者、怎麼說話、怎麼傾聽、怎麼在不同場合作出反應。這些「小地方」，才讓我更理解她是怎樣的人——溫柔、有分寸、不躁進、不需要說很多話就能傳達立場。
我開始想，也許正是這樣的特質，讓世界終於比較願意傾聽台灣的聲音。
Invisible Nation is directed by American filmmaker Vanessa Hope, who spent seven years documenting President Tsai Ing-wen—Taiwan’s first female president—through some of the country’s most tumultuous years: from the Hong Kong protests and the pandemic to China’s escalating military threats and Taiwan’s growing global presence.
As someone with a background in filmmaking, I pay attention to how stories are told through images. This film doesn’t rely on dramatic narration or sensational edits. Instead, the camera quietly observes. It follows President Tsai closely—on planes, inside the Presidential Office, at press briefings, and even during her quiet moments at home with her cat. These scenes are intimate yet respectful. They don’t idolize her, but they invite us to see her as she is.
What surprised me most is that this film doesn’t focus on Tsai’s political decisions. It doesn’t enumerate her policies or accomplishments. Instead, it shows who she is in the in-between moments: how she treats journalists, how she speaks, how she listens, how she carries herself. Through these soft, unguarded gestures, I began to understand her—not just as a politician, but as a person.
And perhaps it’s exactly this calm, composed, and gentle demeanor that made it possible for the world to begin understanding Taiwan.
這不是一部關於「台灣該不該獨立」的片
這點我覺得很重要。台灣的議題很容易被簡化成政治立場二選一，但《看不見的國家》不是在問「你挺不挺台獨」這種問題，它關注的，是我們怎麼理解「民主」。
在這部片裡，台灣是一個正在努力守住自己選擇方式的國家。我們選擇了開放社會、言論自由、人民能選擇領導人的體制，但這樣的選擇，對於有些強權來說，是一種威脅。
影片中有一幕，我印象很深刻：當蔡英文說出「中國不希望世界聽見台灣的故事」時，那一瞬間的沉默比任何旁白都來得有力量。不是高喊什麼口號，也不是要觀眾激動落淚，而是讓人開始問自己：「那台灣的故事是什麼？我真的懂嗎？」
這也是我看這部片最大的收穫之一——我重新認識了台灣，但不是從國內政論節目那種喧囂的方式，而是透過一個外國導演靜靜地、但清楚地告訴你：「你們所生活的地方，其實真的很特別。」
Taiwan’s story is often reduced to a yes-or-no question about independence. But Invisible Nation avoids that binary trap. This isn’t a film about taking sides—it’s about exploring what democracy really means.
In the film, Taiwan is portrayed as a nation that has chosen to be open, to be free, to let its people decide their leaders and shape their future. And that choice—simple as it may sound—is threatening to some powers in the world.
One moment that stayed with me was when President Tsai said, “China doesn’t want the world to hear Taiwan’s story.” She says it softly, without fanfare, but the weight of her words lingers. The film doesn’t try to stir emotions with music or drama. It just lets that sentence hang in the air, making you think: “Do I really understand what Taiwan is trying to say?”
That, for me, was the turning point. I wasn’t just watching a documentary—I was beginning to rethink what it means to be from this place, and what it means to speak for ourselves.
當國際看見台灣，我們也看見自己
很多人說，《看不見的國家》是一部「拍給外國人看的片」，因為它花了不少篇幅去交代台灣的歷史背景、政治體制、兩岸關係。的確，如果你是土生土長的台灣人，可能會覺得這些東西你都知道了。
但我反而認為，正是因為這些內容是用給「世界」理解的語言去講出來，我們才會發現——原來這就是我們在別人眼中所站的位置。
我們以為「台灣不是一個國家」這件事只是國際法的技術問題，但實際上，它影響的是我們怎麼參與奧運、怎麼處理邦交、怎麼在世界衛生組織裡發聲。我們已經太習慣被孤立，太習慣那種「反正就這樣了」的心態，但《看不見的國家》讓我看到，其實世界有人在試著理解我們、聽我們說話，只是我們平常太忙於內部爭論，沒有停下來看看外面的目光。
那一刻我覺得，台灣這個地方，就是靠著這樣的氣質，活到現在的。
Some have said this film was made for foreign audiences because it spends time explaining Taiwan’s political history, its complicated status, and its relationship with China. And they’re right—it does.
But that’s precisely why it’s so powerful. Because when you see yourself through the eyes of someone who cares enough to listen and understand, you start seeing yourself differently too.
Invisible Nation reminds us that Taiwan’s international isolation isn’t just about being left out of organizations like the UN or the WHO. It affects how we see our place in the world—and how often we’ve internalized being “unseen” as normal.
It struck me deeply. That moment captured how Taiwan has made it this far—not by shouting, but by staying steady.
對比香港，我們更明白自己要守住什麼
這幾年香港的故事，大家都看在眼裡。《看不見的國家》裡其實沒有大量談香港，但導演用一些很有節奏的片段做出對照：當香港的自由一步步被收回，台灣的存在就變得更加珍貴。
我腦中不斷浮現一個念頭：「如果我們不珍惜現在的自由，我們會變成什麼樣子？」
這也是我覺得這部片最厲害的地方，它不是要你立刻站出來做什麼，它只是讓你開始思考——你願不願意為自己生活的方式負起責任。
這部片很平靜，甚至可以說「太平靜」了，沒有戲劇性的爆點、也沒有熱血配樂，但正因為這樣，它才讓人開始沉澱。這不像是一部燃燒你情緒的作品，更像是那種讓你回家後在捷運上開始反省的電影。
The film doesn’t focus on Hong Kong, but the comparison is impossible to ignore. As we watch the collapse of freedom in Hong Kong, Taiwan’s democratic resilience feels all the more urgent.
Watching Invisible Nation, I kept thinking: If we don’t protect our freedom now, what will we become?
That’s what I admire most about this film—it doesn’t pressure you to act, but it plants a seed. It quietly asks: Are you ready to take responsibility for the life you want to live?
The film doesn’t overwhelm you with emotion. Instead, it invites reflection. It’s not a battle cry—it’s a conversation. And maybe that’s exactly what we need.
溫柔不是妥協，是一種深刻的表態
蔡英文在這部片裡的形象，跟我們過去熟悉的「領袖」很不一樣。她不大聲、不情緒化、不強調個人存在感，甚至連講話都輕聲細語。
有些人可能會說這樣不夠強硬，但我反而覺得，這種溫柔是來自於一種深刻的信仰——相信民主、相信對話、相信選擇的力量。
她沒有對鏡頭喊話，但她的每一個舉動都在說：「我們會走自己的路。」
我覺得，這樣的姿態，反而才讓世界真正看懂了台灣。因為在一個到處都在吼叫、對抗、撕裂的世界裡，一個國家選擇穩定地、冷靜地、堅持走自己選擇的方向，本身就是一種非常清楚的宣告。
這讓我想起一句話：「溫柔的人，內心一定很有力量。」而我相信，台灣的力量就是這種帶著溫度的堅持。
Tsai Ing-wen’s leadership style stands in stark contrast to what we usually expect from political figures. She’s not loud. She doesn’t seek attention. She doesn’t try to dominate the room. Her words are measured, her actions composed.
Some may see this as weakness. But I see it as conviction.
To me, her quiet strength shows a deep trust in democracy and dialogue. She doesn’t need to scream because she knows where she stands. And she’s inviting the world to understand that, too.
In a global environment full of shouting and division, Taiwan’s calm perseverance is not just a strategy—it’s a statement.
為什麼你該進戲院看這部片
這部片其實不會給你什麼明確的結論，它也沒有叫你非得要表態什麼。但它會讓你重新思考很多你以為理所當然的事：我們的國家為什麼這麼難被承認？我們的總統為什麼這樣做？我們的未來到底長什麼樣子？
如果你也是對世界好奇、對自由有感、對未來還抱持希望的人，那麼你應該去看這部片。
不只是因為它關於台灣，更因為它提醒我們——我們其實還有選擇。
或許，看完電影的你，不會馬上站上街頭，但也許你會更願意去了解這個國家多一點，甚至開始珍惜自己手上的那張選票，或是更清楚地說出「我是台灣人」這句話。
那就夠了。
Invisible Nation doesn’t give you easy answers. It doesn’t tell you what to believe. What it does is something more valuable—it helps you ask better questions.
Why is it so hard for Taiwan to be recognized? Why do our choices feel so constrained? What future do we want, and what are we willing to do for it?
If you’re curious about the world, if you care about freedom, if you still believe in the power of telling your own story—then this is a film worth watching.
It might not make you march in the streets, but it could make you look at your passport differently. Or speak the words “I am Taiwanese” with more clarity.
And maybe that’s where change begins.
