How Taiwan’s cyber ambassador suggests we advance democracy

With how important technology and social media have become, you may be wondering about the role they might play in democracy, and if it can be a positive one. Thankfully, folks like Audrey Tang—the first Digital Minister of Taiwan, current Cyber Ambassador and innovator in digital democracy—are actively working to combat polarization, inequity and loneliness and ensure that democracy is evolving with the help of community participation.

Through her contributions, Tang has safeguarded Taiwan's elections from foreign cyber interference and advocated for more widespread use of the public domain. We talked with her about how her Taoist philosophy and intersecting identities inform her work, the power of community in supporting democracy and what it means to be a good enough ancestor.

This conversation has been edited for clarity and length.

Aleenah Ansari: What are some examples of community and technology being used to support democracy?
Audrey Tang: Oftentimes, technology is built to keep us on it as much as possible. Video platforms have autoplay, and our phone looks more vivid than the rest of the world. This encourages us to focus on individualized engagement in advertisements and entertainment. In Taiwan, we’re doing the reverse by focusing on broad listening. Instead of broadcasting the most viral idea, we create networks and processes to not only fact-check content after it’s shared, but also have posts with full context about how people feel about it.

By being pro-social media, there are opportunities for connection and curation by the community so they can upvote and promote content they value. This shifts the power from algorithms to people and emphasizes collective values over clickbait. Community notes are a prototype of that, as well as SmartNews in Japan, and some parts of Reddit, Bluesky, and LinkedIn.

AA: How do you see communities working to advance or support democracy?
AT: You can support democracy through the work you do at a community, district, or neighborhood level. I witnessed this when I was in San Francisco, where I lived in intentional community spaces. People have their fences down and raise their kids together, and it’s very democratic without requiring fancy voting tools. They go back to an era where there’s no isolation between your room and my room. It works until there are around 150 people, and below that level, everyone in the community can learn from each other and participate in governance.

AA: How does practicing Taoism show up in your work?
AT: In my mind, there is no architecture blueprint that doesn’t carry yin and yang. Even the white dots within the black part of the tai chi symbol are a form of symbolism for finding uncommon ground and finding balance and opposing yet complementary forces.

I was born with a heart defect, and one of my earliest memories is a doctor telling me that I had a 50 percent chance of surviving. I eventually got the surgery done when I was 12, but until then, I lived in a constant, precarious existential state. My parents taught me Taoist practices like breathwork, meditation, and visualization exercises to help keep my heart rate at a regular level. It became a survival skill, so if I became too joyful or angry, Taoism could help return me to homeostasis.

AA: Oftentimes, there can be a pressure to always be “producing” something. How have you found the balance between being productive while making time for rest and mindfulness?
AT: I don’t defer things to the weekend. I’ve learned to publish before I perish, which is why I asked permission to share the public transcript so it can live in the public domain. Even if I don’t wake up tomorrow, others can leverage my work without waiting 75 years for the copyright to expire.

The idea of open source always appealed to me because I don’t have to be shy about publishing a draft of my ideas. That’s why I published Plurality, a perpetually evolving work with more than 60 collaborators that has remained in the public domain. People have turned it into an anime, manga, documentary, translational work, and so on without consulting me.

AA: It must be liberating to share your work in this way. People often ask me how to become a writer, and I tell them that the first step is to start writing. It sounds like it’s just as important to publish what you can make so people can interact with it and be in dialogue with your work.

In addition to approaching your work from a Taoist perspective, how do the identities you hold inform your work?
AT: I’m non-binary in quite the physical sense of that word. I was born with a natural level of testosterone that’s somewhere in the middle of the human population, and it went up in my early 20’s. I never felt developed as a boy, and I didn’t fully develop in my second puberty with estrogen. I don’t mind that half of the population is similar to me, and half the population is different from me. Everyone is equidistant from me.

When I entered the role as a cabinet minister for Taiwan, I selected “not applicable” for the gender field and party field. It’s not only Taoist, but also a systemic, non-binary take.  Instead of feeling the need to pick a side, I see the full spectrum.

AA: What you’re seeing reminds me of queering your approach to something—not in the sense of queer meaning not straight, but taking a path that’s different from what’s conventional or the dominant perspective.
AT: Definitely. It helps to queer the social context so we see each other as fellow humans. Otherwise, you can see yourself as a prototypical human. That’s not conducive to authentic relationships. This also means that you have to work across differences, recognize strengths, and use your energy for understanding.