’Running it Back‘ (二連霸)

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You’re from Canada? You must love hockey, right?

I hate to be that guy, but yeah, I’m a typical Canadian, and a big hockey fan.

When I was young, I played basketball, baseball and practiced Tae Kwon Doe, but never really bothered to watch any other sports on television.

After my arrival in Taiwan, the time difference with North America made it difficult to keep up with everything happening back home, but I tried my best to continue watching hockey as much as I could, which meant I was waking up quite early every day to watch the games live.

Then, one beautiful summer’s afternoon, a bunch of friends and I decided to go check out a Taiwanese baseball game as we had heard that the atmosphere was electric, at least compared to baseball games back home.

Making our way to the Tianmu Baseball Stadium in Taipei, we were almost dumbstruck by everything that was happening. I still remember having to be reassured several times that we were actually allowed to bring our own food and drinks into the stadium - something unheard of back in North America.

That first game was so long ago that I can’t even remember who the opponent was, but the team that stuck with me were the Brother Elephants, who in their beautiful yellow and black uniforms took to the field and sent the crowd into a frenzy. After that first experience, we tried to make it a regular weekend excursion to go and watch games whenever we had free time, but when a match fixing scandal rocked the nation’s baseball league, it’s popularity kind of died off and we stopped going.

In 2013, the Brother Elephants were sold to a new owner and moved to Taichung in central Taiwan. With the scandal in the rear view mirror, the popularity of baseball in Taiwan started growing again, as did my interest in the game. For the first year or two we just watched games on television, but then some friends and I started making regular trips to Taichung to watch games, or to the games held here in Taoyuan when the team was in town.

Now known as the CTBC Brother Elephants (中信兄弟), the team may have changed owners, but it retained its massive fan base, and the beautiful yellow uniforms that they’re known for. That being said, even though the team is a perennial contender for the championship, they developed somewhat of a reputation for choking. Diehard fans refer to this as part of the PTSD whenever the playoffs roll around as the Brothers have ended the year with heartbreak on far too many occasions.

Hoping to help break the curse, a group of us went to Taichung for Game 7 of the Taiwan Series in 2020, thinking that our presence might help the team prevail. Unfortunately, we we wrong. They ended up losing again.

So, in 2021, when the team once again found itself in the Taiwan Series against the same team that they lost against the year before, we figured it best to just watch the game at a local bar.

But to our surprise, they actually won. And they weren’t messing around. They won with a four game sweep of the Tainan’s Uni-Lions.

This year, the team came out with their yearly slogan, “Run it back,” which I admittedly was a bit cheesy, but the point was that they were looking to win back-to-back championships.

From the start of the year, things weren’t looking very good - A number of injuries, COVID infections and foreign players leaving the team resulted in a poor performance in the first half of the season with Taoyuan’s Rakuten Monkey’s (桃園樂天猴子) winning the first half season championship.

It looked like that trend was going to continue through the second half, until one day the team suddenly rediscovered its championship prowess and went on a huge winning streak, earning themselves a spot in the playoffs.

However, due to a somewhat confusing mathematics and the system set up by the league, three teams entered the playoffs with the Brothers and the Wei-Chuan Dragons (味全龍) being forced to play a series that is similar to the MLB’s wildcard system. Starting that series up a game (thanks to math), the Brothers ended up prevailing over the Dragons after some pretty entertaining matches.

Winning Games 1 and 2 of the Taiwan Series against the Rakuten Monkeys here in Taoyuan, the series shifted back to Taichung for the next two games and my friends and I were faced with a choice - do we watch the game together at the bar, or try our luck watching one in person? When tickets went on sale, we had to decide quickly as they would sell out fast, so we ended up deciding to go to Game 4 to watch the game live.

When the Brothers won Game 3 in Taichung, we started to get a bit exciting as there was a chance of a sweep and the championship being won with us in person. Our experience in the past though, the PTSD I mentioned earlier, prevented us from getting too worked up, though.

Interestingly, even though I’ve probably been to about a hundred games over my years in Taiwan, I’ve never brought my camera. Most of the time when I’m at the games, I’m with friends and we’re having fun and drinking, so I don’t want to have to worry about my camera. This time though, I figured it was probably a good idea to bring my camera along just in case.

And I’m glad I did.

The team followed through and actually “Ran it back” curing some of the PTSD that fans talk about, at least until next year.

As a sports fan, it’s always great to see your team win a championship at home, but as a foreigner in Taiwan, it’s also an interesting cultural experience that I got to share with 20,000 other fans. It was an amazing experience and I’m looking forward to the new slogan they come up with for next year! Obviously, this isn’t the normal kind of thing I write about, I just wanted to share some thoughts and my photos from the experience and hope you enjoy them as well!

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Bao'an Station (保安車站)
Bao'an Station (保安車站)
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Taichung Train Station (臺中驛)

Abandoned Church (廢棄的教堂)

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I’m going to preface this one with a bit of a personal story. 

Living in Taiwan, people tend to assume a few things about foreigners.

One of them is that we’re all American, of course.

Another is that we’re all Christian.

Given Taiwan’s post-war history, its understandable that a lot of older people would just assume that you’re an American. For most of us Canadians living here, it can be something that becomes relatively annoying, but after a few years, I came to the conclusion that there obviously weren’t any ill-intentions involved.

The latter though, I’m assuming is because there are so many clean cut missionaries bicycling around the island evangelizing that people just started assuming we’re all followers.  

I may have grown up in a predominately Christian community, with a grandmother who tried to frighten my younger sister and I into religion. As most young people of my generation are likely to understand, the old ‘fire-and-brimstone’ style of scaring people into religion was something that had to change as young people, like myself, rejected the negativity presented by the church. The shift wasn’t something that happened overnight, but I have vivid memories of being sat down in front of a TV during my pre-teen years at my grandma’s house with my younger sister and was forced to watch an ‘End of Days’ film.

The movie was so poorly made that it didn’t really have the desired effect.

The problem for most churches in North America is that the vast majority of congregations aged to a point that, from a business point of view, wasn’t very sustainable. Senior citizens were going to go to church every Sunday, no matter what was going on. When it came to young people though, a strategy change was necessary. So, by the time I was a teenager, church services started changing to a ‘less threatening’ rock concert-like experience.

Gone were the days of preacher man standing at his pulpit telling everyone they were going to hell.

Instead, the philosophy became one of “God is Love,” focusing more on the positive aspects of faith. 

None of this really had any effect on my life, but for some young people it was good enough.

One of them was my sister, who continued attending with my grandma for the rest of her high school days. Fortunately, my parents were pretty cool (non-believers themselves), and when I told them that I wasn’t interested in attending with my grandma, they didn’t force me.

Years later, I recall having a video chat with my family during the holidays, and my grandma asked if I ever started going to church here in Taiwan. I just smiled and didn’t say anything to which she quipped, “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re a nothing,” which probably sounds insulting, but it’s only because she doesn’t know how to say “non-believer” or “atheist” in English. And hey, it’s better than being called a “heathen” or a “sinner.”  

Shortly after that conversation, I heard from my sister that the church she grew up attending was forced to re-locate to a smaller building across town. Religious organizations may not have to pay taxes in Canada like the rest of us, but the price of heating and paying the staff became far too much for the small congregation to support, thus requiring a move. A year later, the declining attendance and revenue ultimately forced them out of business for good, sending my grandma and her church friends elsewhere.

That’s capitalism for you. 

In 2019, it was reported that out of Canada’s 27,000 churches, more than a third of them would face closure within the next decade. The Anglican Church of Canada for example had about 1.3 million members in 1961 but by 2017, that number had dropped to 282,000 - the vast majority of them senior citizens.

Sociologists predict that by 2040 the Anglican Church in Canada will have already disappeared. 

Link: COVID may have hastened Christianity's decline in Canada (National Post)

My experience of course is essentially a Canadian one, but the decline we have seen in Canada is not an isolated one as there have been similar issues for the church across the world.

But what about here in Taiwan?

When people think about this country, I think it’s safe to assume that most wouldn’t guess that Christianity is as prevalent as it is - There are so many Taoist, Buddhist and Taiwanese folk-religion temples wherever you go in the country that the growing number churches here almost seem insignificant.

That’s where you’d be wrong though.

One area where the church has succeeded in Taiwan, where it has failed elsewhere is attracting young people. The shift that we saw in the attitude of the church towards one of “love” instead of scare-tactics is one that works here, with quite a few young people attracted to the less rigid and less time consuming form of Christianity. Coupled with the fact that a high percentage of Taiwan’s Indigenous population (nearly 70%) are believers, Christianity in Taiwan is experiencing a surge in numbers that makes for a success story that churches elsewhere are likely to be quite envious of; Still, with only an estimated 3.9%-4.7% of Taiwan’s total population professing to be Christian, believers here see room for continued growth.

That being said, the topic of today’s post is an abandoned church, so even though the number of Christian believers appears to be growing in Taiwan, the country isn’t immune to the same closures that we’ve seen elsewhere. That being said, it’s safe to say that the closure of churches here in Taiwan are often for reasons that are quite different than other areas where the religion finds itself in decline. 

The largest factor for church closures across Taiwan is due to a decline in the population of small communities and villages. This is because the vast majority of the ‘traditional’ churches that you’ll find across the country are located within mountainous villages, home to Indigenous peoples.

Many of these communities have been in decline in recent years with young people leaving for better opportunities elsewhere. In a community that was once able to support several churches, some have had to close, share their space, or act as a community center or clinic during the week.

In most cases, the building which once housed a place of worship has been converted into a local community space rather than being completely abandoned. Nevertheless, there are a growing number of abandoned churches across the country, and the photos I’m sharing today are from one of them. 

Link: TUBA Church (基國派老教堂)

It’s at this point that I have to remind readers that this is an Urban Exploration article, so I won’t be offering specifics as to the location of this building, or how you can get inside;

So, enjoy the photos, but don’t contact me to ask for additional information. 

Part of the Catholic Church of Taiwan, this modest place of worship in the mountains of northern Taiwan’s farm country dates back to 1953, shortly after the Chinese Nationalists arrived on the island.

Located within a tea and rice farming community, the church was a branch of the much larger catholic church organization, headed by Spanish missionaries, which was part of an effort to evangelize to the people of the countryside. Unfortunately, historic information about those churches is difficult to find, but from what little is available, the thing I found most impressive is that the Spanish clergy held their services in either Taiwanese (台語) or Hakka (客家語), depending on where the church was located. Having proficiency in either language is an accomplishment that very few foreigners, including myself, are able to claim.

Due to the lack of information available about the churches, it’s difficult to pin down any precise information about when this specific building was abandoned, but from personal experience (I’ve been driving by the place for quite a while), it’s been abandoned for at least over a decade.

Coming with the main church building, a bell tower, classrooms and an office building next door, the entire complex has been overtaken by nature in recent years. When I first visited a few years back, it was obvious that someone was still maintaining the grounds, but they’ve stopped in recent years.

Navigating your way through the brush that has grown up in the administrative section next to the church, you’ll find that this is the area that seems the most dated. The building was gutted at some point, leaving very little remaining, but a skeleton of the original building. To the rear, you’ll find a space that was likely used as an office for the staff at the church. This section of the building is in better shape, but its completely empty as well. 

The main attraction here though is the interior of the church, which is quite beautiful in the right light.

Like the other buildings, not much remains within the interior as all of the chairs and decorations have been removed, leaving a mostly empty shell of what was once there. Having all of the clutter removed though isn’t necessarily a terrible thing as you’re able to get a much better perspective of its architectural design.

Just above the main doors to the building there is an open second level where you were likely to have found a piano at some point. This is also the space connected to the bell tower where staff would be able to ring the bell before services started. The second floor is reachable by a beautiful, yet very narrow set of spiral stairs.

From the top there isn’t much space, but you get a nice view of the interior as well as the stained glass windows that would have provided some excellent natural light during the early morning and afternoon. 

Likewise on both sides of the building you’ll find stained glass windows, some of which are broken, but are still quite beautiful. As someone who comes from North America, these windows are one of those familiar things that you don’t see too often in Taiwan, but are a welcome inclusion to the exploration experience. 

The pulpit area is where being abandoned to the elements has had the most detrimental effect to the interior as the wooden stage is in pretty rough shape. You have to be careful while walking on it as any step could find yourself sinking through the moldy wood.

Similarly, the curved ceiling is in pretty bad shape with some of the wooden panels starting to fall off.

One thing that I didn’t actually notice until I got home was that the ceiling was home to several large wasp nests, which actually makes exploring the church quite dangerous if they’re annoyed by your presence.

The only object that actually remains within the church is the altar at the read of the building. The simple table stands in a space just behind where the priest would have stood to give his sermons.

To the left of the altar was a rear exit to the building and to the right is a cubicle space that I’m going to assume was used as a confessional, but it’s in pretty bad shape so its hard to tell for sure. 

Suffice to say, there isn’t all that much to see at this ruin. If you’re able to find it, you’ll be able to explore the space and take an ample amount of photos in less than half an hour. 

You may find that some my earlier statements about the church somewhat negative, but I assure you, I’m ambivalent about all of it. People are free to believe in whatever makes them feel better. Christianity has played a massive role throughout our history, so it would be sad to see it completely disappear, but then again throughout our history some pretty terrible things have happened because of religion.

Back home in Canada, the nation is currently wrestling with the absolutely disgusting history of our so-called ‘residential school system’, where the church ran boarding schools for Indigenous peoples across the country. Now, after more than a century, we’re only recently starting to discover the horrible truth of what actually took place at these death camps, which is a stain on our nation, and is likely to drive people further away from the church. 

Who knows, maybe during my next trip home, I’ll be able to explore abandoned churches like this one!

Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall (臺灣新文化運動紀念館)

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Walking through the recently restored Datong Police Precinct, it’s difficult not to respect the architectural beauty of the building. Like many of the places that I write about these days, it was constructed during the island’s five-decade long Japanese Colonial Era, and even though it was simply one of several police stations constructed in the capital, compared with contemporary stations, it seems like they put a little extra love into its design that is unparalleled these days.

However, while I was walking through the building and taking photos of its stunning architectural beauty, I came across an elderly volunteer, who found it interesting that a foreigner was visiting the building. After the typical awkward introductions in English, there was a sigh of relief when I let him know that I speak Mandarin. These encounters with (talkative) elderly volunteers have become common for me in recent years, and although it’s nice to chat with them (and learning from them) from time to time, I’m usually on a tight schedule trying to take photos, so I try to keep conversations short. Nevertheless, in this case, the volunteer had some things that he wanted to get off his chest, and likewise had some things to show me that I wouldn’t have otherwise noticed.

I was simply there just to take photos of the beautiful Japanese-era architecture, but what I got was a quick crash course on why this historic police precinct was ‘re-born’ as the “New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall,” which is ultimately a sad story about the struggles of the past eight decades of Taiwan’s history.

The elderly volunteer explained that when the Japanese constructed the building in the late stages of their control of Taiwan, the situation around the capital was quite stable. The building came complete with jail cells, but the crime rate was pretty low, so it was mostly used as a place for drunken and disorderly members of society after a night out on the town. Obviously, I’m sure that’s a rose-colored glasses version of history, but the point he was making was to differentiate the Japanese-era experience with what came afterwards.

Pointing at one of the walls in the the jail cell, the elderly volunteer asked me to take a look at words that were etched into the concrete that read: “Down with the Republic of China” (打到中華民國), something that was intentionally left there when the building was restored. The volunteer then ushered me to the other side of the room where he showed me what looked like a water tank, but was actually a torture device known as a water dungeon. Noting that the device was used rather extensively to torture political prisoners during the White Terror (白色恐怖) era of repression from the late 1940s to the 1980s.

Quickly realizing that my photo excursion to this historic building was turning into a learning experience, it became obvious that the elderly volunteer had a lot to say about the subject, but it was also quite clear that as a resident of the area, he also lived through much of the political repression that the people of Taiwan suffered after the arrival of the Chinese Nationalists.

This building wasn’t simply just another one of the pretty Japanese-era buildings that I frequent, it was one with a very dark history. One of the ‘historical sites of injustice’ (不義遺址), a collection of sites brought back to life to help people better understand the historic injustices suffered by generations of Taiwanese, destinations like this police station highlight the struggles of those who helped to bring about the end of Martial Law, and the nation’s transition into one of the region’s most vibrant democracies.

Link: Why People Are Flocking to a Symbol of Taiwan’s Authoritarian Past (Amy Chang Chien, John Liu and Chris Horton / NY Times)

In this article, I will introduce the history and architectural design of the historic police station, but I’ll also spend time introducing the purpose of the memorial hall that occupies the space today. Suffice to say, memorial halls like this are important for realizing transitional justice, and recognizing the crimes of the past while also helping educate younger people about the history of their nation so that they can forge ahead and continue on the road to helping Taiwan become a freer and fairer country.

North Taipei Police Station (臺北北警察署)

When the Japanese arrived in Taiwan in 1895 (明治28年), the capital was nothing compared to what we’re used to today. Taipei, or what became known as “Taihoku” (台北市 / たいほくし) was a walled area that was about five-kilometers in length accessible by the East Gate (景福門), North Gate (承恩門), West Gate (寶成門) and the South Gate (麗正門). For the Japanese, the confined area within the city was far too small given their plans for the future, so they quickly got to work on pulling down the walls and developing the city.

Where one might become slightly confused is that police service in the city was initially divided between the ‘northern’ and ‘southern’ sections of the city, which at the time wasn’t actually that large of an area. The ‘Southern Police Precinct’ (臺北南警察署) was constructed close to where the ‘North Gate’ is located, and the original Northern Police Precinct (臺北北警察署) was located in Dadaocheng, the most commercially prosperous area of the capital. Geographically, this makes sense, but if you’re not really familiar with the city’s historic set-up, you might find the naming somewhat baffling in that the ‘Southern Police Station’ was located next to the ‘Northern Gate.’ The simple answer here is that prior to the arrival of the Japanese, the northern section of the city only extended to the North Gate area, growing exponentially since then.

As the capital grew in both area and population, both the north and south stations became far too small for the purpose they served, so starting in 1929 (昭和4年), the second generation South Taipei Police Station was constructed, and then four years later in 1933 (昭和8年), the Taipei North Police Station was completed.

Interestingly, if you take a look at historic photos of both of the buildings (below), you’ll probably notice that they look quite similar in design. This is because they were actually quite generic as the architectural style used to construct these buildings had become common for larger police stations in Japan at the time, which is something I’ll explain in further detail below.

Note: The South Taipei Police Precinct has already been torn down.

Officially opened on April 26th, 1933, the North Taipei Police Station (臺北北警察署 / たいぺいきたけいさつしょ) was constructed a short distance from the original. Replacing a much smaller Qing-era building, which had a bit of a bad reputation (due to protests and arrests of intellectuals in the 1920s), the newer, much larger building was constructed using modern design techniques. Sadly though, it wouldn’t be long until it’s reputation would become exponentially worse than its predecessor.

For the remainder of the Japanese-era, the station remained in operation as normal, but when the Second World War came to an end and the Japanese were forced to surrender control of Taiwan, a number of changes took place, in addition to some pretty terrible events that cemented the station’s place in history. Playing a role in what has become known as the 228-Incident (二二八事件), an island-wide event that started in Daodaocheng, a short distance from the station. It also became home to the Criminal Investigation Corps (臺灣省警務處刑警總隊拘留所), which was later discovered to be part of the state intelligence apparatus that worked hand-in-hand with the infamous Taiwan Garrison Command (警備總部).

Investigations into the history of the White Terror Period (白色恐怖) from 1947 to 1987 are ongoing, so the actual number of political prisoners who passed through the station remains, but what we do know is that the building and the jail within were used extensively to ‘temporarily’ house political prisoners, who were interrogated and tortured in the building, prior to being sent to more ‘private' locations where they were likely to never be seen again.

Considered by the National Human Rights Museum as one of the historical sites of injustice’ (不義遺址) mentioned earlier, the number of political prisoners who passed through the station is unlikely to be an insignificant number, nevertheless, as the political situation in the country started to stabilize by the 1990s, the building became just a regular police station, until it was finally put out service in 2012.

Soon after the ‘Datong Police Station’ (大同分局) moved to a much larger building next door, the original was designated by Taipei City as a Protected Historic Property and plans for restoration were drawn up.

Below, I’m going to provide a brief timeline of the station’s history before I move onto its architectural design:  

North Taipei Police Precinct Timeline

  • 1920-1932 (大正9年 - 昭和7年) - The first generation Taipei North Police Station was located within a much smaller building for a twelve year period where the Carrefour hyper-mart exists today. This was the building where Chiang Wei-shui and others were imprisoned.

  • 1932 (昭和7年) - Construction on the new police station starts on August 8th.

  • 1933 (昭和8年) - Construction on the new station is completed on April 15th, and the building is officially opened on April 26th.

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - Soon after the Chinese Nationalists take control of Taiwan, the station is renamed “Taipei #1 Precinct” (第一分局).

  • 1949 (民國38年) - The police station becomes home to the Criminal Investigation Corps, which is officially a ‘police’ organization but is under the umbrella of the state intelligence apparatus, and the building is used for the imprisonment and torture of political prisoners.

  • 1985 (民國74年) - The station is renamed “Ningxia Police Station” (寧夏分局)

  • 1990 (民國79年) - The station is renamed “Datong Police Station” (大同分局)

  • 1998 (民國87年) - The building is officially recognized as a Taipei City Historic Property (市定古蹟)

  • 2006 (民國95年) - Plans are made by the city government to restore the building and convert it into the New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall, once construction on the new Datong Police Branch is completed.

  • 2012 (民國101年) - The Datong Police Station officially moves to its new location (next to the original building) and once the building is vacated, preparations are made for its restoration.

  • 2018 (民國107年) - The Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall officially opens on October 14th.

Architectural Design

At this point, you’re probably thinking, is it really necessary to describe the architectural design of a police station? It is after-all just an old building where some terrible things happened. To answer your question yes, I think it’s important to (at least) briefly talk about the design of the building, because there are some tidbits of information that make it quite interesting.

I promise though, I won’t spend as much time as I usually do on this section.

To start, I suppose the first interesting thing about the design of the building is that it part of a very formulaic as far as police stations like this go - If we take a look at the historic police stations constructed during the early years of the Showa-era in both Taiwan and Japan, there are some architectural characteristics that are shared by all of them. So, let’s first take a look at some of historic stations (of a similar size) here in Taiwan so you’ll better understand what I’m talking about.

What you’ll notice in each of the examples above is that they were all similarly constructed on the corner of a road in either a “L” or “V” shape, were generously sized two-leveled structures, and more specifically ranged from 524.6 - 565.2 square meters in total. Essentially, despite a few minor decorative differences, they all more or less followed the same architectural style and size.

After almost forty years of development, by the time the Showa-era came along, the Japanese had become rather adept and had all of the infrastructure in place to construct modern buildings like this in Taiwan. The combination of improved construction techniques, a better understanding of Taiwan’s natural environment, and the availability of construction materials made it much easier for the authorities to construct larger buildings that would be able to withstand the test of time, for a fraction of the price, which made projects like this much more feasible.

If you’ve been reading my articles for any period of time, you’ll probably notice that I tend to focus more on the traditional-looking Japanese-style buildings, most of which were constructed with timber. What’s important to keep in mind with regard to these larger civic buildings, however is that in the aftermath of the devastating Great Kanto Earthquake (関東大地震) in 1923 (大正12), attitudes regarding construction and building safety became an important issue within Japanese society. It was around this time that the use of reinforced concrete structures started appearing more regularly as a more modern approach to construction, safety and the longevity of buildings became paramount. Earthquake-proofing, however became essential within the Governor General’s official building-standard codes after the Shinchiku-Taichu Earthquake (新竹‧台中地震 / しんちく‧たいちゅうじしん) of 1935 (昭和10年) caused massive damage around the island.

Constructed using reinforced concrete with brick load-bearing wall elements and a steel frame, the ‘modern approach’ to architectural design that was taking place here differed from the traditional approach. In the latter, designers placed more importance on the load-bearing ability of the walls to withstand the weight of the roof and the floors above. In this case, the steel frame, brick walls and a network of columns and beams on the ground level and the second floor were better suited to maintain the stability of the building, especially in the case of an earthquake.

One of the most interesting tidbits of information regarding the reinforced concrete that was used to construct this specific building (and several others around the capital) is that the same stone that was made up the original walls that surrounded Qing-era Taipei City. So even though the stone was re-made into the exterior of the building that we see today, the concrete predates the building by more than half a century.

What’s most noticeable with regard to these modern civic buildings is that they were constructed with fewer decorative elements than traditional style buildings. That doesn’t mean they didn’t add any special touches to the building, instead, I’d argue that the what they did add, stands out as somewhat of a lost art-form within modern construction as the Art-Deco architectural style turned what was a simple police station into an elegant building.

Starting from the shape of the building, it may not seem obvious, but the “L-shape” on the corner makes it an opposing structure as it stretches along two different roads. The modern building techniques and steel-frame permitted exterior walls that feature a number of arched and semi-circular windows, which allowed for a considerable amount of natural light to enter the building. The most impressive aspect of the exterior is where the building curves in a ‘half-moon’ shape on the corner, which is where you’ll find the covered portico that feature columns and a set of stairs that open up to the front door.

Once inside, you get to see more of the Art-Deco decorative elements at work with the spacious front hall, high ceilings, large arched corridors and the absolutely beautiful staircase located in the center of the building. Suffice to say, over the past nine decades, a considerable amount of alterations have taken place within the interior of the building, so the number of rooms within the space is somewhat unclear, but what remains true is that after the war, the station was home to more than two-hundred officers, making it a pretty cramped space. This ultimately necessitated a third floor expansion in the 1960s, which has since been removed to restore the building to its original likeness.

One of the main attractions for most visitors today is the jail area (拘留所) of the building, which is connected to the rear of the building. The fan-shaped jail allowed for a single officer to watch over seven triangular jail cells from a station in the middle. For most visitors, it’s likely their first time to encounter such a space, but it’s important to remember the nefarious events that took place in Taiwan over the past century, making this a solemn place for the people who suffered political persecution within the building and elsewhere. Much of the jail has been restored to its original condition and visitors are free to enter one or two of the cells to experience the cramped space.

Directly to the rear of where the presiding officer would have watched the prisoners is a room that is home to the infamous Water Dungeon (水牢), a torture device that was constructed during the Japanese-era, but widely used later on as a means of extracting confessions out of political prisoners. A live-feed has been installed to allow visitors to view what it looks like within the dungeon, but you can’t actually go down, nor would you probably want to.

On that note, I’m going to move on to why this historic building has become home to a memorial hall for the political prisoners who had the misfortune of being brought to the building both during the Japanese era and the current era.

Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall

(臺灣新文化運動紀念館)

Now that I’ve introduced the history and architectural design of the building itself, I think it’s important to first expand on the history of the “New Cultural Movement” (新文化運動) before I introduce the memorial hall that occupies the building today, so that readers have a better understanding as to why it’s a significant memorial for the people of Taiwan, and especially with regard to the neighborhood where it’s located.

Having written about the history of the Dadaocheng area several times already, I’m going to start simply by explaining briefly some of the important events that led up to the formation of the New Culture Movement: Originally the Bangka (艋舺) area, known today as “Wanhua District” (萬華區) was the first part of the capital that was opened up for international exchange and trading with a port that allowed boats to travel up the Keelung river and out to sea. The economic prosperity of the area however brought about issues between groups of immigrants that hailed from different regions of China’s Fujian Province (福建省).

Most importantly with regard to the Dadaocheng area, the immigrants who came to Taiwan from Tong-An County (同安縣), which is today a northern district of Xiamen city (廈門市) were the ones who had the most trouble as the more dominant groups weren’t willing to share their economic prosperity with them.

In 1853, hostilities broke out (頂下郊拚) between the four major groups of immigrants who occupied the port area, and ultimately finding themselves on the losing side of the conflict, the immigrants hailing from Tong-An county packed up and moved out of Bangka, resettling in nearby Dadaocheng.

Settlement in the Dadaocheng area (pronounced: Tōa-tiū-tiâ in Taiwanese Hokkien) starting a few years prior by another group of immigrants from Tong-An, who had migrated from Taiwan's northern port of Keelung to do business in the city, so those who found themselves fleeing Bangka were welcomed. It was a move that ultimately proved to be extremely beneficial for those displaced as they used their resources and knowledge to further develop Dadaocheng, which also had its own wharf.

Looking back, losing the feud was probably the best thing that could have happened given that the port in Bangka shortly after started having silting issues, making the it unusable for the boats that would have docked there, allowing Dadaocheng to transform itself into a commercially successful port of trade. By the time the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, the Dadaocheng area was the most commercially successful area of the island with international exchange and trade fueling economic prosperity, and more importantly for today’s topic, attracting literati and scholars from all over Taiwan.

By the 1920s, intellectuals in Taiwan, influenced by social movements taking place elsewhere around the world, started forming groups advocating for an end to colonial rule and for national self-determination. Scholars such as Chiang Wei-shui (蔣渭水) and Lin Hsien-tang (林獻堂) founded groups like the Taiwan Cultural Association (台灣文化協會), and the Taiwanese People’s Party (臺灣民眾黨), one of which is the inspiration for the memorial hall today.

Links: Chiang Wei-shui | Lin Hsien-tang (Wiki)

The New Culture Movement advocated for ‘a self-help enlightenment movement for the social liberation and cultural advancement of the Taiwanese people’ inspired by President Woodrow Wilson’s promotion of the ideology of national self-determination. Even though many of the intellectuals in the group were among the few lucky enough to be highly educated in Japanese universities, they still advocated that the ‘cure’ for Taiwan’s sociocultural and national illnesses were simple things such as access to formal education, professional training, kindergartens, libraries and newspaper reading clubs.

To assist in solving these problems, the association published the Taiwan People’s Daily (台灣民報), a newspaper that served as an alternative to the colonial government’s official newspaper, and they organized ‘cultural schools’ for the less fortunate in society, held cultural lecture groups and seminars, established ‘newspaper reading clubs’ (a topic that is wonderfully put on display at the museum today), organized and performed cultural plays and showings of foreign films, and opened book stores around the island.

All in the hope of cultivating the seeds of literacy and social enlightenment among the people of Taiwan.

To say the least, in many ways, the New Cultural Movement’s goals started creating change throughout Taiwan, and many of their ideologies continue to be promoted today on the road to strengthening the nation’s democracy and civil society.

Some of the New Culture movement educational pieces on display.

However, even though it all might sound utopian, the reality is that the Japanese empire at the time was quickly turning into a fascist state, and these social movements seeking to promote Taiwanese self-determination weren’t exactly looked upon favorably by nationalists. Thus, the government cracked down on these groups and members were arrested and imprisoned. Commemorating those efforts, the New Culture Movement Memorial Hall (臺灣新文化運動紀念館) was established within the very same police station where Chiang Wei-shui, and many of his contemporaries were held after their arrests.

Established on October 14th, 2018 (民國107年), the historic police station has been completely restored and features educational exhibits about the New Culture Movement on the first floor and a number of revolving exhibitions on the second floor that focus on the various aspects of the movement and it’s effect on Taiwanese society from the 1920s until now.

In addition to the permanent and revolving exhibitions within the memorial hall, the staff is tasked with organizing seminars, forums, book exhibitions, guided street tours, bazaars and concerts throughout the year, making a visit to the hall one that tourists and every day citizens alike can enjoy on more than one occasion.

And hey, if you’re in the area and are simply looking for a relaxing place to sit and enjoy a coffee, you can visit the 8jincafé (八斤所) on the first floor, to the left of the main entrance, where you’ll get to enjoy the historic ambiance of the old building while enjoying some freshly brewed single-origin coffee.

Link: 8jincafé (八斤所)

As one of the (current) thirty-one sites under the stewardship of the National Human Rights Museum’s (國家人權博物館) ‘Historical Sites of Injustice’ (不義遺址) project, the memorial hall located within the historic police station today focuses on the Cultural Movements of the Japanese-era, but it goes without saying that the police station was also involved in what the Human Rights Museum defines as a “detention, interrogation, torture, coercion, prosecution, trials, and internment of political dissidents during the White Terror period’ which “can be found all over Taiwan, including on the islands of Kinmen, Matsu and Penghu” and “were witnesses to the major historical traumas undergone by Taiwan in its development of human rights.”

As the police station became home to the Criminal Investigation Corps (臺灣省警務處刑警總隊拘留所), which unofficially acted as part of the state intelligence apparatus with police serving a dual-role as members of the infamous Taiwan Provincial Security Command (省保安司令部) and the Taiwan Garrison Command (警備總部) who used the building as a temporary detention center for confining political prisoners during the White Terror period where they would be questioned and tortured prior to being sent elsewhere.

The topic of transitional justice is a heavy one, especially as the historic crimes of the White Terror Period (白色恐怖) continue to come to light, but I do recommend anyone reading this to take some time to check out the Sites of Injustice website linked below, which provides excellent resources in both Chinese and English regarding one of the longest periods of imposed Martial Law in the world’s history, where the people of Taiwan were subjected to political repression and unspeakable cruelty. The website provides information on what has been uncovered as well as the sites that we’re able to visit to learn more about the topic.

Link: Historical Sites of Injustice (不義遺址)

The Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall is open from Tuesday to Sunday (Closed on Mondays) from 9:30 - 17:00 and visiting is free of charge.

Website: Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall | Facebook (Both Chinese Only)


Getting There

 

Address: #87 Ningxia Road, Datong District, Taipei (大同區寧夏路87號)

GPS: 25.059430, 121.514900

Located in Taipei’s historic Datong District (大同區), the Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall is conveniently positioned within walking distance from several of the city’s MRT stations, and is likewise serviced by numerous bus routes, making getting to the area relatively easy for most traveller.

Within walking distance from Ningxia Nightmarket (寧夏夜市) and the Dadaocheng (大稻埕) area, there are considerable amount of things to see and do while visiting the area, and the addition of this new memorial hall is an excellent stop for anyone hoping to learn more about Taiwan’s modern history.

Taipei MRT

One of the easiest ways to visit the Memorial Hall is to make your way to any of the three subway stations listed below and from there walking to the hall. From either of the three stations, it shouldn’t take any longer than ten minutes to reach the hall.

  1. Shuanglian MRT Station (雙連捷運站) - From Exit 1, turn left on Minsheng West Road (民生西路) and continue walking straight until you reach Ningxia Road (寧夏路) where you’ll turn right and continue walking straight until you reach the hall.

  2. Minquan West Road MRT Station (民權西路捷運站) - From Exit 3 walk south until you reach Jinxi Street (錦西街) where you turn right and walk straight until you reach the hall.

  3. Daqiaotou MRT Station (大橋頭捷運站) - From the station simply walk south down Chongqing North Road (重慶北路) until you reach the Carrefour. The memorial hall is located to the rear of the building.

Bus

Located between the Minsheng Chongqing Road Intersection (民生重慶路口站) and the Liangzhou Chongqing Road Intersection (涼州重慶路口站) bus stops, travelers have a number of options for bus routes to the area. Both of the bus stops are located along the bus Chongqing North Road (重慶北路), and once you get off, you’ll have to cross to the side of the street where you see the Chongqing Road Carrefour (家樂福重慶店). From there, the memorial hall is a short distance to the rear of the building, which means that taking the bus is one of your best options.

The following buses are serviced by both of the stops: #2, #63, #215, #223, #250, #288, #300, #302, #304, #306, #639, #757, #966,

Click on any of the links above for the route map and real-time information for each of the buses. If you haven’t already, I recommend using the Taipei eBus website or downloading the “台北等公車” app to your phone.

Link: Bus Tracker (臺北等公車) - Apple | Android

Youbike

There are also a number of Youbike Docking Stations surrounding the area where the Memorial Hall is located. The closest of which can be found within the Chiang Wei-Shui Memorial Park (蔣渭水紀念公園), next to the current police station. If you’re making your way around town on one of the publicly available Youbike’s, you’ll be able to dock your bike nearby, or find another one once you’ve finished checking out the memorial hall.

If you haven’t already, I highly recommend downloading the Youbike App to your phone so that you’ll have a better idea of the location where you’ll be able to find the closest docking station.

Links: Youbike 1.0 - Apple | Android | Youbike 2.0 - Apple | Android

History in Taiwan can be a complicated subject at times, and even though this building’s history spans both the Japanese Colonial era and the subsequent Martial Law period, the architectural beauty of the historic building is foreshadowed by the terrible things that took place within. Now that the country is on the path to addressing transitional justice, the re-opening of this particular space as a memorial for those who suffered within is certainly a helpful way to educate people about Taiwan’s struggle to attain the democracy that it enjoys today.

References

  1. Taipei New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall (臺灣新文化運動紀念館)

  2. 走訪台灣新文化運動紀念館，回顧台灣文化協會的百年奔放與啟蒙 (The News Lens)

  3. 臺灣新文化運動紀念館》茶金拍攝景點，水牢及互動體驗讓歷史變有趣 (可大王愛旅行)

  4. 臺北市直轄市定古蹟原臺北北警察署修護調查與再利用規劃研究 (林正雄)

  5. 臺灣省警務處刑警總隊拘留所 (不義遺址資料庫)

  6. 臺灣新文化運動紀念館 關不住的文化覺醒 (台北旅遊網)

  7. 臺北北警察署 (Wiki)

  8. Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall (Wiki)

  9. 原臺北北警察署 (國家文化資產網)

  10. 原臺北北警察署 (文化部)

  11. 台北-大同 臺北北警察署 (Just a Balcony)

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