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Taiwan is losing its
historic sites
By Hung Chih-wen 洪致文
Following the controversy over the cost of the -government-sponsored rock
musical Dreamers (夢想家), people from non-governmental cultural circles got
together and invited candidates from the three main parties contesting next
month’s elections to present their views on cultural policy and answer questions
about it.
Disappointingly, among the 12 questions prepared beforehand, none seriously
addressed the matter of historic sites. Even of the questions raised on the
spot, only the issue of the Losheng (樂生) Sanatorium had anything to do with this
topic.
Although people working in the cultural field generally claim to care about the
land and the disadvantaged, on this occasion all the talk was about exhibitions,
performances and the arts industry, while the very important cultural issue of
historical sites was completely sidelined. It must have been very upsetting for
people who are struggling to preserve historical buildings, brick by brick and
tile by tile, at countless sites all around the country.
You may say that the general issue of culture is just too broad and that people
from various fields have their own particular focus. However, it must be said
that the arts and cultural industries and the preservation of cultural heritage
are the three most tangible and important aspects of culture.
It is a pity that in recent years, the way we go about preserving cultural
heritage in Taiwan has been turned on its head. Many iconic industrial buildings
that have been preserved have become completely cut off from their historical
background. No matter whether they used to be warehouses, factories or whatever,
when they have been repaired they are either rented out to cafes under
rehabilitate-operate-transfer arrangements or used as venues for artistic
exhibitions and performances, while all traces of their industrial past, which
is what really should be preserved, is completely erased.
Take, for example, the “railway arts network” that the Council for Cultural
Affairs has been promoting for many years. Neither the Chinese Nationalist Party
(KMT) administration nor the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) government that
preceded it has been willing to change the concept to a “railway arts and
culture network.”
As a result, the various railway-related spaces have been cut off from their
historical roots. All that is left are spaces for artists to paint, carve and
dance, detached from any kind of railway theme.
Furthermore, everyone in cultural circles agree on the need to preserve the
Taipei Railway Workshop, but why should an industrial site like this be made
into a gallery full of installation art? Every time the council puts vacant
spaces like these to new use, it is invariably art for art’s sake. The council
is not interested in spending funds on preserving the industrial cultural assets
embodied in such places. Wherever warehouses or factories are preserved, they
are inevitably given over to artists to reside in and exhibit their art, while
their background as industrial sites is expunged, thus missing the real purpose
of preserving them in the first place.
Preserving historic sites requires more than just caring about culture; it
usually takes a great deal of money. When campaigning for election some years
ago, President Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) suggested a very good way to find the
necessary funds. His idea was there should be a rule that a certain proportion
of the budget for any major construction project should be set aside for
preserving cultural assets, and that if this money was not used in the course of
a particular building project, it should be set aside for use on other projects.
However, the situation we have now is that a certain proportion of the budget of
major construction projects is used for public art, but there is no funding set
aside for cultural assets at all.
If such mandatory funding were available, it would ensure that, when
controversies about preserving historic sites emerge while a construction
project is underway, there would be money available to pay for preservation and
to cover the expense involved in changing construction plans. The idea Ma
suggested was a very good one, but he has been in office as president for more
than three years now, with his KMT influencing a majority of seats in the
legislature, yet nothing has come of his suggestion.
Taiwan’s cultural assets have reached the point where, if they are not quickly
saved, they will be lost forever. Local cultural departments and the council at
the national level are usually “masters of the art” of arranging committee
membership to ensure that submissions for listing places as historic sites or
historically significant buildings are rejected, while going through all the
technically correct legally required procedures of public hearings and
deliberation by experts.
When the Taipei City Government’s Department of Cultural Affairs absurdly
decided not to list Huashan Station, the last railway station built during
Japan’s colonial rule over Taiwan, as an historic site, the DPP did nothing
about it, even though the station is right next to its national headquarters. If
such a site in a prominent location cannot be preserved, what hope can there be
for the other precious historic buildings that are under threat of demolition?
In many cases, people campaigning for such buildings to be preserved are left
clutching the broken bricks and tiles that lie strewn around after diggers and
bulldozers have done their work.
The issue of preserving historic sites is by no means confined to the Losheng
Sanatorium case. The Cultural Heritage Preservation Act (文化資產保存法), the
definition of cultural heritage, the system for preserving historic sites and
the budgeting of funds for preservation need to be thoroughly discussed. Sadly,
it is hard to find people who are willing to speak out for Taiwan’s threatened
and disappearing historic sites.
Hung Chih-wen is an associate professor of geography at National Taiwan
Normal University.
Translated by Julian Clegg
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