After the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) lost the Chinese Civil War in 1949, it retreated to Taiwan to establish the Republic of China’s government-in-exile. Led by self-styled “Generalissimo” Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石), the government lacked money to rebuild Taipei, which had been heavily bombed during World War II. Most new buildings were thrown up haphazardly and as cheaply as possible. Aside from the National Palace Museum and a few other notable exceptions, there was no money in the national coffers for grand architectural projects, as Chiang believed he would only be in Taiwan for a short sojourn before “retaking the mainland.”
By the time of Chiang’s death in 1975, Taiwan had achieved an economic miracle and was in a much stronger financial position, but by then it was clear that “retaking the mainland” was a lost cause. The Executive Yuan established a funeral committee to construct a lavish memorial to Chiang, selecting architect Yang Cho-cheng (楊卓成) as lead designer.
Yang’s design for Taipei’s Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall — a quadrilateral structure with plain white, high-sided walls, capped with an octagonal roof covered in blue glazed tiles — incorporates many elements of traditional Chinese architecture, seeking to mirror the Sun Yat-sen (孫中山) Mausoleum in Nanjing, China. Sun is considered by both the KMT and the Chinese Communist Party as the spiritual figurehead of their respective political ideologies.
The hall, which sits at the eastern side of the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Park, is flanked by the National Theater and National Concert Hall. The area has become a national landmark and tourist attraction. The austere stone plaza leading up to the hall has been the stage for numerous seminal events during Taiwan’s democratization and was renamed Liberty Square by former president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁).
Due to Chiang’s authoritarian rule, the nation remains deeply divided over how to represent the former president’s legacy. In the pan-green camp, most view Chiang as a tyrant with blood on his hands and are adamant that all iconography relating to him should be expunged from public spaces. Many in the pan-blue camp say that while grave mistakes were made, without the KMT’s fortification of Taiwan against a Chinese invasion, Taiwan would have long ago been annexed by Beijing.
On Wednesday, the Transitional Justice Commission announced its plan to transform the hall, which includes removing a large bronze statue of Chiang. In a report, the commission called the 6.3m bronze sculpture an “axis of worship” and recommended that the hall’s function and appearance be changed to allow for “reflection on Taiwan’s authoritarian history.”
Presidential Office spokesman Xavier Chang (張惇涵) yesterday said that debate over the hall is ongoing, adding that the government welcomes suggestions and dialogue to reach a consensus.
As former vice president Annette Lu (呂秀蓮) has previously suggested, the hall could be transformed into a space dedicated to honoring all of Taiwan’s former presidents.
The Taipei Times has long argued that transforming the hall into a Presidents’ Memorial Hall — perhaps with statues of equal height flanking the walls of the main chamber in chronological order — while not a perfect solution, would go a long way toward healing the nation. It would also provide a focal point to celebrate Taiwan’s transition to a democracy, warts and all. It is the only feasible way to put this political hot potato to bed.
Apart from the first arms sales approval for Taiwan since US President Donald Trump took office, last month also witnessed another milestone for Taiwan-US relations. Trump signed the Taiwan Assurance Implementation Act into law on Tuesday. Its passing without objection in the US Senate underscores how bipartisan US support for Taiwan has evolved. The new law would further help normalize exchanges between Taiwanese and US government officials. We have already seen a flurry of visits to Washington earlier this summer, not only with Minister of Foreign Affairs Lin Chia-lung (林佳龍), but also delegations led by National Security Council Secretary-General Joseph Wu
When the towers of Wang Fuk Court turned into a seven-building inferno on Wednesday last week, killing 128 people, including a firefighter, Hong Kong officials promised investigations, pledged to review regulations and within hours issued a plan to replace bamboo scaffolding with steel. It sounded decisive. It was not. The gestures are about political optics, not accountability. The tragedy was not caused by bamboo or by outdated laws. Flame-retardant netting is already required. Under Hong Kong’s Mandatory Building Inspection Scheme — which requires buildings more than 30 years old to undergo inspection every decade and compulsory repairs — the framework for
Ho Ying-lu (何鷹鷺), a Chinese spouse who was a member of the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) Central Standing Committee, on Wednesday last week resigned from the KMT, accusing the party of failing to clarify its “one China” policy. In a video released in October, Ho, wearing a T-shirt featuring a portrait of Mao Zedong (毛澤東), said she hoped that Taiwan would “soon return to the embrace of the motherland” and “quickly unify — that is my purpose and my responsibility.” The KMT’s Disciplinary Committee on Nov. 19 announced that Ho had been suspended from her position on the committee, although she was
Two mayors have invited Japanese pop icon Ayumi Hamasaki to perform in their cities after her Shanghai concert was abruptly canceled on Saturday last week, a decision widely interpreted as fallout from the latest political spat between Japan and China. Organizers in Shanghai pulled Hamasaki’s show at the last minute, citing force majeure, a justification that convinced few. The cancelation came shortly after Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi remarked that a Chinese attack on Taiwan could prompt a military response from Tokyo — comments that angered Beijing and triggered a series of retaliatory moves. Hamasaki received an immediate show of support from
RSS