March 15 to March 21
Although it is often mentioned among Taipei’s most haunted places, the Shizilin Commercial Building (獅子林大樓) was touted as the city’s hippest spot when it was completed in 1976.
The 10-story structure in Ximending (西門町) was unusually tall for those days, setting the standard for modern shopping malls with 300 stores, three movie theaters, a food court and high-end restaurants. Its faded, yellow exterior looks quite garish today, but in 1977 the design won first place in a national architectural competition. Despite a murder happening there in 1979, the building got even fancier on March 15, 1980 when it unveiled the nation’s largest rooftop amusement park.
Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
There was little concept of cultural preservation back then, and few seemed to mind that developers razed a beautiful Indian-style Buddhist temple (the Taiwan branch of Japan’s famous Higashi Honganji) to make way for the mall. The temple had long ceased to be a place of worship by then, and until 1967 it was used by the Taiwan Garrison Command as a detention and interrogation center, mostly for political prisoners. The atrocities that took place there, in addition to several killings and accidents in the modern era, contribute to its spooky reputation.
The building’s fortunes didn’t last long. It was plagued with scandals and incidents and at one point was known as a hotbed for illicit activities and a gathering spot for delinquents. It still operates today as a shell of its former self, although Shin Kong Cinemas on the fourth and fifth floors is a popular screening spot for film festivals.
PALACE OF HELL
Photo: Hung Jui-chin, Taipei Times
Those familiar with Taipei’s historic buildings should notice that there’s also a Nishi Honganji in Ximending (nishi means west in Japanese, higashi means east). The west temple was also used as a prison at one point, and was fortunately restored and turned into a park.
The temples belonged to the two main sects of Japan’s Jodo Shinshu school of Buddhism (also known as Shin Buddhism), which split in 1602. Each sect constructed headquarters in Taipei to spread their beliefs during Japanese rule. The first iteration of Higashi Honganji lasted just two years, burning down in 1930. The classical Indian-style structure, rarely seen in Taiwan, was erected in its place in 1936.
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) claimed the temple as “enemy property” upon its arrival in Taiwan in 1945. It was given to the military a year later, who turned it into a terrifying detention center that was dubbed the “palace of hell.”
The building is listed on the National Human Rights Museum’s “historical sites of injustice” Web site, where it details the horrific conditions with testimonies from former prisoners.
Aside from the solitary chambers, about 20 people were crammed into a 10m2 space that was infested with bugs and other pests. They showered once a week, had no toiletries or toothbrushes and the lights were never turned off, causing many to lose their sense of time. The cellmates shared a single chamber pot that was placed near the door and only emptied once a day, and the halls reeked horribly.
Former prisoner Huang Shih-kuei (黃石貴) recalls that guards tortured him severely during interrogations before even asking any questions, rendering him unable to walk after each session. Lu Chao-lin (盧兆麟) was tied to a torture rack while being waterboarded and electrocuted. He was denied sleep and water during his lengthy sessions.
SELLING THE TEMPLE
Kimimasa Matsukane writes in the study, “The Taipei Branch of Shin Buddhism’s Otani Sect After the War,” (referring to the temple’s official name) that the Taiwan Provincial Taoist Association (台灣省道教會) wanted the temple for their headquarters. As early as 1959 it had asked the government for the building. The request essentially stated that since Shandao Temple (originally another Jodo Shinshu temple) was given to the Buddhist Association after the war, their Taoist counterparts should have one too.
The association made the puzzling argument that Higashi Honganji was a suitable home since Shintoism originated from Taoism, enabling the government to simply reject their request on grounds that the temple was actually Buddhist.
The truth is that the government already had plans for the temple: the following year, it announced a five-year plan to relocate Taiwan Garrison Command structures out of downtown Taipei. The move would be funded by selling the land.
When they put the temple on the market in 1965, the Buddhist Association strongly objected, stating that the military was merely borrowing the building and that it should belong to them. At this time, the military also occupied parts of Shandao Temple.
After two years of arguing, the government offered to partially fund the association’s guesthouse for foreign visitors, as well as entirely remove its military presence from Shandao Temple. The association accepted. As for the Taoists, the transcript from a government meeting over the issue states that “they can be ignored.”
But the problems continued. In late 1967, the Japanese embassy lodged a complaint, arguing that per the post-war treaties that the two sides signed, the KMT could not sell any former Japanese property that was “purely used for religious or charitable purposes.”
The government dug up evidence that the Japanese used it as a secret service base during World War II, and finally, they were able to sell it.
Taiwan in Time, a column about Taiwan’s history that is published every Sunday, spotlights important or interesting events around the nation that either have anniversaries this week or are tied to current events.
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
The following three paragraphs are just some of what the local Chinese-language press is reporting on breathlessly and following every twist and turn with the eagerness of a soap opera fan. For many English-language readers, it probably comes across as incomprehensibly opaque, so bear with me briefly dear reader: To the surprise of many, former pop singer and Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) ex-lawmaker Yu Tien (余天) of the Taiwan Normal Country Promotion Association (TNCPA) at the last minute dropped out of the running for committee chair of the DPP’s New Taipei City chapter, paving the way for DPP legislator Su
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby
It’s hard to know where to begin with Mark Tovell’s Taiwan: Roads Above the Clouds. Having published a travelogue myself, as well as having contributed to several guidebooks, at first glance Tovell’s book appears to inhabit a middle ground — the kind of hard-to-sell nowheresville publishers detest. Leaf through the pages and you’ll find them suffuse with the purple prose best associated with travel literature: “When the sun is low on a warm, clear morning, and with the heat already rising, we stand at the riverside bike path leading south from Sanxia’s old cobble streets.” Hardly the stuff of your