After our mother’s passing in 2022, my younger sister and I began organizing the letters our father, Wei Ting-jao (魏廷朝), sent us from prison. He served time from 1979 to 1987 after the Formosa Incident, also known as the Kaohsiung Incident — where a Human Rights Day rally held by democracy leaders during the martial law period led to the use of tear gas and arrests by police.
We decided to donate my father’s letters to the Jingmei White Terror Memorial Park in New Taipei City. We are ever grateful to the civil servants at the Ministry of Culture, not only for respecting these pieces of history, but for personally visiting my old home in Jhongli District (中壢) in Taoyuan to collect them.
When looking back on the letters, I only ever dared to read the front of the envelopes and the first few lines of each. I hardly read a single letter fully because I did not wish to recall those memories from my childhood, when my mother would take us to visit my father in prison. In 1999, when I was just 21 years old, my father passed away.
When confirming the condition of the letters, an employee at the ministry asked me what I thought of the Jingmei Military Detention Center. Upon hearing this question, an ocean of memories from 40 years ago came flooding back, bringing tears. I had forgotten that I remember it all. I remember my mother 30 years prior, holding my little hand and carrying my sister, who was two years old at the time. I remember her taking us onto the train, then onto a bus and then walking for a long while before arriving at the prison to see my father.
I have been afraid to visit the Jingmei White Terror Memorial Park, because I know it holds all those beautiful memories that I am unwilling to revisit. Inside that unsightly cement structure, opposite the thick and filthy glass, is my unshaven father and my mother, holding delicious snacks that she bought or made for the whole family to share. I just chose to forget. For me, the places my father once lived — the Jingmei Military Detention Center, Taipei Prison, Renai Building and so on — all carry a suffocating sadness tinged with a strange sense of happiness. Aside from my family’s sorrow and anger, our prison visits felt warm — almost like stolen happiness. As a preschool-aged child, I traveled far by train and bus almost every week to see my father’s smiling face, his overjoyed expression — this is a happiness belonging exclusively to our childhood.
To us, the Jingmei Military Detention Center was the site of our family reunions, one ever soaked in sunlight. Our weekly visits with my father were extremely precious. I could not forget a single moment.
I hope that these sites of past injustice can be renovated into spaces that can coexist harmoniously with the people under sustainable oversight. With sustainability in mind, I hope they can be opened in a variety of ways. They can become the secret bases in which children run and play, community art spaces, a cool place for locals to drink tea and chat, educational centers teaching about the experiences of political victims, offices for Ministry of Culture employees, and more.
This should be the future for these sites of injustice and human rights. They are an important part of history and of Taiwanese. These places — sites where cultural values are built and where my memories of family are eternally preserved — ensure that Taiwanese forever remember who we are. We must not forget that all the good we are blessed with today was born from the enduring pursuit of fairness, justice and democracy.
Culture is the very essence of civilization. A nation’s culture is the persistence and pursuit of beautiful things by humanity. It is the awareness of oneself and historical memory, yet very few remember that a nation’s commitment to its values is built upon the efforts and sacrifices of many. The enduring pursuit of fairness, justice and democracy is also part of culture, so Taiwanese must strive to ensure that they never forget it.
Culture is a part of national strength. It is what makes Taiwan’s presence on the international stage worthy of being cherished and understood. Taiwan’s historical pursuit of democracy is the very heart of our culture — the very reason it has received international respect and recognition. I hope that the country would enact laws to protect and pass on these historical sites so that such precious assets can one day become the treasured legacy we leave for future generations.
Wei Hsin-chi is director of the WTJ Human Right, Culture and Education Association.
Translated by Kyra Gustavsen
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