About This Issue
In recent times, dystopian scenarios seem to arrive again and again—no longer confined to fiction, but unfolding with unsettling realism. Both the world and the individual are swept up in the overwhelming spectacle of images and sensations on the big screen, pushed and pulled by forces beyond control. Before technology and knowledge can fully demonstrate their promise, the spectrum of civilization appears to reverse in an instant, edging toward rupture and decay.
In this issue, Xunfeng turns its focus to the development of medical care in Taiwan during the Japanese colonial period. We begin with medical architecture, taking Taipei Hospital as a symbolic point of departure. As an official medical institution, it marked a milestone in the systematic establishment of modern medicine and public health. Its distinctive façade and spatial design vividly illustrate how the dawn of modernity sought to dispel Taiwan’s long-standing image as a “ghostly island” plagued by disease and miasma. Medical resources gradually became accessible to ordinary people as well: regional hospitals, clinics, and affordable treatment centers not only intertwined with everyday life, but also bore witness to the formation of local medical culture.
Taiwan’s present-day ability to respond effectively to seemingly unending outbreaks of sudden illness is not without historical roots. Over the past century, concepts of disease prevention and home healthcare have quietly shaped daily life. Public posters urging the wearing of masks to prevent influenza, or advertisements claiming that daily doses of digestive tablets could boost immunity, now evoke a striking sense of déjà vu when viewed from today’s perspective.
The training of physicians forms another crucial chapter in Taiwan’s medical history. Through the rise and fall of Qingdao Medical College, we glimpse how rapidly shifting political circumstances created alternative life paths for Taiwanese medical students. Several contributors generously share rare family archives, introducing figures such as Dr. Chen Tu-jin, founder of Penglai Hospital in Yilan; Dr. Kao Jing-yuan, who established Taiwan’s first specialized obstetrics and gynecology hospital; and Yen Ching-chen, a Chinese medicine merchant whose business network spanned Taiwan and extended across East Asia. Their personal life stories offer intimate counterpoints to the broader narrative of Taiwan’s medical history.
Beyond the development of modern medicine, this issue also explores the spiritual comfort provided by traditional beliefs—another central theme of the feature. From divination medicine, spirit-writing rituals used to renounce opium, to Indigenous shamanic practices, we trace how folk religion intersected with Taiwanese society and conceptions of the body at the threshold of modernity.
“How does history become silent within our lives? Even as you walk past it every day, it makes no sound.” We close by quoting from an essay written for this issue by Lai Hsiang-yin, in which she writes of the streets of Tainan once traversed by both herself and Sato Haruo. When reflecting on the early development of medical care in Taiwan, we share this same sensation. This issue ultimately reminds us that healing of the body, solace for the spirit, and the hope and possibility offered by medicine have remained constant, enduring across time.
ISBN 9772518947009 10
