About This Issue
Let’s misbehave. After the First World War and the Second Industrial Revolution, the world of the 1920s surged forward. With industrial development accelerating at a breathtaking pace, people sought to break barriers, defy convention, and explore the unknown. Like a speeding locomotive, life and thought raced ahead. In lands untouched by war, familiar scenes shifted rapidly, and though uncertainty lingered, visions of renewal and improvement inspired hope and a willingness to embrace change.
Compared with war-torn Europe and the perpetually fractured China, Taiwan—nearly three decades under Japanese rule—aligned smoothly with global trends, keeping pace with the era. Once struggling to find its footing, Taiwan, alongside Japan, began to move with increasing coordination. During the civil administration period, the Hai Line railway, completed in 1922, reflected the island’s real conditions and progress.
Taiwan’s railway development was initially under-resourced and often poorly coordinated. Construction and improvement struggled against limited budgets. Yet, like a traveler rushing onto a departing train, disheveled and sweating, stepping aboard meant stepping forward. Though an urgent reinforcement of the era, the Hai Line not only eased north-south transport difficulties but also connected coastal towns to modernization. When a massive earthquake struck central Taiwan in 1935, the railway’s steady operations helped the island weather the crisis.
How could such fragile infrastructure support Taiwan’s march toward modernity, respond to public needs, and stimulate economic development? A close look reveals the convergence of numerous efforts and intentions. The government, rapidly responsive, was staffed by diligent bureaucrats, observant of trends and critical moments, who treated obstacles not as excuses but as responsibilities to overcome. Even after leaving office, they remained devoted to their vision—a dedication that commands respect.
Alongside public initiatives, private citizens actively engaged. The transition from “long and arduous journeys” to daily commuting exemplified the forceful impact of modern civilization on Taiwan’s existing culture and habits. Like growing pains felt in every limb, the effect was acute. Yet Taiwan was not crushed; thought and practice transformed, blending resistance with acceptance. Civilization’s pressures, dressed in the guise of opportunity, softened opposition while accelerating adaptation. This shift was evident in public attitudes toward the railway, moving from rejection to acceptance, even collective advocacy. After all, paying attention to feng shui was ultimately a pursuit of prosperity and well-being.
Seizing opportunities and embracing challenges, people adapted their culture and daily life. One vivid example is the Dajia straw hat industry under Japanese rule. Encouraged by government promotion and new consumer demand, Taiwanese entrepreneurs thrived. Beyond household production, large-scale factories emerged, while women weavers, working tirelessly day and night, supported families, upheld female status, and helped make Dajia hats a fashionable symbol across Asia. With full utilization of resources and human talent, and facilitated by the railway for smooth transport, conditions aligned perfectly.
From its early high-speed rush to today’s leisurely, cultural journey, the Hai Line railway has accompanied Taiwan through storms and calm, a century of charm and unexpected beauty. Come and join a railway journey along the sea breeze, traveling across time with kindred spirits, old and new alike.
ISBN 9772518947009 07
