Taiwan Today

"Taiwan's people live in cages." This comment is common among residents and foreigners alike when discussing the appearance of residential buildings on the island, most of which have balconies and doors covered by iron gratings. These "cages," which are of different colors and shapes depending on the residents' preferences, become one of the more vivid impressions that visitors take home along with their bundles of Chinese souvenirs. While non-residents may be mystified about the reasons for this "architectural parasite," as well as the kind of life people lead behind their self-imposed imprisonment, the Taipei city government has determined the grills or "iron windows" be much more than a curious topic of conversation. They are now seen as a civic problem that distorts the face of the city and, therefore, urgently deserve municipal attention. But why do residents add these frequently unsightly additions to their homes? Mrs. Weng sheds some light on the reasons for putting up the grills. "It keeps thieves out of our apartment and the kids from falling off the balcony," she says. "Also, if we hang clothes out to dry they won't blow away, and during the summer we can leave the back door open at night to keep the air circulating—which can protect against any gas leak problems too." While Weng is very positive about the cages' many uses for her family's apartment, the most common reason for their installation according to Mrs. Chen, a neighbor, is the big city problem found everywhere: fear of theft. The Chen apartment had been broken into several times prior to the installation of their security system and the iron windows. Mr. Chang's apartment has never been broken into, but he says that it has a grilled balcony and windows only for safety reasons. He agrees that they ruin the appearance of his five-floor apartment building, making it look like a "big jail." Also "they block the natural light and the outside view." Yet these drawbacks did not deter him from installing them. To many residents, the iron windows obviously have their positive functions. Some do disagree, however. Mr. Sung's apartment is the only one in his building without cages because they are simply too inconvenient and dysfunctional. "It makes people feel blocked up in the house, they are costly and hard to maintain, and they bar the way out if there is a fire. The bottom line is that there is really no need for them." Sung adds that the grills are an open declaration to thieves "that this place has something valuable inside." Another problem, he says, is that the grills may give some people piece of mind, but they are selfish not to consider their neighbors, especially those living upstairs, who are forced to put on grills because those on lower apartments provide convenient stepstones for thieves on the way up to higher floors. The whole cage issue is more complicated than people may initially expect, and both sides have legitimate perspectives on their necessity. Perhaps the group most bothered by their addition to buildings are the architects, who are in fact the parents of local architectural styles. William Pai, the president of the Taipei Architects Association, says he is "heart-broken" about the current situation. After the architectural parasite is added to the buildings, the original designs of local architects are essentially destroyed. Pai recognizes that the cages are a response to social conditions found in any rapidly developing country, but he believes that there are still ways to fight the eyesore that is so harmful to the aesthetics of big city living. Pai's design for the Metropolitan Mansion is an example of his response to the challenge of making grills architecturally and aesthetically viable. This large residential high-rise is clean of the unsightly iron windows through the cooperation of the building's residents. Besides being the designer, Pai is also the first president of the building's board of directors. The board, which is elected by the residents to enforce the rules agreed to and signed by all the residents, is becoming an increasingly popular form of "local governance" in Taiwan's buildings. More and more frequently, building residents are including provisions against the cages in their written agreements. Pai says that although this is a move in the right direction, the boards do not have legal status. Should residents decide to break the prohibition against the iron windows, there is no formal recourse beyond social ostracism on the elevators. Unless people are sincere in their agreements with fellow residents, there will be minimal improvement in the current problem. But there are other ways to attack the issue. Pai suggests having all the residents in a building agree on one grill design, then put them all up at the same time. Another approach, he adds, is have the architects include them as an integral part of building design, then add the cost to the total price of each apartment. Because of Pai's particular concern about Taipei's image, he has given gratis consulting time to local government concerning the problem. "Each city has its own special characteristics, but I would like to see Taipei remembered for more than its iron windows," Pai says. "The question is, who is going to be responsible for taking action on this?" Lin Tzung-ming, the director of Taipei's Office of Building Standards, thinks that it is "everybody's problem." He says: "The city government has been conducting a general campaign to promote the city's image, but it can't force people to change because the cages are not regulated by law. Moreover, there are other disincentives. For example, construction companies and investors have to consider the overall cost for adding grills to buildings. As a result, architects can't simply add specially designed grills as they like." But Pai is less than optimistic when asked about the possibility of apartment owners themselves banding together to introduce architecturally integrated grills to a building. "A local artist once said that Chinese did not have any aesthetic sense when talking about this particular issue; there may be a lot of truth in this." Despite almost every street in the city offering evidence for the validity of this observation, the accusation would certainly meet with considerable counterargument, for window design has a long history in Chinese architecture. Wang Chen-hua, a professor in the Department of Architecture at Chung Yuan Christian University, says that the history of architecture in China provides ample aesthetic concern for the form and placement of windows. Great care has traditionally been given to the function they play in linking inside and outside environments into a harmonious continuum. Just as artificial mountains and streams are indispensable parts of traditional Chinese garden design, windows play an important role in extending the natural scenery, though man-made, to the interior of the house, contributing to a relined aesthetic environment. Window design is considered as much a part of interior decoration as the furniture itself. But windows are much more than pieces of furniture. Traditional thinking about them goes beyond the material, claiming that they serve to indicate the spiritual world, their aesthetic power assisting in opening "the window of the mind," Clear windows represent clear minds, thus the design and appearance of an open window is steeped in Chinese symbolism. Wang thinks aesthetic sense is closely related to life style. "Unfortunately, the old Chinese way of living is inevitably fading away, plus the aesthetic taste of the public is now dominated by a few people. It is hard to expect anything different from the present situation." Wang says that the iron window style started long before the 20th century in China. Previously it was really "iron work," and the design was both "vivid and fabulous," "But now," he adds, "all you see is what I call 'iron blood'—just iron cages with different colors—what I call 'iron tears,' the long trails of rusty streaks left over on the walls after a rainy day." "Blood" and "tears" seem to capture the architect's altitude toward the problem. But at least architects are now gaining support from other quarters as more and more people are seriously looking into the matter. Residents themselves have started introducing more expensive aluminum and stainless steel grills, which normally follow the same color scheme throughout a complete building. They also have a better design, and—most important of all—do not rust. With an eye on the future appearance of Taipei, the city government has organized the Hsin Yi Project Committee to review all the architectural designs planned for construction by private companies. Their considerations are especially focused on an overall view of what the city will transform into during the next few decades. Moreover, in March of this year, the Executive Yuan promulgated an order to establish a special commission directed to ensure the "Beautification of the visual environment." The organization will work mainly on legislation concerned with protecting the "cultural environment" and creating new city images throughout the island. Taiwan's residents have taken considerably more interest in the quality of their environment within the past two years, thanks in part to widely publicized agitation in the central part of Taiwan against construction of a large chemical plant complex. Although an architectural aesthetic sense is perhaps even more difficult to agree upon than conservation, the altitudes of building residents are expected to change just as the awareness of environmental pollution difficulties has improved. In both cases, there is an educative role to be played by the government. Movement is already taking place, although few in government and outside it are pleased with the momentum. Optimism reigns supreme, however, and Pai is a good spokesman for the altitude: "I am very confident about how Taipei will look in the future. It has every potential for becoming a beautiful city because we are surrounded by beautiful countryside and the people who live here are beautiful."