The Truku: Regaining Their Name in 2004, Yet Still Walking Back to Three Hundred Old Villages

30-Second Overview: In 2004, the Truku became the 12th officially recognized Indigenous group in Taiwan. But this name did not emerge in that year alone. After the 1914 Truku War, mountain villages were forced to relocate to the foothills, and ethnic memory was slowly pieced back together through elders’ oral histories, community fieldwork, and the name-recognition movement. From age 65 to 75, Huang Chang-hsing walked alongside community members to identify over 300 old village sites. Regaining the name restores the label; walking back into the mountains is what turns that label into a way of life.

Meeting of Truku representatives from various villages with Japanese government officials in 1910. Author unknown. Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain.

Huang Chang-hsing Spreads the Map on the Mountain Path

In 2024, Huang Chang-hsing, from the Wenlan Village in Xiulin Township, Hualien, published The Rising Truku People of Eastern Taiwan. He did not piece together genealogies sitting at a desk; instead, he brought decades of military training back into the mountains: beginning at age 65, he assisted in traditional territory surveys, with some hikes lasting as short as four days and others as long as twelve days. ¹

Huang began hiking the Chilai Mountains at the age of eight. He later joined special forces units and trained on the Xiuguluan Mountain and South Peak of Chilai. Between the years 2004 and 2014 (Republic of China calendar years 93–103), he was invited to assist in traditional territory investigations, working with youth to cross-reference maps, terrain, and elders’ oral accounts to record migration routes, anti-Japanese resistance campaigns, and ecological data. ¹

He noted that written records from the Japanese colonial period regarding past migration and settlement sites are limited; much of the content is preserved in stories passed down orally by elders. Ultimately, he and his team identified over 300 old village sites. The weight of this number lies not in it being an archaeological achievement, but in how each site pulls the statement “we once lived here” from legend back onto the map. ¹

Curator’s Note: The history of an ethnic group is sometimes not recovered from archives, but from a mountain path that elders still remember and young people are willing to walk again.

The Name Is Not a New Invention, but a Return to Self

Records from the Taipei City Government’s Indigenous Cultural Knowledge Network indicate that the Truku’s traditional migration narrative begins at Deluowan (Truku Truwan). The community first formed shared life memories in the Ren’ai Township area of Nantou, before crossing the Chilai Mountains, Nengao Mountains, and Hehuan Mountains in the 17th and 18th centuries, moving eastward into Hualien. They established villages along the Liwu River, Taroko Creek, and other waterways. ²

This history cannot be reduced to a simple narrative of “moving from Nantou to Hualien.” Names such as Deluowan, Truku, Tgdaya, and Toda point to distinct居住 experiences and group identities. After migrating east, the community established new homes along the Liwu River, Sanchan Creek, Mugua Creek, and Qingshui Creek. ²

Today, their main residences are concentrated in the townships of Xiulin, Wanrong, and Zhuoxi in Hualien County, as well as in the villages of Qingfeng, Nanhua, and Fuxing in Ji’an Township. This distribution reminds us that the Truku are not only present in the canyon landscapes familiar to tourists, but also in lowland villages, households, schools, and the daily use of their indigenous language. ³

Truku women carrying firewood, c. 1918. Source: Taiwan Indigenous Peoples Atlas 1918. Author unknown. Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain.

Weaving also connects the mountains, households, and identity. The Council of Indigenous Peoples records the Truku term for weaving as tminun. The traditional process begins with harvesting hemp, spinning thread, bleaching, and organizing the yarn, before entering the weaving stage. Tools include looms, hemp scrapers, spinners, yarn containers, and warp frames. This is not merely clothing production: official introductions note that weaving involves female coming-of-age, marriage, and ethnic identification. Facial tattooing was also prohibited and interrupted during the Japanese colonial period. ³

In 2004, Truku was officially recognized as one of Taiwan’s Indigenous peoples. Official English materials recorded a population of approximately 32,333 at that time (statistics as of January 2020). The same page places weaving, facial tattoos, ancestor spirit beliefs, and gaya (ancestral norms) at the core of the ethnic introduction. ⁴

The counter-intuitive aspect of the name-recognition movement is this: 2004 was not when a strange name was created, but when a name that had been re-recognized returned to public documents. In interviews recorded by the National Cultural Memory Library, Teyra Yudaw stated: “The Truku name recognition started in 2004, but in fact, within the previous 12 years, there had already been a strong sense of consciousness within the Truku community.” ⁵

This also explains why “official recognition” cannot be directly equated with “historical repair.” Academic articles point out that the Truku were previously classified under the Atayal people. Even after successful name recognition, how the name is used and how different groups understand each other remain ongoing discussions. ⁶

1914: The Mountain Path Rewritten as a Military Route

The Truku War against Japan, lasting from June 1 to August 13, 1914, continued for 74 days. Articles in Indigenous literature place this event within the collision of two value systems: the Truku understood land through a life value of humans and nature as “mutual subjects,” while the Japanese colonial government entered the mountains to establish sovereignty. ⁷

The same article records that the Japanese eastern and western armies mobilized a total of 20,749 personnel, along with 48 field artillery pieces and 24 machine guns. The Truku side had approximately 3,000 warriors. The Encyclopedia of Taiwan Indigenous Peoples adopts a different statistical口径, recording 6,235 Japanese military and police personnel, plus 11,075 including attached laborers; the Truku side comprised 97 villages, over 1,600 households, and more than 9,000 people, of whom approximately 3,000 were able-bodied men. ^{7 8}

These two sets of numbers cannot be crudely added together. Instead, they remind us that the “headcount” in war histories depends on the statistical subject: whether it refers to military/police, laborers, village population, or combat-ready warriors. What is certain is that this was not an equal border conflict, but a key campaign in which the state incorporated the mountains into colonial governance through exploration,隘勇 lines (guard posts), military/police forces, and weapons. ⁸

Official data from the Taipei City Government records that during the Japanese colonial period, Truku village lands were designated as state-owned land. The Xincheng Incident of 1896, the Weili Incident of 1906, and the 1914 Truku Incident occurred in succession. After the war, mountain dwellers were forced to relocate to the foothills and were dispersed into different new villages. ²

Curator’s Note: For the Truku, what was lost was never just a piece of land. When a migration route is cut off, names, ancestors, hunting grounds, and homes become difficult to prove.

From Millet and Sweet Potatoes to Shared Food

The Council of Indigenous Peoples’ ethnic data lists millet, corn, and sweet potatoes as important crops in Truku agriculture, with fishing and hunting supplementing meat and fish. This food structure places mountain fields, streams, hunting areas, and household labor within the same system: the staple food is not an isolated menu item, but produced jointly by seasons, land, technology, and division of labor. ³

Food also concretizes village relationships. Official records note that killing pigs for shared meals and offering food to ancestor spirits during weddings, funerals, celebrations, and other activities still hold important positions. Here, “sharing” is not simply placing food on the table, but confirming which people belong to the same relational network through preparation, sacrifice, distribution, and memory. Contemporary community members may simultaneously participate in church life; ancestor spirit beliefs and church doctrines are not necessarily mutually exclusive systems. ³

Ancestor Spirit Festival: How Norms Enter the Season

The Truku’s ancestor spirit belief centers on utux rudan, with gaya being the life norms left by ancestors. Council of Indigenous Peoples data indicates that gaya groups can be composed of close relatives, distant relatives, and in-laws, serving kinship, economic, religious, and regional functions. Joint farming, sacrifices, and observing taboos are not just individual faith choices, but also maintain how a group lives together. ³

The Ancestor Spirit Festival, mgay bari, is typically held after the millet harvest, with the time discussed by traditional leaders or elders. Offerings include wine, millet cakes, crops, fruits, and fish. After the ritual, offerings are consumed jointly by participants. Official records also note that uneaten offerings are not taken home when leaving the sacrifice site, and crossing a fire pit symbolizes separation from the ancestors. These actions place seasons, harvests, ancestors, and group boundaries within the same ritual. ³

Contemporary Truku life may also include both church faith and ancestor spirit rituals. This should not be simplified into a binary of “tradition vs. modernity.” A more precise question is: how do people rearrange responsibilities, taboos, shared food, and memories of ancestors within different institutions, families, and village relationships? ³

Dwellings as Shapes Left by Migration History

Truku dwelling forms are closely related to migration landscapes. Council of Indigenous Peoples data distinguishes between semi-subterranean wooden houses in the Nantou homeland and bamboo houses in the Hualien area: the former digs deep foundations, stacks walls with horizontal logs, and covers them with stone roofs; the latter is built upward from ground level using bamboo, with thatched roofs. ³

These two architectural types are not just classifications of “traditional architectural styles”; they also preserve material choices and life strategies in different environments. Where wood, bamboo, stone, and thatch are obtained, how houses face rain, slopes, and temperature, and how households distribute work indoors—all these explain living history better than a photo of a building’s exterior. When villages were forced to relocate, what changed was not just the address, but also housing materials, household distances, sacrifice routes, and neighborhood relationships. ^{2 3}

Historical image of Truku people. Author unknown. Wikimedia Commons, file page indicates Japanese and American Public Domain.

Truku women wearing formal and daily clothing. Author unknown; Wikimedia Commons, file page indicates Japanese and American Public Domain.

How “Life Value” Lands on a Knife

The Taiwan National Parks Theme Network describes that Truku hunting requires learning animal habits, identifying plants and venomous snakes, judging paths, and knowing how to cross rivers, make fire, and set traps. Hunting areas have rules, and seasons have taboos. Group hunting relies on cooperation among hunters. ⁹

These details lift “hunting culture” out of being a spectacle for observation. It is a knowledge system that places the body in the mountains, the prey in the season, and individual action within village norms. The “mutual subjectivity of humans and nature” mentioned in Indigenous literature is not an abstract slogan here, but knowing when not to enter hunting areas, what can be taken, and how to ensure there are still mountains to walk in the next generation. ^{7 9}

This culture also has an object that can be held in the hand: a knife. The National Parks Theme Network records that Truku knives are used for both hunting and agriculture; their shape resembles a crescent moon, and they are also called “Rainbow Knives.” Xu Youxiang, a knife maker whose craft has been passed down for four generations, said: “Without knives, there are no Truku people.” ⁹

The meaning of the knife can also be understood along the same line of life as dwellings and weaving. It is not merely a symbol appearing in rituals or display cases, but a tool that once processed crops, prey, wood, and daily work. When Tongmen knives today become gifts, collectibles, or artworks, change does not equal the disappearance of tradition, but rather objects entering new exchange relationships. The question is whether external observers can still see the technology, norms, and land it originally connected. ⁹

The same official ethnic introduction also records xylophones and jaw harps: xylophones can be made from Chinese nutgall trees, Allophylus cobbe, cypress, tung oil trees, or maple; striking them can summon relatives and friends to share food, and also serve as dance accompaniment. Jaw harps are often used to express emotions and affection. These sounds are not accessories to cultural performances, but ways of placing invitations, labor, dance, and intimate relationships into daily life. ³

Today’s Tongmen knives are often treated as gifts, collectibles, and artworks. Their change is not simply moving from “tradition” to “modern.” The same knife was once a hunting tool, an agricultural tool, a symbol of growth, and now also becomes an object for community members to explain their culture to the outside world. ⁹

After Name Recognition, How Does Culture Enter Institutions

After the name-recognition movement completed administrative recognition, the ethnic name entered household registration, official documents, schools, museums, and public policy. But visibility in institutions does not equal autonomy in life. Schools may use the Truku name, but mountains are still managed separately by National Parks, Forestry Management, Wildlife Conservation, and local administration; cultural activities may display weaving and knives, but the right to use traditional territories still requires negotiation through laws and policies. ^{1 2 9}

Therefore, the contemporary cultural work of the Truku is not just preserving the past, but also deciding what content can be made public, what knowledge needs to be inherited within villages, and how tourism, research, and media obtain appropriate consent. Weaving, hunting, dwellings, and ancestor spirit festivals are not arbitrary materials to be taken. Each has its own technology holders, family contexts, village norms, and boundaries for external explanation.

From this perspective, traditional territory surveys and the name-recognition movement are actually two types of work on the same line. Name recognition answers “how we should be called”; surveys answer “where this name has lived”; institutional reform must further answer “can this name participate in deciding the future of land and culture today?”

Who Can Tell the Story of the Truku?

The easiest mistake in ethnic articles is writing the Truku as a set of cultural features for external observation: white clothing, diamond patterns, hunting knives, canyons, and ancient legends. These contents have historical basis, but cannot replace the community’s own explanation of their lives. Contemporary Truku youth may live simultaneously in villages, cities, schools, churches, and online spaces; identity does not disappear because one leaves the homeland, nor does it automatically revert to a fixed “tradition” upon returning to the village.

Huang Chang-hsing leading youth on surveys provides a more concrete direction than “preserving culture”: knowledge is not collected by a single expert from the outside, but jointly confirmed by elders, youth, maps, mountain paths, and village discussions. Researchers, media, and tourism operators who wish to use the ethnic name, images, stories, or crafts must first address not how to make content look better, but who consents to its publication, who can correct the narrative, and whether the results return to the community. ^{1 5}

From Administrative Classification to the Scale of Life

Official recognition solves classification problems, but community members face life problems. Who can introduce themselves with which ethnic name, how schools and official documents refer to this group, and how cultural activities present tradition—all are extensions after the name-recognition movement enters daily life. The “name usage controversy” discussed in academic research is therefore not just a literal choice, but involves who has the right to describe the ethnic group and which histories can be seen. ⁶

The Truku case also strips the administrative number “the 12th ethnic group” of its cold appearance. Numbers can indicate the order of state recognition, but cannot explain why community members spent over ten years organizing, interviewing, and compiling oral histories, or why they brought the ethnic name back from classification tables to the villages. ^{4 5}

Here are three different scales. The first is the national scale: the 2004 recognition brought the ethnic name into the system. The second is the ethnic scale: the name-recognition movement brought the classified history back into discussion. The third is the village scale: youth follow elders up the mountain, reconnecting the name with terrain, hunting grounds, and dwelling ruins. Without all three, name recognition would remain only on paper.

Taroko Gorge and the Liwu River. Photo: RUI AN YANG. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0.

After Name Recognition, We Must Still Answer Who Can Enter the Mountains

Recognition of a name does not automatically dissolve boundaries left by land and institutions. The Truku’s traditional territory includes mountains, hunting grounds, village migrations, and ancestor memories, while modern governance divides them into different systems: National Parks, Forestry Management, Wildlife Conservation, and local administration. This is why “name recognition” must be understood together with traditional territory surveys, oral histories, and autonomous hunting management. ^{1 2 9}

Academic research reminds us that the dilemmas of the name-recognition movement do not end on the day of administrative approval. Controversies over name usage may still affect the political development of the ethnic group. ⁶ This is not a denial of the achievements of name recognition, but a more precise question: after the state recognizes an ethnic name, is it also willing to understand the mountain paths, language, norms, and land relationships carried by that name?

Huang Chang-hsing’s surveys provide an answer that does not rely on slogans. He started from the village, led youth across cliffs and precipices, marked elders’ memories on recognizable terrain, and compiled the scattered results into a book. ¹ The name-recognition movement allowed “Truku” to appear in official classifications. Surveys reconnect this name to the places it once inhabited.

Editor’s Quote: The name has returned, but the mountain path must still be walked by oneself.

The administrative approval in 2004 is a clear date, but not the period at the end of the story. When community members once again walk toward the Chilai Mountains, the Liwu River, and those recorded three hundred old villages, the history of the Truku becomes not just a classified name, but a path still walked by people.

Further Reading

Council of Indigenous Peoples: Truku

Central News Agency: Truku Elder Huang Chang-hsing Shuttles Through Mountains for Decades, Recording Community Migration Ruins

Image Sources and Licenses

1910 Meeting of Truku Representatives from Various Villages with Japanese Government Officials — Wikimedia Commons file page, author unknown. Page indicates Japanese and American Public Domain.

Truku Women Carrying Firewood, c. 1918 — Wikimedia Commons file page, source Taiwan Indigenous Peoples Atlas 1918, author unknown. Page indicates Japanese and American Public Domain.

Beauty of Taroko Gorge and Liwu River — Wikimedia Commons file page, photo: RUI AN YANG, CC BY-SA 4.0. Embedded via hotlink, image not downloaded.

Historical Image of Truku People — Wikimedia Commons file page, author unknown. Page indicates Japanese and American Public Domain, embedded via hotlink, image not downloaded.

Truku Women Wearing Formal and Daily Clothing — Wikimedia Commons file page, author unknown. Page indicates Japanese and American Public Domain, embedded via hotlink, image not downloaded.

References