Taiwan's Transitional Justice

30-Second Overview: In 1950, a twenty-year-old man in Tsiming, Taichung, was arrested due to an uninformed visitor. He was imprisoned on Lüdao Island for ten years and founded Taiwan's first children's comic magazine after his release. He lived to the age of ninety-three, spending his final years asking the same question: "Who exactly killed my friends?" Taiwan's transitional justice has revoked convictions for nearly six thousand people, yet it has still failed to answer his question.

On September 10, 1950, Tsai Kun-lin sat in his home in Tsiming, Taichung, when a stranger visited him. This person was later arrested, and his name appeared in the testimony. The Kuomintang (KMT) intelligence apparatus subsequently imprisoned the twenty-year-old man on Lüdao Island without any trial proceedings.

He remained there for ten years.

In 2023, ninety-three-year-old Tsai Kun-lin passed away. During media interviews in his later years, he did not speak of his own wrongful conviction, but rather posed a question: "I want to know who exactly killed my friends?"¹ Many of his cellmates on Lüdao Island did not survive.

Taiwan took thirty years to officially establish an agency to promote transitional justice, and then spent four years dissolving that same agency. How many answers were found during this process, and how many questions remain hanging in the air? This article aims to untangle those threads.

The Structure of Authoritarianism: Who Built It, How Did It Work?

To understand the difficulties of transitional justice in Taiwan, one must first understand how deep the system that needed purging went.

The (zh only — convert to plain text + Chinese parenthesis) (二二八事件) occurred in 1947 as a large-scale crackdown by the mainland forces against local residents; estimated deaths range from several thousand to 20,000, and remains a subject of debate.² Two years later, the martial law era officially began—on May 20, 1949, the Taiwan Provincial Police Guard Headquarters declared martial law. This state persisted for thirty-eight years, only being lifted on July 15, 1987. Those thirty-eight years constituted the longest continuous period of martial law in the world during the twentieth century.³

The legal foundation of the Taiwan White Terror was the Regulations for Punishing Rebellion and the Regulations for the Investigation and Punishment of Rebels and Spies during Times of Disturbance. Anyone suspected of "rebellion" or being a "rebel/spy" could be tried by military law without standard judicial procedures. The "Taiwan Transitional Justice Database," later established by the Commission for Promoting Transitional Justice (CPTJ), contains over 14,000 records of adjudicators in political cases.⁴ Among these, more than 3,000 judgments involved direct intervention by Chiang Kai-shek himself, and there were 876 death penalty cases.⁵

The final estimate of White Terror victims, as of 2022, is confirmed to be over 22,000.³ However, the word "confirmed" itself is problematic—until the CPTJ began organizing files, even an estimate was difficult to produce.

The Silent Forty Years: Lifting Martial Law Does Not Equal Accountability

When martial law was lifted in 1987, there was widespread celebration across Taiwanese society. However, lifting martial law only removed the decree; it did not signal the beginning of a political purge.

The Regulations for Punishing Rebellion were not repealed until 1991, and Article 100 of the old Criminal Code (the "thought-based crime" clause) was not amended until 1992. Furthermore, the National Security Act passed in 1987 stated that final judgments by military courts during the martial law period could not be appealed or contested. This effectively locked the results of White Terror trials into a legal safe, making it unlikely that victims would see vindication until the twenty-first century.

💡 Did You Know?
The first official government apology after the lifting of martial law did not occur until 1995, when Lee Teng-hui represented the government in apologizing to the families of the (zh only — convert to plain text + Chinese parenthesis) (二二八事件) victims. This led to the passage of the Regulations for Handling and Compensation of the February 28 Incident, establishing the February 28 Incident Memorial Foundation. Legislation for White Terror compensation followed a few years later, but compensation is one matter, while pursuing accountability is another—Taiwan only addressed the former.

The silence following the lifting of martial law had structural reasons. Wu Nai-te, a researcher at the Institute of Sociology at Academia Sinica, proposed three explanations in his thesis: Taiwan's democratic transition was led by the KMT (the "Quiet Revolution" model), meaning the ruling party retained political legitimacy after democratization; the economic achievements of the late authoritarian period led many to view Chiang Ching-kuo as a hero rather than a criminal; and finally, because the era of political oppression was so distant, many perpetrators were either dead or elderly.⁶

Only after the first peaceful transfer of power in 2000 did "transitional justice" enter the public lexicon. However, during the eight years of the Chen Shui-bian administration, substantial progress remained limited, staying mostly at a symbolic level—isolated actions like renaming streets or removing bronze statues, without a systematic legal framework.

The Promotion Act and the CPTJ: An Agency Thirty Years Late

In 2016, when the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) won both executive and legislative power, the Act to Promote Transitional Justice finally gained momentum. Even so, the process was not smooth; the KMT fought hard against it in the Legislative Yuan, even filing for a constitutional review. The Act was finally passed on its third reading on December 5, 2017, defining the "period of authoritarian rule" as August 15, 1945, to November 6, 1992.

On May 31, 2018, the Commission for Promoting Transitional Justice (CPTJ) was officially established. It was the first state organ in Taiwan's history dedicated to promoting transitional justice; it was under the Executive Yuan with a statutory lifespan of two years, later extended twice, and finally dissolved on May 31, 2022, after existing for a total of 1,460 days.⁷

The CPTJ faced a crisis from its inception. In September 2018, recordings revealed the Vice Chairman, Chang Tian-chin, attacking opposition figures during internal meetings. The CPTJ was mocked by outsiders as "East Factory" (a reference to secret police), and both the Chairperson and Vice Chairman resigned in succession. This beginning forced the CPTJ to spend its entire term trying to establish public credibility.⁸

⚠️ Controversial View
The CPTJ's political position was constantly attacked from two sides: by the Pan-Blue camp (KMT), it was seen as a "tool for political purging"; and by some independent activists and victims' families, it lacked sufficient force and avoided pursuing the accountability of perpetrators. Li Zhaoli, spokesperson for the New Power Party, once told the BBC that "many who were dependents of the one-party system during the authoritarian era can still be re-established in the democratic transition."⁹

The CPTJ's Four Years: What Was Done and What Wasn't

1. 2018/05/31 — CPTJ established; first Chairperson Huang Huang-hsiung took office
2. 2018/10/04 — First list of revoked convictions published, totaling 1,270 people
3. 2020/02/26 — Taiwan Transitional Justice Database launched; Chiang Kai-shek's intervention data released for the first time
4. 2021/03/30 — First batch of 25 "injustices sites" officially certified and announced
5. 2021/03/27 — Fifth to seventh waves of revocation announcements, totaling 5,942 cases
6. 2022/02/22 — Second batch of 17 White Terror injustice sites announced
7. 2022/05/31 — CPTJ officially dissolved; tasks handed over to various ministries

Rectifying Judicial Injustice: The Most Concrete Achievement

During its four-year term, the CPTJ revoked a total of 5,983 convictions.³ These included well-known cases such as the Meili Island incident, the Luku incident, the 520 Farmers' Movement case, and the Taiyuan incident. This was the most clearly progressed part of the CPTJ's mission because the legal basis for a government agency to revoke judicial sentences had been established; every wave of revocation included public ceremonies and published lists.

However, "revoking a conviction" and "finding out who made them go to prison" are two different things. Taiwan achieved the former, but the latter is almost entirely absent.

Political Archives: What is Open and What Remains Closed

The CPTJ reviewed 6,306 cases of political archives held by state organs and simultaneously reviewed 7,572 files within the KMT's party assets.³ These included "Presidential Approvals"—documents personally signed by Chiang Kai-shek—where his handwriting could be seen changing a prison sentence to a death sentence.

But this process was fraught with resistance. The KMT argued that there were "no other files to report." The CPTJ eventually discovered that the party still held a large number of unhanded "Taiwan Provincial Party Headquarters" archives, including precious data regarding the (zh only — convert to term) (二二八事件), personnel appointments in government agencies, and the seizure of party assets.

Authoritarian Symbols: Difficulties Behind the Numbers

The CPTJ surveyed authoritarian symbols across Taiwan (primarily the statues of the two Chiangs and naming spaces). The final count was 1,546 items/locations. By the time of dissolution, 27.05% had been removed or handled by central government agencies, while 26.74% were handled by local governments; including those "agreed to be handled," approximately 33.2% of all sites across Taiwan were addressed.³

In other words, more than two-thirds of the statues of Chiang Kai-shek or Chiang Ching-kuo remained in place as of 2022.

The most prominent site, the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, saw several workshops and changes to some exhibition spaces during the CPTJ's tenure. Before its dissolution, it proposed a plan to transform it into a "Democracy History Memorial" paired with an "Anti-Authoritarian History Park."⁷ However, whether the bronze statues would be removed remains an open question, now handled by the Ministry of Culture.

📝 Curator's Note
A detail that illustrates the complexity of the issue: many of the Chiang Kai-shek bronze statues removed from across the country were sent to Chih-hu in Daxi, Taoyuan. That site is now a "Memorial Sculpture Park" and has become a popular tourist destination. The gray area between removal and preservation is fully exposed in this park.

Injustice Sites: Past Wounds Becoming Public Spaces

The CPTJ announced a total of 42 injustice sites in two batches.³ These include Jingmei in New Taipei City (White Terror Jingmei Memorial Park), Lüdao in Taitung (White Terror Lüdao Memorial Park), and the Ankang Reception Center in Taipei. The Ankang Reception Center is particularly precious because it has been preserved in its original state—it was a site of political interrogation during the authoritarian era, and one can still feel the oppressive atmosphere of the space's design upon entering.

The National Human Rights Museum, under the Ministry of Culture, continues to operate exhibitions at both the Jingmei and Lüdao sites and has established the "National Human Rights Memory Bank" and an "Injustice Site Database" for public inquiry.

Unresolved Issues: Where are the Perpetrators?

Upon its dissolution, the CPTJ left behind a mission summary report over 1.77 million characters long. It recorded many stories of victims and the workings of the authoritarian system. However, one thing remained blank at the end of its four-year term: the individual prosecution of perpetrators.

This is not a problem unique to Taiwan, but Taiwan's situation has specific characteristics.

After reunification, East Germany established the "Stasi Records Agency," similar to the Gestapo's records. German citizens could check their own surveillance records; information on over 170,000 former informants became public.¹⁰ While the CPTJ consulted with the Stasi Records Agency, Taiwan never passed a similar "lustration" law—a mechanism for systematically screening former authoritarian henchmen from holding public office.

South Korea's experience is closer to "pursuing it to the end": those who suppressed the 1980 Gwangju Uprising, including former presidents Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo, were prosecuted in 1995 after democratization and sentenced to death (later commuted) and life imprisonment respectively in 1997.¹¹ While it is impossible to pursue the primary mastermind of Taiwan's political oppression, Chiang Kai-shek, who died in 1975; many others within his system—military judges, intelligence officers, and informants—have almost never been publicly named.

✦ "Not pursuing the henchmen of past regimes is a grand reconciliation with the criminals; ultimately, the murderers are still among us." — German author Ralph Giordano (1923-2014), quoted in a series of commentaries by Taiwan's Yong-she.¹²

This sentence appears in literature cited by researchers of Taiwan's transitional justice legal system; ironically, Taiwan's transitional justice has indeed moved in this direction.

To What Extent Must Transitional Justice Be Completed?

This is a question continuously debated in Taiwanese society, and the reasons for dissatisfaction from various sides are exactly opposite.

Voices that believe it is "enough, or even excessive": Represented by the KMT, these argue that the CPTJ was a political tool of the DPP, and the achievements of the authoritarian era (such as the "Taiwan Economic Miracle") should not be wiped away in one stroke; Chiang Kai-shek is still regarded as the "president who contributed most to Taiwan" in many polls.¹³

Voices that believe it is "far from enough": Civil human rights groups, descendants of victims, and some scholars point out that Taiwan's transitional justice always has "victims but no perpetrators," lustration was never passed, the handling of party assets remains opaque, spaces related to Chiang Kai-shek still exist in large numbers, and the narrative of authoritarian history in the education system is still controversial.¹⁰

A third voice—arguing that the framework itself is flawed: Some scholars (such as Professor Cheng Chih-jung of the Department of Political Science at National Taiwan University) point out that Taiwan's transitional justice has become overly politicized, becoming an extension of the "Taiwan Independence" and "Unification" struggle. This causes many measures that could have reached a consensus to be dragged into identity politics.

The Guidelines for Transitional Justice issued by the United Nations in 2010 divide the work into five dimensions: prosecuting perpetrators, ensuring the right to know the truth, restoring victims' rights, institutional reform, and public participation in dialogue.¹⁰ Taiwan has performed relatively fully on "victim compensation" and has a database for "knowing the truth," but significant work remains unfinished regarding "prosecuting perpetrators" and "institutional reform" (especially in education).

⚠️ Controversial View
After the CPTJ's dissolution, transitional justice work was handed over to the Executive Yuan's "Promotion of Transitional Justice Reports" and various ministries. Critics worry that this decentralized handover will cause highly politically sensitive work to lose momentum—especially since "identification and accountability of perpetrators" was handed to the Ministry of Justice, which is not independent from political pressure. In 2022, during the final term as acting chairperson, Yeh Hung-ling stated: "The points are left for others to score."¹⁴

The [Sunflower Movement] and the Generational Connection to Transitional Justice

There is an interesting point in time worth noting: the legislative push for Taiwan's transitional justice occurred precisely within the political landscape following the 2014 [Sunflower Movement]. The Sunflower Movement changed Taiwan's political landscape, making it possible for the DPP to take full power in 2016, and the Act to Promote Transitional Justice was passed only after that comprehensive takeover.

The core issues of the Sunflower Movement were sovereignty and democracy, but it was also a generation's reaction to authoritarian legacy—a resistance against a political system led by a party transformed from an old state apparatus. In a sense, transitional justice is the institutional outlet for this generation's awareness of historical debts.⁷

However, the story of [Zheng Nan-rong] reminds us that this path is longer than anyone expected. In 1989, Zheng Nan-rong set himself on fire to resist a KMT arrest warrant, becoming a martyr for freedom of speech in Taiwan. Thirty years after his death, Taiwan established an official agency to promote transitional justice. Thirty-four years after his death, that agency was dissolved; the justice he envisioned remains unfinished.

Curator's Note: A Project Without an End

📝 Curator's Note
While "transitional justice" has a standard academic definition, in Taiwan, it is always a term occupied by live politics. Before every election, it transforms from a historical project into a political weapon, exhausting those who truly want to delve deep into it.

The question Tsai Kun-lin asked at age ninety-three—"Who exactly killed my friends?"—is not a question that can be answered with statistical figures. It requires a society willing to speak clearly: in that era, who did what, and for what purpose.

The true difficulty of Taiwan's transitional justice is not finding the data; it is that there is no consensus on "what to do after speaking clearly." Vindicating victims is agreed upon by most; pursuing perpetrators causes the consensus to fracture.

This rift may be harder to manage than the bronze statues themselves.

Further Reading:

• National Human Rights Museum — A museum built by the state to commemorate political victims, inaugurated in 2018; its 2025 budget was once frozen.
• Taiwan White Terror — The historical core targeted by the revocation of convictions.
• Martial Law Era — The legal container from 1949 to 1987.
• February 28 Incident — The 1947 post-war crackdown in Taiwan, another strand of transitional justice work.
• Invoice: That 1951 Paper that Turned Everyone into Tax Auditors — Designed by Ren Hsien-chun, it spanned the administrations of Ma Ying-jeou and Tsai Ing-wen, taking years to complete its vindication; it serves as a specific case of transitional justice work.

References