[Photos] From Taiwan to South Korea: Remembering WWII without spectacle

(All photos courtesy of Hsu Chung-mao)

This year, both sides of the Taiwan Strait are commemorating the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II (“the war”) and the recovery of Taiwan. The Chinese mainland held a large-scale military parade as elite troops showcased the latest weapons and equipment, with many foreign leaders invited amid global attention.

In contrast, Taiwan’s ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which advocates Taiwan independence, has consistently sought to sever Taiwan’s historical ties with China and refuses to acknowledge the historical significance of Taiwan’s recovery, with no official events held.

Nevertheless, many grassroots commemorations are being organised spontaneously by the people of Taiwan. The most high-profile event with the highest level of official recognition was a photo exhibition hosted by the Taipei City government, featuring a solemn and moving opening ceremony that reflected the deep historical emotions of the Taiwanese people towards the war’s victory and Taiwan’s recovery.

The main planner of this event was former politician and National Taiwan University president, Kuan Chung-ming, who coordinated with me on the project. He sought the use of the first-floor atrium of Taipei City Hall as the exhibition venue from Taipei mayor Chiang Wan-an — great-grandson of Chiang Kai-shek — with plans to invite representatives from various sectors to attend the gala opening.

On 15 August, the photo exhibition opened in great solemnity. Besides Kuan, attendees included Chiang Wan-an, former Chief of the General Staff Lee Hsi-ming, Kuomintang (KMT) chair Eric Chu, former KMT chair Hung Hsiu-chu, as well as many retired senior generals.

The ceremony began with the screening of a short clip from a US wartime propaganda film, Why We Fight, which we obtained from the US National Archives in 2013. It included a segment on the Nanjing Massacre — the shocking footage moved many people to tears. This was followed by a minute’s silence for the compatriots who perished during the war, as well as those who died under Japanese colonial rule.

In his speech, Kuan said, “The government doesn’t commemorate the war, but the people can. The historical memory that the government seeks to erase — let us be the ones to preserve and pass it on.

“Taipei mayor Chiang Wan-an has emphasised that the eight-year war is a historical fact that cannot be erased, diluted, forgotten or taken away. It embodies the everlasting fighting spirit of the national government and the Nationalist Army.”

In turn, Chiang said with deep emotion, “This chapter in history is an indelible mark in our blood… 3.22 million Nationalist soldiers killed or wounded across more than 40,000 battles. These numbers are not just cold statistics — they represent countless broken families, countless lives suddenly extinguished. With the determination to ‘fight to the death and never surrender’, our forebears built a Great Wall with their flesh and blood, winning victory for the Chinese people.”

The event closed with folk singer Lee Chien-fu performing Sorrow of a War Orphan (《天伦歌》), a wartime ballad mourning the civilians who lost their homes during the war. Finally, everyone sang China Will Surely Be Strong (《中国一定强》), bringing the event to a climactic close.

Immediately after the event, I boarded an evening flight to South Korea to attend the 80th anniversary commemoration of Korea’s liberation, held at Pyeongsan Bookstore, owned by former South Korean President Moon Jae-in. And so, I unexpectedly found myself at commemorative events in both Taiwan and Korea almost simultaneously.

Back in June at the Seoul International Book Fair, I had an in-depth conversation on history with Moon. Later, our Korean representative Ms Amo brought our commemorative photo book on Korea’s liberation to Moon’s bookstore. He then mentioned that his bookstore would also mark the anniversary, and would request from me some historical photographs of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea in Chongqing.

In early August, I enlarged and mailed to Korea the four photographs Moon had selected, and they were soon displayed in his bookstore. I had also decided to attend his event, as it would be a deeply meaningful experience in my career as a cultural and historical researcher. So, we arrived in Seoul on the night of 15 August and took the high-speed rail south to Ulsan the next day. Driving down from Seoul, Amo picked us up and took us directly to Pyeongsan Bookstore.

At the bookstore, Moon had set aside an hour for taking photos with visitors. The line of visitors stretched out the door, and when Moon appeared, the young people in particular erupted in excitement. There were quite a number of visitors from mainland China as well — one woman told me that this was her third visit. The bookstore had even hired staff who spoke Chinese, and inside were many simplified-Chinese editions of Moon’s works and that of other Korean authors. South Korea’s cultural soft power is truly formidable.

Outsiders like myself would assume that former president Moon ran the bookstore and that anyone entering could easily meet him. In fact, the bookstore is a non-profit managed by a foundation, with all revenue devoted to public good. The location is in a remote rural village that few would normally visit. It is only a five-minute walk from Moon’s residence, and while he is clearly the bookstore’s central draw, he doesn’t actually run the place. There is a security line between his home and the bookstore; except for local farmers, ordinary visitors are not allowed to cross, so security remains strict.

We arrived at the bookstore around 3 pm and waited for Moon to appear. He greeted us warmly as soon as he saw us. Afterwards, we were led to a little reading room in the bookstore. The photographs I had sent were prominently displayed in the middle of the bookstore, while the flag of the Republic of China, with its blue sky, white sun and red fields, was unabashedly seen beside the Korean flag, as Moon unflaggingly told visitors the history of the Provisional Government in Chongqing.

After his photo session, he chatted with me in the reading room, and I showed him the precious historical photographs of the Provisional Government and the Korean Liberation Army in Chongqing, which I had kept for nearly 30 years.

His eyes widened as he stared intently. Although he contained his emotions, he was deeply moved. I told him, “These have been with me for nearly three decades. I believe they are more important to the Korean people than to me. These precious historical photographs of Korea should ultimately return to their rightful home. You are the most suitable person, because you are best positioned to decide how these invaluable historical images and artifacts should be used.”

Soon after, at around 5 pm, Moon and his wife hosted a cosy private dinner at a farmhouse near their residence. Later, Amo told me that when Mr Moon first introduced me to his wife, he said, “The book I’ve been reading every day recently is made by this gentleman.” I was flattered to hear it.

After the meal, the Moons returned home to rest briefly before the evening’s two talks. The first was by my Korean antiquities dealer friend TJ Kim, who spoke about Korean history through old Western maps. The second was by myself, arranged in the last couple of days at the former president’s request.

There were two parts to my brief talk. The first introduced my collection of precious historical photographs of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea and the Korean Liberation Army in Chongqing. I closed with what I told Moon, “These precious photographs of Korea’s history should return to their rightful home.” 

We held up the historic photographs for a photo. It was a moving moment, and one attendee later told me, “I feel this was the most meaningful part of this year’s 80th anniversary events.”

The second part of my talk was a spur of the moment arrangement before I left Taiwan. I wanted to share the clip from the US wartime propaganda film Why We Fight at Pyeongsan Bookstore — so, I asked my office staff to quickly add Korean subtitles while I made my way from Taipei to Taoyuan Airport.

During our meal, I explained to Moon my idea. In the second part of my talk, I said to the audience, “Everyone knows that the Korean Provisional Government and the Korean Liberation Army joined the war of resistance in China. But what about the details of their struggle? Their daily lives? People don’t really know. After all, China is far away, and without direct experience, it’s hard to truly understand.

“Now I will play a wartime documentary. The Korean revolutionaries fought alongside the Chinese army, and what happened to the Chinese soldiers and civilians can be said to have happened to the Korean revolutionaries.”

Although I had seen it many times before, the clip still shakes me deeply every time. The film riveted the entire audience. I noticed the expressions of Moon and his wife sitting beside me — they were visibly shaken, while some of the audience were clearly in tears. I believe this screening was one of the high points of the Pyeongsan Bookstore’s 80th Liberation Anniversary events.

When the lights came back on, I told the audience, “The tragic scenes you have just seen on the Chinese battlefield were exactly what the Korean revolutionaries faced. Like us, they lived through life-or-death struggles in China. We will always remember how the Chinese and Korean people once fought side by side against Japanese imperial aggression.”

Throughout my career, I have had many unique experiences. I first met Moon in June at the Seoul International Book Fair. Yet in just two short months, our collaboration is already so profound. Some friends say this is the result of my years of hard work, but I believe it has more to do with Moon himself, and with the powerful patriotism of the Korean people. These, I think, are the real decisive factors. For me, taking part in the commemorations of wartime victory in both Taiwan and Korea this year has been an invaluable experience.

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