It is time to appreciate a ubiquitous feature of Taiwanese cities. No matter what derision is sent their way—“they are ugly”; “they’re a relic of the past that is no longer needed”—the window cages (鐵窗) attached to most older apartment buildings are an essential trait of Taipei, Taichung, Kaohsiung and all other Taiwanese cities. They are not going to disappear anytime soon—luckily.
In the 1980s, the Taipei City Government had other plans though. The global image of the city was perceived as bad, and for some reason window cages were seen as the main issue.
In 1988, Taipei Construction Management Office director Lin Tzung-ming (林宗敏) called for an all-hands-on-deck effort to make the city cage-free. The attachments people had installed to their windows were “everybody’s problem” and new regulations were needed to bring about their demise, he said.
Real-estate developers sided with him; some added clauses to sales contracts prohibiting their installation, while others begrudgingly integrated them into facades to make them less offending to the eye. People who had them installed on their own account, an architect named William Pai (白省三) said, don’t have “any aesthetic sense.”
Really, why?
Why did people consider the cages necessary in the first place? In the 1980s, the reason was simple. The cages were seen as the last (and often only) defense against thieves.
Let’s briefly (I promise, briefly!) look at some boring facts: Criminal Investigation Bureau data show that the crime rate had in 1986 reached what was then an all-time high. In that year, 433 crimes per 100,00 people were reported, and it is understandable that the Taiwanese didn’t feel like tearing down their window cages.
Nowadays though, Taiwan is among the safest countries in the world. Nobody I know here considers break-ins a major issue. Therefore I was surprised to learn that the most recent crime data do not exactly back up this gut feeling of safety.
In 2022, 1,139 crimes per 100,000 people were reported. The rate had come down from an all-time high of 2,442 in 2005, but it was still nearly three times as high as in 1986. For some Taiwanese, this means the “good old days” were indeed safer, and the need for window cages is more urgent than ever.
Others, and this includes myself, are skeptical of the veracity of data from the authoritarian era. The Criminal Code was not as expansive as it is today, and trust in police was lower. Fewer crimes—especially minor ones, which were unlikely to be solved anyway—were reported.
I cannot estimate how far this is also true for home invasions, but I suspect they were more common than the data suggests. In this regard, it is telling that up to 50 percent of all crimes reported during the authoritarian era were some form of theft, compared with 13 percent in 2022.
Back then, when people thought of crime, regardless of how much there really was, the first thing that came to mind was probably a burglar standing in their living room at night. Scary stuff.
Facts on the ground
So, to what extend are Taiwanese still afraid of break-ins? Is fear of theft really the reason they keep on barricading themselves? These were the questions I had in mind when I went to talk to the owners of businesses that manufacture and install them. Mandy Chiu, whose family’s business in New Taipei City’s Zhonghe District has been operating since 1973, told me she doesn’t think business will ever dry up. The industry is changing, but even the most common traditional window cage models still sell well, she said.
Nowadays her shop, Kuan Heng Aluminum (冠亨鋼鋁), mostly sells window frames though. The more expensive ones—she called them “Western-style”—can be equipped with anti-home invasion features that make cages unnecessary, but for traditional sliding windows that are easier to break, she still suggested adding a cage.
When I visited the shop, a customer surnamed Chen, who was a bit confused when I approached her with my questions, said she last bought a new window cage for one of her properties in 2021. Theft protection was not the reason though.
“On older houses, you just have to have them,” she said. “If the window cages look new, it raises the value of the property.”
Mrs. Chen, who didn’t want to see her full name in this article, said she has since sold the apartment. She didn’t tell me for how much, and she also didn’t tell me whether the new window cage paid off in terms of increasing the selling price.
However, she said home buyers simply feel good about nice, new window cages.
Comfy in my cage
When I first came to Taiwan, the ubiquity of window cages struck me as odd. After a couple of years living here though, I couldn’t be happier having window cages on the apartment I rent. The reasons that I, too, feel good about them are manifold: They add space that I can use as I please, mostly as a “balcony” for my cat. They offer additional weather protection. And they give me some extra privacy in a neighborhood where the next building stands way too close.
I can see the world outside through the potted plants that adorn my cage, but the world cannot see me that easily. I feel at ease, not because I’m afraid of burglars, but because the cage is between me and whatever is out there.
Aesthetic chaos
The anti-window cage craze of the 1980s has dissipated. Newer, cage-free condos dot the cityscape, but there are still plenty of older buildings, including many that have been brought up to the same standard as modern condos. This usually included new window cages—shiny and fire-safety approved.
The reason I prefer old buildings is certainly not that they have cages, it is just that they are part of an aesthetic that I prefer. The cages’ various shapes and designs, the possibilities of creative use inherent to them, and even their individual state of decay add something to the cityscape. A chaotic cluster of older buildings looks far more alive, like an expression of the life inside them, than a modern condo that looks the same from top to bottom.
A modern condo’s design is based on an aesthetic concept that doesn’t allow for alterations. Nothing shall be removed or added, certainly no window cages, to ensure the architect’s ideas take center stage. The condo only looks good, or at least as it’s supposed to, if its appearance is virtually frozen in time.
In Taiwan, an overcrowded, (sub-)tropical island where life flourishes and decay takes over wherever it is allowed to, this quest is doomed to fail. A few decades from now, today’s condos will look rotten and sad. There is simply too much beautiful, chaotic life. There are simply too many people trying to be individuals as best as they can.
Window cages are an appropriate measure to balance this excess. They add a little order, but not too much. Plus people just feel good about them. Let them have their way.
