A Spatial Perspective in Local Studies: The North Coast

 Sanzhi；A Spatial Perspective in Local Studies: The North Coast

In the field of "local studies," the definition of "space" is flexible; it need not be determined solely by administrative boundaries. For the purpose of community college courses, the most fundamental and manageable spatial unit is the administrative "district" (e.g., Sanzhi, Bali, or Shimen). Such units offer clear parameters, which facilitates both curriculum planning and the organization of research materials.

However, while administrative districts may serve as a starting point for defining the scope of local studies, they should not function as rigid boundaries for fieldwork.

In practice, areas like Sanzhi, Shimen, and Tamsui are contiguous—they share continuous landscapes, interconnected road networks, and features such as streams, mountain ranges, human settlements, kinship networks, and religious traditions that often transcend administrative lines. Consequently, one cannot simply halt an investigation upon reaching the boundary of a district. Administrative borders are drawn for the sake of governance, but they do not necessarily correspond to the boundaries of local life.

For instance, if an ancient trail under study in Sanzhi extends into Tamsui, the research cannot stop just because the trail crosses into the latter district. Similarly, tracing the history of a family might require extending the inquiry into Shimen or Tamsui, while studying a river would naturally involve examining its entire course, rather than just the segment contained within a single administrative district. Local relationships often predate administrative divisions and are far more complex.

Therefore, the spatial framework for local studies should be conceptualized as a "core space" supplemented by "associated spaces." Taking Sanzhi as an example, the Sanzhi District could serve as the "core space," while other areas relevant to the research—such as Shimen, Tamsui, Bali, Jinshan, or Wanli—would function as essential "associated spaces."

Furthermore, there is another critical consideration: when external data is required to explain local phenomena, the spatial scope must certainly not be constrained by administrative boundaries.

A locality’s history, population migration, industries, transportation systems, religious beliefs, and kinship ties rarely develop in isolation within a single administrative district. If local studies were to treat administrative boundaries as absolute spatial limits, it would inevitably fragment places that are, in reality, deeply interconnected.

In light of this, I propose that the fundamental spatial perspective for local studies should be understood as follows:

Administrative districts serve as basic spatial coordinates for local studies, but they do not constitute the boundaries for fieldwork. So, what is the actual scope that "local studies" (place-based research) can encompass?

Ultimately, this comes down to the field researcher’s own time, access to transportation, and personal capacity.

Based on my own fieldwork experience, using Sanzhi as a starting point, a one-hour travel radius serves as a practical scope for day-to-day fieldwork. This area roughly covers the stretch from Sanzhi to Shimen, Tamsui, Jinshan, Wanli, and even as far as Bali. This is not a rigid boundary, but rather a "living sphere"—a space one can traverse repeatedly for ongoing investigation.

However, transportation conditions can reshape the spatial dimensions of local studies.

For instance, before the completion of the Danjiang Bridge, traveling further afield from Sanzhi required a significant investment of time, making it difficult to include more distant locations in one’s regular fieldwork scope. Once transport infrastructure is completed and road networks evolve, our perception of distance shifts accordingly. With the Danjiang Bridge and Provincial Highway 61, a one-hour travel radius from Sanzhi can now extend as far as Nankan, Luzhu, and Linkou in Taoyuan.

This reveals something quite compelling:

The space of local studies is not a fixed map; it is a fluid space that shifts in response to transportation, time, and the researcher’s own capacity for fieldwork.

Consequently, the space of local studies can be understood across three levels:

First, the administrative space.

Using administrative divisions—such as Sanzhi, Shimen, or Tamsui districts—as a foundational frame provides a clear starting point for research.

Second, he space of daily life and social relations.

By tracing roads, streams, mountain ranges, settlements, industries, belief systems, kinship ties, and historical connections, one can transcend administrative boundaries to identify places that are genuinely interconnected.

Third, the space defined by the researcher’s fieldwork capacity.

The ultimate reach of one’s research depends on the time, transportation, experience, and sustained effort the researcher can commit. As the transport environment changes, this space may expand or contract.

Therefore, the space of local studies is not defined by "which administrative district I have chosen," but rather by "how far I must travel to truly understand this place."

This is precisely what distinguishes local studies from conventional research based on administrative boundaries: while administrative districts are pre-defined, the space of local studies is one that is gradually uncovered through the process of fieldwork.

Reflections on AI and "Local Studies"

 Sanzhi-Reflections on AI and "Local Studies"

This is, I believe, a brand-new topic. Many of you are likely already familiar with AI. For me, the value of AI does not lie in it "generating" a new field of "local studies" from scratch; rather, it serves as a foundational database that enables analysis—analysis that deepens my understanding of a specific locality and facilitates even more profound investigation.

So, what kind of database can I provide to AI? I offer my blog, "Getting to Know Sanzhi." Back in 2007, the Tamsui Community College offered a course on blogging for instructors. The initial intent was simply to promote our classes, but I soon realized that people who had left Sanzhi were using the blog to stay connected to their hometown. I began writing with great dedication, and over time, I discovered that the accumulated content had grown into a massive database. Before the advent of AI, this was merely a collection of data; now, when I use AI, I can prompt it to answer questions based specifically on this database.

I have asked AI to analyze my blog—"Getting to Know Sanzhi"—to explore concepts of time, space, and history. After much tweaking, however, it felt as though I was the one providing the answers myself. It seems the AI ​​requires further training. Generally speaking, the more abstract the theoretical terminology, the easier it is for AI to generate a response; yet, when it comes to providing nuanced, detailed explanations for these abstract concepts, the human brain remains indispensable.

On the Concept of Time

My blog represents a continuous accumulation of material—not just in terms of volume, but, more importantly, in terms of the passage of time. A couple of years ago, I discussed the "theory of time" within the context of local studies with a director. I understood what made it unique, but articulating it clearly proved to be quite difficult. Recently, I tasked AI with deriving a "concept of time" for a locality based on my blog. The AI ​​initially offered a plethora of ambiguous—and at times, even questionable—perspectives. Yet, when I pressed for a more detailed analysis, it was able to distill a clear, concise concept: essentially, that one must constantly revisit a place, pose new questions, and seek a fresh understanding. The first investigation reveals the existence of a place; the second may uncover its changes; the third might begin to reveal the patterns underlying those changes. Thus, our course is not a one-off field study, but rather a long-term observation conducted in tandem with the passage of time.

Twenty-five years ago, we documented Sanzhi and incorporated that material into our curriculum. Today, we can revisit and re-examine Sanzhi as it continues to evolve. In another twenty-five years, future generations will be able to use the records we leave behind today to understand the Sanzhi we once lived in. In this sense, a "temporal perspective" is not about reaching a final conclusion about a place, but about continuously curating materials that invite ongoing reflection.

A Spatial Perspective

Another crucial concept in our course is the "spatial perspective." In the study of a specific locality—"local studies"—the concept of space can often become a trap that constrains fieldwork. Whether one can transcend these local boundaries depends entirely on the ambition driving the field research.

Initially, one needs a foundational scope for investigation—in my case, the township of Sanzhi served as the basis for organizing data. However, it soon becomes clear that relying solely on information from within Sanzhi is insufficient; one must look toward neighboring townships or even further afield. Without this broader scope, much of the data remains inexplicable.

A database built through fieldwork is the result of gathering and accumulating existing local information. "Local studies" go a step further: through sustained fieldwork, they integrate documents, historical records, and archival materials with on-site observations, interviews, and lived experiences. In this way, people, events, and objects—previously scattered across disparate sources—are reintegrated into the spatial context of the locality, forming a unique "spatial perspective" specific to that place.

Yet, local studies cannot rely on a spatial perspective alone.

A place is never static. People migrate, settlements evolve, industries rise and fall, beliefs shift, roads vanish, and new ways of life constantly emerge. Consequently, fieldwork cannot be a one-time endeavor; it must be an ongoing process.

As field research accumulates over time, we begin to develop a "temporal perspective" of a place. We move beyond merely understanding what a place looks like today, and start to ask: What was it like in the past? And how did it come to be the way it is now? What changes are taking place now? And what might endure into the future?

It is at this juncture that the field of "local studies" begins to develop its own distinct "historical perspective."

I have long pondered how such a perspective might manifest. Does it merely involve situating a locality within an established historical timeline? Or should local history be viewed simply as a microcosm of "grand history"—history on a macro scale?

And what is AI’s take on this? It suggests that we should prioritize the locality itself—examining how it came to be. While anyone might claim to understand how a place is formed, the AI ​​recognizes that my foundation in local studies is built upon a database accumulated over time—comprising primary, on-the-ground fieldwork rather than information scraped from the internet.

For instance, "Provincial Highway 2" is more than just a line on a map; it serves as a conduit connecting diverse settlements, industries, belief systems, and kinship networks. "Sanzhi" is not merely an administrative designation; it preserves the collective memory of early ethnic groups, the natural environment, and traditional ways of life. Similarly, "Fucheng Temple" is not just a religious structure—it reflects the composition of the local population, the dynamics between migrant groups, social organization, the evolution of beliefs, and even the ingenuity of the artisans who built it.

Consequently, the history within local studies is not just a record of "what happened"; more importantly, it is an inquiry into "why this place has come to look the way it does today."

This distinguishes the historical perspective of local studies from conventional historical narratives. Traditional history often interprets an era through the lens of political regimes, institutions, major events, or prominent figures. In contrast, local studies can begin with a single village, a stream, an ancient trail, a temple, a place name, or even the lived memories of a single family—offering a fresh vantage point on how history truly unfolds at the local level.

In many contexts, local history and "grand history" (such as the histories of East Asia, China, or Taiwan) are distinct entities; at times, local studies serve to restore the granular details to the broader historical record. More often, however, grand history functions as an annotation to local studies—for grand history is, in essence, composed of people, ethnic groups, ecosystems, geography, and climate.

In short, the historical perspective of local studies can be anchored at the intersection of "time" and "space."

Space reveals how people, land, roads, settlements, industries, and beliefs are interconnected; time reveals how these relationships are formed, how they evolve, how they vanish, and how they are eventually reconstructed. When these two elements—place and history—are combined, what we see is no longer merely a static map of a locality, but a dynamic, ever-evolving local history.

More importantly, the history within the field of "local studies" is not something that can be written once and for all.

Field research conducted twenty-five years ago documented a place as it existed a quarter-century ago; a follow-up study today might reveal that some elements have vanished, while new industries, populations, or ways of life have emerged. These instances of "disappearance" and "emergence" are, in themselves, integral parts of local history.

Therefore, the historical perspective in local studies should be one of "continuous history."

The field research we undertake today serves not only to understand the past but also to document the present. This allows future generations to look back and make comparisons: What was this place like in the past? Why did it change? And who—or what forces—drove these changes?

From this vantage point, local studies does more than just accumulate knowledge about a place; it establishes a record of that place’s own unique dimensions of time and space.

Building a Knowledge System Accessible to AI

Viewed through the lens of local studies, this is a highly forward-looking concept. It shifts the focus beyond merely "preserving local memory" toward considering how one’s own fieldwork experience can be transformed into a knowledge system that future AI can inherit. In other words, what is left behind is not just a collection of stories about places like Sanzhi, Shimen, or the North Coast, but a "local wisdom system" capable of continued growth and ongoing inquiry. This may hold far greater long-term significance than simply finding a single human successor.