Deliverance from Tunghai

Written by Peter Li-Chang Kuo

Education is the “hundred-year tree of man” enterprise. Tunghai University, founded in 1955, has now reached its 70th anniversary. Among the many figures in its history, perhaps the most remarkable is Dr. Mei Kewang (1918–2016), who served as president for 14 years.

Fig 1: The Luce Chapel at Tunghai University

In 1969, with the elimination of "vacuum tubes," many of my customers vanished from the earth. Fortunately, by heaven’s grace, brave pioneers came to me seeking new product development. Most of my services were free, except for one client—Mr. Chikuta of the Japanese Kyowa Electronics Company — because the year before, a certain Japanese company, Alps, had tricked me into developing over 200 samples, only to later partner with a Taipei company in Sanxia and become my competitor.

Not long after beginning, I collected NT$1.2 million in development fees from Mr. Chikuta. Since some disgraceful incident had occurred at home, I quickly purchased several plots of land in Yong-Kang, the most expensive being NT$100 per ping.

Years ago, a KFC commercial showed a child collapsing at the foot of a department store escalator, waving his hands and kicking his legs, screaming for "I wanna KFC!" I met a similar sort of tantrum-thrower who demanded: “Listen up—Lín-pa (your old man) is gonna be chairman, you hear?” Driven mad by his pestering, I really did build a factory for him on Chong-Cheng South Road, Lane 360, in Yongkang, and gave him the title of chairman.

A man who never strove for progress — who neither studied nor worked to earn money — went around boasting: “I bought more than ten thousand pings of land; I’m the chairman now!” Because he had a shady past, he attracted endless anonymous denunciations. The case ended up in the “Taiwan Garrison Headquarters ” (then based in the Lin Department Store building). I had to explain myself there several times.

One morning, I received a call from the Yong-Kang factory. On the other end, the staff stammered: “A… a… a high official has arrived!” I leapt onto my Rundap motorcycle and sped over — only to find that the visitor was none other than Mr. Mei Kewang, Secretary-General of the Executive Yuan’s Youth Guidance Council, who had come to understand the situation.

Fig 2: Dr. Mei Kewang (first from left) served as Secretary-General of the Youth Development Council in 1972

After the Republic of China withdrew from the United Nations in 1971, nearly every month people urged me to "emigrate." Couples like Mr. and Mrs. Hsiang, who shut down their Wanlong Toy Factory after only three months, moved to the United States. A relative nicknamed “Bass” emigrated to Brazil, while others went as far as Paraguay. But I never heard of anyone building one factory after another, as I did, in Taiwan.

When I was first summoned to Police Headquarters, the interrogation was stern: “Kuo, you're investigated, at this moment of national peril, why are you constructing factories covering more than a hectare? What is your true intention?”

A man once mocked by relatives as one who would “forever live in his aunt’s leaky house” had, after a few years left Hsin-Sheng Street (Tainan Jail), suddenly become the chairman of a large factory. Naturally, suspicion arose.

Yet after I patiently and truthfully explained, and after those officials examined the tiny precision eyelets I had brought — so fine their rough hands could hardly hold them — and learned each piece sold for less than ten cents, their jaws literally dropped. Perhaps it was my professionalism and sincerity, but gradually those once-grim faces softened.

Fig 3: Precision eyelets unit priced below 10 cents apiece

Unexpectedly, the swaggerer kept swaggering, the anonymous letters kept coming. But in the end, I became close friends — despite the age gap — with Secretary Mei. Even more unexpectedly, in 1978 he became president of Tunghai University. Over his 14-year tenure until 1992, he revitalized Tunghai, making it the top private university in Taiwan.

Fig 4: Dr. Mei Kewang (first from right) became president of Tunghai University in 1978

Whenever I passed through Taichung, I would visit President Mei to hear him recount the miraculous story of how the Republic of China “revived” in Taiwan. Here is a summary of his tale:

In 1948, after the Nationalist army’s defeat in the "Huaihai Campaign," the central government decided to retreat westward to Chongqing. In January 1949, President Chiang Kai-Shek announced his resignation, and Vice President Li Tsung-Jen became Acting President. The government first moved to Guangzhou, but soon the situation in Sichuan became dire. As the leader of the Guangxi Clique, Li suggested relocating the government to Liuzhou in Guangxi Province. But there was an old saying: “To die in Liuzhou.” When I (Mei Kewang) heard this, I, along with my colleagues, was overcome with anxiety and dread.

At the time, I was merely a junior officer — Chief of a division in the Department of Police Administration under the Ministry of the Interior. The department had been downsized from the former Police Headquarters, leaving only a handful of chiefs without any staff. With chaos everywhere, most clerks had been dismissed. In truth, the central government was constantly preparing for relocation, with little “official business” to conduct. Each day, my work consisted of inspecting, checking, and sorting through the thousands of government crates brought from Nanjing.

When rumors of moving to Liuzhou spread through the central ministries in Guangzhou, I was baffled. Liuzhou, a remote city in southwest China, lacked the geography, living conditions, transport, and communications suitable for a national capital. I thought deeply: the Communists excelled in guerrilla warfare; Sichuan was already ablaze with conflict. If the government moved inland, it would be trapped like a turtle in a jar, with no escape. Isolated Liuzhou, with its blocked transport, could only be a dead end. By contrast, Taiwan seemed the only viable choice.

My reasoning was as follows:

1. Taiwan had no Communist guerrilla forces.

2. Taiwan was separated from the mainland by the 100-kilometer-wide Taiwan Strait. The Communists had no navy and could not quickly invade.

3. Taiwan was surrounded by sea, making communication with allies easier and foreign aid more accessible.

4. Before resigning, President Chiang had already appointed his most trusted general, Chen Cheng, as Governor of Taiwan Province.

Frankly, I had more confidence in Chiang and Chen than in Acting President Li. And the old saying “to die in Liuzhou” weighed on me. The more I pondered, the more convinced I became that moving to Taiwan was the right choice. I discussed this with several colleagues, and they agreed.

After careful thought, I wrote a report of more than 2,000 words urging that the Ministry of the Interior be moved to Taiwan, not to Liuzhou. As expected, Minister Li Han-Hun was furious when he read it! He instructed the Vice Minister to reprimand me severely, saying that only by following Acting President Li could one have a future. He mocked Taiwan as a hopeless island, saying: “Why go to Taiwan? To be buried there?” (alluding to Chiang being finished).

Director Cheng Tse-Kuang of the Police Administration conveyed the minister’s order. I explained to him in detail the advantages of moving to Taiwan. At last, he sympathized with me. He comforted me and promised to explain my position to Vice Minister Ho Tung, asking me to be patient. Sure enough, three days later, Director Cheng returned with a smile: Vice Minister Ho had approved my proposal to move to Taiwan. He even gave me the mission of leading several colleagues “to escort 1,500 crates of government property to Taiwan.” My good friends Chu Po-Chün and Wu Mao-Tsai were among the group, and we were overjoyed.

Escorting “National Treasures” (or Waste) to Taiwan

I was assigned to escort 1,500 crates of government property to Taiwan, together with seven colleagues. The Director of General Affairs gave me "850 silver dollars" as all expenses — including our salaries, transportation, and storage of the 1,500 crates. He also instructed me to establish a “Ministry of the Interior Liaison Office in Taiwan.” I asked, “Where shall these crates be stored in Taipei?” He replied that I had full discretion, and emphasized that the 850 dollars must cover everything — no additional funds would be provided.

Although the task was daunting, I consoled myself: the Ministry’s approval to set up a liaison office in Taipei showed that my proposal to “relocate to Taiwan” had gained at least partial support from higher levels. So, I resolved to complete the mission. Once in Taiwan, I believed solutions could be found—surely the nation would not allow public assets to be abandoned in the streets. Thus, two days later we boarded the "Hua Fu Steamer" to Keelung, escorting the 1,500 crates to Taiwan.

Minister Li Han-Hun, after the central government moved to Chongqing, staged what he called a “sealing of seal and gold” resignation drama and then went off to New York to run a restaurant. Meanwhile, we young men continued with the escort mission — unknowingly prolonging the life of the Republic of China.

When the crates arrived at Keelung, they were placed in customs warehouses. But how could so many crates be stored? After much thought, I decided to seek help from police agencies, which were under the Ministry of the Interior. Fortunately, I knew Mr. Lu Sui-Chu, Deputy Director of the Taiwan Provincial Police Department, who was from my hometown (Linxiang, Hunan). The very next day, I went to their office on Chung-Cheng East Road (later Chong-Hsiao East Road, 1st Section) to meet him.

It was like a reunion after ages. Mr. Lu was surprised to see me in Taiwan. I explained the storage problem. Later, with the approval of Director Wang Cheng-Chang, the crates were temporarily kept in the corridors of the police department. Next came the task of moving the entire shipment from Keelung to Taipei.

Unexpectedly, the Ministry of the Interior sent another 300+ crates, raising the total to over 1,800 crates, weighing more than 1,000 tons. Transport required 25 railway freight cars. I personally led three male colleagues to Keelung to check and escort the cargo. It was early July 1949, unbearably hot. We labored for two days to load the trains, and more than three days to unload and move them into the police department. For a full week, drenched in sweat, we toiled through the heat, drinking countless glasses of ice water, until the task was done.

Why did the Ministry of the Interior have so many crates? Because before leaving Nanjing, the Ministry had absorbed the Ministry of Health, Ministry of Social Affairs, and Ministry of Land Administration, while also consolidating the Labor Bureau, Police Headquarters, and Household Administration Bureau. The Investigation Bureau was also under the Interior. Thus, the Guangzhou-era Ministry of the Interior was huge.

Their property was divided into two parts:

1. Anything that could be liquidated in Guangzhou (since the official “silver yuan notes” were worthless) was sold off for Hong Kong dollars to fund the relocation.

2. Everything else — files, books, gazettes, maps — was deemed non-liquid and handed to me for shipment to Taiwan.

These “useless” items (non-liquid assets) were considered burdens, mere scrap, sent to Taiwan only as a token gesture of not abandoning state property. Many thought transporting them was pointless — “the country is finished, why bother with this junk?” Who could have imagined that within these so-called discards lay a few true national treasures vital to the survival of the Republic? Later, four in particular proved crucial:

1. Gazettes of the National Government of the Republic of China:

From January 1, 1912, when Dr. Sun Yat-sen became provisional president, up to 1948, every daily gazette was preserved intact. Mine was the only complete set brought to Taiwan. Without it, the ROC government would have had to ask the Communists for copies — a ridiculous notion.

2. County Gazetteers of Mainland China:

Among the Interior and Land Administration’s holdings were over 1,500 county gazetteers. Combined with the 1,200 brought by the National Central Library, Taiwan possessed records for about 1,700 counties. These were proof of sovereignty — allowing the ROC to continue claiming jurisdiction over the mainland.

3. Official Maps of the Republic of China:

Over 300 crates of 1:50,000 scale maps, created by the Ministry of National Defense after years of survey work, were included. Without these, the ROC would lack its own cartographic authority and might have had to borrow maps from the Communists. With them, the government could rightly assert itself as the legitimate China.

4. Original Ballots from the First Constitutional Elections:

These included the ballots for “the first National Assembly delegates, Legislative Yuan members, and Control Yuan members.” After retreating to Taiwan, the number of representatives present was below quorum. Without these original ballots, there would have been no legal way to fill vacancies, and constitutional continuity would have been broken. Because I had safeguarded the ballots, replacements could be lawfully seated, allowing the government to function.

In addition to these “national treasures,” there were countless other critical records — "civil service appointments, performance evaluations, school graduation lists and certificates," and over 100 crates of Investigation Bureau classified files. All of these later proved invaluable to loyal officials who followed the government to Taiwan.

On November 20, 1949, when the government retreated from Chongqing to Chengdu, Acting President Li Tsung-Jen abandoned his post and fled to Hong Kong, then to the U.S. Premier Yen Hsi-Shan temporarily assumed his duties until Chiang Kai-Shek resumed power. In December 1949, the central government relocated to Taiwan. In March 1950, Chiang announced his return to office in Taiwan, continuing his first presidential term. In 1954, at Chong-Shan Hall in Taipei, through the National Assembly — and with the aid of those “original ballots” — Chiang was elected to a second term with Chen Cheng as vice president. Chiang held power until his death in 1975 during his fifth term.

When Chiang Kai-shek came to Taiwan to continue his first presidential term, his top priority was “hunting down communist spies” — what later became known as the “White Terror.” We were its direct victims. By the time he was elected to his second term as President, he had realized the importance of “education.” In 1955, with Chiang Kai-Shek’s tacit approval and support, Christian universities such as Tunghai University and Chung Yuan Christian University were established. These institutions received American aid and echoed Chiang’s policy of “rectifying society with Christian spirit,” becoming important forces in moral and spiritual reconstruction.

To my surprise, my old friend Dr. Mei Kewang became President of Tunghai University in 1978. Seeing his success in leading the school, I even decided in 1999 to ask my son — who was originally planning to attend National Chi Nan University — to apply instead to Tunghai University. Unexpectedly, this decision marked the beginning of a long series of misfortunes.

A Red Washer returned from 39 years ago

On August 18 this year, at 8:31 a.m., a “red flat washer” from 1986 somehow fell through a wormhole into my empty bathtub. This led me, on the first day of the seventh lunar month, to restart my early-morning practice of dedicating prayers to my ancestors. By reconnecting bloodline and Dharma lineage, my mind became clearer. Through "Social Network Analysis" (SNA), I realized that the group who had seized my vast wealth was actually using the resources I had given them to collude with charlatans — both monks and pastors — and even employ public authority to launch overwhelming assaults against us.

This cartel-like criminal group once threatened: “We won’t let you live past 2004!” Indeed, someone nearly died on November 22, 2004. What they did not expect was that I would choose the Luce Memorial Chapel at Tunghai University as a place to heal the wounded. From January 1 to December 31, 2005, without a single day off, I entered and left Tunghai University daily — praying from the biting cold winds of winter until the phoenix flowers bloomed — until the wounded rose from the brink of death.

We were besieged by the cartel’s corrupt syndicate, and the APEC 1998 e-commerce proposer and inventor was indeed struck down, seem never to rise again. I knew well that the pastor surnamed Li of the Luce Chapel was a claw of the cartel, and that Li also had many underlings. Yet I still led the wounded to kneel in the Luce Chapel, praying for God’s healing. In the end, the righteous were healed, and on December 31, 2005, we left Tunghai alive.

At the same time, I deeply realized the truth of the Scripture: “They are shepherds who feed only themselves; without fear. They are clouds without rain, blown along by the wind; autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, foaming up their shame; wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever.” (Jude 1:12–13)

When dining at the dormitory with President Mei, he lamented that the younger generation completely lacked Confucian thought. He recalled someone asking about the “Way of governing a nation,” to which Confucius had taught: “The governance of culture and arms is written in records. If the man exists, the policy is carried out; if the man perishes, the policy ceases.” (Doctrine of the Mean, ch. 20). This means that although political policies (culture and arms) are prescribed in written regulations (records), their implementation depends entirely on whether capable and virtuous individuals are present. If the ruler exists and possesses virtue, the policy is enacted; if he dies or loses virtue, the policy naturally ends.

Thus, although political policies may be institutionalized, their realization depends on the presence and moral cultivation of leaders. With virtue, policies are carried out; without virtue, they collapse. Governance lies in people — gentlemen must cultivate themselves, beginning with filial piety, and progress toward understanding human nature and the Mandate of Heaven. Ruling the nation rests upon practicing the Five Relationships—between ruler and minister, father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger brothers, and friends — through the Mean (the Attained Way), and embodying the three cardinal virtues of wisdom, benevolence, and courage. Whether one is born with knowledge, learns it, or struggles to attain it, the result is the same; whether one acts with ease, for gain, or with effort, the success is one. Ultimately, the foundation of governance lies in virtue, not merely in written statutes.

I therefore composed the following poem on Confucius’ teaching of “knowing men”:

Cultivate the self, serve parents, and seek to know men,

Five relationships practiced, governance made plain.

Culture and arms exist through men,

With wisdom, benevolence, and courage, rule can be attained.

Honor kin and revere the worthy, and ritual will arise,

The gentleman upholds the Way, and virtue stands firm.

To know men and Heaven, the mind is like a mirror,

The nation’s destiny endures, with virtue as its fortress.

Dr. Mei also said: “In the past, when I was ordered to establish the Youth Guidance Council, I had no funding at all, but managed to develop it into a first-tier agency under the Executive Yuan, and even created the Youth Entrepreneurship Loan and the Youth Industrial Park.” He confessed he could not understand why today’s young aristocrats have instead become the “enemies of the open society.”

After retiring from Tunghai, Dr. Mei founded a think tank in Taichung — the "Taiwan Research Institute" (TRI). Within it, we established a “Chip Research Center” — the very center behind the "cashless payment system" that achieved a global annual transaction volume of USD 36 trillion during the COVID-19 pandemic, giving birth to the global e-commerce industry and turning Taiwan’s semiconductor sector from loss into profit at the dawn of the 21st century.

Having witnessed my journey from nothing to something, what moved Dr. Mei most was our trip to Thailand during the 2003 SARS outbreak, risking our lives to open doors for Taiwan at APEC. Yet a certain man surnamed Chen brazenly threw the book "The Daughter of a Defense Employee" (A Lady of Rich Taiwan) before him and demanded: “Why do you support her?” Worse still, they slashed all funding for TRI simply because Dr. Mei had written the foreword for that book.

Fig 5: The prophetic book ordered destroyed by authorities

On April 1, 2016, I had arranged to visit Dr. Mei. But when I arrived at his dormitory, I found that he had already passed away that very morning. His driver, Mr. Weng, said: “Yesterday, President Mei had still worked at the office until closing, then asked me to take him to get a haircut and tidy his appearance. On the way home, he told me: ‘So many of my old classmates—Hsieh Tung-Min, Wang Sheng — have come to see me…’”

Conclusion

Since its founding in 1955, Tunghai University has nurtured countless talents over the past seventy years. One of its most influential figures was Dr. Mei Kewang, who served as President for fourteen years. In the early 1970s, when Taiwan faced international isolation and domestic turmoil, Dr. Mei — through the spirit of the Mean — helped me endure slander and harassment by the military police, giving me the opportunity to create "Taiwan’s Precision Industry." In 1978, he assumed leadership of Tunghai, elevating it into a top private university. Most importantly, he witnessed and participated in the Republic of China’s relocation to Taiwan, extending its national destiny, and thereby guiding Chiang Kai-shek to value education, use Christian spirit to rectify society, and establish education as the foundation of national revival. After retirement, he founded the Taiwan Research Institute and, through the “Chip Research Center,” assisted us in advancing the "cashless payment system" that transformed Taiwan’s semiconductor industry. Having personally witnessed his contributions to education and the nation, and having shared difficult times with him, I was deeply grieved by his passing in 2016. He left behind a profound legacy of wisdom and spirit, becoming a force of continuity and an important driver of Taiwan’s social and industrial renewal. May today’s young aristocrats repent, and instead become supporters of the open society.

Peter Li-Chang Kuo, the author created Taiwan's Precision Industry in his early years. Peter was a representative of the APEC CEO Summit and an expert in the third sector. He advocated "anti-corruption (AC)/cashless/e-commerce (E-Com)/ICT/IPR/IIA-TES / Micro-Business (MB)…and etc." to win the international bills and regulations.