Shwu Lih Lin
Having lived in the United States for fifty years, I have experienced my share of ups and downs, but at last my life gradually sailed into calmer waters. After hardship comes renewal. Looking back, there are many stories worth telling, and several of them happened to occur in the year 2001.
In mid-April of that year, while taking care of some business in New York, I made a detour to visit a Taiwan photo exhibition at Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs. Before leaving, I noticed a stack of newspapers near the exit. It was the school’s publication, The Record. I picked up a copy and was drawn to a front-page article titled “The Deep Roots of U.S.-China Tensions.” It discussed the collision between a U.S. Navy reconnaissance aircraft and a Chinese fighter jet near Hainan Island. The article argued that the dispute was not an isolated incident but the result of long-standing tensions, particularly differing interpretations of the “One China” policy. The scholar interviewed was Professor Andrew Nathan, then director of Columbia University’s political science program.
After returning home, I searched online and learned that Professor Nathan was one of the two editors of The Tiananmen Papers, a highly controversial and influential book published that year. I also discovered Columbia University’s educational website, Fathom, where I found seven interviews with him. Four offered penetrating assessments of China’s political, military, and economic condition within the context of America’s global strategy. The other three focused on Taiwan’s political landscape, the issue of independence, and the role of the United States. I eagerly read them all.
Inspired, I wrote him a thoughtful email titled “Your Work Deserves Greater Attention.” To my surprise and delight, he replied promptly.
Why would someone like me, neither a political commentator nor a scholar, be so fascinated by the writings of an American academic? Some explanation from my personal journey may help.
As a middle and high school student, I was a rebellious youth concerned about society and the fate of my country. I was greatly influenced by the writers associated with Taiwan’s Wenxing magazine and its publications. At one point, I considered studying law or journalism, but ultimately followed a path in science and engineering.
After going abroad for graduate studies, getting married, and beginning my career, I was fortunate to participate in the early development of fiber-optic communications and make a modest contribution to the field. Perhaps because of long-term exposure to toxic chemicals, I eventually paid a price. In 1994, while my father was critically ill, I had to undergo surgery.
Recovery led me to reconsider my priorities in life. I rediscover my interest in the humanities and social sciences and began writing seriously. At first, I focused on issues close to me: technology, the stock market, women’s issues, and cultural observations. On the eve of the twenty-first century, hoping to fulfill my wish of writing my father’s biography, I spent many hours poring over encyclopedia of world history. My father’s life had a profound impact on his children. How could I pass on the meaning of his experiences to future generations growing up overseas? It was a serious mission.
As I reflected on Taiwan’s painful history, I revisited old wounds planted in childhood. Yet I felt that sorrow should not define one’s writing. The goal should be to seek understanding through the perspective of history and distill wisdom from suffering. This approach eventually led to my essay “A Survivor’s Record: Remembering My Father,” a work of more than five thousand words that marked an important milestone in my writing journey. It was later included in my book “Random Notes from Princeton” (published in Mandarin with title 普林斯頓散記)
At the time, however, my understanding of cross-strait relations remained incomplete. During my university years, China’s Cultural Revolution was in full swing. After completing graduate school abroad, I had more opportunities to learn about Taiwan’s history and international status. Debates over unification with China or independence became a constant backdrop in ordinary life. Political divisions seeped into personal relationships.
Looking throughout history, it is not difficult to see that ideological struggles often hinge on an unwavering belief in the correctness of one’s own position. Political commentators and media personalities frequently begin with conclusions and then search for supporting evidence. Under their influence, public opinion becomes increasingly polarized.
We overlook the similarity between politics and daily life: both contain gray areas. In such an environment, after more than twenty years of frustration, I was astonished when I first encountered Professor Nathan’s writings. As a Westerner, he seemed able to perceive the complexity of issues on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. In his analysis, nations became almost human, shaped by cultural backgrounds, historical memories, and complicated psychological motivations. This perspective explained many misunderstandings and highlighted the contradictions inherent in international politics.
Reading his work brought a sense of intellectual clarity and relief. What impressed me even more was that such a distinguished scholar responded quickly and warmly to my email despite having no prior acquaintance with me.
As if by some stroke of fate, in May of that same year I also had the opportunity to meet the other editor of The Tiananmen Papers, Professor Perry Link of Princeton University’s East Asian Studies Department. One day, Amnesty International at Princeton organized a demonstration supporting alumnus Li Shaomin. While standing among the crowd, I suddenly remembered The Tiananmen Papers. A reporter from the Princeton Packet happened to be nearby, so I asked about Professor Link. Following the reporter’s gesture, I saw a tall, thin scholar standing not far away, his expression serious and contemplative.
Later, I learned that his academic specialties included philosophy, modern Chinese language, literature, and culture.
At that time, I was serving as president of the Windsor Area Taiwanese American Association. The organization had some unused scholarship fund, and our board decided to purchase books for local public libraries. After conducting some research, I suggested acquiring a collection of Taiwanese novels translated into English through a collaboration between Columbia University and Taiwan’s Council for Cultural Affairs. The books included The Three-Legged Horse, A Thousand Moons on a Thousand Rivers, Wild Child, and five other works.
Then an idea occurred to me. Since Professor Link was familiar with Chinese literature, perhaps he would be interested in Taiwanese literature as well. Hoping to encourage greater attention to Taiwan, I carefully drafted an email mentioning a book donation project along with a promotional lecture event.
In his reply, he modestly explained that he was not particularly knowledgeable about Taiwanese literature and would attend only as an observer. However, he kindly recommended two speakers: Ms. Chen Chun-yen, a lecturer at Princeton University, and Professor Jeffrey Kinkley, a historian at St. John’s University. I was delighted when both graciously accepted our invitation. We scheduled the event for October 6, 2001.
All three scholars had earned doctorates from Harvard University’s Fairbank Center for East Asian Research. Its founder, Professor John Fairbank, was a pioneer of American sinology. I remember hearing my father mention him frequently during my childhood.
In his book, China Bound: A Fifty-Year Memoir, Fairbank described an important principle of historical research: using literature as evidence for history. Traditional history often emphasizes major events but overlooks the force of gradual social changes that accumulate over time. Literature reflects everyday life and social realities at a more intimate level, helping us grasp the pulse of history more accurately. Professor Kinkley’s work, The Odyssey of Shen Congwen, and Professor Link’s work, The Uses of Literature, exemplify this approach.
During the months leading up to the lecture event, I studied diligently, almost like a student preparing for an examination in modern Chinese history. Besides the books already mentioned, I read Professor Link’s work, Evening Chats in Beijing, Notes of a Half-Foreigner , along with Professor Nathan’s work, China’s Transition. All three scholars demonstrated rigorous scholarship, broad knowledge of both Eastern and Western traditions, and a valuable outsider’s perspective. The viewpoints of Chinese and Western scholars, I felt, complemented one another.
Summer passed quickly. Then came September 11, a morning no one could forget. Two Airplanes struck New York’s World Trade Center. Soon afterward, another aircraft attacked the Pentagon, and yet another crashed near Pittsburgh. Across the world, people witnessed what had seemed an enduring symbol of a superpower disintegrated into dust within seconds.
Investigators believed that the plane that crashed near Pittsburgh may have been intended to strike either the White House or the Capitol. The attack failed because several passengers fought back against the hijackers. One of those heroes was Todd Beamer, a resident of my own town. Only later, while reading a local newspaper article from September 28 covering our upcoming literary event, did I notice a story on the same page about plans to build a memorial in his honor.
Despite these tragic events, our lecture event, titled “The Taiwan Experience: Literary Perspectives,” went ahead as scheduled on October 6 and proved highly successful. Personally, it marked the beginning of a new phase in my life.
Later, I wrote an English essay titled “On Becoming an American,” describing the significance of the event and the insights I had gained. It was published in The Cranbury Press, part of the Packet Media Group newspaper network. Expanding upon those themes, I later wrote “Also a Silent Generation?”, which first appeared in Taiwan’s Liberty Times literary supplement on August 25, 2002, with illustrations by artist Wu Meng-yun. The article was later reprinted in overseas publications such as the Liberty Times East Coast Edition, Taiwan Tribune, and the Pacific Times. It was eventually included in my book, Random Notes from Princeton.
The book also contains several other essays related to my experiences in 2001, including:
- Beginning with a Newspaper
- Meeting Professor Jeffrey Kinkley
- Conversations with Professor Perry Link
- Storms Across the Taiwan Strait
The Chinese version of this article was shared on the website of Greater New York Region Overseas Taiwanese Pen Club (2026 Article): 走過二ＯＯ一年
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