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327 pages, Hardcover
Published February 1, 2019
‘“ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE,” Gertrude Stein famously stated in a 1913 poem. But can the same be said about a sphere? If you take, for instance, a slightly deflated soccer ball and push it at one end, pull it at another end, step on it, jump on it, twist it, pummel it, and do everything else imaginable save for poking a hole in it or ripping it apart, will this ball remain a sphere insofar as the dictates of topology are concerned?’
‘Wanderlust may be my destiny, as well as an engrained part of my heritage, as my family and I are of Hakka extract—an ethnic group thought to have originated in the Yellow River Valley of northern China, moving south during a series of forced migrations over the past one thousand years or so and gradually spreading out from there. Sun Yat-sen, the first president of the Republic of China, and Deng Xiaoping, the most powerful figure in China during the past two decades of the twentieth century, are both of Hakka descent, as was Lee Kuan Yew, the first prime minister and “founding father” of Singapore.’
‘The Hakka people, of whom there are about eighty million today, were originally referred to as “guest people” or “shack people”—wanderers due to necessity rather than a nomadic predisposition. They moved when they had to in order to escape war and famine or, less dramatically, to search for steady employment. The Hakkas endured countless hardships along the way, which became part of their credo, though many clung to the dream of returning someday to their native land. But they also stayed put when the opportunity arose. My ancestors, for example, lived stably in my family’s hometown for more than eight hundred years.’
‘However, when Hakka people did settle in one place for a while, they were often consigned to the poorest farmland available, up in the highlands rather than in the fertile valleys below, which had been claimed long before. Up in the dryer, nutrient-deficient soil, farmers were unable to grow China’s main crops, rice and wheat, on a successful, large-scale basis and often had to try to cultivate maize and sweet potatoes instead, until even those secondary crops failed. The marginal quality of the land they inhabited might have made the parting easier when the Hakkas were forced to move, once again, because of invasions and other exigencies.
I see some parallels in my own experience. I’ve been through a number of moves myself, both as a child, when circumstances compelled my family to change venues, and as an adult, where occasional geographic shifts are the norm in academia. I was born in the southern Chinese town of Swatow, now more commonly known as Shantou—.’
‘Does this mean the situation is hopeless? I don’t think so, or otherwise I would not be spending so much time running a half dozen mathematics centers in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, nor would I devote myself to other math and science causes there. Because in the end I believe change will come and that it cannot be held back. In a word, I’m betting on youth. To me, it seems inevitable, as well as natural, that young leaders in math and science, who bring fresh perspectives to their fields, will emerge and gradually gain influence, in time having a transformative effect—.’
‘—our goals in mathematics were supposed to be—to seek, and hopefully find, the truth and beauty hidden within our chosen discipline—a lesson my father had impressed upon me, both implicitly and explicitly, throughout my childhood. The interaction with Chern reminded me of a classic Chinese essay my father asked me to memorize when I was around ten years old. The “Five-Willow Gentleman” was so named because he lived in an unfurnished shack—which offered scant shelter from the sun, wind, and rain—surrounded by five willow trees. Clad in rags and surviving on the most modest of resources, he was still content. He enjoyed reading so much that he often forgot to stop for meals. He cared not about his personal gains and losses, deriving satisfaction instead from writing down his thoughts and aspirations. The Five-Willow Gentleman was sustained by an intrinsic joy of study, not by the pursuit of fame or money, as Chern had put it. I realized at that moment that, even though Chern and I did not always share the same values, I could still learn a lot from him. But I would have to keep his advice—as well as the advice given by anyone else—in perspective. I believe that he always had my best interests at heart. Ultimately, though, I would need to follow the dictates of my own heart.’
‘Another thing I appreciate about traditional Chinese philosophy is that we, as people, tend to see ourselves as being part of nature, which implies that it is not in our interest to try to conquer nature—In these modern times, the Chinese don’t always adhere to this view—though it is, at least, a long-held tenet within the culture. The best course, to me, seems to lie in a mixture of these two perspectives: We can try to understand nature, which is a valuable pursuit in its own right, while at the same time trying to go along with it—to coexist and be part of the “oneness” that’s sometimes referred to as the Tao.’
‘So where does this leave me? Despite my passion for China, and the deep-seated drive I feel to help further its progress, the fact remains that I spend most days of a typical year in the United States, to which I don’t have nearly as strong an emotional attachment. Yet that’s where my children were born and raised; that’s where our family home is; and that’s where my full-time job lies. Which leaves me, as I said, in the rather peculiar place of never feeling completely at home in either America or China. My true home seems to lie somewhere in between (perhaps somewhere around the International Date Line that zigzags through the middle of the Pacific Ocean). The one thing that has made it easiest for me to move, unencumbered, between these two countries and cultures—and, indeed, anywhere else in the world—has been mathematics itself, which has long served as my true passport.’
‘It’s been an eventful journey so far—or at least eventful for me—though I hope others have found something of interest in this rambling account of a poor boy from Shantou who stumbled upon a quest for some deep truths of nature and has maybe been lucky enough to catch a few glimmers of insight along the way.’
In my experience, solving hard math problems takes hard work, and there's no way around it, unless the problem is rather trivial.
"I have spent a whole day without eating and a whole night without sleeping in order to think, but it was of no use, I got nothing out of it. Thinking cannot compare with studying."