我為何要參加這場學運

在闊別十四載後，學運再次在台灣發生。

四月二日夜裡，我首次來到廣場接觸到一雙雙映著熱情灼燙、似曾相識的目光那一刻起，我就決定留下來，用精神也用實際行動支持他們。隨著日子一天天過去，各種標籤、批判、質疑像夜裡紛至沓來的大雨打在學生身上，自然我也難倖免，承受台灣非藍即綠二元論社會的亂箭穿心，我一點也不意外。





集體焦慮瀰漫不去

我知道外界對於這場學運的正當性始終存著高度質疑，有人認為是肇因於泛藍軍的選民無法接受這場選舉結果。但是，錯了。很多人可能忘了陳水扁一生中兩次重要的戰役──
一九九四年的台北市長選舉、二○○○年的總統大選，他都是在對手分裂的情況下，以低於百分之五十的得票率驚險當選成為少數市長、少數總統。

那一年，當陳水扁的對手趙少康在開票的當晚打電話向他祝賀，從此台北市進入「快樂．希望」的陳水扁時代；四年前，群眾在國民黨中央黨部前抗議，批判的對象是前總統李登輝，但沒人喊出一句質疑陳水扁當選正當性的口號，當時多數沒有投給陳水扁的人仍接受了選舉的結果。

事實上，台灣長期浸淫在民主洗禮中，民眾是可以接受少數當選的民主結果，一句「輸不起」對於長久以來陪伴民進黨一路走來的台灣民眾是相當不厚道，更不是今天台灣社會選後衝突迄今難以平歇最主要的根源。

真正懸而未解的問題是──從選前到選後，台灣社會始終瀰漫不去的「集體焦慮」：這股焦慮形成的原因很多，包括來自於對政黨政治倫理誠信的渙散、族群對立，還有過去向來被倚賴的體制──例如中選會的功能潰堤瓦解......
隨著一道道被視為最後正義的防線遭到沖垮擊碎，一點一滴的信任危機終於累積成為巨大的社會集體焦慮。

由於這股焦慮是日積月累且盤根錯節，大家都確切感受到焦慮的存在卻難以名狀，於是有人投射到疑雲重重的槍擊案、有人看到是外省族群遭到排擠、撕裂的危機感，加上在大選中目睹當政者為攫取權力無所不用其極不惜犧牲社會公義，最後還能成功遂其所願的現象更有深深的不安。

在朝濫權在野無能

身處在焦慮漩渦中且涉世未深的學生當然也感覺到了，而且恐怕更加強烈震撼。我不否認，這群學生是幼稚的，訴求也沒有想得足夠清晰，但是因為他們無法再繼續忽視、容忍這種焦慮的存在、發酵。尤其看到在野陣營，在三二○沒能掌握住群眾真正關注的焦點，甚至做出與民眾的訴求背道而馳的作法，在朝濫權、在野無能的情況下，讓學生更加認為必須責無旁貸地提出跨越藍綠的訴求，通過卑微又具高道德性的呼喚，希望大家冷靜與思考。
是的，就是「冷靜、思考」。當前台灣社會存在太多非理性只強調個人觀感的現狀，學生坐下來要求大家冷靜然後思考，可以說是這場學生運動中最核心、可貴的訴求，更是這場學運正當性之所在。
身為學運的一分子，學生這分以天下興亡為己任、面對焦慮跳出來捨我其誰義無反顧的情懷，我非常能充分理解；這同時也是過去這段時間，我身為政治評論者一貫強烈呼喊的聲音，這兩者加起來，讓我選擇站出來加入學生，否則我無法自圓其說，更無法面對自己長久以來的信仰。
這幾天我在廣場上，看到學生虛弱、堅持的身影，內心除了感動，還有說不出的沉重。若你問我為何要參加這場學運，那麼就請你到廣場上來，就可以找到答案。

 

——蘋果日報 2004.04.09 

The Courage to Speak Out…

 

By Wu’er Kaixi
& Shen Tong

 

When the retired military
doctor who blew the lid on China’s attempts to cover up the full extent of SARS infections in Beijing last year recently
spoke out again, I was moved by his courage.

 

In China, even today, few people have
the strength of conviction to send a letter to the National Assembly – as Jiang Yanyong did on February 24 – suggesting that the Chinese Communist Party’s assessment of a historical event demands reappraisal. They cannot be
blamed. That Jiang’s letter made international
headlines after appearing on a Hong Kong
website is a sign not of Chinese timidity but of Jiang’s boldness.

 

Jiang’s letter
concerns the Tiananmen crackdown of June 4, 1989, a democratic student movement that led to
the exile, imprisonment and death of many of my fellow students. The “1989 counter-revolutionary riots” have now come to be known as
the “1989 political disturbances,” he notes. He then asks: “If they were ‘political disturbances,’ did they really need to be suppressed
by mobilizing several hundred-thousand troops? How it was necessary to use guns
and tanks to brutally kill ordinary people?” His
response: “I suggest Tiananmen be renamed
the 1989 patriotic student movement.”

 

I applaud Dr. Jiang’s courage, and say to him, I agree such
an assessment is long overdue. We who participated in the protests against
official corruption, in favor of China opening up to the West and in
support of increased democratic
participation – those of us who are still
living – did so because we cared. We were young and we wanted to make China a better
place. And, while we failed in some ways, we did not fail entirely. China has
indeed become a better place. Students of today – students who
are the same age I was when I was driven into exile – have
prospects my generation could only dream of. And they have those prospects, at
least in part, because the student movement of 1989 compelled the Chinese
government to make sweeping reforms that allowed private entrepreneurship to
flourish.

 

But let us not forget that
Jiang’s letter is also a reminder of just how the student movement failed, of
how China
has not changed, of how little freedom Chinese have to speak out. And, let us
not forget that the publication of Jiang’s letter on
the Internet – it has reportedly circulated
widely in China
– is a reminder too that Beijing
continues to repress freedom of speech at its own risk. As Jiang himself puts
it: “People should always be able to speak – and to speak
the truth.”

 

A popular line of thinking
propagated by the Chinese government, and followed by some China watchers
and most business leaders with an eye to investment in the world’s largest growing market, is that in a country as large, as populous and
as potentially unstable as China,
stability must come first. There is a great deal of truth to this – until stability becomes an excuse for oppression. Arguing that a
reassessment of Tiananmen is simply a means of expressing the will of the
people, Jiang points out towards the end of this letter, “When so-called stability oppresses everything, it can only result in even greater instability.”

 

Jiang writes movingly of his
own memories, of treating victims of the People’s Liberation
Army at Beijing’s PLA No. 301 Hospital, where he was a surgeon
on the night of June 3, saying that in all his years as a doctor he had never
seen injuries like them and that they haunt him to this day. He writes of Nobel
Peace Prize nominee Ding Zilin, who lost her 17 year-old-son that night, and
has campaigned tirelessly ever since for the government to take responsibility
for its actions. “So far,” he writes, “we have not had a word in answer,”

 

Jiang writes with the
conviction of a man who feels that Tiananmen is a wound in the psyche of modern
China
that has not healed because it has been ignored for too long.

 

A nationally respected surgeon, Chinese Communist Party member and a
veteran of the People’s Liberation Army, he also
tells us that these feelings are shared amongst Party members in far higher
positions than his own. His letter records a 1998 meeting with former president
Yang Shangkun, in which Yang called the Tiananmen Incident “historically, the Party’s biggest mistake,” adding that “in the future” it would “definitely be reassessed.”

 

As we approach the 15th
anniversary of Tiananmen, I pray that Yang’s vision of
the future and the rightful outcome of Jiang’s plea are at
hand. I say this not only because I think it is time my generation were allowed
to come home, but also because I agree with Jiang that, in a China that buries
its past and exiles and imprisons those who dare to speak what others only
bottle up inside, stability is merely an illusion.

 

—— Published March 12^th  2004, By Asian Wall Street Journal

Let Us Come Home

At the age of 21, I was swept into the leading ranks of a
popular, student-led movement urging the government of China to
undertake democratic reforms. That movement was brutally put down by troops and
tanks in Tiananmen Square and nearby Chang'an Avenue on June 4, 1989. I and a
generation of fellow student leaders have been in exile ever since.

 

Fifteen years on, when I look at my homeland from Taiwan, where I
live, and from Hong Kong, which I was recently
allowed to visit, I wonder at how little has changed. True, public
demonstrations for more democratic freedoms in Hong Kong
have not been suppressed by troops
and tanks. But Taiwan's
democratic freedoms are thus threatened. Meanwhile, Falungong practitioners
continue to be arrested in China,
as are "bad" political elements, and my generation of student leaders
cannot go home.

 

China may well be the world's miracle economy--the sleeping giant that
has awoken. But let us not forget either that China's problems are immense. The
future of its 1.3 billion consumers
is bedevilled by outrageous extremes of wealth and poverty; unemployment in China's former
iron rice-bowl hinterland is dangerously high (unofficial sources put the
national level at around 15%); and China's banking system is teetering
on the brink of bankruptcy. Add to these problems a noisy democracy across the
Taiwan Strait that is clamouring for the ultimate democratic
freedom--self-determination--and
Hong Kong's demands that China genuinely subscribe
to the spirit of the Basic Law in its administration of the former British
colony. These are not problems that I believe can be solved by totalitarian
central power.

 

When I look at Taiwan, I am struck by how smooth
the transition from totalitarianism to democracy has been. That accomplishment
is at least in part due to the long-serving Kuomintang, which realized the
necessity for dialogue, and the necessity of allowing democratic reforms that
eventually handed governance to the people. By allowing dialogue in Taiwan, the KMT
allowed the emergence of a rational political environment. Indeed, democracy
begins with understanding the importance of dialogue.

 

Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao's recent visit to the United States
resulted in a cautiously worded
rebuke by President George W. Bush to President Chen Shui-bian for his plans to
hold a referendum during Taiwan's
March 20 presidential elections. The next day, Chen responded publicly by
asking: "What is the Taiwan
problem?" And he answered that question: "The Taiwan problem
is China's
inability to accept democracy, freedom of speech and human rights."

 

However we see Chen's plans to hold a referendum, it is
impossible to deny that he has truth on his side. Taiwan needs China
economically, and culturally it has much in common with the mainland. But
politically, China's
failure to engage in even-handed dialogue with Taiwan and respect the democratic
desires of the island's people has made China itself the obstacle in
achieving reunification. Its intransigence, its preference for threats before
dialogue, have produced radicalized opposition in Taiwan, so that now even its
long-time ally in the goal of reunification, the KMT, has turned its back on China and
accepts the Democratic Progressive Party's formulation of "one country on
either side of the strait."

 

Mao Zedong once said that power comes from the barrel of a
gun. Beijing
used that gun on my fellow students in 1989; it now suggests
it is ready to use it again on the people of Taiwan. Thus, I find myself facing
the same oppressor today that I faced 15 years ago. And 15 years on, I find
that my thinking has not changed. The solution to China's vast problems begins with
that seed of democracy: dialogue. Out of dialogue come ideas, inspiration and
solutions. Out of dialogue come rational opposition and a rational political
landscape.

 

When I arrived in Hong Kong
in January, I concluded a brief speech at the airport by saying to Beijing, by saying to
President Hu Jintao, "Let us come home." I repeat that request. At
the youthful age of 21 I led a peaceful movement embraced by an estimated 100
million people across the country. In the course of that movement we repeatedly
called on the Beijing
government for dialogue and were denied.

 

We called for it then in Tiananmen
Square; I call for it now in exile. Too many voices have been
exiled and for too long. It is time they came home. It is time Beijing accepted an alternative to the barrel
of the gun.

 

——This article was publishes on the Far Eastern Economic Review, Issue
cover-dated February 05, 2004.

Finding Hope in Hong Kong’s Changes

Since arriving in Hong
Kong late Saturday afternoon, everybody has been telling me how
the former British colony has changed since the handover in 1997. I look around
and I agree, yes, much has changed.

 

Hong Kong is clearly a more Chinese city today than it was when I last
visited, nearly a decade ago, in 1994. But I have also been observing for some
time, from Taiwan,
another democratizing quarter of “greater China,” the challenge that Hong Kong’s shrinking freedoms have presented to the
special administrative region.

 

It is a challenge that some Hong Kong
citizens – and they are renowned for their pragmatism, for their business
acumen, for that Chinese quality of bending with the breeze – have met by
curtailing their own freedoms, suppressing
their own freedom of speech, in the perceived interests of a faraway
totalitarian central government.

 

This is natural enough. It is in the way of
things that people seek the path of least resistance. What is more, it is a tried
and tested formula in the mainland: give people prosperity; they give you the
keys to government house. But the easy path is not always necessarily as easy
as it looks, particularly when it begins to erode hope and dignity.

 

And that is why the biggest change here for
me is not that so many more people speak Mandarin today than they did a decade
ago, or that Hong Kong’s once infamous reputation for brusque shop clerks and
push-and-shove crowds seems to have taken a turn for the better, but that a new
mood has overtaken the city. In short, Beijing
has not inherited the politically quiescent trading port it thought it had.
Some 500,000 people took the streets in protest against Article 23 last July,
and just two weeks ago another 100,000 marched for greater democratic freedoms.

 

For me such
actions are grounds for hope, and cannot help but remind me how in 1989 the
people of Hong Kong then took to the streets in support
of the democracy movement I led, and which drove me into exile from China. In
nearly 15 years of exile I have continued to find hope in Hong
Kong’s anniversary vigils – some 40,000 people in 1998, the year
after handover – in remembrance of the tragedy of June 4, 1989.

 

I am grateful for the support Hong Kong
has shown my comrades over the years, and I also like to think that Hong Kong’s unofficial day of remembrance has blossomed
into a movement that seeks to put its own people’s interests first. Just as I
and my fellow students did in 1989, in both Hong Kong
and in Taiwan
now, people are using democracy to achieve democracy.

 

The reality is, there is no other way
forward. For more than two decades now the mantra has been, put business first
and everything else will follow. That has not happened. China’s huge
economic strides have not yet translated into more tolerance for democracy.
Just as Beijing
responds to the lively democracy it confronts across the Taiwan
Strait with military threats, in Hong Kong
it blocks the people’s democratic aspirations with rulings from on high.

 

When I arrived on Saturday afternoon, I
noted my appreciation for being allowed to enter Hong Kong.
What I did not say is that I should have been allowed to visit long ago, if the
one country two systems formula is to be taken seriously by the world, and in
particular by Taiwan,
which watches developments in Hong Kong with
concern. 

 

On my arrival, I also expressed my hope
that this was the first step in a long journey home for a generation of
students who tried to wake a giant from its slumber. When I said to Beijing, to
President Hu Jintao, “let us come home,” it was not in the belief that the time
had come; it was in the hope of reminding the world, on Chinese soil, that
China’s intolerance continues to exile many of its own citizens.

 

Exile is a forced retreat from problems. And
in a sense the easy path of turning a blind eye to problems in exchange for,
say, low tax rates and a humming stock market is a form of stay-put exile. It
is powerless condition with little ground for hope.

 

But Hong Kong
has changed, and that change does give me hope. As a returned exile, I find
hope in the fact that Hong Kong is rejecting
the easy path. I find hope in the fact the people have the courage to demand
that, in Hong Kong, Beijing reconsider the controls it exercises
so effectively closer to home.

 

I find hope in the fact that the Hong Kong government allowed me to visit, and I find hope
in the fact that the Hong Kong people are
using democratic means to achieve democratic ends. After all these years, I
still believe there is no other way forward for the country I call home.

 

——Published Jan. 14^th 2004, South China Morning Post.  Copy Rights SCMP, 2004

Challenging The Status Quo In Taiwan

President George W. Bush’s censure of Taiwan’s
President Chen Shui-bian for unilaterally moving toward changing the status quo
between the US, China and Taiwan was for some here a slap to
the face. Given the increasing political polarization of the island, it will
variously be read as comeuppance and as an affront to the island’s dignity.

 

But, however it is interpreted, the
question remains whether Mr. Chen deserved a dressing down. Washington’s
irritation stems from Mr. Chen’s call for a referendum urging China to remove close to 500 missiles aimed at Taiwan.
Those missiles actually exist; China
has recently threatened to use them.

 

Certain U.S. policy makers have criticized
Mr. Chen for having acted “foolishly.” But at least he cannot be accused of
having acted wrongly, or – perhaps more importantly – undemocratically.
However, it would seem – as Mr. Chen has implied in response to the latest
developments – China’s
threatening missiles are a “natural state of affairs.”  At the very least, it would appear that China is free to threaten Taiwan without international
condemnation.

 

This so-called status quo – a small
democratic island militarily threatened by an autocratically governed superpower – is a historical legacy. However, it in
no way represents the interests of or benefits the Taiwanese people today. Its
existence means that Taiwan
– the world’s 14th largest trading nation – is a community in isolation,
humiliated by denial of the right to an international identity, representation
in the United Nations, or almost any other international organization,
including even the World Health Organization.

 

China’s insistence that this status quo be
maintained at all costs has won it no friends here in Taiwan. Its refusal to allow World
Health Organization officials access to the island during the outbreak of SARS
earlier this year, is seen here as simply the latest – if not one of the more
resented – instance in a long litany of humiliations Taiwan has had to accept.
Indeed, Taiwan
is a member of just two international organizations: the World Trade
Organization and the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation forum. In the WTO, Taiwan is known as the  “Representation of the Separate Customs
Territory of Taiwan, Penghu, Kinmen and Matsu to WTO.” In APEC gatherings, Taiwan’s president is barred from attendance,
while ministerial-level meetings attended by foreign ministers is open only to Taiwan’s
economic minister. Even in that most inclusive of global gatherings, the
Olympic games, Taiwan’ s athletes cannot enter the arena bearing their national
flag, and their team goes under the name Chinese Taipei.

 

This is the status quo, and its
upholders are currently toasting each other in Washington. China’s
stand on Taiwan is no
different from its stand on Tibet
and Xinjiang – both of which can now be safely relied upon not to trouble the
world with troublesome democratic movements and public votes for the right to
self-determination. That stand is
that Taiwan
is an inalienable part of the Motherland, and no movement towards independence
can be tolerated.

 

But if the world recognizes the moral
authority of the Dalai Lama’s efforts to highlight the plight of his people and
find a peaceful end to their oppression, how it can it brand a democracy’s
efforts to choose its own fate “trouble making?” Are Taiwanese to be blamed for
thinking the avowed commitment to democracy that took the U.S. to Iraq
would also bring the U.S. to
the defense of Taiwan?

 

Speaking this week, Mr. Chen said the “Taiwan problem” was China’s inability to accept
“democracy, freedom and human rights.” But the problem is equally a unique
convergence of a historical standoff between the Chinese Communist Party and the
Chinese Nationalist Party, the exigencies of appeasing an emergent modern China, and the complexities of Washington lobbies. In other words, the Taiwan problem is as much the U.S.’s as it is China’s. And, in that sense, the
growing momentum of a democratic movement in Taiwan
that calls for a clearer definition of Taiwan’s
international status is a challenge for both the U.S.
and China.
For China, the challenge is
to resist seeing Taiwan’s
burgeoning democracy as a threat that must be crushed. And, for the U.S.
the challenge is to recognize that to champion democracy is to live with the
outcome of its collective choices.

 

At least one positive emerged in Washington this week: the beginnings of an agreement to
deal with the Taiwan
issue peacefully. Bravo. But let us
not forget that peace should be unconditional; that it should not be achieved
at the expense of justice. To ensure
a peaceful resolution in those conditions, as the world’s leading power, and as
the one nation that should be counted on to say “no” to China when necessary,
the U.S. bears an undeniable responsibility when it comes to Taiwan.

 

The American commitment to justice, democracy and
human rights, demands it assume the
role of an impartial mediator in this standoff. National security may bias it
to maintaining the status quo, but if Taiwan society continues to evolve
to the point where a majority of people realize that a true deepening of
democracy is not compatible with the status quo it will have to recognize that.
It is an open secret here in Taiwan
that a referendum for independence would find little opposition if it could be
carried out free from fear of attack. In this unfair standoff, in which a small
but determined democracy finds itself pitted against a vast totalitarian
regime, it is disappointing not only to see the U.S. take sides, but to take the
wrong one.

 

——Published Dec 16, 2003, Asian Wall Street Journal

 

沒有交代﹐老百姓將更震怒﹗

曾幾何時﹐台灣政壇開始流行起“震怒”﹐總統夫人在美遭搜身﹐總統震怒﹔921重建進度緩慢﹐游揆震怒﹔臺北市警察局內湖分局警員偷勤聚賭﹐分局長也震怒﹔這次高雄市議長副議長選舉﹐泛藍高舉鑲金黑旗﹐與民進黨懸崖勒馬相比﹐再與前不久國民黨誓誓旦旦“已與黑金劃清界線”的言論相對照﹐難怪面子上掛不住的黨主席連戰要“震怒”了﹗

 

指責國民黨要對過去的黑金有個交代的親民黨﹐也許這一兩天也會應景地震怒一下吧﹐否則初入政壇的這些親民黨新科議員向黑金沉淪的速度如此之快﹐動作如此整齊劃一﹐親民黨怎麼向大眾交代﹖令人不禁想起宋楚瑜擔任省主席﹐省長期間﹐府會關係其樂融融的時代﹐是否在高雄市要借尸還魂了﹐可否麻煩宋主席今天也震怒一下﹐然後向貴黨副主席張昭雄先生所說的﹐該交代一下呢﹖

 

民進黨在過去的兩年多來﹐施政成績奇差﹐雖不至於說民不聊生﹐也至少是怨聲載道﹐曾經把這個具有理想性色彩的反對黨推上執政寶座的選民﹐今天多少有點後悔﹐對於國民黨的治理能力多少有所懷念。然而2004年﹐票怎樣投﹐大多數人應該會覺得很痛苦吧﹖如果看不到當初支持民進黨的理由繼續存在﹐當然就投不下去﹐但是就算心裡百般情願原諒國民黨﹐仍然找不到國民黨擺脫黑金的蛛絲馬跡﹐至少我這一張票就不會回流﹗

 

有人用“壯士斷腕”來要求連戰先生﹐宋楚瑜先生明快處理此次高雄市議長選舉泛藍成功被黑金整合的局面﹐我倒是覺得叫“刮骨療毒”更正確﹐只有震怒﹐沒有交代﹐撂句狠話﹐讓你們看看老百姓震怒是什麼樣子﹗

 

——中時晚報，2002，12，10

陳水扁的輝煌

        陳水扁總統應該意識到一件事﹐他或者他所屬的民進黨最輝煌的一刻﹐比起他當選總統更輝煌的一刻﹐是他競選連任台北市長敗選的那一刻。這是從一個政治人物應該有的審視勝負的心態提醒陳水扁總統﹐在他政治生涯多次的勝選中﹐沒有哪一次的勝選超過那一次的敗選給他個人得到的肯定﹐鼓勵與喝彩。

 

        陳水扁總統曾參選台北市議員﹑立法委員﹑台北市長以及總統﹐勝多敗少﹐奠定了他今天在民進黨以及在台灣無可取代的政治實力﹐除了他在多年反對運動中堅韌不拔的毅力之外﹐善用政治環境﹐選舉制度是他成功的另外不可小覷的因素。如果過去的選舉不是大選區多候選人﹐犀利的反對黨候選人並不見得有利﹔如果不是族群問題在過去的十年被強烈突顯﹐有些選票可能永遠無法流到陳水扁的名下﹔如果在第一次台北市長選舉以及這次總統選舉中泛藍沒有分裂﹐沒有得到漁翁之利的陳水扁很難在總得票率不滿四成的情況下勝出﹔換言之﹐陳水扁總是那個在正確的時間﹐正確的地點出現的正確人物。

 

        只有那一次﹐迎戰馬英九﹐這個集結了國民黨為光復首都而出現的難得的團結﹐數十萬外省族群的焦慮﹐為政治混沌而黯然(或悍然)辭職給他帶來的悲劇英雄色彩﹐以及可以說集萬千寵愛於一身的個人媚力的超級對手﹐是他個人以“快樂新希望”的口號﹐以他四年勤於市政的任事風範﹐以他不畏艱險的改革魄力﹐以他一步一腳印交出的漂亮成績單打出他人生最顛峰的一次選戰。陳水扁總統應該記得﹐那是他最出色的一次選戰吧﹐那是他最悲壯的一次失敗吧﹐是一次可以載入台灣現代歷史的﹐可以定義“雖敗尤榮”這個成語的政治歷程。

 

        我希望他還能記得勝在哪裡﹐是實幹﹐是謙遜﹐是平和﹐是台北市那四年的亮麗發展﹐是給人民希望﹔敗在哪裡﹐除了對手的強之外﹐社會的焦慮﹐無論來自族群意識還是經濟壓力或者是兩岸關係﹐將永遠是他突破自己的最大障礙。無論為了李應元的台北市長選舉﹐或自己競選連任﹐我都希望陳水扁能常常想起自己的輝煌的失敗。

——本文發表於聯合晚報，2002年11月18日。