Never have the people of a nation been in such a hurry to say goodbye to their own history as have the Taiwanese people of the last 100 years.

One shouldn't say that this was the Taiwanese's own choice or short-sightedness, but rather that the people of Taiwan were caught in the wheels of turning historical epochs, and unconsciously developed a kind of historical amnesia in order to survive.

In 1895, the Qing government ceded Taiwan to Japan as a part of the treaty ending the first Sino-Japanese war. Taiwan became a Japanese colony. After 50 years of education and political rule aimed at "imperialization," nearly two generations of Taiwanese had exchanged their Chinese robes for Japanese kimonos. Chinese culture still flowed through their veins and lives, but pressure from the Japanese led to its repression. Survival necessitated the hiding and even forgetting of their cultural heritage.

When the second Sino-Japanese war ended, Taiwan was returned to the embrace of its motherland. But then its joyful population received an unexpected shock: after 50 years of Japanese education most of the island's people could not read Chinese, and the long war with Japan had left those who took over the rule of the island with a deep hatred of things Japanese. As a result, Taiwanese memories of the period of Japanese rule were compartmentalized, and when these pieces were later reassembled, they presented us with an unclear image of those times.

When the Nanking-based Nationalist government of China, weakened by years of war against the communists, moved to Taiwan, its primary concern was the stabilization of the one corner of the nation still free of communist rule. The government's political stabilization and economic development of Taiwan created unprecedented prosperity on the island. However, this prosperity came at great social cost. First there was the February 28 Incident, which occurred when the new Office of the Governor-General established Nationalist rule on the island. This was followed by the "white terror" during which many people were sacrificed and families were broken. Even more painful was that for decades discussion of this history which occurred by our very sides was forbidden. Not only were the people of that day unable to clear themselves of unjust accusations, but the people of Taiwan were once again forced to forget.

I bring up this chapter in our history once again not to dwell on its tragedy, but to encourage deep reflection by Taiwanese society on a memory it cannot do without. With Taiwan undergoing full democratization, it has in some sense left this tragedy behind. It has not, however, recovered its lost memories. Over the last few years, strangely enough, the island's most heated debate has revolved around two sore spots closely tied to the issue of memory-reunification with or independence from mainland China, and ethnicity. At every major election, these two pains flare up. During the most recent elections, President Lee Teng-hui, in his role as head of the Kuomintang (KMT), put forward the "New Taiwanese" concept. The idea won the broad support of all four of the island's major ethnic groups and helped the KMT to victory in the elections. Now the question is how these "New Taiwanese" will work together to build a peaceful and prosperous future for the Republic of China. Such a future must consider the domestic situation, cross-strait relations and the international situation, but domestic consensus is the first step.

It is only by examining our wounds that we can heal them and avoid future hurt. The many conferences on the literature of the period of Japanese rule discuss the forgotten work of the writers of that era. Last month, the construction of the Green Island Human Rights Monument, spearheaded by the dissident writer Bo Yang and his Human Rights Education Foundation, evoked memories of the white terror. We have reported on this event in the article "Tragedy and Tolerance" in this month's edition. If there are no memories, how can there be forgiveness? If there is no forgiveness, how can we move beyond the dark tragedy and into the light of the sun? The construction of the Green Island Human Rights Monument and the current examination of the state of human rights on our island demonstrate that Taiwan has traveled a long, hard road. But although we have come far, there is still some distance left to travel. We must expect still more of ourselves.

This month's cover story, "The Rise and Fall of the Taiwan Provincial Government," draws upon the same spirit. On the one hand, it looks at the changes that will follow the downsizing of the Taiwan Provincial Government (TPG) and their effects on the government's future direction. On the other, it looks back to the building of the TPG, the stages of its life and the hard work of those who molded it, thus allowing us to more fully understand the downsizing effort.

"Unworldly Living in the Material World" reviews the wisdom of the ancients and finds its relevance to life today. Laozi, the second most frequently translated book in the world after the Bible, points to the root of the confusion and anxiety that afflict modern people.

Some memories inspire admiration; others make us sigh. But all our memories have value. They show us the path by which we have arrived at where we are. A person who loses his memories is not complete. Similarly, a people cannot forget its past.

Our wish for the new year is that all the people of our nation will reflect on the past and set out anew to achieve a consensus.