When National Cheng­chi University associate professor of law Liu Hung-en was in high school, he never could understand why there was an insurmountable barrier between the “social studies” track and the “natural sciences” track. Wouldn’t forcing students to focus on one area prevent them from following their curiosity and exploring new areas of knowledge? Would it not produce—literally—“one-track minds”?

Liu had opted for the natural sciences in high school. But he didn’t confine his thinking just to the science bits. For example, he was very excited when he got to the lesson where Watson and Crick discovered the double-helix structure of DNA (for which they won the Nobel Prize). But he also really wanted to know about them as individuals, to understand how their minds worked. For instance, what caused the two scientists to have a personal falling out?

When Liu took the university entrance exams, when listing his preferences he made psychology—the most human subject of any of the natural sciences—his top choice, and tested into the Department of Psychology at National Taiwan University.

NTU is well known for its liberal atmosphere, encouraging students to go beyond their classroom learning, to be curious and active in pursuing further knowledge and participating in society. When Liu was at NTU, Taiwan had only recently emerged from the martial law era, and there were many social movements and a general atmosphere of reform. Liu himself joined the debating society and was elected to the student council.

While in the debating society, Liu often encountered students from the law school as they exchanged ideas about current events and politics, and he developed an interest in law. And through his participation in the student council, he was able to see how legal provisions seemingly miraculously progressed from vague and incoherent notions to structured rules with binding normative impact.

The study of law calls for a very different analytical approach from the one he had been used to in psychology—focusing on the individual human being. Liu proceeded to take courses in constitutional law, the Civil Code, the Penal Code—all tough, heavy-duty courses. He was not merely satisfying his curiosity, but was figuring out whether he was not, in fact, more suited to the law.

A year later, Liu had a firm understanding of the differences between the two fields, and of the limitations of psychology. He says that psychology basically limits itself to understanding human behavior, and problem-solving is done through individualized psychotherapy and counseling, while only law is capable of affecting behavior on a society-wide, systematic basis.

In his senior year, Liu began to consider taking up the study of the law full time after getting his BA in psychology. Serendipitously, the Ministry of Education chose that moment to announce new rules allowing students to major in two subjects.

However, it was apparent that if he began taking law classes in his senior year, he would have to postpone his graduation. By the time he finished, people he had entered college with would be finishing their master’s degrees or winding up their compulsory military service and be segueing to the working world.

“But in life you can’t just look at what’s in front of the nose on your face, you have to be thinking about how things will work out over your entire lifetime.” Once he realized this, he figured there would be no harm in spending a couple of extra years in school, in exchange for which he would get the pleasure of learning new things and figuring out what he really wanted to do as a career.

Law professor Liu Hung-en encourages young people to abandon the traditional idea that whatever department you test into in university should determine the career path for the rest of your life. He encourages students to explore new intellectual worlds and find out what life has to offer.

Back in 1990, when the new rules permitting double majors had just been announced, school bureaucrats were less than receptive to this dramatic change in their old patterns. They constantly came up with “technicalities” as to why they couldn’t do this or that, and were completely unhelpful when asked about the practicalities of course selection and implementation of the new system. When, in his sixth year of university, Liu finally completed the nearly 200 credits he needed for majors in both psychology and law, the school even made an issue of the fact that they didn’t know what they were supposed to print on his diploma!

After graduation Liu entered the graduate institute of law at NTU, then went to Stanford University to pursue his JSD. In contrast to the freewheeling atmosphere on American campuses, he felt that it was regrettable that in Taiwan students were divided into different tracks so early in life, causing students to be narrower and more limited in their pursuit of knowledge.

Liu, who today is 100% a man of the law, nevertheless has no regrets about studying psychology. What he learned allows him to examine problems with greater refinement and empathy in comparison to more traditional legal scholars.

He says that when people who have been trained exclusively in the law look at a given social problem, they generally feel that the problem results from, and/or can be addressed by, repairing imperfections in the written codes. But even before legal provisions are drafted, if lawmakers could understand better how the human mind works, they would see that behind-the-scenes structural factors are even more fundamental.

Facing a future full of uncertainty, young people must work up the courage to leave their comfort zones and venture into the unknown in order to find the vocation that they will happily pursue for a lifetime.

In recent years there has been increasing emphasis on finding people who have cross-disciplinary talent—and academia is no exception. For example, when hiring professors the College of Law at National Cheng­­chi University consciously looks for researchers who are able to work in more than one field, and of the 45 faculty in the department of law and the graduate institute of law, 10 have professional expertise in two disciplines.

Liu Hung-en says that having only one skill is not enough to respond to a rapidly changing world. Having a university degree with a double major means not merely having an additional qualification, but also that the individual is able to leave his or her comfort zone and explore the unknown, to follow where their passion leads them. These qualities are more important than just a more impressive diploma.

“Students should abandon the traditional view that whatever department they end up in, that’s what they have to do for the rest of their lives. ‘Life planning’ means ‘planning for a lifetime.’ Rather than worrying about the immediate future, you should gather up your courage and search out the direction that you feel will be worth following for the rest of your days.”