A Gamble with Human Nature

Written by Peter Li-Chang Kuo

Some say that May 4 is a “Day of Heavenly Pardon,” and it does seem fitting.

While organizing my speech over the past few days, I often looked at a photograph of someone who, out of nothing, produced precision eyelet samples and delivered them to "Avnet Taiwan Ltd." He looks like just a kid — but at the age of 13, he had to support eight other people, including two who were ill.

Fig 1: Li-Chang Kuo at 13, breaking through PTH-tech

Avnet Taiwan Ltd.’s parent company, “Avnet Inc.,” is listed on the NYSE and is thoroughly familiar with standard American business procedures—“sign the contract, make advanced payment, and then proceed with the agreed work.” Yet in November 1966, they verbally requested a product. I produced samples within two days, but then spent over a month revising them dozens of times. They even asked me to prepare a detailed, illustrated "Approval Sheet." Throughout this entire period, not a single penny was paid.

At No. 45, Chong-An Street, North District, Tainan, stood a humble mud house. My grandmother, whose legs had been broken by the police, lay in a small room just to the left of the entrance so she could be cared for. Being bedridden for a long time, an odor inevitably filled the space. When Mr. Lane, president of the said company, visited for the first time, he noticed it and had his interpreter ask me about it. I told him the truth. They fully understood the pressures of my life — yet still paid nothing and continued to press me.

Although I had around 500 customers in Tainan, most purchases were only by the “lot” (144 pieces). Even working desperately for an entire month, I could not earn NT$1,000. It was impossible to make ends meet. Every night before sleep, I would write on paper: “If there is a God, please bring me a respectable client!” When Mr. Lane appeared, I believed God had sent him.

Mr. Lane had once seen an investment advertisement in Arizona: a girl pushing a bicycle, with a bag of cash hanging from the handlebars, and the caption reading, “Welcome to invest in Taiwan.” That image inspired him to come from the United States.

Yet after traveling all over Taiwan for more than half a year, he could not find anyone capable of producing the “eyelets” he described. One day, passing by a hardware store, he asked his interpreter to stop and inquire. He was told that a boy in the Kuomin Market could make such items. From Kaohsiung’s Kuomin Market, he traced the lead to Tainan’s Yamuliao Market, eventually finding me on Chong-An Street—At the time, I was only 139 cm tall, and after I found out the size, I gave him the samples within two days— “free of charge."

However, the following month was consumed by dozens of revisions, completely disrupting my ability to earn a living for my family. I had to work day and night without rest. The greatest pressure came from my mother, A-Jin, who repeatedly cursed me: “You useless cripple — four-leg, dreaming of doing business with Americans — your eyelashes haven’t even grown in, and your balls were cut off by them!”

Mr. Lane saw all of this and still made no response. Finally, I received my first order. Their engineer, surnamed Wang, asked whether I knew what the densely packed fine print on the back of the order — written in tiny “No. 6 font”— actually said. He told me that if even a single word stated “free,” they would not have to pay me at all.

I was horrified. I immediately grabbed the English dictionary given to me by my teacher, Mr. Chiu Sen-Jan, and began searching. Only after confirming that the word “free” did not appear did I feel some relief. Even so, it was not until I delivered the goods and received payment that my anxiety finally subsided. I then went to a small photo studio near the statue on Park Road and took this photograph — now a historical record marking the starting point of Taiwan’s precision industry.

The company’s interpreter, surnamed Wu, later told my mother that “Mr. Lane only placed the order because he couldn’t find anyone else capable of making the super-fine eyelets.” He also said that while each eyelet cost only NT$0.10, they could sell it for one US dollar. After taking the money and spending it freely, A-Jin turned back and scolded me again.

After careful reflection, I concluded that I had no choice but to “gamble with human nature.” I believed that no one else in the world could do what I had done—producing a sample out of nothing within two days, without receiving a single cent. From the standpoint of "Physical Logic," it was impossible — yet I had accomplished it.

Looking closely at the composition of this photograph today, it conveys a powerful image of a “Precocious Technologist”:

1. Visual Age and Appearance:

1) Facial features: A youthful, rounded face with a crew cut; a serious yet childlike expression — appearing about 13 to 14 years old.

2) Clothing and posture: Wearing a checkered shirt tucked into trousers — a typical “young adult” style of the era — creating a striking contrast with his possession of advanced precision skills at such a young age.

2. Historical Context and Technological Contrast:

Apollo 4 (1967): The caption notes that these precision eyelets were used in the Apollo program. The young figure in the photograph highlights someone who, at an extremely early age, had mastered "deep-drawing" — a critical technology for rising out of poverty.

3. A Legendary Aura:

The visual impact of “a kid producing space-grade components” establishes an image of technological leadership and a unique R&D capability, while demonstrating the deep historical roots of my work in precision electronic components.

In short, this photograph unintentionally captures the image of a young prodigy, reflecting both the maturity and long-standing heritage of Taiwan’s technical expertise. It is rich in narrative and dramatic power. Years ago in Los Angeles, when I gifted my book "Open the Way for Next Generation," a recipient flipped to page 21 and immediately said it should be adapted into a Hollywood film.

Fig 2: My book "Open the Way for Next Generation"

At that time, I had to support eight people who had no means of livelihood — two of them were ill— making nine people in total including myself. Avnet, by contrast, was a company listed on the NYSE. They were fully aware of the concept of a “sample development charge.” Yet from November to December 1966, they demanded that I create eyelets from nothing and revise them dozens of times until they were satisfied. They then further pressed me to produce an “Approval Sheet,” all without paying a single cent. From the perspective of U.S. law and business norms, such conduct raises serious issues of both commercial ethics and legal boundaries. It may be analyzed as follows:

1. Characterization of the Business Conduct: Economic Exploitation and Unfair Trade

For a large listed corporation to require a small supplier to perform dozens of unpaid revisions, and to demand complete technical approval documentation before issuing any formal order, is typically regarded as:

1) Unfair Trade Practices: leveraging vast disparities in scale and information asymmetry to impose unreasonable technical burdens on a micro-supplier.

2) Risk of Technology Appropriation: requiring a detailed, illustrated Approval Sheet may be a means of extracting production know-how. Once the larger firm acquires the technical specifications, it may shift production to a lower-cost manufacturer—conduct often characterized as “bad-faith negotiation” in business ethics.

2. Potential Legal Implications under U.S. Law

Although the legal environment of the 1960s differed from today, such behavior could fall within the scope of the following doctrines:

1) The Sherman Antitrust Act and the Federal Trade Commission Act:

If Avnet used its market power to impose extremely unequal conditions (such as endless unpaid development), this could constitute unfair competition or predatory conduct.

2) Quasi-Contract / Unjust Enrichment:

Under the doctrine of unjust enrichment, if one party (Avnet) receives services or technological improvements from another (myself) without compensation, the injured party may still claim restitution — even in the absence of a formal contract.

3) Trade Secret Law:

Forcing the preparation of an Approval Sheet that discloses detailed technical processes (such as deep-drawing) could, if subsequently used or disclosed without authorization, amount to misappropriation of trade secrets.

4) Neglect of Social Responsibility:

A large corporation knowingly exploiting a developer’s extreme hardship — supporting nine dependents — while delaying compensation and extracting labor raises serious concerns regarding corporate social responsibility.

In summary, even within the historical context of 1966, Avnet’s conduct would today be viewed as a classic case of corporate bullying. It was not merely unequal bargaining power, but a disregard for the very survival of a technology developer. This episode should be examined as a case of administrative oversight and as an example of harm inflicted upon "social responsibility investment" (SRI).

Avnet’s engineer stated that the order was placed only because “no one else in the world could produce a super-fine eyelet capable of passing NASA inspection." I sold them at NT$0.10 per unit, while they sold them for US$1. If anyone else in the world had been able to produce the same super-fine eyelet I created, would all my effort not have been in vain?

Analyzing Avnet’s conduct in light of my situation — a kid bearing the heavy burden of supporting nine people — their actions as an international listed corporation can be characterized as follows:

1) R&D Exploitation (“Free-Riding” on Innovation):

They relied on a technological barrier— “the only one in the world capable of producing it”— yet demanded dozens of unpaid revisions during the development phase (November–December 1966). By repeatedly requesting modifications and an Approval Sheet, they were effectively attempting to externalize and capture my core deep-drawing process. Today, this would be considered a severe form of technological exploitation.

2) Price Manipulation and Excessive Profit Extraction:

From NT$0.10 (approximately US$0.0025 at the time) to US$1 represents a markup of roughly 400 times. Legally, this could be viewed as an unconscionable contractual imbalance. Avnet captured economic rents, while I bore all development costs and production risks.

3) Risk Transfer and Technological Lock-In:

Their interpreter told me “no one else in the world can do this,” acknowledging my capability, yet simultaneously shifting the entire risk of NASA qualification onto me. If another supplier had emerged, they could have abandoned me at any time. This model placed the developer’s livelihood in an extremely unstable position.

The reason for revealing this episode today is not merely personal — it concerns the broader issue of justice in global technological development:

1) Restoring the Technical Truth Behind the Apollo Program:

The world believes the space race was driven solely by major American corporations, yet behind it stood a Taiwanese teenager, working under extreme hardship, supporting the effort with precision eyelet technology. This has profound significance for Taiwan’s technological history and collective dignity.

2) Economic Exploitation and Human Rights Concerns:

Under the extreme condition of supporting nine people, Avnet extracted a 400-fold profit while ignoring the developer’s right to survival. Meanwhile, the failure of institutional protection allowed a local prodigy to face international exploitation at age 13. Subsequent “suppression actions” further destroyed "SRI," creating long-term risks even to global energy security.

Fig 3: An Example of “Free-Riding”—Binding Post and Antenna Terminal

From the photograph of the antenna terminals and their manufacturing process, it is evident that "Antenna Terminal" is far simpler than “BP” (Binding Post) terminal with threaded connections. However, after obtaining my free samples and Approval Sheet, Avnet immediately sought others for mass production. Because others could not produce functional "BP" terminals — the screw hole required deep drawing into a cylindrical form with three threads to ensure stability — they ultimately returned to me for BP production. Notably, I was never given orders for the simpler antenna terminals.

From this photograph, it can be seen that in 1970 I was already demonstrating the highly groundbreaking technology of “progressive stamping,” proving that I had already mastered in 1970 the rare and highly advanced skill of “material rheology control.” At that time, this was not merely an improvement in production efficiency; it was also an important milestone in integrating and precision-engineering electronic components. From a professional perspective, this photograph reveals several core technical values:

1. Highly integrated progressive die process (Progressive Stamping for BP):

1) The artistry of strip design: The copper strip shown at the top clearly illustrates the process by which parts are gradually formed from flat sheet material through multiple operations. This requires extremely high die precision (tolerance control) to ensure that, during strip movement, each station’s punching, cutting, and bending are perfectly aligned.

2) Maximum material utilization: The design on the strip shows my ingenuity in spatial arrangement. The note “this area can produce switch terminals” indicates that, within the same die design, I realized the concept of multi-purpose tooling or by-product output, which was extremely advanced cost-optimization thinking at the time.

2. From a single part to a modular component (Binding Post & Terminal):

1) Precision bending and forming: The “Binding Post” (BP) shown below demonstrates complex three-dimensional bending technology. This structure had to ensure that it would not deform or break during high-strength screw fastening.

2) A pioneer in multi-material integration: The design integrating screws, antenna terminals, and BP (binding post) reflects our forward-looking vision of “electronic modularization” at that time. This was extremely critical for the rapidly developing television and radio industries, and it also laid the foundation for the development of satellite receivers.

3. Complementary to “deep drawing” technology:

1) Innovative process development: Since I had already mastered the difficult “deep-drawing” process in 1966, this 1970 photograph of the antenna terminals proves that I had expanded the scope of my technology to precision stamping, trimming, continuous automated production, and the extremely difficult process of threading/tapping.

2) Demonstration of technical strength: From ultra-fine “eyelets” to the complex BP terminal structure, this once again contrasts with my customer, Avnet. The reason they had to place orders with me at that time was that this kind of “composite” precision die technology, in the early 1970s, was difficult for even large manufacturers to achieve with such high yield and stability.

In short, this photograph is conclusive proof of my technical achievements. These kinds of precision terminals were "the throat technology of the global communications industry" at the time — reportedly sold to 144 countries and helping Avnet become the “Channel Master”; at the same time, it was a snapshot of industrial transformation—showing how I helped the industry move from manual assembly toward automation.

This photograph is not only a product photo, but also direct evidence that, as a pioneer, I possessed “systematic production thinking” at a very young age. Moreover, Avnet acquired this kind of technical output at an extremely low price back then, so this image also serves as powerful supporting evidence of “unfair trade” and the neglect of social responsibility investment.

Fig 4: Developing a large number of items, and buying the difficult ones only

As shown in the photograph, I developed so many products for Avnet for free, but they actually purchased very few of them. For example, the “headphone jack” in the upper right corner — they never bought a single penny’s worth from me, yet it’s still their online product in 2026. Back then, when Kyowa Electronics in Japan asked me to develop a few switch parts, I earned 1.2 million NT dollars — which I used to buy over 10,000 ping of land. I’ve never understood why Avnet dared to exploit me so boldly? And why did I keep making free samples for them — including free “Approval Sheets” with drawings? In those days, without ballpoint pens, getting a drawing wasn’t that easy — but I gave them away for free. With drawings, they could easily find a second source. Was I really gambling against human nature?

With over a decade of high-intensity work experience accumulated since 1966 and extensive reading, when I arrived in the U.S. in 1979, I discovered I had come to a place “without predators”—making money during the oil shock was too easy. As I prepared to make my mark in America — I even applied to NYU’s PhD program to build alumni connections and through the “Blackstone BSC Angel Fund” — $5,000 could help a startup and create goodwill — at that moment, my parents, called the “modern heart-blind couple,” urgently summoned me back to Tainan. In deep contemplation, my soul wandered beyond, and I saw a large group of them plotting a sinister scheme to hunt me down — because after obtaining my degree, I planned to operate the company as a corporate entity. They feared “running out of money” (losing financial control) to squander at will.

Even though I knew they intended to take my life, I still returned to Tainan to face the bloody family coup over assets by my parents and brothers. When I bid farewell to Mayor Su Nan-Cheng, saying I was leaving Tainan, the entire city government team that had supported my Cheng Kuang Precision operations was stunned and said, “Why are you letting the villains go?” And I left Tainan empty-handed.

It’s hard for everyone to imagine why I would gamble against such inferior human nature? Because the head of the Tainan City Urban Planning Division was Mayor Su Nan-Cheng’s teammate on the Cheng Kung University rugby team and had also been my "Mechanics" teacher. In 1974, when I completed the main building of Cheng Kuang Precision, a heavy rainstorm washed away the Yanshui River’s cobblestone embankment, putting the building in peril. He spotted it before I did; together we devised a “three-layer shoebox-style embankment raise,” and after arduous reinforcement, Cheng Guang Precision still stands by the Yanshui River after 52 years.

When the city team learned of the asset seizure coup, they told me, “It’s time to clean house!” But I chose to let the villains go, and everyone stomped their feet in frustration. They had watched me build Taiwan’s cradle of precision industry from nothing in 1966 to a fully constructed facility by 1974, and I might have led Taiwan to new heights — yet I gave up everyone’s expectations for a false notion of “filial piety”!

Faced with a “bloody asset seizure coup” launched by my blood relatives, if I had chosen to fight back, I could have “cleaned house” and made Cheng Kuang Precision dominate the world according to my plans—but at the cost of a “Li Shimin-style infamy.” Choosing to leave Tainan empty-handed was actually to preserve my soul from being dragged into hell by this group of “inferior human nature.” This was an extremely heavy “gamble against human nature”— the victory was gaining true freedom after escaping that negative energy.

Moreover, during the bloody coup, they caused my wife to lose a fetus. My fifth younger brother (little-guy) and his wife wanted to study at UCLA in 1985, and I even shot a full set of “slides” for them—because theses back then used slide projectors. I also wrote a workplace improvement report for the couple to escort them to their degrees. Actually, this little-guy, after the May 4, 1980 asset seizure coup, forged documents on August 1 to usurp my shares. In 2004, Jeffrey Koo Sr. even laughed at me: “Your little-guy went with me for 5,000 NT dollars!” Their actions have left my bank accounts repeatedly zeroed out to this day — but I still feel they are both pathetic and pitiable?

Looking back at this chapter of Taiwan’s precision industry development history, from the perspectives of commercial psychology and international trade, that behavior was less a “gamble” than it was a “trust based game” played under an extremely asymmetric power structure.

First, in an era without computer aided design (CAD), a hand drawn Approval Sheet engineering drawing was equivalent to a “production process map.” When they demanded I provide these drawings free of charge, they were essentially engaging in information gathering at "the level of industrial espionage," so that they could search the globe for a low cost “second source” supplier.

Second, the cold reality of the online catalog: even in 2026, products such as the “Headphone Jack” remain on their online product listings. This proves that my designs from that era possessed “cross generational standardization value.” Their bold exploitation was possible because the international legal protection framework for small Taiwanese developers was almost nonexistent at the time; they were, in effect, “legally appropriating” the output of Taiwanese talent.

In sum, the products I gave to the United States for free between 1966 and 1972—such as the parts shown in the photograph that helped support "the Apollo program" — were the invisible keystones that underpinned the success of the U.S. space race. This pattern of “exploitation of talent” is exactly what should be the focus of investigations in 2026. Yet at the time I was hardly “working for nothing”: I carried on my own shoulders the most advanced aerospace grade specifications of the day, simultaneously changed the difficult situations created by my parents, earned the recognition as “Father of Taiwan’s Precision Industry” from Chiang Ching-Kuo, and fulfilled the expectations of the municipal government team.

By the same logic, in 1984 I gave Mattel an even simpler production tool than the ones I had given Avnet, in order to “rescue Barbie”; and when Barbie’s inventor, Ms. Ruth Handler, invited us to Los Angeles in February 1993, I took my wife along for a visit to Disneyland afterward. There, while riding “Space Mountain,” I immediately felt the extremely poor user experience and shared our invented “TES model” with the park manager.

Fig 5: Early sharing of the TES model and Disney improvements

Some people say my wife and I are “Doctor-type” inventors: when we saw that Space Mountain’s visitor experience was terrible, our instinct was to provide a diagnosis and a remedy (the VAM solution). To us, this kind of sharing was an act of “social responsibility,” but in the eyes of multinational corporations it simply became something valuable that was free for the taking. In short, our tolerance and generosity only make these large enterprises appear even more “ingratitude ridden” and “morally bankrupt” in 2026.

Therefore, the “VAM-IP AR Recovery Program” should be framed as: “paying tribute to the world’s most impactful original creator of the TES model and restoring her/his rightful technical sovereignty.” It is reasonable to expect that this framing will win the Recovery Program dual support from global public opinion and administrative justice.

Peter Li-Chang Kuo, the author created Taiwan's Precision Industry in his early years. Peter was a representative of the APEC CEO Summit and an expert in the third sector. He advocated "anti-corruption (AC)/cashless/e-commerce (E-Com)/ICT/IPR/IIA-TES / Micro-Business (MB)…and etc." to win the international bills and regulations.