Taiwan in Time: Nov. 9 to Nov. 15
It was supposed to be a routine air force bombing drill near Hangzhou, China, but Li Xianbin (李顯斌) had other plans.
Although the weather wasn’t ideal, the 28-year-old pilot of an Il-28 Soviet jet bomber had already decided that the morning of Nov. 11, 1965 would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to execute his plan.
Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Without warning, Li turned his plane southward. His crewmates, Lian Baosheng (廉保生) and Li Caiwang (李才旺), realized what was going on and tried to stop their pilot, but it was too late.
They were headed toward Taiwan.
Although the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) rulers of Taiwan offered a reward for any Chinese soldiers who defected (as did China for Taiwan’s defectors), Li Xianbin insisted later that he didn’t do it for the money, but that he couldn’t take the “inhumane practices” of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) any more.
Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
It was later indicated that Li had clashed with his superiors over military promotion issues and was also upset with the CCP over the death of several of his relatives during a famine.
Between 1960 and 1989, about a dozen Chinese fighter planes successfully made the cross-strait “defection to freedom” (投奔自由), as the KMT called it in those days, while a lesser number of Taiwanese ones flew the other way in what their communist rivals called a “revolutionary return” (起義歸來). Each side ceased their reward policy as tensions eased in 1988.
Li flew the plane dangerously close to the water to avoid radar detection until he approached the military airport in Taoyuan. Due to the weather and unfamiliarity with the terrain, he couldn’t land properly and damaged the nose and front wheels of the plane.
The official account states that Lian died in the crash, but both Li Caiwang and Li Xianbin later claimed that Lian committed suicide because he didn’t want to come to Taiwan. Li Caiwang received an award of about NT$1.4 million, while Li Xianbin took home double that amount.
Since their arrival took place right before KMT cofounder Sun Yat-sen’s (孫逸仙) birthday celebration, the media touted them as the “best birthday present” and both took part in the festivities.
Both ended up serving in Taiwan’s air force, but neither were allowed to fly again, reportedly due to the KMT’s fear that they would bring military secrets back to China.
The KMT pronounced all three as anti-communist martyrs (反共義士), and portrayed them as heroes. They participated in various anti-communist propaganda activities and even made it into elementary school textbooks as freedom-seeking patriots. After the communists learned of Lian’s suicide years later, they made him a revolutionary martyr (革命烈士).
The Ministry of National Defense planned to utilize these defectors to persuade the communists to surrender, to serve as propaganda to the public and for possible espionage.
Li Caiwang retired in 1977 and emigrated to the US. In 1983, he returned to China, claiming to authorities that he was forced by Li Xianbin to defect and re-declared his loyalty to the CCP, denouncing his anti-communist martyr designation.
Li Xianbin followed a similar path, emigrating to Canada in 1990. On Dec. 16, 1991, he and his wife went to China to visit his ailing mother. He had had reportedly received repeated guarantees from China’s embassy that the 20-year statute of limitations had expired and he would not be arrested for his prior actions.
The visit went well, but as Li Xianbin was about to return to Canada, he was arrested and sentenced to 15 years in prison as a “defector and traitor.” Alas, a provision allows any crime punishable by death or life in prison to be prosecuted past the 20-year statute of limitations with the permission of the Supreme People’s Procuratorate, China’s top prosecuting body.
Li Xianbin was paroled in 2002 because of poor health, and died of cancer in Shanghai about six months later, in the very land that he had risked everything to escape from.
Taiwan in Time, a column about Taiwan’s history that is published every Sunday, spotlights important or interesting events around the nation that have anniversaries this week.
June 9 to June 15 A photo of two men riding trendy high-wheel Penny-Farthing bicycles past a Qing Dynasty gate aptly captures the essence of Taipei in 1897 — a newly colonized city on the cusp of great change. The Japanese began making significant modifications to the cityscape in 1899, tearing down Qing-era structures, widening boulevards and installing Western-style infrastructure and buildings. The photographer, Minosuke Imamura, only spent a year in Taiwan as a cartographer for the governor-general’s office, but he left behind a treasure trove of 130 images showing life at the onset of Japanese rule, spanning July 1897 to
In an interview posted online by United Daily News (UDN) on May 26, current Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) was asked about Taichung Mayor Lu Shiow-yen (盧秀燕) replacing him as party chair. Though not yet officially running, by the customs of Taiwan politics, Lu has been signalling she is both running for party chair and to be the party’s 2028 presidential candidate. She told an international media outlet that she was considering a run. She also gave a speech in Keelung on national priorities and foreign affairs. For details, see the May 23 edition of this column,
The Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) on May 18 held a rally in Taichung to mark the anniversary of President William Lai’s (賴清德) inauguration on May 20. The title of the rally could be loosely translated to “May 18 recall fraudulent goods” (518退貨ㄌㄨㄚˋ!). Unlike in English, where the terms are the same, “recall” (退貨) in this context refers to product recalls due to damaged, defective or fraudulent merchandise, not the political recalls (罷免) currently dominating the headlines. I attended the rally to determine if the impression was correct that the TPP under party Chairman Huang Kuo-Chang (黃國昌) had little of a
At Computex 2025, Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang (黃仁勳) urged the government to subsidize AI. “All schools in Taiwan must integrate AI into their curricula,” he declared. A few months earlier, he said, “If I were a student today, I’d immediately start using tools like ChatGPT, Gemini Pro and Grok to learn, write and accelerate my thinking.” Huang sees the AI-bullet train leaving the station. And as one of its drivers, he’s worried about youth not getting on board — bad for their careers, and bad for his workforce. As a semiconductor supply-chain powerhouse and AI hub wannabe, Taiwan is seeing