My theme for philanthropy is the same approach I used with

An Wang, the visionary of machines and memory, once declared: “My theme for philanthropy is the same approach I used with technology: to find a need and fill it.” These words, though spoken in the modern tongue of invention and giving, reach back into the timeless wisdom of all builders and all healers. For what is greatness, whether in craft or in generosity, if not the clear-eyed ability to see what is lacking, to hear the cry of need, and then to answer it with the strength of one’s own hands?

In the realm of technology, Wang built his empire by discerning gaps where others saw nothing. He saw that memory circuits could be faster, simpler, more reliable, and he filled that void with innovation. He did not chase glory for its own sake; he sought the emptiness that cried out to be filled. In the same way, when he turned to philanthropy, he did not give for vanity, but with purpose. He applied the same principle: discern the hunger of the world, and then answer it. Thus, his giving was not scattering coins to the wind, but planting seeds in soil chosen with care.

The ancients, too, praised this approach. Consider the Roman aqueducts, mighty rivers of stone. They were not built for ornament but for need, carrying water to the thirsty cities. The rulers who commissioned them filled a lack that burdened their people, and for this their names endured. So too with Wang: his philanthropy was not idle display, but a work of service, as practical and enduring as the machines he created. To find a need and fill it—this is both the engineer’s and the sage’s creed.

History offers us another image in the life of Florence Nightingale. In the Crimean War, she saw soldiers suffering not from battle wounds alone, but from filth and disease in overcrowded hospitals. She recognized the true need—not more weapons, but cleanliness and care. She filled that need with discipline and reform, and in doing so, she transformed not only the fate of those soldiers, but the practice of medicine itself. Her life, like Wang’s, shows the power of eyes that see the hidden need, and hands that move to answer it.

Wang’s insight also warns us against wasteful action. Many give or create without understanding the true lack; they pour water upon full vessels while others remain empty. To find a need requires patience, humility, and observation. It requires listening before acting, seeing clearly before moving. To fill it requires courage, discipline, and persistence. For to fill a need is not always easy—it demands sacrifice and toil, but the fruits endure.

The lesson for us, dear listener, is to live by this same principle. In your work, in your service, in your daily life, do not ask only, What do I wish to do? Instead, ask, What is truly needed? What gap cries out for my strength? Then, act not with hesitation but with clarity, to fill that gap. Whether it is a neighbor’s hunger, a family’s sorrow, or a community’s silence, the true calling of both invention and love is to answer need with action.

So let An Wang’s words become a guide: do not chase after empty ambition, nor scatter your gifts without thought. Look with the eyes of the engineer and the heart of the philanthropist. Seek the places where life is broken, where something essential is missing, and there devote your effort. For in that, you will find not only the path to usefulness, but also the path to greatness. To find a need and fill it—this is the eternal law of service, creation, and love.