Actually, at this time, the doctor is testing one particular student, the only one of the group who is obviously not Chinese: Dr. Roland G. Heber, 32, a physician from Germany who has come to this institution to be trained in traditional Chinese medical practice.
Heber already knows a fair amount about the actual application of acupuncture. But he also knows that before this seemingly simple procedure, there is a complicated process of finding out what to cure ... and how. Chinese therapy and diagnostic methods are like lock and key—one without the other does not make much sense.
In Western countries, where acupuncture is becoming a more popular "alternative therapy," private teachers of the art are flourishing and many hospitals are utilizing its techniques. Indeed, a crowd of "believers" now swears that acupuncture can produce miracles in areas where Western medicine fails.
Heber has seen all this in Germany and is now in Taiwan to study the foundations: Without the basic knowledge, acupuncture may be made to work, but not in the best possible way.
Accuracy not quantity is the key to successful needle placement.
Heber says, "Without knowing how to perform Chinese diagnosis, the Western acupuncturist usually has to grope around and administer needles for every single symptom that he can identify. So you might see patients with 40-50 needles stuck in them in one session in response to all the symptoms. But if you start with a Chinese diagnosis, just a few (4-8) acupuncture points might be not only sufficient, but even far more effective. "
Combining modern Western medical knowledge with traditional Chinese medicine is much more than exploring "alternatives" or just finding the scientific answers for "why" acupuncture really works. There is a psychological element of some magnitude. Since the two medical systems are sharply different, the Western medical community all over the world has divided into two camps, one enthusiastic, the other very hostile to such a cross-cultural exchange. Many Chinese practitioners of traditional medicine also want to keep at a certain distance. Indeed, it has all become an issue loaded with emotions—and prejudices.
For those who think it makes sense to link the two systems, it is all fairly simple. Heber, for instance, says they are two different approaches to the same problem-maintaining the health of the human organism. He thinks the approaches can and should be integrated into one new, superior system.
"I came to the Republic of China to gain the capability, with a new bi-cultural mind, to effectively compare and eventually join the two medicinal approaches without bias or prejudice." On graduation, he hopes to return to his own country with what he believes will be a vital transfusion for its medical culture. "I came to this decision via an intellectual and moral struggle," he adds. "I have had to deal with a background of twelve years of education, research, reflection, and experience in Western medicine."
While walking through this Chinese acupuncture ward, which does not look very much like a hospital to a Western visitor-patients and staff are chatting, and family members and friends walking in and out, everybody perfectly relaxed—one is reminded of the cold fluorescent gloom of modern Western hospitals. Is it a difference in atmosphere that also reflects some of the basic differences in medical philosophy?
Heber refers to an article by Claus Schnorrenberger, a German expert on Chinese medicine, who asks if the West has overlooked a very important aspect of current medicine: "...we have so much and such heated discussion over whether cancer might reflect a psychic condition— whether a heavy dose of bad luck, too much emotional suffering, or an overdose of stress might ruin your health.... Today, in spite of brilliant doctors, fantastic drugs, ever bigger and better-designed hospitals, people seem to be getting ever more ill... "
Heber, too, looks at the development of Western medicine not only from the bright side, but also its dark side. The biggest danger now, he feels, is an increasing disregard for the patient as a whole-as a person with a unique history and unique surroundings, and not just a number in a row of tests or a series of symptoms identified by different specialists. It is a cutting up of the patient into details, samples, and reports, he says. A patient may end up spending the rest of his life in the hands of medical technocrats without ever getting a straight, face to face answer from any doctor to the core question, "What is my illness, and what can you do about it? "
After graduation from the University of Freiburg Medical School, Dr. Heber took several acupuncture courses and joined the German Research Institute for Chinese Medicine. With his interest thus sharpened in the larger field of traditional Chinese medicine, he moved professionally to Hongkong and, as a first step, started learning the Chinese language. Whenever he had time off from his duties at a Hongkong hospital, he also visited practitioners of traditional Chinese medicine. Finally, he decided it was time for him to become a full-time student of the Chinese approach. And that brought him to the Republic of China on Taiwan and the Post Graduate School of Chinese Medicine of the China Medical College in Taichung, a privately run but government-sponsored institution that provides the opportunity for students to be trained in Western and Chinese medicine in parallel courses. In addition, it offers a post graduate program leading to the degree of Master of Chinese Medicine.
As the only non-Asian student at the school, Heber looks somewhat apprehensively at the short regular schedule—just two years to cope with all his courses. "During this first academic year, I'll continue to be fairly busy upgrading my command of the language, especially of the medical terminology. But after that, I should be able to follow the scheduled teaching program as it is laid down in the curriculum." To be on the safe side, however, he is giving himself four years to complete the program, including a final thesis written in Chinese.
Unlike most of his fellow students, who focus on a body of modern research into traditional Chinese medicine that is dedicated to expanding the understanding of it, Heber is immersing himself directly in the Chinese traditional approach. Chinese medicine, he comments, is in need of such Western "methodology." But more important to him at this point is his personal grasp of the unique character of Chinese medicine.
Language and conceptual differences still constitute mighty barriers between the medical experiences of East and West. The Chinese language cannot be precisely translated into Western languages. And this is even more true with attempts to translate Chinese concepts that have no equivalents in Western thinking.
The Hebers at home. Colleagues from two cultures discuss techniques.
Heber feels that in attempting to understand basic medical concepts like chi (spirit, life-force) and yin-yang (the opposing yet complementary powers that permeate nature and man), it does not make sense to simply create congenial translations because there will not be adequate counterparts to them in the Western mind. The only way to fully understand, he says, is to experience their application first-hand, then to utilize the original terms together with relevant explanations.
"Also, to really grasp the medical concepts, it is not enough just to be able to read the textbooks in the original. You have to expose yourself to Chinese culture in all its aspects, be open to the Chinese spirit, to get a clear picture of it all"
Heber is now aware that most of the textual translations he studied in Germany, aside from too often representing "bits and pieces," were also replete with mistaken interpretations.
He has also become aware of a threat to true understanding from the "inside ": Many Chinese conducting modern research into Chinese medicine, he says, tend to uncritically bow to the Western view that only Western medicine is "scientific."
Ironically, this Western trained German physician sometimes finds himself defending traditional Chinese approaches to his Chinese classmates and teachers in discussions of what is truly scientific and what is not. He makes the point that of the two different models of medicine, neither can credibly claim to be totally scientific ... and that neither can rationally be dismissed. He quotes a German academician: "'Clinical medicine as such is not science, but putting science to use,''' and adds: "If we want to proclaim it pure science, how can we then employ a concept like 'life'? Obviously, 'life' exists even if we cannot explain it fully. But without 'life' as a basis for medicine, what can we talk about?"
Instead of just asking, "What is scientific and what is not?" in Chinese medicine, says Heber, we ought to consider that different scientific-theoretical foundations have been laid down in different times and areas by different civilizations with different levels of knowledge and technology. And, obviously, what is outstanding for one system might be totally or partially lacking in another. He believes, by its wholeness of perception, traditional Chinese medicine may help reinstitute old Western tradition into modern Western medicine.
Chinese medicine looks at the patient as a whole, seeing all symptoms as parts of a bigger picture—a pattern. And, in accordance with a principle that was also coined in the West (as early as Aristotle), the whole may be viewed as more than just the sum of its parts.
Translations are inadequate. Dr. Heber uses traditional texts and models.
This principle was once guiding for Western medicine, too, and without any known East-West exchange having taken place. The great 16th Century German physician Paracelsus, for instance, wrote of the "wholeness of the human being" in terms that appear as if taken directly from a classical Chinese textbook. Not until 18th Century natural science declared that there is nothing beyond the sum of the parts, did Western medicine proceed to dismiss its own roots.
True, the new developments brought medical triumphs all over the world. But this resulted also in a price: the careless abandonment of traditional medicine in many cultures. Only Chinese medicine still vitally maintains the connections to its origins and traditions.
Relevant for today, modern science in fields such as physics is stretching its models, having reached certain conceptual limitations when trying to deal with questions that cannot be understood along strictly scientific lines. This does not mean that people must resort to mysticism, for example, but instead must be open to other new—or perhaps very old—ways of thinking. In modern physics, Western thinkers are searching for conceptual routes that may be expressed in Oriental philosophies such as Taoism.
A predominantly notable feature of Taoism is holism, which happens also to be the core of the Chinese medical approach. A special aspect of such holism in Chinese medicine is the emphasis on action to promote health instead of just treating for illness. Lifestyle, food and drink, exercise, the relationships of body and mind, all should serve actively in any approach to health and medical treatment.
In Taiwan today, Chinese patients can generally choose between traditional Chinese and modern Western medical approaches and treatments. And the traditional Chinese practitioner looks at the same complaints and symptoms as his Western trained colleagues. They exist side by side, and in institutions like the China Medical College in Taichung, there is an exchange of insights underway. Though Western medicine has established itself in Chinese society, it does not totally overshadow traditional medicine.
Is it long past time for Western society to take a much closer look at the "other" medical system—to get a true understanding of it? Dr. Roland G. Heber has certainly assertively answered that question for himself.