Making Giving Part of Business: A Taiwanese Retailer’s Approach

Sunfar Computer Co., Ltd. (順發電腦) is a Taiwanese electronics retail chain headquartered in Kaohsiung, southern Taiwan. Through stores across Taiwan and an online shop, it sells computers, components and accessories, mobile devices and home appliances. It also offers computer assembly and repair services.¹

Since 2010, Sunfar has made charitable giving part of its business commitments. Its annual pledge combines donations from the company and its chairman, with a total equivalent to at least 20 percent of the company’s net profit going to charitable causes. Its support focuses on disadvantaged children and their educational and living needs.¹

I heard its chairman, Chin-Chang Wu (吳錦昌), speak twice in June 2026, on the 18th and the 24th. I expected the second talk to feel familiar. Instead, I remained absorbed. His account of giving was connected to a wider question: how do we decide what is worth doing, and keep doing it?

Giving People a Way to Take Part

Sunfar describes its approach as making a purchase a way to support charitable work. The business earns income through retailing, and its giving commitment directs resources toward children who need support.¹

One example Wu discussed was RUN FOR FUTURE, a charity run in Kaohsiung. Companies contribute resources, employees can run together, and members of the public can join in. Different businesses support a shared event.²

What interested me was the opportunity to participate. A donation made at company level may remain distant from the people who work there. A run gives employees something they can do together and offers other companies a practical way to become involved.

The event also has a specific destination for its fundraising: the net proceeds from the 2025 edition were donated in full to support care for disadvantaged children in Kaohsiung.³

For readers interested in environmental, social and governance (ESG) issues, the clearest connection here is to the social dimension: community support and participation across businesses.⁴ What holds my attention is how that participation is arranged. Good intentions need a way to become something people can actually do.

Joy and Meaning

Wu described happiness as a combination of joy and meaning. Creating happiness for ourselves is a personal goal; adding to the happiness of others is a contribution to society.⁵

As he put it:

“Joy alone eventually feels empty; meaning without any joy is also hard to sustain.”

I like the way this leaves room for enjoyment. We are more likely to continue with something when we want to be involved, find satisfaction in doing it, and can see that it helps someone else.

For a business, there is also the practical question of staying viable. A company needs stable operations to sustain a commitment over time. How it uses its resources, which needs it responds to, and what it keeps doing all help form its character.

Zhong: Choosing What Fits the Circumstances

Wu had opened his talk with a question about choice: are the decisions we make each day really our own, or are we being influenced?

More information does not necessarily give us clearer judgment. Emotions, pressure and other people’s expectations can shape a decision before we have examined the reasons for it.

Drawing on Buddhist texts, Wu spoke about understanding the world, finding steadiness within ourselves, and loosening the attachments that constrain our judgment. He then turned to the idea of zhong (中).⁵

Zhong is the pinyin spelling of 中: a way of writing the Chinese word in the Roman alphabet. Its basic meaning is “middle” or “centre.” Wu used it here to describe a balanced response that fits the circumstances. It does not mean automatically choosing a halfway point between two positions or giving every concern equal weight.

In his account, finding zhong requires judging how much weight each need deserves, avoiding an undue emphasis on any one concern, and considering both immediate needs and longer-term effects. A sound choice depends on the situation; the same answer will not fit every case.⁵

What Balance Means in a Home

This idea of zhong brought me back to residential design.

Over the years, in working with Japanese designers, I have often heard one word repeated: balance. Balance, balance, balance.

A detail can look beautiful on its own and still be out of place in the whole. Form, scale, materials, light, ventilation, the routes people take through a building, and maintenance all affect one another. Some elements can stand out; others need to give them room.

In a home, these decisions have very practical consequences. How does daylight enter a room? Can air move through it? Is it easy to move through the building? Are there enough elevators for the people using them? Can the building be maintained without unnecessary difficulty?

Tadao Ando’s account of housing and nature offers another way to think about this. He describes using walls and geometric forms to create an enclosed space into which light and wind are introduced, restoring a relationship between house and nature.⁶ These qualities belong in the design discussion alongside the building’s appearance.

A striking facade or an elaborate material choice needs to be considered against those requirements. If it compromises daylight, ventilation or future repairs, the trade-off deserves another look.

A home can be beautiful and comfortable to live in, year after year. For me, that is a concrete place to begin thinking about zhong: deciding what should be expressed, what can be adjusted, and what the people living there should not have to give up.