Last night I watched the episode of Thirteen Invitations where Xu Zhiyuan interviewed Luo Xiang on YouTube. I’d stumbled across someone on Twitter claiming that Luo’s intellectual depth in this episode was ten times greater than Xu’s, so I was curious to see what they meant by “greater.” Whether it’s ten times or not is hard to say, but watching it, the gap was indeed striking. Especially when Xu brought up the term “pan-moralization”—at that moment, I felt deep sympathy for Professor Luo. It was as if he were conversing with someone illiterate in moral philosophy. The so-called “pan-moralization” in China isn’t the proliferation of morality, but the proliferation of pseudo-morality. What true morality actually is rarely gets discussed publicly—it’s not allowed to be discussed. The moment Xu uttered this term, his lack of learning was exposed; his understanding remains at the most superficial level of the ordinary person. That’s why Luo paused for a moment before patiently explaining the basic concepts.
Then this morning, articles started popping up saying Luo Xiang had “overturned” (gotten himself canceled). I wondered what had happened—was I being targeted by algorithms? Upon checking, I found that Professor Luo was being attacked again for a new video on Bilibili criticizing nationalism. What a coincidence.
Among all Chinese speakers who have spoken publicly, whether at home or abroad, Luo Xiang is one of the few who meets my standards. The rest are largely mediocre and not worth mentioning.
As for those who style themselves as literati and celebrities—the likes of Gao Xiaosong and Xu Zhiyuan—I generally have little regard for them. They may have read many books, but their intellectual depth is shallow. As intellectuals who don’t pursue truth and genuine knowledge as their goal, they’re like pirates in the world of One Piece who don’t aspire to become the Pirate King—what’s the difference between them and salted fish? China’s three thousand years of intellectual and cultural achievements, compared to today’s global intellectual peaks, is roughly the distance from ankle to crown. Those who still worship traditional Chinese learning or the literati ideal might as well be called foot fetishists. That’s why I have zero interest in Confucian classics, scholar ideals, or literati romance. It’s somewhat excusable for twenty-somethings to appreciate such things, but for people in their forties or fifties to remain at this level is simply unacceptable. As for public figures with journalism backgrounds, in a word: poor thinking ability, as evidenced by jokes like Cui Yongyuan’s anti-GMO campaign or Chai Jing’s interview with Ding Zhongli. And overseas democracy activists? A mixed bag. To sum them up with my assessment of Ai Weiwei from last year: “Who gives a fuck.” The older generation of democracy activists generally lacks competence—many make noise, but few have genuine insight. They’re just remnants blessed by historical circumstance. Those with both ability and character are even rarer.
Back to the incident itself. Why is nationalism wrong?
Moral questions are never simple. Moral philosophy is a profound discipline.
Is nationalism good? In some sense, yes—if it helps strengthen mutual trust and aid within your group, it has positive significance. But is it the ultimate standard for judging everything? Obviously not. Just shift your perspective slightly: imagine you’re from one of the small nations historically destroyed by China. Would you still support Han nationalism? Using Country X’s sword to claim land for Country X’s plow—isn’t that Nazi Germany? From another nation’s perspective, it becomes a moving anthem of resistance against invasion.
Morality and justice have levels and magnitudes. Sacrificing for a lover, taking a knife for a friend, bringing glory to the family name, giving one’s life for country and people, protecting world peace, dedicating one’s life without complaint to strangers on distant continents… Which of these do you think is most just and glorious?
Do you think I want you to choose the last one? Because it shows the greatest love, the most selfless altruism?
Wrong! If a moral requirement strays so far from human nature that only saints can achieve it, then it has no universal significance. You can practice it yourself, but you can’t demand it of others. What morality has universal significance? For example, don’t kill people randomly, otherwise we’ll all be gone eventually. These are also generally called laws.
So which of the above is most just? I think they’re all equal, with no hierarchy, and can perfectly coexist. You sacrifice selflessly for your lover, I take a knife for my friend, they serve country and people with distinction—we all have bright futures. When they conflict, that’s the trolley problem—there’s no definitive answer, but the common practice is still to save more people.
What’s most immoral, what I see as pure evil, is actually people’s desire to force their will upon others. Viewing others purely as tools to implement your own will, rather than seeing them as people with free will like yourself.
Narrow nationalism and racism share the same spiritual core. Both view people as tools and mechanical products, attempting to use someone’s origin to deny their free will and impose your beliefs upon them.
So-called “traitor” or “sellout” aren’t necessarily insults. By this logic, Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in Europe during WWII, would be a genuine German traitor. Similarly, if a Chinese person upholds their beliefs and fights their compatriots without hesitation when China invades another country, I couldn’t call them a traitor—I’d have to respect them as having real backbone.
So nation, race, and origin don’t constitute ultimate standards for moral judgment. The ultimate standard for moral judgment is the good will behind people’s choices.
And this is often known only to heaven. “Duke of Zhou feared rumors in his day; Wang Mang was humble before usurping.” So don’t judge individuals lightly unless they’re important to you. Focus your magnifying glass on matters that concern everyone.
What I particularly admire about Luo Xiang is that he continues to shine bit by bit, illuminating more people even in China’s current high-pressure environment. In this so-called “controversy,” despite countless people cursing him, he’s also won support from many. Things aren’t as monolithic as they were a few years ago. Through his actions, he proves that humanity and reason can dispel darkness, which I find very heartening.
Morality is extremely difficult to change. In a sense, morality is a type of emotion—once these neural pathways are established, changing them is incredibly hard. Imagine the difficulty of persuading elderly relatives to change their views. That classmate who memorized Mao’s poetry with us in our high school dorm is still a “patriot” with the five-starred red flag as their avatar, like many of my high school classmates—their patriotic sentiment hasn’t changed much over the years. I don’t criticize this simple emotion; I just wish for a bit more brain power. Before blocking your top-student classmate who’s been abroad for years, couldn’t you consider them as someone with reason and conscience like yourself? Maybe they have better reasons than you? That said, isn’t my own character—disdaining authority, refusing blind obedience, stubbornly insisting on principles—also a kind of moral conviction that hasn’t changed one bit over the years? So when I heard Dashu still using my high school reputation of being “extreme,” it felt both familiar and strange.
Looking at the many places I’ve been, my hometown probably counts as a moral lowland. I used to say Nanyang was relatively good within Henan, but after the music festival incident, I can’t say that anymore. What was then called “extreme” now seems like resistance after being bullied by lowland morality without being able to articulate why. Like when history or politics textbooks force you to believe nonsensical theories, like my argument “everyone is selfish therefore no one can be selfish” resisting collectivism, like the tyranny of forcing humility on you regardless of your actual situation and punishing you if you resist. What feels strange is that after all these years, as times change and circumstances shift, I gradually understand various causes and effects. Even if my current views don’t align with the mainstream, I have more reasons to believe I stand on the side of reason. Those on the opposite side seem more driven by (moral) emotions, more “extreme.”
Of course, if you say I won the debate but lost at life, I have no comeback. Whose life isn’t a failure that eventually arrives? Life is vast as the sea, mountain after mountain and river after river, nothing more than this. Living life in the way you prefer—that’s the morality of life.