I just debated with ZW for more than an hour. It’s already started to have a bit of the flavor of “directing the realm from the mountaintop” (just kidding—don’t take it seriously), and although I did get something out of it, I’m exhausted. Because my personal political views are very easy to misunderstand—easy to mistake for “counterrevolutionary” or “fool-the-masses”—but perhaps it’s not a misunderstanding after all. If revolution is understood as a revolution against China as it exists in reality, then I am a resolute “counterrevolutionary.” Of course, someone may say: as social development reaches a certain stage, there is always the possibility that revolution will become necessary; so am I denying that possibility? I absolutely do not deny revolution in history. But I am unwilling to imagine that the country I love now must have the possibility of revolution— I don’t even want to think about that possibility, though I do not deny that such a possibility exists; I simply never bring it up. It is like saying: with the lover in my real life, do I need to imagine some circumstance in which our relationship has developed to the point where divorce becomes unavoidable? Objectively speaking, we certainly cannot deny that possibility, but since I have already entrusted my feelings to that real-life lover, the very act of imagining the possibility of such a rupture is itself a kind of sin!
Actually, alas, the political differences exposed in this discussion are less a difference over politics than a difference over love. I believe that the lover of my ideals can condense into a real, concrete, living person; that is to say, reality can become the bearer of my ideals. The moment I decide to entrust the lover of my ideals to a real, living person, “reality becomes ideal”; that real person herself is the perfect ideal, and beyond her there is no further ideal. If the real is still somewhat distant from the ideal, then suppose another real person appears who is closer to my ideal—does that mean I need to change the bearer of my ideal love? Certain beliefs tell us that this should not be done. Then I ought even more to regard the real person as the ideal; she is the closest to the ideal, because she is the ideal itself. My feelings for the nation can be analogized in the same way: that is to say, when I once decide to entrust my feelings for the ideal motherland to this real country, then this country, as a living “whole,” is the motherland of my ideals; beyond this, what more could one ask for? Of course, I do not deny that there are many, many imperfections in the real country, nor do I deny that we must strive to improve it; but what we breathe with and share our fate with is always this real country. This real country can be seen and touched, and she is the ideal motherland. Her defects do not prevent her, as a whole, from being perfect— the universe as a whole is supremely beautiful, and yet within the universe there is nothing but darkness. I love this real country, of course not denying her flaws, nor denying that she needs improvement, but none of this in the least affects her being my ideal as a whole. If the word ideal is somewhat inexact, it can be replaced by “the beloved,” which may be more accurate: my beloved—supreme goodness, supreme beauty—is this reality! Then, what if I were born in, say, the May Fourth period, and the reality of society at that time could not bear my ideals? In that case, my ideals would find no place to rest, or could only be built upon illusory hopes, and that would of course be my sorrow. I have never denied that, in such circumstances, one must rise up in revolution. But the era I live in now is not such an era; that is my good fortune, I am lucky. Then what if one day in the future this reality develops to the point of resembling those times of the past, and revolution becomes unavoidable? I have not faced this question; in my discussion with ZW I also avoided it, because this point cannot be clarified by theory. Because I have already “decided” to entrust my ideals to living reality, just as once I decide to love a real person wholeheartedly, the very imagining of the possibility that the feeling may have to break apart becomes a kind of sin!
My kind of political view lacks persuasive power; I also do not expect to persuade anyone on a theoretical level, because certain things—such as love, patriotism, love for one’s mother, and so on—cannot be demonstrated by theory. What I am always providing is a “possibility,” a “hope.” What I want to prove is only this: we can hold such an ideal view; we can entrust our ideals in this way; thus we can live very happily without falling into self-contradiction, and without causing harm to others. Then this becomes a desirable choice. Simply put, this choice is: do not stubbornly entrust your feelings only to abstract things. This process of pursuing the ideal is “turning the ideal into reality.” Such a pursuit is painful, because reality is always far from the ideal. Of course I never deny such idealism; I am only saying that there may be another kind of idealism, one that may make us happier and more fulfilled: “turning reality into the ideal.” At such a time, our further pursuit, our improvement of reality, and so on, is not a process of making reality constantly approximate the ideal, but rather a process in which, on the basis that reality itself is the ideal, reality further actualizes itself and further unfolds around me.
My kind of “idealism” seems very strange, but it is one of the few relatively formed beliefs I have. I once used a metaphor: my idealism does not stand amid ruins gazing at the blue sky, but stands among green mountains and clear waters watching the rising sun; the sun in the distance and the mountains and waters beside me constitute an inseparable whole, and what I praise is precisely the picture of this whole! From the above account, it can already be seen that this strange idealism of mine is in fact consistent with my philosophy of the starry sky and my view of love.
Finally, let me give a preview of my consistent position on politics in the future—when I hear people ask whether we should consider the possibility of revolution, it is like asking me in the course of love whether I have any plans for divorce; I will evade the question. If I am confronted with all kinds of accusations against China as it exists in reality, I will first of all try to excuse her; I will say that even if there are problems, she is still supremely beautiful, because real things cannot be perfect without a single flaw. Certainly there are some flaws, but as a whole they are always harmonious; moreover, these shortcomings often happen to become the foil for certain advantages, or rather, these shortcomings tend toward improvement and so on. In short, I often defend this country as a “whole” without denying its flaws. If you want to hear my opposite view, only when I am calmly engaged in objective discussion, or when facing someone who maintains that everything that exists is reasonable—please note that my view is not “whatever exists is reasonable,” but “whatever exists is lovable”!—will I point out the many unreasonable things in what exists. During that period when people were exposing and criticizing Falun Gong, I already said that I knew the dark side of society no less than the so-called “Falun Gong” adherents did. No matter how black this world is made out to be, as long as I can still see a little starlight, it will not shake my supreme love for this world.
January 7, 2006
A Few Phrases on Idealism Regarding Reality
Xingding posted on 2006-01-07 21:21:02
Rather than pursuing the transformation of the ideal into reality, it is better to let reality become the ideal.
I do not support “whatever exists is reasonable,” but I believe “whatever exists is lovable.”
Some things can never be used to convince others by reason. All my discussions have always merely been meant to provide people with a possibility of a way of life or a style of living—I look at things and live my life in this way, and on the one hand I do not fall into the pain of logical contradiction, while on the other hand it does no harm, and by coincidence it can also bring happiness, so I believe in it as much as possible.
Latest comments
Chong
2006-01-08 02:02:58
[reply]
I remember you once said that you abhor, even hate, those who trample on and destroy nature. Then first of all, you are admitting that the existence of these people and these actions is reality. So why have you never felt that they are “lovable,” but instead have felt them hateful, and thereby formed the wish “to change this situation”? And does the wish to change not in fact point toward the hope that such a situation of harmony between human beings and nature will become reality by the wish itself?
The ideal of turning the ideal into reality is not empty fancy. Its original source, I think, still comes from our beautiful experiences. It is precisely a heart that has tasted good things that will diligently seek the realization of the ideal. What does it mean to let reality become the ideal? I do not quite understand. I know that taking the ideal as the standard for real action can at least keep us at a baseline amid the confusion of worldly affairs. But to let reality become the ideal, to discover its lovableness, seems somewhat like burying one’s head in the sand and stealing the bell. Evil is evil, and ugly is ugly. Perhaps you may forgive, perhaps you may understand, but you will never discover it to be lovable. To do philosophy is not merely rational speculation; one must also be more considerate of life. Whether experience is certain or uncertain, it is alive, and it is built upon your existence. For your thinking, rejecting any form of these experiences will only bring about an intellectual immaturity.
Human beings are coexistent. A valuable thought often reveals something universal. Of course, its process and form may be achieved through an individual’s unique experience or form. If it is merely a self-amusing trifle, naturally no one will bother you. But your present predicament is that, on the one hand, under criticism, you are forced to shrink your position step by step, constantly defending the self—from discussing philosophy, which is a study of universality, to a possibility offered to people, and then to a lifestyle through which the self can obtain satisfaction. The scope of your self-identification is getting smaller and smaller. On the other hand, the thinking you regard as rigorous and transmissible has been met with widespread criticism, some of it even fundamentally negative. This is what you cannot accept. Because in your view, your thinking is responsible, and also possesses a certain degree of universal significance, and can offer others inspiration and guidance (I think this need not be refused as a possibility), yet public evaluation is precisely the opposite of your self-identification. Add to that your respect for and emphasis on criticism itself, and you end up in an awkward position. While desiring the acknowledgment of the self, you are repeatedly forced to shrink into a position of self-defense.
As for
persuasion, everyone is just reasoning things out; it is only a matter of who has the stronger argument. Persuading and being persuaded are merely results, not the purpose. This must be made clear.
chong
2006-01-08 02:25:52
[reply]
The latter part of what I said above was not very clear.
The predicament is that, on the one hand, you are being forced step by step to admit something approaching self-amusement, as above. On the other hand, you are absolutely unwilling to admit that you are merely amusing yourself. As above. The reason for this situation lies in the repeated entanglement among our criticism, your own stubbornness toward the small self, and your welcome of criticism.
I
2006-01-08 11:00:51
[reply]
What you say makes a lot of sense. Last night, when I was coming back from Egg Church, I realized that I had fallen into a little confusion, namely this issue: on the one hand, I emphasize that the critical spirit of philosophy is aimed only at “what exists”; on the other hand, I say that whatever exists is lovable. There is a small contradiction in this. To resolve it thoroughly is not something that can be done in two or three sentences. Let me first say that the lovable “whatever exists” should be understood in relation to me and what exists, as well as the whole as reality formed by relations; criticism is always directed at specific things. What I have always loved is not specific things as evil; what I love is the whole interwoven and interconnected by good and evil. Of course, fully reconciling this is rather troublesome…
Another point concerns the issue of my constantly narrowing the scope of self-identification. I admit that, but I think this narrowing of the scope is precisely what ensures the significance of my argument. It is just like Kant, step by step, denying any proof of God, and finally saying that I only let people “believe it as much as possible.” In fact, God is a crucial presupposition for Kant’s ethics, yet Kant nevertheless wanted to deny the significance of arguments for God’s existence. This is precisely what, from another angle, guarantees the significance of his argument. Because he realized that speculative rational proofs of God cannot stand, and that the best argument for God is only a kind of “persuasion.” That is to say, what I want to prove is not that God actually exists, but rather I want to try to prove this: believing in God’s existence 1) is theoretically self-consistent; 2) is beneficial in practice; 3) can be happily accepted by people; and no best proof of God can exceed this limitation, namely the limitation of arguing “what I may hope for.” In fact, many other issues are the same—views of life, ethics, love, and the like: the only truly meaningful argument is to argue for their being “believed as much as possible.”
I
2006-01-08 11:52:47
[reply]
Perhaps unexpectedly, I can say that I admit my “self-amusement.” At the present stage, I only hope to expand my ideas as much as possible, turning many vague views into words. In this process, I can discover many contradictions—or more precisely, in the process of writing articles, the disordered parts of my thinking are displayed, and then I can, as far as possible, further develop and stitch together these contradictions. Of course I know that in the end it will never be possible to construct a completely airtight system, but perhaps it may be possible to solve this by setting certain questions as forbidden zones for reason. I believe that the various views and positions I hold are harmonious at a deeper level.
Also, what is philosophy itself, especially as life philosophy that asks after the meaning of life, for? I think it is some kind of “self-amusement.” The philosophy I long for is one that brings meaning to life and happiness to living, rather than a philosophy like Schopenhauer’s, which leads one toward despair. My pursuit of philosophy is not because of curiosity, nor because I want to establish some kind of universal truth; first, it is to make myself happy; second, if this way of thinking and living can indeed make people happy, then I will say it out loud, defend it, and interpret it, just as if I went to a restaurant, found the food delicious, and hoped to promote it widely. When I am debating these things on the blog now, I am still far from having the ability to advertise them; this wonderful restaurant is still under construction, so my discussion is purely self-amusement. What I ultimately hope to establish is nothing more than such a set of rational “games” in which I can amuse myself—
reason is very likely to bring pain, especially when reason deeply reflects upon itself, that is to say, when it contemplates the irreconcilable conflict between the good and the beautiful of the ideal world in thought and the evil and the ugly of the real world in which one actually dwells, especially when it contemplates one’s own existence and death; then it is easy to fall into an abyss of pain. To pull oneself out of this abyss, one way is to seek help from desire and impulse; another is to turn oneself into a machine, sinking into the busyness of reality and thus avoiding reason; and still another is to set up a set of game rules for reason, so that I can fully unfold reason. So long as reason operates within such a set of game rules—these rules must not contain any logical contradiction, because reason rejects logical contradiction—reason can play freely within this system, and thus avoid sinking into an inescapable mire. My philosophy of life is to design a set of so-called self-amusement game rules within which my reason can be left to play.
Of course, what I have said above concerns life philosophy—that is, for example, when discussing issues such as ideals, love, and life and death, I am only trying to argue “what I may hope for.” Questions of life are philosophy’s most fundamental questions; I think the final question philosophy faces is the question of life or death. But if we are discussing other specific topics, then I will not retreat so easily step by step, because usually what we first need to argue about is whether the logic is self-consistent.
I must honestly confess that the purpose of my posting on the blog is precisely self-amusement. But I hope our discussion can not only help me enjoy myself, but also bring you all a little amusement or some gain. If you discuss these things with me merely for the sake of helping and teaching me, I also hope that this help can bring you happiness.
mist
2006-01-08 14:32:43
[reply]
Philosophy ultimately leads to silence, so I rarely debate with others; if I have a problem, I mostly just think it over myself—that said, this sentence can be taken as an excuse for my laziness in not wanting to debate.
one can do
anything he likes, but the end is the same.
c
2006-01-17 00:40:29
[Reply]
Let me give you a passage from Nietzsche.
The road of philosophy is winding and inscrutable; where, after all, is its destination? Can we suppose that everything it does is nothing more than to infuse reason with some strong and lasting impulse: an impulse toward warm sunshine, fresh and free air, the lush plants of the South, the scent of the sea, ever-changing meats, fruit and eggs, drinking hot water, silent wandering all day long, brief conversations, infrequent and judicious reading, living apart from the crowd, cleanliness, simplicity, and habits of life that are almost military in their severity—in short, an impulse toward everything that best suits my taste, but which others may perhaps find unbearable? Perhaps, in the final analysis, philosophy is nothing more than an individual’s instinct for self-preservation? An instinct that, by way of the winding and tortuous route through my own head, seeks the air, altitude, climate, and standards of health that are right for me? Of course, there are many other philosophies that are more detached and more exalted, not merely those philosophies that are darker than mine and demand more from themselves—but perhaps they too are only winding intellectual roads that satisfy similar personal impulses?—Yet, at the very same moment, I turn my gaze and see a new world: on a rocky shore, many strange flowers and herbs grow, and a butterfly mysteriously and अकेlessly flutters above them: it flies, it dances, lightly, caring not at all for the fact that it can live only one more day, and that its fragile body will not be able to withstand the cold of night. Without a doubt, in this butterfly we can find a kind of philosophy, a philosophy entirely different from the philosophy I possess.——
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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