The previous article mentioned that a despotic system constantly needs imminent crises to overcome, with hatred and struggle as its basic posture. Of course, a democratic system too must keep solving immediate problems; “solving problems” is the normal state of governance.
However, the basic paradigms for solving problems differ under different systems. This is not merely a matter of keeping pace with the times or adapting measures to local conditions—for example, Chinese people solving China’s special problems, Americans solving America’s problems, and so on. The difference in paradigms is not limited to that kind of distinction; it also includes differences in standards of judgment, such as what counts as a real problem in the first place, and what it means for a problem to be solved.
On this point I do not agree with the universalism held by some on the right, but in fact what I oppose even more is the scientism of the left. Whether left or right, people often tend to believe in some objective, absolute judgment, and I do not agree with that. But I am not a nihilist either. Just as Kuhn himself still believed in the existence of progress, I too believe in progress; but this progress is not measured by some transcendent standard floating outside history. It simply means that, standing at the standpoint of our own age and looking back over the road we have traveled, we can feel a certain upward experience. Looking back, we have the feeling of surveying from above—that is progress. This feeling of looking down from above is not blind arrogance or conceit. Quite the contrary: only when we are able to respect history, to examine history sincerely, is it possible to stand atop history’s peak. Those who are arrogant can only be frogs at the bottom of a well.
Holding fast to the idea of progress allows us to strive for better political institutions. Despotism is retrogression, while democracy is progress; this is a broad direction. Of course, progress is not necessarily a good thing; it may also mean going astray. That is another question.
Kuhn’s concept of “Scientific Revolution” is precisely meant to introduce an analogy with political revolution. We can understand scientific revolution through the metaphor of political revolution; of course, conversely, we can also understand political revolution from the perspective of history of science. That is to say, first, a political paradigm is not composed of a series of objective propositions, but includes various dimensions and layers such as modes of thought, social psychology, technological conditions, value beliefs, and so on; second, a newer paradigm does not necessarily solve the difficulties of the old one, but instead dissolves them by changing the way problems are posed and confronted. There is no absolute adjudicating standard among several political models by which to judge which is more efficient; value concepts themselves are also embedded within politics. Finally, a political paradigm has its habitual mode of handling general problems. When more and more people begin to believe that this habitual mode can no longer solve problems, a crisis appears. “Revolution” does not mean solving certain specific problems, but fundamentally changing the mode of problem-solving,
This is why people under different political paradigms find it so hard to communicate. This gap is not like the head-on opposition between Democrats and Republicans in the United States; rather, they simply cannot even get onto the same page. For example, Chinese conservatives (the left) advocate solving specific problems within the existing political framework. They will ask: Can freedom of speech solve problems? Can association and demonstration solve problems? Don’t keep going on about systemic problems all the time; specific problems should be analyzed specifically!—On the surface, they appear to be rational people, with a cool-headed, pragmatic style. Of course, this is precisely the basic style of the “normal period”: not questioning the fundamental framework and ideals, but devoting oneself to solving real and concrete difficulties. Yet those who seek systemic reform precisely no longer trust the problem-solving capacity of the old framework; they want to open up a new path from the very beginning. So on the surface, they appear to be more irrational, more emotional, more impulsive.
Even when the old system is already on its last legs, the pursuit of solving specific problems can still go on endlessly. It is like the Ptolemaic system of celestial spheres: whenever some leak is found, one can always add a few more epicycles to patch it up. By contrast, the new-born model can only offer a crude picture; when it comes to solving detailed problems, it cannot yet handle things with ease. But endlessly adding epicycles for fine-tuning can only make the old system more and more bloated, more and more sluggish, more and more rigid, more and more ugly, until, at last, its accumulated burden becomes impossible to reverse.
At such a time, sticking to the old paradigm that at least still works remains a pragmatic choice, while abandoning it seems even less reasonable. It is like when one wants to shake off an old lover, and you press him: what exactly do you hate about me? I’ll definitely change. Of course, if she can raise this specific question, then he really may be able to change. But often this pragmatic person simply never gets the chance to reform at all. The other person has simply “had enough,” simply has no feelings for you anymore, simply has lost confidence in your future. She has no patience to let you slowly improve; she may even be unable to say exactly what is wrong with you, and yet you have still been dumped. Of course, reformers will have many ways of talking about it, and when switching to the embrace of another lover they may also find many reasons to justify the move. She may have a clearer sense of who is better, but insofar as she no longer gives you the chance to correct yourself, the act of “dumping” is an irrational one.
But am I not supposed to be an advocate of reform? I once proposed “bottom-up improvement.” Yet here I am again standing on the side of the “reform camp.” Why is that? In fact, there is no contradiction here. What is called revolution does not mean an instant violent overthrow. For example, if the Arab world were to abruptly ban Greek scholarship, that would not thereby produce a new body of learning. The European Scientific Revolution, by contrast, began precisely with a renewed affirmation of ancient scholarship. Even if we take Copernicus to Newton as the dividing line, it still took at least more than a hundred years, not to mention the revolutions in individual fields over the following two centuries. A revolution may have some emblematic turning points, but in fact the whole revolutionary process can be very long. Political revolution is similar: the French Revolution had a conspicuous stage of violent overthrow, but this brief period was only the result of earlier reforms in ideas and institutions, and viewed in the broader sweep of history, this violent revolutionary stage was precisely the most unproductive and darkest link in the chain.
As for the historical situation China currently finds itself in, it seems to me that we have in fact not yet formed a mature political paradigm. Our official dogma, social customs, legal system, value beliefs, political operations, modes of interaction, and so on in various other respects have not truly been stably integrated together. Or one could say that from the late Qing to the present, China has still been in this long “revolutionary period”; in fact, there has not been any truly “orthodox” paradigm. The creed and routines of those in power have lost their authority, but no new routine has occupied the orthodox position.
Therefore, when I say reform rather than revolution, I mean gradual progress within this environment that is already a “revolutionary period,” and not resorting to instant violent overthrow.
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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