From the abdication of Yao, Shun, and Yu, Chinese civilization took root. In the Zhou and ChunQiu Wars periods, hundreds variety of thought contended, their ideas sparking like stars in the night. Qin unified power, burned books, and buried scholars, amassing the world’s tools of control yet impoverishing its people, collapsing in its second generation.
Han embraced Confucian doctrines, restoring rules, its three-century reign laying the foundation of culture. Sui, Tang, and Song built on Han’s legacy, embracing diversity and reaching the zenith of prosperity. Yet Song suppressed martial valor for literary glory, its foundation skewed, its ideals waning, felled by foreign might—though truly undone by inner decay. Yuan’s brutal colonial rule sparked rebellion, ushering in Ming.
Ming abolished the prime minister, exalting imperial power, chaining the minds of millions to one man’s will, and civilization slid into decline, shadowed by terror. The rebel Li Zicheng rose, and Emperor Chongzhen hanged himself on MeiShan. The Qing swept in, a serpent swallowing an elephant, blending Manchu and Han in a civilization arrogant and debased, where men prided themselves as slaves, chanting “Celestial Empire” while devouring each other’s minds and flesh, barbarism at its peak.
The thunder of foreign cannons shattered the Celestial dream. The Republic’s fleeting moment of intellectual awakening was as if this ancient civilization opened its eyes to an alien world, hearts stirred by awe and confusion. Hu Shi, Guo Chongtao, and other visionaries stood out, yet their awakening was a fleeting spark, unable to reverse the decline. How shall Chinese civilization march forward? This question haunted the enlightened of a century ago, and it remains our dilemma today.
I call it Civilization 2.0 born in Han, thriving in Tang, declining in Song, perishing in Qing, a saga of glory and shame. Now, in Civilization 2.5, born in the Republic and stumbling to the present, we are a giant with one limb bloated and another withered. The faster we run, the more we falter. The powerful are shortsighted, grafting titanium alloys onto stunted limbs, crippling the healthy; they silence the hundred schools, craving fleeting stability; they seek to grasp all directions, stealing the people’s minds. Yet the tide of history surges forward, and ants shaking a tree are but clowns in a farce. To expect the privileged to reform themselves is a fool’s Utopia.
Only education—forward-looking education that awakens minds and offers paths and values—can break this deadlock. Only the soil of freedom and equality, nurturing creation and growth, can sustain civilization’s pulse. Only by chasing the light of progress, casting off barbaric despotism, can we reshape the soul of China. Holding fast to self-evident truths, planning for the future while grounded in the present, adapting to the times—only thus can Chinese civilization shed its deformity and stride toward renewal.