Philosophical Consciousness and the Epochal Mission of China's Autonomous Knowledge System
History shows that eras of great social transformation are inevitably eras of great development in philosophy and the social sciences. Contemporary China is undergoing the most extensive and profound social transformation in our nation's history, and is also carrying out the most grand and unique practical innovation in human history. This unprecedented great practice will surely provide powerful impetus and vast space for theoretical creation and academic prosperity. This is an era that needs theory and will certainly produce theory; this is an era that needs thought and will certainly produce thought. We must not fail this era. Since ancient times, China's intellectuals have held the aspiration and tradition of "establishing the mind for Heaven and Earth, establishing life for the people, continuing the lost learning of the sages, and establishing peace for all generations." All philosophical and social science workers with ideals and aspirations should stand at the forefront of the era, understand the changes from ancient to modern times, and issue the first voice of thought, actively presenting scholarship and establishing theories, offering counsel and strategy for the Party and the people, and bearing the glorious mission entrusted by history. — Xi Jinping, "Speech at the Symposium on Philosophy and Social Science Work," May 17, 2016
Author: Liangzhi
Abstract: Since the modern era, the Chinese intellectual world's reception of Western philosophy has remained trapped within the narrow path of "cultural philosophy," reducing philosophy to a cultural phenomenon to be understood. The theoretical dilemmas of the New Confucian school — Liang Shuming's "wavering between two positions" and Mou Zongsan's "self-negation of moral consciousness" — profoundly reveal the internal contradictions of this approach: it cannot truly enter philosophical questioning at the ontological level, yet reduces philosophy to a utilitarian instrument for maintaining the "existence" and "legitimacy" of culture. Using the metaphors of "Xuanzang-type scholars" and "Huineng-type scholars," this article distinguishes the essential difference between academic transmission and original thought. Furthermore, by tracing the two historic turns in China's modernization process — from "outside-in" to "inside-out" — it elucidates the deep logic behind the construction of contemporary China's "autonomous knowledge system": this is not a self-assertion of cultural nationalism, but rather that China, after long periods of internal accumulation characterized by "keeping one's eyes on the road," has once again arrived at a historical juncture where it can provide Chinese solutions for universal human problems. This mission requires us to completely depart from the misguided path of cultural philosophy, return to originary questioning at the ontological level, and forge the future of Chinese philosophy through the twists and trials of "good things come through adversity."
Keywords: Philosophical consciousness; Cultural philosophy; New Confucianism; Autonomous knowledge system; Ontology
I. Introduction: The Forgetfulness of Philosophy and the Call of the Era
Since the Opium War, the encounter between Chinese intellectual thought and Western philosophy has always been accompanied by a fundamental disorientation. This disorientation lies not in the lack of contact, but in a fundamental deviation in the mode of comprehension. According to Piaget's genetic epistemology, when a cognitive subject encounters an unfamiliar cognitive object, it must necessarily undergo stages of assimilation, accommodation, and equilibration. In Chinese intellectual history, this is the second large-scale encounter with a foreign civilization — the first was the entry of Buddhism. However, precisely this "second" historical experience caused modern thinkers to instinctively adopt a cultural attitude when facing Western philosophy as the "other." In their eyes, Western philosophy was primarily not a questioning of existence, truth, and freedom, but rather a "Western culture" juxtaposed against "Chinese culture."
This culturalized understanding produced the most influential philosophical school in modern China — the New Confucians. From Liang Shuming and Xiong Shili to Mou Zongsan and Tang Junyi, New Confucian scholars invariably depicted the differences between Chinese and Western philosophy through "culture," rather than comprehending Western philosophy through "philosophy itself." Yet when we stand in the third decade of the twenty-first century looking back at this intellectual history, when we face the epochal proposition of "China's autonomous knowledge system," we must conduct a thorough reflection on the narrowness of cultural philosophy. For the fate of philosophy has never been about making a choice between Chinese and Western cultures — such a choice is itself a myth of modernity. The sole fate of philosophy is to open itself to the question of existence.
Today, China once again stands at a historical turning point. From the "outside-in" introduction and learning to the "inside-out" contribution and sharing, the Chinese philosophical community faces unprecedented historical opportunities and bears unprecedented intellectual responsibilities. The "autonomous knowledge system" is not the self-glorification of cultural nationalism, not a simple inversion of Western academic paradigms, and certainly not a retreat to the old path of "Chinese substance, Western utility" (中体西用). It demands that we, with thorough theoretical courage, confront the question of existence itself, and in originary philosophical questioning, allow Chinese thought to attain genuine world significance. This is precisely what "philosophical consciousness" entails —所谓 consciousness is philosophy's clear recognition of itself: recognizing its own nature, recognizing its own mission, recognizing its own position in history.
II. The Misguided Path of Cultural Philosophy: The Theoretical Dilemma of the New Confucians
Before developing a positive account of the "autonomous knowledge system," it is necessary to clarify the basic theoretical form and internal dilemmas of "cultural philosophy." Generally, understanding of culture can be distinguished into two basic attitudes: diachronic attitude and synchronic attitude.
The diachronic attitude arranges different cultural forms into a linear historical sequence, assigning them different developmental stages. Under this perspective, culture has distinctions of high and low, advanced and backward, and the endpoint of history often points to some specific telos — whether Hegel's "Absolute Spirit" or the popular modern notion of "progress." Behind the diachronic attitude lies a theoretical premise: although cultural forms differ vastly, they ultimately submit to some universal historical purpose.
The synchronic attitude is the opposite. It adopts the research approach of cultural morphology, emphasizing the plurality and diversity of cultures. Under this perspective, there is no distinction of superiority or inferiority between cultures; primitive culture and modern culture equally possess intrinsic value, and any attempt to hierarchically judge cultures is seen as a residue of Western-centric "grand narratives."
Modern Chinese thinkers' views on culture inclined either toward the diachronic or the synchronic; logically, each could maintain self-consistency. However, New Confucian scholars' attitude toward culture exhibited a peculiar "wavering between two positions" (首鼠两端) — they simultaneously employed both diachronic and synchronic standards, oscillating between the two, exposing a utilitarian pragmatic attitude rather than rigorous scholarly analysis.
The theoretical contradictions of the New Confucians are most typically manifested in Liang Shuming's thought. In Eastern and Western Cultures and Their Philosophies, Liang Shuming proposed two conflicting cultural divisions. The first division was synchronic: he categorized cultures into Western culture, which "will presses forward," Chinese culture, which "will is self-harmonizing and moderate," and Indian culture, which "will retreats backward." From the perspective of cultural morphology, this division does not entail value judgments — it merely describes different cultures' different attitudes toward will. However, Liang Shuming immediately proposed a second division: Western culture is material culture, solving the relationship between humans and things; Chinese culture is ethical culture, solving the relationship between humans and humans; Indian culture is religious culture, solving the problems of birth, aging, illness, and death. In this division, he explicitly made a value ranking: Indian culture is highest, Chinese culture is second, Western culture is lowest, because Western culture "least conforms to the nature of life."
The problem is that these two divisions are mutually contradictory. The first division is synchronic, implying that cultural diversity has an equal right to exist; the second division is diachronic, placing different cultures into a value hierarchy from low to high. Why would Liang Shuming simultaneously adopt two contradictory logics? The answer lies in the fact that the fundamental purpose of New Confucianism is itself self-contradictory.
New Confucianism is a product of the shock of modernity, an instinctive reaction of Confucian thought to its own crisis of survival. This reaction necessarily encompasses two demands: first, the defense of its own "existence" (现存); second, the justification of its own "legitimacy" (正当). The former requires proving that Confucian thought still has a reason to exist; the latter requires proving that Confucian thought is superior to Western civilization, even that it is the savior of the world. "Existence" and "legitimacy" are two entirely different categories. A thing's existence does not entail its legitimacy — just as a thief's possession of stolen goods is existent but not legitimate. New Confucianism must simultaneously satisfy both demands, but the logic required to satisfy them is mutually contradictory.
To prove "existence," New Confucianism inclines toward the synchronic view of culture: cultures are diverse, and each culture has the right to exist; Confucianism is also a culture, therefore Confucianism should exist. This is a negative, defensive argument — it can only explain that Confucianism has the qualification to exist, but cannot explain why Confucianism is worth existing. To prove "legitimacy," New Confucianism must turn to the diachronic view of culture: it must prove that Confucian culture is at a higher stage than Western culture; only then is Confucianism's existence not merely existent but "actual" (现实的). Yet these two logics cannot coexist — either acknowledge cultural plural equality and abandon the claim of superiority, or insist on cultural hierarchy and sacrifice the position of plural equality. New Confucianism attempted to attain both, and the result could only be a theoretical dilemma of wavering between two positions.
Mou Zongsan's philosophy is more refined than Liang Shuming's, but he likewise could not escape this dilemma. Mou Zongsan argued that each culture has its own "cultural life" (文化生命), which must be expressed and realized through authentic life. The characteristic of Chinese culture lies in grasping and settling life, unfolding objectively as ritual and musical education (礼乐教化), and subjectively as the study of mind and nature (心性之学) — this is the "learning of inner sage and outer king" (内圣外王之学). Western culture excels at grasping nature and expressing intellect, giving rise to logic and science. This is clearly a synchronic cultural morphological description.
However, Mou Zongsan then shifted his argument, asserting that Chinese culture is by no means inferior to Western culture, but rather superior to it. His argument employs an ontological distinction: ontology can be divided into "attached ontology" (执的存有论) and "unattached ontology" (无执的存有论). Western culture remains only at the level of "attachment" (执), while Chinese culture has entered the level of "non-attachment" (无执). Mou Zongsan accepts Western natural science and democratic politics, but he uses the theory of "self-negation of moral consciousness" (良知坎陷) to explain this acceptance —所谓 "坎陷" (坎陷, sinking/negation) means that moral consciousness consciously negates itself, voluntarily descends, thereby opening up the cognitive subject and the political subject. This theoretical setup itself contains a judgment of hierarchy: Chinese culture resides at the higher level of "non-attachment," while Western culture is confined to the lower level of "attachment."
Although Mou Zongsan's scholarship is far more elaborate than Liang Shuming's, the basic logic is identical: first use the synchronic mode to distinguish the different characteristics of Chinese and Western cultures, then use the diachronic mode to assign Chinese culture a higher value status. Philosophy here is reduced to a tool for proving cultural superiority, becoming a servant for maintaining Confucian "legitimacy" rather than a free inquiry into existence itself. As Liang Shuming frankly admitted, his attitude toward Western culture was "accept it wholly, but fundamentally correct it" (全盘承受，而根本改过) — the premise of accepting Western culture was to transform it with the Chinese Confucian spirit so that it conforms to the value orientation of Chinese culture. This approach of cutting the foot to fit the shoe (削足适履) fundamentally predetermined its impossibility of genuine realization.
III. The Narrowness of Cultural Philosophy
The dilemma of the New Confucians is not an isolated case, but the inevitable result of the cultural philosophy approach. When philosophy is understood as a cultural phenomenon, comparison between Chinese and Western philosophy degenerates into superficial cultural description. New Confucian scholars' characterizations of Western culture often remain at the level of hollow impressions: Western culture emphasizes science and material things, neglecting life and spirit; Western culture posits the opposition of mind and matter, the dichotomy of subject and object; Western culture has reached a dead end, awaiting Confucian civilization to save it. These descriptions are so vague that they merely express a sentimental preference or aversion rather than a deep understanding of Western philosophy itself. Mou Zongsan distinguished Confucianism and Christianity using "complete teaching" (圆教) and "separate teaching" (离教), arguing that Confucianism is a "harmonious reality of mind and principle" (心理合一) while Christianity is a "divided" separate teaching — this distinction is less a philosophical analysis than a value judgment packaged in categories.
The problem extends beyond the New Confucians. Anti-traditional radical scholars are likewise trapped in the cage of cultural philosophy. Their difference from the New Confucians lies not in factual judgment but in value judgment: the New Confucians see Confucianism as the savior of the world, while anti-traditionalists see Confucianism as the root of backwardness. Both sides understand Confucian thought in the same manner — both treat it as a cultural form, both discuss its merits and demerits, and neither enters the ontological questioning of philosophy itself. Such discussion, even if sustained for a century, merely oscillates between the options of "Chinese culture is hell or utopia," never touching the core of philosophy.
The narrowness of cultural philosophy manifests in the following aspects:
First, it transforms philosophical questions into cultural questions, thereby missing philosophy's true dimension. Philosophy is an inquiry into existence itself, a speculation on truth, ground, and freedom; it cannot be reduced to a particular manifestation of some culture. When we treat Confucius's "benevolence" (仁) and Plato's "Ideas" as representations of two cultural types, we precisely forget those originary questions to which "benevolence" and "Ideas" point — how is human existence to be settled? How does existence manifest? These questions are cross-cultural; they are the common soil of all philosophical thinking.
Second, it objectifies and reifies philosophical thinking, thereby losing philosophy's non-objective essence. Cultural philosophy treats "Chinese philosophy" and "Western philosophy" as two ready-made objects placed before us, then compares their similarities, differences, merits, and relations. But this mode of thinking is itself positivist rather than philosophical. Philosophy is not a statement about some object, but a participation in existence itself. When we treat philosophy as an object to be examined, we have already stepped outside of philosophy.
Third, it reduces philosophy to a utilitarian instrument. The fundamental reason the New Confucians waver between two positions is that they have a purpose external to philosophy — maintaining the orthodox status of Confucianism. Philosophy here is not free inquiry but an instrument of argumentation; ontological questions are not explored as questions but are deployed to serve cultural self-defense. This utilitarian attitude causes philosophy to lose its purity and causes the theoretical constructions of New Confucianism to reveal traces of cutting the foot to fit the shoe everywhere.
IV. "Xuanzang-Type" and "Huineng-Type": The Dialectic of Two Academic Orientations
Contemporary scholar Chen Bo once incisively pointed out the fundamental malady of the Chinese philosophical community: looking around, the domestic philosophical world is almost exclusively "historical" research — the history of Chinese philosophy, the history of Western philosophy, the history of Marxist philosophy. Almost the entire Chinese philosophical community is doing the "history" of philosophy; few are truly doing "philosophy." Almost everyone is studying others' philosophy; few are doing original research. Almost everyone is oriented toward philosophy's past; few "live" in philosophy's present and contemporaneity, participating in philosophy's contemporary construction. He lamented that such a condition represents the collective aphasia of the Chinese philosophical community.
In this context, a profound metaphor can help us understand the essence of the problem: scholars can be divided into two ideal types — the "Xuanzang-type" and the "Huineng-type."
The "Xuanzang-type" scholar takes the Tang dynasty monk Xuanzang as its symbol. Xuanzang devoted his life to translating scriptures, systematically introducing the canonical texts of Indian Buddhism into China. His own original insights may have been few, but his contribution lay in introducing a complete, precise heterogeneous thought system to the Chinese intellectual world, providing "the state of another possibility." If Chinese thought had continued along the path of Yogācāra (Consciousness-Only), would it have achieved something akin to the Western epistemological revolution? This remains an eternal suspense. Xuanzang's work was foundational, introductory, and transmissive.
The "Huineng-type" scholar takes the Sixth Patriarch of Zen, Huineng, as its symbol. Huineng was illiterate, yet he founded thoroughly Chinese Buddhism — Zen (禅宗). His thought was not an interpretation of Indian Buddhist texts, but a creative enlightenment based on indigenous life experience. He truly "established" Buddhism in China. Huineng represents original, foundational intellectual breakthrough.
Both extremes are needed in the history of scholarship. Without Xuanzang, the essence of Indian Buddhism could not have been transmitted to China; without the translation, compilation, and interpretation work of generations of scholars, no tradition of thought could endure. However, the crux of the matter is this: a healthy academic community cannot have only "Xuanzangs" and no "Huinengs." The more serious problem is that when "Xuanzang-type" work becomes the only recognized mode of work, when translation, introduction, and interpretation are seen as the entirety of scholarship while original thinking is marginalized, this community suffers from "collective aphasia."
The tragedy of the New Confucians lies in their attempt to play the role of "Huineng" — they sought to "save the world" with the Confucian spirit, to "open up new outer kingliness" (开出新外王), yet the methods they employed were "Xuanzang-style": translation, analogy, interpretation, reconciliation. They did "historical" research at the cultural level while fantasizing about achieving "Huineng-style" breakthroughs at the philosophical level. The result was those self-contradictory tensions in the thought of Liang Shuming and Mou Zongsan: wanting to use the synchronic mode to acknowledge cultural pluralism while using the diachronic mode to prove Confucian superiority; wanting to accept Western science and democracy while relegating them to a secondary status through "self-negation of moral consciousness." They attempted to use "Xuanzang's" methods to achieve "Huineng's" goals, and ended up failing on both fronts.
The depth of this metaphor lies in its revelation of the essential difference between academic transmission and original thought. "Xuanzang" can be demanded — we can cultivate countless scholars who are learned in both Chinese and Western traditions, proficient in multiple languages, thoroughly versed in various classics, capable of precisely recounting and interpreting others' thought. But "Huineng" cannot be demanded — we can only wait, waiting for the soul that achieves independent enlightenment in the abyss of existence, waiting for the sudden awakeners who can say "How wondrous, original nature is itself pure" (何其自性，本自清净). A healthy academic community must both cherish the quiet cultivation of the Xuanzangs and preserve space and create soil for the possible emergence of Huinengs. The prerequisite for all this is: we no longer understand philosophy merely as "history," no longer understand scholarship merely as "interpretation," no longer understand culture merely as "characteristic."
V. The Historical Turn: From "Outside-In" to "Inside-Out"
To understand the true content of the "autonomous knowledge system" proposition, it must be placed within the historical context of China's modernization process. When doing something, one must know where this undertaking comes from and where it is headed.
The basic stance of China's first generation of leaders was "to plant the red flag across the globe" — to play the core role of the communist camp, to serve as leader and standard-bearer in the internationalist proletarian revolution, to liberate proletarian brothers worldwide, and to change the entire world's unjust system of oppression. At that time, our textbooks taught that we must liberate all the world's people from dire suffering; the proletariat of all nations were one family; we were the grave-diggers of capitalism. This was a stance of mutual annihilation with the American-Western bloc; both sides declared the goal of global unification, especially the complete elimination of the other.
But this situation was historically adjusted by the second generation of leaders in the late 1970s. We ceased "exporting revolution" and shifted to an economic-centered approach and the Five Principles of Peaceful Coexistence. Before this, we were oriented outward; after this, our attention turned inward. This established a watershed for China's social science research.
Before this shift, the focus of our social science research was constructing a new worldview, life-view, and values model based on the ideal paradigms of communism and socialism, striving for these new constructions to inspire oppressed class brothers around the world to actively engage in the struggle for this new destiny. It exhibited a pure and nearly naive youthful passion — it considered problems not from China's own social reality, but from the general circumstances of the global proletariat. Chinese comrades enjoyed lofty prestige in the international communist movement; at least the entirety of East Asia, Southeast Asia, and even parts of Africa were looking up to and following us, so we involuntarily had to "live as exemplars for the comrades."
Under this logic, when our social science research discussed how a business should be managed, the primary consideration was not "how this business can make money without harming public interest," but "how this business should bear social responsibility according to the ownership principles of communism." Great emphasis was placed on the aspect of "conforming to the ideal principles of communism," rather than on the aspects of the business or organization's own sustenance and growth.
After this shift, we no longer spoke of planting red flags across the globe, but turned to "the socialist path with Chinese characteristics" (有中国特色的社会主义道路). Thus the guiding research principle of "conforming to the social ideals of communism" as the sole standard shifted to a three-principle model: "proceeding from China's own social reality and historical circumstances, adapting to local conditions and timing" and "using economic development and improvement of people's living standards as the standard of effectiveness."
This determined that our social science research, in essence, was China research, national research — not a kind of universal research prepared to provide guidance and demonstration for all nations of humanity.
What does this mean? Internationally — or more precisely, in the American-Western bloc — the discussion is about "multicultural coexistence," while on our side, we discuss extremely specific issues like "ethnic policy in Xinjiang," or even more specific ones like "the folkloric origins and trends of Tumote Zuo Banner." Therefore, the research achievements of the American-Western bloc have intuitive reference value and guiding significance for all non-single-ethnic nations and immigrant nations — at least in theory — while our research is very difficult for other nations to reference, because it is unlikely that your country happens to have exactly the same ethnic composition, geographical distribution, and economic relations as ours.
This is the fundamental reason for the iron curtain between "Chinese sociological research" and "international sociological research" — we kept our promise, limited our own steps, did not compete for the American-Western dominance over international ideology, in exchange for the stability of the international order and the critical public welfare of "peaceful coexistence among major powers," to ensure that globalization — this unprecedented human enterprise — could operate smoothly and grow.
It is not that we cannot conduct scholarship with an international vision, but that our own national strategy has drawn scope and principled guidelines for our social science research.
But this also brought about a deeply paradoxical and darkly humorous situation — the American-Western bloc's brilliant "globally universal" research ultimately became the source of disaster for all nations that blindly followed and wholly copied it, and even had enormous impracticality and absurdity in guiding their own countries' social practice. Honestly, this cannot be blamed on Western academia, nor does it negate the value of these academic achievements. This is like Newtonian mechanics and the theory of relativity, which are indeed universal and of great guiding significance, but to apply them to specific engineering practice, one must still expend additional intellectual effort on geological exploration, model testing, durability verification, and other engineering application adaptations.
The problem is that it is precisely because these nations lack such talent and intellectual resources that they seek to borrow the ready-made answers of the American-Western bloc, and the more they worship the American-Western bloc, the more severe this becomes — not because they are backward, for why would they be so utterly devoted in worship? The result is that these nations take half-finished prototypes based on ideal assumptions and forcibly apply them to their wildly diverse specific circumstances, leading to widespread, universal failure and devastating, even bloody losses. It is precisely those nations that are backward enough to worship, and worship enough to copy, that are most impoverished and fragile enough to be unable to bear the consequences.
Instead, China's approach of "refusing to gaze at the stars, keeping eyes fixed on the road" — this "building a cart behind closed doors" (闭门造车) — because it invested sufficient intellectual resources and could remain flexible in facing actual data with rapid "constant revision," achieved remarkable results, excellently serving the needs of its own country's economic development and social governance.
This is very much like developing an ERP system. International developers always want to "make no special business assumptions," developing a universal prototype that "only needs light customization to match various business requirements and has unlimited scalability," expecting users to buy it, read the manual thoroughly, and tailor it to their needs. But who knew that customers would buy it and use it right out of the box, not even changing the settings, running it with factory defaults, or doing slapdash "custom development" based on their own whims, ultimately ending up in a chaotic mess.
Instead, a company that never even thought about "selling to the world," focused solely on serving its own specific business, implementing various practical conveniences like "one-click report generation" and "one-click inventory entry" with its "homegrown software" — this "local enterprise" saw its revenue skyrocket. If you let the major developer teams look at this company's homegrown contraption, they would critique everything from the basic framework to the design philosophy to the code details — nothing would meet their standards. Neither elegant nor robust; they'd want to rewrite the whole thing. But the problem is that the businesses using their ERP are simply ill-adapted, every department complaining endlessly, and the CEO who proposed importing the system was forced to resign, while this family-run ethnic specialty shop relying on its nephew's company for IT was a three-crown star on Taobao, with products sold to global markets.
VI. The Call of the New Era: The Historical Significance of the Autonomous Knowledge System
Once you understand this background, you will understand what the problem is at this stage — now this "local enterprise's" performance is so good, so astoundingly good, that the enterprise itself has begun thinking "maybe we should tidy up our ERP system and sell it." And this thought is not mere self-satisfaction, because this company has already begun global expansion, already has branches in North America, Europe, West Asia... It must upgrade itself, making its system compatible with the globalized features of multi-currency, multi-language, multi-time-zone, multi-layout-direction, multi-measurement-system...
This standardization and universalization has become an urgent need of the business itself; the old homegrown methods are no longer sufficient. And once these costs have been invested, once the product has reached this stage, not selling a universal version, not releasing an open-source version to earn additional revenue from ecosystem operations, would itself be unreasonable. Moreover, there are indeed many businesses that bought "big-brand ERP" and are suffering losses, seeking "other possibilities" — the market itself is calling for you.
This is the true substance of the current problem — China's social science research, after passing through the initial outside-in stage, has once again arrived at the inside-out watershed.
Therefore, we have the demand for "aligning academic standards with international practice," and the need to bring in external talent from the international market to help reconstruct — or more accurately, further build — the paradigm of Chinese social research.
The complexity of this matter lies in the fact that we ourselves cannot unilaterally make this determination, because we must prudently consider the realistic possibility of "Sino-American co-governance" or even a situation where "America remains dominant" for a considerable time. At the very least, our responsibility to human society requires that we do not prematurely abandon the hope of achieving "peaceful co-governance" before that possibility has been thoroughly extinguished, lest all of humanity pay a massive historical price for our glory.
Therefore, we are exceptionally prudent — or rather, conflicted and反复 — on such key questions as "whether to internationalize," "whether to globally promote the Chinese governance paradigm," and "whether to provide the world with a complete theoretical package of the universalized Chinese model."
This creates enormous distress for the internationally recruited "IPO advisory" teams. You invited us here to help you go public, so we are working day and night helping you organize financial standards, business standards, compile standard documents, and梳理 corporate culture, while on the other hand, you worry that doing so will cause global upheaval and suffering for the people — what about the welfare of the masses? The one anxious to standardize in a day is also you; the one prudent enough to repeatedly postpone the IPO application is also you. You made three visits to the thatched cottage to invite Master Zhuge out of seclusion, yet you cannot bring yourself to break with Cao Cao. Master Zhuge was driven to depression.
The right and wrong here, who was fair to whom, who failed whom — looking only at specific invoices and receipts is overly simplistic. Yet Master Zhuge is also human; failing to transcend the mundane is hardly grounds for deep reproach.
Writing this piece is not to "settle accounts" for anyone, but to let readers understand what direction this great era is taking, and what expectations you should prepare in your own mindset.
For instance, sitting in your position, encountering the eager recruitment at home, you must clearly recognize that this is indeed an opportunity — as an intellectual, participating in the creation of history is the supreme epochal opportunity — but you must also absolutely not underestimate the twists and complexity of this matter. The existence of twists and complexity does not mean the eagerness to recruit talent is false. It is not false; it is genuinely sincere. But being not false and genuinely sincere does not mean there will be no reversals and twists, does not mean that wishes will come true.
Returning home to serve the country may not require starting from the barren Gobi desert as in Qian Xuesen's era, but it is certainly not the ideal scenario of having money and people at your disposal upon return, with green lights all the way and no turns. You must still prepare for "self-reliance and indomitable perseverance" (自力更生，百折不回). This is not a fairy tale where "when the long wind breaks the waves, one can hoist the sails and cross the vast sea" (长风破浪会有时，直挂云帆济沧海), but a difficult journey that likely requires enduring grievances and weathering setbacks. Only with the resolve of "even without these beautiful promises, even if I must endure unimaginable setbacks, I will absolutely not miss this opportunity" do you have a relatively high probability of achieving the results you desire.
You must know: good things come through adversity (好事多磨).
VII. Beyond Cultural Philosophy: The Ontological Ground of the Autonomous Knowledge System
After clarifying this historical background, we can return to the core proposition of this article: What is a genuine "autonomous knowledge system"? How is it possible?
First, a fundamental misunderstanding must be cleared up: the autonomous knowledge system does not equate to the self-assertion of cultural philosophy. It is not about conducting a debate of superiority between "Chinese culture" and "Western culture," not about constructing a set of "Chinese-characteristic" conceptual categories to replace "Western discourse," and certainly not about using some "indigenous nature" (本土性) to resist "worldliness." All these understandings remain trapped in the cage of cultural philosophy, treating the knowledge system as a ready-made cultural form for which to contest discursive power. Even if this contest succeeds, it is merely another form of "using the West to norm China" (以西范中) — only replacing "West" with "China" and the object of "norming" from China to the world. The mode of thinking has not changed; philosophy itself remains forgotten.
The true autonomous knowledge system has its ground not in cultural comparison but in the question of existence. A knowledge system can become a "system" not because it has a self-consistent set of conceptual categories, not because it can justify itself, but because it hits upon some originary truth — the inquiry into existence, the understanding of the world, the insight into human destiny. Those truly great systems in the history of philosophy — Plato's theory of Ideas, Aristotle's metaphysics, Kant's critical philosophy, Hegel's phenomenology of spirit — their greatness lies not in their origin from Greece or Germany, but in the fact that they each, in their own way, articulated some truth about existence. They can traverse time and space, cross cultures, and be repeatedly read and pondered by people of different eras and nations precisely because they hit upon that universal question.
Therefore, the possibility of China's autonomous knowledge system lies not in whether we can construct a set of "Chinese-characteristic" theories different from the West, but in whether we can, proceeding from China's own historical experience, intellectual tradition, and actual circumstances, hit upon those universal questions of existence — about human existence, about the operation of society, about the evolution of history, about the understanding of nature, about the questioning of transcendence. If we can articulate new truths on these questions, if we can respond in a Chinese way to those basic questions that trouble humanity, then this knowledge system naturally possesses world significance. It is not about replacing Western discourse, but about adding new possibilities to humanity's treasury of thought.
This is precisely the lesson the New Confucians left us. They sought to make Chinese thought "go global," but the method they adopted was cultural comparison and value judgment — proving that Chinese culture is higher and superior to Western culture. This approach itself predetermined its failure, because it substituted philosophical questions with cultural questions and substituted the inquiry into truth with the defense of identity. The result was Liang Shuming's "wavering between two positions" and Mou Zongsan's "self-negation of moral consciousness" — they could not truly enter the question of existence, and could only glide along the surface of culture.
In contrast, those Chinese thoughts that truly possess world significance have never been so because they "have Chinese characteristics," but because they hit upon universal questions. Laozi's "Dao" (道) was repeatedly cited by Heidegger not because it is "Chinese," but because it touched upon the question of existence that Western philosophy itself had forgotten. Confucius's "benevolence" (仁) can move countless readers not because it is "Confucian," but because it articulates the most primordial connection between human beings. The value of these thoughts lies precisely in their transcendence of the label "China," becoming common intellectual resources of humanity.
Therefore, the construction of an autonomous knowledge system requires not the passion of cultural nationalism, but the theoretical courage to confront the question of existence directly. It demands that we temporarily suspend the distinction between "Chinese" and "Western," suspend the opposition between "indigenous" and "world," and return to thought itself, return to the question itself. In this sense, genuine "autonomy" is not self-closure but self-transcendence — transcending any ready-made cultural form, returning to the originary site where thought arises.
VIII. The Waiting for "Huineng" and the Preparation of "Xuanzang"
How, then, is this autonomous knowledge system possible? What kind of academic soil does it require?
Returning to the metaphor of "Xuanzang-type" and "Huineng-type" scholars, we can obtain important insights. Huineng cannot be demanded; we can only wait — waiting for the thinker who can articulate new truths to descend. But we cannot wait passively; we must create conditions for Huineng's appearance. And the work of creating conditions is precisely the mission of the Xuanzangs.
Xuanzang's work may appear to be merely "introduction" and "transmission," but it provided indispensable resources for an era's original breakthroughs. Without Xuanzang's systematic translation of Yogācāra, there would have been no subsequent brief flourishing of the Faxiang school; without the arduous work of generations of scripture translators, Buddhism could not have taken root in Chinese-language thought, and there would have been no Huineng's sudden emergence. The Xuanzangs performed a kind of "reservoir" work — they provided thought with heterogeneous resources, precise tools, and available others for dialogue. When Huineng appeared, he faced not a barren intellectual desert but an intellectual field full of various possibilities. He could choose to accept, choose to reject, choose to transform — but whatever he chose, he had to respond in some way to what already existed in this field.
This is precisely the situation of contemporary Chinese philosophy. After more than a century of introduction, translation, introduction, and interpretation, we possess a vast "army of Xuanzangs" — countless scholars researching Western philosophy, countless scholars researching Marxist philosophy, countless scholars researching the history of Chinese philosophy. We have accumulated rich intellectual resources, we are familiar with the theories of various schools, we have mastered various precise academic tools. But we始终 lack "Huineng" — the person who can transform these resources into original thought, the person who can articulate new truths belonging to this era.
The construction of an autonomous knowledge system requires both the emergence of Huineng and the preparation of Xuanzang. Without Huineng, the knowledge system is merely an accumulation of materials, unable to gain a soul; without Xuanzang, Huineng's thought cannot gain nourishment, cannot dialogue with existing traditions, and cannot be understood and transmitted by later generations. Both are indispensable.
The lesson of the New Confucians lies in their attempt to skip Xuanzang's work and directly play the role of Huineng. They wanted to "open up new outer kingliness" but were unwilling to truly confront the problems of Western philosophy itself; they wanted to prove Confucian superiority but were unwilling to enter genuine dialogue at the ontological level. The result was that their thought could neither truly respond to the problems of Western philosophy nor truly activate the vitality of the Confucian tradition. They became an awkward existence that was neither Xuanzang nor Huineng.
Therefore, the true mission of contemporary Chinese philosophy is not to hasten to prove "we have Huineng," but to steadfastly perform Xuanzang's work — while remaining open to the possible emergence of Huineng. This means that we must completely depart from the path of cultural philosophy, no longer expend energy on debates about Chinese versus Western superiority, but return to philosophical problems themselves, return to originary questioning at the ontological level. We must allow Western philosophy to no longer be "Western culture" but to become an intellectual resource with which we can dialogue; allow Chinese philosophy to no longer be a "cultural heritage" but to become a living wellspring from which we can draw inspiration. When this dialogue truly unfolds, Huineng may arise in response to the times.
IX. Conclusion: Know Thyself
Looking back at the course of Chinese philosophy since the modern era, we have witnessed one scene after another of the misguidance of cultural philosophy. The New Confucians' wavering between two positions, the radicals' superficial critique, the endless循环 of Chinese-Western comparison — all stem from the same root: the forgetting of philosophy itself. We have been eager to discuss the superiority or inferiority of cultures, the acceptance or rejection of traditions, the relationship between indigenous and global, yet we have forgotten to inquire into existence itself. We have been busy fighting for the legitimate status of "Chinese philosophy," yet we have forgotten that philosophy's sole legitimacy comes from its hitting upon existence.
This forgetting is not accidental. Modernity itself compresses philosophy into a species of culture, reducing thought to the expression of national spirit. Yet philosophy's fate has never been submission to the logic of modernity, but loyalty to existence itself. Socrates, through his relentless questioning of "what is it," and Chomsky, with the blade of reason dissecting the deep structures of language — their commonality lies in never accepting ready-made answers, never being bound by established frameworks. This is precisely the本色 of philosophy.
For Chinese philosophy today, what we need to cultivate is precisely this本色. We must dare to pose genuine questions at the ontological level, dare to let Chinese thought undergo the interrogation of existence in its collision with Western thought, rather than hiding behind the shield of "cultural characteristics" and talking only to ourselves. Only thus can Chinese philosophy transform from an established cultural label into a thought movement oriented toward the future.
"Xuanzang-type" scholars and "Huineng-type" scholars are both indispensable roles in the academic community. Without Xuanzang, we cannot gain the mirror of the other and the resources of thought; without Huineng, thought will solidify in transmission and lose its vitality. But we must clearly recognize: Xuanzang can be demanded, Huineng cannot be demanded. We can cultivate countless "Xuanzangs" learned in both Chinese and Western traditions, but we can only wait for the "Huineng" who achieves independent enlightenment in the abyss of existence to descend from heaven. A healthy academic community must both cherish the Xuanzangs' quiet cultivation and preserve space and create soil for the possible emergence of Huinengs. And the prerequisite for all this is: we no longer understand philosophy merely as "history," no longer understand scholarship merely as "interpretation," no longer understand culture merely as "characteristic."
The philosophical significance of life also lies precisely here. Life is granted to each person only once; a person's life should be lived such that when looking back on the past, one does not regret wasted years nor feel shame for idle mediocrity. The enterprise of philosophy is likewise so — if our entire lives consist only of picking up shells on the shallow shores of culture, wasting time in debates about superiority, and avoiding the adventure of thought in "historical" research, then when we look back, how can we face that one and only intellectual life? Only by投身 into the inquiry of existence itself, only by using all our vitality to hit upon that most fundamental question, can we say that we have not failed philosophy, and we have not failed ourselves.
Know thyself — this ancient maxim remains today the sole guide of philosophy. No matter what cultural tradition we come from, no matter what language we think in, as long as we continuously advance on the path of knowing ourselves, we are practicing the本色 of philosophy. And this is the sole path for Chinese philosophy toward the future.
Good things come through adversity (好事多磨), but what is磨 away is only gloss and vanity; what cannot be磨 away is the radiance of thought itself.
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