作者：徐陈鹏  

偶然间，我看到了一段初中政治老师曹志星的教师节采访视频。 他如今已是我们镇上中学的校长，坐在镜头前，语气和蔼地谈论自己的管理经验，对学生的用心，以及学校成绩的提高。 这与我记忆中的他极不相符。 他曾把一个个头很小的学生抱起来往墙上撞，让一个比他还高的学生蹲下去，往他的背上猛踩，还经常用黑板擦给学生“洗头”。 想起他当年的那些畜生行为，我忍不住在朋友圈发了几句牢骚。 我预料到爸妈会劝我删掉。毕竟都是一个镇上的人，抬头不见低头见。 可我没想到，第一个劝我删除朋友圈的，竟然是我三姨。 一、一个“好女人” 三姨是个可怜人。 她结婚第二天就开始遭受家暴，这样的生活持续了二十多年。 亲戚们骂过她丈夫，劝过他不要那么冲动，我外公也后悔把女儿嫁给这样一个人渣，却没有一个人劝她离婚。 我读高中时，三姨和丈夫已经分居，他却仍会跑到县城骚扰她，找她要钱、打她。 我劝三姨离婚。 她说两个孩子还在念书，等表妹考上大学再说。 后来，前三姨父嫖娼、出轨被发现，亲戚们才终于一致认为：这个男人实在太不是东西了，必须离婚。 我那时觉得非常荒唐。 一个“好女人”被丈夫打了，是不能还手的；天天挨打，也不能轻易离婚。丈夫第一次嫖娼，要劝他回头；第一次出轨，要强烈谴责。只有屡教不改，在亲朋好友一致同意的情况下，她才终于可以离婚。 仿佛二十多年的殴打，还不足以成为结束婚姻的理由。 而三姨这个“好女人”，又要教育自己的女儿成为“好女人”：不要早恋，远离男生，出去玩要报备，胖了要减肥。 最重要的是，好好学习。 “我这辈子辛辛苦苦，都是为了你们。” 她经常跟我讲述自己受过的苦，又反复强调自己从来没跟别人诉过苦。 可想而知，表姐和表妹听过多少次： “我从来没跟别人诉过苦。” 二、我们是怎样成为“好学生”的 初中时，老师打学生是常态，羞辱更是不在话下。 我的语文老师郝德义是二班班主任。他在我们三班从来不打人，教课认真，大家都喜欢他，我也觉得他是个好老师。 直到有一次课间，我看到他用三角板的一角往二班学生的手掌上猛斩下去。 他打人时脸上发狠，完全不像在我们班上那副和风细雨的模样。 我开始讨厌他。 而比厌恶更强烈的，是恐惧。 我曾试探着跟朋友说他打人多么凶狠，得到的回复却是： “他也是为了我们好。他从来不乱打人，我们有时候太皮了，他才打我们。” 甚至有时候，我直接叫他的名字，也会被制止： “不准叫他名字，要叫郝老师。” 我开始怀疑自己。 大家都认为他是好老师，我讨厌他，是不是说明我是一个坏学生？ 多年以后，我又见过一次郝德义。 与他重逢，我甚至有一种亲切感。 但是，他一笑，我依然感觉到恐惧。 其实，我也不是从一开始就反对老师打学生。 看到同学因为上课吵闹而挨打，我有时也觉得他是应该的。甚至我自己因为讲话被老师打了，也觉得没什么好委屈的。 毕竟，是我破坏了课堂纪律。 我的班主任聂祥斌，在我看来是初中老师中最有人味的一个，但他有时也会发神经。 有段时间，一个同学经常欺负我。他每次打我一下就跑，我总是追不上，只好向班主任求助。 周一的升旗仪式上，班主任把我们两个叫上台，让我当众扇他耳光。 站在那里，我手足无措。 以前他打我，我总想追上去还手；而这一次，我却希望他跑，飞快地跑。 他没有跑。 他安静地站在那里，等待着惩罚。 最后，我伸出手，在他的脸上摸了一下。 他哭了出来。 我感到非常愧疚，而随之而来的，是一股巨大的无聊感。 那时候的我还不懂，这种无聊感究竟是怎么回事。 原本在两个同学之间流动的关系，在老师绝对权力的干预下，被粗暴地画上了句号。 三、你有农民工辛苦吗？ 大一暑假，我自己办了一个辅导班，赚了点钱。 后来去东至县城玩，请一帮高中同学吃饭。席间聊起办辅导班的经历，我说自己又要教学，又要管事，很辛苦。 一个我一直认为很聪明的同学突然问我： “你有农民工辛苦吗？” 如果是别人说出这样的话，我大概不会奇怪。 可偏偏是他。 我一直觉得他很聪明，应该能够想到许多别人想不到的事情，所以我始终想不明白，他为什么会问出这样一个问题。 我当然没有说自己比农民工更辛苦。 我只是说自己很累。 难道因为有人比我更辛苦，我就不能说自己累了吗？ 后来，我看电影《狗十三》，看到一些弹幕： “还是打少了。” “矫情。” “都是闲的。” “我小时候比她苦多了。” 这种口气，我太熟悉了。 我小时候挨过打，也没怎么样；我吃过那么多苦，也没见我整天抱怨。 既然我能忍受，你凭什么不能？ 仿佛一个人过去忍受过多少痛苦，就获得了要求别人忍受同样痛苦的资格。 而那些不愿意忍受的人，不是太矫情，就是太闲了。 四、另一种服从 我有一个朋友，从小生长在重男轻女的家庭里。 父母对弟弟的偏爱和对她的忽视，让她总觉得自己不够好。她努力表现，希望获得父母的爱；父母偶尔给她一点体贴，她便又觉得他们终究还是爱自己的。 有一次，她又被父母辱骂、贬低，独自坐上了去拉萨的火车。 她在火车上给我打电话，讲起自己的成长经历。 她理智上知道父母对她很残忍，却始终放不下对亲情的渴求。 我告诉她，不是所有父母都会真正爱自己的子女，也没有必要非得获得父母的认可。 你还有朋友，有男朋友，世界那么大，为什么一定要把自己困在那个得不到爱的家庭里？ 她在电话那头大哭了一场。 我静静地听着，预感到这可能是她人生的一个重要节点： 她会默然忍受命运暴虐的毒箭，还是挺身反抗人世无涯的苦难？ 后来，她开始接触心灵疗愈，花钱报班，修行、感悟，还经常向我分享自己吸收了宇宙高维度能量的心得。 她甚至开始给别人做心灵顾问。 有一次，我让她给我做疗愈。 我向她抱怨，领导不看具体工作成果，只看员工工作的姿态。你好像稍微闲一点，就是在偷她的钱，而且她说话极不尊重人。 朋友劝我站在领导的立场考虑问题，理解领导的压力，反省自己是不是工作没做好，是不是太冲动了。 我又问她： “我有一个手下，安排给他的活总是做不好，我应该怎么办？” 她说有事，下次再聊。 后来，她再也没有续上这个话题。 从她平时写的文章、制作的视频和做疗愈的方式来看，在她的体系里，似乎只有面对上位者时，你的心态才是一个需要解决的问题。 她很喜欢一些宏大的词语： 疗愈、成长、宇宙能量、高维度…… 当有人诉说来自父母、老师、领导的压力时，她总会和风细雨地告诉对方： 你要改变自己。 你要提高自己。 而当我告诉她，我的下属给我带来了怎样的烦恼时，却几乎毫无悬念地得不到答案。 扎在她身上的毒箭，被她稀释成莲花清瘟注射液，推销了出去。 五、那个被打进医院的“刺头” 忘记是哪一年，石门街政府和外地开发商合作拆迁新街。 大部分居民都同意了，只有街口一家始终不肯签字。 后来，开发商找人把那家的男人打进了医院。 我爸说： “那个人就是个刺头。别人都同意了，就他不同意，耽误大家的事，无非是想多要点钱。” 最后又补了一句： “被打活该。” 我不知道那个男人为什么拒绝拆迁，也不知道他提出过什么要求。 但在我爸的叙述里，这些似乎都不重要。 因为大多数人都同意了。 于是，唯一不同意的人，就成了那个“不懂事”的人。 而因为你不懂事，所以你活该被打。 六、“好学生”长大了，就成了“良民” 疫情解封以后，我和一个老同学聊起过去三年的防疫。 我跟她说起封控期间发生的种种问题。 她说： “国家也没有办法，疫情多难控制。我们好不容易挺过这三年，你看，一解封，多少人阳了？” 我问： “清零这么好，为什么不继续呢？” 她说： “国家也不容易，保护了我们三年，总要发展吧。” 我又说起那些走上街头反对严格防疫政策的白纸抗议者。 她说： “国家防疫多不容易，这些人捣什么乱啊。” 我一时不知道该怎么继续说。 我绝不能说她是个坏人。 她平时待人很有礼貌，性格甚至有些软弱。 可无论政策继续还是停止，无论前后发生什么，她似乎总能替一个比她强大得多的东西找到理由。 防疫后期，我经常在QQ空间发一些所谓“负能量”的东西。 之所以发在那里，是因为我希望以前的学生们能够看到一些和官方宣传不同的东西。 后来，一个高中隔壁班的同学在qq上找我，问我既然对中国这么不满意，为什么不去国外。 我跟他说了一些自己不满的原因，他几乎听不进去。 他既愤怒于我的“不忠”，又可怜我这只迷途的羔羊，告诉我现在中国发展得多好，社会主义必将战胜资本主义，将来中国一定会超过美国，成为世界第一强国。 最后他说： “只有弱者才会抱怨环境，强者从不抱怨，只会努力奋斗，让自己过得更好。” 前段时间，我一个表姐在朋友圈发视频，教儿子模拟杀“日本鬼子”。 我打电话劝她，不要让一个孩子从小去憎恨自己从未见过的人。 后来谈到中国的宣传教育，她突然说： “弟弟，你不能不爱国啊。” 我说： “我不是不爱国，我只是不爱共产党，也不爱习近平。” 她马上紧张起来： “你别再说了，再说我挂了。” 我问：“你怕什么？你是怕我，还是怕习近平？” 后来我们没有再争下去。 我同样不能说她是坏人。她一直很关心我。 也正因为如此，我才感到害怕。 我害怕的并不是几个面目狰狞的恶人。 我害怕的是，一个普通人如何在日复一日的教育、宣传和生活经验里，慢慢学会什么叫“懂事”，什么叫“顾全大局”，什么叫“感恩”，什么叫“爱国”。 然后，再把这些标准用在别人身上。 小时候，我们被教育要做“好学生”。 老师打你，是为了你好。 你受了委屈，要先想想自己哪里做错了。 长大以后，我们又学会了做“良民”。 国家有国家的难处。 政府有政府的安排。 别添乱。 别抱怨。 最可怕的不是我们自己学会了低头。 而是有一天，当别人不肯低头时，我们会主动走过去，替掌权者按住他的头。 然后告诉他：谁让你不听话。 七、你为什么要活在仇恨里？ 妈妈看到我的朋友圈后，果然劝我删掉。 她苦口婆心地问我： “你为什么要活在仇恨里？为什么不懂得宽恕？” 我觉得莫名其妙。 我仇恨他什么呢？ 他又没有打过我。 为什么我骂他几句畜生，就成了活在仇恨里？ 曹志星当我们的老师还不足一年，我却记了他将近二十年。 因为恐惧。 他的暴力虽然没有施加在我身上，却随时可能施加在我身上。 我不知道他什么时候会突然发作，也不知道下一个被抱起来往墙上撞的人会不会是我。 二十年前，我亲眼看见那些暴力。 二十年后，我看到的却是他坐在教师节采访的镜头前，和蔼地谈论自己如何关心学生。 那些被他打过的学生有没有得到过道歉？ 这些年里，他有没有真正反省过自己？ 我不知道。 可我不过是在朋友圈说出自己亲眼见过的事情，就已经有人来劝我放下仇恨、学会宽恕。 我不删。 因为我不服。 要不要宽恕，是受害者自己的事情。 我没有被他打过，也没有资格替那些被他殴打过的学生宽恕他。 只有加害者的帮凶，才会首先劝受害者放下仇恨，而不是劝施暴者放下棍棒。 我不宽恕，因为我不配。 那些被他殴打过的学生没有得到道歉，还轮不到我替他们原谅。 更何况，我从来不相信，一个没有忏悔过的人，仅仅因为时间过去了，就自然变成了一个好人。 我也不相信，一个没有真正面对自己过去错误的政府，仅仅因为那些错误已经成为历史，就不会在将来犯下同样的、甚至更大的错误。 时间不会自动带来悔改。 遗忘更不会。 八、毛病不改，积恶成习 这种“听话”的教育，并不是从我们这一代才开始的。 我的爷爷奶奶那一代人经历了三年饥荒、一场又一场政治运动和文革。这样的经历，留给下一代的往往不是反抗的经验，而是更实际的生存智慧：少惹事，少说话，离权力远一点。 他们被折磨成了共产党的“良民”。 这些生存经验，又变成了对子女的教育。 而到了我的父母这一代，他们在成长过程中又经历了“严打”、反自由化、1989年的政治风波和严格的计划生育年代。 他们见识过暴力执法的冤狱，做小生意的以“投机倒把”罪抓进牢里，超生被牵牛扒房，以及89年前后权力主导的社会氛围的迅速变化。 这些事情一次又一次告诉他们：不要和权力较劲。 于是，上一代传下来的“听话”，不再只是一句家训，而成了一种被现实反复验证过的生存经验。 所以，我从小也被教育要听话、要顺从、要尊重老师、尊重长辈、不要惹事，不要跟国家对着干。 而到了我们这一代，我又看见很多人正在用类似的话教育自己的孩子。 一代人被这样教育长大，然后再把同样的标准交给下一代。 父母要求孩子服从，老师要求学生服从。 我们在成长过程中，也慢慢学会了彼此监督，看谁还不够听话。 我们不仅继承了上一代人的恐惧，也继承了他们解释恐惧的方式。 于是，很多本来应该被追问的事情，就这样一代一代变成了： “算了。” 很多本来应该被纠正的伤害，也一代一代变成了： “都过去了。” 没有被反省的东西，就这样被一代一代传了下来。 毛病不改，积恶成习。 正因如此，我才越来越反感那句： “为什么不能宽恕？” 为什么一个人说自己累了，要先证明世界上没有比他更累的人？ 为什么一个人受了伤，要先反省自己是不是太矫情？ 为什么一个人不愿服从，就有人觉得他被打也是活该？ 为什么到了最后，总是受伤的人被要求成熟一点、宽容一点、懂事一点？ 我已经做过太多年的“好学生”，不想再做“良民”了。 如果连正常表达自己的感受，都要先自省自查，反省自己是不是不够宽容、不够成熟，那么我宽恕的恐怕不是那个曾经施暴的老师。 我只是又一次宽恕了自己的懦弱。

                                                                                 编辑：李晶   校对：孔祥庆 翻译：沈美花

“Good Student” Training Manual

Author: Xu Chenpeng

Abstract: The Chinese Communist Party implements indoctrination and submissive education starting in student days; the “Chinese-style campus” is essentially a prison for minors.

By chance, I stumbled upon an interview video of Cao Zhixing, my junior high political science teacher, recorded for Teachers’ Day.

He is now the principal of our town’s middle school. Sitting before the camera, he spoke in a gentle, kindly tone about his management experience, his dedication to the students, and the improvement in the school’s academic scores.

This was completely inconsistent with the man in my memory.

He had once picked up a small-statured student and slammed him against the wall, ordered a student taller than himself to squat down so he could stomp heavily on his back, and frequently used blackboard erasers to “wash” students’ heads.

Recalling those brutal, animalistic acts of his back then, I couldn’t help but vent a few complaints on my WeChat Moments.

I expected my parents to urge me to delete it. After all, everyone lives in the same small town, and you constantly bump into each other.

What I didn’t expect was that the first person to urge me to delete the post was my Third Aunt.

I. A “Good Woman”

Third Aunt is a tragic person.

Her domestic abuse began on the second day of her marriage, and that way of life persisted for over twenty years.

Relatives cursed her husband and advised him not to be so short-tempered; my grandfather regretted marrying his daughter off to such scumbag, yet not a single person advised her to get a divorce.

When I was in high school, Third Aunt and her husband were already living apart, but he would still run to the county town to harass her, demand money from her, and beat her.

I advised Third Aunt to get a divorce.

She said her two children were still in school, so she would wait until my cousin got into college.

Later, after her ex-husband was caught soliciting prostitutes and having an affair, the relatives finally came to a unanimous conclusion: this man was truly too much of a bastard, she must divorce him.

At that time, I felt it was completely absurd.

A “good woman” gets beaten by her husband and cannot hit back; even if she gets beaten every day, she cannot easily get a divorce. The first time her husband solicits a prostitute, she must persuade him to reform; the first time he has an affair, she must strongly condemn it. Only when he proves repeatedly incorrigible—and after all relatives and friends unanimously agree—is she finally allowed to get a divorce.

It was as if twenty years of physical beatings were not enough to constitute a valid reason to end a marriage.

And Third Aunt, this “good woman,” went on to educate her own daughters to become “good women”: don’t engage in puppy love, stay away from boys, report your itinerary when going out, and lose weight if you get fat.

Most importantly: study hard.

“I have suffered and worked hard my entire life, all for you.”

She frequently recounted to me the suffering she had endured, while repeatedly emphasizing that she had never complained to anyone else about her hardships.

One can only imagine how many times my older and younger female cousins had heard:

“I have never complained about my hardships to anyone.”

II. How We Became “Good Students”

In junior high school, teachers hitting students was the norm, and public humiliation was taken for granted.

My Chinese teacher, Hao Deyi, was the class teacher of Class 2. In our Class 3, he never hit anyone, taught conscientiously, and everyone liked him. I also thought he was a good teacher.

Until one day during a recess, I saw him use the sharp corner of a set square to chop down violently onto a Class 2 student’s palm.

His face turned fierce as he hit the student, looking completely different from the gentle and mild-mannered demeanor he displayed in our class.

I began to hate him.

And even stronger than hatred was fear.

I once tentatively mentioned to a friend how viciously he hit people, but the response I received was:

“He is doing it for our own good. He never hits people without reason; he only hits us when we get too naughty.”

Sometimes, when I called him directly by his name, I would even be stopped:

“You’re not allowed to call him by his name, you must call him Teacher Hao.”

I began to doubt myself.

Everyone thought he was a good teacher; if I hated him, did that mean I was a bad student?

Many years later, I met Hao Deyi once more.

Reuniting with him, I even felt a sense of familiarity.

However, when he smiled, I still felt fear.

In truth, I didn’t oppose teachers hitting students right from the beginning either.

Seeing classmates get beaten for being noisy in class, I sometimes felt they deserved it. Even when I was beaten by a teacher for talking, I felt there was nothing to feel aggrieved about.

After all, I was the one who broke the classroom discipline.

My class teacher, Nie Xiangbin, was in my view the most human among all the junior high teachers, but he too would go crazy at times.

For a period of time, a classmate constantly bullied me. Every time he hit me, he would run away, and I could never catch up to him, so I had to seek help from the class teacher.

During Monday’s flag-raising ceremony, the class teacher called the two of us up to the stage and ordered me to slap him in the face in front of everyone.

Standing there, I was at a complete loss.

Previously when he hit me, I always wanted to chase after him and strike back; but this time, I wished he would run—run away as fast as he could.

He didn’t run.

He stood there quietly, waiting for the punishment.

In the end, I reached out my hand and lightly touched his face.

He burst into tears.

I felt immense guilt, followed by a profound sense of emptiness and boredom.

Back then, I didn’t understand what this sense of emptiness was about.

The dynamic between two classmates, which should have developed naturally, was brutally cut short under the intervention of the teacher’s absolute authority.

III. Are You Working Harder Than Migrant Workers?

During the summer of my freshman year in college, I ran a tutoring class by myself and made some money.

Later, I went to Dongzhi county town to hang out and invited a group of high school classmates to dinner. At the table, when we talked about the experience of running the tutoring class, I mentioned that I had to both teach and manage operations, which was very exhausting.

A classmate whom I had always considered very smart suddenly asked me:

“Are you working harder than migrant workers?”

If someone else had said this, I probably wouldn’t have found it strange.

But it was him, of all people.

I had always thought he was smart and should be able to consider things that others couldn’t, so I could never understand why he would ask such a question.

Of course, I didn’t claim that I worked harder than migrant workers.

I merely said that I was tired.

Just because someone else works harder than me, does that mean I don’t even have the right to say I’m tired?

Later, when I watched the movie Einstein and Einstein (Dog 13), I saw some bullet comments scrolling across the screen:

“She still got beaten too little.”

“So melodramatic.”

“It’s just because she has too much free time.”

“I suffered way more than her when I was young.”

This tone was all too familiar to me.

I got beaten when I was little and turned out fine; I ate so much bitterness, yet you don’t see me complaining all day.

Since I could endure it, what right do you have to be unable to?

It was as if by having endured a certain amount of pain in the past, a person gained the qualification to demand that others endure the exact same pain.

And those who were unwilling to endure were either too dramatic or simply had too much time on their hands.

IV. Another Form of Obedience

I have a friend who grew up in a family that favored boys over girls.

Her parents’ partiality toward her younger brother and their neglect of her made her always feel that she wasn’t good enough. She strived to perform well, hoping to earn her parents’ love; whenever her parents showed her a bit of care, she would feel again that they ultimately did love her after all.

Once, after being verbally abused and demeaned by her parents yet again, she boarded a train to Lhasa alone.

On the train, she called me and talked about her experience growing up.

Rationally, she knew her parents were very cruel to her, but she could never let go of her craving for parental affection.

I told her that not all parents truly love their children, and there is no need to gain parental validation at all costs.

You still have friends, you have a boyfriend, and the world is so vast—why must you trap yourself in a family where you cannot get love?

She cried bitterly on the other end of the line.

I listened quietly, sensing that this might be an important turning point in her life:

Would she silently endure the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or would she stand up and fight back against the endless suffering of the human world?

Later, she started getting into spiritual healing, spending money to enroll in courses, practicing, gaining enlightenment, and often sharing with me her reflections on absorbing high-dimensional energy from the universe.

She even began working as a spiritual consultant for others.

Once, I asked her to give me a healing session.

I complained to her that my boss didn’t look at actual work results, but only cared about the posture and appearance of employees working. If you seemed even slightly idle, it was as if you were stealing her money, and her manner of speaking was extremely disrespectful.

My friend advised me to consider the problem from the boss’s perspective, to understand the boss’s pressure, and to reflect on whether I hadn’t done my job well or had been too impulsive.

I then asked her:

“I have a subordinate who always fails to do the work assigned to him. What should I do?”

She said she had something to attend to and would chat next time.

Later, she never brought up this topic again.

Judging from the articles she usually wrote, the videos she made, and her way of conducting healing sessions, in her system, it seemed that mindset was a problem needing resolution only when facing superiors.

She was very fond of grand vocabulary:

Healing, growth, cosmic energy, high dimensions…

When someone voiced pressure coming from parents, teachers, or bosses, she would always gently and softly tell them:

You need to change yourself.

You need to improve yourself.

Yet when I told her about the troubles my subordinate brought me, I almost inevitably received no answer.

The poison arrow shot into her body was diluted by her into a Lianhua Qingwen injection and marketed out to others.

V. The “Troublemaker” Beaten into the Hospital

I forget which year it was, but the Shimen Street government partnered with an outside developer to demolish and relocate the old street.

Most residents agreed, but the household at the entrance of the street refused to sign the agreement all along.

Later, the developer hired people who beat the man of that household so badly he was sent to the hospital.

My dad said:

“That guy is just a troublemaker. Everyone else agreed, and he’s the only one who didn’t, delaying things for everyone. He just wants to demand more money.”

Finally, he added a line:

“He deserved to get beaten.”

I don’t know why that man refused the demolition, nor do I know what demands he had raised.

But in my dad’s narrative, these details didn’t seem to matter.

Because the majority of people had agreed.

Thus, the only person who disagreed became the “unreasonable” one.

And because you are unreasonable, you deserve to be beaten.

VI. When “Good Students” Grow Up, They Become “Submissive Subjects”

After the pandemic lockdowns were lifted, I talked with an old classmate about the epidemic prevention over the past three years.

I spoke to her about the various problems that occurred during the lockdown period.

She said:

“The country had no choice either; the epidemic is so difficult to control. We finally made it through these three years, and look, as soon as restrictions were lifted, how many people tested positive?”

I asked:

“If zero-COVID was so good, why not continue it?”

She said:

“It wasn’t easy for the country either. It protected us for three years, but ultimately it needs to develop the economy.”

I then mentioned the White Paper protesters who took to the streets to protest against the strict epidemic prevention policies.

She said:

“Epidemic prevention was so hard on the country; why are these people causing trouble?”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to continue speaking.

I certainly could not say she was a bad person.

She was usually very polite to others, and her personality was even a bit meek.

Yet regardless of whether the policy continued or stopped, and regardless of what happened before or after, she always seemed able to find justification for an entity far more powerful than herself.

During the late stage of the epidemic control, I often posted some so-called “negative energy” content on my QQ Zone.

The reason I posted them there was that I hoped my former students might see something different from the official propaganda.

Later, a classmate from the neighboring class in high school reached out to me on QQ, asking me that since I was so dissatisfied with China, why didn’t I move abroad.

I explained to him some of the reasons for my dissatisfaction, but he could hardly listen.

He was both angry at my “disloyalty” and felt pity for me as a lost lamb, telling me how well China was developing now, how socialism would inevitably triumph over capitalism, and how China would definitely surpass the United States in the future to become the world’s leading superpower.

Finally he said:

“Only the weak complain about the environment; the strong never complain, they only work hard to strive for a better life for themselves.”

A while ago, one of my female cousins posted a video on her WeChat Moments, teaching her son how to simulate killing “Japanese devils.”

I called to advise her not to let a child learn to hate people he had never seen from a young age.

Later, when discussing Chinese propaganda and education, she suddenly said:

“Younger brother, you cannot not love our country.”

I said:

“It’s not that I don’t love the country; I just don’t love the Communist Party, and I don’t love Xi Jinping.”

She immediately grew tense:

“Don’t say any more; if you say more, I’m hanging up.”

I asked: “What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of me, or are you afraid of Xi Jinping?”

We didn’t argue further after that.

Similarly, I cannot say she is a bad person. She has always cared about me.

And it is precisely because of this that I feel afraid.

What I fear is not a few hideous, evil individuals.

What I fear is how an ordinary person, through day after day of education, propaganda, and life experience, slowly learns what it means to be “sensible,” what it means to “look at the big picture,” what it means to be “grateful,” and what it means to be “patriotic.”

And then, apply these standards to others.

When we were young, we were educated to be “good students.”

The teacher hits you for your own good.

If you suffer an injustice, you must first reflect on what you did wrong.

When we grew up, we learned to be “submissive subjects” (liangmin).

The country has the country’s difficulties.

The government has the government’s arrangements.

Don’t cause trouble.

Don’t complain.

The most terrifying thing is not that we ourselves have learned to bow our heads.

It is that one day, when someone else refuses to bow his head, we will actively walk over and press down his head on behalf of those in power.

And then tell him: Who told you to be disobedient?

VII. Why Do You Want to Live in Hatred?

After my mother saw my WeChat Moments post, she expectedly urged me to delete it.

She asked me earnestly:

“Why do you want to live in hatred? Why don’t you know how to forgive?”

I felt it was utterly baffling.

What do I hate him for?

He didn’t hit me.

Why did calling him a brute a few times turn into “living in hatred”?

Cao Zhixing was our teacher for less than a year, yet I remembered him for nearly twenty years.

Because of fear.

Although his violence was not inflicted on me, it could have been inflicted on me at any moment.

I didn’t know when he would suddenly explode, nor did I know whether the next person picked up and slammed against the wall would be me.

Twenty years ago, I witnessed those acts of violence with my own eyes.

Twenty years later, what I saw was him sitting before the camera for a Teachers’ Day interview, talking benignly about how he cared for students.

Did the students who were beaten by him ever receive an apology?

Over all these years, has he ever truly reflected on himself?

I don’t know.

Yet I merely spoke out on WeChat Moments about what I had seen with my own eyes, and already people came to persuade me to let go of hatred and learn to forgive.

I will not delete it.

Because I refuse to accept this.

Whether or not to forgive is the victim’s own business.

I was not beaten by him, so I have no standing to forgive him on behalf of those students who were beaten.

Only accomplices of the perpetrators would first persuade the victims to drop their hatred, rather than persuading the abusers to put down their batons.

I do not forgive, because I am not worthy to do so.

Those students who were beaten never received an apology; it is not my turn to grant forgiveness on their behalf.

Furthermore, I never believe that a person who has never repented will naturally become a good person simply because time has passed.

Nor do I believe that a government that has never genuinely faced its past mistakes will not commit the same—or even greater—mistakes in the future simply because those mistakes have become history.

Time does not automatically bring repentance.

And oblivion certainly does not.

VIII. If Bad Habits Are Not Corrected, Accumulated Evils Become Routine

This education of “obedience” did not start with our generation.

My grandparents’ generation lived through the Three Years of Famine, one political movement after another, and the Cultural Revolution. What such experiences left to the next generation was often not the lessons of resistance, but rather more pragmatic survival wisdom: cause less trouble, speak less, and stay away from power.

They were broken and molded into the Communist Party’s “submissive subjects.”

These survival experiences were then turned into education for their children.

As for my parents’ generation, during their upbringing they experienced the “Strike Hard” campaigns, the movement against bourgeois liberalization, the political turmoil of 1989, and the era of strict family planning.

They witnessed unjust imprisonments under violent law enforcement, small business owners jailed under the crime of “speculation and profiteering,” people having their cattle confiscated and homes demolished for exceeding birth quotas, and the rapid shift in the social atmosphere dominated by power around 1989.

These events proved to them time and time again: do not contend with power.

Thus, the “obedience” passed down from the previous generation was no longer just a family motto, but a survival strategy repeatedly validated by reality.

So, growing up, I too was taught to be obedient, to be submissive, to respect teachers, to respect elders, not to cause trouble, and not to oppose the state.

And when it came to our generation, I once again saw many people using similar words to educate their own children.

One generation is educated to grow up this way, and then hands down the exact same standards to the next generation.

Parents demand obedience from children; teachers demand obedience from students.

In the process of growing up, we also slowly learned to monitor one another, seeing who was still not obedient enough.

We not only inherited the fear of the previous generation, but also inherited their way of explaining that fear.

Thus, many things that originally should have been questioned were passed down generation after generation into:

“Forget it.”

Many harms that originally should have been corrected were also passed down generation after generation into:

“It’s all in the past.”

Things that were never reflected upon were thus passed down from one generation to the next.

If bad habits are not corrected, accumulated evils become routine.

It is precisely because of this that I feel an increasing aversion to that sentence:

“Why can’t you forgive?”

Why must a person who says he is tired first prove that there is no one more tired than him in the world?

Why must a person who is hurt first reflect on whether he is being too melodramatic?

Why is it that when a person refuses to submit, some people feel he deserves to be beaten?

Why, in the end, is it always the injured party who is required to be a little more mature, a little more tolerant, and a little more sensible?

I have played the “good student” for too many years; I no longer want to be a “submissive subject.”

If even expressing my normal feelings requires self-examination and self-scrutiny first—reflecting on whether I am not tolerant enough or not mature enough—then what I am forgiving is probably not that teacher who once committed violence.

I am merely forgiving my own cowardice once again.

Editor: Li Jing

Proofreader: Kong Xiangqing

Translator: Shen Meihua