Why Do We Fear Freedom?

A Cultural Web Woven from Formalism, Relationships, and Language

Let us begin with a phenomenon that appears contradictory, yet is strikingly common:

Why do so many people long for order, obedience, and certainty—while instinctively feeling uneasy, or even resistant, toward freedom?

This is not a matter of personality, nor a sign of individual weakness. It is the result of a cultural web that has already been carefully woven—one embedded in our ways of thinking, power structures, social relations, and even language itself.

This web teaches people how to live safely, but quietly deprives them of the ability to think freely.

I. Formalism: When Looking Right Matters More Than Being Right

In Chinese culture, form often outweighs substance.

Whether you truly understand something, genuinely agree with it, or are even capable of doing it well is often secondary. What matters most is whether you adopt the correct posture—whether you say the right words, follow the right procedure, and perform convincingly.

As a result, appearing compliant becomes the highest standard.

Meetings are not held to solve problems, but to prove that a meeting took place.
Studying is not for understanding, but for completing a process.
Exams do not necessarily measure competence; they often function as tests of obedience.

These practices are not concerned with truth or falsehood, but with participation in performance.

Over time, people internalize a survival rule:

Being too serious makes you naïve.
Being too honest makes you incompatible.
Knowing how to perform is called maturity.

Formalism is not merely a byproduct of institutions; it is a deeply rooted cultural logic. It does not cultivate a pursuit of truth, but a mindset of “as long as it passes.”

In such an environment, research can be copied, reports fabricated, projects patched together—
as long as the form looks polished and the outcome aligns, reality itself becomes irrelevant.

Eventually, the boundary between truth and falsehood dissolves.
When you ask, “But is this actually correct?”
you are often met with a familiar reply:

“Is it really necessary to be that serious?”

II. Hyper-Rationality: Perfect Logic That Never Touches Reality

Another deeply misleading mode of thinking is also widespread:

It sounds logical—but remains detached from reality.

Consider the well-known saying:

“Only those who endure the greatest hardship rise above others.”

The logic is neat and complete, yet it deliberately ignores an obvious reality:

Many people endure hardship their entire lives
and never become “superior”—
they merely become more durable tools.

Such statements are effective not because they explain the world, but because they preserve existing order.

They convert structural problems into personal failures:

You didn’t succeed because you didn’t work hard enough.
You are oppressed because you lack humility.
You want change because you are impatient and unrealistic.

This is not genuine rationality, but a form of disciplinary logic.

It does not allow questioning of the rules—only endless self-blame.
When you finally ask a real question, such as:

“Why must one bow first in order to deserve standing upright?”

You become the problem.

Absurd realities are thus rationalized, institutional flaws individualized, and the possibility of freedom quietly sealed off.

III. A Relationship-Based Society: When Connections Override Rules

In Chinese society, principles and common sense often lose to one thing—relationships.

You may present sound reasoning, but a single phrase—“we’re insiders”—can render it irrelevant.
You may point out systemic flaws, but “this was arranged by so-and-so” is enough to end the discussion.

Here, logic is not authority—relationships are.

What should be upheld by rules, professionalism, and institutions gradually transforms into:

Who knows whom,
who owes whom,
who can make a phone call.

Understanding unwritten rules is praised as maturity; refusing to compromise is labeled childish.
Smoothness is wisdom; insistence is risk.

The underlying assumption is simple:

People cannot be trusted.
Institutions are unreliable.
Only relationships provide insurance.

The result is profound uncertainty.
You never know when rules will change because of a single individual’s intervention.

In such an environment, freedom no longer means rights.
It means who you know and what you can get away with.

IV. The Shackles of Language: If You Can’t Say It, You Can’t Think It

Thought cannot exist without language.
The language you think in defines the world you inhabit.

The problem is that the dominant written and official language system in Chinese culture was never designed to express individual judgment, personal rights, or clear accountability.

Instead, it excels at:

Ambiguity
Avoidance of agency
Dilution of responsibility

Phrases such as:

“appropriate,” “pay attention to impact,” “not suitable for disclosure,”
“under observation,” “societal needs”

sound mild and reasonable, yet carry no clear boundaries.

More importantly, this language rarely encourages the appearance of “I.”

Who decided?
Who believes this?
Who is responsible?

These questions are often erased through passive constructions and abstract entities.

Over time, people do not learn how to express their true thoughts clearly, but how to protect themselves through vagueness.

In such a linguistic environment:

The clearer you speak, the greater the risk.
The more you leave unsaid, the more “articulate” you appear.

When language loses precision, thought weakens with it.

If you cannot articulate something, you cannot fully think it.
If you cannot think it, you cannot question it.
And if you cannot question it, awakening never truly begins.

V. Why Do We Fear Freedom?

What does freedom actually demand?

It demands judgment.
Responsibility.
Direct confrontation with reality.

And these are precisely what a culture built on formalism, relationships, and ambiguity finds most uncomfortable—and most frightening.

We are trained to:

Obey instinctively
Speak vaguely
Suppress authentic feelings

Freedom is not merely a right—it is a burden.
Not just choice, but the courage to face truth.

This cultural web, woven from form, relationships, and language,
makes people crave safety—
and fear freedom.

Conclusion: Seeing the Web Is the First Step Out

None of this is unchangeable.

Real change begins with awareness—
with seeing how these deep structures shape our thinking, speech, and behavior.

When we begin to rebuild clear, honest, and accountable expression,
when we relearn how to say “I think,” “I disagree,” “this is unreasonable,”
freedom becomes possible for the first time.

The path is not easy, and there are no shortcuts.

But every journey toward maturity begins with a moment of clarity.

You have already seen the invisible web.

The question now is: are you ready to take the next step?

原文

我们为何恐惧自由？一张由形式、人情与语言织成的文化之网

我们先从一个看似矛盾、却极其普遍的现象说起：

为什么很多中国人一方面渴望秩序、顺从与确定性，另一方面却对“自由”本能地感到不安，甚至抗拒？

这并非性格问题，也不是个体懦弱，而是一张早已编织完成的文化之网。它深植于我们的思维方式、权力结构、社会关系与语言系统之中，让人从根本上学会了如何“安全地活着”，却忘记了如何自由地思考。

一、形式主义：比真实更重要的，是“像那么回事”

在中国文化中，形式往往压倒内容。

你是否真正理解、是否真心认同，甚至是否真正胜任，并不重要；重要的是——
你有没有用“正确的姿势”把话说出来，把事情做出来。

于是，“看起来合规”成为第一标准。

开会不是为了解决问题，而是为了证明“我们开过会”；
学习不是为了理解知识，而是为了完成流程；
考试不一定评估能力，更像是在筛选服从度。

这些行为的本质并不在于真假，而在于你是否配合表演。

久而久之，人们学会了一条生存法则：

太认真显得不懂事，太真实显得不合群；
会演，才是成熟。

形式主义并不是制度的副产品，而是深入文化底层的生存逻辑。它培养的不是对真理的追求，而是一种“只要过关就好”的思维方式。

在这样的环境里，学术可以抄，报告可以编，工程可以糊——
只要形式漂亮、结果对齐，真实如何并不重要。

最终，真假之间的界线被不断抹平。
当你追问“这到底对不对”，得到的往往是一句：

“有必要那么较真吗？”

二、超理性：听起来很对，却从不落地

中国文化中还有一种极具迷惑性的思维方式——

它极讲逻辑，却与现实脱节。

例如那句耳熟能详的话：

“吃得苦中苦，方为人上人。”

它逻辑完整，却刻意忽略了一个事实：

很多人吃了一辈子苦，也从未成为“人上人”，
只是成了更耐用的工具。

这类话语之所以有效，并不是因为它解释了世界，而是因为它维护了秩序。

它将结构性问题转化为个人问题：

你不成功，是因为你不够努力；
你被压迫，是因为你不够谦卑；
你想改变，是因为你太急功近利。

这种“超理性”并非真正的理性，而是一种驯化逻辑。

它不允许你质疑规则，只允许你不断内耗自己。
当你真的提出问题，比如：

“为什么一定要先低头，才配抬头？”

你反而成了问题本身。

于是，现实的荒谬被合理化，制度的问题被个人化，自由的可能性被提前封堵。

三、人情社会：当关系凌驾于规则之上

在中国社会中，常识与原则往往输给一种东西——人情。

你可以讲道理，但一句“自己人”，足以让道理失效；
你可以指出制度漏洞，但一句“这是某某的安排”，就能让一切终止。

在这里，逻辑不是真理，关系才是最高权威。

于是，一个本该由制度、专业和规则支撑的社会，逐渐演变成：

谁认识谁，谁欠谁，谁能打一个电话。

懂潜规则被称为成熟，不肯妥协被视为幼稚；
圆滑是智慧，较真是风险。

这种关系逻辑的前提是：

人不可信，制度不可靠，
只有关系能兜底。

结果是极大的不确定性——
你永远不知道规则会不会因为某个人的一句话而改变。

在这样的环境中，自由不再意味着权利，
而变成了**“你认识谁、能搞定什么事”**。

四、语言的枷锁：你说不出来，就想不到

思维离不开语言。
你用什么语言思考，就活在什么样的世界里。

问题在于，中文长期使用的那套书面语与官话体系，并不是为了表达个体判断、权利主张与清晰责任而设计的。

它更擅长：

含糊其辞，
回避主体，
稀释责任。

诸如：

“适当”“注意影响”“不宜公开”“有待观察”“社会有需要”

这些词语看似温和，却没有明确边界。

更重要的是，这种语言极少鼓励“我”的出现。

谁认为？
谁决定？
谁负责？

往往被被动语态和抽象主体彻底掩盖。

久而久之，人们学会的不是如何清楚表达真实想法，而是如何用模糊的话术自保。

在这样的语言环境中：

说得越清楚，风险越大；
留白越多，越被称为“会说话”。

当语言失去了精确性，思维也随之被削弱。

你说不出来，就想不到；
你想不到，就无法质疑；
你无法质疑，就永远无法真正醒来。

五、为何我们恐惧自由？

自由意味着什么？

意味着你要自己判断、自己承担、自己面对真实。

而这恰恰是一个高度形式化、关系化、模糊化的文化所最不擅长、也最恐惧的事情。

于是我们被训练成：

习惯服从，
习惯含糊，
习惯压抑真实感受。

自由不只是权利，更是责任；
不只是选择，更是直面真相的勇气。

这张由形式、人情与语言共同织成的文化之网，
让人渴望安全，却畏惧自由。

结语：看见这张网，是走出的第一步

这一切并非不可改变。

真正的改变，始于看见——
看见这些深层结构如何塑造了我们的思维、语言与行为。

当我们开始重建清晰、真实、有力量的表达，
开始重新学习如何说“我认为”“我不同意”“这不合理”，
自由才第一次成为现实的可能。

这条路不轻松，也没有捷径。

但任何走向成熟的开始，
都源于一次清醒的认知。

你已经看见了那张无形的网。