Persistence, Alienation, and Excess Lead to Deficiency
Persistence
Persistence is a Buddhist term referring to excessive attachment to something, making it impossible to transcend.
I've seen many persistent people. Take movie-watching as an example: I joined a WeChat group for movie fans of a certain theater chain. There are multiple such fan groups, but since there are only so many film enthusiasts in Shanghai or even nationwide, you see the same faces in all these groups.
These film enthusiasts are people who passionately pursue the perfect theater viewing experience. Their daily discussions revolve around which master directors' films will be re-screened in theaters, whether the film quality is 2K or 4K restoration, and so on. Some technical details they discuss remain beyond my understanding, such as what "masking" means in film projection.
The details that matter when watching films in theaters are truly numerous. For instance, IMAX, Dolby Cinema, CINITY and other formats can make one's head spin. Film enthusiasts not only know these image qualities inside out but can also recite the exact dimensions of IMAX screens in various Shanghai theaters. They insist on seeing IMAX on the largest screen available.
Tickets for popular films at festivals or special screenings sell out quickly. But for many enthusiasts pursuing the ultimate viewing experience, simply getting a ticket isn't enough—they must secure seats in the optimal viewing position. Just like researching IMAX screen sizes, some fans study which seat is best in a particular theater. Most extreme are those who question the theater's designated center axis and draw their own "true" center axis based on personal experience.
Such pursuit becomes excessive persistence. The consequence of persistence is the inability to transcend.
During the annual Shanghai International Film Festival, news of film enthusiasts "enforcing rules" in theaters always emerges. This "enforcement" refers to fans spontaneously maintaining order in theaters, primarily stopping others from talking or using phones (as the light affects others' viewing experience).
This year, I witnessed a dispute over viewing etiquette after a film ended that resulted in the involved parties being taken to the police station to resolve their conflict.
From a film enthusiast's perspective, such disputes are understandable. If they cannot tolerate a slightly off-center seat, they certainly cannot tolerate others disrupting their viewing experience with bright screens or conversation. Moreover, enthusiasts' persistence has fueled a scalper market. For some popular films, like Hou Hsiao-hsien's "A City of Sadness" 4K restoration that premiered in Shanghai two years ago, tickets originally priced around 100 yuan were resold by scalpers for nearly 2,000 yuan. Scalpers can charge such high prices precisely because of enthusiasts' persistence—people who insist on seeing this film in theaters, specifically in 4K restoration.
Although film enthusiasts despise scalpers' price gouging, their behavior is no different. During the Shanghai Film Festival, enthusiasts often ask non-film-watching friends to help secure tickets. Besides the tickets they'll use themselves, this ticket-grabbing behavior differs little from scalping—scalpers are persistent about making money, while enthusiasts are persistent about watching films. Additionally, regarding "enforcement" in theaters, I've been fortunate to rarely sit next to chatty viewers, but I often hear enthusiasts loudly shushing others during screenings, their volume actually disrupting my viewing experience or that of the entire audience.
I'm not saying I have no persistence about watching movies. My persistence lies in wanting to experience films without missing a single minute. The concept of a "bathroom break moment" doesn't exist for me. Regardless of whether a film is good or bad, I refuse to use the restroom during it—who knows what I might miss? Similarly, I don't like being late or leaving early. I often hear about people walking out of bad films, but I've never done that.
Now I realize these persistent behaviors are unnecessary, especially insisting on staying through a bad film, which probably stems from not wanting to waste money on the ticket. Forcing yourself to finish something you know tastes bad to avoid wasting money results in wasting both money and appetite. This is all the harm of persistence.
Alienation
The consequence of persistence is alienation, a concept proposed by Marx, meaning that secondary things in human life become primary, while humans become secondary.
No matter how good a film is, it's still just a film—subordinate to life—yet some film enthusiasts become alienated in pursuit of the ultimate viewing experience. Few people can relate to this example because the film industry is relatively small today. During the same period, China's total box office revenue is comparable to American singer Taylor Swift's half-year global tour revenue (about $2 billion), showing how small this market is. Among these, enthusiasts seeking to watch art films or masterpieces in theaters are even fewer, perhaps only ten to twenty thousand nationwide.
Most people in our lives aren't alienated by films but by property. The topics film enthusiasts discuss, such as screen size and theater center axis, may seem ridiculous to others, while topics others eagerly discuss, such as stocks, real estate, or gold prices, seem equally ridiculous to film enthusiasts, with neither being particularly enlightened.
In our society, most people are eager to discuss these topics. Since Chinese people's wealth is primarily tied to housing, in my experience over the past twenty-plus years, conversations inevitably turn to housing issues—who owns how many properties, who bought before prices soared, who still hasn't bought a home...
If you're chatting with someone who suddenly starts telling you who bought how many tickets to a Krzysztof Kieślowski retrospective, who secured the golden center seats, or whose tickets are being resold at inflated prices... you'd think they were disturbed. Why would you need to care about such things? But if the conversation suddenly shifts to property or housing, people generally find it normal, because this alienation occurs at a societal level where people no longer notice the strangeness.
If we don't care whether others have seen a certain film, why should we care whether they own a house? No homeless people are on our streets, indicating everyone has somewhere to live. Whether their homes are purchased, rented, at a friend's place, or in a hotel, what matters to us? Housing is just one of many accessories to human life; why should it overshadow everything else?
Property is the most common form of alienation in society, while film watching is a niche form. Between these extremes lie many other forms of alienation: workaholics are alienated by work, and those obsessed with power are alienated by authority. Power, work, property, films, and games are all merely passing visitors in life; their importance is never meant to transcend life itself.
Excess Lead to Deficiency
All universal values ultimately converge. Persistence is a Buddhist concept, alienation is a Marxist concept, and the golden mean is Confucian thought.
The golden mean, alternatively expressed as "excess leads to deficiency," means that excess leads to persistence and alienation. Humans are perhaps the only creatures that hoard far beyond their needs. If this standard were used to distinguish humans from animals, should humans feel happy or sad about it?
Not just with possessions—excessive pursuit of anything leads to diminishing returns. Didn't Zhuangzi say long ago? "Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite. To pursue the infinite with the finite is dangerous!" Consider that in Zhuangzi's time, human knowledge was only a tiny fraction of what we know today, yet he already advised against pursuing infinite knowledge in a finite life—it's meaningless.
The same applies to other aspects. For instance, pursuing artistic creation seems nobler than pursuing wealth, but artistic creation often requires talent. If I suddenly declared that I wanted to win ten million by buying lottery tickets and made this my life's pursuit, most people (except those alienated by lotteries) would think I'd gone mad. If I had said I wanted to become a world champion in the 100-meter dash or marathon for the rest of my life, everyone would have thought I'd lost my mind because winning the lottery depends on luck, which requires natural talent. If I said I was picking up a paintbrush to become the next Picasso, many might think it's not impossible since this field is so niche. Achieving this is harder than the previous two examples—winning the lottery requires luck, sports require talent, but becoming a great artist requires both luck and talent.
If I were to truly pursue such goals, it would likely end in tragedy, resulting in a frustrated, unfulfilled artist. Art should cultivate temperament, and sports should strengthen the body. When an ordinary person abandons these purposes to single-mindedly pursue extremes, it can only end in tragedy.
At People's Square in Shanghai, on Guangdong Road, there's a "stock corner" where people gather daily to discuss stock information. Most participants seemed elderly, as younger people work on weekdays. When someone reaches retirement age but can't abandon dreams of getting rich, it's another form of persistence or alienation. At retirement age, when one can't spend much money anyway, why remain fixated on wealth? Even if one becomes wealthy, what would they do with the money?
I say this because I didn't need to wait until retirement to realize I no longer need to earn more money. Especially after deciding two weeks ago to stop buying things, I found money even more useless. I calculated that as long as I don't chase wealth dreams and make reckless moves, I'll likely have money left over when I die, which I plan to donate. Given this, continuing to earn money seems pointless—the end result would simply be donating more. While I'm willing to donate, I don't want to be alienated by the act of donation—there's no need to donate more to appear more virtuous.
Some might say, "That's because you don't have children. Otherwise, wouldn't you want to leave something for them?"
Children are brought into this world without their consent, so we should help them live happily. But does happiness necessarily relate to money or material desires? In my view, raising children to be greedy doesn't necessarily make them happy.
Moreover, hoarding wealth you won't use for your children creates a paradox: if you can't live without this wealth, you can't pass it to your children; if you can live without it, your children don't need it either.
The most likely scenario is this: you accumulate vast wealth but live a relatively frugal life, passing most wealth to your children. This shifts the pressure on them—they can follow your path, live frugally, and pass wealth forward. But what's the point of transferring wealth then? If they don't consume it, they're merely wealth transporters. If this is your family tradition, generations pass wealth without anyone enjoying it.
Or, your children might not continue passing wealth but consume it all. This fulfils your purpose in transferring wealth, but is this the life you want for your children? Why should your children consume wealth instead of you? "Do not impose on others what you do not desire." If you're unwilling to consume wealth, why give this task to your beloved children? If you don't want to be alienated by wealth, why would you want your children to be?
Therefore, those who accumulate wealth to pass to their children are using children as an excuse for their continued alienation. Undeniably, material conditions are important factors in children's happiness, but they're just one factor—fixating on this factor can only lead to diminishing returns.
After saying all this, I'm not claiming my life is utterly devoid of desire. I don't mind discussing stocks, real estate, films, or art with others, but I tend to keep these discussions brief—partly due to limited knowledge, and partly because excessive discussion is a form of alienation that's unnecessary.