虎嗅

"Disheartened," scrambling for seats and passing around a drum during a game of "pass the flower."

原文:“Discouraged”,抢椅子和击鼓传花

Summary of the Core Content

This article uses childhood group games (such as “seating duck” and “pass the flower while the drum is beating”) as a starting point to reveal the root cause of the widespread feeling of “discouragement” in modern society’s competition: from the unconscious obedience to rules in these games and the shifting of risks, to the “survival of the fittest”-style competition and self-exploitation in society, and finally to the misconception about success narratives (the urge to quickly find a “scapegoat” for temporary setbacks). The article concludes by calling on us to break out of this cycle of collective anxiety and reclaim our individual agency, finding our own pace in life.

1. The “Hidden Rules of Survival” in Childhood Games: Why Were We Afraid of Them as Children?

Games like “seating duck” and “pass the flower while the drum is beating” may seem like ways to liven up the atmosphere, but they actually conceal a cruel underlying logic: the struggle for resources (the chairs), the shifting of risks (the flowers/tissues), and the idea that luck determines fate. For example, in “pass the flower while the drum is beating,” people desperately try to pass the flower, not because it’s bad, but out of fear of being the “ unlucky one” – this behavior reflects the assumption that it’s necessary to sacrifice someone.

Even more frightening is the “conspiracy effect”: everyone is both a victim of the rules (they might be chosen) and a maintainer of them (by actively passing the flower). Without the need for teachers or parents to supervise, the game continues solely driven by the instinct to survive and obedience to the rules. This is what philosophers refer to as “the evil of indifference” – not outright malice, but a type of thoughtless compliance: you don’t question whether the rules are reasonable; you just follow them, like a soulless cog in a machine, ultimately leading to collective exhaustion (for instance, always worrying that the drum will stop at your turn).

Those children who deliberately slow down and get eliminated are actually quite “smart”: they use a small cost (performing a little act) to gain the autonomy to escape their fear – this is a form of naive “economic rationality”: rather than living in constant anxiety, it’s better to control the scope of your own suffering.

2. The “Upgraded Games” as Adults: The Logic of “Survival of the Fittest” in Society Never Goes Away

The logic of childhood games simply takes on more concealed forms and permeates into everyday life:

  • “Seating duck” becomes college admissions/job hunting: limited opportunities (few chairs, many applicants), group interviews where you must be better than others to stay;
  • Self-imposed oppression: Han Byeong-je’s concept of a “merit society” – it’s not the boss forcing you to work overtime; you force yourself to strive for progress, even viewing it as a “free choice.” For example, some pursue a Ph.D. not out of love for academia but because they fear not finding a good job, and they can’t distinguish whether the pressure comes from outside or within;
  • Collective anxiety transmission: Just like the flower in the game, stress is passed from students to professionals and then to parents; no one truly feels relaxed.

3. The Popularity of “Discouragement”: Why Does It Resonate with Everyone’s Collective Wounds?

Professor Wang Hong used the word “discouraged” to describe her experience at Peking University (where the academic challenges were overwhelming), and it immediately resonated with many – because this term accurately reflects everyone’s daily struggles:

  • Students: afraid of failing exams, worried about falling behind in rankings;
  • Professionals: afraid of being laid off, concerned about not keeping up with the pace;
  • Parents: afraid that their children will fall behind from the start, or that they themselves will hold back their children.

It’s not as extreme as “despair”; rather, it’s a mild but persistent feeling of discouragement – like working hard for a long time without seeing any hope. This emotion exists at every stage of life, making it a widespread collective issue.

4. The Misconception about Success: Why Do We Rush to Find a “Scapegoat”?

After Wang Hong won an award, the focus of discussion wasn’t on her efforts but on who made her feel discouraged (blaming Peking University or the college entrance exam system). This reflects a deeper misconception: we can’t accept that even geniuses have periods of low performance.

We tend to treat moments of discouragement as problems and look for a “scapegoat” (the education system, schools, families) to take responsibility, yet we overlook the fact that Wang Hong was not a passive victim; she actively chose her own path – just like the child who deliberately slowed down in the game, finding her own rhythm between being pushed and giving up.

This tendency to find scapegoats essentially instrumentalizes Wang Hong’s story: using her experience to vent our own anxiety while denying her agency. Her feeling of discouragement is a part of her life, not a mistake that needs to be “corrected.”

5. The Way Out: How to Find Your Own Rhythm in the Chaos?

The article offers solutions:

  • Reject meaningless competition: Like the child who deliberately slows down in the game, avoid participating in pointless competitive behaviors (if everyone else is preparing for civil service exams, you can choose to do what you really enjoy);
  • Take control of your own narrative: “Discouragement” is not a pit; it’s a part of your life, and you don’t need others to define it as good or bad;
  • Stop passing on anxiety: Don’t burden others with your stress (don’t pressure your child to excel from the start, don’t compete with colleagues for overtime); find your own breathing rhythm – start by refusing to be influenced by the external “drumbeat” of societal expectations.

The social clock won’t slow down just because we admit feeling discouraged, but we can choose not to be controlled by it and live in our own time zone.

The essence of this article is to use the metaphor of childhood games to help us see the competitive environment we’re in and reflect on whether we’re truly pursuing meaningful values or merely acting on trained instincts. I hope everyone can find their own rhythm amidst the chaos of society’s demands.