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2026年1月24日 星期六

Pay to Do Evil, Do Evil for Pay” — The Rot at the Heart of Modern Power

 “Pay to Do Evil, Do Evil for Pay” — The Rot at the Heart of Modern Power



There are two lines that now circulate like a dark mantra in Chinese: 收錢做壞事 (shōu qián zuò huài shì) and 做壞事收錢 (zuò huài shì shōu qián). At first glance, they seem almost identical: both describe evil acts tied to money. But upon reflection, they are two different stages of moral collapse, two stages of a society in which the line between service and crime, between duty and corruption, has vanished.

收錢做壞事 means: “Take money, then do evil.” It is the classic form of corruption — the official who accepts a bribe and then uses state power to hurt the weak, help the rich, or destroy the inconvenient. The order is: money first, evil later. The actor still pretends to be a neutral functionary; he only crosses the line when the money is in hand. This is the corruption of the civil servant, the manager, the bureaucrat: power for sale, but not yet power built on evil.

做壞事收錢 means: “Do evil, then collect money.” This is a different world. Here, evil is not an occasional lapse, but the core business model. The actor is no longer a state official who sins; he is an outlaw, a gangster, a black-market sovereign whose very product is harm, fear, and control. He sells violence, information, false documents, rigged contracts. He does not wait for a bribe to twist the law; he creates the very situation that needs to be bought off. This is the world of the modern gang, the online scam syndicate, the coercive service provider whose only “service” is crime itself.

The shift from 收錢做壞事 to 做壞事收錢 is the shift from a sick system to a criminal system. In the first, the state still exists as an ideal, even if it is betrayed in practice. In the second, the state is gone, and the gang is the new state: a shadow government that runs on payoffs, punishments, and loyalty to the chain of command.

We see this everywhere. In politics, where parties are no longer ideological movements but machines that sell access, protection, and favours for money. In business, where companies don’t just cut corners with suppliers, but actively design traps — misleading contracts, hidden fees, forced arbitration — and then charge customers to escape them. In technology and media, where platforms enable harassment, fraud, or manipulation, then profit from the outrage, or from selling “protection” (verification, ads, moderation as a paid service).

What is truly terrifying is not just that people do bad things, but that society now treats 做壞事收錢 as a normal way to earn. The “gig economy” has become a perfect cover: “I’m not a criminal, I’m just completing a task.” Online scams, doxxing, targeted harassment, fake reviews, paid propaganda — all are reframed as “work” for which one is paid, even though each act is clearly harmful.

The deeper danger is cultural: when 收錢做壞事 becomes 做壞事收錢 in the public mind, people stop expecting fairness, honesty, or duty. They expect everything to be bought, and they learn to buy everything — justice, safety, reputation, even loyalty. Distrust becomes the default, and the only “trust” left is to one’s own side, one’s own gang.

And so, the old moral question “Is this right?” disappears, replaced by “Who pays, and how much?” The state, the party, the company, the family — all become transactional networks where relationships are contracts and principles are discounts. The only remaining “virtue” is loyalty to the group, measured in obedience and share of the take.

To recover, a society must first admit that it has crossed from corruption (收錢做壞事) into organized evil (做壞事收錢). It must punish not just the act, but the system that rewards it; not just the bribe-taker, but the market that sells injustice as a service. Only then can the distinction between serving and sinning, between earning and extorting, be restored — and the simple idea that one should not do evil, period, begin to mean something again.

2025年6月19日 星期四

The Colorful Crash: China's Shared Bike Bubble and the Echoes of NFT Mania

 

The Colorful Crash: China's Shared Bike Bubble and the Echoes of NFT Mania

A few years ago, Chinese cityscapes transformed into vibrant, chaotic canvases. Millions of brightly colored bicycles, each representing a different startup, flooded sidewalks and became a ubiquitous symbol of the "sharing economy" gone wild. This meteoric rise of dockless bike rentals was hailed as a revolutionary solution to urban mobility, attracting billions in venture capital. Yet, as quickly as the phenomenon arrived, it collapsed, leaving behind not just financial ruin but colossal "bike graveyards" – stark monuments to an unsustainable frenzy. This dramatic boom and bust offers striking parallels to the more recent NFT (Non-Fungible Token) fiasco, revealing a common thread rooted in human psychology: the powerful, often destructive, interplay of herd mentality and greed.

The Business Model: Convenience, Capital, and Catastrophe

At its core, the Chinese shared bike model aimed to solve the "last mile" problem – the short distance between public transport hubs and a user's final destination. Companies like Ofo (yellow bikes) and Mobike (orange bikes) deployed vast fleets of GPS-enabled bicycles across cities. Users simply downloaded an app, scanned a QR code to unlock a bike, rode it, and left it anywhere within designated zones. Payment was typically a small fee per ride (often mere cents) or through subscription passes, with initial models often requiring a refundable deposit.

The business model was deceptively simple, but its execution was fueled by an insatiable thirst for market share, backed by enormous venture capital injections. The strategy was to "burn cash" through heavy subsidies and aggressive expansion to acquire as many users as possible, with the long-term hope of establishing a dominant, profitable monopoly. This led to:

  • Massive Over-supply: Startups rushed to deploy millions of bikes, far exceeding actual demand, leading to immense waste and urban clutter.
  • Price Wars: To attract users, companies engaged in fierce price competition, driving down rental fees to unsustainable levels.
  • Deposits as a Funding Pool: Many companies initially collected user deposits, which, in the absence of robust regulation, were often used to fund operations rather than being held securely, creating a systemic risk.
  • High Maintenance Costs: The dockless nature meant bikes were left anywhere, leading to damage, theft, and constant logistical challenges for collection, redistribution, and repair. The sheer volume made maintenance an unmanageable burden.
  • Lack of Profitability Focus: The obsession with user acquisition overshadowed any real path to profitability. The low per-ride fees simply couldn't cover the immense capital expenditure and operational costs.

Who Won and Who Lost in This Fiasco?

The shared bike collapse created a clear divide between winners and losers:

Losers:

  • The Startups (Ofo, Bluegogo, etc.): Many went bankrupt, their ambitious dreams turning into financial nightmares. Ofo, once valued at billions, famously collapsed, owing millions in user deposits and leaving behind mountains of bikes.
  • Investors: Venture capitalists who poured billions into these companies saw their investments evaporate.
  • Users (Initially): Millions of users found themselves unable to reclaim their deposits when companies folded, leading to widespread frustration and public outcry.
  • Cities: Municipal governments were left to deal with the aftermath, including clearing vast "bike graveyards" that clogged public spaces and required significant resources to manage. Environmental impact from discarded bikes was also considerable.
  • The "Sharing Economy" Brand: The chaotic failure tarnished the reputation of the sharing economy in China, highlighting its potential for unsustainable growth when not properly regulated.

Winners (or those who emerged stronger):

  • The Surviving Giants (Meituan, Didi, HelloBike): While even they faced significant losses, the market consolidated. Companies with deeper pockets or those acquired by larger tech conglomerates (like Mobike by Meituan) survived by absorbing competitors and, crucially, adjusting their business models towards profitability, including raising prices and focusing on more sustainable operations like e-bikes.
  • Some Users (Long-term): After the initial chaos, the surviving, more regulated companies offered a more reliable service, albeit at slightly higher prices. The concept of shared mobility for the "last mile" did persist, but in a more controlled manner.
  • The Regulators: The fiasco prompted stricter government oversight and regulations on bike deployment, parking, and deposit management, leading to a more orderly market.

Echoes of NFT Mania: Herd, Hype, and Human Frailty

The trajectory of China's shared bike boom and bust bears striking similarities to the more recent rise and fall of the NFT market. Both phenomena:

  • Experienced Explosive Growth: Driven by novel technology (QR codes/GPS for bikes, blockchain for NFTs) and the promise of a new paradigm.
  • Attracted Massive Speculative Capital: Investors, often without deep understanding of underlying fundamentals, poured money in, fearing missing out on the "next big thing."
  • Suffered from Over-saturation and Lack of Utility: In bike-sharing, it was too many bikes for too little demand. In NFTs, countless digital assets were minted with little artistic value or practical utility, beyond pure speculation.
  • Relied on the "Greater Fool" Theory: The expectation was that someone else would pay an even higher price, irrespective of intrinsic value.
  • Resulted in Significant Losses for Many: When the hype died down, values plummeted, leaving many holding worthless assets.

This common pattern strongly suggests that these fiascos are, at their core, deeply intertwined with human weakness and the psychology of herd and greed.

Herd Mentality: Humans are social creatures. When we see others apparently getting rich quickly, a powerful psychological impulse to join the stampede kicks in. The fear of missing out (FOMO) overrides rational analysis. In bike-sharing, everyone saw competitors flooding the streets and felt compelled to do the same. In NFTs, viral sales of high-priced digital art fueled the belief that anyone could strike it rich, leading to a scramble to buy and sell. The "safety in numbers" fallacy encourages individuals to ignore red flags if enough people are doing the same thing.

Greed: The allure of quick, substantial profits blinds individuals to fundamental risks. In the shared bike market, the promise of monopolistic dominance and future profitability, no matter how distant or uncertain, justified burning billions of dollars. In NFTs, the idea of owning a unique, digitally scarce asset that could appreciate exponentially tapped into a primal desire for wealth accumulation without tangible effort. This greed often leads to a disregard for due diligence, sound business principles, or actual product utility.

Ultimately, both the shared bike boom and the NFT bubble serve as powerful reminders that while innovation can be transformative, it is susceptible to the same old human tendencies. When technological novelty merges with unchecked speculation, the outcome is often a colorful, chaotic, and ultimately, a costly crash, proving that even in the digital age, human nature remains a constant.