Why I Refuse to Get Rich

My rise to Internet fame has been meteoric. I promise to stay focused on my mission.

Many of you have asked: Why do I refuse to monetize my YouTube channel?

Some of you have noticed that there are YouTube channels that have turned my video lectures into more digestible clips, and they are monetized. Some of these channels have asked for my permission, and some have not. Some want to spread my message, and some want to make a quick buck. I am fine with people using my content, and I am flattered that I’ve influenced the likes of Barack Obama and Andrew Tate.

A viewer e-mailed me to tell me that my YouTube channel’s potential ad revenue for August exceeded twenty thousand dollars. If I accepted sponsorships, engaged in partnerships, and fully monetized my fame, I could open my own school, which would be my dream.

That would be my dream, but that would destroy my vision. Let me explain why.

I have three main goals, and I list them in terms of priority:

1. I want to love my children, and build a legacy for them.

2. I want to maintain my intellectual and creative freedom.

3. I want to educate as many people as possible.

When I turned thirty-two in 2008, I was unemployed, broke, and living in my parents’ basement. I accepted a job writing recommendation letters for Chinese high school students applying to American colleges. Because the leadership at Shenzhen Middle School did not know any better, I convinced them that they ought to build China’s first liberal arts high school program, and pay me a lot of money to do so. To everyone’s surprise, I succeeded, and I found myself flush with cash.

I proceeded to burn it all away. I had red wine and sashimi every day. I spent a week at Las Vegas losing a lot of money playing poker because winning ceased to have meaning. I visited Paris and Johannesburg and Dubai, and bored myself with three-hour set lunches at Michelin restaurants.

Money made me antsy and anxious. I did not miss my brief jet-setting life when I was once again unemployed, broke, and living in my parents’ basement. Chinese parents offered me a small fortune to help their child apply to Yale, and their bribes outraged me. My attitude changed after I met the love of my life, and we had our first child.

I became tempted by easy money, but my wife told me to set a good example for our child. She encouraged me to write a book. I had lost faith in writing, but I did not want to disappoint her. She read every word, and offered honest praise.

I sent the manuscript to Peter Hessler, a writer friend who was a rock star in China. Millions of Chinese had read his book Rivertown, a memoir of his two years teaching at a rural Chinese college. He liked my book, and wrote the introduction.

I thought my book would be an instant success. When it failed my wife told me I had not. Hadn’t our boy seen me work hard to write the book for him? Hadn’t my mind open and blossom? Hadn’t those who read it had their minds open and blossom?

The book got me a job teaching the Great Books at my current high school in Beijing. I shared my lesson plans with my wife, and she encouraged me to upload my lectures to YouTube. We optimistically believed that a few thousand would watch the lectures, and have their minds open and blossom. To know that our children would watch them inspired me to teach with passion and devotion.

My three children do not know that their father became famous over the summer. For them, nothing has changed. I’m still reading and studying at home. Now and then I get excited, and discuss geo-politics with my wife over the dinner table – but I’ve always done that. I still cook their meals, take them to the park, and tell them bedtime stories. Nothing has changed, and that’s the best sort of fame to have.

I once watched a Joe Rogan interview in which Rob Lowe said that fame freezes you in time. I have met many famous people, and I know this to be true. Fame curses, and money corrupts. I refuse to be frozen in time and place. I choose to flourish, or I choose to die.

My wife has warned me that in China twenty million yuan (about three million USD) marks the point of no return. If you stay below that threshold you are free to do as you like. Anything above, and you need political patronage. Fortunately, we are still far away, and we’re not in a rush to move closer.

I do not believe I am more virtuous. My teaching salary and my Substack promise me a comfortable life (so thank you to all those who subscribe). I turn fifty next year, and I have learned what makes me happy.

I know all the arguments why I should leverage my fame into wealth. Fame is fleeting, and it’s possible (and probable) that I say something stupid which gets me banned from social media. What about a college fund for my children, and what about retirement? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a house?

This is all true, but it’s also true that the Devil can only come in if you open the door. I want to remain true to my family, to my vision, and above all to myself. I choose to trust the universe. If tomorrow I am thrown back into obscurity and poverty, I have faith it’s because that’s the best way to love my children, to be creative, and to spread my message.

No argument or accident will shatter my faith. I started preparing Chinese students for American colleges in 2008, and four years later it had become a big business. By 2012 I had built two international programs at two of China’s most famous public high schools (Shenzhen Middle School and Peking University High School). The industry was minting millionaires, and I chose to walk away because it had become a big business. I held the ring of power, and I tossed it away.

My love for my family has armed me with the faith that I can close the door when the Devil comes. I refuse to even think of him.