Chuk Tai Wai 祝大為

Undergraduate in Philosophy, New Asia College, The Chinese University of Hong Kong

Philosophy Orientation Camp

Vice President, 26th Philosophy Orientation Camp, 17–19 August 2026.

The camp was a collective effort. Camp President Lee Kwok Shun coordinated the programme; former camp leaders shared their experience; group leaders accompanied the incoming students; and department staff and faculty advisors supported the team. As Vice President, I served as a liaison with the department office and supported the group leaders during the camp.

I designed the camp’s three games, each built around a philosophical problem. I was also responsible for meals and finance, and served as one of two designated emotional-support contacts.

The twenty-four-page camp booklet brought together material from the whole team. Lee designed its cover and background, and I produced the publication. I am grateful to everyone who wrote messages, gathered practical information and offered advice for the incoming students.

中文原版Chinese original
English editionFull translation

The three games

I designed all three games and produced the slides. They ran in Chinese. Each one takes a method that philosophers usually set out on the page and turns it into something a room of people does together, so that the arguments come from the participants and the design decides which disagreements become visible.

The Chinese files are the original camp materials. The English editions are full translations for international readers. PDF is provided for quick browser viewing; the downloadable PowerPoint files retain the embedded demonstrations, and each demonstration is also available as a web-playable MP4.

Pick a Side

Twenty rounds, played by the whole camp.

中文原版Chinese original
English editionFull translation

Each round put one case on the screen and asked everyone to walk to the left or the right side of the room, with no way to abstain. The cases came in pairs that changed a single feature, so a student who moved for one case and stayed for its variant could see which commitment was doing the work. A father who steals bread for a starving child, then a father who steals a steak. A Hong Kong tea restaurant that will serve only local customers, then the identical notice in a Japanese izakaya.

The pair structure owes its shape to Michael Sandel’s Justice lectures, where the hall votes on the runaway trolley, gives its reasons, meets the footbridge variation, and watches itself change its mind. Sandel asks for a show of hands. Here the room walks, which puts the count in front of everyone standing in it and makes changing your mind something you do with your feet. Twenty pairs then carry a whole session, and the opening rounds ask about congee and pineapple buns so that moving feels safe before the cases get hard.

Language Architect

Four groups, ten rounds.

中文原版Chinese original
English editionFull translation

Each group designed a language for a tribe that had none, agreeing a vocabulary of ten words and later thirty, under one rule, that every word had to appear in a published Chinese dictionary. Each round showed a scene and the sentence the tribe needed to say, and the groups built it from their own vocabulary while the floor voted on whether the meaning came through. The sentences were chosen so that each one called for something the groups had usually left out, such as counterfactuals, hedged belief, estimation, concession and the word for should.

Two lines of thought meet here. Wittgenstein opens the Philosophical Investigations by imagining a complete language of four words, block, pillar, slab and beam, called out by a builder and answered by an assistant. The principle of linguistic relativity that Edward Sapir and Benjamin Lee Whorf set out asks whether a language can put some thoughts beyond the reach of its speakers. The game puts the second question inside the first. The groups build the primitive language themselves, and the budget rising from ten words to thirty is what makes the question testable, since what becomes sayable when the budget rises is the evidence.

Republic of the Veil of Ignorance

Four groups, one constitution each.

中文原版Chinese original
English editionFull translation

Each group sat as a legislature and drafted a constitution in six parts covering property, labour, healthcare, education, punishment and taxation, with every article required to say who, how much, and who decides. Before drafting began, each participant drew a number and was told only to remember it. Once the articles were on the board, the numbers turned out to be identities. Everyone read the four constitutions again from the position they had been given, and voted on one question, whether they would be willing to be born in that country.

A revision stage completes the design. Each group hears the people who voted no, and either amends the article that drew the objection or keeps it and says why the objection fails. A second vote follows on the same question, and the two tallies stand side by side on the board.

The design follows Rawls closely and needs three of his ideas. The original position becomes four legislatures drafting in parallel. The veil of ignorance is built out of the order of events, since the numbers are handed out before anyone writes a word and explained only afterwards, so nobody has to pretend not to know. The second round is reflective equilibrium, where a group holds its principles against its judgments about particular cases and gives way on whichever of the two has the weaker claim. Keeping an article and answering the objection counts as a completed move, because a group that always gave way would be counting votes and not reaching equilibrium.

Designing these games drew on the same interest in method that runs through my written work.

Service learning at Chi Lin Nunnery

Service Learning in Chinese Culture (GENA 1114), January–May 2026.

Six sessions at Chi Lin Nunnery brought me close to the people who keep its traditions in practice. I studied ceramics with ceramicist Gao Feng, helped restore silk strings for the guqin, worked on the bonsai collection, and took part in the Spring Memorial ceremony honouring Tang Junyi (唐君毅) and Mou Zongsan (牟宗三).

I watched Gao Feng train one apprentice over five years, and learned that Hong Kong’s last makers of guqin silk strings had no successors. A tradition can disappear even when people still value it. These encounters set the question behind my current research interests. How does a community preserve what matters, and what can one build when transmission begins to fail?

That question eventually led me to co-found CU Philosophy Review. A department whose history lives only in conversation faces the same fragility, and the journal is our way of building a response.