The recently released Chinese student’s recording of the argument he has with his teacher about using the word “Taiwan” illustrates how issues of sovereignty and territoriality can be very emotional for Chinese students.

In the video, the Chinese student says, in a calm voice: “You have to consider all the students … Chinese students are one third of this classroom. You make us feel uncomfortable.” He goes on to argue, “You have to show your respect.” The discussion becomes somewhat unclear, but it sounds like the student then says, “It really makes us feel terrible.” His next comment sounds like he is getting frustrated and upset: “Why do you always keep saying that? ‘Taiwan!’ As if it is a separate country.”

The teacher responds: “From where I am standing, Taiwan is a separate country. If you feel offended, that is your opinion.”

The student replies: “You should consider our feelings. You don’t have to mention it many times, and like hurt us once again.” He finishes with, “It is our bottom line, and you keep touching on it.”

It is not clear from the video exactly what the teacher said that caused the student such offence; however, Newcastle University said in a statement that the lecturer was using material from a Transparency International report “which used the term ‘countries’ to describe both countries and territories”.

What is immediately notable is that while the student is not satisfied with his teacher’s position, he does not even attempt to deploy what he may consider to be relevant facts or rational counter-arguments to support his own case. He is not trying to draw on his understanding of history, or setting out what he might see to be the relevant details of the arrangements that currently influence the relationship between the mainland and the island.

Rather, the student repeatedly appeals to emotion, in particular, how referring to “Taiwan” as a separate country hurts the feelings of Chinese students.

The mantra of “hurting the feelings of the Chinese people” is not new. This emotionally charged phrase is used regularly in the Chinese press, with varying degrees of vitriol when, for example, a foreign politician meets with the Dalai Lama. In another case, singer Bob Dylan was warned not to “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people” when he toured China before he had even arrived in the country. In a similar vein, my Chinese friends and colleagues would tend to react with great emotion if they felt that China was being criticised by an outsider – even in relation to topics like the weather or the traffic.

Research by Victor Mair in 2011 into this phenomenon found that an internet search on the phrase “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people” resulted in 17,000 hits, as compared with replacing the “Chinese people” with the “Japanese people” (the next many hits, at 178) or 17 other nationalities which came up with zero hits. In an earlier search on google.cn of the terms “humiliation” or “bullying” (qifu: 欺负) and “disrespect” or “looking down” (kanbuqi: 看不起), anthropologist and historian Pal Nyiri found 623,000 entries with the term “qifu Zhongguo” (欺负中国, bullying China) and 521,000 with “kanbuqi Zhongguoren” (看不起中国人, looking down on Chinese people).

This tendency to be easily offended taps into the narrative of “national humiliation” which many Chinese subscribe to – the idea that the outside world deliberately carved China up during the opium wars of the mid-1800s, leaving it weak and vulnerable. President Xi Jinping’s “China Dream” of rejuvenation is a direct response to this view.

Some Chinese people have explained to me that the tendency to take offence when an outsider comments on China in a way they perceive as a criticism stems from the idea the country and the family are conceptually conflated such that they are understood as deserving equal loyalty. In a conversation with one Chinese scholar on the matter, I said that when Australian government policy was criticised internationally, it generally did not make Australians feel “hurt” in the same way Chinese people seemed to react when China was criticised. He said, “Because, you know, so many (western) people don’t understand how the relationship between people and state in China is like a family!” He explained how even the Chinese word for country, guo jia, is made up of the character for country/state, and the character for family (国家).

The Chinese students I taught in Beijing also felt very strongly that the idea of guojia, or “country-family”, expressed the relationship between people and the state in China very well. In their view, the state was an extension of the family, and should therefore be accorded all the obligations and loyalty traditionally due to family. My students felt strongly that while it may be acceptable for them or other Chinese people to comment on shortcomings or mistakes of the Chinese nation-state, it was entirely inappropriate for those outside to do so. Students took external criticism of China very personally, explaining their emotional response in terms of being “offended” or of experiencing hurt feelings.

Officially, the status of Taiwan is a “core interest” for China. That is to say, most Chinese consider the idea that Taiwan is an indisputable part of China is sacrosanct. They learn it at school, and in almost everything they see and hear as they grow up. To them, Taiwan is a family member; that is why discussions about its sovereignty tend to be emotional. Many Chinese students find it difficult to articulate why they feel the way they do about Taiwan – particularly because they have not had much training in debating or critically arguing a point. And they find it impossible to fathom that foreigners cannot understand their position on Taiwan.

There is another fascinating question the release of this video raises: why did the student record and publicise this moment? What was he trying to achieve?

The Chinese student’s lecturer was right to say that his course could not cater to any particular group, and that navigating different views and opinions is an integral part of the learning experience. But it is very difficult for many Chinese students to accept that “the Taiwan issue” is in any way a matter of opinion.

Dr Merriden Varrall is the director of the East Asia Program at the Lowy Institute.