The reason Wang Yangming's思想 isn't popular is because it's too dangerous.

It's not a gentle tonic to regulate one's temperament; it's a potent remedy capable of reviving the dead, but also a lethal poison that can kill invisibly.
Any such remedy that can be self-administered by ordinary people without going through those in power will inevitably be seen as the greatest threat to the existing order.
First danger: Subversion of external authority
What has been the cornerstone of our society's order for thousands of years?
It's "reason" externalized.
What is right?
The answer isn't in your heart; it's in the classics of sages and worthies, in the laws of the court, in clan rules. Ordinary people are supposed to investigate things to attain knowledge, to regulate themselves by learning and adhering to these external, supreme standards. This is a perfect, top-down, management-friendly concrete mindset.
And the first bomb Wang Yangming dropped is called "the mind is principle."
He said, don't look outward anymore; the highest principle, the ultimate standard for judging right and wrong, is within your own heart.
Your conscience is heaven's reason.
This is a declaration of individual spiritual independence in thought. If everyone can directly access the highest truth through their inner conscience, then what is the emperor for? What are the sages' classics for? What are officials at all levels for to educate you? It fundamentally destroys the monopoly of external authority over individual thought.
It shifts the power to interpret truth from the collective, from the upper echelons, down into each person's innermost heart.
This is most terrifying for any system that requires high unity and concentrated thought.
Second danger: Declaring war on the separation of knowledge and action
Most people live in a comfortable state of knowing but not being able to do.
We know we should exercise, but we're just too lazy. We know we should be honest, but sometimes tell small lies. This split between knowing and doing is a gray zone of comfort we reserve for ourselves.
And the second bomb he dropped is called "unity of knowledge and action."
He said, what you think you know is not truly knowledge. If you really knew, you would act.
Knowing but not acting is just ignorance.
It completely strips away all excuses.
It's like a strict drill instructor forcing you to confront your hypocrisy and weakness, leaving no room for self-comfort in the "I understand the principles" zone.
This is an extremely high standard, rigorous self-cultivation, demanding that a person takes full responsibility for every thought and action.
It's a philosophy of the strong, naturally rejected by the weak who habitually seek external excuses.
Third danger: Denial of stability and mediocrity
For ordinary people, the best life often involves seeking profit and avoiding harm, within established rules, aiming for a stable, decent, predictable life.
And now there's a third bomb, called "grinding in daily affairs."
He says, true cultivation isn't in temples or study rooms; it's in the most tedious, painful, and thorny matters you face every day.
Every difficulty you encounter, every failure, every test of human nature, is an excellent opportunity to temper your heart.
It completely negates the possibility of withdrawing from the world or seeking peace; it tells you that troubles are enlightenment, and the things you want to avoid are precisely your opportunities for growth.
It's an active stance of charging forward into suffering. It doesn't promise stability; it only promises a strong inner heart that remains unmoved in any storm.
But the greatest danger of this philosophy isn't its subversion of the external world, but equally dangerous to the user himself.
It's a double-edged sword without a guard; when unsheathed, it can cut external shackles but also easily wound oneself.
This trap is hidden within the words "conscience."
Wang Yangming tells you, your inner conscience is heaven's reason, the highest moral law.
This sounds like giving you unlimited freedom and power.
But it sidesteps a fundamental question: what if my conscience and yours are different?
It relies heavily on the moral purity of the user.
When the user is a sage like Wang Yangming himself, conscience is a perfect moral compass.
But when the user is an ordinary person, full of selfish desires and biases, conscience becomes a terrifying loophole. It provides everyone with a perfect excuse to rationalize and sanctify their selfish desires.
"I want to get promoted and make money— is this really my selfish desire? No, after I align with my conscience, I believe I should take on more responsibility for the common people."
"I want to oppose dissenters and attack rivals— is this really my jealousy? No, after I align with my conscience, I think they have strayed from the right path, and I must correct them."
See, conscience becomes a mask that can be manipulated.
History ruthlessly confirms this.
In the late Ming Dynasty, Wang Yangming's school of thought once flourished, but ultimately degenerated into empty talk, even giving rise to a group of reckless monks claiming to uphold conscience but acting outrageously and arrogantly.
They equated impulsiveness with conscience, completely dissolving moral constraints.
This is the greatest paradox and weakness of Wang Yangming's school:
It provides a methodology for becoming a saint but no firewall to prevent turning into a demon.
It hands over the judgment of good and evil entirely to the most unreliable, most changeable, and most easily blinded by desire—human nature.
Therefore, this philosophy imposes an extremely strict prerequisite on the user:
You must be a gentleman with strong self-reflection ability and high vigilance over your desires.
For a gentleman, it is a ladder to sainthood.
For an ordinary person, it might be a shortcut to self-indulgence.
For a hypocrite, it is the most perfect weapon to rationalize all unrighteous acts.
Wang Yangming's school of thought isn't spiritual chicken soup prepared for peaceful times; it's a dragon-slaying technique for those who refuse to be defined by external order and refuse to surrender to inner weakness in chaotic times.
Its unpopularity isn't just because those in power fear it might cause trouble.
It's also because mastering it requires a heart comparable to that of a sage, and that, precisely, is the rarest thing among mortals.