Looking Back at ByteDance’s Re-emphasis on ‘Pragmatic Romanticism’ in Early 2025

“Pragmatic romanticism” is not a new phrase. Zhang Yiming had mentioned it much earlier. And precisely because it wasn’t new, when management brought up these four words again in early 2025, I didn’t take it too seriously.

The context at the time was very pragmatic. Doubao held no advantage in model capability, product mindshare, or industry visibility. From an external perspective—or even from a relatively rational management standpoint—it was easy to arrive at a seemingly sober judgment: the gap had already formed, and revisiting this philosophy at this point felt more like finding a dignified narrative for an uncomfortable reality.

Looking back now, that was precisely my biggest misjudgment at the time.

Not because the judgment was illogical, but because I underestimated the sheer weight of sustained execution.

Throughout 2025, there were no dramatic turning points. No single product launch stunned the industry, and no isolated capability suddenly reshaped the landscape. What ByteDance did was mostly slow, repetitive, and even somewhat tedious: shoring up foundational model capabilities, stacking up computing power, restructuring AI-related organizational units, recruiting long-term research talent, and gradually concentrating resources and decision-making authority on long-term objectives.

These moves didn’t look impressive against short-term metrics, nor could they be easily packaged into exciting stories. But it was precisely this year of “ordinariness” that revealed its true weight when revisited in 2026.

What truly prompted my reflection wasn’t where Doubao eventually ended up, but how it got there.

Throughout that year, ByteDance didn’t rush to prove “I’ve caught up with whom.” Instead, it first ensured one thing: no more shifting directions, no more scattered resources, no more organizational wavering. This kind of restraint is actually harder than being aggressive.

Looking back, I made at least three typical managerial mistakes.

First, I misread “repeated philosophy” as “strategic inertia.”

I defaulted to thinking that if a phrase is repeated over and over, it means it can no longer generate new binding force. But the reality is, when an old idea is re-emphasized at a new stage, it often signals that the organization is willing to start paying sustained costs for it.

Second, I overestimated the certainty of short-term leads.

In the context of 2024, I subconsciously believed that once a gap formed in large language models, the window for catching up would quickly close. But the reality of 2025 proved that as long as engineering density, resource intensity, and organizational focus all hold simultaneously, so-called “irreversible gaps” are not as solid as imagined.

Third—and this is the hardest to admit—I lacked sufficient reverence for patience itself.

Many managers talk about the long term, but the real test is whether they can maintain continuity of investment when no clear returns are visible within a year. We often set implicit conditions on long-termism: if there are no results for a while, maybe the direction is wrong.

ByteDance chose a different path in 2025. It accepted the reality that “this year might not look great,” yet did not reduce its intensity of investment. This choice itself is the most concrete embodiment of “pragmatic romanticism.”

Now, in 2026, Doubao’s breakthroughs need little explanation. More importantly, these breakthroughs didn’t come from a single flash of inspiration, but from a full year of highly consistent strategic judgment, organizational adjustments, and resource allocation.

For me personally, the value of this case isn’t about proving who was right or wrong. It’s about recalibrating one thing: time does not reward those with the sharpest judgments, but more often rewards those willing to persistently see the right things through to completion.

“Pragmatic romanticism” works not because it sounds appealing, but because it demands that managers endure repetition, endure slowness, and endure being questioned—all without applause or clear feedback.

This is neither sentiment nor posture. It is an extremely rare management capability.

And such a capability is often only truly understood after being repeatedly tested by reality—and even “corrected” by time.