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Other (其他)

Writers React to Comrade Xi Jinping’s Foray into Literary Criticism

It has taken a bit of time, but Chinese authors have begun to publicize their reaction to Xi Jinping’s speech at the Beijing Oct 15 Forum on Literature and Art Work. While slavish praise has been appropriately abundant, a handful of Art Workers do not appear to be singing in unison. We’ll skip the former and focus on the latter because they’re more fun.

Tellingly, some well known authors have chosen to express their views online in op-eds at the New York Times, first in English, then in Chinese. Both sites are blocked in the PRC, ever since the NYT ran its muckraking report on the massive wealth acquired by the family of then-premier Wen Jiabao.

Yan Lianke’s essay (bilingual version) opens with a reference to his childhood, when “China’s efforts to promote socialism in the late 1950s and early 1960s resulted in what is euphemistically known as the three years of natural disasters, during which more than 30 million people starved to death.” This experience, in particular his mother’s stark explanation of what kind of clay and tree bark one should or should not eat in order to survive, led him to recognize that “darkness is not the mere absence of light, but rather it is life itself. Darkness is the Chinese people’s fate.”

In a nod to Xi Jinping’s call for China’s artists to “use light to disperse darkness,” Yan Lianke (阎连科) asserts that it is indeed “a writer’s job to find life within this darkness.” But in his closing sentence, he clearly opposes Xi Jinping’s insistence — consistent with Mao’s — that literature and art “must persist in the fundamental orientation of serving the people and serving Socialism,” and implies that the writer does not need The Party’s guidance to perform his mission:

. . . only the pursuit of true art, unencumbered by anyone, can help us find the delicate light, beauty, warmth and love that are hidden in the darkness.

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Other (其他)

Thoreau, Civil Disobedience and Chatting with Guóbǎo

Murong Xuecun, author of Leave Me Alone Tonight, Chengdu, was in Australia when several intellectuals and activistsMurong Xuecun got together in Beijing this year to commemorate the anniversary of the 1989 “June 4th Incident.” Several of those who were there have since been arrested, such as civil rights lawyer Pu Zhiqiang (浦志强), and in order to call attention to their plight, he turned himself in to the police and admitted that while not present at the gathering, he had contributed an essay for their discussion. Here is his description of the ensuing questioning session with the 国保, or Guóbǎo (Inside a Beijing Interrogation Room): 

Then we discussed the Tiananmen Square incident itself. I argued that under no circumstances should the government have ordered the army to shoot at unarmed civilians, let alone dispatch tanks to roll onto the streets of Beijing. The officers did not agree or disagree with me; they just kept asking questions: Do you know what the overall situation was? Do you know what was happening in international affairs at the time? Do you know how many soldiers were beaten or burned to death?

The conversation turned to whether I had broken the law. I told them that I assumed they thought I did because they arrested my friends who were at the Tiananmen commemoration. The officers didn’t like that I made the law sound capricious. The law is not about what they “think,” one of them said. The police, the officer said, had arrested my friends because they broke the law.

Next we discussed whether citizens “must obey the law.” I said good laws should be obeyed but evil laws must be challenged. They strongly disagreed, insisting that the law must be obeyed whether it’s good or evil.

“And you’re a graduate of the China University of Political Science and Law, eh?” the younger one asked mockingly.

I began to talk about Thoreau’s essay on civil disobedience, but quickly felt like a ridiculous pedant. What’s the point of talking about the virtues of civil disobedience in a Beijing police station?

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Interviews: Authors and Translators (作家与译者的采访)

Interview: Author Murong Xuecun (慕容雪村) on his Undercover Role Investigating a Chinese Pyramid Scheme

Murong Xuecun has gained a name for himself through his unflattering vignettes of gambling, drinking, whoring and corruption in contemporary China. His best-seller, Leave me Alone: A Novel of Chengdu (成都,今夜请将我遗忘), prompted the authorities to convene a conference solely to critique the novel for sullying the Sichuan city’s image.

Murong Xuecun went undercover for 23 days to document the pyramid scheme in person

But in a change of tack away from fiction writing, early this year the author decided to experience—first hand—just how a “direct selling” operation in Jiangxi’s Shangrao recruits and gains control over its members. His revelations hit the stands as the cover story for Southern Metropolis Weekly’s April 19 (2010) edition: “Murong Xuecun—Undercover 23 Days in a Pyramid Selling Organization” (慕容雪村卧底传销23天之一).

Below, I (Bruce Humes) interview author-turned-investigative-journalist Murong Xuecun (慕容雪村) to learn how he did it, and why:

Q: What made you decide to “go under cover,” submit to pyramid selling “brainwashing,” and eventually call in the police?

A: At the outset, it was curiosity that motivated me to try to sneak into the pyramid selling organization. I just wanted to see what you could get to eat for 35 Chinese cents [5 US cents] a day. During my 23 days there, I saw many absurd and evil things. Lots of good but naïve people were being hoodwinked and living miserably, so I decided to report it to the police.

Q: Serious social problems abound in today’s China: the omnipresent sex industry, bribery of officials, ruthless exploitation of migrant workers. Why focus on bogus “chain sales”?

A: There are many other matters that need attention, like those citizens in re-education-through-labor camps who have been deprived of their freedom without a trial, working-class people who have nowhere to appeal when thrown out of their homes violently by relocation programs, and those alleged criminals who die in detention due to some bizarre causes… but my abilities are limited. Many things cannot be investigated, we can only address them one by one. Perhaps in the future I will investigate the sex industry and the situation of migrant workers.

Q: How do you assess the effect of your “underground” work, including the reaction to your cover story in Southern Metropolis Weekly? Does a professional writer have a responsibility to engage in such activities?

A: I originally believed that my going “undercover” would help some people, serve as a wake-up call for some people, but I must admit it: I have failed. I helped the police get their hands on 157 pyramid scheme marketers, and reasonably speaking, the police should have helped them to face what they had done, and then taken responsibility for sending them back home. But the police performed their duty in a perfunctory manner. In a symbolic gesture, they kept them standing in the police station courtyard for two hours, but they made no attempt to educate them and eventually just chased them out. Not long after I left Shangrao, they regrouped and began their pyramid selling as before. But I do hope that the cover story in Southern Metropolis Weekly and “How Could you be so Ignorant?” will serve as a warning and help them avoid being swindled. “Going undercover” was very meaningful. It allowed me to gather first-hand material for my writing, and it moved me deeply. But I took this action on my own, and it is unrelated to professional writers as a group.

Q: Use one sentence to describe how readers in China typify the author “Murong Xuecun”.

A: The lion’s share of readers believe that I am a writer who “sees the world for what it is, excels at dredging up man’s inherent evil, and writes in a rather dark style”. Or a “sharply critical, relentless, pulls-no-punches” writer.

Q: Your previous novels, Leave me Alone Tonight: A Novel of Chengdu, and Dancing through Red Dust (红尘颠 ) describe the darker side of Chinese society, particularly the ruthlessness and immorality of businesspeople. Have any of your works been heavily edited or even banned? If so, what content was deemed problematic? Where did such pressure originate? How have such experiences impacted your writing?

A: About twenty thousand words were cut from Dancing through Red Dust. And more than ten thousand words were deleted from the first version of Leave me Alone Tonight: A Novel of Chengdu, but one year later the full version was published. After three years of examination by the censors, the

Nipped in the bud: Murong Xuecun estimates 20,000 words of the Chinese original were cut

film adaptation was granted a permit for public viewing, but this was quickly rescinded. The TV show was abruptly yanked off the air at CCTV, and no explanation was ever given. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s because the authorities considered my novel to be “written in a vulgar style that sullied the image of Chengdu”. In 2004, the Chengdu municipal authorities convened a meeting specifically to critique the novel. Heavy editing of the novel was undertaken by the publisher, because it has responsibility for undertaking “in-house censorship”; as for limits placed on the movie and TV versions, they would have come from the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television. This censorship and limitations haven’t had a big impact on my writing, but they have clarified for me which subjects cannot be written about or touched upon, which words have to be avoided, and which people I must not mention.

Q: What format do you intend to use for the longer work, “How Could you be so Ignorant?”, to be based on your undercover experiences during January 2010?

A: I will use an investigative reporting style to relate what I have personally experienced. Even though it is not a storyline dominated by constantly

“How Could you be so Ignorant?”: Subsequently published as 中国, 少了一味药 but never published in English

shifting highs and lows, the experience has been very meaningful. My previous works were mainly fictional, but this time I will change my technique.

Q: Will foreign readers be interested in “How Could you be so Ignorant?”

A: Frankly speaking, I didn’t give their reactions any thought. I’m keener to write for Chinese readers, particularly those who lack common sense, young people who are easily fooled or those without education.