作者：刘畅
新文化运动中鲁迅有一篇知名的著作叫《狂人日记》，日记中第一篇就说，翻开四书五经，通篇就两个字“吃人”，这里的人是指人性。这个观点也太极端化，在作者看来，中国的传统文学用一个字概括“礼”，等级分明，各守其道，如果偏要用西方平等思想来看，确实是压抑了人性。
当代中国的文学呢，大体上（不绝对）也可以用两个字概括：“阶级”，阶级情感和阶级斗争。
大凡获奖作品一定离不开这两个符号。一位长辈曾告诉我，一句口号中如果有炮火和血腥味，一定来自《某选》。翻越茅盾文学奖奖获奖作品，《平凡的世界》讲阶级感情，歌颂苦难，歌颂无产阶级的自力更生；《白鹿原》讲阶级斗争，田小娥要求女权，黑娃最终还是革了封建地主的命；《尘埃落定》讲了藏族农奴的斗争；其余的《李自成》《将军吟》更不用说了，莫言的《蛙》又反传统礼数。以阶级标准来规范，创作者要在社会主义土地上活下去，要么歌颂底层人民，要么书写与阶级敌人斗争的勇气（官僚主义，帝国主义，封建主义，资本主义），要么在历史题材中重现“阶级”斗争史。斗吧！结果斗来斗去，连阶级情感都斗没了。翻开各类视频号，一会炮轰这个帝国主义国家，一会炮轰那个强权国家，老百姓也逐渐清晰，炮轰了帝国主义不说，又把炮筒瞄准贪官污吏，还有多余的精力呢，就对准自己的同胞吧！
有的家庭，平时看似井水不犯河水，关系平平，一旦家里出了个什么事，内向的人突然变外向了，胆小的也大胆了，颓废的也变得精神抖擞，纷纷起来炮轰，仿佛“斗争”就是个鸦片，有了他，才存在活着的意义。但当代中国，没有那么多阶级斗争，大多数时间都是平平淡淡，怎么找到鸡血呢？到处找假想敌，攀比，对比，家庭外找不到，就在家庭内找，敌人才是存在的最大意义。十年浩劫也是如此，国外的敌人动不了，就动内部敌人吧！
中国人爱斗，一走出国门，一副天朝子民的派头，稍有不满，就认为是歧视，一出手一出口，立马成为国际新闻头条，根本还是在于“斗争”的惯性。汤姆大哥分享了一个故事，一个从大陆来的女子，刚刚坐上他的出租车，他就问，你来自哪里？那个女子说来自日本，汤姆立马切换成日语模式“日本人ですか？（Nihonjin desu ka）你是日本人吗？）”女子听不懂，一来一去，才知道来自大陆。中间聊得还不错，但一下车，汤姆直接收获差评一个。在国外，还有另一个现象，一个亚裔如果遇到什么狗血的麻烦，不管三七二十一，只要冒充中国人，也许能躲过一劫，这既是让中国人帮他们背黑锅，也是让中国这个标签破罐子破摔。
翻开西方文学名著，《悲惨世界》《复活》《安娜卡列尼娜》《茶花女》等，里面一定能读得出上帝，上帝需要救赎，上帝的道需要遵循，尤其是《安娜卡列尼娜》明明控诉的安娜违背了婚姻的神圣导致家破人亡，中国人却解读为封建主义压抑了女性，安娜是女权主义者，简直是荒谬绝伦之极。《悲惨世界》明明是冉阿让自我的救赎，却被扣上封建主义对基层人民的压迫。同一个故事，用不同视角解读，结论是千差万别。
一个社会，一群人何时能从“阶级叙事”中释放出来？如何从“阶级斗争”彻底解脱出来呢？与天斗不如与己斗，与地斗不如在仁爱中身心和谐。守天道，尊天命，戒掉自身恶习，保留人性的真善美，活出天道喜悦的样子，何尝不也是一种斗争和解放呢？唯一的差别是，后者是为了最终的和谐，前者的斗争是冤冤相报，没有终点！
作者简介
巴银：刘畅，四川广安人，中国前致公党党员，旅居美国洛杉矶，诗歌《忆勐腊》《嘉陵江》《流浪》《豆瓣酱》等曾发表于西南商报副刊。
微信：491712361851
编辑：Gloria Wang 校对：王滨 翻译：沈美花
The Cage of Class Narrative: On Chinese Literary Ideology
Author: Liu Chang
Abstract: Beginning with the concept of “cannibalism” in Lu Xun’s A Madman’s Diary, this article reflects on the value orientation of modern and contemporary Chinese literature and social narratives. The author posits that while traditional Chinese literature can be summarized by the concept of Li (propriety/social order), modern and contemporary literature has long revolved around “class.” Class sentiments and class struggle have become key themes in literary works and social discourse, shaping how people view the world and conduct interpersonal relationships, ultimately forming a mindset centered on “struggle.” Furthermore, comparing Chinese and Western literature, the author argues that Western classics focus more on religion, redemption, and the individual soul, whereas Chinese literature emphasizes social contradictions and class narratives. Finally, the author proposes transcending endless opposition and struggle by returning to benevolence, self-cultivation, and the spirit of the Heavenly Way (Tiandao), replacing external conflict with inner growth to achieve true spiritual liberation through harmony.
In the New Culture Movement, Lu Xun authored a famous work titled A Madman’s Diary. In the very first entry, the protagonist claims that upon opening the Four Books and Five Classics, the entire text boiled down to just two words: “eating people”—where “people” refers to human nature. In my view, this perspective is overly extreme. Traditional Chinese literature can broadly be summarized by a single word: Li (propriety/order)—marked by clear hierarchies where everyone abides by their prescribed role. If judged strictly through the Western lens of equality, it indeed appears to suppress human nature.
As for contemporary Chinese literature, it can generally (though not absolutely) be summarized by two words: “class”—specifically, class sentiment and class struggle.
Virtually all award-winning works are inseparable from these two symbols. An elder once told me that if a slogan carries the scent of gunpowder and blood, it undoubtedly comes from the Selected Works [of Mou]. Browsing through the winners of the Mao Dun Literature Prize: Ordinary World speaks of class sentiment, praising suffering and celebrating the self-reliance of the proletariat; White Deer Plain addresses class struggle, where Tian Xiao’e demands women’s rights and Heiwa ultimately overthrows the feudal landlord; Red Poppies (The Dust Settles) depicts the struggle of Tibetan serfs; not to mention works like Li Zicheng and Song of the General. Mo Yan’s Frog, on the other hand, rebels against traditional norms and propriety.
Regulated by class standards, if creators wish to survive on socialist soil, they must either praise the common people, depict the courage of struggling against class enemies (bureaucracy, imperialism, feudalism, and capitalism), or re-create the history of “class struggle” in historical themes. Struggle on! Yet, after all this incessant struggling, even class sentiment itself has been struggled away. Turn on various video platforms, and one moment they are blasting this imperialist nation, and the next, that powerful state. The public has also grown increasingly clear-headed: after bombarding foreign imperialists, they aim their cannons at corrupt officials; and if they still have energy left over, they direct it at their own fellow countrymen!
Take certain families, for instance. Normally, they seem to mind their own business and maintain unremarkable relationships. But the moment something happens at home, the introverted suddenly become extroverted, the fearful become bold, and the listless become energized, rising up one after another to launch attacks. It is as if “struggle” were an opium—only through it do they find a reason to live. Yet in contemporary China, there isn’t actually that much class struggle; most days pass in mundane tranquility. So how do people get their adrenaline rush? By hunting for imaginary enemies everywhere, engaging in comparisons and rivalries. If they cannot find an enemy outside the home, they look for one within. Enemies become the ultimate purpose of existence. The same was true during the Ten Years of Catastrophe [Cultural Revolution]—unable to touch enemies abroad, they turned on internal enemies instead!
The Chinese love to struggle. Once they step abroad, they carry the haughty aura of subjects from the Celestial Empire. At the slightest dissatisfaction, they perceive it as discrimination; the moment they act or speak out, they immediately make international headlines. At its root, this stems from the inertia of “struggle.” Brother Tom shared a story: a woman from Mainland China had just gotten into his taxi when he asked, “Where are you from?” The woman replied that she came from Japan. Tom immediately switched to Japanese: “Nihonjin desu ka?” (“Are you Japanese?”). The woman didn’t understand, and after a brief back-and-forth, he realized she was actually from Mainland China. They had a pleasant conversation along the way, yet as soon as she got out of the car, Tom received a one-star review.
Abroad, there is another phenomenon: if an Asian person encounters some absurd trouble, regardless of the facts, as long as they pretend to be Chinese, they might escape unscathed. This not only makes the Chinese a scapegoat for others, but also lets the “Chinese” label sink into self-abandonment.
Opening Western literary classics—such as Les Misérables, Resurrection, Anna Karenina, and La Dame aux Camélias—one can always discern God, the need for God’s redemption, and the requirement to abide by God’s path. In particular, while Anna Karenina clearly denounces Anna’s violation of the sanctity of marriage which led to her family’s ruin and her own death, Chinese critics interpret it as feudalism repressing women, portraying Anna as a feminist—a reading that is utterly absurd. Les Misérables is fundamentally Jean Valjean’s personal redemption, yet it was labeled in China as the oppression of the lower classes by feudalism. The exact same story, viewed from different perspectives, yields vastly different conclusions.
When can a society and a people finally be released from the “class narrative”? How can they thoroughly liberate themselves from “class struggle”? Rather than struggling against Heaven, it is better to struggle against oneself; rather than struggling against Earth, it is better to seek harmony of body and mind in benevolence and love. Abiding by the Heavenly Way, respecting destiny, shedding one’s bad habits, preserving the truth, goodness, and beauty of human nature, and living out the joy of the Heavenly Way—is this not also a form of struggle and liberation? The only difference is that the latter is aimed at ultimate harmony, whereas the former’s struggle is a vicious cycle of vengeance with no end in sight!
Author Profile
Ba Yin: Liu Chang, native of Guang’an, Sichuan; former member of the China Zhi Gong Party; currently residing in Los Angeles, USA. Poems such as Remembering Mengla, Jialing River, Wandering, and Bean Paste have been published in the supplement of Southwest Business Daily.
WeChat: 491712361851
Editor: Gloria Wang
Proofreader: Wang Bin
Translator: Shen Meihua
