Literature and Revolution[Reply to a letter from Dong Qiufen, then a student of Beijing University].April 4, 1928 Dear Mr. Dongfen, Not being a critic I am no artist either, for nowadays to be any sort of specialist you have to be a critic too, or have a friend who is one. Without backing you are helpless, on the Shanghai Bund today at any rate. And not being an artist I have no special veneration for art, just as none but a quack doctor will give a boxing exhibition to cry up his wares. I regard art as merely a social phenomenon, a record of the life of the times. And if mankind advances, then whether you write on externals or on the inner life your works are bound to grow out-of-date or to perish. But recently the critics seem terrified of this prospect - they are set on immortality in the world of letters. The outcrop of different "isms" is an unavoidable phenomenon too. Since revolutions are constantly taking place, naturally there is a revolutionary literature. Quite a number of the world's peoples are awakening and, though many of them are still suffering, some already hold power. Naturally this gives rise to popular literature or, to put it more bluntly, literature of the fourth class. I am not too clear, not too interested, either, regarding current trends in China's literary criticism. But from all I hear and see, different authorities seem to use a great variety of criteria: Anglo-American, German, Russian, Japanese and of course Chinese, or a combination of these. Some demand truth, others struggle. Some say literature should transcend its age, others pass sarcastic remarks behind people's backs. Yet others, who set themselves up as authoritative literary critics, are disgusted when anyone else encourages writing. What are they up to? This is most incomprehensible to me, for without writing what is there to criticize? Let us leave aside other questions for the moment. The so-called revolutionary writers today profess themselves militants or transcendentalists. Actually, transcending the present is a form of escapism. And this is the path they are bound to take, consciously or otherwise, if they lack the courage to look reality in the face yet insist on styling themselves revolutionaries. If you live in this world, how can you get away from it? This is as much of a fraud as claiming that you can hoist yourself off this earth by pulling on your ear. If society remains static, literature cannot fly ahead on its own. If it flourishes in such a static society, this means it is tolerated by that society and has turned its back on revolution, the only result being a slightly larger magazine circulation or the chance for publication in the journals put out by big commercial firms. To struggle is right, I believe. If people are oppressed, why shouldn't they struggle? But since this is what respectable gentlemen [This refers to members of the Crescent Moon Society, a cultural and political association representing the compradore bourgeoisie] dread, they condemn it as "radical," alleging that men the world over are meant to love each other and would do so were they not now corrupted by a gang of bad characters. The well-fed may quite likely love the starving, but the starving never love the well-fed. In the days of Huang Chao [leader of a peasant revolt at the end of the Tang Dynasty] when men ate each other, the starving did not even love the starving; however, this was not due to trouble stirred up by the literature of struggle. I have never believed that literature has the power to move heaven and earth, but if people want to put it to other uses that is all right with me. It can be used for "propaganda" for example. Upton Sinclair of America has said: All literature is propaganda. Our revolutionary writers treasure this saying and have printed it in large type, whereas the serious critics call Upton Sinclair a "shallow socialist." But I, being shallow myself, agree with him. All literature becomes propaganda once you show it to someone else. This applies to individualist works, too, as soon as you write them down. Indeed, the only way to avoid propaganda is by never opening your mouth. This being so, literature can naturally be used as a tool of revolution. But I think we should first try to achieve rich content and skillful technique, and not be in a hurry to set ourselves up as writers. The old trade-marks Dao Xiang Cun and Lu Gao Jian [well-known delicatessens in Shanghai] have already lost their appeal, and I doubt whether a firm calling itself "The Dowager Empress Shoe Shop" could attract more customers than "The Empress Shoe Shop." Revolutionary writers bridle at the mere mention of "technique." To my mind, however, though all literature is propaganda, not all propaganda is literature; just as all flowers have colour (I count white as a colour), but not all coloured things are flowers. In addition to slogans, posters, proclamations, telegrams, textbooks and so forth, the revolution needs literature - just because it is literature. But China's so-called revolutionary literature seems to be an exception again. The signboard has been hung up and our writers are busy patting each other on the back, but they dare not look unflinchingly at today's tyranny and darkness. Some works have been published, true, but often more clumsily written than journalese. Or it is left to the actors in a play to supply the stage-directions, such writing being regarded as "out-of-date." Surely, then, the ideological content left must be most revolutionary? Let me quote you the two superb last lines of a play by Feng Naichao [member of the Creation Society]! Prostitute: I no longer dread the darkness. Thief: Let us revolt! Lu XunTranslated by Yang Xianyi and Gladys Yang, Lu Xun, Collected Works, Foreign Language Press, China, 1956.Two Eyes Magazine: Home | Issue 1 contents |