Supernatural

Author: Chen Pingyuan
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-05-01
Features: One cannot understand a nation without understanding its concepts of ghosts and gods. After all, isn’t life and death the essence of human existence? The events of life are vividly before our eyes, needing no further explanation; yet the mysteries and uncertainties of death strongly captivate the ancestors of every nation. The term "ghost" (guǐ) literally means "to return" (《》). The question is, after the lively "human" has returned, does it still have feelings, and can it continue to move about? This truly leaves one unsettled. It is said that when Zigong asked Confucius about whether the dead are conscious or not, Confucius replied with a touch of humor: "To know whether the dead are conscious or not, wait until they find out themselves—it’s not too late" (Liu Xiang, 《》). Unfortunately, people like Confucius who understand this are rare in the world. The ordinary, who tend to "disturb themselves without cause," insist on debating this mystery that can only be resolved after death. In the eyes of the general populace, "ghosts" (guǐ) and "gods" (shén) are quite distinct. The former bring harm to the world, so they are feared, avoided, and driven away; the latter protect the world, so they are revered, worshipped, and their blessings are sought. "Fear" and "reverence," "driving away" and "seeking," are essentially two psychological genes created by humans to give rise to mysterious phenomena. The former solidifies into "ghosts," while the latter externalizes into "gods." As a result, "ghosts" and "gods" seem to be worlds apart, and the various terms derived from them carry clear emotional tendencies. "Ghastly realms" (guǐyù) and "divine lands" (shénzhōu) cannot be compared on the same day; a "gentleman" must be "divine" (shénmíng), while a "petty man" can only be "wily" (guǐxiá); calling someone "" (harboring sinister intentions) or "" (suspiciously stealthy) is entirely different from calling them "" (magnificent strategy) or "" (divine and sublime). However, when it comes to emphasizing their otherworldly or non-human nature, ghosts and gods can be used interchangeably. For instance, "" (supernatural craftsmanship) is the same as "" (divine craftsmanship), and "" (divine and ghostly appearances) and "" (ghostly and divine compulsion) are indistinguishable. As for the highly used term "" (monstrous ghosts and serpents) during the Cultural Revolution, it lumped ghosts and gods together in one pot.
There are also philosophers who have strived to distinguish between ghosts and gods, with perspectives and approaches different from those of the general populace. Wang Chong of the Han Dynasty explained ghosts and gods in terms of yin and yang: "When yin qi goes against things and returns, it is called a ghost; when yang qi guides things and gives birth to them, it is called a god" (《》). Zhu Xi of the Song Dynasty gave new meanings to the terms "ghost" and "god," using them as synonyms for contraction and expansion, devoid of any religious connotation: "When qi flows, it is yang, hence 'god'; when qi returns, it is yin, hence 'ghost.' Before noon is 'god'; after noon is 'ghost.' After the first day of the lunar month is 'god'; after the sixteenth day is 'ghost.' When plants grow, it is 'god'; when they wither, it is 'ghost.' From youth to adulthood is 'god'; from old age to death is 'ghost'" (《》). Describing ghosts and gods in this way strips them of their original meaning: everything under heaven is both ghost and god, rendering the concepts of ghosts and gods meaningless. My reluctance to distinguish between ghosts and gods is not because the philosophies of others are too far-fetched or the definitions of the general populace are vague, but rather because it flows more naturally this way. The human psychological tendency to create ghosts and gods is like two sides of a coin, fundamentally inseparable.
Take the immediate context, for instance: in real life, there are many cases of "seeing ghosts as gods" or "turning gods into ghosts," and the line between ghosts and gods is not insurmountable. In the distant past, classical texts from the pre-Qin era often used the terms "ghosts and gods" together without any distinction between their sanctity or commonality, such as "" (《》), "" (《》), "" (《》), and "" (《》). In the pre-Qin era, ghosts and gods seemed to possess equal power and were equally revered and worshipped.
Moreover, it is the scholars’ job to meticulously analyze the evolution and changes in the concept of ghosts and gods and to define them accurately. As for writers discussing ghosts and gods, there is no need to take it too seriously or be overly rigid about the use of concepts. Otherwise, the writing might lack both "divine craftsmanship" and "ghostly artistry," leaving only a pile of plain prose. That is, if it were a scientific paper, the first requirement would be "correct argumentation." Following the thinking of most modern people who have been influenced by science, it would naturally be better to promote atheism or to write extensively about not fearing ghosts. However, as for literary essays, it doesn’t matter whether ghosts are mentioned or not—the key lies in "how" it is said, not "what" is said. As long as the writing is beautiful, whether it talks about ghosts or not, it is still readable. Interestingly, most talented and thoughtful essays either don’t mention ghosts or don’t deny their existence, but instead adopt a tone of "skeptical yet affectionate toward ghosts"—with a hint of mockery woven into the stories of ghosts. Perhaps those who insist on the existence of ghosts and those who are determined to debunk them are both too fervent and too didactic, lacking a relaxed and composed attitude, which makes their essays somewhat restless.
II Zhou Zuoren once said in 《》 that he had two different kinds of interests in ghost stories: one artistic and the other historical (folkloric). For Chinese writers of the 20th century, there should be a third: political. Discussing ghosts from an artistic appreciation perspective, from a folkloric perspective, or from a political struggle perspective are all vastly different. It is not right to either dismiss or praise them simply because of their perspectives. However, this does not mean that one cannot make judgments. It must be remembered that such judgments still differ in sociological, folkloric, and literary terms. For 20th-century Chinese writers, life was too tense and serious, leaving little leisure like Zhou Zuoren’s "listening to ghost stories all day on the street." It’s no wonder that after Zhou’s 《》 was published, it provoked the anger of so many radical youth. Ghosts and gods were causing real harm in reality, leaving no room for playful appreciation. So, writers took up their pens, fought against gods, and chased after ghosts. Although ghosts and gods could not be completely eradicated, at least the writers fulfilled their social responsibilities. Later generations may not understand why writers of that era were so keen on writing essays that resembled "popular science," or why they proposed slogans like "understanding ghosts is to eliminate ghosts," which seemed somewhat tasteless compared to Su Dongpo’s "listen to it as you will" or Zhou Zuoren’s "talking about ghosts and demons is ordinary." Chen Duxiu’s words partially explain this: "Our country has long been influenced by ghost and god stories, and the most powerful force shaping the hearts of the nation is this unconscious religious belief" (《》). Modern Chinese writers committed to social progress could not but invite science to dispel ghosts—even if they knew it would lack poetic charm.
Indeed, looking back, ghost stories can be quite poetic: "With ghosts, the universe becomes mysterious and meaningful" (Xu Qinwen, 《》). But when ghost stories become entangled in the hearts of the people and become a major obstacle to China’s development, fighting against ghosts becomes inevitable, and writers have no right to stand idly by, let alone defend them. The breaking of superstitions in the late Qing and early Republican era, as well as the of modern deities in the 1980s, were all aimed at liberating people’s souls. Such profound social transformations are indeed poetic from the perspective of human development history—though when applied to every individual essay, it is another matter.
It is undeniable that writers naturally love to talk about ghosts. Ancient Chinese writers left behind so many ghost stories, ghost poems, ghost novels, and ghost plays that it makes one eager to write about them. Although there are differences between writing about ghosts to hide oneself, to play with them, or to teach through them (Liu Qingyuan, 《》), talking about ghosts can be for self-entertainment or for entertaining others. I think no one would deny this. Li Jinfa laments: "The thrill and love one felt as a child listening to ghost stories is gone forever—how (regrettable)!" (《》) The reason it is "gone forever" is that with the acceptance of modern science, people no longer believe in ghosts. If abandoning ghost stories benefits social progress, then a little less of the "thrill and love" should not be a major complaint. This is also why writers of this century, despite their fondness for talking about ghosts and gods, often restrained themselves or even voluntarily gave up this hobby. In the mid-1930s, the 《》 magazine planned to publish a special issue on ghost stories. From the time the call for submissions was issued to the official layout of the issue, it took only fifteen days, yet enough submissions arrived to compile two issues, showing the great interest writers had in ghosts. In addition to Zhou Zuoren, who had written about ghosts before and after, writers like Lao She, Feng Zikai, Liang Shiqiu, Li Jinfa, Shi Zhicun, Cao Juren, Lao Xiang, Chen Quan, Lin Geng, and Xu Qinwen—all of whom were not experts in ghost studies—also joined the fray. Many writers stopped talking about ghosts later, not necessarily because they lost interest, but because the issue of ghosts and gods in 20th-century China was essentially a political issue, not a cultural one. Without fighting against ghosts or keeping silent, there was little room for a "lighthearted" attitude like "listening to it as you will" or "talking about it as you will." Thus, there was only one relatively carefree and culturally meaningful discussion about ghosts in the 1930s. Most other discussions about ghosts were from a political perspective. Not mentioning the various "anti-ghost movements" with real or fake titles, even compiling a book of "ghost stories that don’t fear ghosts" or discussing a ghost play could be a signal or sign of a political struggle. As a result, talking about ghosts and gods became a matter of state governance, and ordinary essayists had no right to speak out. If they had to speak, their tone would inevitably be too serious, and their writing would become sluggish.
III "，," Li Shangyin’s poem 《》 has moved countless talented but unsuccessful writers to lament. In the 20th century, even those who still claimed to be as talented as "Jia Sheng without equal" dared not hope for "the court seeking scholars to recall exiled officials." Even so, not talking about the people but about ghosts and gods still made people feel timid and even instinctively (resentful). Ancient writers were indeed fond of talking about ghosts, with famous examples like Su Dongpo, Pu Songling, Ji Yun, and Yuan Mei, who either had their own reasons or vented their frustrations. As for modern writers, they were no different—they were also asking about both the people and the ghosts. Right as the special issue on ghost stories was being published, someone wrote an article to expose this hypocrisy, lamenting the sorrow of talking about ghosts instead of the people, concluding, "In a foreign land, with nothing else to do, one can only talk about ghosts, unaware that the world has become dark and eerie" (Chen Zixian, 《》). While "" (don’t talk about state affairs) was posted in teahouses, it did not prohibit "talking about ghosts in broad daylight"; while newspapers demanded uniform opinions, they occasionally allowed "a pile of ghost stories." Without the right to ask about the people, one could only have leisure to talk about ghosts and gods—this was one explanation. Without the right to directly ask about the people, one could only pretend to talk about ghosts and gods—this was another explanation. There were very few modern Chinese writers who were indifferent to the people, so they often used ghosts and gods to talk about the people. The ghostly souls in Lao She’s "a scream against injustice in hell" (《》), the annoying "unknowing ghosts" (《》) in Lao She’s works, the "beasts and ghosts attached to many living people" (《》) in Zhou Zuoren’s works, and the "ghosts of lust, gambling, drinking, and opium" (《》) in Li Boyuan’s works—all pointed to this "bright world under the bright sky." Long ago, Wu Zhao of the Qing Dynasty said in his preface to 《》: "Try to say something about the underworld, after all, are there more people or more ghosts?" Regardless of the writers’ intentions, readers were already inclined to take ghost stories as human stories and to read them as human tales, making it easy to discern the implied satire, irony, or even non-existent hints and extensions. It was not strange for a purely entertaining ghost story to be misread as a meaningful political allegory, because the "ghost world" was originally a reflection and satire of the "human world." As Cao Juren said: "Creating a hall of Yama in the ghost world, a paradise and hell, ghost markets and cities, is also a pity; because this is again a mirage based on the human world" (《》). Generally speaking, "when it comes to things involving 'people,' it’s never easy to talk about them; talking about 'ghosts' is relatively safer" (Huang Miaozi, 《》). However, there are exceptions. Talking about ghosts can be safe or dangerous, because ghost stories are inherently ambiguous in meaning and imply satire. When a society is (prevalent) in political interpretation and public judgment, and the author has no right to interpret, ghost stories may disappear. Who can prove that your creation is not "a reflection of reality or venting dissatisfaction"? Can "ghosts" prove it?
There is another way of talking about ghosts that is not entirely unrelated to the people but is clearly detached from political realities—that is, examining ghosts and gods from an anthropological cultural perspective to glimpse the heart of a nation. Unlike talking about the people through ghosts and gods, it is about talking about the people within ghosts and gods, or studying the "human" in ghosts. This requires more understanding, more sympathy, more cultural sense, and more scholarly cultivation, rather than just acting on impulse. Zhou Zuoren said well: "I don’t believe that people become ghosts after death, but I believe that there are people after ghosts. I don’t understand what the 'virtue of the two qi' is, but I think that the projection of the living’s joys, fears, and desires into ghosts is not wrong" (《》). As early as the 1st century CE, the philosopher Wang Chong said that ghosts were born from human thoughts: "In the world between heaven and earth, there are ghosts, not because of the spirits of the dead, but because of human thoughts and imaginations" (《》). However, Wang Chong focused on refuting the belief in ghosts, while Zhou Zuoren focused on the cultural psychological background of ghosts’ birth—there was still a great difference between the two. Theoretically, Zhou Zuoren did not make much of a contribution, as the Western anthropologists he repeatedly cited, such as Lai Ze, had made more refined distinctions. However, as a highly knowledgeable essayist, he recognized that "there are people after ghosts" and that "listening to people talk about ghosts is actually like listening to them talk about their hearts" (《》), and he extracted many descriptions of ghosts from ancient Chinese classics, thereby understanding the "true thoughts and intentions of the Chinese nation" from a specific angle. The numerous ghost stories he collected and analyzed, as well as the essays and short stories discussing these ghost stories, were indeed, as he claimed, "extremely interesting and meaningful." As for the purpose and methods of this work, Zhou Zuoren had a clear statement: "We like to know the state of ghosts and their lives, searching for them from documents and customs from all sides, in order to understand some human emotions that are not easily known, in other words, to understand the people within ghosts" (《》).
The great classics passed down through generations undoubtedly contain the soul of a nation, but the ghostly and godly concepts and their related rituals, which are active in the folk and not recognized by the elite, do not they also represent the hidden world of a nation’s soul? The former has always been valued by scholars, while the latter’s significance in the history of thought has not yet been widely recognized. Of course, one cannot expect essayists to make significant academic contributions, but such essays about ghosts and gods indeed pique people’s cultural interest in them. Borrowing Wang Zengqi’s words, "We must understand our nation" (《》), so we cannot ignore ghosts and gods. In this regard, essayists still have great potential.
IV At the beginning of the 20th century, when scholars promoting new learning were vigorously advocating the expulsion of gods and ghosts, Lin Shu translated plays and novels by Shakespeare and Haggard, who often used "miraculous and supernatural elements" in their plots and language. To explain the value of literary works that focus solely on ghosts and gods, Lin Shu listed two reasons: first, ghost stories, though barbaric, are "the opposite of barbarism is civilization. Knowing the extent of barbarism’s flaws is knowing the extent of civilization’s achievements" (《〈〉》); second, separating politics and religion, after enriching the nation and strengthening the military, one could use the leisure time to entertain the people with literary works, even if the ideas of Shakespeare and Haggard were outdated and their use of the supernatural was not considered a problem by civilized people" (《〈〉》). In old terms, the former is the significance of understanding, and the latter is the literary value. Thirty years later, when Liang Shiqiu discussed ghosts in Shakespeare’s works, he only affirmed that ghosts were a very useful technique in Shakespeare’s plays and even suggested that "if Shakespeare had lived in the modern era, he might not have written these ghost stories" (《》).
Perhaps ordinary readers have not completely (shaken free of) the shackles of ghost stories and gods, and it is difficult for them to objectively examine the origins and development of ghosts and gods from an anthropological cultural perspective, so literary works should not contain too many ghosts and gods. When it comes to ancient ghost poems, ghost paintings, ghost plays, and ghost novels, writers generally held an appreciative attitude, but when it came to contemporary creations, they were much more cautious and dared not make casual statements. "If there is a good ghost, it can inspire people’s fighting spirit and appear more often on the stage—what harm would that do?" This was a very reasonable statement. But don’t forget the premise: "the existence of ghosts and gods in ancient opera is also an objective reality, and there is no way to change it" (《》). In other words, Li Moshan only approved of the ghosts and gods in adapted old plays, and whether ghosts and gods could appear in plays depicting modern life was still a question he dared not answer directly. Here, it is indeed necessary to consider the acceptance level of Chinese readers. Theoretically, modern plays could also include ghosts and gods, as they are merely artistic techniques that can be chosen, not representing the intellectual level of the writer, let alone "promoting superstition." But in practice, few writers did so, because it was difficult to (grasp) the measure. Zhou Zuoren, when discussing "zombies" in foreign and Chinese literature, said that such spirit beliefs, "in fact, hinder cultural development, but from an artistic perspective, calmly observing, we can glimpse the common sorrow or terror of humanity in strange legends, which is not meaningless" (《》). Conversely, if it is not viewed through an artistic lens, not "calmly appreciating," ghost stories may still "hhinder cultural development." Understanding the overall cultural level of 20th-century Chinese readers and the general enlightenment consciousness of Chinese writers makes it easy to understand why they were hesitant and ambiguous about the issue of ghosts and gods in contemporary creations. It wasn’t until the mid-1980s that this situation began to change.
As for why "ghosts and gods" are used together, but in the essays of this century, ghosts are clearly given more weight than gods, there are at least two reasons worth noting: first, the human touch of ghosts, and second, the free and easy mindset required by essays. No longer "revere ghosts and gods while keeping a distance," the folk had long since begun to revere gods while driving away ghosts. Modern people may admire or criticize gods, with the common feature of extremism—either absolutely idealizing them or absolutely dehumanizing them, so the image of gods lacks humanity, and writers are also unlikely to be too serious when writing about them. As for ghosts, they can be feared or mocked, but because they have more of a taste of the non-sacred and non-secular, non-ordinary and non-saintly human world, it is acceptable to jest and ridicule them. It is said that when people die, they become ghosts—a "natural correction," no application needed; while those who become gods after death are rare, perhaps occurring only once every hundred years. Clearly, ghosts are closer to the mortal world and more human-like. Legends say that there are people in ghosts and ghosts in people, sometimes even people and ghosts are indistinguishable; when writers tell such ghostly and human, rational and emotional ghost stories, though they do have a supernatural and mysterious color, they are still much lighter. And this carefree and relaxed mindset is undoubtedly more suitable for the creation of essays and short stories.
Regarding the role of ghosts and gods in artistic creation, writers have repeatedly mentioned it, but they have not conducted serious research. Lao She merely said that ghosts can "create a sense of terror, deliberately providing a (artificial) shiver for those with hollow hearts to have something that makes them tremble at the mere thought—a cold shower for the nerves" (《》); while Shao Xunmei’s analysis of the "five changes" in the use of ghost stories in literary works clearly carries a mocking tone（《》). If there is anything worth noting about the 20th-century essayists’ study of ghosts in literature, it is first the many writers’ comments on Luo Liangfeng’s 《》 and second, Lu Xun’s description of the images of the ghostly and humanized "Wuchang" and "NüDiao" in the opera 《》. "This ghostly and human, rational and emotional, terrifying and lovable Wuchang" (《》), this "red robe, black long waistcoat, long loose hair, neck hanging two paper ingots," "preparing to avenge as a ghost" NüDiao（《》), with Lu Xun’s unique feelings and vivid writing, strongly moved millions of modern readers. This human touch in ghost plays is easily understood by the "lower classes"; while Luo Liangfeng’s 《》 and the accompanying comments by various authors are more appreciated by literati. Modern writers were unable to explain the artistic characteristics of ghost poems, ghost paintings, ghost plays, and ghost novels in theory, but the introductions and analyses of some literary works that used ghosts as their subject are still worth savoring—here is a generation of writers’ latent and profound interest in ghosts and gods and their "ghostly and godly arts."