Exploration Set: The Second Collection of "Random Thoughts"

Author: Ba Jin
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features: I have compiled thirty essays from the serialized "Reflections" in Hong Kong's Ta Kung Pao (the 31st to the 60th) and one appendix ("Me and Literature") into a collection, which serves as the second volume of "Reflections." The new collection has its own name: "Explorations." I named the second volume "Explorations" without any profound meaning, but because this volume contains five essays titled "Explorations." In fact, all the "Reflections" are my explorations. Every reader of "Reflections" has the right to express their opinions. Of course, I can also insist on my own views. If my articles and statements hurt anyone, others also have the right to retaliate. If a barrage of attacks can force me to "dissipate" with those articles and statements, then that would only be my own fault. But if the blows miss the mark, I will still stubbornly survive, and my "Reflections" will certainly not "dissipate." This much can be asserted.
Recently, a few students from Hong Kong University published several differing opinions—or perhaps harsh criticisms—about my "Reflections" in the magazine Open Volume: "neglecting literary techniques," "grammatically awkward," and so on, and so on. Being faced with such a cold shower has been a good thing for me; it has kept me clear-headed. I have thought about it calmly for a long time. I do not feel ashamed of my thirty "awkward" "Reflections," on the contrary, I am even proud of having written them. Since I first entered the literary world, I have repeatedly declared that I am not a literary figure. Until April of this year, when I spoke to Japanese readers in Tokyo, I still repeated this old tune. It is not that I enjoy recycling old ideas, but simply to let people know that I am on a different path. I have never tried to dress myself up cleverly to please others, nor have I ever thought of crafting stories with empty words for entertainment. As I have said, it is the suffering of most people and my own suffering that have driven me to pick up my pen and write endlessly. I love my country and my people. Without them, I cannot survive, let alone write. I write to fight, to expose, to accuse, to contribute to my country and my people, but never to beautify myself. I write novels, and my greatest teacher is Rousseau. From the author of The Confessions, I have learned honesty and the refusal to tell lies. I wrote Family only to accuse the decadent feudal system and to plead for the young lives that were crushed. I do not use literary techniques; instead, I move readers with the author's spiritual world and genuine emotions, encouraging them to move forward. The highest realm of my writing, my ideal, is not perfect technique, but like "Danko the Hero" in Gorky's grassland stories—"he tore open his own chest with his hands, took out his heart, and held it high above his head." For over fifty years, I have been attacked several times. The "Gang of Four" burned my works and drove me out of the literary world. But once they fell, the readers brought me back. So, what should I write? Should I engage in deep contemplation, meticulously polish my words, and sing dirges for the past? No, that is impossible! I will not leave the path of the past. I will lay bare my burning heart and speak from the bottom of my soul. I must fulfill my promise to continue writing "Reflections" as the "last will" left by my generation of writers for future generations. I will write about some of the gains and hardships from my decades of creative journey. But more importantly: to summarize the "Cultural Revolution." I have experienced the entire process of the "Cultural Revolution," and I have a responsibility to share some of my true feelings with future generations. The university students criticized me for using the term "Gang of Four" four times in thirty articles. Their innocence is admirable. During my time in the "re-education camp," the Red Guards labeled me a "spiritual aristocrat," and I took pride in this title. In reality, these Hong Kong university students are the true, blissful "spiritual aristocrats," living high above others. The mainland of China was tormented by the "Gang of Four" for ten years, countless people suffered persecution, the national economy reached the brink of collapse, and the marks of the "Gang of Four's" atrocities are still on three generations. Does living in Hong Kong and being separated from the people of my motherland mean there is no bond of flesh and blood? To ask what "technique" is violated by discussing the "Gang of Four" more often is to miss the point. In future "Reflections," I will devote even more space to the "Gang of Four." The "Gang of Four" was far more than just "four people"; it was far more complex. I did not fully understand it at first, and even today, I am still exploring. But my eyes are far sharper than they were a decade ago. How did the "Cultural Revolution" begin? How did people turn into "beasts"? I will surely uncover the truth. Despite my slow progress, I have never stopped moving; I dig into others' wounds, and I dig into my own. How difficult is this work! Can I dig deep? Will I dare to dig deep? Will there be results? This is also a test for me. The past ten years were terrifying! Each of us has a responsibility to ensure that such a catastrophe never happens again. Every time I close my eyes, those cruel people and absurd events resurface before me. I have a feeling that if we do not make up our minds, the tragedy of the past ten years will repeat itself. If everyone has such cleanliness and refuses to see the word "Gang of Four," thinking that clinging to the so-called "literary technique" can turn them into beautiful women and elevate them to heaven, then "re-education camps" will appear everywhere, and a single "decree" can strip people of all their rights. The far-left ideology still has a market today, and in some countries, people still do not understand how we endured those ten years of catastrophe. I told a Japanese writer that we suffered so that you could see clearly what really happened. In my opinion, he may not see it entirely clearly, and we have not explained it to them properly. Two years ago, foreign friends often asked me, "The 'Gang of Four' consisted of only four people, why did they have such great power?" I hesitated and did not answer them directly. But when summarizing the ten years of experience, I calmly thought: we cannot blame everything on the "Gang of Four." I have admitted that I bowed to their authority and submitted to their rule, but does that mean I had no responsibility? Does no one else have any responsibility? No matter what, I must write my summary. I plan to spend five years writing the five volumes of "Reflections." This is my responsibility, and it is also my right.