Chapter 65: What Belongs to the Nation Belongs to the World

The most crucial point is that, whether now or in the future, the center of comparative literature research does not lie within our country.

Thus,

The so-called “cross-civilizational dialogue” championed by comparative literature often degenerates, in practice, into a “gentle colonization by cultural hegemony.”

The early Western-centrism has not yet been eradicated, and contemporary research has fallen into the extremes of “reverse inferiority” or “deliberate assimilation.”

Non-Western literature is treated as a mere “footnote to Western theory.”

For example, forcing Aristotle’s theory of tragedy onto “The Injustice to Dou E,” and criticizing it for “lacking tragic spirit,” while overlooking the Chinese aesthetic tradition of “the interweaving of suffering and joy” in opera.

Or measuring Latin American magical realism by the standards of “realism” and branding it as “non-mainstream.”

Cultural exchange with the world is important, but the most vital premise is that it must be on equal footing.

Only when “every beauty is appreciated together” can “great harmony under Heaven” be achieved.

To put it plainly,

Comparative literature centered on Western theory is not good!

Comparative literature centered on Chinese theory is good!

We must establish a theoretical research system with Chinese culture at its core, tell China’s stories well, and share Chinese culture with the world.

We may use the core of Chinese culture to interpret the world, but the world cannot simply objectify and dissect Chinese culture.

There are matters where double standards are necessary.

Why?

Because everyone knows the power of cultural hegemony.

The Korean Wave, Japanese anime, American films...

Xu Chengjun fell silent for a long moment before he spoke, voice steady: “Professor Jia, in 1979, there remains a cultural rift yet to be bridged. The literary world has only just broken free from the era of empty grandiosity. ‘Scar literature’ is becoming a trend, and Western theories are subtly gaining dominance.

“But I believe all of you professors are even more aware of the hidden dangers than I am.

“It may be said that we need traditional culture research now more than ever. If we do not study it, if we do not guard our cultural roots, our spiritual embankments will be washed away, and our generation will be scorned by posterity.”

This opening thunderbolt left the professors both shaken and elated.

They were all leading figures in their field, and had pondered similar questions and hidden dangers.

But no one claims omniscience—

Who would dare draw such conclusions?

For someone to make such a “bold” assertion in this era is daring indeed.

But boldness is necessary.

Do you think any era ever lacked “public intellectuals”?

Break them!

Besides, how can one leapfrog to graduate studies without boldness?

Xu Chengjun paused before continuing, his voice clearer still: “How should we research traditional culture? First, by finding our roots. Our nation’s five-thousand-year civilization is not the bronzeware in a museum, but the cultural genes that flow in our blood. From the ‘Airs, Odes, and Hymns’ of the Book of Songs to the complex human relationships in Ming and Qing novels, our modes of thought and values are hidden in these words. Without roots, we are water without a source.”

“By grasping our people’s modes of thought and value standards from their cultural context, we prove that traditional culture is the backbone of literary creation. Lose it, and how can we speak of ‘literature with a truly national character’?”

Seeing Zhu Dongrun nod in approval,

Xu Chengjun felt his heart settle a little.

Boldness must not mean recklessness.

Although “freedom on the lectern” is valued, one must also maintain balance.

Xu Chengjun continued, “More important is to find the soul. Confucius spoke of ‘benevolence is loving others,’ Laozi said ‘the Way follows nature’—these are not feudal dregs, but keys to solving current problems. Today, construction is about harmony, international relations require balance—are these not all core ideals from our traditions?”

“To reconstruct the national cultural spirit as the foundation of literature is to give our creations, our society, a soul, so that the finest elements of our cultural tradition can nourish the present.”

“In the long run, the Chinese national spirit is the soul of socialist literature! Only by shaping a great national spirit can our people once again stand tall among the nations of the world!”

These words soared with lofty ambition.

This was a mature understanding distilled from the next forty years—

Xu Chengjun desperately wished they could encounter such wisdom sooner.

Material and spiritual development must be balanced.

That was the very marrow lacking in this turbulent, golden era!

Material confidence does not guarantee spiritual or cultural confidence.

But only with cultural confidence can the Chinese people look the world in the eye as equals.

The atmosphere in the conference room grew heavy.

The professors pondered deeply; the eras they had lived through were filled with thorns and hardship.

They hesitated instinctively,

because such a magnificent vision was almost unimaginable,

or, perhaps, they had yearned for it so long that...

At the very least, in this young man, they saw “light.”

Just as in his work, “Walking Towards Light.”

Flowers around the world will bloom in turn,

and magnificent, immortal things will follow one after another.

This land, battered and tormented for nearly a century...

Surely it, too, is ready to blossom.

A glimmer of moisture appeared at the corner of Elder Zhu’s eye.

Wang Shuizhao glanced at Elder Zhu, then gently set down his teacup, as if fearful of disturbing something: “But now modernization is the watchword—can these old principles keep up?”

“It’s not about making tradition race against modernity, but letting tradition guide modernity,” Xu Chengjun replied firmly. “The flying apsaras in the Dunhuang murals have no wings, yet float with such grace—how much modern art has this romantic imagination inspired? Zhang Heng’s armillary sphere embodies a cosmic view that still nourishes astronomy today.”

“Traditional culture has never been a dead specimen, but a living tree that grows.”

He had finished speaking about traditional literature and infused it with his own views on the Chinese spirit.

Now it was time to speak of comparative literature, but with restraint.

“Elder Jia is a scholar of comparative literature. The core of comparative literature is to find resonance within difference and to perceive difference within resonance.”

“It is not simply about placing Chinese and foreign works side by side for comparison, nor is it about forcibly applying Western theory to Chinese literature, but about building a true bridge for dialogue between cultures. Yet we must be wary of comparative literature becoming a theoryless ‘floating logic.’”

Jia Zhifang frowned; though this young man had not spoken directly, the implicit critique of comparative literature was palpable.

The old man, though advanced in years, still retained his composure. His lips twitched.

Forget it, I’ll refute you in a moment.

Su Liancheng, meanwhile, nodded to himself. His research focused on traditional literary theory, far more singular than Zhang Peiheng’s comparative approach.

You all flock to Western theory and comparative literature.

What does my research count for, then?

Good lad, well said!

Next time I hit you, I’ll go easy.

No need to beat you to death—half-dead will suffice.

Xu Chengjun had no idea what these professors were thinking, but seeing Jia Zhifang’s growing impatience and his expression of suppressed criticism, he wisely stopped there with comparative literature.

Enough had been said; knowing when to stop is the wisdom of our people!

Let them ponder it themselves.

“Using the global perspective of world literature to unearth the vitality of Chinese culture, bridging the national and the global—that is the way to modernize traditional culture. It’s not about losing ourselves to imitate others, but engaging the world with the treasures of our own heritage.”

Growing animated, he stood from his seat, but the professors took no offense.

He continued, “When I worked in the countryside, I witnessed many folk traditions like the Fengyang Flower Drum. Hidden within them are the most vibrant cultural codes. Our study is not to revive the past for its own sake, but to understand where we come from, so we can know where we should go.”

“Literature must clarify the muddy and exalt the pure, be inclusive and diverse. By drawing on traditional culture and discarding the dross while keeping the essence, we can reflect upon how our people should move forward—this is the true meaning of studying tradition.”

A flash of light crossed Su Liancheng’s eyes; at last he could not resist: “But compared with the rest of the world, does our traditional culture truly carry weight?”

“What is national is most qualified to become world heritage.”

With these words, Zhang Peiheng, Zhu Rundong, and Su Liancheng all slapped the table in admiration.

Well said!

So many golden phrases, and all so well reasoned—they spoke directly to the hearts of professors specializing in ancient literary theory!

This could be the basis for a paper.

No, in fact, every answer this young educated youth gave was novel, grand in vision, and rich in substance.

One thing they could be certain of—

though they did not know how it was cultivated,

this young man had developed his own scholarly methodology!

Xu Chengjun: How did I develop it? If you took the civil service exam, you’d have it, too.

Jia Zhifang remained frowning, while Wang Shuizhao listened attentively.

Seeing the encouragement in the professors’ eyes, Xu Chengjun composed himself, his gaze burning: “Just like Peking Opera’s singing, speaking, acting, and fighting, or the guqin’s delicate and distant sound—these cultural treasures, marked by our national identity, are what allow us to stand out on the world stage.”

“Only by thoroughly absorbing and deeply excavating our national culture can we truly connect with world literature. If we ourselves do not value and study it, how can we expect others to respect and recognize it?”

“At the same time, I personally believe that the current ‘scar literature’ trend is not sustainable. As our minds open further and reform deepens, we may develop ‘reform literature,’ ‘reflective literature,’ and other genres. But ultimately, the result will be a ‘search for roots’—a search for the wellspring of our culture.”

What vision!

You might as well go straight to a doctorate!