It is not necessary to talk about material already discussed in detail by others. As I see it, it is very easy for leftist writers today to transform themselves into right-wing writers. Why? First of all, if one goes into seclusion to write articles and study problems through windows of glass, instead of staying in contact with real social conflicts, it is easy to be extremely radical of the left. But the minute one goes out to encounter reality, all one's ideas become shattered. Through closed doors it is easy to throw streams of radical ideas, but it is equally easy to become right-wing. This is what is called in the West a drawing room socialist in the West. A drawing room is a place to sit, and it is very artistic and refined to sit and discuss socialism without any intention of making it a reality.Socialists like this are common enough. Today, with the exception of Mussolini, who is not a man of letters, it is unusual to find writers or artists who are without a smattering of socialist ideas in the broad sense, who say that workers and peasants ought to be enslaved, killed, and exploited. (Naturally, we cannot say that there are none; there exist testimonies, such as the writings of the Crescent Moon group of China, and of d'Annunzio, the favorite of the before mentioned Mussolini.) Secondly, it is easy to become right-wing if one does not understand the real conditions of the revolution. The revolution is a bitter thing, mixed inevitably with dirt and blood, and not so admirable and ideal as the poets imagine. It is eminently mundane. One encounters many humble, difficult tasks. It is not as romantic as the poets like to think. It is clear that in a revolution there is destruction, but construction is even more necessary than that. And while the destruction is easy and sudden; the construction is difficult. Therefore it is easy for all those who have romantic dreams about revolution to become disillusioned when they have closer contact, or when the revolution is being realized in practice.
It has been said about the Russian poet Yesenin, that he had welcomed the October Revolution at first with all his heart, crying: "May the revolution live in heaven and on earth!" and added: "I am a Bolshevik!" But then when the reality proved to be completely different from what he had imagined, he fell into disillusionment and decadence. Finally he killed himself, and it was said that disillusionment was one of the reasons. Pilnyak and Ehrenburg are other cases of this type. And we find similar examples during our revolution of 1911. Writers such as those of the Society of the South began their careers as revolutionaries. But they wrapped themselves in the illusion that, once the Manchu (northern barbarians) were expelled, there would be a complete return of the majestic airs of the Han (native Chinese) officials, and they would all be able to wear wide sleeves, high hats, and wide belts, and strut like peacocks. To their surprise, however, after the Manchu emperor was overthrown, and the Republic installed, things turned out to be very different, in such a way that left them disillusioned, and some among them opposed the new movement. Unless we understand the real conditions of the revolution, it will be easy for us to fall into the same kind of mistakes.
Another mistaken point of view is the concept that poets and writers are superior beings, and their work is noble. For example, Heine thought that since poets are the most noble beings, and God is infinitely just, when they die, they will go and sit down near him, and he will offer them refreshments and sweets. Today, it is clear that no one believes in Gods who offer refreshments, but there still remain those who believe that the poets and writers who make the revolution for the working masses will be richly rewarded by the working class when the revolution is completed, receiving special treatment, riding in special carriages, and eating special food; and that the workers will offer them bread and butter, saying: "Take this; you are our poets!" This is not correct, nor will it ever happen. Probably things will be harder after the revolution than now. Maybe there will not even be as much black bread, not to speak of bread and butter, as had happened during a year or two after the Russian Revolution. If we do not understand this, we might easily be converted into right-wingers. The thing is that no worker, at least who might be described as worthy by Mr. Liang Shi-chiu, feels special respect for intellectuals. Look at Metik, an intellectual of the Fadeyev 19, whom the miners often laugh at. It is unnecessary to say that intellectuals have their own tasks, which we should not under-value in any way. But it is certain that it is not the duty of the working class to give poets and writers any preferential treatment.
Now, permit me to mention a few points to which we ought to give some attention.
First: In the struggle against the old society and the old forces, it is necessary to be firm, persistent, and give attention to strength. The roots of the old society go very deep, and we cannot make them tremble if the new movement is not stronger. Also, the old society has many ways to make the new forces fall into compromises, but it never compromises itself. There have been many new movements in China, but all have been defeated by the old, largely because they lacked definite objectives. Generally, their demands were very modest, and they were too easily satisfied. Take for example the movement for the modern written language, which at first desperately opposed the old society. It wasn't long before the modern written language was legalized, and guaranteed a happy kind of status. Writings in this language were permitted to be published in the corners of periodicals. Then they saw that they could allow this new thing to exist now, and that it was perfectly harmless. The new, for their part, were content that the modern written language now had the right to exist.
It happened almost the same way with the proletarian literary movement in the past year or two. The old society has also legalized proletarian writings, because they do not constitute a threat. And what's more, their people have adopted the style, using it as an ornament, somewhat like when they put a worker's rustic bowl beside the old porcelain and antiques in the parlor, to give an exotic touch. And once proletarian writers have their little niche in the world of letters, and can sell their manuscripts, they don't have to struggle any more, and the critics sing hymns of triumph: "Proletarian literature has conquered China!" But, besides the success of a few individuals, what has proletarian literature gained? It ought to be a branch of the proletarian struggle for liberation, which increases the compass of the social power of the proletarian class.
The fact that proletarian literature has a high position in the world of letters, while the social status of the proletariat is so low, shows that the writers of proletarian literature have divorced themselves from the proletariat, and joined the old society.
Second: I think we should widen our battle front. Last year and the year before, we really had some battles in literature, but on too limited a scale. Instead of confronting the old literature and old ideas, new writers are beginning to fight among themselves in a corner, leaving the old school to observe the struggle comfortably from the sidelines.
Third: We must produce a contingent of new combatants, because at present, we are really too few in number. We have various periodicals, and we do publish some books, but this is because all have the same handful of writers, the contents can only be lean. No one specializes; each scratches at everything: translation, stories, criticism, and even poetry. How can one, in this way, obtain good results? But the reason is the scarcity of writers. If we had more, translators could concentrate on translating, writers on writing, critics on criticism.
Then in confronting the enemy, our forces would be sufficiently powerful to defeat them easily. Let me illustrate this a little in passing. The year before last, when the Creation Society and the Sun Society attacked me, they were really so weak to the point that I lost interest, and it seemed to me that, therefore I did not need to make a counterattack. Then it occurred to me that they were employing empty city tactics. The enemy dedicated its forces to making noise, instead of training its troops. There were many articles belittling me. But one could see at a glance that they were written under pseudonyms, and that they were all forged with the same few words. I was hoping that I might be attacked by X; someone who had mastered the Marxist method of criticism, but such a person never appeared. I was always thinking that it is important to train a new young generation of combatants, and I have formed various literary groups. They have even produced a few desired effects. But we must give more attention to this in the future. At this time, we urgently need to create a contingent of new combatants. Those who are presently on the literary front must also be tenacious. By tenacious I mean that they must not be like the erudite scholars of the Ching (Manchu) dynasty (1644-1912), who used essays in eight parts, as if using a brick to open a door. Those essays were the means by which the scholars passed exams to become officials of the Ching dynasty. Once they passed the exam, evaluated it for its introduction, amplification, argument, and conclusion, they could throw it aside, and not use it ever again for the rest of their lives. Therefore they were called bricks to open the door, which were used only for this motive, after which they could be thrown aside, rather than carried further. Similar methods are still being used by many today. We note that, after someone has published one or two volumes of verses or short stories, they disappear forever. Where do they go? After publishing one or two books, they gain some fame, less or more; then they become professors, or find some other work. Since their name is already made, and they don't need to write any more, they disappear forever. This is why China has so few people in literature and science. But we need to have more; it would serve us well. (Lunacharsky even proposes to preserve the peasant art of Russia, because foreigners will buy it, and the money would be useful. I believe that if we would have something to show in literature and science, it could even help us in our political movement to free ourselves from imperialist oppression.) But to have some success in literature, we must be tenacious.
Finally: I think it is essential that in order to maintain a united front, we must have a common objective. I seem to remember hearing someone say: "The reactionaries already have a united front, but we are still not united." Really, theirs is not a deliberately united front, but because they have a common objective, and act in the same manner, to us it seems that they have such a front. And the fact that we cannot unite on one front demonstrates that we are divided in our objectives; some work for a small group, or, in essence, for themselves. If we all would want to serve the great masses of workers and peasants, our battle front would be naturally united.
Professor Liang Shi-chiu says that the poor always want to climb, climb more and more, until they become rich. Not only the poor, but also the slave needs to climb, and considers himself immortal when he succeeds. Then, clearly, the world is at peace.
CLIMBING AND SHOVING Even though very few can succeed, each person thinks that he will be one of them. And therefore, naturally, each one agrees to plow the field, collect dung, or be a Mr. Nobody.
Working hard and frugally, weighed down by a miserable fate, he battles against nature, he climbs as much as he can, climbs and climbs. But there are so many climbers that the only path is terribly crowded. The pure souls who climb according to the rules do not succeed. The intelligent know how to remove them, knock them down, trample them, climb on their shoulders and heads in order to succeed. The majority simply climb, convinced that their enemies are not above them, but beside them, and are those who are climbing with them. Most endure everything, on all fours, step by step, only to be pushed backward. They try again, and so incessantly. Nonetheless, there are too many climbers, and few arrive at success. Those in bondage are losing hope in various degrees. Perhaps there may at least be a revolution on one's knees. And so, in addition to climbing, shoving has been invented.
It is known that you are very tired, and want to remain standing. Then a shout erupts from behind: someone is shoving. And while your feet are swollen and trembling, someone moves forward shoving. It is easier to climb, since it is not necessary to use hands and feet. One moves from side to side, and moves forward shoving. If you give good shoves, sometimes you attain a half million in silver money, women, fortune, sons, and a position. If you give bad shoves, in the worst situations, you fall to the ground. But it doesn't matter, since you have already had your mouth down in the dirt; you can climb again. Some people also shove for fun, and are not afraid of falling.
The climb exists from antiquity, from the position of the most obscure scholar, to those who place highest in the civil service exams, and become officials in the palace; or from the condition of the clown, to that of a merchant. The shove would seem to be a recent invention. If we investigate, probably the thing most similar to it in ancient times was when the young lady threw the silk ball. When a young lady was about to throw the silk ball, all the fearless youths, anxious to eat the food of the Gods, looked up, amazed, and throwing liters of water from their mouths. It is sad that the ancients were so stupid that they did not require that the youths show their money, in which manner they could have raked in tens of thousands. Meanwhile, the opportunities for those who climb decrease, while the opportunities for those who shove increase. And daily, those at the top provide them with chances to do it, inviting them to make little investments, and promising them that they will have fame, wealth, and immortal life. So that even though there are still fewer opportunities to gain success by shoving than by climbing, everyone wants to try their luck. After climbing, shove, and if that fails, return to climbing...and so, they continue in this manner until the day of their death.
August 16, 1933 (taken from China Reconstructs, Vol XIV, No 5, pp 2-9, May 1973)