MCLC: Yan Lianke on Asia's tensions

[Denton, Kirk]

MCLC LIST
From: mark leenhouts <m.leenhouts at planet.nl>
Subject: Yan Lianke on Asia's tensions
***********************************************************

Source: NYT 
(10/5/12):http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/06/opinion/yan-lianke-words-to-soo
the-asias-tensions.html

Words to Soothe Asia’s Tensions
By YAN LIANKE

BEIJING — Raucous clashes triggered by the recent Sino-Japanese
territorial dispute have made creative writing impossible for me. I’ve
been devoting all my time to following the news, anxiously delving into
every new development.

Again and again, I ask myself: What turns an interminable island dispute
into a fireball? Who can put out the flames? Who can make politicians sit
down to sip iced tea together and engage in calm and courteous dialogue?
Where are the voices of reason?

I long for more rational voices, I long to hear from my fellow writers.

I was deeply touched after reading translations of the Nobel laureate
Kenzaburo Oe’s views on the territorial issues
<http://www.globalresearch.ca/japanese-novelist-kenzaburo-oe-japan-should-r
eflect-on-its-belligerant-history/> and Haruki Murakami’s recent
commentary warning of the damage caused by the outbursts of nationalism.
My long admiration for these Japanese writers now extends well beyond
their literary achievements.

“It’s like cheap liquor,” Murakami wrote, referring to nationalism
<http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/oct/01/haruki-murakami-hysteria-islan
ds-row>. “It gets you drunk after only a few shots and makes you
hysterical. It makes you speak loudly and act rudely ... but after your
drunken rampage you are left with nothing but an awful headache the next
morning.”

In the face of these inflammatory disputes between Japan and China,
Japanese writers are taking the lead in bringing a measure of reason to
the discussion. Compared with their humanity and courage, I am ashamed of
myself as a Chinese writer for my slow response.

“I fear that as both an Asian and Japanese writer,” Murakami writes, “the
steady achievements we’ve made (in deepening cultural exchanges and
understanding with our Asia neighbors) will be hugely damaged” because of
the recent problems.

I understand Murakami’s concern. However, I have to say that culture and
literature have always been vulnerable to politics. Historically, cultural
and literary exchanges have always been the first to take a hit whenever
border disputes arise. It makes me sigh every time I see culture and
literature treated like festive lanterns — hung out in extravagant
displays whenever needed and then discarded when the excitement is over.

Again and again, I pray in these dark nights: Please, no more guns and
drums. All wars are disastrous. The bloodstains of the Sino-Japanese war
during World War II remain vivid even today in our collective memory.

“We are all human beings,” Murakami wrote in his powerful Jerusalem Prize
award acceptance speech
<http://www.haaretz.com/culture/arts-leisure/always-on-the-side-of-the-egg-
1.270371> delivered in Israel in 2009, “individuals transcending
nationality and race and religion, fragile eggs faced with a solid wall
called The System. To all appearances, we have no hope of winning. The
wall is too high, too strong — and too cold. If we have any hope of
victory at all, it will have to come from our believing in the utter
uniqueness and irreplaceability of our own and others’ souls and from the
warmth we gain by joining souls together.”

I agree with him. For ordinary people, no one wins a war. Death is our
only destiny. In the face of war, we are all fragile eggs.

If only more intellectuals in Japan, Korea and China could step forward
and speak with the voice of reason instead of spreading hatred and
indulging in emotional outbursts, instead of standing aside indifferently,
perhaps we could lower the temperature and bring some much-needed iced tea
to people inflamed with territorial fervor. I am painfully aware of the
feeble stature of writers and intellectuals in this complex world. But I
believe if we are ever to be useful, now is the time.

In his essay, Murakami mentioned that his and the works of other Japanese
authors had been removed from shelves in bookstores in China. This is a
surprise for me. Only a few days ago I saw Japanese literary works on
display as usual in All Sages Bookstore in Beijing.

But I believe that what Murakami reported must have happened somewhere in
China. China is a large country. Many people here live with anxiety every
day, for reasons they themselves may not even understand. All the time,
they wait for a channel to vent their frustrations. It was because of
these frustrations that vandalism and assaults occurred during the recent
demonstrations. This behavior not only is disturbing for the Japanese
people, but also for many Chinese. As a Chinese writer, I am ashamed for
my compatriots who took part in the vandalism, yet I feel for their
inarticulate powerlessness and frustration.

I know it is absurd and wrong for bookstores to remove books by Japanese
authors, but I also understand the concerns bookstore staff members may
have. “Anything can happen in today’s China,” is a theme that often
appears in my literary works. But, at the same time, a sense of
powerlessness and sadness is always real for me.

I finished the first draft of my latest novel in August. The last part is
filled with the absurdity and horrors that have been playing out in real
life today. In fact, the ending is about what has been happening in China
and Japan, and what everyone fears will happen. I am embarrassed for the
lack of imagination. My novel is not an irrational prophesy of war, and
now I don’t know how to change the ending. But I do know that — in any
nation — if the voices of reason are not heard, disaster can strike at any
time, and it is the ordinary people who will suffer.

I know little of territorial issues, politics and military matters. My
love for literature and culture, however, knows no borders. Compared to
those who devote all their attention to territorial aggrandizement, I am
more devoted to world literature and culture.

As a Chinese writer, I long for the day when we can let politics be
politics, and culture and literature will be left alone. Culture and
literature are the shared bond of mankind. When political instabilities
arise, I hope this bond will not again be the first casualty. After all,
culture and literature are the root of our existence, and cultural
exchange is about sharing universal emotions and experiences.

When culture is abandoned, when literature is discarded only to gather
dust, when the root of our existence is severed, does the size of a
territory really matter?

Yan Lianke is a Chinese novelist and short story writer based in Beijing.
English translations of his works include “Serve the People!” and “Dream
of Ding Village.” This article was translated from the Chinese by Jane
Weizhen Pan and Martin Merz.