Author: 蘇東悅

An immigrant story

For immigrants over the age of 30, poor, and from a non-English speaking country, the priority after landing Canada is certainly survival. I am one of them and I can tell you it feels like you fall into the rushing water of a river and you are scrambling to hold on to anything from being washed away. In this desperate surviving mode, you do whatever jobs the market has to offer; you don’t have much a choice. My inquiry is, over the course of life transition, can they expect to have a little luxury to do a career they really like, or is this simply asking too much?

Many immigrants would probably agree with me that: language is power; age is possibility; financial well-being is everything. Disadvantaged in all these three fundamentals, what do you expect from your life? Can you expect freedom? Can you work towards self-actualization? My roommate eight years ago would shake his head at these questions that he deemed idealist and irrelevant. His name is Dayong, a soft-spoken middle age Chinese who by then had been living in Canada for four years. He worked as a labor at a factory warehouse eight minutes walk from where we lived. His typical day was like this: got up early, ate, walked to work, worked, ate lunch, worked until very late, returned home, ate, then went to bed. He repeated this routine six days a week, and on the seventh day he was busy with grocery and other necessities, and then another week started. For fifteen two week in a year and four years in a row, he had been living like this. The eight minutes’ walk distance was the size of his world. He hardly spoke, never complained, and always maintained a neutral feeling. He was “the subaltern who never speaks.” His emotionless behavior pattern was as predictable as the movement of the second hand of a clock. The only liveliness I could find about him was through his closed door at night before bedtime I could hear some indistinct conversation he had over the Internet with his wife and young son in a rural China. Even at those moments, his tone of voice sounded robotic.

For a long time, I was fully convinced that he was the latest model of robot with artificial human fresh. I did not realize he was a real fresh until one day he was seriously sick by working too much. So he was not a robot; then he must be a slave. Since he was sick and home bound that day, I took the rare opportunity to have a conversation with him. I asked: “Do you ever have any days off?” “Why taking a day off?” he was surprised and asked me back. I said: “To relax. How do you entertain yourself in your leisure time?” He looked confused and after a moment he said: “I don’t know. Maybe my one and only entertainment is sleeping.” I said that was not the right answer. “What do you do for fun?” I rephrased my question. He answered with an embarrassing smile: “Nothing makes me happier than the moment I receive my wage. That is my fun.” He then added in his defense: “I know little English. What can I do? “I continued my question: “Are you happy with your life?” He was now a bit annoyed and replied firmly: “Traditional Chinese like me do for our next generation. As for ourselves, not relevant!”

The last answer struck me a deja Vu feeling. It sounds all too familiar from the story my mom told me about of my great grandfather who emigrated to British Columbia as a laundryman more than a century ago. He was basically a washing machine made of human fresh, running full capacity from early morning to night each every day for years, using both his bare hands. With that hard-earned money, he returned to China to take care of his family. Without that money, my grandfather wouldn’t have been born, and it would have been no me. That was 120 years ago. Time passed, head tax gone, labor law in place, Canada has transformed into an immigrant friendly culture. Yet, the Chinese laborer still retains their work ethic: enduring as much hardship as possible for the sake of the family. For a second, I got goose bump by thinking this man in front of me was the reincarnation of my ancestor. I had to move out.

There was no way I would live a life like this. Yet, it was hard to dismiss the nightmarish Dayong’s life as an extreme scenario; I had seen many new immigrants continue to work at a job that they dislike and they care little about having fun in life. Was I destined to be one of them? Maybe not. Maybe those people over compensate the sense of insecurity by putting too much in work over life, too willing to compromise from their bottom line, and too soon to write off their alternatives. Maybe things weren’t that bad. Maybe I was different from them. After six month of living in Canada, I asked myself: what kind of life do I wanted? What are my chances?

By profession, I was an established journalist in China, but I could not practice the equivalent jobs in Canada because my English writing was elementary. A career I would really like to try was creative artist, but I had no education for that. I desired an English-speaking lady to be my wife, but I seriously doubted it would happen since my English could carry me no further than the conversation of everyday business. I had been a passionate knowledge seeker in China. Now in Canada I was hungry for the delicious English books like an intellectual wolf, wanting to devour the entire bookstore, but I was choked down by the first paragraph of the first book I picked up because of the paucity of my vocabulary. My ideal lifestyle was to dress nicely, sit at a nice cafe with some nice local friends, and then carry out a nice in-depth intellectual discussion on arts and culture, but the truth was I lacked the Canadian or Western cultural sensitivity or knowledge; I would look like a nice idiot in that café with the intelligent people. These goals were achievable only after my English level had skyrocketed and only after I had completed a systematic education in Western culture. The process could be dauntingly long. Given my age, it seemed unrealistic. My ever-shrinking balance of bank account also said negative.

The gap between what I wanted and what I got was further deepened by my family concerns. I am from a collective culture and still tightly connected through my parents
back home. The prospect of my aging parents was dependent on me, their only son. I was in my early thirties, an age considered by Confucius and my dad as the cut off line for success or failure. If I hadn’t established myself by this time, my dad would live in shame. By his standard, establishing oneself means securing a stable income and owning a house. Another thing expected from my age was getting married and having children. “Having a grandchild is the one and only request I have on you for my entire life.” My once domineering dad was trembling his pleading voice over the phone. Hearing this, I felt a sense of guilt engulfing all my audacity, tormenting me like hell. All things considered, it seemed in my best interest to secure a job, work hard like Dayong, and marry a Chinese-speaking woman. With the status quo of being disabled by language inadequacy, restricted by financial difficulty, shackled by the collective value, could I possibly pursuit what I desires against all odds, particularly in the days when many Canadians reported being enslaved by the overpowerful market system of Neo-liberalism? One night, looking at myself in the mirror, I said NO. I want freedom!

So instead of going to a professional college, I took student loans to go to the University of Toronto and carried out my long-term plan, titled “systematic education on Western knowledge.” I started with a fine art program, which realized my childhood dream of painting and drawing. I got up every morning, thrilled at the sight of my painting brush, and I believed the messy painting studio was what paradise should look like. That said, the survival concern was still nagging me some time. “You can work at a restaurant.” My professor addressed my worry. I thought that was his humor. In China, serving in a restaurant was a job looked down upon. Nonetheless, building a career as an artist must be hard, but I was up for the challenge.

The immediate challenge was always English at any given moment of my endeavor. In the first lecture of art history, I was shocked to find out I could not understand a single sentence. Bearing my goals in mind, I was highly motivated to dramatically improve my English. In fact, I wanted to genetically modify myself with English. So, I was being creative in the process of learning. After I painstakingly looked up many new words everyday, I turned them into recordings every week. Then I loaded the recordings on my portable electronic device, and listened as if they were the Billboard hits, using every minute I could find. Brushing my teeth in the morning, I was on my earphone; doing grocery, lining up in the bank, eating food, or anywhere multitasking was possible, I was always the new word nerd on the earphone.

Some of my ways were eccentric. I did Buddhist meditation while playing CBC Radio One in the background, hoping that the language would penetrate my mind deeper in the meditative stage; I hypnotized myself into believing that I was born an English speaker, based on the theory of “Fake It Until You Make It;” I brought with me the flash cards of new word when I was doing my business on a toilet. I would never forget the new words by staring at them when experiencing intense bodily sensation.
Perhaps the most effective way was the self-isolation from the Chinese community. For four years, I basically spoke no Chinese to no one except my parents on the phone.

Learning a new language and learning a new culture is the same thing. Since I needed a systematic education, I actually started with pre-school kids. I went to a public library and sat within a hearing distance to the kid’s section, and then I put on my sneaky ear to hear the stories the teacher was telling. As a veteran Chinese writer, I could tell a sophisticated story in Chinese, but to tell an English one, I got to start from the most basic. It felt like a long-legged supermodel taking baby steps, but I enjoyed doing it. Then I searched out the high school curriculum and read their textbooks in library. In university, I took up many courses in a wide range of disciplines in the Humanities. For Chinese students like me who were well trained in high school in mathematics but little in the Western Humanities, these reading intensive courses were overwhelming. Somehow I managed to keep up by working very hard. For four years, I allowed my curiosity to lead the way, and I exceeded my Bachelor’s degree with several extra credits.

The rampage of four-year learning still could not make the cut. I still felt lame in an in- depth intellectual discussion. I could have learnt faster if I had an English-speaking girlfriend. So I approached a Canada-born Chinese girl, but I failed to date her. I could have succeeded if I could impress her with an in-depth intellectual discussion. While achievement were slow, consequences set in. Because I was trying too hard, my life was out of balance. There was tremendous amount of accumulated loneliness torturing me. My parents were in depression after all expectation from me failed utterly. My mom was on medication and the picture she sent me, showing her hair all turned grey shattered my heart. I doubted my decision. Life was in a mess. All my life savings were gone. The survival concern became a reality. I had to go for a cheaper rent so that I could put food on the table. I stopped study like crazy. I had to take some part time jobs to support myself. However, for better or for worse, once you went through a threshold, you just could not stop. I had become an addict to knowledge. As Steve Jobs tells me: “Stay hungry, stay foolish,” I went back to university for another three years and got two Master’s degrees.

Maybe things weren’t that bad. Although I was poor and lonely in my fourth year in Canada, some positive signs had started to emerge. When I ended my self-isolation from the Chinese community, and I showed up at a social event, I suddenly realized that my chemistry had changed. Part of my mind was thinking like a Canadian. The Chinese thinking was still there as always, but there had now been a new English channel inside of me. This new channel was growing, and it seemed it had its own worldview. It felt like I was growing another self inside of me, like Dr. Evil’s “mini me” in the Austin Power movie. Unlike the “Chinese me”, this little one was an innocent blank slate, and I nurtured him from pre-school story telling to college, feeding him with new values, and teaching him new manners and everything Canadian. He was completely free from evil.

Now I have been living in Canada for nine years. I feel much more free now. Although language and culture learning is still in progress, I no long feel crippled by it. I am now much more comfortable with talking with people, including some intellectual conversation. I frequent the bookstore and read like everybody else. I gratuitously believe that I am on top of 1.3 billion people of Chinese on the other side of the ocean because very few of them could have this depth of touch with English sensitivity and cultural nuance. Age means nothing but a number. Possibility is limited only by imagination. A hard working immigrant like me who have made this far should have any reason to believe a better financial status is coming my way. I am very positive about Canada. I believe Canada is a miniature of the utopia world where all inter-cultural animosity has been eradicated and different people are living together happily ever after. I no longer cocoon myself in my tiny comfort zone; instead, I go out and celebrate cultural diversity. I am not quite sure how much of it is stereotyping, but I can easily and celebratorily say a few things to a random person about his or her random country. I certainly go further than my Canada born neighbor who claims that he can speak the meaning of “hello” in 37 languages. On a serious note, I am happy that I now have the means to make my voice heard for the group of unspoken immigrants.

With this comfort level, I was sitting in a nice cafe with a Korean girl who grew up in Toronto and worked for an IT company. I took the liberty to show off my intellectuality. “What did you study?” She asked. I proudly told her I studied fine arts and I had a Master degree in art history. After a silence, she said: “My younger sister did that too. Why do you guys all take the easy way out, picking on easy subjects. Why not challenge yourself to study mathematics and science, which will bring you a better future. You probably have no idea how hard it is to be an Asian born in Canada.” So the talk went downhill. I remember the last thing I said to her was: “Things that you take for granted could be something that someone else has been fighting for with all his might.”

Dismayed, I left the café into the street. As I was thinking: “I hate reality check,” a Chinese family was walking on the sidewalk facing my direction. The father was holding a young daughter on his arm, with the wife behind and a teen son to his left. “Dayong!” I cried out. Eight years has passed since we last met, he had a much better complexion and spirit. Apparently, his life had changed. He now had a happy family around him, and he told me he had owned the very house where he used to live as a tenant in the basement. I was happy for him and asked how he had arrived at this success. He told me he was still doing the same routine in the same job. I looked at him in disbelief, but he paid me no attention and continued to brag about himself with a triumphant smile on his face, as if he was enjoying his American dream accomplished. As he spoke, I noticed his tone of voice has become lively, particularly when he asked me: “What do you do now?” I told him I was looking for a job at a restaurant as a server. He looked at me in disbelief. I told him: “Maybe things aren’t that bad,” and I went on to tell him I got my second Master degree last year, and I was going to establish myself as a creative artist. Before we departed, I asked if he knew of any cheap place for rent. He offered his basement. I said I would take it. My future will begin at Dayong’s basement. By all means, I could survive.

鳄魚圖騰

文|東東

在很久很久以前，寒冷的冰川已經消失，歐亞大陸東部一片郁郁蔥蔥。在山林水邊的某個好地方，住著某一群山洞人。他們像許多穴居動物一樣三五成群地住在大大小小的山洞中。洞外的近處有平地、中處有湖、遠處是高山峻嶺。太陽總在東邊升起，在西邊落下。

卡卡是其中一個小夥子。他身體結實、下巴雄厚，最擅長捕野兔，業余愛好是撿石頭，然後搬到小洞裏送給娜娜，討她歡喜。娜娜其實真正喜歡的是卡卡的下巴。她和卡卡住在一起，說話少干事多。她擅長的技能是採集，在最荒蕪的季節也能采摘到好野果子和稻草，而且這些果子吃了十次有八次不拉肚子，很好信賴。她不但與卡卡分享果子，也與其它山洞的鄰居分享。卡卡和娜娜都不知道自己多少歲，只感覺到自己的身體就像一棵開花的樹，該結果子生孩子了。

但孩子是怎麽來的，這個問題一直困惑著卡卡。卡卡和娜娜有一個一歲大的孩子。卡卡知道這個孩子是從娜娜肚子裏爬出來的。但是，那個小肉球最早的時候是怎麽鑽進去娜娜肚子裏的呢？卡卡想：它總得先鑽進去，在裏面慢慢變大，然後才能爬出來。卡卡想要弄清楚這個問題是有原因的。

一條絹流從卡卡和娜娜的小洞裏流過，在洞口的左邊水簾洞之下住著二男二女，其中一個男子是歪下巴，有一個女子是短下巴。這是卡卡不喜歡他們家的一個原因；而更主要的原因是卡卡妒忌這一家的小孩。卡卡和娜娜家只生了一個小孩，而歪嘴家則有十來個小屁孩。這些小孩都很粗壯野蠻，大一點的小孩子手臂長得跟蟒蛇一樣長，頭發像樹藤一樣粗；那個二歲大的小孩，臉上的胡子已經像娜娜一樣濃密。他們的手腳敏捷，就像是峽谷河道拐彎處那片樹林裏的猴子一樣多。有一天，他們成群結隊地衝上山坡，無意間發現了卡卡的一個秘密。勤勞的卡卡將近來找到的石塊放在一個大樹洞裏面，這幾十塊天然的石頭是最高品質的——石塊大小適中，形狀各異，有尖的、有扁的、有圓的，甚至有蝴蝶型的。卡卡的計劃是：秘密地把這些石塊攢著，然後在同一天裏拿回洞裏，給娜娜一個大驚喜。沒想到驚喜倒是先給了這群鄰家的小屁孩，他們見到有石頭就衝上去搶。卡卡揮著一條又長又粗的樹枝檔在石堆前面，張開大下巴，把牙齒磨得絲絲作響，把眼睜瞪大如餓狼，也沒能把他們嚇走。他能擋住跟前的兩三個小孩，但擋不了其他同時衝過來的七八個。卡卡發現身後的石塊已失守，就轉身去追已搶到石塊的小孩，剛才被擋住的小孩即乘機也搶到了石塊。卡卡勢單力薄顧此失彼，不一會，所有石塊都洗劫一空。卡卡望著這群毛手毛腳的“盜賊”揚長，無可奈何地把樹枝甩在地上，然後像一攤泥一樣無力地蹲在地上，埋頭嗚嗚的哭。哭完了他就開始幻想自己有許多的小孩，這些小孩漫山遍野，像蝗蟲一樣，所到之處，把所有的石頭收拾得片甲不留。在幻境裏，他站在山頂看著，松開下巴哈哈地笑，而鄰家那群小孩攤坐在地上哇哇地哭。他想得高興，就擡起頭張開眼，卻望著四周空空如也，不但身邊一塊好用的石頭都沒有，剛才頭腦裏的那群自己的小孩也一個沒有看見，只有草叢中一只蛤蟆和他四眼相對，他于是又埋下頭去繼續傷心。

卡卡回到家，唯一能夠做的報複，就是恨恨地在洞裏的小溪裏“唏唏”和“呸呸”，即是撒尿和吐口水，讓那混濁的髒東西順水流到下面的水簾洞去。想了想，還是不解恨，于是在水裏“噗噗”，也就是大便。沒料到那大便塊太重，竟然不隨水流下去，倒是賴在山洞的水底裏不動，那臭氣倒嗆著了自己。娜娜也捂鼻子，但她從不責怪卡卡。她默默不作聲，拿了根小樹枝，很認真地去挑那幾塊屎，那幾塊東西才隨著水滾流了下去。卡卡見狀破涕爲笑，娜娜也看著他縛緊的臉笑開了，也“撲哧”一聲笑了。卡卡見到娜娜在笑，“咔咔”地笑得更厲害了。笑聲中，他搶過那樹枝，在水裏比劃著，然後抱著肚子，笑翻在地。兩個人的笑聲在山洞裏的回音壁繞來繞去再地傳了出去。水簾洞下的幾個小屁孩依稀聽見，探頭探腦來看究竟，並不知這笑聲與自己有關。

報複是治標不治本。卡卡很清楚根本的解決辦法是讓娜娜的肚子鼓起來，生許多許多的孩子。可是日子一天一天過，娜娜的肚子就沒有鼓起來過。于是，卡卡必需弄清楚這孩子是怎麽鑽進去的她的肚子裏的。

卡卡先是試著回憶自己當初是怎麽鑽進去的。他記得昨天他在小溪裏用削尖的木條刺中了一條魚，又在沼澤裏捉了幾只青蛙；前天，他和若幹男女聚在一起跳熊舞、殺了幾只山豬放在山頂的草堆上燒掉，祭祀山神；再前一天，他什麽事沒做，只是躺在地上想事情；再再前天……他就這樣一天天地往前想，期望想到他剛出生的那一天，究竟發生了什麽事。想到第十天的時候，卡卡就睡著了。在第二次的嘗試中，他找些苦葉子嚼在嘴裏，讓自己清醒。想到第十天的時候，手臂上被蚊子咬了一口。他拍死了蚊子，思路卻隨著“拍”的一聲就斷掉了，氣得他不斷地辱罵蚊子，罵完了又只好重新從最近一天開始想起。他如此反複總是一無所獲。卡卡于是嘗試跳躍式的思維，他記得很久以前，他比一只小羊還矮的時候，有一天地動山搖，所有的大人都嚇得跪在地上求饒，他們不知做錯了什麽事，讓山神動怒了。卡卡無法記得比這件事更早的內容了。因爲這個回憶太恐懼了，卡卡于是取消了這種做法。

卡卡去問別人。除了水簾洞下面的男女，他逢人便問。有人說是孩子是從高山峻嶺的另一邊的一些石縫中來的；有人說與蛇有關，說是女人與蛇在夜裏相遇，第二天都要生孩子。幾年前卡卡的姐姐被蛇咬了，不但沒有生孩子，倒是在第二天就死了。可見此話不可信。會不會與大樹有關？卡卡記得，在自己的兒子出生之前，他和幾個夥伴一起去過砍樹。那樹杆很硬，用石塊切割半天只切入一條細痕。卡卡用力過猛，結果反而把自己的手給切破了。他又痛又氣，扔掉石頭對著大樹跺腳揮拳大喊大叫。也許，卡卡想著：朝大樹大喝大叫與生小孩有關。于是他在林子裏找了一棵與記憶中類似的樹大叫大喊。把樹上的烏鴉都嚇飛走了。回家一看，娜娜的肚子仍是平的。卡卡並不放棄，他回到林子裏嘗試了其他品種的樹，然後再選擇同一品種但不同大小的樹。他嚷到喉嚨沙啞，下巴酸痛，但回家一看，總未見成效。

會不會與祭祀的舞蹈有關？每個月圓的傍晚，所有山洞人都到林子中間的空曠地會聚、圍著火堆跳舞。山洞人大多數會跳虎舞、熊舞、狼舞、老鷹舞、鹿舞。卡卡因爲打獵活動範圍大，見多識廣，所以發明了鳄魚舞，甚至還有山豬舞。但哪種舞與生小孩有關呢？卡卡留意到那水簾洞的二男二女將鹿角綁在頭頂跳鹿舞，他于是也開始鹿舞。他找來幾把彎曲有致的樹枝，用雙手拿在頭頂佯裝鹿角，屁股後還夾著一條藤條當鹿尾巴。他不停地擺弄身體，直跳到火堆燃切，衆人散去，他仍然不願停下來。月光下塵土飛揚，他一個人在曠地上蹦來跳去，口裏“哇哇”學鹿叫，臉上裝出各種古怪的表情。住在水簾洞裏的兩個小孩躲在暗處偷笑，但被卡卡發現。卡卡龜下腰，挺著頭頂的樹枝爬衝過去，把小屁孩嚇得四散而逃。

直到跳盡了力氣，卡卡才撇下樹枝和藤條，氣喘呼呼地趕回洞裏去看娜娜的肚子。可是娜娜的肚子仍然沒有動靜。卡卡的執著態度感動了娜娜，她很希望自己的肚子有所動靜，好讓卡卡開心。看著卡卡整天辛苦地奔波，她也感到焦急。但是事與願違，肚子平靜得像沒有風的午後山坡上的大石塊。幾天後的一個早上，她突然發現肚子裏傳來輕輕的天空行雷滾動般的聲音，她趕緊跑出洞去，把在空地上獨跳鹿舞的卡卡拉回洞來。她指著自己的肚子，欣喜若狂。卡卡來不及把鹿角從頭頂解下來，就把耳朵貼在娜娜的肚皮上聽，娜娜默默不作聲，讓卡卡聽了幾個小時。那不是小孩的聲音，那是娜娜吃了一只青蛙後消化不良的緣故。

卡卡經常在半夜夢見小孩。他很想把夢中的小孩抓幾個出來塞進娜娜的肚子，可是他做不到。他剛想動手抓，就醒了。一醒了小孩也就頓時不見了。想必他們在黑暗中躲起來了？他坐起來環顧小山洞四壁的角落，但夢裏的孩子一無蹤影，只看到洞口有月光射進來，幾只熒火蟲繞著垂下來的藤蔓飛舞。卡卡失望地歎了口氣。娜娜被他的動靜吵醒，也坐了起來。她知道他又是爲了孩子的心事。她伸過手來安撫卡卡粗壯的下巴。卡卡夢想破滅、委屈得正想哭。娜娜溫柔地將臉貼到他的耳邊，輕輕地問：

“囑囑？”

卡卡收回哭意，點頭“嗯”了一聲。娜娜伸長了嘴湊過來，在卡卡下巴的胡子中蹭來蹭去，就像鴨子的嘴在草叢中覓食似的。卡卡總算平靜了下來，很快就睡著了，白天的大喊大叫和鹿舞把他累壞了。

會不會是不是與芒果有關？水簾洞裏那個歪嘴男子的經常啃芒果，吃剩的芒果核堆在洞口像長毛象(猛犸)的屎一樣高。卡卡于是找來許多芒果，不管酸的甜的都往嘴裏送。胃裏很快就受不了嘔吐出來。他把那些穢物敷在娜娜的肚皮上，期望奇迹的出現。娜娜覺得那東西又酸又臭，髒髒的癢癢的很難受，幾次想用手弄掉，但都被卡卡止住。最後一次卡卡生氣了。他甩下娜娜的手，索性蹲到山洞最裏面的角落，雙手交叉抱住膝蓋，嘟著嘴，一語無發，雙眼呆呆地盯著空地看，一動不動地就象塊石頭。娜娜後悔自己的行爲了。她理解卡卡生孩子的心切。她默默不作聲，輕輕地走到角落蹲下來，挨著卡卡。卡卡假裝沒看見，眼睛數著洞壁上的螞蟻；娜娜臉上靜靜流下兩行眼淚。他們就一直默默地蹲著。後來穢物風幹後自動脫落，頑固的肚子仍然沒有變大。

大概是那月亮。卡卡想，那月亮的肚子有時塌下去，有時鼓起來，有時鼓得圓圓的亮亮的，就像是娜娜曾經有過的肚子。所以，月亮裏面肯定裝滿了許多孩子。要是能夠得著，把月亮的肚子扒開，那麽要多少孩子就有多少孩子。可是月亮太高了，爬不上去，于是他就朝月亮扔石塊。他想：要是能扔中月亮，觸動了月亮，娜娜的肚子就會像月亮一樣鼓起來了。他很滿意自己的觀察分析能力。他還注意到，月亮有時遠有時近，和他捉迷藏。譬如說，在空曠地上，可以看清夜空中月亮的位置，可以輕易地瞄准，可是月亮躲得高高的，即使挑了較輕的石子，也不可能扔得著。當他走進樹林，發現月亮其實躲在密密匝匝的樹枝葉的背後，它的高度還不及樹頂，是石子可以夠得著的範圍。但問題在于月亮被樹枝擋著很難瞄准，石塊往往是扔到了樹上。卡卡不斷地變換位置朝月亮扔石頭，一會兒在樹林，一會兒跑到曠地上。他希望以此來迷惑月亮，要是月亮稍一疏忽，在空曠地忘了撥高空中，就可以扔到了；又或者月亮藏到樹林時，忘了選一塊沒有樹擋住的地方，那石子也可以扔中月亮。但是，不管他如何變換地點，狡猾的月亮從不出差錯。卡卡並不服輸，他不斷尋找新的樹林和曠地，跑來竄去，越跑越遠。他越了湖，接近了遠處黑壓壓的高山。山的峭壁有一只矗立的狼仰脖長嚎，月亮嚇得躲進雲層，四周驟時漆黑一片。

娜娜每天采集果子，按時回洞。卡卡每天打獵，比娜娜稍晚一些回洞。娜娜在洞裏沒事幹，就在兒子身上捉虱子。一般來說，捉到第九只虱子的時候，卡卡就回來了。可是這晚捉了十七只虱子，也不見卡卡的蹤影。她心裏掠過各種不祥的懲兆。不久前，在湖邊專心采集的時候，一頭路過找水喝卻不長眼睛的長毛象，把她的一個同伴踩死了。而且，她聽說高山裏有各種凶殺的動物，它們一口就可以咬死一個離群的人。她越想越可怕，趕緊改變想法。或許卡卡鹿舞跳得太多，變成了一頭公鹿，去找他的母鹿去了。娜娜這麽想，又或許他的大下巴迷住了遠方的山洞女人，于是在她那裏過夜了。再或許是卡卡不滿意自己的肚子沒有變大，離棄自己了。不管哪種猜想都讓她睡不著。天微微亮，她就奔走各個山洞中向鄰居報告危機。于是，所有的洞人展開了地毯式的搜救行動。在太陽正當空的時候，他們終于在高過人頭的草叢中發現了卡卡。最先發現卡卡的是水簾洞中那個嘴歪得最厲害的兒子。他撥開草叢，只見卡卡四腳朝天，一動不動，大下巴張開著，嘴上面一群蒼蠅飛飛停停。這小孩不敢走近，拿了一根長樹枝地去桶卡卡的屁股，試探他的死活。娜娜聞聲而來，見狀心裏一緊，大喊一聲撲了過去，還來不及哭就發現卡卡還活著，他只是昏睡過去。他那張大的嘴巴正打著呼噜，是牙縫中的殘肉引來了蒼蠅。水簾洞的一個嘴不歪的小孩撥了根細草伸進卡卡的鼻孔，卡卡打了個嗆但仍然沒有醒。原來，昨晚卡卡瘋狂地追逐月亮、跑得精廢力盡的時候才發現迷路了，偏偏被狼群發現和跟蹤。他就繼續跑，跑盡了最後一絲力氣，他跌倒了爬不起來。他聽見身後狼的叫聲在逼近，知道要死了。說時遲那時快，他趕在被狼咬之前睡著了。他以爲人一睡著就沒有知覺了，那麽被咬時就不痛了。這一睡倒救了自己一命。一只餓熊把狼群趕跑，想要獨吞獵物。它在卡卡跟前嗅著，以爲他已死了，悻悻離開。卡卡于是在睡覺中死裏逃生，此時仍在死死地昏睡著，生怕醒來會痛。不管娜娜擰耳朵捏脖子，他都拒絕醒過來。大家哈哈大笑，但又啧啧稱奇，不知道卡卡如何在狼群出沒的險惡夜裏活下來的。最後衆人七手八腳將他擡回小洞裏。

不知道睡了多久，卡卡才鼓足了勇氣醒過來。他睜開眼，想看看自己被狼咬後，身體還剩下多少塊。沒料到自己竟還完整，眼前是關切的娜娜。他不禁高興得跳起來哇哇大叫，緊緊抱住娜娜。回過神來，他發現娜娜的肚子仍是平平的，不禁又哇哇大哭。娜娜很心痛，緊緊地抱住他的下巴，卡卡則像小孩子一樣，發著脾氣哭鬧，拍打著娜娜，口裏埋怨著她。娜娜默默不作聲，任他拍打。過了一會兒，卡卡哭鬧完了，娜娜幫他揉揉背按按肩，舔他大腿上被草石劃破的傷口，卡卡仍喘著粗氣。娜娜按摩著卡卡的下巴，輕聲地問：

“囑囑？”

卡卡點頭“嗯”了一聲。于是娜娜又伸長了嘴在卡卡的胡子中遊走，就像是在草叢中尋找卡卡的下落。卡卡的胡子被蹭得很舒服，身心慢慢放松下來，昨夜的勞累、恐懼和怨恨，漸漸被蹭掉了。剛才那個哭鬧的“小孩”，變成了聽話的“小孩”。

“賊賊？”

娜娜柔聲問道。卡卡又點了點頭。娜娜于是把卡卡藏到自己秘密又溫暖的地方。那晚，卡卡睡得非常輕松和踏實。他沒有再夢見小孩。第二天早上，他決定從此不再做無謂的努力了，不再去想娜娜的肚子。他要珍惜娜娜。他要去找些石頭送給她，哪怕是要跑到高山峻嶺的另一邊，哪怕是要穿過狼群越過虎地，他都願意。

經曆了生死劫的卡卡，從此變了。他不再傻乎乎地衝動做事了。他時常保持著冷靜的頭腦及懷疑的態度，並因此漸漸贏得所有山洞人的敬重。另外，有傳言稱他有神力，連狼群都怕他。這也幫助提高了他的聲望。水簾洞的小屁孩從此不敢偷他的石頭，而是去偷別家的石頭，然後爭寵地獻給他。

兩個月後，沒料到的好事發生了：娜娜的肚子漸漸鼓起來了。娜娜告訴卡卡，卡卡並不相信，笑她又是吃了青蛙了。又過兩個月，娜娜說自己有孩子了，卡卡仍然不信。他繼續取笑她說，當她盤腿坐的時候，越來越像鼓著氣的青蛙。又過了兩個月，娜娜的肚子更大了，卡卡仍然不信。他認爲娜娜吃了一只帶殼的大烏龜，是那硬殼把肚子撐大了的。再過若幹個月，一個血茸茸的東西從她肚子裏鑽出來了。卡卡定睜一看，發現那團東西竟然不是一只烏龜，而是一個小屁孩，這才相信了。他又驚又喜，端祥著這個意外的東西。良久，他突然明白過來了，“咔咔”地大笑。娜娜問他何故。卡卡笑自己的愚蠢，他說，娜娜生孩子與他吃芒果無關，與他大喊大叫無關，與月亮無關，更加與他跳的鹿舞無關。

終于找到了答案了。卡卡鄭重地告訴娜娜，答案就是鳄魚舞！卡卡解釋說，十多個月前，在他迷戀上鹿舞之前，他跳過不少鳄魚舞。他指著孩子的下巴說：看他長長的下巴，多像是鳄魚的嘴。

卡卡決定將這個重大發現公諸于衆。有鑒于卡卡的威信，山洞人都深信，鳄魚會促進生育。水簾洞的歪嘴男子也站出來以自例爲實證：稱自己家孩子多，全拜鳄魚所賜。他說，雖然他打獵從沒見到鳄魚，但是小時候聽過老人講鳄魚的故事，至今不敢忘，于是才有這麽多孩子。信男信女聽後更加深信不疑，紛紛在自家的山洞石壁上刻畫了鳄魚的輪廓。但都畫不好。他們擔心，萬一不小心把鳄魚畫歪了，生出來的孩子就會像水簾洞的歪嘴男子。所以，他們紛紛要求卡卡爲公衆畫一條標准的鳄魚，至少他見過真品，而且他的下巴很端正。

卡卡深感責任重大，知道這幅畫事關族人興衰，所以不敢怡慢。他從小山洞中幾百塊珍藏的石塊中精挑細選，小心翼翼地拿出了最好的石刀，在曠地的一棵枯死的大樹樁上刻下了鳄魚的永久形象。

從此，每到月圓之時，男女老少就到樹樁前膜拜，圍著火堆跟卡卡學跳鳄魚舞。地上的人們發出“咔咔”的鳄魚咬牙的聲音，天上的月亮靜靜地聽著看著，照樣從東邊升起，從西邊落下。

2014年5月10日

Frieze article translation

Original Text
Frieze Issue 149 September 2012
By Jennifer Higgie

Shouts & MurmursArt’s disputed relationship to activism

I’ve had a lot of conversations recently about what exactly constitutes activism in relation to art. It’s obviously not a simple discussion: in recent years, there have been countless exhibitions, books and symposia around the subject. Most debates tend to get tangled up with the word ‘activism’ itself, which usually implies some kind of collective endeavour. But I like to think of it in a more expanded way; after all, there are more ways of being active and socially engaged than organizing a meeting.Although art production has always had a relationship to politics – either bluntly, as a form of propaganda, or more subtly as a product of patronage – in the last century or so its use as a tool for critiquing society has become more explicit. Yet for some, the idea that art can effect real change is laughable; after all, even at its most radical, it’s part of a massive, unregulated market awash with money and funded, on the whole, by very rich people, many of whom aren’t as liberal or as left-leaning as their buying tastes might suggest. Art, say the doubters, is simply a reflection of its times; it’s a response not a solution, and change is brought about not by performance or images (as if art were simply surface) but by direct political action. This is a line of argument that runs the risk of being prescriptive about art’s function – and thus limiting its potential for transformation.

Witness, for example, the woeful statements that emerged from ‘Forget Fear’, the 7th Berlin Biennale, earlier this year, a largely state-funded exhibition that purported to be about the intermingling of politics and art but that in many ways ended up perpetuating the kind of thinking it claimed to be complaining about. As curator Artur Żmijewski stated in his introduction: ‘My critique of my own field is ultimately very simple and can be summarized in one sentence: art doesn’t act, and doesn’t work.’ By this, I assume he means that he can’t gauge art’s efficacy, which strikes me as a very narrow way of thinking about art’s myriad functions. Associate curators of the Biennale, the Russian art collective Voina (War), told the following anecdote in one of the show’s accompanying publications: ‘Kazimir Malevich, after the revolution in Petrograd, armed with a pistol, passed through artists’ studios asking who was still painting birches and demanded real art. Armed with a weapon. That is real art.’ Reading this immediately made me want to reach for a brush to paint a picture of a birch tree. The moment vehemence and violence go unchallenged is the time to start ringing the warning bells. Right-wing rhetoric disguised as activism – for this is what Voina is spouting – is always bizarrely simplistic: it implies that the world isn’t large enough to accommodate a multitude of responses to its many problems. I prefer to ask: How can change be manifested if it can’t first be imagined? And who would ever assume that imaginations run along straight lines?

What might be seen as an innocuous creative act in one country can be seen as a threat to national security in another. For many artists, the simple act of expression can be a radical gesture of defiance: one that refuses to allow the imagination to be censored, whatever the consequences – and thousands of artists are jailed as a result. In this issue of frieze, Elizabeth Rush looks at performance in Burma, a country brutalized by decades of military rule and censorship. She concludes: ‘The most tenacious and telling art in Burma isn’t painted, printed or hewn. It simply takes place.’

dOCUMENTA (13) is about to close in Kassel, Germany. Curated by Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev, it is possibly the most admired large exhibition I have visited – its complexities an antidote to the over-simplifications that took place in Berlin. In her response to the exhibition in this issue, Kaelen Wilson-Goldie cites the career of octogenarian Lebanese artist and writer Etel Adnan as being symbolic of the show’s intentions. She notes: ‘Adnan has been responding to wars and unconscionable acts of violence with great sensitivity and steadfastness for more than half a century. Her commitment to her role as an increasingly endangered species of public intellectual, and her belief in the capacity of her art not only to make sense of the world but to allow her to fall in love with it over and over again – these are the qualities […] that give Christov-Bakargiev’s exhibition its heart.’ Adnan’s paintings, one of which is on the cover of this issue, might not appear initially particularly radical: they are modest, delicate, thoughtful things. And yet, for so many people, the simple act of being able to respond to the world they find themselves in is an enormous privilege, and one that Adnan embodies, declaring: ‘I write what I see, I paint what I am.’

I interviewed the American artist Suzanne Lacy for this issue, an artist who – despite the fact that for over four decades she has worked tirelessly for social justice – still makes art ‘for what some might consider quite romantic reasons: to invent, to give shape through imagination, to play’. I asked Lacy how she gauged the success or failure of a work of art. She replied: ‘The best I can hope for is to relate a set of experiences that move us in a direction of understanding each other better, understanding social systems better, thinking about new ways to make art.’ I can’t think of a more timely way to define what activism is, or could be.

Translated Text
Frieze艺术杂志2012年9月刊
（作者）Jennifer Higgie

（标题）吆喝和细语
（副标题）争议性的话题：艺术与社会行动

（内容）我近来听到不少说法，是关于“社会行动”（activism）与艺术之间的关系。艺术是不是社会行动的一种方式呢？这当然不是一个简单的问题。近些年来，不少的艺术展览、书籍和研讨会，都就这个问题展开探讨。有人认为是，有人以为非，其关键在于如何对社会行动这个名词概念的理解。这个概念通常暗指某种集体的行为、一种尝试改变社会政治而努力的行为。然而，我的理解却是更加广义的，毕竟，参与政治社会行动可以有不同的方式，不一定只有集会才算是社会行动。

艺术创作与政治是分不开的，它们之间的关系可以是赤裸裸的，也可以是很微妙的。比如以直接政治宣传为目的艺术就是赤裸裸的，而通过资助或赞助的形式来间接影响艺术活动则是微妙的。纵观二十世纪，艺术作为政治工具来批评社会是越来越直接了当。然而，对于有些人来说，艺术并不能够改变社会。他们的理由是：即使是最激进的社会行动艺术，也不外乎是自由市场经济的一部分。艺术市场的背后都是金钱的逻辑，由大富豪控制着。对于这些大富豪，我们不要被他们的收藏品味所蒙蔽：他们表面上收藏自由派或者偏政治左派的艺术品，但其实他们在政治上并不是真的自由派。所以，在艺术怀疑论者看来，艺术无非就是时代的反射，艺术创作只是对各种社会现象的反应，而不是为这些现象提供解决办法。因此，他们得出这样的结论：艺术改变不了社会，真正能够改变社会的是直接介入的政治行动。在我看来，这些怀改论调有失偏颇：他们是在给艺术开处方，处方限制了艺术的潜在可能性。

举个例子，在今年初的第七届柏林双年展上，官方主题是“忘掉恐惧”，该展览想探讨政治与艺术的纠缠。然而，展览的结果不但没有理清政治与艺术的关系，而是延续了艺术无能于政治的看法。策展人Artur Zmijewski在开幕时声称：“我[作为策展人]，对这个展览会的看法很简单，可以用一句话来概括：艺术不行动，艺术不奏效。”我想Artur是在说自己无法知晓艺术的效能。这种提法是很狭隘的，忽视了艺术众多的社会效能。这届双年展的助理策展人、来自俄罗斯的艺术团体Voina（这名字是战争的意思）在随后的活动上还讲述了一则小故事：“在前苏联革命队伍拿下彼得格勒后，先锋艺术家马勒维奇（Kazimir Malevich）拿着一把手枪到艺术区去，询问谁还在画白桦树，要求他们搞真正的艺术创作。像他那样拿着手枪，才是有行动能力的艺术。”听到这里，我很想马上拿起画笔去画白桦树。激烈的暴力如果没有遭遇抗争，那就要敲响警钟了。Voina的说法，就是右派的言辞佯装成为社会行动的主张，这些言辞把艺术和政治的关系简单化，暗示着这个世界不存在解决问题的多种方法。我倒是想问：如果连艺术想像都不可能了，那么又如何能改变社会呢？

相比之下，即将落幕的第13届卡塞尔文献展则没有把艺术与政治的问题简单化，而是展示了两者之间关系的复杂性。卡塞尔文献展是我最敬仰的大型艺术展览，这一届的策展人是 Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev。她说此次展览的目的可以用一位黎巴嫩艺术家的艺术生涯来类比。这位黎巴嫩艺术家叫Etel Adnan，她同时也是作家，目前已八十多岁了。Carolyn说：“半个世纪以来，对于战争和没有良心的暴力行为，Adnan的反应总是带有很高的敏锐感，并且持之以恒。她充分体现了一个公共知识分子的角色。在公共知识分子正渐渐成为稀有物种的今天，她的奉献就显得更加重要。她的艺术生涯，体现了她对艺术效能的信仰，这种信仰使她一次次地爱上艺术。她的这些素质……也就是我们此次文献展的心脏。” Adnan有一幅油画刊登在这一期的Frieze杂志封面上。乍看上去并不是很激进，而是谦逊的、精巧的以及深思熟虑的。但是，对于许多人来说，这么简单的艺术表现已然是很了不起了，因为他们生活在不同的国家，在这些国家里，能这样做需要很大的勇气。正因为如此，Adnan声称：“我书写我所看到的东西，我用油画记录我是什么。”

就艺术和政治的关系，我还采访了美国的艺术家Suzanne Lacy。她四十年来都不辞辛劳地为了社会正义而努力工作。但她的回答却带着浪漫主义情调。她说她的艺术创作就是从无到有的创造，将脑海里想像的东西具体化为一个型，艺术创作就是要好玩。这种回答听起来似乎与她为社会所做的事情无关。我接着问她如何衡量一件艺术品的成败，她说：“我最希望看到的[成功的艺术品]，就是这些艺术品可以促发某些体验，从而让我们更好地互相理解，更多地了解体社会体系，促发我们去想像新的方法，来创造艺术。”我觉得这句话就是社会行动（Activism）这个概念的时代注脚。

 

Translation Strategies

First and foremost, let me outline the difficulties of translating an abstract modern idea or theory from English to Chinese. One of the biggest obstacles is the lack of equivalent vocabulary in modern Chinese. Contemporary ideas are based on the conceptualization of modernity and modernism. Modern China, including Taiwan and Hong Kong, is often referred to as a “compressed modernity”, in which modernization is fast tracked physically yet the language and school of thoughts is slower to keep up.

One solution to this problem, which has been adopted by Chinese scholars since its early days of translation of western ideas, is to use the Chinese words closest to the English meanings. This method of semantic translation of English words may be effective elsewhere, but quite problematic in translating subtle abstract modern ideas, where nuance is essential to the original meaning but usually gets lost in this way of translation. For example, the English word “modern” is translated into Chinese as xiandai (現代). Xiandai is a compound phrase composed of two Chinese characters: xian, which means the present, and dai, which means era. The word “modern” in English thus becomes “present era” in Chinese. This translation obviously leaves out the historical context of “modern”, and explains why many Chinese high school students have a hard time understanding why a time as far back as the 1920s and 1930s could be called xiandai.

If semantic translation of words loses subtle meanings, phonetic translation of words seems to overcome this problem. For example, In Japanese, foreign words that have no Japanese equivalents are incorporated into Japanese via Japanese hiragana and katakana mimicking the phoneme of Latin alphabets. The phonetic translation keeps the original connotation intact because it does not translate the meaning. In Chinese, phonetic translation is similarly possible. In the 1930s China, the word “modern” was phonetically translated as modeng (摩登). Modeng consists of two Chinese characters that represent the English pronunciation rather than the meaning. Compared to xiandai, Modeng would not be confused with “present era.” Unfortunately, phonetic translation of words is seldom used in Chinese today.

Accurate Chinese translation of words is most crucial to the success of literally linguistic translation of a complex modern idea. When the idea is articulated through many subtle uses of English terms, linguistic translation reaches an impasse: not enough Chinese characters could be accurately substituted for the English words. In this circumstance, the inexperienced translator would find the easy way out by force using some wrong Chinese words or even creating some non-existing phrase.

The main solution to this problem is to use adapted translation whenever it calls for. Unlike the problematic substitution of Chinese words for English words, adapted translation allows the meaning to get cross without having to follow faithfully the original words and structures and therefore bypass the limitation of vocabulary. Most experienced translator would like to use the combination of linguistic translation and adapted translation. Linguistic translation on the positive side is faithful to the original text, on the negative side, is confusing to the reader because un-adapted words and structure hinders understanding. Since the website is written for educated readers who seek quick understanding of foreign thoughts rather than primary source researching, being understandable takes precedence over being literally faithful.

I have mentioned the general challenge of art translation between English and Chinese. Now I need to specify the common errors of translation that hinder understanding of translated ideas, because the strategy that I am going to present is set against them. Here are the list of common problems:

1) Linguistic translation is used too much. Not much adaption of language structure is made. English words and expressions are mechanically substituted by Chinese characters with similar meanings. Translations as such read like an enhanced Google translation.

2) The presumptions of many translated ideas are not presented. Many arguments are based on hidden presumptions, which do not get mentioned as common senses or consensus. However, when an English argument is migrated for Chinese readership, the presumptions can not necessarily be taken for granted as common senses. Some of them should be treated as new information since the knowledge scope of a Chinese reader does not fully overlap with that of an English reader. For this reason, too much linguistic translations could be jumpy for Chinese readers to read as some hidden presumptions become missing information that is crucial to link logically different arguments.

3) The detachment of Chinese context alienates the reader. Some English ideas are illustrated with examples familiar to English readers. When translated into Chinese literally, these culturally-specific examples may be unfamiliar or even misleading to Chinese readers, and thus fail to facilitate understanding.

To address this problems, my translating strategies are based on highly adapted translation. In short, I do not translate (in a narrow sense) the English ideas; I re-create them in Chinese. Re-creation is a process through which I strip off the juicy original texts and keep only the dry kernel of the essential ideas as well as main supporting arguments; then I enrich the kernel with juicy Chinese friendly elements, which non-exhaustingly include logic, examples, structures, value, humor and implications. When re-creating ideas, I always keep the Chinese reader in mind, ponder into their knowledge pool, and anchor the foreign ideas accordingly. Content-wise, the outcomes are faithful to the core of the original ideas; form-wise, my re-creations are completely unrecognizable compared with the original texts, yet understandable and enjoyable for Chinese readership.

1) If necessary to facilitate understanding, I break an idea or argument into separate ones in different Chinese articles, or conversely glue different ideas or arguments from different original texts into a singular Chinese article. These strategies are based on my own process of understanding the ideas and the process I perceive of the Chinese reader, as well as the necessity to fill in the gap of unfamiliar hidden presumptions, or skip over some peripheral arguments so as to accentuate a sharp central idea for easy understanding.

2) In many instances, I come up with my own examples taken from everyday life in which Chinese readers can relate to.

3) The adaption for better communication does not compromise the complexity of the original ideas. A complex idea is usually not presented to overwhelm the reader in one article. To reduce cognitive load, it is usually broken down into smaller parts explained in different short articles, which accumulatedly form a comprehensive whole. This strategy requires planning ahead the order of short articles chronologically.

4) I sometimes limit the length of articles within a reasonable one thousand Chinese characters for online reading habits. Occasionally I write long articles for a feature read to punctuate the reading experience.

5) I try to avoid academic terminologies that repel many Chinese readers. I paraphrase them instead. If I have to mention them, or at times a whole article is about one terminology, I use examples to explain their meanings.

6) There are certainly exceptions in which a more direct translation strategy is used, for example, some interviews.

I notice that many readers do not like reading ideas and theories not because these ideas and theories are boring, but partly because they have been poorly presented to the readers. What my strategic translation does is to make the ideas and theories appealing, easy, and enjoyable to read.

Life of Pi 电影故事耐人寻味的结尾

我看这部电影，首先是其视觉效果，然后，开始想，为什么明明是一场灾难，却有如此漂亮的场景？一个名字叫派的印度少年，在太平洋上经历了一场风暴之后，失去了家人，独自一人漂流于茫茫无际的大海，这么令人心痛的经历，却看不到他有多少的悲伤与绝望。相反，他一点也没有去想刚失去的亲人，他的脑筋全都是为了如何生存下去。没有悲伤不说，景色的变幻是你万没想到，上一景色还是凶涛恶浪；忽一然，下一景色则是：海天一色、彩色云朵倒映于如镜之海面、宁静而致远，天堂一般平和详悦，这个很突兀的画面，是完全超现实的，似乎是寓言的表达；还有那漂亮的Jerry fish，把诡异的夜晚的海洋点缀成童话的世界，成群结队的海豚乘风破浪，豪迈雄壮；那鱼跃的慢镜头，不是一般的小鱼，而是一条几十倍于主角大小的鲸鱼，那优美的身姿，伴随着流线型的水柱，在空中划出一条壮丽的弧线。我就在想，这真的吗？海上真的可以看到这样的场景吗？还是说，这只是一种夸张的想像，但即使是夸张，也是离现实不太远，因为怎么看都不像是科幻。

看到了片尾，我就没有看懂。这位小年在获救后向日本船运公司的派员讲述事情的经过，他原本的故事，不能让人相信。于是，他又讲了另一个故事，他把救生小艇上的几只动物换成了人，斑马换成了台湾水手，猴子（？）换成了他的母亲，而那只不知叫什么名字的长得像野狗的吃肉动物，则是影片中出现过的蛮不讲理的厨师，而那只孟加拉虎，则是他自己。按照片中的情节，那只吃肉动物先咬死了斑马，又攻击了猴子至死，但后来又被孟加拉虎吃掉，那么，这个重新编的故事，就变成了以下的情节：四个人困于小艇上，那厨师先是杀死了台湾水手，而后又袭击杀害了他母亲，他自己最后是制服了厨师，把他杀死，自己才得了生存下来。这两个版本，其是是类似的，但是，换成了人，听起就显得腥风血雨，毫无人性。

这个故事是采取倒述的方式展开的，年长的派在加拿大，向前来采访他的作家讲述他这个海上奇难生还的故事。讲完后，派问作家，你究竟是相信哪一个版本，作者说，我相信那个动物的版本。派说，那你就是“选择了和上帝在一起。”

看到这里，我就很纳闷，我觉得这话沉甸甸的，不知道是什么内涵。电影结束后，我还在不断地揣测这个结尾的故事。李安究竟在卖什么关子呀？你是不是想说：动物反而有人性，如那只老虎，可以与人相处患难与共；而人在极端的生存情形下，却不能共存，只能互相残杀，把其他人当成食物。

我觉得这部电影并没有给我许多的感动。在老成的派讲述故事之前，他说，“这个故事可以让你相信上帝（GOD）的存在。”我于是很期待一段轰轰烈烈震天动地的催泪情节，但是看完之后，我心想，这不外乎一只老虎加个小屁孩吗，这就能让我相信上帝啊？如果说这部电影有些感动的话，那就是那些生离死别的瞬间的刻画。比如，派在睡梦上醒来，发现船舱外雷雨交加，他看了一眼父母，都在安详地熟睡着。他于是上了甲板去感受大风大浪，或许那是他与上帝接触的途径。但转眼间，船就沉了。他就再没有见到父母了。他们死去得如些安详，就在睡梦中，好像什么事都没有发生，也没有说再见。说走就走了。人们的生离死别，往往就是这样的。而那只老虎，在船漂流到墨西哥岸边后，它头也不回，就跑进森林里了。这种离别，是非常残酷而真实的。比如，李安的父母一辈，当时在国共内战后逃往台湾，没想到一去就是永别，再没能踏回家乡的故土，成为永远的遗憾与失落。那种揪心的失落，那种现实的残酷，都在这种很平常不起眼的分别中产生。

过了几天，我和一位朋友吃早点，她没看过这部电影，但是在好几年前读过这部电影所依据的小说。我问她有什么看法，她说这部小说主要是讲上帝的信仰。谈着谈着，我就突然一拍大腿想起来了。对啊，这个故事的结尾，其实应该从上帝的角度来解读。其实上，派所讲的与老虎同船的故事，是他的幻觉！！这事情根本就没有发生过，他向日本公司的调查人员讲述的幸存者自相残杀的故事，倒是真的。而他之所以看到这些美幻的影像，是他的信仰使然，你用上帝的眼光来观察这个世界，在濒临生与死的极端的关头，就是如此诡异、神奇、迷幻而美丽。我想，对于没有宗教信仰的人来说，他们可能难以体会得到那种信仰的美学感受。而李安，则是花大精力，把那种宗教信仰的心理视觉用电影呈现出来。这确实是一大创新。这位少年派在那极端恶劣的生存空间里，他没有看到人类的凶残，他相信上帝，他所看到的，却是那样的美丽的世界。也就是说，那梦幻般的旅途底下，蕴含着却是惨绝人寰的真实。

从这个角度来理解这个故事，我顿时觉得这个故事非常丰满，充满张力，充满了各种层次，可以像剥洋葱一样逐个去感受。真实与虚幻，信仰与想像，凶残与和平，你可以从不同的角度去解读。从电影的整体结构来看，李安是在大力颂扬宗教信仰的正面效果。

如果从上帝的角度来读，上文中那些唐突的疑问就顿时化解了，成为逻辑性很流畅的故事了。为什么会有那个镜面如画的云彩倒影？那不正是少年派的佛性、神性或印度教性的写照吗？这是超现实主义的写法。而为什么那只猴子出现时是坐在香蕉上的？这显然是虚构的，正如片尾日本调查人员所说的，香蕉怎么可能有这么大的浮力托住一只猴子。另外，为什么在海难发生后逃生时，动物能跑到救生艇上，而人却只有派一人？要知道，在风暴之前，少年派的父亲把所有的动物都锁在笼子里面，而且给它们吃了安定药。它们怎么也不可能比其他人的生存可能性大。这些不合理性，只能通过信仰的幻想来解释，而这些幻想，与现实又是柔和得很天衣无缝的，比如少年派从小就和动物生长在一起等等。少年派在讲述第二个故事时，明明把动物换成人，讲着讲着，自如至终不曾落泪的他，却流下了眼泪。这不能不说明这第二个故事并不是假的。

这个故事可以令人想像的空间太多了。如果你把那些动物与人对号入座，其他动物都可以理解，比如：那个厨师确实就是霸道，如那只食肉野兽，猴子是像她母亲。但是，少年派与那只孟加拉虎如何对得上呢？能不能这样看：老虎是派的具有原罪的惡一面，而他自己则是心中的Holy spirit(神性)？他与老虎的敌对到和平共处、到患难以共，是他的一个内心斗争的过程？一个少年，如何能够在海上驯化一只老虎，不可能啊，但如果是驯服自己内心的恶，则是可以理解的。当他和老虎饿到快死的时候，派把考虑的头枕在大腿上，抚摸它的毛发，这不正是他自觉生命到了尽头时的自怜吗？但是，如果真是这样的话，为什么最后老虎会看都不看他一眼就消失了呢？所以，我觉得往这个方面思考的时候，也没有必要太过于寓言化，否则，这个故事就变得单调了，变成了简单的一对一的象征游戏。我喜欢这个故事有许多模棱两可的地方，说不明道不明的地方，让人回味无穷。比如说，那鲸鱼的一跃，非常壮观漂亮，却造成了派失去所有的食物。那个绿色的小岛，让派和老虎得以喘息，到夜晚却变成杀死鱼类的死人岛。宗教，对于派来说，也是处于信与不信之间，说不清楚的。他父亲在餐桌上告诫童年的派，要理性，宗教是非理性的。他父亲还告这诫他，老虎是没有人性的；然而，这些都与后来派的经验相反。这种说不清楚的关系，让电影故事的空间更加广大。

如果你相信源所讲的动物的故事，那么，你也就相信了上帝。这一点，我完全相信。这也是为什么年长的派在讲故事前说了那句话，这个故事可以让你相信上帝的存在。在信仰这一层面，李安确实是进入了信仰心理的深层，把它捣出来视觉化。这是我最最最认同的地方。在人经历大灾大难的时候，信仰最能体验其精神效应。我自己的经历，有点像童年的派一样，我也喜欢体验各种不同的宗教：印度教、佛教几种派别、基督教、天主教；与派不同的是，我是个成年人。我有信仰，但却又不太确定。相信上苍，结合自然的力量，就形成了一种梦境，而梦境在特定的情形下，就形成了我们所认为的现实。或许，可以用心理学来解释，denial，意思就是说，你不愿去相信一种你无法接受的现实。比如，有的父母不幸失去了独生子女，他们无法接受现实，就相信子女只是去外地长期出差了，而且是绝对地相信，尽管他们已办了丧事。这种心理现象就是denial。当信仰的世界与denial交叉的时候，就出现了少年派这样的虽悲惨却奇幻之旅。

苏东悦
2012年12月9日于多伦多

 

中译英：高明潞《焦兴涛转述“物”的方式》

The following passages are the Chinese-English translated text from a recent article written by the Chinese art historian Gao Minglu. It is also randomly taken from an academic journal in China for the practicing purpose of my translation skills. I translated the first few paragraphs of the original article in which he critiques a Chinese sculpture artist. The article is heavily theoretical.

[column width=”45%” padding=”5%”]Original Text
标题：咏物——焦兴涛转述“物”的方式
作者：高明潞
刊登于《品读》2012年 第54、55页

艺术创作中最复杂的问题就是物的问题。首先，它离不开用什么材料和用什么题材的问题。如果， 我们把材料和题材看作客观之物或者客观事物，那么艺术家如何再现这个客观之物就引发了唯物和唯心之争。现实主义(realism) 和波普（Pop）认为自己是唯物的，而象征主义和浪漫主义则被认为是主观唯心的。最后，由于艺术作品必须承载意义，那么这个艺术的物又被引申为对另一个物的比兴、隐喻、转喻、象征等等。但是，这种讨论特别容易进入解读者的主观想象乃至偏激的臆想之中，虽然这种想象是允许的，但是它有一个走向庸俗社会学的危险。

所以，当我看到焦兴涛的那些包装袋和打上符号的那些“物”的雕塑的时候，我不愿意把它们看做波普现成品的“唯物”，因为，焦兴涛既不直接用现成品做作品，也不用翻制现成品的手法制作那个物的标本，他总是用传统雕塑的塑造手法去为那些被包装的物品造型。正是这种制作意识，使焦兴涛和正在表现的物之间产生了距离。恰恰是这个距离体现了艺术家、物和在场之间的关系。实际上，当艺术家看到、关注、进而思考和表现一个物的时候，那个物已经打上了艺术家的烙印，物已经不是所谓的纯然之物了。

我也不想在这里根据焦兴涛的这些包裹物来抒发我对这些物的社会意义的想象，比如消费文化的隐喻意义，消费社会的物欲横流与人性异化等。这些可能确实是作品所给予我们的启示。但是，这种解读只说出了意义的一般性。这些隐喻不但可以从焦兴涛的作品中找到，也可以从奥登博格、安迪沃霍或者是其他人那里找到类似的联想，并不能指出焦兴涛对物的特殊性看法和感受。
……
[/column] [column width=”45%” padding=”5%”]Translated Text
(Title) Chanting Objects – Jiao Xingtao Finds His Way to Retell the “Objects”
Written by Gao Minglu

The most complex topic for an [sculpture] artist is about the question of the object they are dealing with. An object is made of certain materials, so first and foremost, the artist has to decide what material to use and what subject matter the material takes shape of. If we regard the material or the subject matter as an objective entity, and art making is about re-creating this entity, a philosophical question thus arises between metaphysics and materialism. Practitioners of Realism and Pop art claim their territory in materialism; while Symbolism and Romanticism are considered within the domain of metaphysics. Ultimately, because a work of art has to acquire some sort of meaning, the art object has become a simile, a metaphor, a symbol or other rhetorical devices in the place of another object. These subjective meanings are most likely to be consumed by readers and trigger their imagination or even radical fantasies. Although these kinds of imagination and fantasies are legitimate, they could lead to the philistinism in sociology.

For this reason, regarding Jiao Xingtao’s sculpture of package boxes and signs on them, I am reluctant to take them as readymade materials of Pop art. One has to observe his process of art making. Jiao’s works are not modeled from a finished product; neither are they meant to be the replicas of it. Jiao always adopts a conventional sculpting method to shape those package boxes. It is this process that distances him from the object he is sculpting. The distance is important because it precisely reflects the relations among the artist, the object, and the space. As a matter of fact, when an artist sees an object and then takes a step further to ponder how to represent it, the object is no longer an a priori; rather, the object carries the personal imprint of the artist.

I am not going to imagine the sociological meanings of Jiao’s package objects. They could imply consumerism or twisting human nature that feeds on the materialistic consumer society. These possible interpretations could be the intended message for us, but they are too generalized. I say that because same meanings could be said to many works of art, such as those by Oldenberg, Andy Warhol, or many other artists. Therefore sociological meanings can not summarize the uniqueness of Jiao’s viewpoints and his experiences.

…

[/column][end_columns]

Ai Weiwei's Art of the Everyday

Ai Weiwei has been one of the most unique Chinese artists world wide for his political outspokenness against the Chinese government. His recent arrest and release has further affirmed him as a world symbol of, as the New York mayor Michael Bloomberg puts it, the “indomitable desire for freedom” inside every human being. Although he draws much world media attention, scholarly approach to Ai Weiwei’s art has been scarcely conducted. One of the important exceptions is Karen Smith, who have studied Ai’s major works, from his early ones in the 1980s to the recent exhibitions. Karen Smith  theorize Ai Weiwei by tracing him back to Western avant-garde tradition, and describes him as a “giant provocateur.”[1]

However, seeing Ai from the top-notch perspective of the Duchampian concept and examining his exhibited works under the spot lights may overlook his another side: the witty “dirty little tricks” Ai has done to be a giant provocateur. Over the years, Ai has tried to drag contemporary Chinese art down to the everyday life, from inside the museum walls to the locations where social injustice was said to be committed, and thus turn art into a weapon to fight against the power. What is important about this practice is that, as will be detailed in this paper, he did it through his own unconventional way and his way is creative, organic and effective.

My focus of Ai Weiwei’s art, therefore, is his less known ones, such as the amateur video clips he made, and daily photo snapshots he took, or even the T-shirt images he designed. These daily creations of art have been largely neglected in the major scholarship and I argue that they should be treated seriously. In fact, as will be demonstrated in the paper, Ai’s everyday art is intertwined with what he had been doing before his arrest, his activist actions. Ai has admitted that activism is integral to his art making, and he collapsed the boundary between them.[2] He vocally underscored life over art: “We can exist without art; but not without everyday experience.”[3] Yet, on the other hand, it is through artistic means that he was able to effectively raise the awareness of political issues in China, as he adds: “When everyday experience is well deserved, it becomes art.”[4] His everyday life, activism and his art feed one another and become inseparable. Therefore, to analyze Ai’s influence to the world, his art of the everyday has to be included into his corpus.

Ai’s everyday art not only allows us to better understand his art in general, but more importantly reveals how contemporary art, within the political environment where the freedom of speech is absent, can grow creatively and organically, in the dynamic interrelations among contemporary art, everyday life and political activism. Over the years, Ai has developed unique strategies to maneuver through the political censorship in China, through the indigenous creation of the mixture of the activist’s everyday and art. What he has accomplished is inspiring to anyone in the world who wants to fight against the power creatively and effectively.

Ai’s everyday art also serve as a critique to contemporary Chinese art. His attitude, method, conducts, and perception of art and activism, particularly his risk-taking engagement with sensitive political issues not only pose a challenge to the mainstream Contemporary Chinese art milieu — that is generally more comfortable with the establishment — but also provides an opportunity for this milieu to go back to the Chinese tradition of art for society’s sake.

The theoretical basis for this insight is the collapsed boundary between art and the everyday life. Instead of following the Duchampian direction put forward by Karen Smith, my analysis closely relate Ai’s everyday art to his own theories, and contextualize them in Chinese intellectual history. The first part of the paper positions Ai in the context of contemporary Chinese art, and through his own remarks explain his belief that art should be engaged with the everyday experience. From the second part forward, the paper studies concrete examples of Ai’s art of the everyday, starting from the amateur documentaries he made, with the particular focus on the strategies he uses to mix everyday activism with art. After that, the paper explores Ai’s strategies with online social media and his involvement in a new art form known as e’gao, an online youth culture through which he mocked the authority in an unofficial yet effective way. The last part investigates the social events he organized, which, inspired by Joseph Beuys’ concept of social sculpture, involved the public into his art and activism.

Ai Weiwei in the Context

“In a country without freedom of speech, how can we make art?”

This question, put forward loudly and clearly by Ai when he was giving one of his many interviews two years ago, touches the problem at the core of contemporary Chinese art.[5] The question can be elaborated as: on what basis do contemporary Chinese artists establish their avant-garde appeal given the fact that they are not even allowed the basic right to freedom in China? A simple question as it is, few noted Chinese artists, critics, or art historians have been willing to answer it, because they are facing the dilemma between longing for artistic freedom and subjection to state control. The fact of the matter is that — as implied by Ai — contemporary Chinese art after 1990s thrive without this freedom; yet, many artworks are still presented as the avant-garde. Their legitimacy is thus brought into question.[6]Although Ai has not vocally provided a solution for his fellow Chinese artists, he has demonstrated his attitude: never compromise to fight for freedom.

Best articulated in his article The Difficulties and Opportunities of Contemporary Chinese art,[7] Ai harshly criticizes contemporary Chinese art community for their detachment of cultural and political reality in China. “Their artworks try to avoid social and political issues. When they do have to talk, they render these issues ambivalently, or to the extent of self-denial, self-sarcasm, and self-torture,”because, implied by Ai,  these artists sacrificed truth and justice for personal security.[8] This direct accusation is apparently a disharmonious punch in the community. Over the years, very few Chinese critics have gone this far to make enemies with their peers. Only a few daring critics have echoed Ai’s criticism. A young art historian He Guiyang, for example, derided the elitist status of contemporary Chinese art for its aloofness to the mass audience.[9]Lu Hong, another revered art historian, criticized the blind imitation of art forms from the West without considering China’s social reality.[10]All this criticism points to the fundamental question of art in today’s China: Should contemporary Chinese artists assume social responsibilities to fight for the freedom for themselves and the society at large? Or should they be freed from social obligations and pursuit only their individual idiosyncrasy under the aegis of postmodernism?

Art for society’s sake has been a long-standing belief in China. Historically, Chinese literati firmly hold that art should serve society and promote morality and justice through constructive commentary or fight against the power. In Republican China of the early twentieth century, artists and intellectuals were highly involved in social movements. Many of them were leaders of the May-Fourth Movement, a radical cultural and social transformation that prompted China’s modernization. Artist Xu Beihong, for example, introduced Realism to China and actively involved in the Leftist political campaigns. In the 1980s, when Chinese culture was going through a revival from the ruin of the Cultural Revolution, the “humanistic spirit,” a zeitgeist idea to call forth a collective return to the philosophic tradition of humanism that had been missing since the Cultural Revolution, was extremely popular, if not fundamental, in works of art and literature during this time period. The 1980s generation of Chinese artists were hence deeply rooted in the social fabric. For example, Luo Zhongli’s Father(1980) depicts an old and broken fatherly figure who realistically represents the poor living condition in the aftermath of the Cultural Revolution. It was the social reality behind the painting that struck the souls of many, and contributed to the success of the painting, which has been revered as a milestone of contemporary Chinese art.

However, after the Tiananmen Massacres in 1989, the Chinese government tightened its control over the freedom of speech. Consequently, artists found it difficult to express social concerns. Although there was sporadic breaching of the control, it is generally believed that the value system of contemporary Chinese art had shifted towards marketability.[11] Market success has been prioritized and along with it was the new paradigm of contemporary Chinese art featuring individual experiences; collective social engagement has been displaced as peripheral or non-consequential — art no longer serves as a moral safeguard for society. Formalistically, this trend helps contemporary Chinese art to keep up pace with the international art trend; but sociologically, it uproots its traditional role in society.

In this socio-historical context, Ai’s art practices arguably bring contemporary Chinese art back to its tradition of art for society’s sake. While many other Chinese artists are enjoying their fame and comfort, Ai ventured out to investigate the dark side of the society, risking his personal safety until he was imprisoned. He once stated that art “has its value only when it is acted out for [social] experiment.”[12]His emphasis on social engagement prompts us to look beyond the white cube and switch to his art of the everyday, things he made to critique the social realities. Over the years, Ai has been documenting his own daily life. His everyday can be said to be a Chinese activist’s everyday, as well as the everyday of an average Chinese in his perception. Similar to Marcel Duchamp, as Karen Smith points out, Ai has taken art out of the art museum into the everyday life.[13]A further inquiry would be to examine how Ai collapsed the boundary between art, everyday life, and activism in China. In another words, how does Ai creatively use everyday art as a weapon to fight against the authority?

Ai’s everyday experience is obviously not a mundane one because fighting against the all-powerful Chinese government is similar to walking on thin ice. Nonetheless, Ai has been very brave in his daily activism — for instance, his leading a demonstration on Tiananmen Square[14] — an act that no one had ever done since the student protest in Tiananmen in 1989. Since most Chinese artists are unwilling to touch upon sensitive politics, Ai has been a prominent anomaly. Over the years, he has been particularly interested in the most provocative political events, in which corruption were said to be the culprit, for example, the allegedly government mishandling of the Sichuan earthquake victims and police excessive force against civilians.[15]Given the growing legal rights movement in China, Ai has been revered by many victims of social injustice, many activists and some public intellectuals.[16]It is important to note that Ai is a unique case among the Chinese activists. He has more social resources than many other activists and he utilized these resources well. Ai has long been a world-known Chinese artist since late 1990s. His international status seems to have shielded him to some extent from state prosecution and have resulted in his quick release from the prison. Some critics suggest that Ai’s high profile communist family background gave him some sort of special power that other Chinese activists do not have.[17] With this cultural capital and social resources, Ai was able to carry out his everyday activism without being prosecuted too soon, and had the ease to turn activism into art. One example for his everyday art is his amateur documentaries that he made during the course of his activism.

Please Note: If you want to read the whole article, please email dong@sudongyue.com.

[1] Karen Smith, Ai Weiwei. (London: Phaidon, 2009). Mark Siemons, Ai Weiwei So Sorry. (Munich: Prestel, 2009).

[2] Said to a group of students in Hong Kong in 2009: “Involving in legal rights movement is the basis of my art.” Ai Weiwei, CoChina symposium. (2010) see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STS_i0_85kg.

[3] Ai Weiwei’s Blog. P.57. The Chinese text is “我们可以没有艺术，但不能没有生活.”

[4] The Chinese text is”生活到过瘾的时候，就成为艺术.”

[5] He was interviewed by Lao Hu Miao.

See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_JP_aRU-Jc&feature=related. (assessed April, 20, 2011).

[6] Ibid.

[7] Written in September 2004 for the Preface of the book Exhibition of Contemporary Chinese art; also available in the published book of his collection of blog writing.

[8] This accusation is directed to artists residing inside China. For those diasporic Chinese artists, “they are missing a common sense of the cultural reality.” Therefore, their artworks are “superficially simplified in addressing political and ideological matters.”

[9] He Guiyang is a young art historian in China.

[10] Such as Lu Hong,a noted art historian. He criticizes some artists for blindly imitating Joseph Beuys when in an interview. The interview was conducted on Jan 16, 2006 in Shenzhen Museum of Art. See http://www.wenhuacn.com/meishu/article.asp?classid=54&articleid=3694

[11] Such as those by a group of Sichuang artists in protest against the Three Gorges Dam Project.

[12] Ai Weiwei’s blog entry.

[13] Karen Smith.

[14] He lead the demonstration to protest against the beating of Beijing artists by thugs said to be sent by developers to drive away the artists in residence of an art district, the land of which was wanted by a commercial developer backed by the local government but refused to let go by the artists.

[15] One example of the police violence is known as Yang Jia case. Yang Jia was executed for killing several police officers in a police station. His motive was to retaliate the police who beat him with no good reasons and caused his loss of fertility. Yang caught the sympathy of many because they believe that the police have been using excessive violence against civilians. Yang was said to be executed without proper trail. Ai made a documentary about this case.

[16] The legal right movements have been on the rise since late 1990s when China rapid economic development demanded large land, and consequently a massive dislocation of city dwellers as well as peasant are happening all throughout major cities, a process in which corruption and unfairness were frequently protested by those who lose their housing or farmland. Many of these protesters went on petition to the government to protect their own civil rights. See You-tien Hsing and Ching Kwan Lee, Reclaiming Chinese Society the new social activism. New York: Routledge, 2010.

Ai has 500,000 Twitter followers, let alone the other large number of his blog readers before it was closed in 2009. After his arrest, some Chinese activists have voiced for his release, such as Zhao Lianghai, a parent turned activist whose child is the victim of tainted milk sandal in 2007. After he was accused of tax evasion and imposed a severe fine by the state as the retaliation to his activism, many admirers of Ai donated money to his residence in Beijing.

[17] Some rumors even speculate that Ai had the support from the reformist Chinese Premiere Wen Jiabao. For many times, Ai was asked by foreign journalists on how he managed to be safe after what he had done. Ai always responded by saying he did not know. But, in one interview, Ai mentioned that the Chinese premier Wen Jiabao was reading in public the poem written by Ai’s father Ai Qing, a revolutionist poet during the communist revolution. This could have been a sign of support to Ai Weiwei. Some observers of the Chinese politics regard the premier as one of the leaders of the so-called reformists inside the CCP . Ai has also mentioned Wen Jiaobao a few times when he was arguing with police.

The Agency of the Bronze Ding

Abstract

This paper is an attempt to use post-processual methodology to study the bronze ding of the Chinese Bronze Age. Based on the theoretical framework of Alfred Gell and Mike Parker Pearson, the author uses the concept of agency in his inquiry about the relations between the ritual bronze ding and its owners. The purpose of the paper is to explore the effectiveness of this new methodology beyond the traditional paradigm of Chinese archaeology.

The Research Question and the Methodology

The bronze ding has been one of the most studied bronze vessels in the Chinese Bronze Age (roughly between 2000 B.C.E to 700 B.C.E). A very large number of bronze dings were excavated in the tombs of the Shang dynasty (c.a.1600–1050 B.C.) and the Western Zhou dynasty (c.a.1046–770 B.C.). The number started to decline in the Eastern Zhou period (c.a.770-221 B.C.). Started as a cooking vessel, the bronze ding evolved over time. It became a ritual vessel, and later a symbol of status and power. Today, the bronze ding signifies the zenith of the Chinese bronze artifacts. Copious archaeologist studies have been conducted on its diverse shapes, sophisticated taotie decorations, and informative inscriptions. Yet, many questions are still to be asked about this most prominent ritual vessel of the ancient time. One of the interesting inquiries is the relations between the bronze ding and its owner.

According to the ancient canonical text the Book of Rites, ding usage must comply with its owner’s social status. Kings and dukes were entitled to use as many as nine dings to perform rituals; the second-tier aristocrats were allowed seven dings; the third-tier and lower rankings nobles had lower quotas. Common men were prohibited to use any ritual ding. Rules like this may seem trivial today, but in the Bronze Age China they were crucial in the system of power. The symbolic numbers of dings visually reinforced the owner’s social status, and consequently strengthened the social stratification (Loehr 1968).

This example shows that the ancient people canonized the relations between the bronze ding and the social status of its owner. However, these canonized relations are too simplistic for the understanding of the Bronze Age society. There is more complexity in these relations. Many burials have been found deviating the written principles.[i] More importantly, the complexity comes from the fact that many bronze dings we found today were from ancient graves, which contradict the designation of the ritual vessel that were not meant to be buried. Another complexity is the treachery of the ding inscriptions. Text inscriptions have been found in many bronze dings. They usually contained information of to whom the ding was made and for what purposes the ding was designated. One of the most common lines of inscription was that the ding was made for so-and-so to “pass it along to his sons and grandsons, and many generations to come.” (Zhang 1982) This inscription seems to indicate that the bronze ding was an heirloom. Surprisingly, many dings with such an inscription were buried with their owners without being passed down to their offspring. The discrepancy between what was written and what actually happened has puzzled many archeologists. This paper is an attempt to provide tentative answers to these questions and to explore the relations between the bronze ding and its owner.

I need to note that this paper is not the study of afterlife beliefs of the Bronze Age people. Many archeologists have done research to decipher the symbolic meanings of the bronze ding in ritual practices. In so doing, they have successfully shed light on ancient religions and beliefs of Chinese civilization. New Archeologists and post-processual archaeologists, however, generally avoid setting foot on the terrain of afterlife. What the ancient people perceived their afterlife, as these archaeologists believe, can not be conveniently observed through material studies; to assume ancient metaphysical beliefs is to project present day beliefs onto our ancient past, and result in the pitfall of “anachronism.” On the one hand, this paper acknowledges that studying the afterlife of Chinese Bronze Age is certainly important and productive because there are significant numbers of referential ancient texts available to conduct the research; on the other hand, this paper attempts to depart from the paradigm of Chinese archaeology, and to try out a more post-processual perspective. With this aim, this paper is more committed to material studies than linguistic evidences. Ancient beliefs of afterlife were thus not the concern.

The research paper is neither a study of the symbolism of the bronze ding. Symbolism has hitherto underlined most studies of ancient Chinese culture because there are many ancient texts for reference. Since ancient ritual is highly sophisticated, the symbolic meanings of the ding is certainly equally sophisticated. However, the paper does not quest for further symbolic meaning of the bronze ding. Although the paper piggybacks on some scholarship that is based on the symbolism of the bronze ding, the paper will focus on the material studies of the bronze ding.

The perspective of this paper is based on the agency of the bronze ding and the social relations connected by the agency. Anthropologist Alfred Gell, in his book Art and Agencey, accentuates the idea of agency as the focal point of his examination of arts and artifacts. He suggests that we see objects as if they were alive and as if they were “social agents,” because they have agency to impact social relations. Social relations are therefore defined as interactions not only among the living people, but also extended to non-living objects. (Gell 1998) This agency-oriented theory has since then become popular among many anthropologists and archaeologists who study remote past civilizations. The popularity of this theory is partly because it helps us see things in more relative terms. The ancient worlds were much more phenomenological than we are today. For example, in the context of the Chinese Bronze Age, the bronze ding was considered alive in the ancient time. People believed that the ding of a state could walk away if the ruler had lost his legitimacy of power. This perception allowed people to accept the power shift from an old ruler to a new one. In Gell’s discourse, we can say the quasi-living bronze ding exerted agency over the power relations of the Bronze Age society. This paper will take on this perspective to quest more complex agency of the bronze ding, so as to provoke new thoughts on the ding’s relations to the individuals and society at large.

Within the framework of agency, Mike Parker Pearson suggests some important theories in the archaeology of death and burial. He claims that “society was now considered to be constituted by agency rather than roles.” (Parker Pearson 1999) By roles, he means that a “pre-ordained social roles.” The traditional role-theory posits that the ancient people were acting out pre-existing social roles like “automatons.” For example, to say that people of the Shang and the Zhou dynasty were dictated by ritual rules is to engage in role-theory perspective. In contrast to this theory, Parker Pearson argues that people were “knowledgeable and improvising actors,” who constantly and actively manipulated their social roles. To put this view in the bronze ding context, kings, dukes, noblemen, and commoners were all the individuals who constantly engaged in social activities to negotiate, enhance, reinforce, or downgrade the status quo of themselves or others. Examples of such activities include conspicuous ones such as consanguineal marriage that strengthen the family solidarity and uprising that shuffled social stratifications, and more subtle ones such as the manipulation of personal belongings. This human agency constituted the social dynamics of the Bronze Age society. The static view of the social roles could some times overlook such dynamics.

In my view, the role-theory, on one hand, is helpful to understand the big picture of ancient Chinese society and to construct a coherent narrative, particular for historians, sociologists, and some archaeologists whose research is generally macro-sociological, such as the research of the Book of Rites; on the other hand, the fixation of roles could overshadow specific deviations, especially for anthropologists and some other archaeologists whose work is more micro-social, such as the analysis of some strange inscriptions in the bronze ding. Agency, in contrast, as will be shown below, provides archaeologists a more flexible view to address peculiar cases. Thus, the methodology of agency, although seems at odd with the traditional paradigm, is in fact complementing the traditional role-theory. Both methodologies are contributive to the better understanding of the Chinese Bronze Age society. The combination of both in a research, if necessary, could formulate more comprehensive and effective analysis.

That said, the purpose of this paper is to demonstrate the vigor of using the agency approach in the study of Chinese archaeology, in hope that more research can take on this approach in this field. To do so, I first need to qualify the broad research question and make it manageable.

Refining the research question

The relations between the bronze ding and its owner are a broad research question. One of the more specific questions is why the bronze ding was buried. The bronze ding was a kind of liqi (ritual vessel or ritual paraphernalia). Liqi was differentiated by the ancient people from yongqi (utilitarian utensil) and mingqi (funerary object). Liqi was designated to use in ritual performances. Unlike the funerary object, which was made exclusively for burial, liqi was not meant to be buried. Strangely, a large number of them ended up in tombs. To understand these strange phenomena, it is helpful to start with the relations between tomb burial and ancestor worship.

Wu Hung, in his book Monumentality in Early Chinese Art and Architecture, lays out clearly the changing practices of ancestor worship over the course of Chinese Bronze Age. In Shang and Western Zhou period, the privileged people paid tribute to their ancestors at the ancestral temples. Since the Eastern Zhou period forward, the location of worshiping ancestors had gradually changed to the mausoleums. Insides these mausoleums, these were usually ceremonial halls on top of the graves. These ceremonial halls were the places where ritual activities took place. As time went on to the mid first century A.D., however, the center of ancestor worship had shifted again to the tombs. “The graveyard was no longer the silent world of the deceased; it became a center of social activities. The family graveyards provided the common people with a proper place for banquets, musical performances and art displays.” (Wu 1995)

According to Wu Hung, these changes took place because the social structures transformed. In the Shang and the Western Zhou period, patrilineage was the dominant social structure, in which people were identified by their ancestors. Therefore, people built ancestral temples to commemorate their ancestors because ancestors were more important than the living people and the recent dead. Since Eastern Zhou, ancestral linkage had weakened; instead, individualism was on the rise. People built personal mausoleums for themselves because the recent dead were more important than their ancestors.

Wu Hung’s view of the social change is important to our research question in two aspects. First, since the graveyard was once the place for ritual activities and “art display,” it is therefore logical to find ritual dings in these ancient graves. Second, since patrilineage was once the most important social system, people were identified by their family clan rather than by the independent individual. Therefore, the inscription of “for X and his sons and grandsons” could be just an abstract expression for X’s family clan. When a bronze ding was commissioned and given to the receiver X, it was not considered a personal gift to X; rather, it was to X’s family clan. Therefore, the inscription is not to be interpreted literally. What it simply meant was “this is a gift to X’s family clan.” It did not necessarily mean to designate the bronze ding to be passed down for generations. In fact, since the ding was made for the family clan, any zongzi (leading host of the family) of X’s family clan had the ding at his disposal, including burying it if he might.

That said, there are still questions to be answered. Why is it that a large number of bronze dings were buried before the burial paradigm shift to the graves in mid first century? (although Wu has suggested that the temple ritual and grave ritual did not have a clear-cut timeline.) I would suggest an ecological explanation below. But before that, I would further examine the agency of the bronze ding based on Parker Pearson’s theories.

Human Agency and Artifact Agency

One of the complications for the bronze ding research is the pottery dings. The pottery ding, which has been found since the Neolithic Age, preceded the bronze ding. The majority of these pottery dings were considered as yongqi. However, among them, some are identified as the ritual ware. Many archaeologists believed that the ritual pottery ding was replaced by the ritual bronze ding when entering the Bronze Age. (Wang Yong, Wang Yuling 2005) Yet, surprisingly, a significant number of ritual pottery dings have been found in the tombs of the Eastern Zhou period (c.a.770-221 B.C.), and even Han dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE). Why did the people of the Eastern Zhou period forward still make pottery dings for burial when they had already perfected the bronze making technique?

A case study of the ritual pottery ding may shed some light on this question. There is a recently excavated tomb in Anhui Province in China. Known as “the Liu-an Twin Tombs,” it consists of two parts: the North Grave and the South Grave. The tomb is dated back to the Warring State period (c.a.403-221B.C. considered part of the Eastern Zhou dynasty). Inside the South Grave, there are many mortuary goods, including bronze dings and many other bronze wares. Surprisingly, the assemblage includes a few pottery dings. These pottery dings were very likely to be ritual vessels because first, they were much more intricate than utilitarian objects, and second, they were decorated with taotie motif. In fact, the physicality of the pottery dings look very similar to the bronze dings besides them (Fig.1). This finding leads the Chinese archaeologist on the excavation site Wang Xin to believe that these pottery dings were faking the bronze ones.[ii] He explains that the Warring States period was devastated with wars, and the aristocrats could not obtain as much bronze as their ancestors in the Shang and the Western Zhou dynasties. Alternatively, they made dings out of pottery, a material that was easier to get.

To read the complete article, please email me at dong@sudongyue.com. This is an academic paper and I do not want to post it all in here.

北美如何看待占领行动与社会不平等

“我们是99%！我们是99％！”这是占领华尔街行动的口号。今年的冬天迟迟未来到，给占领行动“天时”之机，再加上的离纽约很近，具“地利”之宜，加拿大最大的都市多伦多也发起了占领行动。我也参加了行动，前往圣詹姆斯公园 (St. James Park)声援驻扎在那里的抗议者。虽然这一行动广受媒体的持续关注，有轰轰烈烈之势，但实际上感觉很冷清。圣詹姆斯公园不算大，一座座的帐蓬密密地，就像是一大班野营的旅客。这里离商业中心还有几个街区的距离，并不能引起关注，四周的人们，若无其事地做着他们每天都应该做的事情。相对于社会上无动于衷的人，我们这些人是极少数的，显得很不合时仪，无理取闹似的。

占领行动是一次全球性的抗议运动。不少国家和地区都有类似的事情发生。对于这一现象的理解，世界各地的经济学家、社会学家有着不同的看法。而作为这次事件的发端地纽约华尔街，北美的社会各界是如何看待这一运动的呢？这是本文关注的重点。北美政治存着很明显的左派和右派，但是对于事件分析却比较复杂，并不是穷人就支持，富人就反对；或者左派就支持右派就反对。加拿大社会党的一名议员声援了这次行动，但左派的政治家也有反对的声音。作为富人阶层的超级明星、商人，也有人对行动表示支持。占领行动与以往的许多政治运动不同，这次运动的斥求不明确，没有明确的组织和行动目标，虽然大公司的贪婪是他们针对的对象，但却没有提出有建设性的建议。所以，不少人仇富的人对行动本身也执反对态度。其实，对于这一行动本身对与错、有效或者无效的评价，并是不重点。从北美的大众媒介的评论来看，我们关注的重点应该是这一行动说明了什么。答案是：全球化资本主义经济的根本性社会问题：贫富悬殊。

从许多数据及采访人自述来看，自从70年代末以来，北美的普通家庭的生活质量，不但没有提高，反而是有所下降的。近三十年来社会经济这不断的发展，但发展来多出来的那一部资金增长，大都进入了1%的超富有的人的手里，而不是回到99%的普通人手中。这显然是不平等的，这就是占领运动的行动依据。占领行动并不是反对资本主义制度的，而是反对这种不平等。

历史的重演

对于美国的贫富差距，我们必需从历史来看。那场1929年史无前例的的美国经济危机之后，资本主义的弊端出现了。资本过度的自由化，没有约束，没有政府的规划，富者太富穷者穷，是导致危机的最重要原因之一。后来，美国政府通过了 The New Deal，采用了一些社会主义的手段，将一些行业转为国有，美国经济开始复苏。资本主义的黄金时期是五十年代到七十年代。那里候，是福利社会。那里候，工会很强大，政府税收高，投入到大量的教育医疗，普通的市民，不用担心失业，只要有一份固定的工作，就有一生的经济保障。（有如大陆的铁饭碗）那时候，人们有更多的空闲时间享受生活，这是生活质量的重要指标。那时候，因为社会福利好，社会更平等，所以竞争没有那么剧烈，工作时间因此比较短。此外，他们不需要花长时间用在每天的交通上面。从家到上班地点所需要的时间，也是一个生活质量的指标。在福利社会时期，因为地价相对便宜，大部分的工薪阶层都能够支付市中心的租金或购买产业，所以上班路途短，节省了上班路途的时间。现在，普遍的美国家庭上班路途需要的时间在不断地延长。这是因为地价不断地上升，工薪阶层不得不购买离市中心越来越远的房产。这样的结果，就是上下班路途的时间越来越长。现在在北美，一小时车程的上班路途已经成为常规，但在福利时期，这样的做法是不可思议的。在以前，因为生活成本较低，许多妇女不需要工作，是典型的家庭主妇；现在，生活费用越来越昂贵，有家庭的妇女不但要工作，不少还要同时做两至三份工作。在以前，公司倒闭的比例是比较少的，而现在，竞争剧烈，倒闭是经常发生的事情。

七十年代的石油危机，改变了一切。右认为，国家再也付不起这么多的社会开销，于是新一轮的自由主义开始抬头，政府开始减税，银行开始降息，促进经济。这种新的资本主义经济形态被称为新自由主义（Neoliberalism），推广力度最大的是里根总统和萨切尔夫人。1989年冷战结束，让美国和西方的许多学者认为这是新自由主义的胜利，对这一系统的信任度越来越高。与此同时，由于没有社会主义国家的威胁，美国经济结构中的社会主义成分也就相应地减弱了。工会不像以前那么强大了。国家更加鼓励自由市场：美联储主席格林斯潘，不断调低利率，直至几乎为零。这当种促进了大公司的投资，使他们更加放心大胆地开拓市场。与此同时，这种新自由主义看似对普通人也很有利。譬如，人们很容易从银行贷款，经济确实是增长了。全球化进一步地深化了，西方资本主义系统似乎根基越来越稳固。

然而，繁华的背后却隐藏着危机。许多人认为经济的发展就是水涨船高（the rising tide wave lift up all boats.）也就是说，经济发展是水位，所有的人是船；只要水位升高，所有的生活水平都浮涨起来。但事实并非如此。因为税低，利率低，超富有者成为了经济最大的受益人，超级明星，财团，基金实体，过上了真正的好日子。但是，普通人的实际生活水平并没有提高。工资提高了，但那是生活成本也是每日俱增，抵消了收入的升幅。富人与普通人的经济差踞太大：平均一名大公司首席执行宫的收入，是普通员工的几百倍。这也就是，水虽然涨了，但大部分的船都没有被抬高。

社会经济不平等，造成了2008年的经济危机。这是仅次于1929年的资本主义历史上最严重历的危机。普遍认为，这场危机虽不及1929年，但历时更长。历史似乎又重演了，经济上的自由主义，在1929年曾经使美国经济陷入困境，而八十年后，同样又是自由主义的抬头，让经济再度陷入深深的低谷。社会经济总量的不断膨涨，中产阶级的普通人并没有从中获得好处，因为增长的部分很少流向他们的口袋，他们的提高消费能力并没有相应的提高。他们的工资水平看似提高了，但是，由于来自于国家政府缩减公共开支，教育医疗的成本加大，再加上通货膨涨，大部分人的消费力反而下降。这就引发了经济的恶性循环。美国中产阶级的消费是美国经济的实体，他们消费减低了，经济自然就萎缎缩了。另一方面，税率低了，市场更自由了，这对富有阶层非常有利。作为新自由主义经济的最大受益者，他们并没有把多赚来的钱返回社会办实业、创造就业机会，而是把钱用于金隔投机。在自由经济体制里，投机行为的回报率远比办实业的回报率高得多。这些富人于是乐此不疲。有钱就有政治权力，随着资产的增加而越来越大，富人阶层游说美国政府，让政府通过一些法案来保障他们投机的行为。这就加剧了问题的恶化，制度性的缺陷越来越明显，社会不公平越来越离谱，最终造成了经济危机。

这就是历史。历史上发生的事实无可否认，但解读却有所不同。左派认为国家应该增加税收，把富人的钱拿过来分到普通人那里，把社会变得更公平，这就能解决经济危机。而右派的看法刚好相反，他们认为经济危机是因为市场不自由造成的，他们可以列举许多的事实来证明国家干预经济所造成的恶果。这就是北美政治中左右两派的论战。对于当前的经济不景气，左右两派，以及折衷主义的中间派，不断地争论着。我比较赞成左派的观点，当然也不完全排除右派的一些论据。我从各媒体上总结了各家之言，以飨读者。

富人该不该负责

可能最具争议和直接的话题，就是富人该不该对经济不景色负责任。有学者认为，社会问题的出现，不在于最富者的1%人口，而在于最贫穷的10%人口。只要富人的收入是合法的，那就没有问题。相反的观点则认为，富人过份富有，结果压制了中产阶级，造成一系列的社会问题。比如说，富人们越来越有钱，于是消费自然越大。最上层的消费水平提高了，会产生连锁反应，下面的消费水平也跟着提高。于是，中产阶级于是受到越来越大的经济压力。比如说，七十年代的美国豪宅，不及现在豪宅的一半大。以前，花十万加币可以买到一所房子；现在，因为富人不断地花大价钱买房，房价不断地升高，中产阶层的压力就更大。想要想买小一点的新房子，几乎是没有的。另一个例子是派对越来越大。以前结婚，不需要现在这么多钱。不久前，一位首席执行宫给她女儿办了个婚礼，花了一千万美金。连锁反应，中产阶级的婚礼规模标准也就升高了。更不要说孩子读书的问题，也都是这样的原因，被富人带高了的社区地价高，中产阶级被迫跟进，很辛苦。

社会化措施会不会损害经济

另一个有争议的话题，就是社会化的措施，例如奥巴马政府想推行医疗制度，会不会阻碍经济的发展，加剧经济不景色。美国的茶党运动，其规模仅次于占领运动。而茶党是很右倾的，他们反对奥巴马的一系列政策，把奥巴马当作是希特勒式的人物，指责他想把自由经济“国家化”。 茶党以及美国的共和党老议员都认为，走出危机的解决办法，是实现更多的经济自由。他们认为经济完全自由了，问题就没了。而不少社会派学者则提出很具说服力的观点予以反驳。我听过的最有力的证据，是有关北欧国家的。挪威丹麦瑞典等北欧国家，他们一直沿袭高税收高福利的经济分配制度，在西方资本主义体系中是最社会平等的。人们的生活质量高，经济繁荣。倒是自由资本主义发展得较彻底的西班牙、意大利，在危机的影响下出现了严重的债务危机，社会经济陷于混乱。几年前有社会调查发现，北欧国家人们的幸福指数，要比美国高得多。

激励机制是否存在问题

美国在开国之初，其政治纲领就是自由民主和平等。国家需要管理，就是要确保这一价值的实现，平衡社会矛盾，促进社会健康发展。在社会分配不公的情况下，国家应该促进其公平化。目前的经济体制下是很倾向于富人的，不公平的程度是很离谱的。如上面所述，一家公司的CEO的工资是普通员工的几百倍，而实际上他们是否付出了几百倍的努力呢？石油大享巴菲特是个比较直率的倾向于左派的大富翁。他的收入自然是天文数字，但是，他说，他的秘书所交的个人所得税比他还高。这个例子被奥巴马当成例子来教育美国的富有阶层。奥巴马也向自己开刀，说，成功的美国人应该多交税，包括我自已在内。但是，像巴菲特和奥巴马这样的富人有多少呢？敢牺牲自己利益，把眼光放在社会的健康发展的人相信只是少数派。

对于美国社会的垢病，许多话题集中在社会激励机制。经济危机前的机制倾向于大公司，低利率以及其他一系列的经济促进政策，让大银行大公司不断地进行冒险投资，以赚取更大的利润。这就是民众所指责的贪婪。有的公司，自以为蛋糕做大了就不会倒闭。万一他们倒闭，将引发失业问题等社会效应及经济的多米诺效应，所以政府不敢放死不救。正是有这种心理，他们就更加天不怕地不怕地进行风险投资。结果，莱曼兄弟等美国大公司就这样出现了问题。如果不是因为国家政策的倾斜，或许美国大公司会更谨慎保守，一场经济或能避免。在危机之后，美国政府为了拯救这些垂危的大公司，投入大量财力进行扶持补助，这实是亡羊补牢之举，能解一时之困，但要根本解决问题，还是要解决激励机制的问题。

学术界的声音

经济不平等并不仅仅是一个政治经济问题，有的学者将其影响推广到社会本质的层次。自从经济危机发生后，北美的书市上不少分析经济的书很畅销。其中，我浏览过一本很出名的书，叫《亿万富翁的问题》（The trouble with Billionaire）作者是两们学者Neil Brooks Linda McQuaig。书中提到了一个重要的社会问题：亿万富翁的自我隔离。富豪是不会混迹于普通人之间的。他们有自己的社区，他们平时所接触的人，都是同一阶层的人。富人们有着他们独有的逻辑和文化特点，他们并不需要与社会上的普通人打交道。随着贫富差距的加大，他们与大众的接触越来越少。富人们关注的事情，游离于大众之外。这意味着公民社会的萎缩。也就是说，贫富差距加大之后，富人和普通人之间没有共同的社会经济利益，没有共通之处，所以他们就觉得没有必要接触。这种隔离并不是小事，根据这位作者的观点，这意味着美国民主的衰落，社会不和谐将进一步激化。

社会不平等还会造成其他众多的个人问题。关于这个问题的，另一本深获好评的书叫《精神的水平：为什么大平等可以造就强大的社会》(The Spirit Level: Why Greater Equality Makes Societies Stronger) 该者作者是Richard Wilkinson和Kate Pickett两位学者，他们获得政治研究协会2011年度奖项。这本书提出一个重要的观点：就是目前的许多美国的社会问题，包括吸毒，自杀，心血管病，抑郁症，少年怀孕等等，都与不平等的经济体制有关。他们通过社会实验并分析了统计数据，发现更加平等的国家的这类问题相对较少，而美国是个不平等的国家，这些问题更加严重。经济的总量大小并不是决定社会问题的主要成因，主要成因是不平等。他们发现：经济不平等可以造成人的精神压力问题，从而产生各类的社会问题。

另一本很有影响力的书叫《达尔文的经济》（the Darwin economy）,作者是经济学家兼Macgrill University大学教授罗伯特·弗郞克（Robert Frank）。他将新自由主义经济称作是“胜者为王的经济” （Winner takeoff economy）。在这个经济体制里，大家都在拼死的竞争，为了争取第一。居第二位就是失败。比如，在运动比赛中总要拿第一名。在娱乐圈里都想成为最出名的女高音，男高音，钢琴师。实际上第二位又有什么不对呢？正是这种争第一的逻辑，让一些大公司挺而走险，断送了本来很稳固的基业。此外，相应于争先的需要，自由人的角色（free agent）应运而生。比如，在NBA篮球比赛中，运动明星可以自由流动，而不是绑死在一个球队里。因为可以流动，他们成为了商品，其他球队都争着要，这种竞争的作用，就是球星的身价的提高。运动比赛的逻辑尚有其道理，但是，CEO也沿用了相同的逻辑，就不怎么合理了。自从IBM率先骋用了业外人士当CEO之后，首席执行官也成为了自由人。他们不再是由本公司的出色的雇员担当了。CEO成为各大公司争抢的对象，所以，他们的薪水才可能高于普通员工数百倍。该书剖释还分析了当前北美社会的其他经济逻辑，并分析其不合理性。得出的一个重要的结论之一就是：一个平等的社会，对谁都有好处，其实对富人也是有利的。

解决不平等？

这次占领行动，客观上反映了美国还是个阶级社会。美国的民主，曾经被描绘为没有阶级的民主，富人和普通人，在外表上并没有什么不同。他们不像英国那样，拥有一个衣冠楚楚、口语浓正的上层社会。美国富人，也穿着一件夹克，就像小布什，说话还土里土气，根本看不出他与普通的美国工人阶级有什么不同。但是，新自由主义，重新提醒了美国人的阶级的矛盾。既然阶级的存在，经济的不平等，已然造成了2008年这样严重的危机，而民众又自发进行了占领行动，美国的政策会不会下定决心解决不平等问题呢？美国作为资本主义世界的头号经济实体，其经济政策的左倾或是右倾，对于世界经济的影响重大。美国未来的政策在平等的问题上怎么走，当然是世界关注的焦点。

奥巴马刚上台时，全国一片欢呼。有不少评论家以为，美国将会进行一场社会化的变革。但是事实并没有发生。美国社会的右派富人阶层在政治上的力量很大，他们决定了美国的方向，这不是奥巴马一位总统的能力可以改变的。

众所周知，奥巴马政府倾向于推行社会化改革，而共和党则倾向于保守的自由经济政策。但是有一个很不可思议的现象，就是美国的中产阶级和穷人，许多人都把选票投给共和党。这些穷人，是社会化改革的受益者，他们为什么要把选票给一个与他们自身利益相反的政党呢？根据一些分析人士的看法，许多的普通美国民众，虽然不富裕，但总有一种美国梦。他们相信他们不会总是贫穷，需要社会福利，他们认为自己会很快地变富了。所以，他们投票给共和党人，以为促进经济，对自己的未来有利。此外，共和党也擅长包装，把自己当成一个和普通老百姓站在一起的角色，小布什就是一个典型的例子。共和党许诺这些美国穷人一个未来，绝对的自由，绝对的美好。左派的批评家则认为，这种提法其实是一种资本主义乌托邦，是不可能实现的。

美国经济社会问题，其实也是世界性的问题。分析源于美国的占领运动以及其社会根源，对于其他国家和地区都有借镜的作用。

东东

2012年6月28日

赌城·上帝·自救

我有罪，深深的内疚，我自我抛弃。烈日下沙漠中，我一个人深一脚浅一脚地蹒跚前进，满身的沙尘冒着烟、焦黑的皮肤干裂的嘴。我一整天都没有水喝，灵魂已经干涸了, 上帝抛弃了我。天黑的时候, 跌跌撞撞、不知不觉中，我走近了一个地方，渐感阴凉清爽,前方好像有光。模模糊糊走近了，仿佛听到了音乐，光影绰绰;半睁着的眼，似乎看到人群在你左右游移。突然,有好事者把我一把拉过去，进入了一个噪杂的空间。一种莫名的气息，顿时洗涮了荒漠的神经，激活了全身每一寸的感官：绵绵的殷厚的地毯、金灿灿的吧台焕着夺目的色彩，抑扬顿挫的爵士乐，光怪陆离的游戏仪器，一张张轻狂兴奋的脸，一大桶的啤酒冒着泡泡,半裸的性感女郎在吧台上扭着腰肢。我瞬時間感官爆棚，慌不知所措。肩膀被人拍了一下，那人略帶酒氣，笑笑地說：嗨，欢迎来到拉斯维加斯。

不，这是罪恶。我思忖着，想离开。但是，那缠绕在钢管上的女体波澜起伏着，死死地勾住我的视线。我的下身僵直在那里，让我无法移动。上帝啊，我坚持十戒，你却把我荒弃沙漠；而撒旦，擅长患惑人心的魔鬼，却给了我这样的食色盛宴。

他们非常康慨大方。我捣出二十美元，就拿了房卡。推开房门，我还以为走错门了，这分明是个豪华套间，大得可以住进一头大象：宽大的欧式沙发款款、正方形的大床像一片高地、一整幅的玻璃幕墙如西式写字楼通明透亮，方便里里外外的现代人相互偷窥，洗手盆和浴缸是XXL规格。我只恨长得不够大，不能物尽其用。

沐浴后皮肤干爽如拉城的空气。負罪感和塵垢一起被洗潔淨了。镜前整装，从头发到皮鞋，我上下都发亮,踱步出门, 你来到赌桌房。赌桌上的各式赌徒神态各异，其中一位有些酒醉，将一大箩筹码推进桌上，眼睁眯成一条线地瞄着手中的纸牌。衣着笔挺的庄家是位女将，不动神色的，似乎老谋深算，只顾叫牌。桌子另一角，墨西哥大享模样的男子将手搭在女伴腰间，如电影里毒枭的模样。对面的一位老先生，学者打扮，沉着内敛，不知深浅。

心算之间，手起手落，一轮的输赢成败已有所属。没有欣喜若狂，也末有捶胸顿足。我知道，不动声色，那只是表面场规；内里是万马奔腾，激荡着肺腑五脏。握牌的手虽一动不动，肾上腺却在汹涌地分泌……

拿着多出来的纸币，我决定把它花掉，因为反正是多出来的。我望了望秀秀的吧女，虽然打消了念头，但感觉自己正一步步走近撒旦的大门。

我知道，他们稱這裡为原罪之城。上帝啊，我要贖罪，於是自我流放，卻誤入了原罪之城。《圣经》明明白白地写着，不许赌博。拉城触犯了上帝，整座城都在犯罪。但是，上帝啊，那又有什么大不了的。这里是落基山脉地带的荒漠中的绿州，曾是与世隔绝之地。美国政府的一条立法，拉城成为了博彩之都。合法的豪赌，四面八方群起响应，鱼贯而入，奢华酒店平地拔起、虹灯四处闪烁。拉城一夜爆富。原罪，犯戒，让人充满刺激。赌博有悖于宗教道德，但又被现代法律认可，这座城邦色彩斑斓诡异，像南加州和墨西哥沙漠里的带刺的花，让人拿不准它是邪是正。

聖人，賭徒，酒鬼，我們都一樣，心中有时是天使，有时是魔鬼。在今晚，我可能要纵容自己，以补偿以往工作的劳辛。金钱美女，赤裸裸地倘开着，从大富到中产，都能找到自己的位置。拉城的准入门槛并不高，它拜金，但也接纳寒酸。阔者不笑贫，各自寻开心。也有可能，我要考验自己：像耶酥一样，在撒旦的诱惑下不为如动，然后穿越地狱，是为了击碎它。

旋律乍起，一列巨型的音乐喷泉冷不防地喷薄而出，巨大水幕横生生地把整个拉斯维加斯染成白色的世界，就像先知摩西在分开红海海水时产生的通天水柱。拉城诡异的夜秀，拉开了帷幕。不知是酒精的浓度，还是音乐光影的效果，你又开始轻盈起来。鬼使神差，我走进了一家尽是霓虹灯闪闪的剧院。


这是另一个世界。与赌场的噪杂截然相反，这小剧场充满着一种奇异的肃穆。幽黯的聚光灯下一片黑色。观众席是一张张错落有致的黑色的沙发和茶几，地毯布幕都渲染成黑色。剧场里肃静得可以听见羽毛掉地的声音。两名身披黑色斗蓬的人，如吸血鬼一般嗖嗖地贯穿于沙发之间，男的全身从头到脚一袭庄重的哑黑色，女的则是光亮的黑色，其间显露几段白色的胳膊大腿和胸部，黑色的强烈对比，使那几段白色煞是耀眼生动。男女脸上都戴着银色的假面，表情严肃得可怕。我好像置身于一个豪华的黑牢里，他们是地狱来的使者，又性感又恐怖，准备对我进行肉体和灵魂的双重推残。他们戴着黑色的手套里，一个拿着相机，一个拿着老式的圆形闪光灯，对着人拍照留念。

黑暗，是这场秀的特色。造型灯时明时暗,打在一个个性感的女性的身体上，产生美术的雕塑效果。台上演绎着人鬼的恋爱的故事，肢体不是娇弱的，而是有肌肉线条，柔中带刚。那撒心裂肺的情绪，全都通过身体和音乐曲折地表达。随着场景的演进，她们的衣服越穿越少，但那些女人始终对自己充满着自尊，散发着拥抱着人体的天造地设之美，露着上身，她们如女神一样耸立。她们让我相信，我低俗的欲望其实是一种高尚的艺术欣赏。突然间，她们从台上窜下到台下的沙发旁，略略的挑逗，把我吓了一跳，心里开始扑通扑通地响，不知所措，如此近的距离，眼神不知往哪里放，色心色胆全都被吓破，落荒而逃。

热血沸腾是看完之后才敢出来的感受。我琢磨着那一幕幕的声色，似乎人生就应如这么一场秀精彩，埋头苦干精心经营着的小生活，显得过时老土。心里面一直潜藏着的胆小的欲望，此刻点燃了，渐渐扩展，快要占据全身时。突然一声长鸣，把我的气血思绪打住了。我心思不在走路，过街时挡住了一辆出租车，它正不耐烦地鸣笛呢。我对车里南美司机竖起了中指。过了街，我端详着陌生的自己，不相信自己会做出这样的动作。我是绵羊，还是野牛？我到底是谁？这不是现实，这是一场梦，一场美国梦。

我推开了一扇门，在吧台边坐下。酒吧里，钢琴边上略显肥态的女人，身体前仰后俯夸张地演绎着蓝调的旋律，不时地对听众互动说话。吧里面有一半的人都离开椅子，有的人站在钢琴边，随着旋律集体地轻声说笑或慢慢起舞。路易阿姆斯特郎的调子，正好缓和着膨胀的血管，一大口地清空了杯中的啤酒色的液体，我叹了口气。

我又开始迷迷糊糊了。耳房似乎听见老鹰乐队的《加州旅馆》（Hotel Califonia）。在一家沙漠中的酒店裡，住著一位富有的女人。她每天都开着性派对，和一帮年轻的男性勾肩搭背，他们一遍遍地跳舞行乐，流着夏天的香汗。他们对我说，欢迎来到加州旅馆，这是个可爱的地方，不管哪个时间，都有大量的房间；欢迎来到加州旅馆，这是个惊喜的地方，带上你不在场的证明。

我是个独行的游者，我觉得加州旅馆要么是天堂，要么就是地狱。我想要一杯红酒，酒保却说，自从1969年以来，他们就没有烈酒了。那女人喝着粉红的香槟酒，对我说：我们发明了享乐的设备，却无可救药地成为其囚徒。我看见他们做着各种离异的事，想离开，守夜人挡住我说，放心！你随时可以退房，但你却永远不能离开。

我著急了，我要囬到來時的沙漠裡，我要涤净心灵，我要贖罪。但是，已经晚了。那女人的气味擋住了去路、眼神拴住了手腳、肌膚消融了主張。我已然分不清天使和魔鬼的區別。他们是如此的相似：炎炎沙漠和加州旅館，都一樣的熾熱翻滚，同样的肾上腺迷惑了神经……

东东
2012年6月