Keywords：专著资料, 全文在线浏览, 二、赠牛颖、效忠②二君
Section Index
- Reviewing the TV Series “Taiping Heavenly Kingdom”
- Medieval Eastern and Western Cultures and Their Influence on Later Generations
- On Aesthetics
- On the Traditional Cultivation of the Chinese People
- Section 5: Essays and Miscellaneous Talks – Talking About Cattle at Random
- From Silence to Avoidance of Disease
- Starting with Dong Shi's Copycat Behavior
- Exploring the Principle of "Do Not Do to Others What You Do Not Want Done to Yourself"
- Starting with "The Foreigner Waving His Hands"
- Chapter Three: Selected Poems and Prose
- Discussing "The Emperor's New Clothes"
- 第三章 诗文选萃
- 文学艺术闲话
- 第六节 诗词选萃
Reviewing the TV Series “Taiping Heavenly Kingdom”
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Input: By CCTV Center, the 46-episode large-scale historical television series "Taiping Heavenly Kingdom" recently aired during prime time on China Central Television. As the series focuses on one of the most earth-shattering peasant uprisings in modern China, it has sparked great interest among audiences. Director Chen Jialin’s grandiose handling of war scenes sometimes leaves viewers deeply moved and profoundly excited. The design of character costumes and set props also deserves praise for its unique ingenuity. However, the series falls far short in capturing the essence of the main characters—both their strengths and their weaknesses.
Firstly, the scriptwriters failed to break free from the constraints of the “Cultural Revolution” era and lacked the courage to rectify the chaos that had arisen. Consequently, major mistakes were made in shaping the core figures of the series—the heart and soul of the revolution: Hong Xiuquan and Li Xiucheng. Hong Xiuquan was the initiator and leader of this revolutionary movement; before establishing the capital at Tianjing, his talent, wisdom, and leadership style were beyond reproach. Once Tianjing was established as the capital, however, he lost his fighting spirit, indulged in luxury, and became corrupt and decadent. In the crucial Northern Campaign, he sent only Lin Fengxiang and Li Kaifang with a force of 20,000 troops into battle, lacking effective reinforcements. As a result, Lin and Li were left to fight alone in the deep wilderness, ultimately leading to the complete defeat of their entire army. As the ruler of the nation, Hong Xiuquan should bear primary responsibility—but the series instead placed the blame on Yang Xiuqing through a dialogue between Hong and Yang. Internal strife within the Heavenly Kingdom’s upper echelons led to conflicts among the various princes, who engaged in bloody massacres; Shi Dakai fled the scene, yet the primary responsibility still rested with Hong Xiuquan. Instead, the series highlighted Yang Xiuqing’s authoritarianism and arrogance, while portraying Wei Changhui’s schemes as being entirely unavoidable—almost as if all these events were simply a case of fate forcing Hong into a difficult situation. The series claimed that after the internal strife, the Heavenly King boldly appointed young generals Chen Yucheng and Li Xiucheng, thereby sparking a new surge in revolutionary momentum. Yet this was not the case: when Shi Dakai was forced to flee, Li Xiucheng, Chen Yucheng, Lin Qirong, Wei Jun, and other commanders refused to accept the Wing King’s orders and did not join him in his departure. After Lin Qirong was killed in action and Wei Jun defected to the enemy, Li and Chen, driven by a strong sense of responsibility, voluntarily rallied their respective forces to resist the Qing army. Although the Heavenly King had issued an edict calling on generals outside the capital to come to the aid of the empire, no one responded to the call. It was only after the Heavenly King bestowed the title of Zhongwang upon Xiucheng that he officially appointed him as a commander of all forces both inside and outside the country. Xiucheng enjoyed immense prestige, and at a gathering attended by over a hundred generals, he delivered a solemn oath, emphasizing that Xiucheng’s appointment as king was truly a last resort. In reality, shortly after Xiucheng was crowned king, Hong Xiuquan, in order to disperse Li Xiucheng’s and Chen Yucheng’s military power, appointed hundreds of generals at once. Li and Chen’s subordinates received the highest number of titles, causing their command structures to become ineffective—and ultimately leading to the fall of Anqing. Li Xiucheng’s death marked a turning point in the history of the Heavenly Kingdom; objectively speaking, the task of reviving the Heavenly Kingdom fell upon Li Xiucheng’s shoulders. As Hong Xiuquan himself put it, “Hong Xiuquan suspected Xiucheng of being too ambitious, which not only undermined Xiucheng’s reputation but also stripped him of his military authority. He allowed his brother Hong Renfa to act arbitrarily, deploying Xiucheng’s generals without proper oversight, leaving the Jiangsu and Zhejiang defenses unattended and allowing them to scatter, resulting in the gradual fall of city after city.” The demise of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom can be said to have been caused solely by Hong Xiuquan. Hong “created the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, yet he also destroyed it”—this is precisely the core and critical aspect of this historical event. If we ignore this understanding and instead focus narrowly on portraying the “leader of the peasant uprising as a hero whose achievements are paramount while his mistakes are secondary,” we will lose the true value and significance of this television series.
Li Xiucheng served as the backbone of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom in its later stages. Following the internal strife among the princes, Xiucheng recruited new forces such as Zhang Luoxing and Gong Deshu, assembling an army numbering close to a million soldiers. He first convened the armies at Congyang in Anhui, where he defeated tens of thousands of troops under De Xing’a and Teng Bao Ma, then decisively routed Zhang Guoliang’s reinforcements, causing the Jiangbei Garrison of the Qing Dynasty to collapse completely. Subsequently, he joined forces with Chen Yucheng to launch a major victory against the Qing army at Sanhe Town, killing the famous Xiang Army general Li Xubin. In 1860, Xiucheng’s army advanced into Zhejiang, attacking Hangzhou to draw reinforcements from the Jiangnan Garrison—but Xiucheng secretly led his elite troops toward the gates of Nanjing, where they decisively defeated the Jiangnan Garrison. On the newly conquered territories, Xiucheng implemented new policies, bringing peace and prosperity to the people. It was clear that Xiucheng was not only brave and skilled in battle but also excelled in local development efforts. What truly distinguished Li Xiucheng throughout his life was his unwavering resilience in the face of imperialist aggression, and his steadfast defense of the righteous spirit of the Chinese nation. Both the commander of the Foreign Gunners, Wal, and the commander of the Marine Corps, Xiao Bolé, were slain by Xiucheng’s forces; even the deputy commander of the Foreign Gunners, Bai Qiwen, surrendered to the Taiping Army after being defeated. Xiucheng appointed him as an instructor, training a foreign gunner corps of several thousand men for the Taiping Army. Just as Xiucheng’s forces were fiercely attacking Shanghai, while the Little Knife Society within the city prepared for an uprising, and both Chinese and foreign reactionary forces were suffering defeats and fleeing the city, Hong Xiuquan issued an edict ordering Xiucheng to return and rescue Tianjing. Upon Xiucheng’s return to Tianjing, the Little Knife Society’s Liu Lichuan unit, which had been preparing for an uprising within the city, was utterly annihilated, while the foreign reactionary forces found themselves in a desperate situation. Thus, due to Hong Xiuquan’s obstruction and the suppression by the Hong clan, Li Xiucheng ultimately failed to turn the tide, and after Tianjing’s fall, he was captured and martyred.
Before his death, Li Xiucheng wrote tens of thousands of words of autobiography, hoping to share this tragic history with future generations so that they might learn from it. His autobiography also reflected his desire for Zeng Guofan to grant him forgiveness. In the 1950s, renowned Chinese historian Luo Ergang proposed that Li Xiucheng’s wish to survive was akin to the story of Jiang Wei, a general of the Shu State during the Three Kingdoms period, who, after his kingdom fell, pretended to surrender to Zhong Hui, intending to restore Han. This theory quickly gained support from many historians across China. During the Cultural Revolution, the “Four Olds” group, driven by ulterior motives, launched a political campaign to criticize “traitors,” and comrades like Qu Qiubai and Liu Shaoqi suffered unjust accusations—Li Xiucheng was no exception. The series dared not correct the past or restore the true face of history. Throughout the entire series, Li Xiucheng’s scenes were reduced again and again, and his words were insincere. The meetings at Congyang, the decisive victories against the Jiangbei Garrison and the Jiangnan Garrison, and the implementation of new policies in Jiangsu and Zhejiang—all were omitted by the series. The Battle of the Outskirts of Shanghai was considered by historians to be Li Xiucheng’s greatest masterpiece, a work that resonated with both domestic and international audiences—but the series also omitted every single scene featuring Li Xiucheng. A work that loses its historical authenticity cannot be captivating.
Moreover, the series’ portrayal of several love stories was overly far-fetched and bizarre. There are still some records in the histories of Lin Fengxiang and Hong Xuanjiao, Luo Dabao and Su San Niang, and Tan Shaoguang and Fu Shanshang—though these stories are merely fictional.
(Extracted from “Gansu Historical Records,” 2001, Issue 1)
Medieval Eastern and Western Cultures and Their Influence on Later Generations
From the 8th century BCE to the 2nd century BCE, China was in the midst of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. Like the various schools of thought in China, Greek scholars such as Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle contributed significantly to philosophy and science, ushering in a dazzling cultural era for the Western world. Their academic ideas evolved through successive generations, each building upon the previous one, culminating in an unprecedented peak for ancient Greek culture. These ideas echoed those of Confucius, Mencius, Han Fei, and others, making ancient Greece a cultural beacon that stood tall on both sides of the East and West. Socrates taught students and imparted knowledge, much like Confucius—but though he did not leave behind written works, his teachings were widely disseminated through the efforts of Plato and Aristotle. Socrates believed that the “heart” was supreme, and only the “heart” could grasp true forms and ideals. Sensory perception could only approach the forms of objects and transform them into tools for forming ideals—yet all of this was created and arranged by the gods, reflecting divine wisdom and purpose. The gods possessed the greatest knowledge, and true knowledge was subordinate to the gods. Plato was Socrates’ student and a great representative of idealistic philosophy. His view of things was derived from human needs and intentions. For example, the gods were the most perfect and wise beings, and the sphere was the most perfect form—therefore, the universe must be a sphere, destined to be governed by the gods. Plato valued logical thinking, particularly mathematics, and established numerous mathematics courses at his academy, laying the groundwork for the emergence of brilliant mathematicians like Pythagoras, Leucippus, and Democritus in later Greek history. Aristotle was a great scholar who brought together the knowledge of ancient Greece, making significant contributions in many fields. He was Plato’s student, and his famous saying, “I love my teacher, but I love truth even more,” became widely known. In philosophy, he proposed “nominalism,” which acknowledged both the reality of sensory objects and the reality of mental objects. He believed that individuals were the only real entities, while “classes” were merely names or psychological concepts. He placed great emphasis on studying and experimenting with individual entities, which further fueled the development of experimental science. Meanwhile, his teacher Plato focused on abstract ideas, leaning more toward philosophical categories. In summary, the vast and diverse culture of ancient Greece laid the necessary and sufficient conditions for the emergence of modern science. Around the same time as these three scholars, another renowned scholar emerged—Hippocrates, who left an indelible mark on medical practice across ancient Greece. His 20-volume “Hippocratic Works” became an endless source of inspiration for the development of Western medicine.
While ancient Greek culture was flourishing under the guidance of Socrates and his students, a vigorous intellectual debate was underway on the other side of the globe, in China. Confucius, the founder of Confucianism, was the most prominent theorist of his time. At the core of his philosophy lay the word “ren,” and the way to achieve “ren” was through “shu,” embodying “ren” in actions such as “li.” Mencius was a student of Confucius and, like Confucius, traveled extensively across the lands, teaching and writing books. He promoted “ren” and “yi,” advocating for “rule by the former kings.” He combined Confucius’s philosophy of “ren” with politics, marking a significant advancement—but his idea of “rule by the former kings” carried a hint of nostalgia for the past. Another prominent figure in Confucianism, Xunzi, was also a private disciple of Confucius. He praised wealth and strength, advocating for Qin’s reforms and criticizing Mencius’s “nostalgia for the past.” Han Fei was a disciple of Xunzi and studied alongside Li Si. He elevated Xunzi’s concept of “rule by the former kings” to the level of legislation, proposing a theory of governance that combined “fa,” “shu,” and “shi.” He believed that “fa” was fundamental, advocating for “banning all schools of thought” and promoting legal systems, thus guiding Confucianism toward a more political orientation. After Qin Shi Huang read “Han Feizi,” he exclaimed, “I am glad to have met this man and discussed with him—I would not regret dying!” Li Si remarked, “This is what Han Fei wrote.” Not long after, Han Fei arrived in Qin, where Li Si, jealous of Han Fei’s talents, falsely accused him of wrongdoing and ended his life. Nevertheless, Han Fei’s teachings played a positive role in Qin Shi Huang’s unification of China and consolidation of his regime.
Mozi, the founder of Mohism, was a native of Lu, a region about a century after Confucius. His views were in stark contrast to Confucianism. He opposed hereditary succession, advocated for meritocracy, broke down old class distinctions, and argued for “no official is ever noble, no commoner is ever lowly,” “to ensure that the hungry have food, the cold have clothing, the weary have rest, and the troubled find peace.” He placed his hopes for political reform in the “sage king.” He proposed the doctrine of “minggui,” believing in spirits and deities, and emphasized the role of spirits and deities, though this belief also revealed certain limitations in his thinking.
Laozi, the founder of Daoism, was a native of Chu, living around the same time as Confucius. In his book “Laozi,” he proposed simple dialectical viewpoints such as “misfortune is the foundation of fortune, and fortune is the foundation of misfortune,” and “softness overcomes hardness,” which were highly valuable. He advocated for “governance by non-action,” promoting the ideal of “a small state with few people,” where “the sounds of chickens and dogs can be heard, and people live until old age without ever crossing paths.” Among Daoist representatives during the Warring States period was Zhuang Zhou, who once served as a gardener in the state of Song, later resigning from office and never returning to public service. He offered a deeper interpretation of “dao,” believing that the origin of all things in the universe was called “dao,” which gave rise to heaven and earth, and even spirits were products of “dao.” Only “true persons” could attain “dao.” Though all things are constantly changing, they are all governed by “dao.”
Around the same time, great physicians like Bian Que and the renowned “Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon” emerged, establishing a milestone in Eastern medicine and serving as the theoretical foundation for the development of traditional Chinese medicine.
In medieval times, transportation was extremely limited, and information was scarce, creating significant obstacles to cultural exchange between East and West. However, the expansion of the Roman Empire to the East, followed by the westward campaigns of the Han and Yuan Empires, kept cultural exchanges between East and West alive. In the 4th century BCE, ancient Rome rose in central Italy, conquering vast territories in Greece, Europe, Asia, and Africa. In 330 CE, Emperor Constantine moved the capital to Istanbul in Turkey (later renamed Constantinople), becoming known as the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire; it embraced Eastern Orthodox Christianity, coexisting with the Western Roman Empire, which had previously resided in Italy. Through long-distance military campaigns, the Romans played a role in fostering cultural exchange between East and West.
After the fall of the Western Roman Empire, the Eastern Roman Empire continued to exist for over a thousand years—from 395 CE to 1453 CE. Constantinople was located along trade routes connecting Asia, Europe, and Africa, occupying an ideal geographical position as a destination on the Silk Road, serving as an important hub for goods traveling from China to the West. With the military campaigns of Emperor Wu of Han to the west and the westward expeditions of Genghis Khan’s Mongol Empire, merchants and camels filled the Silk Road from the Hexi Corridor in Gansu to the Persian Gulf. Silk, tea, porcelain flowed eastward, while tools, antiques, and clocks traveled westward. The exchange between the various schools of thought and ancient Greek philosophy, as well as the exchange of Eastern and Western medicine, was, in fact, inevitable. However, differences in transportation, communication, language, and local customs hindered these exchanges, limiting their impact and preventing them from reaching their full potential. The influence of Eastern and Western cultures remained confined to their respective regions—and it was precisely this enduring influence that led to profound differences in social, cultural, and scientific developments between the two halves of the Earth.
Firstly, in terms of science and technology. After Plato, Western philosophy and science developed in tandem, with philosophy taking center stage in the pursuit of scientific truth. Aristotle’s pioneering approach to practical inquiry combined philosophy with experimental research. In the 18th century, German philosopher Immanuel Kant proposed critical theory, arguing that science begins with a priori forms and conceptual frameworks, and that these forms and concepts should be developed into deeply ingrained structures—thus setting the stage for philosophy to guide scientific inquiry. Although this idea faced fierce opposition and brutal interference from traditional religious forces, it nonetheless pushed forward with great determination. The outstanding contributions of scientists like Copernicus, Galileo, Descartes, Newton, Archimedes, Darwin, Morgan, Weil, Edison, and others in the field of science propelled Western science to unprecedented heights. From the 19th century to the late 20th century, humanity achieved remarkable breakthroughs in sound, light, chemistry, electricity, and other fields, elevating human society to a vibrant, colorful, and dynamic stage. Each of these scientific advances was a groundbreaking achievement, and none of them were born in isolation—they were all pioneered by the Western world.
In China, Confucianism was the most favored of the various schools of thought, with the teachings of Confucius and Mencius being elevated and refined through successive dynasties. From the Sui and Tang dynasties onward, China’s imperial examination system used the Four Books and Five Classics as the standard, labeling other disciplines—including science and technology—as “three religions and nine schools” or “small, insignificant skills,” leading to a lack of emphasis on scientific development within the national community. Since ancient times, the Chinese people had already achieved remarkable accomplishments in the realm of science and technology. In the 6th century BCE, they invented copper smelting; in the 4th century BCE, they developed iron smelting. Later, four great inventions—gunpowder, the compass, papermaking, and printing—were introduced. Meanwhile, the statesman Li Bing and his son built the Anlan Bridge and the Dujiangyan Irrigation System, both of which were considered unparalleled in their time. During the Eastern Han Dynasty, Zhang Heng created an earthquake meter and invented quantitative mapping techniques; during the Southern Dynasties, Zu Chongzhi calculated pi to eight decimal places. These achievements demonstrated that the Chinese people possessed the genius and wisdom to reach the pinnacle of science—but after the Sui and Tang dynasties, China’s scientific and technological progress stagnated, leading to the humiliating history of China’s defeat at the hands of Western powers’ powerful ships and cannons.
Secondly, in terms of social norms. The teachings of Confucianism—such as the Three Bonds and Five Constants, the Three Obediences and Four Virtues, and the principles of loyalty, filial piety, and righteousness—had been reinforced through millennia of education, shaping the spiritual traditions of the Chinese nation and establishing a model of moral conduct for the entire people. This model encouraged people to work diligently, be humble and cautious, and uphold laws and regulations. Confucius said, “Filial piety and respect for elders are the root of benevolence.” “When parents are still alive, do not travel far.” The principle centered on filial piety fostered family bonds and harmony, while the concept of loyalty to the emperor and patriotism helped maintain national stability and unity, leading to a prosperous society where families and individuals thrived, and the nation enjoyed peace and prosperity. Throughout five thousand years of history, the Chinese nation experienced periods of prosperity and decline, of division and reunification—but its cultural traditions always remained a silent bond, tightly binding people together. From the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods to the unification of the Qin and Han dynasties, from the divisions of the Wei, Jin, Sixteen Kingdoms, to the unification of the Sui and Tang dynasties, and from the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms to the unification of the Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties—though times changed, unification remained a constant theme. The 9.6 million square kilometers of Chinese territory remain intact to this day. In contrast, Europe, with an area roughly equivalent to China’s, saw emperors like Constantine, Saint Peter, Napoleon, and Hitler unify vast stretches of Eurasian land—but these efforts were fleeting, fading into obscurity after a brief moment. Today, Europeans live scattered across forty-three countries, and their sense of inconvenience has led them to form the European Union.
Thirdly, in terms of medical development. Since the Han and Tang dynasties, influenced by Confucian teachings, China’s scientific and technological progress remained stagnant, with the economic foundation largely consisting of individual agriculture and scattered handicrafts. Such an economic base prevented medical research from benefiting from modern equipment and tools, hindering the development of microscopic foundations for physiology and pathology. When traditional Chinese medicine practitioners worked clinically, they relied primarily on patients’ subjective sensations and external manifestations of disease. Beyond that, their only resources were their fingers and a pillow. Western medicine, however, developed under entirely different social conditions than traditional Chinese medicine. Starting in the 16th century, with the growth of mining and metallurgy industries, capitalism began to take root, and new machines and tools emerged one after another—especially the invention of the telescope and microscope, which opened up unprecedented opportunities for humanity to uncover the mysteries of nature. Natural science, armed with massive amounts of experimental data, broke free from the shackles of scholastic philosophy, allowing it to advance rapidly and reach new heights. In the field of medicine, the application of the microscope allowed people to venture into the microscopic realm. The discovery of cells and the revelation of blood circulation broadened doctors’ horizons. In the mid-18th century, with the advent of modern large-scale industry powered by steam engines, medical development encountered unprecedented opportunities. As machinery, optoelectronics, and pharmaceutical technologies improved, Western medicine quickly boarded the fast track of modern science and technology, emerging as a new force in the global medical landscape.
(Extracted from “Gansu Historical Records,” 2005, Issue 1)
On Aesthetics
Beauty exists objectively—in daily life, beautiful images, captivating performances, melodious tunes, pleasant environments, excellent poetry, calligraphy, paintings, literary works… all bring people aesthetic enjoyment. Aesthetics is an inherent human trait; the pursuit of beauty is an indispensable part of our thinking. As people’s material standards of living continue to rise, and as information, transportation, and audiovisual technologies improve, people’s aesthetic tastes have been further refined. As a classic discipline dedicated to the study of aesthetics, aesthetics should keep pace with the times and explore new frontiers. Yet some people still confine themselves to their study rooms, engaging in aesthetic research through classical quotations and textual interpretations, focusing solely on conceptual games and completely neglecting the ever-changing aesthetic perceptions in everyday life—resulting in research that often lacks practical application. As a result, aesthetic studies can only remain stagnant in place.
<!-- translated-chunk:36/53 -->Aesthetic taste comes from life, which is a fundamental viewpoint of materialistic aesthetics. Beauty exists objectively, and aesthetic appreciation is both a subjective pursuit and an objective reality. In modern urban life, people’s emotional needs reveal highly personalized characteristics, and the rich and diverse aesthetic concepts have gradually distanced themselves from the academic research in study rooms. Aesthetic values should not be limited to the exclusive domain of elite art.
The so-called natural beauty and artistic beauty in aesthetics are, in essence, questions of the mundane versus the refined. Natural beauty originates from life—simple and unadorned, it is a vivid reproduction of reality; artistic beauty arises from the artificial creation of natural beauty, being the result of processing and transformation. Some compare natural beauty to clear water and blooming lotuses, while others liken artistic beauty to intricate goldwork and vibrant colors—these are accurate and vivid metaphors. Natural beauty serves as the foundation for artistic beauty, and artistic beauty is the processed and reproduced form of natural beauty; the two complement each other and coexist harmoniously. Similarly, vulgar culture is also the foundation of elegant culture, and elegant culture is likewise the processed and reproduced form of vulgar culture. Vulgar culture cannot suppress elegant culture, nor can elegant culture suppress vulgar culture—this is what is commonly referred to as “elegant and vulgar being appreciated together.” With the rise of the economic base, everyday life itself has begun to be regarded as a work of art; conducting rational aesthetic studies on everyday phenomena does not mean denying the value of vulgar culture. However, there is an important premise here: artistic beauty must be accurately grounded in life. If this premise is exceeded, it deviates from realism and turns toward aestheticism or metaphysics.
Looking back at the history of aesthetics, outstanding aesthetic theories have always been products of daily life. From Plato and Aristotle to Leibniz, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, from Confucius, Mencius, Laozi and Zhuangzi to Liu Xie, Si Kongtu, Zhu Guangqian, they all examined aesthetic phenomena in daily life with meticulous attention—there is no doubt about this. The interdependence and mutual constraint between aesthetic theory and aesthetic practice are widely recognized in the field of aesthetics. Daily life continuously evolves over the long river of time, and aesthetic research should, without fail, meet the new demands imposed by the times.
Zhu Guangqian and others’ proposition of “artistry in life” opened up broad prospects for addressing this issue. Indeed, as Mr. Zhu said, “The richer one’s sense of interest, the more fulfilling one’s life—this is the artistry of life.” During the Three Years of Natural Disasters in the 1960s, when people were struggling through famine, where would they find rich and varied interests? Back then, with only seven feet of cloth per person, people had pants but no clothes, or clothes but no pants; in order to fill their stomachs, they destroyed forests and trampled vegetation. Artists and writers were so hungry that their bodies swelled up, and how could they possibly possess a sense of interest or aesthetic pleasure? I was a senior in college at that time; I remember a beautiful girl in my class who, in order to eat a few extra mouthfuls of steamed buns each night, would go to “sleep with the master cook.” Today, that lady would surely be a graceful, well-dressed student with high heels and a leather collar—she would be the school’s most beautiful student, the center of everyone’s gaze. Only as material life gradually became richer did the artistry of life become possible. This is because aesthetics is a psychological product that transcends the level of basic sustenance.
The premise of aesthetics should encompass both truth and goodness; mere sensory pleasure does not fully belong to beauty. In daily life, some phenomena may indeed possess a sense of truth—for example, certain obscene and vulgar acts or film and television works—but they lack the essence of goodness, and therefore do not fall within the realm of beauty. At the same time, we also see some teachings and writings that are filled with good intentions, yet they lack factual basis and thus do not possess true essence, and therefore cannot evoke a sense of aesthetic beauty in people. During the Great Leap Forward in the 1960s, when people shouted “How bold you are, so much will you produce!” or “Ten thousand jin of grain per mu,” or when the “Four Olds” proclaimed “Your father and mother are not as valuable as Chairman Mao,” or when “One sentence from Chairman Mao is equal to a thousand sentences, ten thousand sentences,” people merely echoed these slogans, with no genuine sense of aesthetic pleasure in their hearts. Only sensory beauty that combines truth and goodness can truly be considered aesthetic beauty. Therefore, truth, goodness, and beauty have always been regarded as the gold standard for measuring the quality of literature, art, and imagery.
The ever-changing nature of aesthetic concepts has enriched our understanding of the essence of aesthetics. Deepening our understanding not only enriches existing aesthetic theories but also provides evidence to correct their shortcomings. Thus, aesthetic theories must continually undergo testing in real life. Practice—theory—repractice—new theory—this is an inevitable pattern for advancing and perfecting epistemology; the development of things cannot transcend this established rule, and the development of aesthetics is no exception. Some friends in the aesthetic community worry that excessive “dailyization” in aesthetic research might lead aesthetics down the path of vulgarity, weakening aesthetic studies. I disagree with this view. The development of aesthetic theories over thousands of years has also been the development of human civilization. Aesthetics is a philosophy of life, and it should fully play its role in guiding daily life. If aesthetics were confined to “only the pure and refined, with only a few enthusiasts,” it would lose its true meaning.
Vulgar aesthetics is merely physiological satisfaction; it cannot rise to the realm of genuine aesthetic experience. To equate sensory pleasure with beauty is to enter the sacred hall of aesthetics—not only does this clearly contradict common aesthetic sense, but it will never become widespread, so there is no need to worry unnecessarily. It is also important to note that although aesthetic activities take daily life as their object, luxurious material enjoyment cannot simply be equated with aesthetic activity. Luxury can help create an atmosphere of sensory pleasure and enhance aesthetic feelings, but it is not the essence of aesthetic activity. The lavish decorations of wealthy individuals and prominent figures can be objects of aesthetic appreciation, but they should never be regarded as the primary subject of aesthetic activity.
Aesthetics is a part of human nature; aesthetic activities are the source of aesthetic development and the foundation of aesthetic theory. The development of aesthetic theory should be rooted in daily life. As people’s material lives continue to improve, the myriad forms of aesthetic phenomena have provided unprecedented conditions for the further refinement of aesthetic theory. Only through continuous innovation and development can aesthetics keep pace with the times and play a tremendous role in building a people-centered, harmonious society.
(Extracted from “Modern Literary Studies,” 2007, No. 1)
On the Traditional Cultivation of the Chinese People
After a long period of development, every nation inevitably develops its own unique characteristics, which often reflect shared beliefs and values. These beliefs, unconsciously accepted by the majority of people in a given nation and passed down through generations, become the nation’s “common beliefs.” The formation of these common beliefs is closely tied to the region’s living environment, but above all, they are deeply rooted in the nation’s traditional culture.
Chinese traditional culture serves as the material foundation for forming the common beliefs of the Chinese nation, and these common beliefs, in turn, provide the theoretical basis for national tradition and cultivation. This traditional cultivation is deeply embedded in the deep layers of Chinese social life. From the Yao and Shun system of succession to the academic debates of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, from the suppression of all schools of thought except Confucianism to the flourishing of Neo-Confucianism during the Song and Ming dynasties, the Chinese nation largely determined its own way of life, forming its own unique cultural connotations and moral standards. These standards became even more complete after nearly three hundred years of the Qing dynasty’s policy of “governing the country through filial piety.”
Some people categorize Chinese traditional culture into Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism; among these three schools, Confucianism has always held the dominant position in Chinese traditional culture. Liang Shuming, in his “An Outline of Eastern Academics,” pointed out that human academia primarily focuses on three issues: first, the relationship between humans and things; second, the relationship between humans and other humans; and third, the relationship between humans and themselves. Broadly speaking, the themes of the first category are the development of science and technology, the second category is the resolution of interpersonal relationships, and the third category is self-understanding and self-positioning. Liang Shuming believed that Chinese Confucianism did not focus on solving the first category of problems, but instead turned directly to the second and third categories. It was China’s earliest sociology of interpersonal relations—and also China’s earliest study of self-cultivation. Western academia began to emphasize the first and third categories starting from the Renaissance, achieving significant progress in science and technology and in the liberation of human nature. Meanwhile, interpersonal relationships were completely overlooked; it wasn’t until the post-industrial era that American author Carnegie published “How to Sell Yourself.” Like Confucianism, Daoism and Buddhism were also academic disciplines situated between the second and third categories, though Daoist thought placed greater emphasis on regulating the human self. As for Buddhism, it was entirely a third-category discipline.
Confucianism’s Three Guidelines and Five Constants, Three Obediences and Four Virtues, Loyalty, Filial Piety, and Righteousness—all of these principles were beneficial to the political governance and social stability of feudal dynasties. Confucian and Mencian teachings were repeatedly elevated by successive dynasties, and the status of Confucius and Mencius was constantly reinforced. After the Sui and Tang dynasties, China’s imperial examination system used the Four Books and Five Classics as the standard for selecting talent, while other disciplines—including science and technology—were labeled as “Three Teachings and Nine Schools,” or “small arts and crafts,” thereby shaping the traditional cultural connotations of the Chinese nation and establishing its own unique model of moral cultivation.
This model of cultivation helped people practice diligence, frugality, humility, caution, loyalty to the state and love for their country, leading to orderly families and a stable, harmonious society. Yet, the drawbacks and negative impacts it ultimately brought to Chinese society were immeasurable.
One negative impact was that it led to a neglect of scientific and technological development throughout the nation. Since ancient times, the Chinese people had achieved remarkable accomplishments in the field of science and technology. In the 6th century BCE, they invented copper smelting; in the 4th century BCE, they developed iron smelting. Later, four great inventions emerged: gunpowder, the compass, papermaking, and printing. At the same time, the statesman Li Bing and his son built the Anlan Bridge and the Dujiangyan Irrigation System—both engineering feats that were unparalleled at the time. Zhang Heng of the Eastern Han Dynasty invented the seismograph and quantitative mapping methods; Zu Chongzhi of the Southern Dynasties calculated pi to eight decimal places. This demonstrated that the Chinese possessed both the genius and wisdom to scale the pinnacle of science. However, after the Sui and Tang dynasties, Chinese science and technology stagnated. While the West experienced the Renaissance, moved straight toward the Industrial Revolution, and saw rapid advances in science and technology day after day, from the invention of the steam engine and the internal combustion engine to the countless innovations in sound, light, chemistry, and electricity—like mushrooms after a spring rain—humanity was propelled onto an unprecedentedly new stage. None of these inventions were anything but scientific achievements of the Western world. Chinese scientists like Zhan Tianyou, Hou Debang, Yang Zhenning, and Li Zhengdao could only emerge and make scientific contributions after studying and working abroad.
From the late Qing Dynasty to the early Republic of China, the abolition of the imperial examination system, the Self-Strengthening Movement, the May Fourth Movement in culture, the integration of Chinese and Western medicine… all aimed to break free from the constraints of millennia-old traditional cultivation and to move closer to the West in the pursuit of scientific advancement. However, due to the deep roots of traditional beliefs, these efforts, though sometimes effective, were merely a drop in the ocean compared to the vast ocean of change.
Another negative impact was that it led to the precocious and detached nature of Chinese people. This was closely related to the Confucian principle of “the middle way.” Confucius said, “A gentleman follows the middle way; a petty man goes against the middle way.” Zisi said, “Not leaning to one side is called the middle way; not changing with the times is called the middle way. The middle way is the true path of the world. The middle way is the fixed principle of the world.” This was a profound truth from Confucius’s teachings, which Zisi later passed on to Mencius. “The Doctrine of the Mean” is a book dedicated to the middle way; originally, it was a chapter in “Xiaodai Zaji,” but later scholars claimed that “The Doctrine of the Mean” was written by Zisi, elevating its value and making it the theoretical foundation for traditional Chinese moral education. Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi of the Northern Song Dynasty greatly revered “The Doctrine of the Mean.” Zhu Xi of the Southern Song Dynasty wrote “Commentaries on The Doctrine of the Mean,” placing “The Doctrine of the Mean” alongside “The Great Learning,” “The Analects,” and “Mencius” as one of the Four Books. After the Song and Yuan dynasties, “The Doctrine of the Mean” became a standard textbook in schools and a required reading for imperial examinations, exerting a profound influence on Chinese education. “The Doctrine of the Mean” set forth moral guidelines for Chinese people’s personal cultivation and passed them down through generations, always guiding the thinking and speech of most people. The middle way—neither leaning to one side nor the other—has always been the motto of parental education for children, so that when a tree grows tall, it attracts the wind; when a bird flies high, it is easily shot down; when a child shrinks back, it becomes weak… these sayings have taken root in Chinese villages and communities, known to both young and old alike. From a young age, Chinese people received strict teachings to speak cautiously and act with propriety, in stark contrast to Westerners who dared to speak boldly and act boldly. Most Chinese people tended toward precocious individuality.
Confucianism’s doctrine of “heavenly mandate” held that life and death were predetermined, and wealth and honor were destined by heaven. Under repeated exposure to this teaching, Chinese people came to see their own future and fate as divinely ordained. Therefore, “to strive for success is up to people, but fulfillment lies in heaven” was a truth universally believed by Chinese people. Lin Yutang believed that Confucianism and Daoism were two sides of the Chinese soul. When Chinese officials served in government, they were Confucians; when they were demoted, they were Daoists. Scholars such as Han Yu, Liu Zongyuan, Liu Yuxi, Wang Anshi, and Su Dongpo were loyal to their country and devoted to reform during their official careers; after leaving office, they continued to pass on their poetry and prose, finding joy in their own pursuits, always maintaining a mature and detached mindset. Many intellectuals today still use “half Confucian, half Daoist” as a motto for navigating life and pursuing virtue. Precociousness and detachment, while having their own meanings of enduring hardship and remaining calm, ultimately led the entire nation toward conservatism and a lack of ambition, lacking revolutionary spirit. More than ten million Manchus ruled 450 million Han Chinese for nearly 300 years, relying solely on the teachings of Confucius and Mencius. As the saying goes, “A scholar rises up in rebellion, but it takes three years to succeed”—this speaks volumes about the underlying issues.
After liberation, the Chinese government took decisive measures and carried out sweeping reforms, making considerable contributions to science and technology and to social transformation. To be honest, Mao Zedong’s democratic revolution in China was a great undertaking of breaking the old and establishing the new, of correcting the flaws in traditional moral cultivation. Initially, the goal was to rectify the shortcomings of traditional moral education, but replacing Confucianism—rooted in the deepest emotions of the Chinese people—was far from easy. For various reasons, the desired goals were not fully achieved. The Anti-Rightist Campaign and the Cultural Revolution, while damaging some old moral concepts, failed to establish new moral standards. Looking at the current situation, the shining examples and models of Lei Feng, Jiao Yulu, Kong Fansen, Ren Changxia… did not cause traditional beliefs to fade; most Chinese people still acted according to their old traditions. The “Three Represents” campaign and advanced education initiatives aimed to address the Party’s advanced nature, but had little impact on traditional moral concepts. So, what should be retained, what should be corrected, and what should be added to the traditional beliefs of the Chinese people? That remains a question worth further discussion.
In the 1920s, the renowned British philosopher Bertrand Russell, after a year-long visit to China, suggested: “If the Chinese people could freely absorb what they needed from our civilization while rejecting what they deemed undesirable, they would be able to achieve organic development within their own traditions and produce brilliant achievements that combined our strengths with their own.” Russell was one of the most influential progressive thinkers of the 20th century; whether his predictions could be applied and whether they could contribute to building a harmonious society in China is a question worth pondering.
(Extracted from “Gansu Historical Records,” 2007, No. 2)
Section 5: Essays and Miscellaneous Talks – Talking About Cattle at Random
Cattle are respected animals; their quiet, selfless, and dedicated character has made them a unique model in the animal kingdom. Since ancient times, cattle in literary works have been seen as embodiments of impartiality and dedication—“frowning coldly at the criticism of thousands, bowing their heads to serve as a cow for the people,” “the old cow knows her sunset is short, so she doesn’t need to whip herself to gallop forward”—these lines are filled with absolute affirmation and high praise for cattle. In “Water Margin,” Li Kui, the Iron Cow, in “The Story of Yue Fei,” Niu Gao, and in “The Love Story of the Milky Way,” Niu Lang—each embodies a personality characterized by selflessness, fearlessness, and unwavering loyalty, all linked to the character “cow,” giving the characters a more vivid and realistic feel, as if only cows could match such virtues. A cow’s life is one of selfless devotion to human society; it toils its whole life, constantly creating wealth for humanity, and finally offers its entire body to humanity for free.
Cattle come in many varieties. The yellow cattle of northern China are known for their resilience to drought and hard work, while the yak of the Tibetan Plateau excel at long-distance travel and carrying heavy loads. The water buffalo of southern China are adept at wading through mud and working in rice paddies. In Ukraine, there is a type of dairy cow called the Askeld breed, which produces up to 100 kilograms of milk per day—its economic value is self-evident. Rhinos and antelopes are also relatives of cattle; due to their rarity, they have been listed as endangered species, and the rhino horn and antelope horn are now prohibited from use in traditional Chinese medicine.
Cattle’s immense contributions to humanity have earned them great praise and reverence from people, leading to their inclusion in the twelve zodiac signs, the twenty-eight mansions, and other numerological systems that govern human destiny. The ox in the twelve zodiac signs is paired with the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, and they interact with the Five Elements in a cycle of generation and destruction. The ox in the twenty-eight mansions is known as the “Cow Constellation,” which is as bright and radiant as the Big Dipper constellation—ancient texts once said, “The river divides into Jianghan, and the stars look at the Cow Constellation,” and “The light shines on the Cow Constellation,” “The energy surges through the Cow Constellation,” illustrating just how noble and extraordinary the “cow” was in the eyes of the Chinese people. Tibetan Buddhism regards cattle as supreme deities; Indians, meanwhile, see cattle as symbols of the eternal cosmos. This shows that humanity’s recognition of cattle has evolved from admiration to worship.
Throughout history, people have told countless stories about cattle—from the Cowherd and Weaver Girl heard from grandparents as children, to the story of Tian Dan deploying a fire attack against cattle recorded in the Records of the Grand Historian, to the story of Li Mi hanging his books on a cow’s horns recorded in the Book of Tang… Each story has different plots, but the theme remains the same: to promote the good qualities and deeds of cattle, inspiring future generations to carry forward the noble traits of selflessness, integrity, courage, and perseverance. My hometown, Tianshui, once witnessed a story like this: in the winter 50 years ago, on a snowy night, a fierce leopard broke into a village in the Xiaolongshan Forest Area, encountering a bull in the cattle pen. Leopards often ate cattle, but this time they encountered a tough opponent. The next morning, as the snow began to melt, villagers woke up early and saw a bull near the cliff edge, its head lowered as it strained to push its horns against a vicious leopard. The leopard was pinned against the cliff face, unable to move, covered in blood, its head drooping—it seemed to have already died. Yet the bull did not give up; its head, neck, and entire body kept pushing against the leopard. The loud roar and groaning sounds created a tragic resonance that spread across the dawn. Those watching the scene felt lost and unsure of what to do. Suddenly, an elderly man stepped forward from the crowd, shouting, “My cow!” He rushed toward the bull, and in that very moment, the bull fell to the ground, spewing blood and dying. The footprints left on the snow were layered upon each other, covering dozens of meters of ground—blood, cow hair, and leopard fur mixed together, showing that the duel had been evenly matched and extremely brutal. People speculated that perhaps the leopard had retreated to the cliff edge, trying to launch another attack, when the bull seized the opportunity and pressed it against the cliff face. After all, a cow is a cow; its intelligence could not have predicted that its opponent was already dead, let alone decided to stop attacking. Even after its opponent died, the bull continued to exhaust itself, losing hope after countless hours, until it finally succumbed to exhaustion. This story spread widely in the local area and left an indelible mark on my heart. Cattle not only possess a kind and selfless nature, but also have the innate disposition of “if others don’t offend me, I won’t offend them; if others offend me, I will certainly strike back.” From this experience, I gained a deeper understanding of cattle—perhaps this is the law of “survival of the fittest,” where we should not overdo things, neither in matters nor in things, and the philosophical principles of “when things reach their limit, they reverse” and “when things are exhausted, they seek change” constantly linger in my mind.
I was born in February 1938, at the end of the Dingchou Year. That year marked a historic turning point: the Kuomintang and Communist Party joined forces to fight against Japanese aggression, allowing the Chinese nation to survive in desperate circumstances. Twelve years later, in 1949, another year of the Ox arrived, marking another historic turning point: Chairman Mao Zedong declared the founding of the People’s Republic of China from the Tiananmen Gate Tower. The ox—this lucky ox—brought good fortune to the Chinese people. Though I am now over sixty years old, I remain healthy and full of vitality, enjoying peace in all matters. Could this be the invisible protection of the lucky ox? May the spirit of the ox live on forever, and may its virtues live on with humanity.
(Extracted from “Gansu Daily,” April 2, 2003, Baihua)
From Silence to Avoidance of Disease
<!-- translated-chunk:37/53 -->"Hide what you know, and if you know something, keep it to yourself. This is the essence of 'Himo Ruzhen'—a principle that has been passed down through generations." (From "Gu Liang Zhuan," Zhuang Gong, Year 32) The original meaning was to keep matters tightly concealed, refusing to let even a single piece of information leak out. Over time, this phrase became a classic idiom, widely used and enduring.
Human privacy is a natural right, and every household should have its own secrets. In many countries, protecting personal privacy is enshrined in national laws, and this right is recognized as a fundamental human right. While China's Constitution does not explicitly mention the right to privacy, it does uphold the principle of personal dignity being inviolable, and privacy is indeed a form of personal rights. However, if one treats their own mistakes as private matters, it runs counter to traditional moral standards and constitutes an unlawful mindset. In fact, the term "Himo Ruzhen" is primarily used in such cases. There is another type of privacy that, while not stemming from wrongdoing, can nevertheless damage one’s self-respect if made public—this term is also suitable for situations like marital affairs or romantic relationships between men and women. As stated in "Lunyu: Shu Er," "A gentleman is open-hearted and unburdened by worries; a petty person is always anxious and troubled." When faced with challenges, acting with openness and integrity is the proper way to conduct oneself. Those who hide their mistakes and avoid addressing them are certainly worthy of consideration.
Another group of people uses eloquent words to cover up their flaws and mistakes, a practice known as "wen guo shi fei." This approach is more advanced than simply hiding one's faults. As recorded in "Lunyu: Zizhang," "The faults of a petty person must be covered up." Liu Zhiji, in his work "Shitong: Huan Jing," wrote, "How could we compare this to those mediocre scholars who deliberately conceal their mistakes, leaving others unable to ask questions or express their doubts? How can we truly say that this is the only way?" This shows that "wen guo shi fei" is a tactic employed by those who seek to mask their own shortcomings. In reality, when one makes a mistake, it is far wiser to admit it honestly—this is a sign of wisdom. Mr. Zou Taofen once wrote a famous short essay titled "Swallowing Banana Peel," which recounted how a certain official, who served as the supervisor of Heilongjiang Province, saw a banana for the first time and immediately ate the peel without hesitation. When he saw his neighbor eat the peel after him, it was already too late. Unable to admit his mistake, he calmly explained, "I've always eaten bananas with the peel on." This is a typical example of "wen guo shi fei."
Another term, "hui ji qi yi," is even more extreme than "wen guo shi fei," reflecting a more stubborn attitude toward admitting one's mistakes. Zhou Dunyi wrote in "Tongshu," "Today, when people make mistakes, they do not welcome others' criticism—like someone who hides their illness and avoids seeking medical treatment, preferring to destroy their own body rather than learn from it." To hide one's illness and avoid seeking treatment is what we commonly refer to as "hui ji qi yi." According to legend, during the Warring States period, the renowned physician Bian Que visited King Huan of Qi and said, "Your Majesty, you are ill—your disease lies beneath your skin. It is best to treat it promptly." King Huan replied, "I am not sick; how then should I treat it?" Ten days later, Bian Que returned to see King Huan and said, "Your Majesty's illness has reached deep into your flesh; if left untreated, it will only worsen." King Huan grew angry. More than ten days later, Bian Que visited again and said, "Your Majesty's illness has penetrated into your intestines; if left untreated, it will become life-threatening!" King Huan did not only ignore Bian Que's advice but grew even angrier. After more than ten days, Bian Que voluntarily came to see King Huan again. After carefully examining him, Bian Que turned away. King Huan was puzzled and sent someone to question him. Bian Que replied, "When the illness is confined to the skin, the muscles, or the intestines, it is still treatable. But when the illness reaches the bone marrow, there is nothing left to be done." Five days later, King Huan began to feel pain all over his body. He sent someone to invite Bian Que, but Bian Que knew that King Huan would die. Thus, Bian Que fled to the state of Qin. Shortly thereafter, King Huan passed away. This is a classic example of "hui ji qi yi."
In "Romance of the Three Kingdoms," we find stories about Guan Yu's "scraping away his bones to treat his wounds" and Cao Cao's "avoiding medical treatment due to fear of being seen as a fool." When Guan Yu was struck by an arrow, he endured the pain and allowed Hua Tuo to scrape away his bones to treat his wounds. However, when Cao Cao fell ill, he suspected Hua Tuo of having ulterior motives—he not only avoided medical treatment but even killed Hua Tuo. Although this behavior also involved avoiding medical treatment, it was far more severe than "hui ji qi yi." When Guan Yu was ill and sought treatment, he calmly played a game of chess with Ma Liang, keeping his expression unchanged—and this demonstrated the fearless spirit of a great hero.
"Himo Ruzhen," "wen guo shi fei," and "hui ji qi yi" represent three negative attitudes toward mistakes and illnesses. In essence, these approaches involve treating things as private matters, using clever words to cover up problems, or refusing to correct mistakes. If a person adopts these three methods to deal with their own errors and shortcomings, not only will their character suffer, but they will also fail to achieve anything significant. For a country, these principles can serve as valuable lessons. Comrade Xiaoping reversed the course of events and proposed reform and opening up, steering China's revolutionary ship toward a broad and prosperous future—a bold decision to correct mistakes when they occurred, a great choice made in the face of reality. This led to the prosperity of the people and the strength of the nation. Yet, even today, some leaders in government departments and organizations still tend to hide their mistakes, use clever words to cover up problems, or refuse to correct them—each of these behaviors, to varying degrees, hinders progress and stifles the growth of institutions. After experiencing setbacks such as the Great Leap Forward, the People's Communes, and the Cultural Revolution, our country is now moving forward at an unprecedented pace. If our cadres can overcome these shortcomings, national development will proceed even faster and better, and before long, we will surely catch up with the advanced nations of the West.
(Extracted from "Gansu Daily," April 5, 2006, Baihua)
Starting with Dong Shi's Copycat Behavior
During the Spring and Autumn period, there was a beautiful young woman named Xi Shi. Perhaps because she suffered from stomach problems, she often covered her heart with her hands while furrowing her brow. Because she was so beautiful, people found her posture both charming and moving. In a neighboring village lived a young woman named Dong Shi. Though she was not particularly attractive, she was incredibly fond of beauty and constantly tried every possible way to adorn herself. Once, she met Xi Shi. Xi Shi, as usual, covered her heart and frowned. Dong Shi thought that this posture gave Xi Shi a sense of beauty, so she began to imitate Xi Shi's mannerisms. When people saw her, they were as startled as if they had seen a ghost, quickly avoiding her and staying indoors. The story comes from "Zhuangzi: Tian Yun," where "pin" means to frown. Zhuangzi did not give Dong Shi a name; the name "Dong Shi" was added by later generations. In a poem titled "Xi Shi," the great Tang poet Wang Wei wrote, "I thank the girl next door for her imitation—how rare is it to copy someone else's actions?" From this story, the idiom "Dong Shi's Copycat Behavior" emerged.
The story of Dong Shi's copycat behavior profoundly satirizes those who focus only on superficial appearances without recognizing the differences between things. Dong Shi failed to clearly understand the gap between herself and Xi Shi—not only in terms of physical appearance but also in terms of inner qualities—but instead merely imitated Xi Shi's habits and daily gestures. Her actions not only failed to bring her any beauty but instead ended up backfiring and becoming a laughingstock. Today, we still see such "Dong Shis" in our lives: singing artists blindly imitating Hong Kong and Taiwanese vocal styles, young people obsessively pursuing Western lifestyles, even dyeing their hair golden yellow; in urban development, ancient sites and historic homes are demolished and replaced with uniform Western-style high-rise buildings… there are countless examples like these.
The lesson this story teaches us goes far beyond mere amusement—it reveals the pitfalls of rigidly copying others. While this approach may not help individuals in their daily lives, it does not affect the bigger picture. However, when it comes to a nation, the consequences are far more serious, as we often see the saying "a small mistake can lead to a great disaster." Ancient sages advocated following nature, adapting to circumstances, and teaching according to each person's unique talents—these principles guided people in their interactions with the world, guiding them toward harmony and success. When dealing with matters, we should follow nature and adapt to circumstances, tailor our approach to local conditions, and teach according to each person's abilities. In short, no matter what we do, we must consider the specific situation at hand; we cannot simply copy others mechanically.
Pol Pot of Cambodia implemented a new policy in the 1970s, abolishing families, family ties, and even currency—because he violated the principle of following nature and adapting to circumstances, he was destined to fail. In the mid-20th century, China's campaign to "Learn from Dazhai in Agriculture and Daqing in Industry" was carried out nationwide, yet the results were minimal. The reason was that the campaign failed to adhere to the principle of adapting to local conditions. During the Cultural Revolution, focusing solely on class issues while neglecting talent and moral character prevented the cultivation of a large number of outstanding individuals—again, because the principle of teaching according to each person's abilities was not followed. Only by adapting to local conditions can we fully utilize the potential of our land; only by teaching according to each person's abilities can we unlock their full potential; only by following nature and adapting to circumstances can we ensure smooth flow of goods and services. Only by achieving these goals can we build a strong nation and a prosperous people; otherwise, we risk losing our people and our wealth.
Humans live in an ever-changing environment, and society evolves amidst constant flux. To adapt to the environment and follow the currents of change, we must act according to the times, the place, and the trends. Learning from others' strengths is a prerequisite for advancing ourselves—but we must learn how to do things and how to be a person based on our own unique characteristics. The practice of "Dong Shi's Copycat Behavior" is absolutely unacceptable.
The meaning of "Dong Shi's Copycat Behavior" is profound. As a timeless truth within Chinese culture, it shines brightly in the vast treasure trove of idioms. Its enduring popularity over the centuries is well-founded. Especially in today's highly developed scientific and technological age, with endless innovations in communication, film, television, and audiovisual media, society has experienced unprecedented prosperity and convenience. While people enjoy a rich cultural experience, they often find themselves overwhelmed and lost in the midst of so much information. In this era, the meaning of "Dong Shi's Copycat Behavior" becomes even more relevant—especially in the early education of young people, where its significance is even greater. More than two thousand years ago, Zhuangzi left us such a beautiful fable, one that both stirs the soul and urges us to reflect on our path.
(Extracted from "Gansu Daily," July 2, 2006, Baihua)
Exploring the Principle of "Do Not Do to Others What You Do Not Want Done to Yourself"
In "Lunyu: Weilin Gong," Zeng Gong asked, "Is there a single word that I can practice throughout my life?" Confucius replied, "It is 'shu'—to forgive others. Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself." This answer embodies the Confucian philosophy of forgiveness and benevolence. Confucius emphasized that we should treat others with forgiveness; only then can we truly embody "ren." The "ren" Confucius spoke of is rooted in loving others, and forgiveness is a key aspect of loving others. "Shu" is the starting point for realizing "ren," leading to the ideal of "if I wish to stand on my own feet, I should help others stand; if I wish to reach my goals, I should help others reach theirs" (Lunyu: Yong Ye). When you want to do something, if others also wish to do it, you should help them do it; when you want to achieve something, if others also wish to achieve it, you should help them achieve it—only then can you truly embody "ren." The essence of "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself" and "If I wish to stand on my own feet, I should help others stand; if I wish to reach my goals, I should help others reach theirs" is "to extend one's own actions to others." This is the key to forgiveness and love, the bridge that leads to forgiveness and love.
Throughout Chinese history, there have been many wise figures who practiced "to extend one's own actions to others." The story of Dayu's flood control is a prime example of "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself," "stand on your own feet and help others stand," and "reach your goals and help others reach theirs." When Dayu was tasked with controlling the floods, he had just married Tu Shan's daughter. He felt as distressed as if his own family were being harmed by the rising waters, and so he bid farewell to his wife, leading hundreds of thousands of people to the front lines of flood control. Through days and nights of relentless work, he passed by his home three times without entering. For a full 13 years, he cleared nine major rivers, diverting the floodwaters into the sea, completing a great feat that would be remembered for centuries. More than a thousand years later, a man named Bai Gui spoke with Mencius about Dayu's flood control efforts. He boasted, "If I were given the chance to control the floods, I could do even better than Dayu. All I need to do is clear the river channels and let the floodwaters flow into neighboring countries—wouldn't that be much simpler?" Mencius responded coldly, "You're wrong! You're using neighboring countries as places to collect water, only to allow the floods to continue wreaking havoc and causing even greater disasters. A person of virtue would never do that." This is where the idiom "using neighbors as reservoirs" originated.
Zhuge Liang was also a model of "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself," "stand on your own feet and help others stand," and "reach your goals and help others reach theirs." With his extraordinary talent, he worked tirelessly in the fields, detached himself from fame and fortune, and remained unattached to the world. When Liu Bei visited him three times to offer his assistance, Zhuge Liang agreed to join the court. He captured Meng Huo seven times, relying on the power of kindness and forgiveness to win over the minority ethnic groups in Southwest China, creating a peaceful and stable environment for Shu. Liu Chan was ordinary and incompetent, yet he devoted himself wholeheartedly to serving Liu Bei, working tirelessly until his death—comparable to Cao Cao and Sima Yi in the same era. The spirit of Sima Qian, Cai Wenji, Yue Fei, Wen Tianxiang… all of them sacrificed themselves for the greater good and died for their country. Their dedication to public service and their commitment to the nation's cause, in turn, stemmed from this very mindset. Lei Feng, Jiao Yulu, Kong Fansen… though they were products of socialist education, they were also deeply connected to traditional values.
Since the beginning of the Reform and Opening-up, China has upheld the principle of "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself" in its foreign relations, championing international justice and safeguarding world peace. China's reputation has grown steadily, and its global influence has increased day by day. The moral principle of "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself" has spread across the globe. It is said that at the headquarters of the International Red Cross, a famous quote from Confucius—"Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself"—is displayed, symbolizing humanity's longing for harmonious relationships. This reflects the hope that five thousand years of brilliant civilization will bloom and flourish around the world, bringing benefits to all of humanity. Chinese culture has contributed to global harmony and shared prosperity.
Confucius's teachings on "ren" and "love" are not about losing principles in favor of love, nor are they about blindly forgiving others' mistakes. Someone asked, "What is the best way to repay anger with virtue?" Confucius replied, "Repay anger with righteousness, and repay virtue with virtue." This shows that Confucius did not agree with the idea of settling for compromise in the face of anger, nor did he approve of the practice of retaliating against anger with anger. Confucius advocated for civilized behavior that is polite, beneficial, and respectful.
In China, "Lunyu" is like the Bible in the West—it is the essence of traditional culture and the crystallization of the national spirit. Zhao Pu, the founding chancellor of the Song Dynasty, once said, "Half of the 'Lunyu' is enough to govern the world." Some say that the simple phrase "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself" can govern the entire world—this is by no means unfounded. Since the Han Dynasty, China has continuously strengthened Confucianism, elevating Confucius's status time and time again, with the ultimate goal of creating stability and harmony. Today, with Comrade Hu Jintao as General Secretary, the Party Central Committee has proposed building a "people-centered, harmonious society." At this moment, revisiting the meaning of "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself" becomes even more meaningful.
(Extracted from "Gansu Daily," October 3, 2006, Baihua)
Starting with "The Foreigner Waving His Hands"
The Yellow River flows northward from Lanzhou, passing through Jingyuan and entering the Black Mountain Gorge and the Bronze Gorge. Its waters rush down from the loess hills of Gansu's interior, carving through the Hetao Plain, like falling from the sky. The roaring waves echo loudly at the bottom of the gorge. Just before the Black Mountain Gorge, where the river splits into two streams, stands a massive rock, towering above the riverbed like a pillar in the middle of the stream, with waves crashing against it. This is the famous "Foreigner Waving His Hands," known far and wide at the time.
For centuries, the Yellow River has been a major northern waterway. Before the advent of railways and highways, it was the only route for freight trains traveling between Beijing and Guangzhou, as well as between Sichuan and Gansu, heading toward Yinchuan and Suiyuan.
About a hundred years ago, a German sports coach set off from Lanzhou, riding a leather raft toward Yinchuan. As the raft entered the Black Mountain Gorge, it swayed violently amid deafening waves. Suddenly, a massive rock blocked the river, sending up several dozen feet of water. The leather raft was pushed onto the crest of the wave, spinning in mid-air as if it were about to fall. Time seemed to slow down—just as the raft was about to crash into the rock, the German leapt into the air and jumped onto the rock. Meanwhile, the old raft operator gently nudged the raft with a bamboo pole, and the raft circled around the rock, safely drifting downstream. The German was trapped on the riverbed, and every time the raft passed by, he waved his hands in desperation, calling for help. Three days later, he froze to death of hunger and cold. It was then that the place came to be known as "The Foreigner Waving His Hands."
In the 1930s, the Nationalist Government destroyed the rock to facilitate military transport. The name "The Foreigner Waving His Hands" gradually faded from people's memories.
This story offers profound lessons. The foreigner's haste to jump onto the rock led to a fatal accident—his actions were driven by panic. Panic-driven mistakes are common in everyday life: car drivers accidentally踩错油门, actors lose composure under pressure. Yet, ancient sages offered a higher perspective on these incidents. Su Dongpo, a great scholar of the Northern Song Dynasty, once said, "When a common man is insulted, he raises his sword and fights back—this is not courage. True courage lies in the ability to remain calm in the face of adversity, to remain unfazed by unjustified insults, and to not lose one's temper over trivial matters. Such a person possesses great inner strength and a vision that extends far beyond the present." Though the foreigner cannot be compared to a common man, his sudden reaction to danger was a reality. At the end of the Qin Dynasty, during the struggle between Chu and Han, Liu Bang's forces were far inferior to Xiang Yu's. After Han Xin, Liu Bang's chief general, defeated the state of Qi, he sent a messenger to Liu Bang, asking him to appoint him as the "假 Qi Wang." Liu Bang was furious and slammed his fist on the table, wanting to scold Han Xin for his lack of loyalty and waving his hand to drive the messenger away. Chen Ping, sitting nearby, saw the situation was dire and secretly kicked Liu Bang in the foot, signaling him to reconsider. Liu Bang realized his mistake—when facing a powerful enemy, he could not afford to offend Han Xin, who held significant military power. So he changed his tone and continued to speak loudly, "Han Xin is not brave enough. A true man should become the real Qi Wang; why bother with a fake Qi Wang? Send my order—appoint General Han as the king of Qi! Let him rule over Qi's land, its people, and its armies—all under his sole command!" Han Xin happily returned to Qi and reported back to his lord. Chen Ping thought to himself, "The Han king will surely achieve great things; I will follow him forever." When Liu Bang faced a crisis, he remained calm and composed, his mind still sharp. Thanks to Chen Ping's suggestion, he quickly changed his approach, turning danger into opportunity in a matter of seconds—this was the hallmark of a true hero. Later, Liu Bang defeated the powerful Xiang Yu, eliminated him, and established the great Han Dynasty, appointing Chen Ping as his prime minister. As Lu Xun wrote in a letter to Xu Guangping, "Impatience easily leads to anger; it's best to moderate the degree of 'impatience,' otherwise you risk suffering losses—after all, in China today, it's often the gentle and kind-hearted who prevail."
The foreigner's mistake, besides his haste, also involved a deeper issue: his unfamiliarity with the river's conditions. When the foreigner first arrived, he did not fully understand the realities of the Yellow River's navigation—this was a factor that contributed to the incident. In "Water Margin," the third attack on Zhu Family Village was a failure because the attackers did not understand the true nature of Zhu Family Village; the second attack also ended in defeat, while the third attack was successful because the attackers understood the situation. As Sun Tzu wrote in "The Art of War," "Know yourself and know your enemy—then you will not be defeated in a hundred battles. If you do not know your enemy but know yourself, you will win one battle and lose another. If you do not know your enemy and do not know yourself, you will lose every battle."
Besides these reasons, the foreigner was overly confident in his abilities and eager to prove himself, even in dangerous situations.
This story vividly reminds us that impatience, ignorance, and overconfidence are harmful traits in life—small mistakes can hinder progress, while big ones can lead to disaster. No matter how intelligent a person is or how noble their background, if they possess these traits, it will be difficult for them to achieve great things. Ancient sages warned us of this, and modern people have discussed it endlessly, highlighting its profound importance.
Chapter Three: Selected Poems and Prose
(Extracted from "Gansu Daily," December 1, 2006, Baihua)
Discussing "The Emperor's New Clothes"
Andersen is a world-renowned master of literature and art. Among his numerous fairy tales, "The Emperor's New Clothes," "The Ugly Duckling," "The Little Mermaid," "The Girl with the Thumb," and "The Little Match Girl" are all beloved by readers worldwide. Among them, "The Emperor's New Clothes" has left an indelible mark on people of all nations and skin colors, with its bizarre plot, biting satire, and profound artistic conception. For over a hundred years, this tale has continued to inspire people across the globe, remaining a household name—even among children and the elderly. In the vast realm of world classics, "The Emperor's New Clothes" is like a light that never fades, offering dazzling brilliance and endless inspiration.
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Input: 童话通过一个昏庸无能的皇帝上当受骗的故事，揭露了上层官场的种种丑行。该皇帝素有酷爱新装的怪癖，两个骗子投其所好，声称他们是世界上最好的织布师和缝纫师，能织出天下最美好的布，能缝出天下最美丽的衣服。他们花言巧语欺骗皇帝说：他们缝做的服装不仅无比的好看，同时还有一种神奇的作用，那就是凡属不称职的人，或者愚蠢的人，都看不见这种衣服。皇帝心里想："那正是我最喜欢的衣服啊！我穿了这样的衣服，就可以看出在我的国家里，哪些人是聪明人，哪些人是傻子，哪些人是不称职的！"于是他给了两个骗子许多钱，叫他们马上开始工作。皇帝派了最称职、最聪明的大臣（因为不称职、不聪明的人看不见这种衣服）去检查骗子的缝制工作，骗子们在机器旁来回忙碌，状似操作。大臣们虽然看到机器上没有任何东西，更没有布料和新装的踪影，但是都不愿意被皇帝看成是不称职、不聪明的人，对皇帝的回复是"布料和正在赶制的新装都美丽无比"。后来皇帝虽然发现这是一场骗局，但是自己也不愿意被别人说成是不称职、不聪明的人，最后发展到他在大臣们的赞不绝口、热烈簇拥下，赤裸着身子、光着屁股参加了游行和大典。在场所有的人都说皇帝穿着"美丽绝伦的新装"，只有一个小男孩儿悄悄地说："他并没有穿任何衣服呀！"
骗子抓住了皇帝酷爱新装和急于严控臣民的心理，投出诱饵。皇帝上当后虽然曾有所悟，然而已是骑虎难下，只有凭借皇权，一意孤行，一错到底。臣民们在强烈的自我保护意识下，只能随声附和，人云亦云，酿成了一幕惊天闹剧。
要看这出闹剧的涵义，首先应该从作者生活和创作的年代说起。19世纪中叶，西方世界虽然经历了文艺复兴和产业革命，但是"君权神授"的观念仍然是当时最严峻的说教。既然皇帝的权力是神给的，具有天然的合理性，皇帝代表神在人间行使权力，管理人民，人民只有无条件地去服从，因此"皇权"的至高无上是形成这出闹剧的核心。安徒生在这一命题下，对"皇权至上"的无情鞭鞑和辛辣讽刺贯穿于全文之始终，妙语惊人、引人入胜，达到了登峰造极的地步。对中国人来说，故事同样很有意义。三千年前的《周书》就有"夏服（受）天命"的记载，周文王被赋予了"天子"的称号，此后代代相承，"天子"成为皇帝的通称，从而明确了"膺受天命"、"君权神授"的传统理念。这种理念经过儒家思想的不断强化"君为臣纲"、"君叫臣死，臣不敢不死"，成为人们日常生活的信条。秦时的赵高独揽朝政，他怕群臣不服，设计了一个"指鹿为马"的圈套，分明是鹿，他硬说是马，群臣们也都说是马，说明"皇权"的权威，中外皆然。其次故事不惜笔墨，生动地描写了皇帝的愚蠢、无能和不务正业，由此更加烘托出"皇权"的腐朽和没落，使人们对"皇权"愈益深恶痛绝。在"皇权"极盛时代，安徒生敢于提出如此尖锐的挑战，无疑是对皇权的致命一击。它胜过千军万马，像一声响亮的号角，动员人们去战斗。皇权时代已成过去，然而在有些时候，安徒生给人的启迪似乎仍然萦回脑际，挥之不去。
第三章 诗文选萃
（摘自《甘肃日报》2005·11·2百花）
文学艺术闲话
文学艺术之两大要素：一曰反映人性，二曰反映现实。前者谓之曰善，后者谓之曰真，大凡二者兼备之作品，则为世人所爱，方可称之曰美。故此真、善、美理应是衡量文学艺术作品之金标准。
在时代长河中，大凡当局都要求文学艺术为自己的政权服务。这虽然也在情理之中，然而却只是"急功近利"，取"文学艺术为我所用"之做法，其结果势必引导文学艺术于歧路。在这种条件下，文学艺术本身便可能失去真、善、美之韵味，其净化人类心灵、促成人类和谐、完成社会进步之本能，则被无形淡化，因而便不可能产生超越时空、地域、人种，放之四海而皆准之世界文学名著。"百花齐放、百家争鸣"是发展、繁荣文学艺术之最佳选择，可惜这一选择多被当局挂在嘴上，实际做起来则另是一套。当然文学艺术家们不畏艰险、逆风而动者代代有之，我国的《离骚》《三国演义》《西游记》《红楼梦》《水浒传》和外国的《浮士德》《悲惨世界》《红与黑》《高老头》《父与子》《死魂灵》《战争与和平》等数量众多之世界名著、名片，就是在这种情况下产生的。对上述名著略加注意，就会发现其中大部分作者在经历了长期生活磨难、社会变革后，对人生、社会的真谛具备了超越的认识，对人性亲情、真假善恶达到了至真至纯的领悟。只有在这种情况下，作者才能挣脱意识形态的桎梏，创作出惠及人类、永恒不朽的大作。我国唐代最伟大的诗人莫过李白和杜甫了，前者傲视权贵、不拘王法，后者饱经风霜、流离失所，他们自然而然地跳出了歌功颂德的阴影，诗由心出，创作达到了超越时空的境界。鲁迅杂文之所以成功，就在于它能无视当局之重重阻拦，真实无误地揭露时弊、宣扬真理，从而发扬了人性，展示了公德。另一位中国文学大师郭沫若早期的作品《女神》、《炉中煤》堪称一代绝唱，然而后期的作品却平淡无奇。苏东坡、岳飞、文天祥、陆放翁、辛弃疾、谭嗣同的作品为什么那样脍炙人口？其中的道理应该发人深省。
中国近代文学的发展，曾有过两次高潮。前一次高潮发祥于"五四新文化运动"，以鲁迅为代表的一批作家，奠定了中国现代文学白话艺术之基础，鲁迅、郭沫若、沈从文、巴金、老舍、张爱玲等成为屹立当时中国文坛的巨匠。20世纪80至90年代，随着改革开放的发展，中国大地涌现了一批具有世界影响的新作家，他们的大批作品问世，把中国当代文学推上了一个新高潮。王蒙、刘绍棠、刘心武、贾平凹、王小波、余华、苏童、莫言等是这一高潮的弄潮儿。
形势喜人，借着改革开放的东风，我国已经造就了发展文学艺术的良好氛围，与现代文学艺术发展相适应，国家设立了数十个文学奖项，其中较权威的有茅盾文学奖、鲁迅文学奖和年度中华文学人物评选等。
诺贝尔文学奖是世界公认的当代文学艺术最高奖，自1901年颁奖以来，在众多获奖者中，印度的泰戈尔、英国的萧伯纳、法国的罗曼·罗兰、美国的路易斯、智利的聂鲁达、苏联的肖洛霍夫都是众所周知的世界文斗，他们的作品均符合真、善、美的硬标准，每多抑恶扬善，发人深省。平心而论，我国近代文豪中，鲁迅、老舍、巴金、沈从文、王蒙的许多作品都能达到上述高度。1988年，中国作家沈从文非常接近获奖，然而经过一阵纷纷扬扬的传闻后，终与大奖失之交臂，无功而终。二战前，诺奖评委、考古学家斯文赫定曾经建议把诺贝尔文学奖发给中国的胡适，但是瑞典皇家学院认为胡适不是一个作家，更像一个思想家或者改革家，所以没有给他。20世纪30年代中期，评委会曾经派人给鲁迅带话，传给他一个讯息，就是想提名他，但是鲁迅自己认为"不配"，他谢绝了。鲁迅说："中国当时的任何作家都不够资格获得诺贝尔奖。"此后老舍曾被误传提名，巴金、王蒙也曾有过很高呼声，这表明我国作家具有冲刺诺贝尔文学奖的实力。无功而终的原因究竟何在？这里首先应该想到20世纪的冷战，以意识形态界定人群，壁垒森严、剑拔弩张，文学艺术被各方视若工具，相互对垒了大半个世纪。近30年来，国际形势发生了根本的变化，大家都愿意和平共处，建立以人为本的和谐社会。然而冷战阴影仍然存在，其影响远未完全消除，东西方对文学艺术的基本认识仍有一定差距，这在一定程度上影响了诺贝尔文学奖的公正性，加之我国对申报此奖尚缺乏热情，没有动用舆论、外交等必要手段为申报服务，也是因素之一。
随着国际形势进一步缓和，我国以人为本、和谐社会的进一步发展，可望在不久的将来，具有世纪水平的文学巨著将在我国不断问世。我国的作家陆续登上诺贝尔文学领奖台的时日已为时不远。
陇上名医裴正学
第六节 诗词选萃
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