Compromise Is a Good Thing
Compromise Is a Good Thing
There’s a famous saying from Mencius: King Hui of Liang, Part I: “What’s the difference between laughing at a hundred steps with fifty steps?” In the Chinese-speaking world, this line is widely known, and when considered in context, it certainly makes a lot of sense. However, I believe the reasoning behind it is largely confined to the moral sphere and doesn’t extend too far into other domains—especially not into politics or the many areas directly tied to it. This is, of course, because politics itself is an incredibly intricate thing, so delicate that a single word’s difference can lead to entirely opposite meanings. Moreover, good politics tends toward democracy, and the essence of democracy is compromise—a point that communists and the Communist Party could never comprehend. While communism and the Communist Party try to infiltrate every corner with their aestheticized politics, strictly speaking, what they engage in isn’t really politics—at least not in the modern sense. What they practice is pure power and domination. As for democracy, no matter how beautifully communism and the Communist Party sing its praises, the truth remains that genuine democracy is to them like the two sides of a coin. And compromise? Unless it’s for the sake of a disguise, in the world of communism and the Communist Party, it’s tantamount to a crime. They don’t understand it, nor can they.
Based on my rudimentary understanding, I despise communism. To me, it’s a revolting mix of dog shit and ricin—stinking and toxic. As for the Communist Party, let me put it this way: the way a decent person with normal religious faith views the devil is how I view the Communist Party. In my eyes, the Communist Party as a whole is the embodiment of evil. Of course, I sometimes question whether my perspective is rational or too extreme. But more often, I excuse myself, thinking it’s not entirely my fault. Irrationality and extremism are, after all, two indispensable traits of communism and the Communist Party. These traits have led them to commit countless evils in the past, continue to produce evil and injustice in the present, and show no sign of improvement in their foreseeable future. Viewing communism and the Communist Party with an overly rational or non-extreme lens risks falling into the very traps they set. They base their rule on hatred yet demand that the ruled look upon them with love. They sustain their dominance with deceit and brutality yet demand selflessness and devotion from the ruled. They insist everyone— including their own—focus only on what they say, not what they do, while simultaneously requiring the ruled to watch their words carefully, enforcing a level of censorship that’s practically unprecedented. How can it be like this? Yet this is the stark reality, the crux of the aesthetic politics of communism and the Communist Party: indignation, disgust, hatred, and yet, in the end, an inevitable compromise—with reality, with politics, with the politics of the past, present, and future.
What has the Communist Party done in the past? Let’s set aside the rotten things they did before 1949. Let’s even overlook the nauseating destruction they inflicted on this ancient land’s culture, economy, and humanity after 1949. But human lives—they’ve got to count, right? The lives they directly took shouldn’t be forgotten, should they? Otherwise, what does it mean to be human? How many died during the Three-Anti and Five-Anti Campaigns plus the Suppression of Counterrevolutionaries? How many perished during the Great Leap Forward, the backyard steel furnaces, and the communal canteens? How many more in the Cultural Revolution? Add up the countless deaths from all their big and small tyrannies—at least tens of millions, right? Injustice—they died so unjustly. Any Chinese person with a conscience should despise the Communist Party for this. If tens of millions of lives don’t stir someone, that person surely lacks much humanity; their conscience has probably long been devoured by dogs. Likewise, any rational person should look askance at the Communist Party. If tens of millions of lives can be erased without a trace, who can guarantee that what happened won’t repeat itself now or in the near future? Who can guarantee that they or their descendants will be spared if it does? If someone can’t grasp this basic logic, their rationality is surely flawed. Lives matter, the dead deserve respect, and those tens of millions of wronged souls will one day have their justice. The Communist Party must bear full responsibility and will be nailed to the pillar of historical shame. As the saying goes, “A life for a life” has been a tradition on this land for thousands of years. Realistically speaking, justice must be demanded, but vengeance? That’s impossible to achieve—not even for tens of millions of lives. There’s no way around it; this is compromise with reality, with the politics of the past. Yet, in a certain logical sense, this compromise is also about seeking justice as quickly as possible—a cycle of its own.
What is the Communist Party doing now? In a nutshell, it’s doing everything in its power to prolong its existence. The economy’s faltering, and whether in the eyes of outsiders or their so-called insiders, the glow atop the Communist Party’s head is fading. No matter—they’ll shout louder, strike harder, and scheme more viciously, convinced their halo still shines brightly. Whether others believe it doesn’t matter; they believe it themselves, and that’s enough. People’s livelihoods are withering—most of the rich want to flee, too many of the poor want to lie flat, and collectively, neither rich nor poor want to have kids anymore. No matter—pit the rich against the poor, let the poor resent the rich. Those who don’t obey the Party are bad; those who do are “one of us.” Punish the bad, protect “our own.” Blame every problem on disobedience to the Party, plaster every bit of glamour and happiness onto the Party’s face. Even if floods rage, those aboard the Party’s big ship should thank it for shelter, while those drowning should reflect on why they didn’t get on board. Morality’s collapsing—monsters and demons run rampant, while the baseline of being human too often becomes a societal burden. No matter—chaos isn’t just the foundation of the Communist Party’s rise; it’s the ladder of its rule. Too few bad guys? How can the Party’s greatness shine? Too many good guys? Who’d believe in communism and the Communist Party then? Besides, kindness or malice is entirely up to the Party. They claim all the sweet words and pretend not to see the ugly deeds. All this has made evil and injustice the dominant tune in today’s China—or rather, in the society under Communist rule. Bloodless judges who kill with rulings—hateful or not? Cops who devour without spitting out bones—hateful or not? Watchdogs who bite on command—hateful or not? I don’t know what others think, but in my shallow view, the hatefulness of these three combined doesn’t match that of the patriotic thieves represented by Hu Xijin, Jin Canrong, Sima Nan, and Zhang Weiwei. Without the clamor of these patriotic thieves, the proportion of those three types of scum wouldn’t be nearly as high. Compared to them, even corrupt officials who only embezzle money—however much—could be considered good people. This, too, is a compromise with reality, with the politics of the present. In a way, it’s also about focusing on seeing the current environment clearly and pinpointing the root of the problem—and these patriotic thieves are pretty much it.
What will happen to the Communist Party in the future? It will surely collapse and be etched onto history’s pillar of shame. Of course, no matter how confidently I say this, it can’t dispel the fantastical tint of this answer. There’s no helping it—politics of the future is all fantasy. The bigger issue is that this fantasy, like “Long Live Communism” or “Long Live the Communist Party,” can’t be proven or disproven. In my shallow understanding, for me—or for those who share my anti-communist sentiments—our greatest confidence problem may lie in the fact that our fantasies can’t be proven. For communism and the Communist Party, their greatest confidence advantage lies in their “long live” slogans being un-disprovable. Following this logic, communism and the Communist Party are practically invincible. To that, I say: screw communism and the Communist Party. Both are fantasies about the politics of the future. I don’t know about others, but from the “long live” fantasies of communism and the Communist Party, I can only smell the stench of decay. Correspondingly, I don’t smell any fragrance in my own fantasies about the politics of the future. For me, opposing communism is more a personal choice based on my limited experience and shallow knowledge. I don’t know how other anti-communists think. Back to my fantasy world: the Communist Party will surely fall, and in achieving this goal, the greatest effort and sacrifice will undoubtedly come from anti-communists—meaning all those who don’t see communism’s hollow banner or the nonexistent halo atop the Communist Party’s head. As I’ve said, not believing in communism and not looking up to the Communist Party counts as opposition—a backlash to their irrationality and extremism. Regardless, those who contribute and sacrifice the most will be these people. Yet I often imagine that the final kick before the Communist Party’s fall—or the top leader of this land right after its collapse—might come from within the Party’s highest ranks. Maybe a prime minister who switches sides, a general who sheds his uniform, or a retired political elder—who knows? As long as he or she rounds up the patriotic thieves like Hu Xijin, Jin Canrong, Sima Nan, and Zhang Weiwei, truly abandons communism, and shows some leniency to anti-communists, I imagine it’d be a decent outcome. Good days might slowly arrive. This, too, is a compromise with reality, with the politics of the future. In a certain sense, fantasy isn’t necessarily good or bad; the crux lies in what’s being fantasized.
By the same token, compromise in politics—whether with the politics of the past, present, or future—is, like fantasy, a process. The past can’t be changed, the present can’t be stopped, the future can’t be known. Every political compromise comes with a cost: the cost of conscience, fairness, justice. So, no matter how much praise is heaped on compromise, it can’t be denied that, in terms of outcomes, political compromise has both good and bad sides. Nor can it be denied that all political compromise hinges on strength. I’d love to dissect the compromises of the 1911 Revolution or Chiang Ching-kuo’s democratic compromises in Taiwan, based on my shallow understanding, to discuss the foundations and flaws of political compromise. But after thinking it over, I’ll pass—I’m tired. That’s all I’ll say.
Compromise is a good thing! If only I could compromise with myself. How about you?
Friday, June 30, 2023
评论
发表评论