許章潤：我家門前探頭多--Cyclopes on My Doorstep
Cyclopes on My Doorstep
Society & Culture
Translator’s note
Xǔ
Zhāngrùn 許章潤
was a professor of law at Beijing’s prestigious
Tsinghua University for over twenty years. He was expelled by the university in
mid July this year. Stripped of his pension, his accreditation as an educator
and thrown out of faculty housing, he moved to a small apartment that he and
his wife maintained in the far west of Beijing. His crime was to have spoken
up, loudly and frequently, to criticise the government of Xí
Jìnpíng 习近平.
Xu first came to
international attention in July 2018, when he published ‘Imminent
Fears, Immediate Hopes’ — a Beijing Jeremiad (我們當下的恐懼與期待), an unsparing critique of Xi Jinping’s first six years in office. Written in a passionate and
eviscerating style of prose that combined the telegraphic gravitas of literary
Chinese with modern ideas, ironic partyspeak and wisecracking humor, the essay
was a point by point warning about the direction that the country was taking,
politically, economically, socially, as well as on the international stage.
Tsinghua
University and the state security organs put intense pressure on Xu Zhangrun to
recant. Not only did he refuse, he continued to publish scarifying anti-Xi
broadsides. These included a magisterial three-part work that appeared in Hong
Kong in late 2018. In it he analysed the reasons for the successes of China’s
forty years of economic reform and openness, before lambasting the Communist
party-state that has set its sights on creating a global ‘Red Empire’. Faced
with ongoing persecution, Xu declared ‘I will not
submit; I will not be cowed’ (老子不服，老子不怕).
As the outbreak of
the COVID-19 epidemic spread in China, Xu published ‘When Fury Overcomes Fear,’
another fusillade aimed squarely at Xi Jinping and a cowed bureaucracy that
allowed a local epidemic rage out of control, something that not only spawned a
global pandemic but also proved to be a boon for surveillance regimes the world
over.
In July, Xu was
taken in by the police who claimed that they were investigating him for having
solicited the services of prostitutes. Tsinghua availed itself of his weeklong
detention to dismiss him from his job and strip him of what remained of his
professional status. Like many outspoken individuals before him, Xu was now a
‘former person.’
Perhaps it is due
to his international profile (Xu was appointed an Associate in Research at the
Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies at Harvard University in August), or the
fact that he is seen as having acted alone, rather than ‘gathering others to
create a disturbance’ (聚眾滋事) — a vaguely defined ‘crime’ used by the authorities to
jail opponents — that Xu Zhangrun remains free, even
though, as we see below, he is subject to a regime of all-encompassing
surveillance and banned from leaving Beijing, let alone China. Yet he has been
steadfast in his defiance and has used his circumscribed freedom to protest the
persecution of the publisher Gěng Xiāonán 耿瀟男, a long-time supporter and
friend to the beleaguered community of independent Chinese thinkers who was detained
by the authorities in early September. At the end of this essay, Xu notes
obliquely that it was written in a furious mood after he had spent long hours
at ‘The Walled Enclosure’, that is, the Haidian District Detention Centre,
where he had been waiting for Geng Xiaonan’s lawyer to update him on the
details of her circumstances.
The following
translation, made with the author’s permission, is part of a China Heritage
series titled ‘Viral Alarm.’ For an account of Xu Zhangrun’s background, work
and those who support him, see the Xu Zhangrun Archive, also in China Heritage.
Xu Zhangrun’s
classics-inflected prose style is sardonic and it brims with literary
references. Notes would only interfere with the flow of the text, although a
number of minor explications have been added, marked by square brackets.
Interested readers are encouraged to consult the Chinese text, also provided
here.
— Geremie R. Barmé
Cyclopes on My Doorstep
Xu Zhangrun
translated by
Geremie R. Barmé
At the height of the seasonal transition, just as the final flourish of summer was giving way to the bounty of autumn, dozens of spying eyes were installed in our community. The spies came in the form of CCTV cameras. They are a modern stand-in for the traditional form of embodied surveillance: undercover security agents. The cameras disguise the real spies.
They came in all
shapes and sizes, surreptitious clairvoyance paired with deadly intent.
Positioned like stylites on dedicated poles, the cameras survey all that lies
within their realm and theirs is a perspective that is deterred neither by the
elements nor by the diurnal cycle. They glare down on our bustling world,
capturing in their sweep all creatures great and small. Although the sentinels
launched into action in sullen silence, theirs was a presence that announced
itself as loudly as a thunderclap.
Everything that
happens in our community is actually being followed by anonymous pairs of eyes
behind the cyclops lenses. We were aware that now, even at a safe remove, they
are snooping on everything from the quotidian grind of eating-drinking-shitting-pissing,
as well as the comings and goings of all of us. They are also voyeurs,
peeping-toms observing the goings on between the sexes. The unfolding seasons,
the passage of the days, the phases of the moon, not to mention the private
agonies of separation — all are now subject to inspection. Such all-weather
surveillance sucks up everything, no matter how insignificant or irrelevant it
may appear to be.
My home enjoys a
unique privilege as the focus of singular attention. Just outside my door,
which opens out onto a fan-shaped area, within a stretch of land roughly the
size of a fifty metre semi-circle, they’ve installed nine CCTV cameras. In a
variegated array of angles they peer out from different heights and at
carefully calibrated distances. Some scan east-west, thereby honing in on my
doorway while picking up the oblique angles of my humble abode. Two of the
particularly hi-tech cameras come equipped with their own spotlights. At dusk
these flicker on automatically and then glower through the night unblinking.
Anyone who might dare visit me must endure their devoted scrutiny. And so they
shine down — on the brave few who would pay me a call, or on the drinking
buddies who turn up unexpectedly, be they bringing news of unwarranted hope or
appearing with sorrowful accounts of despair. Anyone who would beat a path to
my place must do so in the dazzling glare of those relentless eyes.
CCTV has become a
noteworthy feature of China’s national landscape in recent years. The eyes are
on us; surveillance cameras festoon the highways and byways of our cities. They
are as multitudinous as the swarms of flies that were an unavoidable feature of
public toilets, and they are as brash and undaunted as the ‘Ladies of Dongguan’
[who are famed for plying the oldest trade]. It goes without saying that CCTV
cameras far outnumber the army of zombies who, when ‘on political heat’ in the
spring months, converge on the Great Hall [of the People for the annual
meetings of the National People’s Congress and the National People’s Political
Consultative Conference]. But those two bright-eyed, thug-like creatures at my
door are new to me; they are a breed that I hadn’t previously encountered. They
lurk in wait for me, and for me alone.
When the workmen
were installing these all-seeing eyes — lazily digging holes for the poles,
laying cables and adjusting the lights — I overheard them joke among themselves
about my particular cyclopes:
‘These little
bastards are seriously hi-tech: they see what everyone’s up to and they can
listen in as well; they even record what’s being said. You’d better watch out
what you and the wife natter about in bed!’
Indeed, [and this
brings to mind a famous line by the Song poet Zhāng Yán 張炎,]
‘they must take
wary steps, hiding their embraces amidst the jostling blossoms. Exchanging soft
whispers out of sight, the lovers are jealous even of the moon’s unwelcome
light.’
Now, there’s
escape from being detected, even in the foliage; the slightest peep and they’ve
got you. No one can escape such assiduous attentiveness. Regardless and
heedless, there will always be those who are unwilling to repress themselves or
take flight. Such couples will throw caution to the wind and drink deep of the
carnal cup. Cries of ribald ecstasy will resound as these humping pairs pummel
beds asunder.
***
Our small
residential area lies beyond the Sixth Ring Road of Beijing. Its footprint is
shaped like a maple leaf, with farmlands lying just outside the enclosing wall.
This out-of-the-way location is far from everything, and only a few dozen
families live there, forty or fifty people all told. My place is deep inside
the compound near the uppermost tip of the maple leaf. It’s no better than a
rustic dwelling, confining as it does this caged animal, a place barely fit for
human habitation.
To get to my hovel
from the main arterial road within the compound, first you have to veer left
and then take a right, following which you wend a way along a path to reach my
ramshackle door. The path peters out after about ten metres further on in a
cul-de-sac, bringing to mind the old poetic line [from the Song-dynasty that
mournfully touches on some of the famous sites of the West Lake in Hangzhou,
for one looks at this dead-end and thinks of that]:
‘The teetering
form cast a long shadow over Broken Bridge;/ Dreams abruptly end at Solitary
Hill.’
That’s why,
setting out from my front door, first I have to take a left-hand turn then,
after about ten metres, I go right for about another thirty before reaching the
main road. From there I can catch sight of the farmlands and the city beyond.
The line of sight can follow the rows of willows that line the waterways that
stretch out to mist-covered mountains in the distance.
The main road cuts
a swathe through all of this, forming a T-junction. Nowadays for me to confront
the new topography requires more than workaday courage, for they have re-made
the landscape and pock-marked it with hazards: those all-seeing lookouts.
Still, I find myself to be equal to the confrontation: after that left-hand
turn from my door, at about a distance of ten metres, I encounter the first
sentinel, its obsidian lour boring into me. In fact, there’s two cameras up
there set back to back, janus-like. They provide their cloaked masters an
unhindered east-west view. They aren’t trained on the path itself, however, for
their heads are twisted just so, allowing them to take in my doorway.
Having thus set
out, I make sure to acknowledge their mute presence with a greeting appropriate
to the time of day. Maybe I’ll add a ‘Fuck You!’ for good measure, before
turning right. Then, some thirty metres on I’ll espy yet another ‘darkling
monocle’. This too is a double-headed hydra and these conjoined brothers have
stewardship over the north-south line of sight. They are the ones mentioned
earlier that, in pursuance of their intrusive task, have the wherewithal to
bring their own light to bear on the subject — me — employing the latest
hi-tech thingamajigs to do so. The T-junction is a transportation nexus for the
community and to the south-east, where the terrain rises up a little, they’ve
implanted more snooping eyes. The two cameras affixed there, again
back-to-back, cover the southeast and northwest vectors. So, within a fairly
small radius they’ve actually installed four CCTV cameras ensuring that they
have a panoptic purview over all of us.
Walking east along
the left-hand arm of the T-junction takes me towards the heart of the maple
shaped fan of the community. Along the way I’ll encounter a CCTV camera every
twenty or so metres. If, instead, I decide to strike out to the right, that is
towards the west, I’ll soon reach a forked path where, yet again, there are
cameras trained to catch anyone approaching from either direction. There is
also a camera fixed on the southwest. Here they have chosen to overlook me, for
once. It still means that there are nine CCTV cameras trained specifically on
me.
So, faced with all
of this, let me enumerate my feelings [by employing a few classical turns of
phrase]. I’d describe what I face as being like
‘an ambush laid
out in all ten directions,
one that extends a
hundredfold embrace of solicitude, that in turn
offers a
patronising concern expressing itself in a thousand little ways,
amounting in toto
to a ten-thousand manifold of claustrophobic absorption.’
Or, to put it more
plainly, the authorities are subjecting me to relentless and suffocating
attention.
[As a result, as
the poets would say:]
‘Now, paths swept
clean, cautious silence reigns. The days of carefree carousing and friendship
all long gone, the sundry pleasures of the past.’
Yet I still count
myself fortunate. Surely this is a kind of ‘Comédie humaine’!
***
At first, whenever
I took a morning or evening constitutional I couldn’t help looking up at them.
Of course, they’d just stare back dumbly, in the surreptitious fashion that is
their nature. Gradually, I lost interest in them and, sometimes, if I hadn’t
left the house for a few days or even a fortnight, I might even forget about
them altogether. Then, when I did catch sight of them looming up in their
perches, all steely and morose, I’d be taken aback, before remembering — that’s
right, it’s all part of their ‘Pacify Project’. Don’t be surprised! Don’t freak
out. Or so I’d try to reassure myself.
Their Pacify
Project goes something like this: the state funds the installation of the
surveillance system, it coordinates the rollout and pays for the lot using the
hard-earned taxes of the citizenry. The profiteers that take it from there are
hi-tech companies that design the eye-spy cameras. Added to that is a host of
manufacturers who are involved at every turn point in the chain of production,
and that doesn’t include all the managers in charge of teams of workers who
actually do the job. Thereby, in this seamless concatenation of plunder,
everyone gouges their fill. After all, people say that a procurement process
like this allows for a divvying up of tasks done in such a way that allows each
echelon of the commercial enterprises and party-state bureaucracies involved to
score their particular share of the spoils. After all, hundreds of millions of
cameras have been installed throughout the land, in the countryside and the
city alike. What a bonanza!
But all of that is
only what I’ve heard. Regardless, the real-life outcome of all of these
machinations is that you often see dozens of cameras jostling on one single
pole, nestling there like a flock of weary raptors. Everyone who has a stake in
the process takes their cut, public and private entities feeding off each
other, top and bottom in cahoots, each level adding their bit so that we are
faced with the present situation. That is to say that everyone, everywhere,
year in year out, is now living ‘under foreign eyes’.
And so it is that
there are many spying eyes trained, cyclops-like, on my doorstep. Yet, strange
as it may sound, I would say that I feel a measure of satisfaction when I
contemplate the despicable pairs of eyes lurking behind the camera lenses,
trained fixedly as they are and devoted to me. Sometimes, I imagine they are
weary blurry eyes clouded with fatigue; or bloodshot eyes exhausted by staring
at a screen all day; or there are those eyes that are brimming with frustration
and resentment. But, then again, they might be pellucid optics, as youthful and
alert as the young man or woman to which they belong. Indeed, they might
steadfastly believe that they know exactly what their job entails and they are
proud that their particular cog that has found just the right place in the vast
machinery of the state. Though, I’d venture, it’s also more than likely that
theirs is a flickering gaze behind which hides a spirit ill-at-ease with
itself. Or, I think to myself, the eyes belong to a numb observer or that they
are the dusky window on a doughy, dull-witted soul. Regardless of the kind of
person who ogles through those lenses that are peering at me, the mechanism of
which they are a part is ticking over tirelessly, behind that skulks the scowl
of undivided attention. Of that I am sure.
There’s a
particularly poetic, thoughtful and deeply meaningful line in A Luminous
Republic, a novel by Andrés Barba:
‘Tiring of the
same landscape, the vast earth began to move itself and, from that, rivers were
born to flow’.
One day, surely,
that myriad of camera lenses too will tire of the landscape that it surveys.
Or, conversely, those whom the CCTV cameras surveil may well tire of them and
decide to break forth in rebellion. What lies ahead will be the surging river
and an irresistible tide.
The Season of the
Great Cold
Twenty Third Day
of the
Tenth Month of the
Gengzi Year
December 7, 2020
of the Gregorian Calendar
Written in a haste
By the Old River, having just returned from a long wait outside The Walled
Enclosure
我家門前探頭多
許章潤
夏秋之際，物華濃盛，小區裡新裝了幾十個探頭。探頭者，監控攝像頭，CCTV也。此為現代產物，部分代替細作的肢體，為細作之技術張本。它們形狀各異，大小不一，鬼鬼祟祟，鷹視狼顧。它們橫立桿頭，危欄送目，風雨無阻，晝夜兼程。它們俯視下界眾生，掃描飛禽走獸，雖則默然無聲，但卻如雷貫耳。大家的吃喝拉撒，每個人的行藏出處，男男女女的來往過從，乃至於鶯飛草長、日升月落、鳳凰臺上憶吹簫，全都在鏡頭後面那雙眼睛的照看之下，而且，是全天候、整體性、巨細無遺的悉心照看。
我家獨蒙厚澤，待遇優渥。柴門往外，扇面形散開，五十米半徑內，居然新裝了九個探頭。它們參差錯落，指東打西，齊齊聚焦門口，密密圍攏寒舍。其中兩個，鏡頭下方自置光源，每到傍晚便華燈初上，一夜通明，直射來者去客。燈光照耀，念奴嬌，滿庭芳，雨中花慢，踏莎行樂，前程似錦。晚近幾年，吾國新景，大街小巷探頭多，多如舊日城鄉茅廁的蒼蠅，多如昔年東莞的女人，當然更多過春天政治發情期大會堂裡的行尸走肉。可這兩個勞什子卻是頭回見，而且徘徊街巷，別處未之見也。安裝的工人師傅一邊懶洋洋挖坑埋柱，引線調光，一邊打趣調笑：這玩意兒，除了盯人，新產品，還能聽聲，呃，就是採集聲音，今後跟婆娘床頭說話小聲點兒啊。
是啊，“隨款步、花密藏春，聽私語、柳疏嫌月。”既然遁跡無望，呢喃有聲，那就乾脆，得兒，捧流霞，溢玉質，任性叫嚷，放聲喧騰，把個牙床折騰散架算了。
小區在六環外，狀如一片桑葉，圍墻外就是田野。天遠地僻，常住不過二三十戶，攏共大約四五十人。寒舍位處葉梢，接近葉尖，形如農舍，性比獸窩，恰堪人居。一條小徑左拐右拐後通向柴門，再往前十米就是盡頭，走投無路，近似於古人口中之“瘦影橫斜，斷橋路小，如今夢斷孤山了”。因而，出門必須左轉十來米，再右轉三十米，然後始能走上小區的主幹道，進而，有望出小區，進城鄉，上山下河，且看清陰垂柳沿岸連綿雲山外。主幹道在此橫切，形成一個丁字口，形勢險惡，萬夫不當。由此，格局出矣，氣象生焉，豪邁湧兮：出門左轉，迎面十來米處，危桿聳立，黑黢黢的探頭衝著你。其實是兩個探頭，它們背靠背，監控東西，不正向掃描小道，卻歪著脖子直射柴門。跟它打個照面，道過早安晚安，有時加送一頭草泥馬，立馬右轉，前方三十米處，又是一個黑頭危立。同樣是背靠背的兩兄弟，掌管南北。這兩處切近體己，均自帶照明，用的是高科技新玩意兒。丁字口交通要道，除此之外，偏往東南方，地勢稍高，另立一桿，再裝兩個探頭，兼顧東南與西北。如此，五米方圓，共置四個探頭，前後左右，合攏照看宇宙蒼生。往丁字一橫的左邊走，東向斜抵扇軸，每距二十來米，各有一個探頭。往丁字一橫的右邊走，西向不遠分叉，路分兩條，再有兩個探頭，分別照看來去。因有一個探頭眺望西南，將寒舍撇開不管不顧，故爾至此共計九個探頭，十面埋伏，百般體貼，千般殷勤，萬分周到，全方位伺候。
掃花遊，聲聲慢，流觴事遠繞梁斷，灑家有福，旖歟盛哉！
我早晚散步，免不了抬頭望它們一眼，彼此探頭探腦，後來慢慢地也懶得望了。有時十天半月不出門，竟把它們忘了，待出門轉身抬頭就瞅見個黑黢黢的鐵傢伙正對著自己，還有點兒一驚一乍的，頃刻又想起這是平安工程，喲，莫驚，莫詫。
平安工程，公家出錢，主要是安裝監控系統。統一部署，用的是納稅人的血汗。設計探頭的科技公司，生產設備的上下游廠家，安裝系統的包工頭，一條龍，食物鏈，都賺得盆滿缽滿。神州大地，遍佈城鄉，數以億計的探頭，一筆大買賣嘛。據說政府採購，工程分片發包，包而複包，層層疊疊，姐夫郎舅，油水也挺大，不知真假。馬路上一桿橫立，而探頭數十，仿佛倦鳥棲枝，遂為尋常景象。總之，人人參與，個個賺錢，公私聚力，上下合謀，同分一杯羹，而都層層加碼，最後讓每個人都時時處處、春夏秋冬生活在鏡頭之下。
我家門前探頭多，而一想到探頭後面有雙眼睛陰鷙森森地整天價兒在盯著你，在照看你，心裡甭提多舒服。有時候不免瞎想，那可能是雙倦怠渾濁的眼睛，因整天盯著熒屏而充滿血絲，也充滿怨憤。也可能明眸清澈，如同他或者她那稚氣未脫的臉龐，自認為明白這份工作的意義，為身為一顆螺絲釘納入這部龐大機器而自豪。更有可能的是一副飄忽的眼神，一顆恍惚的心神，一腔麻木不仁的精神，它們聚集堆砌於一具癡肥的肉身。但無論是哪種情形，那裡有一部機器在運作，那裡有一雙人眼在盯梢，則必定無疑也。
在《光明共和國》這部小說中，當代西班牙新銳作家安德烈斯·巴爾瓦曾經寫下這樣一句話，詩意盎然，哲理悠然，蘊藉軒然：“看倦了同一種風景後，大地開始行走，於是誕生了河流。”如此，則鏡頭裡的風景，總有看倦了的那一天，或者，被看倦了的那一天，而太原倉窄，臨潼關隘，等待它的必是大河奔流，洪水滔滔。
耶誕二0二0年十二月七日，庚子十月廿三，節氣大寒，
從大墻外返家匆草，故河道旁。
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