英语阅读：Don't turn national pain into farce
In the wake of the Sichuan earthquake, there was an outpouring of literaryworks that touched our hearts, among them poems. There was one by an anonymous
author that assumes the voice of a mother talking to her dead child. It has
simplicity tinged with sadness. One business executive, after reading it,
pledged an additional 6 million yuan to the 4 million yuan already donated.
Recently, someone named Wang Zhaoshan published a poem, written in classic
ci style, about the earthquake. He assumes the voice of a victim expressing
gratitude from the grave for all the efforts the whole nation, especially our
leaders and soldiers, have taken in rescue and relief.
Suffice to say, this is a horrible poem. It debases the purity of human
love and compassion abundantly displayed in this tragedy.
True, we are mighty proud of the strong leadership from the central
government, the speedy mobilization and commitment of the soldiers, the torrent
of grief, volunteerism and donations from all over the country. We showed that
we are capable of caring for our fellow human beings, especially when hit by
misfortune of biblical scale.
Those who went out of their way to help deserve our praise, whether that
person was an official or just an ordinary citizen. But that does not change the
fact that what happened on May 12 was a tragedy, the biggest natural disaster in
New China.
For people who suffered loss of life in the family, the pain is permanent.
That was why Premier Wen Jiabao asked rescuers to "spare no cost and effort" in
saving as many people as possible. A collapsed house can be rebuilt, but a life
lost is lost forever.
Wang's poem has the overtone that, because of all the attention, a victim
will "feel happy as a ghost". While this is disrespectful to the victims, he is
not alone in this line of reasoning.
Shortly after the quake, I heard someone saying earthquake victims got
"great postmortem honor". I was aghast. Yes, a victim would not have got a
national memorial with three days of mourning if he or she died a natural death
or was killed in a traffic accident. But to invoke the concept of "postmortem
honor" is to put all of us back into the feudal era when subjects kowtowed to
the monarch in gratitude even if the latter "condemned him to death".
The same logic applies to Wang's poem, in which he also "prays for a screen
to be installed at the grave" so that "I", the victim, can watch the Olympic
celebrations.
Not only is Wang not deferential to the victims, he is besmirching our
leaders. By relentless fawning, he has inadvertently painted the leaders, whose
presence and leadership were part of their "humanity-oriented policy", into
emperor-like figures dispensing benevolence like a parent doling out candy.
The third party that Wang tarnishes in his poem is the image of the
quake-zone people. We all remember the scene of young survivors standing at a
roadside holding up banners that read "We thank you for your help!" That feeling
of gratefulness was so spontaneous and beautiful. Even if victims could speak
from beyond this world and want to express appreciation, it would not be what
Wang spouted. It would be something simple and heartfelt, not chokingly
schmaltzy.
Humanitarianism is based on the notion that everyone is equal and every
life deserves respect. By placing victims at the receiving end of mercy, Wang
has marred the beauty of human relations. His is the classic case of the painter
who adds a pair of feet to a snake, turning an aching but exalting tragedy into
a pretentious farce.
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