Superhero Worship

Once the province of Garbo and Astaire, movie glamour now comes from Superman, Spider-Man, and Storm.

by Virginia Postrel

hen Superman debuted in 1978, it invented a whole new movie genre—and a new kind of cinematic magic. Today, hundreds of millions of dollars depend on the heroic box-office performances of costumed crusaders whom Hollywood once thought worthy only of kiddie serials or campy parodies. The two Spider-Man movies rank among the top ten of all time for gross domestic receipts, and X-Men: The Last Stand and Superman Returns are among this year’s biggest hits.

Superhero comics have been around since Irving Thalberg and Louis B. Mayer ruled the back lot, but only recently has Hollywood realized the natural connection between superhero comics and movies. It’s not just that both are simultaneously visual and verbal media; that formal connection would apply equally to the “serious” graphic novels and sequential art that want nothing to do with crime fighters in form- fitting outfits. Cinema isn’t just a good medium for translating graphic novels. It’s specifically a good medium for superheroes. On a fundamental, emotional level, super­heroes, whether in print or on film, serve the same function for their audience as Golden Age movie stars did for theirs: they create glamour.

If that sounds crazy, it’s because we tend to forget what glamour is really about. Glamour isn’t beauty or luxury; those are only specific manifestations for specific audiences. Glamour is an imaginative process that creates a specific, emotional response: a sharp mixture of projection, longing, admiration, and aspiration. It evokes an audience’s hopes and dreams and makes them seem attainable, all the while maintaining enough distance to sustain the fantasy. The elements that create glamour are not specific styles—bias-cut gowns or lacquered furniture—but more general qualities: grace, mystery, transcendence. To the right audience, Halle Berry is more glamorous commanding the elements as Storm in the X-Men movies than she is walking the red carpet in a designer gown.

“You’ll believe a man can fly,” promised Supermans trailers. Brian Chase, a forty-year-old Los Angeles lawyer and comic-book enthusiast, recalls, “They did make you believe it.” He says that after seeing the movie for the first time, when he was thirteen, he “ran back from the theater jumping over things. I was embarrassingly convinced. I projected myself into it, and I was not going to let it go for the world.” That is the emotional effect of glamour, and it’s something superhero comics have delivered since Superman hit print in 1938. The Superman movie’s marketing slogan was thus more than a promise of convincing special effects. It was a pledge to engage the audience’s dreams without ridicule. In Superman, only the villains were silly. A decade later, Tim Burton’s operatic Batman made even the clown-faced Joker seem genuinely scary. Influenced by Frank Miller’s reinvention of Batman as the Dark Knight, Burton’s Batman movies portrayed a dangerous world in desperate need of a masked hero. Instead of the campy straight man of the 1960s television series or the tame Mister Rogers of the 1950s comic books, Batman was again a glamorous creature of the night, powerful and mysterious.

The superhero movies that have followed, like the comics from which they were derived, have engaged their subjects without emotional reservation. They may have humor (Marvel comics like Spider-Man and The Fantastic Four are famous for it), but they lack the kind of irony that punctures glamour and makes the audience feel foolish for its suspension of disbelief, the sort of campy mockery exemplified by the Batman television show or Joel Schumacher’s disastrous Batman & Robin, featuring a smirking George Clooney in the lead.

The superhero fans who wear costumes to comics conventions, buy miniatures of their favorite characters, or line up for artists’ autographs aren’t themselves glamorous. But neither were the Depression-era housewives who bought knockoffs of Joan Crawford’s gowns or wrote fan letters to Gary Cooper. And neither are the InStyle readers who copy Natalie Portman’s latest haircut or wear a version of Halle Berry’s Oscar dress to the prom. But all are acting on glamour’s promise. Glamour is, to quote a fashion blurb, “all about transcending the everyday.” The whole point of movie glamour was—and is—escape. “What the adult American female chiefly asks of the movies is the opportunity to escape by reverie from an existence which she finds insufficiently interesting,” wrote Margaret Farrand Thorp in America at the Movies (1939). Movies are “the quickest release from a drab, monotonous, unsatisfying environment in dreaming of an existence which is rich, romantic, glamorous.”

Superheroes appeal to a different sort of romanticism. Brian Chase draws a distinction between himself and other members of a hip e-mail list called Glamour: “Their idea of glamour would be to get invited to the right party. To me growing up, the idea of glamour was to be the guy who could save the right party from a meteor.” Says Richard Neal, owner of Zeus Comics, an upscale comics store in Dallas, “It’s not just superpowers but dashing good looks, villains you can fight, getting aggression out.” (Buff and business-savvy, Neal bears no resemblance to the classic comics-store proprietor, represented so memorably on The Simpsons.)

Superheroes are masters of their bodies and their physical environment. They often work in teams, providing an ideal of friendship based on competence, shared goals, and complementary talents. They’re special, and they know it. “Their true identities, the men in colorful tights, were so elemental, so universal, so transcendent of the worlds that made them wear masks that they carried with them an unprecedented optimism about the value of one’s inner reality,” writes Gerard Jones in Men of Tomorrow: Geeks, Gangsters and the Birth of the Comic Book. “We all knew that Clark Kent was just a game played by Superman and that the only guy who mattered was that alien who showed up in Metropolis with no history and no parents.”

Comic-book heroes, like all glamorous icons, cater to “dreams of flight and transformation and escape.” Those words are from one of the best books ever written on glamour: Michael Chabon’s 2000 novel, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Like many a Hollywood story, Kavalier and Clay is wise to the perils of trying to live out glamorous dreams in the real world, again and again showing the tragicomic effects of such attempts. Early on, for instance, young Joe Kavalier almost drowns while attempting a Houdini-like escape designed to gain entrance to what he imagines is a glamorous private club for magicians. (It is, in fact, a rather run-down place whose dining room smelled of liver and onions.) On the eve of World War II, Joe and his cousin Sammy create a successful comic-book hero called the Escapist, whose villainous foes include Hitler himself. Their glamorous illusion is that such fights are easy to win.

Having lost his mother, father, brother, and grandfather, the friends and foes of his youth, his beloved teacher Bernard Kornblum, his city, his historyhis homethe usual charge leveled against comic books, that they offered merely an easy escape from reality, seemed to Joe actually to be a powerful argument on their behalf & It was a mark of how fucked-up and broken was the worldthe realitythat had swallowed his home and his family that such a feat of escape, by no means easy to pull off, should remain so universally despised.

Still, glamour is always vulnerable to those who love it. The more were drawn to a glamorous person, place, or thing, the more we scrutinize it, seeking to fill in the detailswhich ultimately destroys the mystery and grace. Someone will always look for the hidden flaws, the seamy side of the story. Hence the demand for gossip about Princess Dianas bulimia or Jennifer Lopezs romantic problems. These Behind the Musicstyle revelations replace the transcendence of glamour with the mundane problems of mere celebrity. Beyond these grubby details is a more mythic kind of debunking: the artistic revisionism that warns of glamours dangers and disappointments. The power of such revisionism, however, depends on the emotional pull of the original. Someone who knows little and cares even less about Hollywood dreams will miss the pity and terror of Sunset Boulevard. Someone who scorns superheroes as infantile wont understand the scary wonder of Watchmen, the brilliant 1987 graphic novel in which Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons deconstruct superheroes. To the wrong audience, glamour, even revisionist glamour, will seem like camp.

One way to balance the real and ideal while preserving glamour is to give the audience an insiders view. So superhero comics now tend to situate their stories in a world like our own, with ubiquitous, sensationalist media and inescapable trade-offs between personal and professional life. To their audience inside the comics, the superheroes are powerful and mysterious celebrities subject to public adulation and tabloid attacks. The real-world audience, by contrast, gets a glimpse behind the mask, a chance to identify with the character and to experience glamour once removedto imagine what it would be like to be glamorous, and how much hard work, sacrifice, and attention to detail that seemingly effortless power requires. This double vision acknowledges the art behind the illusion. Glamour may look easy, but it never is.

Photograph by Ohlinger Jerry/Corbis Sygma

Ibsen’s Relevance and Influence Endure

By JULIA M. KLEIN

Theater critics aren’t always the savviest harbingers of revolution  nor, for that matter, its most ardent advocates. Even so, it is startling to note the contumely that greeted the premieres of many of Henrik Ibsen’s most enduring works. As recounted in Michael Meyer’s 1967 biography, Ibsen, the German critics were cool to A Doll’s House, the British press denounced Ghosts as a “mass of vulgarity, egotism, coarseness, and absurdity,” and nearly everyone regarded Hedda Gabler as a failure, largely because of the very moral complexity that now intrigues us.

Today Ibsen’s wedding of tragedy to the ethical dilemmas and unadorned rhetoric of middle-class characters seems like the necessary prelude to modern drama, from George Bernard Shaw to Arthur Miller. Within his stuffed Victorian living rooms, the Norwegian playwright championed free-thinking, if flawed, heroes over both the conformist masses and self-aggrandizing authorities. His signature metaphors of corruption and contagion  along with the violent undertow in his works, informed by the upheavals of 19th-century Europe  retain their relevance. The fateful door-slamming in A Doll’s House, the shattered glass in An Enemy of the People, and the climactic gunshots in Hedda Gabler and The Wild Duck are staples of our theatrical vocabulary. Ibsen has become, as W.H. Auden might say, a whole climate of opinion about the possibilities and the limits of realistic prose drama  though the dramatist himself, more protean than his legacy, was also a poet and a symbolist.

According to Meyer, Ibsen (1828-1906) was a prickly, obsessive character, estranged from most of his family, his small hometown of Skien, and, for many years, Norway itself. He remained haunted by his father’s financial failure  a theme that turns up frequently in his plays  and later fathered an illegitimate child, an event that also provided dramatic fodder. (Meyer claims that Ibsen had doubts about his own paternity as well.) After the embittering experience of directing financially struggling theaters in Bergen and Christiania (now Oslo) and the poor reception afforded his early works, he lived for 27 years in Germany and Italy. His first real success was Brand, an 1866 poetic drama that the translator Geoffrey Hill calls “a tragic farce.”

Ibsen returned to Norway to live in 1891, when his reputation was secure. In his final years, though still married to his longtime wife, Suzannah Thoresen (with whom he had a son, Sigurd), he indulged in a series of flirtations with considerably younger women, bartering his fame for romance, or the illusion of it. By the time he died, he was a world-historical figure and an icon in his native Scandinavia. It was not uncommon for other European writers  an admiring young James Joyce among them  to learn Norwegian so they could read Ibsen in the original.

In this centenary year of his death, Ibsen continues to spark fresh appraisal and controversy. In recent months, he has been the subject of critical re-evaluation (Toril Moi’s Henrik Ibsen and the Birth of Modernism: Art, Theater, Philosophy, from Oxford University Press), historical conjecture (Steven F. Sage’s provocative Ibsen and Hitler: The Playwright, the Plagiarist, and the Plot for the Third Reich, from Carroll & Graf), and a translated Norwegian novel (Dag Solstad’s Shyness and Dignity, from Graywolf Press). In addition, as one might expect, Ibsen’s plays are being adapted and produced in festivals around the world.

In New York, for example, Oslo Elsewhere recently presented “Henrik Ibsen + Jon Fosse: Norway Meets New York” at 59E59 Theaters, juxtaosing the American premiere of the contemporary Norwegian playwright’s deathvariations with a new translation of Ibsen’s Rosmersholm (1886). At Washington’s Shakespeare Theatre Company through October 22 is the acclaimed Norwegian director Kjetil Bang-Hansen’s brisk, engaging version of An Enemy of the People (1882), which emphasizes the play’s comedy and humanity.

As Meyer notes, many English-language productions, using stilted translations, have leached the humor and sexiness from Ibsen’s work. In recent years, however, that trend seems to have reversed. A West End production of A Doll’s House (1879), which won four Tony Awards after its 1997 transfer to Broadway, presented a Nora (Janet McTeer) bursting with neurotic tics and sharing a genuine sexual bond with Torvald (Owen Teale). Her exit became as a result more emotionally complex, marking not just a feminist triumph but a moment of sadness and loss. A 2001 Broadway production of Hedda Gabler (1890), starring Kate Burton, was alternately praised and chided for delivering a sympathetically frustrated Hedda who might have stepped out of Diary of a Mad Housewife.

The Oslo Elsewhere double bill, which closed September 9, was a far chillier affair. In Fosse’s riveting deathvariations, Keatsian romantic longing is laced with Scandinavian melancholy, and the play’s spare, incantatory dialogue recalls Beckett and Pinter. The Norwegian-American Sarah Cameron Sunde both translated and directed the play, complementing its austere symbolism with an exquisitely stylized staging that used light to suggest both mood swings and the passage of time.

Deathvariations begins quietly with an estranged couple, grief-stricken but still at odds, trying to absorb the news of their daughter’s death. It then flashes back to the early days of their marriage, as the optimistic young man and his anxious pregnant wife discuss how to make ends meet in their basement apartment. The realism of the setup contrasts with the later metaphysical preoccupations of their daughter, who flirts with a mysterious handsome stranger called “the Friend.” In an image torn from an Edvard Munch canvas, the doomed woman and her prospective mate (or fate) extend their arms and take each other’s hands in a slow, seductive dance of death. She leaps finally into the sea, an act that left my theater companion (not unlike the girl’s bereaved parents) complaining about insufficient motivation. Still, deathvariations, only the second of Fosse’s works to be presented in this country, is a fine introduction to a playwright who has already won considerable European acclaim.

In Rosmersholm, too, a man and a woman in love are able to find passionate unity only in a watery grave. But this production, directed by Timothy Douglas from an adaptation by Anna Guttormsgaard and Bridgette Wimberly (with Oda Radoor), never managed to find a coherent style, nor to endow its final tragedy with a convincing rationale. Admittedly, this latter failing is largely Ibsen’s  and more bothersome in a work filled with talky attitudinizing than in the poetic Fosse.

This adaptation pares down the original considerably and transposes the setting from Norway to America  a move indicated mainly by colloquialisms, name alterations, and nontraditional casting (John Rosmer is played by the soap-opera star Charles Parnell, one of three African-Americans in the cast). Rosmersholm contains much vague talk about conservatism, radicalism, and spiritual transformation, but, politically speaking, it’s hard to grasp precisely what’s at stake or even what era we’re in.

In any case, the core drama is a psychological one, played out primarily in the shifting relationships among the minister Rosmer, his live-in friend Rebecca West (an excellent Guttormsgaard), nd Rosmer’s dead wife, Beth (Beata in the Norwegian), a suicide. Like the daughter in deathvariations, the absent woman remains a persistent presence among the living. “It’s the dead that cling to Rosmersholm,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Helseth, says portentously.

West, in this version a photographer, is haunted by her past, driven by her desires but also willing to abjure them. As for Beth, she is at once deranged and prescient, a crazy Cassandra whose prophecies are inevitably fulfilled. Neither the play nor the production makes an adequate case for Rebecca’s decision to sacrifice herself for Rosmer, and still less for his following suit. We’re left only with the housekeeper’s anguished scream  another evocation of Munch  to underline the horror and the pity of their choice.

Toril Moi, in her study of Ibsen and modernism, makes the play more intelligible by situating it in its aesthetic context. To Moi, a professor of literature and Romance studies at Duke University, Rosmersholm is an investigation of romantic delusions, linguistic skepticism, and the increasingly sterile idealist tradition. She sees Rebecca and Rosmer as both grand and mad, “heartbroken romantics … who cannot bear the world that bourgeois democracy has produced.” Moi doesn’t deny that Rosmersholm has its Gothic and melodramatic elements  from the “white horses” that foreshadow death to the ancient curse of Rosmersholm. But Ibsen’s intentions, she says, are to mock and appropriate those genres, not to ape them.

While Moi interprets Ibsen through the lens of modernism, Sage peruses the playwright’s work for the keys to Hitler’s murderous ascent. Ibsen and Hitler is an odd but fascinating book, cultural history written with a veneer of scientific rigor. Sage maintains that three Ibsen dramas  An Enemy of the People, Emperor and Galilean (1873), and The Master Builder (1892)  were key influences on Hitler. He demonstrates that rhetoric from Enemy found its way into Mein Kampf, and that Hitler was in contact with German intellectuals who regarded the playwright as a prophet.

Far more audaciously, Sage suggests that Hitler used Ibsen’s monumental Roman historical drama, Emperor and Galilean, about Julian the Apostate (331-63), as a virtual blueprint for everything from Kristallnacht to Hitler’s nonaggression pact with the Soviet Union. Sage argues, for example, that Hitler arranged the murder of his niece and rumored lover, Geli Raubal, in 1931 as part of a ritualistic prelude to seizing power  a parallel, however inexact, to the death of Julian’s wife, Helena, after eating a poisoned peach (itself a dramatic invention). Historians won’t buy all of Sage’s contentions, but his work is likely to spur further investigation.

Another Ibsen drama, The Wild Duck, serves as the springboard for Shyness and Dignity, a slim but impressive 1996 novel about a schoolteacher whose life reaches both its climax and its nadir in a single day. (It has been admirably translated by Sverre Lyngstad for the Ibsen centenary.) The narrative starts with teacher Elias Rukla’s attempt to offer a new interpretation of a minor character in The Wild Duck to his uncomprehending class. After indulging in a fit of rage that may end his career, he ruminates on his student days, his onetime best friend, and the origins of his now-deteriorating marriage. The novel ends, like many Ibsen plays, on a note of pessimism and irresolution.

So, too, does An Enemy of the People. The Shakespeare Theatre Company’s staging nevertheless reminds us how engrossing Ibsen can be. This is a beautiful production, set in the 1930s, elegantly lit, and designed by Timian Alsaker in grays and browns reminiscent of a sepia-toned photograph. Yet there is nothing languid or still about Bang-Hansen’s directionof this new translation by Rick Davis and Brian Johnston. The show breezes along, in concert with Dr. Thomas Stockmann’s headlong rush toward both triumph and disaster, before climaxing in a stunning tableau of isolation.

Acting in an official capacity, Stockmann has discovered the bacterial pollution of the town’s water supply, which is poisoning the baths that are the town’s economic underpinning. No problem fixing the mess, he naïvely figures  until he encounters the corruption of the politicians, press, and townspeople who would prefer to see the costly problem hushed up. Joseph Urla’s Stockmann, moving from convivial warmth to almost unintelligible rage, is a man whose intransigence is not so much innate as the product of desperate necessity.

Both set and sound design amplify Ibsen’s symbolism. Pipes arrayed in a deco pattern frame the stage, while others are visible through the large arched windows. At key moments, we hear the drip of water, as though forecasting a deluge  or the wearing down of Stockmann’s resistance.

Stockmann’s chief adversary is his brother, Peter, the mayor, as stiff and pompous in Philip Goodwin’s reading as Thomas is loose-limbed and sincere. Caught in between are the “moderate” Aslaksen (Rick Foucheux) and the backpedaling liberal newspaper editor, Hovstad (Derek Lucci), another in Ibsen’s gallery of contemptible press barons.

In some productions, the crusading doctor’s hyperbolic attacks on the stupidity of the majority can seem almost maniacal  or, at the least, embarrassingly elitist and antidemocratic. This translation wisely emphasizes the notion of intellectual distinction and eliminates Stockmann’s eugenic rants. But the tension at the heart of the play remains: Stockmann’s passion for the truth (or is it simply for being right?) is arrayed against every interest in the town, and finally even the welfare of his own family. The stakes rise, and so do the temptations to acquiesce. One thinks of the tempting of John Proctor in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible (1953)  written just three years after Miller himself adapted An Enemy of the People.

Enemy was Ibsen’s angry response to the critical vituperation directed at Ghosts, but it has transcended its historical context in a way that Rosmersholm cannot. In this sleek production, the play still cracks like a whip against the dangers of groupthink, callow politicians, double-dealing newspaper editors, and a menagerie of other discreditable 19th- and 21st-century types.

Julia M. Klein is a cultural reporter and critic in Philadelphia who writes for The New York Times, Mother Jones, and other publications.

UNSTRUNG

by JIM HOLT

The inscrutable Mr Barnes

Julian Barnes’s bestselling novel ‘Arthur and George’ is his 20th book – but what do we know about the man who wrote it? He talks to Jasper Rees Julian Barnes: ‘I don’t care what happens after I’m dead. I assume it’s even worse than old age’ Of the golden generation of British novelists now within hailing distance of old age, Julian Barnes is much the hardest to pin down. Martin Amis, Salman Rushdie, Ian McEwan  you know where you are with them, and have done for years. But the unifying theme of Barnes’s work? The through line? If there is such a thing, it’s an elegant unknowability, a distaste for the business of sifting through the contents of his own navel. The one time I met Auberon Waugh, the founder of Literary Review, he was arguing that no one would be reading Barnes in 20 years’ time. This would have been about 20 years ago. Waugh had recently set up his literary magazine as a sort of critical sea-wall, its task to hold back the tide of postmodernism, experimentalism, clever-clever obfuscation and general dicking around with form. Perhaps Waugh was just trying to wish Barnes into obscurity. He was best known at that point for Metroland, a debut that loitered in suburbia and didn’t frighten the horses, followed by Flaubert’s Parrot, which did. Published in 1984, that novel now seems a very Barnesian admonition to literary enthusiasts that the hunt for biographical trivia is a wild goose chase. It is certainly the closest he has come to a mission statement and, if its author hasn’t exactly been languishing in the shadows, for the next 20 years it looked more and more likely to be the book for which he would be principally remembered. Then last year came Arthur & George, which has reached more readers in hardback than any of its 19 predecessors (11 fiction, four whodunits under the nom de plume of Dan Kavanagh, three non-fiction, one translation of Daudet). The story behind the creation of the Court of Appeal might not sound too gripping a pitch to a Hollywood producer, but, as well as being his longest book, Arthur & George is his first to have its readers actually sweating about the outcome. They are far more used to rolling his books pleasurably around on the palate, like an enigmatic Burgundy, and certainly putting them down now and again. “It’s the novel I wrote most intensely in terms of hours per day,” Barnes allows. “And it drove me along in a way that I then wanted to drive the reader along. It sounds a bit glib to say I wrote it in order to have something to read on the subject, but there’s something a bit like tat going on.” The subject is a miscarriage of justice. George Edalji, a blameless solicitor of Parsee origin, was found guilty in 1903 of a series of brutal attacks on horses in Shropshire, despite a glaring lack of evidence. He was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude, then released without explanation or exoneration after three. Unable to resume legal practice without a pardon, he appealed to the creator of Sherlock Holmes to take up cudgels on his behalf. It was the only time Conan Doyle responded to such a cry for help, but, a century on, Edalji’s story has been forgotten anew. If Arthur rescued George from obloquy, it is Julian who has rescued him from obscurity. Barnes being Barnes, the original seed for Arthur & George was, of course, French. “I was reading about the Dreyfus case,” he says. Specifically, he was reading Douglas Johnson’s France and the Dreyfus Affair on the points of similarity between the infamous conviction for espionage of a Jewish officer in the French army and the contemporaneous victimisation of the young Anglo-Indian. Both cases put a nation’s attitude to its own minorities on trial. More than that, says Barnes, “in both cases there is a shocking crime, a miscarriage of justice, key handwriting evidence, a sentence of hard labour, and a famous writer rides to the rescue. Why has one case been forgotten and why is the Dreyfus case resonating throughout France even to this day? Johnson was a very witty man, as well as a great scholar. He said that you might think it was because the Dreyfus case was about high treason and the British case was about animal mutilation. But in fact the British are much more shocked by animal mutilation than high treason.” To begin with, Barnes didn’t have “any particular interest in Conan Doyle. I deliberately didn’t re-read the canon in order to write this book because I didn’t want it to be that sort of book.” When his interest was pricked, it was by Conan Doyle’s modish espousal of spiritualism, and by his long courtship of Jean Leckie while his invalided first wife was still alive. “In his autobiography he completely lies about Jean, and early biographers completely cover it up. The spiritualist stuff is also about evidence, proof, knowledge, belief. And you think, this is the point at which it starts to become potentially a novel.” He started to fill the gaps between the facts with fiction. We meet in a pub near Barnes’s home in north London, where I order him a beer brewed by Trappists. He’s slightly late because he’s been watching athletics on the box. Now that he no longer writes as Dan Kavanagh, watching sport is how he stays in regular contact with his macho side (although his slobby sleuth was actually bisexual). Barnes says his wife (and agent) Pat Kavanagh thinks “it’s easier to list the sports that I’m not interested in than the ones I am. I’m not terribly interested in swimming and power-boat racing. I think you can get interested in diving if it’s late enough at night.” We sorrowfully discuss the inability of the nation’s heptathletes to chuck a javelin. It’s hard to square this image of a sports nerd with what we know of the writer. But then, what do we know of the writer? It was about halfway through Metroland, which took an unconscionable time to complete, that Barnes says he “learnt how to invent”. The self-portrait glimpsed in the first half of the book is like a rare snap of Pynchon or Salinger. Ever since, Barnes has kept himself well out of it. Was that him being retroactively jealous of his wife in Before She Met Me? In Talking It Over and its seqel, Love Etc, his two novels about the trials and triangulations of love, would he be the plodding money-maker Stuart or the mercurial flop Ollie? “None of those characters is based on anyone,” he says. “Even writers say that fiction is the higher autobiography, and I don’t buy that at all. I think that what most of us do is more complicated. Everyone thinks, ‘I had a difficult childhood, then I grew up, and then I had lots of affairs, and then some resolution happened to my life: that’s a novel.’ Oh no it isn’t. It wouldn’t even be a very good autobiography. It sort of vaguely irritates me.” Can we at least assume that The Lemon Table, his recent collection of beautifully elegiac short stories, suggests a personal preoccupation with getting on a bit? (Barnes is now 60.) “No, I’m sorry. I’ll swat that one down easily: (a) it took me about 10 years to write those stories, so I was writing them from my mid-forties or so; (b) I always had my eye on the thought that it gets worse, rather than better. It wasn’t as if I turned 50 or was approaching 60 and suddenly looked over the brow of the hill and thought, oh, I don’t like the look of it there.” From where Barnes sits, even when he’s not on one of his frequent walking holidays (latest stop: Liguria), there is still quite a lot to like the look of. It would have been nice if Arthur & George, his third nomination, hadn’t been pipped for the Booker last year by John Banville’s The Sea. But how many other English-language writers have been made Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres? And the good news is that the press can even stop bothering him about his spat with Martin Amis, recently spotted at the launch party for the paperback edition of Arthur & George. As usual Barnes keeps his trap politely shut when this comes up, save for a question. “Have you heard about *********’s love-child?” And he names a famous writer knight. Which I take to be Barnesian for “mind your own business”. Not all good news is real news. A few weeks ago, it was reported that Harvey Weinstein had bought the rights to Arthur & George for a seven-figure sum. “I was in the States for my book tour at the time and I got home and I rang up a friend who said, ‘Oh Jules, I heard you’re going to be very rich.’ I said, ‘That’s very odd, I haven’t heard anything about this.'” It turned out that someone somewhere had confused Arthur & George with a French film called Artur. In which there is a certain piquant irony. The last time a novel of his was filmed, it was Talking It Over and it was transplanted to France. “I had nothing to do with it. There was a very nice woman director who I met on the last day of principal photography. They shot a scene on a cross-channel ferry. I sailed back with them to Calais, then came back again by myself. And I said to the director, in French, ‘I hope you have betrayed me,’ and she said, ‘But of course.’ And we both smiled at one another. I thought, it’s got a chance.” She obviously didn’t betray him enough. Arthur & George, he reveals, is more likely to fetch up on television. Barnes hasn’t finished his Trappist beer, but the cricket highlights beckon. As a parting shot, I ask him how he’d react if someone did to him what he’s done to Conan Doyle and Flaubert  if someone wrote a history of Julian Barnes in 10½ chapters? “Oh I’d be very cross,” he says. But what about when he’s gone? “I don’t care what happens after I’m dead. I assume it’s even worse than old age.” Not for George Edalji, who died in Welwyn Gaden City at the age of 77 in 1953. Among the readers who have written to Barnes is an elderly woman. As a girl she was evacuated to a house in Hertfordshire Edalji shared with his sister Maud, who has a supporting role in the novel. “At one point Maud took her to the back of the house and opened a door and said, ‘This is my brother George.’ And there was a man sitting at a desk who looked up and bowed, and then she closed the door.” Barnes has opened the door again, and given him an afterlife. Publishers wishing to reproduce photographs on this page should phone 44 (0) 207 538 7505 or e-mail [email protected]

毛择东青年时在北京大学图书馆当一名书籍登录员，想与学生菁英分子如傅斯年、罗家伦等人攀谈、结交而不可得。他后来多次提到此事，意颇怏怏。中共建政十余年后，毛发动文化大革命，折磨并逼死成千上万的知识分子，应非无因。

毛及其同僚，多起自乡野，文化素养并不深厚，大概出于某种心理反射，都欢喜舞文弄墨。毛之诗词，除《沁园春。咏雪》有点“开国之君”的气象外，其他也算不上什么佳构。甚至在《鸟儿问答》中，连“放屁”这么粗鄙的话都入诗了。

大陆领导们表现文采风流的方式之一是“题壁”。凡名山大川、雄关要塞、历史古迹，只要有游客去的地方，他们都会编出两句词，写上几个字，一以标志“到此一游”，再则也可“教化众生”。只是这些文字，或言不及义，或生吞活剥，或多此一举，总教人有胜景蒙尘的不甘。

在这些“官大好吟诗”的大官中，虽也有陈毅、叶剑英、陈云这些人等，但仍应以“后起之秀”的江择民表现最为“突出”。几年来到大陆寻幽揽胜，好像还找不出哪个地方瞻仰不到江前主席“墨宝”的。

前年远走丝路，受王维那首《渭城曲》的召唤，顶著炎阳，冒著风沙，来到阳关。如今不是“西出阳关无故人”，而是“西出阳关无阳关”，城墙、关门早已风化为一堆黄土。故址上新建了一排现代化的曲形长廊，活像一位乡村老妪穿上香奈儿时装，十分地不搭调。廊里竖立许多石碑，上面镌刻时人的题词，当然也少不了江择民的。《渭城曲》千古绝唱，读书认字的中国人都能琅琅上口，不知谁还对政客们的那些大作看得上眼？

日前去四川访胜，“向例”又在各地拜读长官们的题词。拿都江堰来说，不仅有江择民的字，也有提拔他的“小平同志”的字。都江堰的年纪“寿比长城”，惟长城现在只剩下观赏性和纪念性了，都江堰却仍然辛勤眷顾成都大平原的千万农庄。筑堰的李冰早已进入历史，千秋不朽，何贵乎今人多余的歌颂？

江择民的题词，似已“无所不在”。成都体育馆门口竟也见江先生勒石：“全民健身，利国利民；功在当代，利在千秋。”最令人吃惊的是，连一个接待观光客的丝绸店都在劫难逃，江氏策勉：“弘扬古蚕丝文化，开拓新丝绸之路。”

同为唐代诗人，崔颢的诗作没有李白多，诗名也没有李白大，但是他游黄鹤楼时所题“昔人已乘黄鹤去，此地空余黄鹤楼”那首七律，却令李白自叹不如，这位诗仙承认：“眼前有景道不得，崔颢题诗在上头。”

今天，大陆名胜古迹所受政治人物题写的污染，依我看，与风尘、寒热和人为破坏所造成的损害同样严重。后人要的是祖先遗产的清白面貌，请高官们就别再“杀风景”了。

台湾政坛诸多不堪，但政客们好像还未染上乱涂胡抹的恶习。百害之外终有一利，乃此岛之福。

（作者为台湾《联合报》前主笔）

当年争取女权，现在领导人权委员会，却让台湾人权失色

书柜盈满，得让书籍后浪推前浪才行了。

我手拿一九七六年出版的《数一数拓荒的脚步》，读著作者吕秀莲女士签名赠送的文字；三十年过去了，有些回忆，也有些感喟。沉吟着，不知是否还要把它放回书架。

这本书，是吕秀莲小姐（那时我们这样叫她）在台湾推展女权运动的第一本成绩报告。里面有她的战史与心得，有支持者颂扬的原文原信，也有反对者咒骂的原汁原味，好一副开阔的胸怀。

全书开头是这样写的：“民国六十年十月间的事，我的一篇题为《传统的男女社会角色》长文在《联合副刊》连载，遂导致一连串的应邀演讲与撰稿——以及‘新女性主义’在台湾社会的脱颖而出。”

那时笔者在报馆服务，得识吕小姐。她对女权运动有几个中心观点，如先做人后做女人；如女性主义不在对抗男性，而是解决妇女的切身问题。这些论述，既符合两性平等的原则，也是社会走向民主的必然进程，因而得到一些人的认同与支持——包括我自己。

那几年，吕秀莲促成并领导了以下的活动：成立“拓荒者出版社”，以鼓动新女性主义的风潮；在高雄设“保护你”专线，并向各地推广；举办“男士烹饪大会”，倡导两性分担家事；举办“厨房外的茶话会”，增进各方了解。

正当女权运动有些进展，吕秀莲却渐渐走入政治圈，从“社运人士”转成“政治人物”。民国六十八年“美丽岛事件”后，吕秀莲又成了受刑人，后特赦出狱，远走哈佛进修，那时笔者在纽约《世界日报》任职，我们曾在电话中叙旧。我说：“台湾雅好政治的人车载斗量，不在乎多你一个人；但是女性主义是一项新兴社会运动，少你一个是很大的损失。”她避重就轻地回答：“政治活动也值得做。凡值得做的事都应该有人去做。”

后来大家都回到台湾。笔者回来仍是一介记者，吕小姐回来成了副总统。几年来在媒体上听她的谈话，看她的身影，觉得她变了：

穿金戴银，美容变脸，自称深宫怨妇，为了代理党主席的事泪洒中常会，离“新女性”的形象愈走愈远；

要求大官舍，花大钱装潢，出入有随扈群和大车队，再也找不到社运时期的俭朴与谦抑；

在《数一数拓荒的脚步》里，她赞扬大众传播事业的社会功能，强调“它应该避免被无谓地操纵，却更该主动地发掘探采那值得发掘探采的”，但是，当《新新闻》觉得副总统的一通电话“值得发掘探采”时，却被吕秀莲告进官里，有破产之虞；

当年直话直说的吕秀莲，现在会“官腔官调”了，她常常以言语暗伤陈水扁，但必要时也可不吝输诚。去年春节总统府团拜，吕副总统致词说，“总统府就是两千三百万人的大慈航，总统是大舵手。”这使我想起文革时大陆颂扬毛泽东那首《大海航行靠舵手》的歌，直教人反胃。

最令人不能忘怀的，是吕秀莲兼任总统府“人权委员会”主任委员，而台湾的人权纪录年年下降，日前美国国务院公布年度各国人权排名，台湾在一百零五国之后。较为恶名昭彰的项目，包括对妇女施暴及歧视、走私人口和虐待外籍劳工。

消息见报多日，就像其他很多人权事件一样，未闻人权委员会的吕主委说过任何一句话。女权就是人权，这教当年支持吕秀莲的人情何以堪？现在全民谴责陈水扁家族的贪腐，似无暇顾及吕秀莲腐蚀了台湾的人权。

台湾的政治环境不仅荒芜到杂草丛生，而且更是污泥没胫，万方翘首企盼一位“拓荒者”。但现在很多人不敢让陈水扁下台的原因，却是怕“扁去吕来”。深为当年的吕小姐难过。

（作者为台湾《联合报》前主笔）

他的存在对于我就是力量

知道：您什么时候接触鲁迅、阅读鲁迅？

林贤治（以下简称林）：中学时代我看了一点，但是没有看进去，真正开始接触鲁迅是文革的时候，当时我父亲被打成反革命，我家里状况不好，我，一个青年人，迷惘、孤独、失去方向、到这个时候，我遇上了鲁迅。他的存在对于我就是力量，我阅读的时候清楚地感觉到这种力量。

知道：能谈谈他对您的影响吗？

林：鲁迅已经介入了我的生活，我在《一个人的爱与死》序言里也写到，对我个人来说，多一个鲁迅和少一个鲁迅是大不一样的，作为一种阅读经验，的确是纯个人的，无法复制，也无法替换。当然，我不会号召所有人都读鲁迅喜欢鲁迅，但是当鲁迅遭到恶意的歪曲或者诋毁，我却无法沉默。

知道：作为鲁迅的研究者，您会不会在为鲁迅的辩解中不自觉美化鲁迅呢？

林：我不否认，这也不奇怪，因为我在鲁迅身上看到的光彩，这是我所接触、所见到所有文化人中所没有的。人对人的认识是相比较而存在的，你说鲁迅有多不好，那么我们不妨看看我们周围的人，那都是怎么样的人？相对这些人，鲁迅身上那种伟大的人格确实无人能比。

知道：邓晓芒教授也有类似的评价，他说鲁迅是中国近百年来唯一的一个知识分子。

林：我很认同这种评价。我在鲁迅的最后十年说过这样的一句话：“中国没有知识界”，我们算啥？我们这些学者之类的算啥？哪个人会自始至终想到沉默的大多数，哪个人会想到社会不合理的存在，哪个人会正视专制主义的存在，哪个人敢挑战专制者！我们有谁能够真正做到？有些人说鲁迅好斗，不好。这是一个很可笑的东西，你说恶势力在那里，你说斗还是不斗？这是一个很简单的事情。我们不能感受到这个，因为我们身上没有一点战斗的因子，我们已经失去了感受的能力。

知道：您今年编写了一本《鲁迅选编——小说卷》，有的人也说鲁迅一生中写作大多数都是杂文，但是也有人说他的小说成就最高。您是否认同这种观点？

林：从文学的角度看，这不失成为一家之言，不过这是一种文学本位主义。但如果你换一个角度，从思想解放的角度，从自由写作者的角度去看，就会有很大的不同。鲁迅自己都没有把自己的写作看有多少文学性当作最高原则。即使他的小说，他也是根源于他的启蒙主义，他自己也说得很清楚，他写作是为人生。

知道：林老师，您关于鲁迅方面的文章和著作已经非常多了，您还有没有向这方面研究的打算？

林：我并不想刻意去研究，只是无法避开鲁迅。我不想去写他，但最后说来说去还是说到他身上。鲁迅作为一个文化符号，具有很丰富的内涵，从那里可以抽绎出很多不同的思维路线，连接到我们现实生活中的众多线头。对我个人而言，我绕不开鲁迅的存在。

微弱的光芒也是光芒，黑暗就是黑暗

知道：近年来，社会上反鲁倒鲁的声音很多，像李敖就曾经发表过批评鲁迅的言论。另外一方面，胡适却慢慢火热起来。有的人说，胡适是饭，可以养人，具有建设性；鲁迅是药，可以治病，破除陈旧的东西。因此，中国的精神应该是鲁迅胡适兼备，这才是完整的。您怎么评价这种观点？

林：李敖的言论我已经反击过，在这里不复赘言。说到胡适和鲁迅，胡适是以承认这个专制的政府以及它的法律为前提，绕过“杀人”谈人权、自由，这种好比“奴隶房间里的反抗”，反抗归反抗，最终还是甘做奴隶，反抗是为了让主人更好奴役自己，奴役人民。而鲁迅是不承认这个专制的政府、不承认这个暴虐的政府，他要推翻这个“合法”的政府，以求得自由，这是一种真正的自由。一个为“社会”，一个为“政府”，是鲁迅和胡适们分歧的根本所在。如果没有看清这点，一切都是扯淡。

知道：您心目中鲁迅最可贵的一面是什么？

林：他的战斗性，就是作为一个战士的鲁迅！

知道：鲁迅来广州对学生演讲的时候曾经说我不愿被看作“战士”和“革命家”，但是无论是他在世的时候，还是他去世的70年以来，他依然被看作一个战士。

林：但他确实是一个战士，鲁迅的一生是战斗的一生，跟恶势力斗、跟传统势力斗、跟权力者斗，跟文痞斗、跟自以为中立实际上作为政府的附庸和奴才的学者斗了一生。他批判社会也批判自己，现在很多人热衷批判别人，但是就是不批判自己，鲁迅就不是，他觉得自己身上也有阴暗的东西，他就不断批判自己。他身上那种反抗精神非常难得。

知道：您曾经在写了一篇文章《穿过黑暗的那一道幽光》，看得出您很欣赏文章的主人公西蒙娜。薇依，那么您觉得鲁迅和薇依，身上有没有相通之处？

林：我内心对薇依非常敬佩，她不但是一个思想者，而且是一个实践者。我们这些学者高谈阔论可以，一旦实践起来就不行了。薇依不同，比如她想了解探讨劳动的奴役性，她就亲自到工厂去干活，体会这种劳动，身体被劳动折磨得很虚弱。有了这样的经历，她对斯大林等人提出的质问也非常有力量，她就从劳动这个角度，“你们什么时候接触工人，你说你们是代表他们你能够代表吗？你没有经过这种劳役性的劳动你能够了解吗？”薇依对自己严格几乎是一种自虐的程度，我们如今的知识分子没有一个人能够做到。鲁迅和薇依相通之处就是他们都自始至终对大众民生表现一种关怀和挚爱，同时对权势和专制，开展不依不饶的抗争。还有左拉、萨特、加缪、奥威尔、萨义德、索尔仁尼琴等这些人，像他们，才是真正的知识分子，我在个人写过专著《午夜的幽光》也谈过这些人。

知道：您很喜欢用“幽光”这两个字。

林：不管怎么样，微弱的光芒也是光芒，黑暗就是黑暗。

知道：但在《穿过黑暗的那一道幽光》一文，您曾经这么写道：“一支火焰，当它找不到别的燃料时不会燃烧太久；一道光，当它穿过太浓密的黑暗时，反而被黑暗吞噬了。”似乎有些绝望，像鲁迅置身于那样黑暗的时代，您觉得他也会感到绝望吗？

林：他是绝望的，但在鲁迅那里，绝望就是存在的勇气，这也是鲁迅高于很多人的地方。存在即绝望，绝望乃存在，加缪、萨特那里的终点，恰好是鲁迅的起点。鲁迅不是因为希望而战斗，相反，他是因为绝望而战斗，如同他引用裴多菲说过：“绝望之为虚妄，正与希望相同。”本来已经绝望，或许在反抗中还能够获得一种希望。也正是因为绝望，他的反抗也更为坚决。

关怀和悲悯，对一个写作者很重要

知道：有些人觉得鲁迅的作品过于阴冷，字行间充满“恨”字。

林：我们现在都在说鲁迅的恨，但是很少人去说鲁迅的爱。其实没有一个人像鲁迅那样对弱者和民族的爱得那么深，你可以看看他的作品，比如《明天》，单四嫂在儿子病死后，守着漫漫长夜，这个世界上没有人向她伸出帮助之手，那种小女人的孤单和寂寞……看出鲁迅是仇恨的暴力的吗？不，他是爱的。所以我们不谈鲁迅的爱，就是有意无意地掩盖他的出发点。他的恨就是因为他的爱，爱是他的出发点。说鲁迅是唯一的，没有后继者，首先就是没有人像他那样爱得深沉。像梁实秋那样攻击鲁迅的那些学者，他会去写那样的小人物吗？再比如今天，四川游民、众多打工者、艾滋病患者、维权最终却得不到维护者、失学者、血汗工厂、童工……现在中国究竟是怎么样的一种社会，而那些文化人大谈闲情，像陈丹青那样说他老师木心的散文是顶级的，高调推介，说是“超越周氏兄弟”，是“唯一衔接汉语传统和五四传统的作家”真是扯淡。有时候，仇和爱是一致的，鲁迅能爱才能恨，能恨才能爱。

知道：您好像对最近比较受捧的木心著作评价不高？

林贤治：首先他的文字并不像陈丹青说的那么好，当然，这个是文学的鉴赏问题，很私人化。第二，他们这类消闲的享乐性的文字，拿到国内当下来叫卖，能有什么好处？他当然算是一个散文家的存在，但是标榜为顶好的，“唯一”的，我不赞成。

知道：注重享受和悠闲生活的小资写作，现在似乎是一种潮流。

林：对于一个写作者来说，进入上流社会，倘能保持平常的心理，依然关注大多数，这个是很难的事情。如果能够做到，并保持最初的淳朴之心，我对这样的人保持敬意。有闲阶级大抵沉迷在享受当中，他们会不会在冬天想到赤脚的没鞋穿的人，会不会想到工厂的打工者，我想大概不会。如果从这个角度来说，整个写作群体是可疑的。绝大多数的文化人有一种领导心态，如果用正常的、健康的观念去引导普通人，这个并不坏，但是作为一个启蒙者，不应该有优越感，并且他还应主动批判自己，能够做到这点的，环顾我们周围，到底有多少，这是一个问题。我觉得鲁迅的好处就在这里，他觉得自己身上有很多不洁的东西。

知道：同为鲁迅的拥趸，你和陈丹青对于木心的评价为何如此的悬殊？

林：陈丹青对鲁迅有过一些恰当的表述，但是鲁迅身上的反抗意识，尤其对权力者的反抗，这是他所不看重的。以他对木心的赞誉，如果他对鲁迅评价很高，那不是打架的吗？如果木心的东西是中国散文之最，你想想，鲁迅的文字应当摆到哪里去呢？

知道：你很看重鲁迅对普通大众的悲悯情怀，那么，你觉得余华在写许三观、李光头这些角色时有没有这样的悲悯？他的文字打动了不少人，并让大家为之落泪。

林：余华的语感不错，但是他的文字有没有悲悯？我认为他没有。你看他写的《许三观卖血记》、《活着》以及最近的《兄弟》，笔调都是冷静的，甚至可以说是冷酷的。别人说鲁迅的特点第一是冷静，第二是冷静，第三还是冷静，鲁迅对此并不以为然，他其实非常重视热情。在谈到讽刺和幽默的区别时，他就认为，幽默是没有热情的，而讽刺是有的。有些作家就是冷酷的、麻木的，看什么事情都非常理性，他就是不动心，只长脑子，但不长心灵，他们没有那份关心，没有热情，这个一点都不奇怪，也不妨碍他成为一个作家。但是，我认为文学写作中，关怀和悲悯是很重要的。苦难对余华来说，只是题材，至于处理这个题材的态度是另外一回事，他关注这个题材，并不能表明他有悲悯的情怀。比如余华写《一个地主之死》，其中写到一个女人被轮奸的过程，有一大段文字。你想想，一个作家为什么写这么长，这样冗赘的叙述，是小说的有机部分吗？是情节的必然要求吗？你看一下《查莱泰夫人的情人》，虽然写了很多，但是你一点都不会觉得色情，因为这是小说的人物关系、情节、主题所需要的。这个就是两者的差距。

革命是解放人，不是奴役人

知道：鲁迅对革命是抱着赞成的态度的，他在演讲和文章中多次提到革命，比如1927年3月在中山大学开学典礼上的演说，提到前进即革命，故年轻人原来有尤应该是革命的。而近些年来，中国知识界有一种否定革命否定暴力的声音，认为革命往往会带来暴力和恐怖行为。您怎么看待这种观点？

林：学者之流对革命的否定很可笑，而中国否定始于革命是90年代的，为什么到90年代才提出这个问题？这个值得深思。革命其实很简单，它就是一种前进的变化。暴力也好，和平也好，就是促进这种变化。鲁迅是赞成革命的，革命在他那里有大革命和小革命之分，“小革命”是指渐进的，改良的，“大革命”则是激进的，包括使用暴力在内。在西方，对革命一词的一般看法，既包括法国大革命式的激进的变革，也包含了英国工业革命的渐进方式。革命方式和程度的不同，要看前革命时期所谓旧制度是怎么样的一种情况。革命是历史发展的程序，并不是一个人或者一个革命家所能够决定的，走到革命那一步是社会各种力量的合力造成。比如我们看苏东革命，为什么捷克是和平解决，而罗马尼亚却要流血？还有今天的颜色革命，为什么经过80年代末那场巨变风波后十多年，还会发生？革命本身是一种客观存在，你能否定他的存在吗？否定革命存在的合理性，便否定了人民主权本身。革命是一种方式，一种手段，但首先是一种权利，任何人都无权从人民那里夺走这一权利。

知道：我看了某位学者的一本书，主要是从革命的残酷、暴虐一面来比较，说法国人和中国人十分相像。

林：不相像呀！法国人的那种向往自由精神中国人没有呀！如果说自由的运动或者为自由的运动，疯狂是自由的疯狂。但是如果没有“自由”两个字，那是十足疯狂，中国的义和团运动、文化大革命，有没有提到“自由”两个字？因此拿中国的革命和法国大革命做比较是非常可笑。因为这把法国大革命最本质的东西，即是它的革命原则——自由——抽掉了，革命是解放人的，不是奴役人。但我们是奴役人的运动，我们那个不能叫革命。过分强调了法国大革命的恐怖，而否定了它的革命原则和这场革命的意义是不公正的。我们今天在谈人权、自由，应该说我们已经接受了法国大革命对我们的沾溉，可以说我们已经享受到了法国大革命的果实。当然我们对法国大革命的恐怖行为并不是避而不谈，而是要作为一种历史现象来理解他。暴力好不好？我们不能抽象去否定暴力。让人民恐怖自然不好，但如果让专制暴君恐怖呢？比如现在有这么一种看法：否定辛亥革命，而谈康梁怎么好，袁世凯好，就是搞宪政的。但如果不是孙中山，我们这些人的脑袋说不定还拖着辫子，共和取代帝制，这有何不好？一个非常简单的道理，为什么有些学者们却不懂呢。

鲁迅，无法继承和超越的传统

知道：80年后，已经成长，不乏有一些对鲁迅热爱的年轻人，比如于仲达、陈壁生等年轻人他们对鲁迅也有独到的见解和研究，您有没有关注过这一“鲁迷”群体，对他们您有何评价？

林：我和其中个别人有过接触，但不是很了解。他们对鲁迅的研究虽然说不上很全面很了解，但总能把握住鲁迅最本质的东西——就是作为战斗的一面。

知道：那么您觉得身处这样一个时代，年轻人从鲁迅那里继承过来的最重要是什么样的一种精神资源？

林：战斗，战斗性，反强权、反专制、人道主义的精神资源。

知道：几年前，摩罗出了一本《因幸福而哭泣》，出版之后，被一些读者称为超越了鲁迅的精神。你怎么看待这种观点？

林：我不以为然，思想这东西和科技不一样，科技是日益更新，但思想不同，不能说过去的思想一定不如今天的思想，或者一个集团一个党的思想一定高于一个人的思想，思想应该是独立的。在我们时代，至今没有哪一种力量超越了鲁迅。

知道：现在很多年轻人，读鲁迅的不多，倒是像洁尘这样的小资文字风格倒很受欢迎。那么您觉得我们这一代年轻人如何继承鲁迅那种反专制、反强权的精神资源？

林：我是一个悲观主义者，我不认为这种资源的存在对后世一定会发生作用，你个人阅读多少，吸收有多少化为身上的血肉和热量，并付诸行动，多少人能够这么做很难说，甚至没有人，这也不奇怪。历史的继承关系不一定过去有的将来有。你看我们有多少资源在那里沉睡，它在那里，你不开发，即使有也等于没有。

知道：您出版相关鲁迅的著作，编写《读书之旅》、《散文与人》、《记忆》、《人文随笔》、《人文中国》系列丛书，是不是可以看作有意识将这种精神资源延续下去？

林：这种想法在我这里是明确的，总的来说，希望弘扬人文精神——这在我们中国十分缺失。由于客观原因，《读书之旅》等丛书都没有能够延续下去，这对我来说是非常遗憾的事情。我并没有放弃，但我也悲观地认为：鲁迅的精神，这是一个人的传统，几乎不可能继承。

［狱委讯］据自由亚洲电台消息：山东律师李建强正在为被拘捕的异议人士陈树庆和网络作家力虹，也就是张建红提供法律援助作准备。

报道说，独立中文作家笔会狱中委员会在得知中国民主党成员陈树庆被刑事拘留后，安排了山东的李建强律师联系其家人并提供法律援助。同时也为浙江的网络作家力虹提供法援。 李建强星期三对本台表示：目前正在跟浙江的公安机关接洽。这两个案子都有可能取保候审。 对于陈树庆和力虹被以“涉嫌煽动颠覆国家政权”为名刑事拘留，李建强律师说，张建红最近在网上发表的文章主要是为高智晟律师呼吁，和为法轮功在大陆受迫害事件而呼吁。他认为，这些评论涉及言论自由的权力，不能构成刑事犯罪。

李建强律师还说，陈树庆是中国民主党的一个成员，他的文章主要是倡导民主和平理性这样一种政治理念，政府对他的拘捕目前看不出有什么合法的理由。

《狱中书简》的作者，常常为我提供了精神援助的朋霍费尔，生于1906年，做过牧师和大学教授，1943年因参与反纳粹活动而被捕，1945年4月9日，在盟军解放佛洛森格集中营的前一天，被纳粹判以环首死刑，英年早逝。那是一个真正的乱世。纳粹德国在不断地扩展专制政治的同时，一切有良知的知识分子都在经受着严酷的考验，并要求他们作出新的抉择。一些人选择了流亡，更多的人则选择了效忠纳粹。像物理学家约翰内斯。施塔克、恩斯特。莱纳德等人，就曾写信辱骂爱因斯坦，声称存在着纯粹的“德意志物理学”；像哲学家海德格尔，1933年5月27日开始就任弗莱堡大学校长，曾建议把劳役、兵役、脑力劳动结合起来，革新大学精神，他指出：“大加称颂的‘学术自由’应遭到德国大学的唾弃……领袖本人而且他一个人就是活生生的、本来的德国现实及法律。”1933年11月，有700多名教授在效忠希特勒的声明书上签字。

这就是二战前夕德国精神的基本背景。所幸的是，在这黑暗的幕布上，还有一些勇敢的人，觉悟的人，以叛徒的名义给自由与正义进行重新命名，如参与组织地下抵抗运动的慕尼黑大学哲学教授胡伯所说：“每个肯对道德负责的人，都会发出反对只有强权没有公理的统治的呼声。我要求：把自由还给人民，使他们挣脱奴役的锁链。我确信，无情的历史进程，必将证明我的希望和行为是正确的。”这些人当中就有神学家朋霍费尔。朋霍费尔二战前夕还在美国讲学，他明知回国凶多吉少，依然婉言谢绝朋友们让他留在国外避难的劝告，只身返回日益黑暗的德国。返国前，他在给神学家尼布尔的信中表示，他来美国实在是一个错误，在祖国艰难时期，他觉得自己应该与国内的基督徒生活在一起，假如他此时不分担同胞的苦难，将无权参予战后德国基督徒生活的重建。

他这样说了，也这样做了。当其他的文人学者像逃离瘟疫一样逃离德国时，朋霍费尔主动承担起坚持良知的声音可能有的苦难与折磨。他要在盖世太保设置的种种障碍──禁止他授课、写作、发表演说，禁止他呆在柏林──之下，做好自己的教会工作，又要人悄悄地给他提供各种各样的护照以及一位特殊信使所需要的种种文件。“我们有那么多的障碍要去克服，然后才能自由地表达我们心里的东西。”[1]但朋霍费尔没有灰心，相反，他非常珍惜这些苦难与限制，把它看作是生活的馈赠和他在信仰中参与基督的受难的一次良机。他说：“我们的所有作品，一夜之间就可能被摧毁，而且我们的生活与父辈相比，已经变成了无定形的、支离破碎的。可是，尽管有这一切，我只能说，我还是不会选择在任何别的时代生活，而只选择我们这个时代，虽然它是如此不顾及我们的外在命运。”

到底是什么东西在促使朋霍费尔如此热爱他生活的时代以及那个时代特有的苦难呢？只有一种解释，那就是他的信念和一个普通基督徒对政治生活的责任感。这也是朋霍费尔与其他神学家的不同之处，他不像卡尔。巴特和阿道夫。冯。哈纳克等人那样过分地关注理论教义问题，而是关注生活实践，强调信仰的行为性。他要求每个人以自己的步伐去接受生活，连同生活的一切责任和难题，成功与失败，种种经验与孤立无援；他反对基督徒把自己封闭在一个与世隔绝的纯精神性的属灵生活中。在朋霍费尔看来，做一个有信仰的人，并不意味着要以一种特定的方式做宗教徒，也不意味着要培养某种形式的禁欲主义，而是意味着要做一个人，不是那种“宗教性的人”，而是纯粹的、单纯的人。也只有这样一种人，才可能将神那无限的爱彰显在世界上，并在生活的各个领域见证基督的美德。

从理论教义回到信仰实践，从宗教性的人回到单纯的人，朋霍费尔的这种思想表述，事实证明是极有价值也是极富先见的。在朋霍费尔生活的那个年代，信仰和神学界已经开始出现两种脱离现实生活的不良倾向。一是以巴特为代表的新正统主义神学，陷入了一种注重教义阐释却永远给不出答案的困境之中。巴特曾在瑞士担任过二十年的牧师，目睹第一次世界大战的痛苦与受难后，他越发觉得自由主义神学已经破产。他在圣经中看到“一个奇异的新世界”，只是，巴特对这个新世界的认识，不再像他所尊崇的先贤马丁。路德那样，完全用信心，而是认为，我们只能用辨证的方法，用命题和反命题，“是”与“非”的方法来讨论神的问题，这样一来，巴特的神学观念充满的就是思想的复杂性，更接近于哲学的艰深，它与圣经中的平民精神是相背的；接下来的卜仁纳、布特曼、尼布尔等人，更是把神学不断地引到思想的迷津之中，使之失去了在信仰的实践中展开的可能，到了蒂利希，他的巨著《系统神学》，已创造出一个庞大的思想系统，它在不知不觉中就代替了纯正的信仰精神，如，他把神改称为“终极”，进而说“神这个理念”，再后神就成了“圣洁的感知”，连专业的思想工作者都觉得云里雾里，普通的人就更是望而却步了；第二种倾向是自十七世纪以来英国的盖恩夫人、芬乃伦神父、劳伦斯神父所倡导的内里生命奥秘派神学在整个西方信仰界非常盛行，许多信徒为了达到内里生命的成熟，完全沉湎于个人的灵修，不问世事，使信仰几乎失去了影响世俗生活的能力，落到了一种自我封闭的危险之中。朋霍费尔及时地意识到了这两种倾向对一个专制与极权正在生长的社会所造成的消极作用，所以他才在《跟随基督》、《狱中书简》等著作中强调信仰的实践性与责任感，以期在实际的生活中践行十字架的真理。鉴于朋霍费尔当时所处的特殊境遇，这样一种实践与责任显得非常迫切，只有它，能够叫人在屈从暴力换取生存与坚持良知面对死亡之间作出选择；也只有它，能够叫人在黑暗的处境里有信心活下去。“正当一切似乎都是最黑暗的时候，这是美好的东西即将来临的神圣征兆和保证。为着未来的一代而思索、而行动，但又毫不畏惧、毫不担忧地承担起每一天——我们不得不以这种精神在实际中生活。”本着对生活本身的挚爱以及责任感，朋霍费尔在思想和行动上成功地从理论教义的争辩与个人闭抑的属灵空间里突破出来，为我们留下了一段辉煌而真实的生活——那本应是所有知识者都该履行的有尊严的生活。同时，朋霍费尔也在这种生活中实现了他在一封给青年的信中所提到的理想：“我们确实想为你们，为正在起来的一代人，保留一份遗产，这样你们就会有资源去建设一个新的更好的世界。”

我想，这份遗产就是朋霍费尔的良知、责任和实践，这个“新的更好的世界”就是每个人都像朋霍费尔那样愿意承担责任。确实，如果没有这种责任感的驱使，朋霍费尔从美国回到纳粹掌权的德国是不可思议的。而且，朋霍费尔所言的责任感，不是简单地为了国家、种族和民族主义，而是直接对生命、世界及他的信仰负责。这种责任感已经超越了民族主义和国家集体主义的范畴，具有了一种普遍的价值力量。遗憾的是，像朋霍费尔这样的战斗者太少了，像海德格尔这样的效忠者太多了，使得正义和良知的声音完全淹没在个人崇拜和民族自大的浪潮当中，从而酿就了集中营的悲剧。这个悲剧不是仅仅只关系到希特勒或艾克曼这些残暴的个人，它也与每个人息息相关，特别是知识者，更有不可推卸的责任。

我们可以追忆一下汉娜。阿伦特1963年出版的《耶路撒冷的艾克曼：关于寻常的罪恶的报告》一书中所写的艾克曼的良心。她告诉我们，艾克曼为自己辩护的一个论点就是“没有外在的声音来唤醒他的良知”。这句有力的辩词虽然不可能为艾克曼解除滔天罪行，但它的确为我们理解集中营的悲剧提供了一个新的途径。是的，在本应发声呐喊的时候却沉默了，这无疑是意味着你也用间接的方式参与了罪恶。关于这一点，战后的雅斯贝尔斯的反思最有代表性，他说：“我们全都有责任，对不义行为，当时我们为什么不到大街上去大声呐喊呢？”

或许，有一句话很值得我们铭刻于心：“对极权政府的扩展不作任何决定，就等于决定支持。”

艾克曼的辩解也有一些道理。假如当时真的有强大的抗议声来提醒艾克曼的良知，也许死的人要少得多。面对艾克曼的辩解，海德格尔们需要低下他们的头颅，而朋霍费尔却是无愧于他的信仰，也无愧于人类的。完全是因为听命于内心那至高无上的道德律令的指使，朋霍费尔这个一介书生，居然参与了行刺希特勒的行动计划，最后与他的妹妹和妹夫一同被捕。我每想起这一幕，心中就会涌起一股对朋霍费尔的深深敬意。

对于当时的德国来说，朋霍费尔是一个民族的叛徒，因为他行刺希特勒是希望德国早日垮台。可是，人类历史在许多时候，正是由于有了朋霍费尔式的叛徒才显得光彩夺目。苏格拉底被当时的统治者和庸众指认为“反对民主的叛徒”；葛兰西这个“叛徒”曾被墨索里尼政权形容成“对公共秩序非常危险的人物”；帕斯捷尔纳克、索尔仁尼琴、布罗茨基等人也曾被当时的苏联政府定罪为背叛国家。然而，历史证明，他们才是那个时代良知、正义与尊严的代表。非常清楚，当一个政权背叛了全人类的意志时，一个有良知的人的唯一选择是背叛这个政权。否则，就如我在上面所指出的那样，对极权政府的扩展不作任何决定，就等于决定支持。

二十世纪中国的悲剧，也许就在于这样的叛徒太少了。鲁迅是少数的例外者之一，他如瞿秋白所说的是真正的“逆子贰臣”。他背叛了以精神礼教为代表的传统文化，背叛了充满专制与血的中国，甚至背叛了那些背叛者。他说“让他们怨恨去，我也一个都不宽恕”，他说“革命不是教人死而是教人生的”，他说他不想做人，想做鬼，做“女吊”，因为“女吊”决绝于恶的人世，……见过鲁迅和熟读鲁迅的那一代人，到“反右”、“文革”时期，可以说把鲁迅的言辞与精神全忘了。

这样比较起来，我越发觉得朋霍费尔的伟大。他的伟大不单表现在他与纳粹的抗争上，还表现在狱中的他所具有的那坚韧不拔的信心与勇气上。读着他的充满人情味的《狱中书简》，我们就可以想见朋霍费尔有一颗怎样的大质量的心灵。他那惊人的安宁，自制，温柔，对他人的体贴，关怀，以及那永不绝望的信念，深刻地体现了他的一个重要的思想本质：真正的信仰，就是为他人而生活。按常人看来，密谋刺杀希特勒的失败对朋霍费尔是一个可怕的打击，但他面对这一打击时，心里却怀着一种崇高的献身精神，怀着承担一切后果和由此而来的全部痛苦的坚定决心。

在被囚的近两年时间里，朋霍费尔照顾病人，与同囚交谈，还大量地阅读了康德、狄尔泰、陀斯妥耶夫斯基、施蒂夫特、克勒尔等人的著作，而且一刻也没有停止思考神学问题。他渴望出狱，但并不焦急；他需要安慰，却反而在信中安慰家人。这份坦然与平静是非信仰者所难以想象的。他说，狱中的生活对他而言“也是一种有益的必要的体验，它有助于人们更好地理解人生”：“在命令之下受苦比以自由、负责的人接受痛苦容易得多。和别人一起受苦比独自受苦容易得多。以大众英雄受苦比默默无闻地受苦容易得多。身体受苦比精神受苦容易得多。基督孤独地以一个无罪的人默默无闻地身心双重受苦，从那时起，许多基督徒愿意和他一同受苦”；他劝家里人“必须像我一样，等待事情的自然发展，不要想象我会焦躁不安或灰心丧气”：“我一直是精神饱满，内心相当地满足”：“我从来没有片刻的无聊，尽管现在我已在此呆了五个多月了”：“我深深感到，我所需要的一切，不过是秋天的几枝花，狱中窗口望出去的景色，院中半小时的活动，在院子里，栗树和酸橙都显得很可爱。”

不可忽略信仰在朋霍费尔的生活中所起的决定性的作用。他所做的与他所信的是一致的，因为“人心里怎样思量，他为人就是怎样”。（《箴言》二十三章七节）。尤其是朋霍费尔在监狱的苦难与即将到来的肉身死亡面前没有丝毫的恐惧，这很强地表明他的心中有牢不可破的确信。“恐惧是人的一种阴暗面，是一种应该隐藏起来的东西。”他对苦难的态度，用他自己的神学上的话说是，在如今这个不信神的世界里，人应当有分于基督的受难，并学会担当神的苦弱。只有这样，我们才能永远站在神的面前，神也只能用这种方式与人同在。

这样的表达似乎有点自相矛盾，其实这是朋霍费尔提出的一个重要的神学主张。旧约里的神是威严而不可亲近的，因为他显现在人类面前的是公义的面貌，而公义是罪人的天敌。到了新约，神确立“道成肉身”的原则，以拿撒勒人耶稣为人与神之间的中保，并以耶稣在十字架上替众人死的救赎之路来平息人与神之间的罪债。朋霍费尔所说的分担神苦弱的意思是，为了拯救人类，耶稣只能从神的地位来到人的地位，最终死在十字架上。这次伟大的十字架事件是在耶稣背负世人的罪、进到人类的苦难与软弱中完成的。罪人要得到救赎，就必须信入这位十字架上的基督，并与他在生命的新样中联结。“只有一个受难的神，才能有助于人。”“基督徒在神的受难中与祂站在一起，那就是把他们同异教徒分开来的东西。”朋霍费尔还说，现在人受到的挑战，是要在一个不信神的世界里参与神的受难，这样的参与，就表明一个人开始摆脱一切虚伪的宗教和虚伪的义务，开始过一种此世的生活。

受难，是在此世受难，而此世又是一个怎样的世界呢？照朋霍费尔看来，这个世界大约从十三世纪开始人类就逐渐地走向自律，“在我们这个时代已得到了某种完成，人类已学会了对付所有重要的问题而不求助于作为一个起作用的假设的神。”人类自律的观念在哲学与神学的发展中清楚地体现了出来。在神学当中，在英国十七世纪的神学家赫伯特爵士肯定理性是宗教认识的充分工具的说法中，可以第一次看出这一点；在伦理学当中，第一次显示出来是在蒙田和博丹用道德原则取代摩西十诫的论述中；在政治学中，则有马基雅弗利，他使政治学摆脱了道德的监护，并建立了“国家理性”的学说；在哲学中，一方面有笛卡尔的自然神论，他认为世界像一部机器，不需神的干预而自行运转；另一方面则有斯宾诺莎的泛神论，他将神等同于自然；最后，康德是一位自然神论者。——在这条路线上一种日益增长的倾向，都是肯定人和世界的自律。

与此同时，那些基督教神学的种种世俗的衍生物，即那些生存主义哲学和精神治疗学家，就开始乘虚而入，开始介入人类的日常生活。他们在他们的著述中向自信、满足和幸福的人类证明，人类其实是不幸的、绝望的，只有他们可以救你脱离困境。他们的目的，首先是要把人们驱入内心的绝望，然后那就成了人们的绝望。“它触及了哪些人呢？一小批知识分子，一小批腐化堕落的人，一小批自以为在世界上最重要并因而喜欢盯着自己的人。”

朋霍费尔说的没有错，上述生存主义哲学家和精神治疗学家所提请现代人注意的那些构成现代人基本思想形态的东西，到二十世纪中叶以后变得非常普遍，为大多数人所接受并实践。事实上，从十八世纪启蒙时代的哲学家，十九世纪的实证论者到二十世纪正统的马克思主义思想家，全都同意一件事：他们相信科学知识的发展将产生一个新世界，宗教将败于越来越有自信心的世俗主义之手。确实，二十世纪末期，人类生活在一个物质极度发达的环境里，旧有的道德似乎已连根拔起，但科学的发达真的解决了人类内心的难题吗？不，这从占卜、算命、看相、风水在我们的生活中大行其道就可证明。另一方面，道德禁忌的解除，导致现代人越来越放荡和无所顾忌，有些人公然跑到街上说，人生没有意义；有些人崇尚迷幻药；有些人公开提倡性解放、集体吸毒等生活方式，这种情形正好应合了朋霍费尔四十年代时对这个世界的描述：“这个世界是由一些理性无力反抗的力量在控制着。”

这种力量控制的结果就是把神从这个世界推出去，从而宣告：没有神，认识和生活也是完全可能的。“甚至从康德以来，神就被放逐到了经验之外的领域。”“现在不论在道德上、政治上还是科学上，都不再需要神来作为一种起作用的假设了。在宗教或哲学上（费尔巴哈语）也不再需要这样一种神了。在理智上诚实的名义下，这些起作用的假设都被抛弃或省略。”

后来的许多人就据此将朋霍费尔看作是无神论者，看作是像尼采一样宣告“神死了”的人。这其实是对朋霍费尔极大的误解。虽然后来发展出来的“神死神学”等神学流派确实与朋霍费尔所说的“人类已经成熟，不再需要神的假设”的思想有关，但朋霍费尔所说的无神、不再需要神，并不是指神不存在了，他更深层次的意思，乃是反对那些幼稚、表面、狂热、虚伪的宗教现象和宗教行为，反对用一种陈腐的宗教方式来理解神，反对以非基督性的方式来解释信仰，即把神理解为人在软弱无助时所求助的神——朋霍费尔称之为“缝隙之神”。人类在未成年时，处处感到自己孤立无援，于是求助于神，这种神你可以把他称为“终级实在”、“存有本身”、“第一因”、“第一推动因”、“最高的善”，等等，但是，这些有关神的观念都是宗教式的、哲学式的、非基督性的，并不是圣经中所真正启示的那位“亚伯拉罕、以撒、雅各的神”。正因为看到这一点，朋霍费尔才提倡一种“非宗教的基督教”，其目的是为了恢复圣经的本来面貌，恢复生命的信仰。“基督教与其他宗教的不同之处在于，人的宗教意识使人在痛苦时才去仰赖世上有力的神，以神为救星。圣经则指引人去寻找一个无能为力和为此世经受着痛苦的神。唯有受苦的神才能帮助人。因此，所谓成年的世界应是放弃了对神的错误观念、并准备为圣经中所显示的神而奋斗的世界。”

换一句话说，现在这个世界存在着太多的伪神、偶像，而真正的神──在此世以苦弱的方式与人同在的神──反而被遮蔽了。所以，朋霍费尔在《伦理学》一书中提出了两种“无神”态度：“绝望的无神”与“孕育着希望的无神”。前者是指人企图取代神的位置，以宗教或意识形态景观来填补神的缺席。二十世纪的种种意识形态神话就是那些无神论者人为地制造伪神的真实写照。而后者强调的是人在日渐自律的世界里尽到一个人责任，其中一个最大的责任是分担神的苦弱，参与神的受难，从而与神同在。“假如我们通过此世的生活而参与了神的受难，成功怎么能使我们骄傲自大，失败又怎么能使我们迷失道路呢？”

人类的成年，迫使人类真正地认识到了自己与神面对面的处境。“让我们在这个世界上不用他作为起作用的假设而生活的那位神，就是我们永远站在他面前的那位神。在神面前，与神在一起，我们正在不靠神而生活。神允许他自己被推出这个世界，被推上了十字架。神在这个世上是软弱而无力的，而且这是他能够与我们同在并帮助我们的方式，唯一的方式。《马太福音》八章十七节清楚明白地告诉我们，基督帮助我们，不是靠祂的全能，而是靠祂的软弱和受难。”从这个角度来理解，朋霍费尔所说的世界借以成年的那个过程，就是放弃一种虚假的神的概念，从而为真正的神扫清地面，这个神凭着自己的软弱而征服了这个世界中的强力和空间。也只有在这个范围内，我们才能正确地领会朋霍费尔所说的基督徒要积极参与世俗生活的真实含义。

朋霍费尔说，人类通过词语，不论是神学语言还是虔诚的话语来了解每一件事的时代完结了，内心和良知的时代（这种时代应该说是宗教本身的时代）也完结了。我们正在走向一个完全没有宗教的时代：现在的人们简直不再可能具有宗教气质。即使是那些真诚地把自己说成是“宗教性”的人，至少也没有实行它。但这并不等于人类可以离开神的监护而生活，朋霍费尔身后的历史已经证明了这一点：二战之后，人类的苦难，罪恶，绝望，愚昧的个人崇拜，极权，战争，暴力，等等，不仅没有减少，反而增多了。因此，神学家布尔特曼曾公正地指出，即使勾销了神，人类的苦难与不幸依然得不到说明，也丝毫没有减轻。朋霍费尔也说，即使在所有的世俗问题上作了让步，也仍然存在着所谓终极问题──死亡、罪过等等，在这些问题上，只有神才能提供答案。

不过，朋霍费尔所说的神不再是观念上的神，而是生命的本身；信仰也不是那种制度化、组织化、宗教化的信仰，而是本着对世界与生命负责的态度进到社会生活的各个方面，以参与神的苦弱与受难。这实际上是来到了另一种意义上的人类的内心生活中，使人类在一片大混乱中重新找回生存的根基，“在我们生命的碎片中看到某种意义。”有根基的世界是真正给我们带来希望的世界，这个世界按朋霍费尔的预言，将会有以下的表现：“在文化方面，它意味着从报纸和收音机返回书本，从狂热的活动返回从容的闲瑕，从放荡挥霍返回冥想回忆，从强烈的感觉返回宁静的思考，从技巧返回艺术，从趋炎附势返回温良谦和，从虚张浮夸返回中庸平和。”

也就是说，人要从宗教状态返回到真实的内心，社会要从混乱返回到秩序。站在这个根基上，听从良知的召唤，为期待新的世界图景的来临而担负起作为一个纯粹的人该有的责任，并为此而奋斗，这就是朋霍费尔留给我们的遗产与启示。他至死都没有失去这个信念。当他平静地度过了近两年的牢狱生涯后，1945年4月9日，他被纳粹绞死。临死前，同室的囚友都去向他道别，他对他们说：“这，就是终点。对我来说，是生命的开端。”

他是乱世的先见，觉悟的勇士，光荣的叛徒，信仰忠实的实践者。他的死，为人类的良知在二十世纪的经历写下了悲伤的一页。

（注：文中朋费霍尔的话，均引自他的著作《狱中书简》，四川人民出版社，1997年。）

时光过去了整整30年。1976年7月28日的唐山大地震，是一道划在神州大地的深刻的痛。24万逝者是我们的亲人，时光不会忘记，生者永铭祭奠。然而，有人却把“纪念”变成了“商机”：一家公司弄了座刻名收费的“地震纪念墙”，“正面每一姓名1000元，背面800元”。（7月16日《敏猪与法制时报》）

你不能不惊叹国人发现“商机”的能力。年初的时候，在北京居庸关就出了个“爱情长城”刻名收费项目，情侣花999元即可认购一块城砖刻字，结果被叫停了；而此前，那里就曾折腾什么“宣言墙”，铭刻所谓“英才宣言”，一块砖面收费三千。面对此等情形，被称为世界上最会做生意的犹太人都要自叹弗如，因为在耶鲁撒冷哭墙的建设中，他们是想不到“刻名收费”这一招的，建设资金来源主要是慈善捐助者或者基金会。“慈善捐助”是掏钱，“刻名收费”是赚钱，两者霄壤之别。

与那个对准长城文化遗产挖掘“商机”不同，这个地震纪念墙，是赤裸裸朝着不幸遇难者的遗体“掘金”。他们那投入产出的算盘可以打得哗啦响：“投入”的无非是几块花岗岩石板，而24万人每人收你千儿八百，那是两亿多元的收入啊，想想也口水滴答响。对于如此“刻名收费”，有关方面理由很多，有“建纪念墙收费是商业行为，不是政府行为”、“免费刻名，谁也说不准什么时候会节外生枝”、“对军人、五保户等等免收和减收”云云，让你听着似乎要连喊“善哉善哉”。

但是，一百种理由也抵不上一颗良心！这个世界上，不是什么都可以变成商机、什么都可以拿来赚钱的。对于地震死难者的“刻名收费”，是一道划在伤口上的伤口，这个伤口更细更小，但更深更痛，它是精神的创伤、良知的伤口。正如大仲马所说的：“精神上的创伤有着这种特征——它可以被掩盖起来，但却不会收口，它是永远痛苦，永远被触及就会流血，永远鲜血淋淋地留在心头。”

让稀缺良心的商人们如此有机可乘，背后是公共职能的缺位和社会慈善的稀薄——这是看不见的“痛源”。地震纪念墙应该是政府提供的公共物品，它与商业无关，它的公益性不容置疑。这个世界上，是没有非公益性的地震、战争等纪念墙的。美国著名的越战纪念碑，是经美国国会批准建立的，1982年建成，当时二十出头的华裔女孩林璎的设计方案在1421个应征方案中胜出；纪念碑的黑色花岗岩墙壁上铭刻着58296名阵亡和失踪者的名字，那一截大理石墙，二十六个字母，便把这么多青年的名字嵌入历史。

在美国，还有一个著名的“口碑”，它不是花岗岩、大理石建造的，而是无形的，那就是每年的9.11纪念仪式上，诵读2801名死难者名字，年年如此，一次不少。人的生命永远是第一位的，这样的“口碑诵读”，就是“把生命刻进声音”的“口碑”。美国总统布什在第一届9.11纪念仪式之前这样说：“虽然他们死于悲剧，但他们不会白白送命。今天，整个国家向9.11遇难者致敬。我们纪念每个名字、每个生命。”

阳光打在墙上，良知刻在心里。尊重死者，也就是尊重生者。如果我们从心里、从心灵深处纪念唐山大地震24万死难者，那么，就应该让他们的名字安宁地刻入绝不收费的纪念墙，或者，在每年纪念仪式上诵读他们的名字，每次诵读24000人，十年就是一个轮回。