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A Smile of Recognition, A Look of Disdain, Sharing a Uyghur Frame

The Legacy of Ai Qing’s Xinjiang Poetics

Sometimes the mountains faded into the whiteness of the clouds and it was difficult to distinguish what was snow and what was clouds. Yet some days there were no clouds and the mountains seem to float in the air. This caused me to have a good and proper smile. –Ai Qing, The Poetic Life, 2007, 67 (Looking south from Shihezi to the Heavenly Mountains)

1. Like the rest of contemporary China, Xinjiang is going through a rapid economic transformation. By simultaneously depoliticizing the economic and encouraging a new ethic of entrepreneurialism, new forms of governance and subsidized development in Xinjiang are drawing waves of rural Han migrant workers from other parts of China. In general terms, these new arrivals are faced with the same uncomfortable environment and ethnic difference that confronted Ai Qing, China’s preeminent revolutionary poet and father of rabble-rouser Ai Weiwei, when he arrived in the late 1950s. In fact, throughout China’s history new migrants to Northwest China have been forced to resolve whether Xinjiang can be transformed into a home, in Heidegger’s phenomenological terms – a place of being, or if it will remain a location of social exile – an oblivion of being, far from their ancestral villages in Eastern China.

Ai was an old man, 68, when he was rehabilitation by the Party in Beijing in 1978. After more than twenty years of reeducation through toilet-cleaning in a military-agriculture forced-labor camp in the steppes of Northern Xinjiang, Ai told Geremie Barmé that he was a “fossil-poet” (Barmé 1999: xi). Riffing on his recently published poem “Living Fossils” (Huó Huàshí), Ai compared his existence to that of a leaping fish frozen in a sudden catastrophe in a pre-historical strata of the earth. Discovered in the durative present the fossilized fish seems as vital as the day it had been subsumed (Barmé 2011).

“But you are silent, breathless,/… Faced with this fossil/ any fool can see:/ We cannot live unless we can move./ To live is to struggle, /to advance/ We must expend our all/ Before the advance of death” (in Barmé 2011).

2. The sentiment behind this poem recalls the smothering effect of exile on Ai Qing life. He went to Xinjiang in 1959 at the height of his powers and emerged from the wilderness in 1978 an ancient poet. Ai wrote surprisingly little about his time in Xinjiang. Only an introduction to a book of photography called The Heavenly Mountains (Tian Shan) deals with his time there directly. Describing the mountains as an elegiac landscape, Ai focuses the reader’s attention on the colors and sounds of the forests, the danger inherent in converting wildness into land which sustains life, the deaths that are buried next to escarpments on winding roads. He speaks with great fondness for the shrouded mystery of the mountains and the warmth of the people that lived there. Reading through the sparseness of the prose, one senses a great mind which sweeps in all the details around him. (Excerpts from the four page essay followed by the Chinese are appended below)

The essay turns on decisive moments in the summer of 1968 when the cultural struggle intensified and Ai was dragged out across the desert to a labor camp far from the mountains. As his son puts it, his writing materials were taken away from him, he was made to scrub communal toilets, and the Ai family was forced to live in an earthen pit covered with brush and mud (2011:53). It was during moments of living in this atmosphere of intense alienation that Ai looked across the desert to the mountains floating in the distance and still found a way to smile. As he put it: “no matter where I was, if it was a sunny day I always look to the South for the trace of the mountains against the horizon” (Ai Qing 2007: 67). Ai Qing’s legacy has left little impression in Xinjiang. The only public marker that remains is a small shrine in the Shihezi, Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps (Xīnjiāng shēngchǎn jiànshè bīngtuán) Museum.

Tybetanka Oser, prof. Ilham Tohti, Ujgur i Ai Weiwei, Han; Pekin, 19 maja 2013.

The Dream Team: Ilham Tohti, Uyghur; Tybetanka Oser, Tibetan; Ai Weiwei, Han. Beijing May 19, 2013.

3. Yet the legacy of his life lives on in his son Ai Weiwei. Tomorrow, July 9, marks the four year anniversary of the terminal censorship of Weiwei’s famous blog. On that day he wrote a stinging critique of the government’s handling of the July 2009 riots in Urumqi:

“I lived in Xinjiang for sixteen years and never had the opportunity to come in contact with Uyghurs, so I don’t really understand them. This should be enough to illustrate the problem. I’ve had limitless contact with the Han, and I know how shameless and capable of disappointing some of them can be…. Freedom is limited by the freedom your prisoners enjoy, without freedom for others; you will never have a day of peace” (Ai 2011: 235).

In what follows he outlined how recent policy in Xinjiang reflects a governance structure that favors those who stand to benefit from existing power relations from Beichuan to Urumqi. This rebuke turned out to be the last post he was permitted to write on his blog.

As I have written elsewhere, in the summer of 2011 Ai Weiwei was released from prison after three months of hooded confinement in what he stated was as close to spiritual death as is physically possible. I can imagine that he must have thought about what it felt like for his father, a maroon in a Chinese desert, cleaning toilets, digging out a home for free thought with his bare fingers. Yet what distinguishes Ai Weiwei from his father is the way he has been able to surround himself with a friends who support and amplify his work. Unlike the oblivion experienced by his father, Ai Weiwei has built himself a self-enclosed retreat in Beijing and in recent times has begun cultivating a friendship with one of the most courageous Uyghurs living in China today: the social commentator Ilham Tohtihttp://abcn.ws/10EdliQ ). While his father was banished for his loyalty to his friends — namely the great socialist feminist fiction writer Ding Ling, Ai Weiwei has found in solidarity a prophylactic.  By converting the givenness of existence into life made meaningful by friendship, laughter, and affection Ai Weiwei is subverting the despair of alienation. He, and host of other minor actors in the great Chinese drama, remind us that those who both mindfully and mindlessly dominate the culturally different are not the only players in the art of life in Chinese Central Asia. A politics of recognition; an ethics of sharing pain, is also possible.

Further Reading:

Ai Qing艾青. Selected Poems of  Ai Qing (Eugene Chen Eoyang trans.) Bloomington: Indiana University Press  1988

— Shiyi Shenghou 诗意生活 (The Poetic Life).,  Beijing Shi : Zhongguo qingnian chubanshe 中国青年出版社, 2007.

Ai Weiwei. 艾未未Ai Weiwei: New York 1983-1993, “Interviews,” (Trans. Stephanie H. Tung with Alison Klayman) Beijing: Chambers Fine Art, 2010.

— Ai Weiwei’s Blog. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2011.

Barmé, Geremie. “A View on Ai Weiwei’s Exit.” April 27, 2011. The China Beat. (Retrieved on May 24 2012 from http://www.thechinabeat.org/?p=3371)

—  (1999). In the red: On contemporary Chinese culture. Columbia University Press.

Exerpts from: “Remembering the Heavenly Mountains”

There are many famous mountains and great rivers under heaven, (but) I have  the most intimate relationship with the Tian Shan. Recently on a trip back from Europe, after we had flown over Central Asia, I asked the flight attendant ” When will we be over Xinjiang?” The purpose of my question was that of seeing the Tian Shan from a high altitude.  As we approached the border,  from 5000 meters I saw ten thousand mountains spread out below me, it was early in the morning, the snow covered peaks of the Tian Shan shown in the  morning light, as though in the middle of a great sea ten thousand waves rolled and broke to the horizon…. The Tian Shan! The Magnificent Tian Shan! The Vast Tian Shan!

I have already lived at the foot of this mountain range for 16 years, (they) account for a quarter of the time of my life, today I saw is, how can I not be excited? I came to Xinjiang in the winter of 1959. Since then I’v passed through the Jade Gate on numerous occasions. From Xingxing Gorge, Hami on the Turpan road I saw the Flaming Mountains (Huoyan Shan). In the far distance they seemed to been burning for a thousand years in an unextinguished flame,  no wonder they caused ancient poets to produce mythologies ….

After I first arrived in Urumqi, I received an assignment, my writing activity was guided by the Tian Shan. A few times while in and around gorges in the middle of the Tian Shan, I stayed in yurts and houses. At that time there was a Xinjianli steel factory, and I remember quite a few people from that time. I sometimes went up to plateaus above 4000 meters, the area that divided North from South Xinjiang; (up on the plateau) there was a newly opened mountain pass, the wind was very strong, sometimes there were blizzards,while at other times the sun was blazingly hot. In the vicinity of the plateau there was a glacier, a vast plain of silvery white, everyone knew that this glacier was extremely deep.

During that time, we were all working on a new post-Liberation highway. The Tian Shan road was very difficult to build. The road had some stretches that were extremely narrow, and not only narrow, for the most part it was very windy, cars must constantly blow their horns so that oncoming traffic  could wait to pass at relatively wide sections of the road before moving on down the road. On the sides of the road were steep dropoffs, the scrubby trees concealed great abysses; there was the sound of the unceasing tumbling of mountain streams, the sound of moving water haunted the place. I think those that built the roads during that time had a very difficult time. The road passed through a few places where the mountain hung over the path of the road,  You can see some memorials in these places where construction workers were buried.  They allowed us to leave a word or a wild flower in tribute to them. In this stretch of the road you can also saw herdsmen moving from rangeland to rangeland, they just had two camels to carry their yurt and furniture. I also often saw enthusiastic young men who came to build the frontier coming to the Tian Shan. There were cola mines, iron mines, lime kilns, pottery factories, and a lot of residences in the Tian Shan. There were already villages forming.

On the northern slope of the Tian Shan, the vegetation was verdant with spruce and pine. The life force of these forests was especially vigorous because they depended on snowmelt for their water supply, this allowed their seeds to germinate and their roots to hold in the smallest rocky crevice, their trunks were straight and tall, in addition to being thick and dense, they spread for tens of kilometers in the form of an immense forest. I’ve seen immense red rocks down in the coal mines, they seemed like ancient castles, more imposing then any construction you have ever seen. Our painters and architects should get their inspiration from that …. Those who raised sheep were extremely warm-hearted, we ate extremely lush dinners.  The land could produce…everything a person could want.

Chinese Language Text of “Remembering the Heavenly Mountains” 


天下的名山大川很多,唯独天山和我的关系最深。最近我坐飞机从欧洲回来,在飞越中亚细亚之后,我问航空服务员”什么时间到新疆? “我的目的是要从高空看天山。到国境线上,我从一万米的上空看下界的万重山,时间是早晨,天山的雪峰映著初阳,像大海中的万顷搜涛奔腾而过……天山!雄伟的天山!壮阔的天山!我就曾经在这茫茫无边的群山的脚下生活了十六年,占我的生命的四分之一的时间,今天我看到它,怎能不激动呢?我是在一九五九年冬天到新疆。从那之后我曾多次进出玉门。我从星星峡、哈密到吐鲁番的路上看见了火焰山。远远看去,好像在燃烧著千年不灭之火,难怪古代的诗人由它而产生了神话一一孙悟空借了铁扇公主的扇子想扑灭火焰山。






As always any suggestions regarding the translation of the text are welcome. 


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