Lyrical reflections on Leifeng Pagoda
The Leifeng Pagoda towers over the famed West Lake scenic area in Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province (XINHUA)
I am a lover of all things historical and ancient. Recently, I had the opportunity to visit the Leifeng Pagoda in Hangzhou, capital of Zhejiang Province, with a history traversing thousands of years. Visitors can still see the original bricks laid down in 975 inside the tower. On September 5, 1924, the octagonal, five-storied structure built of brick and wood collapsed, without warning. In 2002, the pagoda was rebuilt.
The view from the top was breathtaking and is sure to earn the distinguished trip from my phone gallery into picture frames back home. But it wasn't just the view that gave me a reason to reflect and write. The impression it left on me after reading Lu Xun's works on the train ride back to campus in Shanghai also helped to spark that desire. Lu (1881-1936) was one of China's most famous fiction authors, poets and essayists. Many consider him the father of modern Chinese literature because he was the first serious author to write using modern colloquial language.
The Leifeng Pagoda was built at the behest of Qian Chu, the last king of the Wuyue, an independent coastal kingdom founded during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period (907-79).
The pagoda itself would fall on hard times, being looted and burned by Japanese pirates in the 16th century and locals would take bricks to grind down into powder believing it would grant them magical properties. One could be forgiven for finding the timing of its collapse in 1924 remarkable. By that time, China was hounded by foreign imperialists, plagued by despotic warlords and their warring, and unable to provide solutions to the myriad of economic and social ills the country was grappling with. Finally, the ancient structure collapsed and contemporaries were quick to realize the symbolism.
Lu welcomed the collapse as it represented the old feudal order that could no longer save China. The renowned author was known for scathing attacks on traditionalism and in another work titled A Madman's Diary, a dark, satirical story about a younger brother visiting his brother's village only to find out its residents are all cannibal murderers. Lu ends with "Perhaps there are still children who have not eaten men? Save the children..." Did he actually believe the collapse of such an ancient building warranted celebration and cannibal cults populated China? No.
The murder and cannibalism in the village are a metaphor for the oppressive feudal and patriarchal social order that ran rampant in old China; the "madman" is the only sane man who sees the destructive nature of this feudal culture. According to Lu, the collapse of the Leifeng Pagoda was a sign that traditionalism and reactionary politics were dead ends and it would take a break from tradition toward progressive politics, such as Marxism, to lead China out of its regressive situation.
Flash forward to 2002, 53 years after the founding of the People's Republic of China, also referred to as the New China, and a rebuilt Leifeng Pagoda opened to the public. A year after China joined the World Trade Organization and would see its economy take off and soon after rise to become the world's second largest economy right behind my home country, the United States. In this New China, culture belongs to the people and museums and sites like the pagoda are accessible to the population for a cheap price of admission (only 20 yuan or $2.84). The rebuilding of the pagoda makes traditionalism subservient to progress, frees the minds of youth from the old ways of ordering society while bestowing upon them rich historical heritage once hoarded by nobility.
As long as progressive and forward-thinking leaders continue to helm China, traditional culture will thrive and find worldwide respect and admiration.