Universal History and Chinese Values (Zhang Xudong)

此文原为应《中国社会科学报》“中国道路”特刊之约所作的访谈，转发于《文化纵横》
2010年第一期，题目为编辑所加。

The original text was first published as "The Chinese Way" in a specially requested interview with the Chinese Social Science Report, and later republished with the Culture Every Which Way.


中国价值的世界历史使命
张旭东

The Mission of The Universal History of Chinese Values
by Zhang Xudong

中国价值是普遍价值的具体实践

Chinese Values As the Particular Realization of Universal Values

首先应该挑明的是，今天提出“全球视野下的中国价值”这个问题，就是要把“中国价值”放
到“普世文明”的高度上和框架内来思考，把“中国价值”定义为当代中国人探索和创造普遍
意义和普遍价值的集体实践。

First and foremost, we must be very clear about something: the problem referred to today as "Chinese Values as seen through a Global Perspective," is merely a quest to place "Chinese Values" onto the pedestal of "Universal Civilization" and to conceive of it within this precise framework; to make of "Chinese Values" the definition of a collective realization of contemporary Chinese search for and creation of universal meaning.

不然的话，所谓“普世文明”只能是一个空洞的概念，因为它
会被种种流俗意见赋予同今天中国的集体实践相抵触、甚至对立的含义，渐渐地在人们心
目中成为某种外在的、高高在上的、甚至不可企及的绝对标准。它会被用来挑剔、敲打
和质疑当代中国人的集体实践，让我们处处怀疑自己行动和思考的正当性，处处要到别人
那里去讨“说法”，而不是充满自信地去走自己的路，去创造、挖掘和认识属于这个时代的
具有深远意义的价值。

If this were not the case, this so-called "Universal Civilization" would merely be a vacuous signifier. It would be some kind of notion which all common ideas would endow with the collective realization of contemporary China's contradictions, extending even to opposing opinions, thereby gradually becoming in people's minds a kind of external, supernal, and even unreachable, definitive standard, used to stroke, rap and call into question contemporary Chinese collective realization, thus making Chinese doubt on every front the rationality of their own movements and thoughts, forcing them to constantly seek for the proper phrases of "others" with which to speak, not walking with full confidence along the path they have chosen, foiling the processes of creation, discovery, and familiarization of the lasting significance of the values possessed by this generation.


所以，我们在讨论这个问题时的第一个前提，就是要把所谓“普世文明”放到“中国价值”内
部去把握，把“中国价值”确立为“普世文明”的具体实践，也就是说，后者的现实化和普遍
化，有赖于前者的参与和探索，正如它有赖于其他社会、民和文明形态的参与和探索。也
只有这样，“普遍”才作为理想、作为有待实现的东西而真正成为普遍之物。否则，它不过
是为强势文明所垄断的霸权符号。它的史实质，恰恰是一些个别的、特殊的事物，而不是
普遍性本身。另一方面，如果不在一个普遍性的高度上和框架里谈“中国价值”，这个问题
也很容易落入一个概念的陷阱，仿佛我们今天要探索的“中国价值”仅仅是一种特殊“国
情”，是中国人自己的事情，与他人无关，进而产生一种小富即安、夜郎自大的心态。在全
球化的今天，人类的物质和精神交往已经达到这样的程度，任何偏安一隅、自给自足、与
世无争的态度都是不现实的，甚至是危险的。且不说这种心态同中国日益深入地介入世界
经济活动和政治生活的实际相悖，同全世界对“中国影响”和“中国因素”日益增长的期待
（当然这种期待有正面的，也有负面的）相悖，它也会限制我们自身认识和思考“中国价值”
的眼界和抱负。

无论在经济领域、政治领域，还是文化领域，撇开“世界”和“普遍性”谈中国，都不会有真正
的结果，因为，实际上“中国”本身早已存在于同“世界”错综复杂的关系之中，是现代世界最
内在最核心的问题和矛盾的有机组成部分。主观地、一厢情愿地把它抽离出来，再加上一
圈防火墙，于“中国价值”是不相干的。我们前面强调“普世价值”要在“中国价值”内部去寻
找，这里我们或许可以说，“中国价值”必然是“世界文明主流”的组成部分。中国几千年的
文明形态，正是历史上“世界文明主流”的重要遗产；中国今后如果建立一个适合自己发展、
对他人也有巨大魅力的文明形态，不过是“回到她原先的历史地位”。这句话，近年来常常
出现在国际上对中国经济崛起的评论中，但仅凭国内生产总值（GDP）或人均收入，还不能造
就文明形态意义上的“中国价值”，正如光有“大楼”没有“大师”就还算不上是“大学”。我们
所谈的“中国价值”，归根结底需要作为一个“生活世界”和“生活形式”的概念，体现出中国
全方位的活力、创造性和稳定性，需要中国人在“人”的终极含义上达到前所未有的高度。

基于以上所说的前提预设，关于“中国价值”，我们现在能说的，大概就是两句话：一是“路在
脚下”，不是别人为你开辟好的，而是要我们自己去走，正如鲁迅在《故乡》中所写，“这世
上本没有路，走的人多了，便也成了路”；二是“任重而道远”——“中国价值”不是一蹴而就的
东西，也不是随便走出来的道路，它需要中国人长期地锲而不舍地努力。我们距离对自己
的期待还差得很远很远。

中国价值是自主创造新的现实要回答什么是“中国价值”，我们就必须弄清我们所说的“全
球视野”指的是什么，要意识到它像精神分析理论里所讲的那种“gaze”（他者的注视）一
样，预先决定了我们对“中国价值”的想象。中国知识界已经有越来越多的人看到，如果我
们只是以“中国特色”为方式，去完成别人对我们的角色预期，甚至把别人的注视“内在
化”，变成自己行为的无意识结构，那我们即便在所谓“中国价值”上走，走的其实还是美国
道路，或全球资本化道路。这个意义上的“中国价值”或“中国特色”就不是在创造一种新的
现实，而是一种早已存在的制度的继发性延续乃至回光返照。在这个意义上谈特殊性，就
根本逃不出自我东方化、异国情调化的逻辑，因为这无非是用筷子的资本主义和用刀叉的
资本主义之间的差别，或“官僚资本主义”同“自由资本主义”之间的差别。按这种逻辑，所
谓“价值”其实都是非历史、非政治的概念，它的“文化”概念归根到底也是“感伤”的、装饰
的，因为它并没有由自身的实践创造出来的价值内涵和真正的价值指向。

如果“价值”不植根于一种具有新的普遍意义的劳动方式，不能塑造一种具有新的普遍意义
的人的概念，它就只具有“抄近道”、“挑好走的走”的含义，根本上还是一种工具理性的逻
辑。如果我们的问题仅限于此，那这个问题看似激进，甚至带有点儿挑战西方霸权、探索
差异性和特殊性的味道，但其实也就是“接轨论”的另一面，即通过一种肤浅的，即非历史化、
非政治化的多元论，用消费和娱乐领域的“文化”取代经济、政治、制度和价值领域的实质
性冲突，客观上为更深层次的单一性和标准化辩护。德里克曾在对西方后殖民主义话语的
分析中一针见血地指出，这种所谓“现代性替换性方案”（alternative modernity），无非是
那些已经自非西方世界进入西方体制的、有着不同种族、宗教、族裔背景的精英阶层人
士，以“文化”、“身份”和“认同”为名，在全球资本主义市场和主流意识形态里，试图为自己
划出一块利益特区，并进一步挤入“中心”的修辞而已。

如果“中国模式”已经预设了一个笼罩性的不可逾越的外部——无论它叫做“议会民主”、“自
由市场”，还是“世界公民会”，其实它的价值内涵同“中国”这个定语都并无实质关联，在一
般意义上也谈不上是一条道路，因为这只是在走一条现成的、别人已经走过、甚至被别人
规定了的道路。

也许有人会说，如果这是一条能给绝大多数中国人带来幸福美好生活的道路，别人走过又
有什么不好，又何必一定要强调自主性和独创性。但这种貌似实际而老到的思维恰恰是幼
稚和异想天开。因为近代以来170年的经验告诉我们，实际上，从来就没有什么现成的药方
可以解决今天中国所面临的一切问题；没有什么放诸四海皆准的制度或观念能使中国自动
地走向富强和公正，而不需要让13亿中国人进行思索和选择。即便在经济技术领域，在“赶
超”目标非常明确的方面，新技术、新制度、新观念的落地生根、开花结果，也都不得不经
历复杂的再创造过程，最终的成功，往往并非照搬外国先进生产经验的结果，而是“理论与
实践”相结合，然后产生出一种本土性的制度创新，激发出一种前所未有的能量、活力和创
造性所致。

在具体领域里实现的“中国价值”，从来不只是固有事物的复制，而是在实践中出现的新事
物。只有如此，它的理论含义才能突破既有制度和观念的框框，而把自己确立为个新的可
能性的边界。在实用领域尚且如此，在社会领域、文化领域和观念领域就更是这样。不妨
说，“中国价值”的题中应有之意，就是在理论上、哲学意义上不承认中国实践需要先验地
接受任何既有的参照系。这么讲，当然不是要把当代中国的集体实践归入偶然性、唯意志
论、甚至不可知论的领域，而是像前面我们已经谈到的那样，直接把“中国道路”放在“普遍
性”的层面上和框架内来谈，也就是说，把“中国问题”直接理解为探索普遍意义和普遍价值
的具体实践、具体展开和具体例证，从而在当代中国的具体实践中，去努力总结有益于全
人类、有助于开拓人类历史远景的观念、价值和理论的东西。


中国价值应跳出特殊论

我在《全球化时代的文化认同——西方普遍主义话语的历史批判》这本书里比较系统地分
析了德国理论，因此有一些读者认为我是在鼓吹德国特殊道路，以此来挑战英美自由主义
的话语霸权，为中国特殊道路论输血打气。其实我在书中讨论的每一个思想家，从国内学
界比较熟悉的康德、黑格尔和马克思，到也许还不太熟悉的尼采、韦伯和施米特（他们的
确都是德国思想家），都指出了这种德国道路和德国特殊性的不可能性和虚妄性。所谓德
国的“特殊道路”或“第三条道路”，主要是指普鲁士资产阶级把自身的权威政府定义为国家
政治的“黄金准则”，以抗衡英美法为代表的“西方民主”和以沙俄为代表的“东方专制”。在
批判德国市民阶级自欺欺人的幻想和庸人政治方面，马克思的语言最为尖锐和华丽，可谓
上集黑格尔辩证思维之大成，下开尼采价值批判之先河。在早期著作里，马克思就曾警告
德国市民阶级，文明有可能“没有分享欧洲文明的上升，就已经同它一道处在衰落的水
平”（大意），在稍后的《资产阶级与反革命》一文中，马克思对此作了展开，这对我们今天
思考以新兴城市中产阶级为具体经济、社会内容的“中国道路”，应该是颇具启发性和警醒
意义的：

"德国资产阶级（即市民阶级。张按）……与1789年法国的资产阶级不同，普鲁士的资产阶级
并不是一个代表整个现代社会反对旧社会的代表，即反对君主制和贵族的阶级。它降到了
一种等级的水平，既明确地反对国王又明确地反对人民，对国王和人民双方都采取敌对态
度，但是在单独面对自己的每一个对手时态度都犹豫不决……它不相信自己，不相信人民，在
上层面前嘟囔，在下层面前战栗，对两者都持利己主义态度并且意识到自己的这种利己主
义；对于保守派来说是革命的，对于革命派来说却是保守的；不相信自己的口号，用空谈代
替思想，害怕世界风暴，同时又利用这个风暴来谋私利；毫无毅力，到处剽窃；因缺乏任何独
特性而显得平庸，同时又因本身平庸而显得独特；自己跟自己讲价钱；没有首创精神，不相
信自己，不相信人民，没有负起世界历史使命；活像一个受诅咒的老头，注定要糟踏健壮人
民的最初勃发的青春激情而使其服从于自己风烛残年的利益……"（马克思《资产阶级和反
革命》，《马克思恩格斯选集》，人民出版社，1995年版，第319页）

马克思这里谈的，当然是1848年的柏林革命，他把这场革命同1648年英国革命和1789年法
国革命相对照，指出前两场资产阶级革命因为其创造性（“资产阶级法权对中世纪特权的胜
利”）而在历史上闪耀，柏林革命却“像遥远星球的光芒一样，在发出这种光芒的那个星球消
失了十万年以后，才达到我们地球上居民的眼中”。甚至，和同时发生的1848年欧洲革命相
比，柏林革命也只是“欧洲革命在一个落后国家里的微弱的回声”。

近年来在国内引起关注的竹内好，通过他对鲁迅作品的创造性阅读，对日本近代化过程做
出深刻而激烈的批评（“优等生文化”；“既没有抵抗，也没有主体性，所以日本什么也没有”
等等）。每一个“世界历史的民族”，都通过自身的社会实践和政治激情，通过劳动、牺牲和
代价高昂的错误，为这个普遍性问题提供正反两方面的教训。今天中国人提出这个问题，
某种意义上的确暗示了中国人新近获得的自信和使命感，暗示中国人又一次处在了想象或
现实的“世界历史”的潮头，但“普世价值还是中国价值”这样的问题，如果不加以批判的辨
析，就有可能局限而不是打开人们的思路。

如果不在“普世文明”的层面上考虑“价值”问题，所谓“中国价值”，也就根本不是一个问
题，因为那样的话，我们所说所想的其实都不带问号，而更像是设问句。比如，有一个叫做
普世文明的东西摆在那里，你要还是不要？那回答自然只能有一个：要（谁会说不要呢）。从
简单的语义和形式逻辑上讲，如果有“普世文明”或“普世价值”，就无所谓文明意义上的“中
国价值”，因为后者最多只有手段或途径的意义，而没有目的或本体论的意义。这样的所谓
中国价值或中国特殊性，就只能是常识性的东西：条条大路通罗马，你走你的阳关道，我走
我的独木桥，但大家是在奔同一个目标，想过同样的生活。那样的话，俄国人有俄国道路，
印度人有印度道路，日本人有日本道路，新加坡人有新加坡道路，甚至可以说上海有上海道
路，广东有广东道路。

回头看20世纪中国的历史经验，我们知道，“价值”的含义是一种新的具有普遍意义的社会
实验和创造，它对应着一种新的历史主体（“新人”）的出现，是“打破
旧世界、建立新世界”的革命性集体行动，它必须同时具有明确的乌托邦指向和具体的实
践上的可操作性。“走俄国人的路”或“延安道路”，就是这样意义上的“价值”；中国式的社
会主义道路和改革开放，也必然是这样的道路，因为它不得不负起马克思所说的那种“世界
历史的使命”。但在今天中国的知识界，关于“中国价值”的讨论，基本上仍是“中国崛起
论”的文化版，它的物质前提是中国改革30年来经济上的成功，但要进一步追问“中国价
值”的政治指向和文明指向，问题就变得模糊起来。

在中国革命之前，中国是现代性条件下世界历史的客体或对象，是侵略、宰割、盘剥和操
纵的对象，是变革和历史运动的被动的客体。通过中国革命，中国人第一次变成现代世界
历史的主体，掌握自己的命运，决定自己的现在和未来。这个主权地位对外具有民族独立
和解放的意义，对内具有人民主权以及由此而来的大众民主、正义和平等的意义。这些似
乎都是老生常谈了，但实际上，在中国经济和社会生活展现出前所未有的活力和可能性的
今天，越来越多的年轻人意识到，正是新中国的存在，为今天的一切提供了最基本的条件和
保障。这一点特别明确地从海外中国学生爱国意识和政治意识的觉醒中体现出来，没有这
种意识，2008年海外中国学生自发支持北京奥运会的反抗议活动是不可思议的。

今天的中国，无疑处在自身历史上的“后革命时代”，但一个健全的、头脑清楚的后革命时
代，必须对革命和毛泽东时代的社会主义国家作出明确的价值判断。我们
必须看到，通过革命，中国人变成了一个全新的文化民族和政治民族；通过革命和建国
后60年的建设，中国才真正作为一个现代国家，“屹立于世界民族之林”，并
由此重新开始了关于文明形态、普世价值和“人”的终极意义的追问。这才是“中国价值”
的关键所在。可以说，从中国革命开始，中国人就已经走在这条道路上了。在这个意义
上，我们也可以说，如果没有中国革命，就没有作为文明形态意义上的“中国价值”问题，是
这个伟大的历史变革，把大多数中国人抛入了世界历史，把我们同过去和未来联系在一起。

（作者单位：美国纽约大学比较文学系）

The Future Book (Spanish)

La rana viajera
"El libro futuro"
by Julio Camba

A magazine, a not at all a friendly one, speaking of the destruction of Germany, wrote: "It's useless that the Germans prtetned to protest. Let them cry like women having lost what they couldn't defend as men!" It seems, nevertheless, that the Germans aren't crying like women for this reason. Quite the contrary, they're dancing, singng and drinking away with enormouse celebraiton. According to the Daily Mail--in a letter from a Berlin correspondent--the ancient, imperial capital is living it up like in the good old days. Germany is breaking up, and the same men that only a few months ago were sacrficing their lives fro hit, are now employing their energy reservices in dancing teh fox-trot.

"Is such depravity possible?," the reader may ask.

And I, who have lived amongst them for two years, will respond:

"Yes; it's possible. And it is possible...becaue it isn't depravity.

At the beginnign of hte way, no one believed that the Germans were capable of bombing defenseless cities or sinking passenger vessels. But I did. And it wasn't like I had a worse concept of them then others, but I had one that was more distinct. Others supposed that in order for a German to kill a child in war it was absolutely necessary that he be wicked. I, on the other hand, believed a German could kill kids without actually failing to be an excellent ftaher, a sensnbile man with heightened snesibilities. There are women who if placed atop Mont-Blance, as they say, woudl still be avialbe; women who have fallen a thousand times and whose sould, nonehthless, we might say is as pure as theat of a 6 yr old girl. It seems like they'll never foind that out. And still, the psychologyo fhtese women would be enought to explain how a German with a rosa pressed bettwen the pages of his poetry book could, tenderly, go and flinkg 40 kilo bombs atop the roofs of Paris...

And now, twhiel Germany is crumbling to pieces, Berlin is burning with parties. Depravation? No sir. The pfact of the matter is, the Germans have not yet comprehend the result of the war. They know that their armny has been vanquished. They know tha tthe Kaiser has abdicated. They know all if this vaguely in a confused way; but they know nothing lese.

In twenty years, however, things will change radically. Some erudite proefssor will have published an enormous study in a bunch of thick volumes, studying the war, not only in its military aspect, but in its social, poltical, economic, and all other aspects. Probably, the first part of th work will be dedicated to the ancient war, before Germany was even a thought. Who knows? Maybe the author will have also written a study on teh catapult, pointing to that invention as the origin of the the 42 mortar. And then, a generation of Germans will soak their glasses. They'll spend nights awake studying and discovering exactly waht happend to their country from 1914-1918.

Everyone knows that Germana ususally don't laught at jokes until about 24 hours after hearing them, thwen they finally arrive at the point. In 20 yrs, they'll finally arrive at the point of understanding the European war and they'll break down and cry. They'll cry in poetry, cry in music. THey'll cry with their violains, hapres, bagpipes, saxophones, and contrabasses of the ex-empire. All of Germany will cry, and will cry immensely; but their tears will be late.

And, int eh meantime, in the Palais des Dances, Germany dances at 100 marks an hour.

Regarding declarations of love (Italian)

Regarding declarations of love (March 2011)

Dear Beppe,

I read in the latest column of SETTE your response "A declaration of love" and I agree with what you wrote. Specifically with regard to the topic "Unity of Italy," I'm sending you this little column.

Dinner in the hinterlands of Milan. 5 nations are represented around our table: Maldovia, Ukraine, Czech Republic, Eritrea, and yours truly, the sole Italian. The amostphere is peaceful and friendly, familiar among people of different origins who work, study and encounter difficulties and respect the laws. Two kids play in the living room, born in Italy 9 years ago, one from Maldovian parents, the other from Ukrainian-Egyptian parents. They attend 4th grade at different elementary schools. All of a sudden they start singing the Hymn of Mameli together. I hear them from the kitchen and I smile.

After "Italy beckoned" stupor blocks my applause, because the children continue: "We've been persectued and derided for centuries." We never sing the second verse because we don't know it. And when we break out in "Unite, love one another: the union and love reveal to us the ways of the Lord," stupor gives way to a true flood of emotion. Who's ever sung the third verse? D'Azeglio used to say that we need to "form ourselves into Italians," but if chosen people walk provocatively out of a hall while the hymn is playing, it means we haven't achieved that goal after 150yrs. But I'm optomistic: the children are "rushes bent under sold swords," and because of them we'll succeed in becoming Italians.

Daniele Redaelli, dredaelli@gazzetta.it

Beautiful story, Danielle: Thank you. I'm copying and attaching Thursday's letter from SETTE and my response.

Sandra Corti writes(sandracorti@mac.com): "I've been living in the United States for 10 yrs. I have a 7yr old daughter here. Since he started school when he was 4, he has, every morning, together with his classmates, teacher, and the whole school in unison (via loudspeakers), stood up, placed her hand over her heart, with eyes turned to the American flag and proclaimed out loud "The Pledge of Allegiance: "I pledge allegiance to the flag of United Stats of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all". This is how American children begin their day.

Beppe's response:
A sacred duty of fidelity to a nation: The Pledge of Allegiance, it would be good for us to do it as well. I imagine the objections: what use is such a declaration in an empatic, incoherent, and absent-minded Italy? So many of our leaders have made a mockery of the 54th article of the constitution: "Citizens to whom public functions have been granted have the duty to absolve those tasks with discipline and honor, under oath according to the stipulations of the law." Why would such people honor yet another tenet of loyalty? The answer is easy, and I'm happy to give it on the day of Italy's 150th birthday.

We must give ourselves up to the requirement of fedelity of the elected: he who has a conscience must use it; he who doesn't, no phrase or ceremony will deliver it for him. A declaration a' la Americana might help instead a younger electorate upon whom we cast our hopes, and for new Italians, from whom we expect effert, enthusiasm, and loyalty that the USA expects of its new citizens. To choose a new country is to accept new duties, rights, traditions, and lifestyles. In order ot be good Italians, a bit of romantic love for the place is a necessity: there's no other way.

Many wishes. Something I find in my email inbox that I enjoyed: auguri.tecnova.it. That's right. Italy deserves better. Italy needs to be better led and inspired, not pandered to in all its desires or absolved from all its guilts.

P.S.: Happy Saint's day to all Giuseppe, Beppe, Peppe, Peppino, Pino, Pinuccio, et company!

"Time and Space" (Spanish)

"El tiempo y el espacio," La rana viajera
by Camba, Julio (1884-1962)

I have something urgent to air out with my friend. But he’s been resisting to talk with me about it forever.

— What do you say we see each other tomorrow?

—Alright. What time?

—Whenever. After lunch, for instance...

I let my friend know that this doesn’t constitute a precise time. After lunch is something all too vague, too elastic.

—When do you eat?—I ask him.

—When do I eat lunch? Well, when everyone else in the world eats; at lunch time…

—Yeah, but when is lunchtime exactly? Noon? 1:00 in the afternoon? 2:00…

—Yeah, around then...—my friend says— I eat between one and two. Sometimes I pull up to the table around three, though... At any rate, I’m always free at four.

—Perfect. Let’s write in 4:00, then.

My friend agrees.

—Of course, if I’m a few minutes behind—he adds— you’ll wait for me. When one says four, one means four fifteen or four thirty... Ultimately, I’ll definitely be in the café between four and five. What do you say?

I try to get more specific:

—Let’s go for 5:00.

—Alright. Five…or between five and five thirty… I’m no train, you know. Damn! What if I break a leg or something…

—Ok, let’s go for 5:30—I propose.

At which point, my friend comes up with a brilliant idea.

—Why don’t we shoot for cocktail hour?—he suggests.

A new conversation defining the exact time of that hour ensues. Finally, we plan on meeting between 7:00 and 8:00.

The next day, 8 rolls around, and as expected, my friend doesn’t show. He comes in puffing at 8:30 and the waiter tells him I’ve already left.

—You have no right—he shouts days after running into me on the street—. You make me settle on a time, you make me run, and then you don’t even wait around 10 minutes for me. I was in the café at exactly 8:30.

The strangest thing about all this was that my friend’s fit was sincere. That two men who agree to meet at 8:00 actually meet at eight seems to him a complete absurdity.

It’s logical, for him, that they meet up a half hour, forty-five minutes, or an hour afterward.

—Alright, but just think about this—I tell him—. An appointment is something that is as limited by time as it is by space. What would you say to me if after agreeing to meet up in the Puerta del Sol, you later find out that I went to see you in the Cuatro Caminos? That’s how I see it when I say eight, and you show up at 8:30. By rejecting time, you reject space. So, if you respect space, why not pay a little attention to time?

—Yeah, but with that kind of precision, with that kind of exactitude, life would be impossible—my friend exclaims.

How to explain to him that this exactitude and precision on the contrary serve to simplify life? How to convince him that arriving on time actually saves time to devote to whatever else you want?

Impossible. Spaniards are never on time for appointments, not because they perceive time as being precious, but, just the opposite, because time means nothing to anyone in Spain. We are not time’s superiors, but its inferiors. We are not above, but below punctuality.

The Heart of Hell (Spanish)

El Corazon del Tartaro
de Rosa Montero (2001)
Espasa Calpe


The worst is that misfortunes do not announce their arrival. There are never any dogs howling with the rising sun pointing out the date of our imminent death, and no one ever knows, if, when the day begins, routine or catasphrophe is lurking in the wings. Misfortune is a fourth dimension that sticks to our lives like shadows; almost all of us cling to life forgetting that we are fragile and mortal, but there are some individuals who have no idea how to shield themselves from the terrors of the abyss. Zara belonged to this later group of folks. She always knew that disaster was approaching with muffled and insidious cloth-bound feet.

That day, Zarza woke up before the alarm rang and announced that she felt awful. It was a discomfort that she knew well, that she often suffered, especially come morning time, in that state of awakening sleep, just rising from the limbo of dreams. A certain level of confidence in the world in and in oneself is necessary to suppose that reaility moves on, on the other side of pressed eyelids. One waits patiently to be awoken. That day, Zaraza was in no mood to trust existence, and she lay there waiting with her eyes shut, afraid to look and to see. She lay flat on her back in bed, still in a daze, not yet finished assembling her daily personality, and the world semed to rock around her, gelatinous and instable. She was a cast away tossed onto a raft in a sea teeming with sharks. She made the rash decision to not open her eyes unitl reality regained its solidity. Sometimes, returing to life was a difficult voyage.

From the shadows came a long groan and Zarza squeezed her eyelids a little tighter. Yes, in fact, it was an animal-like moan, a hoarse lament. She could still hear it. An anxious murmor, a teary soliliquy. And then, a shower of sighs. Suddenly, the rapid creaking of wood, like a sail being thrown in the wind. Mens' voices. Shouting. The echo of strikes poundingg on flesh, and more rythmic crashing. A few meters from Zarza's closed eyes, from her body, from her bedroom, there was a couple making love. It was possible that they'd just finished making a baby. At these times, she thought only with cruelty and displeasure. On the other side of her wall, there life was exploding, while Zarza emerged heavily from her sea of Jello. The noise of clashing bodies continued, all that exaggeration, all that mushy racket. Reduced to neighborly din , broken down into rubbing and shaking, sex was ridiculous and absurd. A kind of muscular spasm, a necessary exercise. The shreak of her alarm blended with the pair's final screams. Annoyed, Zarza opened up one eye, and then the other.

(p.11-12)

At 8:14, Zarza got in the shower. There was something in the repetition of small quotidian minutia that consoled her. Sometimes she entertained herself by imaging how many times in her life she would turn on the hot water faucet in the same exact way, how many times she would remove her watch and then put it back on. How many times she would squeeze the tube of toothpaste over her toothbrush. How many times she would coat her armpits with deodarnt or warm milk for her coffee. All these trifles, lined up one after the other, resulted in the construction of something like a life. They were the exoskeleton of existence, routines to forge ahead, to drag on, to breathe and not thinkg. The days would slide forward like this softly on the flanks of time, happily bereft of meaning. For Zarza the fact that the rest of her life might reduce down to a fistful of automatisms didn't disturb her. For all she cared, her biography could read like a dusty tome of routine gestures annotated by some annoying beauracrate for all she cared: "Upon her death, Sofia Zarzamala brushed her teeth 41, 217 times, fastened her bra on 14, 239 occasions, clipped her toenailes 2, 053 times..." But at 8:15 that day, just as she started to soap up, something unexpected occured that rattled the inertia of things: the phone rang. The phone rarely rang at Zarza's place, and never that early. She shut the water off and leapt out of the shower, grabbing a towel on the fly, leaving a hurried trial of water on the floor all the way to her nightstand.

(p.15)