How do you fart with a dialectical point of view?
During class, I farted—a very ordinary fart. It wasn't very smelly, and of course it absolutely wasn't fragrant either. The scary part was that the professor was lecturing on dialectics.
“Please make a judgment on this fart yourself,” the professor said. “Is it good or bad?”
I had no choice but to say, “Bad.”
“Wrong,” said the professor. “Everything is composed of contradictions. If it has a bad side, it must also have a good side.”
“Then saying it's good is also wrong?” I asked.
“Of course,” said the professor.
“It is both good and bad.”
“Wrong. You only see the side where the two aspects of the contradiction oppose and struggle against each other; you do not see the side where they are unified.”
I had no choice but to take this serious issue seriously. After thinking it over carefully, I said, “This fart is both good and bad, but the bad side is primary and occupies the dominant position.”
“Wrong. You are looking at the problem from a static point of view. The two aspects of a contradiction can transform into each other. The side that occupies the dominant position today will certainly occupy the secondary position tomorrow.”
“Are you saying that tomorrow all humanity will cheer and rejoice for this fart of mine?”
“Not exactly, but this trend of development cannot be denied.”
I was stunned for quite a while, and could only brace myself and say, “My fart is both good and bad, both bad and good. It may be bad today, but it will certainly be good tomorrow. It may be very good today, and perhaps bad tomorrow.”
The professor kept shaking his head as he listened and said, “This is thoroughgoing skepticism, not the viewpoint of dialectics.”
And just like that, simply because I let out one fart, I became a skeptic.
The professor continued the lecture: “The power of dialectics lies not only in being able to refute any viewpoint with ease, but also in being able to easily find a theoretical basis for any viewpoint.”
“But my fart has no basis at all,” I protested.
“That is because you have not found it. Actually it is very simple: it is the inevitable result of the unity and opposition of the contradictory aspects in your belly.”
I was left speechless.
The professor said, “Next, let us not talk about farts, but about a more complicated question: a watermelon and a sesame seed. No matter how you choose, there is a theoretical basis.”
I quickly said, “I will pick up the watermelon and throw away the sesame seed.”
“Very good,” said the professor. “You have grasped the principal contradiction—that is to say, you have grasped the key to solving the problem.”
“Then I will pick up the sesame seed and throw away the watermelon.”
“Only when there is quantitative change first can qualitative change be achieved. Your order for solving the problem is entirely correct.”
“I want both the watermelon and the sesame seed.”
“You are not only grasping the principal contradiction, but also not letting go of the secondary contradiction. You are looking at the problem from a comprehensive point of view.”
“I want both to smash the watermelon and to crush the sesame seed underfoot.”
“Very good. You are looking at the problem from a developmental point of view. A new thing is the negation of the old thing. All old things are bound to perish. The destruction of the old thing is the precondition for the emergence of the new thing.”
“I want both to eat the watermelon and to smash the watermelon. I want both to pick up the sesame seed and to crush the sesame seed. But there is only one watermelon and one sesame seed, so what should I do?”
“Now this counts as your first step into dialectics. The important thing is this: the two aspects of a contradiction are not only opposed, but also have a side of unity. Your eating the watermelon naturally has its reasonable side, but your wanting to smash the watermelon is not unreasonable either. Only by unifying the two can you enter a higher level of struggle.”
I was tongue-tied and dumbfounded. “But you still haven't solved my problem.”
The professor said with a smile, “Dialectics does not solve any problem. Its use lies in first turning people into fools—if there are still any people who are not fools.”
“You mean ‘first’?” I asked.
“Yes, that's right. Then they make the leap from fool to scholar.” The professor began sorting out his lecture notes. “As for why dialectics does not solve problems, how it turns people into fools, and how to achieve the leap from fool to scholar, that is the content of the next class.”
The professor skipped out of the classroom.
During class, I farted—a very ordinary fart. It wasn't very smelly, and of course it absolutely wasn't fragrant either. The scary part was that the professor was lecturing on dialectics.
“Please make a judgment on this fart yourself,” the professor said. “Is it good or bad?”
I had no choice but to say, “Bad.”
“Wrong,” said the professor. “Everything is composed of contradictions. If it has a bad side, it must also have a good side.”
“Then saying it's good is also wrong?” I asked.
“Of course,” said the professor.
“It is both good and bad.”
“Wrong. You only see the side where the two aspects of the contradiction oppose and struggle against each other; you do not see the side where they are unified.”
I had no choice but to take this serious issue seriously. After thinking it over carefully, I said, “This fart is both good and bad, but the bad side is primary and occupies the dominant position.”
“Wrong. You are looking at the problem from a static point of view. The two aspects of a contradiction can transform into each other. The side that occupies the dominant position today will certainly occupy the secondary position tomorrow.”
“Are you saying that tomorrow all humanity will cheer and rejoice for this fart of mine?”
“Not exactly, but this trend of development cannot be denied.”
I was stunned for quite a while, and could only brace myself and say, “My fart is both good and bad, both bad and good. It may be bad today, but it will certainly be good tomorrow. It may be very good today, and perhaps bad tomorrow.”
The professor kept shaking his head as he listened and said, “This is thoroughgoing skepticism, not the viewpoint of dialectics.”
And just like that, simply because I let out one fart, I became a skeptic.
The professor continued the lecture: “The power of dialectics lies not only in being able to refute any viewpoint with ease, but also in being able to easily find a theoretical basis for any viewpoint.”
“But my fart has no basis at all,” I protested.
“That is because you have not found it. Actually it is very simple: it is the inevitable result of the unity and opposition of the contradictory aspects in your belly.”
I was left speechless.
The professor said, “Next, let us not talk about farts, but about a more complicated question: a watermelon and a sesame seed. No matter how you choose, there is a theoretical basis.”
I quickly said, “I will pick up the watermelon and throw away the sesame seed.”
“Very good,” said the professor. “You have grasped the principal contradiction—that is to say, you have grasped the key to solving the problem.”
“Then I will pick up the sesame seed and throw away the watermelon.”
“Only when there is quantitative change first can qualitative change be achieved. Your order for solving the problem is entirely correct.”
“I want both the watermelon and the sesame seed.”
“You are not only grasping the principal contradiction, but also not letting go of the secondary contradiction. You are looking at the problem from a comprehensive point of view.”
“I want both to smash the watermelon and to crush the sesame seed underfoot.”
“Very good. You are looking at the problem from a developmental point of view. A new thing is the negation of the old thing. All old things are bound to perish. The destruction of the old thing is the precondition for the emergence of the new thing.”
“I want both to eat the watermelon and to smash the watermelon. I want both to pick up the sesame seed and to crush the sesame seed. But there is only one watermelon and one sesame seed, so what should I do?”
“Now this counts as your first step into dialectics. The important thing is this: the two aspects of a contradiction are not only opposed, but also have a side of unity. Your eating the watermelon naturally has its reasonable side, but your wanting to smash the watermelon is not unreasonable either. Only by unifying the two can you enter a higher level of struggle.”
I was tongue-tied and dumbfounded. “But you still haven't solved my problem.”
The professor said with a smile, “Dialectics does not solve any problem. Its use lies in first turning people into fools—if there are still any people who are not fools.”
“You mean ‘first’?” I asked.
“Yes, that's right. Then they make the leap from fool to scholar.” The professor began sorting out his lecture notes. “As for why dialectics does not solve problems, how it turns people into fools, and how to achieve the leap from fool to scholar, that is the content of the next class.”
The professor skipped out of the classroom.
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