The Smiling Proud Wanderer (笑傲江湖) was first published in 1967, a year after the Cultural Revolution began. In a postscript written in May of 1980, 4 years after the fall of the Gang of Four, the author said that allegorical works are not very meaningful, since political circumstances can change very quickly. Only the characterization of human nature perhaps has some long term value. When he envisioned them, the characters were not so much highly skilled martial arts practitioners as political figures. Indeed, these characterizations were so successful, that Vietnamese congressmen would accuse each other of being Yue Buquns (hypocrites) or Zuo Lengshans (power hungry territory grabbers that would stoop to any depths). To this day, to describe someone as a Yue Buqun is an extremely powerful and damaging insinuation at their character.
My mother once said that the progression of Louis Cha’s works reflected his changing perspective towards good and evil, nationalism, racial relations, and what that meant in traditional Chinese culture. His earliest works such as The Book and the Sword (1956) and Legend of the Condor Heros (1957) reflected a strong Han nationalism and clear cut heros (e.g. Guo Jing) and villains, told stories of Han nationalists rebelling and fighting against foreign oppression or invasion, and adhered strongly to the idea of loyalty to one’s country, friends, family, and race. For example, Guo Jing is praised for his heroism in defending (to his death) the Song dynasty against the invasion of Mongols despite his Mongol upbringing, whereas Yang Kang is painted as a scheming, power-hungry, evil traitor because as a Jin prince, he works for the Jin takeover of Song China.
The Smiling Proud Wanderer, first published in 1967, is his second to last novel (Yue Nv Jian is a short story), and tells a very different story — all is not what it seems. The idea that there are good and evil sections of the martial arts world (commonly translated as the white path vs. black path, orthodox vs. unorthodox) is an old one. So when the Smiling Proud Wanderer opens in a setting where the orthodox and unorthodox sections of the martial arts world are deathly enemies, this is not surprising. But all is not what it seems. The good guy, the well-read, principled, morally upright, intellectual scholarly Yue Buqun, actually turns out to be a lying, ruthless, power-hungry hypocrite using his veneer of respectability to garner public support and deflect the attention of political opponents. The supposedly good guys — the orthodox, confucian, traditional and custom-abiding section of the martial arts world — is actually marred by scheming and murderous political struggle, where those scheming or fighting for power are unafraid to masquerade as the “evil sect” and murder their fellow swordsman. The so-called “evil sect”, turns out to be a lot less evil than rumored, and the rumors are actually very much exaggerated by the power-hungry, in the effort to create a foreign boogieman and generate terror to justify their consolidation of power.
Indeed, when I entered college and spent a lot of time comparing Western news on China and China news on the West, spent a summer doing political science research on China, and then came across Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States, I realized that these tactics, characters, stories, and plots, were indeed as Louis Cha had said, common throughout history and present, within and outside of China.
Jin Yong is rather cynical about politicians and regimes. He says in the postscript of this book that since rulers are often bad, there are three types of people in politics: those currently in power, revolutionaries who seek to overthrow the current power, and reformists who seek to change the current system for the better.
In the unorthodox Sun Moon Cult (also known by the orthodoxy as the evil cult), Dongfang Bu Bai overthrows Ren Wo Xing and then institutes a despotic dictatorship under the rule of his deputy Yang Lianting. Ren Wo Xing comes back and overthrows Dongfang Bu Bai on an agenda of ridding the cult of its sycophantic and evil practices. However, when he returns to power, he is corrupted by it and becomes an even more despotic ruler than those he overthrew. One can say that in the beginning of each rebellion, the leader had reasonable motivations and justifications beyond a mere power grab. But post-rebellion, the corruption of power rendered those irrelevant as they completely reversed and forgot their promises and platforms on which rode their original revolution.
The orthodoxy is no better. On the surface, Zuo Lengshan supposedly wore the facade of a reformer. He sought to combine the Five Mountain Sword School Alliance into a single school, nominally under the claim that the Evil Sect would soon lay siege to them. However, over time, this is revealed to be a lie to justify his naked ambition for power. Not only are the rumors of clashes against the Sun Moon Cult exaggerated, several attacks by the Sun Moon Cult are revealed to be actually Zuo Lengshan's men under disguise. To remove all and any opposition or contenders, he assassinates and massacres leaders and followers of his Alliance. He does this with increasing audacity over time as there are fewer to keep him in check. Zuo Lengshan is essentially the characteristic power-hungry kingdom expander who will stop at nothing for more power.
This is in sharp contrast to the orthodoxy's other contender and eventual winner, Yue Buqun. On the surface, Yue Buqin is known by his nickname, the Gentleman's Sword. A scholar and intellectual amongst fighters, he is famous for his upright moral character and for running a tight ship. The Huashan Sword School that he leads is famous for extremely tight house rules--to the extent that he expels the main character from his Sword School merely for associating with unorthodox friends. Due to his excellent reputation, Lin Pingzhi (an orphan who inherits a dangerous but powerful sword manual) voluntarily seeks to enter the Huashan school under his tutelage. But eventually in the story, Yue Buqun is revealed to be just as power hungry as Zuo Lengshan, and willing to even make a eunuch of himself in order to practice the powerful Bixie Sword Art, which enables him to dominate the martial arts world. What he truly values is the power of trust and persuasion that his good reputation brings him, as opposed to actually staying true to the gentlemanly principles that he claims to uphold. Thus, what he does uphold is the image of moral principle (e.g. courtesy, custom, orthodoxy), but does not hesitate to lie, cheat, scam, and even murder to preserve his power and reputation.
Jin Yong's postcript for this novel talks about the idea of a 隐士 yin shi (translation: hermit), which is the alternative to participating in politics as a ruler, revolutionary, or reformer. The English translation of this term, hermit, conjures the image of an uncouth anti-social caveman. But this is a far cry from what the term actually means in Chinese. It actually refers to a person of great talents who seeks freedom and principles over power, and rejects the traditional path for capable people--entering the bureaucracy to pursue a political career. At least in the monarchy that was traditional China, the pursuit of one's 仕途 shi tu (translation: political / bureaucratic career) necessarily involves some level of pleasing others and restraining one's own personality and arrogance. So capable intellectuals, either due to pride or valuing one's freedom over power, or due to disappointment with the existing regime, will often go far away from the center of political power and live a life of relative freedom. The main character of Smiling Proud Wanderer, Linghu Chong, is a natural hermit in this sense. Linghu Chong is flippant, gallant, charismatic, and proud, cares very little for power, propriety, or the restrictive customs and rules of traditional confucianism. He seeks neither power and material wealth, or to realize some kind of ideal in serving other people. He is tempted with great power when Ren Woxing not only offers him Yingying’s hand in marriage but offers to make Linghu Chong his deputy in the Sun Moon Cult. But out of pride and disgust at Ren Woxing requiring his subjects to sing praises of him ruling the Martial Arts world forever, Linghu Chong turns that down. Linghu Chong does eventually accepts power (and responsibility), when the Hengshan Sword School (which is actually a nunnery) leader Sister Dingxian implores him to lead the Sword School through its difficulties as her dying wish. He does this extremely well--Hengshan ends up being the only Sword School to successfully survive Yue Buqun's plot to force all Five Mountain Sword Schools to submit to his will or die. But at the end of the story when Hengshan successfully weathers the storm, he finds a successor and leaves to wander lakes and rivers.
This book was first published in 1967 and serialized on the Ming Pao in the sixties. In 1980, Jin Yong finalizes his edits and writes his postscript. He stated in that postscript that he did not try to write a metaphorical work about the current times, but rather sought to write about common things about human nature throughout the times. I might venture to say that from a historical timeline perspective, the Legend of the Condor heroes was written shortly after the founding of the People’s Republic of China, during a time where nationalism and the euphoria of finally having ended a hundred years of semi-colonialism was at its height. Then came the Great Leap Forward (1958-1962), and a series of revolutionary struggles culminating in the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976). Without being too familiar with the political characters of this time, it is not at all unlikely that during this time of political turmoil, hypocrites and despots alike entered the political stage, and clear-headed rebels also become corrupted by power.
When I first read this book in grade four, I obviously did not think or understand any of this. All I remembered was the sad unrequited love of Linghu Chong for Yue Lingshan, and my absolute fascination with the Du Gu Nine Swords sword art, and perhaps somewhere in my subconscious I developed a slight mistrust of rules and orthodoxy, and a seedling of the idea that good and evil were not the same as whether or not one obeyed rules or conformed to the orthodox views of the time.
Many years ago when I first came to the United States, I thought that the love of ones country meant that the government could do no wrong. Many years later, I realized that although much of what we commonly think of as patriotism is skillfully manufactured, the love of one's people, culture, and literature, did not need to have anything to do with who held what throne.
