…and Humpty Dumpty built the wall.
Over some very valid objections, Haruki Murakami decided to travel to Israel and accept the Jerusalem Prize. His speech really resonated with some thoughts I’ve been having lately. If you’re a fan of his work, the whole thing is well worth reading. Here is a short excerpt.
…
This is not to say that I am here to deliver a political message. To make judgments about right and wrong is one of the novelist’s most important duties, of course. …
Please do, however, allow me to deliver one very personal message. It is something that I always keep in mind while I am writing fiction. I have never gone so far as to write it on a piece of paper and paste it to the wall: Rather, it is carved into the wall of my mind, and it goes something like this:
“Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will always stand on the side of the egg.”
Yes, no matter how right the wall may be and how wrong the egg, I will stand with the egg. Someone else will have to decide what is right and what is wrong; perhaps time or history will decide. If there were a novelist who, for whatever reason, wrote works standing with the wall, of what value would such works be?
What is the meaning of this metaphor? In some cases, it is all too simple and clear. Bombers and tanks and rockets and white phosphorus shells are that high, solid wall. The eggs are the unarmed civilians who are crushed and burned and shot by them. This is one meaning of the metaphor.
This is not all, though. It carries a deeper meaning. Think of it this way. Each of us is, more or less, an egg. Each of us is a unique, irreplaceable soul enclosed in a fragile shell. This is true of me, and it is true of each of you. And each of us, to a greater or lesser degree, is confronting a high, solid wall. The wall has a name: It is The System. The System is supposed to protect us, but sometimes it takes on a life of its own, and then it begins to kill us and cause us to kill others – coldly, efficiently, systematically.
I have only one reason to write novels, and that is to bring the dignity of the individual soul to the surface and shine a light upon it. The purpose of a story is to sound an alarm, to keep a light trained on The System in order to prevent it from tangling our souls in its web and demeaning them. I fully believe it is the novelist’s job to keep trying to clarify the uniqueness of each individual soul by writing stories – stories of life and death, stories of love, stories that make people cry and quake with fear and shake with laughter. This is why we go on, day after day, concocting fictions with utter seriousness.
The problem with this egg/wall metaphor is that generally it’s not the eggs throwing themselves against the wall, but the wall inexorably moving forward and crushing all the eggs in its path. And each egg just makes the wall bigger. Look closely, and you’ll see that it’s made of billions of crushed eggshells.
Still, I think maybe he’s on to something here.
This is a serious piece, but I still can’t help thinking “I am the Walrus! Coo Coo ka-choo!”
The wall made of eggshells may be one of the truest things i’ve ever read. Thanks for that.
I’m with Antigone; I can’t get that damn Beatles song out of my head now, thank you Quin!
I dunno; the impression I’m getting is that he wanted the prize, he’s there to take it, he really doubts that his sales will be negatively impacted but just in case, he’s throwing out a very mildly-worded sop as a pretense that he’s taking some kind of stand against what’s happening in Gaza. Color me unimpressed. But then, all I know about him is the speech you linked to–perhaps his words and actions look much different when taken in the context of greater familiarity with him and his writing.
Certainly his accepting the prize is no great moral stand whatsoever.
As for the content of his speech, fiery accusations a la Harold Pinter just isn’t Murakami’s style. I think the speech was pretty representative of a kind of non-judgmental but extremely perceptive discernment that shines through in his writing. Different strokes for different folks, of course, but for me his particular brand of insight hit the spot. I’m a little bit exhausted from self-righteous fury right now, actually, and for me this was a nice change of pace.
In particular, I think he’s on the money in terms of understanding the role of the good storyteller.
He’s also on the money in reminding Israelis and Palestinians alike to refuse to let themselves be governed by The System, and to remember that everyone on both sides is a person, not just collateral damage.
Good point, Andy B. That’s what I was trying to get at with the title of this post. (Silly Beatles puns aside.)