Why Suixuan Is Not Afraid of Plagiarism

8,987 characters2008.02.22

Not long after Suixuan first started running, a friend reminded me to be a little careful: academic articles posted there would always inevitably face the risk of plagiarism and theft. More recently, an older fellow student also suggested that I might as well submit more pieces to newspapers, which would both earn a bit of author’s fee and, to some extent, protect copyright. But for me, whether writing for newspapers or submitting papers to magazines, first, it is not commensurate with my present qualifications and level; second, it more or less sacrifices freedom; third, it is unnecessary, because I am neither short of money nor afraid of plagiarism and theft.

To say “not afraid” does not mean not to “hate.” I think that for any passionate writer, artist, or scientist, their “works” are like their own children: the thing they most cannot bear is to have them snatched away and trafficked by others, even to be renamed and given another surname. That is the most heartbreaking thing of all. Even if I cannot yet claim to have any real “works,” my own articles are still my own blood, sweat, and toil; to have them stolen is a deeply painful thing.

Moreover, I despise plagiarism as well, as always. So if friends around me want to do that sort of thing, I hope they will keep out of my way and not let me catch them; then I may turn a blind eye. But if they openly come after me, then they should not blame me for being ruthless.

That my articles will be plagiarized has, I estimate, already become a fact, and is by no means some self-important fantasy of mine. These days, no matter how lousy an article is, once it is put up online, someone may well copy it; let alone the fact that my articles should hardly be the very worst. In fact, not long ago someone who emailed me asking for advice about graduate entrance examinations sent me a philosophy-of-science exam question together with the answer he had prepared. At first glance I could tell it had been cobbled together by stitching together remarks from different contexts; at second glance I was shocked to see that a paragraph in the middle had actually been copied from my own words. Of course, the context was completely different, it was mechanically forced into place, and set there it looked especially incongruous. It nearly made me furious. I replied and cursed him out a few times; to this day there has been no reply.

In fact, up to now, the number of people who have sent me their prepared answers to similar exam questions has been only this one. And yet this is how I found my article plagiarized—my winning rate is 100%! It can be seen that the number of people who may plagiarize Suixuan is by no means small.

Of course, among them there should be quite a few who do not act out of deliberate intent. They think that answering questions just means rummaging around for ready-made answers here and there and then organizing them a bit. Naturally, there is the poison of political courses in this, but the greater reason still lies in themselves. They think that “answers” are all “ready-made,” that “correct answers” are all fixed, and that answering questions just means repeating ready-made answers.

This is also the first reason I am not afraid of plagiarism: most plagiarizers have in fact long since been shut out by philosophy altogether; they simply do not know what independent thought is. Of course, at their level, what they plagiarize is often fragmented and incongruous anyway, and I believe they simply do not have the ability to master my views.

Of course, in answering questions one can sometimes and even needs to copy ready-made material, but the things that may be copied without indicating their source can only be scholarly common knowledge, not “insights.” If my articles do contain a little bit of “insight,” then those insights are certainly beyond the control of plagiarizers who have not even entered the door.

As for wholesale plagiarism from beginning to end, that does not involve the question of “mastery.” However, such cases seem less probable, and if such plagiarism does happen, it can also count as free publicity for me. For now that internet search is so developed, a little searching will reveal the article’s true author.

As many scholars have pointed out, among academic corruptions the worse offense is not the blatant plagiarism, but rather theft of ideas (although, if one asks what is most harmful, it may well be the flooding proliferation of garbage articles that neither plagiarize nor steal ideas yet are utterly worthless). Theft of ideas refers to the fact that my thinking has clearly been directly inspired by yours, but when I expound my own view I do not cite or indicate you; that is what “theft of ideas” is. And because such behavior is difficult to prevent, difficult to detect, and difficult to prove, it is all the more insidious.

In fact, some minor forms of “theft of ideas” have already happened around me. Many people say they were inspired by me, but when they write related papers they probably will not mark Suixuan in the bibliography; if the degree of inspiration is sufficiently great, then this is already theft of ideas. Of course, it is not easy to distinguish the degree involved here. In everyday conversation and discussion, everyone inevitably inspires one another to some extent; but exactly how much inspiration makes it necessary to indicate the source? There is no fixed measure. Still, some cases are clear enough—if the extent to which your article influenced one of my articles clearly exceeds most of the references I actually cited, and I deliberately do not mark your article, then that probably counts as theft of ideas.

Or, for example, after reading many books I sorted out and summarized certain things, but you had not really read many books and instead directly appropriated the quotations and outlines I had excerpted and organized, without indicating my work anywhere; that too can count as theft of ideas. In short, stealing others’ labor without acknowledgment is theft of ideas. (It should be noted that for some friends I can proactively provide them with my “semi-finished products” for use; this counts as a gift among friends, so I will not make an issue of it. But from the standpoint of scholarship, anyone who enjoys the fruits of another’s labor should in any case indicate it, unless that is scholarly common knowledge.)

However, because my ideal is to live the life of a philosopher rather than to become an excellent philosophical worker, the loss plagiarism causes me is almost zero. If I were acting as an “expert,” then an insight I had finally managed to obtain, or a body of literature I had painstakingly organized, being stolen and used by others would undoubtedly be a loss. But for me, scattered insights and practical work are not my theme; their meaning lies in my entire intellectual “system.”

That is to say, a line of thought or an insight on a certain problem, or a review and survey of certain works, when taken out and looked at in isolation, no matter how brilliant it may be, is still only one brick or tile in the entire structure I am trying to build. What I pursue is a self-contained whole; only when each brick and tile is brought into the coordinated, harmonious, and complete building does it truly have meaning. If everything is pulled apart and viewed separately—say, borrowing a door from this building, a pillar from that one, and a few roof tiles from yet another building of a completely different style—then if you yourself do not have a uniquely ingenious design, such a hodgepodge can only produce something incongruous, no matter how wonderful those materials were in their original places. And yet, by borrowing hither and yon from predecessors in the same way, a great philosopher can endow even materials that were originally plain and unremarkable with brand-new meaning.

And besides, after all this talk, what exactly is the thing one fears in so-called fear of plagiarism or fear of theft of ideas? Is it something like the priority of publication, the right of first invention, being preempted by someone else? In fact, “priority” is an invention of modern science. In ancient times people liked to boast that what they said had already been said by sages of old, whereas modern people insist on pursuing what is “latest” and “unprecedented.” In truth, anyone who studies the history of philosophy can appreciate that nearly every conceivable odd idea in philosophy has already been discussed by predecessors in different ways. A “completely unprecedented new idea” is really not very likely. Therefore, philosophy in fact should not have a thing called “priority.” And since the thought of each great philosopher forms a system unto itself, that is to say, with regard to the entire system of thought, each great philosopher is likewise “without precedent and without successor,” so there is even less need to compete over priority.

Of course, my purpose in entering philosophy was not to become famous or establish a school, but to be driven by the contradiction of being both involuntary and yet delighted by it. Therefore plagiarism and theft of ideas, aside from making me unhappy, will not have any greater impact on my life.

In addition, putting everything I have obtained so far out there without reservation also has a self-motivating effect—this is my current level, the level of my undergraduate stage; it is all here, and everyone can bear witness. When I finish my graduate studies, I will surely surpass this little bit of present level by far; otherwise graduate school will have been for nothing.

—This is all that the Suixuan of the undergraduate stage has been laid out to show; just this much,

February 22, 2008