On “吐嘈”

Recently I’ve had a way of putting it that philosophy is a kind of act of “tucao.” I’m going to boldly adopt this “term” in my own philosophy; it really is strikingly apt.

Anyone who often watches Japanese anime will know the word “tucao,” but “outsiders” and beginners probably won’t quite understand what it actually means, so let me explain it roughly.

The explanations circulating online seem all to be copied and pasted from a passage by the POPGO subtitle group. That’s really quite lazy. You can look it up on Baidu Baike or the like. I’ll combine some easily found online materials and briefly restate it in my own words:

The word tucao is the Chinese anime-subtitle groups’ translation of the Japanese “突っ込み,” because there simply isn’t a truly corresponding expression in Chinese. The closest might be something like “butting in,” and a more rigid rendering could be “exposing” or “unmasking,” but obviously all of these are still far off. Only in Taiwanese dialect is there a somewhat closer word, “吐嘈,” so mainland subtitle groups borrowed the Taiwanese subtitle groups’ translation, and thus the word spread across the land of the motherland.

It seems that in Taiwanese, tucao refers to a kind of joking, good-natured “nitpicking.” Another widely circulated explanation online says: “So-called tucao means that, in front of the other person (who may be a companion, friend, or family member), one does not cooperate, and deliberately does not speak in line with the companion’s or friend’s intention. When a companion or friend is saying formalities or boastful talk, one deliberately tells the truth, exposing the formalities or the boasting, and not giving the companion or friend any face. However, in many cases, it contains a considerable element of mockery and playfulness.” This probably refers to tucao in the Taiwanese sense.

As for the tucao in Japanese, it comes from a term (or, rather, “jargon”) in a distinctive Japanese entertainment art called “manzai,” which is roughly equivalent to China’s xiangsheng (though their respective origins and traditions are quite different). So even if one has never watched Japanese anime, if one often listens to xiangsheng, one should also find it easy to grasp the meaning of “tucao.” If one doesn’t even listen to xiangsheng, then understanding it will probably be difficult.

According to POPGO’s introduction, “manzai is divided into the straight man and the tucao role……” I have not watched manzai, so I cannot speak about it in detail; let me explain it in the form of Chinese xiangsheng. But please note: when I speak of xiangsheng, the xiangsheng I imagine is Guo Degang’s xiangsheng. Guo Degang’s xiangsheng is the only one with real (magic) power, and if you can only think of the xiangsheng of those lofty, educational xiangsheng artists, then I strongly recommend that you 반드시 go and watch Guo Degang’s vulgar xiangsheng. Though even if you only watch some xiangsheng at the Spring Festival Gala, that would be enough, I still want to recommend Guo Degang’s xiangsheng to you, second only to *One Piece*, as an introductory “reading” for ancient-style philosophy.

In manzai, the straight-man role and the tucao role correspond, very roughly, to the “comic” and the “straight man” in xiangsheng. As the name suggests, the straight man often plays the role of the “fool,” saying absurd, strange, or unreasonable things, while the tucaoer plays the role of the sane corrector. It is like Guo Degang counting on his fingers and saying, “Xiangsheng has four courses of study… cheating, swindling, tricking, and deception…” while the straight man at his side hastily grabs him: “Wrong! Singing, reading, making jokes, and speaking!” This kind of “butting in” is “tucao”—of course, besides butting in, there are many auxiliary forms, such as staring dumbfounded, wiping sweat, tapping with a folding fan, and other bodily gestures; all of these are part of tucao.

In Japanese anime, the concept of tucao is used more broadly; it is not necessarily aimed at another foolish speaker, but can also be directed at some absurd or peculiar event.

There is a saying in xiangsheng: “Three parts comic, seven parts straight man,” which shows how important the straight man’s position is. Imagine if there were no straight man inserting remarks at the proper moment, and there were only Guo Degang onstage acting foolishly and saying “cheating, swindling, tricking, and deception.” The effect on the audience would probably be worlds apart. The comic material is displayed by the comic, the power of the joke is provided by the comic, but what ultimately prompts the audience to burst out laughing is often the straight man’s perfectly timed “insertion.” As for solo xiangsheng, the mode of performance is different, but if one examines it carefully, one can still find elements of tucao.

I have found that the word “tucao” very aptly expresses my view of philosophy. First of all, the philosopher is a rational and calm figure; he himself does not appear mad or absurd, but precisely seeks to reveal to the world those absurd, ludicrous, and unreasonable things. Many ready-made ideas and theories, as well as this age and this world itself, are full of irrationality, yet many people are blind to them and find nothing strange about them. The philosopher, by contrast, is always filled with vigilance and astonishment. He does not manufacture absurdity, but through “tucao”—through “butting in,” “exposing,” “pointing out,” “exclaiming,” “commenting,” and so on—he shows absurdity to others. Philosophical activity itself is, after all, calm and rational; philosophers always seem serious, even stiff, just as xiangsheng performers would never burst out laughing onstage. Yet the meaning of philosophy is precisely to make readers laugh! Philosophy is always unmasking the unreasonable absurdities of this world and of other thinkers, but it does not do so as a lofty judge pointing and instructing, saying this is wrong and that is wrong; rather, it proceeds as a tucaoer, with helplessness and playfulness, from a fundamentally friendly attitude. Philosophy may not be able to provide you with ultimate meaning, but it can enable you to laugh heartily in this helpless world.

In addition, xiangsheng (Guo Degang’s) as well as anime (Japanese) are obviously a kind of “vulgar” art. They both resist those things called “elegant” and “healthy.” The common trait of Guo Degang and Japanese anime is “vulgarity”; they refuse to take on the task of “preaching” that does not belong to them, and do not care at all about “exhorting people to be good.” I want to say that this is the truly free art. And those healthy, uplifting, educational mainstream Chinese xiangsheng and animated films are what are actually absurd and laughable; they have lost their direction. In my view, philosophy is also such a vulgar art. Even if it occasionally has educational significance (though sometimes it teaches people to be “good,” and more often it teaches people to be “bad”), please by all means do not embed educational significance in philosophy, for philosophy is precisely meant to be “anti-preaching.” The claim that philosophy can elevate a person’s level is also something I strongly doubt. China’s traditional learning of the sages and some religious practices may indeed be able to elevate your level, but philosophy cannot. If philosophy can elevate a person’s level, it could just as well lead one in the direction of ugliness and lowliness. In any case, philosophy is not a panacea, nor a universal tonic pill. Not only can philosophy not help people solve problems, it is always adding problems instead.

Speaking of tucao and philosophy, one inevitably thinks of the problem of translating philosophical terms. The word tucao is already translated into Chinese with such strain; how should it be translated into Western languages? Japan has manzai, China has xiangsheng, and the two are roughly comparable; but what about the West? I’m not very familiar with it. Traditional “comedy” is obviously quite different from xiangsheng, and as for the comic arts of Charlie Chaplin or Mr. Bean, they too are far removed from xiangsheng. Perhaps, in some deeper sense, any humorous art contains, in one way or another, an element of tucao; but how exactly can the word “tucao” be properly interpreted within the context of Western culture? I truly cannot imagine it. In particular, if a Chinese philosopher were to borrow the word “tucao” as his own philosophical “term,” I think readers might not necessarily understand his intention, but at least they would not feel that the term was particularly profound or mysterious. It is just like many of the “terms” Heidegger uses: they are all words casually lifted from everyday German speech. A German reader might perhaps find Heidegger’s entire philosophy unfathomable, but he would not become too entangled in those “terms.” Once translated into a foreign language, however, these words often have no simple equivalent; they must either be rendered awkwardly by meaning, or simply transliterated, and then accompanied by all sorts of explanations and commentary, and still undergo various theoretical scrutinies and discussions… After such a round of fussing, words that were originally earthy and vulgar seem to become elegant and mysterious; speaking in these obscure “terms” as if it were a symbol of “status” makes those philosophy researchers beam with pride. What a laughable thing! You may as well imagine this: if, in the future, truly genuine Chinese philosophers were to emerge, and, wielding their own language—just as Kant and Heidegger wielded German—were to speak of philosophies that are difficult to translate, what kinds of “terms” might they play with? Would they be words like “subjective initiative” or “intersubjectivity”? Perhaps our philosophy still has to handle these abstruse, awkward terms, but this situation is something to blush about, and by no means something to flaunt.

February 22, 2009

Xindao

Latest Comments

• dioiik

  2009-02-23 19:09:12

  What is vulgarity?
  Returning to one’s nature
  Does insisting on the deepest convictions of the human heart count as vulgar?
  The coercive force of the state machine makes us so uncomfortable
  We have no choice but to shout
  Freedom！

   



• Gu: I’m not too clear on the specific meaning of your “insisting on the deepest convictions of the human heart,” but I do emphasize that part of “vulgarity” is indeed meant to oppose moral preaching, while another part includes affirming people’s natural desires and tastes: what is wrong with laughing heartily at Guo Degang’s bawdy jokes? Of course, I am not saying that I myself am content to remain at this kind of most elementary sensory pleasure; otherwise I would not bother with all this philosophy. But any so-called “high taste” is still the development and extension of so-called “low taste.” The cultivation of a person’s individuality and character depends on guiding and mastering the most primitive and low-level desires, not on denying and suppressing them. And philosophy, since it seeks to get to the bottom of things, should begin from the “low” in the first place.

Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.