"...Environment not only shapes behavior, but also shapes perception?"
This sentence was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, its ripples silently spreading through the smoke-filled study.
The influence of environment on human behavior, a basic tenet of literature and psychology, began to gain popularity in the 19th century and was widely practiced in numerous literary works.
This was also the main reason for the decline of "Romanticism" – in novels before the 19th century, there were always characters, especially protagonists, who existed outside or even transcended their environment, often using immense spiritual strength to change their surroundings and turn the tide.
It stemmed from the emphasis on man as an independent individual since the "Renaissance" – affirming human value, potential, and worldly happiness, and promoting human reason, emotion, and creativity.
The English writer Daniel Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe" is a typical example, although it is not a work of Romanticism.
The rise of Realism, and even Naturalism, questioned and overturned this creative approach, placing characters within their environment and viewing human behavior as a product of the environment, but it failed to reveal why this was the case.
The Naturalist writers in this room could usually only attribute it to natural heredity and human pathology – which was, of course, too extreme, so Naturalism only flourished for less than 30 years before fading away.
Lionel's newly proposed idea of "environment shaping perception" was groundbreaking, seeming to touch upon a subtle spark that everyone had only vaguely perceived but couldn't quite grasp.
A brief silence enveloped the room, broken only by the crackling of logs in the fireplace and the sounds of bustling traffic from the street outside the window.
Zola was the first to look up from his contemplation, leaning forward like a lion scenting new prey, his eyes sharp: "Leon, please continue! This goes further than simply recording behavior and the influence of environment!
Are you saying that the 'numbness' and 'sense of participation' of the young lad are 'perceptions' shaped by the environment? Do our eyes, the way we see the world, also breathe the air of the environment, like our lungs, and then be transformed by it?"
Lionel, smelling the choking fumes of cigarettes, cigars, and pipes filling the room, thought that if he attended a few more salons, his lungs might indeed be transformed.
So he slightly raised his hand: "I forgot my cigarettes, can someone give me one?"
The old smokers in the room all laughed, and the young Huysmans pulled out a gleaming silver flat case from his pocket, opening it to reveal a row of cigarettes. He elegantly flicked one out: "'Caporal,' made with excellent Indian tobacco."
Lionel took it and put it in his mouth, and Huysmans lit a match for him.
Taking a deep puff, without the buffer of a filter, a pungent, spicy, yet richly aromatic smoke instantly filled his mouth and nasal cavity, causing him to cough a few times.
However, no one mocked him; instead, their gazes towards him became even more cordial.
Lionel slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, then nodded: "Yes, Mr. Zola, our eyes can indeed be transformed. What does the 'young lad' witness daily? He sees workers haggling over a few sous for wine, the owner racking his brains to water down the wine, and endless coarse bargaining and arguments…
In such an environment, 'sympathy' or 'deep thought' is a luxury, and can even become an obstacle to survival. In order to adapt, or rather, to live 'normally' in this environment without being crushed or rejected, his perception must undergo a certain… dulling."
"Dulling?" Flaubert repeated the word, his eyes gleaming under his thick eyebrows. He turned to Zola, "Émile, this sounds like your field. We all understand physiological adaptation, such as calluses forming on a worker's palms.
So, will our noble souls also develop calluses?" Flaubert's words were not so much a question as a form of guidance, leading his "young" old friend to exercise his talent. (At this time, Zola was under 40 years old)
"Absolutely possible, Mr. Flaubert!" Zola interjected excitedly, as if Lionel's words had opened a new window for him.
"Think of those workers who spent their lives in the mines; their 'habituation' to darkness and dust, isn't that a dulling of the senses?
Leon, do you mean that the young lad's 'blindness' to the old guard's suffering is not innate callousness, but rather a 'habit' formed by his soul for self-protection in that particular 'social climate'? A kind of… learned numbness?"
By the end of his statement, Zola couldn't help but stand up and walk over to Lionel.
"Exactly, Mr. Zola," Lionel affirmed. He admired Zola's keen associations and also praised Flaubert's clever guidance.
"The tavern is his mine. Prolonged immersion has caused him to spontaneously block out the perception of 'suffering'—especially the 'inopportune,' unchangeable, and potentially troublesome suffering of the old guard.
He sees it, but he no longer 'feels' the sharp sting within it. He might even unconsciously participate in the mockery, because it allows him to temporarily integrate into the group and gain an illusory sense of security.
This 'shaping of perception' is more thorough than any external coercion, because it has internalized into his instinctive way of seeing the world." Lionel skillfully avoided some terms that had not yet been coined and would require lengthy explanations in this era.
Flaubert subconsciously said, "Are you talking about 'spectators' and 'collective unconsciousness'?—Oh, others might not have seen it, those were terms Leon mentioned at an internal inquiry meeting at Sorbonne.
I've had a copy made, you can take a look."
As he spoke, he walked to his large desk, lifted the red velvet cloth covering it, and took out a stack of manuscripts, handing them to Émile Zola.
The others pondered the new terms they had heard that evening: "environment shaping perception," "dulling," "spectators," "collective unconsciousness"…
Ivan Turgenev, who had been listening silently, now spoke slowly in his voice tinged with Slavic melancholy, smoke curling between his fingers: "Ah… this reminds me of winter in the Russian countryside.
Extreme cold not only freezes the body, but sometimes also freezes the soul. Serf owners are oblivious to the suffering of serfs, and neighbors are numb to the plight of neighbors… It's not that they are inherently evil.
In that 'purgatory,' the soul, to avoid being swallowed by despair, has to wrap itself in a thick layer of ice. Mr. Sorel, the gaze of the young lad in your story, is that layer of ice.
It is both protection and a cage."
Alphonse Daudet was deeply moved, his gentle face showing compassion: "This explains the peculiar sense of oppression I felt when reading 'the old guard.' We are not directly struck by the old guard's suffering, but rather by the gaze of the 'blind' young lad!
This is more… more suffocating than directly describing suffering itself. Today I learned – it forces us to reflect, have we ourselves 'dulled'? Have we also 'adapted' to certain suffering close at hand, as if it were commonplace?"
...
Flaubert listened quietly to everyone's discussion. After a long while, he slowly spoke, his voice deep and powerful: "So, Leon, you make the 'young lad' as the narrator a prisoner of the environment, and use the prisoner's gaze to observe the suffering of another prisoner, the 'old guard'.
A prisoner watching a prisoner, suffering becomes like scratches on the cell walls, ordinary, even… with a hint of amusement. This is the deepest tragedy, the coldest truth! This is a 'confined perspective,' one I had never seen or thought of before!"
As soon as he spoke, everyone was stunned.
If Lionel's "environment shaping perception" was like striking a match in the dark, Flaubert used that match to light a torch.