谁界定矛盾 （小说）
谁界定矛盾
北京的初秋带着一丝凉意。中央党校校园里，梧桐树的叶缘已经泛黄。
主礼堂内，深色西装一排排端坐在国徽之下。巨大的红色背景板上镌写着金色大字：
“省部级干部学习《习近平谈治国理政》专题研讨班”
气氛庄重，却并不紧张——那是一种被习惯磨平了棱角的严肃。
习近平总书记刚刚结束讲话。他的声音始终平稳、从容、节制——谈发展、安全、改革、复兴。每一句话都不疾不徐，掷地有声。
掌声持续响起——节奏整齐，分寸得当，从不失控。
随后进入讨论环节。
第五排一位中年学者起身。他的眼镜片反射着灯光。
“总书记，”他斟酌着开口，“任何理论在实践中都会遇到矛盾。我想请问——您如何看待您自身治理理论中可能存在的问题？”
听众有些惊讶。笔悬在笔记本上停住。目光都直视前方。
习近平没有立刻作答。
他环视会场，神情平静，近乎沉思。他微微一笑。
他抬起手，指向第三排。
“彭同志，”习近平语气平稳，目光落在他身上。彭同志条件反射似地坐直了些。
“对，就是你，山东省省长——你谈谈看法。”
会场掠过一阵几乎难以察觉的涟漪。
某处，一支笔滑落在地，清脆一声，无人去捡。
彭省长起身。
年近六十岁，肩膀宽厚，头发一丝不苟。多年治理重工业大省的经历塑造了他的气质：稳重、务实、不张扬。
“尊敬的总书记，各位同志。”
他的声音保持着平稳，尽管心跳未必如此。
他停顿了一下——不至于显得迟疑，只够整理措辞。
“这个问题体现了责任意识。”
一个稳妥的开场。
他继续说道：
“治理一个大国，矛盾不可避免。从地方实践看，最大的风险不在理论本身，而在于对其精神实质的精确把握。”
会场寂静无声，只有省长的声音在其中缓缓回响。
“如果只追求增长而忽视转型，就会积累结构性停滞；如果只强调转型而缺乏稳定，又可能带来社会压力。在我们省，既要推进传统产业升级，也要保障数百万人的就业。”
他讲诉那些熟悉的平衡：环保要求与钢铁产量并行，民营经济活力与企业中加强党的领导同步，防范金融风险而不扼杀创新。
每一点都踩在一条细线上。
他放慢了语速。
“还有一点：在从严治党和反腐背景下，个别干部出现过度谨慎的现象。他们更倾向于避免犯错，而非主动作为。”
寂静。
“这就需要把严格治理与鼓励担当结合起来，”他语调克制，“纪律与活力必须同步推进。”
他按惯例作结。
“只要我们坚持以习近平同志为核心的党中央集中统一领导，不折不扣地执行习主席的治国理念，发展中出现的任何问题都可以用这个理论来解决。”
掌声响起——规范、克制。
彭省长坐下。
习近平微微点头，没有看他。脸上几乎没有表情——或许是认可，或许是接收。
他俯身靠近话筒。
“彭同志是从实践中谈问题。”他说，但并未对理论本身作出评价。
“问题并不可怕，”他补充道，“可怕的是不能正视问题。”
短暂的停顿。
“在推进改革的过程中，我们既要保持战略定力，也要增强问题导向意识。”
那位学者低下头，在笔记本上迅速记录。
室外，风掠过树梢。树叶一片片脱落，悄然无声。
室内，研讨仍在继续。
但在几个人心中——彭也在其中——最初的问题依然停留在那里，没有被回答，也没有被抹去：
如果万物皆有矛盾，那么，谁有权利指出并解释矛盾呢？
下一场的铃声响起。
全场整齐起立。
2026-02-25
Who Names the Contradictions
Early autumn in Beijing brought a faint chill. On the Central Party School campus, the plane trees had begun to yellow at the edges.
In the main auditorium, rows of dark suits sat upright beneath the national emblem. A large red backdrop bore gold characters:
“Provincial and Ministerial-Level Cadres Seminar on Studying ‘Xi Jinping: The Governance of China’”
The atmosphere was solemn, but not tense—seriousness worn smooth by habit.
General Secretary Xi Jinping had just concluded his lecture. His voice had been steady, deliberate, measured—speaking of development, security, reform, rejuvenation. Each sentence landed without hurry.
Prolonged applause followed—rhythmic, measured, never frantic.
Then the discussion period.
A middle-aged scholar in the fifth row rose. His glasses reflected the light.
“General Secretary,” he said with care, “every theory encounters contradictions in practice. May I ask—what do you see as possible problems within your own theory of governance?”
The hall shifted without moving. Pens froze above notebooks. All looked rigidly forward.
General Secretary Xi did not reply immediately.
He scanned the room, calm, almost contemplative. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled slightly.
He raised a hand and pointed toward the third row.
“Comrade Peng,” General Secretary Xi said evenly, gazing at him. Comrade Peng straightened spontaneously.
“Yes, you are, Governor of Shandong Province—what's your view?”
A brief ripple—barely perceptible—passed through the hall.
Somewhere, a pen slipped, struck the floor, unattended.
Governor Peng stood.
Late fifties, broad-shouldered, hair disciplined. Years managing heavy-industry provinces had forged his manner: solid, pragmatic, never showy.
“Respected General Secretary, comrades.”
His voice held steady, though his heartbeat might not.
He paused, not long enough to appear uncertain, just long enough to gather precision.
“The question shows a sense of responsibility.”
A safe opening.
He went on.
“In governing a large country, contradictions are inevitable. From local practice, the greatest risk lies not in the theory but in incomplete grasp of its spirit.”
The hall was silent; only the Governor’s voice moved through it.
“If we pursue growth without transformation, we invite structural stagnation. If we chase transformation without stability, we risk social strain. In our province we must upgrade traditional industries while protecting employment for millions.”
He touched the familiar balances: environmental protection alongside steel output, private-sector vitality under strengthened Party leadership in enterprises, financial-risk prevention without choking innovation.
Each point traversed a narrow line.
He slowed.
“There is also this: under strict discipline and anti-corruption, some cadres grow overly cautious. They avoid errors more than they pursue initiative.”
Silence.
“This calls for combining strict governance with encouragement of responsibility,” he continued, measured. “Discipline and vitality must advance in step.”
He ended as expected.
“As long as we uphold the centralized, unified leadership of the Party Central Committee with General Secretary Xi at its core, and implement the theories of Governance of China, completely and accurately, any emerging problems can be resolved by these theories.”
Applause—proper, contained.
Governor Peng sat.
Xi gave a slight nod, without looking at the Governor. His face showed little—perhaps approval, perhaps mere receipt.
He leaned to the microphone.
“Comrade Peng has spoken from practice,” he said, making no comment on the theory.
“Problems are not to be feared,” he added. “What is to be feared is failing to recognize them.”
A pause.
“In advancing reform, we must keep strategic resolve. We must also keep problem-oriented awareness.”
The scholar lowered his eyes and wrote quickly in his notebook.
Outside, wind stirred the trees. Leaves detached one by one, falling without sound.
Inside, the seminar continued.
But in several minds—Peng’s among them—the original question remained, neither answered nor erased:
If contradictions inhabit all things, who decides which contradiction may be named aloud?
The bell rang softly for the next session.
The hall rose as one.