A post circulating on WeChat recently recalled something that happened early last year: a Xiaohongshu blogger began exposing plagiarism in the literary world by placing passages side by side in image comparisons. At the time, the revelations caused a considerable stir online. Yet after a year of continued disclosures, with the blogger still identifying new alleged plagiarists, public attention has quietly thinned out.
In theory, plagiarism in literature should provoke a strong response from readers, writers, critics, and the media alike. A literary culture that cannot defend originality has little ground left to stand on. But the reality is much quieter. The denunciations are there, but they sound more like mosquitoes than thunder. There are several reasons this may be happening.
First, the mainstream critical establishment has largely gone silent. Writers, critics, literary journals, and media outlets may avoid speaking out because no one wants trouble to land on their own doorstep. Anyone who pays even slight attention to the literary scene can see that personal favors and exchanges of interest in journals, publishing circles, and award selections are hardly hidden secrets. And among those writers who produce millions of words with astonishing ease, how many would comfortably withstand a close image-by-image comparison? If staying silent already feels safer, taking the initiative to condemn others becomes even less likely.
Second, literature itself has been pushed further to the margins of public life. Over the past few years, literature has gradually retreated from the center of attention. The difficulties faced by publishers and the closure of literary magazines all point to the same trend: literature is becoming a niche concern. In an age shaped by short videos, algorithms keep feeding people their own preferred corners of interest. Even topics that once set the whole internet talking now tend to dominate for only a few days before being replaced. Literary scandals, with their already limited audience, are even less likely to hold the public gaze for long.
There is also the stubborn belief that “all writing is copied from somewhere.” For many people, plagiarism no longer seems to be a question of right or wrong, but merely of whether one copies skillfully or clumsily. Once that attitude becomes common, moral criticism loses much of its force. The plagiarist, instead of facing serious public pressure, can often wait for the noise to pass.
The matter is made more complicated by the fact that plagiarism is not always easy to define. In many cases, the line between malicious copying and borrowing a technique, paying homage to a classic, drawing inspiration, or reworking existing text is not immediately clear. One side presents comparisons; the other side offers explanations. The argument goes back and forth until, more often than not, it fades without reaching any shared conclusion.
Finally, some people simply have no moral bottom line. There is a saying: as long as I am not embarrassed, the embarrassment belongs to someone else. For people with this mindset, as long as they do not feel they have done anything shameful, the shame can always be pushed outward. Even when confronted with seemingly solid evidence of plagiarism, they may remain perfectly calm, or even respond with great confidence and indignation. And everyone else, faced with such people and such behavior again and again, appears to have grown used to it.