Adab Ka Maaddi Tasawwur

The dream of literature and other fine arts has always been troubled by a multitude of interpretations. Because it was not seen as having any material foundation, the realm of poetry and literature was largely considered a world of dreams and imagination—one with neither defined paths nor a fixed direction. In this view, the writer is entirely free to express their emotions and thoughts. It was thought unnecessary to investigate the roots of these feelings and ideas or to offer the writer any guidance, as there was no point in grappling with the immaterial nature of thoughts and the unbridled flow of emotions. However, this way of thinking could not endure for long.

The study of history and society revealed that ideas and their artistic manifestations are deeply connected to the rise and fall of human material life. A person's thoughts and consciousness evolve in accordance with the social and economic system in which they live. This historical reality led to the philosophical principle that human material existence determines human consciousness. In other words, the mind is not the creator of realities; rather, material realities shape the mind, and these realities possess a material existence independent of the human mind.

Keeping this principle in mind, we must acknowledge that a writer's creative works are a reflection of the realities present in society. A writer may be entirely unaware of this philosophy, yet their creations will inevitably manifest, in one form or another, the surrounding realities that have shaped their mind. Viewed from this perspective, thought and consciousness also acquire a material nature. Therefore, contemplating the material concept of literature means examining the material and social background of the emotions, thoughts, and experiences expressed within it, in order to uncover the true foundation of these realities. Some consider this merely a hypothesis. Even if we accept it as such, no harm is done, because social history so clearly illuminates the underlying causes of change that the hypothesis transforms into undeniable fact. The history of human thought and ideas serves as the greatest proof of this.

The world surrounding the writer—its beauty and ugliness, its struggles and complexities, the hopes and despairs of its inhabitants, their dreams and aspirations, its changing seasons and shifting hues—becomes the subject of their work. Across different historical eras, the relationship between these elements and human emotions does not remain static; rather, it evolves alongside human economic life and its growing complexities. This is why the literature of every era possesses its own distinct character, just as the consciousness of every era takes on a specific form. Furthermore, even within a single era, literary works vary according to the individual consciousness of each writer. This brings another point into focus: while there is an undeniable relationship between economic life, modes of production, material evolution, and literary consciousness, this connection is not as simple or direct as a straight line. To trace this relationship, one must cast a deeply critical eye upon the economic structure of a given country, nation, or era, as well as the life and history constructed upon that foundation.

Alongside this, the consciousness of each individual writer must also be studied to determine the exact nature of its relationship with social evolution. Certain proponents of materialist philosophy have viewed this issue through a purely mechanical lens. They have overlooked the fact that while material conditions certainly influence human beings, they do not do so merely in a passive manner. Humans actively struggle against society and nature to transform their material conditions, and in the process of changing these circumstances, they themselves are transformed. This dynamic process is entirely different from mechanically absorbing external influences. In the former scenario, humanity appears completely powerless; in the latter, it emerges as conscious and empowered.

The social significance of literature cannot be fully grasped unless we recognize the writer as a conscious being. Therefore, the material concept of literature primarily emphasizes that literature is a creation of human consciousness. Through it, the writer presents a reflection of the material and external realities existing outside their own mind, shaping them into various forms while adhering to artistic constraints and aesthetic demands. Secondly, this reflection is not static or ready-made like a photograph; rather, it is a dynamic reflection of dynamic realities.

The question now arises: how exactly does the relationship between the modes of production of a specific era and its literature or fine arts manifest? This requires clarification. If we wish to understand this through an example, a prime illustration can be found in early human society, where social structures were uncomplicated and the modes of production were remarkably simple. While working collectively, early humans realized that working in rhythm, producing specific sounds, and moving their bodies in particular ways allowed the work to be completed faster, reduced fatigue, and felt inherently pleasant. Consequently, they intertwined these physical movements, sounds, and utterances with their labor practices and means of mental recreation. This was the crude yet entirely natural genesis of language, dance, music, and poetry—a genesis directly linked to the modes of production. As society and its modes of production grew increasingly complex, their relationship with literature and the fine arts grew correspondingly intricate.

In this context, another crucial point must be remembered. While acknowledging the relationship between the modes of production and literature, it would be a mistake to assume that their respective trajectories of decline or evolution will always be identical or strictly proportional. A glance at the history of any nation reveals that sublime literature has often been produced even during periods of modest social development. Ancient Greece, despite existing in an era of slavery, gave birth not only to Plato, Aristotle, Aeschylus, and Euripides, but also to Homer.

Furthermore, it would be incorrect to assume that the literature of a particular era perishes alongside it, or that the literature of a new era emerges by severing all ties with the past. One obvious reason for this is that the productive relations of one era pass through numerous transitional and evolutionary phases before entering the revolutionary stage of the next. Until the human mind comprehends this struggle of transformation through deliberate, conscious effort, it remains difficult to neatly separate one era from another. Not all writers within a given era operate at the exact same level of consciousness. Human minds carry the heavy burden of familial, class, and social inheritances—a burden that is nearly impossible to cast off without a profound understanding of life's struggles. This is precisely why it is said that once literary traditions take root, they do not wither away easily; they often endure long after the underlying economic structure has completely transformed.

Those who accuse this interpretation of literature—claiming that viewing literature from this perspective reduces it to a mere byproduct of economic shifts or changes in the modes of production—do not actually understand the true nature of this relationship. The reality is that material facts pass through so many layers of language, style, expression, and emotion before taking a literary form that one cannot draw conclusions by treating them on the level of the natural sciences. It is certainly true that the writer’s mind and consciousness—which are actively engaged in the creation of literature—are shaped by material and economic conditions, but other influences also continue to leave their mark.

The materialist philosophy discussed thus far also emphasizes that the aesthetic perspective adopted for the study of literature is itself a product of the material system, which in turn arises from the modes of production. Consequently, elements that may appear entirely unrelated to economic causes—and which operate within a literary creation under religious, philosophical, cultural, or literary guises—must also be recognized as components of these material realities. Aesthetic sensibility itself cannot step outside the boundaries of the existing material reality. It will, however, undergo a transformation only when there is an actual change in the fundamental structure of life, or when the need for such a change is deeply felt.

At this point, it should be clearly understood that the intellectual origins of the materialist perspective can be traced back to the era of the Greek philosophers. While Plato sought reality in an unseen world beyond material life, Democritus emphasized the material relationship between cause and effect. In one form or another, this conflict between idealism and materialism has persisted throughout history, continually resurfacing in various philosophical, social, and literary movements under different guises. However, the philosophy that completely separated the two and presented a material and scientific theory of change—allowing these forms to be recognized everywhere—is Marxism. The materialist perspective discussed thus far is more or less based on this very philosophy.

The founders and proponents of this philosophy have applied it to all social phenomena, making a specific effort to clarify the material foundations of literature. Therefore, whenever we need to examine the material concept of literature, we must keep the principles of this philosophy in mind, because other materialist and sociological philosophies fail to observe all aspects of change operating simultaneously.

Nevertheless, because literature ostensibly appears to be the product of an individual mind, people generally experience confusion when considering its material nature. Questions arise in their minds: if literature is the result of an individual's thoughts, to what extent is it valid to search for collective social realities within it? Is there not a conflict between the individual and society? Is it mandatory for the individual to be bound by social life? Idealist and individualist philosophers and thinkers have raised various such questions, objecting to the materialist perspective on the grounds that it ignores the individual and human personality. This objection is entirely baseless; attempting to understand an individual's thoughts and experiences by treating them as an isolated entity outside of society is a futile endeavor.

Thoughts emerge in the human mind as reflections of external and material realities. Human consciousness finds these realities either in harmony with its desires, in opposition to them, or perhaps partially aligned and partially opposed. Depending on this, consciousness either accepts or rejects them, and this process is always driven by some underlying emotion and the pursuit of mental or material peace. At the very least, this is how a normal human being operates. Through this process, an individual enters a social sphere inhabited by others who live, think, and act similarly, thereby establishing a positive or negative relationship with their respective class. In materialist philosophy, the human being is everything and cannot be ignored under any circumstances. However, this philosophy cannot conceive of a human being who has no connection to any family, group, class, or society. Since all these relationships are fundamentally economic and social, every writer must be evaluated by this same standard. Even if we consider a writer's creative works to be highly imaginative, it remains impossible to view the writer as existing outside these social bonds.

It hardly needs to be stated here that, with the exception of a fully communist society, every society is divided into classes based on its means of production. Generally, an individual's mindset is tied to their class interests, though this is not an absolute rule. Through conscious effort, a person can abandon their class-based ideologies. In such cases, their class becomes the one for whose interests they struggle. Because a constant conflict over rights and interests exists between those who control the means of production and those who are deprived of them, it is generally accepted that the writer's consciousness will reflect this struggle, in one form or another, within their literary work.

If a writer lacks class consciousness, its expression in their work will not be very clear, because materialist philosophy does not acknowledge the primacy of the unconscious mind. Therefore, it only considers the writer's unconscious processes to a very limited extent. The importance given to the unconscious in psychoanalysis stands in direct opposition to materialist philosophy. Psychoanalysis turns human nature into an unsolvable riddle, one that navigates the journey of life and action driven merely by primal instincts.

In the context of a writer's class nature, a debate also arises regarding how we should view the creative masterpieces of great writers from the past. Does a writer's class psychology absolutely compel them to view every reality through that specific lens, or do they depict external material realities according to their own level of consciousness? Much depends on the answer to this question. If a writer is merely forced to present the psychology of their own class, then the question of their social responsibility becomes moot. The writer would then be a victim not only of class determinism but also of a kind of spiritual coercion. If we accept this as true, the relationship between environment and literature is reduced to a mechanical process, one in which the writer is relegated to a purely passive role.

The material concept of literature demands that a writer present events in light of the realities of their time. They must do so in a way that brings the entire cultural struggle of that era (or the era they are depicting) vividly to life. It should be evident that the writer has risen above their own narrow class interests to present the most complete reality possible. This is how the literature of the past becomes the cultural heritage of the present. Contemporary literature, fine arts, and culture can only achieve true utility and greatness when they draw inspiration from the collective wealth of human history. Throughout history, great artists have shattered the illusions of class boundaries, expressing the deepest desires of ordinary people through beautiful words and vivid imagery. This continuous process has enriched humanity's cultural heritage. It is for this reason that materialist philosophers and thinkers urge writers to dedicate their intellectual passion and the power of their pens to representing and serving the working masses.

Some people, driven by class interests or intellectual distortion, oppose this perspective and demand pure literature from writers. Upon closer inspection, however, this is an impossible demand. The moment humanity becomes the subject of literature, that literature inevitably becomes the expression of a specific point of view. No matter how hard a writer tries to remain neutral, their characters, themes, and ideas will always reveal some underlying bias. In the very illusion of avoiding propaganda, the writer inadvertently ends up propagating something else. A writer influenced by materialist philosophy, on the other hand, is consciously partisan. This partisanship can manifest in political, social, cultural, or philosophical forms. They are neither afraid nor ashamed of taking a stand, because they do not represent injustice, oppression, misanthropy, despair, ugliness, or narrow-mindedness. Instead, they are promoting values that enhance the collective happiness of humanity.

The preceding lines have already touched upon the aesthetic perspective of materialist philosophy. Humanity has always measured beauty in nature, in people, and in life itself by the degree to which it increases happiness in practical existence. The emotions that arise in the human heart are the result of perceiving and understanding external realities—emotions that transcend individual experience to acquire a collective significance. The relationship between subject matter and content, and how they connect to style, form, and artistic technique, must also be viewed through this lens. The evolution of artistic technique has occurred precisely to achieve a more accurate and impactful understanding of the subject matter, meaning both form and content can be studied together. Thus, the material concept of literature evaluates every literary issue and secures a place for literature within human society and culture. This place is deeply connected to human consciousness—a consciousness born of social, economic, and class evolution, which continues to evolve as social relations change.

The most significant outcome of adopting this perspective is that the writer emerges as a responsible, conscious, and sensitive participant in the struggle for social and cultural evolution, as well as in the broader effort to construct and shape human life. Their creative endeavors become just as vital as the work of political, social, and scientific figures.

The literary and critical perspective that emerges from this entire discussion—serving as a guiding principle for both literary creation and criticism—can be termed Socialist Realism or Social Realism. This principle of artistic expression can serve as a guide for any artist. Various interpretations of realism have been proposed over time, leading to different and sometimes contradictory conclusions. To distinguish the specific realism born from the materialist conception of history from other forms of realism, the qualifiers socialist or social became necessary. This perspective demands that an artist perceive reality in such a way that it takes shape within their art in its evolutionary and revolutionary forms, keeping all historical and material aspects in full view.

This creative effort cannot be passive. Inevitably, its purpose must be to spark a transformation in the public consciousness through the experience of the art—a transformation that cements the ideas of the truth, virtue, and superiority of socialism. On the surface, this seems straightforward. However, when a writer or critic truly embraces this principle, they must evaluate the nature, essence, and social significance of every reality. They must examine the foundational elements of society and understand the root causes of events. Only then can they determine which realities are driving life in a particular direction, and where they might ultimately lead. In a dynamic, ever-changing world, grasping the true nature of reality is no easy task. Only an artist or writer equipped with a dialectical perspective—and who actively applies it to understand reality—can successfully rise to this challenge.

Clearly, this approach is entirely different from the conventional concept of realism. Here, historical reality, artistic sensibility, and the philosophy of life all merge into a unified whole. This is the material concept of literature. It does not oppose artistic diversity; rather, it opposes novelty for the sake of novelty and rigid formalism. It stands against literary hollowness, ineffectiveness, mechanical and colorless realism, and aimlessness. Ultimately, it is a vision dedicated to making literature vibrant, beautiful, and profoundly humanistic.

The dream of literature and other fine arts has always been troubled by a multitude of interpretations. Because it was not seen as having any material foundation, the realm of poetry and literature was largely considered a world of dreams and imagination—one with neither defined paths nor a fixed direction. In this view, the writer is entirely free to express their emotions and thoughts. It was thought unnecessary to investigate the roots of these feelings and ideas or to offer the writer any guidance, as there was no point in grappling with the immaterial nature of thoughts and the unbridled flow of emotions. However, this way of thinking could not endure for long.

The study of history and society revealed that ideas and their artistic manifestations are deeply connected to the rise and fall of human material life. A person's thoughts and consciousness evolve in accordance with the social and economic system in which they live. This historical reality led to the philosophical principle that human material existence determines human consciousness. In other words, the mind is not the creator of realities; rather, material realities shape the mind, and these realities possess a material existence independent of the human mind.

Keeping this principle in mind, we must acknowledge that a writer's creative works are a reflection of the realities present in society. A writer may be entirely unaware of this philosophy, yet their creations will inevitably manifest, in one form or another, the surrounding realities that have shaped their mind. Viewed from this perspective, thought and consciousness also acquire a material nature. Therefore, contemplating the material concept of literature means examining the material and social background of the emotions, thoughts, and experiences expressed within it, in order to uncover the true foundation of these realities. Some consider this merely a hypothesis. Even if we accept it as such, no harm is done, because social history so clearly illuminates the underlying causes of change that the hypothesis transforms into undeniable fact. The history of human thought and ideas serves as the greatest proof of this.

The world surrounding the writer—its beauty and ugliness, its struggles and complexities, the hopes and despairs of its inhabitants, their dreams and aspirations, its changing seasons and shifting hues—becomes the subject of their work. Across different historical eras, the relationship between these elements and human emotions does not remain static; rather, it evolves alongside human economic life and its growing complexities. This is why the literature of every era possesses its own distinct character, just as the consciousness of every era takes on a specific form. Furthermore, even within a single era, literary works vary according to the individual consciousness of each writer. This brings another point into focus: while there is an undeniable relationship between economic life, modes of production, material evolution, and literary consciousness, this connection is not as simple or direct as a straight line. To trace this relationship, one must cast a deeply critical eye upon the economic structure of a given country, nation, or era, as well as the life and history constructed upon that foundation.

Alongside this, the consciousness of each individual writer must also be studied to determine the exact nature of its relationship with social evolution. Certain proponents of materialist philosophy have viewed this issue through a purely mechanical lens. They have overlooked the fact that while material conditions certainly influence human beings, they do not do so merely in a passive manner. Humans actively struggle against society and nature to transform their material conditions, and in the process of changing these circumstances, they themselves are transformed. This dynamic process is entirely different from mechanically absorbing external influences. In the former scenario, humanity appears completely powerless; in the latter, it emerges as conscious and empowered.

The social significance of literature cannot be fully grasped unless we recognize the writer as a conscious being. Therefore, the material concept of literature primarily emphasizes that literature is a creation of human consciousness. Through it, the writer presents a reflection of the material and external realities existing outside their own mind, shaping them into various forms while adhering to artistic constraints and aesthetic demands. Secondly, this reflection is not static or ready-made like a photograph; rather, it is a dynamic reflection of dynamic realities.

The question now arises: how exactly does the relationship between the modes of production of a specific era and its literature or fine arts manifest? This requires clarification. If we wish to understand this through an example, a prime illustration can be found in early human society, where social structures were uncomplicated and the modes of production were remarkably simple. While working collectively, early humans realized that working in rhythm, producing specific sounds, and moving their bodies in particular ways allowed the work to be completed faster, reduced fatigue, and felt inherently pleasant. Consequently, they intertwined these physical movements, sounds, and utterances with their labor practices and means of mental recreation. This was the crude yet entirely natural genesis of language, dance, music, and poetry—a genesis directly linked to the modes of production. As society and its modes of production grew increasingly complex, their relationship with literature and the fine arts grew correspondingly intricate.

In this context, another crucial point must be remembered. While acknowledging the relationship between the modes of production and literature, it would be a mistake to assume that their respective trajectories of decline or evolution will always be identical or strictly proportional. A glance at the history of any nation reveals that sublime literature has often been produced even during periods of modest social development. Ancient Greece, despite existing in an era of slavery, gave birth not only to Plato, Aristotle, Aeschylus, and Euripides, but also to Homer.

Furthermore, it would be incorrect to assume that the literature of a particular era perishes alongside it, or that the literature of a new era emerges by severing all ties with the past. One obvious reason for this is that the productive relations of one era pass through numerous transitional and evolutionary phases before entering the revolutionary stage of the next. Until the human mind comprehends this struggle of transformation through deliberate, conscious effort, it remains difficult to neatly separate one era from another. Not all writers within a given era operate at the exact same level of consciousness. Human minds carry the heavy burden of familial, class, and social inheritances—a burden that is nearly impossible to cast off without a profound understanding of life's struggles. This is precisely why it is said that once literary traditions take root, they do not wither away easily; they often endure long after the underlying economic structure has completely transformed.

Those who accuse this interpretation of literature—claiming that viewing literature from this perspective reduces it to a mere byproduct of economic shifts or changes in the modes of production—do not actually understand the true nature of this relationship. The reality is that material facts pass through so many layers of language, style, expression, and emotion before taking a literary form that one cannot draw conclusions by treating them on the level of the natural sciences. It is certainly true that the writer’s mind and consciousness—which are actively engaged in the creation of literature—are shaped by material and economic conditions, but other influences also continue to leave their mark.

The materialist philosophy discussed thus far also emphasizes that the aesthetic perspective adopted for the study of literature is itself a product of the material system, which in turn arises from the modes of production. Consequently, elements that may appear entirely unrelated to economic causes—and which operate within a literary creation under religious, philosophical, cultural, or literary guises—must also be recognized as components of these material realities. Aesthetic sensibility itself cannot step outside the boundaries of the existing material reality. It will, however, undergo a transformation only when there is an actual change in the fundamental structure of life, or when the need for such a change is deeply felt.

At this point, it should be clearly understood that the intellectual origins of the materialist perspective can be traced back to the era of the Greek philosophers. While Plato sought reality in an unseen world beyond material life, Democritus emphasized the material relationship between cause and effect. In one form or another, this conflict between idealism and materialism has persisted throughout history, continually resurfacing in various philosophical, social, and literary movements under different guises. However, the philosophy that completely separated the two and presented a material and scientific theory of change—allowing these forms to be recognized everywhere—is Marxism. The materialist perspective discussed thus far is more or less based on this very philosophy.

The founders and proponents of this philosophy have applied it to all social phenomena, making a specific effort to clarify the material foundations of literature. Therefore, whenever we need to examine the material concept of literature, we must keep the principles of this philosophy in mind, because other materialist and sociological philosophies fail to observe all aspects of change operating simultaneously.

Nevertheless, because literature ostensibly appears to be the product of an individual mind, people generally experience confusion when considering its material nature. Questions arise in their minds: if literature is the result of an individual's thoughts, to what extent is it valid to search for collective social realities within it? Is there not a conflict between the individual and society? Is it mandatory for the individual to be bound by social life? Idealist and individualist philosophers and thinkers have raised various such questions, objecting to the materialist perspective on the grounds that it ignores the individual and human personality. This objection is entirely baseless; attempting to understand an individual's thoughts and experiences by treating them as an isolated entity outside of society is a futile endeavor.

Thoughts emerge in the human mind as reflections of external and material realities. Human consciousness finds these realities either in harmony with its desires, in opposition to them, or perhaps partially aligned and partially opposed. Depending on this, consciousness either accepts or rejects them, and this process is always driven by some underlying emotion and the pursuit of mental or material peace. At the very least, this is how a normal human being operates. Through this process, an individual enters a social sphere inhabited by others who live, think, and act similarly, thereby establishing a positive or negative relationship with their respective class. In materialist philosophy, the human being is everything and cannot be ignored under any circumstances. However, this philosophy cannot conceive of a human being who has no connection to any family, group, class, or society. Since all these relationships are fundamentally economic and social, every writer must be evaluated by this same standard. Even if we consider a writer's creative works to be highly imaginative, it remains impossible to view the writer as existing outside these social bonds.

It hardly needs to be stated here that, with the exception of a fully communist society, every society is divided into classes based on its means of production. Generally, an individual's mindset is tied to their class interests, though this is not an absolute rule. Through conscious effort, a person can abandon their class-based ideologies. In such cases, their class becomes the one for whose interests they struggle. Because a constant conflict over rights and interests exists between those who control the means of production and those who are deprived of them, it is generally accepted that the writer's consciousness will reflect this struggle, in one form or another, within their literary work.

If a writer lacks class consciousness, its expression in their work will not be very clear, because materialist philosophy does not acknowledge the primacy of the unconscious mind. Therefore, it only considers the writer's unconscious processes to a very limited extent. The importance given to the unconscious in psychoanalysis stands in direct opposition to materialist philosophy. Psychoanalysis turns human nature into an unsolvable riddle, one that navigates the journey of life and action driven merely by primal instincts.

In the context of a writer's class nature, a debate also arises regarding how we should view the creative masterpieces of great writers from the past. Does a writer's class psychology absolutely compel them to view every reality through that specific lens, or do they depict external material realities according to their own level of consciousness? Much depends on the answer to this question. If a writer is merely forced to present the psychology of their own class, then the question of their social responsibility becomes moot. The writer would then be a victim not only of class determinism but also of a kind of spiritual coercion. If we accept this as true, the relationship between environment and literature is reduced to a mechanical process, one in which the writer is relegated to a purely passive role.

The material concept of literature demands that a writer present events in light of the realities of their time. They must do so in a way that brings the entire cultural struggle of that era (or the era they are depicting) vividly to life. It should be evident that the writer has risen above their own narrow class interests to present the most complete reality possible. This is how the literature of the past becomes the cultural heritage of the present. Contemporary literature, fine arts, and culture can only achieve true utility and greatness when they draw inspiration from the collective wealth of human history. Throughout history, great artists have shattered the illusions of class boundaries, expressing the deepest desires of ordinary people through beautiful words and vivid imagery. This continuous process has enriched humanity's cultural heritage. It is for this reason that materialist philosophers and thinkers urge writers to dedicate their intellectual passion and the power of their pens to representing and serving the working masses.

Some people, driven by class interests or intellectual distortion, oppose this perspective and demand pure literature from writers. Upon closer inspection, however, this is an impossible demand. The moment humanity becomes the subject of literature, that literature inevitably becomes the expression of a specific point of view. No matter how hard a writer tries to remain neutral, their characters, themes, and ideas will always reveal some underlying bias. In the very illusion of avoiding propaganda, the writer inadvertently ends up propagating something else. A writer influenced by materialist philosophy, on the other hand, is consciously partisan. This partisanship can manifest in political, social, cultural, or philosophical forms. They are neither afraid nor ashamed of taking a stand, because they do not represent injustice, oppression, misanthropy, despair, ugliness, or narrow-mindedness. Instead, they are promoting values that enhance the collective happiness of humanity.

The preceding lines have already touched upon the aesthetic perspective of materialist philosophy. Humanity has always measured beauty in nature, in people, and in life itself by the degree to which it increases happiness in practical existence. The emotions that arise in the human heart are the result of perceiving and understanding external realities—emotions that transcend individual experience to acquire a collective significance. The relationship between subject matter and content, and how they connect to style, form, and artistic technique, must also be viewed through this lens. The evolution of artistic technique has occurred precisely to achieve a more accurate and impactful understanding of the subject matter, meaning both form and content can be studied together. Thus, the material concept of literature evaluates every literary issue and secures a place for literature within human society and culture. This place is deeply connected to human consciousness—a consciousness born of social, economic, and class evolution, which continues to evolve as social relations change.

The most significant outcome of adopting this perspective is that the writer emerges as a responsible, conscious, and sensitive participant in the struggle for social and cultural evolution, as well as in the broader effort to construct and shape human life. Their creative endeavors become just as vital as the work of political, social, and scientific figures.

The literary and critical perspective that emerges from this entire discussion—serving as a guiding principle for both literary creation and criticism—can be termed Socialist Realism or Social Realism. This principle of artistic expression can serve as a guide for any artist. Various interpretations of realism have been proposed over time, leading to different and sometimes contradictory conclusions. To distinguish the specific realism born from the materialist conception of history from other forms of realism, the qualifiers socialist or social became necessary. This perspective demands that an artist perceive reality in such a way that it takes shape within their art in its evolutionary and revolutionary forms, keeping all historical and material aspects in full view.

This creative effort cannot be passive. Inevitably, its purpose must be to spark a transformation in the public consciousness through the experience of the art—a transformation that cements the ideas of the truth, virtue, and superiority of socialism. On the surface, this seems straightforward. However, when a writer or critic truly embraces this principle, they must evaluate the nature, essence, and social significance of every reality. They must examine the foundational elements of society and understand the root causes of events. Only then can they determine which realities are driving life in a particular direction, and where they might ultimately lead. In a dynamic, ever-changing world, grasping the true nature of reality is no easy task. Only an artist or writer equipped with a dialectical perspective—and who actively applies it to understand reality—can successfully rise to this challenge.

Clearly, this approach is entirely different from the conventional concept of realism. Here, historical reality, artistic sensibility, and the philosophy of life all merge into a unified whole. This is the material concept of literature. It does not oppose artistic diversity; rather, it opposes novelty for the sake of novelty and rigid formalism. It stands against literary hollowness, ineffectiveness, mechanical and colorless realism, and aimlessness. Ultimately, it is a vision dedicated to making literature vibrant, beautiful, and profoundly humanistic.