The recent release of Disney’s live-action Snow White has sparked waves of discussion, criticism, and confusion. What might seem like a simple remake of a beloved animated classic has instead opened a deeper cultural wound—one that’s not unique to Disney or entertainment, but reflective of broader tensions in how we relate to the past and the present.
As someone who enjoys observing cultural shifts from different angles, I couldn’t help but reflect on this not just as a moviegoer, but as a thinker. The controversy over Snow White isn’t simply about casting choices, political statements, or modern ideals—it’s about how we as a society grapple with the tension between preserving tradition and reinterpreting it for new times. In many ways, it reminded me of a very different but equally complex issue: Bible translation.
What unites them both is a question of historicity and reinterpretation—and our difficulty in distinguishing between the two.
Disney, the Bible, and the Burden of Legacy
At first glance, comparing a Disney film to the Bible may seem far-fetched. But both carry deep cultural resonance, and both are often treated as sacred texts—one literally, the other metaphorically. When either is altered, people feel it viscerally.
In Bible translation, we often discuss two approaches: formal equivalence (staying close to the original language) and dynamic equivalence (conveying the meaning in more modern or culturally relevant terms). Similarly, Disney’s remakes swing between faithfulness to the “original” and the desire to modernize characters, values, and narratives. Snow White in 1937 was a product of its time, and any attempt to bring it into 2025 naturally raises the question: what do we preserve, and what do we change?
In both cases, when modern reinterpretations blur the line between the old and the new without clarification, it can feel like the past is being overwritten. Many Christians have accused modern Bible translations of being “satanic,” not realizing they are simply new commentaries in a long line of interpretive efforts. Similarly, Disney’s live-action films sometimes position themselves as definitive updates rather than respectful reinterpretations, triggering cultural resistance.
The Myth of a Pure Original
One of the most persistent illusions is the idea that there is such a thing as a “pure” or “authentic” original. In truth, most stories—sacred or secular—are the product of layers of evolution, each shaped by context, power, and audience.
The Snow White we know from Disney wasn’t the original either—it was an adaptation of the Brothers Grimm version, which itself was a stylized collection of older European folktales. Likewise, the Bible was formed through centuries of oral tradition, political consensus, and translation across empires. Nothing remains untouched by time.
And yet, many of us cling to a version we grew up with—as if that version is the timeless one. This is both understandable and problematic. What we call “tradition” is often just the snapshot we happened to inherit, not the full journey. That’s why it’s crucial not to idolize any one version, but to trace the story’s path and see its many forms.
Distinguishing Interpretation from Replacement
The heart of the controversy, I believe, lies in a failure to distinguish between reinterpretation and replacement. If Disney had simply said, “This is a modern retelling of Snow White, inspired by the original,” it could have set the tone for a healthy discussion. Instead, live-action remakes are often marketed as the new definitive version—leaving people confused about whether the classic is being replaced or erased.
In the religious world, we handle this more carefully. Most modern Bible translations clearly indicate their approach and intent. We don’t say the New Living Translation replaces the King James Version—we say it offers a new lens. If Disney applied the same humility and transparency, they might avoid unnecessary conflict.
What’s needed is a clear acknowledgment: “This is our interpretation, informed by today’s values, and not a dismissal of the past.” Such a framing invites dialogue instead of division.
Warming the Old, Knowing the New
There is a beautiful Chinese proverb that captures this spirit perfectly: 温故知新 (wēn gù zhī xīn, or onko chishin in Japanese), which means “warm the old and know the new.” It teaches that the past should not be discarded but revisited with warmth and care, as a way of understanding and enriching the present.
It’s a mindset of harmony, not conflict. It encourages us to look backward not to retreat, but to draw wisdom that can guide the future. Ironically, even in cultures where this proverb originated, like in China during the Cultural Revolution, the importance of this balance was lost in the push for progress.
What we need now is to rediscover this balance—to treat the past not as an enemy of the present, but as its partner.
Liberals, Conservatives, and the Illusion of Opposition
The cultural confusion around reinterpretation and preservation doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it reflects and amplifies the larger political divide between liberals and conservatives. In the United States and many parts of the world, this divide often manifests as a zero-sum game: progress versus tradition, inclusion versus identity, change versus order.
On one side, liberal voices tend to advocate for modern values—diversity, empowerment, reinterpretation, and reform. These are the voices that push for more inclusive characters, revised narratives, and social critique within media and religion alike. On the other side, conservative voices often see these efforts as erasures of heritage, threats to shared identity, and disrespect toward foundational stories and values.
But this is where the tragedy lies: it doesn’t have to be a fight. The old and the new are not inherently opposed. In fact, the most powerful societies, stories, and spiritualities come from a fusion of the two—drawing from the deep roots of tradition while adapting to the winds of change.
Unfortunately, our public discourse—fueled by algorithms, media polarization, and cultural anxiety—frames everything as a battle. A Disney remake becomes a political statement. A translation of scripture becomes a moral battleground. We forget that what’s at stake is not left or right, but our shared capacity to interpret meaningfully, humbly, and together.
When we approach cultural works with respect, nuance, and acknowledgment of historical context, we don’t erase either side—we open space for dialogue. That, in itself, is a deeply political act—but not a partisan one. It’s an act of maturity, of healing, and of vision.
Melody and Harmony
One way I like to think about this is through music. The past is the melody—the steady, familiar tune that carries meaning and memory. The present is the harmony—the layer that enriches the melody, gives it depth, and speaks to our current emotions.
If we try to replace the melody with a new one altogether, we lose our sense of continuity. But if we only cling to the melody and reject all harmony, the music remains flat. True beauty comes when the two work together.
In that sense, a modern interpretation of Snow White—or a Bible translation—should act like harmony: respectful of the melody, never overpowering it, always enriching it.
Education as a Path Forward
Thankfully, there is one domain where this balance is often respected: art education. When we study art history, we are taught to see works in context, to appreciate their originality while recognizing their reinterpretations across time. We don’t pit Picasso against Michelangelo. We understand that every work reflects its own time, and that meaning evolves.
This mindset should not be limited to museums and classrooms—it should be part of how we consume media, read books, engage with religion, and form opinions. A well-rounded education doesn’t just give us facts—it gives us cultural humility, the ability to see things from multiple angles, and the maturity to let opposites coexist.
We should teach young people not to ask, “Which is better—the old or the new?” but rather, “What does each teach us about being human?”
Living with Two Eyes Open
The conflict surrounding Snow White isn’t just about Hollywood. It’s about how we think, how we remember, and how we grow. If we insist on choosing between the past and the present, we lose both. But if we allow them to sit side by side—if we warm the old while knowing the new—we give ourselves a richer, wiser way to live.
There will always be new interpretations, just as there will always be traditions worth preserving. The goal is not to silence either, but to create a world where they can talk to each other. In doing so, we might just rediscover what it means to be whole—not by picking sides, but by listening to both.
Image: A photo captured by the author.
Tom’s Blog 