Sources of Chinese Tradition: Volume 2: From 1600 Through the Twentieth Century, Second Edition

In the early years of the People’s Republic of China, the Communist Party unified the country militarily (except for Taiwan) and fought the United States to a standstill in Korea. Domestically, it distributed land to the peasants, accelerated industrialization, revamped education on the Soviet model, and passed a marriage law. After decades of war and chaos, peace reigned. Gangsters and drug pushers were executed; prostitutes and opium addicts were rehabilitated. Health care improved and some serious diseases were eradicated in the countryside. Infant mortality went down and life expectancy gradually rose. Patriotic Chinese educated abroad came home to participate in the reconstruction of the motherland. China became a nuclear power in 1964. In later years many people looked back nostalgically on the early days of the Mao regime, imagining it as a kind of Golden Age.

Yet there were a number of anomalies in the Communist success. Having operated for twenty years in the countryside, the Party, when it came to power, adopted the Soviet model rather than building a new order based upon peasant experience or the needs of Chinese agriculture. Although the party had ridden to power on the backs of a largely peasant army, it was the urban population that benefited the most from the policies of the new state. The term iron rice bowl described the cradle-to-grave support now enjoyed by a large percentage of the urban population. Many of the comrades who had sacrificed during the long years of struggle believed that now, in this new state, they were entitled to good positions and special privileges. At the same time, the party and government, now ruling the whole country, recruited new cadres on a massive scale. Many such recruits constituted a “new class,” in a position to pass privileged educational, health care, and housing opportunities on to their children. Meanwhile, the party conducted one class-warfare campaign after another against landlords, reactionaries, traitors, and corrupt officials, creating an atmosphere of terror and intimidation. Much of the early goodwill and sense of security began to dissipate.

By the mid-fifties Mao had become increasingly dissatisfied, as agricultural production, counted on to support heavy industrialization, lagged. Peasants who had been glad to receive land of their own were much less eager to see it collectivized. Against the advice of fellow leaders who favored a more gradual approach, Mao pressed ahead, with the result that all farmland in China became collectivized in a remarkably short time.

Despite Mao’s efforts to rein in intellectuals during the Rectification Campaign of the early forties, in the mid-fifties he still counted on them to play a role in the modernization of China. By 1957 he believed that the new regime was well established and that the majority of Chinese now accepted the socialist path. Intellectuals, he hoped, could serve as a check on corruption and privilege in the party, a concern that had originally arisen during the Rectification Campaign and now was vented again in the campaign to “Let a Hundred Flowers Bloom.” Some leaders had approved the idea of opening up the party to criticism from the outside, but when criticism became vociferous and even turned anti-socialist, Mao turned on the intellectuals he had previously encouraged to speak out, purging at least 300,000 and sending them into internal exile.

Undeterred by either economic or political setbacks, Mao pressed ahead with the Great Leap Forward in order to jump-start more rapid industrialization. The movement promoted bootstrap efforts in the countryside, typified by “backyard furnaces” to boost steel production. Seeking to decentralize some of the power that had accumulated in Beijing but also to gain greater control over agricultural production, Mao began to turn the countryside into autarkic communes, declaring that China was on the verge of communism, a claim that had not even been made by the Soviet Union. As a result of this and other differences, China had a major falling-out with the Soviet Union by 1960, and the two sides almost went to war at the end of the decade. The Great Leap Forward, too, went awry; agricultural production declined further, distribution was uneven, and famine led to the deaths of tens of millions of peasants.

At this juncture new leadership under Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping came forward to espouse more-moderate policies: the expansion of private garden plots, the opening up of local markets, and the offering of material incentives for increased production. All notions of achieving full communism were shelved. Mao fumed against Liu and Deng, believing that their policies would lead to a restoration of capitalism in China. After much political maneuvering, Mao managed to launch his Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution of 1966 and called upon the students of China to lead it, bypassing and outflanking the party and state bureaucracies.

Ostensibly, the purpose of the Cultural Revolution was to destroy the remnants of past tradition (especially Confucianism) and bourgeois liberalism, but more directly it aimed at opponents in the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) who were accused of “economism” (i.e., favoring markets and incentives) and of “walking the capitalist road.” Mao singled out individuals in the party who were said to have been corrupted by power and privilege. Liu and Deng, considered the top two “capitalist roaders” in China, were eventually purged from the party, along with thousands of alleged “followers.” No one was immune to attack as a rightist; children were even encouraged to accuse their parents. Students, organized as Red Guards, also attacked intellectuals who, unlike members of the party, had no organization to protect themselves. Liu’s and Deng’s policies were reversed. The struggle between contending factions led to mass chaos and the near collapse of China.

In Dictatorship of the People’s Democracy (1949) (see chapter 34), besides making the case for Leninist “democratic centralism,” Mao also stated that the Chinese Communist Revolution should be guided by the experience of the Soviet Union and, as an ally of the Soviets, should take part in the world revolutionary movement. Anticipating the objection that this meant “leaning to one side” in favor of the Soviets, he defended the policy as follows:

“You are leaning to one side.” Exactly. The forty years’ experience of Sun Yat-sen and the twenty-eight years’ experience of the Communist Party have taught us to lean to one side, and we are firmly convinced that in order to win victory and consolidate it we must lean to one side. In the light of the experiences accumulated in these forty years and these twenty-eight years, all Chinese without exception must lean either to the side of imperialism or to the side of socialism. Sitting on the fence will not do, nor is there a third road. . . .

“Victory is possible even without international help.” This is a mistaken idea. In the epoch in which imperialism exists, it is impossible for a genuine people’s revolution to win victory in any country without various forms of help from the international revolutionary forces, and even if victory were won, it could not be consolidated. This was the case with the victory and consolidation of the Great October Revolution as Stalin told us long ago. This was also the case with the overthrow of the three imperialist powers in World War II and the establishment of the people’s democracies. And this is also the case with the present and the future of People’s China.

This speech, actually given in 1939, was published in the People’s Daily, the authoritative organ of the Chinese Communist Party, only after the founding of the People’s Republic of China on October 1, 1949. It constituted a reaffirmation by Mao after the more-moderate “New Democracy” phase, of his earlier revolutionary commitments, and of his continuing faith in Stalin as the leader of the world revolution. Of particular significance here is Mao’s assertion that all of Marxism is summed up in “the one sentence: To rebel is justified.” This was later invoked repeatedly at the launching of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution.

At the present time, the whole world is divided into two fronts struggling against one another. On the one side is imperialism, which represents the front of the oppressors. On the other is socialism, which represents the front of resistance to oppression. . . . Who is in command of the revolutionary front? It is socialism, it is Stalin. Comrade Stalin is the leader of the world revolution. Because he is there, it is easier to get things done. As you know, Marx is dead, and Engels and Lenin too are dead. If we did not have a Stalin, who would give the orders? . . .

There are innumerable principles of Marxism, but in the last analysis they can all be summed up in one sentence: “To rebel is justified.” For thousands of years everyone said: “Oppression is justified, exploitation is justified, rebellion is not justified.” From the time when Marxism appeared on the scene, this old judgment was turned upside down, and this is a great contribution. This principle was derived by the proletariat from its struggles, but Marx drew the conclusion. In accordance with this principle, there was then resistance, there was struggle, and socialism was realized. What is Comrade Stalin’s contribution? He developed this principle, he developed Marxism-Leninism and produced a very clear, concrete, and living doctrine for the oppressed people of the whole world. This is the complete doctrine of establishing a revolutionary front, overthrowing imperialism, overthrowing capitalism, and establishing a socialist society.

The practical aspect consists in turning doctrine into reality. Neither Marx, Engels, nor Lenin carried to completion the cause of the establishment of socialism, but Stalin did so. This is a great and unprecedented exploit. Before the Soviet Union’s two five-year plans, the capitalist newspapers of various countries proclaimed daily that the Soviet Union was in desperate straits, that socialism could not be relied upon, but what do we see today? Stalin has stopped Chamberlain’s mouth,¹ and also the mouths of those Chinese diehards. They all recognize that the Soviet Union has triumphed.

Stalin has helped us from the doctrinal standpoint in our war of resistance against Japan. Apart from this, he has given us material and practical aid. Since the victory of Stalin’s cause, he has aided us with many airplanes, cannons, aviators, and military advisers in every domain, as well as lending us money. What other country in the world has helped us in this way? What country in the world, led by what class, party, and individual, has helped us in this way? Who is there, apart from the Soviet Union, the proletariat, the Communist Party, and Stalin?

This poem to Stalin was written by Guo Moruo (1897–1977), a major intellectual figurehead of the People’s Republic, unofficial poet laureate, and president of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. Before 1949 he was prominent as a writer, historian, and left-wing activist, but not as an open Communist; after 1949 he was a supposedly “non-partisan” representative in the People’s Republic Political Consultative Conference, and later vice president of the Standing Committee of the People’s Congress. At his death it was revealed that he had long been a secret member of the Party, but this Ode leaves little doubt where his sentiments lay.

The “orders of nature” spoken of at the end of the ode is presumably a reference to the Lysenko theory of evolution approved by Stalin in those years.

The Great Stalin, our beloved “Steel,” our everlasting sun!

Only because there is you among mankind, Marx-Leninism can reach its present heights!

Only because there is you, the Proletariat can have its present growth and strength!

Only because there is you, the task of liberation can be as glorious as it is!

It is you who are leading us to merge into the stream flowing into the ocean of utopia.

It is you who are instructing us that the West will never neglect the East.

It is you who are uniting us into a force never before seen in history.

There is the fortress of peace of the USSR, standing firm, with unparalleled strength.

There are the new republics of Asia and Europe, side by side, growing more and more prosperous.

There is the Chinese People’s Republic, turning in a new direction, brightening the world.

The history of mankind is opening a new chapter.

The orders of nature will also follow the direction of revolution.

The name of Stalin will forever be the sun of mankind.

Long live Great Stalin!

Long live Our Beloved “Steel"!

[Trans. by Chaoying Fang]

Citing Lenin, Stalin, and the Soviet Union as models for the CCP, this statement gives early priority to heavy industry and agricultural collectivization in a Soviet-style Five-Year Plan. The Communists saw large-scale projects and a planned economy as the key to the nearly century-old goal of wealth and power.

The five-year construction plan, to which we have long looked forward, has now commenced. Its basic object is the gradual realization of the industrialization of our state.

Industrialization has been the goal sought by the Chinese people during the past one hundred years. From the last days of the Manchu dynasty to the early years of the republic, some people had undertaken the establishment of a few factories in the country. But industry as a whole has never been developed in China. . . . It was just as Stalin said: “Because China did not have its own heavy industry and its own war industry, it was being trampled upon by all the reckless and unruly elements. . . .”

We are now in the midst of a period of important changes, in that period of transition, as described by Lenin, of changing “from the stallion of the peasant, the farm hand, and poverty, to the stallion of mechanized industry and electrification.”

We must look upon this period of transition to the industrialization of the state as one equal in importance and significance to that period of transition of the revolution toward the fight for political power. . . .

It was through the implementation of the policies of the industrialization of the state and the collectivization of agriculture that the Soviet Union succeeded in building up, from an economic structure complicated with five component economies, a unified socialist economy; in turning a backward agricultural nation into a first-class industrial power of the world; in defeating German fascist aggression in World War II; and in constituting itself the strong bastion of world peace today.

We are looking upon the Soviet Union as our example in the building of our country. Soviet experiences in the realization of industrialization are of great value to us. . . .

The foundation of socialism is large industrial development. Lenin said, “There is only one real foundation for a socialist society, and it is large industry. If we do not possess factories of great size, if we do not possess a large industrial structure with the most advanced equipment, then we shall generally not be able to talk of socialism, much less in the case of an agricultural country.”

Accordingly, in order to enable our state to progress victoriously toward socialism, we must construct large industries. . . . Numerous facts have proved that it is futile to attempt the enforcement of socialism on the foundations of small agriculture or small handicrafts. Industry must first be developed to provide possibilities for the collectivization and mechanization of agriculture, for the socialist reform of agriculture.

At the same time, only with industrialization of the state may we guarantee our economic independence and nonreliance on imperialism.

[Ji Yun, in People’s Daily, May 23, 1953; adapted from Selden, The People’s Republic of China, pp. 290–292]

Although called a “report,” the following is more a restatement of the goals of the first five-year plan than an actual account of progress made. Nevertheless, these policies did succeed in establishing some industrial base by the mid-fifties. Note the heavy investment in major capital construction, reflecting a similar Soviet emphasis on large-scale state projects of great visibility.

The general task set by China’s first five-year plan was determined in the light of the fundamental task of the state during the transition period.

It may be summarized as follows: We must center our main efforts on industrial construction; this comprises 694 above-norm construction projects, the core of which are the 156 projects that the Soviet Union is designing for us and on which we lay the preliminary groundwork for China’s socialist industrialization; we must foster the growth of agricultural producers’ cooperatives, whose system of ownership is partially collective, and handicraft producers’ cooperatives, thus laying the preliminary groundwork for the socialist transformation of agriculture and handicrafts; and in the main, we must incorporate capitalist industry and commerce into various forms of state capitalism, laying the groundwork for the socialist transformation of private industry and commerce. . . .

The total outlay for the country’s economic construction and cultural and educational development during the five-year period will be 76,640 million yuan, or the equivalent in value of more than 700 million taels [a little over an ounce] of gold. Such an enormous investment in national construction would have been absolutely inconceivable in the past. This is possible only for a government led by the working class and working wholeheartedly in the interests of the people.

Investments in capital construction will amount to 42,740 million yuan, or 55.8 percent of the total outlay for economic construction and cultural and educational development during the five-year period. Of the remaining 44.2 percent, or 33,900 million yuan, part will be spent on work occasioned by the needs of capital construction, such as prospecting resources, engineering surveying and designing, stockpiling of equipment and material, and so on. Part will be spent to develop industrial production, transport and posts and telecommunications, including such items as overhaul of equipment, technical and organizational improvements in production, trial manufacture of new products, purchase of miscellaneous fixed assets, and so on; another part will serve as circulating capital for the various economic departments; and still another part will go to funds allocated to all economic, cultural, and educational departments for operating expenses and for the training of specialized personnel. . . .

The industrialization that our country is striving to achieve is socialist industrialization, modeled on Soviet experience and carried out with the direct assistance of the Soviet Union and the people’s democracies. It is not capitalist industrialization. Therefore, our industry, particularly those branches producing means of production, is capable of rapid development.

Under the Soviet model, Chinese agriculture, through the sale of grain to the Soviet Union, was to provide the resources to fund an ambitious industrialization program. By the mid-fifties, however, the leadership realized that agricultural production was lagging and the surplus derived from it was insufficient. Collectivization of the land was seen as the solution to this problem. However, farmers, having received land in the early land reform movement, could be expected to resist subsequent moves for them to surrender it. The program thus was envisioned as a long-term project that would take decades and would be done on a voluntary basis. In the following, Mao spelled out the steps by which the people could be persuaded to join in the process: building small-scale cooperatives that would then be expanded into large production units. When the farmers saw the advantages of cooperative farming, he thought, they would join the cooperatives of their own accord.

When production fell, in part on account of the farmers’ noncooperation, however, Mao decided to press ahead, convinced that the masses would go along with the tide of revolutionary change and that the eventual results would confirm the rightness of his policies. Instead of taking several decades, China’s land collectivization was accomplished in a year or two. Though less violent than the Soviet collectivization of the thirties, it was not without resistance and loss of life.

The following passages reveal, in the way Mao expresses himself, how easily his own thoughts are put into the minds of others—how prone he is to letting the strong conviction of his own rightness color his reading of a situation.

A new upsurge in the socialist mass movement is in sight throughout the Chinese countryside. But some of our comrades are tottering along like a woman with bound feet, always complaining that others are going too fast. They imagine that by picking on trifles, grumbling unnecessarily, worrying continuously, and putting up countless taboos and commandments, they will guide the socialist mass movement in the rural areas along sound lines.

The tide of social reform in the countryside—in the shape of cooperation—has already reached some places. Soon it will sweep the whole country. This is a huge socialist revolutionary movement, which involves a rural population more than five hundred million strong, one that has very great world significance. We should guide this movement vigorously, warmly, and systematically, and not act as a drag on it. . . .

It is wrong to say that the present pace of development of the agricultural producers’ cooperatives has “gone beyond practical possibilities” or “gone beyond the consciousness of the masses.” The situation in China is like this: its population is enormous, there is a shortage of cultivated land (only three mou of land per head, taking the country as a whole; in many parts of the southern provinces, the average is only one mou or less), natural catastrophes occur from time to time—every year large numbers of farms suffer more or less from flood, drought, gales, frost, hail, or insect pests—and methods of farming are backward. As a result, many peasants are still having difficulties or are not well off. The well-off ones are comparatively few, although since land reform the standard of living of the peasants as a whole has improved. For all these reasons there is an active desire among most peasants to take the socialist road. . . .

We have been taking steps to bring about a gradual advance in the socialist transformation of agriculture. The first step in the countryside is to call on the peasants, in accordance with the principles of voluntariness and mutual benefit, to organize agricultural producers’ mutual-aid teams. Such teams contain only the rudiments of socialism. Each one draws in a few households, though some have ten or more. The second step is to call on the peasants, on the basis of these mutual-aid teams and still in accordance with the principles of voluntariness and mutual benefit, to organize small agricultural producers’ cooperatives semi-socialist in nature, characterized by the pooling of land as shares and by single management. Not until we take the third step will the peasants be called upon, on the basis of these small, semi-socialist cooperatives and in accordance with the same principles of voluntariness and mutual benefit, to unite on a larger scale and organize large agricultural producers’ cooperatives completely socialist in nature. These steps are designed to raise steadily the socialist consciousness of the peasants through their personal experience, to change their mode of life step by step, and so minimize any feeling that their mode of life is being changed all of a sudden.

[Mao, Guanyu nongye hezuohua wenti; trans. adapted from Schram, The Political Thought of Mao Tse-tung, pp. 343–346]

This speech, popularly known by the catch-phrase “Let a Hundred Flowers Bloom,” is one of Mao Zedong’s most important theoretical statements after the consolidation of Communist power on the mainland of China and after the death of Stalin left Mao the senior Communist theoretician. It was occasioned in part by the shock of the uprising in Hungary late in 1956, which showed the degree of pent-up dissatisfaction possible under even a seemingly well-established Communist regime. If Mao’s gesture was meant to encourage the “letting off of steam,” those who took advantage of the offer found, after a brief period of forbearance by the Party, that they would be subjected to severe attack and penalized for their outspokenness.

In long-range terms the significance of this statement lay not in any liberalization or loosening of Communist ideological control but precisely in its reaffirmation of the importance that Mao attached to unity in matters of theory and doctrine. As we have seen, for Mao and for Liu Shaoqi, the principal means of preserving that unity as a dynamic force had been ideological struggle. Yet under conditions of Party dominance, the threat of stagnation was always present. Consequently for Mao, always concerned to keep his cohorts in battle-readiness, the question was how to stimulate the airing of contradictions without allowing them to become antagonistic.

Mao continued to wrestle with this problem, hoping to find a use for “nonantagonistic” criticism as an outlet for discontent. However, with the Party standing as sole judge of what was antagonistic or not, and making an object lesson of those who unknowingly overstepped the invisible line, this particular contradiction could not be easily resolved.

Mao’s speech was originally delivered on February 27, 1957, before a large audience at the Supreme State Conference. When finally published at the end of June, it had been substantially revised and probably represented a much more guarded statement of policy than the original lecture. The purpose was now less to encourage “fragrant flowers” and more to identify “poisonous weeds.”

Never has our country been as united as it is today. The victories of the bourgeois-democratic revolution and the socialist revolution, coupled with our achievements in socialist construction, have rapidly changed the face of old China. Now we see before us an even brighter future. . . . Unification of the country, unity of the people, and unity among our various nationalities—these are the basic guarantees for the sure triumph of our cause. However, this does not mean that there are no longer any contradictions in our society. . . . We are confronted by two types of social contradictions—contradictions between ourselves and the enemy and contradictions among the people. These two types of contradictions are totally different in nature. [pp. 14–15]

The contradictions between ourselves and our enemies are antagonistic ones. Within the ranks of the people, contradictions among the working people are nonantagonistic, while those between the exploiters and the exploited classes have, apart from their antagonistic aspect, a nonantagonistic aspect. Contradictions among the people have always existed, but their content differs in each period of the revolution and during the building of socialism.

In the conditions existing in China today, what we call contradictions among the people include the following:

Contradictions within the working class, contradictions within the peasantry, contradictions within the intelligentsia, contradictions between the working class and the peasantry, contradictions between the working class and peasantry on the one hand and the intelligentsia on the other, contradictions between the working class and other sections of the working people on the one hand and the national bourgeoisie on the other, contradictions within the national bourgeoisie, and so forth. Our People’s Government is a government that truly represents the interests of the people and serves the people, yet certain contradictions do exist between the government and the masses. These include contradictions between the interests of the state, collective interests, and individual interests; between democracy and centralism; between those in positions of leadership and the led; and contradictions arising from the bureaucratic practices of certain state functionaries in their relations with the masses. All these are contradictions among the people; generally speaking, underlying the contradictions among the people is the basic identity of the interests of the people.

In our country, the contradiction between the working class and the national bourgeoisie is a contradiction among the people. . . . The contradiction between exploiter and exploited that exists between the national bourgeoisie and the working class is an antagonistic one. But, in the concrete conditions existing in China, such an antagonistic contradiction, if properly handled, can be transformed into a nonantagonistic one and resolved in a peaceful way. But if it is not properly handled—if, say, we do not follow a policy of unity, criticizing and educating the national bourgeoisie, or if the national bourgeoisie does not accept this policy—then the contradictions between the working class and the national bourgeoisie can turn into an antagonistic contradiction between ourselves and the enemy. [pp. 16–18]

There were other people in our country who took a wavering attitude toward the Hungarian events because they were ignorant about the actual world situation. They felt that there was too little freedom under our people’s democracy and that there was more freedom under Western parliamentary democracy. They ask for the adoption of the two-party system of the West, where one party is in office and the other out of office. But this so-called two-party system is nothing but a means of maintaining the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie; under no circumstances can it safeguard the freedom of the working people. . . .

Those who demand freedom and democracy in the abstract regard democracy as an end and not a means. Democracy sometimes seems to be an end, but it is in fact only a means. Marxism teaches us that democracy is part of the superstructure and belongs to the category of politics. That is to say, in the last analysis it serves the economic base. The same is true of freedom. Both democracy and freedom are relative, not absolute, and they come into being and develop under specific historical circumstances.

Within the ranks of the people, democracy stands in relation to centralism, and freedom to discipline. They are two conflicting aspects of a single entity, contradictory as well as united, and we should not one-sidedly emphasize one to the denial of the other. Within the ranks of the people, we cannot do without democracy, nor can we do without centralism. Our democratic centralism means the unity of democracy and centralism and the unity of freedom and discipline. Under this system, the people enjoy a wide measure of democracy and freedom, but at the same time they have to keep themselves within the bounds of socialist discipline. All this is well understood by the people. [pp. 21–22]

Marxist philosophy holds that the law of the unity of opposites is a fundamental law of the universe. This law operates everywhere—in the natural world, in human society, and in human thinking. Opposites in contradiction unite as well as struggle with each other, and thus impel all things to move and change. Contradictions exist everywhere, but as things differ in nature so do contradictions in any given phenomenon or thing; the unity of opposites is conditional, temporary and transitory, and hence relative, whereas struggle between opposites is absolute. Lenin gave a very clear exposition of this law. In our country, a growing number of people have come to understand it. For many people, however, acceptance of this law is one thing and its application, examining and dealing with problems, is quite another. . . . Many people refuse to admit that contradictions still exist in a socialist society, with the result that when confronted with social contradictions they become timid and helpless. They do not understand that socialist society grows more united and consolidated precisely through the ceaseless process of correctly dealing with and resolving contradictions. . . . [p. 26]

On “Letting a Hundred Flowers Blossom” and “Letting a Hundred Schools of Thought Contend”

The policy of letting a hundred flowers blossom and a hundred schools of thought contend is designed to promote the flourishing of the arts and the progress of science; it is designed to enable a socialist culture to thrive in our land. Different forms and styles in art can develop freely, and different schools in science can contend freely. We think that it is harmful to the growth of art and science if administrative measures are used to impose one particular style of art or school of thought and to ban another. . . . In the past, new and correct things often failed at the outset to win recognition from the majority of people and had to develop by twists and turns in struggle. Correct and good things have often at first been looked upon not as fragrant flowers but as poisonous weeds; Copernicus’s theory of the solar system and Darwin’s theory of evolution were once dismissed as erroneous and had to win out over bitter opposition. Chinese history offers many similar examples. . . .

Marxism has also developed through struggle. . . . It is true that in China socialist transformation, insofar as a change in the system of ownership is concerned, has in the main been completed, and the turbulent, large-scale, mass class struggles characteristic of the revolutionary periods have in the main concluded. But remnants of the overthrown landlord and comprador classes still exist, the bourgeoisie still exists, and the petty bourgeoisie has only just begun to remold itself. Class struggle is not yet over. . . . In this respect, the question of whether socialism or capitalism will win is still not really settled. Marxists are still a minority of the entire population as well as of the intellectuals. Marxism therefore must still develop through struggle. . . . As humankind in general rejects an untruth and accepts a truth, a new truth will begin struggling with new erroneous ideas. Such struggles will never end. This is the law of the development of truth, and it is certainly also the law of development in Marxism. [pp. 44–46]

People may ask: Since Marxism is accepted by the majority of the people in our country as the guiding ideology, can it be criticized? Certainly it can. As a scientific truth, Marxism fears no criticism. If it did and could be defeated in argument, it would be worthless. In fact, are not the idealists criticizing Marxism every day and in all sorts of ways? . . . Fighting against wrong ideas is like being vaccinated—a man develops greater immunity from disease after the vaccine takes effect. Plants raised in hothouses are not likely to be robust. Carrying out the policy of letting a hundred flowers bloom and a hundred schools of thought contend will not weaken but strengthen the leading position of Marxism in the ideological field.

What should our policy be toward non-Marxist ideas? As far as unmistakable counterrevolutionaries and wreckers of the socialist cause are concerned, the matter is easy; we simply deprive them of their freedom of speech. But it is quite a different matter when we are faced with incorrect ideas among the people. Will it do to ban such ideas and give them no opportunity to express themselves? Certainly not. . . . That is why it is only by employing methods of discussion, criticism, and reasoning that we can really foster correct ideas, overcome wrong ideas, and really settle issues. [pp. 47–48]

So what, from the point of view of the broad masses of the people, should be a criterion today for distinguishing between fragrant flowers and poisonous weeds? . . .

Basing ourselves on the principles of our constitution, the will of the overwhelming majority of our people, and the political programs jointly proclaimed on various occasions by our political parties and groups, we believe that, broadly speaking, words and actions can be judged right if they:

Of these six criteria, the most important are the socialist path and the leadership of the Party. . . . When the majority of the people have clear-cut criteria to go by, criticism and self-criticism can be conducted along proper lines, and these criteria can be applied to people’s words and actions to determine whether they are fragrant flowers or poisonous weeds. These are political criteria. Naturally, in judging the truthfulness of scientific theories or assessing the aesthetic value of works of art, other pertinent criteria are needed, but these six political criteria are also applicable to all activities in the arts or sciences. In a socialist country like ours, can there possibly be any useful scientific or artistic activity that runs counter to these political criteria? [pp. 49–50]

In this essay Liu Binyan, a prominent journalist who later became an outspoken critic of the Mao and Deng regimes, recalls how thrilled he was by Mao’s original speech on the Hundred Flowers Campaign, but then how disillusioned he was by the repression that followed. Liu subsequently became convinced that the campaign was set by Mao deliberately to trap his opponents; today, not all historians are so convinced, but there is little disagreement about the chilling outcome.

I do not remember a moment in my life more exhilarating than when Mao Zedong’s February 1957 speech to the State Council was released. My estimation of him soared to sublime heights. At China Youth News the response was equally enthusiastic; it seemed as if we were at the beginning of a new era in China.

In his speech, Mao distinguished between two basically different sets of “contradictions”—antagonistic and nonantagonistic. In so doing, he appeared to be announcing that the era of class struggle was over, that “internal contradictions” (including those between capitalists and the working class) were the main ones within our society, and the foremost among these were contradictions between the Party and the people. These were seen as nonantagonistic conflicts. This also meant that the Party must be placed under supervision of the people and that the fight against bureaucratism was a major task, requiring our full and constant attention. In that speech, Mao announced that dogmatism should not be mistaken for Marxism; he reiterated his policy of letting “a hundred flowers bloom and a hundred schools of thought contend"; he advocated open criticism and reiterated that senior party leaders should not be exempt from criticism. As for strikes by workers and students—unprecedented since the founding of the People’s Republic and now taken seriously for the first time—he said the right way of dealing with them was not by force or coercion but by overcoming bureaucratism.

These issues were exactly the unspoken ones that had been weighing on me for the last few years—special privileges within Party ranks, bureaucratism, and dogmatic tendencies. Now my disquiet had been dispelled as if by magic. The political climate in Beijing cleared up; the mood of intellectuals brightened; everything seemed to take on a rosy hue. Mao was virtually advocating more democracy and liberalization in matters of ideology; as a journalist and writer, I now felt I had a free hand in pursuing my vocation.

In March I went to Harbin and Changchun, two big cities in northeast China, and I was shocked by the state of things I saw. The local Party Committee’s attitude toward Mao’s speech was diametrically opposed to that of the intellectuals; local officials just sat back, waiting for a change in the wind. The Party Committee in Harbin was conducting its own criticism of “bourgeois ideology.” The municipal Party secretary had decided that bureaucratism was a form of bourgeois ideology, so opposing bourgeois ideology covered everything.

Another thing that shocked me was the diametrically opposed interpretations of Mao’s intentions. Mao’s talk was filtering down to Party cadres in these two cities, and among those who had heard and studied the talk, some felt that Mao was attacking dogmatism and leftist tendencies, while others felt differently. It is true, the latter conceded, Mao had criticized Chen Qitong’s January letter in the People’s Daily attacking liberal tendencies in art and literature. But that criticism, they argued, was leveled at Chen’s ineptitude in timing and presentation, not at his basic stand.

Thirty years later, I reread Mao’s speech (the original version, not the one revised for publication) and realized that at the time I had been too preoccupied with his main drift to detect hints of other tendencies hidden between the lines. For instance, he did not mince words over Stalin’s dogmatism, but then insisted that Stalin must be assessed on the “three-seven” principle—that is, seven parts merit to three parts fault. Again Mao considered “democracy” as basically a tool to mobilize the people for the Party’s own ends.

After seemingly endless rectification campaigns, intellectuals had become understandably reluctant to heed the Communist Party’s call to speak out freely. Gradually, however, they overcame this reluctance. Much of what they wrote was cautious and did not pose any challenge to the Party. Some of the bolder statements, however, did challenge the monopoly of power and the competence of the Communist Party, and this led eventually to the repressing of the Hundred Flowers and the purging of hundreds of thousands of intellectuals.

No one can deny that in our country at present there are still floods and droughts, still famine and unemployment, still infectious disease and the oppression of the bureacuracy, plus other unpleasant and unjustifiable phenomena. . . . A writer in possession of an upright conscience and a clear head ought not to shut his eyes complacently and remain silent in the face of real life and the sufferings of the people. If a writer does not have the courage to reveal the dark diseases of society, does not have the courage to participate positively in solving the crucial problems of people’s lives, and does not have the courage to attack all the deformed, sick, black things, then can he be called a writer?

[Huang Qiuyun, in People’s Literature 9 (1956); adapted from Goldman,“The Party and the Intellectuals,” p. 249]

Learning from the Soviet Union is a royal road; but some cadres do not understand and think that it means copying. I say if we do, it will paralyze Chinese engineers. . . . I have been engaged in electrical engineering for twenty years. Some of the Soviet experiences simply do not impress me. Of course, I suffered a good deal in the Five-Anti movement [against private business and business leaders] because of these opinions.

[Sun Ding, in Guangming Daily, May 5; adapted from MacFarquhar, The Hundred Flowers Campaign, p. 64]

I think that Chairman Mao’s speech delivered at the Yan’an Forum on Literature and Art consisted of two component parts: one was composed of theories of a tactical nature with which to guide the literary and artistic campaigns at the time, the other was composed of theories involving general principles with which to guide literary and artistic enterprises over the long run. . . .

Owing to the fact that the life these works reflected belonged to a definite period and that the creative processes of the writers were hurried and brief, the artistic content of these works was generally very poor, and the intellectual content extremely limited. . . .

If we were to use today the same method of leadership and the same theories as were used in the past to supervise and guide writers’ creative works, they would inevitably perform only the function of achieving “retrogression” rather than progress.

We cannot but admit that since the liberation of the country, our guiding theoretical ideas have been conservative and at the same time profoundly influenced by doctrinairism from abroad, which to a considerable degree has hindered and stunted the development and prosperity of literary and artistic enterprises. . . .

The root causes of formalization and conceptualization lie in the dogmatists mechanically, conservatively, one-sidedly, and in an exaggerated way carrying out and elaborating upon the tactical theories that Chairman Mao used to guide the literary and artistic movement at the time. . . .

Literature and art do not serve politics by mechanically serving a certain policy, nor do creative works that conform to the constitution, Party regulations, and the letter of the law; they mainly do so through the class nature of works, through encouraging people, and through the function of aesthetic education of the people’s moral qualities.

[Liu Shaotang, in Literary Studies 5 (1957); adapted from MacFarquhar, The Hundred Flowers Campaign, pp. 179–180]

After the liberation [1949], intellectuals warmly supported the Party and accepted the leadership of the Party. But in the past few years the relations between the Party and the masses have not been good and have become a problem of our political life that urgently needs readjustment. Where is the key to the problem? In my opinion, the key lies in the idea that “the world belongs to the Party.” I think a party leading a nation is not the same as a party owning a nation; the public supports the Party, but members of the public have not forgotten that they are masters of the nation . . . isn’t it too much that within the scope of the nation, there must be a Party man as leader in every unit, big or small, whether section or subsection. . . . For many years, the talents or capabilities of many Party men have not matched their duties. They have bungled their jobs, to the detriment of the state, and have not been able to command the respect of the masses, with the result that the relations between the Party and the masses have been tense.

[Qu Anping, in Guangming Daily, June 1; adapted from MacFarquhar, The Hundred Flowers Campaign, p. 51]

The Party members, due to their occupying positions of leadership and being favorably situated, seem to enjoy in all respects excessive privileges. Take theaters, for instance; a certain Party member pointed out in his self-examination that he was never happy unless he was offered a seat in the first ten rows. Why did he feel like that? Because he was used to seats in the first ten front rows. . . . During the past few campaigns, one by one the people have had the skin of their faces torn to pieces, and the intellectuals have had their authority knocked for six, all of which may, should, and indeed does have certain advantages. But why is it that the rectification of Party members must be done behind closed doors, and why is it that the masses are not allowed to probe into things if and when a Party member makes a mistake? . . . Never treat a person as if he were worse than dog’s excreta one moment and regard him as worth ten thousand ounces of gold the next. The intellectuals cannot stomach the ice-cold, nor can they swallow the piping-hot.

[Xu Zhongyu, in Guangming Daily, May 1; adapted from MacFarquhar, The Hundred Flowers Campaign, pp. 65 -66]

True socialism is highly democratic, but the socialism we have here is not democratic. I call this society a socialism sprung from a basis of feudalism. We should not be satisfied with the Party’s rectification and reformist methods and the slight concessions made to the people.

[Lin Xiling, speech at the open-air forum of Beijing University, May 23; adapted from MacFarquhar, The Hundred Flowers Campaign, p. 140]

Massive work projects to expand agricultural production led to the creation of large-scale organizations in the countryside, as Mao pushed for his version of socialism through the movement known as the Great Leap Forward. Mao called the organizations themselves people’s communes, even though it implied that China was moving from socialism to communism ahead of the Soviet Union, toward the elimination of all private plots and property. Mao had persuaded himself that this was a response to the spontaneous wishes of the people, but the subsequent strong resistance to the movement suggests that he misread their feelings.

Now on the problem of the people’s communes: what should they be called? They may be called people’s communes, or they may not. My inclination is to call them people’s communes. This [name] is still socialist in nature, not at all overemphasizing communism. They’re called people’s communes, first [because] they’re big and second [because] they’re public. Lots of people, a vast area of land, large scale of production, [and] all [their] undertakings are [done] in a big way. [They] integrate government [administration] with commune [management] to establish public mess halls, and private plots are eliminated. But chickens, ducks, and the young trees in front and behind a house are still private. These, of course, won’t exist in the future. [If we] have more grain, [we] can practice the supply system; [for the present] it’s still reward according to one’s work. Wages will be given to individuals according to their ability and won’t be given to the head of the family, which makes the youth and women happy. This will be very beneficial for the liberation of the individual. In establishing the people’s communes, as I see it, once again it has been the countryside that has taken the lead; the cities haven’t started yet, [because] the workers’ wage scales are a complicated matter. Whether in urban or rural areas, [the aim] should be the socialist system plus communist ideology. The Soviet Union practices the use of high rewards and heavy punishments, emphasizing [only] material incentives. We now practice socialism and have the sprouts of communism. Schools, factories, and neighborhoods can all establish people’s communes. In a few years big communes will be organized to include everyone. . . .

The people’s communes have been set up as a result of the masses’ initiative; it wasn’t we who advocated it. We advocated uninterrupted revolution, eradicating superstition, liberating thought, and daring to think, daring to speak, daring to act; [and] the masses have risen [to the occasion]. [We] did not anticipate this at the Nanning conference, the Chengdu conference, or the second session of the Eighth Party Congress. The spontaneity of the masses has always been an element inherent in communism. First there was utopian socialism, classical materialism, and dialetics; then came the summation [of these theories] by Marx and others. Our people’s communes have been developed on the basis of the agricultural producers’ cooperatives; they’ve not come into being from nowhere. We need to understand this clearly in order to systematize this question. The characteristics of the people’s communes are (1) big and (2) public. [They have] vast areas of land and abundant resources [as well as] a large population; [they can] combine industry, agriculture, commerce, education, and military affairs, as well as farming, forestry, animal husbandry, sideline production, and fisheries—being “big” is terrific. [With] many people, there’s lots of power. [We say] public because they contain more socialism than do the cooperatives, [and] they will gradually eradicate the vestiges of capitalism—for example, the eradication of private plots and private livestock rearing and the running of public mess halls, nurseries, and tailoring groups so that all working women can be liberated. They will implement a wage system and agricultural factories [in which] every single man, woman, old person, and youth receives his own wage, in contrast to the former [system of] distribution to the head of the household. Direct payment of wages is much welcomed by the youth and by women. This eradicates the patriarchal system and the system of bourgeois rights. Another advantage of [communes’] being public is that labor efficiency can be raised higher than in cooperatives.

[From MacFarquhar, Cheek, and Wu, The Secret Speeches of Chairman Mao, pp. 397–441]

At a party meeting in the summer of 1959, the defense minister, Peng Dehuai, delivered a letter to Mao. While carefully reaffirming the general correctness of Mao’s policies, Peng, writing on the basis of personal investigations, diplomatically pointed out the shortcomings of the Great Leap. This kind of frank exchange of opinion had been accepted practice at gatherings of the top leadership, but now Mao viciously lashed out at Peng and eventually purged him. Before this, Mao had already begun to realize the mistakes of the movement and had begun to modify it. Stung by Peng’s criticism, however, Mao decided to press the movement forward, creating massive starvation in the countryside and causing the deaths of tens of millions of peasants. Peng, hounded, persecuted, and imprisoned for years, died a painful death, still insisting that he had always been loyal to Mao.

In the past, a lot of problems were exposed in our way of thinking and our style of work. These problems are worthy of our attention. The principal ones are as follows:

1. The habit of exaggeration bred and spread rather universally. Last year, at the time of the Beidaihe meeting, a higher estimate of grain output was made than was warranted. This created a false phenomenon. Everybody felt that the problem of food had been solved and that our hands could be freed to engage in industry. There was serious superficiality in our understanding of the development of the iron and steel industry. . . .

The habit of exaggeration spread to various areas and departments, and some unbelievable miracles were also reported in the press. This has surely done tremendous harm to the prestige of the Party.

At that time, from reports sent in from various quarters, it would seem that communism was around the corner. This caused not a few comrades to become dizzy. In the wake of the [claimed] wave of high grain and cotton output and the doubling of iron and steel production, extravagance and waste developed. . . .

2. Petty bourgeois fanaticism renders us liable to commit “left” mistakes. In the course of the Great Leap Forward of 1958, like many comrades I was bewitched by the achievements of the Great Leap Forward and the passion of the mass movement. Some “left” tendencies developed to quite an extent; we always wanted to enter into communism at one step. Our minds swayed by the idea of taking the lead, we forgot the mass line and the style of seeking truth from facts that the party had formed over a long time. . . .

For instance, the slogans raised by the chairman, such as “Grow less, produce more and reap more” and “Catch up with Britain in fifteen years,” were strategic and long-range policies. But we did not study them well; we failed to give attention to and study the current concrete conditions, and we failed to arrange work on a positive, steady, and reliable basis. . . . As a result, divorced from reality, we failed to gain the support of the masses. For instance, the law of exchange of equal values was negated prematurely, and the free supply of meals was effected too early. . . .

In the view of some comrades, putting politics in command could be a substitute for everything. They forgot that putting politics in command was aimed at raising the consciousness of labor, ensuring improvement of products in both quantity and quality, and giving full play to the enthusiasm and creativeness of the masses in order to speed our economic construction. Putting politics in command is no substitute for economic principles, still less for concrete measures in economic work.

[Peng, “Letter of Opinion,” July 14, 1959, Selections from People’s Republic of China Press 4032; trans. adapted from Selden, The People’s Republic of China, pp. 476–485]

Wu Han was a prominent historian and the author of a noted biography of the founder of the Ming dynasty, as well as a high official in the Beijing municipal government. Although Mao had originally encouraged Wu to write on the Ming official Hai Rui, these writings came to be seen as the latest manifestations of an age-old Chinese tradition—writing about the past to indict the present. Wu later developed the essay below into a play, Hai Rui Dismissed from Office, wherein some saw the courageous Ming official as Peng Dehuai and the autocratic emperor as Mao. A 1965 article condemning this play served as the opening salvo of the Cultural Revolution, a major onslaught on supposedly traditional values obstructing the revolutionary transformation.

In feudal times, the emperor was so inviolable that even his name was not to be used or mentioned in any manner. Violation of this taboo was regarded as a serious crime. It was not unusual for the violator to lose his arms or legs, even though he was otherwise innocent.

As to the scolding of an emperor, it was almost unheard of in history. However, it was a different matter entirely when Wu Wang of Zhou scolded the Emperor Zhou of the Shang dynasty after the latter had been defeated in 1122 B.C., or when the rebel Li Zicheng scolded the Chongzhen emperor of the Ming dynasty after [the] Ming was overthrown in 1644. In both cases it was the victor who scolded the defeated monarch.

Because it was impossible to scold an emperor in the old days, it is very gratifying to learn from history that someone really did scold an emperor. Perhaps for this reason did many people enjoy seeing the play Empress He Scolds the Emperor. If the people were not permitted to scold the emperor when they wanted to, they might do it on the stage and get tremendous satisfaction out of it. . . .

In any event, there was a man who really did scold an emperor. This man was the famous Ming dynasty statesman Hai Rui. According to the Ming History, volume 226, some of the bitter words used by Hai Rui to scold the Jiajing emperor were: “You have been increasing taxes, bankrupting the state treasury, and neglecting state affairs for more than ten years, and now the matter becomes even worse. People are now using your imperial title ‘Jiajing’ to signify ‘Every house is empty’ [a pun, because both phrases have the same pronunciation in Chinese]. . . .”

The Jiajing emperor of the Ming dynasty became so lazy toward the end of his reign that he lived in the Western Park doing nothing but worshiping and writing Daoist charms. A charm is a letter to God, and it must be well written. Both Grand Secretaries Yan Gao and Xu Jie had written beautiful charms and because of this talent only, they had each become prime minister. During their premiership the government was extremely corrupt. Anyone who dared to speak out in the royal court would be arrested, imprisoned, exiled, or even executed. For these reasons all court officials were afraid of speaking out.

But courageous Hai Rui sent a petition to the emperor in February 1566 proposing a drastic reform. The petition stated:

How would you compare yourself with Emperor Wen Di of the Han dynasty?² You did a fairly good job in your early years, but what has happened to you now? For nearly twenty years you have not appeared in the imperial court, and you have appointed many fools to the government. By refusing to see your own sons, you are mean to your own blood; by suspecting court officials, you are mean to your subordinates; and by living in the Western Park refusing to come home, you are mean to your wife. Now the country is filled with corrupt officials and weak generals; peasants begin to revolt everywhere. Although such things happened when you were enthroned, they were not as serious as they are today. Now Yan Gao has resigned [as Grand Minister], but there is still no sign of social reform. In my judgment you are much inferior to Emperor Wen Di.

The Jiajing emperor always compared himself with Emperor Yao, but Hai Rui said that he was even worse than Wen Di. No wonder he became angry with Hai Rui.

The dynasty’s officials know that the people have been dissatisfied with you for some time. By engaging in occultism and searching for immortality, you have confused yourself. Your shortcomings are numerous: rudeness, short-temperedness, self-righteousness, and deafness to honest criticism. But worst of all is your search for immortality. . . .

You should realize the impossibility of achieving immortality and repent past mistakes. You should attend the imperial court regularly and discuss national affairs with your court officials. This is the only way to redeem yourself. By doing so you may still be able to make yourself useful to the country during your remaining years.

The most urgent problems today are the absurdity of imperial policies and the lack of clarity of official responsibilities. If you do not tackle these problems now, nothing will be accomplished.

After having finished reading Hai Rui’s petition, the emperor threw it angrily on the floor and ordered the palace guard to arrest Hai Rui. Eunuch Huang Jin told the emperor: “It is said that Hai Rui already expects death, has bade farewell to his wife, prepared his funeral arrangements, and dispersed all his servants. Therefore he will not run away, and the arrest is quite unnecessary. He is very simple and straightforward in his nature and has a good reputation among the people. He is an honest official and never steals anything from the public.”

When the emperor learned from the eunuch that Hai Rui was not afraid of death, the emperor began to wonder and picked up the petition from the floor and read it over again. However, he could not make up his mind what to do with Hai Rui. . . . One day he became so angry that he beat the imperial concubines. Some concubines complained, “He was scolded by Hai Rui and he tries to take it out on us.”

The emperor then sent an investigator to find out who else had been conspiring with Hai Rui. Many colleagues tried not to get involved and avoided Hai Rui. Hai Rui stayed at home waiting to be arrested. . . .

Soon [however] the emperor became ill. He discussed with Grand Secretary Xu Jie the possibility of letting the crown prince succeed him and said, “What he [Hai Rui] said about me was right, but how could I go to court every day with this illness.” He continued, “It was my own fault in getting this sickness, otherwise I could go to court every day to attend to state affairs. Then I would never have been scolded by him.” Finally the emperor ordered the arrest of Hai Rui. Although Hai Rui was sentenced to death by the Ministry of Justice, the emperor never ratified the execution. Two months later the emperor died. The new emperor pardoned Hai Rui and restored him to his previous position as the director of census.

Many people supported Hai Rui’s scolding of the emperor and sympathized with him. Hai Rui became very famous in his time. However, he was impeached again in 1586. This time many young scholars who had passed the civil service examination . . . courageously defended Hai Rui in court and said, “We have heard the name of Hai Rui since we were ten. Hai Rui is the greatest statesman of our time; he will be respected for thousands of years to come. His noble character is as high as the sky, very few people can compare with him.” These were some of the typical praises he received from the young people of his day. When Hai Rui died, the people in Nanjing closed shops. When his body reached the Yangzi River, people, in white dress to mourn his death, filled both banks for more than a hundred miles. These actions manifested how great Hai Rui was and how he was respected by his fellow men.

[People’s Daily, June 19, 1959; trans. adapted from Fan, The Chinese Cultural Revolution, pp. 72–78]

Despite its name, the “Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution” emerged not from the “proletariat” but from a power struggle at the top in which certain leaders, including Mao, sought to enlist the “masses” (especially students) in a campaign against moderate leaders then in control of the Party and state administration. The initial battle cry “To rebel is justified” was taken from an early speech by Mao (see p. 453), but “rebellion” came to mean almost anything, depending on whatever group was activated to engage in generalized “class struggle,” and before long the movement deteriorated into an anarchy of cross-purposes and violent infighting.

The Sixteen Points, briefly excerpted here, are taken from a decision of the Party Central Committee, engineered by Mao, Lin Biao, and their cohorts in 1966. They are perhaps the closest thing to a coherent statement of Mao’s original purposes in attacking “those in authority taking the capitalist road.”

The Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution now unfolding is a great revolution that touches people to their very soul and constitutes a new stage in the development of the socialist revolution in our country, a deeper and more extensive stage. . . .

Although the bourgeoisie has been overthrown, it is still trying to use the old ideas, culture and customs, and habits of the exploiting classes to corrupt the masses, capture their minds, and endeavor to stage a comeback. The proletariat must do just the opposite: it must meet head-on every challenge of the bourgeoisie in the ideological field and use the new ideas, culture, customs, and habits of the proletariat to change the mental outlook of the whole of society. At present our objective is to struggle against and crush those persons in authority who are taking the capitalist road, to criticize and repudiate the reactionary bourgeois academic “authorities” and the ideology of the bourgeoisie and all other exploiting classes, and transform education, literature, and art and all other parts of the superstructure that do not correspond to the socialist economic base, so as to facilitate the consolidation and development of the socialist system.

The masses of the workers, peasants, soldiers, revolutionary intellectuals, and revolutionary cadres form the main force in this Great Cultural Revolution. Large numbers of revolutionary young people, previously unknown, have become courageous and daring pathbreakers. They are vigorous in action and intelligent. Through the media of big character posters and great debates, they argue things out, expose and criticize thoroughly, and launch resolute attacks on the open and hidden representatives of the bourgeoisie. . . .

Since the Cultural Revolution is a revolution, it inevitably meets with resistance. This resistance comes chiefly from those in authority who have wormed their way into the party and are taking the capitalist road. It also comes from the old force of habit in society. At present, this resistance is still fairly strong and stubborn. However, the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution is, after all, an irresistible general trend. There is abundant evidence that such resistance will crumble fast once the masses become fully aroused. . . .

Many new things have begun to emerge in the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. The cultural revolutionary groups, committees, and other organizational forms created by the masses in many schools and units are something new and of great historic importance.

These cultural revolutionary groups, committees, and congresses are excellent new forms of organization whereby under the leadership of the Communist Party the masses are educating themselves. They are an excellent bridge to keep our party in close contact with the masses. They are organs of power of the Proletarian Cultural Revolution.

The cultural revolutionary groups, committees, and congresses should not be temporary organizations but permanent, standing mass organizations. They are suitable not only for colleges, schools, government, and other organizations but generally also for factories, mines, and other enterprises, urban districts, and villages.

It is necessary to institute a system of general elections, like that of the Paris Commune, for electing members to the cultural revolutionary groups and committees and delegates to the cultural revolutionary congress.

Mao replaced Peng Dehuai as defense minister with Lin Biao, another prominent general who had been with Mao since the early days of the revolution. Lin used his position to turn the army into a bastion of Mao loyalism, employing Quotations from Chairman Mao, or the Little Red Book, to inculcate the peasant recruits. When the Cultural Revolution started, the Red Guards adopted this book as their “bible,” memorized it, and waved it in the air at huge rallies at Tiananmen Square.

—Be resolute, fear no sacrifice, and surmount every difficulty to win victory. [p. 102]

—Thousands upon thousands of martyrs have heroically laid down their lives for the people; let us hold their banner high and march ahead along the path crimson with their blood! [p. 102]

—Whoever wants to know a thing has no way of doing so except by coming into contact with it, that is, by living (practicing) in its environment. . . . If you want knowledge, you must take part in the practice of changing reality. If you want to know the taste of a pear, you must change the pear by eating it yourself. . . . If you want to know the theory and methods of revolution, you must take part in revolution. All genuine knowledge originates in direct experience. [p. 118]

—Unquestionably, victory or defeat in war is determined mainly by the military, political, economic, and natural conditions on both sides. But not by these alone. It is also determined by each side’s subjective ability in directing the war. In his endeavor to win a war, a military strategist cannot overstep the limitations imposed by the material conditions; within these limitations, however, he can and must strive for victory. The stage of action for a military strategist is built upon objective material conditions, but on that stage he can direct the performance of many a drama, full of sound and color, power and grandeur. [p. 49]

—Who are our enemies? Who are our friends? This is a question of the first importance for the revolution. The basic reason why all previous revolutionary struggles in China achieved so little was their failure to unite with real friends in order to attack real enemies. A revolutionary party is the guide of the masses, and no revolution ever succeeds when the revolutionary party leads them astray. To ensure that we will definitely achieve success in our revolution and will not lead the masses astray, we must pay attention to uniting with our real friends in order to attack our real enemies. To distinguish real friends from real enemies, we must make a general analysis of the economic status of the various classes in Chinese society and of their respective attitudes toward the revolution. [p. 7]

—Historically, all reactionary forces on the verge of extinction invariably conduct a last desperate struggle against the revolutionary forces, and some revolutionaries are apt to be deluded for a time by this phenomenon of outward strength but inner weakness, failing to grasp the essential fact that the enemy is nearing extinction while they themselves are approaching victory. [pp. 44–45]

The big character posters plastered over the walls of campuses, towns, and cities became a ubiquitous form of expression for those attacking the establishment. The most famous of these posters was put up on May 25, 1966, at Beijing University by Nie Yuanzi and six other philosophy instructors attacking the university authorities. Although the government tried to repress it, Mao had it broadcast on June 1 and the Beijing media carried it the next day. The poster’s strident tone characterized writings during the Cultural Revolution.

At present, the people of the whole nation, in a soaring revolutionary spirit that manifests their boundless love for the Party and Chairman Mao and their inveterate hatred for the sinister anti-Party, anti-socialist gang, are making a vigorous and great cultural revolution; they are struggling to thoroughly smash the attacks of the reactionary sinister gang, in defense of the Party’s Central Committee and Chairman Mao. But here in Beijing University the masses are being kept immobilized, the atmosphere is one of indifference and deadness, whereas the strong revolutionary desire of the vast number of the faculty members and students has been suppressed. What is the matter? What is the reason? There is something fishy going on. . . .

Why are you [top Beijing University officials cited in title] so afraid of big character posters and holding of big denunciation meetings? To counterattack the sinister gang that has frantically attacked the Party, socialism, and Mao Zedong’s thought is a life-and-death class struggle. The revolutionary people must be fully aroused to denounce them vigorously and angrily, and to hold big meetings and put up big character posters, is one of the best ways for the masses to do battle. By “guiding” the masses not to hold big meetings, not to put up big character posters, and by creating all kinds of taboos, aren’t you suppressing the masses’ revolution, not allowing them to make revolution, and opposing their revolution? We will never permit you to do this! . . .

All revolutionary intellectuals, now is the time to go into battle! Let us unite, holding high the great red banner of Mao Zedong Thought, unite around the Party’s Central Committee and Chairman Mao and break down all the various controls and plots of the revisionists; resolutely, thoroughly, totally, and completely wipe out all ghosts and monsters and all Khrushchevian counterrevolutionary revisionists, and carry the socialist revolution through to the end.

Although portrayed as a spontaneous movement among students, it is clear from the following account that the initiative came from above and surprised many middle-school and college students who were organized into units known as the Red Guards to form the vanguard of the Cultural Revolution. At massive rallies in Tiananmen Square in Beijing, Mao sanctioned their role in rooting out the “capitalist roaders” in party and government. These developments are reported by a student participant as recorded many years after the actual events.

At a school assembly the working group announced that we were now in revolution, the Cultural Revolution. We finally knew what was happening in our school. The working group then informed us about our new Revolutionary Committee, and asked each class to elect a Cultural Revolutionary Small Group to lead the campaign. . . . Thus the Cultural Revolution, which lasted ten years, entered my life. Important newspaper articles and Central Party documents were passed to our small group, and we in turn organized the students to study them. We learned that during the seventeen years of Communist Party control, China’s culture, art, and education had been under the dictatorial command of “capitalist and revisionist black gangs.” Later each student was issued a pamphlet, Chairman Mao’s Comments on Educational Revolution.. . .

I was astonished to learn that our country was in such bad shape. Until then I hadn’t suspected that the songs I sang, the movies I watched, and the books I read were unhealthy. I had thought my school a revolutionary one, maybe too revolutionary. Nevertheless, I swallowed what I was told and didn’t raise a single negative question, not even to myself. I had been chosen leader of this revolution in my class. If I had problems in understanding these documents, how could I expect the rest of the class to do so? Besides, what experience and qualifications did I have to judge what Chairman Mao and the Central Committee deemed right and wrong?

My classmates tried to comprehend too. We all considered ourselves progressive youth, and we were determined to follow Chairman Mao and the Party center. If they thought this Cultural Revolution to be necessary, if they wanted us to participate, we would.

The students quickly ignored the call to refrain from violence in the Sixteen Points, and teachers and intellectuals became one of their main targets. Many were maimed or killed by the students, while others committed suicide rather than face further torture and humiliation. Like the above account, this one was recorded many years after the events described.

The list of accusations grew longer by the day: hooligans and bad eggs, filthy rich peasants and son-of-a-bitch landlords, bloodsucking capitalists and neo-bourgeoisie, historical counterrevolutionaries and active counterrevolutionaries, rightists and ultra-rightists, alien class elements and degenerate elements, reactionaries and opportunists, counterrevolutionary revisionists, imperialist running dogs, and spies. Students stood in the roles of prosecutor, judge, and police. No defense was allowed. Any teacher who protested was certainly a liar.

The indignities escalated as well. Some students shaved or cut teachers’ hair into curious patterns. The most popular style was the yin-yang cut, which featured a full head of hair on one side and a clean-shaven scalp on the other. Some said this style represented Chairman Mao’s theory of the “unity of opposites.” It made me think of the punishments of ancient China, which included shaving the head, tattooing the face, cutting off the nose or feet, castration, and dismemberment by five horse-drawn carts.

At struggle meetings, students often forced teachers into the “jet-plane” position. Two people would stand on each side of the accused, push him to his knees, pull his head back by the hair, and hold his arms out in back like airplane wings. We tried it on each other and found it caused great strain on the back and neck.

By 1968 it was clear that the Cultural Revolution had spun out of control, and Mao brought in the army to bring it to a halt. Thousands of young people whom Mao had a short time ago called upon to make revolution were now slaughtered by the military; millions more were sent down to the countryside to “learn from the peasants.” Yet in the midst of the chaos of the Cultural Revolution what came to be known as the Thinking Generation had been born. Unable to find reliable guidance in the vague sayings of Mao, some Red Guards turned toward the works of Marx, Engels, and Lenin to discover the true nature of socialism. The wall poster put up in Guangzhou in 1974 and excerpted below reflects Marx’s ideas about the role of democracy in a socialist society as well as the original goals of the Cultural Revolution as stated in the Sixteen Points. Notions of the party’s responsibilities to the people expressed here would blossom in the “Democracy Wall” or “Beijing Spring” movement of the late seventies and early eighties. “Li Yi Zhe” is a composite pen name consisting of characters from three of four joint authors, one of whom, Wang Xizhe, went on to play a prominent role in that movement.

How is the soon-to-be-convoked Fourth National People’s Congress going to reflect the Great Cultural Revolution, which people call China’s “second revolution"? Law is the expression of the will of the ruling class. So how is the country’s basic legal system that is to be promulgated—the new constitution—to express the will of the proletariat and the broad masses in China who have experienced the Great Cultural Revolution?

What are the popular masses thinking now? What are their demands? What sort of expectations do they have for the representative congress of the “people of the whole country"?

Our country was born from a semi-feudal, semi-colonial society into socialism. The traditions formed by several thousands of years of feudal despotism stubbornly maintain their strong hold over thought, culture, education, law, and virtually every other sphere of the superstructure. . . .

Under the conditions of proletarian dictatorship, how can the people’s rights, under the centralized leadership of the Party, be protected in the struggle against the capitalist roaders and incorrect lines in the Party? This is the big topic facing the Fourth National People’s Congress.

Needless to say, the Party’s leadership should carefully listen to the masses’ opinions, and it should be needless to note the people’s own rights to implement revolutionary supervision over all levels of the Party’s leadership. It is even more unnecessary to say that rebelling against the capitalist roaders is justified. Even though the masses’ opinion might be incorrect or excessive, or even if they become discontented because of misunderstanding certain Party policies, is it justified to implement a policy of “suppress if persuasion fails and arrest if suppression fails"? Moreover, the fragrant flower and the poisonous weed, correct and incorrect, and revolutionary and counterrevolutionary, are not always easy to distinguish. It takes a long process and has to stand the test of time. Therefore, we should not be frightened by an open and honorable opposition so long as it observes discipline and plays no tricks and engages in no conspiracy.

The Fourth National People’s Congress should enact regulations clearly in black and white that . . . will . . . protect all the democratic rights rightfully belonging to the masses.

We are not utopian socialists. We recognize that in the present stage of our society there exist various types of differences, which cannot be completely destroyed by a decree alone. However, the law of the development of a socialist revolutionary movement should not itself widen these differences but eliminate them, above all prohibit such differences from expanding into economic and political privileges. Special privilege itself is fundamentally in opposition to the interests of the people. Why should we avoid condemning such privileges? . . . The Fourth National People’s Congress should enact, in black and white, clauses limiting special privileges.

“Who has given us our power?” The people have. Our cadres should not become officials and behave like lords, but should be servants of the people. But power can corrupt people most easily. When a person’s status changes, it is most effective to test whether he is working for the interests of the majority or the minority. Whether he can maintain his spirit to serve the people depends, apart from his own diligence, mainly on the revolutionary supervision of the masses. And the mass movement is the richest source of the maintenance of the revolutionary spirit of the revolutionaries.

How should the masses’ right of revolutionary supervision over the Party’s and country’s various levels of leadership be determined? And how should it be clearly established that when certain cadres (especially high-level cadres of the central organs) lose the trust of the broad masses of people, the people “can replace them any time"?

1. A reference to the pact in 1939 between Stalin and Hitler that left the latter free to deal with Chamberlain and Britain.