“Such a thought is quite wrong,” said Little Li. “You just want to escape in the face of trouble. A Communist should never think like that. Mistakes are unavoidable. The thing to do is to examine and correct them, not run away.”
“If everyone were to talk like you do, who would be the leader?” asked Ch’uer. “That is quite wrong. When we return to the village and begin work again we shall be quite frank with each other, exchange reports frequently and help one another. In that way we can surely overcome our mistakes.”
Hou did not reject these opinions. Although the criticism was sharp, the other cadres were speaking out, showing concern for his problems and taking on a share of the burden. He felt a sense of relief that at last some communication, some real give and take was developing between him and the rest of the team. He even raised his head a little as he spoke in reply.
“Why have I been so sensitive?” he asked. “I think it is because before I came here I was leader of all work in 13 villages and everything went smoothly, but as soon as I came here everything became very hard. I thought, ‘Little Li has more experience than I.’ We divided the work. I took the Party branch, and he took the village as a whole. When I asked him about the detention of the cadres he said, ‘Don’t worry about it. If it is wrong, I am responsible.’ And he always laughed as if caring for nothing at all, while I was always earnest and worried all the time. Whenever I brought up a problem, he turned it into a joke. At night when I talked to him he fell asleep. So I thought to myself, ‘If we have made such errors he must also take some blame. If I am to be kicked out of the Party, he must be too.’ So I turned against him, and I thought, ‘If you despise me, I shall never ask you for help.’
“Now I understand how wrong that is. That is a subjective, individual point of view. It has nothing to do with the needs of our work. In the future I shall study problems with the rest of you and read carefully all the reports.”
Hou paused here, as if he had finished, but then he thought of something else, of the accusation that he had spoken to the Party Secretary behind their backs, and he went on. “I have a very stubborn character. When I disagree with someone I just keep silent—seven or eight days—and never say a word. That’s the way it was when I quarrelled with my wife. I never said a word to her afterwards. So when I came to Comrade Ch’en he pried it out of me. It wasn’t that I wanted to talk to him, but I came to him for advice and he dug to the root of the matter. It was because I met trouble that I thought of many unreasonable things in the middle of the night. In the future, whenever I have some opinion, I shall speak it out and consult with other comrades.”
Having said what they thought about Hou, the other cadres found themselves suddenly free of the bitterness they had felt toward him, and Hou, having heard their opinions and found them reasonable, suddenly felt warm and friendly toward them all. The “Great Ox” turned out to be a far more likeable human being than anyone had suspected. Right then and there they decided never to hold back their ideas again but to speak out frankly and help each other in the future.
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If one crucial drag on the work of the team was the friction between the team members and their leader, a second and almost equal drag was the friction between the intellectuals from the University and the uneducated cadres of local origin. The Party meeting did not remove this friction in one session, but some progress was made in the direction of mutual understanding. Before the meeting ended each of the intellectuals critically examined his or her own work and listened to suggestions from the whole collective.
Of the five University people on the team, Comrade Hsu had made the worst impression and established the worst relationships. Ever since the failure of the accounts examination meeting which he led, he had been morose. He sat through meeting after meeting looking bored. He never took part in any debate unless it touched on his own abortive project. He more often than not ignored the proceedings altogether, sat off in a corner by himself, and read some newspaper or pamphlet. At the Lucheng Conference he found the straw in “Temple Row” distasteful. He was afraid he would catch some disease from the other cadres and was openly distressed about the lice that invariably sought him out no matter how clean he kept his clothes and his person. No one ever picked lice from his garments with more fastidious repugnance than did Comrade Hsu.
This professor’s real problem was one germane to intellectuals everywhere—how to translate theory into practice. He was like the revolutionary described by Mao Tse-tung, who held the arrow of Marxism-Leninism in his hand, caressed it and exclaimed ecstatically, “What a fine arrow! What a fine arrow!” but never let it fly.
Hsu himself said, “I have been criticized for swinging first to the Right and then to the Left. That is true. I had never been in a village before I came to the Liberated Area. I had some grand ideas. I thought I would collect material for future study. So I brought along many books. But my plan failed. So I became unhappy. My aim in joining this work was to learn something, but suddenly along came the accounts meeting and I was made responsible. I had to do something. Then I became very hesitant about speaking out. I found I couldn’t speak the peasants’ language at all and I didn’t really understand the village. At the same time I was afraid I would be thought proud. While in Chiang’s area, I always stayed in a small room and studied. Now I want to break that habit but I can’t break it very quickly.”
The reaction of the local cadres to this speech was polite. They praised Hsu’s skill with figures and his familiarity with the writing brush and added that since his background was so different from their own it was hard for them to understand him. Remembering how he had questioned landlords for material against cadres, several suggested that his class stand was not firm. He should look into it, they said.
Little Li, who as clerk, editor, and judge had some pretensions to intellectuality himself, spoke more sharply. “You started out with a great deal of enthusiasm, but ever since the accounts meeting failed you have been in low spirits. That’s because you think you made a bad mistake. The trouble at those meetings was that you did not try to educate the delegates and help them see things clearly. You tried to do everything yourself. When you sensed the least bit of injustice, you became very angry and tried to crush it all by yourself. That’s why you were persuaded to go to the landlords for help. The main trouble is that you don’t think before you start working. But now if you are timid, and dare not work at all, it will be hard for you to correct anything.”
Ch’i Yun, whose background closely paralleled Hsu’s and hence was more aware of what was going on in his mind than the others, spoke even more critically. She was of the opinion that he had not revealed his true thoughts.
“You say you wish to study and learn from village life. But what? We all have to combine concrete work with theoretical study—only that way can we gain real knowledge. But it has been very difficult even to make a suggestion to you. Sometimes you do not even listen, but turn and walk off. I think you have problems that you yourself have not thought through. You don’t want to speak them out here. You’d rather avoid criticism. But the right way to learn is to speak frankly and to listen to others. You only work at what interests you. If you continue with such a style and such an attitude you will only isolate yourself.”
Cadre Hsu listened carefully to all this and took the opinions down in his notebook. Perhaps even he could change if he faced himself honestly. The mere fact that he had made a beginning at self-analysis removed some of the barrier between him and the rest of the cadres.
It was an hour after midnight when discussion ended. We had been sitting and talking since eight in the morning with only a short break for meals. The meeting broke up in silence as all moved off toward their respective sleeping quarters.
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My own reaction to the Party Day meeting was one of wonder—wonder at the perseverance of these people, especially the stubborn perseverance of the local men. What kept them working under such condi
tions? Why didn’t they give up and go home? Certainly it had nothing to do with money. Right there in the middle of the meeting the county clerk had come round to ask them to sign their monthly vouchers. I knew exactly what each received for his work. This was a bundle of millet tickets sufficient to provide 30 days’ food and the cash equivalent of eight catties of millet for spending money (50¢ U. S.). In addition to this, they got two summer suits and one winter suit a year. That was all. At home on the land they could easily earn more.
No, they had no material incentive to be cadres. Nor was their chosen road a path of glory. Only a stubborn devotion to the cause of fanshen made sense as a motive. I had never known men who consistently put principle above self-interest as these men appeared to do.
I wondered also at the new level of tolerance and understanding attained by the whole group through the method of self-and-mutual criticism. The method, I began to realize, was something that had to be learned. It did not flow naturally out of the extremely individualistic, face-conscious culture in which the majority of the team members had been reared.
To practice self-and-mutual criticism well one had to cultivate objectivity in several ways. First, one had to be willing to be objective about oneself. One had to be willing to seek out that kernel of truth in any criticism regardless of the manner in which it was presented. Second, one had to be objective about others; one had to evaluate others from a principled point of view with the object of helping them to overcome their faults and work more effectively. One had to raise others up, not knock them down. In practice these two considerations meant that one had to pay great attention to one’s own motives and methods when criticizing others, while disregarding in the main the motives and methods used by others towards oneself.
Above and beyond this, one had to cultivate the courage to voice sincerely-held opinions regardless of the views held by others, while at the same time showing a willingness to listen to others and to change one’s own opinion when honestly convinced of error. To bow with the wind, to go along with the crowd was an irresponsible attitude that could never lead to anything but trouble for oneself, for the revolutionary movement, and for China. The reverse of this, to be arrogant and unbending was just as bad.
The work team members practiced all these things much more effectively than the Communists of Long Bow or the rank-and-file delegates who faced them had done before the gate. As I listened I began to think that the distortions which had marred the gate—the pressures which had caused people to attack the cadres as if they had been enemies, and the pressures which had caused many cadres to respond by admitting more than was objectively true—were not something inherent in the method but a consequence of its unskilled application. They were a consequence of the low level of political understanding of most of the participants. As their understanding and experience increased their objectivity could well increase, and the method thus serve more effectively to unite the whole village for the future.
44
When I Get My Share
In the women of China the Communists possessed, almost ready made, one of the greatest masses of disinherited human beings the world has ever seen. And because they found the key to the heart of these women, they also found one of the keys to victory over Chiang Kai-shek.
Jack Belden
A CONFERENCE, like a drama, a party, a lecture, or a love affair is greatly enhanced by a change of pace. Ebb and flow, introversion and extroversion serve to keep the participants alert. Such a change was provided on April 29th by a special discussion on the problems of women. Switching attention sharply away from internal Party affairs, Secretary Ch’en asked every team to report on the mobilization of the peasant women in their respective villages.
“Even if you haven’t done anything, tell us about that and state the reason why,” he said. It was his way of keeping the issue alive. The cadres knew that they would be asked about women the next time as well; and the chances were, even if they had done very little in the past, they would have more to report in the future.
As a matter of fact, most of the team leaders made very good reports. Little Li’s account of the work in Long Bow did not match up. But that may have been because Li did not give the matter enough thought. Much had actually been done, especially by Ch’i Yun and Comrade Kao, the other woman cadre from the University.
The right to own land and property in their own name was the key to the liberation of women, according to all the cadres who reported. On many other questions the women were divided. While the younger women were very concerned about free choice in marriage, older women saw this as a threat to their control over daughters and daughters-in-law. While younger women opposed all family beatings, older women tended to countenance beatings just so long as mothers-in-law administered them. On one issue they all agreed, however. Women should be able to get and keep a share in the land.
In Chao Chen Village, many women said, “When I get my share I’ll separate from my husband. Then he won’t oppress me any more.”
In Chingtsun the work team found a women whose husband thought her ugly and wanted to divorce her. She was very depressed until she learned that under the Draft Law she could have her own share of land. Then she cheered up immediately. “If he divorces me, never mind,” she said. “I’ll get my share and the children will get theirs. We can live a good life without him.” Another woman in the same village had already been deserted once. Her second husband was a local cadre, but he oppressed her. When a member of the team visited her, she wept. “Chairman Mao is all right, but women are still in trouble,” she said. “We have no equality. We have to obey our husbands because our life depends on them.” After the new law was explained to her, she said, “This is really fine. I can have my own share now.”
In Yellow Mill, many women had no confidence in their powers. They said, “Our husbands regard us as some sort of dogs who keep the house. We even despise ourselves. But that is because for a thousand years it has been, ‘The men go to the hsien (county) and the women go to the yuan (courtyard).’ We were criticized if we even stepped out the door. After we get our share we will be masters of our own fate.”
Some were afraid that they could not do the field work necessary, but others said, “What difference does that make? Women depend on men, but so do men depend on women. What the women do around the home is also labor, and they can swap that for work in the fields.” One woman said, “Always before when we quarrelled my husband said, ‘Get out of my house.’ Now I can give it right back to him. I can say, ‘Get out of my house yourself.’ “
The more oppressed the woman, the more urgently did she demand her share. The women of Ke Shih said, “Child brides but no child husbands.” “If you even speak to another man, you would be suspected.” One child bride, sold at the age of seven, told how much • she had suffered from her mother-in-law and concluded, “When I get my share I’ll never look for a husband again. A husband is a terrible thing.”
In Chingtsun one old woman said, “I sold four daughters because I had to pay back a landlord debt. I wept the whole night, and the tears burned my eyes. Now I am blind. Poverty forced me to sell my own daughters. Every mother loves her child.” Others said, “In the old society no one loved a daughter because you brought them up and they left the house. Many parents drowned their little daughters. In the old society feet were bound with cloth. Small feet were thought to be one of the best qualities of women. But to bind a woman’s feet is to tie her body and soul. Small feet are a symbol of the old society.”
Many stories revealed that Liberation had not yet guaranteed free marriage or even the property rights upon which free marriage must be based. In East Portal one woman had been forced to marry a veteran. The cadres said, “This man has fought for us many years. How could we live a peaceful life if it hadn’t been for his efforts? We must reward him with a wife.” When the woman refused, she was ordered to explain herself at a mass meeting.
A second woman there wanted to marry a man f
rom another village, but the local cadres would not give her a permit. Why make things difficult for themselves by further reducing the number of unmarried women?
Obviously, a lot of work still had to be done before women could call themselves really free. But from the reports we learned that in every village there were a few women who were starting to play an active role in public affairs. Large numbers had joined the Party purification meetings and almost all of them had learned to speak.
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At the county conference itself the women seemed to me to be far less bashful than the men. It was they who sought me out and asked questions about the world outside China. The women who did this were not, as might have been expected, the intellectuals from the University, but that small handful of local women who had distinguished themselves as district cadres in a movement still overwhelmingly staffed by men.
Meal breaks provided the only time available for such spontaneous discussion. Meals were served outdoors in the courtyard where the male cadres were quartered. The southern entrance to this yard consisted of an imposing central gate topped by a heavy tiled roof and flanked by two gate-houses, one of which had been temporarily converted into a kitchen. There a vast cauldron of millet was boiled up twice a day over a fire that looked like a blacksmith’s furnace. When the millet was ready (about eight o’clock in the morning and four o’clock in the afternoon), the cauldron was carried out into the yard by two stout men with a carrying pole. The cadres then lined up, each with his own bowl and chopsticks in hand, and proceeded to help themselves. So big was the circumference of the cauldron that five or six people could easily stand around it and fill their bowls without crowding one another.
A second, smaller fire in the gate-house produced a pot of cabbage. This was placed on the ground some distance away from the millet. After each cadre had filled his bowl with steaming grain he walked over and topped it with cabbage. Then he sought some place to sit or squat and eat. Small knots of friends formed at such times, and discussion flourished until the temple bell sounded the call to return to the conference sessions once again.
Fanshen Page 52
