The difficulties that he met in his political work, the loss of his wheat crop, and the memory of all the opinions which the people had raised against him, most of which he felt in his heart to be unfair, had put him in a very bad state of mind. To make matters still worse, he had allowed himself to be provoked into a fight with an 18-year-old youth, and the exchange of blows had become the talk of the village.
The fight grew out of a game of chess. Ts’ai-yuan, who was winning, taunted his opponent for a foolish error. The youth lost his temper, swore at Ts’ai-yuan, and knocked all the chessmen onto the ground. This so angered the older man that he slapped his opponent on the cheek. The indignant youngster then attacked Ts’ai-yuan and, before the onlookers could separate them, several blows had been struck on both sides.
The whole village blamed the storekeeper for striking the youth, and several peasants made sarcastic remarks about cadres and Party members who still beat people in spite of promises to reform. As soon as this fight was mentioned in the Party meeting, Ts’ai-yuan got angry.
“Ever since the gate if we so much as sigh we are criticized. The people point at us and say, ‘Shame on you, you are a Party member. You are a former soldier.’”
“If I had been in front of the store, I would have helped Ts’ai-yuan beat the boy,” said T’ien-hsi, the huge militiaman, with a scowl.
The trend indicated by these remarks was already quite strong.
The Party members were lining themselves up in opposition to the rest of village and blaming all their troubles on the people.
***********
Instead of going directly to the heart of the matter and telling the Long Bow cadres that much of their trouble came from erroneous policies and that a major shift in policy had been worked out at the County Conference, the work team, under Team Leader Ts’ai’s direction, tried to get everyone back to work by appealing to their Party spirit. Instead of laying bare the mistakes of the past, Ts’ai Chin called the comrades together and scolded them for their poor morale and lack of positive action in the face of near famine. Hot words were exchanged. Hsiao Wen-hsu was told that he was not fit to be a Party member. This so angered that dour peasant that he got up and strode out of the room. For the next few days he sat at home and spoke to no one.
Official silence concerning the work at the County Conference did not, however, prevent knowledge of it from spreading. The “small report” or grapevine had already broadcast throughout the county bits and pieces of information to the effect that basic policies had gone astray, that the attack on the Communist Party members had been excessive, that the “poor-peasant line” was wrong, and that the fanshen which the Party had led, far from being incomplete, was really overdone. Carters and muleteers from “production villages,” wanting to get a straight story from one of the “basic villages,” asked questions when they passed through Long Bow. “Is equal distribution finished?” asked one man from Li Village Gulch as he sipped hot water at the Village Inn. “I hear the landlords are to be resettled,” said another, downing a bowl of fried bread. But the Long Bow people, having had no more information than anyone else, were unable to enlighten the questioners. They only picked up and embroidered what they heard from others.
These rumors, by exaggerating the errors, engendered doubts and encouraged “sour words” when the Party members met. If it were true that past policies had been mistakes, then the leading authorities were certainly to blame for all the trouble the village cadres had been through. Because of the faulty directives from above, everyone had suffered. Now the local Communists dwelt on that suffering, and many bitter thoughts passed through their heads.
Why didn’t the work team cadres work to counteract this trend? Why didn’t they seize the initiative as Secretary Ch’en had done the very first morning of the County Conference? By meeting the problem face to face Ch’en had made it something for all the cadres to tackle together. Ts’ai Chin could have done the same, but he was not familiar with local conditions. The other team cadres hesitated for fear that the village leaders would react badly to an exposure. They were afraid that a sudden correction would swing the whole situation completely around, cause mistakes and excesses in some other direction, and destroy the morale of all those poor peasants whose hopes had so long been built up by glowing promises. To a certain extent, the cadres lacked faith in the intelligence and good sense of the people.
Also, it seemed to me, the work team members were a little ashamed. They had arrived so confidently in March with slogans about incomplete fanshen, bad cadres, and landlord elements in the Party. Thereafter, all the spare time of the village people had been taken up with meetings from which great changes were expected. And now, suddenly, all this was no longer possible. Instead of the poor getting richer, the middle peasants were to be repaid and the landlords resettled. Instead of fat cadres giving up great quantities of land and illegal fruits, a few paltry acres and some small articles of minor value would be returned. It was not easy to face all this directly. And so, instead of making a complete explanation of the new policy and making clear to all why, from now on, production had to be the key to everything, the work team began to concentrate in practice on production problems.
It was not until ten days had passed that Ts’ai Chin and the work team cadres made up their minds to discuss policy changes publicly. By that time it was obvious that in spite of personal visits, branch meetings, meetings of the activists within the branch, encouragements, and scoldings, the root cause of the low morale had not been touched.
On July 9, 1948, a full meeting of the Communist Party branch was called. There, at last, Ts’ai gave a frank report on the incorrect “poor-peasant line,” on the damage done by “absolute equalitarianism,” and on the faulty estimate of conditions in Lucheng County which had been made by the higher Party and government authorities.
Since “extreme democracy” was the immediate practical problem which concerned the cadres most, the team leader also hit hard at this. “Some of you think that if only you are given the power to beat people you can solve all the problems of the village. But violence is not the answer to the excesses of individualism that now give us so much trouble. After all, those who won’t listen to reason and go on doing just as they like are only a small minority. The majority are reasonable. They co-operate with all sensible proposals. But they oppose commandism and arbitrary power. If, because of the provocations of a few, we try to revive the old style of work and start beating and arresting people, the people will certainly lose confidence in us.”
Team Leader Ts’ai urged the Party members to stand up bravely and work hard to lead the people along a proper road. “We can lead the masses in criticizing ‘extreme democracy.’ We can educate and correct their attitude. If, after many attempts, there are still those who refuse to correct their mistakes and take the law into their own hands, then stronger measures can be taken. Everyone will understand then, and the people will even offer suggestions as to how to deal with such persons. After all, the meaning of democracy is to protect the interests of the majority. Those who use democracy as an excuse for criminal acts must be punished by law.”
Ts’ai’s words stirred the lethargy of the village Communists. Thoughts and feelings long bottled up were uncorked. A lively discussion followed.
“When the work team first came, we were certainly confused,” said T’ien-hsi. “There were no landlords left here, but there were still quite a few families who had not fanshened. From where would the patches come? We thought the only possible way out was to expropriate us, the cadres, for everyone said we had fanshened in excess.”
“That’s true,” said Hsin-fa. “And the people really put the pressure on us. When we went before the gate they said, ‘What do you mean you didn’t graft anything? And you a cadre all those years!’ When they met me in the street they scolded me for buying cigarettes. ‘Haven’t you given up that wasteful habit yet?’ they asked.”
“As for the ‘poor-peasant line,�
� from the very beginning we thought that the reason many poor peasants had not fanshened was because of their ugly past,” said Ts’ai-yuan. “Take Kuo Te-yu. He was the puppet village leader and oppressed us all. As soon as he joined the Poor Peasants’ League, he began to act proud. He refused to do rear service. No one dared say anything about it then. But now we can put down our burdens. Ts’ai has explained it all.”
“The gate was certainly good. It had to take place,” said the women’s leader, Hu Hsueh-chen. “But really it came too late. As for the opinions against me, some were right, others were not. I know they were all meant to help me, but the unfair opinions bother me still. I haven’t been able to think it through and I have become backward. But now, since Comrade Ts’ai Chin’s report, I feel much better. The upper authorities know how hard we have worked and they stand behind us.”
Ts’ai Chin followed up this talk with the political leaders of the village by calling a mass meeting of all the adult residents of Long Bow. Before several hundred men and women standing in the square beside the pond, Ts’ai explained the new emphasis in land reform policy and the rights and duties of citizens under the new electoral system. He warned those who wanted to abuse their new freedom as follows: “Now each person can vote for the men and women he wants to see as cadres. But after the election is over, those who have won a majority must be given the right to do their jobs. Everyone is obliged to carry out the decisions of those whom they have elected. You yourselves will soon elect a village leader. If, after the election, he asks you to go on rear service, you must go. If he is no good, if he does his job poorly, then you can elect someone else to take his place. But as long as he is in office, you must listen to him. That is only fair. Otherwise we can have nothing but anarchy.”
These words, clearly spoken with a Taihang Mountain accent, made an impression on the peasants and encouraged the Party members. The former had never heard the ABC’s of electoral responsibility spelled out that clearly. The latter were relieved to find that enforcement was part of the new system and that the work team meant to tackle the growing trend toward anarchy.
59
Mutual Aid
No matter what names they have; no matter whether they are each composed of a few, or dozens, or hundreds of people, or whether they are formed entirely of people who can fulfil the standard quota of work or include some people who can fulfil only half the quota; no matter whether their mutual aid is rendered in terms of manpower, animal power, or implements, and whether their members may or may not live and board together during the busy season; and no matter whether they are of a temporary or permanent nature—all are good so long as they are collective mutual-aid organizations in which the masses take part of their own free will.
Mao Tse-tung, 1943
WHEAT, foster child of winter and sparse by-product of an autumn harvest economy, played a role in village life disproportionately large in relation to the tonnage it yielded. For many families the wheat crop alone put an end to “spring hunger” and provided the primary nourishment for the heavy labor demanded by the summer season. Without wheat these families could not hope to survive until the corn and millet ripened in September, nor could they possibly mobilize the energy necessary for the repeated hoeing, side dressings, and thinning that made the major crops grow. Hence, although the wheat never yielded enough to feed the population for more than a month or two, it was the keystone in the arch of northern agriculture.
With the wheat crop badly damaged by hail, the first big job undertaken by the work team in July 1948, was the distribution of relief grain to all those left without food. Certain stocks of grain had already been handed out by the village administration itself. These were now supplemented by county reserves stored in the Long Bow Church and by grain carted in from Lucheng. Thus an immediate crisis was averted, and the peasants were able to survive, take stock, and make plans for recovery.
As the days passed it became clear that the spring-planted crops were not so badly hurt as had first appeared. The corn recovered first. The leaves that had been shredded by hail turned yellow and died, but new growth thrusting up from the center of the stalks soon took over and made the plants as vigorous as ever. Most of the millet revived in the same way, though without the same vigor. Only the beans were completely destroyed, but since, in the agricultural scheme of things, beans were a minor crop, their loss was not irreparable. Even from the wheat fields something was salvaged. The hail had not hit with equal ferocity everywhere. Some fields yielded a fair crop in spite of the lashing they had received. Others were cut, threshed, and winnowed in vain. By the time the wheat harvest had been completed, the work team was able to make an overall estimate of the damage caused by the catastrophe and to draw up the following list:
Wheat—282 acres. All damaged. Expected yield: 11,861.5 pecks (an average yield of 11 bushels per acre). Actual yield: 2,536.75 pecks (2.5 bushels to the acre).
Millet—168 acres. All damaged. Expected yield: half normal.
Corn—350 acres. All damaged but recovering well. Expected yield: 90 percent of normal.
Beans—143 acres interplanted in corn. All damaged. No crop expected. Families suffering losses: 240 (the entire population).
As the corn and millet recovered, the peasants’ spirit revived and so did their energy. Soon they were out in force replanting all open land with turnip seed, buckwheat, and 60-day corn. Seeds for these catch-crops were supplied by the County Agricultural Department which obtained them from villages where no catastrophe had taken place. So ample were the supplies of seed that several bushels of buckwheat were left over. The village office presented the surplus to the people of Horse Square, the community directly to the north where hail had also devastated some fields.
***********
The harvest rush, the need to replant, and the heavy supply and stretcher bearing duties brought on by the fighting in Central Shansi all sharpened the need for mutual aid and labor exchange, but the demoralization that followed the hail disaster coupled with the go-it-alone tendencies fostered by the poor-peasant line had brought co-operation among the peasants almost to a standstill. At the very moment when the people most needed mutual aid, the system was on the verge of collapse.
Some peasants were happy to work alone. They said it was better not to organize for production. Instead of attending meetings and working in the fields with the aid groups to which they belonged, they went about their own business and privately ridiculed all cooperative effort. They did their best to undermine the initiative of those who still wanted to work together. Some less individualistic families still joined forces when there was work to be done for soldiers’ dependents, but when it came to their own land, they split up. Their elected leaders found it hard even to locate them to inform them of meetings. They were off transporting coal from the mines at Yellow Mill or hoeing their own fields. No one saw them from dawn until dark. When it rained for a day so that no one could go out, aid-group leaders sometimes managed to gather a quorum; but as soon as the rain stopped, co-operation evaporated along with the moisture in the fields. Everyone wanted to get to his own fields first in order to knock down the weeds before they had a chance to put down roots.
Such practical actions spoke louder than words and indicated that mutual aid was not popular. But when the question “to organize or not to organize for production” was placed squarely before the Communists in the Party branch, before the leaders and activists of the Provisional Peasants’ Association, and before the sectional organizations of the Association, the response was far from negative. Almost all the peasants said that the mutual-aid groups were good in theory. It was only in practice that they did not work out. People insisted that they wanted to co-operate but that they didn’t like some of the organizational forms used in the past. Once discussion was officially launched, a very vigorous “airing of views” followed.
The main criticism voiced by the peasants was that the aid groups were too big. Some included as many as 20 or 25
families. Group leaders wasted time calling everyone together in the morning. Then when they got to the fields, many people sat around because the plan of work was not clear. Large groups also meant friction because families that did not get on well with others invariably found themselves thrown together. Cheng-k’uan’s group, for instance, contained the quarrelsome Chin-chu and his wastrel wife. Nine tenths of the group did not want to work with Chin-chu because he was lazy and ill-tempered. He argued with all comers. Merely to straighten out the problems Chin-chu raised, the group had to meet every day. The time spent in these meetings was not worth it. The members lost sleep and precious moments of leisure.
People also said that large mutual-aid production groups tended to be organized arbitrarily. Much more natural were the many small groups that had arisen spontaneously in 1946, on the basis of mutual interests recognized by friends and relatives. These successful nuclei had been suddenly and mechanically enlarged when the Communist Party of Lucheng County issued a call for organized production in 1947. In response to this call, people had flocked or been directed into one mutual-aid group or another on the basis of neighborhood propinquity alone. All other important criteria bearing on the ability of people to work together had been ignored. Once in a given aid group, families found it hard to get out. If they didn’t get on well, no other group wanted them. Yet to go it alone was also impossible. They needed collective help and were willing to give as much as they received. Those who got along well together often discussed kicking out those families who made trouble, but it was difficult to do this without provoking hard feelings and a loss of face all around.
Many widows and old persons without labor power had also been included in the large aid groups. Instead of swapping services they simply paid for the work that was done for them. They could not and did not take an active part in the labor of the group; yet they came to meetings, often complained when operations were not performed to their complete satisfaction, and in general consumed time and made trouble. Those on whom the burden of labor fell resented being tied to such dependent persons unless they were their own close relatives.
Fanshen Page 68
