First Published: The Call, Vol. 7, No. 31, August 7, 1978.
Transcription, Editing and Markup: Paul Saba
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’17,000 Chinese doubled over with laughter watching a Laurel-and-Hardy type comedy act go through its “cross-talk” routine.
’A single file line of thousands snaked over a broad Peking sidewalk and into the busy street, as previously banned books by Western writers such as Mark Twain, Balzac, and Dickens went on sale for May Day along with classical Chinese novels unseen in the last dozen years.
’In the Li minority area of Hainan Island, local performers skillfully blended the national characteristics of their people with modern revolutionary themes to produce a dazzling evening of song and dance before a packed house.
These are just a few examples of reborn enthusiasm for culture that The Call journalists’ delegation witnessed during our recent visit to China. But we were told that this cultural explosion came only after hard-won victories. In fact, for over ten years, culture was completely stifled under the fascist heel of the “gang of four.”
Beginning in 1966, libraries were closed down by the scores, with the “gang” declaring that they contained nothing but “bourgeois” and “revisionist” literature. A wealth of films, operas, ballets and plays were banned on the same grounds by the “gang.” Art and literary organizations were disbanded.
Ancient cultural sites and relics were defaced and ransacked by agents of the “gang” who claimed that they were of no value because they had their origins in feudal China.
As a result of this stifling, few cultural works were produced between 1966 and 1976. A member of China’s national film company told us that 109 films were produced in 1965, but a few years later, less than one-tenth that number were being made annually.
Those works that did appear were often nothing but propaganda vehicles for the “gang” to attack veteran revolutionaries and promote themselves.
Our Call delegation had an opportunity to meet with three well-known Shanghai literary figures who had suffered and struggled during the “gang’s” reign. Pa Chin at 74 is one of China’s most popular novelists. He told us how he had been denounced as the “Black Tyrant” by the “gang” because of his opposition to their line.
Lu Chih-chuan is a short story writer who told us of some of her experiences with the “gang’s” fascist methods. We also met Kong Lo-sun, a noted literary critic in Shanghai.
Kong Lo-sun patiently explained how the “gang” made use of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution launched in 1966 to deceive people with their “left” sounding rhetoric. Although there were definitely instances of bourgeois and revisionist influences in pre-1966 cultural works, the “gang” charged that all cultural work since the 1949 liberation was reactionary and that a “dictatorship of the sinister line” had prevailed in art and literature up until 1966.
Kong told us that Lin Piao and Chiang Ching had secretly met in 1966 to work out this “dictatorship of the sinister line” theory. They consciously decided to make use of the cultural arena as a tool for seizing political power. Lin Piao was to grasp the “gun” and Chiang Ching the “pen” in their reactionary plot.
“The hundred years and more from the Internationale to the model operas were a complete blank,” declared Chiang Ching in her efforts to negate the past and cause confusion. Meanwhile, she tried to pass herself off as a great cultural heroine and “creator” of the “model operas” that began to be staged in 1965.
The operas, however, like “Red Detachment of Women” and “The White Haired Girl,” which became well-known in the U.S. during the Cultural Revolution, were actually produced by many cultural workers long before 1965. Some, like White-Haired Girl, were even popular in Yenan in the 1940s. Nevertheless, the “gang” removed the authors’ names, made a few changes and claimed credit for themselves. At the same time, they refused to allow many works other than the “model operas” to circulate.
During the ’50s and ’60s there were many battles on the cultural front between proletarian and bourgeois ideas. Out of these struggles, Mao put forward the principle of “letting a hundred flowers blossom and a hundred schools of thought contend.” His view, which promoted creativity and debate in culture and allowed the mass line to be implemented was in direct opposition to the “gang’s” theories and practice.
In July 1975, when Chairman Mao was already quite ill, he still spoke out against the effects of the “gang’s” cultural policy. In a conversation with Vice- Premier Teng Hsiao-ping he said, “Model operas alone are not enough. No longer are a hundred flowers blossoming. Others are not allowed to offer any opinion, that’s no good.” He denounced the stultified atmosphere of “only eight model operas for 800 million people.”
The “gang” attacked the revolutionary ideas and traditions which had guided writing since the Yenan Forum in 1942. They demanded characters that were “super-heroes” in-stead of real people.
“AII heroes should be perfect according to the ’gang,’ ” Lu Chih-Chuan explained, “There was no process of maturity or growth allowed. Their view was completely undialectical.”
In stories about children, for example, the young heroes were made out to be more advanced than the best adults. As Lu summed up, “People were bored with this kind of literary work.”
The “gang” was also opposed to writing that reflected day-to-day reality. The; were against the tradition of revolutionary realism, and promoted idealism.
“If you wrote according to facts,” Lu said, “they said you must be portraying the weaknesses of socialism.”
Of course many cultural workers would not go along with the “gang’s” line on culture. But when manuscripts would be sent to the “gang’s” henchmen who controlled the publishing and distribution facilities, they would look for things they could use against the author, who was then ordered to rewrite until it was “correct.” Often authors refused to rewrite, so the “gang” would simply do it themselves.
“Although I am a short story writer, I was told to write a film plot about Lin Piao,” Lu Chih-Chuan told us. “I investigated and found out the real facts behind Lin Piao’s conspiracy and his connections to the “gang.” But of course they wouldn’t let me tell the real story. They made me revise the plot for three-and-a-half years.
“Just before they were smashed, they told me to change the name of the main character from Lin Piao to Teng Hsiao-ping.”
Not only did the “gang” manipulate cultural works, they also ran roughshod over art and literary workers themselves.
Often old veteran writers were put under house arrest or jailed. Some were sent out of the cities to do manual labor as a form of punishment, in violation of Chairman Mao’s directive. Both Pa Chin, and Kong Lo-sun had spent many years working on farms not for the purpose of gaining experience at manual labor but to remove them from places where they might have influence.
Banning old and middle-age cultural workers with experience fighting revisionism, the “gang” turned to the young naive writers and artists to do their dirty work. Even most young cultural workers were not allowed to do full-time cultural work. Only a few of them were trusted by the “gang.”
“They spoiled a whole generation of young writers,” Kong told our delegation solemnly. The “gang” created a cultural autocracy and enforced a state of ignorance on the people.
Many people we spoke with throughout China told us that owing to the “gang’s” policies, young people had grown up knowing nothing of China’s past, and nothing about the many positive attributes of foreign cultures. This was in spite of Mao’s directive to learn from the good in all things, both foreign and domestic, both old and new.
The problem is being remedied today by an intense campaign to enrich Chinese cultural life by re-publishing banned works, inviting foreign guests to tour and perform, and reopening institutes, museums and other centers for cultural study that the “gang” had shut down.
By being exposed to such things as Western symphony music, ancient Chinese calligraphy, contemporary Mexican films and American science fiction to name a few examples, the people. themselves can distinguish what is good from what is bad, and make the good points of ancient and foreign cultures serve today’s revolutionary China.
We heard many stories of the devastation wrought by the “gang,” but the real strength of the socialist system can be seen in the fact that they were finally defeated and by the rapid pace at which the cultural field has recovered. Our visit came not even two years after the smashing of the “gang” in October 1976 and yet we saw evidence that once again a hundred flowers are blooming in China.
The cultural rebirth can be seen in the new generation as well as the return of the veteran artists. On a visit to a kindergarten in Shengli oil field, we were moved by an experience we will never forget.
We had already seen several songs and dances. Four and five-year-old boys and girls were performing intricate dance routines without missing a single word of the songs.
We noticed during one song a five-year-old girl singing beside the musicians. Tears streamed down her face as she forced herself to keep singing.
We asked why this little girl was weeping. By now even the teachers had tears starting to trickle down their faces.
“It is a song about how much the children miss Premier Chou En-lai, and what he meant to them,” the translator whispered to us.
Chou was one of the leaders most fiercely attacked by the “gang.” Even at this young age, the children were striving to combine revolutionary political content with a high artistic level.
Our five week trip through China ended with an invitation to attend a cultural performance in Peking on May Day.
It was held in the Capital Gymnasium, which seats 17,000 and was televised throughout Peking. The evening included classical Western symphony as well as traditional orchestra pieces, national minority dances, sections from a Peking Opera, a comedy routine, a short section of a classical ballet, and choral singing of revolutionary songs. It was not surprising that the huge audience was so enthusiastic. They had not been able to see much of this culture – nor many of the performers themselves – for almost ten years.
The tasks of completely defeating the “gang of four’s” influence and their “sinister line” theory have only begun. The facts of their attempted seizure of power have been disclosed. The winning back of the “lost generation of youth” is continuing. And from what we could see, the people of China have a bright cultural future.
“Our mental manacles are off and our thinking is emancipated,” Kong Lo-sun told us. “It is truly our second liberation.”