The wounds inflicted on the Chinese people by the Cultural Revolution are still open. Generations of intellectuals cut off, the culture of suspicion as the rule, grandparents who, today, refuse their own name.
A decade of uncontrolled fury. Starting from May 16, 1966 (until September 9, 1976) the China was overwhelmed by a collective delirium which, stimulated by hysterical improvisations and fueled by boundless ferocity, cost (at least) 2 million deaths and an immense number of wounded and deported.
It began with a three-meter-square poster – the dazibao – written by Nie Yuanzi and hung on the surrounding wall of Peking University. The author had just learned to read and write at school. Then, in the time that remained free, during her partisan activity in the conflict against the Japanese, she relied on some self-taught refinements. With an approximate cultural background, once the war was won, he found himself a professor of philosophy and, even without appropriate academic qualifications, he contested the teaching methods and didactic results of the rector of the institute (Lu Ping) and his deputy (Song Shuo). Aggressive language. He accused them of being “black anti-party bandits” against whom it was necessary to “go into battle”.
The great helmsman and the weapon of mass distraction
The idea pleased the great helmsman Mao Zedong who accredited the initiative, going so far as to encourage its diffusion and implementation. The Chinese communist leader had to make amends for the disaster caused by years of senseless economic policies. He had promised a “great leap” to ensure generalized social well-being and, instead, he had to deal with a powerful leap backwards. Unproductive campaigns, deaths from starvation, international discredit and distrust among its own people. Shifting attention to the bourgeois regurgitations that were polluting the process of proletarian redemption could be useful for distracting attention from past errors and directing it towards different objectives.
The proletarian march had to be rekindled to eliminate the enemies of the people. And, in doing so, it was necessary to avoid half measures and not be intimidated by the role of the opponent, his duties or his past merits. In short: the headquarters had to be “bombed”. It seemed paradoxical that the leader of a power would incite rebellion against himself. Yet, the slogans were resolute and found frenzied application, starting with the most prestigious figures in the government apparatus. The revolutionary fury did not spare the fathers of the country who had shared Mao’s project from the beginning and who, for this reason, had gained the right to sit at his table.
Liu Shaoqi he was an early communist, boasted strong international connections (especially with Moscow) and had been able to obtain the essential aid to finance the guerrilla war against the Japanese. Yet he chose the role of President of the Republic. Useless. They accused him of right-wing attitudes, threw him in prison and left him – naked – among mice, garbage and cockroaches where they found him dead.
Deng Xiaoping he could be considered number three in the regime. He had studied in France and Russia and, despite a height that reached 160 centimeters only when wearing high-heeled shoes, he enjoyed the courage of a lion. During the war, he directed military operations with the rank of general and the role of chief of staff. Having gained power, he was tasked with building a production system for a previously non-existent industry. They broke into his house. His son Deng Pufang, in defending him, fell from the balcony (or was pushed) and, with a broken spine, was forced to live as an invalid in a wheelchair. He was deported to the Xinjang region and assigned to an agricultural cooperative that employed him to hoe the fields.
AND Lin Biao? He was another loyalist who had promoted the publication of a little red book with Mao’s historical phrases (often invented) which would have ensured him popularity and prestige. Overnight, he became a traitor. He, foreseeing the worst, tried to take refuge in the Soviet Union but the plane he was traveling on crashed on the border with Mongolia. They said that he had organized a plot to kill the leader, a hypothesis which – even his contemporaries – struggled to give credence to.
The generational war of the four old men
While Europe applauded the success of the Beatles, China was devouring itself: it wanted to eradicate every point of reference it had acquired and replace it with another, destined – however – to be replaced soon and – again – replaced by the one that had been swept away first. The enemies to be defeated were the “four old men” (old ideas, old culture, old tradition, old habits) but the use of the term “old” added a personal element to the ideological struggle. The revolution was led by teenagers against which middle-aged people, by the very fact of no longer being young, became natural targets.
Any excess was considered legitimate. The elimination of the bourgeois was considered a sign of merit. It was necessary to pay attention to daily behaviors that could be misunderstood but – according to testimonies collected at the end of the terror – it was “dangerous even to think”. In the paranoia of Cultural revolutionthe anonymous accusations became convictions. Everyone woke up with the terror of finding their name hanging on the wall, in a sort of proscription list that listed the “elements dangerous to the progress of society”. Although it wasn’t always enough, the defense (to hopefully save one’s life) consisted of writing a self-criticism and sticking it on the front door. Long before Facebook, the walls of China became a bulletin board of slander and revenge. It wasn’t enough to kill the “enemy”. It was necessary to humiliate him.
The victim was forced to bend over, with his arms folded back (as if they were the wings of an airplane) and a sign hung around his neck denouncing the alleged crimes committed. The insults lasted for hours. Even the beatings. The guardians of red orthodoxy ruled on who should die.
Beyond the boundaries of the human: the martyrdom of intellectuals
And how? The luckiest ones were beaten to death. Others quartered them. Still others were drowned in pots of boiling water. One of the most atrocious episodes occurred in the province of Guangxi and is demonstrated by research by Zheng Yi who, to interview the survivors and consult the reports stored in the party archives, risked his life even though the revolutionary hangover had passed. Chilling chronicles beyond the limits of humanity. Ideological hatred even became cannibalism: not due to hunger but due to that fanaticism that indulged in every atrocity to demonstrate its loyalty to the regime.
It was not just a political purge but the eclipse of national talents. In the delirium of a permanent revolution, wearing glasses was an indication of “deviation”. Owning a book by a foreign author was a crime. Indulging in humming a refrain under your breath could throw open the prison doors. Despite the “cultural” label, that bloodbath led to the dismemberment of generations of intellectuals to whom – if they managed to save their skin – they burned their publications, smashed their laboratories, destroyed the results of important research, prevented them from studying and spreading the knowledge they knew about.
The teacher Bian Zhongyunof Peking University, was beaten by her students who stopped beating her when they realized she was dead. Another teacher, Fang Zhongmou, was killed in front of her daughter Zhang Hongbing who, regardless of her affections and family ties, had denounced her as anti-Mao.
The greatest novelist of the time, Lao Sheauthor of Rickshaw, was persecuted to the point that, unable to bear further humiliation, he committed suicide. Like Fu Lei, the famous translator of Balzac’s works, and the famous feminist Ding Ling to whom – out of mockery – they entrusted the care of the public latrines. Liu Shikun and Gu Shenggyue, both internationally renowned musicians, broke the piano they kept at home and broke their fingers to prevent them from playing capitalist songs again.
Ten years of unlikely deliriums. Children were born who named Wenge (Cultural Revolution), Xiangdong (Eastward) or Hongqi (Red Flag). Now that those little ones have become grandparents, they try to distort their names because they are ashamed of being declared children of an infamous time.
