CHINA IN CRISIS
by Sven Lindquist
Translated by Sylvia Clayton
Photographs by Cecilia Lindquist
Thomas Y. Crowell Co., New York,
125 pp., US$5.95
Reviewed by Geraldine Fitch
Sven Lindquist lived under the Chinese Communists—mostly in Peiping in 1961 and 1962. He and his wife Cecilia went to Peiping as students. While there, Lindquist became cultural attache at the Swedish Embassy.
His reportage of the years when Communist China was in deep crisis is excellent. Having left before he wrote his book, he did not need to camouflage his portraits to please the hierarchy in Peiping. However, it is unlikely that he could go back, for the truth hurts.
His publishers say, "What emerges is the shocking contrast between party promises and propaganda and the rigors of revolutionary life." But more than the rigors of revolution emerge. There is deadly conformity or else, there is persecution and purge, and there is growing corruption and apathy. The revolutionary zest has been smothered.
Some of his admissions about the state of the nation seem inadvertent. Lindquist comes from a socialist country and is an optimist about the future—even of China. He believes that their "defeat can be the basis of lasting progress", rather than concluding that the Communist way is self-defeating and will remain so. The author thinks, or hopes, that progress won by a more realistic approach and limited ambition (as opposed to the unlimited goals of the early years) can gradually change "the tense, relentless face that (Red) China now turns toward the world." Improvement there has admittedly been since 1961-2 (things could not get much worse); but is the progress enough to justify his hope, or is this merely wishful thinking?
His hypotheses—and therefore his deductions—are sometimes wrong. For instance, not knowing the escalating pressure on the peasants which forced cooperatives, then collectives, and finally communes, he tells his readers that the communes "spread across the country like prairie fire". He does not believe husbands were separated from their wives in the communes, with their children put under the care of the state. Yet this is verifiable not only from those who escaped, but also from the press and Communist documents translated in Hongkong.
The author says: "Rain gives the Swedish farmer his independence; the Chinese peasant has a deep-rooted fear of being cut off from the communal irrigation system." Not knowing pre-Communist China, he is evidently unaware that more than half of the farmers of China owned their own land; another fourth owned part and tilled more on shares. He does not know that the farmer—never called a "peasant" in the old days—was as independent (although not as affluent, for farms were too small) as any Swedish or American farmer. The Chinese farmer could feed his family and his stock, and have a surplus to sell for cash. In many parts of China he did this through a farmers' association, a cooperative that bought his rice or wheat or soybeans. He did his share of upkeep on the irrigation dikes and used the water.
In his foreword, Lindquist gives two "striking changes"—for the better is the implication—from the "economic chaos and severe shortage of food" in 1961-2. The first, that there is more food, so the Chinese "are no longer living on starvation rations". This is good. But the second is that, because of the break with Russia, "political pressure has increased" on the people. Is this good? He says: "There was a hope that the national unity against Khrushchev could be allied to a more liberal domestic policy". On the contrary, "the measure of freedom which the Chinese won when they had empty bellies, is in danger of being lost now that they have food in their bowls once more." It is strange logic, or lack of it, that makes this "a striking change" from the failures and suffering of the crisis of 1961-2.
The persecution of a student, called "Chile" because he came from that country, cannot be detailed here. It grew out of his posting a skull and crossbones in the dining room as a protest when carelessness in the kitchen resulted in an epidemic of dysentery. In Sweden the grim humor of the poster would have been appreciated. In the University of Peiping it was considered "counter-revolutionary activity". The author asks, "Why is one who makes a joke about the lack of hygiene in the dining room a tool of imperialists and reactionaries?"
Lindquist answers his own question: "In a socialist country, nothing is apolitical. Even food is political food, and criticism of the food is political criticism." He did not say "in a Communist society". But could this persecution and harassment hound a foreign student in Sweden for criticism of food?
Though a socialist, the author is critical of the lack of freedom and privacy in mainland China. He notes "hypocrisy on an enormous scale"; students with no privacy, even of their mail; propaganda often an "implausible lie"; the aftermath of "a hundred flowers" of criticism as mass trials, imprisonment, deportation, and suicides; and "the revolutionary simplicity of the years of struggle" debased by bureaucracy and corruption with industrial progress brought to a halt, half-finished factories and abandoned buildings on all sides.
His final chapter, after a visit to Taiwan, is disappointing. His opening paragraph shows his preconceived misconceptions, indicating that he was the victim of much propaganda before he went to free China. "Formosa (never the Republic of China, or even Taiwan) is allowed to represent the whole of China" in the U.N., the U.S., and "57 other countries". That the ROC was a founding member of the U.N., and to this day pays dues for the "whole of China" he never mentions. "Chiang Kai-shek (is) an emperor without a kingdom (acting) out this fairy tale." And "Chiang Ching-kuo hopes to inherit his castle in the air." Where is the room in his mind now to observe with objectivity?
From the error in fact that Taipei prevented the U.S. from establishing diplomatic relations with Mongolia (when it was the Re public of China's veto to keep Mongolia out of the U.N.)—his charge is impossible as it is inconceivable—on to his ridiculous accusation that free China and Red China are both "dictatorships" and almost "as alike as two peas", he is superficial and unobjective. He says, "One in every five adult men is a professional soldier." To bear any resemblance to truth, "professional" must be dropped. All Taiwanese and mainlanders reaching military age have two years of military training, and return to civilian life. There is no army of "professional" old men. He knew before arrival the left-wing professors to interview—still free enough to teach and put Bertrand Russell's picture on the wall. He learned none of the facts in the case of Editor Lei Chen, whose trial this reviewer attended. And most of all, he learned only superficially of the Taiwan farmer's prosperity, so great that by now U.S. economic aid has been ended. While Lindquist points out that Taiwan is only 1/260th the size of the mainland, he has not figured out that if the island—two-thirds mountainous—can support 12,000,000 people, then mainland China—even if equally mountainous—should be able to feed, not 700 million, but more than 3 billion.
It leaves the knowledgeable reader with this enigma: How could one who so honestly faced the failures of the Communist regime on the mainland fail to be impressed with the astounding successes of the Republic of China on the island of Taiwan?
INDUSTRIAL DEVELOPMENT
IN COMMUNIST CHINA
Edited by Choh-ming Li
Frederick A. Praeger, New York,
1964, 205 pp., US$5.75
Reviewed by Charles C. Clayton
One of the interesting questions for the free world is how much Communist China has done in industrial development. The Communist regime has made extravagant claims, but observers are convinced that these do not reflect the facts. The scarcity of information on the actual state of the mainland economy gives significance to this book. Eleven authorities in American and British universities have contributed to the study, which was edited by Dr. Choh-ming Li, who is now the vice chancellor of the Chinese University of Hongkong. The material was first published as a special issue of the China Quarterly.
Dr. Li, who taught for many years at the University of California, contributes the first article, "China's Industrial Development, 1958-63". He writes that "in basic construction and industrial production a great leap forward did take place in the first three years, only to be followed by collapse and readjustment in the last two years." He points out that the failure of agriculture during the period forced a change in policy from metallurgical and machine-making industry to the development of agriculture, and he believes that emphasis will have to be placed on agriculture for a long time to come. He concludes:
"Eleven years of planned development, including five years of economic trials, have driven home some valuable lessons. To build up and expand heavy industry has proved to be an unsound development policy. And undue haste in development makes irreparable waste which the country cannot afford, and will only result in increasing the suffering of the people and delaying considerably the time schedule of development."
Another interesting chapter is contributed by Fred C. Hung, acting director of the Economic Research Center of the University of Hawaii, and Yuan-li Wu, professor of international business at the University of San Francisco. They discuss the difficulties of interpreting the statistical information issued by the Communists, pointing out that there has been a "complete blackout of information since 1960". They conclude that from the information available, there probably has been a relative increase in industrial output since 1962, although they point out that the increase in agricultural production has been due more to the restoration of incentive than to the "aid agriculture" program. But they remain dubious about the future. Only time will tell, they write, whether there will be another "great leap to industrialization".
Whether Red China's new economic policy is in transition or just beginning is the subject of Franz Schurmann, associate professor of sociology and history at the University of California. He points out that much of the early confidence of the party leaders is gone "and the theme that it will take decades before (Red) China can escape its traditional curse of poverty comes out time and again in the statements of its leaders." Along with the theme of poverty, there is one of isolation. There is anger against Moscow for abandoning Peiping during the years of its greatest difficulties.
The real question, he says, is whether the social and economic patterns that now prevail will transform the political system, or will the political system once again assert itself and try to fashion society in its own image? Red China, he writes, "seems to be standing at a kind of crossroad. What it will do internally will probably ultimately be of much greater significance than the role it decides to play on the international scene."
Other contributors discuss the work incentive policy, handicrafts, and the unfavorable ruble-yuan exchange rate. The contributors include Kang Chou, assistant professor of economics at the University of Michigan; Audrey Donnithorne, lecturer in Chinese economics at the University College in London; Leslie T. C. Kuo, chief of the Oriental Project of the National Agricultural Library in Washington; and Ronald Hsia, senior lecturer in economics at the University of Hongkong.
For the free world the conclusions reached by these scholars emphasize the fact that Communist China is far from ready economically to risk any large-scale military adventures.