Last month, fifty years later than planned, my wife and her class celebrated graduation from their middle school located in a rural town in one of China’s eastern provinces. The ceremony and graduation photos, and everything else related to their 9th-grade graduation was delayed because of the Cultural Revolution. The ceremony was to have taken place in June, 1966. Instead it was held in April, 2016.
The Reunion took place over several days. Between 1966 and now seven of the class members succumbed to “the big C’s,” that is, Car accidents and Cancer; only 22 of the 29 members of the class were still alive as of last month. Three could not make the ceremonies due to various circumstances, but 19 of the group did make it to the Reunion, including seven women and 12 men.
Mr. W, who organized the reunion, contacted the middle school about making some school space available for the group, and allow for some “graduation” photographs. To everyone’s surprise, during the Ching Ming Holiday the school not only opened their doors but produced big banners announcing the Reunion, speeches, photographers, and senior administrators on hand to add prestige to the ceremonies. The tiny school that these graduates had attended so long ago now has over 2,000 full time students, dormitories, computer centers, a first-class library, and is a regional magnet for those who would like to attend a top notch university in China. The Reunion was a significant event in the town.
As far as I know, during the day at the school none of the officials mentioned the Cultural Revolution. References were made to “circumstances that prevented this class from having appropriate ceremonies to mark their graduation,” but nothing about the Cultural Revolution.
The night after the day the class spent at their old middle school, one of the students expressed his emotions in a poem. The poem was intended for distribution to the alumni only, and does indeed reflect the general atmosphere and attitudes of the attendees:
同学别后五十年聚会有感
X X X写于2016年4月
同窗三载在XX,
“文革”四散奔西东.
日夜常思同学情，
五十终圆聚会梦。
回首坎坷人生路，
握手言欢情谊浓。
不减毕业凌云志，
安度最美夕阳红
In May of 1966 school was suspended. Turmoil erupted. Over the next decade everyone in the class experienced 2-9 years’ working on farm communes. They all shared miserable first years, as the villagers who worked the farms had nothing but contempt for “city slicker,” soft-handed people who didn’t know one end of a hoe from the other. They got the worst jobs on the farms. They literally shovelled shit for a year or two.
If they learned anything from the Cultural Revolution, this group labelled “Intellectuals” because of their education level learned perseverance and tact; they kept their heads down and separately found ways to survive the political climate. Their life stories differ in detail, but have common threads of determination and a certain ability to avoid noticing obvious things out of the corners of their eyes.
To this day they share a habit that I have noticed in a lot of Chinese individuals of a certain age group. When saying something even slightly confidential or personal they cover their mouth with their hands to prevent any outside observers from reading their lips. They tend to speak the truth out of the side of their mouths.
This year’s group was a happy group. Many of them had not been in touch with each other over the past five decades. The meetings and dinners were lively, but even after many rounds of bai jiu and “ganbei!!!” the participants remained circumspect and even cautious with respect to the information they shared with each other about their pasts, job history, etc. To my knowledge, nobody complained about the past.
As a group, they all survived their time in the hinterlands on the farming communes. Almost half of them returned ultimately to their home town. The rest are scattered from Heilongjiang to Sichuan to Beijing to Shanghai.
As the poem indicates, they would rather avoid talking about the past, and would rather hoist a glass to today’s cheer.
None of the group members expressed any negative thoughts about the past. In fact, as a group they did pretty well. Here are some individual stories:
The fellow who organized the reunion was, fifty years ago, the class clown. He was sent to the same farming commune that three others of the class were also sent to. The other three got away from the farm fairly quickly. One married a well-connected bureaucrat (he was in high school and his dad was a senior Party member at the time, so he was protected). Today she is sophisticated, well-dressed and drives a BMW. Mr. W, on the other hand, was stuck on the farm until 1975 when he was able to get a job with a big city government. He stayed in government service and rose to the position of Secretary to the Mayor’s Office. His administrative abilities made him a natural to organize the reunion and he did a wonderful job.
The Class Monitor of 1966 was sent to a farm but with his charm was able to leave the hinterlands in less than 2 years and join the PLA. His career path might have been predictable. He was successful. He is a “take charge” guy, but wouldn’t reveal to me where he spent his time in the army. When he retired from the PLA he was recruited by the Public Security Bureau where he rose to a very senior level, being responsible for aspects of security for President Bill Clinton’s visit to China. He now lives very comfortably on two pensions: one from the PLA and one from the PSB.
Three of the ladies in this group spent 30+ years as primary school teachers, all now retired and living on generous pensions. They were able to become teachers because, although they had not officially completed 9th grade, they were highly educated when compared to their peers.
Another of the group was well-liked by his farm community and when the opportunity arose they recommended him for a position in the Water Department of a municipality. He was known for troubleshooting and his problem-solving abilities. In fact, the other students mutually agreed that this was the guy from this class that would go to high school and ultimately to TsingHua or Beijing University, he was that bright. Instead he ended up with the City Water Department.
He retired as Chief Engineer of the Water Department for his municipality; but, he is so valuable at his craft that they immediately re-hired him as a consultant to the Department. So, now he gets retirement pay plus another salary. Double dipping is not limited to the US Government.
In the mid-1970s when the Party power brokers finally sorted themselves out and Deng Xiao Ping took control, the damage done to the country by ruination of the national education system was recognized. The pool of educated people had shrunk to the extent that Deng announced that anyone with a high school diploma would be automatically assumed to have passed the Gaokao and qualified to attend university. People of my wife’s group, middle school graduates, were near the top of their generation in terms of education. They were in demand!
Essentially all members of this group spent their lifetimes working for government. Government jobs were made available to these people partly as “compensation” for the time they spent on farm communes or other injustices. But more importantly, as Deng Xiao Ping began to force change, these people were in high demand as some of the most educated people in the working population.
None of the Reunion attendees engaged in any private enterprise – they did not need to do so. As well, political caution held them back. Now they are all more-or-less retired and living on ample government pensions.
Privately, a few people told me they blamed the Gang of Four for their lives’ disruptions. Publicly nobody blamed anybody. The attitude seemed to be that circumstances were not controllable, life is tough, and you just get on with things and work through problems. Don’t blame anyone. Keep your head down. The past is past.
This group of people – aged 65-70 – without exception revere Mao Tse Tung as the Founder of today’s nation. They do not blame him for the Cultural Revolution. At parties, on the busses, and at gatherings we had during nearly a week’s events, people in the group would spontaneously break into song, some of the so-called “Red” patriotic songs of old, and everyone would join in with gusto, with cheers and salutes and bonhomie. No one had the time or interest to dwell on past misfortunes.
By the end of the week, they were actively discussing another reunion in 2017.
Thomas Pickering <thomaspickering919@gmail.com>