Arts, Books, China, Communism, Education, History, Society

Book Review: Mao

LITERARY REVIEW

Intro: The central argument of Brown’s thesis is that Mao was a ‘moderniser through destruction’. He believed that for a new China to be born, the old one had to be violently uprooted. The book suggests that while Mao’s methods were often catastrophic, the unified, assertive China we see today is an inescapable result of his reign

Kerry Brown writes that “Mao’s provocations… would have suited the world of social media and Twitter/X”. That’s a fertile observation. One could well imagine an @Mao account, or a podcast – The Chairman Mao Experience – attracting a huge and hungry following.

Mao Zedong was, after all, a famed dispenser of earthy aphorisms. He told an astonished hall in 1959: “Comrades… if you have to s—, s—! If you have to fart, fart! You will feel much better for it.” He was obsessed not so much with state-building as with the more intimate endeavour of moulding minds. “Simple slogans, cartoons, and speeches”, he wrote, “have produced… a widespread and speedy effect among the peasants.” Social media would have been a central platform for his rhetoric.

Even in death, Mao trips us up. In the half a century since his passing in 1976, biographers and historians of China have failed to reach consensus on what drove him, what degree of responsibility he bears for the tragedies of the early People’s Republic, and what his contributions were to the wealthy and successful China of 2026. He ran the country for 27 years, yet remained an enigma – associated, at various times in his life, with violence and mercy, Confucianism, and techno-utopianism. In his new biography Mao, Brown, professor of Chinese studies at King’s College, London, all but emits a sigh, surveying the task ahead: “Getting a clear sight of who Mao was… presents a massive challenge.”

Some early signs provide pointers. Young Mao, born in imperial China in 1893, was fiercely opposed to the ruling “Simple slogans, cartoons, and speeches”; yet, he was schooled in the Confucian classics, and was impressed by the importance of self-cultivation. It was a short hop from self-cultivation to the cultivation of others’ selves – in particular those of the vast mass of China’s peasantry, whose loyalty and labour were required for revolution.

Mao came to believe that Marxism offered the best blueprint for achieving this. Russia’s Bolsheviks had shown that what Brown calls “an enlightened vanguard of activists” armed with a simple critique of present injustices could rally the masses to their cause. The people of Hunan province, where Mao built his early political base, possessed, in his estimation, “no brains, no ideals, and no basic plan”. Changing that required, in Brown’s words, “the framing of social relations in elemental terms as a struggle between… two great forces”. One only had to exchange Marxism’s “capitalists” with “landlords” for China’s peasants to raise their gaze beyond their own fields and throw themselves into collective action. Mao deployed night-schools and propaganda to this end, providing just enough education to create a biddable mass that would “rise like a mighty storm, like a hurricane, a force so swift and violent that no power… [would] be able to hold it back”.

Compromise was not in Mao’s DNA. In 1921, while still a marginal figure in the party, he attended the fabled first meeting of the Chinese Communist Party in Shanghai. The location, then in the city’s French concession, is today regarded in China as sacred ground, festooned (the author tells us) with TV screens and interactive guides. And yet: so disillusioned was Mao by the CCP’s pragmatic decision to forge a temporary alliance with the Chinese Nationalists that he boycotted its second congress in 1922. (In later years, he would pretend he’d done no such thing, and only failed to locate the address where the meeting was being held.)

Mao once declared that revolution is “not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery . . . a revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence where one class overthrows another”. Brown takes the reader on the wild ride that was Mao’s life in the 1930s and 1940s: his quick return to the fold, the rise of the CCP, its fight against Japanese invaders, then all-out civil war with Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalists – whom Mao had driven out of China and into Taiwan by the end of 1949, thus establishing Communist rule.

Then comes the perplexing mix of success and tragic failure that were the early years of the People’s Republic of China. Greatest of all disasters was the Great Leap Forward of 1958–62, during which a staggering 50 million people may have died (reliable statistics are impossible to come by). How to explain the gargantuan folly of setting up backyard steel furnaces in villages across the country, producing shoddy tools and utensils, while people were left eating tree bark and raw wheat?

Prof. Brown points us towards “Mao Zedong Thought”, the “philosophy” that seems to have turned on a terrifying sense of China’s population as an expendable means towards utopian ends. Those village furnaces might have claimed untold lives – consuming farmers’ tools and time when they should have been tending their fields – but for Mao they were a symbol of Chinese modernity. A nuclear exchange would be regrettable, but China had so many people that no enemy could possibly kill them all. Food aid was offered to China’s neighbours during the height of the famine, because you can’t put a price on projecting an air of progress. Brown wonders whether Mao understood economics at all – whether “capitalism” was, to him, little more than “a term of abuse or criticism for those he regarded as… enemies, rather than something [of which] he had a clear understanding”.

Brown is like a trustworthy tour guide, knowledgeable and clear, but not always sure which sights we most need to see. Digressions into the lives and thinking of other figures occasionally takes up space that might have been better used in rounding out our sense of the chairman himself. Writing about a figure like Mao isn’t easy; but readers may still find themselves hankering after a more vivid personal portrait, alongside answers to some of the questions thrown up by Mao and Maoism.

For instance, important aspects of Mao’s private life are passed over rather quickly. He was often consumed by what might now be described as anxiety and low mood, over fears of his rivals plotting and scheming against him. He withdrew from public life for long periods at a time before returning with fresh and deadly energy – most famously at the time of The Cultural Revolution of 1966-76. And while we must be wary of sensationalism, it seems clear that Mao had a fondness for young women, especially during his later life. All these things might be mined for insights about one of the pivotal figures of the 20th century.

Similarly, we read about the extraordinary violence of the Cultural Revolution without being helped to understand what could make people do such things. So-called “sent-down-youth” from urban China were forced out into the countryside “to seek lived experiences of the revolution”. The results extended to forced marriage, rape, and even murder at the hands of rural Chinese who were fearful that their food and resources were under threat. Mao was the prime instigator and orchestrator of this infamous episode in Chinese history, alluding at the outset to the utopian potential of “disorder” under heaven.

Were Mao’s pathologies poisoning a nation, or coaxing to the surface its darkest inclinations? Brown is surely correct when he says that “it is hard to work out the psychology of a man who was almost constantly calculating and balancing different forces around him”. Still, a tighter curating of key moments and insights plus some judicious speculation might have helped the analysis in this book be more cohesive and compelling. As it is – and in fairness, perhaps this is true to the nature of the chairman – Mao Zedong risks once again slipping through our fingers.

– Mao by Kerry Brown is published by Reaktion, 272pp

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Arts, Books, China, Communism, History

Book Review: No Wall Too High

REVIEW

No Wall Too High

No Wall Too High: One Man’s Extraordinary Escape from Mao’s Infamous Labour Camps

Synopsis: Life in Mao’s labour camps was so brutal, its inmates longed for death. One captive broke free – to tell his heart-stopping story.

HIS arms lashed lightly behind his back, squeezed between two soldiers and prodded mercilessly with rifle butts, he was paraded through the streets and into the square where more than 10,000 hate-filled faces were screaming abuse and obscenities at him.

Xu Hongci was experiencing the sharpest edge of the terrible witch-hunts that masqueraded as justice in the China of mad revolutionary Chairman Mao.

He was hauled up onto a table, his slumping head grabbed by the hair and forced upwards to face the baying mob. Quotations from Mao’s Little Red Book echoed from loudspeakers as he was denounced as a counter-revolutionary, an imperialist, and a criminal. He was sentenced to . . .

Xu fully expected the next word to be ‘death’, and he welcomed the prospect. He had been a prisoner for 12 years, serving the hardest time imaginable in the laogai, China’s chain of brutal slave-labour camps for those considered enemies of the state.

Virtually with his bare hands, he’d built dams, dug mines, quarried mountains, worked in paddy fields for 19 hours a day, all on starvation rations of gruel and husks. He’d been shackled in irons, whipped, beaten and humiliated.

To be pinned to the ground and finished off with a bullet in the back of the neck – as he had seen done to countless others – would be a release.

Instead, the voice on the loudspeaker pronounced “20 years’ imprisonment”.

Xu’s extraordinary tale of endurance – handwritten by him 20 years ago, and published for the first time in the West – is a rarity. Historians numbered the butchered and starved-to-death casualties of Mao’s 30-year regime at 60 million, outstripping Hitler (30 million) and Stalin (40 million) as the worst murderer in history.

 

BUT while there have been notable victim’s accounts of Nazi and Soviet atrocities, there has largely been silence from those who suffered at first hand the worst of Red China’s astounding inhumanity to its own people.

And that’s what makes Xu’s moving account a must-read. His is a story that must not be buried, but confronted.

The irony for Xu, born in Shanghai in 1933, is that he was a fervent Communist and a revolutionary, who as a teenager worshipped Mao. As a student activist, he rose up through the party ranks.

Then he made the mistake of taking Mao at his word. In 1957, as the Communist world fretted over developments in the Soviet Union, the Great Leader invited constructive criticism of his regime. “Let a hundred flowers bloom and a hundred schools of thought contend,” he declared.

At the college where he was studying medicine, Xu offered his ideas to make the Communist party more democratic and less dictatorial, only for Mao to spring his trap.

Xu had outed himself. He was denounced as a “Rightist” and disgraced, along with millions of others who had dared speak their mind. Even his girlfriend turned against him.

He was exiled to a remote labour camp for “re-education”. With Orwellian irony, this hell on earth went by the name of the Eternal Happiness Farm. He was worked to within an inch of his life. Twice he escaped, but surveillance was so tight in Mao’s police state that he was caught and hauled back.

That he survived at all is probably down to the fact his medical training gave him a valued position in what passed for hospitals in the prison farms and penal labour colonies.

Not that life on the outside of Mao’s gulag was much better. The Great Leader ordered a Great Leap Forward and pretty well overnight millions of peasants were forced off the land to work in factories. With no rice to sustain them, those millions starved to death.

Through all this, Xu bided his time in captivity, hoping for release. And it seemed near – until another of Mao’s initiatives, the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, unleashed a further round of bloody persecution.

With his record of dissent and refusal to kowtow, Xu was an obvious target, hence his humiliating appearance in front of the howling mob and his new sentence to another 20 years.

This time he would be properly behind bars, in a seemingly impregnable high-security prison surrounded by a high wall and an electric fence, with guards and their dogs on constant patrol, a communist Colditz.

But just as the inmates of the German prison were determined to find a way out, so Xu began to plan his escape – the thrilling climax of this book and as gripping as any World War II prisoner-of-war epic.

Over the next three years, he made his preparations. In the prison factory, which made agricultural tools, he secretly carved wooden blocks for the stamps he would need on the travel documents he was forging.

He explored the prison for weak spots, a point out of sight of the spotlights and the sentries in their towers where he could climb the wall.

He hoarded parcels of food. He plotted his route once outside. He made and hid the components of a ladder. He also prepared a phial of poison from nicotine in cigarettes.

If his attempt failed, he would put an end to his misery.

In August 1972, he got his chance. Blackouts were common, but on this day the electricity went out at 10am and, the convicts were told, would not come back on until the next morning.

After roll-call that night, he hid in the prison yard, then climbed up and over the wall, into the factory, out through a window, with a final heave across the dead electric fence. His luck held. He had six hours until his absence would be discovered.

Xu headed up into the mountains, keeping on the move for 40 hours before daring to rest. He took trains when he could – those travel documents passed muster – before ending up in the Gobi Desert. Thirty days after escaping, he crossed the border into Mongolia.

As far as anyone knows, he is the only person to escape from Mao’s deadly labour camps and live to tell the tale. After Mao’s death, Xu returned to Shanghai in 1984, two years after his case was reviewed and his convictions quashed, anxious to see his mother again.

He brought his wife, whom he’d married in Mongolia, and their three children. He worked as a management instructor for a petrochemical company until his retirement in 1993, when he began to write this extraordinary and powerful memoir. He died in 2008, aged 75.

He left a warning. Mao’s problem he says was that, steeped in the mentality of ancient China, he was unable to listen to dissenting opinions. It’s a thought that today’s rulers in Beijing, with their authoritarian approach to human rights, would do well to keep in mind.

–     No Wall Too High by Xu Hongci is published by Rider for £20

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