Air University Review , November-December 1980

Chinese Historiography

après Mao, le déluge

THE Western world's fascination with China began long before the voyages of Columbus. The American version of this enchantment took concrete form in 1784, when merchants from Philadelphia and New York underwrote a perilous Pacific journey to Canton for the trading ship Empress of China. The enduring myth of the China market continues to the present day. In fact, the sudden announcement of warming relations between Washington and Peking as well as recent events in Indochina have provided a new impetus to an old dream.

This latest phenomenon has been accompanied by a spate of publications about the People's Republic of China or, as it is more popularly known, Red China. The sheer volume of writings on China even seems to be rivaling the fashionable "If it feels good, it's O.K." literature that has dominated commercial bookshelves in recent years.

Three of these books are representative of three traditional categories of American writing about China. First, there is the group that pleads for a better understanding of China and her leaders. How are we to deal with this formidable international power, the authors of these works argue, unless we develop a historical awareness of the Chinese Communist (CHICOM) revolution and Maoist thought? Richard H. Solomon asks--and tries to answer--this question in A Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party.

Those in the second category accept the premises of the first but add an extra dimension that can be conveniently summarized in the slogan "I was there." Adopting a personal perspective, these writers, invariably in patronizing tones, assure us that the Chinese Communists were, after all, simply misunderstood nationalists, or agrarian democrats, or "Radish Communists" (red only on the outside), but certainly not part of the "creeping tentacles of the international communist conspiracy" that so alarmed our Cold Warriors. If only FDR (insert any subsequent VIP's name--another characteristic of these books is flagrant namedropping) had listened to me, these authors moan, my personal experience in China would have salvaged American foreign policy. Although less grandly conceived, John McCook Roots uses this point of view in his biography of Chou En-lai, entitled simply Chou.

But what are we to do with this accumulated historical knowledge and enlightened understanding? Happily, there is a third category. These brave authors grapple with the question: What is to be done? At worst, these studies dissolve into mere speculation--imagine Jeanne Dixon in academic garb--but, at their best, they can provide a useful guide in marking out new paths for Sino-American relations. In this latter class, A. Doak Barnett has produced a masterful survey in China Policy.

RICHARD SOLOMON* seeks to blend familiar American images of China into "interpretive themes which seek to give them meaning in a Chinese context." (p. 2) Professor Solomon, a former staff member for the National Security Council, is an expert on China and the Chinese Communists. He believes that an understanding of our own cultural biases will somehow aid us in appreciating the Chinese perspective.

*Richard H. Solomon, A Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party: A Feast of Images of the Transformation Maoist China (New York: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1976, $9.95), 199 pages.

In fact, Solomon does not produce the book he says he is going to write. Early he promises "to break down American stereotypes of China and contrast them with Chinese myths and images of China." Then, he adds that "the contrast . . . will lead to an honest appreciation of our differences, if not a clearer grasp of Chinese realities." (p. 31) But the rest of the book is a hodgepodge of unconnected chapters whose only common denominator is a sympathetic tone that is remarkably uncritical of all things Red Chinese. Solomon never expands the unifying theme he alludes to, nor does he develop the objective vantage point from which to analyze Sino-American relations that he promised his readers. Even worse, there is no concluding segment that explains "an honest appreciation of our differences." (p. 31)

Instead, we are subjected to a series of complaints or theories, largely unsubstantiated, springing from the author's very personal viewpoint. For example, the American use of the Boxer Indemnity for a Chinese scholarship program becomes, for Solomon, a "patronizing righteousness." And the author's musings about the vital importance of "Swimming" amounts to little more than an overstrained construction that cannot support the weight attributed to it. Did Mao's famous 1966 dip in the Yangtze really "shock a sense of activism back into the Chinese Communist Party"? (p. 117) Did the event really take place as it has been reported?

Nevertheless, there is value in the book that may be found by stripping away the exaggerations and convoluted theorizing. The chapter "Contradictions," for instance, goes to excess in ascribing noble impulses to a CHICOM leadership that other observers have criticized as wavering and confused. Yet, Solomon has identified a key point of analysis in this chapter by exploring "the major social and political contradictions which have been at the center of conflict and change" in China. (p. 124)

Other chapters, notably "Eating," "Words," and "Emulation," contain nuggets of insight that can be found only after unpiling the theoretical baggage hiding them. What are we to make of a passage extolling the virtues of Mao and urging the people to "vomit the bitter water" of hardship as opposed to the Confucian model of "swallowing their bitterness"? This ambitious passage concludes with Mao's ridiculing the Nationalist Government as "a. paper tiger, incapable of eating anyone." (p. 45) A similar strained ambiguity emerges in "Words." The author labors to contrast the Confucian respect for learning with the dual Mao emphasis on activism and castigation of "book worshippers." According to Solomon, the former led to "a measure of deference to those in authority" while the latter fostered a true revolutionary spirit. (p. 55) Once again, the reader can actually gain certain insights by cutting through the heavily laden theorizing. This chapter produces some discerning analysis by Solomon on the rise and fall of the Cultural Revolution.

The chapter "Emulation" is a specific example of the basic analytical flaw of the entire book. Solomon patiently narrates the tortuous path that the CHICOMs have pursued as they accepted or rejected various models to emulate. The Confucian model, of course, had to be rejected. The Leninist experience was accepted, then modified. The party plunged into turmoil with several authority figures presented as models. Mao then purged his opposition or alternative models, except for Lin Piao. Other problems followed that decision. Narrating these ideological gymnastics, Solomon refuses to impose any critical, evaluative judgment. Indeed, here lay the main weakness of the book. The author remains too aloof in an uncritical and sympathetic (if not apologetic) posture. The confusion and blundering that leaps out at the reader in "Emulation" goes unchallenged by Solomon. In his nearest approximation to an editorial comment, Solomon merely points out, in his maddeningly detached style, that the CHICOMs have long sought "a constant and delicate balance" between the universal truths of Marxism-Leninism" and "the particular circumstances of Chinese society." (p. 87) And, astoundingly, in a chapter concerning CHICOM rejection of all role models (revolutionaries must, after all, be flexible), the author offers no analysis about the pervasive cult of personality surrounding Mao. What happened to all those little red books?

No, there is little balance here. Solomon, in his silence, seems to surrender his scholarly responsibilities. He does not, in truth, concoct an unqualified apology for the CHICOMs; nevertheless, he neither presents critical judgments nor calls attention to CHICOM failures. In fact, a disturbing--if measured--fascination emerges in these pages between Solomon and Maoism. The discerning reader who can manage to keep a skeptical perspective will gain some insights about Red China. But will most readers bother to take the trouble? With his distinguished qualifications, Solomon should try again. He knows his subject and will, undoubtedly, make valuable contributions to our dismal understanding of China. In this particular effort, however, he is not at his best. Despite his presenting a considerable body of knowledge about China, the author has fallen short of a praiseworthy premise. The title of the first chapter, "Mything the Point," might well serve as a capsule summary of the book by a reviewer with a lisp.

SIMILAR problems beset the biography of Chou En-lai by Roots,* an experienced American journalist. Like Solomon, Roots paints an unquestioning and uncritical portrait.

*John McCook Roots, Chou (New York: Doubleday, 1978, $8.95), 220 pages.

For the most part, the book covers ground already well traveled by scholars. There is little that is new here. Other works, notably Hsu Kai-yu's Chou En-tai: China's Gray Eminence and Dick Wilson's The Long March (as well as more recent books by Dun Jen Li and Suzanne Pepper), provide more detailed analysis. For example, one of the key decisions in Chou's life, to embrace communism in 1919-20, is quickly glossed over by the author. (pp. 19-21) Furthermore, Roots offers little or nothing about Chou's military role during World War II and the Chinese Civil War.

Perhaps the chief value of the book stems from Roots's firsthand experiences in China and from the forty-year friendship between Chou and the author's family. This personal perspective does lend some interest to an otherwise unexceptional book. Excerpts from the family's correspondence reveal a lengthy list of distinguished visitors to the Roots home. Chou, in fact, stayed with the family at Wu-han--the temporary wartime capital in early 1938--during his efforts to arrange a working agreement with the Kuomintang. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek and his wife were also close family friends. In one little-known episode, Roots suggests (although he confesses having no corroborative evidence) that his father, Bishop Roots, had saved Chou's life in 1927 by providing refuge at the British Concession in Hankow during a Kuomintang purge.

The author has some impressive credentials, and his "China Connection" undoubtedly goes far in explaining why his book was published. Born in China, Roots was among the earliest American correspondents to return to China. He says that an interview with Premier Chou shortly before his death represents "a key element in the preparation of this book." (p. vii) At Harvard and elsewhere, Roots has had the benefits of contact with distinguished scholars. The acknowledgments section lists impressive associates: Arthur M. Schlesinger, Sr., John K. Fairbank, James C. Thomson, Jr., Edwin Reischauer, Lucien Pye, O. Edmund Clubb, and A. Doak Barnett. Edgar Snow and his family are also numbered among Roots's acquaintances.

Almost predictably, the biographer has become enamored with his subject. From Roots's perspective, Chou takes on an aura of infallibility. The author stresses that Chou held top party posts longer than any other Communist, "not excepting Mao, Lenin or Stalin." (p. xvi) It is Chou who provided the "moving spirit" (p. 65) in the 1935 elevation of Mao as Party Chairman. It is Chou who produced in 1922-24 "attempts at mediation that can only be described as heroic" (p. 24) in trying to bring together competing factions among Chinese youths in Europe. But there is scant analysis or critical judgment. Mao's own considerable abilities are minimized. And Chou largely failed to arbitrate the ideological divisions of those Chinese youths. In fact, what Success he did have--namely, with the Communists--may well account in some measure for his growing commitment to that movement. We do not know, and Roots does not give us much help. Instead, we are told that Chou was "a resourceful peacemaker" who "always held his liquor well." (p. 25) We even learn that often Chou, as a young student, could "complete a composition assignment in half the required time." (p. 16) The reader even might anticipate claims from Roots that Chou leaped tall buildings in a single bound.

The book does provide a light, popularized version of Chou's life, and it is easy to read. There are a few insights, especially a chilling description of Roots's experience with CHICOM anti-Western propaganda when he attended the play Roar China. Moreover, Chou's unique personality does occasionally break through in passages such as accounts of the Long March and of the dark days for the CHICOMs early in the Civil War. But the value of this particular example of the "I was there" school of history is, unfortunately, limited.

ONE of the top China experts in the United States is A. Doak Barnett. His lively scholarship has produced an impressive number of books and articles about China for over twenty years. He is currently associated with the Brookings Institution.

His book China Policy outlines the contours of American perceptions and policies regarding Communist China.* Immediately after 1949, deep mutual antagonism poisoned Sino-American relations. During the 1960s, important changes in this hostile deadlock occurred, such as the growing Sino-Soviet estrangement and a more flexible attitude in the war-weary United States about China. Barnett feels that the opening of relations between the two countries in 1972 represents a historical watershed. Although President Richard M. Nixon and Henry Kissinger are widely credited with arranging this diplomatic breakthrough, Barnett applauds "bold initiative by both sides." (p. 2)

*A. Doak Barnett, China Policy (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1977, $8.95), 131 pages.

Thus far, the gains for both countries have far outweighed the political costs. Yet Barnett warns that developing closer relations will entail more meaningful compromises--compromises that require difficult political decisions. The limits of Sino-American detente must be recognized, and, consequently, a pervasive friendship is unlikely in the near future. According to Barnett, huge obstacles exist to thwart truly close cooperation between Washington and Peking. These obstacles include "the ideological gap, conflict of political values, and divergence of many broad foreign policy goals, as well as basic cultural, social, and economic differences." (p. 19) In fact, Barnett argues that Japan and the Soviet Union may well be more important to American interests than China. He feels that "the most important single objective of U.S. policy" (p. 78) in the Far East is the maintaining of an effective friendship with Japan. And if American global security interests dictate that first priority be given to preventing a military conflict with the Soviet Union, then American policy in the Far East must not upset the fragile strategic balance between the two great superpowers.

It is vital that all four Far Eastern powers (Is Vietnam becoming a fifth?) maintain a strategic equilibrium. None should try to exclude the others. At present, that Far Eastern equilibrium depends on close American ties with a nonnuclear Japan as well as the absence either of Sino-Soviet conflict or of a Sino-Soviet rapprochement. In a brilliant chapter entitled "Relations with Other Powers," Barnett assesses the conflicting and converging crosscurrents of Far Eastern diplomacy. Although his book predates the Asian crisis triggered by Vietnam's invasion of Cambodia and the subsequent Chinese incursion into Vietnam, it is interesting to note how the flexibility of Barnett's analysis can incorporate this turn of events. His views are vindicated rather than made obsolete by the current crisis.

The final chapter, "An Approach for the Future," traces possible patterns of development in Sino-American relations over the next two or three decades. The author wisely avoids attempts at prodigious prognostication. Instead, he carefully constructs an analytical framework for the future that is cautiously optimistic.

Perhaps the major weakness of the book is its narrow scope. Although he deliberately limited his range, the author, nonetheless, focuses too intently on Sino-American relations (this is, after all, what he said he would do) and the four Asian powers: the United States, Japan, China, and the Soviet Union. But, as recently demonstrated, any analysis of Far Eastern affairs must incorporate Vietnam. Barnett has mentioned--and would not deny--that small countries can precipitate international crises by dragging in the big powers. But Barnett seems to lump Vietnam with those lesser countries. Surely, Vietnam must rank as a major regional power. And to the extent that Vietnam does influence Asian affairs, it is vital to involve that country in efforts to promote a stable equilibrium.

THE quality of Barnett's book contrasts sharply with that of the Solomon and Roots works. Each of the other two has a certain popular appeal, and each advances to some degree the growing accumulation of knowledge about China. The reader who keeps a healthy skepticism will find some use--and even some enjoyment--in the books by Solomon and Roots. Barnett, on the other hand, has provided an insightful analysis that should stimulate the reader to further thought. Each of us, in fact, would do well to reflect on the course of Sino-American relations. Too much is at stake for Americans to do otherwise. Brooks Adams, at the turn of the Twentieth Century, frequently pointed out that the locus of power, the leadership of world civilization, had moved westward throughout the history of man from Asia and the Middle East through Europe. Adams confidently predicted that the United States would fall heir to that leadership. He proved to be correct. But at the latter stage of the century, it is worth considering whether that progression is continuing across the Pacific.

John J. Sbrega (B.A., Union College; M.A., Ph.D., Georgetown University) is Associate Professor of History and Department Head of Social Sciences at J. Sargeant Reynolds Community College, Richmond, Virginia. He was a Fulbright Scholar to the United Kingdom, 1972-73, a participant in the first State Department Scholar-Diplomat Seminar, and took part in the "Americans as Proconsuls" seminar of the American Committee on the History of the Second World War. Dr. Sbrega was a USAF pilot, flying medical evacuation and supply missions in Southeast Asia.

Disclaimer

The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.

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