31

The weather that summer was spectacular, the bestin years. It rained every night, and the days weresunny and mild, so there was no doubt that the fallharvest would be the best in China’s history. All ofChina was in a frenzy, bubbling with optimism andexcitement.

We traveled rst through Hebei province, visitingseveral newly formed communes. The optimism ofthe peasants was captured in the names of the neworganizations, all of which promised a glorious andrevolutionary future—the Communist Commune,Dawning, Morning Sunshine, Red Flag.

Then we went to Henan, where rst partysecretary Wu Zhifu—small, fat, and honest—escorted us by car through the dusty, unpaved backroads of his province. We traveled in a cavalcade ofcars, tens of people in all—a contingent of armedguards from Zhongnanhai under the supervision ofWang Jingxian, a group of Wu Zhifu’s provincialsecurity o cers, reporters from the New ChinaNews Agency, and some journalists from the Henanparty newspaper. Mao had cautioned me that thetrip was secret, but the journalists made it public.

The August weather was scorchingly hot. Werelied on big broad-brimmed straw hats to protectus from the sun and were greeted with wet

washcloths each time we stopped. The twotruckloads of sweet, juicy watermelons thatfollowed us from place to place were our best relieffrom the heat. Mao, as usual, was little bothered bythe weather and seemed indi erent to thewatermelons, but many of us in the entouragegorged ourselves on the succulent fruit.

Mao enjoyed himself. He liked being among ruralfolk again. When he stepped on a patch of dung,dirtying his shoes, he was delighted and refused tolet anyone wipe it o . “It’s fertilizer—a usefulthing,” he said. “Why wipe it o ?” Only when hetook o his shoes that night could one of his guardswipe them clean. The elds were lush with crops,crowded with peasants at work. In China north ofthe Yellow River women rarely work in the elds,but everywhere we looked women and girls,dressed in bright red and green, were laboringalongside the men.

In Lankao county, Mao wanted to swim in thelegendary Yellow River and sent the faithful SunYong, who had encouraged him to take his rstswim in the Yangtze, to test the waters. But theYellow River su ers from oversilting and the waterwas a thick brown brew, only chest-deep. Sun andthe other security o cers sank in mud up to theirknees at every spot they tested. Mao gave up hisplan to swim.

On August 6, accompanied by the usual largeentourage, Wu Zhifu took us to visit Seven Livillage, in Xinxiang county. The elds en routewere lled with chest-high cotton, and the white

round bulbs were the size of a st. The harvest forSeven Li village was going to be abundant.

As our cars pulled into the village square, a bigred banner strung across the front door of thevillage headquarters cried out in greeting: SEVEN LI

VILLAGE PEOPLE’S COMMUNE. Mao grinned as he steppedfrom his car. The huge new collectives had a varietyof names. This was the rst time we had actuallyseen the word people’s commune associated with aplace. “This name, ‘people’s commune,’ is great!”Mao said. “French workers created the Pariscommune when they seized power. Our farmershave created the people’s commune as a politicaland economic organization in the march towardcommunism. The people’s commune is great!”

Three days later, in Shandong, Mao repeated hiscomment: “The people’s commune is great!” Anattentive New China News Agency journalist hadbeen standing nearby and immediately the wordsappeared on the front page of newspapers all overthe country, instantaneously becoming a newslogan. It was treated by party secretaries at everylevel as a new imperial edict to transform China’scooperatives into gigantic people’s communes,organizations that would combine government andagricultural production and become the foundationof Communist party power in the countryside.

People’s communes had already been establishedin most of the places we visited, and traveling fromone to the other was an exciting experience.Something big was happening in the Chinesecountryside, something new and never before seen.

History was being made. China had nally foundthe way from poverty to abundance. The salvationof the Chinese peasantry was at hand. I, too,supported the movement to establish people’scommunes. Chairman Mao was right. People’scommunes were great.

Returning by train to Beidaihe, Mao was stillexcited. I had never seen him so happy. He wasconvinced that the problem of food production inChina had been solved, that the country was nowproducing more food than the people could possiblyeat.

We arrived in Beidaihe on August 13, and fourdays later Mao convened an enlarged meeting ofthe politburo, which lasted until August 30, 1958. Inthe midst of the meetings, on August 23, Mao’sanswer to Khrushchev became public. China beganusing those artillery shells Mao had said werewearing out and started a massive bombardment ofQuemoy, an island just o the coast of Fujianprovince still held by the Guomindang. It wasMao’s challenge to Khrushchev’s bid to reducetensions between the Soviet Union and the UnitedStates, his demonstration of China’s importance inthe triangular relationship among China, the SovietUnion, and the United States. Seeing Khrushchev’se orts at world peace as an attempt to control himand China, Mao deliberately tried to trip up thegame. Mao was convinced that Chiang Kai-shekwanted the United States to drop an atom bomb onFujian province, and Mao would not have minded

if it had. His shelling of Quemoy was a dare to seehow far the United States would go. He shelled theisland for weeks. Then on October 6, at Mao’sinstruction, the Communist party announced a one-week cease- re. On October 13, the cease- re wasextended for two more weeks. When the Americanfleet moved in to protect the Straits of Taiwan, Maoordered the bombardment resumed. On October 25,a new policy was proclaimed. If American shipsstayed away, the communists would give thecannons a rest on even-numbered days and bombQuemoy, and the island of Matsu, on odd-numberedones.

Mao knew that “comrades” like Khrushchev—andsome within China, too—thought he wanted toretake Taiwan. But that was never Mao’s intention.He did not even want to take over Quemoy andMatsu. “Quemoy and Matsu are our link toTaiwan,” he said. “If we take them over, we loseour link. Doesn’t everyone have two hands? If welose our two hands, then Taiwan is no longer in ourgrip. We let it slip away. The islands are twobatons that keep Khrushchev and Eisenhowerdancing, scurrying this way and that. Don’t you seehow wonderful they are?”

For Mao, the shelling of Quemoy and Matsu waspure show, a game to demonstrate to bothKhrushchev and Eisenhower that he could not becontrolled and to undermine Khrushchev in his newquest for peace. The game was a terrible gamble,threatening the world with atomic war and riskingthe lives of tens of millions of ordinary Chinese.

Two momentous decisions were made during theenlarged politburo meetings that August. People’scommunes—huge amalgamations of agriculturalcooperatives—were to become the new form ofeconomic and political organization throughoutrural China. The movement to establish people’scommunes was o cial. And China’s steelproduction was set to double within a single year.Most of the increase would come through backyardsteel furnaces.

The country was in a frenzy. Mao had said thatpeople’s communes were great, and suddenly thewhole country had established people’s communes.The enlarged politburo had decided to double steelproduction by relying on small backyard steelfurnaces, and immediately the whole country wasbuilding backyard steel furnaces. Mao wanted tosee them.

32

On September 10, 1958, Mao set out again,traveling by plane, train, and boat, to see forhimself the vast changes taking place in thecountry. His popular adulation grew at every stopwe made.

We ew rst to Wuhan. Two of Mao’s mostenthusiastic admirers—“democratic personage” andGuomindang defector Zhang Zhizhong and Anhui’s

rst party secretary Zeng Xisheng—visited himthere. Mao thrilled Zhang Zhizhong by inviting himto come along on his inspection tour, and Zhangobliged by showering Mao with attery. “Thecondition of the country is excellent indeed,” hesaid to Mao. “The weather is favorable, the nationis at peace, and the people feel secure.”

Zeng Xisheng, too, was courting Mao’s favor. Hewanted the Chairman to visit Anhui province.Zhang Zhizhong, a native of Anhui himself, joinedZeng in encouraging the visit. Mao agreed. We tooka boat down the Yangtze to the city of Anqing, juston the border of Anhui, where rst party secretaryZeng Xisheng escorted our party by car to Anhui’scapital, Hefei. There, we witnessed new miracles.“Backyard steel furnaces” were the local specialty.

I saw the rst such furnace—a makeshift brickand mortar a air, four or ve meters high—in the

courtyard of the o ces of the Anhui provincialparty committee. The re was going full-blast, andinside were all sorts of household implements madeof steel—pots, pans, doorknobs, and shovels—beingmelted down to produce what Zeng assured Maowas also steel. Zeng Xisheng picked up a hotnugget from the ground, plucked from the furnaceonly moments before, to show Mao the fruit of themill, and nearby were samples of nished steel,indisputable evidence of the success of the backyardsteel furnace. Mao had called upon the country toovertake Great Britain in steel production within

fteen years, by using methods that were quick andeconomical. Even now, I do not know where theidea of the backyard steel furnaces originated. Butthe logic was always clear: Why spend millions ofdollars building modern steel plants when steelcould be produced for almost nothing in courtyardsand elds? The “indigenous,” or “backyard,” steelfurnace was the result.

I was astounded. The furnace was taking basichousehold implements and transforming them intonuggets called steel, melting down knives intoingots that could be used to make other knives. Ihad no idea whether the ingots were of good-quality steel, but it did seem ridiculous to melt steelto produce steel, to destroy knives to make knives.The backyard steel furnaces were everywhere inAnhui, all producing the same rough-looking ingots.

Toward the end of the visit, Zhang Zhizhongproposed that Mao ride through the streets in anopen car so the citizens of Hefei could see their

great leader. In the summer of 1949, Mao hadentered Beijing in an open jeep and the citizenslined the streets to welcome their liberation. InSeptember 1956, during a visit by Indonesianpresident Sukarno, Mao had ridden in an opencavalcade. But he rarely appeared so openly beforethe masses. The Chairman’s provincial visits werealmost always secret, and security was tight. Whenhe visited factories, his exchanges with workerswere carefully controlled. Mao’s face-to-facemeetings were ordinarily con ned to high-rankingparty elite or leaders of the “democratic” parties.His twice-yearly appearances on the top ofTiananmen were not really exceptions. The crowdsin the square were carefully chosen. The risk ofappearing publicly before the masses was not onlyto Mao’s security. The Chairman did not want to beaccused of fostering his own cult of personality.

Mao believed that the masses needed a greatleader and that the chance to see him could have aninspirational, potentially transformative, effect. Buthe needed the illusion that the demand for hisleadership came spontaneously from the massesthemselves. He would not be guilty of havingactively promoted his own cult of personality.“Democratic personage” Zhang Zhizhong, sensitiveto Mao’s dilemma, was well suited to push Mao intothe limelight. “You seem very concerned about thedevelopment of a personality cult,” Zhang said toMao.

Zhang argued, though, that Mao was the Lenin,not the Stalin, of China. Mao, like Lenin, had led

the Communist party and the Chinese people torevolutionary victory, living on to lead in theconstruction of socialism, too. Unlike Lenin, whohad died only eight years after the success ofrevolution, Mao would bless the people of Chinawith his leadership for another thirty or forty years,they hoped. The di erence between Mao and Stalinwas that Stalin had promoted his own cult ofpersonality. Mao had not. Mao, said Zhang, had ademocratic style of leadership that stressed the“mass line” and avoided arbitrariness anddictatorship. “How can our country have apersonality cult?” he wondered. “Progress is so fast,and the improvement in the life of the people sogreat that the masses spontaneously pour out theirsincere, passionate feelings for you. Our peopletruly love their great leader. This is not apersonality cult.” Mao loved Zhang’s attery. Thetwo were a perfect pair. The Chairman agreed toshow himself to the citizens of Hefei.

On September 19, 1958, over 300,000 peoplelined the streets of Hefei hoping for a glimpse ofMao. He rode slowly through the city in an opencar, waving impassively to the throngs, basking intheir show of a ection. I suspect that the crowds inHefei were no more spontaneous than those inTiananmen. The gaily colored clothes, the garlandsof owers around their necks, the bouquets theyheld aloft as the motorcade passed by, the singing,the dancing, the slogans they shouted—“Long LiveChairman Mao,” “Long Live the People’sCommunes,” “Long Live the Great Leap Forward”—

suggested that Zeng Xisheng had left little tochance. These crowds had also been carefullychosen, directed by the Anhui bureau of publicsecurity. But the crowds were no less enthusiastic,no less sincere in their adulation, for having beencarefully chosen. At the sight of their Chairman,they went wild with delight.

Mao was beginning to talk about establishing afree-food-supply system in the rural people’scommunes, so people could eat all they wantedwithout having to pay. He talked about takingcadres o salaries and returning them to a free-supply system similar to the one that had existeduntil 1954–the same system that had depleted myforeign savings. Salaries would cease. Basicnecessities would be provided by the state alongwith a small allowance to cover incidentalexpenditures. His idea was to revive the system rstin Zhongnanhai’s General Office, starting with us inGroup One.

On September 15, Zhang Chunqiao, the directorof propaganda in the Shanghai party committee,had written an article promoting a free-food-supplysystem. Mao was so enthusiastic about it that whenwe stopped in Shanghai a few days later, he invitedthe city’s propaganda chief to meet with him on thetrain. It was the first time I met the man who wouldrise to such prominence during the CulturalRevolution and later become one of the Gang ofFour. Zhang was a silent, unfriendly, and broodingtype, and conversation with him was di cult. I

disliked him at once, and his proposal toreintroduce the free-supply system sent a chill downmy spine. I opposed it. My entire savings had beendissipated two years after my return to Chinabecause of the free-supply system. The free suppliesand petty allowance would not be enough to keepmy family alive. In addition to my wife, mother,two small children, and my wife’s parents, I hadbeen subsidizing several other relatives, too-twoaunts and a cousin. Without my salary, we wouldall have to rely on my wife’s much smaller income.There was no way we could survive.

No one in Group One wanted a revival of thefree-supply system. Ye Zilong, with us on the trip,was equally concerned. His salary was high, and heloved his life of luxury. Privilege gave him access toall sorts of free supplies, but he wanted his salary,too. When he discovered how I felt about the supplysystem, he encouraged me to raise my concernswith Mao. It was a clever suggestion. I might besuccessful in persuading the Chairman not tointroduce the plan, in which case Ye’s generoussalary would continue. If Mao was not convincedand introduced the system anyway, I would be theone to be labeled a backward element. Ye’s salarywould be gone, but politically he would still besafe.

Mao’s mind was still not made up, and he reallydid want to hear the opinions of his sta beforereaching a decision. But no one was willing to riskbeing seen as a backward element. The issue was amatter of my family’s survival. I had to tell Mao my

doubts.Mao was lying in his bed reading when I went

into his compartment.“Any news?”“We’ve been talking about the free-supply

system.”“Any brilliant ideas?”I explained the di culties I would face with no

salary and so many family members to support.Mao thought the problem could be solved by

establishing communes in the cities, too. Cityresidents, even the young and the old who had nowork, could get their supplies from the commune.Children would be sent to public nurseries. This wasthe route to communism. “Wouldn’t that solve allyour problems?” he asked.

I explained that my elderly relatives were not ingood health and would be unable to work in acommune. But they also had great pride and wouldnot want to live o the labor of others. Moreover,if the commune had to support them as well as mychildren, the cost to the government would surelybe higher than my salary.

Mao agreed that this was a problem. “Before wedecide, we will have to calculate carefully theamount of labor available to the urban communeand the commune’s capacity to support non-working people. If there are too many old oryoung, we really would have a problem.” He wasprepared to wait if the time did not seem ripe.

Xiao Zhang, one of the bodyguards, had beeneavesdropping on our conversation and gave me

thumbs-up as I left Mao’s compartment. He was nomore willing than I to see the free-supply systemintroduced. I, too, was pleased with myconversation with Mao. He was exhilarated aboutthe vast changes taking place but was still thinkingreasonably then, willing to listen to voices ofcaution, weighing the consequences of the manychanges being proposed. He even had doubts aboutthe backyard steel furnaces and whether such small-scale mills were the way to catch up with GreatBritain in fteen years. “If these small backyardfurnaces can really produce so much steel,” hewanted to know, “why do foreigners build suchgigantic steel mills? Are foreigners really sostupid?”

Tian Jiaying was a voice of caution. He wasdistressed about Zhang Chunqiao’s call for a free-supply system and accused Zhang of writingirresponsibly in order to ingratiate himself with theChairman. “We ought not to adopt these sloganslightly,” Tian argued. “We cannot ignore our lowlevel of agricultural production or disregard theneed to feed and clothe our hundreds of millions ofpeople. It is absurd to think we can march into acommunist society by dragging a naked andstarving population along with us. In the past, ourparty has always sought truth from facts, but thisisn’t what we are doing now. People are tellinglies, boasting. They have lost their sense of shame.This is a violation of our party’s great tradition.”Some of the reports coming in from the provinces,Tian said, were claiming average grain yields per

mu* of ten thousand pounds. “This is ridiculous,” hesaid. “It is shameful.”

He blamed the deceit on the atmosphere createdby Mao. “When the king of Chu was looking for aconsort with a pretty gure, all his concubinesstarved to death trying to lose weight,” Tianremarked. “When the master lets his preference beknown, the servants pursue it with a vengeance.”Mao’s plan for the Great Leap Forward wasgrandiose, utopian—to catch up with Great Britainin fteen years, to transform agriculturalproduction, using people’s communes to walk theroad from socialism to communism, from poverty toabundance. Mao was accustomed to sycophancyand attery. He had been pushing the top-levelparty and government leaders to embrace hisgrandiose schemes. Wanting to please Mao, fearingfor their own political futures if they did not, thetop-level o cials put pressure on the lower ones,and lower-level cadres complied both by workingthe peasants relentlessly and by reporting whattheir superiors wanted to hear. Impossible,fantastical claims were being made. Claims ofper-mu grain production went from 10,000 to20,000 to 30,000 pounds.

Psychologists of mass behavior might have anexplanation for what went wrong in China in thelate summer of 1958. China was struck with a masshysteria fed by Mao, who then fell victim himself.We returned to Beijing in time for the October rstcelebrations. Mao began believing the slogans,casting caution to the winds. Mini-steel mills were

being set up even in Zhongnanhai, and at night thewhole compound was a sea of red light. The ideahad originated with the Central Bureau of Guards,but Mao did not oppose them, and soon everyonewas stoking the res—cadres, clerks, secretaries,doctors, nurses, and me. The rare voices of cautionwere being stilled. Everyone was hurrying to jumpon the utopian bandwagon. Liu Shaoqi, DengXiaoping, Zhou Enlai, and Chen Yi, men who mightonce have reined the Chairman in, were speakingwith a single voice, and that voice was Mao’s. Whatthose men really thought, we never will know.Everyone was caught in the grip of this utopianhysteria.

Immediately after the October rst celebrations,we set out again by train, heading south. The scenealong the railroad tracks was incredible. Harvesttime was approaching, and the crops were thriving.The elds were crowded with peasants at work,and they were all women and young girls dressedin reds and greens, gray-haired old men, orteenagers. All the able-bodied males, the realfarmers of China, had been taken out ofagricultural production to tend the backyard steelfurnaces.

The backyard furnaces had transformed the rurallandscape. They were everywhere, and we couldsee peasant men in a constant frenzy of activity,transporting fuel and raw materials, keeping the

res stoked. At night, the furnaces dotted thelandscape as far as the eye could see, their reslighting the skies.

Every commune we visited provided testimony tothe abundance of the upcoming harvest. Thestatistics, for both grain and steel production, wereastounding. “Good-news reporting stations” werebeing set up in communal dining halls, each stationcompeting with nearby brigades and communes toreport—red ags waving, gongs and drumssounding—the highest, most extravagant figures.

Mao’s earlier skepticism had vanished. Commonsense escaped him. He acted as though he believedthe outrageous gures for agricultural production.The excitement was contagious. I was infected, too.Naturally, I could not help but wonder how ruralChina could be so quickly transformed. But I wasseeing that transformation with my own eyes. Iallowed myself only occasional, fleeting doubts.

One evening on the train, Lin Ke tried to set mestraight. Chatting with Lin Ke and Wang Jingxian,looking out at the res from the backyard furnacesthat stretched all the way to the horizon, I sharedthe puzzlement I had been feeling, wondering outloud how the furnaces had appeared so suddenlyand how the production figures could be so high.

What we were seeing from our windows, Lin Kesaid, was staged, a huge multi-act nationwideChinese opera performed especially for Mao. Theparty secretaries had ordered furnaces constructedeverywhere along the rail route, stretching out forten li on either side, and the women were dressedso colorfully, in reds and greens, because they hadbeen ordered to dress that way. In Hubei, party

secretary Wang Renzhong had ordered the peasantsto remove rice plants from faraway elds andtransplant them along Mao’s route, to give theimpression of a wildly abundant crop. The rice wasplanted so closely together that electric fans had tobe set up around the elds to circulate air in orderto prevent the plants from rotting. All of China wasa stage, all the people performers in anextravaganza for Mao.

The production figures were false, Lin Ke said. Nosoil could produce twenty or thirty thousandpounds per mu. And what was coming out of thebackyard steel furnaces was useless. The nishedsteel I had seen in Anhui that Zeng Xisheng claimedhad been produced by the backyard steel furnacewas fake, delivered there from a huge, modernfactory.

“This isn’t what the newspapers are saying,” Iprotested.

The newspapers, too, were lled with falsehoods,Lin Ke insisted, printing only what they had beentold. “They would not dare tell the public what wasreally happening,” Lin said.

I was astonished. The People’s Daily was oursource of truth, the most authoritative of all thecountry’s newspapers. If the People’s Daily wasprinting falsehoods, which one would tell the truth?

Our talk was dangerous, and my agitation wasworrying Wang Jingxian. “Let’s not talk anymore,”he interrupted. “It’s time to go to bed.” He pulledme aside privately, as he had when I had come toLin Ke’s defense before, and cautioned me against

speaking so freely. “You could get into trouble,” hewarned.

I did not really believe Lin Ke. I was swept awayby the drama of the Great Leap Forward, caught upin its delusions. I still trusted the party, Mao, thePeople’s Daily. But Lin’s revelations were distressing.The situation was troubling.

If Lin Ke was right, why was no one tellingChairman Mao? What about the Chairman’sadvisers—men like Tian Jiaying, Hu Qiaomu, ChenBoda, Wang Jingxian, Lin Ke, and leaders like ZhouEnlai? If they knew the reality, why did they notinform the Chairman? But no one, not even thoseclosest to him, dared to speak out.

I wondered whether Mao, despite his outwardenthusiasm, had his own private doubts.

From my conversations with Mao, I doubted thathe really knew. In October 1958, Mao’s doubtswere not about the production gures or themiraculous increases in grain and steel production.There were exaggerations, perhaps, but he wasworried most about the claims that communism wasat hand. With the establishment of people’scommunes, the introduction of public dining halls,and the abundant harvest soon to come, word wasspreading that communism was just around thecorner. The creative enthusiasm of the Chinesepeasantry had nally been unleashed. Mao’sproblem was how to maintain that mass enthusiasmwhile checking the belief that communism wasupon us. “No one can deny the high spirits and

strong determination of the masses,” he said to meone night. “Of course, the people’s commune is anew thing. It will take lots of hard work to turn itinto a healthy institution. Certain leaders, withgood intentions, want to rush things. They want tojump into communism immediately. We have todeal with this kind of problem. But other people arestill suspicious about the general line, the GreatLeap Forward, and the people’s communes. Somehopelessly stubborn people even secretly opposethem. When they go to see God, they’ll probablytake their marble heads with them.”

When Mao called central and local-level leadersto a conference in Zhengzhou, Henan, fromNovember 2 to 10, 1958, the mood was stilloptimistic. Spirits were high. Mao stressed to theparticipants what he had already told me—that thegeneral line, the Great Leap Forward, and thepeople’s communes had to be rea rmed. For thetransformation to communism, though, patiencewas required. China could not rush prematurelyinto the future. And the peasants were beingworked too hard. Cadres at all levels had to payattention to the well-being of the masses. Monthsearlier, Mao had been whipping and goading thecadres into action. Now he was trying to slow themdown. He was putting a brake on the mostfantastical claims. But about the production guresand the backyard furnaces, he had no complaints.

It was at Zhengzhou in November 1958 that thecurtain that had prevented me from seeing Mao

clearly began to lift. In the ebullience of the GreatLeap Forward, Mao was less secretive about hisprivate activities. I could see for myself. Mao wasstaying on his train but going each night to thedances held in his honor at the Zhengzhouguesthouse. A young nurse who was also on thetrain accompanied Mao openly to the dances, and Iknew that she was staying with him at night.

The last contingent of Chinese volunteers had justreturned from Korea, and the Cultural Work Troupefrom the Twentieth Army was in Zhengzhou to bewelcomed back personally by Mao. The young girlsfrom the troupe swarmed around Mao at theparties, lavishing attention on him, competing witheach other for the honor of a dance—and thenputting on quite a performance when Mao agreed. Istill remember one young girl dancing in perfectstep with Mao, becoming bolder and bolder,leaning her body this way and that, twisting andturning in rhythm to the music, loving every twistand turn. Mao was delighted, too, and he oftenstayed at the parties from nine in the evening untiltwo in the morning.

After the Zhengzhou meetings, we went by trainto Wuhan. The Twentieth Army Cultural WorkTroupe came, too, and so did the young nurse.Mao’s spirits were still high. Wang Renzhong hadmade sure that Mao’s view from the train was ofextravagantly abundant crops, thriving backyardsteel furnaces, and gaily dressed women. Everyone,it seemed, was singing. As a doctor, I could not helpbut notice that many of the women were standing

in paddy elds with water up to their waists. Paddyelds are not ordinarily that deep, but deep

planting was another innovation of the Great LeapForward. For the women, though, the low-lying

elds were an invitation to gynecologicalinfections.

In Wuhan, Mao called the Sixth Plenum of theEighth Party Central Committee into session. WangRenzhong put the most capable of Hubei’s securitysta in charge of security and logistics, and asusual the accommodations were excellent. The bestlocal chefs were on hand to prepare sumptuousmeals of the choicest delicacies, and our roomswere continually supplied with liquid refreshmentand fruit. Mao was warning against believing thatcommunism was at hand, but living as we were in acommunist paradise, for us it had already arrived.Even as Hubei public security wrapped a tight cloakof secrecy around the Chairman’s activities on thetrain, Mao became more brazen about his femalecompanions. The dances and lavish nightlyentertainment continued, and Mao brought theyoung nurse openly to the nightly festivities.

Mao gave me and all his personal sta a fewdays’ leave to visit our families in Beijing, my onlyvacation in twenty-two years, so I was not inWuhan for all the meetings. The Sixth Plenum wasin session from November 28 to December 10 andcontinued the e ort to bring more reality to theGreat Leap Forward. Cadres and citizens wereencouraged to be more realistic. China was not yet

on the verge of entering communism, and peoplewere still to be paid on the basis of how much theyworked. The enthusiasm that had swept the countrywas a good thing, but analyses had to be based onconcrete facts. Mao had recognized that the claimsfor economic output were too high, so projectionswere scaled down and so were targets for futureincreases. Mao’s resignation as chairman of therepublic nally became o cial. The CentralCommittee agreed that he would not serve aschairman when the next session of the NationalPeople’s Congress began.

But Mao resigned as chairman only to becomeemperor. He was still the supreme leader andcoming to be seen as infallible and nearlyomnipotent. The mood in Wuhan was still ebullient,and the problems, such as they were, were the typeMao liked—over-optimism, too much enthusiasm,daring, and verve. Mao’s enthusiasm for thepeople’s communes continued unabated. He wascritical of the Soviet Union for insisting thatmechanization had to precede collectivization. Thepeople’s commune was the route to ruralprosperity. The masses, at last, had become creatorsof history. If mistakes were to be made, better thatthey be leftist than rightist. Rightists lost their jobs,were imprisoned, sent to hard labor, su ered to thepoint of death. Leftists got only a gentle slap on thewrist.

I returned to Wuhan shortly before the meetingsclosed and was there for the celebration banquetMao hosted for the other top leaders. Liu Shaoqi,

Zhou Enlai, and Deng Xiaoping attended, as did allthe provincial party secretaries. The toasts were alltributes to Mao. Wang Renzhong, sycophantic asusual, e usively led the way. “The proclamationsfrom this meeting are the Communist Manifesto oftoday,” he exclaimed. “Only under the brilliantleadership of the Chairman can such a red sun risein the East.”

Zhou Enlai rose to add to the attery. “ComradeChen Boda has said that one day under a trulycommunist society equals twenty years in a non-communist one. Today, we have that kind ofproductive power.”

Ke Qingshi followed suit. “It is not correct to saythat no one can outdo Marx,” he said. “Haven’t wealready outdone Marx in both theory and practice?”

There were toasts in criticism of the SovietUnion. “For decades, the Soviet Union has tried toestablish an advanced form of social development,but always they have failed. We have succeeded inless than ten years.”

Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping joined in thetoasting and drinking, but neither proposed a toasthimself.

Mao ordinarily drank very little, but as China’sleaders lifted their glasses in toast after toast, hejoined them and his face turned a bright red. Thenhe turned the attery to Zhou Enlai, his faithfulservant, the most loyal of his lieutenants. “PremierZhou can drink a lot,” he said. “Let’s toast thepremier.”

I took the lead in toasting Zhou Enlai, standing

in front of him to clink glasses. “Bottoms up,” Isaid.

“Oh, we must celebrate,” Zhou replied loudly asothers joined in toasting him. Zhou’s capacity forliquor was enormous, and his face never turned red.But that night Zhou got drunk, and he woke up inthe middle of the night with a nosebleed. LuoRuiqing blamed me, berating me the next morningfor having started the round of toasts, arguing thata doctor should know better than to urge others todrink. I thought I had only been following Mao’slead.

Agricultural production in the fall of 1958 wasthe highest in China’s history. But by mid-December, the nation was seriously short of food.Even as China’s leaders drank to the brilliantleadership of Chairman Mao, the disaster that hadbeen brewing unseen for months was nallybubbling to the surface.

In Wuhan, feted by Wang Renzhong, the partyleadership remained sheltered from the unfoldingcrisis. But during my visit home in the middle of themeetings, I had discovered there was no meat or oilin Zhongnanhai. Rice and basic staples were hardto come by. Vegetables were few. Something hadgone awry.

Much, in fact, had gone wrong. A large portionof the huge harvest lay uncollected in the elds.Massive numbers of able-bodied male peasants hadbeen transferred from the elds to work in thebackyard steel furnaces. The women and children

could not bring in the harvest. The labor wasbackbreaking, more than they could endure, andcrops rotted in the fields.

In fact, I did not know it then, but China wastottering on the brink of disaster. The leadingcadres of the party and rst party secretaries in theprovinces were ingratiating themselves with Mao,disregarding the welfare of hundreds of millions ofpeasants. The preposterous claims of vastlyincreased production were taken seriously by theupper-level leaders, to whom they were made. Buthow could one mu of land produce fty, onehundred, or two hundred thousand pounds of rice?Rural areas were taxed on a percentage of whatthey produced, and areas that falsely claimedgigantically high yields were taxed according totheir faked reports. Some places were delivering allthey had produced to the state. Other places weregiving so much there was little left for theirinhabitants to eat. Peasants were beginning to gohungry. Soon they would starve. The greater thefalsehoods, the more people died of starvation.

Ironically, much of the grain that was sent to thestate as taxes was exported. China was stillrepaying its debts to the Soviet Union and much ofthe grain went there. It was a question of face. Maocould not admit that the communes Khrushchev hadso vigorously opposed were anything less than asuccess.

To minimize their losses and keep enough food toeat, communes were saying that they had beenstruck by natural disasters. Their harvest had been

abundant, but the weather had destroyed it. Suchcommunes were thus able to keep the grain theywould otherwise have owed in taxes. Or they weregranted relief grain from the state.

The backyard steel furnaces were equallydisastrous. As the drive to produce steel continuedat an ever more frenetic pace, people were forcedto contribute their pots and pans, their doorknobs,the steel from their wrought-iron gates, shovels,and spades. There was not enough coal to re thefurnaces, so the res were fed with the peasants’wooden furniture—their tables, chairs, and beds.But what came out of the furnaces was useless—nothing more than melted-down knives and potsand pans. Mao said that China was not on theverge of communism, but in fact some absurd formof communism was already in place. Privateproperty was being abolished, because privateproperty was all being given away to feed thevoracious steel furnaces.

Still, Mao’s euphoria continued. I think at thispoint he was still being shielded from theimpending crisis. I had misgivings. I could seedisaster brewing. But I did not dare to speak. Iworried that Mao was being deceived and no onewas willing to tell him the truth. Of the men closestto Mao, Tian Jiaying was the best informed, themost skeptical, and the most honest. I thought heshould be the one to inform Mao. But Tian Jiayingwas in Henan, investigating the situation there.Realistic reports would have to await his return.Mao trusted him. Mao would believe what he said.

*One mu equals .16 acre.

36

Everything had changed. The res from thebackyard furnaces were out, the brightly dressedpeasant women gone. The elds were empty. Nocrops. No people. Wuhan, still under the directionof Mao’s friend Wang Renzhong, was in terribleshape. We stayed, as usual, in the Meiyuanguesthouse along East Lake, but there was little toeat. In the past, our rooms had been copiouslystocked with tea and cigarettes, and every meal hadbeen a banquet. Now there was no meat, becausethe cows and chickens had starved and the pigswere too skinny to eat. Occasionally, we wereserved sh. Vegetables were scarce. There were nocigarettes or matches anywhere in the province.The warehouses had been depleted. Everything hadbeen consumed. Only months earlier, WangRenzhong, Mao’s great sycophant, had beenbragging that Hubei was producing ten or twentythousand pounds of rice per mu. Now there wasfamine.

Wang Renzhong claimed that the famine was theresult of natural disasters. But there had been nonatural disaster in Hubei. The weather in 1958 and1959 had been splendid. Much of the abundant crophad simply not been collected.

Changsha, in Mao’s home province of Hunan,

was di erent. Food was less plentiful than before,but no one was starving, and the small open-airrestaurants were serving customers. We stayed inthe magni cent Lotus Garden guesthouse, withbeautiful modern buildings and lotus trees setamong rolling lawns. The tea and cigarettessupplied to our rooms were stale. They had beentaken out of storage in honor of our visit. But thewarehouses had not been depleted and the tea andcigarettes were China’s best. We ate meat inHunan, too—the tasty ham for which the provinceis famous.

The irony of the contrast between Hunan andHubei was not lost on Zhou Xiaozhou, the rstparty secretary of Hunan, who had been so severelycriticized by Mao in 1957 for his failure toimplement double cropping and who hadintroduced Mao to Hai Rui. Wang Renzhong wasaccompanying Mao’s entourage to Changsha, andone day as Luo Ruiqing, Wang Renzhong, ZhouXiaozhou, and I were chatting, Zhou could notresist needling Wang about the contrast. “Wasn’tZhejiang praised for its high output last year?” heasked bitterly. “And Hunan was criticized for nothaving worked as hard. Now look at Hubei. Youdon’t even have stale cigarettes or tea. You used upall your reserves last year. Today, we may be poor,but at least we have supplies in storage.” WangRenzhong stalked out without saying a word as therest of us stood in embarrassed silence. But ZhouXiaozhou was right. Even on the streets, thecontrast was obvious. The province of Hunan still

had food.Mao decided to return to Shaoshan, the Hunan

village of his birth. He had not been back since1927, thirty-two years before.

Mao’s trip to Shaoshan was his way of seeking tolearn the truth. He did not believe the leadingcadres. There could be no carefully stagedperformances for Mao in Shaoshan. He knew theplace too well. He could see through any attempt todeceive him. Besides, the village folk would speakfrankly to him. They were honest and simple, andMao was one of them. He trusted them.

37

The day was sunny and hot when we set out by carfrom Changsha on June 25, and the country roadswere unpaved and dusty. Our car had no air-conditioning, and the dust came oating in throughour open windows. We were perspiring so heavilythat by the time we arrived in the Xiangtanprefectural seat some two hours later, we musthave looked as if we were made of mud.

The party secretary of Xiangtan prefecture, HuaGuofeng, welcomed us. It was the rst time I hadmet the man who would become Mao’s successorsome sixteen years later. We rested for a while inXiangtan, chatting with Hua, but the prefecturechief did not accompany us on the nal lap of ourtrip. Mao was afraid that the peasants of Shaoshanmight speak less frankly with the head of theirprefecture around.

Shaoshan village was a forty-minute drive fromXiangtan. Mao stayed on a hilltop in an oldguesthouse once owned by Christian missionaries(even in as remote a village as Shaoshan, themissionaries had set up a church), and I stayed in aschool at the bottom of the hill. The weather washot and humid even at night, and the mosquito netcovering my bed was stifling. I could not sleep.

Li Yinqiao phoned me at a little after ve the

next morning. Mao had not slept either. He wantedme to join him now for a walk. I met Mao at hisguesthouse, and we began walking down the backof the hill, with Luo Ruiqing, Wang Renzhong, ZhouXiaozhou, and a host of bodyguards following.Partway down, in the middle of a small pine grove,Mao stopped before a burial mound. It was onlywhen he bowed from the waist in the traditionalmanner of respect that I realized we were standingbefore his parents’ grave. Shen Tong, one of thesecurity o cers accompanying us, quickly gathereda bunch of wild owers. Mao placed the owers onthe grave and bowed three times again. The rest ofhis entourage, standing behind him, bowed too.“There used to be a tombstone around here,” Maosaid. “It has disappeared after all these years.”When Luo Ruiqing suggested that the site berepaired and restored, Mao demurred. “It’s goodjust to have found the place,” he said.

We continued walking down the hill, in thedirection of the Mao clan ancestral hall. Again Maostopped, puzzled, looking for something. We werestanding on the spot where the Buddhist shrine Maohad referred to so often in our conversations oncestood—the shrine his mother used to visit when hewas sick, where she burned incense and fed theashes to her son, certain of their curative powers.The tiny shrine, like the tombstone, haddisappeared, torn down only months before withthe establishment of the commune. The bricks wereneeded to build the backyard steel furnaces, and thewood had been used as fuel.

Mao had fallen silent on our walk. Thedestruction of the shrine had saddened him. “It’ssuch a pity,” he said. “It should have been leftalone. Without money to see doctors, poor farmerscould still come and pray to the gods and eat theincense ashes. The shrine could lift their spirits,give them hope. People need this kind of help andencouragement.” I smiled when he said this, butMao was serious. “Don’t look down on incenseashes,” he said, repeating his admonition thatmedicine is good only for curable disease. “Incenseashes give people the courage to ght disease, don’tyou think? You are a doctor. You should know howmuch psychology a ects medical treatment.”People could not live without spiritual support,Mao believed.

My smile was not meant as disagreement. I havealways believed that one’s state of mind has aprofound effect on health.

We went then to visit Mao’s old family house. Noone lived in it then. The personality cultsurrounding Mao was still in its early stage, so thefamily house was still in its original state, oldfarming equipment neatly displayed on the porch.Only a wooden board above the entrancedesignated the place as Mao’s childhood home. Thestyle of the house was typical of that area—simplemud walls and a thatched roof. There was nothingmodern about it. But with eight rooms built arounda courtyard, the home was obviously that of awealthy peasant.

The land Mao’s father had once farmed, with

help from temporary laborers, was now part of thepeople’s commune. Just beyond the house was apond lined with trees. “That’s where I used to goswimming and where the cattle drank water,” hesaid.

He began reminiscing about his childhood. “Myfather was tough,” he said. “He always beat us.Once when he tried to beat me, I ran away, and hechased me around this pond, cursing me for beingan un lial son. But I told him that an unkind fatherwill have an unfilial son.”

Mao described his mother as kindhearted andalways willing to help others. She, Mao’s youngerbrother, and Mao often formed a “united front”against Mao’s father. “My father died a long timeago, but had he lived to this day, he would havebeen classi ed a rich peasant and been struggledagainst,” Mao said.

Mao began contacting his relatives to learnrsthand how the Great Leap Forward had a ected

them. Only the women and children were at home.The men were away working on the backyard steelfurnaces or water conservancy projects. Mao didnot have to delve far to learn that life was hard forthe families in Shaoshan. With the construction ofthe backyard steel furnaces, everyone’s pots andpans had been con scated and thrown into thefurnace to make steel—and nothing had beenreturned. Everyone was eating in the public messhalls. The families had no cooking equipment. Evenif they still had had pots and pans, their earthenhearths had been destroyed so the mud could be

used as fertilizer.When Mao took a swim in the newly constructed

Shaoshan reservoir that afternoon, he talked to thelocal folk about the project. Everyone criticized it.The reservoir had been poorly built, one oldpeasant pointed out. The commune secretary wasin such a rush to nish that it leaked. Thereservoir’s capacity was too small, and when itrained, water had to be released to preventflooding.

The commune directors called the menfolk backto meet with Mao in the evening, and Mao hosted adinner party for them at his guesthouse—some ftypeople in all. Everyone complained about the messhalls. The older people did not like them becausethe younger people always cut in and grabbed thefood rst. The younger people did not like the messhalls because there never was enough food.Fist ghts often broke out, and much of the foodwas wasted when it ended up on the floor.

Mao asked about the backyard steel furnaces.Again he heard nothing but complaints. Indigenousraw materials were scarce. They used locally minedlow-quality coal to fuel the furnaces, but there wasnot enough coal and no iron ore at all. The onlyway to comply with the directive to build thefurnaces was to con scate the peasants’ pots, pans,and shovels for iron ore and their doors andfurniture for fuel. But the furnaces were producingiron nuggets that no one knew what to do with.Now, with no pots or pans, people couldn’t evenboil drinking water at home, let alone cook. The

commune kitchens were no help with the waterproblem, because the cooks had to devote all theirenergies to preparing food.

When Mao’s questions stopped, the room fellsilent. An air of gloom descended. The Great LeapForward was not going well in Shaoshan. “If youcan’t ll your bellies at the public dining hall, thenit’s better just to disband it,” Mao said. “It’s a wasteof food. As for the water conservancy project, Idon’t think every rural community has to build areservoir. If the reservoirs are not built well, therewill be big problems. And if you cannot producegood steel, you might as well quit.”

With these words, Shaoshan probably became therst village in the country to abolish the public

dining halls, halt its water conservancy project, andbegin dismantling the backyard steel furnaces.Mao’s comments were never publicly released, butthey spread quickly through word of mouth. Soonmany areas were dismantling their projects.

Thus it was that I, and certainly Mao, began tobe aware that the economic situation in the countryhad deteriorated. Mao’s return to Shaoshanawakened him to reality, shaking him into agrowing awareness that trouble was brewing.When he returned to Wuhan, his previousebullience had evaporated. But there was still nodoubt in his mind that the programs themselveswere basically sound, that they simply neededfurther adjustment. Mao still did not want to doanything to dampen the enthusiasm of the masses.The problem was how to bring the cadres back to

reality without crushing their spirit or spreadinggloom to the people. It was a question ofpropaganda—how to mobilize cadres and peasantsalike to the right level of realistic enthusiasm. Maodecided to call a propaganda meeting to discuss theissues. It would be held in Wuhan.

We arrived in Wuhan on June 28. The weatherwas scorchingly hot and would only become hotteras the summer progressed. Wang Renzhong thoughtthe meeting would be best held in a morehospitable climate. He suggested Qingdao, the siteof the meetings in the summer of 1957, but Maoremembered the month-long cold he had contractedduring his stay and refused to return to Qingdao.

Shanghai mayor Ke Qingshi suggested Lushan,the famous mountain resort along the YangtzeRiver in Jiangxi province where Chiang Kai-shekused to convene meetings of the Guomindang. Atnearly fteen hundred meters’ elevation, theweather would be cool, and the facilities, built forChiang and the Nationalist party elite, wereexcellent. There was even an auditorium formeetings. Besides, Lushan was not too far fromWuhan—just down the Yangtze by boat. Many ofthe party leaders had already begun gathering inWuhan. Transporting them to Lushan would beeasy.

Mao agreed. The party would convene in Lushan.

38

The situation in Mao’s native Shaoshan was goodcompared with the rest of China. A horrible faminewas sweeping the country. The province of Anhui,where party secretary Zeng Xisheng had first shownMao the backyard steel furnaces, had been badlyhit, and so had Henan, where we had gone inAugust 1958 to see the new people’s communes.People in some of the more remote and sparselypopulated places, like Gansu, were starving.Peasants were starving in Sichuan, too—thenation’s most populous province, larger than mostcountries and known as China’s rice bowl. Duringthe meetings in Chengdu, Sichuan, in March 1958,Mao had pushed his plan to overtake Great Britainin fteen years. In many provinces, tens ofthousands were eeing, just as Chinese peasantsalways had done in face of famine.

I never witnessed the terrible famine myself.Group One was protected from the awful realities. Ilearned about the famine on the way to Lushan,sailing down the magni cent Yangtze River withMao, his sta , and several provincial leaders. TianJiaying was on board, and the memories of his six-month inspection tour of Henan and Sichuan werestill fresh. I was standing on deck with him, Lin Ke,and Wang Jingxian, who had been put in charge of

Mao’s security after Wang Dongxing was sentaway. Tian Jiaying described the famine inSichuan. The government’s e orts to alleviate thecrisis had been inadequate. The overly optimistictarget for steel production in 1959 had been cutfrom 20 million tons to 13 million. But 60 millionable-bodied peasants, strong and healthy men whoought to have been at work in the elds, were stillworking on the backyard steel furnaces. Thedislocation of labor was disastrous. The elds werenot being farmed. The problem was getting worse.

Tian Jiaying was distressed not only because somany people were starving but because so many inauthority were lying. Falsehoods are ying andgetting more absurd with every passing day, hesaid. But the people speaking falsehoods are beingpraised; the ones who tell the truth are beingcriticized.

The conversation turned rst obliquely and thenmore directly to Mao. Mao was a great philosopher,a great soldier, and a great politician, but he was aterrible economist. He had a penchant forgrandiose schemes. He had lost touch with thepeople, forgotten the work style that he himself hadpromoted—seeking truth from facts, humility,attention to details. This was the source of thecountry’s economic problems.

Wang Jingxian began telling us about Mao’smany girlfriends. The Chairman’s private life,Wang said, was shockingly indecent.

I was incredulous. I had known the economicsituation was bad, but not that famine had swept

the country and that millions were starving. I wassurprised at the criticisms against Mao. My friendTian Jiaying was ordinarily cautious, but theforthrightness with which he was speaking wasdangerous, even among so close and sympathetic agroup. Wang Jingxian’s revelations were startling,too. Wang was charged with safeguarding theChairman, and even among friends he should havebeen more careful. I remained silent and so did LinKe. Still grateful to Mao for having saved himduring the Black Flag Incident, Lin Ke knew betterthan to criticize the Chairman.

Ke Qingshi, Wang Renzhong, and Li Jingquan,the rst party secretary of Sichuan province, joinedour conversation, wondering what we could bediscussing with such intensity.

“We are talking about the famine,” Tian Jiayingreplied. “People are dying of starvation.”

“China is a big country,” Li Jingquan responded.“Which dynasty has not witnessed death bystarvation?” He was right. Episodic famine is partof China’s history. But in 1959, China was supposedto be in the middle of a Great Leap Forward. Evenas people starved, o cial propaganda was makingfantastic claims.

“The people are showing greater enthusiasm forwork than ever before in our history,” WangRenzhong said, mimicking the Chairman’s words.Both provincial secretaries were well tuned toMao’s political line.

Ke Qingshi, too, followed Mao’s political lead.“Some people pay attention only to the minor

things and not the major ones,” he said. “Theyalways see the negative side of things, complainingabout everything. The Chairman says this kind ofperson could stand right in front of Mount Tai[Taishan] and still not see it.”

Even before we reached Lushan, the battle lineswere being drawn. Wang Renzhong, Li Jingquan,and Ke Qingshi, under pressure from Mao toincrease production or lose their jobs, sacri cedtruth on the altar of Mao. They extolled the GreatLeap and minimized their economic problems,feeding the central authority unrealistic economicstatistics because they knew what the centerwanted to hear. They were supported by centralo cials like Luo Ruiqing and Yang Shangkun,whose o cial responsibilities were unrelated toeconomic questions but who were attuned to Mao’spolicy preferences, had been criticized by Mao inthe past, and wanted to do nothing to anger himagain. They supported Mao not out of convictionbut for self-preservation, remaining, whetherdeliberately or naively, ignorant of the real extentof the country’s economic problems. They o erednothing but support for Mao.

Mao’s critics were generally of two types. Oneconsisted of economic planners like Bo Yibo, thehead of the State Economic Commission, and LiFuchun, in charge of the State PlanningCommission. Their o ces were responsible forsetting production targets and for working out theplans that would ensure that those targets could be

ful lled. Early during the Great Leap Forward, BoYibo had resisted setting such unrealistic productiontargets, but later, under pressure from Mao, he hadcaved in and done everything he could to push hissubordinates to meet them. When Bo realized howserious the economic crisis was, he instructed hissta to prepare an honest and comprehensivereport detailing the problems. But sensing that Maowould not welcome criticism, he balked atsubmitting the report. In a telephone conferencewith his subordinates around the country, heinstructed them to continue doing their utmost toful ll the production plan and to press ahead toachieve the stated, still bloated, goals. He wasuncomfortable with Mao’s economic audaciousness,certain that his plan would fail. But he dared notchallenge Mao. He refused to speak out. Bo Yibonever publicly criticized the Great Leap. Nor did LiFuchun.

The second type of critic consisted of those whohad been on inspection trips to local areas andknew rsthand how bad the disaster was. Theywere neither economic planners nor responsible forimplementing Mao’s grandiose schemes, but theyhad witnessed the deteriorating, chaotic conditionsin the countryside. Mao’s political secretaries—TianJiaying, Hu Qiaomu, and Chen Boda—were amongthem. Their job was to report the truth.

But while the critics talked among themselves, aswe did on the boat down the Yangtze, conversationwith the people making the preposterous claimswas almost impossible. Those who insisted on the

truth, and were thus willing to o end Mao, wererare indeed. Most trimmed their sails to the wind.Even people like Tian Jiaying, who had been oninspection tours and knew the truth, or provincialleaders like Zhou Xiaozhou, who knew the extent ofthe crisis and was privately critical of both theGreat Leap and of Mao himself, were reluctant tochallenge Mao directly. On the boat, Tian Jiayingwas willing to talk with Lin Ke about the country’sproblems. But when Mao’s close supporters—KeQingshi and Li Jingquan—joined us, he fell silent.

We docked at Jiujiang, Jiangxi province, on July1, 1959. Wang Dongxing, still in Jiangxi for his“reform,” had become a vice-governor of theprovince and came on board to welcome Mao. Hehad been in close contact with the masses, trulyeducated by his experience, Wang assured Mao.

The Chairman was delighted. “People cannotalways stay at the top,” he said. “Let’s make a newrule. Everyone who works at the central levelshould take turns working at lower-levelorganizations.”

The highway from Jiujiang to Lushan was wellpaved, and we reached the sprawling mountainresort in little more than an hour. Logisticalarrangements for the party leaders were under thedirection of rst party secretary Yang Shangkui,chairman of the Jiangxi provincial people’scongress Fang Zhichun, who was married to MaoYuanxin’s mother, and vice-governor WangDongxing. Wang was directing the security

arrangements for Mao, thus putting himself intoimmediate con ict with Wang Jingxian. WangJingxian ignored Wang Dongxing’s arrangements,claiming that Wang Dongxing had been out oftouch with Mao for so long that he no longerunderstood the Chairman. It was an insult WangDongxing would never forget, and Wang Jingxianwould pay for it later.

Mao stayed in Chiang Kai-shek’s two-story villa,and I was housed in a building nearby. The weatheron the mountaintop was cool and damp, and wewere so high up that when I left my windows open,clouds would oat in through one window and outanother.

When Mao opened the enlarged politburomeeting on July 2, the day after our arrival, hedubbed the gathering a “fairy [shenxian] meeting.”Fairies live in the heavens among the clouds, just aswe were living then, and they have no cares and nolimits on their behavior. Fairies can do whateverthey please. Mao wanted no xed agenda for themeeting. Party leaders could talk about whateverthey wanted. Mao proposed nineteen possibletopics for discussion, and the participants wereencouraged to talk about them freely. When themeeting began, Mao knew there were problemswith the Great Leap, and he believed measureswere being taken to correct those problems. He hadno reason to believe there would be trouble. In hisshort opening address, Mao praised theachievements of the Great Leap Forward, alluded to

the problems, and said he hoped that theparticipants would appreciate the energy andcreativity of the Chinese people.

Mao’s con dence in the Great Leap Forwardremained unshaken, and I do not know how muchof the real situation Mao knew when he spoke then.His visit to Shaoshan had given him a clear sensethat there were problems. He certainly knew thatsomething had gone awry and that there weremajor shortages of food. He knew that in manyplaces there was no rice to eat, and he was willingto discuss those problems and work to solve them.But I do not think that when he spoke on July 2,1959, he knew how bad the disaster had become,and he believed the party was doing everything itcould to manage the situation. The purpose of the“fairy meeting” was to discuss both how to solvethe problems and how to retain the enthusiasm ofthe masses. But his solution was simply for peopleto work harder still.

My notes record him as saying that “some peoplehave asked, ‘If our production is so high, why is ourfood supply so tight? Why can’t female comradesbuy hairpins? Why can’t people get soap ormatches?’ Well, if we cannot clearly explain thesituation, let’s not explain it. Let’s just stick it outand carry on our work with even greaterdetermination and energy. We will have moresupplies next year. Then we will explaineverything. In short, the situation in general isexcellent. There are many problems, but our futureis bright.”