ED 6010 is the most racially diverse classroom I have ever been in. Let that disheartening statement sink in a moment. It is in part because Foundations of Education is a small class, without a doubt the smallest I have ever known, with 11 students. Three black students, eight white students, one white professor. I have never attended a class in which 25 percent of those present were African-American, a sad testament to the lack of diversity in both Overland Park, Kansas, where I grew up, and Springfield, Missouri, where I attended undergraduate school. These thoughts stirred within me because a memoir, Warriors Don’t Cry, was still fresh in my mind when I first entered ED 6010.

Warriors Don’t Cry is Melba P. Beals’ harrowing account of the integration of Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas in 1957. She and eight other black students attended the formerly all-white Central under the statutes of Brown vs. Board of Education of Topeka, which determined the unconstitutionality of racial segregation in public schools. While it is perhaps a miracle the “Little Rock Nine” survived the unimaginable terrors of physical and verbal abuse inflicted during their year at Central, the Supreme Court case that made it possible was a miracle in itself. Amazingly, the Brown case of 1954 was a unanimous decision. It shocked the white world. “Chief Justice Earl Warren worked hard to achieve the compromises necessary for a unanimous decision because he believed that the full court should be behind such a dramatic order” (Fraser, 2010, p. 293). The rulings of many court cases balance on the edge of a knife, with a single deciding vote tipping the rulings one way or the other. How monumental, that such a controversial case, arguably the most controversial in decades, would be without dissent.

The Court declared, referring to black students, “to separate them from others of similar age and qualifications solely because of their race generates a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely to ever be undone” (Fraser, p. 294). While the decision determined that separate could never be truly equal, a great step forward to be sure, the Court did not immediately order desegregation. “A year later the Court finally ordered school desegregation, but only ‘with all deliberate speed.’ The lack of a timetable encouraged the southern states to resist” (Norton et al., 2005, p . 810). And resist they did.

Little time needs to be spent explaining why white crowds gathered around Central High to protest and physically prevent integration, or why whites from other states journeyed to swell their numbers, as did local cops, or why Arkansas Governor Orval E. Faubus sent 250 National Guardsmen to block Melba and her friends from entering the high school. Centuries of racial prejudice and hatred explain that. Each generation taught the next how to think and behave towards blacks. Melba was struck, bruised, and burned with acid. She was ridiculed and tormented and spat on. Most of her abuse was inflicted by white students within Central. The other eight suffered just as badly. Melba recalls being cornered and persecuted in a school bathroom:

I looked up to see a flaming paper was coming right down on me. Girls were leaning over the top of the stalls on either side of me. Flaming paper floated down and landed on my hair and shoulders….

“Help!” I shouted. “Help!” The door wouldn’t open. Someone was holding it—someone strong, perhaps more than one person. I was trapped.

“Did you think we were gonna let niggers use our toilets? We’ll burn you alive, girl,” a voice shouted through the door. “There won’t be enough of you to worry about.”

I felt the kind of panic that stopped me from thinking clearly. My right arm was singed. The flaming wads of paper were coming at me faster and faster. I could feel my chest muscles tightening. I felt as though I would die any moment (Beals, 1994, p. 164).

I was struck by how much worse each day became for Melba. Perhaps it was my knowledge that her efforts would lead to change and would better the lives of African-Americans in the long term, but I fully expected conditions to improve for the Little Rock Nine given enough time. How wrong that assumption was. The death threats continued and intensified. The name-calling persisted. Efforts to physically and mentally harm the black students only became more organized, more desperate, more sinister. After hundreds of pages depicting such abuse, it hurt to read more, yet it continued. Melba and the others went through hell, and their struggle naturally evokes pity.

I did not at all expect to feel pity toward the white students, the abusers themselves. Do not misunderstand me, each tormentor is responsible for his or her horrific actions, and justice should be wrought upon them all. They will have God to answer to. At the same time though, those kids were indoctrinated. They were not born with a hatred for the black race. Their parents and teachers taught them to hate. They taught them that blacks were inferior to whites, that it was acceptable to disrespect, cheat, and abuse them. I pity the kids because they were brainwashed, molded into bigots by people who were molded in the same fashion. Researcher Kenneth B. Clark’s findings, which influenced the Brown case, stated, “Children learn social, racial, and religious prejudices in the course of observing and being influenced by the existence of patterns in the culture in which they live” (Fraser, p. 297).

The cycle continues today in some families. Perhaps that will be the most important thing to keep in mind when I am an educator. Besides parents, teachers are the strongest influences and role models to children. It will be my responsibility to inspire attitudes of equality and respect and understanding, even—no, especially—if it challenges what students are hearing at home.

In her own home, Melba received support from her brother, her mother, and especially her grandmother. It was a different story in the black community as a whole. While some neighbors approved of the Nine’s actions as a catalyst for change, others opposed it and ostracized Melba and the others. After the school year ended and the Nine had spent time around the country being honored for their accomplishment, Melba recalls, “We had come home, to Little Rock, back to being called ‘niggers’ by the segregationists and those ‘meddling children’ by your own people. Our friends a neighbors resented not only the school closure but most especially the negative economic impact our presence in that school had on our community” (p. 307). Some African-Americans, like Melba’s distant father, opposed what the Nine were doing because it made Little Rock even more dangerous for their people. Vandalism and violence against blacks increased, and neighbors saw Melba as only inflaming an already tense relationship. Not only was it more dangerous on the streets of Little Rock, blacks were rejected in grocery stores and employment positions even faster and more harshly than usual, in retribution for integration.

Melba felt the strain of ostracism as keenly as that of racism. She was abandoned by her old group of friends, who were “not willing to die” (Beals, p. 216) with her. She was not invited to parties, and her sixteenth birthday party was a lonely one. She found strength and friendship in the other members of the Nine: Elizabeth, Ernest, Gloria, Carlotta, Minnijean, Terrence, Jefferson, and Thelma. Unfortunately, the situation grew more dire for Melba. Her mother was fired from her teaching position. “Her superiors told her they were taking away her contract because she had allowed me to participate in the integration of Central” (p. 286), Melba writes. Only through exposing the mistreatment to the press did Melba’s mother get her job back (p. 294). Throughout the integration process, the press would prove to be a primary force in raising awareness, stirring sympathy for the Nine, and keeping the situation at Central from spiraling into chaos. With the world watching, perhaps white supremacists were held back from their most evil designs.

Melba’s faith throughout this crisis was astounding, and it clearly sustained her. She declares on page two, “The experience endowed me with an indestructible faith in God.” Her diary entries are often prayers to God, and she often mentions times when she prayed for Him to keep herself and her family safe. Trusting God during times of crisis and pain is possibly the most difficult thing to do as a Christian; it is often easier to blame God. Melba’s reliance on Him is as admirable as it was steadfast.

Melba and the other eight would never have gotten in the front door of Central without President Dwight D. Eisenhower federalizing the Arkansas National Guard and sending in the 101st Airborne Division to protect the students and see to it integration took place. Governor Faubus challenged the authority of the Court and of the federal government in his effort to enforce segregation, and Eisenhower made a bold move in sending troops to demonstrate the power of federal over local government. There is controversy over the president’s thoughts and motivations, but Melba, her mother, and her grandmother looked upon him favorably for the decisions he made. Melba herself appreciated the Screaming Eagles’ protection, particularly that of her bodyguard Danny, and was sad to see them go (Beals, p. 162). Melba understood that Eisenhower was enforcing the decree of the Court (Beals, p. 145). However, I believe writing off Eisenhower as solely standing up for the federal government’s authority, as some might, is too simplistic.

After World War II, “Ike” was the most popular man in America (Kunhardt et al., 1999, p. 36) and throughout his presidency, he would avoid strong stances on controversial issues to protect that popularity (p. 40). He wanted to avoid dealing with civil rights directly, preferring to let race relations improve without government interference, but it is clear that Ike “disapproved of racial segregation” (Norton et al., p. 810). Ike was concerned about losing party votes in the South by acting on civil rights (Norton et al., p. 810). Boldly stepping in to force integration upon an angry southern populace ran counter to Ike’s way of doing things. He put aside concern for politics, a graver concern with popularity, and an aversion to controversial issues to do what he knew was right. Melba writes, “He had stepped over a line no other President dared cross” (p. 309).

According to the Dwight D. Eisenhower Memorial Commission, Ike disliked racism, purposefully appointed federal judges who believed in civil rights, forced civil rights legislation through Congress, officially integrated the White House and the Army, and fought discrimination in the workplace (EMC website, 2011). In 1953 Ike said, “I believe as long as we allow conditions to exist that make for second-class citizens, we are making of ourselves less than first-class citizens” (EMC website, 2011). There was more to Ike’s decisions than the federal-state battle. He honestly wanted change and cared about the fate of the Nine.

So did Melba’s protector, a young member of the 101st Airborne named Danny. Judging from Melba’s accounts, Danny proved to truly care about her well-being. Though a soldier under orders, Danny’s commitment to Melba surpassed his instructions. This is possibly due to the soldiers being from the North, where more respectful attitudes toward African-Americans existed. “He looked me directly in the eye” (p. 135) is the first description Melba offers of Danny. A short, poignant sentence. If nothing else, it speaks of respect, even before they knew one another. Danny would later make sure Melba’s tormentors saw him and would stare them down (Beals, p. 136). He washed out her eyes when a student doused them in acid (Beals, p. 173). He protected her at every turn, but also offered her advice. That was certainly not in his job description. “’Patience,’ Danny said. ‘In order to survive this year you will have to become a soldier. Never let your enemy know what you are feeling’” (Beals, p. 161). Melba writes:

I feel specially cared about because the guard is there. If he wasn’t there, I’d hear more of the voices of those people who say I’m a nigger…that I’m not valuable, that I have no right to be alive. Thank you, Danny (p. 145).

Clearly, Melba thought much of Danny and cared about him. I believe their relationship was special to both. Danny could easily have withheld advice or not spoken to or looked upon her with respect. Those were not his orders. He did them anyway. Though Melba admits, “I will never know if he only behaved that kindly because he was a great soldier or a good person or both” (p. 202), Danny’s actions indicate he sincerely wanted to help and protect a student fighting for change.

Change was Melba’s aspiration. Throughout Warriors Don’t Cry, Melba often mentions the northern city of Cincinnati, which she visited before integration began. It implanted a vision in her mind of what life in the South could be like:

For me, Cincinnati was the promised land. After a few days there, I lost that Little Rock feeling of being choked and kept in “my place” by white people. They weren’t in charge of me and my family in Cincinnati. I felt free, as though I could soar above the clouds (p. 30).

She refers to Cincinnati in her dairy on September 3, 1957, the first time the Little Rock Nine attempted to enter Central High:

Dear Diary,

It’s happening today. What I’m afraid of most is that they won’t like me and integration won’t work and Little Rock won’t become like Cincinnati, Ohio (p. 46).

Melba discovered in Ohio that African-Americans could walk with pride, without having to step off the sidewalk for white people, that bathrooms and other facilities were integrated, and that white people smiled at her and treated her family with decency (Beals, p. 30-31). She found equality. Her aspiration was to bring similar change to Little Rock. In the beginning, Melba believed that just by crossing into the white world she could present herself and show whites there was no need to treat her differently. She was young, and her naïve belief that change could come quickly is understandable. How devastating it must have felt, after Melba survived an entire year at Central, when “Governor Faubus had the last word. He closed all of Little Rock’s high schools” (Beals, p. 306-307) to prevent another year of mixed classrooms. Personally, I felt a twinge of relief reading that. Melba and her friends would be spared another year of hell. The move, from a certain point of view, also reeked of desperation and defeat on Governor Faubus’ part.

Despite the setback for integration, Melba can rest assured today that she was a significant part of the civil rights movement. She wrote Warriors Don’t Cry based on her diary entries, local newspapers kept from the time period, and her memory. Though memory can fade and change over time, I believe the story she has told is accurate and trustworthy, and is supported through other sources. Besides, far worse things have been done to African-Americans in this country’s history. Melba writes, “I marvel at the fact that in the midst of this historic confrontation, we nine teenagers weren’t maimed or killed” (p. 309). Her purpose in writing this gripping narrative was not to glorify herself.

I believe she wrote this because most history textbooks devote mere sentences to the story of the Little Rock Nine. The college textbook A People and a Nation provides a paragraph (Norton et al., p. 810). One paragraph can never explain what truly happened at Central High, and Melba knew the need existed to tell the whole story, no matter how painful it was for her and regardless of how painful it is to read it.

Melba writes:

I began the first draft of this book when I was eighteen, but in the ensuing years, I could not face the ghosts that its pages called up. During intervals of renewed strength and commitment, I would find myself compelled to return to the manuscript, only to have the pain of reliving the past undo my good intentions. Now enough time has elapsed to allow healing to take place, enabling me to tell my story without bitterness (p. xvii).

It took over 30 years to write. It took hours to read.

Melba Beal’s legacy can be seen in ED 6010, a peacefully integrated course. This Foundations of Education class is welcoming and respectful. I am blessed by both where I live and the time in which I live. In 1954, de jure integration was achieved. In 2011, de facto integration is incomplete in many parts of the nation, but much improved in 60 years, with significant thanks owed to Melba Beals, the rest of the Little Rock Nine, and their struggle.

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Reference List

Beals, M. P. (1994). Warriors Don’t Cry: A Searing Memoir of the Battle to Integrate Little Rock’s Central High. New York, NY: Washington Square Press.

Fraser, J. W. (2010). The School in the United States. New York, NY: Routledge.

Kunhardt Jr., P. B., Kunhardt III, P.B., Kunhardt, P. W. (1999). The American President. New York, NY: Riverhead Books.

No author. (2011). Dwight D. Eisenhower Memorial Commission website. Retrieved from http://www.eisenhowermemorial.org/Civil-Rights.htm

Norton, M.B., Katzman, D. M., Blight, D. W., Chudacoff, H.P., Logevall, F., Bailey, B., Paterson, T. G., & Tuttle, W. M. (2005). A People and a Nation. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin.

The Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864) was a devastating conflict in China between a growing Christian sect under Hong Xiuquan (1815-1864) and the Qing Dynasty government (1644-1911) that resulted in the deaths of over ten million people. Opinions differ as to whether this was a religious or political war, and while elements of both are generally agreed to be involved, an understanding of the overwhelming significance of religion’s role seems nonexistent. While the political forces within Hong’s “God Worshippers” did want to solve the internal turmoil in China, and certainly influenced events, the Taiping Rebellion was a religious war. It was more the influence of the West, not the problems at home, that sparked the violence. While many revolutions had occurred before this with no Christian influence, examining the viewpoint of the God Worshippers and the viewpoint of Qing militia leader Zeng Guofan (1811-1872) will make it exceedingly clear that without the influence of Western religion, the Taiping Rebellion never would have occurred.

From the point of view of Hong Xiuquan, religion was at the heart of everything he did. The origins of his faith and his individual actions immediately after his conversion explain his later choices and those of his followers during the rebellion. According to Chinese scholar R. Keith Schoppa, Hong had a vision he was vanquishing demons throughout the universe, under orders from men whom Hong later determined to be God and Jesus Christ. Hong believed that Christ was his older brother and Hong was thus “God’s Chinese son” (71). Hong studied “Good Works to Exhort the Age,” in which Christian author Liang Fa emphasized that his own conversion stemmed partly from the need to be pardoned of sin and partly from a desire to do good deeds to combat evil and eradicate it from his life (Cheng, Lestz 135). Reading Liang’s writings after the life-changing vision brought Hong to Christianity. It is essential to note that, as Schoppa puts it, “In his comprehension of the vision, Hong did not immediately see any political import” (71). All Hong was concerned about at this point was faith, not the Manchu (Qing) overlords. He was so impassioned he would “antagonize his community by destroying statues of gods in the local temple” (Schoppa 71). What Hong would have done with his life had he not become a Christian is impossible to say. He had repeatedly failed China’s all-important civil service examination; perhaps he would have taken up farming like his father (Schoppa 71).

Instead, he formed the God Worshipping Society. According to Schoppa, certain groups that joined declared the demons in Hong’s vision were the Manchu, and had to be vanquished (72). It was outside influences that politicized Hong’s beliefs. Yet even through the politicization one will see that at the heart of the matter is religion. The very society Hong wished to create was based on Christian ideals. Equality of men and women led to both sexes receiving equal land in Hong’s 1853 land system, the faith’s sense of community led to familial units with shared treasuries, and church was required on the Sabbath day and for wedding ceremonies (Schoppa 73). Christianity brought about the outlawing of much urban vice as well, such as drinking and adultery. One might argue that behind all these Christian ideological policies were long-held Confucian beliefs. According to the 1838 work “Qian Yong on Popular Religion,” eradicating gambling, prostitution, drugs, etc. was just as important to the elites and literati (those who have passed the civil service examination) as it was to Hong (Cheng, Lestz 129-131).

While there were indeed heavy Confucian influences on Hong’s teachings (evidenced by their Confucian adaptations to the Ten Commandments and the proceeding hymns found in Cheng and Lestz’s “The Crisis Within”), Schoppa makes it clear that “the Taiping Revolution was a potent threat to the traditional Chinese Confucian system” because it provided people with a personal God rather than simply the force of nature, Heaven (75). The social policies that emerged from Hong’s Christian ideals, like familial units and laws governing morality led Schoppa to declare, “It is little wonder that some Chinese…might have begun to feel their cultural identity and that of China threatened by the Heavenly Kingdom” (76). The point is, Hong never would have become a leader of the God Worshippers had Western Christianity not entered his life, and even after his growing group decided to overthrow the Manchu, the system of life they were fighting for and hoping to establish was founded on Christian beliefs. Just as Hong smashed down idols in his hometown after his conversion, so everywhere the God Worshippers advanced they destroyed Confucian relics, temples, and altars (Cheng, Lestz 148). The passion of Hong became the passion of all.

On the other side of the coin, it was also the opinion of the Manchu government that this was a religious war. As the God Worshippers grew in number, Schoppa writes, “The Qing government recognized the threat as serious: A Christian cult had militarized and was now forming an army” (72). Right away, the Manchu identified this as a religious rebellion. “It was the Taiping ideology and its political, social, and economic systems making up the Taiping Revolution that posed the most serious threat to the regime” (Schoppa 73). This new threat prompted the Qing to order administrator Zeng Guofan to create militia units and destroy the Taipings. “The Crisis Within” contains his “Proclamation Against the Bandits of Guangdong and Guangxi” from 1854. Aside from calling attention to the barbarism of the rebels, Zeng writes with disgust about Christianity and its “bogus” ruler and chief ministers. He mocks their sense of brotherhood, the teachings of Christ, and the New Testament (Cheng, Lestz 147). Zeng declares, “This is not just a crisis for our [Qing] dynasty, but the most extraordinary crisis of all time for the Confucian teachings, which is why our Confucius and Mencius are weeping bitterly in the nether world” (Cheng, Lestz, 148). Then, in regards to the destruction of Confucian temples and statues, Zeng proclaims that the ghosts and spirits have been insulted and want revenge, and it is imperative that the Qing government enacts it (Cheng, Lestz 148). This rhetoric is not concerning politics and government, Manchu or anti-Manchu. Zeng makes it obvious what he aims to destroy and why. He views the rebellion as an affront to Confucianism. The Christians, he believes, must be struck down.

With the leader’s life defined by Christianity, with a rebellious sect’s social structure based on Christianity, with the continued destruction of Confucian works in the name of Christianity, and with the government’s aim to crush the rebellion in the name of Confucius and Mencius, can anyone rationally argue that the Taiping Rebellion was not a religious war? A consensus should now be reached! The rebellion’s brutality and devastation is a tragedy when one considers the similar teachings of both sides of the conflict, the Confucian call for peaceful mediation of conflicts and the Christian commandment not to kill. The Taiping hymn that accompanies the Christian sixth commandment says, “The whole world is one family, and all men are brethren / How can they be permitted to kill and destroy one another? / The outward form and the inward principle are both conferred by Heaven / Allow everyone, then, to enjoy the ease and comfort which he desires” (Cheng, Lestz 142).

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References

Cheng, Pei-kai, Michael Lestz, and Jonathan D. Spence, eds. The Search for Modern China, (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1999), 128-149.

Schoppa, R. Keith. Revolution and its Past (New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2011), 71-76.

If your homeland were conquered by a foreign power, which would you expect: your occupier to force its foreign tongue upon you or to adopt your language and operate its new government under it? Language is a powerful cultural identifier. For the Manchu people that conquered Ming Dynasty China and established the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) in the seventeenth century, language was the most important factor in establishing the legitimacy of their rule. Careful analysis of Evelyn Rawski’s “Reenvisioning the Qing” reveals the Manchu sought to preserve and spread their own language and embrace the language identity of the Han Chinese, with intriguing historic consequences. Whether or not this possibly counterproductive policy helped or hurt the Manchu maintain their empire is ready for examination.

The Manchu had a history of interesting language interaction before seizing China. According to Rawski, “Mongol allies were vital to the Manchu conquest. Since these alliances were usually cemented by marriage exchanges, early Qing emperors claimed Mongol as well as Manchu ancestry. Mongolian and Manchu were the primary languages during the crucial conquest decades before 1644” (834). Even before they took Beijing, the Manchu were accustomed to adopting other tongues and sharing their own. Rawski calls attention to “the ability of the Manchus to bind warriors from a variety of cultural backgrounds to their cause” (834). Language was key to their success. Perhaps the ease of which the Manchu allowed a mutual exchange of language served as a precedent for their seemingly contradictory policies in China.

When the Qing Dynasty began, the Manchu immediately set to work dispelling the view that they were foreigners and establishing themselves as acceptable rulers. “The adoption of Ming state rituals was a crucial way for Manchu rulers to assert their legitimacy by linking themselves to the former legitimate imperial state” (Schoppa, 32). Religious, political, and household rituals were included. Rawski claims “the determination of the rulers to present themselves to their Chinese subjects as Confucian monarchs is evident in their acquisition of Chinese” (834). Among adoption of other Confucian rituals, the Manchu made a point to learn the Chinese language. As the empire expanded, so the embracing of local language increased. The Qianlong emperor of the eighteenth century spoke Manchu, Chinese, Mongolian, Uighur, and Tibetan, and declared these to be the official state languages (Rawski, 835). Rawski notes, “The emperor commissioned translations, dictionary compilations, and other projects to promote each language” (835). It is evident that the Manchu leaders wished to make the tongues of Han China a part of their own identity.

On the other side of the coin, they also aimed to preserve and teach Manchu. Rawski writes, “Northeastern peoples like the Daur, who had no written language of their own, learned Manchu” (836). The Manchu encouraged use of native languages throughout China, but here one sees the Manchu also sought to spread their own. The Daur, Ewenk and Oroqen eventually spoke and wrote Manchu script (Rawski, 836). The Manchu also sought to teach their language to allied leaders residing in the capitol: “Living in Peking, surrounded by the splendors of Han Chinese culture, they developed in the eighteenth century a definition of Manchu identity that stressed…fluency in the Manchu language” (Rawski, 838). Furthermore, the Manchu had many works translated into their tongue, and kept their government records and history in Manchu.

To the casual observer, it would seem that employing both strategies—preserving Manchu and embracing Chinese languages—would prove counterproductive. One might think that the Manchu should have required the use of their tongue in an effort to solidify their rule, or perhaps one would expect the Manchu to give up their language altogether to fully “sinicize,” to blend into Chinese culture. After all, its writing system was indeed in its infancy, having just been created by Nurgaci and his son Hongtaiji (Rawski, 840). One could make the case that sinicization would have been more complete had they let their native tongue die out. However, the Manchu maintaining their language and encouraging native languages established a balance of power that was the key to preserving their rule. It allowed them to demonstrate the legitimacy of their rule and hold a multiethnic together.

While the Manchu did not only spread their language, rituals and traditions (such as mounted archery) do not create a balance of power. Language is key. What better way to show the Han people that life can resume as normal after a hostile takeover than to allow the people the right to continue, and even spread, their own language? Other empires of history have not shown the same wisdom. Additionally, holding on to Manchu within government circles and using it to fill in the gaps of literacy (as noted before, with the tribes on the outer regions), carefully allows the invaders to preserve their identity. It distinguishes them, yes, but not in a way harmful to their rule, not in a way that marks them as aliens. They do so in a way that blends their tongue and thus their culture seamlessly into the multiethnic realm that is China. Whether one accepts that sinicization allowed the Qing Dynasty last so long, or that it was by building cultural links with multiple ethnic groups as Rawski believes (831), the balance of power the Manchu created through language was instrumental.

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References

Evelyn S. Rawski, “Reenvisioning the Qing: The Significance of the Qing Period in Chinese History,” The Journal of Asian Studies 55, no. 4 (November 1996): 829-850.

R. Keith Schoppa, Revolution and its Past (New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2011), 32.

Chan, Anita, Richard Madsen and Jonathon Unger, pp. 1-40, 74-168, 186-212 in Chen Village: Revolution to Globalization (1984)

The three authors of this text provide a captivating narrative of a small community called Chen Village under the government of the Chinese Communist Party, which enacts various reform efforts upon China with often harrowing effects. From the Great Leap Forward to the campaigns to the Cultural Revolution, Chen Village suffers and struggles to survive under Mao’s and then Deng Xiaoping’s policies. The authors’ argument (or one of them) is that Chinese village leaders, such as Quingfa of Chen Village, often found themselves in a cruel irony: they came to power seen as opponents of class and were removed from power seen as supporters of class. So it is with Chen Quingfa. Commune leaders were looking for a man of words, a man of action, and a man of wisdom. Party leaders also wanted to select someone with a “clean” class background; Quingfa was extremely destitute and had been his whole life. He was illiterate with humble beginnings. He was their man, and was thus appointed secretary.

Quingfa would later come under fire, transformed into an image of a hated landlord. His relations to former removed landlords would incite criticism. He would be accused of giving the best land to himself and his kin, and eating finer foods than were available to the common man. He was disgraced under the accusation that he received foreign capitalist gifts and thus supported capitalism. Overall, having a better life or having a leadership role was often seen as being of higher class. This impossible situation Quingfa found himself in meant in addition to the turbulent nature of China’s economy and the CCP’s campaigns and policies, leadership roles such as his would be severely unstable and in a state of flux. This only hurt China and slowed its recovery.

The authors use concrete evidence. As many Chinese who lived in this time period are still alive today, there is a plethora of direct quotes from interviewees. Written documents from the time period are also used as primary sources. This book is convincing and effective in showing the reader what Chen Village went through during those trying days.

One thing that struck me was how the sense of identity according to kinship refused to budge even in the face of communist reforms and its new ideology. Quingfa was most helpful to his relatives and neighbors, even going so far as to rig the land distribution lottery to ensure they got better land. He grouped his closest friends into the same work team. Even amongst all the talk of communes, equality and classlessness, older ingrained beliefs and traditions remained. It seems to me that Quingfa did create a higher class for himself, his family and his friends. The ancient sense of identity undermined communism, ensuring that the creation of a classless society would ultimately fail.

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Perry, Elizabeth. “Rebels Meet Revolutionaries: The Communist Movement in Huai-pei” pp. 208-247 in Rebels and Revolutionaries in North China, 1845-1945 (1980)

In chapter six’s opening paragraph, Elizabeth Perry poses a series of questions concerning the relationship between battle-hardened peasants and the Chinese communist movement in the early twentieth century. She introduces her work by asking how these groups would relate: would they join forces or stand at odds with one another? Would peasants, who were so accustomed to fighting for their local interests, support or impede the efforts of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to reform the country on a national level? It appears, as she introduces us to a multitude of peasant organizations, that Perry believes it depends on the interests of each group. Reactions will vary by organization because there are too many complexities of circumstance.

For instance, the CCP was most interested in gaining the help of the Red Spears society, which had millions of armed supporters and could thus have a heavy impact on the revolution. Although the CCP disliked the religious practices and other aspects of the Red Spears, they were willing to ignore those for the sake of the greater communist good. However, the Red Spears were totally loyal to their rich landlords of Honan (who sought to maintain their power and wealth), which sat at odds with the communist call for peasants to overthrow corrupt landlords. Potential for an alliance disintegrated over this issue, and even led to violence between the two groups.

So the communist party focused instead on the Bare Eggs society. Unlike the Red Spears, the Bare Eggs were what Perry calls a “predatory” organization, one made up of poor, unemployed members who suffer under that status quo. The Red Spears and others were “defensive” organizations, opposing redistribution of wealth. Therefore, Perry concludes, the CCP had much greater success with predatory groups. Indeed, the Bare Eggs sent hundreds of troops to join the Red Army.

Other barriers to CCP efforts included the Divine Strike Corps, which became a communist enemy because of suggested land reforms. The two sides also differed on their attitudes toward bandits. The communists wanted any allies they could get to battle the invading Japanese (though overall the bandits mostly posed a barrier to CCP success in the region), but the Divine Strike Corps opposed all bandits and aimed to punish and destroy them. Communist efforts at reorganizing bandits therefore displeased both the Divine Strike Corps and the bandits themselves.

The CCP did have some success when they realized that defensive (or “protector”) groups were more receptive to communist ideas. Groups like the Big Swords joined their side. However, Perry concludes by saying old forms of peasant violence were the greatest obstacle to communist success. They were able to have limited success with protective groups and great success with predatory ones. Essentially it was the preexisting interests of each group that determined if they would help the CCP, whether those be political, social or economic reasons, or something as simple as security.

I find it interesting that such a complex web of alliances, so to speak, developed. With warlords, landlords, communists, nationalists, bandits, the Japanese, protective societies, predatory societies and individuals all fighting and scrambling for support, if one allies with another group he is sure to inadvertently make a few new enemies.

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