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CONTENTS
Vol. 10, No. 1: JanuaryMarch 1978
June P. Morgan - The Green Revolution in Asia: False Promise of
Abundance
Steve Lewontin - Hunger: J. Collins and F. Lappe, Food First:
Beyond the Myth of Scarcity; S. George, How the Other Half Dies:
The Real Reasons for World Hunger / A Review Essay
Kathleen Gough - The Green Revolution in South India and North
Vietnam
Richard W. Franke - West Papua New Guinea: A Review of Nonie
Sharps The Rule of the Sword: The Story of West Irian
Liane Ellison Norman - Recovering: Four Books on the Indochina
War / A Review Essay
Peter Bell - Marxist Scholarship on Thailand: The Work of E.
Thadeus Flood (19321977)
Barton J. Bernstein - Syngman Rhee: The Pawn as Rook, the
Struggle to End the Korean War
Ronald Suleski - Korea: A Review of Pak Kyong-siks Koreas
Samil Independence Movement
Marianne Bastid - China / A Review of Joseph Eshericks Reform
and Revolution in China: The 1911 Revolution in Hunan and Hubei
Ole Bjorne Rongen - A Chinese Marxist Study of the Analects/ A
Review of Zhao Jibens Lun-yu xin-tan
Moss Roberts - Neo-Confucian Tyranny in the Dream of the Red
Chamber: A Critical Note
Catherine L. Luh and David A. Wilson - Acupuncture, Politics, and
Medicine / A Review Essay
BCAS/Critical AsianStudies
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CCAS Statement of Purpose
Critical Asian Studies continues to be inspired by the statement of purpose
formulated in 1969 by its parent organization, the Committee of Concerned
Asian Scholars (CCAS). CCAS ceased to exist as an organization in 1979,
but the BCAS board decided in 1993 that the CCAS Statement of Purpose
should be published in our journal at least once a year.
We first came together in opposition to the brutal aggression of
the United States in Vietnam and to the complicity or silence of
our profession with regard to that policy. Those in the field of
Asian studies bear responsibility for the consequences of their
research and the political posture of their profession. We are
concerned about the present unwillingness of specialists to speak
out against the implications of an Asian policy committed to en-
suring American domination of much of Asia. We reject the le-
gitimacy of this aim, and attempt to change this policy. We
recognize that the present structure of the profession has often
perverted scholarship and alienated many people in the field.
The Committee of Concerned Asian Scholars seeks to develop a
humane and knowledgeable understanding of Asian societies
and their efforts to maintain cultural integrity and to confront
such problems as poverty, oppression, and imperialism. We real-
ize that to be students of other peoples, we must first understand
our relations to them.
CCAS wishes to create alternatives to the prevailing trends in
scholarship on Asia, which too often spring from a parochial
cultural perspective and serve selfish interests and expansion-
ism. Our organization is designed to function as a catalyst, a
communications network for both Asian and Western scholars, a
provider of central resources for local chapters, and a commu-
nity for the development of anti-imperialist research.
Passed, 2830 March 1969
Boston, Massachusetts
Contents: Vol 10, No.1
January- March 1978
june P. Morgan
2 "TheGreen Revolution"in Asia: FalsePromise ofAbundance
Steve Lewontin 9 Hunger/review essay ofJ. CollinsandF.M. Lappe,
Food First: Beyond the Myth of Scarcity;
andS. George, How the Other Half Dies:
The Real Reasons for World Hunger
Kathleen Gough 13 TheGreen Revolution in South IndiaandNorth Vietnam
Richard' W. Franke 24 WestPapuaNewGuinea/review ofNonieSharp,
The Rule of the Sword: The Story of West Irian
Liane Ellison Norman 25 Recovering/review essay offourbookson the IndochinaWar
Peter Bell 33 MarxistScholarshiponThailand
TheWorkofE. Thadeus Flood(1932-1977)
Barton j. Bernstein 38 SyngmanRhee: The Pawnas Rook
TheStruggletoEnd the KoreanWar
Ronald Suleski 49 Korea/review ofPak Kyong-sik, Chosen sanichi
tokuritsu undo (Korea'sSamil IndependenceMovement)
Marianne Bastid 51 China/review ofJoseph Esherick, Reform and Revolution
in China: The 1911 Revolution in Hunan and Hubei
Ole Bjorn Rongen 53 AChineseMarxistStudyofThe A nalectslreview essay
ofZhaoJiben, Lun-yu xin-tan (Fresh Probesinto
The Analects)
Moss Roberts
Catherine L. Luh
and David A. Wilson
63
67
Neo-ConfucianTyrannyin theDream of the Red
Chamber: ACritical Note
Acupuncture: PoliticsandMedicine/review essay
Editors
BruceCumings (Seattle);SaundraSturdevant(San Diego)
Associate Editor: JayneWerner(Tucson, AZ);ManagingEditor: BryantAvery (Charlemont, MA)
Editorial Board
Len Adams, Nina Adams (Springfield, IL), Doug Allen (Orono, ME), Steve Andors (Staten Island), Frank Baldwin (Tokyo),
Ashok Bhargava (Madison, WO, Herbert Bix (Tokyo), HelenChauncey(Palo Alto,CA), Noam Chomsky(Lexington,MA), Gene
Cooper(HongKong),JohnDower(Madison,WO, RichardFranke(Boston),Kathleen Gough (Vancouver),JonHalliday (Mexico
City), Richard Kagan (St. Paul, MN), Sugwon Kang (Oneonto, NY), BenKerkvliet(Honolulu), Rich Levy (JamaicaPlain, MA),
Victor Lippit (Riverside, CA), Jon Livingston (Berkeley), Ngo Vinh Long (Cambridge, MA), Angus McDonald (Minneapolis,
MN), Joe Moore (Flagstaff, AZ), Victor Neelthaca, NY), FeliciaOldfather (Trinidad, CA), Gail Omvedt (Pune, India), James
Peck (New York), Ric pfeffer (Baltimore, MD), Carl Riskin(NewYork),Moss Roberts(NewYork),JoelRocamora(Berkeley),
Mark Selden (Tokyo), Hari Sharma (Burnaby, BC), Linda Shin (Los Angeles), Anita Weiss (Oakland, CA), Thomas Weisskopf
(Ann Arbor, MO, ChristineWhite (Sussex, England),MarthaWinnacker(Berkeley).
General Correspondence: BCAS, Post Office Box W, Charlemont, Massachusetts 01339. Typesetting: Archetype, Berkeley,
California. Printing: Valley PrintingCompany,WestSpringfieldMassachusetts.
Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars, Jan.-Mar. 1978, Volume 10, No. I, Published quarterly in Spring, Summer, Fall, and
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CopyrightBulletinofConcernedAsianScholars 1978.ISSN No. 0007-4810(US)
Postmaster: Please send Form 3579 to BCAS, P.O. Box W, Charlemont,MA01339.
"The Green Revolution" in Asia:
False Promise of Abundance
by June P. Morgan
In non-socialist Asia, the Green Revolution remains
largely a myth; with only two exceptions, ongoing land
reforms remain mostly symbolic. Present agricultural credit
and financing policies are inadequate if not counter-productive
and some types of mechanization which have been used have
had adverse effects on labor and income. The "promise of
abundance" of ten years ago has not been obtained while
malnutrition and other evils of rural misery have consistently
worsened. Such are the main findings of a study* on the
evolution of South and Southeast Asian countries during the
past decade made by four experts at an international
institution specializing in aid to developing Asian countries.
This report, which can be credited with presenting an
overall picture of Asian agriculture, is in itself a statement of
failure: present aid to underdeveloped countries of the region,
it contends, must be thoroughly modified. Some modes of
intervention in agriculture that the authors suggest stem from
a down-to-earth common sense and would constitute an
undeniable progress if applied. Others have a less apparent, or
at any rate debatable, practicability.
* This article is based on an Asian Development Bank (ADB)
study, which the bank recently published as Asian Agricultural Survey
1976, Rural Asia, Challenge and Opportunity (Manila: copyright Asian
Development Bank, 1977). Because the ADB apparently published only
a small number of copies, we agree with Morgan that the study should
enjoy wider circulation. The study's findings themselves are not novel.
Many critics of the "green revolution," land reform programs, and
related parts of numerous agricultural development programs in Asia
have long made the same arguments. Frequentlv, however, "main-
stream" economists and political and agricultural development
specialists in Asia and in the United States have dismissed these
criticisms, sometimes with a wry smile but other times characterizing
them as leftist propaganda. Now the critics can point to the ADB's
findings to further support their analyses. What is particularly
significant about this study, consequently, is the source rather than the
content.
A word about the notes: when writing the article, Morgan only
had access to the manuscript version of the book. Since the book is
now published, we have put the appropriate page references for
Morgan's citations. In a few instances, however, the passages Morgan
used from the manuscript did not appear in the book. We therefore
cited the manuscript's pages.
The Editors.
The report states at the outset that the premises on
which official optimism of a decade ago was based have been
found incorrect: the technological jump of the Green
Revolution did not translate in terms of either production
gains, or in substantial increase and equalization of income or
availability of cheap food resources.
"The euphoria of plenty was the first to go." I The gap
between the availability of and needs in cereals in
underdeveloped countries, especially of Asia, is structural and
widening. Despite increased imports of cereals, "the absolute
number of people affected by malnutrition and other
manifestations of severe poverty has increased in many
countries (of the region) even though average per capita
income has risen considerably in the majority of cases." 2 In
these countries, the average energy intake remains at about
2000 calories per day, which is far below the required
minimum for normal health. (See Table A.)
Moreover, the use of seed/fertilizer-based technologies
seems to have reached a plateau: "the Green Revolution is not
providing the expected impetus to production," the report
states. "For example, the growth rate in rice yields between
1963-67 and 1971-75 was It;ss than 1.5 percent per annum for
South and Southeast Asia as a whole and below 1 percent for
several countries.,,3 As yet, there is also no evidence of a major
breakthrough in dry land agriculture.
It was once hoped that market demand would not
constitute a constraint on sustained agricultural expansion.
This has not been the case. It can be argued, the authors
contend, that the slowdown in agricultural growth is the result
of a slowdown in the Green Revolution itself. The new
technology now covers much of the irrigated areas of Asia, but
cannot be easily extended or intensified due to deficiencies in
infrastructure and to institutional obstacles.
4
Efforts undertaken by local governments to improve
income distribution patterns "appear to have had little impact
on income inequality, though land reform programs have
changed the structure of land holdings in some countries. The
share of government spending in GNP has risen remarkably,
but the same cannot be said about the efficacy with which the
funds have been used, particularly when judged according to
the criterion of increasing productive employment."
5
2
TableA*
Dietary Energy Supply,1969-71a
Country Calories Per Percentageof
R'
CapitaPerDay equlrements
b
Afghanistan 1970 81
Bangladesh 1840 80
Burma 2210 102
Korea 2520 107
India 2070 94
Indonesia 1790 83
Malaysia(West) 2460 110
Nepal 2080 95
Pakistan 2160 93
Philippines 1940 86
Sri Lanka 2170 98
Thailand 2560 115
aTotalfood, includingfish.
bRevisedStandards.
Source: United NationsWorld Food Conference, Rome, 5-16 Novem
ber1974,Assessment of the World Food Situation Present and Future,
pp.53-54.
This and all the subsequent tables accompanying this essay are
from the Asian Agricultural Survey, 1976.
In fact, the report stresses that in the region the food
problem has taken on a new significance and risen to critical
dimensions in the past ten years. Two fundamental problems
remain: persistentpovertyandrapidpopulationgrowth.
"According to a World Bank estimate, in 1969, 415
million persons or about 40 percent of the total population
representing the developing market economies ofAsialivedin
conditions of absolute poverty, and about 3S5 million (85
percent) of these were found in rural areas."6 In the period
1971-1975, "only (South) Korea,TaiwanandMalaysiaappear
to have had average intake levels appreciably above energy
requirements.'" For most of the countries studied, food
production has not kept pace with domestic demand. For
South and Southeast Asia as a whole, per capita food grain
production has declined despite the introduction ofnewfood
grain technology. (See Table B) The worthy objective of
"self-sufficiency in rice" appears "as remote as ever" as "a
large portion ofthe population simply does not have enough
to eat." In most cases, "the most optimistic view that one
could take is that we are not much worse offtoday than we
wereadecadeago."8
Real wages of agricultural workers, the study further
notes, "have been rising rapidly in East Asia, but appear to
have been fairly static ordeclining in mostpartsofSouthand
Southeast Asia.,,9 (See Table C) Substantial improvement in
percentage terms in the level ofliving have been recorded in
Pakistan in the sixties but"the absolute number ofthe rural
poor increased from 23.5 million to 26.5 million during the
same period. The situationin Bangladeshis quitealarmingand
there are no signs of improvements. In the Philippines, the
data indicate an improvemerrt in the poverty situation in the
first half of the 1960s and a worsening of trend since then.
TableB
PercentAnnualGrowth
a
in
FoodProduction,Population,andDomesticDemand,
1952to1972
Food Population Domestic
Productionb Demand
c
Productionfailed toequalpopulationgrowth
Nepal 0.1 1.8 2.1
Bangladesh 1.6
d
3.5
d
n.a.
Afghanistan 1.7 1.9 2.2
Indonesia 2.0 2.5 2.6
Productionfailed toequalgrowthindomesticdemand
Burma 2.4 2.2 3.3
India 2.4 2.1 3.0
Pakistan 3.0 3.0 4.2
Philippines 3.2 3.2 4.2
Productionexceededgrowthindomesticdemand
Sri Lanka 3.6 2.5 3.1
Korea 4.8 2.7 4.7
Malaysia (West) 5.2 3.0 4.3
Thailand 5.3 3.1 4.6
aExponentialtrend, 1952-72
bFood component of crop and livestock production only (i.e., excluding
fish production).
cCalculated on the basis ofgrowth ofpopulation and per capitaincome,
and estimates of income elasticity of farm value of demand in FAO:
Commodity Projections: 197(}-1980; 1971. Demand is for total food,
includingfish.
d1962-72.
Source: United Nations World Food Conference, Rome 5-16 Nov. 1974,
Assessment of the World Food Situation Present and Future, pp. 53-54.
Thailand reportssignificantdiminutionofruralpovertyduring
1962/63-1968/69. The record of Indonesia also seems tobe
encouraging. Data available for Malaysia show that despite its
satisfactory economic growth during the last decade, 45
percent of the rural population are still living under the
conditionofrelativepoverty."10 (SeeTableD)
Problems of un- and under-employment of the labor
force are particularly worrying. Even if birth-control
campaigns were successful, which is far from being true
everywhere, that would be of no immediate help. "The
economicallyactivepopUlationofthedevelopingcountrieshas
grown by about 50 percent in the past two decades as the
result ofanannualrateofincreaseofabout2percent ....The
share of the labor force in agriculture has declined to some
extent in all countries except Burma" (and shouldbeonly 52
percent ofthe total workforce by the year 2000)butin most
countries in 1975 "overtwothirdsofthelaborforce remained
in agriculture."11
3
According to a recent ESCAP study quoted in the attention from this more fundamental dimension of the
report, "in Bangladesh, in 1972-73, about 37 percent ofthe problemofpoverty.
labor force were unemployed and underemployed. India's 18 If the authors of the report recommend the use of
million unemployed in 1971 includedabout9.7million partly land-saving labor-intensive technologies in agriculture, they
unemployed who worked less than 14 hours a week. Datafor also insist that technology per se is no answer to such a
Java and Madura show that about 20 percent ofthe working problem. They stress that "there is growing conviction, and a
population were working less than 30 hours a week while in considerable amount ofsupporting evidence, that someforms
Nepal about 50 percent of the agricultural work force were of mechanization have had adverse effects on both
unemployed."12 employmentandincome 13
The report states that the underemployedlaborforce in Inequality of income is directly linked to the unequal
the rural sector is vast and growing (some estimate it to be distribution ofland holdings. (See Table E.) In 1970in India,
over 50 percent) and migration of rural workers swells the 4 percent ofthe farms 0 perated on 31 percent oftheland; 5
ranks of the unemployed in urban areas. The authors foresee percent on 34 percent in the Philippines, 11 percent on 43
that the growing numbers oflandless peasants (particularlyin percent in Pakistan. At theotherend,"66percentofpeasants
India, Bangladesh, Pakistan and Indonesia) is likely to be the in Bangladesh cultivate only 24 percent ofthefarmland while
major problem in the foreseeable future. The justified stress in India 51 percent of farm operating units cultivate only 8
put on land reform has, according to them, diverted the percent ofthe land."14 These proportionsare moreorlessthe
TableC
IndexofRealWages ofAgricultural Laborers
(1965 =100)
.. ,t:I
..c:
India
b
..
VI
VI .. u
u (Ij
Year
(Ij
I:
I:
-0
,.Q I:
'Vi (Ij 'Q..
'O(Ij .. (Ij-
....
0
(Ij >.
...
(Ij
... t>I) =-= :s
(Ij
III
...II: ._ I: P-
'--' c
(Ij
VI I: :;;: & ._

I:
5-0
(Ij
(Ij
u u (Ij (Ij (Ij
:a
I:
0 ..c: u
a:l f-<Z
:E Q., Q.,


1960 93 131 98 90
1961 102 92 120 97 130 99 90 95
1962 96 92 99 108 121 98 92 101
1963 106 121 99 95 96
1964 120 79 104 102 103 106 98 102 95
1965 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100
1966 86 78 99 93 100 105 137 99 153 102
1967 86 90 87 100 96 113 111 98 166 105
1968 92 108 97 104 99 113 136 107 185 119
1969 100 117 102 99 101 116 106 100 200 142
1970 101 117 98 112 100 125 93 96 215 147
1971 107 106 116 195 125 88 96 227 157
1972 72 93 130 86 110 235 164
1973 71 91 100 93
1974 64
aDetlatedbycostoflivingindex(for.agticulturallaborers)
bDetlatedbyconsumerpriceindex
CDefiatedbyindexofpricesreceivedbyfarmers
dDefiatedbycostoflivingindex(formale plantation workers)
Sources:
Bangladesh-Edward ]. Clay, "Institutional Change and Agticultural Wage in Bangladesh," Agticultural Development Council, Dacca, August
1976(mimeo).
India-Deepak Lai, "Agticultural Growth, Real Wages and The Rural Poor in India," Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XI, No. 26, June
1976(Year1961 is fiscal year 1961-62,etc.).
Philippines-Quintin M. Balagot and Aida R. Librero, "Analysis ofAgticultural Wage RatesinthePhilippines" (BAE/UPLB/USDA,December
1975).
WestMalaysia )
Sri Lanka ) FAOProduction Yearbook, 1974.
Pakistan )
Korea )
China, Republic of-BureauofAccounting and Statistics ProvincialGovernmentofTaiwan, "MonthlyStatisticsonPriceReceivedandPaidby
FarmersinTaiwan,"January1973.
4
TableD
EstimatesofRuralPoverty
DefinitionofPoverty/
DMC Percapitaincome Period
Bangladesh Based onafood 1963/64 88 49.9
bundleof2,100 1966/67 62 37.9
caloriesand45g. 1968/69 79 50.7
ofprotein 1973/74 94 64.0
India Rs. 240 1960/61 60 214.2
Rs. 360 1968/69 60 249.1
1969/70 54 226.0
1970/71 48 207.3
Indonesia Rp. 16,500. 1969 47 63.0
Based ona Java 62 46.0
minimum daily Other 22 17.0
foodintakeof Islands 22 17.0
2,150caloriesand
50g. ofprotein.
Malaysia MS$ 300 1970 45 3.2
(West)
Pakistan Rs. 300 1963/64 61 23.5
(atconstant 1966/67 60 24.8
1959-60prices) 1968/69 62 26.7
1969/70 60 26.5
1970/71 55
1971172 58
Philippines Based onafood
thresholdforafamily
ofsixa
Ph.$1,253 1961 61
Ph.$1,733 1965 49
Ph.$3,000 1971 64
Thailand Based ontotal
householdincome
perperson
c
Bt1,500 1962/63 47 11.0
Btl,725 1968/69 26 8.2
aThis is based on the Food and Nutrition Research Council's
(FNRC)adequateminimumcostdietforafamilyofsix(twoadults,
a 4-6-year-old son, a 7-9-year-old daughter, a IO-l2-year-old
daughter and a 13-year-old son). This composition ofthe family is
consideredtobetheaverage.
brhese figures were computedusingaveragesizemultipliedbytotal
numberoffamiliesbelowthefood poverty threshold.
crhis cut-off level includes non-money income, own consumption
andexpectedrent(e.g., households).
same in most other Asian non-socialist countries, with the
exceptions again of South Korea and Taiwan. In Bangladesh,
India, Indonesia, KoreaandSri Lanka,farmsofonehectareor
less account formore thanhalfofall landholdings. Besides, in
Bangladesh, India and the Philippines, the percentage of
peasants in thiscategoryhasconsiderablyincreased in thepast
decade-as well as the number oflandless peasants. Regional
disparitieswithinonecountrycanbeas striking. .
If some governments of the region have launched
infrastructural and public works programs as ways to occupy
the labor force and to further rural development, "known
results are far from encouraging." The report notes, "the
record ofachievementhas been mixed": withtheexceptionof
South Korea and Taiwan, "intherestofAsia, landreform has
been farless successful. ...In muchoftheregion,landreform
in the 1970soffersonlyamarginalimprovementoverprogress
made in the 1960sand surely notenough to finally solve the
problem faced bysmall farmers oflimitedaccessto productive
assets."15 The authors showthat these reforms are too timid
(land ceilings too high) and handicapped by cumbersome
administrative procedures. In Pakistan, Bangladesh and the
Philippines, they state that redistribution "has been hindered
by landowner political influence, both at national and local
levels, harassmentoftenantsandthroughprotractedlitigation.
Because ofthe exemptionspermittedThailand'sLandReform
Law of 1975 is very limited in scope. Further, the law has
been effectuated selectively since enactment, and present
coverage includesonlyafewdistrictsin troubledareas."16
Development programs around land reforms have been
strengthened by credits and other inputs as incentives for
farmers to increase their rice production. The report studies
the uncertain fate ofthe BIMAS programin Indonesiaand the
probable failure of the Masagana 99 program in the
Philippines. The conclusion appears to be that agrarian and
otherreforms, "limited in scopethoughthesehave been,were
mostly frustrated because governments had neither the
political will nor the administrative capability for successful
implementation."17
This being so,unlesssomemiraculouschange ofattitude
takes place among leading elites, many of the recommen-
dations that the authors list in the second part oftheir study
are likely toremainas wishfulthinking.
Sources:
Bangladesh-M.Alangir, "Poverty,InequalityandSocial Welfare:
Measurement, Evidence and Policies," Bangladesh Development
Studies, April 1975.
India-A. Vaidyanathan, "SomeAspectsofInequalitiesin Living
Standards in Rural India," cited in D. Kumar, "Changes in Income
Distribution and Poverty in India: A Review of the Literature,"
WorldDevelopment, Vol. 2,No.1,January 1974,pp. 31-41.
NCAER, Changesin RuralIncomein India, 1968-71,NewDelhi,
December1975.
Indonesia-IBRD, Basic Economic Report: Indonesia
DevelopmentProspectsandNeeds, April 15, 1975.
Malaysia-IBRD, Problems of Rural Poverty in Malaysia
(mimeo).
Pakistan-To Alauddin, "Mass Poverty in Pakistan: A Further
Study,"Pakistan DevelopmentReview, Winter1975.
Philippines-M. A.S. Abrera,"PhilippinePovertyThresholds"in
Measuring Philippine Welfare, Development Academy of the
Philippines,Manila, 1975.
Thailand-O. E. Musook, "Income Inequality in Thailand,
1962-63and1968-69,"quotedinM. Alangir,op.cit.
5
Table E
Pattern of Land Distribution
Farm Size in Hectares
0-1 0-2 0-3 0-5 0-10 10 Gini
Country Farms Area Farms Area Farms Area Farms Area Farms Area Farms Area Farms Co-
(per cent) (per cent) (per cent) (per cent) (per cent) (per cent) efficient
Bangladesh 1960
a
51.6 15.2 77.9 41.6 89.3 60.9 96.5 80.0 99.6 94.1 0.4 5.9 .47
1974
b
66.0 24.0 88.0 58.0 95.0 77.0 98.0 90.0 2.0 11.0 .57
India 1961
c
39.8 6.8 62.2 19.1 74.6 30.4 89.6 53.4 95.5 70.2 4.5 29.8 .59
19701
71
d
50.6 9.0 69.7 20.9 79.2 31.0 88.6 46.7 96.1 69.1 3.9 30.9 .63
Indonesia 1963
a
70.1 28.7 88.3 51.5 94.0 64.0 97.5 76.3 99.3 87.5 0.7 12.5 .54
Korea, Rep. of 1963
a
73.3 45.0 93.9 81.6 99.7 98.4 .30
1974
e
67.0 58.3 93.5 79.5 91.5 92.9 .32
Malaysia (West) 1960
a
45.4 15.2 67.4 32.6 83.4 52.5 96.1 79.2 99.0 89.9 1.0 10.1 .44
1973
f
35.3 15.3 72.1 48.0 91.3 76.5 98.8 94.6
Pakistan 1960
g
32.9 3.5 49.5 9.4 61.5 16.7 77.1 31.7 92.1 57.3 7.9 42.7 .60
1972
g
43.6 12.2 68.1 30.4 89.2 57.0 10.8 43.0
Philippines 1960
h
11.5 1.6 41.1 11.2 62.3 24.7 81.0 43.1 94.4 66.8 5.6 33.2 .52
1971
h
13.6 1.9 61.1 24.1 84.8 47.8 95.1 66.1 4.9 33.9 .51
Thailand 1963
a
18.5 2.5 47.9 15.5 75.4 42.1 94.6 77.8 5.4 22.2 .46
1971i
13.4 2.6 49.5 20.3 80.3 51.8 96.2 83.8 3.8 16.2 .41
Note: Figures may not total 100 percent due to rounding error. Size categories for Thailand are (in hectares) 0-2.4, 0-4.8, 0-9.6, and 9.6.
Source:
aFAO, Report on tbe 1960 World Census of Agriculture.
bFAO, Periodic Progress Report of tbe Agricultural Census Programme, No. 7,'February 7, 1976.
clndian Directorate of Economics and Statistics, Indian Agriculture in Brief, 11th edition.
dIn dian Agricultural Census, 1970-71.
eKorean Yearbook of Agriculture and Forestry, 1971 and 1975.
fDepartment of State of West Malaysia, "Number and Area of Small-Holding Lots."
gISRD Report No. 1023, "Pakistan: Recent Trends and Development Prospects," March 1, 1976.
hSureau of Census and Statistics of the Philippines, Censuses of Agriculture for 1960 ana 1971.
icovernment of Thailand, Division of Agricultural Economics.
A number of the proposals in the report run against the
prevailing policy of some international institutions, while
others are already well tried. The authors find that the
objective of "self-sufficiency in food" is preferable to the
specialization of countries in complementary crops (inter-
national division of agricultural labor). They do point out
however that until at least the 1980s the agricultural deficit of
underdeveloped countries will continue to grow. In other
words, these countries will remain dependent on U.S. food
exports.
Instead of conjunctural policies of agricultural prices,
they favor a structural policy aimed at developing agricultural
production via the Green Revolution. The latter can only
succeed if "structural obstacles" are removed-i.e. if effective
land reforms are accomplished. Mechanization, they point out,
has to be avoided unless it can be proven that it actually
increases production (in most cases at present it does not).
Research should be geared towards varieties and techniques
adapted to non-irrigated lands rather than to irrigated lands as
is prevailing now.
To these remarks, they add more specific suggestions
about new guidelines for international aid:
-a major part of that aid should be given in local currency and
not in dollars as is the custom now;
-commercial aid ("tied" aid, imp?rtation credits and the like)
to agriculture should be discarded;
-small diversified and decentralized projects should be
multiplied rather than bigger ventures, because they would
lead to a reorientation of aid towards programs under the aegis
of the government concerned rather than projects controlled
by the lending international institution. This should result in
more responsibilities to and participation from local
entrepreneurs and engineers.
Some of these suggestions already have the favor of the
international community: to privilege program-aid is now a
major guideline of the World Bank. In a well-understood
nationalist approach, self-sufficiency in food has always had
more appeal than the typical neocolonial concept of
complementarity of crops.
6
But one cannot believe that the "giving" countries will
reverse the increasingly universal trend of tied aids which make
their "gifts" into profitable commercial ventures. Besides, how
can real land reforms be achieved for the sake of the Green
Revolution (here so decried in its present performances)
without entirely disrupting social structures and undermining
the very political base of current leading elites? How would
governments guilty of "political badwill and administrative
incapacity" find the courage and the strength, under the stress
of necessity and the guidance of international lending
institutions, to effect what would be tantamount to a real
revolution? But then the liberal thinking behind this very
valuable and courageous report cannot but shy away from
recognizing that what the situation calls for is a red, not a
green revolution. "*
Notes
1. Asian Agricultural Survey 1976, p. 29.
2. Ibid., 32.
3. Ibid., 30.
4. Ibid., 34.
5. Manuscript, p. 8. The book makes a similar point but in
different language.
6. Asian Agricultural Survey 1976, p. 61.
7. Ibid., 46.
8. Manuscript, pp. 34-35.
9. Asian Agricultural Survey 1976, p. 53.
10. Manuscript, pp. 63-64. Chapter 3 of the book says ihis
indirectly.
11. Asian Agricultural Survey 1976, pp. 49-50.
12. Manuscript, p. 52.
13. Asian Agricultural Survey 1976, p. 59.
14. Ibid., 97.
15. Ibid., 99-100.
16. Ibid., 101.
17. Ibid.
TSETUI\IG
A
CRiTWE
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T
ECONOMICS
CL-412 $10.00
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Translated by Moss Roberts
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NEW TITLES 1978
Land and Labor in China
By R. H. Tawney, with an
introduction by Barrington Moore, Jr.
"Considering the materials with which Tawney had
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time, this book is an outstanding tour de force . ..
(and) is likely to retain its value for a long time to come.
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possible to learn why a peasant revolution might give
the Communists their opportunity, not why all these
things had to happen."-from the introduction
216 pages 0-87332-106-5 Paper: $5.95 Now Available
China's Finance and Trade: A Policy Reader
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Chinese Economic Planning
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Emphasizing major current issues, this useful course
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A Review Essay
Hunger
by Steve Lewontin
Books about hunger and its causes are nothing new, as
anyone who follows development literature is well aware. This
is probably because hunger itself has been around as long as
people have been writing books. Nevertheless, 1974 was the
year of a "world food crisis": the United Nations saw fit to
convene a world food conference in Rome, and a spate of new
books has appeared in its aftermath to discuss the problem.
Why a crisis should have congealed in 1974 from the world's
perennial hunger is one of the subjects ably considered by
Collins and Lappe's Food First and Susan George's How the
Other Half Dies. Why so much has been written about it is a
subject worth considering here.
The dominant school of thought about hunger and how
to deal with it has, in recent times, been a subset of the official
ideology of the U.S. and international development agencies.
The solutions proposed are largely technological, and while
they do not universally exclude the "social dimension," the
social order is taken, basically, as a given which is to be
"managed" with the least possible interference.
An alternative "food movement" has tried to counter
this ideology with a reformist emphasis on the moral
responsibility of individuals [e.g., OXFAM's "Fast for a World
Harvest"], privately sponsored relief efforts, and alternative
"small is beautiful" technology. The sincerity of this
movement must be clearly distinguished from the cynical
support of the status quo represented by official development
ideology. Still, in both cases the question of hunger is seen as
an isolable one, the solution of which need not in practice
demand profound changes in the social order.
Opposed to this view and its manifest failure to solve the
problem of hunger stand the examples of socialist trans-
formation in China, Cuba, and Vietnam. Since the victory of
the Vietnamese revolution, these models have given a new
urgency to the developmentalist desire to relieve the instability
with which the "food problem" threatens the capitalist order
in the third world.
Food First: Beyond the Myth of Scarcity, by Joseph
Collins and Frances Moore L a p p ~ Boston: Houghton-
Mifflin, 1977, $10.95.
How the Other Half Dies: The Real Reasons for World
Hunger, by Susan George. London, 1976, $12.50; paper,
$4.95.
The U.N.'s World Food Conference in some ways marks
a turning point in this influence. The ideology of a strictly
technological solution, which had enjoyed nearly undisputed
hegemony among development officials and agencies in the
heyday of the "green revolution," was becoming untenable in
the face of the recent Sahel famine, the current "crisis," and
indications from places like India that the revolution might be
more red than green. During the early seventies criticism began
to be heard both inside and outside development circles, and a
change of heart seems to have found its way into official
ideology at about the time of the conference. Robert
McNamara, for example, reiterated that
The object of development is the human being. In other
words, it is not enough simply to build a road, or a dam, or
a power station. It is necessary to do those things in such a
way that they contribute most to creating a better, fuller,
and more productive life for the people. 1
The National Research Council (N.R.C.), which was commis-
sioned to revise the official U.S. dogma after the conference,
explains in its World Food and Nutrition Study that
The adequacy of food supplies, of course, is critical, but
much more is involved. In particular, widespread poverty in
the developing countries is a major cause of hunger and
malnutrition Such problems as the inequitable
distribution of income and employment are important
aspects of the problem of world hunger. 2
Such expressions of concern' for the social order are not
entirely false; they are merely disingenuous. The idea is not to
change the sociaJ order but to find ways of keeping it
unchanged, as Collins and Lappe explain in a chapter on the
"new aid," and as any reader of the N.R.C. report will see. It
basically recommends more of the same research with a new
gloss of social analysis, an integrated "systems" approach, and
a barely concealed longing to steal the secret of the Chinese
9
"solution": "It is important to learn more about the extent
and nature of this apparent achievement in dealing with the
problem." 3
What is new is a heavy emphasis on nutrition study
aimed at discovering how desperately poor people can be
better nourished while remaining desperately poor and eating
very little. This includes more basic physiological research and
a study of "patterns of social and economic policy . . . in
countries (and areas) whose populations appear relatively
healthy and nutritionally satisfied despite relatively low per
capita levels of food consumption and income.,,4 (Kerala and
Sri Lanka are two favorite examples.) The object is to discover
what kinds of interventions can be made "without the time or
resources for social change." 5
The cynicism of this approach, coming in the midst of
the food crisis and in a period of general radicalization, seems
to have had a beneficial effect on the consciousness of the
food movement. As Susan George notes in the introduction to
How the Other Half Dies:
[The 1974 World Food] Conference, like the two that
preceded it, could hardly be called a success. Most of the
solutions proposed were purely technological; they stressed
production rather than equitable distribution of food.
Briefly, they echoed those selfsame measures that have
been offered for the past thirty years. None of these
"solutions" has come close to solving the problem, as the
present crisis amply proves. 6
A group from the Transnational Institute, of which George
and Collins are members, produced a short critical response to
this technocratic dogmatism in the form of a counter report to
the conference.
7
Food First and How the Other Half Dies are
elaborations of this response which try to come to terms with
the whole range of political and economic mystification of the
causes and solutions of hunger. They take it as their first task
to attack the myths by which official development ideology
has been justified: the poverty and fickleness of nature, the
incompatibility of population and resources, the backwardness
of "traditional" agriculture, etc. They argue instead that
hunger has deeper roots in the social and political order and
that any real solution must attack these roots.
Both books show convincingly that, by any conceivable
measure of sufficiency, present agricultural systems could
produce enough food to feed the world's hungry. Discussing
Bangladesh, for example, as " ... the archetype of a country
whose population has simply overwhelmed its resources,"
Collins and Lappe note that the agricultural resources there are
among the best in Asia:
Bangladesh has twice the cultivated land area per person as
Taiwan. Moreover, its rich alluvial soils give it cropland
second to none other in the world. Bangladesh has adequate
potential water supplies even in the dry season, an ideal
climate for year-round cultivation allowing for three
harvests a year of rice, and inland fishery resources that,
according to one F.A.O. research group, are "possibly the
richest in the world. ,,8
The real problem is a social and political structure of
concentrated wealth that discourages efficient farming, and
makes the majority of people so poor that even 'during the
1974 famine "an estimated four million tons of rice stacked
up for want of buyers.,,9
The point, of course, is that a narrow focus on increased
production-and on the other side of the coin, reduced
population growth-which is at the forefront of the
technological approach, is not going to help anything. In fact,
it often makes things worse. Most such programs depend on
relatively costly technology which is accessible only to
better-off farmers who, because of their political and
economic power, have more command over inputs, credit, and
infrastructure. In fact, the benefits of infrastructure develop-
ment projects like irrigation programs and roads often fall into
the hands of urban-based businessmen for whom agriculture is
merely another investment. The resulting development of
"modern agriculture" in the third world often fosters
increased concentration of wealth as those who benefit
out-compete or physically displace poor farmers with
high-capital, low-labor farming. Moreover, traditionally bal-
anced farming systems, which have evolved in close relation
with nature, are upset by the appearance of maladapted
farming practices, and ecological disaster often results.
As a case in point, the "green revolution" has been
widely criticized, even (cautiously) within official develop-
ment circles. Both books summarize this criticism, noting, for
example, the effects of the "revolution" in increasing rents,
land speculation, and tenant evictions in India, the diseases
which have blighted green revolution rice in Indonesia and the
Philippines, and the worsening nutritional status of affected
farm families all over the world. They also note that the green
revolution requires industrially produced inputs like fertilizer
and pesticides which, as Lester Brown, the revolution's most
prolific advocate, tells us, "only agribusiness firms can supply
efficiently. This means that the muitinational corporation has
a vested interest in the agricultural revolution along with the
poor countries themselves." 10
Fostering such dependence and shoring up the existing
social order in the third world is in fact an important function
of technically oriented development programs and even of
direct "food aid." Both books criticize the role of U.S. and
international aid programs in aiding agribusiness investment in
commercial agriculture and in financing development projects
which are specifically aimed at increasing the power and
wealth of local elites.
How the Other Half Dies gives a detailed criticism of the
U.N.'s Industry Cooperative Program, which orchestrated
business participation in the 1974 World Food Conference,
and of the World Bank group of development agencies [IBRD,
IDA, IFC] which has financed huge rural development
projects all over the world. An example of the kind of
"development" being promoted is the bank's Tarbela Dam
project in Pakistan. This involved "probably the largest ever
single civil engineering contract ... to a consortium of Italian
and French firms, subsequently joined by German and Swiss
partners." 11 The ma.jor effect of the dam on poor farmers,
after years of delays, was to uproot 80,000 of them whose
villages happened to be in the area that was flooded.
Food aid programs are also criticized. Both books note
that U.S. government programs give away outright relatively
little food and that the majority of aid goes to support
reactionary regimes in the third world. Food First gives an
extensive description of the way in which food aid was used
by the Nixon Administration to augment diminishing military
aid appropriations for the Saigon regime in the waning days of
the war and notes that, presently, South Korea is the chief
10
recipient of U.S. food aid.
Besides criticizing development and aid programs and
the myths by which they are justified, Food First and, to a
lesser extent, How the Other Half Dies, try to show how food
fits into the general structure of unequal economic relations
between rich "western" countries rprimarily the U.S.] and the
third world. Food First points out that the orientation
towards cash crops and the highly skewed distribution of land
which characterizes most third world agriculture is a colonial
inheritance which is continuously reinforced in the present by
the continued economic domination of poor by rich countries.
The primary source of this domination in agriculture is
investment by multinational agribusiness firms (often aided by
development programs) in production, inputs, and processing.
Production investments tend to concentrate in cash
crops for export which, far from being the "natural ad-
vantage" of the third world, are the shackles which bind
it to the vagaries of an unstable world market for these crops.
Furthermore, such production is usually relatively capital
intensive, employing modern labor-saving technology on
relatively large tracts of land, with the result that more
workers are displaced than employed. Food First emphasizes
how little this kind of investment benefits the countries on the
"receiving end" by pointing to the Sahel during the drought
and famine of 1971: while in some areas local food production
fell by one third or more, cattle exports increased, exports of
frozen beef tripled, and fish and vegetable exports stood at 56
and 32 million pounds respectively.
Agribusiness also contributes less directly to the creation
of hunger. By marketing labor-saving tracto's and other
elements of the technological package that is supposed to
represent "modern agriculture," it creates the conditions
under which agriculture can make even le:;s rational use of
resources available in the third world. As Food First notes,
"Studies of agricultural modernization in India reveal that a
major reason for rapid tractorization in the late 1960 s was not
increased efficiency, but the opportunity to get rid of
laborers." 12 International development programs often aid
these efforts. U.S.A.J.D. and the World Bank, for example,
have given large loans to Pakistan, India, the Philippines, and
Sri Lanka for farm mechanization.
Agribusiness has also invested in food processing in the
third world, mostly intended for local urban "middle-class"
markets. Occasionally, however, poorer people have been
induced, by heavy promotion, to substitute nutritionally more
costly processed products for traditional foods. The result in
the case of infant formula, which has widely replaced breast
feeding among poor third world mothers, has been a disastrous
increase in early child malnutrition in many countries.
Perhaps little in this critique is new to anyone who has
kept up with the critical literature on development in the last
few years. In fact, the analysis may seem somewhat superficial
because the complex causal relations have not always been
explained fully. There is no doubt, for
example, that multinationals and aid programs have 'made'a
significant contribution to the process of "tractorization" in
the third world and that this has resulted in unemployment.
Still, the processes of "tractorization," mechanization, and
adopting technology in general are not so simple as making
these things available-even with good credit-or as the fact
that laborers are troublesome. There is a more profound
economic process going on, involving the dynamics of
capitalist competition and growth, in which agribusiness
companies, acting in their own economic interests, and
agencies like the World Bank, acting in the political and
economic interests of the international bourgeoisie, also
happen to serve the interests of an elite of third world farmers
and businessmen. In a way, criticism of development
programs, agribusiness, etc., which does not fully explain the
economic and social processes of which they are a part is a
form that puts the cart before the horse. For example, it can
result in apparent contradictions, such as the World Bank's
recent recommendation of land reform in Brazil's impover-
ished northeast, which cannot be explained without reference
to these processes.
It should be remembered, however, that these books are
not intended to be scholarly. Rather, they are aimed at the
widest possible audience, and they try to contend with
justifications of development programs which, despite their
obvious stupidity, are very much alive in official development
circles. In simply debunking these myths, they perform an
invaluable service. Of the two, Food First is probably the more
convincing because it presents a somewhat more historical
argument and backs it up better with apposite examples and
data.
Both books devote a last section to alternative proposals
for solving the food problem. They seem generally to favor
third world self-reliance, land reform, and the development of
intermediate indigenous technology. Susan George, for
example, has great praise for the B.A.I.F. in India, which
develops production techniques in close collaboration with
local peasants. Her appraisal of what international develop-
ment programs and agribusiness can do is an unqualified
"nothing." Even new "alternative" programs will only make
things worse, because they leave control in the hands of the
rich countries whereas real solutions must come from the
affected people themselves.
Food First proposes "food self-reliance" as the first
necessity. As a way to achieve it, George points to the People's
Republic of China:
The Chinese clearly provide the most positive evidence in
modern times of what great achievements are possible when
agricultural development is defined as a social problem as
opposed to a technical one. They have demonstrated what
can be accomplished by believing in the human potential
for local self reliance and by local, democratic decision-
making in both social and economic areas. 13
Land reform is the key element for both books.
However, there is never any explicitly revolutionary tone to
the analysis, merely the suggestion in Food First that
the food self reliant policies we have described simply
cannot be implemented by the present governments of
most underdeveloped countries . .. because these policies
directly counter the self-interest of the propertied elite now
in power . .. If enabling people to feed themselves is to be
the priority, then all social relationships must be
reconstructed. 14
How this might be accomplished, though, is left to the
imagination of the reader.
In criticizing these proposals, one is inevitably led back
to the problems to which the analysis and problems address
11
themselves. To make this clear, it is worthwhile to
summarize briefly the rather unstructured argument which is
implicit in the material presented in the two books. This is
basically that: the resources do exist to produce the food
which could solve the problem of hunger, but they are not
being used in this way because of the unequal distribution of
wealth within the social order. Specifically, the preponderance
of hunger in the third world is due to the preponderance of
people there who control neither the resources to produce nor
to buy food. This maldistribution has its origins in European
and American colonialism and imperialism, it is continued by
the current structure of unequal relations between rich and
poor countries, and many of the efforts designed to solve the
hunger problem-programs for economic aid and
development-serve only to perpetuate this structure. One
important aspect of the colonial relationship and its modern
(imperialistic) counterpart, is that agriculture, instead of
producing the food which people need, produces exportable
cash crops. The recommended solution is a redistribution of
agricultural resources (land reform) and a conscious national
policy of self-sufficiency ("food first") in the third world.
These conclusions seem to flow naturally enough from
the argument as it is presented above, but they suffer from a
certain ambiguity which is implicit in the analysis. They are
aimed at what the analysis perceives to be the social causes of
hunger, and yet the analysis fails to examine the specifically
capitalist nature of the social structure in which these causal
relationships are observed, presumably because this would be
offensive to readers. When, for example, one considers the
apparently general relationship between the distribution of
land holdings, the production of locally consumed food, and
hunger, it turns out to depend entirely on the specific
historical circumstances under which these elements interact.
The nature of the relation is never fully explicated, because to
do so would require making clear that the circumstances
actually being considered are those of capitalist dependence,
and that the solution ultimately depends not on land reform
or "food first," but on a break with capitalism.
The result of this failure is that both the solutions
proposed and the analysis on which they are based are
historically superficial. The analysis fails to distinguish clearly
between the role of land as a source of income and as a source
of food under capitalism (a distinction which might be
meaningless in a non-capitalist society) and the very different
contributions which the distribution of land makes to hunger
in each role. It is worth a slight digression to understand this.
The maldistribution of land as a source of income, and
the process by which it is getting worse in many countries, is
certainly a major contributor to the maldistribution of income
in highly rural third world societies, and thus to hunger there.
On the other hand, under capitalism, land is for the first time
not overwhelmingly a source of food and other agricultural
goods for local consumption. This is due to the development
of wide markets for food and agricultural raw materials and, to
a large degree, has been accomplished by the separation of
farmers from the means of producing their own subsistence. In
particular, the third world has become the site of extensive
cash crop production, usually based on large estates or
plantations, with the majority of farmers controlling little or
no land. There is, therefore, a general historical correlation
between the unequalness of control of land, the degree to
which it has produced or not produced locally consumed food,
and the existence of endemic hunger.
When solutions for the problem of hunger are proposed
which do not take account of the specific historical character
of this relationship, then the relationship is being treated as if
it were general rather than the result of the specific process of
capitalist development outlined. In committing this historical
error, it becomes possible to exclude capitalist social relations
themselves from criticism. Susan George is able to suggest, for
example, that "If the political will to create an egalitarian
society existed, it could be done under any number of social
systems." 15
This criticism should not be taken to mean that the
solutions offered are dogmatic or necessarily simplistic. Both
authors understand full well the role of the landowning classes,
for example, in resisting any kind of progressive redistribution
of rural wealth and the necessity, therefore, of removing them,
possibly by forceful means. Furthermore, Food First is careful
to point out that it is not just the distribution of land that
counts in achieving "food first." Moreover, it is clear that
there have been systems relying on fairly equal distribution of
land which did not meet local food needs. The small peasant
proprietors of the Sahel, for example, were forced to grow
cash crops in order to generate money income to pay taxes
imposed by the French. Food First would add a series of
qualifications which the Sahelian economy under the French
obviously failed to meet: "local, democratically- organized
production units," depending on "mass initiative," with
foreign trade only "as an outgrowth of development" and with
"coordinated social planning." This series of specific qualifica-
tions, however, is rather like the description which the blind
men gave of the elephant: it is no substitute for getting to the
essential character of the whole thing. What determined what
was grown, and for whom, was the integration of the Sahel
into the French department of the world capitalist economy.
The effect of the distribution of land was entirely conditioned
by this circumstance.
In failing to deal explicitly with this, the solutions
proposed run into their most serious difficulty: it is never
clearly established how they are to be implemented. The
implication is clearly revolutionary, but against what, by
whom, and by what means are things which neither book is
seriously willing to venture. *
Notes
1. From World Bank and IDA, The World Bank in Africa
(Washington, D.C.: January 1973), quoted in Joe Collins and Frances
Moore Lappe, Food First (Boston, 1977), p. 344.
2. National Research Council, World Food and Nutrition
Study (Washington, D.C.: 1977), pp. xii and 2.
3. Ibid., p. 28.
4. Ibid., p. 67.
5. Ibid., p. 68.
6. Susan George, How the Other Half Dies (London, 1976),
p. 15.
7. Transnational Institute, World Hunger. Causes and Remedies
(October, 1974).
8. Collins and Lappe, op. cit., p. 19.
9. Ibid.
10. George, op. cit., p. 116.
11. Ibid., p. 237.
12. Collins and Lappe, p. S1.
13. Ibid., p. 402.
14. Ibid., p. 380.
15. George, p. 283.
12
The Green Revolution in South India and North Vietnam
by Kathleen Gough
In late 1976 I spent ten months in Thanjavur District of
southeast India, re-studying two villages after an absence of
twenty-five years.
1
I had gone back to find out what had
happened to the village people, especially with respect to their
standard of living, their relations of production and their
integration into the world economy. I was particularly
interested in the effects of land reforms passed between 1952
and 1974, and of the introduction of "green revolution"
technology since 1965.
When my work in Thanjavur was finished, I spent ten
days in North Vietnam as a guest of the Vietnam Women's
Union. During my visit I concentrated on agricultural relations
and methods in the Red River delta. I left Thanjavur in late
October soon after the beginning of the autumn rice harvest,
and, luckily, arrived in Vietnam during the same harvest in
mid-November, so I was able to do a fair comparison of
harvesting methods and of yields. I wish to compare the two
regions with respect to changing agricultural relations over the
past quarter century. *
The quality of my data from Vietnam is of course much
poorer than that from India. I have spent a total of two and a
half years in Thanjavur, and several more years in other parts
of south India: I know people and families well and have been
able to live freely among them, untrammeled by government
supervision. In Vietnam I had only ten days, and was on a
guided tour by members of the ruling party. However
objective they might try to be, they naturally wanted to show
me the best in their country. I know, for example, that Vu
Thang cooperative in North Vietnam, where I gained most of
my information, is exceptionally successful and that a number
of foreign visitors have been taken there, whereas the two
villages I studied in Thanjavur were ordinary ones that I had
chosen. Even so I did see other villages in Vietnam. My
interpreter and I worked hard to obtain information, and I had
planned in advance the questions I wanted answered. Although
there are many gaps in my information, I think I found out
enough for a comparison to be of value.
Thanjavur District of Tamilnadu State lies on the coastal
tip of southeast India, and Thai Binh province on the coast of
North Vietnam, about 20 kilometers southwest of Haiphong.
Thanjavur is a larger region and has a population of about 4
In the Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars, Volume 9, No.2
(April-June 1977), I focused on another set of comparisons: "India and
Vietnam: Family. Plannins and Everyday Life."
million; Tamilnadu, the State of which it is a part, has about
48 million, almost as many as the whole of Vietnam. Thai
Binh is only one-fourteenth the size of Thanjavur, but has a
population of 1,400,000.
The two regions are ecologically similar. Thanjavur
forms the main part of the Kaveri River delta; Thai Binh, that
of the Red River delta. Both areas concentrate on wet rice
cultivation, which occupies about 70 percent of their
cultivated acreage. Both areas export a great deal of rice to
other provinces with food deficits, and import manufactured
goods. In both cases the crops are mainly watered from a
network of irrigation channels issuing from the main river.
They have rich alluvial soils inland, but are clayey and saline
near the coast, and suffer from periodic floods and droughts.
Both areas had late harvests because of drought last autumn.
While both regions have the potential of growing two, and
even three paddy crops a year, they also grow subsidiary
vegetables, root crops and fruit trees. In Thanjavur where the
climate is hotter these crops are chiefly coconut, palmyra,
bananas, sugarcane, pulses and groundnuts; in Thai Binh,
potatoes, tapioca, bananas, citrus fruits, tomatoes, sugarcane
and green vegetables. Both areas use cattle and buffalo for
plowing and to draw country carts, but their numbers are
declining with the introduction of tractors. Chickens and goats
are very common in Thanjavur; chickens and pigs in North
Vietnam. The people fish in ponds and lakes as well as in the
sea.
Both Thanjavur and Thai Binh are more densely
populated than most areas in their countries. Both have about
eighty percent of their people living in the countryside, and
about 70 percent engaged in agriculture. Thai Binh's density is,
however, much greater than Thanjavur's. Thai Binh has 1,095
to the square kilometer, a phenomenal density for a
predominantly agricultural society, while Thanjavur's density
is 395. Thanjavur's population has increased by only about 21
percent since 1961, as many white collar and service workers
have left the district to work in India's major cities. Thai
Binh's population has increased by about 50 percent in the
same period, and the government is only now encouraging
some peasants to migrate to the highlands to form new
agricultural communities.
2
Both Thanjavur and Thai Binh have ancient civilizations,
the one Hindu and the other Buddhist, going back more than
2,000 y'ears. Both have suffered exploitation and distortions of
their economies and social structures under Western
colonialism. Until 30 years ago both had steeply stratified
13
rural societies consisting of big and small landlords, cultivating
tenants and agricultural laborers, plus a variety of specialized
artisans and village servants. Both had extensive temple and
monastic lands. Both have since undergone various land
reforms, Thanjavur in 1948, 1952, 1956, 1961, 1969 and
1974, and Thai Binh in 1955 and 1959.
3
Since about 1965, both Thanjavur and Thai Binh have
been selected by their governments for intensive agricultural
development, especially of paddy. The techniques include
hybrid high yielding varieties of seeds or HYVs, chemical
fertilizers and pesticides, the use of electric or diesel pumpsets
for supplementary irrigation, some use of tractors, and an
increased development of mechanized rice mills. Both have
obtained some inputs and techniques from abroad: Vietnam
mainly from China and the Soviet Union; Thanjavur mainly
from the U.S.A. and Western Europe.
Having said all this, we must turn to the differences,
which are striking. They include the basic strategies of the two
countries, and their outcomes in terms of agricultural methods
and yields, the way each region is related to the city, the
nation, and the world economy, and the changed relationships
and living conditions among the villagers.
Thanjavur, Tamilnadu State
When India became independent in 1947, the ruling
Congress Party chiefly represented the rising Indian bourgeoi-
sie and the more "modern" landowners and richer peasants. It
also had to appeal to India's army and bureaucracy, and to its
large literate petty bourgeoisie which influences elections both
in the towns and the countryside. In addition it wanted to
pacify the poor peasants and landless laborers, who had been
recently or were currently carrying on strikes, uprisings, or
even Communist revolutionary struggles in various parts of the
country, including Thanjavur.
From 1947 to 1965 the main rural strategy involved
moderate land reforms designed to place a "ceiling" on the
size of the bigger holdings, to give fixity of tenure to
cultivating tenants, and to raise the wages of agricultural
laborers. Soine chemical fertilizers, and loans for agricultural
development, were gradually made more readily available to
the better off farmers who could pledge their land or jewels in
return for credit. Efforts were made to form voluntary farming
and marketing cooperatives. The expectation was that the
more industrious owners and tenant cultivators would increase
their yields and raise Indian agriculture out of the stagnation
into which it had lapsed during the last 50 years of British
rule.
Until the mid-1960s this strategy had a certain modest
success. In 1948, some of the biggest landlords, the zamindars,
had to sell parts of their estates to the government, which
resold them over a period of years to the more prosperous of
the tenant farmers. In Thanjavur, the share of the crop due
from tenant cultivators to their landlords was legally (although
often not actually) decreased from about 60% to about 40% in
1956, while the wages of agricultural laborers on the bigger
estates were raised. In law, the ceiling on land ownership was
fixed at 30 acres in 1961. Thanjavur's total paddy output
increased 65% between 1951 ahd 1961, and its average yield
per hectare per crop increased from 1.5 tons in the early 1950s
to 2.2 tons in the early 1960s. Part of the increased output
came in this period from a 4 percent expansion of the
cultivated acreage and a 110 percent increase in double
cropping, as well as from an intensified yield per crop hectare.
4
In the mid-1960s, India experienced a food crisis
resulting partly from drought and partly from maldistribution
and politically motivated withdrawal of U.S. aid.
s
In 1965,
chiefly under the influence of the U.S. government and the
Ford Foundation, particular areas or "package districts" were
chosen for intensive agricultural development with modern
inputs and machinery. Most of these materials were bought
from U.S. corporations, or manufactured ani processed by
them in India in collaboration with Indian firms. The accent
was now on technological progress, regardless of social
Kumbapettai, TbanjavuT. Pbotos by K. Gougb.
structure, and land reforms tended to be either pushed less
vigorously or forgotten.
The effects of this new technology on agricultural
output have been modest. Whereas Thanjavur's total paddy
yield had increased by 65% between 1951 and 1961, it
increased by only 45% between 1961 and 1976, the period of
the "green revolution." The yield per crop hectare has,
however, increased from 2.2 tons in 1960-61 to 3.1 tons in
1975-76, and the extent of double cropping from 21% to 30%
of the paddy land. Thanjavur's food output has therefore
increased more than twice as fast as its population in the green
revolution period, and the increase has come from
intensification rather than from expansion of the net paddy
acreage. This has in fact declined somewhat in favor of
groundnuts and sugarcane.
14
By the mid-1960s it was clear that the rural rich who
largely finance the Congress Party had manipulated the land
reforms, or had simply contravened them by registering their
lands in the names of bogus owners, so as to maintain control
of a large share of the land. The biggest landlords had also
benefitted from Thanjavur's Cooperative Marketing Federa-
tion, while cooperatives for cultivation had failed to get off
the ground. To this day the Tamilnadu government has
confiscated less than 2% of the land in Thanjavur for
distribution to landless families, although considerably more
than that was sold voluntarily at higher prices by the bigger
owners In advance of the various acts. Thanjavur did
experience new land reforms in 1969 and 1974 which
provided for the registration of tenures and reduced the
"ceiling" to 15 acres, but both acts have been widely
disregarded.
6
Although it is hard to ferret out the details, there
are still a large number of family estates of around 100 acres
and a few of 1,000 to more than 3,000 acres, some of which
belong to the families of well-known politicians.
Despite the land reforms, landownership has become
more concentrated. There were slightly fewer r e ~ i s t e r e land
owners in Thanjavur in 1971 than in 1951. Given the
increased population, this meant that in 1951 30 percent of
the agricultural population owned land while by 1971 only
about 20 percent did. Since most landlord families have
divided their estates among their individual members in the 20
years in order to evade the "ceiling," this means that there are
considerably fewer landowning families today than there were
in 1951. Moreover about a quarter of the land is still owned by
temples or by four rich monasteries, whose estates are exempt
from the Ceiling Act.
Land has changed hands considerably as a result of both
land reforms and the green revolution. The old rentier
landlords, especially Brahmans, are declining and being
replaced by capitalist farmers using the new inputs and
machinery. Some of the land has been bought by rich or
middle peasants who adopted the new technology early and
were successful. Some of it has been bought by merchants or
mill owners dealing in paddy or other local commodities or
serving as agents for foreign firms in south India or Singapore.
Some of it has been bought with "black" money by smugglers,
and in a few cases by counterfeiters or gangsters. Indeed, I
came to feel that smuggling, which is rife in Thanjavur's mixed
economy because of its long coastline and proximity to Sri
Lanka and Singapore, had had as significant an effect on
agrarian relations as had either land reform or the green
revolution, the subjects I went to study. One result of these
changes is that much of the land now belongs to middle
ranking or "backward" Hindu castes or to Muslim traders,
whereas most of it formerly belonged to Brahmans or to two
other aristocratic castes (Vellalas and Naidus). However, less
than 3% has passed to Harijans, who form the main body of
Thanjavur's agricultural laborers and are 22% of the people.
The new land holding pattern is characterized by the sale
of more and more land to absentee owners possessing big
estates elsewhere or operating mills or businesses in nearby
towns. (In many cases, they do both.) In Kumbapettai, in
Northwest Thanjavur, absentee ownership has increased from
48% to 75% of the total acreage between 1951 and 1976,
while in Kirippur, in East Thanjavur, it has increased from 44%
to 58%. This type of land alienation antedates both the land
reforms and the green revolution. It began around the 1840s
when Thanjavur became a major exporter of rice to the British
plantations of Malaya and Ceylon. In the last 25, and
especially the last 10 years, the same trend has accelerated.
The result of the pattern of absentee ownership has been
that more of the village's surplus wealth, over and above the
bare subsistence of its working members, goes out to a small
number of rich traders, industrialists or landlords. Some of
them seldom visit their farms and have them managed by
agents. In Kumbapettai I estimated that about 43 to 53
percent of the value of the agricultural produce goes out in
this way, depending on the size of the crop; in Kirippur about
33 to 41 percent leaves. Still more of the surplus value goes
out of the ordinary village in the form of interest to
moneylenders (who are usually also landlords or merchants),
and through the inflated prices villagers pay for consumer
goods, which have risen faster in the past quarter century than
annual real wages or tenants' crop shares. Still other kinds of
"drain" are the profits on fertilizers and pesticides reaped by
large Indian and western firms, and the numerous sales taxes
that villagers pay on consumer goods-taxes which the
government uses in part to provide subsidies to the bigger
landowners. All in all, the villagers are now left with a smaller
share of their total product than in 1952-a product which has
to be divided among a larger number of people. Most of them
are so poor that they receive or spend at least half to
three-quarters of their incomes in food, leaving very little for
clothing, implements, utensils, medical care, education,
ceremonies and all the other things they need.
15
The change to more intensified capitalist farming has
also meant the eviction of tenant cultivators. In 1952,
cultivating tenants leased about half the total cultivated land
and were about a quarter of the agricultural work force. Today
they lease only about a quarter of the land and are about 10%
of the agriculturalists.
8
Evicted tenants, and also artisans
whose handicrafts have become have swollen the
ranks of landless or near-landless agricultural laborers.
The latter are now a formidable proportion of the
population. Whereas in 1952 they were about 40% of the
agricultural work force, today they are about 65% and as high
as 74% in the east coast region around Kirippur. Moreover, in
1952 about half of these laborers were "bonded laborers" or
semi-serfs (pannaiyals) , whereas today they are almost all
casual day laborers (attu koolikkar). As serfs they were
exploited and sometimes even flogged, but they received some
kind of livelihood throughout the year. As casual laborers,
most of them can find work now only for about 90 to 140
days a year. In between, no-one is responsible for them and
they form a marginal, half-starving population. Few of them
actually die outright of famine, but most of them-and also
many of the tenants and smallholders--are severely mal-
nourished, able to eat two meals a day only for three months
in the year. A study done in 1970 found that 48% of
Thanjavur's Harijans and 24% of its other people were existing
at half or less of the subsistence level judged minimal by
United Nations standards.
9
This is in spite of the fact that
Thanjavur grows three times as much rice as is needed for its
people, and despite the increase in paddy yield over the last
quarter century that is almost five times the rate of population
increase. The "surplus" paddy and other products go to feed
export crop farmers and urban dwellers in other districts, to
feed stock which provide meat and milk for wealthy people, 10
to be hoarded and used for speculation by merchants and
landlords and (in the case of an estimated 15%of it) to be
eaten by rats.
11
Ironically, field and house rats which live on
paddy form the main source of protein for Thanjavur's
Harijans, who are prevented by the market economy from
eating more than a modicum of the rice they grow.
Before it was replaced by President's rule in February
1976, the former Tamilnadu government tried to supply free
house-sites of about one-fiftieth to one-twentieth of an acre to
as many landless laboring families as possible. A majority of
villagers now own such small gardens and the laborers cultivate
them to eke out their livelihood. Fifteen percent of the
families in Kumbapettai, however, and 22% in Kirippur still
lack even these small plots. Wh('n they are unemployed, they
must catch rats, or fish for tiny crabs and minnows in the
irrigation channels (since the fish in the main ponds and rivers
belong to the landlords), or collect and sell firewood or
cowdung for fuel. The lowest caste among the Harijans
(Parayas) retain their traditional right to remove dead cattle
and eat the carrion, and this forms another part of their food.
To summarize, Thanjavur has been at least partly within
the world capitalist economy for about 250 years. First it was
a supplier of rice, hand textiles and brassware to European
trading companies. Later, in the 19th and early 20th centuries,
it became a virtual monocrop region providing rice and
migrant laborers to the British plantations of Ceylon and
Malaya.
12
Since independence it has become the main supplier
of rice to the export crop regions of south India. In this last
period, in spite of considerable modern technology and
increased yields, only about 5 percent of Thanjavur's
people-the rich farmers, the bigger merchants, the mill owners
and the money lenders-have increased their wealth. The rest
of the people have either remained much as they were, or in
the case of about 60 percent of them, have been impoverished.
The. reasons lie in the fact that despite its "socialist"
rhetoric, India is following a path of dependent state-capitalist
development. The pmpertied groups who control the
government have been unwilling to make the sacrifices
necessary for independent capital investment, and have failed
to mobilize the nation adequately for further capital
accumulation. India has therefore become deeply indebted to
the major industrial nations. In return it has to make
concessions to them, allowing their corporations or govern-
ments to invest in industries that are profitable to them, and
of course, to take out their share of profits. Perhaps most
damaging, India is involved in unequal exchange through its
trade with the industrial nations. It supplies them with raw
materials and light industrial goods, which require much labor
to produce, but buys back from them machinery, food grains,
and know-how which cost less labor to produce. In these and
other ways part of India's wealth is drained off to the major
industrial countries.
Internally, the top five percent or so of the bourgeoisie
and big landlords enjoy a standard of living derived from the
western nations. India's industries cater mainly to this group,
to the rich farmers and petty bourgeoisie, and to the growing
military and paramliitary establishments. The mass of the
people, too poor to buy other than a minimum of light
industrial goods, become progressively poorer. This narrow
internal market produces stagnation and crisis in Indian
industry, which instead seeks markets abroad in less developed
16
Third World countries. Given the steep competitIOn from
other industrial and industrializing states, however, it is
unlikely that India will be able to achieve such a
semi-peripheral or sub-imperialist world position.
Thanjavur is on a low rung of this ladder of exploitation.
Its job is to supply two thirds or more of its rice crop to
neighboring districts where export crops and industrial goods
are produced. The profits on this lucrative trade go to the
bigger landlords and merchants, especially since the govern-
ment lifted all restrictions on the food trade in the autumn of
1976. Like India as a whole, Thanjavur imports only a narrow
range of industrial commodities, most of them too costly for
90 percent of the people to buy.
Because Indian industries are limited, stagnant, and
capital intensive, they offer little scope for new employment
for the excessive number of landless laborers. Indeed they laid
off up to 700,000 workers in 1976.
13
The cities are already
choked with service workers and beggars. There is therefore a
bottling up of poverty-stricken, frustrated and underemployed
people in the countryside.
The Communist Party of India, and its successor, the
Marxist Communist Party, have led class struggles among
Thanjavur's poor peasants and landless laborers over the past
30 years. The biggest waves of militancy came in the late
1940s when the Communists were trying to create a
revolutionary situation throughout India, and in the late
1960s, when they were struggling against the ill effects of the
green revolution-the eviction of tenants, the introduction of
tractors, and the impoverishment, through inflation, of small
peasants and laborers. Sharp confrontations and fighting
occurred between the Communist Union of agricultural
laborers and the landlords' Paddy Producers' Association,
which was backed by the police. In 1968, after a prolonged
dispute, the President of the Paddy Producers' Association, a
Congressman, assisted by 300 other landlords and their goons,
is alleged to have burned to death 44 Harijan women, children
NEW FROM CALIFORNIA
THE EXPANSIVE REVOLUTIONARY
ELITE DIPLOMACY
District Politics and Chinese Foreign Policy
State Policy-Making and the United Front
in India Doctrine
Donald B. Rosenthal J. D. Armstrong
Starting from an examination Armstrong comes to grips
of political conflicts in two with the conceptual and prac-
districts in the Indian state of tical difficulties associated
Maharashtra, Rosenthal ex- with Chinese foreign policy.
amines both the patterns of He offers a systematic ap-
interaction among actors in proach to the question of the
the Indian federal system and role of ideology that must be
the policies those interac- applicable to other Commu-
tions have produced. nist countries.
350 pages, $16.75 259 pages, $15.75
and old people of the Communist Union in Kilvenmani, a
village a few miles from Kirippur. In the ensuing court cases,
the 23 accused landlords were freed, but 8 Harijan men were
imprisoned for periods of one year to life on charges of the
earljer murder of a henchman of the landlord President. 14
Similar brutalities and several murders of Communist peasants,
took place in the late 1960s.
Such incidents, and the general increase in repressive
actions during the recent Emergency, seem to have
temporarily daunted the Harijans. Although the landless
laborers of east Thanjavur are still loyal to the C.P.I.-M they
have been more or less quiescent for the past five years, while
the Party itself appears to have concentrated mainly on wage
negotiations. In law, Communist bargaining has kept daily
agricultural wages roughly equal in real terms, or even slightly
higher, than they were 30 years ago. But because there is such
a glut of labor and so much underemployment, the actual
annual incomes of most of the workers have declined.
The underlying causes of the Emergency in India of
1975-76 seem to me to have been industrial and agricultural
stagnation, severe inflation, a recession resulting from
inadequate demand among the common people, and a virtually
stationary per capita income over the previous decade. These
conditions, with all their side-shoots of corruption and
speculation, led to unrest in all classes, including conflicts
within the ruling party. Under the Emergency the Indian
government clamped down on such conflicts and also made
possible brutal suppression of workers' and peasants' struggles
and brought about a further cut in the incomes of large
sections of the working people. In Thanjavur several hundred
political opponents of the Congress regime were imprisoned,
including three top leaders of the Communist Peasant Union.
Elected village committees for public works, which belonged
mainly to the opposition, had their powers emasculated. The
paddy trade was freed from earlier government restrictions in
CONTEMPORARY JAPANESE
JAPANESE LANDLORDS
The Decline of a
BUDGET POLITICS
Rural Elite
John Creighton
Ann Waswo
Campbell
A reappraisal oftheeconomic
In this first full-scale account
and social role of rural land-
of budgeting in a non-West-
lords in late nineteenth- and
ern nation and the most pene-
early twentieth-century Ja-
trating dissection of Japanese
pan. Taking issue with the
governmental process yet to
common portrayal of land-
appear, Campbell discusses
lords as a powerful and reac-
the characteristics, interests,
tionary elite throughout the
and strategies of each major
prewar period, Waswo argues
institutional participant.
that they experienced a
323 pages, 4 charts, 7 tables,
marked decline in their power
$15.75
and Influence both at the
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160 pages, 17 tables, $10.00
UNIVERSITY' OF CALIFORNIA PRESS Berkeley 94720
17
October 1976, creating a bonanza for the landlords and
merchants and more misery for the people in a season of
drought and poor harvests. Under the central government's
tree planting program, paramilitary forces bulldozed the
homes ofhundreds offamilieswhomthepreviousgovernment
had encouraged to settle on government waste-lands. Tocope
with thegrowingpopulation,especiallyofunderemployedand
marginal citizens (by now thegreatmajority),thegovernment
pushed its sterilization program to reduce the birth rate. At
the national level, although not in south India, the Congress
governmenthas, ofcourse,since beenthrownoutin therecent
elections. Yet the same problems all remain, and it seems
doubtful that any future bourgeoisgovernmentwill beable to
sitonthem withoutrenewedrepression.
ANOTHER'SET'FORCLASSROOMASSIGNMENT!
BULLETIN
OFCONCERNEDASIANSCHOLARS
THE 'GREENREVOLUTION'
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LuzonPriortoMartial Law"(5:2. $1).
Rick Doner: "The Development of Agribusiness in
Thailand"(6:1, $1).
Richard Franke: "Solution to theAsian FoodCrisis; 'Green
Revolution'orSocial Revolution?"(6:4, $1).
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GailOmvedt: "Agrarian Crisis in India"(6:4, $1).
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Landlesslaborers, Tbanjavur
18
Thai Binh
In 1945, Thai Binh had a rural class structure similar to
that of Thanjavur today. Vu Thang cooperative, which now
has about 4,000 people, was then a single village. The Director
told me that 4 percent of the families were landlords, 25
percent were smallholders or tenant farmers, and about 70
percent agricultural laborers, or, in a few cases, artisans. In the
early 1940s, life was atrocious under both the Japanese and
the French collaborationist rule. People ate only about four
ounces of rice a day, and many starved. "Sometimes we went
to the hills to collect wild cassava," said the Director, who in
1945 had been a young poor peasant. "Mostly, we tied up our
waists." Like Kirippur, Vu Thang is 20 kilometers from
coast and the soil was saline and often flooded. As In
Thanjavur in 1951, the paddy yiel d was only 1 to 1.5 tons per
crop hectare, and 'in most fields only one crop was gr?wn. The
low literacy rate, the lack of medical care, and the hIgh
rate seem to have been considerably worse than In ThanJavur
either then or now.
When they withdrew from Vietnam in the spring of
1945, the Japanese troops destroyed large stocks o.f In
the ensuing famine, 2 million died in Vietnam. two
months, 770 of them in Vu Thang village. LIke Kmppur
laborers, most villagers supported the Communists and were
overjoyed by the revolution of August 1945. Almost at once,
however, French troops re-invaded the country. In Vu Thang,
Ibinting rattan carpets, Bu Thang Cooperative, Thai Binh. Vietnam
as elsewhere, the bigger landlords supported them and helped
them to erect shooting-posts for machine guns around the
village. Until 1953 there was intense fighting by land, air and
sea. Tens of thousands of small bombs were said to have been
dropped on Vu Thang village, destroying its river bridge and
creating several craters, which are now lakes for fish. There
were many deaths and Vu Thang's people killed 250 French
troops and officers. Even after the truce was declared, the
French returned and virtually destroyed the village.
As they gained strength during the war against the
French invaders, the Communists with peasant help
expropriated the collaborationist landlords and gave their land
to their tenants and laborers, while reducing the rents paid to
landlords who were neutral or who supported the Commun-
ists. In 1955 the first land reform act was passed by the new
government; it was implemented in Vu Thang in 1956. Rich
and middle peasants were left in situ, but where necessary
were asked to give away a little land to the less fortunate.
Rentier landlords were expropriated, with some compensation,
and their land divided among their poor peasants and landless
laborers.
This first land reform, which went far beyond what
Thanjavur's land acts had set out to do, lasted until 1959. With
the consent of the villagers, Vu Thang was then formed into
14 cooperatives in which the land was pooled and worked
collectively. As new machinery and methods appeared,
requiring greater capital and cooperation, the peasants agreed
to form four cooperatives in 1961, and finally, a single one in
1965, when the green revolution was introduced in earnest.
Now, except for 5 percent of the land which is devoted to
private house sites, production is completely coI1ective and is
managed currently by a male Director, a woman Vice-director,
and an elected committee of five peasants. All adults in the
cooperative work a 40 hour week in return for wages paid in
cash and kind. The Director told me that there is only a 20
percent difference in the wages of the highest and lowest paid
peasants, both male and female, with those engaged in heavy
or tiring work such as paddy transplanting or digging ditches
receiving more. I do not know whether the salaries of the
Director and the administrative committee are included in this
calculation_ In a textile factory in Hanoi, however, I learned
that the highest wage of a skilled operator is twice that of a
young novice, while the Director's salary is three times that of
a skilled worker. If Vu Thang has even this degree of
inequality between highest and lowest, that is, one of six
times, which I think unlikely, it is far less than either
Kumbapettai or Kirippur. There, the richest landowners'
incomes are at least 10 to 1 5 times those of the poorest
laborers, even though these villages contain none of
Thanjavur's big landed or merchant plutocracy, but only
"small fry." The biggest landlords and merchants in Thanjavur
enjoy 1,000 to 8,000 times the average income of a landless
laborer, not to mention the denizens of Indian and foreign
corporations which do business in Thanjavur.
In Vu Thang cooperation and central planning have
made possible great improvements in production and the
efficiency of labor, while the propaganda of the Communist
Party, and in some cases the laws, have changed people's habits
to make them more thrifty, healthy and sanitary. The result is
a community which is still sparsely supplied by western
standards, but is immeasurably more prosperous, comfortable.
19
egalitarian, cheerful and optimistic than the villages of
Thanjavur. I find it hard to describe the joy and pride, even
the elation, that I found there, for fear I am not believed, so I
will stick to material matters.
The irrigation and drainage system has been entirely
re-organized since cooperation began in 1961. Most of this
work was done by women, who formed 70 percent of the
agricultural workforce during the war against the United States
invaders; many of the men, as well as some women, were away
in the army. The people have learned to collect every scrap of
human and animal manure for fertilizer. Each house, for
example, must by law have a double latrine, each half of which
is used for six months and then sealed for decomposition to
take place. The cooperative's 40 hectares of bomb-craters are
used not only for scientific fish breeding, but also to grow
algae for fertilizer. These processes form a striking contrast
with Thanjavur. There, agricultural officers find it hard to
move a bund or a channel even one foot in order to improve
irrigation because they cannot obtain permission from the
numerous village owners. It is only on huge estates like those
of Kabistalam or Poondi that integrated development
programs can be carried out, but there, of course, the profits
are private and do not benefit the whole community.
Thanjavur's people still drop excrement haphazardly on the
roadsides or in gardens, where it creates a sanitation problem
and is almost useless as fertilizer. Cowdung is burned as fuel,
whereas in Thai Binh trees have been systematically planted
round the boundaries of each cooperative, to provide fuel,
shelter for the crops, and green manure. Algae spawn freely on
Thanjavur's village ponds, but their use as fertilizer appears to
be unknown.
Vu Thang's use of natural manures means that only 30
percent of the total fertilizer is made from chemicals, a
proportion much less than in Thanjavur, where costly
imported chemical fertilizers have largely replaced green
manures and ashes. Vu Thang uses twelve pumpsets on 300
hectares of paddy land, whereas Kumbapettai uses eighteen on
175 hectares. Vu Thang's pumps are, of course, more efficient
since they are located so as to serve the whole cooperative,
whereas Thanjavur's are all privately owned by landlords or
rich peasants, who often divert water from others' fields.
Thai Binh also differs from Thanjavur in its use of
machinery. In Thanjavur there are no threshing machines,
tractors are imported and costly, and modern rice mills, also
imported, are huge and capital intensive. Vu Thang has tiny
threshing machines, rice mills, food crushers for pigs, and
trucks for transporting produce, all made in Vietnam. Tractors
appear to come mainly from the Soviet Union, as do large
trucks and cars, and the bigger rice mills in the cities. My
impression is that in general Vietnam's agricultural machinery
is simpler, smaller, cheaper and more labor-saving than that of
Thanjavur.
As a result of the various improvements in labor,
irrigation and inputs, Thai Binh achieved an average annual
yield of 5 tqns of paddy per hectare in 1974, compared with
Thanjavur's average of 4.1 tons. Vu Thang, indeed, has now
achieved 5 to 5\1, tons per crop hectare, or 10 to 11 tons per
year, whereas Thanjavur's best villages produce only about 3'h
tons per crop hectare in a favorable year. North Vietnam
produced an average of 2.2 tons per crop hectare in 1975
compared with Tamilnadu's 1.9 tons and with 1.7 tons in
India as a whole. Although the nationwide differences are not
yet very great, spectacular increases have been achieved in the
best run cooperatives like Vu Thang, and can be expected in
more places in the future.
While in late 1976 Thanjavur's laborers and townspeople
were receiving from the fair price shops 32 kilograms of rice
per household per month, or about eight kilograms per adult
and four per child, North Vietnam's people were receiving a
minimum of thirteen kilograms per adult in the cities, with
extra rations for peasants and people engaged in heavy labor.
Vu Thang's peasants receive 25 kilograms per adult as part of
their wages, with smaller rations for children according to age.
It should be said that in Thanjavur 17 kilograms per month are
considered optimal for a hard working adult who has little
other food; in Vietnam less rice is needed because a more
varied diet is available. In Vu Thang the peasants use surplus
rice to feed their private stock.
Vu Thang has 1800 prize hogs and 3500 ducks, geese
and turkeys which are raised by the cooperative under
scientific conditions. In addition the peasants raise in their
private gardens about 2000 pigs, or about two per family,
along with chickens and pigeons. As in Thanjavur, buffaloes
have been reduced from about 200 to 100 per village in recent
years because of the introduction of tractors, although both
rT!gions still do at least half their ploughing with animals. In
general and q u t ~ apart from the cooperative's pigs and
poultry, Vu Thang's private livestock seemed to me more
plentiful, and certainly better fed, than the goats and chickens
of Kumbapettai or Kirippur.
The average and the minimal standards of living in Vu
Thang are much higher than in Thanjavur. This was also my
impression of other villages. The peasants eat meat or fish, eggs
and fresh vegetables every day, foods that are rare luxuries for
at least three quarters of Thanjavur's people. Seventy percent
of the house roofs in Vu Thang are tiled, and the rest soon will
be, although the average for tiled roofs in Thai Binh is still
only 16 percent, about the same as in Thanjavur. The peasant
houses I saw are as large and comfortable as those of rich
peasants or small landlords in Thanjavur, and in excellent
repair. The one I examined, which I was told was typical,
contained three spacious rooms, a store-room and kitchen,
with wardrobes, cupboards, chairs and tables, bureaux, beds
and bedding, a wall clock, an electric ceiling fan, a radio and
many trophies and pieces of bric a brac. In Thanjavur only
about 10 percent of the rural houses are electrified, and fans
are luxuries only rich peasants and landlords can afford. All
households in Vu Thang have a private garden of 0.05 acres,
like the majority in Thanjavur. But whereas in Thanjavur
agricultural laborers must get most of their livelihood from
these piots for about half the year, in Thai Binh they are
tended in one's spare time and are designed to supplement the
regular income. Part of the produce is peddled on roadsides
and in the towns at weekends, and the money is used to buy
luxuries.
The welfare services in Vu Thang are on a totally
different scale from those in Thanjavur. The cooperative owns
a hospital with 12 beds and a fully trained doctor, nurses and
assistants; there are elementary and high schools for all
children to attend freely, and day nurseries for infants over
one month. Everyone receives free medical care, and women
have three months fully paid leave at a birth. Films are shown
twice a month in the administrative center and there are
festivals of song and drama. Old people and the disabled
20
Threshing in Vu Thang
receive pensions, adequate for their livelihood. While all these
things exist in Thanjavur, only the elementary schools (and
then not the books) are free in most villages, and the health
care, education and entertainment of the majorIty are far less
adequate than in Thai Binh. While literacy is virtually universal
in North Vietnam, it is still only 39 percent in Tamilnadu, and
only 27 percent among the women.
The position of women in Thai Binh is quite different
from that of the women of Thanjavur. While able-bodied
women must all work in the cooperative in Thai Binh, only 11
percent of women are in the workforce in Thanjavur. And
while women still form about 65 percent of the agricultural
workforce in Thai Binh, women are only 12 percent of the
agricultural laborers and 2 percent of the independent
cultivators in Thanjavur. In Thanjavur as elsewhere in India,
moreover, the proportion of women in the workforce has been
declining since 1921.
15
In Vu Thang cooperative, women
occupy prominent positions in the managing committee, the
Communist Party, the Peasant Union, the Youth Front, and,
of course, the Women's Union, whereas they are absent or are
mainly token figures in the village subcommittees and even the
Communist Peasant Unions of Thanjavur.
While Thanjavur's agricultural laborers live in enforced
idleness for half to two-thirds of the year, Vu Thang's peasants
work in craft shops when they are not required in the fields. In
addition to the admmistrative buildings, Vu Thang's main
street contains workshops producing mattresses, rush mats,
mosquito nets, towels, ceramics, bricks, tiles, ropes, and
wooden furniture. There is also a blacksmith's shop and a shed
full of sewing machines where the peasants make their clothes.
The mats, mattresses, towels and mosquito nets are bought by
the government and are exported to Hanoi. In the Thanjavur
villages, on the other hand, old crafts are declining and new
ones are individual and sporadic. "Twenty-three households of
weavers in Kirippur have lost their livelihood in the last
quarter century and have become agriculturalists; so have the
blacksmiths, potters and goldsmiths of both Kumbapettai and
Kirippur. One rich peasant woman in Kirippur owns a sewing
machine, and a few Harijans make and sell rush mats, but these
are unorganized occupations, unimportant in the village
economy. Carpentry, brick kilns, and tile and ropemaking are
widespread in Thanjavur but are of course private businesses,
with an often uncertain market.
The distribu tion of the total product in Vu Thang forms
a revealing contrast with that in Thanjavur villages. In Vu
Thang 45 percent of the cooperative's food crop and also a
substantial part of its poultry, meat, fish and craft goods are
sold to the state. When the money received is added to the
estimated value of the remaining 55 percent of the produce, it
is divided as follows. Seventy percent goes for wages and
running expenses, including hand tools, purchased raw
materials, and the repair of machinery. Twenty percent is
spent on civil engineering, chemical fertilizers, and machinery;
and ten percent goes for social welfare, including housing,
pensions, creches, schools and the hospital. While I am unable
to calculate these quantities accurately for Thanjavur, I have
estimated that between fifteen and thirty percent of the
product (depending on the yield and the village organization)
goes in wages or crop shares to the tenants, agricultural
laborers, and artisans who do almost all the work. About 10
percent is invested privately in fertilizer and machinery, while
two to four percent goes in land tax and local taxes. The
remainder, or about 55 to 70 percent, forms the net profits of
land owners and merchants, more than half of them absentees.
Housing, most education, and most medical care are paid for
from private incomes and vary accordingly in their adequacy.
The recent war hit Vu Thang very badly, as it did every
community in Vietnam. Most of the young men and many
young women went to fight in the army. Exactly one quarter
of the households in Vu Thang had one or more members
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21
killed. Women took over most ofthe production and learned
to plough, use machinery, build irrigation works, and shoot
rifles and anti-aircraft guns, in addition to their traditional
agricultural and domestic work. Thevillage was bombed twice
during the Christmas bombing of 1972; it received two
"mother bombs" and one "ordinary" bomb. Apart from
sending troops, the most important contribution of North
Vietnam's agricultural cooperatives was to supply food,
especially rice, to the armed forces and liberated zones in
South Vietnam. Each province had a linked sister-province
which was provisioned via the Ho Chi Minh trail. (Ittooktwo
months to go down there, and sometimes six months to
return.) The peasants held emulation drives to contribute to
the sister-province from their wages and private produce, and
thisofcourseraised theincentivetoincreaseproduction. Iwas
told that each family would contribute as much as 100
kilograms of rice, about one month's rations, in a single
emulationdrive.
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I have tried to show that the living standards as well as
the usefulness, hope and wellbeing ofThai Binh'srural people
are much higher than in the villages ofThanjavur, in spite of
34years ofintermittentwarfareand 10yearsofextraordinary
devastationin Vietnam.Thereare several reasonsforthis.
The distribution of wealth is relatively egalitarian in
Vietnam.
There is more to distribute, because the product per
hectare is largerand therehas beenno"drain"onthevillagers'
surplus to absentee landlords, money lenders, nor, as far as I
know, toforeign companiesorgovernments.
The product is greater because cooperation, full
employment and planning allow muchgreaterlaborefficiency
and creativity, yet without overwork,starvationoroppression
foranyone.
The removal of profit as the main motive for
production leads to less interest in and reliance on foreign
models, to cheaper and more useful machines, and to full use
oflocal materials.
In a planned and cooperative economy, the problem
of "lack of demand"-so crippling for Indian industry-
disappears; the only problem then is how to produce enough
toserve thepeople.
Vietnam is certainly moving towards socialism, yet it
must still participate in the capitalist world economy._ Its
government is trying to obtain machinery, and equipmentfor
oil and metal mining, from the Western nations as well as the
Soviet Union and the Eastern bloc. To this end, it is
encouraging certain kindsofforeign privateinvestment,taking
loans from the International Monetary Fund, andsteppingup
the export to handicraft goods. The present policy of the
government is to industrialize as fast as possible. Emphasizing
production above self-sufficiency, its slogan is "All for
production,all forsocialistconstruction."
Such a policy, or indeed any policy short of total
self-sufficiency, means a certain degree of involvement by
Vietnam inunequalexchange with theindustrialnations,some
drain in foreign profitsandinterestonforeign loans, andsome
use ofthemarketin theinternaleconomy.Onehopesthatthis
will not lead to a more unequal society nor to any loss of
political power among the common people. PerhapsVietnam,
together with othersocialist countries, will be able tomodify
and eventually transcendthe world market. Whether, orwhen,
this will happen depends in part on how quickly other
countriesbecomesocialist. *
22
Notes
1. The research in Thanjavur on which this paper is based was
carried out in 1951-53 and in 1976. The work in 1976 was made
possible by Fellowships from the Shastri Indo-Canadian Institute and
the Canada Council. The information on North Vietnam was obtained
during a 10 day visit to Hanoi and the surrounding provinces in
November 1976. I am grateful to the Women's Union of Vietnam for
inviting me to their country and for making possible my tour of
villages, and especially to Mrs. Nguyen Le Khanh, who acted as my
interpreter. An earlier version of this article was presented as a lecture
in the Sociology Department, State University of New York,
Binghamton, on May 3, 1977, and was published in Social Scientist,
Trivandrum, Kerala, India, No. 61, August 1977, pp. 48-64.
2. See, for example, "The Nam Ha Girl on a Resettlement
Area" in Women of Vietnam, No.4, 1976.
3. The main land reforms in Tamilnadu have been the
Abolition of Zamindars Act of 1948, the Tanjore Tenants' and
Pannaiyals' Protection Act of 1952, the Tamilnadu Cultivating Tenants
(Payment of Fair Rent) Act (XXIV of 1956), The Tamilnadu Land
Reforms (Fixation of Ceiling on Land) Act (LVIII of 1961), The
Tamilnadu Agricultural Lands Record of Tenancy Rights Act (X of
1969), and the Tamilnadu Land Reforms (Fixation of Ceiling on Land)
Act of 1974. In North Vietnam, the Law on Agrarian Reform of 1955
distributed the lands to the peasants, and in 1959 the peasants' lands
began to be amalgamated into cooperatives.
4. Figures are taken from the Season and Crop Reports of the
Government of Tamilnadu for the relevant years.
5. The United States government temporarily delayed the
shipment of good grains to India during its border war with Pakistan in
1965. In 1966 the same threat was used to compel the government of
India to permit Standard Oil of Indiana to market fertilizers in India at
its own rather than at government controlled prices.
6. In Kumbapettai, 32 out of 53 tenant cultivators in 1976 had
no document recording their tenures, and paid roughly 60 percent of
their produce as rent to the landlord, in addition to providing most of
their own cultivation expenses.
7. According to the decennial Censuses, there were 388,934
full time or part time cultivators in Thanjavur in 1949-50 and 378,696
in 1969-70.
8. In Kumbapettai, for example, cultivating tenants leased
slightly over half of the land in 1952, whereas they leased only 26
percent of it in 1976. In Kirippur tenant cultivators leased 44 percent
of the land in 1952 and 24 percent in 1976.
9. A. Vagiswari, Income Earning Trends and Social Status of
the l1arijan Community of Tamilnadu, Madras Institute of Develop-
ment Studies, 1972. Reviewed in The Radical Review, Madras, Vol. 4,
No.1, April 1973, pp. 26-33.
10. Much food is still used in offerings to the deities in temples
in Thanjavur. In the famous Subramania Temple of Swamimalai, for
example, I was told by priests that 100 liters of milk are still poured
out daily as libations to the deities.
11. The number of field rats has greatly increased in Thanjavur
since 1952. Officers of the Intensive Agricultural Development
Programme are trying to exterminate them with poisons, but the
Harijans strongly object to these programs, since a large part of their
food supply is derived from rats.
12. For further discussion see Kathleen Gough, "Colonial
Economics in Southeast India," Economic and Political Weekly,
Bombay, Vol. XII, No. 13, March 26, 1977.
13. The virtual cessation of emigration by the peasants and
workers of Thanjavur to Sri Lanka and Malaysia since the Second World
War also, of course, increases the pressure on the land in Thanjavur.
14. Some of the landlords in the case have since been
imprisoned as a result of a Supreme Court verdict in response to an
appeal by the Communist Party of India-Marxist.
15. Census of India, 1971, Series 19, Tamilnadu, Part X-B,
Thanjavur District Census Handbook, yol. 1, pp. ix-x.
23
Short Review: West PapuaNew Guinea
The Rule of the Sword: The Story of West Irian, by
Nonie Sharp. Available from Kibble Books, Box 210,
P.O. Malmsbury, 3446, Victoria, Australia. 1977. U.S.
$2.50postpaid, $4.50airmail, 76pages.
byRichardW. Franke
In May and June of 1977 more than 1,000 people
crossed the border between Indonesian West Irian and the
recently independent state of Papua New Guinea, long an
Australian protectorate. Since those border crossings, people
have become increasingly aware of a previously unacknowl-
edged, little-understood liberation movement to free West
Irian (or West Papua New Guinea as the rebels call it) from
Indonesiancontrol.
The movement for a free West PNG has been in exis-
tence now formore thanfourteenyears,butlittleinformation
has previously been available. Now a political awakening in
Australia, producedinlarge measurebytheheroicandsuccess-
ful resistance of650,000 East Timorese against the full force
ofan Indonesian military invasion, has created a new interest
in the possibilitiesforsomeform ofstruggle tosucceedamong
the 800,000 (West) Irianese who became part of Indonesia
during big-power dealings in 1962-dealings in which the
United Nations was unable toprotect the population from a
fixed"referendum"in 1969.
In this brief but informative booklet, LaTrobe Uni-
versity sociologist Nonie Sharp presents us with a lucid and
well-documented summary ofthe evidence on continuingand
expanding protest. Contained within her study is much in-
formation difficult to obtain otherwise in the U.S. Equally
important, however, the factual account is sprinkled with
numerous fascinating if tentative theoretical insights. We are
given a brief backgroundin theDutchcolonialperiod, andthe
indigenous millenarian movements which served in Sharp's
view as foci ofresistance. There is an account ofthe modern
class composition of West PNG society, emphasizing the im-
portance of theethnic caste barrier set up by the Indonesian
government topromote use ofthe region as a place to'which
the most impoverished peoples of other Indonesian islands
might emigrate. Thereismaterialontheinevitableattemptsof
the people ofWest PNG to resist Indonesian exploitationand
on thesubsequentexpansionoftherepressiveapparatusofthe
Suhartoregime.
Sharp also informs us of the rich mineral potential of
West PNG, with itsoff-shoreoil depositsnearBiakand,onthe
south coast, the "largest base metal outcrop in the world"
which Freeport Sulpher is freely exploiting. Then there is the
Gag Island nickel region under contract to PT Pacific Nickel
which is 43 percent owned by U.S. Steel Corporation. Re-
pression against union organizing, the lowlevel ofwages, and
the incidence of multinational investment provide a familiar
socio-economicsetting.
In the last part ofthe study, Sharp attempts touse the
data from the West PNG movement to form the outline ofa
political theory of what she refers to as cultural resistance
movements. This interesting approach to the problems of
political organization in the widely-dispersed, kinship-based,
communities of the region raises two fundamental questions
which the study does not answer. First,we areleftwondering
just what is the political program ofthe OPM, the Organisasi
Papua Merdeka or Free Papua Movement.If oppositiontothe
brutality and exploitation ofthe Indonesiangeneralsandtheir
partners at PT Pacific Nickel is spreading, is italso leading to
the formulation of a unified political theory? The implied
comparison with East Timor is questionable, at least in part.
Fretilin, which continues to lead the East Timorese struggle,
developed both out of the local traditions of East Timorest'
society and contactswiththeexperiencedrevolutionary move
ments of Mozambique and other places. After iust a feVl.
months in active politics, Fretilin had developed a national
program in education, health care, land reform, women's
emancipation,etc. Itis notclearfromSharp'Saccountthatthe
OPM has as yetgone beyondoppositiontotheexcessesofthe
Indonesian rulers to create a program thatwould rally people
tobuildanewsociety.
Related to this is the question ofwhat position will be
taken on the OPM by progressive forces within the rest of
Indonesia. Sharp does not comment directly, but we may
presume that the issue will be much more difficult than
supporting the East Timorese whose previously different
colonial history and clearly progressive social program have
attracted many Indonesian supporters. The Indonesian left
was engaged for many years on the side of theJakartagov-
ernment precisely to wrest control ofWest Irian from Dutch
colonialism.
Can a debate be opened within Indonesian progressive
circles on themeritsofculturalliberation,politicalautonomy,
national independence, or some other approach to building
solidarity between the oppressed West Papuan peoples and
their potential-and perhaps crucial-allies underground on
Java, elsewherein thearchipelago,andoverseas? Sharp'sbook-
let provides much of the background for this significant
debate, both for Indonesiansandforall otherswhowatch and
analyzefrom outside. '*
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EDITORS AND PUBLISHERS
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24
A Review Essay
Recovering
by Liane Ellison Norman
In 1967, I returned to the United States after nearly
three years in Nepal and India. I was thirty years old. I had
two babies and was about to have a third. I was thoroughly
middle class, well educated, of an optimistic and liberal turn of
mind, and I was undergoing severe culture shock. It was
immediately clear that something was dreadfully amiss. There
was a war going on in Indochina which I had not much
thought about, and knew nothing about. It did not take long
to decide that the war had to be stopped.
Now I am aware that after more than a decade, during
which my children grew to adolescence and I have reached
forty, I am radically different. I am still middle class, still well
educated (far better, in fact, than I was); I am not too
optimistic, and I find it hard to characterize my political
persuasion. The war is over, and yet it is not over either. It was
for me, as for others, a source of grief and fury, as well as of
new strength and enlightenment. Now I find that my
continuing preoccupation with the war is also a source of
estrangement from some close friends who did not experience
it in the same way.
I also find, to my surprise, that as I write about the war,
pieces of my childhood and young adulthood come vividly to
mind. Perhaps it is middle age creeping up, but I rather think
not entirely. I think it has to do with the need to figure out
what parts of my life I can use now, and what parts I cannot. I
think it is an attempt to integrate the "me" that I was before
with the "me" that I am now. Some of this is a private effort
of memory. But I am convinced, as I sort through the
storehouse of origin and experience, that there are connections
I can make that will help me to explain to people who started
out like me what has happened in these ten years, and in the
years before that. Somehow I do not think we can complete
our voyage since I think there are very
tricky rapids to be negotiated we can figure out
where we have already been.
G;a; Phong! The Fall and Liberation of Saigon by
Tiziano Terzani. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1976.
The View from Highway 1 by Michael Arlen. New
York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 1976.
Friendly Fire by C. D. B. Bryan. New York: G. P.
Putnam's Sons, 1976.
Winners and Losers: Battles, Retreats, Gains,
Losses and Ruins from a Long War by Gloria Emerson.
New York: Random House, 1976.
Nguyen Khac Vi en writes of the continuity between
Vietnam's past and present:
Today, Marxism has replaced Confucianism as a doctrine of
political and social action, and a new revolutionary ethic
has replaced Confucian morality in Vietnam. Any attempt
to revive Confucianism is useless. But, contrary to what
pseudo-revolutionaries believe, Vietnamese Marxists con-
sider Cofucianism and the work of the scholars part of their
national heritage, to be assimilated by the new society. 1
Many Americans imagine that the "Communist takeover"
involves the imposition of something new and strange to the
southern Vietnamese, a complete break with history. It seems
probable that many of those who have left Vietnam in the first
years of recovery had learned to feel at home with Western
affiliation. To these people, something new and strange has no
doubt happened; an existence fraught with hardship is upon
them and there is no way to understand or endure it. For
them, I imagine, neither ancient moorings nor the change from
colonial conditions makes much sense. But, as Nguyen Khac
Vien points out, the singular quality of the Vietnamese
revolution is its reliance on collective experience. History,
which includes other episodes of foreign intervention, turns no
one out, cadre or collaborator. Therefore education takes
place rather than bloodbath.
After most revolutions there is a group of disgruntled
former leaders or a group angry at its loss of privilege. Such a
group is a threat to the new order, and is often dealt with
rather more harshly than seems to be the present case in
Vietnam. But in Vietnam, a class of collaborators grown fat on
privilege and dependency is no anomaly. The present reiterates
the past and makes it possible for most people to face
staggering hardship with confidence and emotional orienta-
tion. Those who lack this confidence and orientation blame
hardship on the new regime; for instance, Nguyen Cong Hoan,
25
wntmg in Newsweek's "My Turn" column.
2
But for the
majority, it appears that the Marxist idea of class struggle
illuminates recent history and ties it securely to the
past-foreign intrusion sponsors indigenous illegitimacy, which
leads to legitimate rebellion-and equally history illuminates
the modern idea of class struggle.
One of the worst crimes the French committed against
the peoples of Indochina was to alienate them from their own
histories, said Simone Wei!. Herself a Frenchwoman, she added
that "To lose one's past is to fall into colonial servitude.,,3
Those children who were permitted to go to school under the
French learned of "their" fair-haired, blue-eyed ancestors, the
Gauls. They were marked by the French to collaborate,
schooled against themselves, against their traditional sources of
strength, taught to forget what they remembered and what
they had learned from their elders.
The French were astute in this matter, for resistance to
foreign rule had traditionally come from collective awareness,
which had provided resistance with formidable purpose. But
the French did not succeed. The sense of Vietnamese grievance
and entitlement grew, recollected and sharpened by the new
revolutionary point of view. They defeated the French after a
century of struggle and a third of a century after that they
defeated the Americans.
No sooner had the last of the Americans and their
quislings fled, than the Vietnamese
4
set about to broaden the
collective awareness that had fueled resistance. This effort gave
their victory of 1975 and their continuing revolution an
astonishing quality of both purpose and moderation.
For the most part, Americans have moved in the
opposite direction, as instructed by public officials, to repress
and restrict collective experience. That is why I feel the
pressing need both to integrate my personal past and present,
and also to share it with others more or less like me. The war
wasted our time, energy, resources, dollars, and our sons. It
laid waste three tiny countries on the other side of the globe,
forfeiting the high regard of much of the world. It broke
families and faith. It changed many lives far more drastically
than mine. And yet, we have been instructed to forget it and
move on.
This attempt to dictate forgetfulness trivializes where it
does not repress the central event of our past decade and
longer. It leaves those of us who were changed, damaged, and
awakened-and I would guess that in greater or lesser ways,
that is all of us -isolated in grief and awareness that we cannot
adequately express or share. We are, thus, stymied, unable to
recover from the war, at least as a people. It seems to me folly
to try to go on when we don't know, yet, where we have been.
While some of us know (or think we do) where we have been,
that very knowledge cuts us off and encourages us to speak
only to one another.
It helps to begin with the Vietnamese, for every
indication is that. their recovery as a people began with
deliberateness and dispatch immediately after Americans left.
It is worth thinking about why and how this was possible.
Most Americans knew very little of Vietnam during the
war, although every so often the press showed puzzling images
of a sparrow-boned people who did not really look so
dangerous (hard to imagine them on the verge of assaulting
California, though, of course, you never know). Unless they
exerted themselves to find out about the countries being
bombed, there was no way for Americans to know much,
although some grew tired of mayhem and passion and said at
long last, in numbers large enough to be impressive, NO to
official pleas for more money to wage more war. Knowing
little, most Americans have not had the chance to ponder the
paradox that the Vietnamese winners, who suffered the
heaviest losses and face unimaginable difficulty, have been
kind to one another on the whole, while the American losers,
whose homes went unscathed, have been cavalier and cruel to
one another.
Tiziano Terzani, an Italian journalist, was in Saigon for
the liberation and the first three months thereafter. He moved
freely and observed well and finally left with a suitcase full of
notes, tapeS', newspapers, and other documents, from which he
wrote his account, Giai Pbong! It is an exciting account, not
only for its vividness and clarity, but because it is suggestive of
how a people can go about recovering from a btutal insult to
its entire social and moral system.
Terzani quotes "Big" Minh, speaking in his brief tenure
as President of a crumbling regime that had waited too long to
deal with political and military reality. Minh spoke wisely:
" 'do not abandon the country, do not run away. The tombs
I feel the pressing need both to integrate my personal
past and present, and also to share it with other more or
less like me. The war wasted our time, energy, reso'urce,
dollars, and our sons. It laid waste three tiny countries
on the other side of the globe, forfeiting the high regard
of much of the world. It broke families and faith. It
changed many lives far more drastically than mine. And
yet, we have been instructed to forget it and move on.
of our ancestors are here, this is our land, it is here that we all
belong. "(41) He was reminding his compatriots of a constant
theme in Vietnamese life, that strength lies in remembering a
common ancestry, a common land, a shared experience. Where
the ancestors are buried, both continuity and land are
consecrated and bound together with the present. Minh was
asking the people to love their terribly damaged country.
During the war, many Vietnamese had been divorced
from memory. Some had been ripped away from their land
and communities by forced urbanization, herded into refugee
slums. Some had collaborated, willingly or not, with foreign
powers that felt no kinship with the history and experience
that had held Vietnam together for twenty-one centuries. Even
under these disruptive conditions, the idea Minh echoed is a
remarkable force in postwar Vietnamese life.
As the end approached, the military city of Saigon,
wretched capital of imperial fu tility, was chaotic with
disbelief. The fiction of legitimacy and permanence around the
artificial government had gone deep. No one could fully
comprehend what was happening, as liberation forces moved
swiftly down the coast to take Saigon. There were, says
Terzani, "hair-raising rumors of wholesale slaughter and
revenge. . .. All these rumors were regularly confirmed by
military spokesmen in Saigon, and corroborated by Wash-
ington." (52) Fear created madness to escape and fury when
the means of escape were pre-empted. Perhaps those
26
Vietnamese who had collaborated feared not only bloodshed
but the recognition they would have to make, if they stayed,
of the part they had played in the shared and reiterated
Vietnameseexperience.
"Takeover" was carried outbya mostunusualvictorious
army. It did not rampage into the last enemy stronghold and
capital, guns blazing, to kill, loot and rape. Instead, the
conquerorscamesoftly, often bemusedbytheextravagantand
unfamiliar city, sometimes guided by addresses written on
scraps ofpaper. Terzani spoke to a man who drove a Russian
tankintothecity.
"Where is Doc Lap Palace?" Than asked two ARVN
soldiers.
Onedidn'tanswer. The othersaid:
"Iknow."
Than removedtheiruniformjacketsandhadthemget
into the tank, which turned right at the nextcorner. Than
didn't trust them. Seeing a girl on a Honda, he stood up
straightin the tank andshouted,
"How do weget to Doc Lap Palace, please?"
The girl stared in astonishment at ourfighter. It was
surely the first time she'd seen asoldier ofthe Liberation
Forces.
"You're on ThongNhatAve. There's thepalace, right
in front of you,"sheshouted. (93)
Such deferential behavior, under the stress if victory, is not
customary. Men throughout history have been used to
swaggering barbarities when they win. Instead, these victors
said "please" and asked directions to the site of surrender.
Terzani tells howone"youngguerrilla, onreachingtherug [in
the palace] ... automatically removed his rubber sandals."
(94)
The reason for this unusual behavior from a victorious
army has todo with thepurposeofthewar, which was nevera
victory in theordinarysense. Instead, its purposewas restoring
Vietnam to itself, to its collective identity and its historic
continuity. The liberation soldiers sawthemselves as carriesof
a storied tradition (a fascinating reversal, since societies most
often assign a wide division between men who fight for and
women who preserve tradition), as well as exemplars of
revolution, whose attitudes would be influential. This was
important since the population was unnerved,
first by fear, then by the failure of anything fearful to
materialize. Therewerereunions offamilies longseparatedand
largely ignorant of one another. There were also suicides:
There were significant strains for those Vietnamese of the
South who had come to depend on the daily presence of a
foreign occupation and its corrupting largesse. Therefore, as
onebodoi (soldier) toldTerzani,
"We must bean example to thepopulation. That's the only
way they'll follow us. For the North, the example was
Uncle Ho. ButtheSouth, whatexampleshasithad? Thieu?
Sure, the population imitated him in corruption, hisgreed,
andlook what itgot them. To builda new societyit's not
talentthat's needed, butvirtue."(201)
The bo doi offered the power ofexamplein such a way
that itwas possible to begin torebuildlocal communities.This
process drew on Vietnamese village tradition and served to
re-establish human connections the war had broken. It was
carefully done. Several bo doi would canvass each neighbor-
hood to find out, in detail, who lived there, and would then
call together the neighbors to setup a cell. This cell had the
job of solving problems of unemployment, of orphaned
children and old people, of settling local disputes, and
generally ofsetting the lives ofits ownpeoplein betterorder.
It elected aleader, theonlyrequirementbeingthatthisperson
not have been connected with the old regime. In one case a
professorsoelected
was delighted with his work. The cellhadno headquarters,
and he was obliged to go from house to house in order to
deal with all the various problems. Thus he came to know
his neighbors well, establishingrelationships with them that
wouldhave beenimpossiblebefore. (252)
Even AndreGelinas, a French-Canadianpriest, wholived
"Thewarisover,andyetitis notovereither..."
(The sticker, made hy the Topps Chewing Gum Co., was in the
"Free Wacky Pack"stuffed in 5 lb. Shedd'speanutbutterpails.
Shedd's is a division ofBeatrice Food Co., which, among other
things, ownstheLaChoyChinese FoodProductsline.)
in Vietnam for most ofthe period ofAmerica's involvement,
and who is generally sour about the new order of things
(though he concedes that the old order "did great harm and
made many errors,,,4), points out that what is- happening is
"for the most part ... in complicity with the rest of the
population."5 For all of the repressive measures he cites
6
(general hardship, food shortages, redistribution of wealth,
re-educating of former collaborators, re-settlement of ruined
land), he concludes that there is "a new solidarity," that
"people are learning to live and work together ... in the
process of forging a spirit and a strength that are
extraordinary."7
Terzani, who unlike Gelinas had no partitularstake in
the colonial regime, makes clear how unusually well thought
out the revolutionary postwar plans were. Precisely because
the revolutionaries knew what they wanted to achieve well
beyond military victory, and because the revolutionary goals
27
drew on the past, including its suffering and its error, the usual
harsh habits of conquest were avoidable. The unfolding of the
new society, even considering its strenuous hardship, could be
both kindly and generous, an oddity in human history. Its
initial gentleness was partly possible because the real enemy
had finally folded its flag untidily and left in an inelegant rush.
But even so, this revolution has been marked throughout by
solicitousness for a distraught and suffering people.
The hoc tap, or re-education process, the extensiveness
of which seems to be directly related to the degree of
departure from Vietnamese ways during the French and then
the American periods, seems to be primarily a way of
recovering a common history, recounting one's experiences to
neighbors and hearing theirs, discovering what had gone on
outside of Saigon's propaganda reach, and beginning to define
and resolve together the problems of reconstruction. As an
alternative to punitive measures, hoc tap drew on a tradition
of collective problem-solving; for those whose lives had been
rearranged by foreign individualism it offered another "way of
seeing the world," (231) as Terzani puts it.
When the liberation forces entered Saigon-or revealed
themselves already to be everywhere-many people were
confused, because new conditions did not square with old
views.
"The world was clear to me before. I thought the
Communists wanted to take away our homeland and that
Thieu was defending it. Now I feel disoriented," said a
woman . .. "The bo doi came to our house, they asked
about our family, about our health, they asked us if we had
enough to eat. They were kind. They were Vietnamese like
ourselves, and now I don't know who to hate. " (181)
In other words, those Vietnamese who had been told to think
of themselves as ancestored by the Gauls of fair hair and blue
eyes, or those who had known no other life than that
dominated by them, had to reaffirm two things: that they
were Vietnamese, of Vietnamese ancestry, and that their
recent experiences of war were part of the history they shared
with other Vietnamese. Each practical problem to be solved
was to be solved in reference to this knowledge.
Terzani notes and worries about the curious capacity of
the Vietnamese revolutionaries "to overcome the natural and
acceptable inclinations of man, which seemed to me to lead
the Revolution itself to the borders of inhumanity." (160) He
is reacting to what a freed political prisoner, released from Cqn
Son prison, tells him, that she still has her contribution to
make, that it is important that released prisoners not indulge
in revenge nor that they expect special treatment or special
rights on account of their ordeals. Terzani is moved to
admiration by this degree of discipline and restraint, but
in the pit of my >..,tomach I could not help finding all this
simultaneously extraordinary and disturbing ... These
people made me think of the saints I had seen in church
paintings as a boy, with their suffering and smiling faces,
halos around their heads and an almost mad light in their
eyes. To me they had always seemed unbelievable, so
remote from the world.
Sometimes in Vietnam I had the impression of
finding them in front of me once again in a modern version,
as revolutionaries, with the same features, the same
qualities: faith, abnegation, purity . .. For this too was
true: the Revolution was puritanical, but effortlessly so.
There was no renunciation, only a natural sublimation of
everything in struggle, in revolutionary tension. (161)
He is right to be apprehensive about zeal, which has often in
history been fearful. (Our own Puritan zeal, after all, has
lingered in a set of emotional habits sufficient to equate
salvation in Vietnam with its destruction.) There is in
Vietnamese culture, however, considerable reinforcement for
material simplicity and the good of the community over the
individual. As one Vietnamese folksong puts it,
Both men and women excel in their work.
When the sun shines, they work hard;
When the sun sets, they return home,
Day after day, month after month,
They enjoy their work and hardships. 8
This song does not express a yearning for plenty, but for hard
work shared, on a land that is undergirded by continuities.
It seems likely to me that a collective tradition,
particularly when it is attuned to the hardship and suffering
people have experienced, and when it is considerate of their
practical needs, is an immensely powerful agent of recovery.
When people were bombed off their land and out of their
communities, when families were broken and separated, when
people were forced to leave the graves of their ancestors, they
were driven into isolation, and, even in crowded cities and
refugee camps, were forced to fend for themselves, to endure
their pain alone. Such circumstances drive people crazy. For
minimal survival, they repress reality or develop instant,
distorted relations with it. The great wisdom of the
Vietnamese revolution is that, unlike most revolutions, it is
not a break with, so much as a recovery of, the past. Individual
pain and loss do not estrange one from shared history, but 2.re
reclaimed by it. There have been other wars waged against
foreign incursion and collaboration in the past, and there have
b'een other heroes, victim,s, dupes, and collaborators. The
modern Vietnamese revolutionary spirit can be absorbed and
guided by a tradition that prevents isolation in time and
separation from countryfolk.
But what of those who got on their airplanes and
helicopters and flew halfway around the world to go home?
Some went in body bags, some on stretchers, some on two
sound legs. Some had deserted, some had changed minds. They
returned to a country that has never been bombed, defoliated,
bulldozed or burned (that is to say, not by foreigners, though
Americans have a propensity for knocking down, despoiling,
and uprooting themselves). But home was nevertheless a
nation torn and injured by the war it had exported.
Now that our soldiers have come home and now that our
longest war is over, how are we going about recovering? Or are
we going about it at all? There is an eerie feeling that we are
not, that we are, as a nation, simply ignoring that there is
anything to recover from.
High officials are uneasily aware that the largely
peaceable course the Vietnamese revolution has taken has
rendered their earlier explanations and actions more criminally
suspect than ever. They would just as soon t h ~ public did not
re-open the question of the war. Perhaps, however, toward the
end of the war, some of us noted that Henry IGssinger began
to slip "civil war" casually into his commems, and just as
casually omit "aggression." Others in high positions began
28
calling the war a "mistake," and perhaps some of us noted that
such a word-whose magnitude describes wrong postage, a
missed appointment, or a fallen souffle-sorted ill with thirty
years' worth of involvement, people killed and wounded,
dollars spent, crops poisoned, families broken beyond all
accounting. But even if we noticed these slight words and
realized that they made liars out of their users, what were we
to do? We were all advised, in avuncular tones, to "put the war
behind us," to forget, to repress the experience which has
recently so dominated our lives. Each of us, so long as we
acquiesce in official desires, is forced to live with private
memories and hurts locked up, without anyone to talk to.
Spiritually, we are forced to live like the Vietnamese victims of
forced urbanization in Saigon shanty towns, alone and going
crazy.
One reason for the success of officials in shutting us up
and away from others who might share our experience is that
TV has seconded their efforts. The postwar blackout on the
subject of the war and what it has done to us is consistent with
its failure during the war to tell us what was really happening.
Michael Arlen, TV analyst and critic, writes, in The View from
Highway 1 (as he did in his earlier collection of essays, The
Living Room War), of the diminished and disconnected images
of the war that flickered between the commercials of our lives.
He reminds us now, in the aftermath, how distantly and in
what fragments most Americans knew about the war. It is a
useful reminder, especially for those of us whose obsession and
special knowledge cut us off from our countryfolk. We have
no hoc tap to share either information or experience, to
rediscover a common past and collective awareness, or to
reconnect even with our recent history.
Arlen writes of the failure of TV, which provides the
only set of images and ideas we do have in common-"a
nightly certification of our shared existence," (98) he calls
it-to cover the war with any journalistic fidelity, either as to
fact or context. He muses, of what he saw on the screen during
the war, that "as one watches the figures on the screen, one
knows that we ourselves are part of the drama-but how does
one know which part?" (97) His point is that combat scenes,
pictures of war machines, even pictures of sorrowing mothers
or bewildered babies, never conveyed what the war was about,
who was waging it, on whose behalf, and for what reasons.
All important human, as well as factual, information was
left out of TV's disconnected account. And, although we
sensed-rightly-that we were part of the drama, we also
sensed that we were left out of it. Some far-off news office
made a decision about what was to be known and shared and
that decision had nothing to do with what we individually
knew. We could not really share this pseudo-knowledge,
because it had nothing to do with-certainly took no note
of-our experience.
If, in Vietnam, cadre and collaborator can talk together
about the war, it is more than the American counterparts can
do. We know, surely at some level, that there have been both
failures and crimes in our past, bu t as a people we refuse to
come to grips with them, to acknowledge that they took away
a part of our history. We hear that we spring from a brave
people, always expanding the prospects of liberty. Mostly the
dissonances are ignored. They cause headaches and fatigue
because too few of us know how to incorporate them with
more hopeful notions of ourselves. Thus, we cannot, as a
people, learn about ourselves, nor think where, as a people, we
might or might not go from where we are. TV's handling of
the Indochina war, coupled with high-level deception, left
most people not only unsure of what they knew, and what it
meant, and how they ought to assess their own parts in it; it
left us, says Arlen, "desperately unsure of even what to
feel." (100)
The problem is that each one of us, in some way,
suffered, but that suffering-the pain, guilt, confusion, the
terrible memories-has been shoved away in dim corners, like
old broken sleds and unneeded baby carriages in the basement.
Even those who rejoice in the war's outcome, and who worked
to bring it about, must, I think, feel anguished at the human
price that was paid. But it is bad form to go on suffering about
the war. We are forbidden grief. Thus, we are not able to
recover.
What then are we to make of pain we cannot
acknowledge, that won't go away, that no one want to hear
about? Each person is isolated in his or her sorrow, sure that
since no one else seems unhappy, it must be a private madness.
It is private pain in an indifferent nation. Mr. Ford said we had
learned the lessons of the war, but what were they? How were
they learned? Do they give us a new way of looking at the
world? Does anybody know or care how this person feels, or
that one, or what this person or that one thinks about it? How
are we to tell one another these things, and to decide what to
do next?
It seems likely to me that a collective tradition, particu-
larly when it is attuned to the hardship and suffering
people have experienced, and when it is considerate of
their practical needs, is an immensely powerful agent of
recovery.... The great wisdom of the Vietnamese revolu-
tion is that, unlike most revolutions, it is not a break with,
so much as a recovery of, the past. Individual pain and
loss do not estrange one from shared history, but are re-
claimed by it.
I went to a poetry reading recently. I was struck by how
many of the poems (of several poets) explored the connections
between the poet and members of his or her family, usually
forebears. There seemed a surprising degree of spontaneous
interest in connections among generations and in imagining
what someone else's experience had been and how it affected
the related poet. Perhaps it is the Roots phenomenon, which it
seems to me is putting forth a large number of saplings. It is a
promising trend, one that I hope will eventually include the
Indochina war, so that we can satisfy our need to know how it
gave us birth, molded us, split us from our parents, how it
makes us look to our children.
Some efforts in this direction have already been made.
They have to do with sharing the pain of this war in a concrete
way. C. D. B. Bryan, in Friendly Fire, writes about one
casualty, a death, which brought with it not only grief but
discontinuity, which broke off a family's connections with the
land and the neighbors.
Mi<;hael Mullen, an Iowa farm boy, a good student
working on an advanced degree in animal nutrition with hopes
of improving livestock feed, the inheritor of his father's
attachment to farming, was killed in Vietnam in 1970. He was
killed, according to the official euphemism, by "friendly fire,"
that is, accidentally by his own side.
29
The Mullens had anticipated that Michael would be the
fifth generation to farm land originally wrested from a number
of Indian tribes led defiantly by Chief Black Hawk. It is a
savage irony that the Mullens' hope of permanence on the
land, which had required the displacement of its original
inhabitants, is d'estroyed in a war whose strategm was to drive
Asian farmers off lands to which they felt a sacred ancestral
bond. Michael's loss is part of a pattern of disinheritance.
One measure of Gene Mullen's grief is that his fences
begin to fall into disrepair after Michael's death.
Michael , .. had the same love for the land that his father
did, When Gene Mullen walks his fields, he will sometimes
pause and wonder whether his great-grandfather might have
walked this same section, or his grandfatber. And he will
recall his father speaking about a childbood when there
were no fences, no roads, "I have feelings for this land, "
Gene explains, "My great-grandfatber lived here, My
grandfather. My mother and father. Peg and me. We've all
lived right here!" and it was that sense of continuity which
was, perhaps, the strongest link between Gene, as father,
and Michael, bis son. Gene never felt Michael was to fall
heir to acres only. He was to inherit all those generations of
Mullens and Dobsbires who would walk beside him each
time he turned the soil. (35)
The Mullens lose their connection to family, community, land
and the past. They become an embarrassment to their two
living children: one feels that the sister and brother are
cheated by the only child of death, who obsesses his parents,
absorbs their time and attention. As their grief takes the form
of anti-war work, they become estranged from the com-
munity. They become a nuisance to their Congressional
representatives and to the Pentagon. They are an irritation
because they will not recover and go on about their lives.
The Mullens insist on finding out exactly how Michael
died. They get a military" run-around that smacks of cover-up.
It is not cover-up, as it turns out, but something worse. To the
army Michael is not a particular young man, interested in
animal fodder, but an indistinguishable unit of cannon fodder.
He is an incidental casual ty. I t is the reckless and haphazard
waste of their child that drives Peg and Gene Mullen to
obsession, and it is their estrangement from people who don't
share that perception that keeps them from recovery, like
restless ghosts.
In her book, Winners and Losers, Gloria Emerson points
out that
there were men in Washington, D.C., who were bothered by
the rising American casualties-not by the wounds they did
not see, but by the concern that perhaps the small towns
might not keep taking such losses stoically. It was in these
places that people knew the boy who had been killed in
Chu Lai, could remember how well he played higb school
football, knew what his father did, the name of his
motber's family and iftbey were cburchgoers. It wasn't the
same in the cities . .. (137)
It was in the small towns, like the villages of Vietnam, where
the forces of continuity were strongest. But, since the Mullens
were alone in their experience of loss, that continuity worked
to exclude them. Michael's friends remembered him, to be
sure, but they had no way of incorporating his loss into their
own experience (unlike a village in Vietnam, where everyone
had a personal loss to help explicate a neighbor's).
Bryan himself finally grows impatient with the Mullens.
Why will they not be satisfied with the true account he has
finally pieced together of Michael's death? Why must they
keep pawing at their bereavement? Why will they not, at last,
recover their poise and accept their loss? But Bryan also
understands his impatience.
"I guess," I said, "I guess I don't really know what
you want from me anymore. "
"What we want from you?" Gene said indignantly.
"The whole thing is this: when you came out bere, you
wanted sometbing from us!"
"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised. "What do
you think I wanted from you?"
"You wanted a story, " Peg said.
"You wanted a story and you wanted the truth,"
Gene said.
Tbey were right, of course. (329-30)
It is not only that the story needs an ending, though that
is the way with stories, and his method-reporting fact with
the scenic concreteness of fiction-sets into motion some of
the imperatives of fiction. More important is that Bryan
thought that by finding out the truth about how Michael died,
he could satisfy the Mullens and resolve their grief. But the
Mullens didn't want the truth for itself. They wanted an Army
to account for their son, and of course, they fiercely wanfed
him back, as they wanted back the continuity of their family.
Nothing Bryan could tell them satisfied them, for what they
most needed was other people to share their grief and to
understand that the'war had caused it.
Anti-war activism provides the only sympathetic com-
munity the Mullens can find, and while it provides an outlet
for their anger, it is no substitute for a community that shares
physical' closeness and historical continuity. One of the war's
unnoticed cruelties is that it left those injured scattered about,
out of place, like so many wounded animals after a careless
hunter's passage.
Bryan's account of the Mullens is an exact, vivid, and
compelling story about pain, and the reader is sympathetic.
But he can only observe this pain. Like the Mullens' neighbors,
he has no way to share it. Emerson's extraordinary book is the
antidote: it makes the pain the reader's own.
I cried when I read Bryan's book. But I did not cry over
Emerson's. Something far stronger, a burning kind of emotion
that I cannot name, gripped me. While I was reading it,
nothing else seemed quite real by comparison. It is a
transforming book, an adhesive and .deep-sinking suffering, a
kind of moral napalm. It is not a comfortable book, and yet I
found the presence of so great a pain a source of comfort. It
ended, for me, an isolation I have felt for a long time.
When writing about Vietnam, Emerson has only one
peer, and that is Jonathan Schell, whom she admires and
advises people to read. Like him, she brings the reader face to
face with the war's human costs. This has made some readers
(as we know from reviews) uneasy and angry. Sandor Vanocur,
however, praises her "sense of outrage," though he says it will
complicate her career in journalism. "Journalists are not
supposed to succumb to outrage. Detachment is highly valued
and esteemed. On occasion, cheerleading is also helpful." 9
I don't think that it is her outrage, however, that offends
some readers. I think it is the task she sets herself, on the
puzzling advice of a Vietnamese who tells her to " 'Love your
country' as we love ours.' " (5) Emerson found this counsel
30
puzzling because. her hatred of the war tempted her to hate the
country that made it. But as she writes, probing the wounds
the war made, an odd thing happens. Although she has said, in
her preface, "I do not expect to recover," (ix) she begins to
recover, and she does it by recovering the experience of the
war for people whom it hurt. She makes people angry because
she offers them a chance to share in the pain she has
encountered, and thus to recover for themselves what the
national effort to forget denies them. She offers them the
strenuous opportunity to overcome the uprootedness that
comes about through cover-up, evasion, and repression of a
shared past.
The kind of love of country Emerson discovers hasn't a
grain of chauvinism in it. It is absolutely foreign to the
bumper-sticker demand to love it or leave it. It is not in the
least interested in winning honor: instead, it honors suffering,
fear, and loss.
I think that Emerson brings to our neglected national
experience a sensibility that has been equally neglected in
history, and that is a feminine one.
10
I don't mean that her
point of view is exclusively female, only that it is associated
with and bred into women. Adrienne Rich speaks of the
"weak ego boundaries" of women, which accounts for their
"tremendous powers of intuitive identification and sympathy
with other people." 11 She distinguishes between this capacity,
also characteristic of artistic "negative capability," 12 and the
typically strong male ego which "encapsulates itself and will
not let itself be threatened or vulnerable to other people." 13
Emerson speaks of a wounded soldier who
could not seem to shut his eyes. He was cold. I wanted to
hold his hand, but once before I had done this, the G.I. had
died, his fingers curled with mine, and I had not wanted to
let go, thinking that life would pass from me to him until
someone yanked my arm and parted us at last. (8)
She is never cool, separate, or impartial. Neither is she simply
outraged. Rather her heart "goes out" and joins the injured in
their struggle with whatever anguish-physical or mental-they
have. As a consequence, the people she meets and talks to
open themselves to her, to reveal what is normally left out of
war reportage. She has no objectivity, which is often, in fact,
moral neutrality or even a sense of superiority. But she looks
hard at an activity that has always defined men as strong and
noble, and she finds there people whose terror overwhelms
them. This is not just the story of this war, though its value is
its specificity, but the story of all war. It is, however, the story
that, along with other accounts of failure and pain, has not
often been told, except in fiction. C. D. B. Bryan writes of the
book,
Those, like Gloria Emerson, whom the war truly touched
inevitably became obsessed by what they had seen and
what the war had done. It is important to recognize the
merit and dignity in such obsessions as it is to be aware of
the danger . .. what I found most moving was the obvious
evidence of what the war had done to Miss Emerson herself
Her book dances with such exquisite agility on a tightrope
between abysmal madness and pain that she recreates
exactly our nation's schizophrenia throughout those
endless, dreadful years. 14
Let me be very clear. Emerson is anything but "soft."
She has been in the battlefield, brushing with violent death,
getting dirty, sweaty, and bloody. She notes that American
feminists "were exasperated and puzzled by my indifference
to the women's liberation movement," and goes on to say.
"During the war I was equal at last, and often it was too much
to bear." (72) This is a revealing statement and it helps tu
explain why her book is so strong. She is equal to her subjects.
not only in hardihood, but in suffering.
The man who advised her to love her country set her a
saving task, which, by making it possible to know how we have
been touched by the war, she sets for all of us. She travelled a
great distance in order to assuage her own pain by shanng it
with others wounded in the war, and she reports with such
precision that those who read the book must share it too !'his
requirement, that we face up to the war not as an issue, 1, ,as
a source of personal pain and loss, antagonizes some re.... rs.
But she establishes, as no other writer on the war has, t : tal
linkage between personal pain and the history that \1 !st
know we share. Through one we belong to the other. II er
words, Emerson defeats the masculine bias of history, \1 IS
typical forgetfulness of all that does not redound to a Sl 's
or a nation's honor, by connecting us with the sufferiL d
vulnerability that are always the accompaniments of m' al
braggadocio. (Since this, I think, is what the Vietnames' Ive
done, theirs may be an androgynous as well as a can; ,)g
revolution.)
Emerson makes the people about and with. wh, she
speaks particularly vivid. Again, it is a feminine quality, ve
for the kind of detail that tells all, though it has nothing '0
with the external world of momentous actions. For ins e,
she reports that Albert Lee Reynolds had a oneyear-ol. . ,n
"who wore a little white hat but began to turn pink front the
sun on his shoulders and arms." (19) It is a detail that con1f'YS
a world of motherly precautions which are never qu, te
adequate: it is charged with concern, even though the child
appears for only one sentence. Reynolds had helped to build a
platform for the end-of-the-war celebration in Central Park in
April, 1975. He told Emerson that he had driven the nails in
deep because" 'I knew there would be a lot of people up there
with bare feet.' " (19) It is a telling detail, but one that few
journalists would know to be telling.
In her equality and vulnerability, Emerson elicits the
vulnerabilities of the people to whom she speaks. A North
Vietnamese defector, Tien-who "had not defected to anyone,
of course, he had simply been too weak to run away from a
South Vietnamese platoon" (74)-tells her about his days with
the North Vietnamese army.
"We walked eleven hours a day, always on the alert for
anti-personnel mines, and the longer we walked the more
bored and morose we became," Tien said. "So we became
quiet and paid less attention-we just walked, walked, and
sometimes the cadres started singing and we sang too. But
after the song, there was quietness again, only the sound of
our footsteps and the wind running through the trees. "
In his dreams he was a small boy again, standing next
to his mother, leaning against her, as she cooked. (78)
A former Viet Minh tells Emerson that "During the six-month
march I is greatest longing was for sugar. Before the
march an,: ':'c:r the march, sugar was never so important to
him again, I the memory of it made him ache." (187) A
Vietnamese man who has been driven from his home by
bombs and has lost his son, longs most for the garden that was
destroyed when the land was "hurt." (173) She writes of an
American soldier, Hobbs,
a country boy, a Texan. who liked to hunt. He had a
cowlick and big feet. He was nineteen. He was exactly what
31
the Army wanted and the Army got. Something about his
neck and wrists made me think he might still be growing.
You could imagine Hobbs, as a child, wanting to learn to
drive and steering the wheel from the lap of a grownup.
(195)
She is notable for giving each personhis orherdue. She
cannot forgive, for she is not in the least divine, but she can
understand that something impels those who pursued or
approved thewar. Shespeaksofamilitary manata U.S. Naval
War College reception, who asks plaintively why reporters
were sent to cover the war, when they were ignorant ofwar
and ofthemilitary. "It was a stunning question," she writes,
"because he asked it sadly and sincerely." (246) Her people
are as they are, attached to their origins, their private lives,
their needs, theirownviews ofthings. Shewill notputthewar
behind her, nor will she banish from hermindthepeoplewho
waged andsufferfrom it. She recovers herloveforhercountry
by her greatattentivenesstoparticularpeoplewho are in pain.
Adrienne Rich writes:
to kill is to cut off from pain
but the killer goes on hurting
lS
Gloria Emerson allows us to know that we have gone on
hurting, notbyberatingandpolemicizing, butby offeringpain
andthecompanyofsomeonewith whomtoshare it.
Each of these books, in its own way, has the power to
move us by its special achievement. Terzani, while never
minimizing the immense task ofthe Vietnamese, makes clear
that it is manageable because the Vietnamese know that they
have been hurt, that they must face theirhurts,andthatthey
must rebuild with considerationfor those hurt. As apeoplewe
do not know these things. We, who have been told to forget
what many of us never understood, have found ourselves
isolated, without a sense of living continuity, and we have
trouble knowing what our national discomfort comesfrom or
what it means. Arlen's essays suggest that we are so fenced
away from oneanotherthatwe canscarcely begin repairwork,
because we don'tknowwhatis broken. Bryan movingly shows
how the Mullens, isolated in their bereavement, can fight but
cannot mend either themselves or their fences. Emerson gives
us the opportunity we have so far missed; by recovering our
pain, which is now belittled, we can begin torecoverourselves
andourcountry. *
Notes
1. Tradition and Revolution in Vietnam (Berkeley, Ca. and
Washington, D.C.: IndochinaResourceCenter),nodate,p. 52.
2. October31, 1977.
3. "East and West," Selected Essays 1934-1943 (London:
OxfordUniversityPress, 1962),p. 199.
4. I have notfoJlowed post-war developments in Laosclosely.
The stories from Kampuchea are most distressing if they are true. We
do well to mistrust them, however, for several reasons: 1)the sources
are suspect, and the country is too closed to allow for reliable
verificationoritsopposite;2) wehaveseen thewayin whichbloodbath
stories gain currency, even amongscholars, as fact; 3) the needfor U.S.
official sources topromulgate horrorstories is compelling, as a wayof
divertingattention fromthehideousdestructionAmericavisited onthe
theretofore composedcountry.It seemstomeimportantforradicalsto
recognize, however, that such large-scale destruction and uprooting as
was caused by our bombing, might weIl bring about utter social
derangement, the inability of either individuals .or institutions from
family togovernmenttorecovertheircivil relationships.
5. Though not as epidemic as Andre Gelinas reports in an
interview with L 'Express, reprinted in theNew York Review of Books,
March 17, 1977, p. 22. Gelinas' authority is a youngwoman, waking
from an unsu!=cessful suicide attempt in a hospital piled. as she told
him,withdeadbodies.While Ihesitatetoattributehysteriatoawoman
withoutevidence (because it is such a reflex), Ishouldthinkitobvious
that a personunhappy orscaredenough toattemptsuicide is notin the
best state of mind for accurate observation as she awakens in strange
environs.
6. Gelinas,p. 27.
7. Gelinas, p. 22.
8. Many of which have been contradicted by'other sources;
see, for example, Seven Days, May 9, 1977,pp. 28-29. I recentlyheard
Stewart Meacham, just returned from two weeks with an A.F.S.C.
group from Vietnam. His impression was that the Vietnamese were
dealing with their enormous problems with confidence and general
kindness. He was unable to detect attitudes of fear or signs of
repression,although, as heindicated, hemighthavemissed them.
9. Gelinas,p.27.
10. My italics. I cannot remember where I found this folksong
(these are theconcludinglines)andwouldbegratefulifanyonecantell
mewheretheyappeared.
11. Manchester Guardian, Feb. 27, 1977.
12. Frances Fitzgerald says the same thing in a letter to the
editor ofthe New York Times Book Review, April 17, 1977,writtenin
response to James Fenton's review of Winners and Losers, which
appeared on January 16, 1977. She says, "After all the fuss about
'women's writing'-as exemplified by a dozen cliche-ridden novels
about sex-this is one of the few books that could not have been
written by a man who knew how to psyche outthe drugstoremarket.
Emerson looks afresh ateverythingin the masculine world ofwar ...
At war men do notoften think and feel the way theyaresupposedto
think and feel, and Emerson has found them out. She has seen their
fears and their vulnerabilities." (p. 55)Marilyn Youngpointsoutthata
number of critics berate Emerson in sexist terms, whose reach is
profound. "The trouble is, she won'tstop writingthe story, andthese
men resist her demand for an emotional response which is personal,
deep, andespeciaJlycontinuous...Therememberingthesemenchoose
todois far less demanding."The Nation.
13. "Three Conversations," in Adrienne Rich's Poetry, eds.
BarbaraCharlesworthGelpi andAlbertGelpi (NewYork: W. W. Norton
and Co., 1975), p. 115. The term "weak ego boundaries" is quoted
from Nancy Chodorow, "FamilyStructure and FemininePersonality,"
in Women, Culture, and Society, eds. Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo and
Louise Lamphere(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1974).
14. The term romantic poets used to describe the ability to
imagine themselves outside of themselves, in another existence, a
person's, l\ thing's, acreature's.
15. Rich,loc. cit.
16. Saturday Review, Feb. 5, 1977,pp. 22, 23.
17. "The Phenomenology of Anger," from Diving Into the
Wreck, poemspublishedin 1973.
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32
Marxist Scholarship on Thailand
The Work ofE. Thadeus Flood (1932-1977)
by Peter F. Bell
Thadeus Flood died of cancer on December 11, 1977.
The last ten years of his life were devoted to promoting
revolutionary change and resisting American imperialism in
Thailand. His life and work reveal the contradictions of
American education and imperialist policy. This is not only
because of what he wrote about, but because his life and
scholarship transcended his conservative and "apolitical" edu-
cation, moving him from academic scholarship to political
commitment, forcing him beyond the functions within the
university for which he had been intended. American imperial-
ism in Southeast Asia gave him a political awareness which his
education had consistently denied him. In this brief article I
would like to indicate the important lessons which Asian
scholars and others can learn from his transformation, and to
attempt to assess his seminal contribution to the study of
Thailand. I seek to draw, from his life and work, political
lessons which can further our common struggles.
During the last ten years Thad Flood renounced his
earlier scholarship. Thereafter he sought to provide a sys-
tematic basis for the repudiation both of U.S. policy in South-
east Asia, espe.cially in Thailand, and of U.S. academic scholar-
ship which had served to distort the nature of Thai society for
imperialist purposes. He criticised also the educational
which had taught him to separate knowledge and morality,
and sought to reunite these through Marxist scholarship and
political struggle. A brilliant linguist and scholar, one of the
finest products of the American educational system, he sought
to undermine its goal to produce mindless scholars, "moral
eunuchs."
I. Education and Theoretical Development
There was nothing in background and education
that can explain his later conversion to Marxism. He was born
in 1932, in Seattle, Washington, the son of a lawyer, and raised
in a strongly Republican family. He attended elite schools,
receiving a diploma in classics from Seattle Preparatory
School, and a bachelor's degree in philosophy from Seattle
University. As an undergraduate, he enlisted in the Marines
and saw active duty in Korea in the years 1951-55-a period
that coincided with the peak of anti-communist feeling in the
United States. He did graduate work at the University of
Washington, Seattle, three years of which were devoted to
language training in Japanese, Chinese and Thai under National
Defense Fellowships. His graduate studies included periods in
Japan and Thailand, in which he did extensive archival re-
search into Japanese relations with Thailand. During the eight
years of his preparation for the doctorate at the University of
Washington (1958-66), he was strongly influenced by Karl
Wittfogel, a powerful anti-Marxist figure on the faculty of the
university. From 1966 until his death he was on the faculty of
the University of Santa Clara, where he taught Asian history.
A few months before his death he wrote: "The Ameri-
can university has been characterised as having all of the
integrity of a department store." Looking back on his own
education he saw that its inherent weakness and lack of
integrity derived from its conception of "knowledge":
American education's (and hence America's) extraordinary
placidity in juxtaposition with a contemporary world of
violence, starvation, impoverishment and death-a signifi-
cant portion of it linked to America in one way or another
-is directly related to the function of "knowledge" as
construed in America. Inherent to this function is a rigid
dichotomy between knowledge and morality that character-
izes the entire intellectual transaction. "Knowledge," as
esteemed in the social sciences and humanities especially, is
essentially an aggregate of discrete, fragmented, isolated
"{acts, " arranged in compartmentalized categories, sciences
or disciplines, each one increasingly narrow as its data base
expands . .. The sort of fragmented, mechanistic "knowl-
edge" we find in our educational system is forever sundered
from qualitative ethical issues . .. (Flood, 1977b).
He experienced his political transformation because of
U.S. policy in Southeast Asia, because of the student anti-war
activity, and through his teaching. It was not until he had to
prepare a class on Southeast Asian history that he realized that
U.S. policy was immoral. His politicization began in 1967
while teaching Vietnamese history ("teaching about the people
who were being killed"). His interest in Marxism was, he said,
"entirely due to the questions which students asked, which
made me think of things and ask myself questions which I had
never dreamed of." He threw himself into the anti-war move-
ment and into the study of Marxism, aided by students and by
a few on the faculty at Santa Clara. He describes his
scholarship before this period in the following terms:
Prior to my politicization in 1967-68, I was engaged in
worthless, positivistic, super-empirical research on minutiae
that got into equally worthless journals, got me promotion
33
and tenure, and were utterly unrelated to life and the
dialectics of real human history. In short they were typical
A merican scholarship. My dissertation is quite in this cate-
gory, factually formidable and theoretically devoid of any-
thing but a desire to get a degree . ... Its sale merit is that if
I or anyone else wanted to write a history of Japanese
imperialism in Thailand in the 19205, '30s or '405, it offers
a great deal of original documentation that will never be
duplicated, but as for theoretical integrity, there was none. 1
Having the advantage of coming to Marx outside of the
traditional orthodoxies bequeathed by the Old Left, he was
able to go to the heart of its meaning. A Marxist, he said, was
"a person for whom there is a conflict between themselveS as a
human being and objective reality"; Marxism was the only
coherent theoretical framework through which a sense of
humanity and an understanding of reality could be integrated,
in which both knowledge and morality could be united.
2
His
Marxism was deeply affected by the New Left, in its insistence
on the struggle for a more humane and just society and its
emphasis on anti-imperialism, and also by the theoretical ten-
dency of the Frankfurt-Budapest school.
The school of "critical theory" (which runs from Marx
through Tonnies, Lukacs, Gramsci, Goldmann and Marcuse)
provided the theoretical foundation of his radical scholarship,
and it infused all of his subsequent work. Any evaluation of
his work must thus confront this particular Marxist tradition,
and the intellectual and political directions to which it points.
Before proceeding to such an evaluation, it is important
to recognize that Flood's scholarly work after 1966-7 had a
directly political purpose. Not only was he deeply involved in
the anti-war movement, but, through Boonsanong Punyod-
yana*, he had also made contacts with Thai radicals such as
Thirayut Boonmi and Nopphorn Suwanphanit during his visit
to Thailand in the spring and summer of 1974, and he was
very active in speaking against the junta which seized power in
Thailand in October 1976. He worked extensively with radical
groups in California such as Amnesty International and the
Union of Democratic Thais. He sought to mobilize opposition
to the Thai junta through T.V. appearances and his writing. He
circulated a letter to Asian scholars asking them to join him in
boycotting a conference on Southeast Asian history to be held
in ~ n g k o k in the fall of 1976.
Throughout all of this he held a particular humanistic
vision of socialism, which made him skeptical and removed
from sectarian Marxist politics, and critical of the inhumanity
of the attempts to build socialism which he saw in Asia. He
would have liked to playa more direct role in the discussion of
the type of socialism which the Thai radicals are seeking, and
his work indirectly attempts to do this. While he was deeply
supportive of the urgency for radical social transformation, he
was not swayed by rhetoric and simple solutions.
II. Analysis of Thailand and u.s. Imperialism
At a conference in 1970, Flood presented a paper on Ho
Chi Minh's rural organizing techniques and his period in Thai-
land, the first piece of work which reflected a Marxian per-
spective. Thadeus' next article was "The Thai Left Wing in
For a portrait of Boonsanong, see Carl A. Trocki, "Boonsano"ng
Punyodyana: Thai Socialist and Scholar, 1936-1976" in the Bulletin of
Concerned Asian Scholars, Vol. 9, No.3 (July-Sept. 1977), pp. 48-51.
34
Historical Context," published in 1975 in Bulletin of Con-
cerned Asian Scholars. There are two striking features of this
article: (1) his attempt to undermine the conclusions of
existing American academic work on Thailand, and to point
to the continuity of opposition to the exploitative conditions
of Thai society; and (2) the attempt to sketch the elements of
a theoretical interpretation of Thai social history.
By way of an intellectual history of radical and revolu-
tionary struggles, the article was the first in English to present
the Thai left wing in a serious manner. He traced the historical
roots of the radical intelligentsia, and the continuity and unity
between the urban and rural opposition movements. The ar-
ticle contains a survey of major radical writings in Thai from
the 1930s to 1976, and discusses the waves of repression
which forced the radicals into prisons, into exile, or into the
jungle. And the essay outlined the important contribution of
the "dreadnoughts of U.S. anti-communism" in assisting the
repression.
Contrary to the views of Thai "specialists" (such as
David Wilson) who had argued that Thailand lacked a serious
opposition movement, Flood showed the thoroughly Thai
character of the movement, its persistence, and its growing
strength. He saw the resurgence of radicalism in the late sixties
and seventies as a result of the weakness of Western-style
liberal solutions: "The association of American-style liberalism
with genocide, intervention and counter-revolution was too
obvious by this time to be missed, even by an intelligentsia
deprived of objective news sources." (Flood, 1975, p. 61)
The important theoretical aspect of this article is the
particular view of the Thai state which it presents. Flood
argues that the left wing emerged from specific social condi-
tions: a pre-capitalist state representing a fusion of merchants,
foreign capitalists, military and civilian functionaries, and the
old aristocratic sadkina class, in opposition to the masses of
oppressed people. In his view the major dialectic of contem-
porary Thai history was the struggle between this deeply
rooted bureaucratic state, infused with capitalist technique
and rationality but not its social relations, and the peasant-
worker mass which, owing to the critically-conscious intellec-
tuals, was shaping into a truly revolutionary force for the first
time.
The article in effect denies both the feudal and capitalist
stages of development in Thailand-the former because there
was no independent landowning class separate from the state,
and the latter because the social basis of Thai rural society was
based on a particular form of communalism, which does not
lead to capitalism, but rather to socialism. (This was argued in
the article on the Thai Left Wing, especially page 55 and
footnote 7; and also in part of the letter which is reproduced
here in the Appendix.) This constitutes a distinctly unique
theory of Thai social history, and one can only wish that he
could have completed the book which he intended on this
subject. It is a decisive rejection of the unilinear theories of
historical development which dominate orthodox Marxist dis-
cussions (viz. the necessity for society to pass through the
feudal and capitalist stages prior to socialism and com-
munism), and it is also a rejection of the standard translation
of sakdina into "feudalism.,,3
Flood's treatment of Thai social history shows un-
mistakably his theoretical inclination towards Frankfurt Marx-
ism which emphasizes the role of the state, of ideology and
consciousness and deemphasizes the role of material aspects of
social development. It tends to focus on the ideological appar-
atus of the state and its repressiveness rather than class
struggle. As one who has argued that capitalist development is
the main dynamic of Thai history since the 1950s, with social
class roots going back to the 1930s and with the imperialist-
backed state as the main promoter of this development, this
writer has theoretical disagreements with Flood's analysis.
Capitalist social relations seem not only to dominate the urban
centers in Thailand (both the waged workers in factories and
the un waged in the slums) but also to have increasingly pene-
trated the rural areas as well (with the growth of landlordism,
proletarianization of the peasantry, the "Green Revolution,"
etc.). The difference is a political one: Flood stresses the need
for an intellectual vanguard to raise the consciousness of the
workers and peasants and to smash the bureaucratic state
coalition which oppresses them; the latter view argues for the
need to overthrow the totality of existing capitalist social
rehitions through active class struggle in the fields and the
factories. Whereas Flood argues for a tran'sition from pre-
capitalist social relations to socialist ones, I am arguing for the
overthrow of capitalist relations and the harnessing of the
autonomous energy which already exists among workers and
peasants-a goal that departs from the Leninist model of a
vanguard party which "teaches" the oppressed. My contention
is that the history of rural and urban revolt in Thailand
suggests that the oppressed understand their position and have
always struggled against it.
4
A similar problem exists with his analysis of U.S. imper-
ialism (Flood 1976), where solely the repressive aspects of
imperialism are stressed: ideological control, the building of
the police and the army to eradicate leftist opposition, etc.
The imperialist effort to "modernize" Thailand in the 1950s
and 1960s in effect to turn it into a Western-style capitalist
society is implicitly rejected. The militaristic and CIA-oriented
aspects are stressed; the Thai ruling class is not seen, as one
might argue, as a bourgeoisie faced with threats on the part of
students, urban workers and peasants to the entire capitalist
framework, but rather as a series of pre-capitalist cliques
contending for state power. This has important consequences
for the manner in which revolutionary struggles are to be
understood. The overthrow of a precapitalist state does not
imply the necessity for the overthrow of capitalist social
relations, but rather the removal of a particular element of the
power structure.
In the article to which I have been referring, "The
United States and the Military Coup in Thailand," Flood
draws on the analysis of Thai radicals to present a careful
reconstruction of the relationship between U.S. imperialist
policy (in the areas of military and police assistance and
counterinsurgency activity) and the ruling classes in Thailand.
He also shows the internal conflict among the ruling cliques in
their struggle for ascendancy. He compares the return of the
Thai military in the October 1976 coup to the process of
destabilization which the U.S. conducted in Chile, seeing the
return to military rule as the inevitable consequences of U.S.
policies. Ignoring the material transformation in Thai society
since 1945, he sees the military regime in similar terms to
those of the 1930s and 1940s:
The ugly reality is that the intensive application of counter-
insurgency techniques has produced in Thailand a political
system markedly reminiscent of the civilian-military fascism
of the 30s and 40s. It is to the shame of the United States
Thadeus Flood
that this system is a direct progeny of a quarter-century of
American intervention, especially via the Central Intelli-
gence Agency and the Department of Defense, in the des-
tinies of the people of Thailand. "(Flood 1976, p. 7)
The other substantial piece of scholarship which deserves
comment was the last to be published before Thad's death,
"The Vietnamese Refugees in Thailand: Minority Manipula-
tion in Counterinsurgency." His stated aim was to
help to demolish the myth that the Thai peoples themselves
are not capable of revolution, and . .. expose the way in
which this {Vietnamese] minority is still being manipulated
by the Thai ruling classes, recently with the assistance of
American-derived counterinsurgency programs . ... to place
the focus of the problem where it should always have been:
on the Thai peoples themselves and on their long struggle
for dignity and social justice. (Flood 1977a, p. 31)
As with all his work, this article was marked by its
attention to scholarly detail, and it traces the fortunes of the
Vietnamese in Thailand from the early 19th century to the
present day. It showed the weakness of U.S. academic research
as well as- the propaganda aims of the U.S. and Thai in using
the Vietnamese as a scapegoat for their own internal problems,
and for the growth of the insurgency, as if it were externally
inspired and led. As before, Flood drew on multi-lingual
sources (French, Thai, Japanese and Chinese materials) result-
ing in a seminal article, and one in which his other intellectual
sources (e.g., Abdel-Malek) are again visible. 35
After his own transformation and the vigorous activity
of the anti-war movement, Flood became pessimistic in the
face ofwhatappeared tobe studentapathyin themid-1970s.
In an unpublished manuscript from which I cited passages
earlier, "Knowledge American Style: An Essay on theEthical
Emasculation of Knowledge in American Education," he
sought to explain this passivity in terms ofthe functionalism
and positivism which underlies this education. Drawing again
on the Frankfurt School, and Marcusein particular,heargued
that the state had exercised its ideological hegemony and
effective coopted the radical movement: "Issues thatbrought
people into the streets in the sixties and early seventies now
bring them no further than the kitchen for another beer ...
education has been the most effective ofallcorporateinstitu-
tions in 'neutralizing' ... the ethical challenges of the last
fifteen years."
Flood's own continuous engagement in the struggle for
human dignity is the best answer to his own argument. More
importantly, his methodology led him to ignore the transfor-
mation of the moral struggles of the sixties into the wage
struggles (against tuition hikes, etc.) which have characterized
student activism in the seventies. He was overly pessimistic
about the power of ideological repression in quelling these
currentsandthesearchforintellectualtruth.
The issueswhich Ihaveraisedherepertaintothecharac-
ter ofThai society, thenature ofthestate, the material basis
ofthe presentclass formation, andtotheprospectsforsocial-
ist transformation. On the latter, as Flood's notes on Thai
society (see Appendix) suggest, he had a highly optimistic
view, believing that the social organization on a mass village
level wouldaid thetransitiontosocialism.
He alsohadastrongbeliefintheThai tomaketheirown
revolution. This is clear from all ofthe writings which I have
discussed, and it is apparent in his tribute to an outstanding
ThaiMarxist: JitPhumisak. Jitwas amodeloftheirrepressible
revolutionaryyearningsoftheThaipeople,and Floodadmired
him not only for his famous study, The Face of Thai Feudal-
ism (the U.S. edition, which was recently published by the
Union of Democratic Thai, was dedicated to Floor), butalso
for his analyses ofThai culture,suchashisstudyArt for Life,
Art for the People. Hewrote:
It seems unlikely that all the American-devised, advised and
financed counterinsurgency techniques in Thailand will ever
succeed in erasing the ideas of lit Phumisak and those like
him. For more than anything else, lit Phumisak was an
idea: an idea now firmly planted in the soil of Thailand's
dispossessed peoples and their revolutionary intelligentsia.
Neither the idea nor the revolution will go away. (Flood
1977a, p. 14)
With somemodification,thesewordscouldalsoapply to
Thadeus Flood. Despite hispessimism aboutAmericansociety
and education, he was a living example ofits contradictions.
And it seems unlikely that anything the society can do will
prevent the transformationofacademicscholarsintoMarxists.
Some ofThadeus'workwill perhapsbecompletedbyChadine
Flood. It is not only the basis upon which future work on
Thailand will be built, since he has moved that work to a
higher level of rigor than anyone before him, but it needs
,urgently tobebroughtintothepoliticaldebateconcerningthe
revolutionary process and the building of socialism In Thai-
land. Inthisway his workwill becarriedforward. *
Notes
1. Letter to Peter Bell, September 29, 1976, from which the
Appendixisalsoderived.
2. Personal conversation, March 20, 1977, Saratoga, California.
3. These theories have been used in thepasttojustifya"bour-
geois" stage of development, and have served in the defense ofstate
capitalism.
4. This isdevelopedin PeterF.Bell,"AmericanImperialismand
'Cycles' ofClass Struggle in Thailand,"journal ofContempomry Asia,
1978.
BibliographyofE. ThadeusFlood'sWritings
1965. (With Chadine Flood) Co-translator of Dynastic Chronicles,
Bangkok Era, Fourth Reign (Tokyo: Center for East Asian
CulturalStudies) 1965- ,3volumes.
1968. "Japan's Relations with Thailand: 1928-41," Unpublished
Ph.D.dissertation, UniversityofWashington.
1969a. "Sukothai-Mongol Relations: A Note on Relevant Chineseand
ThaiSources(WithTranslations),"journal of the Siam Society,
Vol. LVII,Pt.2(July),pp.203-255.
1969b. "The Franco-Thai Border Dispute and Phibun Songkram's
Commitment to Japan," journal of Southeast Asian History,
Vol. X,No.2(September),pp.304-325.
1969c. "Bangkok, December 8,1941:ANew LookatThailand'sHour
ofDecision," Western Conference oftheAssociationforAsian
Studies,Tucson,Arizona,November, 1969.
1970. "Ho Chi Minh in Canton and Siam, 1924-29: A Note on the
Origins of His Rural Organizing Techniques," Asian Sfudies
PacificConference,Oaxtepec,Mexico,June.
1971. "The Shishi Interlude in Old Siam: An Aspect of the Meiji
Impact in SoutheastAsia," in DavidWurfel(ed.),Meijijapan's
Centennial: Aspects of Political Thought and Action (Law-
rence: UniversityofKansasPress),pp.78-105.
1975. "The Thai Left Wing in Historical Context," Bulletin of Con-
cerned Asian Scholars, Vol. 7, No.2(April-June),pp. 55-67.
1976a. "Jit Phumisak: Profile ofa Revolutionary Intellectual," Indo-
china Chronicle, Jan.-Feb.,pp.12-14.
1976b. "The United States and the Military Coup in Thailand. A
BackgroundStudy,"IndochinaResourceCenter,Berkeley.
1977a. "TheVietnamese Refugees inThailand: MinorityManipulation
in Counterinsurgency," Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars,
Vol. 9, No.3(July-Sept.),pp. 31-47.
1977b. "KnowledgeAmerican Style: An EssayontheEthicalEmascu-
lation of Knowledge in American Education," unpublished
manuscript.
lJ
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36
APPENDIX
by ThadeusFlood
... I would argue that, on the contrary,thefuturesof,
indeed the presents of, societies such as Thailand. are very
different from those ofEurope,preciselybecause theirecono-
mies were different. The merchant classes of these areas (in-
cluding China and Indochina but excluding Japan) were and
always will be incapableofcapturingsociety andimposingthe
process ofembourgeoisement uponit. Therewere,areandwill
be Western enclaves (the China treaty ports, areas of South
Vietnam in the sixties-seventies, Bangkok, etc., today) but
these are hybrid monsters, historically,culturally,sociallyand
economically speaking. As I argued in the B.C.A.S. article,
Thailand and these other societies, have their own peculiar
social history, borne of an irrigation, rice culture mode of
production and a special village gemeinschaft communalism
that distinguishes them drastically from the historical para-
digm of Western Europe, as Marx was keen enough to recog-
nize. Indeed, the major characteristic of these societies is
precisely that the path to modernization lies not through
capitalism, as in America, for example, but rather in the
avoidance of capitalism through a socialism that is accom-
plished in actu not by proletarianuprisingsin factoriesbuton
the backs of peasants, organized and led by an intelligentsia
with a proletarian consciousness. Because the bourgeoisie has
no social vocation in Thailand, it will never bring into being
there what Marx, Tonnies, Weber, Lukacs, Reich, Adorno,
Marcuse and so many other commentators (I should mention
FritzPapenheimtoo)have described as bourgeoissociety-civil
society orMarx's Burgerliche Gesellschaft. with itsalienation,
reification, false-consciousness, etc.-in short, the used-car
salesman society of the USA. JeanChesneaux(inhis workson
China and Vietnam) is oneofthefewWesternMarxistspecial-
ists on Asia (Anuoar AbdeHll.alek is another) who has recog-
nized that modernization is quite possible-indeed probable-
in these societies without a societal transformation involving
socialembourgeoisement.
To recognize this, however,requirespurgingourselvesof
many notions drawn from Marx's statements on the feudal
paradigm of Western Europe, as well as ofhis much misused
and misunderstood obiter dicta on the "Asiatic mode ofpro-
duction." The latter has been grossly twisted by Weber, the
"Asiatic" Komintern specialists such as Madyar, Struve and
especially Wittfogel, and most recently in thecase ofThailand
by one of Wittfogel's proteges, Norm Jacobs, a Weberian
sociologist. All of these ignore Marx's Formen, but more
importantly, they ignore his optimism about the humane
potential of the Asian agricultural community (village) to
modernize without capitalism. They concentrate on manager-
ial, despotic governments with great hydraulic works andcor-
vee systems but ignore theimpactofirrigationatthereallevel
where history is made,atthemasslevelwherepeasantcooper-
ation, communalism and an absence ofproprietaryconscious-
ness was the norm. This is where, in my view, thedialectic of
Thai historywill operate,justas itdidin China (ofChesneaux,
Peasant Revolts in China) and Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam.
It is not by accident that the most humanistic socialist
transformations have taken place in milieus that are not only
largely "precapitalist" but socio-culturally and historically
anti-capitalist. This can only be explained by the fact that
these areas, ofwhich Thailandis one,exhibithumanisticsocial
organization at the mass village level thatfacilitate the transi-
tion to socialism. That is, they are notsusceptible to,andare
in a better historical position to resist the imposition from
without (and it must be from without) of Gesellschaft
(bourgeois-capitalist) culture-what American social science
dubs "modern value systems." A brief glance at Euro-
American history suggests that societies that do not have
capitalismare not,inhumanisticterms, thereby disadvantaged.
On the contrary, the absence of a real, thorough embour-
geoisement of these societies, and the unlikelihood ofitever
happening, constitutes their best weapon in forging socialist
societies.
September29,1976.
COBRA
COBRA... IS the Conference for Basic Human and Demo-
craticRightsin theASEAN alliancecountries.
COBRA... supports research and campaignsagainstsuppres-
sion ofdemocratic rights in Thailand, Singapore,
Malaysia, Indonesia andthePhilippines.
COBRA... coordinatestheworkofitsconstituentmembers:
Ad HocGroupfor Democracyin Thailand.
FUEMSSO (Federation of UK & Eire Malaysian
andSingaporeanStudentOrganizations).
TAPOL (British Campaign for the Release of
IndonesianPoliticalPrisoners).
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Republic of West Papua New Guinea London
InformationOffice.
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and Peace.
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37
Syngman Rhee: The Pawn as Rook
The Struggle toEnd the Korean War
by Barton J. Bernstein
I don't go along with the bilateral pact, because it gives
Rhee the whip hand. I would rather pick him up, preferably
with ROK troops, and hold him in protective custody.
General J. Lawton Collins, May 29,1953
Eisenhower told the Cabinet again {on June 19, 1953}, as
he told them often during the truce negotiations, that he
wished the South Koreans would overthrow Rhee and
replace him with a moderate and reasonable leader.
Sherman Adams, 1961
Frequently {puppets, clients, and agents} will act for their
own reasons, and on their own judgments, presenting us
with accomplished facts we did not intend, and with crises
for which we are unready ... We shall either have to
disown our puppets, which would be tantamount to
appeasement and defeat and the loss of face, or must
support them at an incalculable cost on an unintended,
unforeseen and perhaps undesirable issue.
Walter Lippmann, 1947
A quarter century ago, in 1951-53, while trying to end
the Korean war, the Truman and Eisenhower administrations
struggled to keep Syngman Rhee, the president of the
Republic of Korea [ROK), from undermining the negotia-
tions, wrecking the armistice, endangering the United Nations
forces, and extending the war. Often it was unclear whether or
not he would abide by the armistice and whether or not he
would leave the ROK troops under the UN Command, or
imperil the UN forces by withdrawing his own. General Mark
Clark, the American and United Nations commander in the
last year of war, aptly summarized the problems, "I found
myself engaged in a two-front diplomatic battle ... with the
... c;:ommunists and with ... Rhee [, and) the biggest trouble
came from Rhee." I As Rhee's price for acceding to the
armistice of July 27, 1953, he secured from the Eisenhower
administration generous economic aid, continued military
assistance, and a mutual defense treaty, which has endured to
the present. Before the armistice, however, military and
political leaders in both administrations seriously considered
toppling Rhee and installing a more tractable government.
When truce negotIatIOns opened in July 1951, Rhee
made clear that he was a proponent of MacArthur's
strategy-"there is no substitute for victory.,,2 He "was
unalterably opposed to any negotiations at all and said so
loudly and often," recalled General Matthew B. Ridgeway,
then the UN and American commander.
3
Bitterly resisting any
compromise with the Communists, Rhee demanded reunifica-
tion of Korea (under himself) and withdrawal of Chinese
troops. Exaggerating the capacity of his own army, he kept
asking for more supplies for more ROK divisions, and implied
that his army could unify the divided country.4
He was obstreperous, insistent, and petulant, mixing
pledges of affection for America with declarations of Korean
patriotism. As an arrogant, dictatorial leader, the aged Rhee
was reluctant to surrender his dream of presiding over all of
Korea. At home, he brutally suppressed dissent and even
silenced military commanders who regarded his policies as
dangerous. For Rhee, the major frustration was that he could
not work his will. Not recklessly suicidal, he did use bluff and
blackmail against the United States,S and there was always the
danger that he might miscalculate or even be swept away by
the self-righteousness of his hopes. Though leader of the host
country, he had to operate within a restricted range: he lacked
the power to define the armistice terms, but he could disrupt
and even overturn a settlement. His periodic
threats to remove the ROK forces from the UN Command
gave him powerful leverage, and he presumably believed that
he had useful allies among the right-wing Republicans who
criticized the "concessions" by Truman and Eisenhower to the
Communists. Rhee could not dictate American policy, but he
could limit American flexibility and, at minimum, exact
substantial concessions for his government.
The Troubles of 1952
In February 1952, General Ridgway complained to
Washington about Rhee's "frequent ... attacks" on the
armistice negotiations and his threats to withdraw ROK forces
from the UN Command after an armistice agreement. He had
granted the UN Command control over his troops only
"during the present state of hostilities," a period that could be
interpreted, reasonably, to end with the armistice agreement.
A withdrawal of ROK soldiers, Ridgway anxiously cabled
Washington, could destroy the armistice and endanger his
armies, for the ROK, which held about two-thirds of the front
38
line and constituted about half his forces, might unilaterally
renew the war. The other UN troops, then about 90 percent
American, could be trapped in the combat. Ridgway wanted
Washington to work out a firm agreement for the continued
UN command of ROK forces, and implied that economic aid
might be a useful quid pro quo to bring Rhee into line.
6
Ridgway lost to the Joint Chiefs and the State
Department. They feared that negotiations then would invite
Rhee to impose unacceptable conditions and to jeopardize the
truce negotiations, so they decided to delay until reaching an
agreement with the Communists at Panmunjom.
7
To pressure
Rhee in the interim, Truman sent him a message in early
March: "If [the ROK] is not fully resolved to continue its
cooperation [with the UN nations), I am convinced that only
the most serious consequences can ensue." To clarify this
warning, Truman stressed that future American assistance
would depend on "the sense of responsibility demonstrated by
your Government, by its ability to maintain the unity of the
Korean people, and its devotion to democratic ideals." II Put
bluntly, Rhee's good behavior would be a prerequisite for
American aid.
Conditions in the South were deteriorating, with
runaway inflation and a disintegrating cabinet.
9
On May 24,
1952, Rhee arrested about forty members of the National
Assembly and imposed martial law to force through
constitutional revisions to assure his reelection. American
officials in Washington feared that his dictatorial behavior
might provoke some European allies to withdraw from the
unpopular war, thus casting even greater doubt on its
legitimacy and creating more political problems for the
Truman administration at home. Worse yet, Rhee's actions
could "create internal confusion, dissension, and weakness" in
south Korea, thus increasing the risk of a Communist attack
and endangering the 265,000 American troops on the
peninsula. 10
On May 31, General Clark, who had replaced Ridgway
three weeks before, informed Washington: "It may be
necessary for Ius] to tolerate actions by Rhee that are
abhorrent and to endure embarrassing political incidents
precipitated by him." So far, Clark reported, his forces were
not endangered. He anticipated that Rhee might not
"moderate his illegal and unconstitutional actions," but
believed that American military intervention would probably
be unnecessary. To prepare for the worst, as General
J. Lawton Collins, army chief of staff, had directed, Clark
sketched a plan if Rhee's actions did imperil the UN
Command If there were "serious disturbances," according to
his recently declassified cable, American troops would "take
over and establish some form of interim government." 11
Without explicit United Nations approval, it would be a clear
American takeover, whatever the formal trappings.
For Clark, as military commander, the military situation
was all important. The establishment of freedom or the
advancement of democracy were not his formal responsibility.
Accordingly, he warned Collins that even if Rhee embarrassed
America and shattered democratic standards, the United States
must avoid precipitate acts or threats that might jeopardize the
military situation. Threats would only emphasize America's
military weakness in Korea. Painting a bleak picture, Clark
explained that he did not have adequate forces "to withstand a
major Communist offensive, to regain uncontested control of
prisoners of war [who had seized a major POW camp] , and to
handle major civil disturbances in our rear areas at the same
time. Therefore, we must swallow our pride ... until Rhee has
catapulted us into a situation [requiring] action." 12 In the
interim, the limits of American power would dictate the limits
of policy.
Clark was reluctant to negotiate any further with Rhee
to try to persuade him to ease his policies of repression. On
June 27, the general informed the Joint Chiefs that he had
made "all [the] representations to Rhee [from] UNC which
would serve any useful purpose ...." Clark did not want to get
tangled in such matters, for they were the responsibility of the
State Department. "I do deem it wise," he advised, "to
continue the diplomatic pressure towards a peaceful compro-
mise of the internal political conflict ...." 13
Clark did not want to alert Rhee to the possibility of an
American takeover. The general would not employ the deft
strategy of small leaks, as indirect threats, to bring Rhee back
into line by frightening him without committing American
RDad construction in S. Korea, 1970
power and prestige to an explicit threat. The situation was
potentially too unstable, and Clark feared losing the value of
surprise. So wary was he of arousing Rhee's suspicions that the
general decided that he and the American ambassador should
not even meet "at the moment but that members of my staff
[will] meet with the ... embassy staff ... to discuss plans."
"In the near future," he explained to the Joint Chiefs, "the
ambassador could travel to Tokyo to discuss the plans with
Clark with less danger of speculation as to the reason for the
[meeting] ." 14
The use of American military pressure would also
depend upon the support of the ROK generals and troops. On
June 27, Clark informed the Joint Chiefs that he and General
James Van Fleet, commander of the 8th army (in Korea),
concluded that the ROK chief of staff, General Lee Chong
Chang, and his forces "would be completely loyal to the
[United Nations Command]." Would other ROK generals
39
stick with Rhee and create problems? The available
declassified materials do not indicate Clark's precise assess-
ment of this matter, but indirect evidence suggests that he was
optimistic. IS Such optimism, given the politics and corruption
of the army,16 may have been unwarranted. American military
intervention-even a disguised coup-could be risky.
Chough Pyong Ok, a former minister of Interior, was
hoping to overthrow Rhee but wanted American approval.
"Chough felt," according to ambassador John Muccio, that his
group "had enough influence within the ROK military to have
young ROK officers go along with them." On July 4, Chough
approached Muccio, asking, as Muccio later recalled, "That
statement that the General made this morning [chiding Rheel,
does that mean that you are disenchanted with [Rheel?"
Muccio promptly rebuffed Chough, replying, he later claimed,
"if the United States ... has any declaration to make, we'll
make it clear enough so that there will be no need for
surmising." Actually, as Rhee and Chough both knew,
American policy and practice were not so blunt. Whatever
Muccio's precise words, he did communicate his message to
the disappointed Chough: The United States would stick with
Rhee as long as possible, and Chough was not a safe bet for a
COUp.17
Despite this rebuff, General Clark, acting at the direction
of the Joint Chiefs, detailed his plans "in case widespread
disorders affecting my mission suddenly break out." His
recently declassified plan of July 5 is available: Rhee would be
lured away from the capital, the UN army would seize
between five and ten leading ROK officials involved in Rhee's
"dictatorial actions," and order Rhee to lift martial law,
restore the National Assembly's freedom, and remove other
restrictions; if he refused, he "would be held in protective
custody incommunicado" and a similar offer presented to
Prime Minister Chang Taek-Sang, who was expected to be
willing. If Chang refused, "it would be necessary to take
further steps approaching a UNC interim government." 18 It
would be an American-directed scheme, under an American
general who was also UN commander, and there would be a
strained effort to present it as a UN action.
The plan was not implemented. The immediate ensIS
subsided, as Clark had forecast. Rhee released most of the
imprisoned Assembly members, and bullied the legislature into
letting him guarantee his own reelection. Delighted by the
relaxation of tension, American leaders, and especially Clark,
were relieved, for they had no enthusiasm for deposing Rhee,
imprisoning his associates, or setting up a new government. 19
That would smack of white imperialism, might invalidate the
American intervention in Korea, and could raise troubling
issues about the United Nations' control of its command in
Korea.
By the summer of 1952, a number of themes were
already clear in dealing with Rhee. Overthrowing Rhee could
create serious instabilities in war-torn south Korea. An
American-sponsored overthrow of his government or even
blunt intimidation, despite the protective coloration of the
UN, would threaten the legitimacy of the war for many
Americans. How could the Truman administration justify the
war as being against aggression and ("Red") totalitarianism,
and for democracy and freedom, if the ROK leader had to be
deposed? Admittedly, support of Rhee's dictatorial ways also
raised some problems, but his actions attracted less attention
than would his overthrow and could be explained as his
zealous response to communist subversion. Caught in an
uneasy alliance with Rhee, American leaders realized that
efforts to escape from it could be more costly than attempts
to maintain and slightly modify it. Even its modification, the
State Department believed, could await the truce.20 But what
would happen if Rhee disrupted the negotiations and blocked
a truce? Would Clark's contingency plan be ordered? Or was it
to be used only to save the military situation?
The New Challenge of Rhee's Threats
Because the armistice negotiations were stalemated
during Truman's last six months in the White House, these
questions did not demand careful attention then. But by April
1953, with Eisenhower's renewal of negotiations at Pan-
munjom, Rheeoagain threatened to block a settlement if it did
not include two demands-unification of Korea under him and
withdrawal of China's troops north of the Yalu.
21
Perhaps in
his arrogance and hope, he thought that these (impossible)
conditions could be met, especially since right-wing Republic-
ans were making similar stipulations. Perhaps partly because of
this Republican support,22 he could not comfortably redefine
his aspirations and he also believed he had little to lose by
imposing t h ~ demands. America, he undoubtedly believed,
would not abandon Korea and could not find a strong leader
to replace him. To emphasize his commitment if his conditions
were not met, he again threatened to withdraw ROK troops
from the UN Command after the armistice agreement and to
fight on alone.
23
If Rhee tried to remove his troops from the Command
immediately after a truce settlement, Clark informed the Joint
Chiefs on April 26, 1953, he was prepared to implement plan
"Everready": the arrest of Rhee and establishment of an
interim government to protect the UN forces. "I still believe
that Rhee is bluffing and attempting to put on his dictatorial
act," cabled Clark, in concluding that "Everready" would
probably be unnecessary.24
On April 28, Clark flew to Korea to assess Rhee's
intentions and to repair relations. The Korean leader assured
40
Clark, according to the general's cable, "that he was not now
even thinking in terms of eventually withdrawing ROK forces,
that if such an action were taken, it would only be as a last
resort, and then only after thorough and frank discussions
with me." Clark happily concluded that Rhee's threats had
been bluffs, and that the Korean leader was being difficult
primarily to secure a mutual defense pact.
25
In their discussion, Rhee argued that "the Chinese
Communists were whipped [and] wanted to go home," and
therefore that the proposed American concessions were
unnecessary. His demand for the withdrawal of China's troops,
Clark warned, could renew Communist demands for the
removal of American troops-a position that both the United
States and South Korea had rejected in 1951. Then, they had
viewed American troops as a necessary guarantor of the peace
for an undefined period after the armistice started. Now, Rhee
was willing to trade an American departure for a Chinese one,
provided, as Clark reported to Washington, that the United
States would promise to "fly to [Rhee's] assistance" if the
enemy again attacked the ROK. A mutual defense pact,
according to Rhee, could substitute for the presence of
American troops in Korea.
26
In May, while fanning the flames for unification, Rhee
posed various objections to the proposed armistice. First, he
refused to allow the removal abroad of POW's then resisting
repatriation to North Korea. When the United States and the
Communists agreed on a compromise requiring Indian troops
to serve in Korea as guards of these POW's, Rhee again balked.
Wanting to free the prisoners and hating the Indian
government for its (alleged) pro-communism, he was also eager
to find excuses to block the armistice on tat.tical grounds. His
hopes and hatreds, comfortably reinforcing one another,
coalesced into the same policy. 27
As the likelihood of a truce approached in May,
American-Korean relations became more strained. On May 25
Rhee complained that he had been excluded from
consultations when Clark and Ambassador Ellis O. Briggs had
informed him of the latest American offer at Panmunjom just
an hour before it was presented to the Communists. Angered
and hurt, persuaded that America was sacrificing south Korea,
Rhee refused to abide by the armistice. Mixing despair and
defiance, this embattled supplicant declared, "[S] ay to your
President, please let the Koreans fight alone if need be. It is
the only way we can survive.":za
How much was bluff, how much was extremism of the
moment, how much was sincere? The evidence is too skimpy
and oblique for firm judgment, but there was always the
danger that bluffs, inspired by the passions of the moment,
could drive Rhee to actions, which, in a calmer time, he might
regret. He was not suicidal, only dangerous.
29
To assuage Rhee and bring him into line, Clark had hoped
to offer the defense pact that Rhee had been seeking since
early April, because the General suspected that Rhee was
engaging in limited blackmail to secure this treaty. Officials in
Washington blocked Clark's strategy. They feared that the treaty
would detract from UN participation in the war by
emphasizing American dominance and that it would mean
surrendering to Rhee's blackmail. In view of recent difficulties
with him, they also feared Congressional opposition to a treaty
and wished to avoid being locked into a formal alliance with
Rhee. (If a pact was to be offered, its proponents wished to
see it negotiated after, not before, Rhee's compliance with the
armistice, for they did not trust him.) They offered more
modest assurances than he sought-a promise that the United
States would support the ROK "militarily, economically, and
politically" if Rhee accepted the armistice and carried out its
conditions. If he fulfilled the conditions, he would also receive
a public pledge, from the United States and fifteen other
nations engaged in the Korean war, that they would help
defend the ROK if the Communists attacked. 30
These promises did not mollify Rhee, still embittered by
American decisions. He might act rashly, Clark warned, and
release all the non-repatriated Korean POW's-an act that Clark
told the JCS he lacked the military power to prevent. If Rhee
freed them, the political costs could be great. Clark feared "it
would be practically impossible to avoid charges of [our]
duplicity, not only from the Communists but from our allies
as. well.,,31 Too weak to shape the peace or to direct
American action, Rhee might split the uneasy alliance in Korea
and block the settlement. How could the United States end
the war if Rhee could act unilaterally to continue it? If the
United States could not guarantee Rhee's behavior, would the
Communists risk an armistice?
What Should Be Done About Rhee?
At the Pentagon on May 29, representatives of the Joint
Chiefs and the State Department met to discuss what should
be done about Rhee. General Collins, army chief of staff,
outlined the three options: arrest him and "any other ROK
intransigents"; give him a security pact; or get an agreement
that he will cooperate until UN forces could withdraw from
Korea. The dialogue revealed the divisions in the ranks of
41
advisers, who, buffeted by events and angered by Rhee, felt
they lacked attractive alternatives. Here is a portion of the
recentlydeclassified transcript:32
Walter Robertson [Assistant Secretary of State for Far
Eastern Affairs): If it is not militarily possible to effect
that third line ofaction, there is no use in consideringit
from apoliticalpointof view.
General Collins: We could pull back toadefenseperimeter
against,the Chinese Commies. Idon'tthink theROKwould
fight us. From mypoint ofview, J wouldtake Rheeunder
protectivecustodyratherthansubmittohis blackmail.
Robertson: I would be inclinedtogive Rhee thealternative
ofgoingitalone. ,
H. Freeman Matthews I Deputy Under Secretary ofState):
But that would merely be a bluff We couldn't let him
alone.
General Collins: Iwouldtake himinto custody on thebasis
of itbeingnecessaryforthesecurityof ourtroops.
Robertson: Butwhatwouldyoudo then?
General Collins: J wouldstayinandfight the war.
Robertson: It would seem to me that it might be better
donefor thepurpose ofgettingout.
Admiral Donald Duncan [Deputy Chief of Naval Opera-
tions): IfRhee is notbrought into line in the eyes ofthe
world, it would be worth it to give him a securitypact to
keep him inline.
General Collins: I don't go along with the bilateral pact,
because it gives Rhee the whip hand. I would rather pick
him up, preferably with ROK troops and hold him In
protectivecustody.
At one point, the group discussed the willingness of
General Sun Yun Paik, the ROK chiefofstaffthenvisitingin
Washington, to support plan "Everready." Paik "has agreed
tacitly to back us," Collins told the group, "if Rhee should
order his forces to withdraw from the UN Command." One
State Department representative questioned this appraisal,
citing the recent assessment by Walter Bedell Smith, Under
Secretary ofState, "thatPaik wouldgoalongwith Rhee ifthe
chips were down." Curiously, none challenged Collins'
sanguine view that Paik could control the ROK army against
Rhee.
33
As a former lieutenantintheJapanesearmy,whohad
risen meteorically in the ROK forces, Paik had manyenemies
among other ROK commanders, who were jealous of the
thirty-three year old generaL34 There was also evidence that
Paik preferred to stay away from Korea during this time of
troubles. He had recently applied to extend his visit in the
United States until June 21st,andClarkalso hadsomedoubts
aboutspeedinghisreturntoKorea.
35
At the high-level conference on May 29th,when Collins
pushed for a secret meeting between Paik and President
Eisenhower, some State Department representatives who
seemed to have doubts about the coup barred the meeting.
Ultimately the divided group submitted a memorandum to
Eisenhower outlining the three options and a draft
message authorizingimplementationof"Everready."3
Both Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and
Secretary of Defense Charles E. Wilson vetoed "Everready."
Influenced by them, Eisenhower the next day chose the
second option-thesecurity pact.
37
Why? Many oftherecords
are still classified, but itis possible topiecetogetherthelikely
domestic turmoil might ensue. A pact was not a high priceto
secure Rhee's good behavior, for it also fit other administra-
tion goals. The pact would bedesignedtohaltfurthermassive
Communist aggression on the peninsula, protect Japan and
offer Korea protection against Japan (a recent enemy), and
help stabilize northern Asia. For Dulles and Eisenhower,such
an agreement, soon to be duplicated for other parts of the
Pacific, was part of their larger of containment
inherited from theTruman administration. 8 Thetreaty could
also allay some objectionsamongright-wing Republicans, who
were criticizing the administration for sacrificing Korea by
abandoning earlier American goals of unification. Given the
Eisenhower administration's general commitment to the
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rationale. The overthrow of Rhee could be too risky, and'

42
strategy of increasing military alliances in Asia, the major
questions were two-fold: whetherto promise apacttben, and
whether to offer one to Rhee? A promise ofa treaty would
still be contingent upon his good behavior, and the
administration could always move back to "Everready" if
Rhee proved too difficult. The administration was narrowing
itsoptions,butitwasnotstraightjacketedbyRhee.
On May 30, the day Eisenhower chose the pact, the
o i n ~ Chiefs cabled Clark, in a recently declassified message,
that "we cannot concur with any action on your part which
would establish a UNC-militarygovernmentin [Korea,but] in
the event of internal ROK political-military disaffection
against [Rhee],you will take whatever other steps you deem
appropriate to safeguard the integrity and security ofyour
forces." Interpreted broadly, thiscable didnotbarClarkfrom
setting up a new Korean government without Rhee if
emergency required.
39
However, in view.of Clark's previous
sanguine estimates that a security pact would meet Rhee's
major objectives, there was little likelihood that the general
would exploit the looseness of the JCS directive to topple
Rhee.
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Eisenhower promised Rhee negotiations for a defense
treaty if he and his cohorts would stop agitating against the
armisticeandencouragingpopularopposition,wouldpledgeto
cooperate with the armistice, andwouldmaintain ROKforces
under the UN Command until the United States acceded to
other arrangements.
40
Once more, Rhee's good conduct
became a prerequisite for receiving substantial benefits, but
this time hispledgewouldbesufficienttoinitiatenegotiations
onthetreaty.
Eisenhower's terms were inadequate. Still chafing, still
trying to improve his position, Rhee opposed two provisions
of the truce. He refused to accede to the arrangement on
POW's, which leftnonrepatriatesinanindeterminatestatusfor
a few months, and he demanded thesimultaneouswithdrawal
of UN and Chinese forces.
41
The joint State-Defense team
complained, "he is nowseeking an armisticeagreementwhich
would [leave] the now superior ROK forces to deal with
North Korean forces, and a mutual defense treaty [that]
would assure him of [our] intentions if the Chinese
Communists or the Soviets again came totheaid oftheNorth
Koreans.,,42 The fear was that Rhee might provoke a war in
which the United States would beboundbytreatyorprestige
to intervene. Apparently none in Washington spelled out the
corollary: the continued presence ofChinese forces in Korea
might deter Rhee and thus protect the United States from
getting sucked into a second Korean war. Put bluntly, China
and the United States, with their forces in Korea, might
restrain their Koreanalliesfrom takingprecipitateactionsthat
would plunge these large powers into another bloody
confrontation.
43
In early June, Dulles invited Rhee to Washington to
discuss their differences.
44
A flattering invitation, it was
unlikely to be accepted. Rhee undoubtedly realized that he
could not fan the flames ofKorean opposition to thetruceif
he was thousands of miles away in Washington, and he may
have had some fear that the United States was thinking of
overthrowing him. What better way than to lure him outof
the country and then create a newgovernmentofothersouth
Koreans? Whether this was part of the Eisenhower-Dulles
stra.tegem remains unclear, and most of the papers on this
matterarestillclassified.
RheeTossesA"Bombshell"
Staying in Korea, Rheecontinuedhiseffortstosabotage
the armistice by tossing what Eisenhower called a "bomb-
shell.,,45 On June 18, Rhee released about 25,000 north
Korean POW's who did not want to return home, and thus
undercut American promises atthebargainingtable. Rheehad
done precisely what Clark had warned after their strained
meeting ofMay 25th. (Rhee "istheonlyonewhoknowshow
far he will go," Clark had then concluded, "butundoubtedly
he will bluffrightuptothelast.,,)46
When the bad news reached Dulles, he telephoned
Eisenhower, awakening the President,toplanaresponse. That
day, Eisenhower sent the Korean leader a sharp warning:
"[Your] cours.e of action can only result in the needless
sacrifice ofall that has been wonin Korea....Unlessyouare
prepared immediately and unequivocally to accept the
authority of the UN Command ...to bring [the war] to a
close, it will be necessary to effect another arrangement.,,47
These last few words, implying plan "Everready" which was
unknown to Rhee, left Eisenhower free to do whatever he
43
would risk: to withdraw American forces, to.topple Rhee, to
retract the contingent offer of a security pact.
At the cabinet meeting on the 19th, Eisenhower said, "I
can't recall when there was ever a forty-eight hours when I felt
more in need of help from someone more intelligent than I
am." Sherman Adams, Ike's assistant, later recalled that the
President "talked with an air of helplessness about the South
Koreans' apparent willingness to commit suicide if they had to
give up the northern part of their country permanently to the
Communists." "Their ambassador was in here," Eisenhower
told his cabinet, "and I asked him, 'What would you do if
American support was withdrawn?' He said simply, 'We would
die.' ,,48
Would Eisenhower now order implementation of
"Everready"? Had Rhee become so dangerous to the peace
that his removal, despite the political cost, was safer than his
continuance in office? Could the United States control the
South Korean government and army if Rhee remained? How
could the United States guarantee the armistice if Rhee
remained free to disrupt it?
Eisenhower's own anti-Communism, and his fear of
expanding Communist influence, made him unwillin to
withdraw forces from Korea. "We must not walk out," 9 he
told the cabinet. It would have been, he later wrote, "a
surrender to the Chinese, handing them on a silver platter
everything for which they had been fighting for three years." 50
"Eisenhower told the Cabinet, again, as he had told them
often during the truce negotiations," Adams later reported,
"that he wished the South Koreans would overthrow Rhee and
replace him with' a more moderate and reasonable leader." fl
"We're coming to a point where it's completely
impossible," Eisenhower complained at the meeting. "There's
one thing I learned in the five years I served in [Asia]-we can
never figure out the workings of the Oriental mind. You just
can't tell how they will react." Looking around the cabinet
table, he invited recommendations. But no one offered any. 52
Bringing Rhee Uneasily Into Line
Rhee's actions had also provoked angry words' from
America's allies in the war and from the UN Secretary General.
Rather than appearing chastened by their protests, the Korean
leader freed another 2,000
53
prisoners and thus even offended
some of his right-wing Republican supporters. 54
Still trying to deal with Rhee, Eisenhower dispatched
Assistant Secretary of State Robertson to try to break the
deadlock. His was a demanding task, but, as the State
Department obliquely reminded him, plan "Everready" was
always in reserve. 55 For more' than two weeks, meeting almost
daily from June 2S to July 11, Robertson negotiated with the
wily Rhee. The Korean leader's tactics were to mix hedged
promises and strident demands, to forget his pledges and
emphasize Korea's needs, to stress his patriotism and
anti-communism, to claim that he was being pushed by
popular sentiment, and to insist upon reunification. For
Robertson, the tedious negotiations required firmness, tact,
and patience, the willingness to repeat points, to correct
willful misunderstandings, to remind Rhee of his recent
promises. 56
Rhee feared that the international political conference,
to be held about ninety days after the armistice started, would
drag on without an agreement unifying Korea. If so, he wanted
the United States to join him in withdrawing from the
meeting. When Eisenhower agreed, Rhee contrived to
misinterpret that promise as a pledge to resume the war for
Korean unification. After Robertson quickly corrected him,
Dulles cabled Rhee, "If the political conference fails, this
would present an issue ... to be faced at the tina: if' light of
the surrounding circumstances." The two nations, Robertson
explained, "would then consult on ... steps to be taken." 57
Such vague promises for future consultations could not
nurture Rhee's hopes for America's joining him in renewed
hostilities.
"It is difficult to evaluate Rhee with any certainty,"
Robertson reported to Washington, for he is "such a complex
and contradictory character. He keeps the door open, never
saying he will do this or that, but rather that he is trying to
find a way out. For the first time he spoke yesterday [on the
6th] of having to save face with the Korean people." Was
Rhee's claim sincere? Robertson, like Clark and Briggs earlier,
thought that it was: Rhee had boxed himself in. He could not
comfortably retreat from his demands for unification after
having kindled passions for the cause. 58 The National
Assembly, partly at his behest, had voted 129-0 for unification
and against the proposed armistice. Street parades, inspired by
Rhee, had demanded unification. 59 He wanted to save "face."
To put pressure on Rhee and perhaps to encourage a
coup, American military leaders pretended that tney would
soon withdraw their troops from Korea. They even held
meetings with senior ROK officials to plan the pull-out.
60
"If
no change occurs in Rhee's attitude [on the armistice] ," the
JCS had cabled, "[we] hope that influential RO K political and
military elements will take steps [to change the ROK
government] ." 61 Whether this tactic had Eisenhower's formal
approval remains unclear, but it certainly dovetailed with his
expressed hopes at the cabinet meeting on June 19th.
American military leaders also stressed that the ROK
troops would be inadequate to sweep victoriously through the
north. High-ranking ROK generals agreed,62 thus adding
pressure on the beleagured but zealous Rhee. Less addicted
than Rhee to extravagant rhetoric and to impossible promises,
they did not want to promise victory; they did not even want
to embark upon what would be a "fool's crusade" for
unification without American help. And even some prominent
right-wing Republican congressmen bluntly told Rhee to
accept the armistice.
63
Pressured by these assessments and lured by Eisen-
hower's offers, Rhee finally reached an agreement with
Robertson on July 10th. The next day, the Korean leader
cabled Eisenhower, "I have decided not to obstruct, in any
manner, the implementation o( the terms [of the armistice] in
deference to your requests. In my view, however, it simply
cannot eventuate in a political settlement which will benefit
either Korea or the free world." 64 For a day, the crisis seemed
to be over; the armistice agreement, tentatively approved at
Panmunjom on June 8th, could be signed.
Quickly, Rhee's assurances seemed to unravel, as he
backtracked and added qualifications while American leaders
publicly denied his retreat and privately worried about it. On
June 11, in a published interview, he announced, "We will not
accept [the] armistice, but we have agreed not to obstruct it
for '" three months.,,65 The same day, at Panmunjom,
General William K. Harrison, America's top truce negotiator,
promised the Communists that the United Nations Command
44
would not aid the ROK army if it violated the truce.
66
On July
17, Dulles restated publicly that Rhee had given explicit
assurances that he would not disrupt the truce, and thus the
secretary disregarded the "three-month" proviso.
67
On July
21, Dulles cabled Rhee that General Harrison's statement was
not binding on the United States, for "no military officer ...
can bind the United States for an indefinite period of time." 68
While technically correct, Dulles's message seemed to imply
possibilities that he had earlier avoided-that America might
also violate the truce after three months if the political
conference failed. Rhee found this secret message "helpful,"
and regretted that he could not release it, since, as he told
Ambassador Briggs, it might pacify the south Korean people
who believed he had "surrendered too much." 69 When Dulles
again declared publicly that Rhee had promised not to
obstruct the implementation of the armistice, '10 Rhee privately
and publicly reminded the United States of his one
qualification: the right to go to war if the political conference
failed.
71
Even attentive American newspapers, such as the New
York Times and Washington Post, were confused by the
uncertainty.72 Evading many of the issues, Dulles announced
on the 22nd that "Rhee ... has reserved his Government's
position in the event of the collapse of political talks." 73 Both
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North Korea and China, anxiously following Rhee's threats,
charged that he was a warmonger likely to disrupt the
armistice. 74
Fearing Rhee's ambitions, the Communist leaders
calculated that they could successfully intimidate the ROK
with their military power. In their largest offensiye in two
years, on July 13, 1953, they launched a major attack-
primarily against ROK units.
75
"One of the principal
reasons--if not the one reason-for the Communist offensive,"
General Clark concluded, "was to give the ROK's a 'bloody
nose,' to show them and the world that ... 'Go North' was
easier said than done." 76 The threat of overwhelming brute
force and the fear of massive defeat would compel Rhee to
postpone his hopes and to accede to the armistice.
Rhee was correct to anticipate that the international
political conference would fail to unify Korea. Did Dulles and
Eisenhower think otherwise? Or was their expressed optimism
a cynical strategy to deceive Rhee and his cohorts, as well as
segments of the right wing in America? Because most of the
documents are still classified, it is impossible to reach a final
judgment. In early July, one prominent Republican senator
implied that the presence of strong American military forces in
Korea, because they would be threatening to Russia and
China, might lead to a Communist agreement on unification to
secure an American withdrawal and thus remove the threat.
77
If Dulles and Eisenhower briefly based their strategy on this
small hope, it rested on a weak reed, indeed, as the Truman
administration and its JCS had earlier concluded. 78
Conclusions
Because of his bluff and blackmail, Rhee had almost
become a victim of his own tactics: he narrowly averted
unleashing plan "Everready." Though he failed to gain
unification, he wrung from the Eisenhower administration
greater concessions than it had first planned to make, and he
had exploited the situation as far as possible without
committing political suicide or provoking a coup. By forcing
the United States to cater to some of his desires, he had
buttressed his reputation at home. He had also impressed
Dulles and Eisenhower as a headstrong ally, as a dangerous
partner in the growing system of alliances against Commu-
nism.
79
The very danger of the containment policy, as Walter
Lippmann had presciently diagnosed in 1947, was that the
United States could find its policies warped, and its flexibility
restricted, by the satellite states brought into its orbit. These
regimes could _ suck America into situations
where we would "have either to disown our puppets, which
would be tantamount to appeasement and defeat and the loss
of face, or must support them at an incalculable cost on an
unintended, unforeseen and perhaps undesirable issue." 80 Such
regimes, by drawing upon anti-communist rhetoric during the
height of the Cold War, could also create situations that might
threaten the anti-communist credentials of administrations and
charge them with compromising with evil. Such allies could
impugn the moral leadership of a president and make him,
potentially, the victim of the very anti-communist ideology he
shared. Eisenhower and Dulles were able to defend themselves
from such accusations, but Truman and Acheson had been
* dangerously vulnerable.
8
!
45
Notes
21. Mark Clark, From the Danube to the Yalu (New York:
Harpers, 1954), p. 256.
2. MacArthur, quoted in Harry S. Truman, Memoirs: Years of
Trial and Hope (Garden City: Doubleday, 1956), p. 446.
3. Matthew B. Ridgway, The Korean War (Garden City:
Doubleday, 1967), p. 158. At a meeting of the Secretary of State's
staff, July 30, 1951, shortly after the armistice negotiations began, the
group discussed and "opposed any suggestion that Rhee be invited to
this country as a means of getting him out of the way in Korea."
("Summary of Meeting with the Secretary," July 30, 1951, Department
of State Records, RG 59, National Archives [NA]).
4. See, e.g., Robert Lovett, memorandum for the Joint Chiefs
of Staff, Oct. 30, 1952, President's Secretary's File, Truman Library;
Rhee to Eisenhower, May 30, 1953, in Department of State, Division of
Historical Policy Research, "Relations Between the United States and
the Republic of Korea: A Chronology of Major Developments, April
l-:June 22, 1953," Research Project 337, July 1953 (mimeo.)
(hereafter cited as "Chronology, April-June"), pp. 22-23, Department
of State Records, Department of State (DS); Walter Hermes, Truce
Tent and Fighting Front (Washington: GPO', 1966), pp. 210-13,
340-45, 357-61.
5. For earlier similar analyses of Rhee, see CIA, "The Current
Situation in Korea," ORE 15-48, March 18, 1948, p. 7; and CIA,
"Prospects for the Survival of Korea," ORE 44-48, Oct. 28, 1948, app.
A, pp. 9-11, Washington Records Center, Suitland.
6. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, Feb. 25, 1952, CS 64241, DA
IN 109102, Department of Army Records, U.S. Army Military History
Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania (hereafter cited as Army
Records, Carlisle).
7. JCS to CINCFE, Feb. 27,1952, JCS 902158, Joint Chiefs
of Staff Papers, Pentagon; Hermes, Truce Tent, p. 215.
8. Truman message in G-3, signed Eddleman, to CINCFE,
March 6, 1952, DA 902912, JCS Papers, Pentagon.
9. CINCUNC to Deptar for CSUSA, March 10, 1952, C 65015,
DA IN 114192, JCS Papers, Pentagon.
10. CSUSA to CINCFE, May 30, 1952, DA 910149, JCS Papers,
Pentagon.
11. CINCUNC to Deptar for CSUSA, May 31, 1952, CX 69393,
DA IN 145238, CCS 383.21 Korea (3-19-45), Records of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff, Record Group 218, NA. (Hereafter this series cited only
by decimal designation, Korea, and date.)
12. CINCUNC to Deptar for CSUSA, May 31,1952.
13. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, June 27, 1952, CX 50901,
CCS 383.21 Korea (3-19-45). For an earlier meeting with Rhee by Van
Fleet, as ordered by the JCS, see CINCUNC to Deptar for CSUSA, June
25,1952, JCS Papers, Pentagon.
14. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, June 27, 1952.
15. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, June 27, 1952. The JCS
approved these tactics. (CSUSA to CINCUNC, June 27, 1952, DA
912291, JCS Papers, Pentagon.)
16. Se-Jin Kim, The Politics of Military Revolution in Korea
(Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1971), pp. 56-58,
87-90; and Sungjoo Han, The Failure of Democracy in South Korea
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), pp. 15-16.
17. "Oral History Interview with John J. Muccio," pp. 30-34,
Truman Library.
18. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, July 5, 1952, CX 51399, DA
IN 157957, CCS 383.21 Korea (3-19-45). The JCS had suggested the
rough outlines of this plan. (JCS to CINCUNC, June 25, 1952, JCS
912098, JCS Papers, Pentagon.)
19. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, July 5, 1952.
20. JCS to CINCFE, Feb. 27, 1952, JCS 902158, JCS Papers,
Pentagon.
21. CINCUNC to Deptar, April 26, 1953, C 62098, DA IN
261611, Army Records, Carlisle.
22. New York Times, April 20, 1953, p. 24; Ronald J. Caridi,
The Korean War and American Politics (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press, 1968), pp. 246-63.
23. ROK aide-memoire, April 24, 1953, summarized in
"Chronology, April-June," p. 9.
24. CINCUNC to Deptar, April 26, 1953, Army Records,
Carlisle. For similar judgments about Rhee, see CINCFE to Deptar for
JCS, April 16, 1953, C 61949, JCS Papers, Pentagon. Also see 8th
Army, Seoul, "Outline Plan Ever Ready," May 4, 1953,Seoul CS 2056,
JCS Papers, Pentagon.
25. CINCUNC to Deptar for Collins, April 28, 1953, C 62143,
Army Records, Carlisle.
26. CINCUNC to Deptar for Collins, April 28, 1953. For the
earliest request for the pact, see summary of Pyun-Briggs conversation,
April 3, 1953, in "Chronology, April-June," p. 1.
27. Hermes, Truce Tent, pp. 443-46; and Clark, Danube to
Yalu, pp. 262-69.
28. Clark, Danube to Yalu, p. 271.
29. Briggs to State for CINCUNC (Clark and Murphy), May 30,
1953, GX 5478, Department of State Records, DS.
30. Hermes, Truce Tent, pp. 444-46; CINCFE to Deptar for
JCS, May 13, 1953, CX 62406, JCS Papers, Pentagon.
31. Hermes, Truce Tent, p. 446. Also see J. Lawton Collins, War
in Peacetime (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1969), pp. 355-56.
32. Edwin H. J. Carns to Gen. J. S. Bradley and Gen. M. C.
Young, June 2, 1953, with "Notes Recorded by The Secretary and
Deputy Secretary, Joint Chiefs of Staff at the ... meeting ... on 29
May 1953," JCS Papers, Pentagon.
33. "Notes Recorded by the Secretary and Deputy Secretary
... on 29 May 1953."
34. On Paik, New York Times, June 21, 1953, p. 1; June 13,
1953, p. 1.
35. "Notes Recorded by the Secretary and Deputy Secretary
... on 29 May 1953."
36. Eddleman, Memorandum: "Conference on the Current
Difficulties with the ROK Government ... ," July I, 1953, G-3, 091
Korea, Records of the Army Staff, Case 46, RG 319, NA.
37. Eddleman, Memorandum: "Conference on the Current
Difficulties ... ," July I, 1953; CINCUNC to CSUSA, May 30, 1953,
DA 920241, Department of State Records, DS.
38. See, e.g., NSC 48/5, May 17, 1951; 12412, Feb. 13, 1953;
147, April 2, 1953; 154, June 15, 1953; all in NSC box, Modern
Military Records, NA. For earlier high-level doubts about the pact, see
"Chronology, April-June," pp. 18-19.
39. CSUSA to CINCFE, May 30, 1953, DA 940242, JCS Papers,
Pentagon.
40. CSUSA to CINCFE, May 30, 1953, DA 940241, De-
partment of State Records, DS.
41. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, June 2,1953, CX 62781, DA
IN 273323, JCS Papers, Pentagon.
42. CSUSA to CINCUNC, June 4, 1953, DA 940543, Army
Records, CArlisle.
43. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, June 7,1953, CX 62890, JCS
Papers, Pentagon, was less uneasy.
44. Dulles to Rhee, June 12, 1953; and Dulles, "Memorandum
for the President: Korean Situation," June 14, 1953; both in Ann
Whitman Files, Eisenhower Library. Rhee declined in a letter to Dulles,
June 14, 1953, Dulles Papers, Princeton.
45. Dwight D. Eisenhower, The White House Years: Mandate
for Change 1953-1956 (New York: Signet paperback, 1953), p. 235.
46. CINCUNC to Deptar for JCS, June 7,1953.
47. Eisenhower to Rhee, June 18, 1953, Whitman Files,
Eisenhower Library. For evidence of Dulles' sharp warning, see
summary of Dulles-Paek meeting, June 18, 1953, in "Chronology,
April-June," p. 39.
48. Sherman Adams, First-Hand Report (New York: Harper,
1961), pp. 99-100; Adams, draft ms. of First-Hand Report, pt. 5, ch, 4,
pp. 5-9, Adams Papers, Dartmouth; "Minutes of Cabinet Meeting,"
June 19, 1953, Whitman Files, Eisenhower Library.
49. Adams, First-Hand Report, p. 100.
50. Eisenhower, Mandate for Change, p. 236.
51. Adams, First-Hand Report, p. 101; Emmet J. Hughes,
Ordeal of Power (New York: Dell, 1964), p. 119.
52. Adams, First-Hand Report, p. 101.
53. Hermes, Truce Tent, p. 458; New York Times, June 21,
1953, p. 1.
54. New York Times, June 20, 1953, pp. 1, 2; June 21, 1953,
p.69.
55. Walter B. Smith, Acting Secretary of State, to American
Embassy, Pusan (for Robertson), July 3, 1953, file 795.00/7-353,
Department of State Records, DS.
56. Department of State, Division of Historical Policy Research,
"The Rhee-Robertson Conversations and Their Aftermath: A
Chronology of Principal Developments in Korean-American Relations,
June 22-July 26, 1953," Research Project 339, July 1953 (hereafter
cited as "Rhee-Robertson Chronology"), pp. 11-63, Department of
State Records, DS.
57. "Rhee-Robertson Chronology," pp. 15-16 (Eisenhower's
pledge), p. 16 (Rhee's misunderstanding), p. 29 (Dulles), p. 31
46
(Robertson).
58. Robertson to Secretary of State, July 7, 1953, file
795.0017-753, DepartmentofStateRecords, DS.
59. New York Times, June 10, 1953, p. 1; and "Chronology,
April-June,"pp. 1, 5,6-8.
60. CINCUNC to State, Defense, JCS, June 25, 1953, CX
63325; and CINCUNC to Secretary of Defense, July 5, 1953, CX
63500, JCS Papers, Pentagon; and Dulles, "Memorandum for the
President: Korea," June 28, 1953, plusnote(6/29/53),Whitman Files,
EisenhowerLibrary.
61. JCS toCINCUNC,June 30,1953,DEF943613,JCSPapers,
Pentagon.
62. Hermes, Truce Tent, p. 456;New York Times, July 5, 1953,
p.1.
63. Cable of Knowland, Smith, Judd, Van Fleet, July 1, 1953,
box 116, H. Alexander Smith Papers, Princeton. Their message was
inspired by Dulles' request for support (a "public re-enforcing
statement") for the administration. (Dulles to Smith, July 25, 1953,
box116,SmithPapers.)
64. Rhee to Eisenhower, July 11, 1953, in "Rhee-Robertson
Chronology,"p.60.
65. Rhee statement to Lucas, Scripps-Howard, printed in,
amongotherplaces, Washington DailyNews, July 11, 1953,p. 3.
66. Armistice meeting of July 11, summarized in "Rhee-
Robertson Chronology," pp. 58-59; and Hermes, Truce Tent, pp.
480-81.
67. Address ofJuly 17, Department ofState pressrelease, July
17,1953,DullesPapers.
68. Dulles to Seoul, July 21, 1953,quotedin "Rhee-Robertson
Chronology,"p. 83.
69. Briggs-Rhee-Paek-Pyun conversation, July 22, 1953, sum-
marizedandpartlyquotedin "Rhee-RobertsonChronology,"p.86.
70. Dulles statement of July 21, quoted in "Rhee-Robertson
Chronology,"pp. 78-79.
71. Rhee press release of July 22, quoted in "Rhee-Robertson
Chronology," pp. 85-86; and Rhee to Dulles, July24, ibid., pp.94-95.
72. New York Times, July 18-27,1953, p.1; Washington Post,
July 19-26, 1953,p. 1.
73. New York Times, July 23, 1953,p. 31.
74. Hermes, Truce Tent, pp. 481-85;New York Times, July 25,
1953,p. 1.
75. On July 10, the Communists had directed primarily against
ROK units what then constituted the largest offensive since spring
1951. On the offensives of June and July 1953, see Hermes, Truce
Tent, pp. 465-77.
76. Clark, Danube to the Yalu, p. 291; National China News
Agency, July 20, 1953, quoted in Robert Simmons, The Strained
Alliance(NewYork: Free Press, 1975),p. 239.
77. See Knowland statement of July 1, summarized in
"Rhee-Robertson Chronology," p. 28. John Kotch, "United States
Security Policy Toward Korea: TheOriginsandEvolutionofAmerican
Involvement and the Emergence ofa National Security Commitment"
(Unpub. Columbia Ph.D. in Political Science, 1976), p. 440, suggests
thatDullesbrieflyentertainedthisnotion. Forcontraryevidenceinlate
August, see Dulles on Aug. 27, 1953,in Adamsdraftms. ofFirst-Hand
Report, pt. 5, ch. 4, pp. 11-12. Also see NSC 154,June 15, 1953,and
154/1, July 7, 1953, NSC box, Modern Military Records, NA; and
W. M. Fechteler, for Jes, to Secretary ofDefense, on NSe 157, June
30,1953,ces383.21 Korea(3-19-45).
78. Dean A.cheson, Present at the Creation (New York: Norton,
1969), pp. 536-37; Hermes, Truce Tent, pp. 16-18; Dean Rusk, in
Department of State, memorandum of conversation, "Briefing of
ambassadors on Korea," July 16,1951,MaterialfortheDepartmentof
StateandDepartmentofDefensere KoreanWar, Truman Library.
79. "Memorandum of Restricted Meeting of Chiefs of Dele-
gations," Dec. 7, 1953;and Eisenhower to Dulles, Oct. 23, 1953,both
in Whitman Files, EisenhowerLibrary;andCINCFE(Hull)toRidgway,
Nov. 20, 1953, C 66181, ces 383.21 Korea (3-19-45). For later
difficulties,seeNew York Times, April 19-26, 1960,p. 1.
80. Walter Lippmann, The Cold War (NewYork: Harper, 1972),
p. 16. Also see ChangJin Park, "The Influence ofSmall States Upon
the Superpowers: United States-South Korean Relations as a Case
Study, 1950-53," World Politics, XXVIII (October 1975), pp. 97-117.
81. See Lippmann, "Today andTomorrow," Washington Post,
Aug. 24, 1956,p. 19.
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48
Short Review: Korea
Chosen san;ch; tokuritsu undo (Korea's Samil Inde-
pendence Movement), by Pak Kyong-sik. Tokyo:
Heibonsha, 1976. 311 pp. 1,000 yen.
by Ronald Suleski
Korea's Samil Movement is generally regarded as one
of the most significant events in modern Korean history.
The movement takes its name from an incident on March 1,
1919, when a declaration asking for Korea's independence
from Japanese colonial rule was read in a Seoul park. While
copies of the declaration were distributed to the gathered
crowd, the 33 prominent religious leaders and public figures
who had signed the document waited for the arrival of the
Japanese police and their certain arrest. Spontaneously,
crowds of Koreans began moving through the streets
shouting for independence, as Japanese citizens in the
capital boarded up their homes and expected the worst.
Copies of the declaration which had been mailed to other
cities throughout the peninsula also galvanized local
populations into public protest against Japanese rule and
demands for the independence of Korea. Incidents
continued in the days that followed, including some acts of
violence by Koreans, but the Japanese response-mass
arrests and often brutal treatment of Kore:ms taken into
custody-far surpassed whatever violence Korean national-
ists had caused.
Few would question the deep impact of the
movement on modern Korea. Some scholars have been
critical of aspects of the movement, by claiming for
example that the sentiments expressed in the Samil
declaration were bourgeois sentiments calling for freedom,
independence and world peace, instead of for the popular
revolution which conditions demanded. Questions have
been raised about the class composition of the movement
and the predominant role of students and church leaders in
what should have been a movement by the masses of
workers and peasants. (Some of these criticisms are
mentioned in the book's postscript.) But even questioners
accept the importance of the movement, and are striving
only for a clearer analysis of its composition and thrust.
The bulk of Pak's book is devoted to a review of
events immediately surrounding the Samil incident in 1919.
In Chapter 1 he paints in the background of the systematic
anti-Korean policies of the Japanese colonial administrators
which were designed to deprive Koreans of their property
rights and lower them to the status of a colonial and
subservient people. He also reviews the initial reactions of
the Koreans in forming secret resistance organizations, the
appearance of patriotic journals, and the activities of
Koreans abroad to publicize the plight of their nation. In
Chapter 2 Pak presents the prelude to the Samil movement
by discussing the increasing militancy of Korean students
studying in Tokyo who first wrote and published a similar
declaration, and the death of King Kojong in Korea, which
drew thousands of citizens into the capital for the official
mourning and provided the crowds which later marched
A stone ''general'' guarding an Yi Dynasty tomb in South Korea.
Photo by Ron Suleski.
through the streets. The declaration and its public reading
are described, with a Japanese translation of the entire text
appearing on pages 90-91.
A detailed look at the immediate effects of the public
reading and the spread of demonstrations to cities beyond
the capital is given in Chapter 3. After an overview of what
took place in Seoul, Pak gives literally a province by
province account of anti-Japanese activities. Some are
outlined in greater detail and a number of participant's
recollections are quoted at length. This chapter of 100
pages is the longest in the book and is a useful compilation
of local level reactions to the movement. It ends with an
analysis of the classes who participated and is, in effect,
part of Pak's answer to academic questions about the
movement. He says students played a very visible role in
propagating anti-Japanese activities and leading the move-
ment, but a very large number of peasants were also
arrested and sentenced by the Japanese for participating,
illustrating that various classes were actively involved in the
movement from the very beginning.
49
The remaining chapters cover anti-Japanese resistance
efforts undertaken outside of Korea (in Chapter 4),
resistance inside Korea under Japanese occupation (in
Chapter 5), and reactions to the movement in Japan, China
and the United States (covered in Chapter 6).
In the conclusion, Pak attempts to place the Samil
movement in a broader context, by viewing it not as a series
of incidents but as a movement which developed in the
succeeding decade. He charts both the evolution of the
movement and its changing class character. Reasserting his
analysis that the broad masses of the people participated,
he says it was led by students and religious leaders, but was
based on the strength of the peasants, students and
townspeople. Although religious organizations and schools
preached a philosophy of reform rather than revolution,
they were especially effective centers for organizing the
movement because political associations were proscribed by
the Japanese and could not be effective. By basing itself on
the broad masses of the people and on democratic thought,
Samil marked a turning point toward the development of a
modern national liberation movement. It expressed to all
the world the anti-colonialist feelings of the Korean people
and their desire for independence. It was an attempt to
struggle for the benefit of all the classes in Korea.
Moreover, it served as a catalyst for all of the liberation
efforts which followed. Of course the nationalists leading
the movement at the time did not take advantage of the
opportunities it had to expand, and after June 1919, under
severe Japanese oppression, there was no possibility of an
armed rising.
In August 1919 Japan appointed a new governor-
general, Admiral Saito Minoru, who instituted a "soft"
policy under which various forms of economic, cultural and
intellectual activity were allowed for Koreans. The Japanese
were correct in assuming that their new policy would
mollify segments of the Korean population, but they did
not realize that it would also serve to strengthen class
contradictions. For example, the landlords and bourgeoisie
who sold out to the Japanese became discredited elements
calling for reform, while the workers and peasants took a
more active role in resistance activities and came to realize
that revolution and armed struggle were necessary in order
to liberate the Korean people. Thus in the 1920s the class
base of the movement was broadened to include workers
and peasants who became extremely active and displaced
the religious groups and students, though the workers and
peasants continued to cooperate with the students.
Many nationalists continued to be active in the
liberation movement in the early 1920s. Taking advantage
of Japan's new policy, they organized academic and social
groups to perpetuate their heritage. Men like Shin Yong-u
and Kim Song-su were active in groups such as the Choson
sajong yonguhoe (Society for Research on Conditions in
Korea). Korean newspapers like the Tonga ilbo carried their
essays. Although these men and their organizations called
for reform, Pak says, they still helped to carry forward the
liberation struggle. The theories of Marxism-Leninism
added a persuasive interpretive dimension to the liberation
movement in Korea, and by the mid-1920s most progressive
youths and students became socialists and communists.
Between 1920 and 1925, under the leadership of the
communists, anti-Japanese activities carried out- by stu-
dents, peasants and workers increased. During this period
there were at least 234 anti-Japanese incidents involving
students alone.
The thrust of the liberation movement was carried
out in Korea, Pak holds, by communist youth. In April
1925 the Koryo kongsan chongnyunboe (Korean Commu-
nist Youth Association) was organized, and anti-Japanese
activities increased from 81 in 1926 to 119 by 1928. After
mass arrests of young Korean communists, the Japanese
succeeded in smashing their organization by 1928. In a
hope of reviving it, increasing numbers of workers and
peasants were brought into the communist organization.
Worker, peasant and student strikes continued in 1929 and
1930, though in the 1930s they declined as Japanese laws
designed to control the Koreans multiplied and became
very harsh.
Pak has focused on the progress of the Samil
movement within Korea, while giving less attention to
resistance activities by Koreans outside the peninsula.
Korean liberation activities in China and the United States,
he says, always fell prey to factionalism and could not unite
on the basis of their common patriotic philosophy. Inside
Korea, the nationalist reformers and the communist
revolutionaries continued to cooperate as long as possible in
order to spur forward the liberation movement. Pak's
analysis of the development of the Samil movement is
plausible and could probably be supported with a lot of
documentation. The problem is that the analysis put forth
in the conclusion goes far beyond the material covered in
the book. Most of the text restricts itself to the period of
late 1918 and the first half of 1919, while Pak's analysis
discusses the 1920s, with some examples cited in his
narrative, but without the critical resume of each example
which would be needed to show that his interpretations are
accurate. The final interpretive conclusion is provocative
and worthy of further discussion, even though it is not an
* appropriate conclusion for this book.
50
Short Review: China
Joseph W. Esherick, Reform and Revolution in China:
The 1911 Revolution inHunan and Hubei, University of
CaliforniaPress, 1976,XI, 324pp., $15.
by Marianne Bastid
This is a brilliant book, well researched, pungently
written, forceful in its description ofevents and masterful in
its argument. Such a remarkable style is notthe outcome of
some literary talent and dedicated scholarship alone, butofa
capacityforsharpthinkingandsynthesis.
Taking the twin provinces of Hubei, where the revolu-
tion of 1911 broke out, and Hunan, where itfirstspread(and
also Mao Ze-dong's birthplace), as case studies, Joseph W.
Esherick intends to examine the internal origins of the
revolution in all its aspects, and its significanceforthepeople
ofChina. He concernshimselfparticularlywith theinteraction
of the currents of reform and revolution and with the social
contents of political movements and the social consequences
of articulated policies. His findings are that the process of
reform proved not an alternative but a contribution to the
dynamics ofrevolutionary change; reform wasshapedby,and
itselfshaped and strengthened,an urban,increasingly western-
ized elite, which stood in opposition both to conservative
gentryandtothemasses.
The thesis which Esherick expounds is one which has
been suggested by others (see, for instance, Philip Kuhn's
comment in Ping-ti Ho and Tang Tsou, eds., China in Crisis,
pp. 198-99), but had never thus been formulated and docu-
mented into a full, self-evident system. His interpretation
states that imperial Chinese society and system held together
because of effective vertical integration, which most signifi-
cantly relatedtherulingelitetotherural communitiesin some
kind of understanding and balance through a variety of
mechanisms such as: the examination system, which drewthe
elite from all areas ofthe COuntry, andallowedfor, oratleast
screwed up the myth ofits open recruitment on the basis of
intellectual achievement alone; the practice of returning to
one's home after the death of a parent for a long mourning
period which enabled displaced gentry to renew acquaintance
with their rural origins; or the law ofavoidance whichhelped
the imperial governmenttocheck "destabilizingexactions"by
local gentry. Westernization did away with thesemechanisms,
and the social structure was weakened accordingly. The
vertical integration ofsociety broke down as the elite turned
to the West for the techniques of political and economic
modernization, and thus increasingly alienated itself from the
rural masses. Therefore,as avictoryforthewesternizingurban
elite, the 1911 revolution was "more a precondition than a
model for Mao Ze-dong's peasant revolution." The trend it
established towards rule by that type of elite was not
continuedbutreversedbyMao.
Mr. Esherick points outvery shrewdly how westerniza-
tion aligned with a long-term process of elite urbanization
which can be traced atleast as far back as the Ming, and not
only encouraged urban residence but impressed upon the
gentry an "urban orientation," as opposed to concerns with
countryside affairs. He carefully shows the shapingofa new
class of the "urban reformist elite" through action and
struggles along the years from 1898 to 1911. This historical
method of class analysis gives us a more comprehensive,
concrete and clear view of the whole period from 1898 to
1911 and of the republican revolution itself than any other
account until now, even by Chinese Marxist historians. No
doubt also thatthe new-coined phrase "urbanreformistelite"
will have its fortune in English literature on China asa
convenient intermediate category to describe the changing
gentryoflate Qing.
However, one is left with some queries. As usually
happens when an author is eager to prove a neatly conceived
theory, Esherick sometimes has a tendency to push facts
slightly too forcibly into his arguments. For instance he
describes Tang Caichang and his friends as belonging to the
"lowerfringe ofgentry" (p. 32), a categorization which hints
at a class content oftheir uprising. It is indeed true that the
leaders of the Independence Army held only lower degrees,
but that was because of their young age; most of them
belonged to locally prominent families and had little to do
with ignored villages' shengyuan; thesameappliestomembers
of the Science Tutoring Institute and of the Society for the
Revival ofChina.
It is surprising that while so numerous and various
sources are otherwise scanned, the discussion of educational
reform does not use the statistical series published by the
imperial and then republican Ministry of Education (Jiaoyu
tongji tubiao). While Professor Esherick leaves us with the
figures of 1318 schools in Hubei, 739 in Hunan in 1907
(p. 43), and uses a 1902 source to assert his point thatelite
schools were concentrated in the provincial capital (p. 45),
these statistical series would show that in 1912 Hunan had
4078 schools with an enrollment ofsome225,000,and Hubei
7921 schools with an enrollment ofsome 203,000, and that
modern educational facilities, though indeed centered on
cities, had, owing to the support of local elite, fairly spread
outtolessertowns.
Thisraisesanotherissue: Esherickis rightin stressingthe
opposition to reform from the poorer elements in the
population, buthe underrates support for reform on the part
ofsmall merchantsandwealthyfarmers. Tomanyofthem the
new schools appeared as a short-cut to social status (see local
accounts onschoolsandcontemporarynovels).The division in
Chinese society was notasimpleoneofanopposingprivileged
eliteandthedestitutemasses.
Through the whole book Esherick seems uneasy about
51
the relationship between political characteristics and socio-
economic features ofvariousgroups.Thoughheprovestobea
pathbreaker and demystificator in manyaspects (especially by
drawing attentiontodiscontinuitiesandcontradictorytrends),
he stops short ofathorough discussion onthispoint,however
basic it is to his whole interpretation. Therein lies perhaps a
weaknessinhis armor.
The distinction that Mr. Esherick works out between
"conservative gentry" and "urban reformist elite" rests ulti-
mately on apoliticalline(thosewhoresistreformversusthose
who advocate it). Buthe alsoseemstolookatitsometimesas
a full-fledged class-opposition (chapter3, pp. 132-36). One is
therefore puzzled to see no more mention of conservative
gentry after the 1910Changshariot,andnota wordofitsfate
in the conclusion. The definition ofsocial groups by political
criteriamayhaveseriousshortcomingswhen oneis leftunsure,
for instance, whether extra-provincial merchants who led
modern business in Hubei were part of the urban reformist
elite even though they did not participate in the Rights
Recovery Movement-"a defining characteristic" of the new
class (pp.72-73). When Wang Xian-qian, the prototype of
conservative gentry, is contrasted with Xiong Xi-ling (p. 74),
one should be reminded of the generation gap between the
two, which is ofparticularrelevancein theculturalcontextof
the time. That the thirty-year-old Xiong launched new
business enterprises after1902,whileWang, thenin hissixties,
grew content with those he already owned would then prove
less conclusive ofdiverging economicinterests.Actually,most
01 the so-called conservative gentry mentioned by Esherick
advocated some kind ofreformattheirtimeandconvenience,
and the new schools and industries they then sponsored were
not decidedly less urban-oriented than those of the "new
clique."
On the other hand, strikingly absent from his account
are those who actually ruled over the peasants in the
countryside. Are they not to be considered elite? Or do they
somehowmerge into the urban reformist elite, as is hintedby
such phrasing as "thelocaleliteoptedforrevolution,"or"the
local elite supported revolution in 1911"? If the first
hypothesis was true, why should Mao's revolutionhaveaimed
so consistently at getting rid ofpower-holders in thecountry-
side? The second hypothesis would credit the new-born
republican regime with a wider and more united social basis
than it actually proved to have. The decade or so which
preceded the 1911 revolution indeed witnessed some rapid
social change. But the power structure inside Chinese society
had been one ofvarious interlockinglayers. Although histori-
ans recently gained decisive insights into its working bygoing
one step down from the nationaltotheprovinciallevel,lower
layers as well as the multi-directed linkages between them all
needfurtherexploration.
However, the reader should not forget the limitations
that available sources impose on historical analysis of this
period. One should be gratefultoEsherickforhis illuminating
pages on the Ping-Liu-Li uprising, on the 1910Changshariot,
on the growing malaise in the years 1910-11 when "thebelief
thatthedynastywas comingtoan end ...changedintoawish
that it would fall." With his investigation ofthe two central
provinces, especially the one where the revolutionaryuprising
was sparked, an important piece has been added to regional
studies of the 1911 revolution. This study- appears more
comprehensive-some will say because it comes later and
benefitted from earlier works-but it should be stressed how
well this book defines and handles basic questions. The
interpretation that Esherick has proposed certainly has to be
refined, for socio-economic groups and political groupingsare
more variegated, and less directly or simply related than his
framework suggests. The many facts that he himself bringsto
light, and a number of his passing remarks, just suggest such
further elaboration. But Esherick gallantly shows how con-
cerned scholarship may try torenewandwiden afield, andhe
leaves us wishingthathe will writemore. *
ISSUE NO.6 1977
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A Review Essay
A Chinese MarxistStudyofTheA1Ifllects
Lun""u xin-tan (FreshProbesintotheAnalects) byZhao
Jibin.Revisededition,Peking, 1974(original, 1962).
by OleBjornRongen
Ever since the May 4thMovement almost 60years ago
criticism of Confucius and Confucian ideology has been
powerful. Since Liberation the debate on Confucius has been
continued, and was especially voluminous in the late'50sand
early '60s} In the fall of 1973 the debate picked up
momentum again with the campaign tocriticize Lin Biaoand
Confucius.
Agood numberofthe previously hotly disputed points
now seem to be resolved. There is, for instance, near
unanimity onthe question ofthe nature ofZhousociety: the
Western Zhou (1066-771) was a slave society, the Eastern
Zhou (770-221) was a period of transition from slave to
feudal society, with the year 475 (B.C.) used as the dividing
point. Likewise is there agreement as to the class nature of
Confucius: he represented the interests of the declining
slaveowner aristocracy, wanted a restoration of the Western
Zhou slave system, and was strongly opposed to the newly
emerging feudal private landowners. Thirdly, the main
ideological struggle at the time of Confucius and in the
following centuries was that between the Confucian and the
Legalistviewsorschools.
2
Considering the intensity and the extentofthe debate
onConfucius in China since 1949,itseemsamazinghowlittle
response-if any atall-ithas had in bothstudy and teaching
of Chinese philosophy in theWest. Even the criticism ofthe
"sage" from the May 4th Movementseems tohave made no
impact, atleastnotwhenoneconsidersthemaintextsusedby
teachers and students in the English-speaking West, such as
Creel's book on Confucius,3 Waley's translation,4 Sources of
Chinese Tradition,s Feng Yu-Lan's History,
6
and the Source-
book 7 and numerous articles by Wing-tsit Chan (though to
Chan's credit it must be mentioned he has written a
biblioraphy of what his counterparts in China have pro-
duced ).
One ofthemostimportantcontemporaryChineseworks
on Confucius is Lun-yu xin-tan or Fresh Probes into the
15:38
Analects,9 published in a revised editioninPekingin 1974.Its
author is Zhao Jibin, a prominentscholar ofphilosophy and
the history ofphilosophy. He wasaco-authorwith HouWailu
and others of the outstanding 6-volume General History of
Chinese Thought which was published between 1957 and
1960. He has written numerous scholarly articles, some of
which were included in his 2-volume Kun-zhi lu orA Record
of Knowledge Obtained Through Hard Effort from 1963.The
articles included go as far backas 1941 and spansuchdiverse
topics as Sun Yatsen's naturalsciencephilosophy,criticismof
modernidealism,aswellasancientChinesephilosophy.
In 1973 he published averysophisticatedstudyentitied
On "the question of Confucius' execution of Shaozheng Mao.
This study played an important role in the campaign to
criticize Lin Biao and, Confucius, and is the main reason,
apparently, for recent attacks on Zhao Jibin and his alleged
connectionwiththe"gangoffour."10
According to the postscript to the 1974edition ofhis
book, ZhaoJibinhasbeenlecturingontheLun-yu since 1944.
In 1948 his Criticism of ancient Confucian philosophy was
published. In 1959 the book was republished under the title
Fresh Probes into the Analects; four oftheoriginal chapters
were notincludedastherehadnotbeentimetorevisethem. It
was revised and added toin 1962, and again in 1974mostof
the chapters were greatly expanded and four new chapters
were included. This final edition was readily available in
bookstores inChinabothbeforeandafterthefall ofthe"gang
of four."11 Although it has received little attention in the
West, as far as I can see, it is highly praised by German
sinologist Brunhild Staiger who has done a study of the
Confucius-debate in China between 1954and 1965}2I agree
with Staiger in herhighestimateofZhao'sstudy,andwillgive
a somewhat detailed review ofhis bookin anattempttohelp
modify the massive prevalent Confucian tradition in the West
of seeing Confucius as the great humanist. Thebasis for the
review will be the 1974-editionofthebook, though attimes
53
references will be made to the 1962-edition when the
differences seem significant.
Nature of ancient Chinese society
As a basic framework for his book, Zhao accepts the
common marx ian Chinese analysis of the nature of ancient
Chinese society. From a society of primitive communism
China developed a slave society starting with the Xia dynasty
in the 21st Century, which continued throughout the Western
Zhou. Starting with the Eastern Zhou, or the Spring-and-
Autumn period (770-476), this slave system was gradually
weakened, until Chinese society was transformed into a feudal
society. This transformation was a long process, and Zhao
consistently speaks of the Spring-and-Autumn period as a
transitional period of struggle between the forces of the old
and the new.
The clue to the difference between slavery and feudalism
in Chinese marxian historiography lies in the common (gong)
versus the private (si) ownership of land. Here is a discrepancy,
of course, with the orthodox marxian definition of slavery,
One of the most important of Zhao's theses is . that
the terms ren and min as used in the Lun-yu consistently
refer to two opposed, antagonistic social classes, the
ruling class and the class of the ruled. ... This is, of
course, quite a sensational thesis, and, if true, would
overturn and invalidate at least large portions of all
translations of the Lun-yJl into Western languages, as
well as most Chinese works on the Lun-yuo
which requires private ownership of the means of production
(land and slaves) by the slaveowner. This discrepancy is usually
resolved by interpreting the gong-type of common ownership
as the private ownership by the collective slaveowner. clans.
The slave system in China, according to Zhao, was based
on the ancient "well-field" or jingtian-system, where, ideally, a
square piece of land was divided into nine equal parts (the
pattern resembling the character jing for "well"*), eight
peasant families cultivated one of these parts each for their
own reproduction, whereas they cultivated in common the
ninth part, the produce of which went to the duke or patriarch
(gong, the same word as "common," meaning perhaps
common clan patriarch). The land ultimately belonged to the
patriarch (i.e., the slave owner) as ancestral holding and thus
could not be bought or sold. In reality it was controlled and
used by either the king or some other hereditary aristocrat,
who had slaves tilling the land for him. These slaves were not
free; they could be killed or otherwise punished by the
slaveowner at will.
The fact that the land was not disposable is an important
and special characteristic of the Chinese slave system. A kind
of common landownership system was taken over from the
ancient clan society prior to the establishment of slavery, but
slave labor was introduced to till the land. In the 1962 edition
*A list of Chinese characters is appended at the end of the essay.
S+
of his book Zhao bases his discussion of this question on Guo
Moruo (1962, pp. 51-53),13 and mentions the gradual
establishment of privately owned land. Private land could be
had only by bestowal from the patriarch or by reclamation of
surplus land outside the jingtian-fields. This acquisition of
private land on the one hand led to an increase in production
in that more land was tilled, but on the other hand, it
weakened the economic foundation of the slave system, in
that less revenue came in as the proportion of private land
increased in relation to the common or jingtian land. Also to
increase productivity, some slaves were freed, and some
humbler members of slaveowner clans themselves started
tilling the land they had reclaimed, as free men. This
development undermined the social class structure of the
Western Zhou system. Furthermore, all along there was the
serious problem with the resistance of the slaves, especially
manifested in the problem of largescale running away of slaves
or sabotage of production.
All these factors signalled the decline of the slave
system, and its gradual replacement by the feudal system,
where lands could be bought and sold, and be tilled by serfs or
tenants, who paid part of their produce as rent to the
landowners. The big landowners as well as the smaller
owner-tillers were taxed by the government.
The most important economic aspect of the transition
was the change from the jingtian system of landownership to
the private individual ownership of land which could be
bought and sold. The transitional Spring-and-Autumn period is
characterized politically by the struggle between the old dying
slaveowning hereditary aristocracy and the new emerging
private landowner class. This latter class arose partly from
within the slaveowner aristocracy, for instance as slaveowners
who gradually had accumulated private land outside of the
jingtian fields, partly as small free peasants who worked their
way up from small-scale to large-scale landowners. Handicraft
workers and merchants also belonged to the new forces
fighting to overthrow the slave system (p. 14).
Where then is the place of Confucius in this scenario? In
1974 Zhao finds him a representative of the slaveowner
aristocracy, whose efforts all went into the struggle against the
new forces, to defend and preserve the jingtian system, as well
as all of the ideological superstructure of the Western Zhou
system. In short, he was a restorationist.
In 1962 Zhao gave a slightly different role to Confucius.
He then represented a reform (wei xin) faction within the
slaveowning aristocracy that, in opposition to the die-hard
faction of slaveowners, wanted to preserve the slave system as
long as possible by very modest reform and only peacefully
and gradually to make the transition to feudalism. This gave
Confucius an ambiguous position, which also had conse-
quences in his philosophy. But in a postface to the
1974-edition Zhao explains that this interpretation was due to
his previously not understanding the significance of the
struggle between the Confucians and the Legalists, so he
revised his book in this respect and now views Confucius as an
out and out restorationist representative of the slaveowners.
14
... * ...
Slavesandslaveownersinthe Lun-yu
8:9
One ofthe most importantofZhao'sthesesis presented
in Chapter 1. He holds that the terms ren (usually "person,"
"people," or "human being") and min (usually "people") as
used in the Lun-yu consistently refer to two opposed,
antagonistic social classes, the ruling class and the classofthe
ruled, respectively, i.e. theslaveowners and the slaves. Thisis,
of course, quite a sensational thesis, and, if true, would
overturn and invalidate at least large portions of all transla-
tions of the Lun-yu into Western languages, as well as most
Chineseworksonthe Lun-yu.
In order to prove his thesis, Zhao proceeds in a very
systematic manner, examining how the two terms are used in
the Lun-yu. He investigates theverbs in theLun-yu forwhich
the terms (ren and min) are grammatical subjects orobjects,
thereby indicating what kind of actions a ren or a min
performs, and what actions are performed upon them. As a
result of this examination, Zhao finds certain important
systematicdifferences.
First ofall, theverbai "love"takesren asitsobject,but
never min; in other words, loveis reservedfor membersofthe
class ofren orslaveowners. The verb sbi (command,causeto,
send, employ) takes min as object. Sbi is used for the
employment ofslaves in agriculturallabor. However, thereare
some instances in the Lun-yu where shi takes ren as object.
This Zhao explains as referring to the layers within the ren
class, where some lower-level members are ordered by
higher-level members to do certain types ofwork. As support
forthis, hepointsouttherearenocaseswheresbi takesmin as
its subject, as a person commanding or employing othermin,
nottospeakofren.
Another important distinction between ren and min is
that they are objects, respectively, ofthe verbs hui andjiao.
Now, by carefully examining the contentand usage ofthese
two words, Zhao finds that hui refers to education and
learning, its content is knowledge (zhi), and theconditionfor
receiving this knowledge, is bringing the dried meat tuition
referred to in Lun-yu VII,7. jiao is military instruction and
training. The min or slaves ofthe Spring-and-Autumn period
served both as agricultural laborers and as footsoldiers.
Already we see emerging a quite distinct difference between
ren andmin.
13:29,30
Further analysis of min in Lun-yu shows their impor-
tance as the direct agricultural producers, and reveals the
problems of their running away and sabotaging labor, their
"not submitting" and "not being respectful." All this Zhao
finds in Lun-yu, and with his new interpretation ofren and
min in mind, a great many new possibilities exist for the
understanding of this text. Zhao makes good use of older
commentators to the Lun-yu, accepts many carefully argued
philological points, and criticizes idealist, Confucian interpre-
tations.
This analysis of the difference between ren and min is
essential to understanding the concept REN
l5
(commonly
translated as "humanity, benevolence, good," etc.). The
mobilizationoftheslaveowners toresistance againstthefeudal
forces required an organization wider than the old clan.
Confucius sought a supra-clan concept ofpatriarchy, whereby
the total class of slaveowners were bound together by the
concept of"love" orREN.ThusZhao proceedstothefamous
REN zhe ai ren ("REN is to love ren") ofXII,22,which Feng
Yu-Ian used to prove that Confucius advocated "love for all
people." Zhao criticizes Feng's supra-class interpretation of
REN,andemphasizesitsclass nature.
As Zhao sees it, Confucius was a reactionary who
wanted to restore the Western Zhouslave systemwhich
was falling apart, he despised physical labor, he would
not take nature as an objectofstudy, but merely used
natural phenomena as analogies to politics and ethics,
and thus created a kind of anthropomorphic logic of
analogy which distortednaturallaws.Thefoundation of
such a logic ormethod lies in theConfucianidealismof
taking the objective world andits laws to be attainable
byintrospection...
In contradistinctiontomin orslaves,themembersofthe
ren class enjoy the right ofparticipation in politics, the right
to discuss politics, the right to judge in legal cases, and to
instruct and command troops, and in addition they lead a
material and spiritual life far above anything the slaves can
expect.
In a new chapter 2 added in the 1974-edition, Zhao
adduces further evidence for his interpretation of ren as
members ofthe slaveowning aristocracy. At the same timehe:
is engaged in a polemic with Feng Yu-Ian who takes ren to
refer to all human beings, andunderstands RENtobelovefor
all people(ai yiqie ren).
Was ConfuciusaGreatEducator?
In Chapter 1, Zhao establishes the difference between
hui, which means to educate members of the ren class, and
jiao, which refers to military drills and instructions given to
the min or slaves. This analysis should already have been
sufficient to reject the idea ofConfucius as thegreat teacher
and philosopher of popular education, praised practically
unanimously by generations ofChinesecommentators,includ-
ing foreign scholars. Even most Chinese scholars after 1949
have accepted this idea. Zhao devotes a new Chapter 3 in his
55
1974-edition to the analysis of the shortest single passage in
the Lun-yu: the four characters of XV,38 (you jiao wu lei),
traditionally understood to mean, "In education there are no
classes." This passage is usually taken as the ultimate proof
that it was the aim of Confucius to teach all people,
irrespective of wealth, position, family origin or social class.
The clue to Zhao's rejection of this interpretation of
XV,38 lies in the word lei which he claims could not have had
the meaning of "class" at this time. There is no other evidence
for such a usage, and, besides, this is its only occurrence in the
Lun-yu. Zhao takes lei to refer to clan, tribe or family. He thus
understands the passage as advocating non-discrimination on
the basis of clans in the training of military units. In this
Confucius clearly reflected the interests of the ducal house
that wanted to expand its sources of manpower, and therefore
wanted to recruit footsoldiers regardless of clan or tribe.
In addition Zhao gives many other reasons against the
view of Confucius as a great reformer in education, such as the
observation that only members of the slaveowning aristocracy
(ren) were admitted to receive his teaching, that the content of
his teaching was the ethics of the Western Zhou society, an
important part of which was to promote the right ren for
political jobs, how to preserve the ancient rites and ceremonies
(LIt7) etc. This chapter is also part of the polemic against Feng
Yu-lan who took Confucius to advocate education for all with
no regard to class, a kind of supra-class education, just as he
understood REN as a kind of supra-class ethics.
The Split within the Ruling Class
~
~
~ ~
:tt ~
A f- A ::r-
EI"
tl 1l tl

}til..
"
fj,
4:11
0
Chapter 4 is devoted to the analysis of the terms junzi
(usually translated as "gentleman, superior man, lordling,"
etc.) and xiaoren (literally "small person," also "inferior man,
commoner"). These terms traditionally (i.e. also today by
traditional scholars!) have been taken to have wholly ethical
connotations, junzi meaning the morally superior man, a
concept created by Confucius-one of his subtlest innovations
in his broad scheme of "humanizing" the society of his times.
Similarly, xiaoren has been taken to mean the morally inferior
man, the one who put profit above justice and goodness etc.
Song neo-Confucianism reinforced this moralistic view. On the
other hand, some scholars, especially marxists,18 have given
the terms class meanings, junzi referring to the ruling,
exploiting class, and xiaoren referring to the exploited class.
(This is the distinction Zhao makes between ren and min, as
has been shown.)
For Zhao, xiaoren are not min or slaves, but belong to
the ren class. The xiaoren represent the opposition to the
restorationist junzi within the ren class. They are the stratum
of reformers which in the transitional Spring-and-Autumn
period had acquired a lot of strength, and included the new
emerging rich landowner class, individual peasants, handicraft
workers and merchants. They wanted to use revolutionary
methods to overthrow the old slave system based on the
jingtian system of landownership, and to establish the feudal
system based on private landownership.
Zhao does not limit his discussion of these terms to the
Lun-yu, but treats them historically, starting with the
occurrences in the Book of History and the Book of Odes.
From this material he concludes that in Western Zhou the
xiaoren were quite close to the min or slaves economically, in
that they participated in productive agricultural labor. Still
their political position was much higher; for instance, they had
the right to discuss politics and to take' part in warfare on the
same level as the junzi.
A spearhead or the Western Han Dynasty
S6
In the Spring-and-Autumn period the contradiction
between the junzi and the xiaoren became much sharper, as
reflected in the Lun-yu by Confucius' very hostile attitude
toward the xiaoren. The strengthening of the xiaoren is
parallelled by the weakening of the junzi, both economically
as privately owned land expanded at the cost of jingtian land,
and with the decay of the Western Zhou rites and
ceremonies-continually lamented by Confucius-as well as the
decline of morals among the junzi. In Lun-yu XIV,7 there is
mention of junzi who are not REN, and in XVII,23 mention
of those junzi who are rebellious. In this situation what the
restorationist Confucius attempted was a kind of moral
rearmament of the junzi as well as a beautification of the
concept junzi itself. Zhao cites a host of examples illustrating
this point.
He quotes, just to mention one example, Lun-yu XVI,8,
where it is said that a junzi fears three things: the mandate of
heaven, great men, and the words of the sage. On the other
hand the xiaoren takes an opposite attitude towards the same
three things. Zhao points out how one can say that these three
in many ways sum up the essence of the ideology of the
hereditary slaveowner aristocracy, and thus the opposition of
the xiaoren takes on great significance in terms of the struggle
between incipient feudalism and declining slavery (p. 116). . .
Some of Confucius' students belonged to the xiaoren,' Zi
Zhang, Fan Chi, Zi Gong, Zi Lu, Zai Wo and Ran Qiu (see
Chapters 12 and 13). Zhao also traces the links ideologically
between these students and later thinkers such as Mo-zi: One
particularly important difference between Confucius and
Mo-zi lies, says Zhao, in their respective attitudes toward
physical labor, which Confucius despised and Mo-zi honored.
Rich and Poor, Noble and
Humble in the Lun-yu
One of the important arguments used to support the
view of Confucius and his school as populist-as one that
democratically accepted any interested student provided he
brought a "token gift" of dried meat (Lun-yu VII,7)-is the
fact that many of his students are referred to as poor, and also
that Confucius himself refers to his own humble background.
With the gradual increase in privately owned land., which
gathered momentum in the Spring-and-Autumn period, the
jingtian-system of common ownership of land was being
eroded. The division between rich and poor grew as the
patriarchates had to disinherit "excess" sons. This is reflected
in the Lun-yu.
A number of the rich and poor persons mentioned in the
Lun-yu are discussed in Chapter V. Among the rich are Guan
Zhong and the head of the Ji clan who ruled the state of Lu
after having usurped the power of the Duke of Lu. Confucius
approved of Guan Zhong who got his wealth by what he
considered legitimate means, namely riches bestowed upon
him by Duke Huan and some land he expropriated from a
certain Bo Shi (see Lun-yu XIV,10). The head of the Ji clan,
however, represented the new feudal forces, and got rich by
collecting land taxes as well as by warfare. Thus he
strengthened the feudal mode of production. Confucius
disapproved strongly and was especially bitter that two of his
own students worked for Ji.
The poor students of Confucius mostly belonged to the
slaveowner aristocracy, and with the decline of the jingtian
system, their family fortunes also waned. The important thing
to note is that these poor students still belonged to the Ten
class, and they hoped to regain their former dominance by
means of a restoration of the Western Zhou system. Some of
these students, as well as Confucius himself, did indeed gain
high offices. The distinction of rich and poor did not apply of
course to the min class, or slaves, as they were the property of
the slaveowners. Thus these terms did not refer to class
distinctions, but to the ups and downs of fortunes of members
of the ruling class.
The rich people often attacked in the Lun-yu are
typically xiaoren, or new emerging rich landowners. They
refuse to abide by the old ideology according to which
"wealth and rank depends on heaven." They went against
LI-the rituals and ceremonies and rules for proper behavior of
the Western Zhou-and openly sought wealth and political
power.
Confucius, from his restorationist point of view, did his
best to promote such ideology, and students like Yan Yuan
were praised for being content without wealth. On the other
hand, Confucius rebuked aristocrats who were too extrava-
gant, and advocated the way of the mean to harmonize the
contradiction between rich and poor within the ren class of
slaveowners.
Outline of Lun-yu xin-tan
The first part of Zhao's book, Chapters 1-5, deals with
questions concerning the economic situation and social
classes-in short, the nature of Chinese society in the
Spring-and-Autumn period. The treatment of these questions,
as indicated above, is based on a systematic and thorough
analysis of the Lun-yu, but also of other classical texts, such as
the Zuo Zbuan, the Books of Odes and History and others.
The role of Confucius and many of his disciples, as well as of
other historical figures mentioned in the Lun-yu is also
discussed. In Part 3 (Chapters 12 and 13) Zhao will return to
discuss specifically the most important of Confucius' students.
Part 2 (six chapters) is devoted to the examination of
certain important questions in Confucius' thinking. None of
these questions are treated in isolation from their social and
historical antecedents or their social and political conse-
quences. This treatment, combined with Zhao's brilliance in
detailed philological analysis, is what makes his book such a
model study in the History of Ideas.
57
Nature as Metaphor
First d i ~ u s s e d is knowledge of nature as found in the
Lun-yu. Noting from the outset that this is a very minor
concern of Confucius, Zhao examines more than fifty
passages, categorized as having some connection with
astronomy, physics/chemistry, zoology/botany, and agri-
cultural or industrial crafts. In four out of five instances
references to natural phenomena are simply used metaphori-
cally, to illustrate or "prove" some point in the sphere of
politics or ethics. Whatever knowledge can be found is quite
primitive knowledge of direct observation. Zhao compares this
state of affairs to the later period of Greek philosophy, and
adds that, since this attitude of disregarding natural
phenomena, except as they can be used as metaphors, became
a tradition of the Confucian school, its influence was
deep-going and long-lasting.
The primitive knowledge of nature found in the Lun-yu
can be traced back to the Western Zhou; it does not go beyond
the theological viewpoint. In this connection Zhao discusses
the concept of heaven (tian) which is basically the same as the
"god" or di of the Yin or Shang people. Thus also for
Confucius heaven is a conscious being, a god, that rules the
world, and is the ultimate source of religion and ethics.
"Knowing the decree of heaven" is therefore not studying the
laws of nature, but telling people to obey the mandate as
manifested through the patriarch (p. 196).
As the private schools developed in the Spring-and-
Autumn period to replace the official court scholars, court
edicts were no longer sufficient justification for this or that
doctrine. Instead analogies to nature were used to give
authority to one's teachings. This use of nature without really
studying nature led to what Zhao calls a kind of subjective
deductionism, where one deduces from oneself to others, from
inner to outer, and from human beings to nature. This method
became very dominant in the Confucian tradition. The use
Confucius made of the Odes helped to form this method. Zhao
cites a number of Lun-yu passages where Odes are quoted for
analogy but are otherwise out of context (e.g., 1,15 and 111,8).
The epistemology of the Lun-yu
As Zhao sees it, Confucius was a reactionary who
wanted to restore the Western Zhou slave system which was
falling apart, he despised physical labor, he would not take
nature as an object of study, but merely used natural
phenomena as analogies to politics and ethics, and thus created
a kind of anthropomorphic logic of analogy which distorted
natural laws. The foundation of such a logic or method lies in
the Confucian idealism of taking the objective world and its
laws to be attainable by introspection. With regard to the
question of the origin of knowledge, Confucius was an
apriorist.
The locus classicus for Confucian epistemology is
Lun-yu XVI,9, which iIi W. T. Chan's translation reads:
Confucius said, "Those who are born with knowledge are
the highest type of people. Those who learn through study
are the next. Those who learn through hard work are still
the next. Those who work hard and still do not learn are
really the lowest type. ,,19
About this passage Zhao says that Confucius holds that only
people of the ren class have the qualifications to enable them
to attain knowledge. Min or slaves cannot learn even if they
apply themselves to the utmost. Concerning the origin of
knowledge, members of the ren class fall into three different
categories, those who are born with innate, heaven-bestowed
knowledge, those whose knowledge comes from study, and
those who obtain knowledge through hard work. These
differences reflect a grade system within the class of reno Still,
these differences are of a relative nature; all ren can obtain
knowledge. Thus we get the later Confucian theory about the
transforming power of education.
The differences between ren and min, however, are of an
absolute nature. As regards the first grade of ren, those born
with knowledge,20 and the min who never can obtain
knowledge, this theory is pure idealist apriorism. On the other
hand, with the two grades of ren, who obtain knowledge by
studying, the case seems to involve an element of empiricism
as opposed to apriorism. In the 1962-edition of his book, Zhao
indeed admitted this element of empiricism, and concluded
there was a dualism in Confucian epistemology, which he
linked with the ambiguous stand of what hethen perceived of
as a reform faction within the slaveowner aristocracy. This
empiricism, which was a progressive element, was later
developed by Mo-zi and Xun-zi, but the apriorist element
which stemmed from the stand of the diehard reactionary core
of slaveowners, was further developed by Zi Si and Meng-zi
(1962, p. 109). However, in the 1974-edition, when Zhao does
not give Confucius such an ambiguous position, but regards
the slave owning class as homogeneously reactionary, he only
allows this empiricist element in Confucius' epistemology to
be a superficial impression, which in reality is not opposed to
the apriorist elements. To me, the 1962 interpretation is much
more convincing!
Most of this Chapter 7 is devoted to the detailed analysis
of terms of epistemological interest. Concentrating on xue
"study, learn," xi usually "practice," zhi "knowledge," and
neng "skill, ability," Zhao includes a large number of related
terms used in the Lun-yu. What he finds fairly consistently is
that the epistemological activities referred to by these terms,
are always controlled and limited by LI ("ritual, ceremonies,"
etc.).
In Chapter 8 Zhao examines the terms liang duan and yi
duan of Lun-yu IX,7 and II,16, respectively. He concludes a
philological analysis by determining that the two terms are
really identical, and that they are instances of dialectical
58
thinking in ancient China. Liang duan or yi duan refers to the
contradictory aspects of any thing, process or concept. Zhao
compares this both with Hegel's dialectical logic and the
famous contradictions of Kant's pure reason. The fact that
these terms appear in the Lun-yu is no indication Confucius
accepted dialectical thinking; on the contrary he wanted to
refute the adherents of such thinking. Further, the appearance
of these terms shows the fundamental eclecticism of
Confucian thought. Confucius' basic goal was to barmonize
contradictions, not to affirm their existence. That harmony
and the mean or the middle way represent the core of
Confucianism.
In another model History of Ideas-study (Chapter 9),
Zhao traces the development of the character variously read as
sbuo and yue, the former meaning "say" and "explain" and
the latter meaning "pleased." Summing up his findings, Zhao
points out that the development process of this term is one
from knowledge to emotion, from verb to noun in
grammatical terms, from perception to reason in epistemology,
or from concrete to abstract.
Zhao claims that in the Lun-yu there are a number of
passages where commentators have mistakenly read yue
"pleased," when it really should be sbuo. In these cases sbuo
has a technical epistemological meaning of "comprehend." In
this way Zhao reinterprets Lun-yu VI,10 where the meaning
concerns Ran Qiu's "comprehending" the Confucian teaching
or dao, and not his being "pleased" with it. The same goes for
Yan Hui in XI,3. The climax of Zhao's reinterpretations
regards 1,1 where W. T. Chan has "Is it not a pleasure to learn
and to or practice from time to time what has been
learned?" 1 Again Zhao reads sbuo and not yue, and points
out that this passage clearly deals with epistemology in that.
both xue and xi-epistemological terms in Lun-yu-appear in
the same sentence. A translation according to Zhao's
intentions-without getting all the nuances he suggests in his
interpretation of these three terms-would perhaps run
something like this: "To study and then regularly to practice
it, would that not lead to comprehension (on a higher level)?"
Zhao next traces the further development of sbuo as an
epistemological or logical concept in later philosophers such as
Mo-zi, Zhuang-zi, Xun-zi and the Mo-jing (the dialectical
chapters of the M o-zi text).
Confucius' Hatred for the Clever Talkers
Zhao has repeatedly pointed out that Confucius' main
concern-his restorationist politics and ethics-colors every-
thing he says. Both his epistemology and his methodology are
merely "handmaidens" of his politics. An important
illustration of this in the Lun-yu is the relatively frequent
outbursts against "glib talkers," "sharp tongues," etc. This is
an emotional reaction to mostly reformist debaters whose
arguments Confucius cannot answer, and so he resorts to
More important, however, is the fact that he
perceives arguments and discussions on a par with modern, and
in his view, decadent music, as serious threats to the old order
and to his own restorationist efforts.
An important term in this connection is ning, which in
Lun-yu is used as a term of abuse. The interesting point about
this term is that in other texts it has a positive value. It is only
beginning with Lun-yu that it acquires negative value, almost
an opposite to REN. Still it refers to such qualities as
skill in debate, quick-wittedness, etc. Zhao points to other
terms in Lun-yu with a similar meaning and which also are
used as terms of abuse by Confucius. Zhao sees the term ning
as referring to a logical way of arguing that arose in the
Spring-and-Autumn period with the decline of LI and the old
music. The people using this new method belonged to the
xiaoren; they rejected the Confucian type of education which
stressed reading the ancient texts. And they rejected the
theory of the "rectification of names" (zbeng ming) which was
an important part of Confucian idealist apriorism
(Chapter 10).
REN and LI in the Lun-yu
Throughout his book, Zhao emphasizes the important
function of LI in the Lun-yu. LI has a restraining or
controlling influence in various activities, such as study and
the attainment of knowledge. A very central point of dispute
among students of the Lun-yu is which is the more important
or dominant concept: LI or REN. Those who want to place
Confucius within the "humanist" tradition-most Western
scholars and also most Chinese, including such people as Feng
Yu-lan-give priority to REN. A key passage in this

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controversy is Lun-yu XII,1 where both terms occur. In this
passage the student Yan Yuan asks about REN. The answer is
the famous phrase ke ji fU Ll wei REN, which without
<;omparison must have been the most quoted phrase in China
during the campaign to criticize Lin Biao and Confucius. The
meaning of the terms ke ji and fu Ll is hotly debated, but
basically there are two rather different interpretations of both
expressions. Ke ji can be taken as "to subdue one's self"
(Legge's translation following Zhu Xi; W. T. Chan has a similar
rendering, as has Bodde in translating Feng Yu-lan). Or it may
be interpreted as meaning "to be able to by oneself" (which is
Zhao's interpretation, and also how Waley understood the
phrase). Fu LI can mean, in Legge's words again, "to return to
propriety" (similarly Chan and Feng; Waley has "submit to
ritual"), or "to restore the rites," where "the rites" or LI
refers specifically to the regulations of the Western Zhou slave
system; this is how fu Ll is understood by most analysts in
China today, and this is Zhao's interpretation.
It is interesting to note, as an aside, that in most of the
articles discussing this passage in China during the past few
years the phrase ke ji has been understood in the first sense
above, as "subduing one's self" which is the interpretation of
59
the Song dynasty idealist Zhu Xi. Then the same writers of
course reject Zhu Xi's interpretation of the next phrase fu LI,
and instead take it as referring to the restoration of the Zhou
system of slavery. 22 Such an inconsistency clearly must be due
to lack of the kind of thorough scholarship that we find in
Zhao's work.
Zhao's 4o-page discussion of Lun-yu XII,! (Chapter 11)
is full of interesting insights; he analyzes ke ji fu Ll character
by character, and draws on a wealth of commentaries
especially from Qing dynasty scholars. An important
difference between the 1962 and 1974 editions concerns the
interpretation of, and significance of, the term ji "self." In
1962 he pointed out that the development of ji started from a
term used mostly by the ancient kings and nobles, and then
came-with the development of new economic categories due
to the rise of the private land ownership system-to be a term
for "individual," and thus was a reflection linguistically of the
emerging feudal relations of production (1962, p. 170). It is
on this basis that Brunhild Staier translates ke ji as "being
able to develop one's own self." 3 As fu LI clearly represented
the demands of the restorationists, the whole phrase contains
contradictory demands, which again reflects the ambiguous
position of Confucius, as Zhao perceived it in 1962, belonging
to a reformist faction of the slaveowning aristocracy. REN
thereby becomes an attempt at harmonizing the contradictions
of this ambiguous position (1962, p. 200).
In 1974-with a different historical position assigned to
Confucius-the emphasis on ji "self" is seen more as a
reflection of the strong subjectivist and idealist tendency in
Confucius, which was also witnessed in his epistemology
(p.309).
The key term LI, according to Zhao, refers to the
Western Zhou slave system; more specifically, as used in
Lun-yu, it means on the one hand the classical texts used to
educate the members of the ren class, and on the other hand
refers to the method used by Confucius of distinguishing
between right and wrong.
In the Spring-and-Autumn period the fundamental
contradiction was the one between the remnant superstructure
of the Western Zhou slave system and the new emerging feudal
relations of production. The decline of LI and music was the
necessary result of the development of the economy towards
private ownership of land, and it only shows that LI had
become shackles hampering the progress of history. This
contradiction was also reflected within the Confucian school,
with some students doing their best to preserve LI, and others
going against LI (p. 321).
Thus fu Ll-"restoring or reviving LI"-meant reviving
the rule of the slaveowner aristocracy with its grade system; it
meant at the same time the control or restriction on the
development of ji or the individual; it meant the restriction
economically of individual, private ownership of land; and it
meant the strengthening of the class oppression of the slaves or
min.
Zhao traces the development of the term REN and holds
that it followed the appearance of new interhuman
relationships with the decline of the clan system and the
jingtian system. For Confucius REN held second place to LI.
In XII,1 we have seen that the restoration of LI was the
content of REN. Zhao also cites Lun-yu III,3 and XV,32 to
show the priority of LI. The latter of these two passages is
rejected by Waley as a later addition partly because it does give
priority to LI over REN! 24 The priority of LI also holds with
regard to other virtues than REN, as shown in VII,2.
Part of this Chapter 11 is a polemic with Feng Yu-Ian's
interpretation of REN as "love for all people." To accept
Zhao's conclusion that Feng is wrong in attributing this idea to
Confucius is easier than to follow all his arguments, especially
the arguments against the possibility of an abstract concept
"man." It seems to me that Zhao here gets entangled in that
quagmire of philosophy called the Nominalist Controversy.
The t u d e n t ~ of Confucius
In Part III Zhao has added two long chapters in the
1974-edition dealing altogether with 12 of Confucius'
students. Half are found to reyresent a xiaoren type of
opposition within the school (Zi Gong, Zai Wo, Ran Qiu, Zi
Lu, Zi Zhang and Fan Chi). The other half are loyal
restorationists, though with differences among themselves
(Yan Yuan, Min Zi-qian, Zi You, Zi Xia, Zeng Shen and You
Ruo).
Conclusion
In this review I have mentioned only what I take to be
the most important of the results of Zhao Jibin's new
researches into the Lun-yu. At every step, Zhao carefully
documents his conclusions. His marxian view of history is
combined with excellent philological insights, and his use of
earlier Chinese scholars, especially of the Qing dynasty, places
him in a long scholarly tradition. He critically makes use of
what is good and discards what is bad.
Those students and teachers of Chinese history and
history of philosophy who are not marxists-presumably most
in the West-may have doubts as to the value for them of a
marxist work which takes the time of Confucius to be the
period of transItton from slavery to feudalism, and
furthermore regards Confucius as a champion of restoration of
slave society. Although I am sure Zhao would not agree with
this, I think a non-marxist can regard this historical framework
more like a working-hypothesis than as a claim to definitely
established historical fact. The reason this may be said can be
found in the differences between the 1962 edition and the
current 1974 edition. Zhao has changed part of his
"framework" or his working-hypothesis, namely the social
position of Confucius. This has required a number of other
revisions, but basically, his conclusions and interpretations are
unchanged.
Whether or not a reader of Zhao's book will accept his
identification of ren in Lun-yu with the class of slaveowners
and of min with the class of slaves, one cannot honestly
overlook his finding that there are systematic differences
between those referred to as ren and those referred to as min.
To take another example, any discussion of Confucius' view of
education that does not take into account Zhao's analysis of
Lun-yu XV,38, ought to be considered outdated, to say the
least.
25
These examples could easily be multiplied, especially as
regards the many specific passages in the Lun-yu for which
Zhao offers new and well-found interpretations. *
60
List of Chinese characters
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61
Notes
1. For the May 4th Movement, see anti-Confucian articles in
Xin Qingnian (New Youth) by Yi Baisha, Chen Duxiu and Wu Yu;
Chow Tse-tung, The May Fourth Movement, Stanford University Press,
1967, esp. Chapter XII.
For the 1950s and 60s see esp. Zhexue Yanjiu (Philosophical
Studies) for the period; and Brunhild Staiger, Das Konfuzius-Bild im
Kommunistischen China, Schriften des Instituts fiir Asienkunde in
Hamburg, Otto Harrassowitz, Wiesbaden, 1969.
2. Concerning this point, it is worth noting that the "gang of
four" carried the idea of this struggle to absurdity, by using it to
characterize disputes in philosophy and politics right up to the present
time. See Wu Jiang, "The historical development of Legalist thought,"
Lisbi Yanjiu, No.6, 1976, for a very thorough refutation of this view.
In People's Daily for June 4, 1977, and also in Hong Qi, No.6,
1977, Wu Jiang has another long article criticizing the "gang of four"
and their view of Chinese history. Concerning the periodization
question, Wu Jiang claims that Mao in 1974 affirmed Guo Moruo's view
that the transition from slavery to feudalism should be placed at the
transition from the Spring-and-Autumn period to the period of the
Warring States, i.e., 475 B.C. This Wu takes to invalidate the idea of the
"gang of four" that the Warring States period was not yet feudalism,
but a period in which feudalism still struggled to overcome slavery, in
other words, a period of transition.
3. H. G. Creel, Confucius and tbe Chinese Way (New York:
Harper Torchbook, 1960). Published in 1949 under the title Confucius:
The Man and the Mytb.
4. The Analects of Confucius, translated and annotated by
Arthur Waley, Random House. First published by George Allen &
Unwin, Ltd. 1938.
5. Sources of Chinese Tradition, compiled by Wm. Theodore
deBary, Wing-tsit Chan and Burton Watson(New York: Columbia
University Press, 1960), esp. Chapter II.
6. Fung Yu-Ian, A History of Chinese Pbilosophy, translated
by Derk Bodde, Princeton 1952. Esp. Vol. I, Chapter IV.
7. A Sourcebook in Chinese Philosophy, translated and
compiled by Wing-tsit Chan, Princeton 1963, esp. Chapter II.
8. Wing-tsit Chan, Cbinese Pbilosophy 1949-1963: An
annotated bibliography of Mainland China Publications, Honolulu
1967. See also Chan's "Chinese Philosophy in Mainland China,
1949-1963," in Philosophy East and West, XIV, 1964.
9. This rendering into English is that of Moss Roberts.
10. Zhao is attacked by name in an article criticizing Tang
Ziaowen's misuse of the Liuxia Zhi- or the Robber Zhi-anecdote in the
Pi-Lin Pi-Kong campaign. See Ushi Yanjiu, No.6, 1977, p. 26-30. It
seems Tang Xiaowen was the name of a writing group which included
Zhao Jibin.
In a number of other articles Zhao J ibin is indirectly attacked as
"the professor" behind Tang Xiaowen. The most important of these
articles is one occurring in Ushi Yanjiu, No.1, 1978, and in People's
Daily for January 20, 1978, by Fu Sun entitled "Criticizing three
representative articles by Tang Xiaowen." Those articles are one on
Confucius' execution of Shaozheng Nao-the ideas of which can easily
be traced to Zhao Jibin's study; one on Liuxia Zhi, and one on
Confucius as "an educator of the whole people," which again is based
on Zhao's book on the Analects, to be reviewed here.
The article also contains what amounts to a complete character
assassination of Zhao Jibin connecting him with the fascist "vitalism"
philosophy of Chen Lifu, with anti-communism, etc.
11. It was available at least well into 1977. Presumably it isn't
available any more. See note 10.
12. Staiger, Das Konfuzius-Bild im Kommunistischen China.
Donald Munro refers to its Chapter 1 in Tbe Concept of Man in Early
Cbina, Stanford, 1969, p.208, and in his essay "Chinese Communist
Treatment of the Thinkers of the Hundred Schools Period" in
Feuerwerker, ed., History in Communist China (Cambridge: M.I.T.
Press, 1968), p. 93.
W. T. Chan, in his Cbinese Philosophy 1949-1963: An annotated
bibliograpby of Mainland Cbina Publications, p. 15, mentions the three
earliest editions, but it is clear from his summary of the contents that
he has not read the book, as he mistranslates the chapter headings.
13. Page references to Zhao, when given, are to the one-volume
1974 edition, and when the 1962 edition is referred to, this will be
indicated by adding "1962" to the reference. As this review in the main
will be chapter by chapter, only few page references will be given.
14. This simplification in the analysis of the class position of
Confucius is presumably due to the influence of the "gang of four" and
their exaggeration of the significance of the struggle between the
Confucians and the Legalists. Curiously, though, in the criticism of
Zhao in the aforementioned article (see note 10), he is instead criticized
for his too positive view of Confucius in the 1962 edition of T.un-yu
xin-tan!
15. Transcribed throughout this review as REN, to distinguish it
from the homonym ren or "slaveowner."
16. Brunhild Staiger, "Die Gesellschaftspolitische Relevanz der
Diskussionen iiber Konfuzius in der Volksrepublik China," in
Internationales Asie forum, Munchen, No. 213, 1971, p. 428.
17. LI is capitalized in this review to distinguish it from Ii
"stand."
18. For instance, Eduard Erkes, "Die ursprungliche Bedeutung
der Ausdriicke chun-tse und hsiao-jen," Sino-Japonica. Festscbrift
Andre Wedemeyer zum 80. Geburtstag, Leipzig 1956.
19. Chan, A Sourcebook in Chinese Philosophy, p. 45.
20. In Lun-yu VII,19 Confucius denies any claims for himself to
belong to this category.
21. Chan, ibid., p. 18.
22. See for instance Kong Meng zhi dao mingci jianyi (Simple
Explanations of Confucian Terms) by the 2nd class of worker-peasant-
soldier students in the Philosophy Department at Peking University,
Peking 1974, p. 32. See also English translation of the phrase ke ji fu U
in various articles in Peking Review.
23. Staiger, Das Konfuzius-Bild im Kommunistischen China,
p.83.
24. Waley, The Analects of Confucius, p. 200, footnote 1.
25. The criticism of Zhao J ibin in China recently (after this
review was first written) does indeed specifically reject his
interpretation of Lun-yu XV,38.
62
Forum on Teaching: Number 2
Neo-Confucian Tyranny in theDream
oftheRedChamber: A Critical Note
by Moss Roberts
After the Dream of the Red Chamber appeared, traditional
thought and writing were demolished.
-Lu Xun*
This vast and complex novel is an unsparing comprehen-
sive expose of a decadent and unjust social order as well as a
conscious critique of neo-Confucian authoritarian ideology. It
is also deeply feminist, in the best sense of the word. Not
surprisingly, American critical writing has dwelt on the novel's
mythic, symbolic, allegorical and stylistic aspects (important
but secondary matters) while neglecting (and misunderstand-
ing) the moral tale in the form of a love triangle which is the
dramatic nucleus of the novel and the vehicle of the author's
purposes.
We may gauge the force of social criticism in this novel
from the fact that in the three generations after it was written
some thirty sequels appeared, almost all of which sought to
blunt the novel's meanings by ending the narrative in a spirit
of meretricious optimism. Even the existing "Gau Ou" ending,
the last forty chapters, is only partially consistent with the
tragic directions of the first eighty chapters by the primary
author Cao Xue-qin. The text we now have gives the fortunes
of the House of Jia an improbably happy turn and allows the
male hero, Bao-yu, to make certain compromises with the
social order.
Even if we may never know the extent of the primary
author's purposes, nonetheless in its totality the novel not
only unfolds an extensive critique of those who control court
and family (bureaucrats and parents) but also voices positive
themes: aspiration for egalitarian relations among men and
women, freedom of marriage, sexuality as love (i.e., between
equals, non-exploitative sexuality). The authors also express a
strong respect for the "lowly," for primary human desires, and
for manual labor. Taken together, these themes develop a
tradition of libertarian thought that can be traced back in the
first place to the late Ming period.
Cited in Shi Da-qing, Hung Lou Meng yu Qing Dai Feng Jian Sbe Hui,
p.134.
Black Jade (Dai-yu), Bao-yu (Precious Jade) and
Precious Virtue (Bao-chai) are the three characters at the ceri-
ter of the Dream. Bao-yu is the eligible young man of the Jia
household, bearer of the family'S future hopes. As his name
has one element from the names of each of the two women
(Bao from Precious Virtue, Yu from Black Jade), so is he torn
between the two. Black Jade and Bao-yu have a deep
affectionate affinity for one another, and there is hope early in
the novel that they will be allowed to marry. At the same time
Bao-yu finds Precious Virtue physically alluring. The three
young people are entering that early stage of adolescence when
sexuality is beginning, but only beginning, to become
separated from other kinds of friendship and emotional
affection. As Baoyu's relations with each develop, rivalry
between the two women grows and their characters become
more divergent and delineated. In the course of the action
Black Jade's. chances for marrying Bao-yu fade even as the
intensity of their love increases. The elders who control the
marriages decide that Bao-yu is to marry Precious Virtue
(Bao-chai), but, recognizing how they are violating his desires,
they lead him to believe he is marrying Black Jade. Bao-yu
learns the truth only after the wedding ceremony. He falls into
a prolonged faint. When he awakens he enters into the fullness
of marriage with Bao-chai, who urges on him the good
Confucian course of upholding the family honor. He is
persuaded to prepare for the examinations (something he had
always loathed) and passes them with distinction. Formally, he
has satisfied the family's demands of him, but inwardly he is
already making his departure from the world.
. Bao-yu's love for Black Jade is one of compassionate
desire and is charged with the spirit of egalitarian sympathy he
has for many of the maidservants in the novel. This spirit of
sympathy, at once social and biological, manifests itself in the
tender fleeting moment in human biology between awakening
sexuality and full procreative maturity. But society and
biology are pushing Bao-yu swiftly out into the mature world
63
where androgynous affection turns to male lust, where the
purpose of marriage is procreation, where feudal inheritance
imperatives must be obeyed, where the cruel institution of
enforced marriage ("arranged" marriage) must overrule all
desires of the young so that the pattern of land and office
holding may be assured its continuity through the progeny.
Bayo-yu resists entering that "adult" world, resists the
coming into being of what he sees as his masculine self. He
seeks to remain in the evanescent world of early adolescence,
to be on equal compassionate terms with the men and women
around him without regard to rank or status, to preserve the
feminine in himself. Associating masculinity with proper
Confucian careerism he says:
It is a pity that even the pure, merry atmosphere of the
girls' apartments in this unhappy house is spoiled by the
dirty, ill-humored gossip of men! 1 do not want to hear
anything of tiresome words such as office, and dignity, and
State, and fame! These boring things were invented long
ago by place-hunters and pedants in order to keep stupid,
uncouth men in their place. What have gentle, innocent girls
like you to do with such things? ... In the end none of his
cousins or waiting maids dared to come to him with
admonitions or suggestions any more. It was just this that
he esteemed so highly in Black Jade-that she had always
tactfully spared him any unpleasant questioning regarding
his calling or future or such worldly matters. (Kuhn-
McHugh translation p. 248-9)
Earlier in the novel Bao-yu
had come to the conclusion that the pure essence of
humanity was all concentrated in the female of the species
and that males were its mere dregs and off-scourings. To
him, therefore, all members of his own sex without
distinction were brutes. (Hawkes, The Story of the Stone,
V. l,'p. 407)
In these passages Bao-yu challenges the neo-Confucian idea of
state service, reverses the neo-Confucian dogma that the male
is superior to the female (as the yang is to the yin), and turns
around the stereotyped neo-Confucian equation of good and
evil with clear and muddy water.
Black Jade supports Bao-yu in his determination to resist
entering' the "adult" world, and that is the political-moral
foundation of their romance. In this respect Black Jade
contrasts with other women, Bao-chai and Xi-ren, his first
waiting-maid, who urge him to study the Confucian classics,
place well in the imperial examinations, take office and
protect the family interest. Bao-yu's elder sister, Yuan-chun, is
a model for this kind of service. She becomes an imperial
concubine early in the novel and, despite the luxury she enjoys
and the prestige she confers on the delighted Jia family, she
grieves in her role. Bao-yu has especial compassion for her
suffering, an indirect negative comment on the emperor.
But Bao-yu is not the hero. Black Jade's insight into the
social order is even keener than Bao-yu's. He is the pampered
privileged son, apple of the family's eye, bearer of its destiny.
She is a close relation (the daughter of Bao-yu's father's sister)
but a poor one. Her mother has died before the novel opens;
her father dies during the action. Her entry to the world of the
Jia household and the parallel entry of Liu Lao-lao, the
peasant grandmother, commence the narrative. These "out-
siders" can see things the "insiders" can never see. The famous
flower burial scene illustrates the discrepancy in consciousness
between Bao-yu and Black Jade.
Bao-yu is gathering peach petals in the folds of his
clothes and setting them on a stream to keep them from falling
to the ground (Chap. 23; cf. C. C. Wang trans, p. 146). Black
Jade appears and reproaches him to this effect:
"You cannot leave the petals to their fate like that. The
stream will carry them beyond the wall, and an insider like
you may not realize what is beyond the wall. To preserve
the purity of the petals one must bury them. l' have a
mound for the purpose. "
The novel is saying that in such a society the only way a young
woman can keep her purity is to die young. Bao-yu's naive
precious conceit is contrasted with Black Jade's unblinking
recognitions. The novel supports Black Jade's view by
depicting a society littered with the corpses of young women.
Bao-yu submits to Black Jade's view and joins her in burying
the flowers.
This scene establishes a Bao-yu who could be deceived
into an "arranged" marriage with the wrong woman, and also a
Black Jade who would have taken the injustice fatally to heart.
Black Jade is the moral pivot of the novel, the figure at the
center of the action who corresponds to other "outsiders"
who set limits to the apparently massive, solidly self-contained
"real" world of the household-Liu Lao-lao, the Buddhist
monk, the Taoist priest.
If Bao-yu is inferior to Black Jade in terms of
consciousness, he is also morally inferior. This theme has been
neglected or obscured in excerpted translations and recent
American criticism, perhaps due to a combination of
romanticism and chauvinism. Bao-yu is androgynous. There
are masculine ("dregs") as well as feminine ("pure") elements
in his character, We have discussed his "feminine" self; his
masculine self is revealed in the Golden Bracelet incident.
(Chap. 30, cf. Wang, p. 156)
One sultry summer afternoon Mme. Wang, Bao-yu's
mother, is having her legs massaged by one of the maids,
Golden Bracelet. Both women are dozing as Bao-yu enters. He
makes overtures to Golden Bracelet. She appears reluctant, but
a young master is difficult to refuse in old China. Suddenly,
Mme. Wang sits up, slaps Golden Bracelet and says, "Degraded
little prostitute! Such as you are responsible for the corruption
of the boys." (Wang, tr.) Mme. Wang orders the servant
dismissed, despite her ten years' service. During the incident
Bao-yu ungallantly "slips away." His naivete makes him
unaware of his own responsibility and of the implications for
Golden Bracelet. Rather than returH home in disgrace, Golden
Bracelet jumps into a well, demonstrating, in the author's
words, an "unconquerable spirit."
The sequences to this scene are not presented in
excerpted translations (though they are now available in
Hawkes' complete translation, vol. 2, p. 105) and have been
ignored or misunderstood in English and American criticism.
Bao-yu is caught in a sudden rainstorm. He races to his
compound only to find the gates locked. Absorbed in a game,
his household maids do not hear his furious knocking. Finally,
Xi Jen (Pervading Fragrance), his closest personal maid, hears
him and opens the gate. Unused to being so neglected, Bao-yu
fetches her a vicious kick to the side of the chest, raising a
purple bruise the size of a bowl. Later he is contrite, but his
64
brutality foreshadows what he will become in the adult role
being prepared for him. Black Jade may realize some of this
potential in Bao-yu's character, but she cannot change him.
(At this point the Romeo and Juliet analogy is virtually
meaningless because Juliet educates Romeo from fop to lover.)
Having commented on the relationship between Black
Jade and Bao-yu, we have to consider the third person of the
triangle, Bao-chai ("Precious Virtue" in the Wang tr.), whom
Bao-yu is deceived into marrying. Western and conservative
Chinese commentary gloss over the very full character study in
the novel, but recent work in the People's Republic of China
has laid bare her unctuous malignancy. Her character is
decisively established in Chapter 32 in connection with Golden
Bracelet's suicide: Mme. Wang, Bao-yu's mother, expressing
anguish over the maid's fate, asks rhetorically, "How can I ever
forgive myself for having caused her death?" Precious Virtue
seeks to console her. From the Wang translation, p. 162:
"Naturally Tai-tai would blame herself, being so kind-
hearted," Precious Virtue said, "But I don't think Golden
Bracelet would have taken it so much to heart. It must have
been an accident. [Italics added] If not, it shows how little
she appreciated Tai tai's kindness and how undeserving she
is of Tai-Tai's grief . .. There is nothing you can do now
except to treat her family generously. "
Precious Virtue is cunningly ingratiating herself with her
mother-in-law to be. Their minds move parallel, modulating
easily from sentiment to calculation. At Precious Virtue's
prudent suggestion that the victim's family be paid off, Mme.
Wang replies: "I have given her fifty tae!s." (One tael per
month is the salary for a high ranking maid.)
Excerpted translations of the novel have not done justice
to this passage, simplifying Precious Virtue's words to "It must
have been an accident." Compare David Hawkes' newly
available complete translation of Bao-chai's words (Vol. 2, p.
138):
"In my opinion Golden would never have drowned herself
in anger. It's much more likely that she was playing about
the well and slipped in accidentally . .. it would.be natural
for her to go running about everywhere during her first day
or two outside. "
By fabricating this explanation she is signalling to Mme. Wang
her readiness to cooperate fully in the cover-up like the good
neo-Confucian obedient to Analects XII, 1: "If it is not
according to Form, do not look; if it is not according to Form,
do not speak." (One old commentator described Bao-chai as
I
EI"
;IF
?lJ # fa
Jej
jf
JI
~ ."
B"
pp II
ill #
?lJ
~
~ 'jIJo
it
;ftl"
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12:1
mt iRIt
-go
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J=I"
"having a heart like city hall.") In the ensuing dialogue she
blithely offers her dress for Golden to be buried in. Both
Bao-chai and Mme. Wang realize that Black Jade would be the
wrong person to ask for a dress for such a purpose because she
is too "superstitious."
Later events in the novel involving Precious Virtue
should be read in the light of the above. For example, it is
likely that she connived in her "arranged" marriage with
Bao-yu, and it is possible that her sympathetic inquiries about
Black Jade's health may have been a way to gain information
that would advance her own chances. This is not a fatalistic
novel. There is tragedy and evil.
Bao-yu's marriage to Bao-chai coincides with the
(self-willed?) death of Black Jade. After these events Bao-yu is
a different person. Having passed into the "red dust" world of
the elders he begins emotionally to withdraw. But he will
make compromises with the social order before he leaves
altogether. Perhaps he can not help doing so, since the woman
who gave him his greatest strength and cause to resist is gone.
Because Bao-chai is such a paragon of neo-Confucian
conformity, because Bao-yu is struggling against a conven-
tional Confucian career, because there is deep hostility to
neo-Confucian orthodoxy in the vernacular literature (cf. The
Scholars, Liao Zhai Zhi Yi, the chuan chi and xiao shuo
collections), and finally because desire is a philosophical
category for neo-Confucian thought, it seems fitting to close
this note with some remarks on mid-eighteenth century
controversies between orthodox and critical Confucians.
The orthodox Confucians include the Cheng brothers,
Zhu Xi, and their epogones in the Ming and Qing periods.
(Wang Yang-ming, but not his "left subjectivist" followers,
could also be included.) Broadly speaking the philosophers of
the orthodox tradition had a negative view of human desire.
One classic formulation was: "Of the sage's thousands of
statements and tens of thousands of conversations, all are only
for teaching men to preserve Heavenly Reason (or Principle, Ii)
and annihilate human desire."
Now, in orthodox neo-Confucian thought, desire stands
opposed not only to li "Reason" but also to a term correlate
with Ii, xing, or "Nature." "Reason" has both an objective and
a correlate, subjective side. Objectively, it is an abstraction of
the rationality of bureaucratic and parental authority (a state
modeled on the family is the essence of Confucian politics).
Subjectively it is the necessary predisposition in all men and
even things to respond affirmatively to that authority. This is
what the neo-Confucians call Nature, a potentiality for the
social virtues, filiality, loyalty-to put it another way, a sense
of form and order. Thus by fundamental definition Nature is
never what is emotional, instinctual, or natural in man, though
of course the philosophy does not ignore these aspects of man.
From the perspective of the orthodox neo-Confucians,
desire was subversive of Reason and Nature because it
represented the independent momentum of all things,
phenomena following their own course, creating their own
relations, rather than responding to alleged correlates in the
social order. Socially, desire could mean the wish for freedom
of marriage or the wish of the productive common people for
a greater share of what they produce.
Against the orthodox neo-Confucian view there stands a
significant and substantial counter tradition which could be
called critical neo-Confucianism, including, for example, Dai
65
Zhen, Yen Yuan, Wang Fu-zhi, Gu Yan-wu, Li Zhi, Ho
Xin-yin, etc. These important thinkers have been drastically
under- and mis-reprs;:sented in current English language
anthologies, though scholars in thePeople'sRepublic ofChina
have been extremely productive in bringingoutnewtextsand
analyses.
Since Dai Zhen was a contemporary ofCao Xue-qin's,
letus sample his views on desire and Reason. This is from his
philologicalstudyoftheMencius:
Confucianists since the Sung in debating over Reason and
desire have clung inflexibly to a consensus that classifies
together as human desire hunger, cold, son'ow, resentment,
food, drink, sex, common and covert emotions. Thus,
throughout man's life we see how hard desire is to control.
What they call preserving Reason was but an empty phrase
which ultimately meant simply to cut off the affect of
feeling and desire . ..In all events action comes into e i n ~
out of desire. If there is no desire there will be no action.
Only when there is desire will action follow. A'nd when
such action culminates in what is most fitting and necessary
that is Reason! Without desire, without action, wherein
then is Reason! .. '
The way of the sage is to enable the world to fulfill its
desires and feelings. Thus the world becomes well governed.
Latter day Confucians never understood that feeling
reaching a state of refinement and dispassion is Reason!
What they mean by Reason is no different from what the
cruel officials meant by law. The cruel officials used the law
to kill, the latter-day Confucians use Reason to kill! (Li
Xi-fan and Lan Ling, Hung Lou Meng PingLunJi, 1973,p.
212.)
Elsewhere in a letter Dai attacks the anti-egalitarian use of
Reason: "Reason is used by the superior to obligate the
inferior, by the senior to obligate the junior, by the high to
obligate the lowly. Though in the wrong, theformer are tobe
obeyed, while ifthelatterconfrontthemwith Reason, though
in the right, it is called subversion." (Shi Ta-qing, op.cit. p.
108)
Other themes voiced by Dai or his predecessors in the
critical neo-Confucian tradition include: desireoremotionis a
common denominator toall men, hence the basis ofequality;
ofthe'five feudal relations onlyfriendship (between equals) is
worth preserving; the relation between man andwomanis the
fundamentalone.
While it is more commonly viewed as developing the
tradition of vernacular literature, the Dream of the Red
Chamber may be seen as responsive to these controversies in
neo-Confucian thought. However it transcends rather than
develops that tradition in its depth of criticism and social
vision. Itmight besaid thatradical social criticism in China is
expressedmorethroughthepopularliteratureandless through
philosophy andhistoryas intheWest. Perhapsthisis whyMao
Ze-dong pointed to Lu Xun as a symbol of revolution and
perhaps this is why most establishment books on traditional
Chinapaysolittleattentiontothevernacularliterature. "/:(
BULLETIN
OFCONCERNEDASIANSCHOLARS
.Japan
For the Bulletin, 1977 seemed to be the year for articles on
Thailand, Korea, India, The materials for Volume 10 (1978)
are still comingin, butalready it is clear that we will feature
several essays on Japan. In anticipation, here is a list of
available pastessaysonJapan:
Reportfrom Japan, 1972(Bix,4:2,4:4, $1 each)
ChloramphenicolUseinJapan(Hellegers, 5:1, $1)
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berger, 5:2,$1)
Japan,S. KoreaandtheU.S. (Bix, 5:3, $1)
TheAmerican-JapaneseEmpire (T. A. Bisson,6:1, $1)
TheU.S. Occupation:aBibliography(Dower,6:1, $1)
Sanya: InternalColony(B.Nee, 6:3,$1)
TheJapaneseWorkerO. Moore, 6:3,$1)
Academic Freedom in the Occupation (Robinson, 6:4,
$1)
ImagisticHistoriography/review oflriye(Bix,7:3, $2)
U.S.,Japan,andOil, 1934-5 (Breslin, 7:3,$2)
JapaneseWomen (YurikoandTomoko,7:4,$2)
Halliday's History of Japanese Capitalism/review (Bix,
8:3, $2)
Origins of the Pacific War: a Bibliography (Breslin, 8:4,
$2)
PeopleUnderFeudalism(E. H. Norman,9:2, $2)
plus the issues of Volume 10 ..
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may purchase the lot for $15. For yourself. Forclassroom
use. Forafriend.
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66
A Review Essay
Acupuncture: Politics and Medicine
by Catherine L. Luh and David A. Wilson
Since the beginning of the Great Proletarian Cultural
Revolution, the Chinese have taken major steps toward
repudiating accepted ideas of the superiority of western
technology and the neutrality of science. In the West, the
development of science and medicine within the capitalist
system has led to the monopolization of science by elites. This
is not an automatic result of scientific and technological
advancement, as some western sociologists will have us believe.
Rather it results from capitalist relations of production.
1
In
part, the Cultural Revolution was a great struggle to put
human needs in control of science and technology, including
medicine. The Chinese sought to tear down the system of
hierarchical relations which developed with industrialization in
the West and in the Soviet Union and which threatened to
overwhelm China's socialist experiment as well. This cultural
revolution promoted a political ideology in which
imd other form's of traditional medicine could be studied and
practiced as a science on par with western medicine because
they meet the needs of the people-the basis for medicine
within China's socialist context.
The experience of generations of practice has provided
the empirical evidence that patients benefit from acupuncture
treatment. What the Chinese choose to stress is not only the
scientific element but also the political aspect of acupuncture
study and treatment. The Chinese attribute the success of
acupuncture treatment to the practitioner's "earnest study of
Chairman Mao's philosophical works, his/her painstaking
efforts to remold both the objective and his/her own
subjective world, his/her proletarian sympathy with the
patients and his/her spirit of daring to practice." Politics, not
science, stands at the fore of Chinese materials on
acupuncture. And there is sound reason for the Chinese to
emphasize politics, not simply to explain the development of
the traditional acupuncture technique or the traditional
system out of which it developed, but to explain the use of
acupuncture as an integral part of their medical practice today.
The subtlety of this point is worth emphasizing. The
Chinese contention is not (as occasionally parodied in Western
media) that acupuncture's effectiveness in any particular
situation is determined by the doctor's or the patient'S
familiarity with the writings of Mao. Rather, they correctly
argue that the decisions about the uses of acupuncture-how
to use it, when, by whom, and for whom-are political ones.
If one wishes to understand acupuncture, one might
begin with a look at history. There are a number of good,
readable introductory texts, including Felix Mann, Acupunc-
ture: The Ancient Chinese Art of Healing (London:
Heinemann and Company, 1971); Marc Duke, Acupuncture
(New York: Pyramid House, 1972); Yoshio Manaka and Ian A.
Urquhart, The Layman's Guide to Acupuncture (New York:
Weatherhill, 1972). These three books all give fairly detailed
explanations of the traditional medical system, but since their
primary source of information is the Huangdi Nei ling Su Wen,
translated by Ilza Vieth as The Yellow Emperor's Classic of
Internal Medicine (Berkeley: University of California paper-
back edition, 1972), one may choose to start there.
The Yellow Emperor's Classic is the world's earliest
extant medical treatise. Theoretically composed by the Yellow
Emperor, it was most likely written during the Warring States
Period (481-221 B.C.). In this treatise, the science of
acupuncture is already thoroughly integrated into the context
of Taoist and Naturalist thought. Acupuncture points are
defined as holes for the passing in and out of the body of qi
(ch'i), the life force. These points connect to form lines or
meridians, and each meridian links specific organs with the
surface of the body. Qi and blood circulate through the body
along the meridians. Illness results when yin and yang the
manifestations of qi, are not in harmony in the body. The
imbalance may be throughout the entire body, within one
organ, or along one or more of the 12 meridians which
connect related acupuncture points.
67
In order to diagnose the imbalance of yin and yang,
Chinese acupuncturists discovered that each meridian had a
pulse which. could be felt near the wrists. Thus, while western
medicine finds but one pulse, the Chinese traditional medical
'doctor finds twelve. The pulse indicates the particular
condition of that meridian and its associated organs. Once a
diagnosis is made, then acupuncture is recommended for
excesses of yang; and moxibustion, the application of
combustible cones of powdered leaves which are ignited and
burn to 'the skin leaving a blister, is used for excesses of yin.
Traditionally treatment is also made in accordance with
the Naturalists' theory that the five elements make up the
world. Each meridian is associated with one of the five
elements: wood, metal, fire, water, earth. The meridians relate
to each other in the same sequence as the five elements: wood
builds up fire; fire leaves behind earth; earth comes forth with
metal; metal when molten becomes like water; and water is
necessary to plant growth (wood). At the same time, wood
destroys earth and rocks by root action; earth dams water;
water extinguishes fire; fire melts metal; and metal cuts wood.
(See figure 1) Moreover, the body, like all natural phenomena,
is associated with one of the five elements. The seasons, the
hour of the day, the geographic location, the weather, all being
natural phenomena and thus related to the five elements affect
the cause and therefore the cure of a disease. So for example,
it says in the Nei jing,
Figure 1.
fire: heart
& small
intestine
water:
kidney &
bladder
earth:
spleen &
stomach
The arrows around the circle indicate the creative, positive
relationships among the five elements. The arrows around the
star show the destructive relationships.
From the South there comes extreme heat. Heat produces
fire and fire produces the bitter flavor. The bitter flavor
strengthens the heart, the heart nourishes the blood and the
blood enlivens the stomach. The heart rules over the
tongue. (p 118-9)
Or, as Felix Mann explains," someone who has a liver
(wood) weakness is more sensitive than the average person to
an East (wood) wind (wood), his nails (wood) may be
blemished and he may have foggy vision with black spots
(wood)." (p. 94)
The Yellow Emperor's Classic thus outlines the
philosophical basis for understanding both the theory and
application of acupuncture technique. The experienced
traditional acupuncturist would u"e this text as a basis for
actual treatment of patients. Later texts supplemented the
physiological information of this first work. The Zhen jiu Da
Cheng (Compendium of Acupuncture and Moxibustion)
written in 1601 was the basic text of the acupuncture doctor
with whom Cathy studied in Taiwan in 1973. It includes the
basic theory of the Nei jing, a detailed description of the
meridians and where points are located, a description of
diseases and how to treat them, and a discussion of what each
acupuncture point can treat.
Wu Wei-p'ing's [Wu Wei-ping) recent Zhen jiu Xue
(Taipei, Xin-ya Chu-ban-she, 1972) provides m ~ h the same
information in more easily readable Chinese. Unfortunately,
the English translation of this work has numerous errors and
thus is not usable as a reference work.
2
In English, An Outline
of Chinese Acupuncture by the Academy of Traditional
Chinese Medicine (Beijing, 1974) is probably the most
complete volume. It is organized like Zhen jiu Da Cheng with
sections on techniques, theories, the points and diseases and
their treatment. For one seeking more general coverage, Felix
Mann's Acupuncture: Cure of Many. Diseases (London:
Heinemann, 1971) provides a layman's discussion of
acupuncture treatment and theory.
Although the philosophical base for acupuncture was
established with the writing of the Nei jin, acupuncturists
from that time have been traditionally prepared to incorporate
new empirical findings into their methods of treatment. Herbal
medicinal practices were adopted by acupuncturists at an early
date. The efficacy of the treatment, not the system of thought
to which it belonged, determined whether a given technique
was used. Thus in one sense, the official policy in the People's
Republic of China, of "walking on two legs"-combining
traditional Chinese medicine with modern western medical
techniques-has a long history in China. (China is not unique
in this regard. Until the early part of the twentieth century,
western medicine also evolved by the recombination of
traditional medical beliefs with new discoveries.)
Despite this tradition, under the influence of imperialism
and the development of modern scientific medicine under
capitalism in the twentieth century, acupuncture, along with
other traditional Chinese medical practices, fell into official
disrepute. The Nationalist government went so far as to outlaw
acupuncture practice in 1929. Thus, the political victory for
acupuncturists' today has been the restoration of traditional
medicine to a respected position in the Chinese medical
community. Although Chinese medical colleges study all of
the scientific systems of western medicine, they also have full
departments of acupuncture and herbal medicine.
68
We visited the Liao-ning College of Traditional Medicine
in the summer of 1977.-This college, established in 1958, has
1500 staff and workers who see 2000 patients daily in its four
affiliated hospitals (three are in the countryside). These
patients prefer to be treated by traditional Chinese medicine; a
western medical hospital is equally accessible. The 1000
students in the college study 70 percent traditional medicine
and 30 percent western medicine in a three year course. The
college has two major areas of study: traditional Chinese
medicine and pharmacology (mostly herbs with some animal
and mineral ingredients). Both areas treat patients and carry
on research, thus not only continuing China's traditional
medical practices but actively seeking to build upon and
advance this system of thooght. For example, the herbs used
for medication numbered less than 2000 before 1949. This
number rose to 3400 before the cultural revolution and in the
last ten years has increased to 5000 varieties of herbs as the
masses have contributed their knowledge of folk remedies and
herbs to the hospital researchers. It is this willingness to build
on varieties of systems of- knowledge and to make use of
empirical research and not be restrained by the paradigms of
the one most successful system of treatment which has led to
the discovery since 1949 of new uses for acupuncture as well.
In the 1950s Chinese researchers discovered that
acupuncture lessened pain during and after toncillectomies.
Research on location of points, length of stimulation,
electrical vs. manual stimulation, etc., eventually led to the
development of acupuncture as anesthetic for even major
surgery. Other recent developments include new techniques
for curing deaf mutes and some successes in helping polio
victims.
Theoretical research into how acupuncture works is also
being conducted in the PRC by personnel of both Chinese and
western medicine. According to E. Grey Dimond of the
University of Missouri-Kansas City Medical School, the PRC is
testing three theories. One group of researchers is searching for
the existence of meridians as histological entities. Another
Histology: microscopic structure of tissue.
group is trying to trace a neural pathway. The third is studying
hormones as possible agents through which acupuncture takes
effect. The nervous system seems to be involved as 50 percent
of all acupuncture points lie directly above major nerve
pathways, while the rest are in close proximity. Recent
research also indicates that hormones may also play a role:
cerebrospinal fluid from a mouse which as been treated with
acupuncture has been transferred to a recipient mouse which
also experiences analgesia.
3
So far results have been
inconclusive.
Teruo Matsumoto's Acupuncture for Physicians (Spring-
field, Charles C. Thomas, 1974) predates the recent
cerebrospinal fluid transfer experiments, but gives a good
summary of -various theories on how acupuncture may work,
including the Chinese neurological hypothesis: that the
acupuncture sensation opPQses pain sensations at several levels
of the central nervous system and relegates pain sensations to
less essential areas of the brain. Matsumoto also cites the
theory of Dr. B. M. Hyodo of the Osaka Pain Clinic who found
that different diseases caused different patterns of electrical
resistance on the skin. Many of the less resistive areas are in
traditional acupuncture points. Stimulation by acupuncture on
these points can change the electrical permeability pattern.
Hyodo suggests that the meridian line is a functional route by
which nerves, when in touch with a dysfunctioning orian,
signal this fact by forming electropermeable points on the
body surface. Impulses set off by stimulation of these points
are carried back to the organs through a reversal of the same
mechanism. Visceral pain, as in the case of a heart attack,
radiates to parts of the skin on the arm, etc. Yet another
theory proposes that the connection between visceral organs
and surface acupuncture points is formed by the juxtaposition
of undifferentiated cells in the embryo. When these cells
develop into different types of tissues and organs, those cells
which were originally adjacent to each other exert a special
influence on each other.
Since in traditional Chinese theory it is the meridian
which connects internal organs with the skin surface, people
interested especially in acupuncture as a cure for internal
organ dysfunctions have put much effort into finding actual
histological connections between acupuncture points and their
Shell1'aJI&' Medical College.
69
related organs. Such a theory was proposed in 1963 by Kim
Bong Hon, a researcher in the People's Democratic Republic of
Korea, who claimed to have discovered channels containing a
colorless fluid full of granules which corresponded to
traditional meridian lines.
4
No one has been able to duplicate
his research, although the Chinese scientists do not rule out
the possible existence of Bong Hon tissue.
Felix Mann's Acupuncture: The Ancient Chinese Art of
Healing, and William Lowe's Introduction to Acupuncture
Anesthesia (Flushing, New York: Medical Examination
Publishing Company, 1973) also cover these and various other
possible physiological theories about the way that acupuncture
acts to relieve pain and cure diseases. Since these books were
published in the early 1970s, in response to the sudden
interest in acupuncture in the West, they have little to say
about the western response to acupuncture research.
Moved by the Chinese announcements of the success of
acupuncture treatments, medical experts in the United States
have begun research limited primarily to acupuncture as a pain
killer or pain reliever. One reason for this interest is that
western medicine has relied on drug-based methods for reliev-
ing pain-methods which often have deleterious respiratory
side-effects, are often addictive, and have decreasing effec-
tiveness over time. Acupuncture can bring relief to people
whose bodies react adversely to pain killing drugs. Moreover,
acupuncture for anesthesia or analgesia does not require the
use of the complex diagnostic cosmology of the traditional
Chinese system. There is no need to discover if the liver
meridian has too much fire or whether the stomach is sour.
One needs only to use the points the scientists in the PRC have
prescribed in order to anesthetize a particular part of the
body. Finally, pain and pain relief are relatively easy to meas-
ure in contrast to changes in internal organs.
As in China, western research has focused on the nervous
system and on hormonal agents to explain how acupuncture
works. Neurological theories focus on a concept of "gates" at
various levels in the nervous system which can shunt pain
signals away from the brain. Acupuncture stimulation closes
these gates and thus blocks pain signals to the brain, having an
effect similar to adrenalin, which keeps a prize fighter from
feeling blows to his body during a title match. Gate theories
focus on the spinal cord, the thalamus, the brain stem and/or
the cerebral cortex as key areas where pain signals may be
blocked.
5
The nervous system is somehow able to filter the
sensations it passes on to the brain, and acupuncture is able to
inhibit passage of the pain sensations.
Another approach has been suggested by the recent
discovery of a morphine-like hormone, endorphin, produced
by the brain. Acupuncture seems measurably to increase the
level of this endogenous hormone which acts to reduce trans-
mission in the pain pathways.
6
Some American institutions are continuing to study the
correlation between acupuncture and hypnosis and suggesti-
bility. While some argue that acupuncture is essentially a form
of hypnosis,
7
preliminary data from at least two institutions
indicate there is "no correlation between hypnotizability and
therapeutic response" to acupuncture.
8
American efforts to link the efficacy of acupuncture to
mental stimuli contrast with the Chinese emphasis on correct
political attitudes for all doctors and patients regardless of the
kind of treatment. Recogni.zing that a positive patient attitude
may promote more rapid recovery, the Chinese stress corr<:=ct
social practices by all medical personnel: "A doctor should be
warm hearted and show concern toward his/her patients ...
She should develop their confidence in overcoming their dis-
ease, relieve their anxiety and gain their initiative and coopera-
tion." 9 Emphasis on the social and political attitudes of the
medical personnel, just like emphasis on using whatever medi-
cal treatment is of benefit to the patient, is the result of seeing
health and disease as a dialectic among people and between
people and their environment rather than seeing the person as
a machine composed of discrete parts which the doctor will
fix. On the medical front, the political struggles of the last 30
years in China have been focused on overcoming much of the
"scientific" bias and emphasis on expertise which the West
brought to the Chinese medical profession.
Figure 2.
The proven efficacy of modern medicine vs. possible
efficacy of acupuncture.
acupuncture modern western medicine
/
I I
I
I
I
/-.....
,
"
---
" \
,
I
\
pain and organic infections incurable disease
discomfort, not contagious diseases (hard to treat
c1as.o;ified as to and trauma at present)
disease
(Source: Matsumoto, Acupuncture for Physicians, p. 21)
70
Acupuncture is an especially important element in the
effort to oppose the emphasis on expertise. It can be learned
quickly, requires no complicated machinery and is inexpen-
sive. But, of course, acupuncture is only one small part of
China's total medical system. The Barefoot Doctor's Manual,
recently available in translation,10 suggests the holistic ap-
proach the Chinese take to medicine and their emphasis on
eliminating the information gap between the expert and the
patient. This manual covers everything from basic anatomy to
the treatment of common and recurring diseases, to proper
disposal of human and animal waste and other matters of
public health.
So far in the United States, the medical establishment
has been able legally to control acupuncture treatment while
beginning cautious research into its uses for anesthesia and
pain. Only in New York and Nevada can non-physicians prac-
tice acupuncture independent of a hospital or licensed M.D.
However, most states permit physicians to practice acupunc-
ture without any mandatory training in acupuncture. The
AMA position on acupuncture is contradictory. Marc Duke
quotes Frank Chappell, an AMA spokesperson: "We don't
understand it .... Acupuncrure ranks with other Oriental folk-
lore, but it can't be called medicine. There is a heavy psycho-
logical element in it, possibly involving self-hypnosis." When
asked who might practice in the U.S., he said, "It would be the
practice of medicine, so it would ... have to be licensed. That
is it would have to be done by licensed physicians." 11 If the
AMA recognizes the medical effectiveness of acupuncture, it
will legitimize the practice. If the AMA scorns it as folk
medicine, then the AMA will have no jurisdiction to regulate
it.
Since acupuncture is an inexpensive form of treatment
which can potentially be self administered, it threatens drug
company profits as well as physicians' control of health care
delivery. As acupuncture is a fully developed system of med-
ical treatment not based on drugs, it poses a challenge to the
hegemony of the American medical-industrial-scientific con-
glomerate whose total expenditures now exceed $108 billion
per year, making it the single largest industry in the V.S.
l2
Thus, acupuncture has the potential to be used by nursing
groups, lay people and doctors who seek to demythologize
medicine and return health care to popular control.
In fact treatments by acupuncture and western medical
systems tend to overlap. Matsumoto reports that the effec-
tiveness of acupuncture is greatest in treatments where western
medical treatment is weakest (figure 2). Western medicine is
best for treating the systemic cause of a particular ailment,
while acupuncture can relieve the symptoms of unknown
ailments or pain which will not respond to drugs. Acupuncture
anesthesia also functions best not in place of but alongside
drug-induced anesthesia. In the PRC, the development of acu-
puncture was promoted as a means of improving other
methods of anesthesia, because of the numerous advantages
that it has over drugs. With acupuncture, the patient is con-
scious and thus can communicate directly with the physician.
The patient's physiological functions, including blood pres-
sure, respiration, neuromotor functions, continue as normal.
The procedure is simple and economical. The greatest disad-
vantage is the possibility of incomplete analgesia. The doctors
in the PRC routinely use drugs such as phenobarbital prior to
acupuncture treatment, and the availability of acupuncture
simply gives the physician and the patient one more choice in
deciding the best approach to a medical problem.
In terms of medical treatments, then, acupuncture and
western scientific medicine seem complementary. Reasons for
the original neglect of acupuncture in the West no doubt lie in
the cultural chauvinism of the Westerners who brought their
own scientific methods to China in the last century. Today,
just as politics has brought the study of acupuncture renewed
legitimacy in the PRC, entrenched interests in the West may
continue to resist serious study of acupuncture and other
forms of traditional medical "folklore." The strength of the
Chinese political approach to medicine lies in their recognition
of the underlying importance of medical care as a human right
and their understanding that the nature of medical treatment
and the organization of the medical system, just like other
parts of society, is determined by social values and the social
consciousness of the society.
While most books on acupuncture make little or no
reference to the political aspect of China's medical revolution,
it is clear that the continued success of the Chinese political
struggles at home will have results in challenging established
systems abroad. '*
An old doctor trains a barefoot
doctor &0 recognize medicinal herbs.
71
Notes
1. For a critique of western sociological thought, including a
critique of one of the major critics of industrialization, see Vincente
Navarro, "The Industrialization of Fetishism or the Fetishism of Indus-
trialization: A Critique of Ivan IIIich" in Social Science and Medicine,
9.1 (July 1975), pp. 351-63; cf. Andre Gorz, "Technical Intelligence
and the Capitalist Division of Labor," Telos, 12 (Summer 1972) pp.
27-41. Gorz argues the productive forces that develop under capitalist
control are shaped and distorted by capitalist priorities.
2. Wu Wei-p'ing, Chinese Acupuncture, translated by J. Lavier
(Northamptonshire: Health Science Press, 1962).
3. Peking Research Group of Acupuncture Anesthesia, Scientia
Sinica, 17, pp. 112-130.
4. Kim Bong Hon, On the Kyungrak System, (Pyongyang:
Foreign Languages Press, 1964); cited in Matsumoto Acupuncture for
Physicians, p. 19.
5. A brief survey is in Acupuncture Anesthesia, ROERIG Div-
ision of Pfizer Pharmaceuticals, New York, 1974, pp. 40-42; cf. Pang L.
Man and Calvin H. Chen, "Mechanisms of Acupuncture Anesthesia: the
Two Gate Control Theory," Diseases of the Nervous System, 33
(1972), pp. 730-73 5.
6. Bruce Pomeranz and Daryl Chiu, "Naloxone Blockade of
Acupuncture Analgesia: Endorphin Indicated," Life Sciences, 19,
(1976),pp. 1757-62; and Gregory S. Chen, "Enkephalin, Drug Addic-
tion and Acupuncture," American Journal of Chinese Medicine, 5.1
(Spring 1977), pp. 25-30. (This journal has been publishing numerous
articles on results of acupuncture research.)
7. W. S. Kroger in Journal of the American Medical Associa-
tion, 220, (1972), pp. 1012-13.
8. National Institute of Health, Proceedings: NIH Acupuncture
Research Conference, DHEW Publication No. (NIH) 74-165, Washing-
ton, D.C., p. 28.
9. An Outline of Chinese Acupuncture, p. 13.
10. A Barefoot Doctor's Manual, (Philadelphia: Running Press,
1977).
11. M. Duke, Acupuncture, pp. 24-25.
12. St. Louis University School of Medicine, Department of
Community Medicine, Human Biology and Ecology, St. Louis, 1976,
p.33.
Since the Bulletin published Thadeus Flood's article on Thailand in
Volume 9 #3 (1977), and more especially since his death (see page 33),
a number of things have arrived at our office from the revolutionary
base in the Thai jungle. The materials, which have come via the postal
system of a neighboring nation rather than through Bangkok, have
included a new and very impressive newsletter, warm greetings, and
two letters praising Thadeus' work for the people of Thailand. N0W
Chadine Flood has also received photographs of a memorial service
held in Thailand. We print two of them here.
72