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Mao and Me: A Beijing Correspondent Reflects Mao and Me: A Beijing Correspondent Reflects
(6 days later)
BEIJING, China — Times Insider delivers behind-the-scenes insights from The New York Times. In this article, Didi Kirsten Tatlow, a Beijing-based Times correspondent who was born in Hong Kong, describes how Mao is still everywhere in China, 50 years after the Cultural Revolution. Times Insider delivers behind-the-scenes insights from The New York Times. In this article, Didi Kirsten Tatlow, a Beijing-based Times correspondent who was born in Hong Kong, describes how Mao is still everywhere in China, 50 years after the Cultural Revolution.
Some people dream they’re having tea with the Queen of England. I dreamed Mao Zedong gave me a hand grenade. BEIJING, China — Some people dream they’re having tea with the Queen of England. I dreamed Mao Zedong gave me a hand grenade.
“Keep the pin in,” Mao said, smiling sinisterly, his face tinted orange as it was the last time I saw him in his glass sarcophagus in Tiananmen Square in Beijing.“Keep the pin in,” Mao said, smiling sinisterly, his face tinted orange as it was the last time I saw him in his glass sarcophagus in Tiananmen Square in Beijing.
We were at a garden party showcasing China’s achievements in the last decades of high-speed economic growth. I rushed around like an Alice in Wonderland reporter, looking for stories but finding mostly propaganda, all the while keeping my finger firmly pressed on a tiny flap of the grenade to stop it from going off. It was anxious work.We were at a garden party showcasing China’s achievements in the last decades of high-speed economic growth. I rushed around like an Alice in Wonderland reporter, looking for stories but finding mostly propaganda, all the while keeping my finger firmly pressed on a tiny flap of the grenade to stop it from going off. It was anxious work.
Perhaps royalty, and dictators, affect us all, especially those who grow up with them. I was born in the British colony of Hong Kong during the Cultural Revolution, so that includes me. In 1997 my home became part of China again.Perhaps royalty, and dictators, affect us all, especially those who grow up with them. I was born in the British colony of Hong Kong during the Cultural Revolution, so that includes me. In 1997 my home became part of China again.
In The Times’s Beijing bureau these days, we’re busy reporting the 50th anniversary of the violent political movement Mao orchestrated that lasted for about a decade until his death in 1976 and killed between 1.7 million and 20 million people, depending on whom you believe. So I’m certain I’m not the only person in China dreaming these days about the Chairman.In The Times’s Beijing bureau these days, we’re busy reporting the 50th anniversary of the violent political movement Mao orchestrated that lasted for about a decade until his death in 1976 and killed between 1.7 million and 20 million people, depending on whom you believe. So I’m certain I’m not the only person in China dreaming these days about the Chairman.
We can report on it freely, but Chinese media cannot because the state still heavily censors discussion. Leaders, including President Xi Jinping, reportedly believe — hope! — that keeping a lid on the past will contribute to harmony amid today’s roiling society and slowing economy. As my colleague Jonathan Ansfield remarked, “What if I told you that Xi Jinping dreams the same dream?”We can report on it freely, but Chinese media cannot because the state still heavily censors discussion. Leaders, including President Xi Jinping, reportedly believe — hope! — that keeping a lid on the past will contribute to harmony amid today’s roiling society and slowing economy. As my colleague Jonathan Ansfield remarked, “What if I told you that Xi Jinping dreams the same dream?”
Yet emotional wounds never really go away, especially if one doesn’t deal with them. So in late April I interviewed a German psychoanalyst, Tomas Plänkers, part of a team that in the 1990s studied Chinese trauma inflicted by the Cultural Revolution. I added a call-out to the article, asking readers: Does your family talk about what happened during the Cultural Revolution?Yet emotional wounds never really go away, especially if one doesn’t deal with them. So in late April I interviewed a German psychoanalyst, Tomas Plänkers, part of a team that in the 1990s studied Chinese trauma inflicted by the Cultural Revolution. I added a call-out to the article, asking readers: Does your family talk about what happened during the Cultural Revolution?
The responses were powerful. They spoke of pain, fear, anger and loss, and suggested that Mao, for good and bad, runs like a red-hot wire through many people’s lives.The responses were powerful. They spoke of pain, fear, anger and loss, and suggested that Mao, for good and bad, runs like a red-hot wire through many people’s lives.
Shortly after Mao died, my mother took me to see his portrait in the Communist Party-run Bank of China on Queen’s Road Central in Hong Kong. A line of grieving Chinese in dark pants and white shirts waited to pay their respects.Shortly after Mao died, my mother took me to see his portrait in the Communist Party-run Bank of China on Queen’s Road Central in Hong Kong. A line of grieving Chinese in dark pants and white shirts waited to pay their respects.
Standing on tiptoe, I saw an enormous face in the dimness of the ground-floor hall. My mother was no Maoist, but she was born into Nazi Germany and wanted me to know what was going on around me. Still, the line was too long for a child, and she abandoned her plan to take me in.Standing on tiptoe, I saw an enormous face in the dimness of the ground-floor hall. My mother was no Maoist, but she was born into Nazi Germany and wanted me to know what was going on around me. Still, the line was too long for a child, and she abandoned her plan to take me in.
To this day, Mao is everywhere in China. When I take my kids to Fundazzle in Beijing, an indoor play hall with ball pits and climbing frames, we pay with red 100 renminbi notes that bear his face.To this day, Mao is everywhere in China. When I take my kids to Fundazzle in Beijing, an indoor play hall with ball pits and climbing frames, we pay with red 100 renminbi notes that bear his face.
Hail a cab and there he may be in a small gold frame dancing from the driver’s rearview mirror, a talisman against accidents.Hail a cab and there he may be in a small gold frame dancing from the driver’s rearview mirror, a talisman against accidents.
He was present in Chongqing, a southwestern Chinese city that drapes the hills around the Yangtze like a riverine Hong Kong, when I traveled there in late 2011 to interview Huang Jiren, the biographer of the city’s flamboyant police chief, Wang Lijun.He was present in Chongqing, a southwestern Chinese city that drapes the hills around the Yangtze like a riverine Hong Kong, when I traveled there in late 2011 to interview Huang Jiren, the biographer of the city’s flamboyant police chief, Wang Lijun.
Mr. Wang would later make a failed asylum bid, fleeing to the United States consulate in nearby Chengdu and precipitating one of the biggest crises in recent Chinese history: the fall of Bo Xilai, a “red noble” and the party boss of Chongqing, who extolled Mao’s egalitarian ideals and revolutionary philosophies to mark out his political territory and mount a national leadership challenge. In Chongqing, choirs were singing “red songs” and banners praised Maoist values.Mr. Wang would later make a failed asylum bid, fleeing to the United States consulate in nearby Chengdu and precipitating one of the biggest crises in recent Chinese history: the fall of Bo Xilai, a “red noble” and the party boss of Chongqing, who extolled Mao’s egalitarian ideals and revolutionary philosophies to mark out his political territory and mount a national leadership challenge. In Chongqing, choirs were singing “red songs” and banners praised Maoist values.
It made sense to the losers of China’s economic miracle, the farmers and others without political power to parlay into money. And it frightened people who had suffered under Mao.It made sense to the losers of China’s economic miracle, the farmers and others without political power to parlay into money. And it frightened people who had suffered under Mao.
As Mr. Huang and his driver picked me up from Chongqing’s new high-speed railway station, the biographer said he had just received a call from his subject, the police chief. Did I mind if we went to lunch via police headquarters?As Mr. Huang and his driver picked me up from Chongqing’s new high-speed railway station, the biographer said he had just received a call from his subject, the police chief. Did I mind if we went to lunch via police headquarters?
We drove into the headquarters, situated high on a hill, without a security check, just a wave of the hand from Mr. Huang. I saw tidy grounds and new office blocks, tennis courts and a courtside restaurant, a mural of the world that included the Eiffel Tower.We drove into the headquarters, situated high on a hill, without a security check, just a wave of the hand from Mr. Huang. I saw tidy grounds and new office blocks, tennis courts and a courtside restaurant, a mural of the world that included the Eiffel Tower.
Later, at the InterContinental Hotel, Mr. Huang leaned over the reception desk to murmur to a young woman that he wanted the usual room. We took an elevator to a high floor. There he suggested we pull the curtains in the middle of the day. It was too bright outside, he said.Later, at the InterContinental Hotel, Mr. Huang leaned over the reception desk to murmur to a young woman that he wanted the usual room. We took an elevator to a high floor. There he suggested we pull the curtains in the middle of the day. It was too bright outside, he said.
I looked out the window. Chongqing was draped in fog. I said no.I looked out the window. Chongqing was draped in fog. I said no.
Some of what Mr. Huang said in the interview ended up in a Letter From Chongqing. That Mr. Bo and his right-hand man, the police chief, were just getting started in changing the city. He had disturbing details about the execution of a former police chief who was said to be corrupt.Some of what Mr. Huang said in the interview ended up in a Letter From Chongqing. That Mr. Bo and his right-hand man, the police chief, were just getting started in changing the city. He had disturbing details about the execution of a former police chief who was said to be corrupt.
He took my hand, tracing Chinese characters on my palm in an intimate manner. I said it was time to go.He took my hand, tracing Chinese characters on my palm in an intimate manner. I said it was time to go.
On the street outside, Mr. Huang’s phone rang. The police chief wanted to see him again, he said. He would drive me back to the high-speed railway station before returning to headquarters. Any time I wanted an interview with Mr. Wang he could arrange one. Chinese contacts confirmed that Mr. Huang really was writing a biography of Mr. Wang, a flamboyant figure who wore a fedora and was said to conduct autopsies personally.On the street outside, Mr. Huang’s phone rang. The police chief wanted to see him again, he said. He would drive me back to the high-speed railway station before returning to headquarters. Any time I wanted an interview with Mr. Wang he could arrange one. Chinese contacts confirmed that Mr. Huang really was writing a biography of Mr. Wang, a flamboyant figure who wore a fedora and was said to conduct autopsies personally.
I very much wanted to interview Mr. Wang. But the Mao songs, the wish for drawn curtains, the apparently well-timed phone calls from the police chief, the hand touching — I returned to Beijing convinced that something was rotten in the municipality of Chongqing, but unconvinced it was safe to return on my own. At the time, I was a freelancer for The International Herald Tribune, which later became the International New York Times, and without the resources of the bureau. I dropped it.I very much wanted to interview Mr. Wang. But the Mao songs, the wish for drawn curtains, the apparently well-timed phone calls from the police chief, the hand touching — I returned to Beijing convinced that something was rotten in the municipality of Chongqing, but unconvinced it was safe to return on my own. At the time, I was a freelancer for The International Herald Tribune, which later became the International New York Times, and without the resources of the bureau. I dropped it.
Less than a month later a Briton, Neil Heywood, died in the city, apparently poisoned by Mr. Bo’s wife, Gu Kailai, and a chain of events began that would lead to the disgrace of Mr. Bo, his wife and Mr. Wang, all of whom are in prison today. Mao is still popular among Chongqing’s poor.Less than a month later a Briton, Neil Heywood, died in the city, apparently poisoned by Mr. Bo’s wife, Gu Kailai, and a chain of events began that would lead to the disgrace of Mr. Bo, his wife and Mr. Wang, all of whom are in prison today. Mao is still popular among Chongqing’s poor.
One gets used to the money, the talismans in cars, even the clocks playing the Maoist anthem “The East Is Red.”One gets used to the money, the talismans in cars, even the clocks playing the Maoist anthem “The East Is Red.”
But Mao still has the power to shock. Not long after the trip to Chongqing I stood for hours under a broiling sun outside the hall in Tiananmen Square where he lies. People were irritable, and as we approached the inner sanctum they began to shove.But Mao still has the power to shock. Not long after the trip to Chongqing I stood for hours under a broiling sun outside the hall in Tiananmen Square where he lies. People were irritable, and as we approached the inner sanctum they began to shove.
“Please stop pushing,” I said to a man in a red T-shirt. He hissed an unprintable word at me, just as we passed Mao’s dead, discolored face. It went off like a hand grenade.“Please stop pushing,” I said to a man in a red T-shirt. He hissed an unprintable word at me, just as we passed Mao’s dead, discolored face. It went off like a hand grenade.