Mick Hartley

The disaster of the Great Leap Forward has become reasonably well-known, thanks to books like Jasper Becker's "Hungry Ghosts" and Jung Chang and Jon Halliday's "Mao: The Unknown Story". Now, as Anne Applebaum reveals, there's a new definitive history out, not yet translated:

[F]or a deeper understanding of how far China has come — and of how odd its transformation continues to be — switch off the Olympics. Instead, spend a few minutes contemplating the existence of a new book: the first proper history of China's Great Famine, a catastrophe partly engineered by the Chinese Communist Party and its first leader, Mao Zedong.

"I call this book Tombstone," the author, Yang Jisheng, writes in the opening paragraph. "It is a tombstone for my father who died of hunger in 1959, for the 36 million Chinese who also died of hunger, for the system that caused their death, and perhaps for myself for writing this book."

"Tombstone" has not been translated. Nevertheless, rumors of its contents and short excerpts are already ricocheting around the world… Based on a decade's worth of interviews and unprecedented access to documents and statistics, "Tombstone" — in two volumes and 1,100 pages — establishes beyond any doubt that China's misguided charge toward industrialization — Mao's "Great Leap Forward" — was an utter disaster.

A combination of criminally bad policies (farmers were forced to make steel instead of growing crops; peasants were forced into unproductive communes) and official cruelty (China was grimly exporting grain at the time) created, between 1959 and 1961, one of the worst famines in recorded history. "I went to one village and saw 100 corpses," one witness told Yang. "Then another village and another 100 corpses. No one paid attention to them. People said that dogs were eating the bodies. Not true, I said. The dogs had long ago been eaten by the people."   […]

Like the communist legacy, the famine exists in a kind of limbo: undiscussed in public, unacknowledged by the state, yet a vivid part of popular memory. Because China is no longer a totalitarian country, merely an authoritarian one, a journalist like Yang could spend 10 years working on the history of the famine, openly soliciting interviews and documents. But because the Chinese Communist Party neither openly embraces nor rejects the legacy of Mao — his name was not mentioned during the Olympics' opening ceremonies, though his picture still hangs over the entrance to the Forbidden City — there is no public discussion or debate.

It's not hard to understand why this is so. If the Chinese Communist Party were to present an honest version of its past, its own legitimacy might come into question. Why, exactly, does a party with a history drenched in blood and suffering enjoy a monopoly on political power in China? Why does a nominally Marxist party, one whose economic theories proved utterly bankrupt in the past, still preside over an explosively capitalist society? Because there aren't any good answers to those questions, it is in the Chinese leadership's interest to make sure they don't get asked.