Author: 甲

Culture and Memory: Did China ‘forget’ the Great Famine?

Susanne Weigelin-Schwiedzrik discusses how trauma affected people’s memory regarding the Great Famine (1959-1961) in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). I think her article was fascinating because firstly, she used other examples from Germany and the Holocaust to enrich her argument about the Great Leap Forward and its effects on Chinese society, thus highlighting a global trend that trauma can affect individual and collective memories. Moreover, her argument was intriguing because she discusses the politics behind the ‘taboo’ topic of the Great Leap Forward and the Great Famine.1

Firstly, the Great Leap Forward occurred between 1958 and 1962. It was the PRC’s Second Five Year Plan. This plan focused on turning China into a primarily agrarian country into an economically prosperous, industrial and communist society. Communes for agriculture cultivation was a central feature of this plan. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) created collective farming associations that aimed to increase productivity and make farming more efficient. This part of the plan failed because of outrageous goals that were set, and no one could keep up with their goals, and thus people were over-worked, and weather problems also occurred; therefore, many people ended up starving due to this policy. Another policy during the Great Leap Forward that led to an economic downturn was the use of backyard furnaces. Backyard furnaces were a tool the CCP used to make steel in people’s backyards out of scrap metal. This did not work because of labour division and ended up being a total failure for the CCP. Eventually, these policies and more led to the Great Famine, which is estimated to have caused 45 million deaths.2

Because this issue highlighted the CCP’s incapacity, the party banned criticisms of the CCP and banned people from talking about the Great Leap Forward and the Great Famine at all.3 Moreover, Weiglein-Schwiedrzik discusses the fact that the Great Leap Forward was a topic amongst party members that led to in-fighting; therefore, emphasising the ‘taboo’ nature of this topic.4 However, she discusses the idea of ‘collective memory’ and how despite the efforts of the CCP to have people ‘forget’ the Great Famine by banning the discussion on the topic (to stop ‘communicative memory’), people still remembered because of Famine’s direct effect on people as well as the inability of the CCP’s policies to reach ‘grass-root levels of Chinese society’. This means people living in the countryside.5

I believe this is important because Weiglien-Schwiedrzik highlights that the collective memory of a specific traumatic event (such as the Great Famine) cannot be forgotten because of the individual’s experience and their memory. The individual’s memory will continue to remember the traumatic event, even if some details are altered. Moreover, if the individual memory becomes the collective memory, and then thus the ‘communicative memory’, it can become a ‘cultural memory’.4 This is significant because the ‘cultural memory’ highlights that an individual remembering the Great Famine will make others who have ‘forgotten’ the event remember (the collective memory). Its discussion (the communicative memory) will illuminate the cultural importance of the event. That is why she argues that the result of a 2000 poll in Mainland China, people named the Great Leap Forward and the Great Famine as one of the most important events of the twentieth century.6 Thus, China and its people did not forget the Great Famine.

  1. Susanne Weigelin-Schwiedrzik, ‘Trauma and Memory: The Case of the Great Famine in the People’s Republic of China (1959-1961)’, Historiography East and West 1: 1 (1 January 2003), pp. 39-67. [↩]
  2. Frank Dikötter, Mao’s Great Famine: The History of China’s Most Devastating Catastrophe, 1958-1962 (London, 2010), p. xiii. [↩]
  3. Weiglein-Schwiedrzik, ‘Trauma and Memory’, p. 50. [↩]
  4. Ibid. p. 49. [↩] [↩]
  5. Ibid. pp. 47-52. [↩]
  6. Ibid. p. 41. [↩]

China and the ‘Other’: Chinese narratives in Taiwan textbooks

For thousands of years, China has been a powerful nation, emphasising its power over the ‘other’. The ‘Other’ refers to what China previously thought of as anyone just outside the central state, Zhongguo, that is ethnically and culturally different from them. According to David Schaberg, the idea of the ‘Other’ is incredibly useful for understanding Chinese historiography.1

Although most historians discuss the term of the ‘Other’ in the historical context of the Zhou dynasty and the interactions between kingdoms in the Zuozhuan (in the Chunqiu, the Spring and Autumn Annals).2 However, I believe this idea extends into the modern-day, especially regarding how China views Korea, Japan, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. I will discuss a brief history of Taiwan and its fight for independence from China. I will then highlight the controversy on whether China presents the idea of Taiwan as the ‘Other’ in Taiwan textbooks or whether Taiwan reverses this and views China as ‘the Other’ in an attempt to highlight their national history as independent from China.

Taiwan’s history is complex. However, to summarise Japan colonised Taiwan following the Sino-Japanese War in 1895. Japanese imperial education was implemented in this era. Shortly after World War II, Chiang Kai-Shek and the Chinese national government, the Republic of China (ROC) took control of Taiwan through the Kuomintang (KMT). In 1949, after losing the Chinese Civil War against the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), Chiang fled to Taiwan and declared martial law. The KMT governed Taiwan until the 1980s where the Taiwanese were striving for democratisation and indigenisation.3

Therefore, during the period of democratisation and indigenisation, many sought to construct a historical narrative that reflected Taiwan’s own national history (and thus, identity), that de-centred both China and Japan from the narrative. Wei-Chi Chen highlights certain controversies that were faced in Taiwan regarding history textbooks and the history curriculum. He argues that there were three distinct phases of textbook reforms starting in the late 1980s when criticisms against old textbooks started to emerge and ending in 2002, with the ‘nine-year integrated curriculum’.4 One particular textbook that caused bitter controversy was the supplementary history textbook, Getting to Know Taiwan in 1997.5 This textbook was a supplement to the official textbook, which was China-centred, it emphasised the KMT’s role in modernising Taiwan and the rapid economic development that followed.6 The Ministry of Education responded to the backlash it faced from the official textbook, such as it ‘lacking a comprehensive and multi-faceted representation of Taiwan’s history and culture’, and thus created Getting to Know Taiwan.7 However, Getting to Know Taiwan was still controversial because of its emphasis on Japanese colonial rule and its effect on Taiwan.6

Chen highlights the debate on whether China sees Taiwan as the ‘Other’, or whether Taiwan sees China as the ‘Other’. He argues that through these textbook reforms, it is apparent that the answer to this debate should be neither as ‘[these] two manifestly opposed national-history narratives are mutually dependent on each other’s existence’.8 I agree with this statement because I believe, in order for Taiwan to highlight a national narrative and a national identity, it must embrace its historical past, which was colonised by Japan and ruled over later by China (in its most recent history). After embracing this narrative, Taiwan can look towards a national identity that came from these events but moved towards democratisation.

  1. David Schaberg, A Patterned Past: Form and Thought in Early Chinese Historiography, (Massachusetts, 2001), p.130. [↩]
  2. Ibid. pp. 130-135. [↩]
  3. Wei-Chi Chen, ‘The History of an Alien-Nation, or the Alienation of History? The Controversy of History Textbook Reform in Taiwan in the 90s’ (PhD Thesis, New York University 2005), p. 91. [↩]
  4. Ibid. p. 90. [↩]
  5. Ibid. [↩]
  6. Ibid. p. 93. [↩] [↩]
  7. Ibid. p. 94. [↩]
  8. Ibid. p. 97. [↩]

Feminism in “The Ballad of Mulan” and Disney’s “Mulan” (1998)

The Ballad of Mulan (Ballad) has been retold and adapted into many different forms of storytelling throughout the years. Recently, this narrative has been transformed into films in a western context, specifically in the United States through Disney’s films Mulan (1998) and Mulan (2020). It is particularly interesting how the original Ballad was reimagined in an American setting with slight feminist messages to appeal to a contemporary audience. 

Although Lan Dong argues that the Ballad got readapted to give a “false feminist mentality to children” in the U.S, I believe Disney’s 1998 version of Mulan does highlight a slight feminist message to its young audience, despite inaccuracies between the original poem and Disney’s penultimate Mulan film (excluding the sequel to the 1998 feature).1 More than that, I believe the original Ballad illustrates a feminist message as well. 

Firstly, I would define the term ‘feminism’ (or ‘feminist’) as a movement in which women strive to become equal to men in all aspects of society, politically, economically, and socially. It is the promotion of gender equality. Secondly, I will discuss how the differences between the Ballad and the film and ultimately highlight that both the Ballad and the film do highlight a slight feminist message to its young audience, despite it being limited by its cultural context.

The Ballad depicts the story of Mulan as a filial pious daughter who stepped into a male role (through cross-dressing) to fulfil her duties as a daughter to help her father who could not join the army. The Ballad reaffirms traditional family values and a sense of gender equality because it narrates a story of a woman being celebrated for being dutiful to her emperor and to her father, highlighting Confucian values. At the end of the Ballad, Mulan resumes her duty as a daughter. Although some may argue that this hinders the feminist message, I believe it still portrays a sense of gender equality because the ending shows no-one knew of Mulan’s true identity and she was still celebrated from her “messmates” for being a warrior.2 

Moreover, the movie depicts a similar ending; Mulan joins the war in place of her father after failing to be a dutiful daughter and potential wife. She then goes to fight the war, but her identity is revealed. She goes against leaders and finishes the war, with her true identity as a woman being known, and the emperor accepts this and celebrates her. This difference of Mulan’s identity being shown before she finishes the war is fundamental in highlighting a feminist message to children. Although this does not make sense in the cultural context of the film, this fictional message is important because, in my opinion, it shows children that women can be warriors and can be celebrated for being more than a dutiful daughter or wife. Thus, it is not a “false feminist mentality”, but a heart-warming message to children. 

Therefore, I believe that despite its inaccuracies, the film depicts a subtle feminist message to its audience and tries to pay homage to the original Ballad by depicting the same premise of the Ballad. To emphasise, Disney’s Mulan, as a product of transculturation, does not highlight a “false feminist mentality” (according to Dong), but an aspiring-feminist mentality. Moreover, the Ballad highlights notions of gender equality, which is incredible because of the highly Confucian context where women are deemed as inferior and have no place in wars. Yet, Mulan was celebrated through generations, thus explaining that feminism is apparent in all aspects of society, despite its subtly as Mulan was disguised as a man, and then transformed back into her duties as a daughter.

  1. Lan Dong, ‘Prologue’, Mulan’s Legend and Legacy in China and the United States (2011), p. 4. [↩]
  2. Robin Wang, ‘The Ballad of Mulan’, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture: Writings from the Pre-Qin Period Through the Song Dynasty, (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 250-254. [↩]

Speeches in the Zuozhuan

Paul R. Goldin highlighted a passage from the Zuozhuan in his article. He presents a tale between a “harsh and thoughtless ruler” and his more benevolent and moral cousin. This passage from the Zuozhuan emphasises the didactic function of speeches and anecdotes typical in the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu), particularly in this commentary.1

David Schaberg’s chapter of ‘The Rhetoric of Good Order’ in his book A Patterned Past emphasises the role of speeches as a form of historiographical work in the Eastern Zhou period and Warring States period. He argues that speeches reveal a didactic objective and a persuasive function, and it opens a philosophical debate. Moreover, he argues that speeches have a morphable quality to them as one can extract them from the narrative to highlight a moral debate.

In the tale Goldin presents between the Marquis of Jin (the “immoral” one) and Lord Mu of Qin (the “moral” one), the dialogue and speech from each speaker emphasises its persuasive function and reveals a broader “truth” between the social situation and history of the states of Jin and Qin. The “rhetoric of good order” in this passage – meaning the order of the prose reveals a more extensive truth about the history of the era – emphasises a conflicting relationship between the two states and its personified between the two rulers.2

Qing Zheng said, “In ancient times, one would always use [horses] produced by one’s own country in great matters. They are native to the waters and lands and know their people’s minds; they are easily instructed and are accustomed to the roads… Now you use [horses] produced by a different country to carry out warlike affairs; once they become frightened, they will be changeable and will defy their drivers.…They will not be able to advance, retreat, or turn around. Lord, you will certainly regret this.” [The ruler of Jin] did not heed him.3

This speech in this narrative tells us of advice given to the ruler of Jin regarding warfare planning. This speech is important because it emphasises the arrogance of the Marquis of Jin, who dismissed this vital warning. Later in the narrative, we see that his arrogant nature becomes his downfall as Qin forces then capture him. Furthermore, this speech (and the larger narrative) acts as a persuasive tool to the reader because it has clearly stated judgements and principles, repetition of essential structures and concepts such as the validity of using the State horses, in comparison to using another State’s horses, as well as the arrangement of diction. All these persuasive tools are vital for good rhetoric, Schaberg argues.4 Moreover, this speech could perhaps also have a portable quality to them as this advice explains warfare strategy, possibly applicable to any ruler, as well as highlighting that rulers should heed the warnings from their advisors and be less arrogant.

Thus, speeches provide a didactic and persuasive function to the reader as the structure of the prose ultimately reveals a moral objective and judgement. The judgement and principles in the example above illuminate an arrogant leader, which proved to be his downfall, and therefore explains to the reader that the victorious leader and ruler is one of benevolence and justice. This passage is just one example of how the Zuozhuan can act as a moral compass for rulers and others reading the commentary.

  1. Paul R. Goldin, ‘The World of the Zuozhuan’, in Victor H. Mair, Nancy S. Steinhardt and Paul R. Goldin (eds.), Hawaii Reader in Traditional Chinese Culture (Honolulu, 2005), p. 72. [↩]
  2. David Schaberg, ‘The Rhetoric of Good Order’, A Patterned Past: Form and Thought in Early Chinese Historiography (Massachusetts, 2001), p.26. [↩]
  3. Goldin, ‘Zuozhuan’, p. 74. [↩]
  4. Schaberg, A Patterned Past, pp. 43-48. [↩]