The Poetry of Chinese Politics

 

To those interested in Chinese politics, the past several months have produced two tales so gripping – and so outlandish – that they almost seem the stuff of (bad) fiction.

First the Communist Party turns on one of its own “princelings,” Bo Xilai, removing him from office and accusing his wife, Gu Kailai, of murdering a Briton by poisoning him in a hillside resort.  Then a blind human rights lawyer, Chen Guangcheng, who has been illegally and unconscionably imprisoned in his own home in rural Shandong province for eighteen months, escapes.  He somehow evades dozens of security guards, climbs a series of walls, makes his way to a waiting car, travels 300 miles to Beijing, enters the US Embassy – and appears on YouTube – before anyone notices he is missing.  In the midst of this embarrassing crisis, US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton arrives in Beijing for the annual Strategic and Economic Dialogue, along with scores of American government officials.

Then, with the attention of the global media focused on China, laser-like, President Hu Jintao takes the stage at the opening convocation of the Strategic Dialogue – and recites poetry.

While this may seem an unusual response to one of the most challenging periods the Communist Party has faced in more than two decades, it isn’t.  On the contrary, China’s leaders have long wielded poetry – their own and others’ – as weapon and warning, found in it refuge and solace, and used it to express thoughts that might be perceived as rude, proud, or overly personal if said directly.

The verse that President Hu quoted – 草木知春不久归,百般红紫斗芳菲/ All plants, aware that spring will soon return, With their brightest hues of rose and purple contend – was written by Han Yu. It means, in President Hu’s explanation, that time and tide wait for no man, so we must forge ahead. In other words, the US-China relationship has made progress and encountered pitfalls, but we must get on with it – and over this Chen Guangcheng kerfuffle.

Han Yu lived in the Tang (618-907), the golden age of Chinese poetry and, not incidentally, the go-to dynasty for poetry quotes.  It was during the Tang, in the reign of China’s only female emperor, Wu Zetian, that poetry was made a critical part of the state examination system; henceforth, until the exam system was abandoned in 1905, to be an official one also had to be a passable poet.  Though poetry is no longer required of officials, it is still expected; just as American presidents must be able to pitch a baseball, Chinese leaders must be able to craft, and fluently quote, poems.

Mao Zedong is no doubt the top poet of the Communist era; even those who hate Mao as man and leader will admit to an appreciation for his poems.  When Jindong was in middle school during the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s poetry formed a major part of the curriculum and he can still recite many of Mao’s verses from memory – and parse them for the political meaning that lurked behind the verses.  “Man Jiang Hong,” for instance, was a response to a poem penned by the writer Guo Morou in an ancient style.  In it, Mao weaves together the forces of nature and politics; the shrilling “pests” are the United States and the Soviet Union:

On this tiny globe
A few flies dash themselves against the wall,
Humming without cease,
Sometimes shrilling,
Sometimes moaning.
Ants on the locust tree assume a great-nation swagger
And mayflies lightly plot to topple the giant tree.
The west wind scatters leaves over Changan,
And the arrows are flying, twanging.
So many deeds cry out to be done,
And always urgently;
The world rolls on,
Time presses.
Ten thousand years are too long,
Seize the day, seize the hour!
The Four Seas are rising, clouds and waters raging,
The Five Continents are rocking, wind and thunder roaring.
Our force is irresistible,
Away with all pests!

Mao’s reputation as a poet was such that US President Richard Nixon actually memorized several of Mao’s poems before his groundbreaking trip to China – and quoted them back to Mao in Beijing, while clutching an English translation of “The Poems of Mao Zedong.” Later, Nixon and Chinese premier Zhou Enlai discussed Mao’s poetry in detail, with Zhou reading Mao’s “Ode to the Plum Blossom” to Nixon:

Wind and rain escorted Spring’s departure,
Flying snow welcomes Spring’s return.
On the ice-clad rock rising high and sheer
A flower blooms sweet and fair.
Sweet and fair, she craves not Spring for herself alone,
To be the harbinger of Spring she is content.
When the mountain flowers are in full bloom
She will smile mingling in their midst.

As Willis Barnstone explains in his book, “The Poems of Mao Zedong,” Zhou then said, “What this really means is…You have undertaken this initiative at considerable risk.  You may not be there to witness its – its success, but we will welcome your return.”

Deng Xiaoping is more known for pithy, folksy sayings than poetic verses, but his successor Jiang Zemin was a dedicated reciter, and writer, of poetry.  Indeed, on May 29, 2001, Jiang’s poem of “random thoughts on climbing Huangshan” ran on the front page of People’s Daily and was quickly included in textbooks and set to music (but scoffed at by many Chinese, who found Jiang’s poetry and calligraphy woefully inadequate in comparison to Mao’s).   In 2011, well into his retirement, Jiang made the news again with a new poem, about an old revolutionary.  The poem, which was published by papers throughout Jiang’s home province, was interpreted by some as a reminder from Jiang that he remained powerful, and would be involved in the choice of the next generation of leaders.

Hu Jintao is not widely known for reciting poetry – or anything else – but his premier, Wen Jiabao, is near-fanatical about it.  Indeed, Wen quotes ancient poets so frequently when making speeches or responding to journalists that the internet comes alive with discussions of poetry, and its intended meaning, every time Wen makes a speech; on one occasion, his translator even became something of a folk hero because she so adeptly translated the ancient verse he quoted into modern English.

In a 2010 press conference, for instance, Wen opened with a line from “Strategies of the Warring States,” which was compiled in the first century BCE, and then went on to quote “The Lament” of Qu Yuan, the patron saint of frustrated Chinese intellectuals: “亦余心之所善兮，虽九死其犹未悔/ For the ideal that I cherish in my heart, I would not regret dying a thousand times.”  On another occasion, he answered a question about US-China relations with a line from a poem by Wang Anshi, a Northern Song poet he quotes so often that Chinese journalists have labeled him an“alter-ego.” At his last press conference as premier in March of this year, Wen quoted little-known poets from Taiwan and Hong Kong in response to questions about both regions. Chinese Netizens then began photo-shopping the premier’s head onto the bodies of ancient poets, like the one in this post, which shows Wen’s head on the Tang Dynasty poet Du Fu’s body.  Of course, Wen also writes poems, like this one, which he penned in Kampala during a 7-nation tour of Africa:

Over mountains and across the ocean

To my brothers on the African land.

Overwhelmed by flowers, flags and resounding drums,

A brotherly love deeper than the sea

Fifty years of journey sharing weal and woe

Brings Chinese and African hearts closer and ever so.

 

Indeed, I have come home!

Dances of greetings, songs of adieu, a moment frozen into eternity.

Short is our meeting, lasting is our fraternity,

And endless words bespeak one common wish:

Let us strive together for progress and prosperity benefiting all.

 

Indeed, I have come home!

The sound of wind and rain kept me awake at night,

Hardly have we enjoyed happy reunion when it’s time to part.

People meet and part, just as the moon becoming full and waning soon,

Yet, to leave my African brothers grieves my heart.

The Great Wall and Lake Victoria lie far apart

But the powerful tie of sincere friendship knows no distance.

It isn’t only leaders who use poetry as a political tool.  In April of 1976, tens of thousands of people flooded Tiananmen Square to glue hand-written poems to the Monument to the People’s Heroes.  While most of the poems were written to mourn the passing of the beloved premier Zhou Enlai, a small portion were thinly veiled criticism of Mao’s wife, Jiang Qing, and her Gang of Four.  Jindong photographed some of the poems, but never had them developed due to the crackdown that followed the protests. In 1989, Tiananmen Square was again plastered with poetry; we still have boxes of these poems.  More recently, in February of this year, the political activist Zhu Yufu was given a seven-year jail sentence for inciting subversion of state power – through a poem.  Here it is:

It’s time, people of China! It’s time.
The Square belongs to everyone.
With your own two feet
It’s time to head to the Square and make your choice.

It’s time, people of China! It’s time.
A song belongs to everyone.
From your own throat
It’s time to voice the song in your heart.

It’s time, people of China! It’s time.
China belongs to everyone.
Of your own will
It’s time to choose what China shall be.