I agree. It seems the CR was a maneuver by an authoritarian autocrat who mobilized antiauthoritarian feelings to serve his purposes. I was enlightened when I read the following testimony (from http://www.Danwei.org):

http://www.danwei.org/scholarship_and_education/beijings_bloody_august_by_gere.php

especially testimony no. II.

Sorry about the confusion, and thanks for the link. Regarding your linkage of the Zhang Xiaogang painting to the CR, frankly, it would surprise me if someone even passingly familiar with PRC history failed to do so. My observation in this regard was simply that even someone unfamiliar with the painting’s historical context could notice details such as the lack of an adult male in the group and a certain tension in their distanced passivity, and that the painting might therefore be able to communicate something of what the CR meant to a viewer otherwise unaware of it – to recreate an experience of it, at least on some levels. This is significant because the painting is neither an historical nor political treatise, and depends heavily on tools other than critical distance and dispassionate analysis to communicate. Since you allowed the possibility that Zhang might be a hack, I chose to open the question of whether this particular work was successful.

I’m not in a position to opine whether Mr Ledeen is correct in classifying China as the world’s first “mature fascist state”. It certainly seems to be a corporate state. To echo your words, I do question whether this classification is helpful. Ledeen ends his article ‘China Embraces Classical Fascism’ by asking whether “the world” should “prepare for some difficult and dangerous confrontations with the People’s Republic,” as “[t]wentieth-century fascist states were very aggressive; Nazi Germany and fascist Italy were both expansionist nations. Is it not likely that China will similarly seek to enlarge its domain?”

He describes his answer as “yes, but.” He notes that the PRC military build-up is intended “to prevent intervention in any conflict on its periphery,” and follows it with the observation that “the Chinese tyrants do not urgently need quick geographical expansion to demonstrate the glory of their country and the truth of their vision.” This looks more like “no” to me.

Nevertheless, he adds that “the short history of classical fascism suggests that it is only a matter of time before China will pursue confrontation with the West,” and that democracies should “disabuse ourselves of the notion that wealth is the surest guarantor of peace.” I personally find this entirely unedifying. As China becomes more powerful, its ambitions will necessarily expand, as will it capacity to act in its interests. This will inevitably create occasional confrontation with other countries. Moreover, being somewhat familiar with the history of various democracies’ pursuit of their interests internationally, I wonder who must be disabused, save for perhaps a small set of American neoconservatives unable to discriminate between ‘peace’ and ‘Pax Americana’. In other words, Ledeen is telling us what we all know already, whether or not we choose to use the F-word in reference to China.

Cheers

yisa

Honestly, I’m not very interested in the particulars of The New Republic article. What does concern me is the continued willingness of the Chinese (and many non-Chinese, for that matter) to excuse Mao for his crimes. Whatever successes Mao achieved, the ugly fact remains that he and his policies are responsible for the deaths of millions of Chinese. Count ‘em. Millions. (Perhaps not the 80 million that was recently suggested in a discredited bio, but still – MILLIONS!) Add to that the tremendous waste of human capital that took place during the last 20 years of Mao’s life (1956 to 1976) and you would have to be out of your mind to suggest that Mao was good for China. He didn’t even break even. I am certainly not the first to say that it would have been much better for everyone involved had he died in 1949. Moreover, Mao’s reputation as a brilliant revolutionary is too often greatly overstated. Simply put, he was not essential. Like all tyrants, Mao’s singular talents were for politics and survival.

An open and frank discussion of Mao Zedong is long overdue in China. Sadly, this is unlikely to happen anytime soon as the legitimacy of the CCP is in many ways dependent on Mao’s legacy. (Unlike the Soviet Union, where criticism of Stalin’s excesses did not threaten Lenin’s legacy, China has only Mao.) For many Chinese who lived through the Mao years or who have relatives who did, the subject of Mao and his failures is of deep personal interest. As such, the continued unwillingness of the CCP to allow for frank discussion is disappointing to say the least. Likewise, the younger Chinese generation’s ignorant reverence of Mao is also worrisome.

In the end, I’m far less concerned about how contemporary Chinese artists treat the subject of Mao than I am with the fact that Mao’s face is all over Chinese currency. Can you imagine what would happen if the Russians put Stalin on their money? Can you imagine the international outcry that would arise if, twenty years from now, a Republican U.S. administration succeeds in putting George W. Bush on the $20 bill? Then what about Mao? Didn’t he kill enough people to deserve our contempt? Or is it that he only killed Chinese people?

All these are legitimate concerns, but if we try to look dispassionately at the issue, we will find that modern China conforms quite well to the classical definition of fascism, that is a one-party, corporativist regime that relies on mass-mobilization to achieve national strength and to pursue an irredentist agenda. When we conjure up the idea of fascism in our minds, we tend to think of the worst years of Nazi Germany and forget how popular fascism was at its peak.

These are serious issues involved here and when we read articles that make the claim that China is fascist, I wish we would be more generous and not dismiss the argument because we find occasional factual inaccuracies. For those who read Norwegian, I recommend the following article by Stein Tønnesson, who raised this argument four years ago:

http://www.prio.no/Research-and-Publications/Publication/?oid=57682

Actually, when I said I liked reading 老照片, what I really meant was the magazine 老照片, which encourages readers to send in old photographs and explain the stories behind them. Of course just like real history most of the stories end up being pretty pointless (so you completed military training, took this picture and then? Nothing just boring garrison duty.) Still, a lot of the contributors try to fit themselves into historical themes.

When I look at the Zhang Xiaogang photo I -do- link it to the CR, or the Maoist period in general (which may just be me) in part because one family member is red and the others are not and also the fact that one family member is missing. That and the fact that the family members seem to be very intimate and yet very isolated that the same time.

Also, I don’t think Fascism is really helpful for looking at modern China, but have not yet read the FEER thing.

http://www.dushu.com/book/11877880/

Thanks. I like your choice of verbs regarding how you engage old photos (which I also took as a nod to the Chinese language). In fact, I had hoped to learn more about your own personal impression of this particular work, since you chose to post this image. I appreciate the care with which you qualify your statements, but my intent wasn’t to test your opinion; rather, just to know how the image looks to you.

It seems to me that one doesn’t need to have conducted a detailed study of the CR – or to have lived through it, for that matter – to engage with this work, just as one doesn’t need to be an expert in Late Medieval Central European Christianity to appreciate the beauty and/or pathos of a pietà. It’s obviously informed by a certain culture and history, and knowledge in these areas can enrich one’s understanding of it, but its relevance need not be confined to this set of references.

Without consultation of any critical reviews regarding Zhang Xiaogang’s work, it seems to me that the CR is not the most important reference to bring to this image. The first is family, and the second is the posed family photo (a family portrait available to the masses, unlike the earlier painted version – of course, this image is also painted, but more on that later). I’m not sure how someone from a society without similar importance accorded to conjugal structure and without knowledge of this technology would react to this image, but I’d be interested to know.

My first impression is that this work expresses an unresolved struggle regarding the meaning of family.

There is a certain tension between the portrait, in which everyone poses formally in socially appropriate clothes, and the dynamic lives and relations of the persons it depicts. To the extent this fixed picture represents a societal ideal, it also questions itself. Of course, what I’ve written in this paragraph could be said of any social portrait. Does anything make this image different? Well, it’s a painting in which each detail is knowingly chosen, and that wasn’t made for a particular family. It’s a study of a portraiture in the form of a portrait.

(In fact, we aren’t given the names of specific individuals in the picture. The title is 《大家庭》 “a big family”, and it’s one of many paintings with the same name. The painting uses anonymity as a means of investigation, which is interesting – but let’s get back to first impressions.)

My experience looking at this image is a series of conflicted feelings, which I take to be what its creator intended me to feel. Chief among these are a sense of reassurance in the enduring power of family, and the intense frustration of controlled emotion. Of course, I could have that reaction to an ordinary portrait. I could discover one on my own, or the artist could have placed one on display in a gallery. This is what makes details like the facial expressions, distorted heads, misaligned eyes, red lines, blotches and peculiar use of color important. They constitute a distinctive emblematic language, and both their selection and execution are thoroughly personal. Why develop such a visual system? As a method to address certain concerns.

It seems to me that if we want to judge the quality of this work, we should consider whether these concerns are compelling, and whether his method to address them is effective.

I personally find at least certain of his concerns extremely compelling, and particularly difficult. This image is also quite haunting. I keep returning to it in my mind as an unresolved problem, and every time I return it rewards me with further concerns. I find this worthwhile, and frankly, nourishing.

I also wonder whether he developed a signature style to address a rather different concern, namely marketability. I see no reason why not. I personally don’t find this concern equivalently riveting, but don’t consider it objectionable. If this was in fact his strategy, it has evidently been very successful.

I could go on, and I will.

No, no, I won’t. That’s enough from me about that. I hope it was interesting.

Inst: I take it you’re referring to the article by Michael Ledeen in the May 2008 issue of FEER, which I happen to have read. Since you brought it up, I have a question for you: Let’s suppose the PRC is best defined as a fascist state. So what?

Cheers

I actually liked it, as I said. Of course maybe it’s just the historian in me, and the fact that I read 老照片 too much. It’s also the only work of his I’ve seen, so I’m not sure what to say about his work as a whole