Remembering 1942

by Liu Zhenyun

  After a tour of the disaster area, White was eager to send his dispatch, so he stopped at the first telegram office on his return trip and rushed a report out. Back then the government in Chongqing required that every news report be examined by the Central Propaganda Office. White’s report would never have gone out if it had been inspected. His cable was sent to New York from Luoyang through a commercial radio station in Chengdu; that might have been a result of the lax regulations of this particular station (not a bad situation in an authoritarian country) or it could have been someone at the telegram office who had a conscience. In any case it flashed through to New York without inspection, and the news quickly spread via Time magazine. Madame Chiang, who was at the time making her world-famous visit to the US, was incensed after reading the report. Consumed by anger and prompted by recklessness, she hastily adopted the Chinese way by asking Henry Luce, the publisher of Time, to fire White. Unsurprisingly, Luce turned her down. America was, after all, a country that enjoyed freedom of the press. Even if a scandal involving President Roosevelt were exposed and Mrs. Roosevelt demanded that the reporter be fired, Time would not necessarily comply. Just consider how long Roosevelt had been a president and how long Time had been published. Naturally, Mrs. Roosevelt would not be that foolish; nor would she so easily succumb to the tempting thought of interfering with the press.

  Theodore White became a controversial figure overnight in Chongqing. Some officials denounced him for evading the censors while others accused him of colluding with Communist party members inside the cable office. But no matter what they said, they could do nothing about him, and that was the key. By then, the information from White had gotten, through the Army intelligence service, to Stilwell, the American Embassy, and the Chinese Minister of Defense. White even met with the head of China’s Legislative Yuan, the Governor of Sichuan, and Madame Song Qingling, the widow of Dr. Sun Yat-sen. No Chinese reporter or newspaper editor could possibly have mobilized such a broad swath of society.

  The attitude of the Chinese Minister of Defense was:

  “Either you’re lying or someone has lied to you, Mr. White.”

  Both the head of the Legislature and the governor of Sichuan told White that it was useless to talk to them because only Chiang’s word could spur action.

  But getting to see Chiang was not easy; it took White five days. Without the help of Madame Song Qingling, Chiang’s sister-in-law, it would not have occurred. (In an authoritarian system, family connections are not always a bad thing, for they sometimes work to the people’s advantage.)

  Based on White’s recollection, “Madame Sun Yat-sen was physically a dainty woman.” She said she was told “that he [Chiang] was very weary after his long tedious inspection tour and needed a few days rest. But I insisted that the matter involved the lives of many millions … May I suggest that you report conditions as frankly and fearlessly as you did to me. If heads must come off, don’t be squeamish about it … otherwise there would be no change in the situation.”

  Chiang received White in his dark office, standing erect and slim, taut, offering a stiff hand in greeting, then he sat in his high-backed chair and listening to White with visible distaste. White interpreted Chiang’s demeanor as an unwillingness to believe the report, which showed that White had made the same mistake as the Chinese intellectuals, and that they were not talking about the famine on the same level. They had a superficial understanding of Chiang. How could he possibly not believe them? Chiang surely knew more than White and had more details about the famine in Henan, but it simply was not the most important task at hand. Now some low-ranking officials, Chinese intellectuals, and foreign correspondents were piling on him matters that were important to them but not to him. Put differently, they turned a matter that was urgent on a regional scale into an all-consuming major crisis and would not let go of it unless he dealt with them. Worse yet, news reports had traveled outside China and brought popular opinion down on Chiang. He had to put aside more serious matters and listen to a meddling foreigner tell him what was going on in China. How ridiculous was that! Infuriating and yet laughable. Chiang wondered why so many hands of different colors and shapes were being thrust into a pile of dog shit, which was the true reason for the distasteful look on his face; that eluded White for fifty years. A true proof that communications between peoples is terribly difficult.

  Bored and uninterested, Chiang turned to one of his aides and said,

  “They [the famine victims] see a foreigner and tell him everything.”

  White continued in his memoir, “It was obvious he did not know what was going on.”

  White was wrong in his reading of Chiang; but matters in China can be quite serendipitous, for without his misreading, White would not have felt the outrage, which led him in turn to confront Chiang so forcefully. White’s sentiment and actions cornered Chiang, a highly intelligent strategist who concerned himself only with major matters. Chiang knew about the famine, but as an important figure, a head of state, he could not refer to the thirty million lives as a trivial event. How would that have made him look? That was something Chiang could not disclose, and yet White’s confrontation forced him to deal with it. There was nothing Chiang could say or do, which only reinforced White’s perception of Chiang’s ignorance of the severity of the famine. So White “tried to break through by telling him about the cannibalism.” Chiang did not believe that an American like White, who did not know what it was to suffer, would have paid a personal visit to the disaster areas and witness so many things. At most, White had just made a cursory trip and heard some rumors. Chiang responded with a denial:

  “Cannibalism could not have occurred in China, Mr. White.”

  “I saw dogs eating humans with my own eyes,” White said.

  “Impossible!” Chiang persisted.

  White then called Forman, the reporter for the London Times, who was waiting in the anteroom, to come in and show the Generalissimo the photos they had taken in Henan. Forman’s pictures “clearly showed dogs standing over dug-out corpses, which shocked the Generalissimo. The Generalissimo’s knee began to jiggle slightly, in a nervous tic.” I believe that the Generalissimo was angry at White and Forman, at the disaster zones, at his officials, at this unimportant matter, and at other urgent affairs of the world, which had rendered the equally serious issue of famine insignificant. If not for the geopolitical situation, he could have mobilized people all over China to help the famine victims; he could have made a trip to the disaster areas to comfort the people and polish his image as a caring leader. However incensed he felt inside, he could not let on, particularly not in front of a foreign correspondent. All he could do was jiggle his knee in a nervous tic over the pictures of a dog eating a human corpse. Like all Chinese rulers, Chiang made a strategic calculation and negotiated an about-face. With a serious look on his face, he appeared to have finally learned the truth and showed gratitude to those who made him see the light. “He took out his little pad and brush pen and began to make notes. He asked for names of officials” who failed at famine efforts. That is also typical of a Chinese ruler in dealing with problems—start with organizational policies. Then he wanted more names; he wanted them to give him a complete report, before thanking them and saying that they were better investigators than “any of the investigators I [Chiang] sent out” himself. The twenty-minute meeting was brought to an end and White and Forman were ushered out.

  I am convinced that Chiang must have smashed a cup after the two left and used a curse word that he has been portrayed as saying in the movies: “Bullshit!”

  Soon, just as Madame Sun Yat-sen had predicted, heads began to roll, all because of a photo of a dog and a corpse; it began with those unfortunate people who had made it easier for White to send the telegram, for they helped reveal to the Americans the embarrassing news of starvation in Henan. But many lives were “saved by the power of the American press” White wrote in his memoir. I imagine he must have felt quite pleased with himself when he
wrote that; I quote him because it made me laugh. But the source of the power did not matter; the Generalissimo was persuaded to take action, which saved millions of lives. So who was our savior? Who saved the peasants? Ultimately it was the Generalissimo, the head of state, even if his actions were taken under a strange combination of circumstances and through an extraordinary misunderstanding. White took all the credit because he did not understand China; it did not occur to him that the American press, no matter how powerful it might be, functioned as a cause, not a result. In China, the American press could never top the Generalissimo. White was smug and so were foreign priests posted in China, such as Father Thomas Megan, who sent White a letter from Loyang:

  “After you got back and started the wires buzzing, the grain came rushing in from Shaanxi by trainloads. They just could not unload it fast enough here at Loyang. That was score No. 1, a four-bagger to say the least. The provincial government got busy and opened up soup kitchens all over the country. They really went to work and got something done. The military shelled out SOME of their MUCH surplus grain and that helped a lot. The whole country really got busy putting cash together for the famine-stricken and money poured into Henan.

  “All four of the above points were bull’s eyes as I see and confirmed my former opinion that the famine was entirely man-made and was at all times within the power of the authorities to control had they the inclination and desire to do so. Your visit and your jacking them up did the trick, jerked them out of their stupor, and put them on the job, and then things did GET DONE. In a word, more power to Time & Life, and to Fortune Long Life. Peace! It’s wonderful! … You will be long remembered in Honan. Some remember you in a very pleasant way, but there are others who grit their teeth and they’ve got reason to do so.”

  6

  Famine relief work got under way in Henan because the Generalissimo took action. He said to go to work and of course work was done. Yet between 1942 and 1943, the foreigners were ahead of the Chinese in lifting the first batch of famine victims out of their misery. Even though we dislike foreigners and would rather not owe them a debt of gratitude, they are always there to help us out at critical moments. What are we to do? At a moment like that, the urgent matter was to fill the stomachs of the dying to pull them back from the brink of death rather than consider famine relief from a holistic, macro point of view that included spiritual and material salvation. Before the Generalissimo’s order was carried out, the foreign priests, who had come to China for spiritual invasion, had already taken action, devoid of political motivation or government decree, prompted instead by religious principles. Sent by Christ to China to spread the gospel, the priests, who included Americans and Europeans, Catholics and Protestants, were there to do charitable work. The Americans and the Italians were enemies in the European theater, but their priests worked hand in hand on an altruistic mission in my hometown, saving numerous lives. They would have been enemies on the battlefield, but they were of the same mind when facing the dying in my hometown. Seen from this perspective, people in my hometown might not have died in vain after all.

  Soup kitchens were usually set up in American and European churches, so cities like Zhengzhou and Loyang, where there were churches, had places for my relatives to eat. As I said before, my Uncle Huazhua was on his way to a soup kitchen in Loyang when he was seized by General Hu Zongnan. But where did these charitable organizations get the rice to make congee? As their faith in Chiang was fading, the American government sent relief materials to the missionaries to distribute. Instinct told the fleeing victims of famine, though illiterate, that they could no longer trust their own government and that their only savior was the foreigner, the white people. As stated by White:

  “Missionaries left their compounds only when necessary, for a white man walking in the street was the only agent of hope, and was assailed by wasted men, frail women, children, people head-knocking on the ground, groveling, kneeling, begging for food, wailing, ‘K’o lien, k’o lien’ (‘Mercy, mercy’), but pleading really only for food.”

  I did not feel embarrassed for my relatives as I read this passage; I would have kowtowed to the foreigners too. Victims of famine, who besieged any priests they encountered, surrounded the churches. If a priest had raised his arm to call for action, I believe that the people gathering outside a church would have risen up, bravely forging ahead; they would not have feared death. Incidents of resisting foreigners during the Second Opium War would never reoccur. Women and children sat by the church daily, where every morning the priests found abandoned babies and sent them to temporary orphanages—even the next generation of Chinese was entrusted to the foreigners, the only ones who allowed my relatives to understand the value of life. From a yellowed page of a newspaper published fifty years ago, I read a Catholic priest’s reason for setting up a soup kitchen:

  “At least they must die with dignity.”

  The churches had their own hospitals, which were soon filled by patients with terrible intestinal diseases caused by the ingestion of filth. As extreme hunger got the best of them, the victims stuffed dirt into their mouths to fill their stomachs. To save them, the staff at the hospitals had to get the dirt out of their bodies first.

  Orphanages were also set up by churches to take in children who had survived their parents, but that had to be done secretly, for the places would be immediately overtaken by countless orphans once the people learned of it. Some parents abandoned or sold their children for their own survival. There were too many orphans and too few foreigners to help them. In other words, too many Chinese children were looking for foreign parents but there were not enough foreign parents for them. I once read a report that went:

  “Hunger even destroyed the basic emotional bond between people. A crazed couple tied their six children to trees to free them to search for food for themselves. A mother went begging for food with an infant and two older children. When they were exhausted, the mother sat down to care for the infant while the older children walked on to the next village for food. By the time they returned, their mother had died but the infant continued to suck on the dead women’s nipple. A couple killed their two children so they did not have to hear them crying for food. The priests did their best to take in abandoned children, but only in secret, because they would have been overwhelmed by countless children left at their doors if people heard about their charitable act.”

  Children are the barometer of a country or a government. If the children are weighed down by a heavy book bag and cannot finish their assignment even after taking it home, then that country must be stumbling along as well. Likewise, a government might not last long if it allows its children to die of hunger, leaving only foreigners to help. In the foreigners’ view, the Chinese children, when healthy, were all pretty, with beautiful natural luster on their hair and a clever sparkle in their almond eyes. But now these children were emaciated, like scarecrows; where their eyes should be were now two gaping holes filled with pus. Extreme hunger extended their bellies; the dry, cold air cracked their skin. Their voices were hoarse and feeble, barely loud enough for them to moan for food. Were these merely problems with the children? No, they signified problems with the Nationalist government. If the Generalissimo, at his villa in Huangshan, were sitting atop these children, wouldn’t his confidence be affected? Would Roosevelt and Churchill show him any respect?

  Chiang was, after all, still a human being—it always makes me sad to hear such an expression from say, a wife about her husband or vice versa. How disdainful! Chiang was still human and had to shown concern for the thirty million victims after a foreign correspondent placed a photo of a dog eating a corpse before him. He launched a relief effort after heads rolled, which meant that China joined in to help the victims. The efforts by the Chinese and their foreign counterparts were different; the foreigners did it out of compassion and their Christian doctrine, not spurred by anger from Roosevelt, Churchill, or Mussolini. Absent compassion or religious teaching (why had Chiang converted t
o Christianity? Was it purely because of marriage and sex, or political connections?), China had only an order from Chiang. Herein lies another difference between China and the West.

  So, how did the Chinese government go about helping the victims? Please allow me to cite some sources. Readers are probably tired of my incessant effort to cite sources, but I have no choice if historical veracity is to be maintained. I cannot help it if you are bored. I am not writing fiction, a break from my usual work and the task my friend gave me. Please do not think I enjoy citing historical documents; in fact they confine me, like shackles, stripping me of the freedom to create. I was apprehensive when my friend handed me a bundle of documents.

  “Do I have to read all of these?” I asked.

  “Yes, otherwise, you will let your imagination run wild and make up stories as you go along.”

  So I have no choice but to go back to the documents again and again. Please understand my situation and forgive me for inserting so much of them into my writing; it was all my friend’s fault.

  Records of Chinese government’s famine relief effort in 1943:

  ∆ The Generalissimo ordered the effort to be carried out.

  ∆ The relief work was marked by stupidity and an extreme lack of efficiency; the local officials behaved abominably, further worsening a tragic situation.

  ∆ Shaanxi, a neighboring province of Henan, which had more grain in storage, should have been ordered to send food to Henan right away to prevent the famine. But that would have benefitted Henan while hurting Shaanxi, and in turn upset the delicate balance of power that was indispensible to the government. It would never be done.

  (Traditionally politics trump the people in China. Who created politics? And what for?) Furthermore, food could also have been delivered from Hubei, but the commander of the Hubei battle zone was not allowed to do that.

  ∆ Relief funds reached Henan at an excruciatingly slow speed. (What was the use of paper money when there was no food to be bought? Could they eat the funds?) After several months, only eighty million of the two billion yuan allocated by the central government reached the disaster area, where it did not serve the purpose of relief at all. Provincial government officials deposited the money in banks to accrue interest, while they argued among themselves over how to use it most effectively. In some areas, the local officials first deducted tax owed by the victims, greatly reducing the amount to the villagers. Even the national banks benefitted in the process. Relief funds from the central government arrived in 100 yuan bills, a relatively small amount, since a pound of wheat cost between ten and eighteen yuan. But the grain hoarders refused to sell grain to people paying with 100 yuan bills, forcing the victims to exchange the money for smaller bills at the central banks. The banks took a steep cut when changing the money, with a 17 percent fee. What the people in Henan needed was food, but by March 1943 the government had offered them about ten thousand sacks of rice and twenty thousand sacks of other grains, which meant the victims, who had been starving since fall of the previous year, got about a pound of grain per person.