Read Online The Secret Piano: From Mao's Labor Camps to Bach's Goldberg Variations by Zhu Xiao-Mei - Free Book Online Page A

us: because of the Conservatory’s leadership, we had received a bourgeois education, which had cut us off from the lifeblood of the New China—its peasants, soldiers, and workers. The sentimentalism of the works we had been taught had led us to become egotists, concerned only with elitism. We had forgotten about class struggle and had placed ourselves above the proletariat. In doing so, we had jeopardized the central goal of the revolution: to bring dignity and well-being to the oppressed. Hence, we had been trained to be enemies of the revolution and thus enemies of the people.
    Wasn’t this in fact true? we asked each other. I thought back to the old peasant woman who had suffered so much in her youth, and her gratitude to Chairman Mao for everything he had done for her. Under the erroneous guidance of our professors and their admiration of foreign music, we were in the process of cutting ourselves off from her, and didn’t people like her matter the most?
    The agitation grew. Dazibaos, denunciations, insults, and abuse: the extremist students progressively took over, organizing meeting after meeting, fanning the flames. Most of them were from high-ranking Communist families and had been admitted to the Conservatory based on their political merits rather than on their talent. They were excellent students when it came to general subjects, but their lackluster musical gifts put them in an uncomfortable position with the best of our music professors.
    The very professors who were to be targeted next.
    We were told to gather on the sports field. When I arrived, I saw our teachers on their knees on the running track, surrounded by Red Guards. 3
    “Comrades, here are the guilty ones!” yelled a Red Guard.
    He turned towards them:
    “You are all bourgeois intellectuals. Because of you, professors, the Conservatory is betraying the Revolution. Because of you, this place has become a temple of elitism. Because of you, a student attempted to commit suicide!”
    My heart nearly stopped. I thought he was going to ask me to step out of the crowd. But no, he continued his litany of insults. I caught my breath while the Red Guards required each professor to deliver a self-criticism. They were forced to bow ever lower before us. When the oldest ones attempted to straighten up, a blow to the neck pushed them to the ground.
    “That’s not enough! Delve deeper! You are hiding things. Give us details!” they shouted at each person in turn.
    Then the violence escalated: the Red Guards took off their belts, swung them above the kneeling professors, and struck them. The buckles scraped, cut, and dug into them.
    From a distance, I could see the men and women on their knees. By now, most were bleeding. A violin instructor’s head had been gashed open. He was bald, and the blood dripping from his wounds turned his head completely red. He looked close to death. I was afraid, but at the same time I was ashamed of my fear. To bolster my courage, I thought constantly of the face of the old, oppressed peasant woman. One had to chose between classes—that was the law of the Revolution. I chose to side with the oppressed over the bourgeois and the petit-bourgeois. The bloody scene horrified me, but this was the price one had to pay for New China’s future.
    The bloodbath went on and on. Each self-criticism ended with blows and wounds.
    “He is guilty,” one of the Red Guards decided.
    “He is guilty,” we had to reply in unison, before endlessly shouting, our fists in the air: “Long live Mao and the Revolution!”
    I saw Professor Pan in the crowd. He was too young to be on the running track with the other professors, but he no doubt sensed that his time would come. The self-criticism session came to an end. The Red Guards doused each professor in ink, then flour and water, before parading them in front of us as we shouted:
    “Long live Mao and the Revolution!”

    In the days that followed, the violence spread. We lashed out against