The legacy of the cultural revolution still hangs over China, something that the next generation of rulers knows all too well.
Not only did the now-disgraced Bo Xilai revive Cultural Revolution songs in Chongqing, where he was the Communist Party committee chair, his dramatic political downfall seemed to have ignited a renewed interest in the cultural revolution, that ignominious decade in modern Chinese history. Much of this new interest came from Premier Wen Jiabao's surprising comments at the conclusion of China's National People's Congress, in which he warned about history repeating itself if reforms are not carried out.
But it is more than just Wen's words. The new cohort of leaders -- Xi Jinping, Li Keqiang, and Bo Xilai too -- are all children of that revolution, having watched their families and communities torn apart by brutish and senseless politics. Despite their pedigrees and "royal" backgrounds, both Xi and Bo's fathers were publicly humiliated in "struggle sessions" that sought to instill ideological purity, whatever that meant. Families and friends turned on each other. Suspicions pervaded society and trust became a public scarcity. To give some sense of what transpired, these incredible photos of young Bo Yibo (Bo's father) and Xi Zhongxun (Xi's father) speak volumes:
Gagged and bound, Bo Yibo was likely forced to admit his "crimes" against the Communist Party or his capitalist "sympathies." Xi Zhongxun, with his head bowed, had to dangle an "anti-party element" sign around his neck. This was a time in China's history when accusations became truths and evidence was whatever the party decreed. Confusion and terror reigned--many lives were destroyed, and many more were deferred.
To the young Xi and Bo, their formative years were shaped by tumult rather than tranquility, along with an entire generation of Chinese teenagers, including my parents. As I wrote on Xi Jinping's ascendance to the presidency more than a year ago:
Xi, along with the new generation of Chinese leaders, are the same generation as my parents--in their late 50s and as teenagers, bore intimate witness to what my parents describe as that "nightmarish decade" of the Cultural Revolution. Disillusion with what the country of their birth had inflicted on their livelihoods, my parents eventually chose to emigrate. There are numerous stories along these lines that render theirs virtually "normal" among peers who came of age in that era of delirious tumult. But far more Chinese of that "lost generation," having weathered the turbulence and emerged intact, remained in the country too.
My mother, like Xi, was a so-called "sent-down youth," cast off to far-flung Yunnan province, which borders Burma, for back-breaking manual labor. It mattered little that her father once fought alongside Mao -- he survived the infamous Long March on tree bark and urine -- and served under General Chen Geng and later Luo Ronghuan, who was political commissar under Lin Biao. Loyalty, whether as a foot soldier of the Communist revolution or trusted confidante of Mao Zedong, could be discarded on a whim, and often was.