Part II: No use for the hound once the hare is caught

64. Zhang Dongsun (1886–1973)

Zhang Dongsun was a renowned philosopher and political activist. Once a constitutionalist and follower of Liang Qichao, he pursued a middle path, attempting to mediate between the Nationalists and the Communists.

During the War of Resistance, he was arrested by the Japanese. He refused their request to serve as mayor of Beiping or Minister of Education, and even attempted suicide in prison in protest.

In 1948, he represented Fu Zuoyi in negotiations with the Communists, playing an important role in the peaceful resolution of Beiping. After the founding of the People’s Republic, he served as a government member. Soon afterward, however, he was branded with the charge of “treason” and politically frozen. During the Cultural Revolution, his home was ransacked and he was denounced. In 1968, at the age of eighty-two, he was imprisoned, and in 1973 he died in prison at eighty-seven.

More than forty years after his death, Mao often thought of Zhang—who had contributed greatly to the peaceful liberation of Beijing—yet was later labeled a traitor, sidelined, and ultimately imprisoned to death during the Cultural Revolution. Believing Zhang’s testimony would weigh heavily in the Jade Emperor’s final judgment, Mao requested to see him. The Jade Emperor approved the meeting.

Mao spoke first: “You rendered great service in the peaceful liberation of Beijing. Yet after 1949 you were accused of colluding with foreign powers and disappeared from public life, living quietly at home. During the Cultural Revolution, you were dragged out and imprisoned until you died. Today I come to apologize.”

Zhang replied: “When you accused me of ‘treason,’ if it were true, you should have arrested and sentenced me then. Why wait twenty years until the Cultural Revolution? During the Korean War, fearing that the United States might attack China, I used private connections to contact John Leighton Stuart, urging America not to strike China. I did not understand the new rules under your rule; I thought private mediation was still possible. It became ‘collusion with foreign powers.’ Looking back, perhaps it was also because at the 1949 CPPCC election I did not vote for you.”

Mao responded: “At that meeting of more than five hundred delegates, I missed a unanimous vote by one ballot. Investigation led to suspicion that you were the one who withheld it. Since you admit it today, I wish to ask—why?”

Zhang answered: “I knew my one vote would not change the outcome. Your chairmanship was certain. But I retained a scholar’s independent spirit. I wanted to test whether the election truly allowed freedom.”

Mao said bluntly: “I will also be frank. Your refusal wounded my pride. You must understand—the Communist Party does not operate like Western democracies. A lack of deference toward the leader is a serious matter. I regarded you as harboring dissent and sidelined you.”

Zhang replied: “I never imagined that one withheld vote would cost so much. From then on, I could neither teach nor publish. In the end, I died in prison.”

Mao said: “That is why I apologize today. I recall January 1949, when I invited you and Fei Xiaotong to Xibaipo. I praised your contribution to Beijing’s peaceful liberation, but I said the ‘middle road’ was not viable.”

Zhang responded: “I opposed your ‘lean to one side.’ I believed China should maintain distance between the United States and the Soviet Union, preserving room to maneuver. I later realized it was hard to sway you, but I still insisted we should not antagonize America.”

Mao said: “After that meeting, I sensed we could not see eye to eye. Perhaps that is why you withheld your vote.”

Zhang answered: “I could not transform myself as others did and stand entirely with you. That sealed my fate during the Cultural Revolution.”

Mao sighed: “The Cultural Revolution wronged you.”

Zhang replied: “My own death matters little. But your policies implicated families as in imperial times. My eldest son, an American-trained biologist and professor at Peking University, was arrested with me and suffered mental collapse in prison. My second son, a British-trained mathematician and member of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, was persecuted and forced to commit suicide in 1969. My third son, a Japanese-trained chemist working in Tianjin, was denounced in 1966 and committed suicide with his wife. Two grandsons were sent to labor reform for over a decade.”

Mao murmured: “Three driven to suicide—this was a family catastrophe, a human tragedy.”

Zhang said quietly: “My last words in life were: ‘I was right.’ Even at the end, I held to my philosophical conviction.”

Mao asked: “You mean our dispute over ‘leaning to one side’?”

Zhang replied: “Yes. You leaned toward Stalin. It was wrong. I upheld the middle path. I was right.”

Mao said: “History shows you were right. You stood firm against the wind. You may rest in peace. I cannot. The Jade Emperor will put me on trial; I must reflect and repent.”

Zhang continued: “Do you remember 1952? Jian Bozan, following your wishes, attacked me by citing my 1931 book Moral Philosophy, where I wrote, ‘Capitalism will not perish. If communism is realized, workers may starve.’ I also warned that making Marxism-Leninism the guiding doctrine would bring calamity. He accused me of slander.”

Mao replied: “Tragically, your predictions came true. Eight years after that criticism, tens of millions starved.”

Zhang said: “He also quoted my 1946 book Thought and Society, where I wrote that ‘the dictatorship of the proletariat will inevitably become the dictatorship of a few.’ He called it slander.”

Mao answered: “That too proved true. The dictatorship of the proletariat became the rule of a few—eventually the rule of one. Historian Tang Degang even titled his book plainly: Mao Zedong’s Thirty Years of Dictatorship.”

Zhang concluded: “Runzhi, for withholding one vote, you destroyed my family over twenty years. For me, that is personal tragedy. But the calamities you brought upon the nation—tens of millions dead—are far greater. You must thoroughly repent, reflect, and publicly confess to the people. Only then can you receive the Jade Emperor’s forgiveness—and the people’s. Otherwise, you will be remembered in infamy.”

Mao’s face darkened. After a long silence, he said awkwardly: “You are right. After hearing you, I must reflect even more deeply—and cleanse the lingering poison in China.”

Zhang turned and departed, leaving Mao standing alone, burdened with his thoughts.

NEXT: 65. Lu Xun (1881–1936)