For many years I have dreamed of a new social life, yet found no way to realize it. In the spring of 1917, I intended to invite several friends to establish a Work-Study Fellowship on Yuelu Mountain, across from the provincial capital, where we could engage in a regimen of half-farming and half-studying. However, most of them were unable to remain in Hunan for long, and I myself had plans to travel to Beijing; thus, the project came to nothing. This spring, upon my return to Hunan [1], such an idea resurfaced, leading to the proposal of building a New Village on Yuelu Mountain, beginning with the founding of a school that would put into practice the principles of Socialism and Education Based on Social Needs. The fundamental ideal of this New Village is to integrate new families, a new school, and other elements of a new society into a unified whole. With regard to the school, I have drafted a preliminary plan, of which I now reproduce the chapter entitled “Students’ Work,” seeking guidance from like-minded comrades. I believe that establishing a New Village on Yuelu Mountain could indeed become a viable undertaking. Should any comrades possess detailed plans or practical steps toward this goal, I would be most eager to learn from them.

(I)

The instructional time in the school should be minimized as much as possible, so that students may devote more energy to independent study and work. Each day’s schedule should be divided into six parts, allocated as follows:

Two parts for sleep.
One part for recreation.
Two parts for reading.
One part for work.

Of the two parts devoted to reading, one should be reserved for self-study and the other for formal instruction. In terms of actual hours, this breaks down as follows:

Eight hours for sleep.
Four hours for recreation.
Four hours for self-study.
Four hours for instruction.
Four hours for work.

The aforementioned four hours of work constitute an essential component of the work-study principle.

(II)

The work shall be entirely rural in nature. It includes the following activities:

(A) Horticulture: (1) Ornamental plants and trees; (2) Vegetables.
(B) Agriculture: (1) Cotton; (2) Rice and other crops.
(C) Forestry.
(D) Animal husbandry.
(E) Sericulture.
(F) Poultry and fish farming.

(III)

The work must be productive and closely tied to real life. In most schools today, manual training serves primarily to develop dexterity, cultivate meticulousness, foster a sense of order, and nurture aesthetic appreciation—qualities that are undoubtedly valuable. Nevertheless, much of this work is non-productive: items made from paper, clay, plaster, or various crafts are often mere toys, not useful objects, and bear little resemblance to the realities of everyday life. As a result, what students learn at school does not align with the practical demands of society, leaving them ill-prepared for social participation, while society, in turn, tends to view them with suspicion.

In our country at present, there exists another significant problem: upon graduation, many students flock to urban centers rather than embracing rural life. Having never been accustomed to rural existence, they find it unappealing. (There are other reasons for this preference, but they need not be discussed here.) This situation has implications for local self-governance. If a sufficient number of educated individuals were dispersed throughout rural areas, they could serve as both initiators and implementers of reform, thereby providing the necessary backbone for effective local governance. Conversely, when rural communities lack such individuals, local self-government lacks the critical mass needed to function properly. Moreover, this issue bears upon politics as well. Modern political systems are representative in nature, with elections forming their very foundation. Since the establishment of the Republic, however, only two elections have truly reflected the will of the people. In earlier local elections, unscrupulous gentry, thugs, and military officers dominated the voting process, while the vast majority of villagers remained ignorant of what an election even entailed, let alone capable of expressing genuine popular opinion. The root cause of this lies in the absence of citizens equipped with a sound political education. Were students to guide and supervise the electoral process, the tendency to abstain from voting could gradually diminish.

To remedy the problems outlined above—namely, non-productive and irrelevant activities, as well as the urban bias at the expense of rural life—the first step is to introduce economic work that yields tangible results, ensuring that every student, regardless of ability or background, can contribute meaningfully. Second, the products of such work must meet the common needs of contemporary society. Third, these activities should take place exclusively in rural settings, making them authentically rural endeavors.

The first measure aims to promote direct production; the second ensures relevance to daily life; and the third helps cultivate a fondness for rural living.

(IV)

Beyond what has already been mentioned, there remains one crucial point, which I shall now address. Those who advocate for global improvement and progress universally acknowledge that widespread education is the prerequisite for empowering all people with knowledge. And to achieve this, one must first establish schools. While this assertion is valid, founding schools represents merely one facet of education. The full scope of education encompasses not only the school but also the family and society. When family members lack knowledge—due to poor family structure or unhealthy habits—the knowledge students acquire at school becomes incompatible with their home environment, leading to one of two outcomes: either the student is completely assimilated into the family, becoming a dutiful, compliant individual whose values blend old and new, or the student breaks away, giving rise to the frequent cries of “family revolution” and “father–son conflict.” The same dynamic applies to society. When students transition from school to society, if the broader social milieu likewise lacks knowledge—again, owing to structural deficiencies or harmful customs—their schooling becomes equally incongruous, again resulting in either absorption into society or estrangement from it. Throughout history, the weak and the treacherous have typically fallen into the former category, whereas those who withdrew from the world tended to choose the latter. (Such withdrawal often stemmed from a profound sense of incompatibility between one’s ideals and the rigid constraints of society.) Therefore, focusing solely on reforming school education without simultaneously addressing the family and society amounts to fixing the middle while neglecting the top and bottom, gaining one thing only to lose another.

Nevertheless, given the current circumstances, is it feasible for those responsible for running schools to simultaneously undertake efforts to reform both the family and society? Can school administrators truly serve as agents of transformation for both domains? My straightforward answer is no. At present, the relationships among family, school, and society are not organic but rather artificial; they are formal rather than spiritual. Although outward appearances may suggest cohesion, deep-seated conflicts persist. For instance, the stated purpose of the school is to “cultivate individuals with independent and sound character,” whereas the family’s aim is to “raise children who can fulfill their familial duties” (for example, parents may demand that their children earn money to support the household without questioning its source). Similarly, society often regards individuals as expendable resources rather than as subjects whose development ought to be nurtured—for instance, factory workers are treated as chattel, and many lower-level employees endure lives marked by suffering rather than joy. Is this not clear evidence of underlying spiritual discord? Unless we fundamentally alter our prevailing norms, the chasm between family, school, and society will only continue to widen, rendering meaningful reform virtually impossible.

I would further argue that anyone genuinely committed to advancing family and society should not merely speak of “improving the old”; instead, they must aspire to “create the new,” for only then can lasting change occur. To claim that one can improve the family or society essentially means attempting to refine existing ways of life. Yet neither traditional family life nor conventional social structures can be salvaged. These outdated modes of living were suited only to a bygone era. Now that times have changed, we require entirely new ways of living adapted to the present age. Furthermore, has history ever witnessed true success in simply improving the old? Rarely—if ever. More often, transformative progress has come through the creation of something entirely new. Today, few would dispute that an old play cannot be transformed into a modern one; similarly, it is widely recognized that many traditional lifestyles cannot be converted into contemporary ones. Consider, for example, the impossibility of achieving genuine independence of personality for children under the current parental framework, or of attaining equitable distribution of labor within factories. Workers can secure fairer conditions only through comprehensive societal reforms, while children can attain true independence only through fundamental changes in family dynamics. The core of societal reform lies in economic restructuring, whereas family reform hinges on marriage laws. Under such sweeping systemic transformations, how could mere “improvements” possibly suffice?

Establishing a new school and implementing a new educational approach must go hand in hand with creating new families and a new society. Central to this new education is the cultivation of a fresh way of life. The “productive work,” “practical work,” and “rural work” mentioned earlier constitute key components of this new lifestyle.

Each student in the new school represents a potential member of a new family. As the number of students grows, so too does the number of new families taking shape.

By bringing together multiple new families, we can forge a new society. The forms such a society might assume are numerous, but prominent examples include public nurseries, preschools, schools, libraries, banks, farms, workshops, consumer cooperatives, theaters, hospitals, parks, museums, and neighborhood associations.

When these new schools and new societies coalesce, they form what I call a “New Village.” In my view, the area around Yuelu Mountain, near Changsha, offers the most suitable location for establishing such a village.

Among renowned political revolutions, France is often cited; for social revolutions, Russia is held up as the “model nation.” Berlin is celebrated for its clean streets, while Paris is admired for its vibrant commerce—each regarded as a “model city.” We likewise extol Nantong County’s experiment in self-governed education as a “model locality.” The reason for this is simple: once tangible results are achieved, public attention naturally converges, and the model gains momentum. Indeed, if one seeks to effect a cultural shift, it is essential to build a cohesive force, carefully consolidating rather than dispersing efforts. Flags should be bright and striking, and each step taken must be grounded in reality. While I hesitate to proclaim a “model nation,” “model city,” or “model locality,” the notion of a “model village” carries far less pretension and appears both modest and readily achievable.

Young Russians frequently ventured into rural areas to propagate socialism, mingling closely with peasants. In Japan, a movement known as the “New Village Movement” has recently gained considerable traction [2]. Meanwhile, the United States and its colony, the Philippines, have seen a growing popularity of the work-study principle. Chinese students studying abroad have followed suit: in America, there emerged the “Work-Study Association” [3], while in France, the “Association for Diligence and Frugality in Study Abroad” was established [4]. Thus, if we are truly committed to creating a new way of life, we need not worry about finding broad sympathy for our endeavor.

(V)

The various horticultural and livestock activities listed in Section II were traditionally practiced in farmsteads and gardens. By approaching them with a renewed spirit, they can become integral parts of a new way of life. Scholars of old seldom engaged in agricultural pursuits; by combining study with hands-on work and treating labor as sacred, we inaugurate a new mode of existence. Those esteemed as learned elites often pursued careers in government or commerce, rarely experiencing the fresh air and beautiful scenery of the countryside. By reversing this pattern and actively immersing ourselves in such environments, we embrace a new way of life.

There are two types of gardening: ornamental gardening, which serves as a kind of school garden, and vegetable gardening, which functions as a kitchen garden—both analogous to what we now refer to as school grounds. Expanding further, one could develop a botanical garden. Farming would primarily focus on cotton and rice, with opportunities to intercrop wheat, barley, sorghum, and corn. Tasks beyond the capacity of students could be entrusted to hired laborers.

Forestry requires hilly terrain. Students might plant trees during their school years, leaving behind a tangible legacy that continues to remind them of their school experience and fosters a deep affection for their alma mater even after graduation.

Livestock such as cattle, sheep, and pigs can be raised within reasonable limits, depending on available resources.

Sericulture begins with mulberry cultivation. Once the mulberry trees are established, silkworms can be reared, a task suitable for both male and female students.

Poultry and fish farming also represent productive activities that students are likely to enjoy.

(VI)

These various tasks are not meant to be undertaken by a single individual but rather distributed among the entire student body, with each person responsible for one or more specific duties.

Students should regard the school as their extended family and consider the fields, orchards, and gardens as their own private property. Through the collective ownership of these shared resources, a public association can be formed, tentatively named the “Work-Study Fellowship.” This organization would maintain departments dedicated to production, consumption, and savings. Students who remain affiliated with the fellowship for a specified period would be encouraged not to withdraw their accumulated benefits; after that period, they might be permitted to access a portion of their funds while retaining the rest. This arrangement would help sustain long-term ties between students and the school.

(VII)

As noted in Section III, the manual training programs currently offered in most schools are non-productive, representing a wasteful expenditure of effort—an “inefficient use of capacity.” The same critique applies to physical education classes, most of which also fall into this category. By introducing the diverse range of practical tasks described herein, these two subjects could be phased out altogether. The benefits derived from them could instead be integrated into the broader array of activities. (End)

Printed in Volume 1, Number 2 of the Hunan Educational Monthly, dated December 1, 1919. Signed: Mao Zedong.

Notes

[1] My return to Hunan this spring refers to my departure from Beijing for Shanghai on March 12, 1919, and my subsequent journey from Shanghai back to Changsha on April 6.

[2] Japanese writer Shimburo Takahashi (1885–1976), influenced by Tolstoy in his youth, founded the magazine Shirakaba in Tokyo to promote humanitarian ideals. In 1918, he launched the journal Shinmura to advocate utopian thought, calling for the establishment of new villages based on equality, mutual aid, cooperative labor, and communal living. He also purchased land to create the first such village, where residents engaged in a work-study program. His ideas exerted a certain influence among young intellectuals in Japan and parts of China.

[3] The Work-Study Association refers to the Chinese Student Work-Study Association in the United States. Established in 1914 under the name Qinxuehui, it was renamed in 1916. Its mission was “to combine work and study as a means of supporting academic pursuits and to promote overseas education through cost-saving measures.”

[4] The Association for Diligence and Frugality in Study Abroad refers to the organization founded by Chinese students in France. Following the outbreak of World War I, France began recruiting large numbers of Chinese laborers. In 1915, Cai Yuanpei, Wu Yuzhang, Li Shizeng, and others established the association with the aim of “working diligently to fund studies and practicing frugality in order to enhance workers’ intellectual capabilities.” They encouraged young Chinese men and women to go to France to pursue work-study programs and set up the Sino-French Education Society to oversee these efforts.