I do not approve of publishing the article “On Investigative Work”〔1〕 at present; it should merely be printed internally for everyone to read.
Some comrades have suggested that this is a series of short pieces, but that is incorrect—it consists of several sections of a single article.
What relevance does this article hold today? Certain individuals may find it difficult to grasp.
Why is this so? Because the article addresses the issues of the democratic revolution as they existed at that time: which classes should be relied upon, with whom should alliances be forged, and against whom should struggle be directed—these are questions of anti-imperialism and anti-feudalism.
The problems we face now, however, pertain to socialist revolution and socialist construction.
It is imperative to make this distinction clear to those who read the article.
In my accompanying note for its distribution, I stated that the article still has some utility—not that it is entirely relevant.
By “some utility,” I mean that its central point lies in conducting thorough investigative work.
Establishing a Marxist–Leninist line is no easy task.
The Seventh Congress of the Fourth Red Army Party was held in Longyan, where the correct line was overthrown in favor of an erroneous one〔2〕.
The Eighth Congress, convened in Shanghang, likewise upheld this erroneous line〔3〕.
It was only at the Ninth Congress that the correct line was restored〔4〕.
Section Two of the article emphasizes that investigation is the key to resolving problems.
Here, the author criticizes numerous inspectors, leaders of guerrilla units, and newly appointed cadres who, upon assuming their posts, are quick to proclaim their views, pointing out perceived flaws based on superficial observations or isolated details.
This passage refers to events prior to the Fourth Plenary Session of the Sixth Central Committee〔5〕.
At that time, a group led by Liu Angong〔6〕 seized military power shortly after arriving, placing the army under their control.
There were roughly four or five such individuals, all of whom served as members of the Front Enemy Committee until the Ninth Congress.
Subsequently, a letter from the Central Committee accused them of sowing discord within the Red Army and undermining unity.
The Ninth Congress of the Fourth Red Army Party took place in December 1929. This article, written in 1930, summarizes the experiences of that period.
Prior to composing this piece, I also penned a short essay titled “Oppose Bookishness,” which has since been lost.
This particular article was only recently rediscovered.
While I am not particularly distressed by the loss of other writings, nor do I recall them clearly, these two works remain firmly etched in my memory.
Thus, when one of them resurfaced, I was delighted.
There is no need to reiterate the detailed circumstances surrounding the composition of this article.
It was written to address the challenges of the democratic revolution, arguing that success hinges on conducting investigations—specifically, model investigations.
Today, we are engaged not in a democratic revolution, but rather in socialist revolution and socialist construction.
The socialist revolution has been fundamentally completed, though it has yet to reach final fulfillment.
Section Three discusses opposing bookishness, which entails dispelling blind faith.
Back then, there was a tendency to regard anything emanating from higher authorities as inherently correct.
For example, consider the resolutions of the Sixth National Congress of the Party: how could one possibly implement them without concrete measures? Even if those resolutions were entirely sound, without specific actions and without thorough investigation, their realization would remain elusive.
Similarly, any documents issued by our Central Committee will prove ineffective unless accompanied by concrete steps.
To formulate appropriate policies, we must engage in systematic investigation.
Section Four warns that departing from practical investigation leads to idealistic class assessments and ideologically driven guidance, resulting either in opportunism or adventurism.
What, then, is the situation today? We must continue to conduct class analysis, both in urban and rural areas, for it remains indispensable.
Recently, a Central Committee document proposed establishing peasant representative assemblies composed of poor and lower-middle peasants in certain regions where the need to regain political power persists, emphasizing the importance of robust representation in those locales, precisely because class distinctions still exist.
Although the exploiting classes have largely been eliminated across most of the country—the landlord-bourgeoisie having been eradicated—does that mean they have completely vanished? Only through investigation can we determine whether pockets of resistance remain in positions of authority.
Broadly speaking, over the past five months since November last year, we have undertaken considerable efforts in this regard. What remains now is to properly resolve two lingering egalitarian tendencies.
As for providing for the Five Guarantees households and assisting those in dire straits, this egalitarian impulse persists.
Farmers themselves assert that people possess eyes and will not stand idly by while others go hungry or lack care.
One comrade remarked during a group discussion that the core issue today remains winning over the peasantry and uniting them around the Party—a pertinent observation.
China’s vast population is predominantly rural: while urban residents number just over 100 million, more than 500 million live in the countryside—a ratio of one to five.
Without the support of the peasantry, no matter how many railways we build or how much steel we produce, our endeavors will ultimately fail.
Section Five outlines the longitudinal and transverse methods of investigative work.
I employed these terms only once; after writing this article, I never used them again.
Nor do I encourage comrades to incorporate them into future writings or speeches, as they are difficult to understand.
What characterizes the longitudinal method? As I wrote, “Recently, comrades in the Fourth Red Army have generally paid attention to investigative work; however, many employ flawed approaches.
The results resemble a tally of dog meat.”
Such investigations merely accumulate data without discernible perspective or coherent thought, akin to villagers listening to a medley of novelties in town or to someone surveying a cityscape from a mountaintop.
From that vantage point, one perceives only narrow streets, scattered dwellings, and bustling crowds.
Yet who are these people? Are they capitalists or workers? Communists or non-Communists? Even distinguishing between men and women proves challenging.
Consequently, such findings offer little practical value.
This constitutes longitudinal investigation.
While this method may serve as a supplementary tool for secondary objectives, it cannot substitute for our primary means—namely, transverse investigation, which entails class analysis and model surveys.
The insights presented in Section Six, I believe, retain considerable relevance both now and in the future.
The victory of China’s revolutionary struggle depends on Chinese comrades’ understanding of domestic conditions, rather than reliance on foreign observers or foreign assistance in securing triumph.
When drafting this article, I had yet to anticipate the subsequent Wang Ming line〔8〕; likewise, the Li Lisan line〔9〕 had not yet emerged, though Qu Qiubai’s adventurism〔10〕 was already evident.
There was a period when our Party depended on the Comintern to draft resolutions, issue directives, and formulate programs—for instance, the resolution of the Fourth Plenary Session of the Sixth Central Committee was prepared in Shanghai by Mif, a Comintern representative, on our behalf.
Section Seven delves into the techniques and methods of investigation.
First, it advocates holding inquiry meetings and conducting deliberative inquiries.
One may propose several options, discuss them with participants, and jointly examine which approach proves superior.
Only through deliberative inquiry can one arrive at conclusions approaching accuracy.
Second, the section specifies who ought to participate in such meetings: individuals with extensive experience, as well as those less experienced but ideologically progressive.
Professionally, workers, farmers, merchants, intellectuals, soldiers, and even vagrants should all be included.
Third, it considers whether larger or smaller groups are preferable.
Larger gatherings offer advantages, yet organizing excessively large meetings presents challenges.
Fourth, it underscores the importance of a structured agenda.
The agenda must be prepared in advance, and questioning should proceed systematically according to it, requiring a dedicated timeframe.
Fifth, it stresses the necessity of personal participation.
Here, the text stipulates that from township heads to the chairman of the central government, from company commanders to supreme commanders, from branch secretaries to general secretaries, all must personally engage in fieldwork.
My remarks here are quite broad, reflecting the somewhat lawless atmosphere of that era.
It is essential to undertake direct, socio-economic field investigations, rather than relying solely on written reports, as the two are fundamentally distinct.
Our experiences at the time taught us that written accounts alone cannot suffice.
Sixth, it calls for delving deeply into individual issues—to dissect a sparrow, so to speak—by thoroughly examining a specific locality or problem.
Having surveyed two townships—one in the south and one in the north—we gain a basic understanding of China’s rural landscape.
Industries differ and require sector-specific scrutiny.
For coal mines, metallurgy, machinery, and similar sectors, gaining insight into a single enterprise often suffices.
With over four hundred coal mines nationwide, a comprehensive examination of just one would provide sufficient information, given that coal extraction operates similarly elsewhere.
The same principle applies to metallurgical and mechanical plants.
These belong to heavy industry, whereas light industry is somewhat simpler.
By deeply investigating a particular place or issue, one can more easily navigate subsequent inquiries into other locales or matters; otherwise, such navigation becomes considerably more arduous.
Seventh, it emphasizes the importance of taking one’s own notes.
This was during a period when I remained vigorous.
Today, investigations demand meticulous record-keeping, a practice I am willing to try.
Assuming the role of recorder oneself is a crucial aspect of investigation.
One must not only preside over the meeting and appropriately guide its participants but also personally document the findings, refraining from delegating this responsibility to others.
Currently, I do not object to dispatching investigative teams to collaborate with local comrades; indeed, I have assigned three such teams—one each to Zhejiang, Hunan, and Guangdong—working alongside provincial party committee members.
My involvement remains indirect; I do not conduct direct investigations myself.
Such arrangements are now feasible, whereas in the past, when our entire force numbered only a few thousand, undertaking similar operations would have been exceedingly difficult.
As for Section One, which asserts that “no investigation, no right to speak,” this principle is widely recognized.
It was first articulated during that period.
This time, I encountered two issues—one artisanal, one commercial—because lacking investigation, I felt I had no basis for comment.
I have always doubted the notion that one could legitimately express opinions without prior investigation.
Most of us, including myself, have fallen short in this regard.
In the eleven years following the founding of the People’s Republic, I undertook two major investigations: one concerning agricultural collectivization, during which I reviewed hundreds of documents, several from each province, eventually compiling them into a book titled “The Socialist High Tide in Rural China”〔12〕.
Some materials I examined repeatedly, analyzing why certain initiatives succeeded; it was these sources that informed my research on collectivization.
Another endeavor focused on the Ten Major Relationships, involving a month-and-a-half-long series of discussions with heads of thirty-four departments, one or two per day, listening to their reports, engaging in dialogue, and ultimately formulating conclusions regarding these relationships—an upward-facing inquiry directed toward senior officials and ministers.
Now, the entire Party possesses a relatively clear picture of the situation, with the central, provincial, and local levels having gained a better understanding of conditions below. This, I believe, accurately reflects the reality.
Why do I still describe it as “not entirely clear”? While a clearer picture has emerged, it remains incomplete. By “not entirely,” I mean that full clarity has yet to be achieved.
The current situation has improved, but we must not become complacent. We should not rest on our laurels simply because we now have a better grasp of the circumstances. Instead, we must invigorate both the masses and the cadres.
When cadres immerse themselves among the people, their enthusiasm is ignited.
My own experience consistently demonstrates this: whenever faced with seemingly insurmountable difficulties, I turn to investigation and research. Once I do so, solutions invariably emerge, and problems are resolved.
The same holds true in warfare: whenever a stalemate occurs, I resort to investigation.
During the Second Counter-Encirclement Campaign, our forces were severely outnumbered, and initial uncertainty about the terrain left me deeply troubled daily.
Together with Peng Dehuai〔13〕, we spent an entire day traversing the White Cloud Mountains, scouting the terrain and observing numerous locations.
I told Peng Dehuai, “Let the Fourth and Third Armies of the First Corps attack head-on along two fronts. You, with your Third Corps, will execute a sweeping flanking maneuver. The enemy will surely collapse.”
Had we failed to conduct this reconnaissance, we would have remained mired in indecision, unsure of how to proceed.
Investigation and research provide effective solutions; let us all put this into practice.
Regarding the high targets and related issues that have surfaced in recent years, I bear ultimate responsibility as chairman.
Where does my accountability lie? Why only now am I advocating for intensified investigative work, rather than earlier? Moreover, I have never personally conducted an investigation into a commune or factory.
To rectify this oversight, I hereby issue this call.
Earlier this year, I addressed the matter at the Central Work Conference〔14〕 and again at the Ninth Plenary Session of the Eighth Central Committee〔15〕. I must reiterate it once more; otherwise, critics might claim I have remained silent.
Certain points warrant direct clarification.
Take, for example, the article “On Investigative Work.” When distributing it, we should explain to our comrades that its primary focus lies in outlining fundamental investigative methodologies.
During the democratic revolution, investigative work was essential; likewise, it remains indispensable throughout the socialist revolution and construction phases—and will continue to be so for millennia to come.
This approach is commendable.
Regarding the specific problems this article sought to address, it was originally intended to resolve issues pertaining to the democratic revolution. Today, however, that purpose no longer applies, and we must make this distinction clear.
Furthermore, technical terms such as “transverse method” and “longitudinal method” can be avoided.
Bookishness, now referred to as dogmatism, is something that Khrushchev〔16〕 and his contemporaries claimed we did not oppose—on the contrary, we have long opposed it. It is we, the so-called “dogmatists,” who have consistently resisted dogmatic thinking.
Dogmatism, characterized solely by abstract principles devoid of concrete policy, cannot resolve substantive issues. Nor can it give rise to sound, actionable policies without thorough investigation.
This article further advances the view that sound strategies arise exclusively from practical experience and empirical investigation.
A strategic line encompasses a broad spectrum, including political orientation.
For instance, determining which classes to rely upon, with whom to form alliances, and against whom to direct our struggle—all fall within the purview of strategic lines.
The article mentions the commercial bourgeoisie and the lumpenproletariat, two social categories whose nature has long remained ambiguous—even at the time of this writing. We lacked concrete policies or coherent strategies concerning them, owing to our failure to conduct targeted investigations.
The principles articulated by Marx and Engels were derived from extensive empirical research.
Were it not for access to the London Library, Marx would never have been able to complete “Das Kapital.”
Lenin’s “Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism”〔17〕, now published as a slim volume, represents only a fraction of the original materials he studied—materials far more voluminous than the finished text.
Likewise, Lenin’s philosophical treatise “Materialism and Empirio-Criticism” was the product of years spent meticulously examining the history of philosophy before its composition.
Lenin wrote this work specifically to critique the then-dominant idealist school known as “empirio-criticism.”
In my article, I criticized the practice of social scientists deriving their insights exclusively from books, deeming it perilous.
At that time, we were experiencing a period of setbacks: following the failure of the Great Revolution in 1927, certain intellectuals regressed, degenerated, and aligned themselves with the bourgeoisie.
They confined their intellectual pursuits to the printed page, neglecting fieldwork among workers, farmers, and the broader populace, failing to engage in sustained, on-the-ground investigation.
Without those victories and defeats, without the setback of the Fifth Counter-Encirclement Campaign and the arduous Long March, I would never have been able to pen my pamphlet “Strategic Problems of the Chinese Revolutionary War.”
Indeed, the very act of writing compelled me to study bourgeois military theory.
Some argue that my military strategy draws inspiration from two texts: “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” and “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu.
I have read “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” but at the time, I was unfamiliar with “The Art of War.”
At the Zunyi Conference〔18〕, Kai Feng〔19〕 asserted that my ideas were neither particularly ingenious nor novel, amounting merely to a synthesis of “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” and “The Art of War.”
I challenged him directly: “How many chapters does ‘The Art of War’ comprise? What is the title of the first chapter? Please enlighten us.”
He was unable to answer.
I retorted, “Since you have never even read it, how can you presume to know that I am well-versed in ‘The Art of War’?” Kai Feng himself had never laid eyes on the text, yet he insisted that I relied upon it.
During wartime, the stakes were so high that no one bothered to consult such manuals. The intricacies of military doctrine and tactical guidelines were quickly forgotten amidst the chaos of battle.
In the heat of combat, commanders must rapidly assess the balance of power and make swift decisions. Who would have time to pore over ancient texts? Have you not all studied the Four Great Classics? Do you really apply them in every engagement? If so, that would constitute pure dogmatism! I harbor no aversion to theory; the principles of Marxism are indispensable, as I explicitly acknowledge in this very article.
Marxism should be regarded as a practical tool, devoid of mystique, because it serves a useful purpose—while other frameworks do not.
Bourgeois materialism proves inadequate. Only Marx’s materialism—dialectical materialism, when applied to social issues as historical materialism—is truly viable.
Marx formulated numerous doctrines—on the Party, on nationality, on class struggle, on the dictatorship of the proletariat, and on literature and art—which likewise deserve to be viewed as practical instruments.
In the preface to my “Rural Investigation” written in March 1941, I outlined my approach to conducting investigations: one must be humble and diligent, treating others as comrades.
Only with an attitude of equality and a learner’s mindset can one hope to glean meaningful insights; otherwise, others will simply ignore you, withholding information or offering only partial truths. What recourse remains?
In May 1930, I carried out an investigation in Xunwu County, southern Jiangxi Province.
Who did I consult during this inquiry? Several mid-level officials, the bankrupt president of the chamber of commerce, a minor official previously responsible for finance and grain administration at the county government office, and a destitute scholar, along with the secretary of the Xunwu County Party Committee.
We engaged in lengthy discussions over several days.
These individuals had much to share! They provided me with a comprehensive account of local conditions—Xunwu’s industrial and commercial landscape, as well as the state of various sectors.
The scholar, advanced in age and possessing a wealth of wisdom, sensed my respect and proceeded to impart copious knowledge.
In the preface to “Rural Investigation,” I also recounted how I first became aware of the pervasive corruption within China’s prisons: it was through a prison guard in Hengshan County, Hunan Province.
After a brief exchange, he began to confide in me.
I made it clear from the outset that my purpose was to investigate the actual conditions within the jailhouse, and he proceeded to describe a myriad of complex circumstances.
Regrettably, the records of that investigation have since been lost.
The materials from two subsequent model investigations conducted after my arrival on Mount Jinggang are likewise missing.
While I am not overly distressed by the loss of other documents, the disappearance of these particular records weighs heavily upon me.
Additionally, during my tenure at the Peasant Movement Training Institute in Guangzhou, I encouraged students from various provinces to transcribe folk songs—ten verses per person, totaling one hundred verses from ten individuals, one thousand from a hundred, and three thousand from three hundred—though one participant managed to compile dozens of additional stanzas.
Among those contributors were individuals from Inner Mongolia and Heilongjiang, though none from Qinghai or Xinjiang.
I instructed them, “I will provide paper—just a few sheets per person—for you to copy these folk songs.”
By the time one reaches their teens or twenties, they are likely to retain some memory of these melodies.
Through these songs, one can glean profound insights.
Unfortunately, those thousands of folk songs have since been lost—a great pity.
Printed from the verbatim transcript preserved in the Central Archives.
Notes [1] “On Investigative Work,” see footnote on page 240 of this volume. [2].
[2] On June 22, 1929, the Seventh Congress of the Communist Party of the Fourth Red Army was held in Longyan, Fujian Province. The meeting witnessed heated debate over leadership of the Party, ideological and political work, rural base areas, and the tasks of the Red Army. Incorrectly, the congress rejected Mao Zedong’s correct proposition that Party leadership over the Red Army must be centralized (then termed democratic centralism) and that the bandit mentality lacking base areas should be opposed. The congress re-elected the Front Enemy Committee of the Fourth Red Army, but Mao Zedong was not reappointed as Secretary of the Committee. [3] In late September 1929, the Eighth Congress of the Communist Party of the Fourth Red Army convened in Shanghang, Fujian Province, to discuss regulations governing the Red Army. The meeting lasted three days but yielded no consensus. [4] From December 28 to 29, 1929, the Ninth Congress of the Communist Party of the Fourth Red Army was held in Gutian, Shanghang, Fujian Province. The congress summarized the Party’s accumulated experience in combating various erroneous ideologies and tendencies since the Red Army’s inception, unified ideological understanding, and adopted the “Resolution of the Ninth Congress of the Communist Party of the Fourth Red Army.” The resolution set forth fundamental principles for Party building and army construction. A new Front Enemy Committee was elected, with Mao Zedong selected as its Secretary. [5] Refers to the Fourth Plenary Session of the Sixth Central Committee of the Communist Party of China, held in Shanghai on January 7, 1931. [6] Liu Angong (1899–1929), native of Yongchuan, Sichuan Province. In 1929, he was appointed by the CPC Central Committee as a special envoy to guide the work of the Fourth Red Army. Later, he served as Secretary of the Military Commission and Director of Political Affairs of the Fourth Red Army, among other roles. At the Seventh and Eighth Congresses of the Fourth Red Army, he was elected a member of the Front Enemy Committee. [7] In the fifth section of “On Investigative Work,” the original text reads: “Our primary method of investigation is the transverse method, not the longitudinal method.” This sentence was omitted during the author’s revision when the article was included in the 1964 edition of “Selected Works of Mao Zedong (Class A Edition)” published by the People’s Publishing House. [8] Refers to Wang Ming’s “left” opportunist error. In January 1931, at the Fourth Plenary Session of the Sixth Central Committee, Wang Ming and his allies, with the support of the Comintern and its representative Mif, seized leadership of the CPC Central Committee. Politically, they blurred the boundaries between the democratic revolution and the socialist revolution, juxtaposing anti-bourgeoisie and anti-imperialist, anti-feudal struggles; denied the obvious changes in domestic class relations following the Mukden Incident, labeling the middle forces as “the most dangerous enemies”; and continued to advocate the “urban-centric theory,” urging the Red Army to capture major cities to achieve initial victories in several provinces before securing nationwide triumph. Militarily, they initially pursued an adventurous strategy, later shifting to conservatism and retreatism. Organizationally, they practiced sectarianism, subjecting dissenters to “cruel struggle and merciless blows.” Wang Ming’s “left” opportunist line dominated the Party for four years, inflicting severe damage on the Party and the revolutionary cause. In January 1935, the CPC Central Political Bureau convened the Zunyi Conference, establishing a new correct leadership centered on Mao Zedong and thereby ending Wang Ming’s rule. [9] Li Lisan line, see footnote on page 143 of this volume. [10] Refers to the “left” adventurist error represented by Qu Qiubai. On August 7, 1927, in the critical aftermath of the Great Revolution’s failure, Qu Qiubai chaired an emergency meeting of the CPC Central Committee. Subsequently, he served as a standing committee member of the temporary Central Political Bureau, effectively leading the Party’s affairs. That November, he convened an expanded meeting of the temporary Central Political Bureau, adopting the “left” erroneous viewpoint of Comintern representative Romynaz, who argued that China’s revolution was an “uninterrupted revolution,” blurring the lines between democratic and socialist revolutions and asserting that “the current situation throughout China constitutes a direct revolutionary phase.” This determined the overall strategy of launching a nationwide armed uprising, constituting a “left” adventurist error. By April 1928, this “left” error had largely dissipated in practical application nationwide. [11] Comintern, see footnote on page 142 of this volume. [12] “The Socialist High Tide in Rural China,” edited by Mao Zedong in 1955. The book compiles 176 materials reflecting agricultural collectivization across different regions. Mao contributed prefaces to 104 of these articles and wrote the overall introduction. It was published by the People’s Publishing House in January 1956. [13] Peng Dehuai (1898–1974), native of Xiangtan, Hunan Province. At the time, he served as

Commander-in-Chief and Secretary of the Front Enemy Committee of the Third Corps of the Chinese Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army. [14] Refers to the CPC Central Work Conference held in Beijing from December 24, 1960, to January 13, 1961. [15] Refers to the Ninth Plenary Session of the Eighth Central Committee of the CPC, convened in Beijing from January 14 to 18, 1961. [16] Nikita Khrushchev (1894–1971), who at the time served as First Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee and Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the Soviet Union. [17] “Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism,” see footnote on page 141 of this volume. [18] Zunyi Conference, referring to the expanded meeting of the CPC Central Political Bureau held in Zunyi, Guizhou Province, from January 15 to 17, 1935, during the Long March. The conference focused on addressing and correcting military and organizational errors, bringing an end to Wang Ming’s “left” opportunist rule and establishing a new correct leadership centered on Mao Zedong, thereby rescuing the Red Army and the Party at a critical juncture. [19] Kai Feng, i.e., He Kequan (1906–1955), native of Pingxiang, Jiangxi Province. At the time, he served as an alternate member of the CPC Central Political Bureau, Secretary of the Central Committee of the Youth League, and a central representative of the Ninth Red Army Corps.