Conversation with Wang Hairong

Mao: Students should be allowed to read novels in class and doze off during lessons. We must care for students’ health. Teachers should lecture less and let students observe more. I think that student you mentioned may achieve something in the future. He dares to skip meetings on Saturdays and refuses to return to school on time on Sundays. When you go back, tell that student that returning by eight or nine in the evening is still too early—he can come back at eleven or twelve. Who told you to hold meetings on Sunday evenings anyway?

Wang: When I was at the teachers college, Sunday evenings were generally not used for meetings. That time was usually reserved for students themselves. Once, we planned to hold a branch committee meeting and arranged an organizational life session on a Sunday evening. But many Youth League members opposed it. Some even went to the political counselor and raised the issue, saying Sunday evenings were our own time and we couldn’t make it back. Later, the political counselor accepted their opinion and asked us to reschedule the meeting.

Mao: That political counselor did the right thing.

Wang: Here, they always occupy Sunday evenings with meetings—class meetings, branch committee meetings, grade-level meetings, or Party lesson study groups. From the start of this semester until I left, I calculated that there hasn’t been a single Sunday evening without a meeting.

Mao: When you go back, take the lead in rebelling. Don’t go back on Sundays. Just refuse to attend the meetings.

Wang: I don’t dare. It’s a school rule that we must return on Sundays. Otherwise, people will say I’m undermining school discipline.

Mao: What rules? Forget about all that. Just don’t go back. Say: “I am undermining school discipline.”

Wang: That won’t work. I’ll get criticized.

Mao: I don’t think you’ll achieve much in the future. You’re afraid of being accused of breaking rules, afraid of criticism, afraid of demerits, afraid of expulsion, afraid of not joining the Party. What’s there to fear? The worst that can happen is expulsion. Schools should allow students to rebel. Go back and take the lead in rebelling.

Wang: People will say, “Even the Chairman’s relative doesn’t listen to him and takes the lead in breaking school rules.” They’ll call me arrogant and undisciplined.

Mao: You! Afraid of being called arrogant, afraid of being called undisciplined—what are you afraid of? Just say you rebelled precisely because you listened to the Chairman. I think that student you mentioned may achieve more than you in the future. He dares to defy your school’s rules. I see you people are somewhat metaphysical.

Wang: Now, reading classical works is forbidden. That cadre’s child in our class keeps reading classical works. While everyone is busy practicing English, he’s reading *Dream of the Red Chamber*. Our classmates all have objections to him reading it.

Mao: Have you read *Dream of the Red Chamber*?

Wang: Yes.

Mao: Which character do you like in *Dream of the Red Chamber*?

Wang: None of them.

Mao: *Dream of the Red Chamber* is worth reading. It’s a fine book. Reading it isn’t about the story—it’s about understanding history. It’s a historical novel, and its author’s language is the best among classical novels. Look at how Cao Xueqin brought that character Wang Xifeng to life. She’s brilliantly written—you couldn’t write a character like that. If you don’t read a bit of *Dream of the Red Chamber*, how will you understand what feudal society was? To read it, you must grasp these four lines: “The Jia family’s wealth is no lie—white jade halls, gold-trimmed steeds. The Epang Palace, three hundred li wide, can’t house the Shi family of Jinling. The East Sea lacks white jade beds—the Dragon King seeks the Wang family of Jinling. In a bountiful year, great ‘Xue’—pearls like dirt, gold like iron.” These four lines are an outline for reading *Dream of the Red Chamber*. Du Fu wrote a long poem called “Northern Expedition”—have you read it?

Wang: No, I haven’t. It’s not in *Three Hundred Tang Poems*.

Mao: It’s in *Selected Tang Poems*.
(At that moment, the Chairman took out the book, found the poem “Northern Expedition,” and asked Wang to read it.)

Wang: What should I pay attention to when reading this poem? I need some preventive guidance first to avoid being influenced.

Mao: You’re always so metaphysical. What preventive guidance? None of that! It’s good to be influenced a little. You must dive in, immerse yourself in the characters, and then climb back out. Just read this poem thoroughly—no need to memorize it. Does your school require you to read the Bible or Buddhist scriptures?

Wang: No. Why would we read those?

Mao: How can you be a translator without reading the Bible or Buddhist scriptures? Have you read *Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio*?

Wang: No.

Mao: *Strange Tales* is worth reading. The fox spirits in it are so kind-hearted! They help people so willingly! How do you say “intellectual” in English?

Wang: I don’t know.

Mao: I see you’ve been studying English for quite a while, yet you’re an intellectual yourself and can’t even say the word “intellectual.”

Wang: Let me check the *Chinese-English Dictionary*.

Mao: Go ahead, see if the word is there.

Wang: Oh no, your *Chinese-English Dictionary* doesn’t have this word. It only has “knowledge,” not “intellectual.”

Mao: Let me take a look.
(Wang handed the dictionary to the Chairman.) Only “knowledge,” no “intellectual.” This *Chinese-English Dictionary* is useless—so many words are missing. When you go back, tell your school to compile a high-quality *Chinese-English Dictionary*. Include all the new political terms, and ideally provide examples to illustrate the usage of each word.

Wang: How can our school compile a dictionary? We have neither the time nor the personnel. How could we do it?

Mao: With so many teachers and students at your school, are you afraid you can’t produce a dictionary? This dictionary should be compiled by you.

Wang: Alright, when I go back, I’ll relay this suggestion to the school leadership. I think we can accomplish this task.

Wang: When foreign guests speak English to you, can you understand them?

Mao: I can’t understand. They speak too fast.

Wang: Then do you speak English during meetings?

Mao: I don’t.

Wang: You neither speak nor understand it—then why are you learning English?

Mao: I’m learning English to study language, to compare English and Chinese. If I have the chance, I also plan to learn some Japanese.

IV

Mao: If the enemy captured you alive, what would you do?

Wang: “Since ancient times, who has escaped death? Leave a loyal heart to shine through history.”

Mao: Correct. When you go back, read ten or twenty Marxist-Leninist classics, and study some materialist works. It seems your theoretical level isn’t high. In your studies, don’t aim for top marks, nor settle for poor ones—three or four out of five is fine.

Wang: Why not aim for top marks?

Mao: Top marks exhaust you to death. You don’t need so much—learning too much is deadly. For example, take Emperor Gaozu of Han’s “Song of the Great Wind”: “A great wind rises, clouds fly and scatter; my might extends to the four seas, I return to my homeland. Where can I find brave warriors to guard the four frontiers?” This poem is excellently written, full of grandeur. Emperor Gaozu, who wrote it, didn’t study much, yet he could produce such a fine poem. Our cadres’ children worry me greatly. They lack life experience and social experience, yet they put on great airs and have a huge sense of superiority. They must be taught not to rely on their parents or their forebears, but entirely on themselves.

June 1964. Mao Zedong and others watch the dance drama *The Flames of Nghe-Tinh* performed by the Song and Dance Troupe of the General Political Department of the Vietnam People’s Army, and pose for a photo with the performers afterward.