This is a history of Anyuan, both in a physical and symbolic sense. Anyuan, which has been a coal mining town for the better part of the past century, is also a key site of successful early Chinese Communist Party proletarian organizing from figures like Li Lisan and Liu Shaoqi. However, as CCP leaders vied for power as the decades progressed, Anyuan was a site of myth-making — a place to situate oneself in China's revolutionary past to derive contemporary legitimacy.
Perry is a bushwhacker in this book as she carves a path through Anyuan's contested and constructed narratives. She explores everything from personal narratives to propagandistic art to convey a fascinating, and tragic, tale of both the appropriation and abuse of historicity at the expense of mine workers the CCP was ostensibly there to help.
This book is very well researched and the stories and details included are fascinating. I can’t say that I agree with much of the author’s broader interpretations of things in the end, though. It is probably the best account in English of what happened in Anyuan especially in the ‘20s.
An interesting look at the Communist Party and its changing relationship to the portrayal of its own revolution over time centered around the Anyuan coal mine. The introduction, conclusion, and blurb all seem to be about how the CCP adapted its message to preexisting traditions, ideas, and power structures, but most of the book does not focus on that. Instead it deals with the ways in which the successful strikes at Anyuan were used by various groups and actors from the 1950s to the present. There is especially strong focus on the three CCP cadres who had been important to organizing the strike (Li Lisan, Liu Xiaoqi, Mao Zedong) and how they rewrote the narrative to fit their later political interests.
This book is very a readable examination of an important set piece of the CCP's revolutionary tradition. Though sometimes the intro and conclusion feel like they are attached to the wrong book, the central narrative of the creation and adaptation of the Anyuan story is certainly a very valuable one for 20th century China scholars.
One of the biggest strengths of this book is how accessible the author makes it. Too many histories of similar topics get bogged down in infinite names and dates. In contrast, this author reintroduces minor characters or places with a quick parenthetical summary when they appear after an absence, concretely connects all names to an easy to remember identity, making it significantly easier on the reader.
I was hoping for a more substantial exploration of the traditions the Communists were linking their project to (I found the wen-wu analysis a bit perfunctory), but I did very much enjoy the details of the secret society organizations.
This book presents a phenomenal look at the history of the Chinese revolution through the lens of the mining town of Anyuan, site of a famous strike in 1922 involving several future CCP leaders. The strike was a massive success, involving thousands of workers and achieving its goals without violence. The Communists managed to gain a great deal of support in Anyuan through a popular program of free education and a deep familiarity with local customs, which helped a foreign political ideology gain acceptance as something authentically Chinese. In the years that followed, Anyuan became China’s “little Moscow”, a center of Communist labor organizing home to the country’s largest and most active branch of the CCP at the time. All of this would come to a violent end in 1925, but former Anyuan workers would continue play a prominent role in the Chinese revolution. After 1949, Anyuan became a key political touchstone for the PRC’s leaders, its history now refracted through the distorted lens of “cultural patronage”, as first Liu Shaoqi and then Mao Zedong turned the site’s revolutionary history into an important pillar of their cults of personality. Even after the death of Mao and the end of the Cultural Revolution, Anyuan remains an important site, but its history and legacy are contested, as the party tries to use it as part of its “red tourism” initiative, while the revolutionary era is remembered fondly by many miners dissatisfied with China’s post-Mao reforms. Far more than a simple history of one town, this book explores many of the central questions of modern Chinese history: why has the Chinese revolution taken such a different course than its Russian prototype, and what does Anyuan’s revolutionary tradition (and China’s more broadly) mean for the country today? Overall, this is a brilliant, important, and very accessible book that I would recommend to anyone interested in modern China.