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Curses, intimidations, threats, blackmail labels to brand people all over the sky and earth, blows at my body, an imperial decree imposed on my head and the rebukes of a certain senior general piercing my ears. Are there any more secret weapons? Bring them all out together. The universe is cleared of all dust. If you do not believe, please wipe your eyes and see.
In the shadow of the walls of Peking's Forbidden City, where the history of modern China is being written these days in foot-high ideographs of pure vitriol, that shrill challenge was published last week over the name of Mao Tse-tung, the Red Emperor of China. The world indeed wiped its eyes in astonishment as Mao's Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, aimed at "purifying" Chinese Communism, erupted into strife and stridency so bitter that it produced widespread chaos and verged on civil war. The revolution that for 18 years has enchained China's 750 million people to Communism openly degenerated into a personal power struggle virtually unprecedented in history in its scope and stakes. Chinese fought Chinese in the cities, and the ubiquitous tatzebao, or posters, attacked with such catholic ferocity—condemning both Mao's enemies and his lieutenants—that there may soon be no one left undenounced in all of Red China. To many observers in both the West and the East, it seemed as if China were reaching the final stages of the legendary dance of the scorpion—just before it stings itself to death.
Flooded with Posters. What the West saw was fragmentary, since only a handful of foreign reporters are permitted in Peking, and they get most of their information from Red Guard posters and pamphlets; it was, for example, the Toronto Globe and Mail's David Oancia who discovered the Mao challenge last week. But though reports often clashed in detail, they left little doubt that the height of the battle was approaching between Mao and his hand-picked heir, Marshal Lin Piao, on the one hand, and the more pragmatic and liberal Politburo faction headed by Chinese President Liu Shao-chi on the other. The Yugoslav news agency Tan-yug reported that Peking was "flooded with posters and cartoons of a sinister nature, depicting numerous Chinese leaders"—and not forgetting to include Lyndon Johnson, whose caricature was attacked by children bearing spears.
In the eastern Chinese city of Nanking (pop. 1.5 million), the words and pictures of violence gave way to violence itself. The Czechoslovakian news agency reported that some 500,000 workers had poured into the city, determined to wipe out Mao's local Red Guard contingent and end its harassing techniques. For four days, the two factions fought furiously in the streets. More than 60,000 prisoners were taken by both sides, and many were tortured in the best Chinese fashion. Said the Czechs: "Their fingers, noses and ears were chopped off, their tongues cut out." Japan's Kyodo news service reported that 54 persons were killed, 900 wounded and 6,000 arrested and that the city's rail and telephone services were cut. The Great Revolution had clearly begun to devour itself.