An Interview with Dr. Chen Jian: Zhou Enlai: A Life

Why did you choose Zhou Enlai as the subject of your new book?

I did not choose Zhou Enlai as the subject of this book. The path towards writing this biography is the combination of logic and chance. In the early 1990s, when I was writing my first book in English, China’s Road to the Korean War, I touched upon many events, experiences, decision-making processes, and other aspects of the Chinese Cold War experience. In almost all of these aspects, Zhou Enlai was a central figure. Simply put, if you want to write a history of modern China, you simply cannot avoid Zhou.

However, even though Zhou was featured heavily in much of my research, I did not plan to write a biography of him until 2004. Melvin Leffler, a distinguished diplomatic historian and my colleague at the University of Virginia, was editing a series about great politicians and statesmen of the 20^th century. He asked me if I was interested in writing a brief biography for Zhou. In order to hook me into this project, Leffler said to me, “Chen Jian, with your understanding and your knowledge of modern Chinese history, it would probably only take you six weeks to complete a biography of Zhou.” I was not convinced that I could write this biography in six weeks, but I thought I had already done substantial research related to Zhou, and had interviewed many policymakers and practitioners who were Zhou’s colleagues or associates, so why not take on this project?

I began planning to write the biography in 2004. Now it is 2024. It took 20 years for me to finally produce a Zhou biography. The book is very different from how I imagined it in 2004. It is no longer a volume of 40,000 or 50,000 words; rather, it is over 300,000 words. When I began working on the book, I found that Zhou was not an easy subject to write about. Zhou was a complicated person, and I wanted to understand him fully. The more involved I was with this project, the more I realized that I needed to conduct more research. This is the story of why and how I began writing this biography.

A few scholars have already produced biographical works of Zhou. An example is Zhou Enlai: The Last Perfect Revolutionary by Gao Wenqian. Compared with these biographies, what specific contributions has your book made to our understanding of Zhou?

Gao Wenqian wrote a great book about the latter years of Zhou’s life. However, The Last Perfect Revolutionary is not a complete biography of Zhou. The book focuses on Zhou’s experience during the Cultural Revolution, and devotes some chapters to Zhou’s early life. Uncovered in the biography are Zhou’s life and career between 1932 and the early 1960s. In this sense, The Last Perfect Revolutionary is not a comprehensive Zhou biography.

Another Zhou biography is written by Yu Changgen and Barbara Barnouin. Yu was a Chinese foreign ministry official who had some personal experience interacting with Zhou. Although the book describes Zhou’s foreign ministry connections in great detail, it is brief and not always supported by primary source research.

My biography of Zhou is much more comprehensive. I must add that I am so privileged to have conducted research about Zhou in the first decade of the 21^st century. That was the golden age of China’s archival opening, so I was able to access a great amount of the Chinese Foreign Ministry archive. I also did substantial research at the Center of Modern Historical Materials at East China Normal University, where a large number of declassified documents (including Zhou’s internal speeches and even Politburo meeting notes) from various provincial and municipal archives were kept. Unfortunately, beginning in the first half of the 2010s, almost all these materials became inaccessible to researchers. Without access to those documents, it would have been next to impossible for me to write this biography.

When historians produce biographical works, they often use primary sources such as memoirs or diaries. But when political leaders write memoirs or diaries, they know they will likely be read by the public one day. Therefore, they often choose to write selectively about certain aspects of their lives. How do you, as a historian writing about Zhou, justify these subjective primary sources?

This concerns what we call critical thinking and critical research. In the field of the new Cold War history research, we often engage with critical oral history. In these cases, we should never be dominated by the perspectives of interviewees in trying to reconstruct a particular historical process.

I have a story that illustrates this point very well. In the early 1990s, I was able to stay with Shi Zhe, Mao’s Russian language interpreter for almost 15 years, in Beijing for three weeks. I actually interviewed Shi the year before, prior to living with him for three weeks. During these three weeks, I talked with Shi every day, and I was able to take notes. I found that there were huge differences in Shi’s accounts between our formal interview and our informal daily chats. For example, one question that arose was whether Mao was aware of Kim Il Sung’s intention to use a revolutionary war to unify the Korean peninsula. In our formal interview, Shi’s answer was “No, we never interfere with another country’s internal affairs.” Yet, in our informal conversations, Shi mentioned that Kim Il Sung secretly came to Beijing in May 1950 to discuss ideas and plans to attack South Korea. This story always reminds me to assume an extremely cautious and critical attitude towards interviews.

Do you think there exists a critical juncture in Zhou’s early life that significantly impacted his leadership style later on? Or do you think that his statecraft was a result of a combination of factors throughout his life?

Many people believe that a person’s life path is shaped by their experiences in their early years. This is absolutely true about Zhou. I will emphasize three aspects of Zhou’s early life: one, Zhou’s early education; two, his experience studying and living abroad; three, his critical thinking about which career path would be the most desirable for the goal of saving China and allowing China to rise high in the world again.

First, let me elaborate on Zhou’s early education, both informal and formal. Zhou’s aunt (who was also his adoptive mother) guided him to study classical Chinese literature at a young age. Then, in his early education, he exposed himself to both traditional Chinese culture and newer, Western ideas. Thus, his education experiences in Manchuria and then in Tianjin were very important to shaping his political perspectives and worldview. So even after Zhou became a devoted communist, we could find that deep in his heart, there was a reserved place for humanitarian concerns.

Secondly, while studying overseas in Japan and Europe, Zhou was not easily convinced by communism, though he had already exposed himself to ideas of socialism and Marxist theory. In one letter to a cousin, he wrote, “I’m still trying to figure out the truthfulness of different ‘ism.’” He also tried very hard, especially when he was in Europe, to compare the so-called “Russian path” and the “English path” to see which one was better for the advancement of modernity in China. These experiences truly allowed him to learn about different kinds of political thoughts.

Thirdly, in Zhou’s early experience as a communist, he never tried to pursue the position as the paramount leader of the Chinese Revolution. When Mao became the supreme leader of the Chinese Communist Party, the Chinese Revolution, and the People’s Republic of China, Zhou never tried to pursue the “number two” position under Mao. So, this decision shaped the main course of Zhou’s political experience within the Party and the People’s Republic.

Zhou’s early experiences are very similar to those of Deng Xiaoping, another paramount leader of China, especially as they both studied abroad. Do you think there are any similarities between these two leaders in terms of their statecraft?

There are great similarities between Zhou and Deng because of their shared experience studying, working, and living in Europe. These experiences contributed greatly to both Zhou and Deng’s knowledge and understanding of modernity, which was absent in Mao’s worldview. Mao’s first visit abroad was in 1949-1950 to the Soviet Union. For Mao, the outside world was an obscure existence. But for Zhou and Deng, in their formative years, they personally experienced modernity.

But there is one significant difference between Zhou and Deng. In the Russian archives, there is a Deng autography. One sentence from this autobiography struck me. Deng wrote that “not to read is my specialty.” Zhou was absolutely the opposite. Deng led with experience; he was a genius, and did not pay much attention to details. Zhou paid a lot of attention to details, and was motivated by visions and ideas. In fact, in his innermost world, Zhou had developed and kept a space for what we may call “socialism with a human face.” We could glimpse this aspect of Zhou’s political perspectives through an “discursive exchange” between him and Mao. In summer 1957, in defining the system of “democratic centralism,”  Mao said, “Our goal is to create a political atmosphere of liveliness in which there is both centralism and democracy, discipline and freedom, unity of will and personal ease of mind, in order to promote socialist revolution and socialist reconstruction.” A few weeks later, in presenting his definition of  “proper democratic centralism,” Zhou said that it should be “one under which there will be both democracy and centralism, freedom and discipline, development of individuality and unity of will.” Different from Mao, Zhou put “democracy,” “freedom,” and the “development of individuality” first.

In another instance, in May 1959, Zhou was inspecting the Hebei countryside during the Great Leap Forward. He advised local leaders to allow “six freedoms” for  the peasants, including “raising poultry, keeping small pieces of hilly land, owning trees around one’s house, collecting firewood, and keeping some sideline production for family use.”  Then, Zhou further said something that I think Deng would never say. He elaborated , “[These measures] are about maintaining small ‘selves’ in a big ‘collective,’ about walking by using both legs. There should be space reserved for ‘self.’ Without individuals, how can the ‘collective’ come into being?”

In terms of foreign policymaking, do you think that Zhou was a practitioner of Realpolitik, Innenpolitik, a mix of both, or something else?

Zhou was a person who tried very hard to understand the real world. The most important goal for Zhou was to make China strong and to allow China to rise again. Zhou’s greatest quality as a politician and diplomat was his idealistic political centrism. Zhou did not just concern himself with small and concrete interest calculations; he also cared about whether or not these calculations would fit into the larger goals that Zhou thought would best serve the interests of China and the human race.

This quality was very clearly indicated in making the 1972 U.S.-China Shanghai Communique, which, in my mind, was probably one of the most important documents of the 20^th century, not just for U.S.-China relations, but also for the entire field of international relations. The two countries who had been enemies for two decades were able to make this document. Each side used its own (yet nonprovocative) language to describe its inspirations and policy orientations. Meanwhile, they also highlighted common ground and shared visions in international norms and codes. This was unprecedented. Zhou aimed to achieve concrete results and played a major role in formulating this document.

So, to answer your question, I would say Zhou was a practitioner of both Realpolitik and Innenpolitik. While I was giving a speech a few years ago about Zhou at the Harvard Kennedy School, I said that I really wished that there would emerge a Zhou Enlai in Beijing’s Zhongnanhai or Donald Trump’s White House. I still hope for this to come true. In an age of rampant extremism and extremist behaviors, we need a Zhou Enlai today who is able to bridge the differences between China, the U.S., and the world in constructive ways.

In a review of your book, Lucy Hornby commented that you have been too cautious in your approach, and that you did not fully explore “darker and more contradictory elements” of Zhou’s life. How would you respond to Hornby’s assessment of your work?

I am not surprised by this assessment. Many people view Zhou as Mao’s accomplice or a “Mao enabler,” who enabled Mao to do many bad things. They thus describe him as a more negative figure compared to my storytelling. I disagree with this view.

I will describe Zhou as a very positive historical figure who was also a “Mao controller.” To write this biography this way is actually a bold action on my part because the Zhou I describe in my book was certainly not the same kind of hero or perfect revolutionary painted by the Chinese Communist regime. At the same time, according to my reading of primary sources and research, which is based upon multi-archival, multilingual, and multi-source study, I cannot agree with many of the accusations people have tried to make about Zhou. Some people might arbitrarily put me under the category of “panda hugger.” I do not fit the stereotypical definition of “panda hugger.”

The question here is not whether or not I should call myself to be more bold or more cautious. This is about critical thinking and thoughtfulness. This is the determination and the capacity of both academics and intellectuals to understand that Zhou was a complicated figure in the very complicated phenomenon of China’s rise.

The world needs a modernized China that serves both universal values while at the same time maintaining traditional Chinese characteristics. In order to achieve this goal, we must be forward-looking. We must be thoughtful, and at the same time, critical. We must not be fooled by any stereotypical definition of China. That being said, I am very grateful for this review. It allows me to understand other possible perspectives of Zhou.

You received your M.A. degree in China in the early 1980s, and then came to the U.S. to pursue your Ph.D. degree. How has the decision to study in the U.S. changed your life and academic pursuits? Do you have any advice for Chinese students who are studying or plan to study in the U.S.?

The experience was life-changing. I already had established a reputation among my generation of scholars while still in China in the early 1980s. Especially in 1984, my M.A. thesis, called The U.S. Policy towards Germany, 1937-1941, won the excellent article award in Lishi yanjiu (Historical Research), the flagship forum of history studies in China. Other recipients of this award were distinguished senior scholars. Nevertheless, I found that my vision and perspective had been restricted by my China-rooted education. I decided that I must go abroad, and fortunately, I was given an opportunity to do this. Writing my dissertation at Southern Illinois University was such a great learning opportunity, and I continued to learn as a professor. In my first teaching job, for example, I taught a total of 18 or 19 courses. Teaching each new course was a learning experience for me.

For my younger scholarly brothers and sisters, I would like to give two pieces of advice. First, try to study abroad! Studying abroad is a life-changing opportunity. You must treat it seriously, and view every challenge as an opportunity to learn. Many younger scholars probably think that being asked to teach a load of four new courses each semester, often without teaching assistants, is ridiculous. But I treated this challenge as an opportunity to grow.

Secondly, when you are abroad, never forget that you are from China. Some people think that keeping our Chinese connection is a barrier for personal growth. This is not true. After all, I have been in the U.S. for almost four decades. Yet, I still believe that China – Chinese culture and Chinese civilization – remains my root. My country of citizenship is America, and I love America. But I also believe that it is crucial to promote and maintain mutual trust between China and America.

Furthermore, I do not think that in order to make America greater, it is necessary to make China smaller. Over the past thousands of years, China has overcome all kinds of setbacks and challenges to remain one of the most continuous civilizations in the world. The current difficulties facing China will not last forever. Most likely, China will find ways to go a step higher. I don’t care that people say, “You are living in the U.S. now, and you are an American citizen. Why do you still care about China?” I tell people, “If America is better, the world will be better. If China is better, the world will be better.” We must firmly believe in this. As students from China, we must serve as bridges to enhance a constructive relationship between the U.S. and China.