"Forgive, but don't forget" The first part of "White Land" (serial 38)

Volume 1 The White Land Part II Lao Tzu Reactionary Bastards Chapter 2 Why Don't They Allow Me to Revolutionize

One

It was time for me to start school, and I could no longer realize my dream of attending an experimental middle school (in those years, who could have achieved their ideals). My scientists, horticulturists, writers, and other whimsical ideals have burst into colorful bubbles.

The unprecedented Cultural Revolution turned the world upside down yesterday, the terrible things in Pandora's box were released, and the original life was gone. The great criticism carried out by the education sector is in full swing, and the campus has become a battlefield filled with gunfire and smoke overnight, and the children's faces have lost their usual joy and smiles, and they have a stiff and serious look. The students' motto changed from "study well and improve every day" and "unity, tension, seriousness, and liveliness" to "you must be concerned about major state affairs and carry the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution through to the end." The leading bodies of all major, middle, and primary schools were all washed up and smashed into ghost labor reforms, cleaning up toilets and cleaning up garbage. It's like a glacier freezing, flooding the earth, everything being swept away by rapids, everything being twisted, everything being changed. Yesterday, the teacher was still in class, but today he was knocked to the ground by the students, and then stepped on a thousand feet, and he could never turn over. In fact, the rebels do not need to bother to put so many hats on teachers, and the decision-makers who launched the campaign have long decided that being an educator is a mistake in itself. The reason is very simple, "Stinky Old Nine" is a parasite that is unearned, must be re-educated in manual labor, transform the bourgeois world view, and leave you a life is already merciful and merciful.

I would rather have the grass of socialism than the seedlings of capitalism. The experimental middle school is a typical aristocratic school for cultivating white professional seedlings, of course, it can no longer be allowed to enroll students based on test scores, and students from various districts and counties can only enroll nearby. I was sorted into the first grade of the sugar factory children's school and started school. Red soldiers were set up in primary schools and Red Guards in junior high schools, and the students all walked out of the campus with great vigor and vigor and took to the streets to respond to the call of the People's Daily editorial "Sweeping Away All Cows, Ghosts, Snakes, and Gods" to "break the old ideas, old cultures, old customs, and old habits that have been poisoned by all exploiting classes and the people for thousands of years." Everything that they think is not suitable for socialism must be smashed and confiscated. The competition across the country to emulate the central government quickly turned into a cultural sweep that destroyed traditional tangible cultural heritage. I was a bourgeois dog cub who was classified in a "nother book", not even counting the red periphery, and naturally could not join the Red Guard organization, and my sister could not join the Red Soldier organization. No children wear red scarves anymore, although it is the tip of a red flag, dyed with the blood of martyrs. Only I stubbornly wear it on my chest, provocatively holding my head up, as comically ridiculous as Don Gicord. In fact, I was confronting them, insisting on proving my identity as a child of revolutionary cadres, and wanting to gain the same sense of equality as each of them. I can only look back at the past, I can't foresee the future, and anyway it is also a stage in my life, a capital that I am proud of.

I didn't realize at the time that I had suddenly cut off my past life when I was completely unprepared, and I had lost my former peace forever.

I was probably an antique that had been eliminated by the times in the eyes of my classmates, and no one paid any attention to my careful eyes. The look in their eyes kept reminding me that the glory of wearing red scarves was now only a memory, and that it had lagged behind the rapidly developing Cultural Revolution. I could only watch my classmates take to the streets in neat queues, singing the song "Lao Tzu Heroes and Children good Men" to publicize Mao Zedong Thought, wearing belts around their waists, and wearing "Red Guards" armbands with Chairman Mao's handwritten inscription on their arms:

Lao Tzu heroes are good men,

Lao Tzu is a reactionary bastard.

If there is a revolution, you stand up,

If not revolutionary,

Just get the fuck out of here!

The Red Guards became more and more intense, and the sound of gongs and drums resounded through the streets of the city day and night. The "breaking of the four olds" as I understand it means that the rebels have made a big publicity to post a notice ordering every household to hand over "seals, capital, and repairs" in the name of revolution. As large as the class enemy's "heavenly accounts", radio stations, and weapons, to the gold, silver, antique calligraphy and paintings of landlords and capitalists, to the statue of Liu Shaoqi and even the Guanyin Bodhisattva of ordinary people's homes, they must be handed over according to the deadline, otherwise they will be severely punished. The old life seemed intolerable, the movement was welcomed with schadenfreude, the illusions that had been burning long ago had now reached a fever pitch, and everyone was melted into a universal mass vertigo, and the agitation was like madness. They think that whoever is the suspect will break through the door without mercy, dig the ground and search three feet, and make your chicken and dog restless.

The revolutionary action of the Red Guards to raid homes has achieved a lot of success, and some of them have searched for land deeds and house deeds, which is undoubtedly a "change of heavenly account." Those who found gold bricks and gold bars were confiscated immediately. There are searches for dollars and pounds sterling marks, and their family must have overseas relations belonging to foreign elements of Litong. As for the books of the past, all but Ma, En, Lie, Si, and Mao Xuan were all poisonous weeds, and each family was ordered to burn it on its own. Life has fallen into chaos, a large number of folk cultural relics have been destroyed, a large number of cultural monuments have been destroyed, and the whole of China has been submerged in a sea of red and red terror, and there is not necessarily anything that is particularly surprising compared to other things. Even the pure land of Buddhism is not spared, and the young revolutionary generals rush into the monastery, fight the abbot, smash the Buddha statue, and dismiss the disciples and disciples... How to comment on the turbidity of the world!

I envy other people's children to join the Red Guards, they don't quite understand the cold reality, and they very much want to become a Red Guards. I asked my mother, I also want to defend Chairman Mao, why did they not allow me to make a revolution?

The mother was speechless and sighed long and short.

Sadly, I took off the red scarf around my neck and treasured it, believing that one day it would flutter back on the children's chests, although no one had explained to me at that time that the Cultural Revolution was not a day or two, and might last a long time. Interestingly, within a few days, many of my classmates were ordered to hand over their armbands and expelled from the Red Guards, and I did not feel lost for them psychologically, but felt a little inexplicably happy. Because they are the children of the local rich and anti-evil rightists and bourgeoisie, they cannot let the fish in the muddy waters sabotage the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution from within.

No teacher taught us culture lessons.

All the students of the school are studying the theory of the dictatorship of the proletariat, holding high the great banner of Mao Zedong Thought and throwing themselves into the Great Cultural Revolution movement, waving their pens and making a big splash, criticizing Liu Shaoqi's "theory of extinguishing the class struggle," making all kinds of ugly claims to the bourgeoisie, wantonly carrying out personal attacks, and never collecting troops without being properly criticized. Involuntarily, I had to listen to what I wanted to hear with my left ear and what I didn't want to hear with my right ear, or simply have the right to get by in my ears, and the process of inner evolution was very difficult. The so-called culture class is a collective recitation of Chairman Mao's quotations, and the quotation that I memorized very well is: "Revolution is not inviting guests to dinner, not making articles, not painting and embroidering, and cannot be gentle and frugal." A revolution is a riot, a violent act by one class to overthrow another. ”

To tell the truth, I seem to understand chairman Mao's works that I have studied, and letting a hairy child understand a "On Protracted War" is like reading a heavenly book. I think it is difficult for students to understand the profound truth in the book, all of them are like clouds, parrots learn tongues. For example, I can recite the "old three" backwards like a stream, and the teacher asks what is the theme of "In Memory of Bethune", and I certainly can't answer it. In my impression, there are only four countries on the earth, a socialist China, a little Japan, a US imperialism, and a Soviet revisionist. The teacher had not yet given us a history and geography lesson, and I did not even know the full names of the United States of America and the Republic of the Soviet Socialist Union. I often feel inexplicable, how can there be a country in the world called Canada? That big-foreheaded, hook-nosed Bethune ran to China to resist Japan, was it a dog with a rat and a nosy thing? Have you never seen our movies "Tunnel Warfare" and "Mine Warfare", where the militia used spears and knives, earth guns and artillery, and mine grenades to beat the Japanese invaders and flee? Also use him as a foreigner to make a fuss.

Thinking about it, I can't help but wonder, how is my father's personal experience different from that in the movie? In fact, on the contrary, how did my relatives sacrifice so much on the anti-Japanese battlefield? There are few Japanese people, there are more Chinese, and one life for one life should be finished in japan? This kind of thought always torments me and drives me away. I dare not tell others my doubts, for the teacher's teachings are as inviolable to a child as the Holy Will. And I often use the words of the teacher to deal with my father: "The teacher said that parents cannot educate their children by hitting, and there are problems to convince people." "Don't you say, this trick is really smart, father burst out laughing." However, Bethune's spirit of internationalism is admirable, in addition to China, two-thirds of the world's working people are exploited and oppressed by landlords and capitalists, have no food and clothing, and live in the depths of the water, waiting for our generation to rescue them. When I grow up, I must learn from Bethune, be an internationalist fighter, and go to his country to liberate his descendants (in retrospect, we ourselves are starving to death, and we are deceiving ourselves, which is ridiculous and pitiful. "Thousands of martyrs, for the benefit of the people, died heroically before us. Let us raise their flag and march forward on their blood! "As for ourselves, what other personal interests are there that we are reluctant to sacrifice? Although I know that this is extremely unlikely, I am still convinced!

With the continuous expansion of the scale of the movement, more and more people wear top hats and hang up signs to parade the streets. During this period, the school's vice principal Zhao Key, the Chinese teacher Hou Zidian, the history teacher Ma Shishi, the physical education teacher Liu Xiaogang, and the Russian teacher ChenSki all became the targets of great criticism. Both primary and secondary school students must participate in the criticism and struggle meeting in the factory, and before the meeting, they must sing majestic quotations and songs with the adults: "The principles of Marxism are thousands of things, and in the final analysis, they are one sentence, and the rebellion is justified." According to this principle, there is revolution, there is struggle, and socialism is engaged. Most of the activists who joined the party that my mother had originally cultivated were transformed into vanguards at the criticism conference.

The children do not understand that the teacher has worked hard to teach you only the basics, "the master leads into the door, and the practice is in the individual." Ten years of trees, a hundred years of tree people, it takes decades to cultivate a person, and it takes decades to destroy a teacher. It is not easy to become a talent, and it should be cherished, which is the truth that cannot be broken and applied to all over the world. I had never written a big poster, and as soon as the school engaged in revolutionary action, it automatically withdrew from the ashes and slipped away. "Lao Tzu reactionary bastard", I am the number one double material bourgeois dog cub in the sugar factory school, naturally shorter than ordinary people, I should consciously "fuck the egg". That panic, that embarrassment, that hurts self-esteem, needless to say. Although the revolution does not distinguish between sooner or later, no matter the order of rebellion, the counterattack is meritorious, I am not willing to counterattack a blow, who will fight back? Fighting back against my mother, this is absolutely impossible, and I will always believe that she is not a class enemy.

The children of the cattle, ghosts, and snake gods are also like me, and when they encounter activities that they should not participate in, they will automatically slip away from the number and pick themselves up.