A few weeks ago I joined a tour to Yunnan and Guangxi, two provincial divisions that are contiguous to each other and border on Myanmar, Laos and Viet Nam. Yunnan and Guangxi are in southwestern China, with a geographic location roughly like that of Arizona and New Mexico in the United States. Coincidentally, the combined territory of Yunnan and Guangxi, about 610,000 square km, is equivalent to the size of the two American states.
　　I left Beijing at a time when the country is pursuing a new drive--building a new countryside, a mantra that has been frequently discussed since last October. As is well known, during the past three decades or so China has experienced an unprecedented economic transformation that has been accompanied by rather sound and stable agricultural production, which is feeding the world’s most multitudinous group--1.3 billion Chinese. However, agriculture remains by and large lightyears away from modernization. And farmers, the majority of Chinese citizens, are not prosperous enough as a whole and some of them are still in straitened circumstances. As an overriding preoccupation, the new countryside project is designed to narrow the income disparity between urban and rural residents and pursue a more balanced development among different regions.
　　Unlike many observers who see China as a looming and booming giant with fabulous wealth and power, I insist that the coat of a “developing country” fits China perfectly, and this country will for a long time be a third world member. What makes me so persistent in my opinion is nothing but the rural reality, which is a combination of a backward mode of production and new agrological methods; a mosaic of school dropouts and newly built campuses; a landscape with muscle, thrust and growth rhythm, laced with sorrow and the misery of a chronic deficiency in the means of subsistence.
　　To sense this reality, one doesn’t have to travel all over the country. As a Chinese proverb goes, “By looking at one spot on a leopard, one may visualize the whole animal.” To a great extent, the rural phenomenon reflects the real China, still a mystery for many outsiders. By observing just part of this huge country, I can roughly conjure up a panorama of the entire nation.
　　A flashy campaign? The first time I heard the term “building a new socialist countryside,” my reaction was rather complicated. The move, a blessed and overdue reform, suggests instantly that the government is determined to invest more to gradually improve rural infrastructure and the living standards of farmers, as well as to bail out those in a quagmire. Meanwhile, I was uncertain about whether the drive would be healthily carried out and whether it would reach its goals smoothly. I had real and serious concerns about the quality and outcome of the drive, fearing that it would become an ostentatious campaign. I didn’t want to see the effort just turn out some prestigious official buildings, garish Potemkin projects, a bunch of grandiose template villages, or a handful of nouveaux riches.
　　It seems to me that all the local officials I met are generally aware of the essence of the new program. They reiterate that it’s their duty to help farmers get rich by developing a lucrative business. And it is a relief to me that most of them maintain a sober mind, and understand well that they can’t build a prosperous countryside overnight and there is no panacea.
　　Zhang Kai, an official with the Hongta District of Yuxi City, Yunnan Province, said he believes the new drive will further change this country, probably more profoundly than any reforms before. “One thing is most important, that is, we must have a down-to-earth working style. We shouldn’t try to push our project by forcing people to follow a single model or by taking a single approach,” he emphasized.
　　As middle-aged men, Zhang and I have witnessed many national campaigns compellingly carried out in China’s vast rural areas, such as the People’s Commune Movement in the 1950s and the Campaign of Learning From Dazhai in the 1960s and early 1970s. The commune system, evocative of the Israeli kibbutz, might contain a positive streak in itself. But it turned out to be a great failure and vanished at a time when China’s economic reform gained its first momentum, in the early 1980s. And Dazhai, a village in north China’s Shanxi Province, became a household name when Mao Zedong approved its way of production and hard-working style and set it as a paragon, demanding that all farmers and agricultural units, and even all citizens, follow suit.
　　I was a young farmer then in a mountain village in central China when Dazhai was at the height of its fame. Wu Yangtao, the head of our village, like thousands of grassroots functionaries across the country, was required to visit Dazhai. Wu’s mission was to learn from the so-called successful experience of Dazhai, but he didn’t say anything good about that No.1 model of Chinese agriculture. For instance, Wu told me and other villagers that the Dazhai people were quite clumsy in cooking corn and their food was unpalatable. He said Dazhai women were ugly and their figures looked like buckets. Obviously, Wu, as well as many other farmers, didn’t think an official movement that was in the form of following an example had anything to do with their lives. I realized that any flashy campaign would merely make them disgruntled.
　　During my recent jaunt, I had conversations with about 30 farmers and only one mentioned the new countryside drive on his own initiative. Ke Zhengxing, a 54-year-old farmer from Keguancun Village in central Yunnan, told me that it’s hard to carry out the new project because “we don’t have enough money. You’ve got to have stacks of money to push ahead with a new policy, right?”
　　I told him the new policy is to help all farmers get rich and more money would be pumped into rural areas. “I’ve heard of that. It sounds not bad. But you know, I’m an old man and have seen a lot of things. Quite often, an initially good-sounding thing turns out to have a bad result. Lots of them.” Pausing a while, he added that his lot was a hard one and little fortune had ever came his way.
　　Ke Zhengxing didn’t seem too confident about the new drive, which is understandable. Because he and many other farmers have witnessed so many disappointing events, they won’t feel optimistic until they see their own lives improving dramatically. A local official told me that the Central Government has time and again stated that the new drive should unfold gradually and in a pragmatic way, and that no window dressing or fancy projects are allowed.
　　So the drive is about to pan out as planned. But, the official added, there will surely be some officials who take advantage of the initiative and line their pockets. In this sense, a new countryside won’t successfully be built until corruption is effectively curbed.
　　Privatization a panacea? Xialucun, a 210-household village some 40 km north of Nanning, capital of Guangxi, is regarded by locals as a success in common wealth and in building an ecofriendly neighborhood. The per-capita income for the 810 villagers is about 3,600 yuan, which is slightly above China’s average rural per-capita net income of 3,255 last year.
　　The rolling hills conceal a vast network of grain plots, stretches of orchards and a newish architectural complex. There are no scars of past political movements, such as half-obliterated slogans of the Cultural Revolution (1966-76), which still can be found in other places. A paved road links Xialucun to a relatively modern four-lane highway that leads southward to Nanning.
　　Along the road, young saplings and trees have already joined with the orchards to form woods that together cover the whole area. At the end of the road, the entrance of the village, there is a huge banyan tree that is believed to be nearly 600 years old. The village looks like an urban neighborhood, with three- or four-story houses with red roofs and white walls. No longer huts, but homes. Villagers are husky, cleanly dressed, and their trade is brisk. Like other farmers I met, they are always on the go.
　　Because of its splendid economic performance, colorful cultural life, declining crime rate, environmental awareness and new residential quarter, Xialucun is becoming, or is nurtured as, a showcase in Guangxi. In addition, its peripheral landscape, similar to that of Guilin--also in Guangxi, and one of China’s most renowned attractions--has lured many visitors.
　　Xialucun people are inclined to believe that the collective economy contributes a lot to their achievements, of which they are proud. They have no intention of crippling that productive form. In the early 1980s, some farmers in east China’s Anhui Province initiated the system of contracted responsibility linking remuneration to output, a productive method based on households instead of on production teams. As the new practice, approved by the central authorities, spread all over the country, collective property in many places was divided up to individuals or households within a very short period of time. Nevertheless, there were exceptions and the government didn’t persuade those who preferred collective ownership to carve up their collective property. Instead, the government policy was then to let the farmers decide which mode of production was appropriate.
　　So, Xialucun villagers made up their mind to keep the way they thought fit. “At that time [early 1980s], many villages divided up [their collective property] just overnight. And their collective economy was nothing but in name,” said Wei Shining, head of Xialucun. “However, we didn’t see anything wrong with our collective economy, so we decided to maintain it. Fortunately, most farmers rooted for this decision,” added the short, energetic man, still taking pride in that decision made two decades ago.
　　Wei told me a collective economy could be effective if good management is introduced. From a long-term point of view, a collective economy will show its boundless vitality. “When you build a road, a reservoir, you’ll realize that only a collective economy can make it. A few years ago, we began to rebuild our village with multi-story houses. How could we dare to do that if we had no collective funds?” He went on to say that with a collective economy it is relatively easier to nurture an environmentally friendly rural culture.
　　Not all rural collective economies are so functional and effective. Some have malfunctioned for one reason or another. There are still plenty of cases in which private economies are a peppy force in building the countryside. In addition, the private sector has become an indispensable part of China’s national economy. Few deny that there still exists great potential in the country’s army of private businesses.
　　However, is privatization the fundamental solution to the problem of China’s rural economy and social life? What makes the matter intriguing is that many Western observers are tirelessly favoring this remedy while the Chinese officials and agronomists I met all seem to reserve their conclusions unless concrete conditions are given. In other words, the typical Chinese conclusion is one of galvanizing the rural economy in a pragmatic way and according to the local reality. As Zhang Mingpei, a Guangxi agronomist, put it: “China is a developing country with limited resources and a huge population. Our national circumstances are quite different from those of other countries. We just can’t copy indiscriminately what the West has done, especially in agriculture. We have to find our way.”
　　Zhang’s remarks were echoed by many, including Pan Jinbao, a former village leader and now an incumbent in Wuming County, to which Xialucun belongs. “The key point is you have to figure out what the farmers really want. Farmers always follow their feelings. They’re very pragmatic, very realistic. They only go in for whatever makes them rich. They don’t care about government slogans, propaganda or hoopla. They just believe in the reality,” Pan said.
　　Pan regards the popular system of contracted responsibility as nothing but one form of agricultural production, which can be classified as a pattern of a private economy. The system, to be blunt, has been playing a revolutionary and irreplaceable role in China’s economy. But Pan and many others who have dedicated themselves to agriculture really don’t think the system is omnipotent.
　　“The contracted system is rather effective in solving the problem of adequate food and clothing. However, to pursue common wealth, we must rely on collectivization and a collective economy,” Pan concluded. He added that the contracted system is not like a coercively arranged marriage between government and farmers, and neither is collectivization. “We don’t think we can find a single solution [to all problems]. Both private and collective ways are needed. Both are recipes and both contingent on specific conditions. We don’t want to pursue the program [building a new countryside] in a rush. Always trying to let the farmers get real benefits is what we need to do. But to tell you the truth, it’s a very tough job.”
　　Just how tough is it? Not only Pan thinks so. All those who have learned that China is now focusing on its rural affairs believe the country is dealing with its perennial problem, embarking on a tough, if not the toughest, undertaking. China must win this endeavor; otherwise, its modernization dream will be like drawing water with a bamboo basket. China’s final victory hinges a great deal on its rural transformation.
　　Most farmers don’t know, or don’t bother to know, about the overall picture of the country or the strategic blueprint of national development. All they want is to lead a better life. Fair enough, as everybody in the world expects a more comfortable life. The question is how to achieve this life. Zhao Yuping, a 44-year-old woman in Chashulin, a small village in south Yunnan, came out with what is on the minds of many farmers, especially those in western regions, including Yunnan and Guangxi, which are far less developed than the coastal areas.
　　“As you’ve seen, our life is getting better. But we still have many snags; the major one is a shortage of funds. We want to build more roads. We want to turn the present dirt roads into asphalt or cement ones. It’s absolutely right to say, ‘If you want to get rich, you build roads.’ But where is the money? We need aid from outside [in building roads and other facilities]. Nothing is more important than economic development. Why were we poor in the past? Because we had little business and our economy was quite sluggish. So economic development is our priority.”
　　However, that priority doesn’t mean one can pursue economic gains at any cost. In fact, people in China’s western regions now understand they can’t follow the eastern region’s pattern of developing first and then controlling pollution. In Yunnan, a province rich in natural resources and primitive forests, environmental protection has been a top priority. According to Gao Zhengwen, Deputy Director of the Yunnan Provincial Environmental Protection Bureau, a current basic policy is to put environmental protection above economic development.
　　Yunnan and Guangxi are trying a new development pattern, a tougher but scientific one, which is quite different from what was undertaken in the 1980s. In other words, fast growth with high consumption of resources and heavy pollution, a pattern that was popular 20 years ago in coastal regions, is not allowed to occur in the west and in other places.
　　However, in poor counties, a total of 80 in Yunnan alone, shaking off poverty speaks louder than anything else. “You can’t create what I call ‘eco-paupers’ in the natural reserves in the name of protecting the ecosystem,” said Yang Peisen, a senior advisor with the provincial government. He said there are many poor people living in natural reserves where development is restricted by government. “But these people also have the right to become prosperous. You can’t have some people enjoying a luxurious life, while others are kept in a primitive situation. That’s unfair.”
　　Yang complained that the country’s western development drive has been “l(fā)ong on rhetoric and short on action.” He implied that he didn’t want to see the construction of a new countryside just turn out to be lip service. He further suggested that a compensation fund be established to support those who have sacrificed their economic opportunities in order to preserve the primitive ecosystems, concentrating on the western part of the country, including Yunnan.
　　So, you still hear everybody talking about development, just as you did years ago. The difference is that now people also mention the ecosystem, environmental protection and sustainable development. Rank-and-file farmers don’t know much about those ever-changing faddish shibboleths, but they can feel their environs gradually being transformed as science and technology are spreading in a form that they can understand and use.
　　One example is marsh gas, which is widely used in Yunnan and Guangxi. Local people take the usage of methane as an important sign of building an ecofriendly village or township. It is multipurpose, according to agronomist Zhang Mingpei of Guangxi. “It [marsh gas] helps reduce pollution. The gas can be used in cooking. And the final stuff [after gas is used] may serve as fertilizer. Coal, natural gas and electricity are not recycling energy. But methane is,” Zhang said. He added that Guangxi boasts 240,000 methane-generating pits, and 30 percent of rural households make use of the technology, against 10 percent nationwide.
　　Zhang is an active pioneer of new agricultural technology, strongly holding that the fundamental way out for an agricultural China is through inventions and high technology. There seems to be a high degree of consensus on the matter. Now we’re approaching the core of the issue. Technology can hardly work with an uneducated people. There are now 745 million rural residents, or 57 percent of the country’s total, constituting the largest group and the one with the least education. So, the main preoccupation is to educate farmers, all of them. It really hits the bullseye of the whole project.
　　“If you want to make your purse full, you have to make your brain full.” I heard that remark in Xiahecun Village in Yunnan, and it impressed me the most. Indeed, only educated brains, only brains full of knowledge, are able to build China’s countryside into the advanced society the world would like to see. In that sense, one can imagine how long the journey will be.省略

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