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              Red-Color News Soldier is the literal translation of the Chinese 
              characters printed on the armband given to Li Zhensheng and his 
              rebel group in Beijing at the end of 1966, eight months after the 
              launch of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. There are other, 
              more fluent translations, but none retains the musicality of the 
              character-words brought together.  
            For 
              a long time in the Western world, Mao Zedong and the Cultural Revolution 
              were perceived with amazement and fascination; only very rarely 
              were they viewed with horror. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, 
              rioting students around the world were inspired by the finger-pointing, 
              slogan-shouting style of the Red Guards, and Andy Warhol in New 
              York was producing his renowned silk-screen paintings of Chairman 
              Mao. Even today, all the chaos of that period can seem somewhat 
              romantic and idealistic in comparison with contemporary Chinese 
              society. 
              
            With 
              this in mind, it was necessary to produce a clearer and more truthful 
              image of the decade of turmoil that turned China upside-down. Li 
              Zhensheng was the one person who, through his unique photographic 
              legacy, could convey this truth on the printed page. A few guidelines 
              were established up-front: none of the photographs would be cropped; 
              the images would be presented in the most accurate chronological 
              order possible so as to best depict the historical process; precise 
              captions would accompany the images, with facts verified through 
              additional research and double-checked against the archives of The 
              Heilongjiang Daily, where the photographer worked for over eighteen 
              years. 
               
                
               
            Li 
              delivered to the offices of Contact Press Images in New York starting 
              in 1999 approximately thirty-thousand small brown paper envelopes 
              bound together with rubber bands in groups according to chronology, 
              location, type of film, or other criteria. Each envelope contained 
              a single negative inside a glassine pouch. Some of these had not 
              been removed since Li had first cut them from their original negative 
              strips and hidden them away thirty-five years earlier. On each envelope 
              Li had written detailed captions in delicate Chinese calligraphy. 
              Communes and counties, people's names, official titles, and specific 
              events were all carefully noted. Yet as Li's personal account written 
              by Jacques Menasche clearly demonstrates, his memory of the period 
              remains crisp and complete.  
            For 
              three years, from 2000 to 2003, a small group including Li, translator 
              Rong Jiang, Jacques, and I -- later to be joined by Li's daughter 
              Xiaobing -- met nearly every Sunday to collectively piece together 
              this history of a largely unknown era. In these exhausting and, 
              at times, animated sessions, we pored over a variety of archival 
              and scholarly documents, conducted interviews, reviewed images, 
              and even listened to Li sing revolutionary songs from the time. 
              
            During 
              the period of the Cultural Revolution the whole of China became 
              a theater in which the audience was increasingly part of the playòfrom 
              the poorest peasant attending a "struggle session" to 
              the "class enemy" forced to bow at the waist in humiliation; 
              from the rarely seen leader waving from a Jeep to the denounced 
              and their denouncers; from the rebels to the counterrevolutionaries; 
              from the Red Guards to the old guard. With armbands and flags, banners 
              and big character posters, and Little Red Books turned into props, 
              the stage was dominated by the presence of an invisible diva, surrounded 
              by millions of extras, some shouting, some silenced.  
               
                
               
            But 
              thanks to the photographer, seemingly anonymous faces and places 
              take on names and identities. Li shows the surreal events to be 
              all too real. Through his lens, these people and occurrences from 
              so far away are made at once personal and universal, and all too 
              familiar. The Cultural Revolution unleashed the frustration and 
              anger of a new generation eager to change the world, but the force 
              was harnessed and used by those in power for a decidedly different 
              purpose: its own complete domination. In the late 1960s, student 
              riots erupted in other cities on other continents, but they never 
              resulted in the same premeditated violence initiated by those then 
              at the helm of the Chinese State. 
            We 
              will be forever grateful to Li for having risked so much to doggedly 
              preserve his images at a time when most of his colleagues agreed 
              to allow their politically "negative negatives" to be 
              destroyed. Li Zhensheng was a young man in search of himself -- 
              as his numerous self-portraits clearly indicate -- who wished to 
              leave behind a trace of his own existence as well as his dreams 
              of individuality, elegance, and a better world. But History is the 
              issue here: the need to remember and revisit those strange and terrifying 
              events that shaped China's Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. 
            2003 
              © Robert Pledge 
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