Mo Yan - The Garlic Ballads

“Please don’t stray too far from the subject,” the presiding judge broke in.

“Thank you for reminding me, Your Honor. I’ll get right to the point. In recent years the peasants have been called upon to shoulder ever heavier burdens: fees, taxes, fines, and inflated prices for just about everything they need. No wonder you hear them talk about plucking the wild goose’s tail feathers as it flies by. Over the past couple of years these trends have gotten out of control, which is why, I believe, the Paradise County garlic incident should have come as no surprise.”

The presiding judge glanced down at his wristwatch.

“Not being able to sell their crops was the spark that ignited this explosive incident, but the root cause was the unenlightened policies of the Paradise County government!” the officer continued. “Before Liberation only about a dozen people were employed by the district government, and things worked fine. Now even a township government in charge of the affairs of a mere thirty thousand people employs more than sixty people! And when you add those in the communes it’s nearly a hundred, seventy percent of whose salaries are paid by peasants through township fees and taxes. Put in the bluntest possible terms, they are feudal parasites on the body of society! So in my view, the slogans ‘Down with corrupt officials!’ and ‘Down with bureaucrats!’ comprise a progressive call for the awakening of the peasants, and the defendant Gao Ma is innocent of counterrevolutionary behavior! But since I was not asked to speak on his behalf, my comments cannot be construed as arguments in his defense.”

“If you continue this line of propaganda I will revoke your right to defend anyone in this court!” the presiding judge announced sternly.

“Let him talk!” came a voice from the rear of the courtroom. Gao Yang turned to look. Even the corridor was packed with spectators.

“Order in the court!” the presiding judge shouted.

“My father smashed a TV set, set fire to official documents, and struck a civil servant. As his son, his criminal acts pain me, and it is not my intent to absolve him of his guilt. But what puzzles me is: how did someone like him, a decorated stretcher bearer during the War of Liberation who followed the Liberation Army all the way to Jiangxi, become a common criminal? His love for the Communist Party is deep, so why did he defy the government over a few bunches of garlic?”

“The Communist Party has changed! It isn’t the Communist Party we once knew!” came a shout from the defendants’ dock.

Pandemonium broke out. The presiding judge rose and pounded the table frantically. “Order! Order in the court!” he bellowed. When the uproar died down, he announced, “Defendant Zheng Changnian, you may not speak without the express permission of the court!”

“I’d like to continue,” the young military officer said.

“You have another five minutes.”

“I’ll take as long as I need,” the young officer insisted. “The Criminal Code places no time limits on defense arguments. Nor does it give a panel of judges the authority to set them!”

“In the opinion of this court, your comments have strayed beyond the scope of this case!” the presiding judge replied.

“My comments are becoming increasingly relevant to the defense of my father.”

“Let him speak!” a spectator shouted. “Let him speak!” Gao Yang saw the young officer wipe his eyes with a white handkerchief.

“All right, go ahead and speak,” the judge relented. “But the clerk is recording everything you say, for which you are solely responsible.”

“Of course I accept responsibility for anything I say,” he replied with a slight stammer. “In my view, the Paradise County garlic incident has sounded an alarm: any political party or government that disregards the well-being of its people is just asking to be overthrown by them!”

A hush fell over the courtroom; the air seemed to vibrate with electricity. The pressure on Gao Yang’s eardrums was nearly unbearable. The presiding judge, face bathed in sweat, literally shook. In reaching for his tea, he knocked it over, soaking the white tablecloth with the rust-colored liquid, some of which dripped to the floor.

“What … what do you think you’re doing?” the aghast judge shouted. “Clerk, make sure you take down every word!”

Dont say any more, young fellow, Gao Yang prayed silently. A light flashed in his head. Now he remembered: this was the young officer who was helping his father irrigate his corn that night Fourth Uncle was killed.

“What I want to say is this,” the young officer continued. “The people have the right to overthrow any party or government that disregards their well-being. If an official assumes the role of public master rather than public servant, the people have the right to throw him out! In my view this conforms in all respects to the Four Cardinal Principles of Socialism. Of course, I’m talking about possibilities— if that were the case. In point of fact, things have improved in the wake of the party rectification, and most of Paradise County’s responsible party members are doing a fine job. But one rat turd can spoil a whole pot of porridge, and the unprincipled behavior of a single party member adversely affects the party’s reputation and the government’s prestige. The people aren’t always fair and discerning, and can be forgiven if their dissatisfaction with a particular official carries over into their attitudes toward officials in general. But shouldn’t that be a reminder to officials to act in such a way as to best represent the party and the government?

“I further believe that the actions of the Paradise County administrator, Zhong Weimin, can be seen as dereliction of duty. As events unfolded, he refused to show his face, choosing instead to make the compound walls higher and top them with broken glass to ensure his own personal safety. When trouble came, he refused to meet with the masses, despite the entreaties of his own civil servants. That made the ensuing chaos inevitable. If we endorse the proposition that all people are equal under the law, then we must demand that the Paradise County People’s Procuratorate indict Paradise County administrator Zhong Weimin on charges of official misconduct! I have nothing more to say.”

The young officer remained standing for a moment before wearily taking a seat behind the defense table. Thunderous applause erupted from the spectator section behind him.

The presiding judge rose to his feet and patiently waited for the applause to die down. “Do the other defendants have anything to say in their defense? No? Then this court stands in recess while the panel of judges deliberates the case, based upon the evidence, arguments, and provisions of the law. We will return in thirty minutes to announce our verdict.”

1.

After finishing the verse he felt the ground beside him for his canteen. A gulp of cool water moistened his parched, raspy throat. All around him he heard applause and an occasional roar from one of the young voices: “Bravo, Zhang Kou! More, more, more!” Hearing their voices, he could nearly see their dusty bodies and blazing eyes. By then it was late autumn, and the tumult surrounding the Paradise garlic incident had subsided. A couple of dozen peasants, including Gao Ma, who was seen as the ringleader, had been sentenced to labor-reform camps; County Head Zhong “Serve the People” Weimin, and the county party secretary, Ji Nancheng, had been reassigned elsewhere. Their replacements, after delivering a series of reports to local dignitaries, organized a compulsory program for county workers to rake up the garlic rotting on city streets and haul it over to White Water Stream, which flowed through town. Baked by the midsummer sun, the garlic emitted a stench that lay like a pall over town until a couple of summery rainstorms eased the torment. At first the incident was all the people talked about; but farm duties and a creeping awareness that the topic was growing stale had the same effect on their conversations that the rain had on the smell of garlic. Zhang Kou, whose blindness had gained him leniency at court, proved to be the exception. Ensconced on a side street alongside the government office building, he tirelessly strummed his erhu and sang a ballad of garlic in Paradise, each version building upon the one that went before.