All hail the father of rice – or else
Yuan Longping’s research helped save millions from starvation. His passing reveals how China’s attitudes towards science and technology have changed over the past century.
On Saturday May 22nd renowned Chinese agronomist Yuan Longping passed away at the age of 90. Hailed in Western media as well as in China as the “father of hybrid rice”, he was most well-known for developing the first strains of hybrid rice in the 1970s, and his contributions have been praised for preventing the starvation of millions in Asia, Africa, and the Americas.
Yuan was considered a national hero in China, and his death has been mourned all over the country in various public displays. Tens of thousands of people sent flowers to the funeral home where he was interred, and around the country people participated in various acts of remembrance.
While the celebrations of Yuan as public hero and famine fighter have been widely publicised, less known is the fact that at least 5 people have been detained for insulting his memory. While the details of the posts have not been made public, the Weibo accounts of the perpetrators in question have been closed down, and an official statement by Weibo stated that they would ‘deal severely’ with these sorts of incidents, and that they have a “zero tolerance policy for content that distorts, debases, vilifies and denies the spirit and the actions of our heroes and martyrs.”
Such a heavy handed approach piqued my interest, not just because of its harshness, but also because of its inherent irony. The time when Yuan was learning about agronomy, conducting most of his research, and on the verge of making a scientific breakthrough would have been the period of peak anti-scientism in Maoist China. In the 1960s and 1970s, commentators attacking intellectuals like Yuan would have been praised as true revolutionaries. As the Cultural Revolution raged across the country, this kind of message would have been welcomed and outright encouraged.
In this newsletter, I want to discuss the life of the father of rice, and examine how it serves as a mirror for the CCP’s politicisation of every aspect of Chinese society, including, in this case, science. Yuan’s personal story reflects how attitudes towards science, intellectuals, and Western ideas of progress have changed in China over a period of almost 100 years. It also serves as a good case study for showing how politics, ideology, and propaganda can change how one is perceived by an entire nation — if not the entire world — and how these tools can be exercised to change the course of their life.
Life and times of Yuan Longping
Born in Beijing in 1930, Yuan came of age just as the CCP were winning the civil war in 1949. He attended Southwestern Agricultural University from 1949 to 1953, and was assigned to teach in the remote hills of Hunan at Qianyang Agricultural School. He published only one paper during the entire Mao era, in 1966, where he published his initial discovery of mutant male-sterile rice plants, the first step towards breakthrough. Throughout the 60s and 70s, though his name was not mentioned in the press, there were frequent references to new discoveries in hybrid rice cultivation, as well as the importance of Hunan and Yuan’s school in particular. Avoiding naming individuals was typical of the era, which promoted collaboration, collectivism, and the spirit of Dazhai in all work.
By 1978, Yuan was overseeing the production of hybrid rice on a mass scale in Hunan province, and eventually he was able to introduce his techniques to other countries across Asia and Africa, teaching farmers to produce 20-30% more rice per acre than non-hybrid varieties. Yuan became nationally recognized in the 1980s as a pioneer scientist, and in 2019, he was one of eight Chinese individuals awarded the Medal of the Republic, China’s highest official honor, by Xi Jinping. He was also awarded the World Food Prize in 2004 for “improving the quality, quantity, or availability of food in the world.”
Yuan was so dedicated to his work that he was still publishing and doing fieldwork into his old age. He published a paper as recently as 2014, announced in 2016 that he was working on new variants of both sea-rice and third-generation hybrid rice, and actually fell fatally ill during a field research trip in March. His death has led to outpourings of grief across the world but particularly in China, where he is remembered as a hero protecting modern generations from the threat of famine.
However, bearing in mind that Yuan studied and began his research during periods of particular social and political tumult in China, it’s a wonder he was able to get any work done at all.
Revolution stalled?
While Yuan was not personally persecuted during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), it could be argued that Yuan’s revolutionary research was held back because of it and the general anti-scientist spirit of the PRC under Mao. Mao had always been suspicious of intellectuals, stating as early as 1939 that “intellectuals often tend to be subjective and individualistic, impractical in their thinking and irresolute in action.” He did not believe that most of them would or could become true revolutionaries, hence the series of rectification movements to improve their ideological cultivation in 1942, 1952, 1955, 1957, 1959, 1962, etc…
Anti-scientism in China peaked once before the Cultural Revolution during the Great Leap Forward (1959-1962). Believing that will power and determination could overcome the reality of China’s technological backwardness, Mao invoked the idea of the ‘red-expert’ as part of the overall goal of making old intellectuals more enthusiastic about the revolution and more willing to put their knowledge towards advancing socialism. The idea was that one’s ‘red’ credentials (i.e. how communist you were) were much more important than one’s formal education, expertise, or qualifications. Needless to say that the rejection of real science for wishful thinking during the Leap (see: Lysenkoism) was partly to blame for the calamitous famine that ensued.
During the Cultural Revolution, the general anti-intellectual atmosphere increased the plight of science. The number of research institutes in the Chinese Academy of Sciences was reduced from 106 in 1965 to 53 in 1973. Organised critique of Einstein and Relativity led to “a nihilistic attitude toward research in the basic sciences. As a result, theoretical research in the basic sciences was nearly smothered in China.” The Chinese Academy of Agricultural Science was basically shut down, and “all scientific and technological organizations under the Chinese Association of Science and Technology were suspended from work.” Scientists and technical workers were persecuted and tortured — sometimes to death — or driven to suicide. This includes one of Yuan’s own teachers, Guan Xianghuan, who was at first labelled a rightist for rejecting Soviet ideas and later committed suicide during the Cultural Revolution.
Despite the general setbacks of the Cultural Revolution decade however, not all projects were halted, and in fact in many areas significant gains and discoveries were made. As we discussed in the last newsletter about the development of rockets and space technology, projects closely related to national defence still received significant support from the government. While other sciences, particularly pure sciences, received almost no state support, scientists were still able to continue with their work. This includes Yuan, whose work began in the 1960s, and who cultivated the first crop of hybrid rice in 1973, slap-bang in the middle of China’s turbulent decade.
Did Yuan succeed because of the Cultural Revolution or despite it? Looking at the general attitudes of the period, the answer would seem to be despite. Yuan was certainly not able to take any credit for his success at the time, and was not publicly acknowledged for his role during Mao’s lifetime. In an article by Sigrid Schmalzer, she argues that “if the story were told from the perspective of Mao-era sources, the production of hybrid rice would be as much a political struggle as a technical achievement... The heroic achievements of individuals, especially intellectual individuals, had no place there. Rather, science was collaborative, involving peasants as well as scientists.”
Ironically, it was this pairing of intellectuals with peasants that allowed scientists like Yuan to at least get some work done. His work could be put in context of improving the lives of peasants, therefore enhancing the revolution and promoting socialism. Even after Mao’s death, when Yuan was finally introduced to the public and awarded for his efforts in scientific research in 1976, his achievements were still couched in the ideologies of mass mobilization and collectivism. Even Yuan’s own articles, written just after Mao’s death, credited Maoist philosophy for his success, particularly the principles of “mass mobilization, self-reliance, socialist cooperation, and courage in going their own road.”
Thus science may have been allowed to flourish to some degree, but only in the context of ongoing social and political revolutions of the Mao era. The idea of hybrid rice being attributed purely to science, and then to an individual, is something that was only possible after 1978. Not only was it possible, but it also became somewhat necessary. Framing the development of hybrid rice as a scientific breakthrough of the pre-reform era is what allows the present day CCP to salvage some of the reputation of that period, making it more than just a Dark Age to be forgotten and written out of history.
Yuan’s success is China’s success
Yuan’s personal success was only able to really shine because China actively turned towards science and technology during the post-Mao era, seeking to catch up with the West and the rest. Ideological transformation of the Reform and Opening Up period in the 1980s meant that Western ideas of process and science were openly embraced, but the continued political rigidity of the Chinese state meant that the ‘mass’ nature of scientific discovery had to be maintained. Breakthroughs could not be framed in an individualistic light, even if they were down to the work of one or a handful of brave souls against all odds. But now, instead of ‘mass’ reflecting the people, it more often than not reflects the party and its ability to promote individual talent and uphold the values of science and technology.
Thus negative comments about Yuan are also seen as negative comments about China in general. This way of thinking applies to all those who have achieved something that has brought prestige to China. There’s actually a law that bans the “defamation, derogation, and questioning of heroes and martyrs” (seriously, it’s called the Heroes and Martyrs Protection Law), which, according to Xi, had to be brought in to combat the “erroneous thoughts and opinions of historical nihilism” that have arisen in recent years “in the name of ‘academic freedom,’ ‘recovering history,’ and ‘inquiring into details.’” Heaven forbid.
Now, instead of individuals receding into the background like they had to in Maoist days, they are brought to the forefront, but this time as representatives of the nation as a whole. This is a particularly important point to understand as China becomes more global facing (yes, once again, I am bringing everything back to politics). Projects like Belt and Road (BRI) and Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) are meant to display China’s determination to become better integrated with the rest of the world, and show their good will, particularly towards developing nations.
As the Ministry of Agriculture put it: “Since the large-scale application of hybrid rice in 1976, China's hybrid rice has provided strong support for national food security and made outstanding contributions to eliminating hunger and poverty around the world.” By taking ownership of the successes of globally recognised innovators like Yuan, the CCP has the perfect vehicle for driving home China’s narrative that they contribute to global good, and are a trustworthy development partner. China = Yuan = hybrid rice = famine cure = trust = trade = profit. The maths adds up, I promise.
Similarly, the mass public displays of mourning are a reflection of Chinese nationalist sensibility. Yuan is being honoured like a celebrity or statesman, as opposed to an academic and fieldworker, which is probably how he saw himself. As China continues to embrace nationalism and patriotism, individuals or events that reflect the national consciousness will be ever more important as tools for reinforcing the collective psyche of the nation. They are pieces that can be moved about, placed into the public eye to be admired, turned into propaganda to promote nationalist sentiments, and pointed to as evidence of China's own ability and prowess.
As Schmalzer notes: “Although the reform era has witnessed the replacement of most of the Maoist vision of mass science with a vision far more consistent with the values of international, professional science, the legacy of the Mao era can still be seen in a continued emphasis on certain aspects of Mao Zedong Thought, a strong narrative of nationalist triumphalism, and a celebration of Yuan Longping as an ‘‘intellectual peasant.’’”
In life as in death
It’s probably fair to say that one cannot achieve a high level of fame or success in China without at least the tacit support of the political establishment. This applies especially to those working in the realm of the public good on projects to do with education, food or health. These are areas of top priority for the state, which has the prerogative to approve, direct, or terminate whole projects as it sees fit.
If you do succeed, then you become a symbol of the nation, not the strength of the individual. This is something that we’ve discussed multiple times in previous newsletters, for example when discussing Chinese billionaire Jack Ma, or director Chloé Zhao. You are infallible as long as you adhere to party guidelines, which include behaving in a morally appropriate manner, speaking favourably of China and the CCP, and toeing the line when it comes to your personal feelings about the state of China’s financial institutions. Active disobedience is not an option.
Yuan managed to retain his celebrity status mainly due to his apolitical nature. He said he never became a member of the party, stating, when asked, that it was because he did not understand politics. This may be true, but it’s just as important to remember that he came up during a period where being part of the establishment was just as risky as being outside of it, as top members of the leadership were being purged, tortured, and killed. Yuan managed to keep his head down but, regardless of personal feelings on the matter, he has now been transformed into a tool for state propaganda, nationalism, and China’s global ambition.
Though maybe that’s a small sacrifice to make for a life spent doing the thing that he loved the most.
Sources
Global Times, Police detain three for posting derogatory comments about Yuan Longping
Ling Wang, Yuan Longping: hybrid rice is on the way to fulfilling its potential
New York Times, Yuan Longping, Plant Scientist Who Helped Curb Famine, Dies at 90
NPC Observer, Heroes and Martyrs Protection Law of the People’s Republic of China
Radio Free Asia, China Holds Social Media Users Over 'Insults' to Hybrid Rice Hero
Sigrid Schmalzer, Yuan Longping, Hybrid Rice, and the Meaning of Science in the Cultural Revolution and Beyond
Wikipedia, Trofim Lysenko