This year marks the 60th anniversary of the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution in Chinese mainland. To me, it was not just a term in a history textbook, but a memory deeply engraved in the destinies of many families.
I was born into a so-called ‘Black Five Categories’ family. My mother graduated from the Department of English Literature at Peking University and studied English literature at Waseda University in Japan. After the outbreak of the War of Resistance, she resolutely returned to China to fight, working in Mr. Ching-kuo’s unit to persuade the Japanese army to surrender. Unfortunately, she was wounded on the battlefield, breaking her right hand and leaving her disabled for life. My father and she served in the same unit to face national crisis together. My mother was escorted for treatment due to injuries from the war, and thus the two were united.
However, by the Cultural Revolution period, this experience was labeled a “historical counterrevolution,” becoming a heavy label the family could not shake off. As a result, I was unable to get into my ideal university. Later, with the help of relatives, I entered Sichuan International Studies Institute to study Russian, and later taught at Chongqing No. 4 High School.
After the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution, I was reported for listening to ‘enemy radio broadcasts’ and for studying abroad, and was eventually arrested and imprisoned, spending more than ten years in labor reform. That experience became a turning point in my life and motivated me to devote my life to work on democracy, human rights, and freedom. This is both a belief and mixed with complex emotions.
Therefore, when I participated in this year’s “Sixty Years of the Cultural Revolution” conference held in Nuremberg, I felt especially deeply. The Dalai Lama also sent a letter expressing condolences for the meeting, mentioning the impact of the Cultural Revolution on Tibet and the suffering shared by Han Chinese and Tibetans, and calling for mutual respect, the pursuit of peace and dignity.
This letter means a lot to me, as I have been in contact with the Dalai Lama for over thirty years. In 1996, I first went to Dharamsala as a pro-democracy activist to meet him. What was supposed to be a half-hour meeting ended up lasting nearly two hours. The dialogue interpreter, Mr. Dawa Tseren, repeatedly reminded him that the time had come, yet he still had much more to say. Since then, we have built a lasting friendship.
Since then, I have also worked with some Tibetan and Han Chinese friends to promote Han-Tibetan exchanges, participated in founding the International Han–Tibetan Association, and attended Tibet support conferences in international cities such as Bonn, Germany. These experiences made me realize that the Tibet issue is understood differently by different people. Some see it as a matter of national and cultural identity, while others see it as part of the democratic process.
For me, what matters more is how the Han and Tibetan peoples face their shared history and how they contemplate a common future. Looking back on that history, we should not remain stuck in hatred, but consider how to rebuild relations based on freedom, equality, and mutual respect.
As the Dalai Lama said, the evils of history have already occurred; more importantly, we must look forward and think about how people of different ethnicities can respect each other and coexist peacefully. If China can truly move toward democracy in the future, issues in Taiwan, Tibet, and other ethnic regions should also be discussed within open, equal, and representative political frameworks.
I believe that every nation and region has the right to self-determination. When people are willing to face history honestly, acknowledge the scars it has left behind, and respect the choices of different ethnic groups for their own futures, perhaps we can truly move toward a more civilized and peaceful world.
With memories of history and respect for people, we maintain dialogue amid differences—perhaps this is the starting point for our shared progress.