Marx's interpretation of China enriched his concept of a completely Asiatic society. While dealing with England's relation to the Far East, he became aware that in imperial China, unlike in other oriental countries, land was privately held. His analysis of this seeming exception to the rule is unsatisfactory, but it is indicative of his socio-historical position. He continued to view China as a major case of “Asiatic production” even after he learned that there communal landed property had long been abolished.

The present condition of Communist China raises a political question of great theoretical and practical importance. The question is whether there are limits to the hardships which any government can safely inflict upon the governed.

Only very rarely does extensive evidence of a secret Communist meeting become available to the non-Communist world; when it does, as in the cases of the July 1955 Soviet Central Committee plenum or of Khrushchev's “secret speech” at the Twentieth Soviet Party Congress, it gladdens historians' hearts and adds greatly to our comprehension of Communist history and current developments. Such evidence was not always unavailable; before Stalin totally dominated and terrorised the Comintern, material on developments in the international Communist movement and even within the Soviet Party itself occasionally would appear in the publications of other European Communist Parties.

Anyone who had hoped that the proceedings of the National People's Congress would shed more light on China's current problems and future prospects than previous pronouncements had done, could console himself after its adjournment with the thought that he had been right in his suspicions, after all. By convening behind closed doors, the Congress avoided having to provide information on the state of the economy in the customary detail and thus merely reinforced the common speculation that all was not well or all was ill, depending on one's predilections.

Previous sessions of the National People's Congress (NPC), with their voluminous official reports on the ups and downs of Government work —particularly economic work—have provided some of the best data for tracking the course of political change in China during the last decade, and for trying to co-ordinate apparent changes of policy with the rise or fall of individual politicians. Although this year's NPC produced little more than a guarded summary of Chou En-lai's Report on Government Work, a Resolution on it and a People's Daily editorial, when these are read with the rest of current propaganda and compared with previous form, an attempt can be made to draw some tentative conclusions about the present political climate in Peking.

If one were to choose a single adjective to apply to the pattern of Communist China's foreign relations since the Moscow declaration of 1960, “reactive” would be as nearly accurate a choice as any other. China's circumstances during 1961 and 1962 provide ample reasons for a reactive posture. The crisis in the economy, though not exactly measurable, has been evident. The course of internal politics has been less clear. The dominant trend has been a controlled retreat from the organisational methods of the Great Leap Forward. In the course of this manoeuvre, the role of the Party and its relation to non-Communist elements hi the population, organised or unorganised, has had to be redefined. What may be more diagnostic of this period, however, is a serious decline of public morale and of confidence in the régime.

The Second National People's Congress of the People's Republic of China held its third session in Peking between March 27 and April 16. Before this, a preparatory meeting was held on March 22.

At the beginning, the session heard a report on the work of the Government made by Chou En-lai, Premier of the State Council.

Premier Chou En-lai's report fell into two parts. The first dealt with the international situation and China's foreign policy, and the second part discussed the domestic situation and the tasks of the Chinese people.

Since Peking has offered no documentation beyond supporting evidence of general economic deterioration and peasant apathy, an attempt to define the immediate reasons for the mass flight of refugees to Hong Kong's border in May must depend more heavily on speculation than may appear desirable in a scientific journal.

In an “interim appraisal” of Peking's interest in Laos, which appeared in The China Quarterly last autumn, I expressed the view that China's security would be better served by the creation of a neutral buffer state in Laos than by the imposition of a Communist one, which would tempt the United States to intervene. Though we are here, of course, in the realm of reasoned speculation, recent events have seemed to confirm both halves of this proposition. That the Chinese Communists believe a neutral Laos would be the best way of getting the Americans out is suggested by their readiness to accept some of the more controversial provisions for Laotian neutrality that were agreed on July 23 at the Geneva International Conference on Laos. That the danger, from Peking's point of view, of an American military intervention is a real one was shown in May when the United States decided to strengthen its force in Thailand. Various other developments, however, suggest that the Chinese are taking an increasingly direct interest in Laos.

Among all dramatic and operatic forms in China, Peking Opera is perhaps the most popular one, and has been enjoyed by the people for more than a hundred years. The name “Peking,” however, does not really suggest the origin of this opera. Its Chinese name is p'i-huang, or erh-huang, which does indicate the origin of the opera. The word “p'i” in Chinese means “tunes,” and the character “huang” refers to one or two districts located in Hupeh province (the other name “erh-huang” means “two Huangs”) where this kind of music first originated, although the district of Huang-kang is generally believed to be the birthplace of this opera. Apparently this new kind of music soon spread to other districts of Hupeh, as well as to the adjacent provinces including Anhwei. The popularity of this new opera form encouraged and justified professional organisations, and troupes brought the opera to Peking, then the capital city of the Manchu (Ch'ing) dynasty. However, credit went to the Four Great Anhwei Troupes for their role in establishing this opera in the capital during the waning years of the Ch'ing period. The patronage of official circles, especially the royal clans in the Manchu court, helped tremendously in gaining fame and position for this new opera form. The Empress Dowager, Tz'u-hsi, so enjoyed this opera form that she ordered private theatres built in the palaces for her own enjoyment. (One of such theatres is still standing in the Summer Palace today.) As a result, the new operatic form was given a new name, ching-hsi (“Capital Opera”). And since Peking was the capital then, it was nicknamed the “Peking Opera” which subsequently has become the recognised name for it.

Since the Ch'in dynasty first divided the area under its control into forty administrative districts, the Chinese countryside has experienced a bewildering variety of units of local organisation. Although beneath this variety there is a discernible continuity (for example in the maintenance of the provincial level of organisation since Han times), the student is often hard put to give adequate explanations of the changes which have occurred. This is particularly true of the Republican period, when local governmental organisation was not only a topic of heated discussion but also a focus of considerable explicit experimentation.

August 1, 1927, is one of the big days in the history of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). It marked the opening of a military phase which was to last more than twenty years and was to leave a deep mark on the Party and the present régime both in their outlook and their structure. Symbolically, it is the birthday of the People's Liberation Army (PLA), the Chinese Red Army, and it is as such that it is celebrated every year. It would perhaps be worthwhile after thirty-five years to make an accurate assessment of this event and first to place it in the political context of the time.

The trading potential of China, with its population of some 650 million people, has for long been a subject of absorbing interest, and never more so than in recent years, with the rapid expansion of economic growth which has been brought about since the establishment of the People's Republic.

The policies of the Chinese Government have led to drastic changes in the orientation of its international trade, in its administration and to notable modifications in the nature of both imports and exports. These have all derived primarily from the change to a Communist Government and to its implementation of the corresponding political and economic systems.

Chinese diplomatic interest in Indonesia has been developing for three-quarters of a century. The past dozen years since the completion of the military phases of the revolutions in the two countries have heard both harmonious pledges of amity and, not altogether paradoxically, the grating sound of national purposes crossing. In most exchanges, the Peking Communists and the Djakarta nationalists have bubbled with friendship; on one occasion, however, this duologue became sensationally antagonistic. In South-East Asia, as in other regions, China has not yet worked out a diplomatic means for the full reconciliation of continuing national interests with the demands of revolutionary strategy. The survey to follow forms a fever chart recording a steady rise in Sino-Indonesian warmth, a plunge to racking chills, and, for the moment, convalescence.

Nearly all Chinese, and many foreign students of China, will have it that China has never been, and is now unlikely to become, an expansionist power. A recent article in The Times said that China, being land-based rather than maritime, “never developed any sense of international relations”; instead of a Foreign Office, the old China had until 1842 an office for the management of barbarians, “whose respect for Chinese supremacy was demanded or exacted.” In other words, China's non-aggressiveness contains an element of semantic jugglery. How could China “expand,” and how could there be international relations when the Emperor was already regarded as ruler of the world? It is worth recalling that when the Ming fleets visited places as distant as Aden to “make known the Imperial commands,” this concept was in fact extended to peoples overseas; on their return, the envoys announced: “The countries beyond the horizon and from the ends of the earth have all become subjects … the barbarians from beyond the seas … have come to audience bearing precious objects and presents.”