荒原上的铁律与哀歌：官方劳改志与私人记忆中的西北农场
Wasteland Elegy: Official Records and Private Memories of China’s Northwestern Labor Camps
作者：海星
By Hai Xing
The English translation follows below.
二十世纪中叶的中国历史版图中，西北不仅是地理概念，更是一种命运的隐喻。那里不仅是有风沙、盐碱和高寒的荒原，也是国家意志进行封闭型大规模社会实验的独特场域。今天回望那段尘封的历史，往往面临着视角的割裂：一种是冰冷、宏大、由数据和文件构成的官方叙事；另一种是温热、微观、由血泪和记忆凝结的个人证言。青海省司法厅劳改工作管理局编纂的《青海省劳改志》（以下简称《劳改志》）提供了前者坚硬的骨架，而安殿祥的《苦旅天涯青海头》（以下简称《苦旅》）与杨显惠的《夹边沟记事》，则填充了后者最疼痛的血肉。
将安殿祥与杨显惠笔下的私人记忆，置于《劳改志》所构建的宏大历史背景中对读，我们不仅能看到个人在国家机器碾压下的挣扎，更能通过官方档案与民间记忆的互证，洞察那个时代荒诞与悲剧的制度性根源。这是一场铁律与哀歌的对话，是冷酷的暴力逻辑与顽强的人性尊严之间跨越时空的对质。
1. 移犯垦荒：1954年是转折点
《劳改志》开篇即明义：“中华人民共和国的劳动改造机关，是人民民主专政的工具之一。”这句话奠定了整个劳改系统的政治基调。青海的劳改事业始于1951年，但真正的转折点在于1954年。据《劳改志》记载，为了配合国家“移犯垦荒”的战略，青海开始大规模接收来自山东、江苏、河南等省份的犯人，并在柴达木盆地建立了德令哈、香日德等大型农场。这一政策被称为“稳步地分期分批向地广人稀地区转移”。
对于官方而言，这只是“劳改生产在青海建设中的开路拓基作用”；但对于《苦旅》的作者安殿祥而言，这却是他命运的断崖。安殿祥，一个南京青年，因莫须有的罪名被捕，正是在这一政策背景下，于1959年秋随同上千名重刑犯，被从南京押往青海德令哈。他不仅是那一串串统计数据中的一个整数，更是那场浩浩荡荡的“移犯”大潮中一颗被抛掷的沙砾。《劳改志》中提到的德令哈农场，在官方笔下是“本省第一个大型劳改农场”；而在安殿祥的笔下，那是人间炼狱的代名词，是他在《苦旅》中无数次惊醒的梦魇之地。
相比而言，杨显惠笔下的夹边沟虽然位于甘肃，其出现的逻辑却与青海德令哈如出一辙——同样是建立在荒漠边缘的劳教农场，同样承载着通过劳动教养改造右派分子的政治任务。无论是安殿祥这样的反革命刑事犯，还是夹边沟里的知识分子右派，他们都是国家意志在西北荒原上进行社会改造的实验品。区别在于，《劳改志》记录的是当权者如何规划这片土地的产能与秩序，而《苦旅》和《夹边沟记事》记录的则是受害者如何在这片土地上耗尽青春与生命。
2. 官方统计：犯人死亡率超过百分之十二
如果说1954年的移犯垦荒尚算平稳，那么1958年后的局势则彻底失控。《劳改志》以罕见的坦诚记录了“大跃进”在劳改领域带来的灾难性后果。书中记载，1958年“大跃进”运动展开，青海提出开荒千万亩的奋斗目标，机构与人员急剧膨胀。各类人员猛增到近20万人。然而，这种不顾客观规律的“盲目开荒”，导致了严重的后果：由于“生产高指标，粮食超征购，生活低标准，持续超体力劳动，非正常死亡现象增加”。
这一段冷峻的文字背后，是无数具冰冷的尸体。在《劳改志》的统计表中，1960年犯人及相关人员的死亡率达到了惊人的12.08%，死亡人数高达22700人。这是一个令人战栗的数字，它在官方史志中或许只是一个百分比的波动，但在《夹边沟记事》和《苦旅》中，却是铺天盖地的死亡气息。
《夹边沟记事》的核心意象就是“饥饿”。杨显惠笔下的右派们，为了生存吃尽荒漠中的一切：草籽、树皮、老鼠、甚至同伴的尸体。那种因极度饥饿而导致的人性扭曲和尊严丧失，是该书最震撼人心之处。而在《苦旅》中，安殿祥的经历与《劳改志》的记载形成了完美的互证。他详细描述了1959年至1962年期间德令哈农场的惨状：囚徒们在零下几十度的严寒中赤脚干活，为了果腹去捡食马粪中的残渣，看着身边的狱友一个个浮肿、倒下，再也未能起来。
《劳改志》中提到的“粮食亩产仅52斤”，在安殿祥的叙述中具象为每顿饭碗里那点照得见人影的稀汤；《劳改志》中提到的“非正常死亡”，在《夹边沟记事》中具象为每天清晨从窝棚里拖出的僵硬尸体，具象为董建义被割去大腿肉的惨剧。两本书的对比，让我们看到了同一场旷世灾难的两个切面：一个是决策者的狂悖与荒谬，如何导致系统性的崩溃；另一个是受害者的绝望与挣扎，如何在崩塌的废墟中试图抓住最后一根稻草。
值得注意的是，《夹边沟记事》中记录的死亡率似乎更高（近三千人关押，幸存者寥寥），这主要源于右派群体多为知识分子，体力劳动能力弱，且夹边沟的物资配给在特定时期几乎断绝。而《苦旅》中的安殿祥及其狱友多为年轻力壮的刑事犯，或是有着较强生存本能的普通人，加上青海农场毕竟有一定的粮食产出（尽管极低），因此幸存者相对较多。当然着这并不意味着苦难的减轻，反而引出了另一种更为漫长的折磨。
3. 更漫长的折磨：刑期结束后强迫“留场就业”
和《夹边沟记事》中的当事人大多被饿死不同，《苦旅天涯青海头》中的当事人承受的是更漫长的折磨。这种慢性折磨来自于当时官方的另一个制度，在《劳改志》中有专门的章节进行论述——即对犯人的就业安置与刑满留放政策。
《劳改志》明确记载，自1954年起实行“多留少放”政策。1958年更强调：“对调往边远地方进行劳动改造的罪犯，在刑满释放后，一般的应经过动员说服一律留下”。甚至到了1960年，留队率高达98.5%。这意味着，对于绝大多数犯人而言，刑期的结束并不意味着自由的开始，而是另一种监禁的延续——成为“二劳改”（留场就业人员）。
安殿祥的经历正是这一政策的生动注脚。1974年，他15年刑期已满，但他并没有获得回南京的自由，而是被强制留场就业。在《苦旅》中，这部分篇幅虽然没有大饥荒时期那么惊心动魄，却透着一种深沉的绝望。这种绝望来自于希望的不断破灭：明明已经偿还了所谓的罪债，却依然被剥夺返乡的权利；明明已回归人民，却依然戴着反革命的帽子受歧视，同工不同酬，甚至连婚姻和家庭都成为奢望。
《劳改志》从管理者的角度解释了这一政策的动因：是为了“支援青海经济建设”，是为了“改变牧区地广人稀”。这是一种典型的国家工具理性主义，将人视为一种可以随意调配的资源。书中甚至提到，为了让这些留场人员安心，还实施了接迁家属的政策。然而，安殿祥的叙述揭穿了这种表象下的残酷：在恶劣的自然环境和政治歧视下，家属来了也难以生存，许多人最终不得不妻离子散。
《夹边沟记事》中的幸存者在1961年左右多被遣返，因为夹边沟作为一个劳教农场在饥荒后实际上已经解体。而《苦旅》中的安殿祥们，却在青海的农场里被制度锁了整整23年。这种长期的、制度化的、看似温和实则绝望的监禁，是青海劳改体系区别于夹边沟的独特之处，也是《劳改志》作为一份制度史料所揭示的深刻问题：当法律的惩罚边界被行政命令无限模糊时，个人的生命便彻底沦为了国家机器的燃料。
4. 知识分子与草根阶层：苦难面前的众生相
对比《夹边沟记事》与《苦旅天涯青海头》，人物群体的差异也是一个重要的观察维度。
《夹边沟记事》的主角是右派。他们是医生、工程师、教授、干部，是那个时代的精英。他们的痛苦不仅来自于肉体的折磨，更来自于精神被摧毁。他们曾经信仰坚定，却被自己效忠的体制抛弃；他们拥有高尚的灵魂，却不得不为了一个发霉的馒头出卖尊严。杨显惠的笔触聚焦于这种巨大的反差，展现了知识分子在极端环境下的脆弱。他们的悲剧具有一种理想主义破灭的崇高感与荒诞感。
相比之下，《苦旅》的作者安殿祥及其周围的狱友，更多属于草根阶层。安殿祥入狱时只是一个24岁的普通青年，因“反动标语”案被牵连，政治犯的头衔安在他头上显得滑稽可笑。在《劳改志》的统计中，反革命犯曾占押犯总数的60%以上，像安殿祥这样因言获罪或因冤入狱的普通人不在少数。
在《苦旅》中，我们看到的是一种更为粗粝、原始的生存本能。安殿祥没有那么多形而上的精神痛苦，他的目标只有一个：活下去，回家。这种求生欲支撑他熬过了大饥荒，熬过了漫长的刑期，熬过了留场就业的岁月。他书中的人物——国民党旧军政人员、小偷、流氓、被冤枉的农民——构成了一幅底层社会的浮世绘。他们在苦难面前，或许少了一份知识分子的清高，却多了一份野草般的韧性。他们之间的互助与出卖、温情与残忍，都更加赤裸，也更加真实。
《劳改志》中有一节提到教育改造，列举了政治教育、文化教育等手段。然而在《苦旅》的现实中，这些所谓的教育不仅流于形式，还是另一种形式的折磨。安殿祥记录的政治学习往往演变成批斗会，成为犯人之间相互倾轧的工具。这再次证明了官方档案与个人体验之间的巨大鸿沟：前者试图构建一个有序的改造图景，后者却揭示了一个弱肉强食的丛林世界。
5. 平反与回响：历史的终章与未尽的反思
两本书的结尾都指向了同一个历史节点：1978年后的拨乱反正。
《劳改志》在概述中写道，1979年后“坚持把解决历史遗留问题同开展新时期劳改工作结合起来”，复查平反冤假错案，摘掉“四类分子”帽子，清理遣返就业人员。书中列举了一系列数字：1979年至1981年复查撤判5807名，留队就业人员大幅减少。这些数字是冰冷的，但在安殿祥的生命里，这是迟到了23年的春天。
《苦旅》的最后部分，记录了安殿祥艰难的申诉之路。即便国家政策已经转向，但具体的平反过程依然充满了官僚体制的阻碍。直到1981年，他才终于拿到了无罪判决书，得以返回南京。当他走出德令哈农场的那一刻，身后是无数埋骨荒漠的亡魂，眼前是已经被时代抛下的陌生故乡。
《夹边沟记事》的幸存者们虽然更早离开了农场，但右派的帽子一直戴了二十年，他们的后半生同样在阴影中度过。两本书的主人公最终都获得了平反，但被剥夺的青春、被摧毁的健康、被肢解的家庭、被改变的人生轨迹，是任何一纸判决书都无法弥补的。
《劳改志》作为一部官修史书，虽在一定程度上承认了过去的错误（如左倾错误、大跃进的损失），但其语调依然是谨慎的、概括的，将惨绝人寰的悲剧仅仅归结为经验教训。而《夹边沟记事》和《苦旅》则用一个个具体的、血淋淋的故事，拒绝了这种轻描淡写。它们提醒后人：文本与数据固然构成时代的外壳，但如果不能还原为个体的真实命运，我们得到的将只是一部没有血肉、失去灵魂的冰冷的年代记。
6. 对照阅读：一种极具张力的历史体验
将《青海省劳改志》与《苦旅天涯青海头》、《夹边沟记事》放在一起阅读，是一种极具张力的历史体验。前者构筑了那个时代的钢铁骨架——政策、指令、机构、数据，展示了国家机器如何在这片荒原上运作；后者则填充了那个时代的血肉与灵魂——饥饿、寒冷、绝望、死亡，展示了个体生命如何在机器的缝隙中挣扎求存。
《劳改志》证明了那个庞大系统的真实存在及其运作逻辑，它让《夹边沟》和《苦旅》中的故事不再是孤立的悲剧，而是具有了系统性的必然性。比如，当我们读到《劳改志》中关于“1960年死亡率12.08%”的统计时，再看《夹边沟》里遍地的尸骨，便不会觉得那是文学的夸张；当我们读到《劳改志》中关于“多留少放”的政策规定，再看安殿祥刑满后无奈的留守，便能理解那种个体无法对抗体制的深重无力感。
这两类文本互为表里，互为注脚。它们共同揭示了那个时代的核心悖论：一个试图通过改造人来改造自然的乌托邦理想，如何在执行过程中异化为一场针对人性和生命的浩劫。青海德令哈与甘肃夹边沟，虽然地理位置不同，关押对象各异，但它们共享着同一套制度逻辑，也共享着同一种历史伤痛。
安殿祥在《苦旅》中引用尼采的话：“其实人跟树是一样的，越是向往高处的阳光，它的根就越要伸向黑暗的地底。”这句话或许不仅适用于个人，也适用于一个民族的历史记忆。我们只有敢于直面《劳改志》中那些冷酷的政策条文和死亡数据，敢于倾听《夹边沟》和《苦旅》中那些撕心裂肺的哀歌，将根须深深探入那段黑暗的历史地层，未来的阳光下，才能长出不再扭曲的枝干。
（作者海星：居住于中国大陆。历史研究者，新闻从业者。）
本期推荐档案：
Wasteland Elegy: Official Records and Private Memories of China’s Northwestern Labor Camps
By Hai Xing
In the historical landscape of mid-20th century China, the Northwest represented more than just a geographic concept; it was a metaphor for destiny. This seemingly desolate expanse, marked by wind, sand, salt flats, and extreme cold, was also a unique testing ground where the state exercised its will through large-scale, enclosed social experiments.
Reflecting on that sealed history today often results in a fractured perspective: one is the macroscopic, official narrative constructed from data and documents; the other is the microscopic narrative crystallized from blood, tears, and personal memory. The Qinghai Province Laogai Gazetteer (hereinafter, the Gazetteer), compiled by the Laogai (Reform Through Labor) Work Administration of the Qinghai Provincial Department of Justice, provides the rigid framework of the former, while An Dianxiang’s A Bitter Journey to the End of the World in Qinghai (hereinafter, Bitter Journey) and Yang Xianhui’s Chronicles of Jiabiangou provide the latter’s most searing, human detail.
By juxtaposing the private memories captured by An Dianxiang and Yang Xianhui with the vast historical backdrop established by the Gazetteer, we can observe not only the individual’s struggle under the state machine’s relentless pressure, but also, through the mutual corroboration of official and civilian accounts, gain insight into the institutional roots of the era’s absurdity and tragedy. This is a confrontation between the merciless logic of violence and the enduring dignity of the human spirit.
1. Transferring Inmates for Reclamation: 1954 Marks the Turning Point
The Gazetteer clearly establishes the political context in its opening: “The organs of Lao Dong Gai Zao (Reform Through Labor) of the People’s Republic of China are one of the instruments of the people’s democratic dictatorship.” While Laogai work in Qinghai began in 1951, the true turning point occurred in 1954. The Gazetteer records that in support of the national strategy of “transferring inmates for land reclamation,” Qinghai began receiving prisoners on a large scale from provinces such as Shandong, Jiangsu, and Henan, leading to the establishment of major farms like Delingha and Xiangride in the Qaidam Basin. This policy was characterized as “steadily transferring in phases and batches to vast and sparsely populated areas.”
To the authorities, this represented merely the “pioneering and foundational role of Laogai production in Qinghai’s development”; yet, for An Dianxiang, the author of Bitter Journey, it was the sudden, devastating breaking point of his destiny. An Dianxiang, a young man from Nanjing arrested on unsubstantiated charges, was transported to Delingha, Qinghai, in the autumn of 1959 with over a thousand hard-labor prisoners, a direct result of this policy. He was not just a statistic, but a solitary grain of sand tossed into that massive current of inmate transfers. The Delingha Farm, described in official documents as “the province’s first large-scale Laogai farm,” was, in An Dianxiang’s experience, synonymous with a living hell, the nightmarish location from which he repeatedly awoke in Bitter Journey.
Similarly, while Yang Xianhui’s Jiabiangou was located in Gansu, its operating rationale was exactly the same as Qinghai’s Delingha—a labor re-education farm established on the edge of the desert, tasked with the political mission of reforming Rightists through labor. Whether they were “counter-revolutionary” criminal offenders like An Dianxiang or intellectual Rightists like those in Jiabiangou, they were all experimental subjects of the state’s drive for social reform in the Northwest wasteland. The difference is that the Gazetteer records the rulers’ plans for the land’s productivity and order, while Bitter Journey and Chronicles of Jiabiangou record how the victims depleted their youth and lives on that same land.
2. Official Statistics: Inmate Mortality Exceeds Twelve Percent
If the 1954 transfer and reclamation phase was relatively stable, the situation after 1958 spiraled completely out of control. The Gazetteer notes, with unusual frankness, the catastrophic consequences of the Great Leap Forward within the Laogai system. The book states that when the Great Leap Forward began in 1958, Qinghai set an ambitious goal of reclaiming ten million mu of land, leading to a rapid expansion of institutions and personnel, with the total number of people soaring to nearly 200,000. However, this reclamation, which disregarded objective natural limits, resulted in severe consequences: due to “high production targets, excessive grain requisitioning, low living standards, sustained supra-physical labor, the phenomenon of abnormal deaths increased.”
Behind this terse, cold language lie countless corpses. The Gazetteer’s statistical tables show that the mortality rate for inmates and related personnel in 1960 reached a staggering 12.08%, with the number of deaths totaling 22,700. This is a chilling figure; it may be just a fluctuating percentage in the official history, but in Chronicles of Jiabiangou and Bitter Journey, it is the palpable reality of ubiquitous death.
The central theme of Chronicles of Jiabiangou is starvation. Yang Xianhui describes how the Rightists consumed everything the desolate landscape offered to survive: grass seeds, tree bark, rats, and even the remains of their fellow inmates. The consequent perversion of human nature and loss of dignity due to extreme hunger is the book’s most impactful element. In Bitter Journey, An Dianxiang’s experiences perfectly align with the Gazetteer’s account. He meticulously details the horrific conditions at Delingha Farm between 1959 and 1962: prisoners working barefoot in sub-zero weather, resorting to picking up residual bits of food from horse manure, and watching their comrades swell, collapse, and never rise again.
The Gazetteer’s mention of “grain yield of only 52 jin per mu” becomes tangible in An Dianxiang’s narrative as the thin, reflective soup in their bowls; the abnormal deaths cited by the Gazetteer are given specific form in Chronicles of Jiabiangou as the frozen corpses dragged from the hovels each morning, and the gruesome incident of Dong Jianyi, whose thigh meat was cut away. The comparison of the two books reveals two sides of the same sweeping disaster: one shows how the authorities’ folly and irrationality led to systemic collapse; the other shows the victims’ desperation and struggle to hold onto life within those crumbling ruins.
It is worth noting that the death rate recorded in Chronicles of Jiabiangou appears to be higher (out of nearly three thousand detained, few survived). This is primarily because the Rightist group largely consisted of intellectuals with lower physical labor capacity, and the supply of goods to Jiabiangou was almost entirely cut off during a specific period. In contrast, An Dianxiang and his fellow inmates in Bitter Journey were mostly young, able-bodied criminal offenders or ordinary people with strong survival instincts. Moreover, the Qinghai farm did produce some, albeit minimal, grain, which may account for the relatively higher number of survivors. Crucially, however, this difference does not lessen the suffering; rather, it introduced a different, more drawn-out form of torment.
3. Protracted Torment: Forced On-Site Employment
In contrast to the characters in Chronicles of Jiabiangou, many of whom died from starvation, the individuals in A Bitter Journey to the End of the World, Qinghai Head endured a more prolonged ordeal. This chronic torment was a consequence of another official policy, which the Gazetteer discusses in detail: the system of forced employment placement and retention after sentence completion.
The Gazetteer explicitly notes the implementation of the “retain more, release less” policy starting in 1954. By 1958, the emphasis intensified: “Criminals transferred to remote regions for reform through labor should generally be persuaded and mobilized to stay after their sentence expires.” By 1960, the retention rate had reached an astounding 98.5%. For the vast majority of prisoners, this meant that the end of their sentence did not bring freedom but the continuation of a different kind of imprisonment—they became “Second Laogai,” or retained personnel for on-site employment.
An Dianxiang’s experience perfectly exemplifies this policy. In 1974, his 15-year sentence was finished, but he was denied the freedom to return to Nanjing and was coerced into staying for employment. In Bitter Journey, this section, though less physically dramatic than the Great Famine, is steeped in a profound sense of despair. This despair arose from the constant shattering of hope: he had supposedly paid his debt for the alleged crime, yet his right to return home was revoked; he had supposedly rejoined the people, yet he still faced discrimination under the counter-revolutionary label, received unequal pay for equal work, and even the formation of a family remained an unattainable luxury.
The Gazetteer, from a managerial viewpoint, explains this policy as necessary to “support Qinghai’s economic construction” and to “change the situation of vast and sparsely populated pastoral areas.” This is a classic example of state utilitarianism, treating individuals as resources to be allocated at will. The book even mentions a policy of relocating family members to help these retained workers settle down. Yet, An Dianxiang’s narrative exposes the cruelty beneath this surface: given the harsh natural environment and political discrimination, family members struggled to survive even when they arrived, and many marriages ultimately ended in separation.
Most survivors in Chronicles of Jiabiangou were repatriated around 1961 because the Jiabiangou labor re-education farm had practically ceased to function after the famine. However, An Dianxiang and his peers in Bitter Journey were held captive by the system in the Qinghai farms for a total of 23 years. This long-term, institutionalized, seemingly mild but ultimately crushing form of detention is a distinctive feature of the Qinghai Laogai system compared to Jiabiangou, and it is the key problem highlighted by the Gazetteer as an institutional record: when the legal boundary of punishment is indefinitely blurred by administrative decree, the individual’s life is completely reduced to fuel for the state machine.
4. Intellectuals vs. Grassroots: Human Struggles in the Face of Suffering
An important dimension for observation when comparing Chronicles of Jiabiangou and Bitter Journey is the difference in their respective character groups.
The main characters of Chronicles of Jiabiangou are Rightists. They were the elites of the era: doctors, engineers, professors, and cadres. Their pain stemmed not just from physical hardship but from the destruction of their spirit. They were once firm believers, only to be abandoned by the very system they had served; they possessed noble intentions, yet were forced to compromise their dignity for a piece of moldy bread. Yang Xianhui’s focus is on this dramatic contrast, illustrating the vulnerability of intellectuals in extreme circumstances. Their tragedy is characterized by the sublime and absurd sensation of shattered idealism.
In contrast, An Dianxiang, the author of Bitter Journey, and his fellow inmates predominantly belonged to the grassroots class. An Dianxiang was a regular 24-year-old when he was jailed, implicated in a case involving “reactionary slogans”; the political prisoner label attached to him appears almost ludicrous. According to Gazetteer statistics, counter-revolutionary prisoners once constituted over 60% of the total inmate population, meaning that a great many ordinary people like An Dianxiang were imprisoned due to wrongful accusations or for their speech.
In Bitter Journey, we encounter a more raw, primal instinct for survival. An Dianxiang did not suffer as much from abstract spiritual distress; his sole goal was to survive and return home. This sheer will to live carried him through the Great Famine, the long prison term, and the years of compulsory employment. The characters in his book—former Kuomintang military officials, thieves, hoodlums, and wrongly accused farmers—form a detailed portrait of lower-class society. In the face of suffering, they might have lacked the intellectual’s refined aloofness, but they possessed the resilience of weeds. The acts of mutual support and betrayal, kindness and cruelty among them, are more stark and therefore more authentic.
The Gazetteer includes a section on re-education, listing methods such as political and cultural instruction. However, the reality described in Bitter Journey shows that this so-called education was not only superficial but also served as another form of torture. An Dianxiang records that political study often devolved into struggle sessions, becoming a tool for inmates to attack one another. This highlights, once again, the vast gap between the official archive’s attempt to construct an orderly picture of reform and the personal experience of the jungle.
5. Rehabilitation and Echoes: History’s Conclusion and Unfinished Reflection
Both books conclude by converging on the same historical moment: the period of “correcting past mistakes” after 1978.
The Gazetteer’s overview notes that after 1979, the system “persisted in combining the resolution of historical issues with the new-era Laogai work,” reviewing and reversing unjust and incorrect verdicts, removing the labels of “four-category elements,” and repatriating retained personnel. The book provides specific figures: 5,807 sentences were reviewed and overturned between 1979 and 1981, and the number of retained employment personnel significantly decreased. These numbers are cold, but for An Dianxiang’s life, they signaled a spring that arrived 23 years too late.
The final section of Bitter Journey documents An Dianxiang’s difficult process of appeal. Even with the national policy change, the actual process of rehabilitation was fraught with bureaucratic resistance. He finally received his certificate of acquittal and was able to return to Nanjing in 1981. As he walked out of Delingha Farm, he left behind countless souls buried in the desolate land, and ahead of him lay a strange hometown that had been fundamentally altered by time.
While the survivors in Chronicles of Jiabiangou left the farm earlier, they carried the Rightist label for two decades, and their later lives were similarly spent under a cloud. The protagonists of both books were eventually exonerated, but the lost youth, shattered health, broken families, and altered life trajectories are losses that no legal document can ever truly repair.
The Gazetteer, as an official history, does acknowledge past errors (such as “leftist errors” and the mistakes of the Great Leap Forward) to a certain degree, but its tone remains cautious and general, reducing the horrific tragedy merely to a matter of experience and lessons. In contrast, Chronicles of Jiabiangou and Bitter Journey use specific, vivid, and deeply human stories to reject this minimization. They serve as a crucial reminder to future generations: while texts and data form the structure of an era, if they fail to restore the truth of individual destinies, all we are left with is a cold chronology, devoid of flesh, blood, and soul.
6. Finding Tension in History Through Comparative Reading
Reading the Gazetteer alongside Bitter Journey and Chronicles of Jiabiangou offers an experience of historical tension. The former constructs the steel skeleton of that era—policies, directives, institutions, and data—showing how the state machine functioned in the wasteland; the latter fills in the flesh and soul of that era—hunger, cold, despair, and death—showing how individual lives struggled for survival in the machine’s gaps.
The Gazetteer authenticates the vast system’s existence and operational logic, ensuring that the stories in Jiabiangou and Bitter Journey are not isolated tragedies but events with systemic inevitability. For example, when we read the Gazetteer’s statistic that the “1960 death rate was 12.08%,” and then read about the widespread corpses in Jiabiangou, we recognize that it is not literary exaggeration; when we read the Gazetteer’s policy on “retain more, release less,” and then observe An Dianxiang’s hopeless retention after his sentence, we understand the profound sense of individual powerlessness against the system.
These two types of texts are complementary and mutually illuminating. Together, they expose the era’s central paradox: a utopian ideal aimed at transforming nature by reforming people ultimately degenerated into a catastrophe targeting human life and spirit during its implementation. Qinghai’s Delingha and Gansu’s Jiabiangou, though different in location and inmate population, shared the same institutional logic and the same historical wound.
An Dianxiang quotes Nietzsche in Bitter Journey: “In truth, man is like a tree. The more he aspires to the height and the light, the more strongly do his roots strive earthward, downward, into the dark, the depths.”
This sentiment applies not only to the individual but also to a nation’s historical memory. Only by daring to confront the cold policy articles and death data in the Gazetteer, and by daring to listen to the agonizing elegies in Jiabiangou and Bitter Journey—by allowing our roots to penetrate deeply into that dark historical stratum—can the branches that grow toward the sunlight of the future be no longer twisted.
(Hai Xing is a historian and journalist residing in China.)
Recommended archives:
Qinghai Province Laogai Gazetteer
An Dianxiang: A Bitter Journey to the End of the World in Qinghai