u/Slow-Property5895

Lors du Festival du cinéma chinois de Hambourg en mai 2026, j’ai regardé le long-métrage *Ballad of the Warm Grave(*nom chinois : Dongfang Huayuan,东方花园) réalisé par Zhou Junsen (周俊森), et j’ai brièvement échangé avec le réalisateur Zhou lors d’une séance de questions en ligne. Ce film, en tant que documentaire de long format, raconte l’histoire d’une famille et de ses membres, tout en reflétant des groupes sociaux plus larges (femmes victimes de trafic, personnes LGBTQ, patients atteints du sida, personnes issues de familles dysfonctionnelles, etc.) ainsi que les réalités sociales qui leur sont liées. Ayant toujours été intéressé par les films réalistes et les documentaires, j’ai donc décidé d’écrire une critique et une présentation de cette œuvre.

Ce documentaire retrace précisément l’histoire de plusieurs générations de la famille de Zhou Junsen, de leurs proches et de leurs membres apparentés, avec un tournage s’étendant sur dix ans. La première partie du film raconte l’histoire et les souvenirs liés à la cousine de Zhou Junsen, « Sœur Shan » (Li Shan, 李珊), qui avait été victime de trafic lorsqu’elle était enfant.

Quand on parle de « trafic humain » ou de « trafic de femmes et d’enfants », les gens d’aujourd’hui en ont tous entendu parler. Mais les personnes vivant dans des régions développées, en sécurité et dans l’aisance ont rarement des proches ayant été victimes de trafic humain ; il leur est encore plus difficile d’imaginer qu’un membre de leur famille ait été enlevé par des trafiquants, violé et contraint d’avoir des enfants. Pourtant, la cousine de Zhou Junsen a connu une expérience aussi tragique.

Zhou Junsen est également allé rendre visite aux trois enfants que sa cousine avait eus et qui vivaient toujours dans la famille de l’homme qui l’avait achetée. Il a parlé avec cet homme qui avait acheté et violé sa cousine, et est entré en conflit avec lui. Cela constitue en soi un événement extraordinaire, une expérience particulière que la grande majorité des réalisateurs n’ont jamais vécue.

Ce qui surprendra ceux qui ne connaissent pas la situation du trafic de femmes en Chine, mais semblera prévisible à ceux qui la connaissent bien, c’est que l’homme qui avait acheté et agressé sexuellement une femme, autrement dit l’acheteur dans ce trafic humain — l’homme nommé Sun qui vivait au Shanxi avec Li Shan dans le film — n’a reçu aucune sanction légale. Sa mère a même affirmé que Li Shan avait été enlevée parce qu’elle avait imprudemment rencontré de mauvaises personnes.

Sun estimait lui aussi qu’il n’avait commis aucune faute en achetant une femme. Il reprochait à Li Shan de l’avoir abandonné, ainsi que les trois enfants qu’elle avait mis au monde, affirmant que cela l’avait frappé comme une « petite mort ». Il était également très hostile envers Zhou Junsen, venu rendre visite aux enfants. Selon des entretiens accordés par Zhou Junsen en dehors du film, Sun et certains de ses proches auraient même battu Zhou Junsen et ses amis.

Il s’agit là d’une réalité fréquente dans de nombreuses affaires de trafic de femmes. Pendant longtemps, la lutte contre le trafic humain en Chine a surtout consisté à punir les trafiquants eux-mêmes (les vendeurs), tandis que les personnes achetant des femmes (les acheteurs) étaient rarement poursuivies. Cela répondait dans une large mesure aux besoins du maintien de la stabilité sociale. Les acheteurs étaient souvent des habitants de régions pauvres qui utilisaient leurs économies pour acheter une femme afin de satisfaire leurs besoins sexuels et assurer une descendance familiale.

Dans ces villages, les structures claniques sont souvent puissantes ; beaucoup d’habitants ont eux-mêmes acheté des femmes et se protègent mutuellement. Non seulement il était difficile pour les femmes de s’échapper, celles qui tentaient de fuir étant souvent rattrapées et violemment battues, mais les policiers et les proches venant les secourir étaient eux aussi souvent empêchés d’agir. Même Zhou Junsen, revenu des années plus tard avec de bonnes intentions, a un temps été retenu contre sa volonté et battu. Les autorités locales et la police, déjà préoccupées par les risques d’instabilité, faisaient souvent semblant d’ignorer ces crimes et laissaient les habitants acheter des femmes, les violer et leur imposer des grossesses.

Comme beaucoup d’autres femmes, Li Shan n’a réussi à s’échapper que plusieurs années après avoir eu des enfants, et cela par hasard. Beaucoup d’autres femmes vendues dans le trafic humain n’ont jamais réussi à fuir, ou ont tenté désespérément de s’échapper avant d’être rattrapées et battues, puis de se résigner à leur sort. Certaines sont aussi restées pour leurs enfants.

Après son retour au Sichuan, Li Shan a travaillé dans de nombreux endroits et traversé de nombreuses expériences. Elle a fondé une famille et a eu un enfant, dont le surnom était identique à celui d’un des enfants laissés au Shanxi : « Chuanchuan ». Il est évident qu’elle pensait à ses enfants. Mais elle ne pouvait pas revenir et n’osait pas revenir. Sa peur et son traumatisme liés au Shanxi ne l’ont jamais quittée. Son agresseur n’a jamais été puni ; il voulait même la retrouver pour qu’elle continue à être sa « femme », et il a également frappé son cousin plus jeune. Li Shan et « Chuanchuan » ont été contraints à une séparation durable entre mère et fils, sans pouvoir se revoir.

Li Shan a eu de la chance. Même après être retournée au Sichuan, elle a dû continuer à travailler durement pour survivre, dans des conditions très difficiles, mais elle a malgré tout quitté une existence plongée dans l’obscurité et retrouvé sa liberté et sa dignité. Ces libertés et cette dignité que les gens ordinaires considèrent comme allant de soi lui avaient été arrachées pendant plus de dix ans. De nombreuses femmes victimes de trafic perdent également pendant des années, des décennies, voire toute leur vie après leur enlèvement, leur liberté et leur dignité.

Si « Sœur Shan » a pu apparaître dans le film et si son histoire a été vue par le monde, c’est parce qu’elle avait un cousin étudiant à l’université et un proche capable de réaliser des films. Sans cela, son histoire serait restée inconnue comme celle de nombreuses autres femmes victimes de trafic humain, et sa souffrance aurait été engloutie dans le chaos du monde humain. Combien de tragédies se produisent dans l’ombre ? Combien de larmes se mêlent à la pluie et aux eaux usées pour disparaître dans les canalisations et s’enfoncer dans la terre ?

Une autre personne marginalisée socialement et rendue visible grâce au film de Zhou Junsen est son père. Le père de Zhou est bisexuel ; il a eu un mariage conventionnel et a eu Zhou Junsen avec son épouse, tout en maintenant des relations avec des partenaires masculins. Durant son enfance, Zhou Junsen a même assisté à des relations secrètes entre son père et l’un de ses enseignants.

Malheureusement, le père de Zhou a ensuite contracté le sida et a perdu la capacité d’entretenir des relations sexuelles avec sa femme. En explorant l’histoire de son père, Zhou Junsen a également appris que celui-ci n’était pas apprécié par son propre père, c’est-à-dire le grand-père de Zhou Junsen, et que les malheurs de son environnement familial d’origine avaient influencé sa vie future ainsi que son orientation sexuelle.

Le taux élevé de sida chez les hommes homosexuels constitue également un problème ancien. Beaucoup utilisent cela pour discriminer les homosexuels, en particulier les hommes homosexuels. Pourtant, c’est précisément parce qu’ils sont discriminés et marginalisés, privés de garanties juridiques concernant leurs droits et leur dignité, qu’ils ne peuvent pas vivre leurs relations de manière aussi ouverte et libre que les hétérosexuels et doivent souvent exister dans une forme « clandestine », entretenir des relations discrètes et manquer de prévention ainsi que de traitements précoces contre les maladies sexuellement transmissibles, que les risques de contracter le sida augmentent.

Cependant, il est encourageant de constater, à travers le film, que les hôpitaux et la société actuelle ont beaucoup progressé par rapport à l’époque où le sida provoquait une peur généralisée et où l’homophobie était très répandue. En particulier au Sichuan, région relativement ouverte envers les personnes LGBTQ, la société semble faire preuve d’une assez grande tolérance envers les minorités sexuelles.

Néanmoins, le père de Zhou, davantage attiré par les hommes et incapable d’entretenir une intimité avec sa femme après avoir contracté le sida, doit toujours faire face à de nombreux conflits familiaux et souffrances personnelles semblables à ceux vécus par beaucoup de personnes LGBTQ et de patients atteints du sida. Le père et la mère de Zhou ne sont pas devenus ennemis ; ils ont encore des sentiments l’un pour l’autre, mais ils ne semblent clairement pas particulièrement heureux. Ils continuent simplement à maintenir leur relation, notamment pour l’avenir de leur fils et pour préserver une harmonie familiale relative. Entre eux existent à la fois l’amour et le ressentiment, comme dans de nombreuses familles et relations conjugales.

La vie du père de Zhou constitue également le reflet commun de nombreuses personnes et groupes sociaux spécifiques dans le monde. Personnes LGBTQ, patients atteints du sida, individus ayant grandi dans des familles dysfonctionnelles : plusieurs identités vulnérables se croisent ici. Toutefois, le père de Zhou est issu d’une famille de classe moyenne et n’a pas sombré dans les couches les plus défavorisées de la société à cause de ces identités et circonstances ; il a pu maintenir une vie relativement digne.

Mais beaucoup d’autres personnes marginalisées vivent des situations bien plus tragiques : de nombreux malades du sida sont rejetés par leur propre famille, séparés même lors des repas, discriminés socialement et incapables de trouver un bon emploi. Les personnes issues de familles malheureuses sont aussi davantage exposées aux moqueries et au harcèlement de leurs camarades ou collègues, souffrent davantage psychologiquement que les autres et traversent le reste de leur vie dans l’humiliation et la souffrance.

De même, c’est précisément parce que Zhou Junsen est devenu étudiant universitaire et a eu la capacité de réaliser des documentaires que l’histoire de son père a pu être plus largement diffusée et connue, suscitant sympathie et respect. Après la projection et les récompenses reçues par le film, son père a même foulé le tapis rouge avec son fils et reçu les bénédictions de nombreuses personnes. Une telle chance est presque unique au monde et reste inaccessible à la majorité des personnes LGBTQ et des patients atteints du sida. Mais les souffrances du père de Zhou ne doivent pas être effacées ni ignorées à cause de cette chance exceptionnelle ; beaucoup des douleurs de sa vie ont été des réalités concrètes et indéniables.

Le malheur dans la famille du père de Zhou peut lui aussi être retracé à des conflits de la génération précédente. La grand-mère du père de Zhou s’appelait Yi Junmei (易君梅), un nom très élégant. Pourtant, la grand-mère savait seulement écrire son propre nom et ne savait pas lire d’autres caractères. Elle était une personne bienveillante et résiliente et, avant sa mort, elle était la matriarche commune de cette grande famille. Elle avait vécu une relation allant de l’amour jusqu’au divorce avec le fils du meurtrier de son père, et de nombreuses souffrances restèrent enfouies au fond de son cœur. Son mari après son remariage, c’est-à-dire le père du père de Zhou, ce grand-père, le second mari de la grand-mère, apporta à celle-ci ainsi qu’au père de Zhou de nombreuses souffrances indicibles. La souffrance ne disparaît jamais simplement parce qu’elle est réprimée ; elle finit toujours par affecter la personne concernée et se transmettre aux autres de diverses manières.

Il s’agit également d’une expérience de vie et d’un destin communs à de nombreuses personnes dans le monde, particulièrement aux Chinois. Les violences des guerres et des révolutions, les expériences de pauvreté et de famine, ainsi que les souffrances des périodes troublées causent des dommages à de nombreuses familles et laissent des souvenirs traumatiques. Les Chinois ont traversé au XXe siècle l’invasion japonaise et la guerre de résistance contre le Japon, les conflits entre seigneurs de guerre et la guerre civile entre le Kuomintang et le Parti communiste, ainsi que de nombreux mouvements politiques. La majorité des Chinois n’ont pas pu échapper à ces calamités cruelles : des dizaines de millions de personnes sont mortes et les survivants ont subi de profonds traumatismes. Même après la réforme et l’ouverture, il y eut encore de nombreuses tragédies. Plus récemment, la pandémie de COVID-19 et la politique du « zéro COVID » ont entraîné des restrictions de liberté et de grandes difficultés de subsistance pour beaucoup de personnes.

Les tragédies macroscopiques produisent une multitude de souffrances microscopiques ; le malheur collectif de centaines de millions de personnes se transforme en blessures physiques et psychologiques pour chaque individu. Mais tout comme les bactéries omniprésentes restent invisibles sans microscope, sans une observation attentive, une compréhension approfondie et un travail d’exploration, les histoires de vie et les émotions humaines dispersées à travers toute la Chine et le monde demeurent inconnues. Les souffrances de ces existences sont englouties dans les banalités désordonnées du quotidien et disparaissent dans le vaste courant de l’histoire.

Dans le monde réel, la vie et le destin de la grande majorité des gens, particulièrement les expériences et les émotions des personnes vulnérables, des victimes et des marginalisés, sont effectivement engloutis et effacés. Cela provient parfois de la répression exercée par ceux qui causent les préjudices et les bénéficiaires d’intérêts acquis ; parfois aussi du manque de pouvoir et d’espace d’expression des plus faibles ; et parfois des deux à la fois. Si l’histoire de la famille de Zhou Junsen, particulièrement celles de Sœur Shan, du père de Zhou et de la grand-mère, a pu émerger du silence et du silence imposé à des centaines de millions de personnes, c’est également parce que Zhou Junsen possédait la capacité de réaliser des films et bénéficiait du soutien de diverses ressources. À travers la maison et les voitures de la famille Zhou montrées dans le film, on peut voir qu’elle possède déjà une position sociale et des conditions économiques relativement favorables en Chine ; c’est cela qui a également permis à Zhou Junsen de devenir un étudiant brillant puis un réalisateur.

Les expériences de Sœur Shan, du père de Zhou et de la grand-mère constituent une représentation et un reflet des femmes chinoises, des personnes atteintes du sida, des personnes LGBTQ, des individus ayant grandi dans des familles malheureuses et d’autres groupes vulnérables ou marginalisés de la société. L’histoire de la famille de Zhou Junsen est une condensation de fragments de l’histoire nationale chinoise. Ce long documentaire Ballad of the Warm Grave présente un paysage humain composé à la fois de fleurs et d’épines, celui des joies et des souffrances d’une famille au sein d’une civilisation orientale différente de l’Occident ; il reflète également les portraits collectifs des groupes marginalisés en Chine et dans le monde. Le contenu filmé et présenté s’étend sur dix années entières et regorge de détails. Le plus grand avantage et la plus grande valeur de ce film résident dans son authenticité : il ne s’agit pas d’une fiction ou d’une mise en scène, mais d’un véritable témoignage. Pour parler franchement, ce film n’est pas particulièrement spectaculaire ni remarquable, mais sa minutie et sa sincérité compensent ses faiblesses et lui permettent de se situer parmi les œuvres cinématographiques d’un niveau supérieur à la moyenne.

Lors de la séance de questions en ligne après avoir regardé le film, j’ai dit au réalisateur Zhou que son œuvre reflétait précisément les vies et les destins communs de nombreuses femmes victimes de trafic humain, de minorités sexuelles et de personnes marquées par les traumatismes familiaux, alors qu’en Chine et dans le reste du monde existent encore de nombreuses personnes vivant des souffrances semblables mais privées de voix. Je lui ai demandé et exprimé l’espoir qu’à l’avenir il puisse représenter non seulement sa propre famille mais également davantage de personnes vulnérables parmi des inconnus. Cela fut aussi mon sentiment et mon attente principaux après avoir vu le film. Le réalisateur Zhou répondit qu’il souhaitait d’abord prendre soin de sa famille avant d’étendre ensuite son action au bien-être social, ce qui est également une réaction humaine tout à fait naturelle.

Personnellement, j’ai moi aussi vécu de nombreuses expériences particulières, notamment certaines épreuves et circonstances que la plupart des gens n’ont jamais connues, ce qui me rend particulièrement sensible aux marges de la société et aux côtés obscurs de la nature humaine. Je sais également qu’il existe dans ce monde beaucoup de personnes ayant connu des malheurs encore plus grands, possédant une expérience riche et des émotions complexes, mais qui restent inconnues et ont du mal à s’exprimer pour diverses raisons. Cela constitue une seconde blessure après la première : le traumatisme se solidifie dans le cœur, la souffrance se prolonge indéfiniment, et continue d’influencer les autres ainsi que de se transmettre entre générations sous diverses formes.

J’ai traversé des hauts et des bas extraordinaires dans ma vie, ressenti la complexité de la chaleur et de l’indifférence humaines, observé de nombreuses laideurs obscures de la nature humaine et des maux cachés dans la société. Je n’entretiens plus d’espoir quant à une véritable amélioration de l’humanité ou du monde, ni à une résolution fondamentale des problèmes structurels. Mais je conserve néanmoins certaines attentes positives de nature réformiste : même si les malheurs humains causés par des raisons complexes sont difficiles à éliminer, il faut malgré tout s’efforcer d’alléger les souffrances des gens et empêcher les marginalisés de porter seuls ce lourd fardeau physique et psychologique.

Voir est la condition préalable à la compréhension ; comprendre est la préparation nécessaire à toute tentative de résolution des problèmes ; la compassion et l’empathie sont des conditions indispensables à la communication et au respect. En permettant aux gens de voir les situations des individus ainsi que des groupes qu’ils reflètent, Ballad of the Warm Grave joue un rôle bénéfique et important dans la compréhension des traumatismes de personnes ayant différentes identités, dans un traitement plus bienveillant des groupes marginalisés et vulnérables, et dans la promotion d’une compréhension et d’une aide mutuelles plus larges entre les êtres humains.

Pour revenir au film lui-même et à ses personnages concrets, bien que Sœur Shan et le père de Zhou aient tous deux connu le malheur, ils continuent malgré tout à vivre avec résilience et optimisme ; de petites existences semblables à des roseaux possèdent pourtant une force vitale extraordinaire. Leur passé diversifié ainsi que les vies multiples de tous les membres de cette famille reflètent également la complexité de la nature humaine et de la société.

Chacun finira par disparaître comme la grand-mère de Zhou Junsen et les autres aînés, après avoir vécu une existence longue ou brève, heureuse ou malheureuse. Pourtant, leur existence et leur influence en tant qu’éléments de ce monde demeurent toujours parmi les hommes sous diverses formes.

(Cet article est écrit par Wang Qingmin (王庆民), écrivain chinois vivant en Europe.)

Le 13 avril, le Parlement français a adopté une résolution visant à simplifier les procédures de restitution des biens culturels acquis lors de l’expansion coloniale française aux XIXe et XXe siècles à travers le monde. Bien que la résolution vise principalement les objets pillés en Afrique, la France a également saisi de nombreux biens culturels chinois, notamment au Palais d’Été (Yuanmingyuan), lors de la Seconde guerre de l’Opium et de l’expédition des Huit Nations en 1900. En principe, ces objets relèvent également de cette résolution, ce qui favorise leur restitution à la Chine dans les meilleurs délais. Lors de l’adoption de la résolution, certains députés ont évoqué la vision de Victor Hugo selon laquelle la France devrait se transformer et restituer à la Chine les richesses acquises injustement.

La restitution par la France des biens culturels pillés constitue un acte juste de réflexion historique, de réparation envers les victimes et de justice transitionnelle dans une perspective de décolonisation. Le retour des biens culturels chinois devrait, en principe, être une bonne nouvelle digne d’être saluée et célébrée par l’État et le peuple chinois.

Cependant, de nombreuses voix discordantes sont apparues sur l’internet chinois, certaines allant même jusqu’à s’opposer à la restitution des biens culturels par la France. Sur des plateformes telles que Weibo et Xiaohongshu, on peut lire des commentaires comme : « Il vaut mieux les laisser à l’étranger, c’est plus sûr », « L’affaire du musée de Nanjing n’est pas encore résolue », « S’il y a une nouvelle Révolution culturelle, ils seront à nouveau détruits », ou encore « La France restitue des objets authentiques, mais en Chine ils deviennent des “faux” dans les musées ». Bien sûr, de nombreuses voix saluent également la résolution et soutiennent la restitution, mais les avis opposés représentent au moins 40 % ou plus.

Que des Chinois s’opposent à la restitution de biens culturels pillés peut sembler étrange à première vue, et beaucoup d’étrangers, y compris des Français, en sont perplexes. Mais un examen approfondi des raisons de ces objections révèle la complexité du problème, la rationalité sous-jacente à ces positions apparemment paradoxales, ainsi que les contradictions internes qu’elles mettent en lumière.

D’après l’opinion publique sur les plateformes en ligne et les reportages associés, les internautes chinois qui adoptent une attitude négative, voire opposée, à la restitution des biens culturels avancent principalement les arguments suivants :

Depuis 1949, les nombreuses campagnes politiques en République populaire de Chine, en particulier durant la Révolution culturelle, ont gravement endommagé le patrimoine culturel ; de nombreux objets précieux, y compris des livres anciens, des céramiques, des tombes et des bâtiments, ont été détruits ;

Les institutions de conservation du patrimoine en Chine sont entachées de corruption, avec des cas fréquents de revente illégale d’objets à des fins lucratives, comme le scandale révélé l’an dernier concernant la vente clandestine de peintures et calligraphies données au musée de Nanjing, ainsi que d’autres affaires impliquant des musées à travers le pays accusés de trafic ou de perte de biens culturels ;

La protection, la conservation et la gestion des biens culturels en Chine manquent de supervision et de transparence, tandis que le public dispose de peu de droit à l’information, et que ceux qui détiennent du pouvoir peuvent facilement en tirer des bénéfices personnels ;

Comparée aux destructions et à la corruption en Chine, la France a, de facto, mieux protégé ces objets, en empêchant leur détérioration et leur trafic ; il serait donc plus sûr de les laisser en France. Face à une administration chinoise perçue comme corrompue, certains Chinois accordent davantage de confiance aux Français, en tant qu’« étrangers », pour préserver ces biens.

Ces voix critiques reposent manifestement sur des faits et présentent une certaine rationalité. Sur la question des biens culturels, de nombreux Chinois n’adoptent pas simplement une position patriotique ou un soutien inconditionnel dicté par l’émotion nationale ; au contraire, beaucoup procèdent à une analyse rationnelle et pragmatique des avantages et des inconvénients pour la conservation des objets en cas de retour en Chine. Une partie des commentaires, plus émotionnels, ne relève pas d’un patriotisme fervent, mais exprime au contraire ironie et sarcasme à l’égard de la restitution, estimant que les objets seraient inévitablement revendus par les gestionnaires ou détruits à nouveau lors de futures campagnes politiques.

Cette attitude de l’opinion publique diffère sensiblement de celle des années 1990 aux années 2010. Par le passé, la majorité des Chinois nourrissait un fort sentiment patriotique. Malgré des divergences politiques, sur les questions d’intérêt national et de relations extérieures, la plupart se rangeaient du côté de la Chine.

Concernant plus précisément les biens culturels pillés par des puissances étrangères, le retour des têtes en bronze du zodiaque du Palais d’Été avait suscité un vif engouement au tournant du siècle, soutenu tant par les autorités que par la population. Lors du séisme de Wenchuan et des Jeux olympiques de Pékin, de nombreuses personnes ont contribué par leur travail, leurs dons et leurs efforts, reflétant un fort élan patriotique.

Cependant, au cours des cinq dernières années environ — depuis l’apparition de la pandémie de COVID-19 en Chine, la mise en œuvre de la politique de « zéro COVID » et les difficultés économiques et sociales qui en ont découlé — le paysage de l’opinion publique chinoise a connu une transformation profonde mais discrète. Le « patriotisme » n’est plus un sentiment spontané partagé par la majorité.

En dehors de ceux qui soutiennent le gouvernement au nom du patriotisme, la plupart des citoyens ne soutiennent plus activement l’État et ont perdu leur sentiment de fierté nationale. Par exemple, l’attention portée aux performances de la Chine aux Jeux olympiques a diminué ; l’intérêt pour les missions spatiales Shenzhou s’est affaibli ; et les réactions aux récentes tensions sino-japonaises ont été relativement indifférentes. Tout cela reflète une indifférence croissante à l’égard des affaires nationales, comme si les individus se comportaient en simples spectateurs.

Beaucoup de Chinois tournent également le « patriotisme » en dérision, avec ironie ou un ton insinuant. Par exemple, ceux qui brandissent le drapeau national ou célèbrent la fête nationale sont moqués comme faisant partie de la « base loyale » ou comme des « ressources jetables ». Ceux qui commémorent la victoire de la guerre de résistance contre le Japon dans l’espace public ou sur les réseaux sociaux sont accusés d’être « endoctrinés » ou produits d’une « éducation de la haine ». Refusant ce qu’ils perçoivent comme une pression patriotique, certains adoptent même des positions opposées à celles de l’État : soutenir ce que l’État rejette et rejeter ce qu’il soutient est considéré par certains comme un signe de lucidité, de rationalité et de civilisation.

Cette déconstruction complète du patriotisme — consistant à s’opposer systématiquement à tout ce qui est soutenu par l’État et à tourner en dérision les expressions patriotiques — constitue en réalité le miroir du patriotisme aveugle qui s’aligne sans discernement sur la position officielle. Ce phénomène peut être qualifié de sentiment anti-patriotique.

L’analyse des racines de ce sentiment anti-patriotique montre qu’il résulte des nombreux dysfonctionnements de la société chinoise, de l’intensification des contradictions sociales et d’un désarroi psychologique généralisé. Comparée à la dynamique globalement ascendante des années 1980 à 2010, la Chine actuelle fait face à des blocages de développement, à l’impact de la pandémie et à un arrêt des réformes. Les conditions de vie se sont durcies, et les perspectives sont passées de l’espoir à la déception, voire au désespoir.

Par ailleurs, la Chine connaît depuis longtemps un décalage entre les intérêts de l’État et ceux de la population — un « État riche, peuple pauvre » et un « État fort, peuple faible ». Depuis le milieu des années 2010, alors même que l’État s’est renforcé, certains droits civiques ont, dans une certaine mesure, reculé. Les dirigeants et la population, ainsi que les élites institutionnelles et les citoyens ordinaires, sont en partie séparés, voire opposés, plutôt que liés par une relation de confiance. Les contradictions sociales l’emportent sur la coopération, et les conflits sur l’harmonie.

Par ailleurs, le « patriotisme » promu officiellement tend à lier l’amour de la patrie à l’amour du Parti et du gouvernement, exigeant loyauté, obéissance et sacrifice indépendamment de la justesse des politiques. Les citoyens sont tenus d’assumer de nombreuses obligations sans se voir accorder des droits et libertés suffisants. Ce patriotisme officiel inclut souvent des éléments d’anti-occidentalisme et de rejet des valeurs universelles.

Ceux qui critiquent les politiques officielles, prônent l’apprentissage auprès de l’étranger ou expriment simplement des opinions divergentes sont souvent qualifiés de « traîtres », de « vendus », de « laquais du colonialisme » ou encore d’« agents étrangers ». Cela suscite chez de nombreux opposants au pouvoir ou mécontents du statu quo une réaction de rejet et d’aversion envers le patriotisme, les poussant vers l’extrême opposé.

Par ailleurs, le manque de démocratie politique et de liberté d’expression en Chine limite l’expression publique, accentuant la frustration et le découragement. La critique directe du gouvernement et des autorités peut également entraîner des risques.

Dans ce contexte, de nombreuses personnes se tournent vers une forme de sentiment anti-patriotique relativement moins risquée, consistant à s’opposer aux discours officiels, à déconstruire les récits dominants et à « aller à contre-courant » de la ligne officielle sur certaines questions, afin d’exprimer leur mécontentement et leur attitude critique vis-à-vis du système.

Si cela contribue à affaiblir l’autorité officielle et à résister à certaines formes d’endoctrinement, cela nuit également aux sentiments nationaux légitimes et au patriotisme nécessaire, en dévalorisant indistinctement des actions pourtant raisonnables et bénéfiques pour le pays et sa population.

Alors que le ralentissement économique en Chine se poursuit, avec une hausse du chômage, une rigidification sociale croissante et la persistance de nombreux dysfonctionnements, le sentiment anti-patriotique se diffuse plus largement dans le pays, et de plus en plus de personnes rejoignent ceux qui s’opposent au « patriotisme ».

Les réactions de sarcasme ou d’indifférence face à la restitution des biens culturels, à la commémoration de la guerre ou aux activités diplomatiques de la Chine constituent précisément des manifestations de ce sentiment anti-patriotique. De telles expressions sont, dans une certaine mesure, tolérées par les autorités, car elles ne visent pas directement le parti au pouvoir ni le gouvernement et ne menacent donc pas la stabilité du régime.

Le sentiment anti-patriotique / anti-nationaliste, tout comme le patriotisme ou le nationalisme extrêmes, ignore les faits concrets, est guidé par l’émotion, refuse l’analyse au cas par cas et adopte des positions polarisées. Au final, ces deux tendances nuisent aux intérêts nationaux de la Chine. Leur confrontation intense dans l’espace public aggrave les divisions sociales, brouille les critères de jugement entre le vrai et le faux, détériore la qualité du débat public et produit des effets négatifs importants sur la réalité. La montée d’une vague de sentiment anti-patriotique est le résultat des difficultés économiques et de l’intensification des contradictions sociales. La confusion des valeurs et la crise d’identité parmi les Chinois aggravent encore ce phénomène.

La controverse suscitée par cette restitution constitue une nouvelle manifestation de ce sentiment anti-patriotique en Chine. Le retour des biens culturels pillés à leur pays d’origine devrait, en principe, être un fait incontestablement positif, mais en Chine il suscite une forte opposition. Cela appelle à la vigilance et à la réflexion, afin d’analyser ce qui ne fonctionne pas dans le pays.

Comme l’a dit Mencius : « Si le souverain traite ses sujets comme de la poussière, les sujets le considéreront comme un ennemi. » Sun Yat-sen critiquait la fin de la dynastie Qing en affirmant que « l’État ignore le peuple, et le peuple ignore l’État ». Selon le principe moderne d’unité entre droits et devoirs, lorsque les dirigeants ne prennent pas soin du peuple et ne garantissent pas suffisamment ses droits et ses conditions de vie — lorsque les citoyens assument de nombreuses obligations mais disposent de peu de droits, et contribuent beaucoup à l’État tout en en tirant peu de bénéfices — ils développent un ressentiment envers l’État et le gouvernement, rendant le patriotisme difficile.

On dit aussi que « lorsque le sommet est corrompu, la base le devient également ». Lorsque de hauts responsables sont corrompus et que leurs familles émigrent à l’étranger, alors même qu’ils prêchent le « patriotisme » et dénoncent l’admiration pour l’étranger, leurs discours peinent naturellement à convaincre. L’érosion du sentiment patriotique chez les Chinois est précisément le résultat de ces réalités : un État qui néglige sa population, une instrumentalisation du patriotisme et une puissance nationale qui contraste avec la souffrance du peuple.

En résumé, les problèmes internes de la société chinoise, l’insuffisance des droits civiques et des garanties sociales, ainsi que la fracture entre les autorités et la population, affaiblissent gravement l’unité et la cohésion nationales, ce qui nuit au développement du pays et à sa compétitivité internationale.

Pour inverser cette situation, les dirigeants doivent d’abord améliorer les droits civiques et les conditions de vie, accorder de véritables droits démocratiques et garantir un niveau de vie décent. Ce n’est qu’ainsi que les citoyens développeront un sentiment d’appartenance et d’identification à la nation. Une plus grande liberté d’expression et des canaux d’expression normaux sont également nécessaires, afin de permettre aux citoyens d’exprimer leurs émotions et leurs revendications, plutôt que de laisser s’accumuler la frustration sous la contrainte, ce qui engendre conflits et fragmentation interne.

La population doit également comprendre que, si la critique du parti au pouvoir et du gouvernement est légitime, elle ne doit pas conduire à abandonner le patriotisme. La nation demeure une communauté essentielle dans le monde contemporain. Le mécontentement envers les dirigeants ne doit pas se traduire par la déconstruction et l’atteinte aux intérêts nationaux et à la dignité collective, sous peine de nuire également à soi-même. Le patriotisme et la défense des droits individuels légitimes doivent aller dans le même sens, et non s’opposer.

Cependant, dans la Chine actuelle, aucun signe clair de réforme n’est visible, et la population manque d’espoir. Avec le ralentissement économique et la rigidification sociale, les contradictions continuent de s’intensifier, et les conflits entre individus deviennent de plus en plus marqués. Dans ces conditions, à la fois le patriotisme déformé consistant à soutenir tout ce que l’État approuve, et le sentiment anti-patriotique — voire une forme de « haine du pays » — consistant à s’y opposer systématiquement, continueront de se diffuser en Chine, perturbant durablement l’opinion publique et la réalité sociale.

(L’auteur de cet article, Wang Qingmin(王庆民), est un écrivain chinois résidant en Europe et chercheur en politique internationale. Le texte original de cet article est en chinois.)

May 16, 2026 marked the 60th anniversary of China’s Cultural Revolution(文革）. On this day in 1966, the Political Bureau of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China issued the “May 16 Notification” (五一六通知) nationwide, and Mao Zedong (毛泽东) announced the launch of the “Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution” (无产阶级文化大革命). During the following ten years, violent political campaigns and armed factional struggles broke out across China. Millions died unnatural deaths, even more people suffered public denunciation and persecution, large amounts of cultural relics were destroyed, schools were closed, production stagnated, and social order fell into chaos. It was not until 1976, when Mao Zedong died and the “Gang of Four” (四人帮) was arrested, that the Cultural Revolution came to an end.

After Reform and Opening Up, the authorities officially defined the Cultural Revolution as a “serious mistake,” rehabilitated many victims of the Cultural Revolution, and implemented policies to rectify past mistakes and restore order. Subsequent generations of Communist Party leadership continued this official assessment. However, regarding the detailed history of the Cultural Revolution — such as its causes, process, and specific victims — the authorities maintained a long-term low-profile approach, with little reflection or commemoration, disproportionate to the event’s significance and enormous impact.

Especially during the past decade, the authorities have almost entirely avoided mentioning the Cultural Revolution and have also suppressed civil commemorations of it. For example, in 2016, the only Cultural Revolution museum in China, located in Shantou, was closed. On the occasion of the 60th anniversary of the Cultural Revolution, official Chinese public opinion channels and major domestic media carried no related reports, reflection, or commemoration.

Among the public, however, there are two sharply contrasting attitudes toward the Cultural Revolution. One, represented by liberal intellectuals, views the Cultural Revolution as an extremely disastrous national catastrophe, blaming it and its initiators for causing immense suffering and severe damage to many individuals and to the entire nation and society. They also connect many contemporary social problems with the Cultural Revolution and warn against another “Cultural Revolution” occurring. People within the system and vested-interest groups likewise do not wish to see the Cultural Revolution reappear, lest their own privileged status and interests suffer.

Another perspective comes from the far-left supporters and worshippers of Mao Zedong (Maoists), as well as some other frustrated and strongly dissatisfied individuals. Such people often praise the Cultural Revolution, regarding it as a means to oppose bureaucrats, overthrow bad people, and realize “mass democracy.” These people are also dissatisfied with today’s reality. Rather than placing their hopes on achieving democracy and improving the rule of law, they instead hope for another “Cultural Revolution” to “sweep away all ‘monsters and demons’” (a political label for enemies).

In addition, some foreign leftists also hold romanticized fantasies about the Cultural Revolution, believing that it was a great revolution against oppression and for liberation. This is far removed from historical reality. On the contrary, the Cultural Revolution intensified the persecution of vulnerable groups, strengthened the constraints imposed on the oppressed, and did not eliminate privilege. Some foreigners who visited China at the time, such as Italian director Antonio Antonioni (安东尼奥尼), witnessed aspects of its darker reality. Yet even today, some foreigners still do not understand the true nature of the Cultural Revolution.

The authorities’ low-profile approach toward the Cultural Revolution, the mixed praise and criticism among the public, and differing views held by different people all arise from their respective positions, perceptions, and purposes. They also reflect today’s social contradictions and China’s complex reality.

Simply put, the ruling Communist Party of China cares deeply about maintaining political legitimacy and institutional continuity as well as current social stability. It wishes both to defend Reform and Opening Up and to avoid excessively emphasizing the errors and tragedies of the Mao era, thereby preventing further dissatisfaction and instability. Intellectual elites and liberals, especially Cultural Revolution victims and their descendants, strongly detest the Cultural Revolution because of traumatic experiences and value systems.

Some marginalized people at the bottom of society, however, envy the Cultural Revolution’s destruction of existing order and hope for another political movement through which they could “rebel” and rise up and overturn their status. Many ordinary people also know little about the Cultural Revolution or remain indifferent, and may be influenced by the above narratives,
developing only a partial understanding and wavering attitudes.

First of all, the Cultural Revolution was indeed a disaster. At that time, China was engulfed in political violence and turmoil. Law and order disappeared, many innocent people were publicly denounced and imprisoned, and large numbers of innocent people were killed or driven to suicide. This included former Nationalist Party members, intellectuals, industrialists and merchants, those labeled as “landlords, rich peasants, counterrevolutionaries, bad elements, and rightists,” Communist Party cadres, and ordinary people from all walks of life. Among those persecuted to death were Communist Party leaders Liu Shaoqi (刘少奇) and Peng Dehuai (彭德怀), former Nationalist generals who had surrendered such as Huang Shaohong (黄绍竑) and Chen Changjie (陈长捷), scholars Chen Yinke (陈寅恪) and Lao She (老舍), and scientists Yao Tongbin (姚桐斌) and Zhao Jiuzhang (赵九章).

Under the turmoil and the principle of “taking class struggle as the key link” during the Cultural Revolution, national economic and technological development was also severely disrupted, causing China to fall behind most countries in the world. At that time, China’s per capita GDP was not only far lower than that of Europe, the United States, Japan, and the Soviet Union, but was also below that of most developing countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Most people, especially peasants, lived in extreme poverty, and even basic food and clothing needs remained unresolved. Informing and reporting on others were encouraged during the Cultural Revolution, with relatives and friends reporting one another and everyone living in fear. Anti-intellectualism, personality cults, and extremism also flourished, leaving deep scars on people, casting shadows over society, and continuing to cause harm today.

If the causes and consequences of the Cultural Revolution disaster cannot be honestly confronted, discussed, and reflected upon, it would not only fail those who suffered at the time, but would also plant the seeds for the tragedy of the Cultural Revolution to reappear in various forms. For example, several years ago during COVID-19, various extreme “Zero-COVID(清零)” measures caused livelihood crises — especially restrictions on travel, shopping, and medical treatment, nucleic-acid testing for goods, and large-scale compulsory quarantine. Such epidemic-control measures, which violated scientific principles and infringed upon citizens’ rights, bear similarities in both motivation and consequences to the anti-intellectual policies under the principle of “politics in command” during the Cultural Revolution.

Another tragedy of the Cultural Revolution lay in personality cults and a system where one voice dominates all decisions, the absence of democracy and the rule of law, and the inability to constrain power. The accumulation of social problems and the difficulty of protecting civil rights in today’s China are similarly related to insufficient democracy and rule of law.

At the same time, those who praise the Cultural Revolution and even hope for its return should also be understood with sympathy. This too is a necessary requirement for honestly confronting history and reality. The causes of the Cultural Revolution were complex. It was not simply the result of Mao Zedong’s temporary impulse, but was also related to severe social contradictions, rigid bureaucratic systems, and estrangement and conflict between elites and the masses.

According to the views of Peking University scholar Qian Liqun (钱理群) and others, antagonism between officials and the public before the Cultural Revolution was already very serious. The masses were dissatisfied with the Party and government, and society resembled a pressure cooker. Mao’s issuance of the “May 16 Notification” merely lit the fuse that ignited these contradictions.

China in recent years has become politically rigid and conservative, with widening wealth gaps and increasing social stratification, while vested-interest groups monopolize resources. At the same time, reform has stagnated and public discourse has tightened. Coupled with economic decline, social contradictions have intensified significantly. Many lower- and middle-class people, educated but unemployed individuals, and marginalized groups live in poverty, see no hope, and lack proper channels for expression. Driven by resentment and their limited understanding of the Cultural Revolution, they long for another violent political movement that would overthrow those they hate and enable themselves to become masters of their own fate.

For example, many university students and young teachers resent the monopolization of resources and exploitation by academic oligarchs and hope to use methods like the “copper-buckled belt” (铜头皮带), a tool used for beating people during the Cultural Revolution, to publicly denounce teachers and academic oligarchs;

Workers exploited by sweatshops hope to overthrow capitalists and redistribute wealth equally;

Citizens who believe they have suffered unjust imprisonment, facing the power and indifference of Party and government institutions — especially the police, procuratorate, and courts — find considerable resonance in the Cultural Revolution slogan “Smash the Public Security, Procuratorate, and Courts” (砸烂公检法);

The poor struggling at the bottom of society wish to smash the existing order and vent their frustrations like the “rebel factions” (造反派) during the Cultural Revolution…

Such psychological paths and motivations can be understood and sympathized with. However, whether viewed from the perspective of society as a whole or most individuals, political movements like the Cultural Revolution are disastrous. To some extent, they did attack certain problems in ordinary society and damage some bad actors, but they simultaneously brought even greater consequences. Under social disorder, human-rights violations became more widespread and severe, and many innocent people lost their families and lives. The Cultural Revolution also destroyed trust between people and damaged social morality, worsening interpersonal relationships and social conditions. Even political opportunists who benefited temporarily often ended up suffering consequences themselves.

Nor was the Cultural Revolution truly equal. Cadres, workers, and rebel factions possessed privileges, whereas peasants and those categorized among the “Five Black Categories” (黑五类) were treated as social inferiors in both status and rights.

Although the early-stage “rebellion” of the Cultural Revolution did indeed challenge privileged cadres, its targets gradually shifted toward vulnerable groups such as the “Five Black Categories” while radical rebels and anti-privilege activists among the masses were also suppressed. Those who openly opposed Mao Zedong and criticized the Communist Party, such as Lin Zhao (林昭), Zhang Zhixin (张志新), Yu Luoke (遇罗克), and Huang Lizhong (黄立众), faced severe repression and were executed. Meanwhile, some senior Communist Party leaders were overthrown primarily due to the needs of power struggles rather than anti-privilege objectives, and this did not fundamentally change the unfair and unjust ruling system or social structure.

However, some disillusioned Chinese people embrace a mentality resembling, “If these days must perish, let you and me perish together,” seeking mutual destruction. Even knowing that the Cultural Revolution was destructive, they still attempt to overthrow the current order through radical means and vent dissatisfaction.
The rise of global populism in recent years has likewise been driven by public dissatisfaction with existing systems and hatred toward elite vested interests. The Cultural Revolution itself was also China’s manifestation of the global wave of left-wing populism several decades ago.

Although today’s China appears relatively calm on the streets under strict political control, it cannot remain untouched amid rising global populism and has accumulated even greater dissatisfaction and hidden dangers. Frequently occurring incidents involving class, ethnicity, gender, and other tensions are manifestations of populism bubbling beneath a political pressure cooker. Frequent tragedies involving indiscriminate attacks causing casualties, along with large amounts of extreme online rhetoric praising the Cultural Revolution and fascism, are also signs of worsening social contradictions and warnings of national crisis.

Most people do not understand the full picture of the Cultural Revolution and its historical background. Instead, they often possess selective understandings resembling the blind men and the elephant phenomenon, projecting their own circumstances and intentions onto the era of the Cultural Revolution, and then using people and events from that period to reflect and influence today’s realities.

Therefore, many people’s views of the Cultural Revolution are one-sided. Official suppression of commemoration and reflection prevents a more complex and realistic picture of the Cultural Revolution from being shown. Its cruelty has not been sufficiently exposed, resulting in even greater misunderstanding and distortion. Whether people praise or oppose the Cultural Revolution, they ultimately struggle to truly learn lessons from it and prevent the return of tragedy.

Therefore, whether regarding the history of the Cultural Revolution or China’s realities today, one cannot avoid them through a self-deceptive approach of “covering one’s ears while stealing a bell,” but instead must confront and sincerely understand their origins and development. Those in power and those at higher levels should also listen to the people’s demands and understand public difficulties, rather than remaining arrogant and indifferent or simply blaming the public’s ignorance and enemy manipulation.

Only by reforming institutions and distribution systems, promoting democracy and the rule of law, relaxing controls on public discourse, and allowing controversies to be openly debated can social contradictions be alleviated, harmony increased, and hostility reduced. Building an inclusive order, maintaining social fairness and justice, and eliminating motivations for social destruction are the fundamental ways to prevent another Cultural Revolution from reoccurring.

(The author of this article is Wang Qingmin(王庆民）, a Chinese writer living in Europe and a researcher of international politics.)

At the Chinese Film Festival in Hamburg(汉堡华语电影节) in May 2026, I watched director Zhou Junsen (周俊森)’s feature film Ballad of the Warm Grave (东方花园)and briefly interacted with Director Zhou through an online Q&A session.

As a feature-length documentary, this film tells the story of a family and its members while also reflecting broader social groups (trafficked women, LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, people with unhappy family backgrounds, etc.) and related social realities. As someone long interested in realist cinema and documentaries, I decided to write a review and commentary introducing and discussing the film.

What this documentary records is precisely the story of director Zhou Junsen’s family across several generations and among relatives and siblings, with filming spanning an entire decade. The first part of the film tells the story and memories surrounding Zhou Junsen’s cousin, “Sister Shan” (Shan Jie, 李珊), who was trafficked as a child.

When speaking of “human trafficking” or “the trafficking of women and children,” people today have all heard of such things. Yet those living in developed regions with secure and comfortable lives rarely have family members who were victims of trafficking, and it is even harder to imagine a loved one being abducted by traffickers, raped, and forced to bear children. But Zhou Junsen’s cousin endured precisely such a tragic experience.

Zhou Junsen also visited the three children his sister gave birth to while still living in the household of the man who had purchased her, and he spoke with—and clashed with—the man who had bought and raped his sister. This itself was astonishing, an extraordinary experience that very few directors have ever encountered.

What may surprise those unfamiliar with the trafficking of women in China—but is entirely expected for those who know the situation—is that the man who bought and sexually assaulted a woman, the purchaser in the trafficking chain—in the film, the man surnamed Sun from Shanxi whom Li Shan had been sold to—received no legal punishment. His mother even claimed that Li Shan had been trafficked because she carelessly encountered bad people.

Sun also believed he had done nothing wrong by purchasing a woman. Instead, he accused Li Shan of abandoning him and the three children she had borne, saying this struck him like a “small death.” He was also deeply hostile toward Zhou Junsen, Li Shan’s younger cousin who came to visit the children. According to Zhou Junsen in interviews outside the film, Sun and his relatives even physically assaulted Zhou Junsen and his friends at the time.

This is the reality of many trafficking cases involving women. For a long time, China’s anti-human trafficking efforts focused mainly on punishing traffickers (the sellers) while rarely dealing with those who purchased women (the buyers). To a large extent, this served the needs of maintaining social stability. Those who purchased women were often villagers in impoverished regions who spent their savings to buy women to satisfy sexual needs and continue family bloodlines.

Such villages often possess powerful clan structures, and many villagers had themselves bought women and protected one another. Not only was it difficult for women to escape—and they would often be caught and brutally beaten if they tried—but police and relatives attempting rescues also frequently encountered resistance. Even Zhou Junsen, years later and approaching with goodwill, was temporarily confined and beaten. Local governments and public security authorities, already concerned about instability, often pretended not to know about trafficking crimes in these villages and allowed villagers to purchase women and force them into childbirth through rape.

Like many women, Li Shan only managed to escape years after having children, by chance. Many other women never escaped after being trafficked, or desperately attempted to flee only to be recaptured and beaten, eventually resigning themselves to their fate. Others remained for the sake of their children.

After returning to Sichuan, Li Shan moved from place to place doing labor work and experienced many hardships. She built a family and gave birth to another child whose nickname happened to be “Chuanchuan,” the same as one of the children she had left behind in Shanxi. Clearly, she missed her child deeply. Yet she could not return and dared not return. Her fear and trauma toward Shanxi never disappeared. Her abuser had never been punished and even wanted to find her and force her to continue being his “wife”; he had also beaten her younger cousin. Li Shan and “Chuanchuan” had no choice but to endure a prolonged separation between mother and son, unable to reunite.

Li Shan was fortunate. Even though life remained difficult after returning to Sichuan and she still struggled to survive, she had at least escaped a dark and hopeless existence and regained freedom and dignity. The freedom and dignity that ordinary people take for granted had been stolen from Li Shan for more than a decade. Many trafficked women lose years, decades, or even the entirety of their lives after being trafficked.

The reason “Sister Shan” could appear in this film and have her story seen by the world was because she had a university-student cousin and a family member capable of making films. Otherwise, her story would likely have remained unknown like those of countless other trafficked women, and her suffering would have disappeared into the chaotic currents of human existence. How many tragedies unfold in darkness? How many tears flow together with rainwater and sewage into drains and disappear into the soil?

Another social outsider brought into public awareness through Zhou Junsen’s film is Zhou’s own father. Zhou’s father is bisexual; he maintained a conventional marriage and had Zhou Junsen with his wife while also maintaining relationships with male lovers. Zhou Junsen even witnessed hidden encounters between his father and one of his teachers when he was young.

Unfortunately, Zhou’s father later contracted AIDS and also lost the ability to maintain sexual relations with his wife. While exploring his father’s life story, Zhou Junsen also learned that his father had not been favored by his own father—Zhou Junsen’s grandfather—and that the unhappiness of his original family background had influenced both his later life and sexual orientation.

The high HIV/AIDS rate among gay men has also long been a problem. Many people use this fact to discriminate against homosexuals, especially gay men. Yet in reality, it is because homosexual individuals have been discriminated against and marginalized, lacking legal protections and dignity. They cannot enjoy relationships as openly and freely as heterosexuals often can and are frequently forced into underground forms of existence. Socializing in secrecy and lacking adequate prevention and timely treatment for sexually transmitted diseases increases the likelihood of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Encouragingly, however, the film suggests that hospitals and society today have improved greatly compared with earlier eras characterized by panic surrounding AIDS and hostility toward homosexuality. Particularly in Sichuan, a place relatively open toward LGBTQ communities, people appear to demonstrate a comparatively high degree of tolerance toward sexual minorities.

Yet Zhou’s father, who emotionally leaned more toward men and could no longer maintain intimacy with his wife after contracting AIDS, still had to confront many of the family conflicts and personal sufferings common among LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients. Zhou’s parents did not become enemies, and feelings still remained between them, but they were clearly not particularly happy either. They merely managed to maintain the relationship, especially for the sake of their son’s future and preserving relative harmony within the family. Between Zhou’s father and mother there was both love and resentment—a reflection of many marriages and family relationships.

Zhou’s father’s life is likewise representative of many people and specific identity groups in the world. LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, and people raised in unhappy family environments—multiple vulnerable identities intersect in his story. Yet Zhou’s father still came from a middle-class family and did not descend into society’s lowest levels because of these identities and circumstances. He could still maintain a decent life.

Many other marginalized people live lives far more tragic than Zhou’s father. Many AIDS patients, for example, are rejected by their own families and even separated during meals, discriminated against by society, and unable to find good jobs. Those from unhappy family backgrounds are also more vulnerable to ridicule and bullying by classmates and coworkers, suffer worse psychological conditions than ordinary people, and spend the remainder of their lives enduring humiliation and sorrow.

Likewise, it was precisely because Zhou Junsen became a university student and possessed the ability to create documentaries that his father’s story could reach a wider audience and be known, sympathized with, and respected. After the film was screened and won awards, Zhou’s father even walked the red carpet alongside his son and received the blessings of many people. This is a once-in-a-million kind of fortune, something most LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients could never achieve in an entire lifetime. Yet Zhou’s father’s suffering should not be erased or ignored because of these fortunate circumstances. Many of the pains in his life were undeniably real and concrete facts.

The unhappiness in Zhou’s father’s family could itself be traced back to grievances from an even earlier generation. Zhou’s grandmother was named Yi Junmei (易君梅), an elegant name. Yet she could write only her own name and was otherwise illiterate. Grandmother was kind and resilient, and before her death she served as the shared matriarch of this large family. She experienced a journey from love to divorce with the son of the man who had killed her father, carrying many pains buried deep in her heart.

After remarrying, her new husband—Zhou’s father’s father, that grandfather, Grandmother’s second husband—brought much unspeakable pain to both Grandmother and Zhou’s father. Pain does not disappear simply because it is suppressed; it always affects the person enduring it and spreads its effects onto others in various ways.

This, too, is a shared life experience and destiny for many people in the world, especially many Chinese people. Violence from wars and revolutions, experiences of poverty and famine, and sufferings during turbulent eras all inflict damage upon families and leave people with traumatic memories.

Chinese people in the twentieth century experienced the Japanese invasion of China and the War of Resistance, warlord conflicts and the Chinese Civil War, as well as numerous political movements. Most Chinese people could not escape these cruel disasters. Tens of millions perished, while survivors endured lasting trauma. Even after the Reform and Opening period, there remained many tragedies. More recently, COVID and the “Zero-COVID” policies caused restrictions on freedom and severe livelihood difficulties for many people.

Macro-level tragedies create countless micro-level sufferings. The shared misfortune of hundreds of millions becomes the physical and psychological wounds of individuals. Yet just as bacteria are everywhere but invisible without a microscope, if one does not carefully observe, understand, and uncover them, the stories and emotions scattered throughout China and the wider world remain unknown. The suffering of these lives disappears amid trivial daily chaos and vanishes into the vast current of history.

In the real world, the lives and destinies of the overwhelming majority of people—especially the experiences and emotions of the vulnerable, victims, and marginalized—are indeed submerged and erased. Some disappear because of suppression by perpetrators and vested interests; others because the weak lack the power or platform to speak; and many involve both factors at once.

The story of Zhou Junsen’s family—especially the stories of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother—could emerge from the silence and enforced silence of hundreds of millions for the same reason: Zhou Junsen possessed the ability to make films and received support and resources from many sides. From the house and cars shown in the film, one can see that their family already possessed fairly good social status and economic conditions by Chinese standards, which made it possible to support Zhou Junsen in becoming an outstanding student and a film director.

The experiences of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother serve as representations and reflections of socially vulnerable and marginalized groups in China: women, AIDS patients, LGBTQ individuals, people from unhappy family backgrounds, and others. The story of Zhou Junsen’s family is a condensed silhouette of Chinese national history. This feature-length documentary, \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\*, presents a human landscape garden of one family’s joys and sorrows within an Eastern civilization—different from the West—filled with both flowers and thorns. It also reflects a collective portrait of marginalized groups in China and throughout the world.

The material filmed and presented spans an entire decade and contains abundant detail. The greatest strength and value of this film lies in its authenticity—it is not fictional dramatization but genuine documentation. To speak frankly, this film is not exceptionally dazzling or extraordinary, but its attentiveness and sincerity compensate for its shortcomings and place it among the upper-middle ranks of cinematic works.

During the online Q&A session after viewing the film, I told Director Zhou that his work reflected the lives and destinies shared by many trafficked women, sexual minorities, and people carrying trauma from unhappy family backgrounds. At the same time, there are many others in China and around the world suffering similar misfortunes while remaining voiceless. I asked him—and expressed my hope—that in the future he might not only speak for his own family but also for more vulnerable people and strangers. This was my strongest impression and hope after watching the film. Director Zhou replied that he hoped first to take care of his family and then gradually extend his efforts to broader public welfare. This too is reasonable and entirely human.

I myself have experienced many unusual events, especially circumstances and sufferings unfamiliar to most people, and so I have become particularly sensitive to and concerned with society’s margins and humanity’s darker sides. I also know deeply that there are many people in this world who have endured even greater misfortunes and possess rich experiences and complex emotions, yet remain unknown and unable to express themselves for various reasons. This becomes a second injury after the initial wound: trauma hardens in the heart, suffering continues permanently, and its effects spread to others and even across generations.

I have undergone extraordinary rises and falls in life, experienced the complexities of human warmth and indifference, and witnessed many obscure uglinesses of human nature and hidden evils within society. I no longer hold expectations that humanity or the world will truly “get better,” or that structural problems can fundamentally be resolved. Yet I still retain a degree of reformist hope: even if much human suffering caused by complex factors cannot be eliminated, efforts should still be made to reduce people’s suffering and ensure that marginalized individuals no longer bear such heavy psychological and physical burdens alone.

To see is the prerequisite for understanding; understanding is preparation for attempting solutions; compassion and empathy are necessary conditions for communication and respect. By allowing people to see individuals and the groups reflected through them, \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\* plays a valuable and important role in helping people understand the traumas experienced by those with various identities, encouraging kinder treatment of marginalized and vulnerable groups, and promoting broader mutual understanding and mutual assistance among humanity.

Returning to the film itself and its specific individuals, although Sister Shan and Zhou’s father both encountered misfortune, they continued living with resilience and optimism. Like reeds—small and fragile figures—they nevertheless possessed powerful vitality. Their diverse experiences and the multifaceted lives of the entire family also reflect the complexity of both human nature and society.

In the end, everyone will eventually pass away like Zhou Junsen’s grandmother and the older generation, after living lives that may be long or short, happy or unhappy. Yet their existence and influence as part of this world always remain among humanity in one form or another.

(This article was written by Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe.)

At the Chinese Film Festival in Hamburg(汉堡华语电影节) in May 2026, I watched director Zhou Junsen (周俊森)’s feature film Ballad of the Warm Grave (东方花园)and briefly interacted with Director Zhou through an online Q&A session.

As a feature-length documentary, this film tells the story of a family and its members while also reflecting broader social groups (trafficked women, LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, people with unhappy family backgrounds, etc.) and related social realities. As someone long interested in realist cinema and documentaries, I decided to write a review and commentary introducing and discussing the film.

What this documentary records is precisely the story of director Zhou Junsen’s family across several generations and among relatives and siblings, with filming spanning an entire decade. The first part of the film tells the story and memories surrounding Zhou Junsen’s cousin, “Sister Shan” (Shan Jie, 李珊), who was trafficked as a child.

When speaking of “human trafficking” or “the trafficking of women and children,” people today have all heard of such things. Yet those living in developed regions with secure and comfortable lives rarely have family members who were victims of trafficking, and it is even harder to imagine a loved one being abducted by traffickers, raped, and forced to bear children. But Zhou Junsen’s cousin endured precisely such a tragic experience.

Zhou Junsen also visited the three children his sister gave birth to while still living in the household of the man who had purchased her, and he spoke with—and clashed with—the man who had bought and raped his sister. This itself was astonishing, an extraordinary experience that very few directors have ever encountered.

What may surprise those unfamiliar with the trafficking of women in China—but is entirely expected for those who know the situation—is that the man who bought and sexually assaulted a woman, the purchaser in the trafficking chain—in the film, the man surnamed Sun from Shanxi whom Li Shan had been sold to—received no legal punishment. His mother even claimed that Li Shan had been trafficked because she carelessly encountered bad people.

Sun also believed he had done nothing wrong by purchasing a woman. Instead, he accused Li Shan of abandoning him and the three children she had borne, saying this struck him like a “small death.” He was also deeply hostile toward Zhou Junsen, Li Shan’s younger cousin who came to visit the children. According to Zhou Junsen in interviews outside the film, Sun and his relatives even physically assaulted Zhou Junsen and his friends at the time.

This is the reality of many trafficking cases involving women. For a long time, China’s anti-human trafficking efforts focused mainly on punishing traffickers (the sellers) while rarely dealing with those who purchased women (the buyers). To a large extent, this served the needs of maintaining social stability. Those who purchased women were often villagers in impoverished regions who spent their savings to buy women to satisfy sexual needs and continue family bloodlines.

Such villages often possess powerful clan structures, and many villagers had themselves bought women and protected one another. Not only was it difficult for women to escape—and they would often be caught and brutally beaten if they tried—but police and relatives attempting rescues also frequently encountered resistance. Even Zhou Junsen, years later and approaching with goodwill, was temporarily confined and beaten. Local governments and public security authorities, already concerned about instability, often pretended not to know about trafficking crimes in these villages and allowed villagers to purchase women and force them into childbirth through rape.

Like many women, Li Shan only managed to escape years after having children, by chance. Many other women never escaped after being trafficked, or desperately attempted to flee only to be recaptured and beaten, eventually resigning themselves to their fate. Others remained for the sake of their children.

After returning to Sichuan, Li Shan moved from place to place doing labor work and experienced many hardships. She built a family and gave birth to another child whose nickname happened to be “Chuanchuan,” the same as one of the children she had left behind in Shanxi. Clearly, she missed her child deeply. Yet she could not return and dared not return. Her fear and trauma toward Shanxi never disappeared. Her abuser had never been punished and even wanted to find her and force her to continue being his “wife”; he had also beaten her younger cousin. Li Shan and “Chuanchuan” had no choice but to endure a prolonged separation between mother and son, unable to reunite.

Li Shan was fortunate. Even though life remained difficult after returning to Sichuan and she still struggled to survive, she had at least escaped a dark and hopeless existence and regained freedom and dignity. The freedom and dignity that ordinary people take for granted had been stolen from Li Shan for more than a decade. Many trafficked women lose years, decades, or even the entirety of their lives after being trafficked.

The reason “Sister Shan” could appear in this film and have her story seen by the world was because she had a university-student cousin and a family member capable of making films. Otherwise, her story would likely have remained unknown like those of countless other trafficked women, and her suffering would have disappeared into the chaotic currents of human existence. How many tragedies unfold in darkness? How many tears flow together with rainwater and sewage into drains and disappear into the soil?

Another social outsider brought into public awareness through Zhou Junsen’s film is Zhou’s own father. Zhou’s father is bisexual; he maintained a conventional marriage and had Zhou Junsen with his wife while also maintaining relationships with male lovers. Zhou Junsen even witnessed hidden encounters between his father and one of his teachers when he was young.

Unfortunately, Zhou’s father later contracted AIDS and also lost the ability to maintain sexual relations with his wife. While exploring his father’s life story, Zhou Junsen also learned that his father had not been favored by his own father—Zhou Junsen’s grandfather—and that the unhappiness of his original family background had influenced both his later life and sexual orientation.

The high HIV/AIDS rate among gay men has also long been a problem. Many people use this fact to discriminate against homosexuals, especially gay men. Yet in reality, it is because homosexual individuals have been discriminated against and marginalized, lacking legal protections and dignity. They cannot enjoy relationships as openly and freely as heterosexuals often can and are frequently forced into underground forms of existence. Socializing in secrecy and lacking adequate prevention and timely treatment for sexually transmitted diseases increases the likelihood of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Encouragingly, however, the film suggests that hospitals and society today have improved greatly compared with earlier eras characterized by panic surrounding AIDS and hostility toward homosexuality. Particularly in Sichuan, a place relatively open toward LGBTQ communities, people appear to demonstrate a comparatively high degree of tolerance toward sexual minorities.

Yet Zhou’s father, who emotionally leaned more toward men and could no longer maintain intimacy with his wife after contracting AIDS, still had to confront many of the family conflicts and personal sufferings common among LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients. Zhou’s parents did not become enemies, and feelings still remained between them, but they were clearly not particularly happy either. They merely managed to maintain the relationship, especially for the sake of their son’s future and preserving relative harmony within the family. Between Zhou’s father and mother there was both love and resentment—a reflection of many marriages and family relationships.

Zhou’s father’s life is likewise representative of many people and specific identity groups in the world. LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, and people raised in unhappy family environments—multiple vulnerable identities intersect in his story. Yet Zhou’s father still came from a middle-class family and did not descend into society’s lowest levels because of these identities and circumstances. He could still maintain a decent life.

Many other marginalized people live lives far more tragic than Zhou’s father. Many AIDS patients, for example, are rejected by their own families and even separated during meals, discriminated against by society, and unable to find good jobs. Those from unhappy family backgrounds are also more vulnerable to ridicule and bullying by classmates and coworkers, suffer worse psychological conditions than ordinary people, and spend the remainder of their lives enduring humiliation and sorrow.

Likewise, it was precisely because Zhou Junsen became a university student and possessed the ability to create documentaries that his father’s story could reach a wider audience and be known, sympathized with, and respected. After the film was screened and won awards, Zhou’s father even walked the red carpet alongside his son and received the blessings of many people. This is a once-in-a-million kind of fortune, something most LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients could never achieve in an entire lifetime. Yet Zhou’s father’s suffering should not be erased or ignored because of these fortunate circumstances. Many of the pains in his life were undeniably real and concrete facts.

The unhappiness in Zhou’s father’s family could itself be traced back to grievances from an even earlier generation. Zhou’s grandmother was named Yi Junmei (易君梅), an elegant name. Yet she could write only her own name and was otherwise illiterate. Grandmother was kind and resilient, and before her death she served as the shared matriarch of this large family. She experienced a journey from love to divorce with the son of the man who had killed her father, carrying many pains buried deep in her heart.

After remarrying, her new husband—Zhou’s father’s father, that grandfather, Grandmother’s second husband—brought much unspeakable pain to both Grandmother and Zhou’s father. Pain does not disappear simply because it is suppressed; it always affects the person enduring it and spreads its effects onto others in various ways.

This, too, is a shared life experience and destiny for many people in the world, especially many Chinese people. Violence from wars and revolutions, experiences of poverty and famine, and sufferings during turbulent eras all inflict damage upon families and leave people with traumatic memories.

Chinese people in the twentieth century experienced the Japanese invasion of China and the War of Resistance, warlord conflicts and the Chinese Civil War, as well as numerous political movements. Most Chinese people could not escape these cruel disasters. Tens of millions perished, while survivors endured lasting trauma. Even after the Reform and Opening period, there remained many tragedies. More recently, COVID and the “Zero-COVID” policies caused restrictions on freedom and severe livelihood difficulties for many people.

Macro-level tragedies create countless micro-level sufferings. The shared misfortune of hundreds of millions becomes the physical and psychological wounds of individuals. Yet just as bacteria are everywhere but invisible without a microscope, if one does not carefully observe, understand, and uncover them, the stories and emotions scattered throughout China and the wider world remain unknown. The suffering of these lives disappears amid trivial daily chaos and vanishes into the vast current of history.

In the real world, the lives and destinies of the overwhelming majority of people—especially the experiences and emotions of the vulnerable, victims, and marginalized—are indeed submerged and erased. Some disappear because of suppression by perpetrators and vested interests; others because the weak lack the power or platform to speak; and many involve both factors at once.

The story of Zhou Junsen’s family—especially the stories of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother—could emerge from the silence and enforced silence of hundreds of millions for the same reason: Zhou Junsen possessed the ability to make films and received support and resources from many sides. From the house and cars shown in the film, one can see that their family already possessed fairly good social status and economic conditions by Chinese standards, which made it possible to support Zhou Junsen in becoming an outstanding student and a film director.

The experiences of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother serve as representations and reflections of socially vulnerable and marginalized groups in China: women, AIDS patients, LGBTQ individuals, people from unhappy family backgrounds, and others. The story of Zhou Junsen’s family is a condensed silhouette of Chinese national history. This feature-length documentary, \\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\*, presents a human landscape garden of one family’s joys and sorrows within an Eastern civilization—different from the West—filled with both flowers and thorns. It also reflects a collective portrait of marginalized groups in China and throughout the world.

The material filmed and presented spans an entire decade and contains abundant detail. The greatest strength and value of this film lies in its authenticity—it is not fictional dramatization but genuine documentation. To speak frankly, this film is not exceptionally dazzling or extraordinary, but its attentiveness and sincerity compensate for its shortcomings and place it among the upper-middle ranks of cinematic works.

During the online Q&A session after viewing the film, I told Director Zhou that his work reflected the lives and destinies shared by many trafficked women, sexual minorities, and people carrying trauma from unhappy family backgrounds. At the same time, there are many others in China and around the world suffering similar misfortunes while remaining voiceless. I asked him—and expressed my hope—that in the future he might not only speak for his own family but also for more vulnerable people and strangers. This was my strongest impression and hope after watching the film. Director Zhou replied that he hoped first to take care of his family and then gradually extend his efforts to broader public welfare. This too is reasonable and entirely human.

I myself have experienced many unusual events, especially circumstances and sufferings unfamiliar to most people, and so I have become particularly sensitive to and concerned with society’s margins and humanity’s darker sides. I also know deeply that there are many people in this world who have endured even greater misfortunes and possess rich experiences and complex emotions, yet remain unknown and unable to express themselves for various reasons. This becomes a second injury after the initial wound: trauma hardens in the heart, suffering continues permanently, and its effects spread to others and even across generations.

I have undergone extraordinary rises and falls in life, experienced the complexities of human warmth and indifference, and witnessed many obscure uglinesses of human nature and hidden evils within society. I no longer hold expectations that humanity or the world will truly “get better,” or that structural problems can fundamentally be resolved. Yet I still retain a degree of reformist hope: even if much human suffering caused by complex factors cannot be eliminated, efforts should still be made to reduce people’s suffering and ensure that marginalized individuals no longer bear such heavy psychological and physical burdens alone.

To see is the prerequisite for understanding; understanding is preparation for attempting solutions; compassion and empathy are necessary conditions for communication and respect. By allowing people to see individuals and the groups reflected through them, \\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\* plays a valuable and important role in helping people understand the traumas experienced by those with various identities, encouraging kinder treatment of marginalized and vulnerable groups, and promoting broader mutual understanding and mutual assistance among humanity.

Returning to the film itself and its specific individuals, although Sister Shan and Zhou’s father both encountered misfortune, they continued living with resilience and optimism. Like reeds—small and fragile figures—they nevertheless possessed powerful vitality. Their diverse experiences and the multifaceted lives of the entire family also reflect the complexity of both human nature and society.

In the end, everyone will eventually pass away like Zhou Junsen’s grandmother and the older generation, after living lives that may be long or short, happy or unhappy. Yet their existence and influence as part of this world always remain among humanity in one form or another.

(This article was written by Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe.)

At the Chinese Film Festival in Hamburg(汉堡华语电影节) in May 2026, I watched director Zhou Junsen (周俊森)’s feature film Ballad of the Warm Grave (东方花园)and briefly interacted with Director Zhou through an online Q&A session.

As a feature-length documentary, this film tells the story of a family and its members while also reflecting broader social groups (trafficked women, LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, people with unhappy family backgrounds, etc.) and related social realities. As someone long interested in realist cinema and documentaries, I decided to write a review and commentary introducing and discussing the film.

What this documentary records is precisely the story of director Zhou Junsen’s family across several generations and among relatives and siblings, with filming spanning an entire decade. The first part of the film tells the story and memories surrounding Zhou Junsen’s cousin, “Sister Shan” (Shan Jie, 李珊), who was trafficked as a child.

When speaking of “human trafficking” or “the trafficking of women and children,” people today have all heard of such things. Yet those living in developed regions with secure and comfortable lives rarely have family members who were victims of trafficking, and it is even harder to imagine a loved one being abducted by traffickers, raped, and forced to bear children. But Zhou Junsen’s cousin endured precisely such a tragic experience.

Zhou Junsen also visited the three children his sister gave birth to while still living in the household of the man who had purchased her, and he spoke with—and clashed with—the man who had bought and raped his sister. This itself was astonishing, an extraordinary experience that very few directors have ever encountered.

What may surprise those unfamiliar with the trafficking of women in China—but is entirely expected for those who know the situation—is that the man who bought and sexually assaulted a woman, the purchaser in the trafficking chain—in the film, the man surnamed Sun from Shanxi whom Li Shan had been sold to—received no legal punishment. His mother even claimed that Li Shan had been trafficked because she carelessly encountered bad people.

Sun also believed he had done nothing wrong by purchasing a woman. Instead, he accused Li Shan of abandoning him and the three children she had borne, saying this struck him like a “small death.” He was also deeply hostile toward Zhou Junsen, Li Shan’s younger cousin who came to visit the children. According to Zhou Junsen in interviews outside the film, Sun and his relatives even physically assaulted Zhou Junsen and his friends at the time.

This is the reality of many trafficking cases involving women. For a long time, China’s anti-human trafficking efforts focused mainly on punishing traffickers (the sellers) while rarely dealing with those who purchased women (the buyers). To a large extent, this served the needs of maintaining social stability. Those who purchased women were often villagers in impoverished regions who spent their savings to buy women to satisfy sexual needs and continue family bloodlines.

Such villages often possess powerful clan structures, and many villagers had themselves bought women and protected one another. Not only was it difficult for women to escape—and they would often be caught and brutally beaten if they tried—but police and relatives attempting rescues also frequently encountered resistance. Even Zhou Junsen, years later and approaching with goodwill, was temporarily confined and beaten. Local governments and public security authorities, already concerned about instability, often pretended not to know about trafficking crimes in these villages and allowed villagers to purchase women and force them into childbirth through rape.

Like many women, Li Shan only managed to escape years after having children, by chance. Many other women never escaped after being trafficked, or desperately attempted to flee only to be recaptured and beaten, eventually resigning themselves to their fate. Others remained for the sake of their children.

After returning to Sichuan, Li Shan moved from place to place doing labor work and experienced many hardships. She built a family and gave birth to another child whose nickname happened to be “Chuanchuan,” the same as one of the children she had left behind in Shanxi. Clearly, she missed her child deeply. Yet she could not return and dared not return. Her fear and trauma toward Shanxi never disappeared. Her abuser had never been punished and even wanted to find her and force her to continue being his “wife”; he had also beaten her younger cousin. Li Shan and “Chuanchuan” had no choice but to endure a prolonged separation between mother and son, unable to reunite.

Li Shan was fortunate. Even though life remained difficult after returning to Sichuan and she still struggled to survive, she had at least escaped a dark and hopeless existence and regained freedom and dignity. The freedom and dignity that ordinary people take for granted had been stolen from Li Shan for more than a decade. Many trafficked women lose years, decades, or even the entirety of their lives after being trafficked.

The reason “Sister Shan” could appear in this film and have her story seen by the world was because she had a university-student cousin and a family member capable of making films. Otherwise, her story would likely have remained unknown like those of countless other trafficked women, and her suffering would have disappeared into the chaotic currents of human existence. How many tragedies unfold in darkness? How many tears flow together with rainwater and sewage into drains and disappear into the soil?

Another social outsider brought into public awareness through Zhou Junsen’s film is Zhou’s own father. Zhou’s father is bisexual; he maintained a conventional marriage and had Zhou Junsen with his wife while also maintaining relationships with male lovers. Zhou Junsen even witnessed hidden encounters between his father and one of his teachers when he was young.

Unfortunately, Zhou’s father later contracted AIDS and also lost the ability to maintain sexual relations with his wife. While exploring his father’s life story, Zhou Junsen also learned that his father had not been favored by his own father—Zhou Junsen’s grandfather—and that the unhappiness of his original family background had influenced both his later life and sexual orientation.

The high HIV/AIDS rate among gay men has also long been a problem. Many people use this fact to discriminate against homosexuals, especially gay men. Yet in reality, it is because homosexual individuals have been discriminated against and marginalized, lacking legal protections and dignity. They cannot enjoy relationships as openly and freely as heterosexuals often can and are frequently forced into underground forms of existence. Socializing in secrecy and lacking adequate prevention and timely treatment for sexually transmitted diseases increases the likelihood of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Encouragingly, however, the film suggests that hospitals and society today have improved greatly compared with earlier eras characterized by panic surrounding AIDS and hostility toward homosexuality. Particularly in Sichuan, a place relatively open toward LGBTQ communities, people appear to demonstrate a comparatively high degree of tolerance toward sexual minorities.

Yet Zhou’s father, who emotionally leaned more toward men and could no longer maintain intimacy with his wife after contracting AIDS, still had to confront many of the family conflicts and personal sufferings common among LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients. Zhou’s parents did not become enemies, and feelings still remained between them, but they were clearly not particularly happy either. They merely managed to maintain the relationship, especially for the sake of their son’s future and preserving relative harmony within the family. Between Zhou’s father and mother there was both love and resentment—a reflection of many marriages and family relationships.

Zhou’s father’s life is likewise representative of many people and specific identity groups in the world. LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, and people raised in unhappy family environments—multiple vulnerable identities intersect in his story. Yet Zhou’s father still came from a middle-class family and did not descend into society’s lowest levels because of these identities and circumstances. He could still maintain a decent life.

Many other marginalized people live lives far more tragic than Zhou’s father. Many AIDS patients, for example, are rejected by their own families and even separated during meals, discriminated against by society, and unable to find good jobs. Those from unhappy family backgrounds are also more vulnerable to ridicule and bullying by classmates and coworkers, suffer worse psychological conditions than ordinary people, and spend the remainder of their lives enduring humiliation and sorrow.

Likewise, it was precisely because Zhou Junsen became a university student and possessed the ability to create documentaries that his father’s story could reach a wider audience and be known, sympathized with, and respected. After the film was screened and won awards, Zhou’s father even walked the red carpet alongside his son and received the blessings of many people. This is a once-in-a-million kind of fortune, something most LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients could never achieve in an entire lifetime. Yet Zhou’s father’s suffering should not be erased or ignored because of these fortunate circumstances. Many of the pains in his life were undeniably real and concrete facts.

The unhappiness in Zhou’s father’s family could itself be traced back to grievances from an even earlier generation. Zhou’s grandmother was named Yi Junmei (易君梅), an elegant name. Yet she could write only her own name and was otherwise illiterate. Grandmother was kind and resilient, and before her death she served as the shared matriarch of this large family. She experienced a journey from love to divorce with the son of the man who had killed her father, carrying many pains buried deep in her heart.

After remarrying, her new husband—Zhou’s father’s father, that grandfather, Grandmother’s second husband—brought much unspeakable pain to both Grandmother and Zhou’s father. Pain does not disappear simply because it is suppressed; it always affects the person enduring it and spreads its effects onto others in various ways.

This, too, is a shared life experience and destiny for many people in the world, especially many Chinese people. Violence from wars and revolutions, experiences of poverty and famine, and sufferings during turbulent eras all inflict damage upon families and leave people with traumatic memories.

Chinese people in the twentieth century experienced the Japanese invasion of China and the War of Resistance, warlord conflicts and the Chinese Civil War, as well as numerous political movements. Most Chinese people could not escape these cruel disasters. Tens of millions perished, while survivors endured lasting trauma. Even after the Reform and Opening period, there remained many tragedies. More recently, COVID and the “Zero-COVID” policies caused restrictions on freedom and severe livelihood difficulties for many people.

Macro-level tragedies create countless micro-level sufferings. The shared misfortune of hundreds of millions becomes the physical and psychological wounds of individuals. Yet just as bacteria are everywhere but invisible without a microscope, if one does not carefully observe, understand, and uncover them, the stories and emotions scattered throughout China and the wider world remain unknown. The suffering of these lives disappears amid trivial daily chaos and vanishes into the vast current of history.

In the real world, the lives and destinies of the overwhelming majority of people—especially the experiences and emotions of the vulnerable, victims, and marginalized—are indeed submerged and erased. Some disappear because of suppression by perpetrators and vested interests; others because the weak lack the power or platform to speak; and many involve both factors at once.

The story of Zhou Junsen’s family—especially the stories of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother—could emerge from the silence and enforced silence of hundreds of millions for the same reason: Zhou Junsen possessed the ability to make films and received support and resources from many sides. From the house and cars shown in the film, one can see that their family already possessed fairly good social status and economic conditions by Chinese standards, which made it possible to support Zhou Junsen in becoming an outstanding student and a film director.

The experiences of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother serve as representations and reflections of socially vulnerable and marginalized groups in China: women, AIDS patients, LGBTQ individuals, people from unhappy family backgrounds, and others. The story of Zhou Junsen’s family is a condensed silhouette of Chinese national history. This feature-length documentary, \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\*, presents a human landscape garden of one family’s joys and sorrows within an Eastern civilization—different from the West—filled with both flowers and thorns. It also reflects a collective portrait of marginalized groups in China and throughout the world.

The material filmed and presented spans an entire decade and contains abundant detail. The greatest strength and value of this film lies in its authenticity—it is not fictional dramatization but genuine documentation. To speak frankly, this film is not exceptionally dazzling or extraordinary, but its attentiveness and sincerity compensate for its shortcomings and place it among the upper-middle ranks of cinematic works.

During the online Q&A session after viewing the film, I told Director Zhou that his work reflected the lives and destinies shared by many trafficked women, sexual minorities, and people carrying trauma from unhappy family backgrounds. At the same time, there are many others in China and around the world suffering similar misfortunes while remaining voiceless. I asked him—and expressed my hope—that in the future he might not only speak for his own family but also for more vulnerable people and strangers. This was my strongest impression and hope after watching the film. Director Zhou replied that he hoped first to take care of his family and then gradually extend his efforts to broader public welfare. This too is reasonable and entirely human.

I myself have experienced many unusual events, especially circumstances and sufferings unfamiliar to most people, and so I have become particularly sensitive to and concerned with society’s margins and humanity’s darker sides. I also know deeply that there are many people in this world who have endured even greater misfortunes and possess rich experiences and complex emotions, yet remain unknown and unable to express themselves for various reasons. This becomes a second injury after the initial wound: trauma hardens in the heart, suffering continues permanently, and its effects spread to others and even across generations.

I have undergone extraordinary rises and falls in life, experienced the complexities of human warmth and indifference, and witnessed many obscure uglinesses of human nature and hidden evils within society. I no longer hold expectations that humanity or the world will truly “get better,” or that structural problems can fundamentally be resolved. Yet I still retain a degree of reformist hope: even if much human suffering caused by complex factors cannot be eliminated, efforts should still be made to reduce people’s suffering and ensure that marginalized individuals no longer bear such heavy psychological and physical burdens alone.

To see is the prerequisite for understanding; understanding is preparation for attempting solutions; compassion and empathy are necessary conditions for communication and respect. By allowing people to see individuals and the groups reflected through them, \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\* plays a valuable and important role in helping people understand the traumas experienced by those with various identities, encouraging kinder treatment of marginalized and vulnerable groups, and promoting broader mutual understanding and mutual assistance among humanity.

Returning to the film itself and its specific individuals, although Sister Shan and Zhou’s father both encountered misfortune, they continued living with resilience and optimism. Like reeds—small and fragile figures—they nevertheless possessed powerful vitality. Their diverse experiences and the multifaceted lives of the entire family also reflect the complexity of both human nature and society.

In the end, everyone will eventually pass away like Zhou Junsen’s grandmother and the older generation, after living lives that may be long or short, happy or unhappy. Yet their existence and influence as part of this world always remain among humanity in one form or another.

(This article was written by Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe.)

At the Chinese Film Festival in Hamburg(汉堡华语电影节) in May 2026, I watched director Zhou Junsen (周俊森)’s feature film Ballad of the Warm Grave (东方花园)and briefly interacted with Director Zhou through an online Q&A session.

As a feature-length documentary, this film tells the story of a family and its members while also reflecting broader social groups (trafficked women, LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, people with unhappy family backgrounds, etc.) and related social realities. As someone long interested in realist cinema and documentaries, I decided to write a review and commentary introducing and discussing the film.

What this documentary records is precisely the story of director Zhou Junsen’s family across several generations and among relatives and siblings, with filming spanning an entire decade. The first part of the film tells the story and memories surrounding Zhou Junsen’s cousin, “Sister Shan” (Shan Jie, 李珊), who was trafficked as a child.

When speaking of “human trafficking” or “the trafficking of women and children,” people today have all heard of such things. Yet those living in developed regions with secure and comfortable lives rarely have family members who were victims of trafficking, and it is even harder to imagine a loved one being abducted by traffickers, raped, and forced to bear children. But Zhou Junsen’s cousin endured precisely such a tragic experience.

Zhou Junsen also visited the three children his sister gave birth to while still living in the household of the man who had purchased her, and he spoke with—and clashed with—the man who had bought and raped his sister. This itself was astonishing, an extraordinary experience that very few directors have ever encountered.

What may surprise those unfamiliar with the trafficking of women in China—but is entirely expected for those who know the situation—is that the man who bought and sexually assaulted a woman, the purchaser in the trafficking chain—in the film, the man surnamed Sun from Shanxi whom Li Shan had been sold to—received no legal punishment. His mother even claimed that Li Shan had been trafficked because she carelessly encountered bad people.

Sun also believed he had done nothing wrong by purchasing a woman. Instead, he accused Li Shan of abandoning him and the three children she had borne, saying this struck him like a “small death.” He was also deeply hostile toward Zhou Junsen, Li Shan’s younger cousin who came to visit the children. According to Zhou Junsen in interviews outside the film, Sun and his relatives even physically assaulted Zhou Junsen and his friends at the time.

This is the reality of many trafficking cases involving women. For a long time, China’s anti-human trafficking efforts focused mainly on punishing traffickers (the sellers) while rarely dealing with those who purchased women (the buyers). To a large extent, this served the needs of maintaining social stability. Those who purchased women were often villagers in impoverished regions who spent their savings to buy women to satisfy sexual needs and continue family bloodlines.

Such villages often possess powerful clan structures, and many villagers had themselves bought women and protected one another. Not only was it difficult for women to escape—and they would often be caught and brutally beaten if they tried—but police and relatives attempting rescues also frequently encountered resistance. Even Zhou Junsen, years later and approaching with goodwill, was temporarily confined and beaten. Local governments and public security authorities, already concerned about instability, often pretended not to know about trafficking crimes in these villages and allowed villagers to purchase women and force them into childbirth through rape.

Like many women, Li Shan only managed to escape years after having children, by chance. Many other women never escaped after being trafficked, or desperately attempted to flee only to be recaptured and beaten, eventually resigning themselves to their fate. Others remained for the sake of their children.

After returning to Sichuan, Li Shan moved from place to place doing labor work and experienced many hardships. She built a family and gave birth to another child whose nickname happened to be “Chuanchuan,” the same as one of the children she had left behind in Shanxi. Clearly, she missed her child deeply. Yet she could not return and dared not return. Her fear and trauma toward Shanxi never disappeared. Her abuser had never been punished and even wanted to find her and force her to continue being his “wife”; he had also beaten her younger cousin. Li Shan and “Chuanchuan” had no choice but to endure a prolonged separation between mother and son, unable to reunite.

Li Shan was fortunate. Even though life remained difficult after returning to Sichuan and she still struggled to survive, she had at least escaped a dark and hopeless existence and regained freedom and dignity. The freedom and dignity that ordinary people take for granted had been stolen from Li Shan for more than a decade. Many trafficked women lose years, decades, or even the entirety of their lives after being trafficked.

The reason “Sister Shan” could appear in this film and have her story seen by the world was because she had a university-student cousin and a family member capable of making films. Otherwise, her story would likely have remained unknown like those of countless other trafficked women, and her suffering would have disappeared into the chaotic currents of human existence. How many tragedies unfold in darkness? How many tears flow together with rainwater and sewage into drains and disappear into the soil?

Another social outsider brought into public awareness through Zhou Junsen’s film is Zhou’s own father. Zhou’s father is bisexual; he maintained a conventional marriage and had Zhou Junsen with his wife while also maintaining relationships with male lovers. Zhou Junsen even witnessed hidden encounters between his father and one of his teachers when he was young.

Unfortunately, Zhou’s father later contracted AIDS and also lost the ability to maintain sexual relations with his wife. While exploring his father’s life story, Zhou Junsen also learned that his father had not been favored by his own father—Zhou Junsen’s grandfather—and that the unhappiness of his original family background had influenced both his later life and sexual orientation.

The high HIV/AIDS rate among gay men has also long been a problem. Many people use this fact to discriminate against homosexuals, especially gay men. Yet in reality, it is because homosexual individuals have been discriminated against and marginalized, lacking legal protections and dignity. They cannot enjoy relationships as openly and freely as heterosexuals often can and are frequently forced into underground forms of existence. Socializing in secrecy and lacking adequate prevention and timely treatment for sexually transmitted diseases increases the likelihood of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Encouragingly, however, the film suggests that hospitals and society today have improved greatly compared with earlier eras characterized by panic surrounding AIDS and hostility toward homosexuality. Particularly in Sichuan, a place relatively open toward LGBTQ communities, people appear to demonstrate a comparatively high degree of tolerance toward sexual minorities.

Yet Zhou’s father, who emotionally leaned more toward men and could no longer maintain intimacy with his wife after contracting AIDS, still had to confront many of the family conflicts and personal sufferings common among LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients. Zhou’s parents did not become enemies, and feelings still remained between them, but they were clearly not particularly happy either. They merely managed to maintain the relationship, especially for the sake of their son’s future and preserving relative harmony within the family. Between Zhou’s father and mother there was both love and resentment—a reflection of many marriages and family relationships.

Zhou’s father’s life is likewise representative of many people and specific identity groups in the world. LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, and people raised in unhappy family environments—multiple vulnerable identities intersect in his story. Yet Zhou’s father still came from a middle-class family and did not descend into society’s lowest levels because of these identities and circumstances. He could still maintain a decent life.

Many other marginalized people live lives far more tragic than Zhou’s father. Many AIDS patients, for example, are rejected by their own families and even separated during meals, discriminated against by society, and unable to find good jobs. Those from unhappy family backgrounds are also more vulnerable to ridicule and bullying by classmates and coworkers, suffer worse psychological conditions than ordinary people, and spend the remainder of their lives enduring humiliation and sorrow.

Likewise, it was precisely because Zhou Junsen became a university student and possessed the ability to create documentaries that his father’s story could reach a wider audience and be known, sympathized with, and respected. After the film was screened and won awards, Zhou’s father even walked the red carpet alongside his son and received the blessings of many people. This is a once-in-a-million kind of fortune, something most LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients could never achieve in an entire lifetime. Yet Zhou’s father’s suffering should not be erased or ignored because of these fortunate circumstances. Many of the pains in his life were undeniably real and concrete facts.

The unhappiness in Zhou’s father’s family could itself be traced back to grievances from an even earlier generation. Zhou’s grandmother was named Yi Junmei (易君梅), an elegant name. Yet she could write only her own name and was otherwise illiterate. Grandmother was kind and resilient, and before her death she served as the shared matriarch of this large family. She experienced a journey from love to divorce with the son of the man who had killed her father, carrying many pains buried deep in her heart.

After remarrying, her new husband—Zhou’s father’s father, that grandfather, Grandmother’s second husband—brought much unspeakable pain to both Grandmother and Zhou’s father. Pain does not disappear simply because it is suppressed; it always affects the person enduring it and spreads its effects onto others in various ways.

This, too, is a shared life experience and destiny for many people in the world, especially many Chinese people. Violence from wars and revolutions, experiences of poverty and famine, and sufferings during turbulent eras all inflict damage upon families and leave people with traumatic memories.

Chinese people in the twentieth century experienced the Japanese invasion of China and the War of Resistance, warlord conflicts and the Chinese Civil War, as well as numerous political movements. Most Chinese people could not escape these cruel disasters. Tens of millions perished, while survivors endured lasting trauma. Even after the Reform and Opening period, there remained many tragedies. More recently, COVID and the “Zero-COVID” policies caused restrictions on freedom and severe livelihood difficulties for many people.

Macro-level tragedies create countless micro-level sufferings. The shared misfortune of hundreds of millions becomes the physical and psychological wounds of individuals. Yet just as bacteria are everywhere but invisible without a microscope, if one does not carefully observe, understand, and uncover them, the stories and emotions scattered throughout China and the wider world remain unknown. The suffering of these lives disappears amid trivial daily chaos and vanishes into the vast current of history.

In the real world, the lives and destinies of the overwhelming majority of people—especially the experiences and emotions of the vulnerable, victims, and marginalized—are indeed submerged and erased. Some disappear because of suppression by perpetrators and vested interests; others because the weak lack the power or platform to speak; and many involve both factors at once.

The story of Zhou Junsen’s family—especially the stories of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother—could emerge from the silence and enforced silence of hundreds of millions for the same reason: Zhou Junsen possessed the ability to make films and received support and resources from many sides. From the house and cars shown in the film, one can see that their family already possessed fairly good social status and economic conditions by Chinese standards, which made it possible to support Zhou Junsen in becoming an outstanding student and a film director.

The experiences of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother serve as representations and reflections of socially vulnerable and marginalized groups in China: women, AIDS patients, LGBTQ individuals, people from unhappy family backgrounds, and others. The story of Zhou Junsen’s family is a condensed silhouette of Chinese national history. This feature-length documentary, \\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\*, presents a human landscape garden of one family’s joys and sorrows within an Eastern civilization—different from the West—filled with both flowers and thorns. It also reflects a collective portrait of marginalized groups in China and throughout the world.

The material filmed and presented spans an entire decade and contains abundant detail. The greatest strength and value of this film lies in its authenticity—it is not fictional dramatization but genuine documentation. To speak frankly, this film is not exceptionally dazzling or extraordinary, but its attentiveness and sincerity compensate for its shortcomings and place it among the upper-middle ranks of cinematic works.

During the online Q&A session after viewing the film, I told Director Zhou that his work reflected the lives and destinies shared by many trafficked women, sexual minorities, and people carrying trauma from unhappy family backgrounds. At the same time, there are many others in China and around the world suffering similar misfortunes while remaining voiceless. I asked him—and expressed my hope—that in the future he might not only speak for his own family but also for more vulnerable people and strangers. This was my strongest impression and hope after watching the film. Director Zhou replied that he hoped first to take care of his family and then gradually extend his efforts to broader public welfare. This too is reasonable and entirely human.

I myself have experienced many unusual events, especially circumstances and sufferings unfamiliar to most people, and so I have become particularly sensitive to and concerned with society’s margins and humanity’s darker sides. I also know deeply that there are many people in this world who have endured even greater misfortunes and possess rich experiences and complex emotions, yet remain unknown and unable to express themselves for various reasons. This becomes a second injury after the initial wound: trauma hardens in the heart, suffering continues permanently, and its effects spread to others and even across generations.

I have undergone extraordinary rises and falls in life, experienced the complexities of human warmth and indifference, and witnessed many obscure uglinesses of human nature and hidden evils within society. I no longer hold expectations that humanity or the world will truly “get better,” or that structural problems can fundamentally be resolved. Yet I still retain a degree of reformist hope: even if much human suffering caused by complex factors cannot be eliminated, efforts should still be made to reduce people’s suffering and ensure that marginalized individuals no longer bear such heavy psychological and physical burdens alone.

To see is the prerequisite for understanding; understanding is preparation for attempting solutions; compassion and empathy are necessary conditions for communication and respect. By allowing people to see individuals and the groups reflected through them, \\\\\\\*Ballad of the Warm Grave\\\\\\\* plays a valuable and important role in helping people understand the traumas experienced by those with various identities, encouraging kinder treatment of marginalized and vulnerable groups, and promoting broader mutual understanding and mutual assistance among humanity.

Returning to the film itself and its specific individuals, although Sister Shan and Zhou’s father both encountered misfortune, they continued living with resilience and optimism. Like reeds—small and fragile figures—they nevertheless possessed powerful vitality. Their diverse experiences and the multifaceted lives of the entire family also reflect the complexity of both human nature and society.

In the end, everyone will eventually pass away like Zhou Junsen’s grandmother and the older generation, after living lives that may be long or short, happy or unhappy. Yet their existence and influence as part of this world always remain among humanity in one form or another.

(This article was written by Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe.)

At the Chinese Film Festival in Hamburg(汉堡华语电影节) in May 2026, I watched director Zhou Junsen (周俊森)’s feature film Ballad of the Warm Grave (东方花园)and briefly interacted with Director Zhou through an online Q&A session.

As a feature-length documentary, this film tells the story of a family and its members while also reflecting broader social groups (trafficked women, LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, people with unhappy family backgrounds, etc.) and related social realities. As someone long interested in realist cinema and documentaries, I decided to write a review and commentary introducing and discussing the film.

What this documentary records is precisely the story of director Zhou Junsen’s family across several generations and among relatives and siblings, with filming spanning an entire decade. The first part of the film tells the story and memories surrounding Zhou Junsen’s cousin, “Sister Shan” (Shan Jie, 李珊), who was trafficked as a child.

When speaking of “human trafficking” or “the trafficking of women and children,” people today have all heard of such things. Yet those living in developed regions with secure and comfortable lives rarely have family members who were victims of trafficking, and it is even harder to imagine a loved one being abducted by traffickers, raped, and forced to bear children. But Zhou Junsen’s cousin endured precisely such a tragic experience.

Zhou Junsen also visited the three children his sister gave birth to while still living in the household of the man who had purchased her, and he spoke with—and clashed with—the man who had bought and raped his sister. This itself was astonishing, an extraordinary experience that very few directors have ever encountered.

What may surprise those unfamiliar with the trafficking of women in China—but is entirely expected for those who know the situation—is that the man who bought and sexually assaulted a woman, the purchaser in the trafficking chain—in the film, the man surnamed Sun from Shanxi whom Li Shan had been sold to—received no legal punishment. His mother even claimed that Li Shan had been trafficked because she carelessly encountered bad people.

Sun also believed he had done nothing wrong by purchasing a woman. Instead, he accused Li Shan of abandoning him and the three children she had borne, saying this struck him like a “small death.” He was also deeply hostile toward Zhou Junsen, Li Shan’s younger cousin who came to visit the children. According to Zhou Junsen in interviews outside the film, Sun and his relatives even physically assaulted Zhou Junsen and his friends at the time.

This is the reality of many trafficking cases involving women. For a long time, China’s anti-human trafficking efforts focused mainly on punishing traffickers (the sellers) while rarely dealing with those who purchased women (the buyers). To a large extent, this served the needs of maintaining social stability. Those who purchased women were often villagers in impoverished regions who spent their savings to buy women to satisfy sexual needs and continue family bloodlines.

Such villages often possess powerful clan structures, and many villagers had themselves bought women and protected one another. Not only was it difficult for women to escape—and they would often be caught and brutally beaten if they tried—but police and relatives attempting rescues also frequently encountered resistance. Even Zhou Junsen, years later and approaching with goodwill, was temporarily confined and beaten. Local governments and public security authorities, already concerned about instability, often pretended not to know about trafficking crimes in these villages and allowed villagers to purchase women and force them into childbirth through rape.

Like many women, Li Shan only managed to escape years after having children, by chance. Many other women never escaped after being trafficked, or desperately attempted to flee only to be recaptured and beaten, eventually resigning themselves to their fate. Others remained for the sake of their children.

After returning to Sichuan, Li Shan moved from place to place doing labor work and experienced many hardships. She built a family and gave birth to another child whose nickname happened to be “Chuanchuan,” the same as one of the children she had left behind in Shanxi. Clearly, she missed her child deeply. Yet she could not return and dared not return. Her fear and trauma toward Shanxi never disappeared. Her abuser had never been punished and even wanted to find her and force her to continue being his “wife”; he had also beaten her younger cousin. Li Shan and “Chuanchuan” had no choice but to endure a prolonged separation between mother and son, unable to reunite.

Li Shan was fortunate. Even though life remained difficult after returning to Sichuan and she still struggled to survive, she had at least escaped a dark and hopeless existence and regained freedom and dignity. The freedom and dignity that ordinary people take for granted had been stolen from Li Shan for more than a decade. Many trafficked women lose years, decades, or even the entirety of their lives after being trafficked.

The reason “Sister Shan” could appear in this film and have her story seen by the world was because she had a university-student cousin and a family member capable of making films. Otherwise, her story would likely have remained unknown like those of countless other trafficked women, and her suffering would have disappeared into the chaotic currents of human existence. How many tragedies unfold in darkness? How many tears flow together with rainwater and sewage into drains and disappear into the soil?

Another social outsider brought into public awareness through Zhou Junsen’s film is Zhou’s own father. Zhou’s father is bisexual; he maintained a conventional marriage and had Zhou Junsen with his wife while also maintaining relationships with male lovers. Zhou Junsen even witnessed hidden encounters between his father and one of his teachers when he was young.

Unfortunately, Zhou’s father later contracted AIDS and also lost the ability to maintain sexual relations with his wife. While exploring his father’s life story, Zhou Junsen also learned that his father had not been favored by his own father—Zhou Junsen’s grandfather—and that the unhappiness of his original family background had influenced both his later life and sexual orientation.

The high HIV/AIDS rate among gay men has also long been a problem. Many people use this fact to discriminate against homosexuals, especially gay men. Yet in reality, it is because homosexual individuals have been discriminated against and marginalized, lacking legal protections and dignity. They cannot enjoy relationships as openly and freely as heterosexuals often can and are frequently forced into underground forms of existence. Socializing in secrecy and lacking adequate prevention and timely treatment for sexually transmitted diseases increases the likelihood of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Encouragingly, however, the film suggests that hospitals and society today have improved greatly compared with earlier eras characterized by panic surrounding AIDS and hostility toward homosexuality. Particularly in Sichuan, a place relatively open toward LGBTQ communities, people appear to demonstrate a comparatively high degree of tolerance toward sexual minorities.

Yet Zhou’s father, who emotionally leaned more toward men and could no longer maintain intimacy with his wife after contracting AIDS, still had to confront many of the family conflicts and personal sufferings common among LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients. Zhou’s parents did not become enemies, and feelings still remained between them, but they were clearly not particularly happy either. They merely managed to maintain the relationship, especially for the sake of their son’s future and preserving relative harmony within the family. Between Zhou’s father and mother there was both love and resentment—a reflection of many marriages and family relationships.

Zhou’s father’s life is likewise representative of many people and specific identity groups in the world. LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, and people raised in unhappy family environments—multiple vulnerable identities intersect in his story. Yet Zhou’s father still came from a middle-class family and did not descend into society’s lowest levels because of these identities and circumstances. He could still maintain a decent life.

Many other marginalized people live lives far more tragic than Zhou’s father. Many AIDS patients, for example, are rejected by their own families and even separated during meals, discriminated against by society, and unable to find good jobs. Those from unhappy family backgrounds are also more vulnerable to ridicule and bullying by classmates and coworkers, suffer worse psychological conditions than ordinary people, and spend the remainder of their lives enduring humiliation and sorrow.

Likewise, it was precisely because Zhou Junsen became a university student and possessed the ability to create documentaries that his father’s story could reach a wider audience and be known, sympathized with, and respected. After the film was screened and won awards, Zhou’s father even walked the red carpet alongside his son and received the blessings of many people. This is a once-in-a-million kind of fortune, something most LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients could never achieve in an entire lifetime. Yet Zhou’s father’s suffering should not be erased or ignored because of these fortunate circumstances. Many of the pains in his life were undeniably real and concrete facts.

The unhappiness in Zhou’s father’s family could itself be traced back to grievances from an even earlier generation. Zhou’s grandmother was named Yi Junmei (易君梅), an elegant name. Yet she could write only her own name and was otherwise illiterate. Grandmother was kind and resilient, and before her death she served as the shared matriarch of this large family. She experienced a journey from love to divorce with the son of the man who had killed her father, carrying many pains buried deep in her heart.

After remarrying, her new husband—Zhou’s father’s father, that grandfather, Grandmother’s second husband—brought much unspeakable pain to both Grandmother and Zhou’s father. Pain does not disappear simply because it is suppressed; it always affects the person enduring it and spreads its effects onto others in various ways.

This, too, is a shared life experience and destiny for many people in the world, especially many Chinese people. Violence from wars and revolutions, experiences of poverty and famine, and sufferings during turbulent eras all inflict damage upon families and leave people with traumatic memories.

Chinese people in the twentieth century experienced the Japanese invasion of China and the War of Resistance, warlord conflicts and the Chinese Civil War, as well as numerous political movements. Most Chinese people could not escape these cruel disasters. Tens of millions perished, while survivors endured lasting trauma. Even after the Reform and Opening period, there remained many tragedies. More recently, COVID and the “Zero-COVID” policies caused restrictions on freedom and severe livelihood difficulties for many people.

Macro-level tragedies create countless micro-level sufferings. The shared misfortune of hundreds of millions becomes the physical and psychological wounds of individuals. Yet just as bacteria are everywhere but invisible without a microscope, if one does not carefully observe, understand, and uncover them, the stories and emotions scattered throughout China and the wider world remain unknown. The suffering of these lives disappears amid trivial daily chaos and vanishes into the vast current of history.

In the real world, the lives and destinies of the overwhelming majority of people—especially the experiences and emotions of the vulnerable, victims, and marginalized—are indeed submerged and erased. Some disappear because of suppression by perpetrators and vested interests; others because the weak lack the power or platform to speak; and many involve both factors at once.

The story of Zhou Junsen’s family—especially the stories of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother—could emerge from the silence and enforced silence of hundreds of millions for the same reason: Zhou Junsen possessed the ability to make films and received support and resources from many sides. From the house and cars shown in the film, one can see that their family already possessed fairly good social status and economic conditions by Chinese standards, which made it possible to support Zhou Junsen in becoming an outstanding student and a film director.

The experiences of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother serve as representations and reflections of socially vulnerable and marginalized groups in China: women, AIDS patients, LGBTQ individuals, people from unhappy family backgrounds, and others. The story of Zhou Junsen’s family is a condensed silhouette of Chinese national history. This feature-length documentary, \*Ballad of the Warm Grave\*, presents a human landscape garden of one family’s joys and sorrows within an Eastern civilization—different from the West—filled with both flowers and thorns. It also reflects a collective portrait of marginalized groups in China and throughout the world.

The material filmed and presented spans an entire decade and contains abundant detail. The greatest strength and value of this film lies in its authenticity—it is not fictional dramatization but genuine documentation. To speak frankly, this film is not exceptionally dazzling or extraordinary, but its attentiveness and sincerity compensate for its shortcomings and place it among the upper-middle ranks of cinematic works.

During the online Q&A session after viewing the film, I told Director Zhou that his work reflected the lives and destinies shared by many trafficked women, sexual minorities, and people carrying trauma from unhappy family backgrounds. At the same time, there are many others in China and around the world suffering similar misfortunes while remaining voiceless. I asked him—and expressed my hope—that in the future he might not only speak for his own family but also for more vulnerable people and strangers. This was my strongest impression and hope after watching the film. Director Zhou replied that he hoped first to take care of his family and then gradually extend his efforts to broader public welfare. This too is reasonable and entirely human.

I myself have experienced many unusual events, especially circumstances and sufferings unfamiliar to most people, and so I have become particularly sensitive to and concerned with society’s margins and humanity’s darker sides. I also know deeply that there are many people in this world who have endured even greater misfortunes and possess rich experiences and complex emotions, yet remain unknown and unable to express themselves for various reasons. This becomes a second injury after the initial wound: trauma hardens in the heart, suffering continues permanently, and its effects spread to others and even across generations.

I have undergone extraordinary rises and falls in life, experienced the complexities of human warmth and indifference, and witnessed many obscure uglinesses of human nature and hidden evils within society. I no longer hold expectations that humanity or the world will truly “get better,” or that structural problems can fundamentally be resolved. Yet I still retain a degree of reformist hope: even if much human suffering caused by complex factors cannot be eliminated, efforts should still be made to reduce people’s suffering and ensure that marginalized individuals no longer bear such heavy psychological and physical burdens alone.

To see is the prerequisite for understanding; understanding is preparation for attempting solutions; compassion and empathy are necessary conditions for communication and respect. By allowing people to see individuals and the groups reflected through them, \*Ballad of the Warm Grave\* plays a valuable and important role in helping people understand the traumas experienced by those with various identities, encouraging kinder treatment of marginalized and vulnerable groups, and promoting broader mutual understanding and mutual assistance among humanity.

Returning to the film itself and its specific individuals, although Sister Shan and Zhou’s father both encountered misfortune, they continued living with resilience and optimism. Like reeds—small and fragile figures—they nevertheless possessed powerful vitality. Their diverse experiences and the multifaceted lives of the entire family also reflect the complexity of both human nature and society.

In the end, everyone will eventually pass away like Zhou Junsen’s grandmother and the older generation, after living lives that may be long or short, happy or unhappy. Yet their existence and influence as part of this world always remain among humanity in one form or another.

(This article was written by Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe.)

At the Chinese Film Festival in Hamburg(汉堡华语电影节) in May 2026, I watched director Zhou Junsen (周俊森)’s feature film *Ballad of the Warm Grave (*东方花园*)* and briefly interacted with Director Zhou through an online Q&A session.

As a feature-length documentary, this film tells the story of a family and its members while also reflecting broader social groups (trafficked women, LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, people with unhappy family backgrounds, etc.) and related social realities. As someone long interested in realist cinema and documentaries, I decided to write a review and commentary introducing and discussing the film.

What this documentary records is precisely the story of director Zhou Junsen’s family across several generations and among relatives and siblings, with filming spanning an entire decade. The first part of the film tells the story and memories surrounding Zhou Junsen’s cousin, “Sister Shan” (Shan Jie, 李珊), who was trafficked as a child.

When speaking of “human trafficking” or “the trafficking of women and children,” people today have all heard of such things. Yet those living in developed regions with secure and comfortable lives rarely have family members who were victims of trafficking, and it is even harder to imagine a loved one being abducted by traffickers, raped, and forced to bear children. But Zhou Junsen’s cousin endured precisely such a tragic experience.

Zhou Junsen also visited the three children his sister gave birth to while still living in the household of the man who had purchased her, and he spoke with—and clashed with—the man who had bought and raped his sister. This itself was astonishing, an extraordinary experience that very few directors have ever encountered.

What may surprise those unfamiliar with the trafficking of women in China—but is entirely expected for those who know the situation—is that the man who bought and sexually assaulted a woman, the purchaser in the trafficking chain—in the film, the man surnamed Sun from Shanxi whom Li Shan had been sold to—received no legal punishment. His mother even claimed that Li Shan had been trafficked because she carelessly encountered bad people.

Sun also believed he had done nothing wrong by purchasing a woman. Instead, he accused Li Shan of abandoning him and the three children she had borne, saying this struck him like a “small death.” He was also deeply hostile toward Zhou Junsen, Li Shan’s younger cousin who came to visit the children. According to Zhou Junsen in interviews outside the film, Sun and his relatives even physically assaulted Zhou Junsen and his friends at the time.

This is the reality of many trafficking cases involving women. For a long time, China’s anti-human trafficking efforts focused mainly on punishing traffickers (the sellers) while rarely dealing with those who purchased women (the buyers). To a large extent, this served the needs of maintaining social stability. Those who purchased women were often villagers in impoverished regions who spent their savings to buy women to satisfy sexual needs and continue family bloodlines.

Such villages often possess powerful clan structures, and many villagers had themselves bought women and protected one another. Not only was it difficult for women to escape—and they would often be caught and brutally beaten if they tried—but police and relatives attempting rescues also frequently encountered resistance. Even Zhou Junsen, years later and approaching with goodwill, was temporarily confined and beaten. Local governments and public security authorities, already concerned about instability, often pretended not to know about trafficking crimes in these villages and allowed villagers to purchase women and force them into childbirth through rape.

Like many women, Li Shan only managed to escape years after having children, by chance. Many other women never escaped after being trafficked, or desperately attempted to flee only to be recaptured and beaten, eventually resigning themselves to their fate. Others remained for the sake of their children.

After returning to Sichuan, Li Shan moved from place to place doing labor work and experienced many hardships. She built a family and gave birth to another child whose nickname happened to be “Chuanchuan,” the same as one of the children she had left behind in Shanxi. Clearly, she missed her child deeply. Yet she could not return and dared not return. Her fear and trauma toward Shanxi never disappeared. Her abuser had never been punished and even wanted to find her and force her to continue being his “wife”; he had also beaten her younger cousin. Li Shan and “Chuanchuan” had no choice but to endure a prolonged separation between mother and son, unable to reunite.

Li Shan was fortunate. Even though life remained difficult after returning to Sichuan and she still struggled to survive, she had at least escaped a dark and hopeless existence and regained freedom and dignity. The freedom and dignity that ordinary people take for granted had been stolen from Li Shan for more than a decade. Many trafficked women lose years, decades, or even the entirety of their lives after being trafficked.

The reason “Sister Shan” could appear in this film and have her story seen by the world was because she had a university-student cousin and a family member capable of making films. Otherwise, her story would likely have remained unknown like those of countless other trafficked women, and her suffering would have disappeared into the chaotic currents of human existence. How many tragedies unfold in darkness? How many tears flow together with rainwater and sewage into drains and disappear into the soil?

Another social outsider brought into public awareness through Zhou Junsen’s film is Zhou’s own father. Zhou’s father is bisexual; he maintained a conventional marriage and had Zhou Junsen with his wife while also maintaining relationships with male lovers. Zhou Junsen even witnessed hidden encounters between his father and one of his teachers when he was young.

Unfortunately, Zhou’s father later contracted AIDS and also lost the ability to maintain sexual relations with his wife. While exploring his father’s life story, Zhou Junsen also learned that his father had not been favored by his own father—Zhou Junsen’s grandfather—and that the unhappiness of his original family background had influenced both his later life and sexual orientation.

The high HIV/AIDS rate among gay men has also long been a problem. Many people use this fact to discriminate against homosexuals, especially gay men. Yet in reality, it is because homosexual individuals have been discriminated against and marginalized, lacking legal protections and dignity. They cannot enjoy relationships as openly and freely as heterosexuals often can and are frequently forced into underground forms of existence. Socializing in secrecy and lacking adequate prevention and timely treatment for sexually transmitted diseases increases the likelihood of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Encouragingly, however, the film suggests that hospitals and society today have improved greatly compared with earlier eras characterized by panic surrounding AIDS and hostility toward homosexuality. Particularly in Sichuan, a place relatively open toward LGBTQ communities, people appear to demonstrate a comparatively high degree of tolerance toward sexual minorities.

Yet Zhou’s father, who emotionally leaned more toward men and could no longer maintain intimacy with his wife after contracting AIDS, still had to confront many of the family conflicts and personal sufferings common among LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients. Zhou’s parents did not become enemies, and feelings still remained between them, but they were clearly not particularly happy either. They merely managed to maintain the relationship, especially for the sake of their son’s future and preserving relative harmony within the family. Between Zhou’s father and mother there was both love and resentment—a reflection of many marriages and family relationships.

Zhou’s father’s life is likewise representative of many people and specific identity groups in the world. LGBTQ individuals, AIDS patients, and people raised in unhappy family environments—multiple vulnerable identities intersect in his story. Yet Zhou’s father still came from a middle-class family and did not descend into society’s lowest levels because of these identities and circumstances. He could still maintain a decent life.

Many other marginalized people live lives far more tragic than Zhou’s father. Many AIDS patients, for example, are rejected by their own families and even separated during meals, discriminated against by society, and unable to find good jobs. Those from unhappy family backgrounds are also more vulnerable to ridicule and bullying by classmates and coworkers, suffer worse psychological conditions than ordinary people, and spend the remainder of their lives enduring humiliation and sorrow.

Likewise, it was precisely because Zhou Junsen became a university student and possessed the ability to create documentaries that his father’s story could reach a wider audience and be known, sympathized with, and respected. After the film was screened and won awards, Zhou’s father even walked the red carpet alongside his son and received the blessings of many people. This is a once-in-a-million kind of fortune, something most LGBTQ individuals and AIDS patients could never achieve in an entire lifetime. Yet Zhou’s father’s suffering should not be erased or ignored because of these fortunate circumstances. Many of the pains in his life were undeniably real and concrete facts.

The unhappiness in Zhou’s father’s family could itself be traced back to grievances from an even earlier generation. Zhou’s grandmother was named Yi Junmei (易君梅), an elegant name. Yet she could write only her own name and was otherwise illiterate. Grandmother was kind and resilient, and before her death she served as the shared matriarch of this large family. She experienced a journey from love to divorce with the son of the man who had killed her father, carrying many pains buried deep in her heart.

After remarrying, her new husband—Zhou’s father’s father, that grandfather, Grandmother’s second husband—brought much unspeakable pain to both Grandmother and Zhou’s father. Pain does not disappear simply because it is suppressed; it always affects the person enduring it and spreads its effects onto others in various ways.

This, too, is a shared life experience and destiny for many people in the world, especially many Chinese people. Violence from wars and revolutions, experiences of poverty and famine, and sufferings during turbulent eras all inflict damage upon families and leave people with traumatic memories.

Chinese people in the twentieth century experienced the Japanese invasion of China and the War of Resistance, warlord conflicts and the Chinese Civil War, as well as numerous political movements. Most Chinese people could not escape these cruel disasters. Tens of millions perished, while survivors endured lasting trauma. Even after the Reform and Opening period, there remained many tragedies. More recently, COVID and the “Zero-COVID” policies caused restrictions on freedom and severe livelihood difficulties for many people.

Macro-level tragedies create countless micro-level sufferings. The shared misfortune of hundreds of millions becomes the physical and psychological wounds of individuals. Yet just as bacteria are everywhere but invisible without a microscope, if one does not carefully observe, understand, and uncover them, the stories and emotions scattered throughout China and the wider world remain unknown. The suffering of these lives disappears amid trivial daily chaos and vanishes into the vast current of history.

In the real world, the lives and destinies of the overwhelming majority of people—especially the experiences and emotions of the vulnerable, victims, and marginalized—are indeed submerged and erased. Some disappear because of suppression by perpetrators and vested interests; others because the weak lack the power or platform to speak; and many involve both factors at once.

The story of Zhou Junsen’s family—especially the stories of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother—could emerge from the silence and enforced silence of hundreds of millions for the same reason: Zhou Junsen possessed the ability to make films and received support and resources from many sides. From the house and cars shown in the film, one can see that their family already possessed fairly good social status and economic conditions by Chinese standards, which made it possible to support Zhou Junsen in becoming an outstanding student and a film director.

The experiences of Sister Shan, Zhou’s father, and Grandmother serve as representations and reflections of socially vulnerable and marginalized groups in China: women, AIDS patients, LGBTQ individuals, people from unhappy family backgrounds, and others. The story of Zhou Junsen’s family is a condensed silhouette of Chinese national history. This feature-length documentary, *Ballad of the Warm Grave*, presents a human landscape garden of one family’s joys and sorrows within an Eastern civilization—different from the West—filled with both flowers and thorns. It also reflects a collective portrait of marginalized groups in China and throughout the world.

The material filmed and presented spans an entire decade and contains abundant detail. The greatest strength and value of this film lies in its authenticity—it is not fictional dramatization but genuine documentation. To speak frankly, this film is not exceptionally dazzling or extraordinary, but its attentiveness and sincerity compensate for its shortcomings and place it among the upper-middle ranks of cinematic works.

During the online Q&A session after viewing the film, I told Director Zhou that his work reflected the lives and destinies shared by many trafficked women, sexual minorities, and people carrying trauma from unhappy family backgrounds. At the same time, there are many others in China and around the world suffering similar misfortunes while remaining voiceless. I asked him—and expressed my hope—that in the future he might not only speak for his own family but also for more vulnerable people and strangers. This was my strongest impression and hope after watching the film. Director Zhou replied that he hoped first to take care of his family and then gradually extend his efforts to broader public welfare. This too is reasonable and entirely human.

I myself have experienced many unusual events, especially circumstances and sufferings unfamiliar to most people, and so I have become particularly sensitive to and concerned with society’s margins and humanity’s darker sides. I also know deeply that there are many people in this world who have endured even greater misfortunes and possess rich experiences and complex emotions, yet remain unknown and unable to express themselves for various reasons. This becomes a second injury after the initial wound: trauma hardens in the heart, suffering continues permanently, and its effects spread to others and even across generations.

I have undergone extraordinary rises and falls in life, experienced the complexities of human warmth and indifference, and witnessed many obscure uglinesses of human nature and hidden evils within society. I no longer hold expectations that humanity or the world will truly “get better,” or that structural problems can fundamentally be resolved. Yet I still retain a degree of reformist hope: even if much human suffering caused by complex factors cannot be eliminated, efforts should still be made to reduce people’s suffering and ensure that marginalized individuals no longer bear such heavy psychological and physical burdens alone.

To see is the prerequisite for understanding; understanding is preparation for attempting solutions; compassion and empathy are necessary conditions for communication and respect. By allowing people to see individuals and the groups reflected through them, *Ballad of the Warm Grave* plays a valuable and important role in helping people understand the traumas experienced by those with various identities, encouraging kinder treatment of marginalized and vulnerable groups, and promoting broader mutual understanding and mutual assistance among humanity.

Returning to the film itself and its specific individuals, although Sister Shan and Zhou’s father both encountered misfortune, they continued living with resilience and optimism. Like reeds—small and fragile figures—they nevertheless possessed powerful vitality. Their diverse experiences and the multifaceted lives of the entire family also reflect the complexity of both human nature and society.

In the end, everyone will eventually pass away like Zhou Junsen’s grandmother and the older generation, after living lives that may be long or short, happy or unhappy. Yet their existence and influence as part of this world always remain among humanity in one form or another.

(This article was written by Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe.)

May 16, 2026 marked the 60th anniversary of China’s Cultural Revolution(文革）. On this day in 1966, the Political Bureau of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China issued the “May 16 Notification” (五一六通知) nationwide, and Mao Zedong (毛泽东) announced the launch of the “Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution” (无产阶级文化大革命). During the following ten years, violent political campaigns and armed factional struggles broke out across China. Millions died unnatural deaths, even more people suffered public denunciation and persecution, large amounts of cultural relics were destroyed, schools were closed, production stagnated, and social order fell into chaos. It was not until 1976, when Mao Zedong died and the “Gang of Four” (四人帮) was arrested, that the Cultural Revolution came to an end.

After Reform and Opening Up, the authorities officially defined the Cultural Revolution as a “serious mistake,” rehabilitated many victims of the Cultural Revolution, and implemented policies to rectify past mistakes and restore order. Subsequent generations of Communist Party leadership continued this official assessment. However, regarding the detailed history of the Cultural Revolution — such as its causes, process, and specific victims — the authorities maintained a long-term low-profile approach, with little reflection or commemoration, disproportionate to the event’s significance and enormous impact.

Especially during the past decade, the authorities have almost entirely avoided mentioning the Cultural Revolution and have also suppressed civil commemorations of it. For example, in 2016, the only Cultural Revolution museum in China, located in Shantou, was closed. On the occasion of the 60th anniversary of the Cultural Revolution, official Chinese public opinion channels and major domestic media carried no related reports, reflection, or commemoration.

Among the public, however, there are two sharply contrasting attitudes toward the Cultural Revolution. One, represented by liberal intellectuals, views the Cultural Revolution as an extremely disastrous national catastrophe, blaming it and its initiators for causing immense suffering and severe damage to many individuals and to the entire nation and society. They also connect many contemporary social problems with the Cultural Revolution and warn against another “Cultural Revolution” occurring. People within the system and vested-interest groups likewise do not wish to see the Cultural Revolution reappear, lest their own privileged status and interests suffer.

Another perspective comes from the far-left supporters and worshippers of Mao Zedong (Maoists), as well as some other frustrated and strongly dissatisfied individuals. Such people often praise the Cultural Revolution, regarding it as a means to oppose bureaucrats, overthrow bad people, and realize “mass democracy.” These people are also dissatisfied with today’s reality. Rather than placing their hopes on achieving democracy and improving the rule of law, they instead hope for another “Cultural Revolution” to “sweep away all ‘monsters and demons’” (a political label for enemies).

In addition, some foreign leftists also hold romanticized fantasies about the Cultural Revolution, believing that it was a great revolution against oppression and for liberation. This is far removed from historical reality. On the contrary, the Cultural Revolution intensified the persecution of vulnerable groups, strengthened the constraints imposed on the oppressed, and did not eliminate privilege. Some foreigners who visited China at the time, such as Italian director Antonio Antonioni (安东尼奥尼), witnessed aspects of its darker reality. Yet even today, some foreigners still do not understand the true nature of the Cultural Revolution.

The authorities’ low-profile approach toward the Cultural Revolution, the mixed praise and criticism among the public, and differing views held by different people all arise from their respective positions, perceptions, and purposes. They also reflect today’s social contradictions and China’s complex reality.

Simply put, the ruling Communist Party of China cares deeply about maintaining political legitimacy and institutional continuity as well as current social stability. It wishes both to defend Reform and Opening Up and to avoid excessively emphasizing the errors and tragedies of the Mao era, thereby preventing further dissatisfaction and instability. Intellectual elites and liberals, especially Cultural Revolution victims and their descendants, strongly detest the Cultural Revolution because of traumatic experiences and value systems.

Some marginalized people at the bottom of society, however, envy the Cultural Revolution’s destruction of existing order and hope for another political movement through which they could “rebel” and rise up and overturn their status. Many ordinary people also know little about the Cultural Revolution or remain indifferent, and may be influenced by the above narratives,
developing only a partial understanding and wavering attitudes.

First of all, the Cultural Revolution was indeed a disaster. At that time, China was engulfed in political violence and turmoil. Law and order disappeared, many innocent people were publicly denounced and imprisoned, and large numbers of innocent people were killed or driven to suicide. This included former Nationalist Party members, intellectuals, industrialists and merchants, those labeled as “landlords, rich peasants, counterrevolutionaries, bad elements, and rightists,” Communist Party cadres, and ordinary people from all walks of life. Among those persecuted to death were Communist Party leaders Liu Shaoqi (刘少奇) and Peng Dehuai (彭德怀), former Nationalist generals who had surrendered such as Huang Shaohong (黄绍竑) and Chen Changjie (陈长捷), scholars Chen Yinke (陈寅恪) and Lao She (老舍), and scientists Yao Tongbin (姚桐斌) and Zhao Jiuzhang (赵九章).

Under the turmoil and the principle of “taking class struggle as the key link” during the Cultural Revolution, national economic and technological development was also severely disrupted, causing China to fall behind most countries in the world. At that time, China’s per capita GDP was not only far lower than that of Europe, the United States, Japan, and the Soviet Union, but was also below that of most developing countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Most people, especially peasants, lived in extreme poverty, and even basic food and clothing needs remained unresolved. Informing and reporting on others were encouraged during the Cultural Revolution, with relatives and friends reporting one another and everyone living in fear. Anti-intellectualism, personality cults, and extremism also flourished, leaving deep scars on people, casting shadows over society, and continuing to cause harm today.

If the causes and consequences of the Cultural Revolution disaster cannot be honestly confronted, discussed, and reflected upon, it would not only fail those who suffered at the time, but would also plant the seeds for the tragedy of the Cultural Revolution to reappear in various forms. For example, several years ago during COVID-19, various extreme “Zero-COVID(清零)” measures caused livelihood crises — especially restrictions on travel, shopping, and medical treatment, nucleic-acid testing for goods, and large-scale compulsory quarantine. Such epidemic-control measures, which violated scientific principles and infringed upon citizens’ rights, bear similarities in both motivation and consequences to the anti-intellectual policies under the principle of “politics in command” during the Cultural Revolution.

Another tragedy of the Cultural Revolution lay in personality cults and a system where one voice dominates all decisions, the absence of democracy and the rule of law, and the inability to constrain power. The accumulation of social problems and the difficulty of protecting civil rights in today’s China are similarly related to insufficient democracy and rule of law.

At the same time, those who praise the Cultural Revolution and even hope for its return should also be understood with sympathy. This too is a necessary requirement for honestly confronting history and reality. The causes of the Cultural Revolution were complex. It was not simply the result of Mao Zedong’s temporary impulse, but was also related to severe social contradictions, rigid bureaucratic systems, and estrangement and conflict between elites and the masses.

According to the views of Peking University scholar Qian Liqun (钱理群) and others, antagonism between officials and the public before the Cultural Revolution was already very serious. The masses were dissatisfied with the Party and government, and society resembled a pressure cooker. Mao’s issuance of the “May 16 Notification” merely lit the fuse that ignited these contradictions.

China in recent years has become politically rigid and conservative, with widening wealth gaps and increasing social stratification, while vested-interest groups monopolize resources. At the same time, reform has stagnated and public discourse has tightened. Coupled with economic decline, social contradictions have intensified significantly. Many lower- and middle-class people, educated but unemployed individuals, and marginalized groups live in poverty, see no hope, and lack proper channels for expression. Driven by resentment and their limited understanding of the Cultural Revolution, they long for another violent political movement that would overthrow those they hate and enable themselves to become masters of their own fate.

For example, many university students and young teachers resent the monopolization of resources and exploitation by academic oligarchs and hope to use methods like the “copper-buckled belt” (铜头皮带), a tool used for beating people during the Cultural Revolution, to publicly denounce teachers and academic oligarchs;

Workers exploited by sweatshops hope to overthrow capitalists and redistribute wealth equally;

Citizens who believe they have suffered unjust imprisonment, facing the power and indifference of Party and government institutions — especially the police, procuratorate, and courts — find considerable resonance in the Cultural Revolution slogan “Smash the Public Security, Procuratorate, and Courts” (砸烂公检法);

The poor struggling at the bottom of society wish to smash the existing order and vent their frustrations like the “rebel factions” (造反派) during the Cultural Revolution…

Such psychological paths and motivations can be understood and sympathized with. However, whether viewed from the perspective of society as a whole or most individuals, political movements like the Cultural Revolution are disastrous. To some extent, they did attack certain problems in ordinary society and damage some bad actors, but they simultaneously brought even greater consequences. Under social disorder, human-rights violations became more widespread and severe, and many innocent people lost their families and lives. The Cultural Revolution also destroyed trust between people and damaged social morality, worsening interpersonal relationships and social conditions. Even political opportunists who benefited temporarily often ended up suffering consequences themselves.

Nor was the Cultural Revolution truly equal. Cadres, workers, and rebel factions possessed privileges, whereas peasants and those categorized among the “Five Black Categories” (黑五类) were treated as social inferiors in both status and rights.

Although the early-stage “rebellion” of the Cultural Revolution did indeed challenge privileged cadres, its targets gradually shifted toward vulnerable groups such as the “Five Black Categories” while radical rebels and anti-privilege activists among the masses were also suppressed. Those who openly opposed Mao Zedong and criticized the Communist Party, such as Lin Zhao (林昭), Zhang Zhixin (张志新), Yu Luoke (遇罗克), and Huang Lizhong (黄立众), faced severe repression and were executed. Meanwhile, some senior Communist Party leaders were overthrown primarily due to the needs of power struggles rather than anti-privilege objectives, and this did not fundamentally change the unfair and unjust ruling system or social structure.

However, some disillusioned Chinese people embrace a mentality resembling, “If these days must perish, let you and me perish together,” seeking mutual destruction. Even knowing that the Cultural Revolution was destructive, they still attempt to overthrow the current order through radical means and vent dissatisfaction.
The rise of global populism in recent years has likewise been driven by public dissatisfaction with existing systems and hatred toward elite vested interests. The Cultural Revolution itself was also China’s manifestation of the global wave of left-wing populism several decades ago.

Although today’s China appears relatively calm on the streets under strict political control, it cannot remain untouched amid rising global populism and has accumulated even greater dissatisfaction and hidden dangers. Frequently occurring incidents involving class, ethnicity, gender, and other tensions are manifestations of populism bubbling beneath a political pressure cooker. Frequent tragedies involving indiscriminate attacks causing casualties, along with large amounts of extreme online rhetoric praising the Cultural Revolution and fascism, are also signs of worsening social contradictions and warnings of national crisis.

Most people do not understand the full picture of the Cultural Revolution and its historical background. Instead, they often possess selective understandings resembling the blind men and the elephant phenomenon, projecting their own circumstances and intentions onto the era of the Cultural Revolution, and then using people and events from that period to reflect and influence today’s realities.

Therefore, many people’s views of the Cultural Revolution are one-sided. Official suppression of commemoration and reflection prevents a more complex and realistic picture of the Cultural Revolution from being shown. Its cruelty has not been sufficiently exposed, resulting in even greater misunderstanding and distortion. Whether people praise or oppose the Cultural Revolution, they ultimately struggle to truly learn lessons from it and prevent the return of tragedy.

Therefore, whether regarding the history of the Cultural Revolution or China’s realities today, one cannot avoid them through a self-deceptive approach of “covering one’s ears while stealing a bell,” but instead must confront and sincerely understand their origins and development. Those in power and those at higher levels should also listen to the people’s demands and understand public difficulties, rather than remaining arrogant and indifferent or simply blaming the public’s ignorance and enemy manipulation.

Only by reforming institutions and distribution systems, promoting democracy and the rule of law, relaxing controls on public discourse, and allowing controversies to be openly debated can social contradictions be alleviated, harmony increased, and hostility reduced. Building an inclusive order, maintaining social fairness and justice, and eliminating motivations for social destruction are the fundamental ways to prevent another Cultural Revolution from reoccurring.

(The author of this article is Wang Qingmin(王庆民）, a Chinese writer living in Europe and a researcher of international politics.)

From May 13 to 15, U.S. President Trump visited China, where he received a warm welcome and held talks with Chinese President Xi Jinping. The visit was highly ceremonial and friendly. According to the latest reports, the two sides have already reached multiple important agreements, such as China expanding market access for American trade and commerce, increasing mutual imports of goods, and reaching consensus on keeping the Strait of Hormuz open and on the denuclearization of Iran.

In his banquet speech, Trump also mentioned Benjamin Franklin’s admiration for Confucius and Franklin Roosevelt’s praise for the courage of the Chinese people during World War II, in order to illustrate that China and the United States share “common values.” Xi Jinping, meanwhile, stated during the talks that the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” and “Make America Great Again” are not contradictory, and proposed a new blueprint for a “constructive and strategically stable China–U.S. relationship.” The talks between the two sides were very cordial. Trump also invited Xi Jinping to visit the United States in late September this year.

During this visit to China, Trump also brought along a large delegation of political and business figures, including Secretary of State Rubio, who has been sanctioned by China since 2020, billionaire Elon Musk, who is deeply involved in American politics, and NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang, who is ethnically Chinese.

Judging from the agenda and developments of this visit, China–U.S. relations have clearly warmed significantly. Regarding more sensitive issues such as Hong Kong, Taiwan, Xinjiang, and Tibet, as well as the issue of releasing Jimmy Lai in Hong Kong, Trump did raise them, but handled them in a low-key manner and even deliberately avoided publicly answering reporters’ questions on Taiwan.

Trump does not wish to make the Chinese side unhappy, and in reality does not care very much about these non-economic issues that have relatively weak connections to America’s concrete interests. The topics of this meeting were mainly concentrated in the commercial and trade sphere, while also involving certain technological cooperation and major international affairs, showing a distinctly pragmatic diplomatic character.

This means that during the remaining two and a half years of Trump’s second term, China–U.S. relations will likely be centered on friendly and mutually beneficial cooperation, while competition between the two sides will mainly focus on the economic and trade sphere. Ideological differences and confrontation will be shelved, and bilateral relations will enter a relatively stable and harmonious new period. If the Chinese leader’s visit to the United States this September continues the tone and atmosphere of Trump’s current visit to China, then the new normal in which pragmatic competition and cooperation between China and the United States override ideology will become even more firmly established.

Since the founding of the People’s Republic of China, China–U.S. relations have displayed different characteristics and patterns in different periods. From 1949 through the 1960s, because of ideological confrontation, interstate conflict, and the atmosphere of the global Cold War, the two sides were locked in a highly hostile antagonistic relationship, even erupting into direct military conflict at one point. China viewed the United States as an imperialist aggressor, the most reactionary fortress of the bourgeoisie, and the manipulator behind Chiang Kai-shek’s regime. The United States, meanwhile, regarded China as a detestable communist state, a terrifying red demon, and an aggressive provocateur.

However, by the early 1970s, because of the Sino-Soviet split and the intensification of U.S.–Soviet confrontation, both China and the United States faced the enormous threat posed by the Soviet Union, as well as crises within their own countries. The ruling authorities of both nations therefore chose to end confrontation, shelve disputes, and normalize China–U.S. relations. In 1972, Mao Zedong and Nixon achieved their historic handshake. This laid the foundation for China and the United States to put aside ideological struggles and pursue pragmatic cooperation.

After Mao Zedong’s death, CCP leaders such as Deng Xiaoping continued this path of developing China–U.S. relations, strengthened cooperation between the two countries, and formally established diplomatic relations in 1979. Through expanding economic, trade, technological, and cultural exchanges, as well as mutual personnel exchanges, China and the United States deepened and normalized bilateral relations.

After the June Fourth Incident in 1989, China–U.S. relations briefly cooled because of political turmoil within China and related issues. China also restarted anti-Western and anti-Westernization political campaigns and propaganda, causing a decline in mutual trust between the two countries. However, cooperation and exchanges between China and the United States were not fundamentally destroyed, and relations warmed again after only a short downturn.

China’s enormous economic potential, especially its vast supply of cheap labor and huge market size, made the United States and other Western countries see the benefits of cooperating with China. At the same time, the West also believed that China’s economic development would promote political democratization and social openness, and therefore increased investment in China while supporting China’s entry into the WTO and its integration into globalization.

As a result, China and the United States maintained pragmatic cooperation for more than thirty years afterward, without interrupting exchanges because of ideological issues. However, during different periods, under different leaders, and under differing specific circumstances, the state of China–U.S. relations and their priorities varied. During the presidencies of the two Bushes, Clinton, and Obama’s first term, bilateral relations were relatively cordial, with more cooperation and fewer conflicts.

By contrast, during Obama’s second term, the Biden administration, and the latter half of Trump’s first term, friction and conflict between China and the United States increased, and the trend toward confrontation became more apparent. In addition, when Democrats are in power, conflicts are more likely to arise over China’s human rights issues and matters involving Hong Kong, Taiwan, Xinjiang, and Tibet, while Republicans, being more pragmatic, tend to have fewer clashes with China on these matters.

The reason China–U.S. relations have experienced repeated fluctuations and transformations is that, on the one hand, China and the United States possess obvious differences in political systems and ideology, leading to frequent conflict and difficulties in building mutual trust. China’s rise has also challenged American hegemony and intensified competition between the two countries. On the other hand, China and the United States also need each other and are interdependent in many fields, making true “decoupling” difficult under globalization and massive economic and trade exchanges.

Because China is not a democratic system based on political pluralism and competitive politics, but instead possesses highly centralized power, it has an inherent contradiction with the United States, which emphasizes liberal democracy and separation of powers. China’s official claim to uphold communist ideology also causes dissatisfaction among conservative anti-communist forces in the United States.

China’s frequent human rights controversies, the long-standing issues involving Hong Kong, Taiwan, Xinjiang, and Tibet, and disputes such as those in the South China Sea also attract criticism and concern from the United States, which places importance on human rights and the international order, while China’s countermeasures further provoke friction between the two countries. The United States has also never fully trusted China because of its lack of transparency and its institutional differences from the West, and together with allies such as Britain, France, Germany, and Japan, has sought to balance China strategically and ideologically.

However, China’s rapid economic growth, its rise as the world’s second-largest economy, the “world’s factory,” and a key engine of the global economy, as well as its enormous international influence, have made it an important economic and trade partner for the United States. These realities make it difficult for the United States to “leave” China; on the contrary, America needs China in many areas. Therefore, the United States has been forced to partially abandon or soften political and ideological confrontation with China in order to maintain pragmatic cooperation.

China achieved economic rise and strategic and technological competition with the United States on the basis of a system different from that of the West. Facing China’s dual challenge in ideology and economic trade, the United States also attempted to “decouple” from China. But facts have proven that under deep globalization, China’s indispensable influence, and America’s serious economic dependence on China, genuine “decoupling” is impossible. Even limited “decoupling” imposed heavy self-inflicted costs on the United States and proved not worth the price.

Trump promoted “decoupling” and a trade war during his first term. The Biden administration later worked with allies to contain China, and at the beginning of Trump’s second term there was also a tariff war against China. Yet none of these efforts achieved ideal results, and several “decoupling” and containment policies toward China ultimately began with great momentum but faded away without resolution.

Therefore, the United States must reconsider its relationship with China and once again place pragmatic cooperation at the forefront. This also has much to do with Trump’s own stance and preferences. Trump’s style is highly pragmatic and profit-oriented. He shows disdain toward democracy and human rights, has strengthened authoritarian tendencies even domestically, and does not care much about issues outside the scope of “America First.”

Internationally, Trump has been at odds with America’s traditional allies and with the European establishment based on shared liberal democratic values. Trump also admires political strongmen and has repeatedly publicly praised the strength and decisiveness of the leaders of China, Russia, and North Korea, envying their unquestioned authority. This has also enabled Trump and Xi Jinping to establish a good personal relationship.

Trump’s supporters, especially the “MAGA” camp, also care primarily about America’s own interests and not the human rights conditions of other countries. From both the American and global perspectives, liberal democracy has likewise shown signs of retreat, while populism and authoritarianism have become increasingly prevalent. Under such a background, a Trump-led United States pursuing détente and expanded cooperation with China faces not only fewer ideological obstacles, but also several additional favorable factors.

Of course, there have always been divisions and fluctuations within Trump’s governing team and China policy between hardline and moderate approaches. Figures such as Secretary of State Rubio, former Secretary of State Pompeo, former adviser Bolton, and current adviser Miles Yu have all advocated a hardline approach toward China out of ideological and geopolitical considerations. Meanwhile, important Trump collaborators such as Elon Musk and Treasury Secretary Bessent focus more on economic and trade considerations and place greater emphasis on cooperation with China.

Trump himself once stood with the hardliners and initiated the process of “decoupling” from China, but now he has clearly shifted toward a more moderate approach. In fact, cooperating with China and making money from such cooperation aligns more closely with Trump’s preferences. Even before becoming president, Trump already had extensive commercial dealings with China.

As an anti-establishment populist politician without a fixed political creed, Trump is not constrained by the human rights positions valued by traditional politicians, is indifferent toward sensitive issues involving Hong Kong, Taiwan, Xinjiang, and Tibet, and is even less likely to pressure China over the Ukraine issue. As for competition in economics, trade, and strategy, although intense, it is not a zero-sum game, and Trump, as a businessman, is willing and skilled at competing and cooperating simultaneously.

This year is a U.S. midterm election year. Facing domestic opposition, economic slowdown, and employment problems, Trump needs to improve relations with China in order to stimulate the American economy, sell more agricultural and industrial products, increase income and employment, and win voter support. American conglomerates and the business class also tend to favor cooperation with China. Under these circumstances, Trump has strong motivation to enthusiastically visit China and improve China–U.S. relations.

China, meanwhile, is also facing economic slowdown and many domestic problems, and therefore hopes to improve the external environment and expand foreign trade. At the same time, China has value-based disagreements with the European Union and worsening relations with Japan. Improving relations with the United States benefits China’s domestic and foreign policy goals and can also weaken the U.S.–Europe–Japan alliance aimed at containing China. Trump’s pragmatic orientation and lack of emphasis on ideological issues also suit the preferences of the Chinese side. China likewise has no intention of exporting ideology or changing the American system, and has also avoided direct confrontation with the United States on issues such as Iran and Venezuela, which has further increased Trump’s favorable impression of China.

During this meeting, Xi Jinping stated that China and the United States should avoid falling into the “Thucydides Trap” of great-power zero-sum rivalry. This also reflects China’s desire to avoid uncontrolled conflict with the United States and to maintain long-term stable cooperation. Both China and the United States recognize that cooperation is better than confrontation, and that a strong G2 partnership is preferable to mutual losses that would allow third parties to benefit. Therefore, Trump’s visit to China and the summit between the Chinese and American leaders proceeded naturally and encountered almost no obstacles. Compared with Xi Jinping’s 2024 visit to the United States and his meeting with Biden, where both sides had considerable disagreements and each harbored their own concerns and calculations, this Xi–Trump meeting was far more harmonious.

Although Trump’s visit to China can be described as friendly, smooth, and productive, it also has its limitations. Sensitive issues including Taiwan, as well as economic and trade competition and friction between the two countries, were handled in a low-key manner and shelved by both sides, which also means that they were not actually resolved, and contradictions and hidden dangers still remain.

The hardliners toward China within Trump’s governing team, such as Rubio, may accept compromises and visits to China, but this does not mean that they agree with a pro-China friendly approach. In the future, they will still advocate hardline policies toward China and continue to play important roles in decision-making within the Trump administration. In addition, although the atmosphere of this meeting was very friendly, the achievements reached were not truly groundbreaking and still remained within the scope of conventional cooperation.

Trump himself frequently changes positions and abruptly shifts policies, while circumstances constantly evolve. Whether the achievements of this visit to China can truly be realized, and how long the atmosphere of China–U.S. friendliness can last, remain uncertain. If Democrats regain control of Congress in this year’s midterm elections, or if the presidency changes hands again in 2028, China–U.S. relations may once again undergo major transformations. Therefore, Trump’s visit to China and its outcomes should not be overly glorified, and only cautious optimism is warranted regarding China–U.S. relations.

From a longer-term perspective, China–U.S. relations will continue to be characterized by the intertwining of pragmatic competition and cooperation with ideological confrontation. At times, friendly cooperation will outweigh confrontation and conflict, while at other times contradictions between the two sides will cause cooperation to stagnate and lead to mutual sanctions. The specific situation will depend on the domestic and international circumstances of the time, the decisions of the leaders of both countries, and the influence of unexpected events. Competition between China and the United States on the global level, as well as the risk of unintended escalation, will always exist, yet the two sides are also mutually dependent and unable to truly “decouple and sever supply chains.”

The author, of course, hopes that China and the United States can engage in more cooperation and as little conflict as possible, while balancing economic livelihood concerns with democracy and human rights, and promoting the well-being of China, the United States, and the world in a constructive manner.

(The author of this article is Wang Qingmin(王庆民), a Chinese writer living in Europe and an international politics researcher.)

On May 7, 2026, the United Kingdom held local elections, with more than 5,000 local council seats up for re-election, accounting for about one quarter of all seats. According to the official results released on May 10, the right-wing populist party Reform UK achieved a major victory, ranking first with 26% of the vote, winning 1,453 seats, and securing absolute majorities in 14 local councils.

Meanwhile, the currently governing Labour Party saw its number of seats fall by more than 50%, while the other major party, the Conservatives, also suffered major losses in both votes and seats. The radical left-wing Green Party saw a huge increase in seats, with a larger growth rate than Reform UK, though its share of the vote and total number of seats remained below that of Reform UK. Another important liberal party, the Liberal Democrats, saw slight increases in both votes and seats.

This marks a clear shift in the political direction of Britain and a dramatic transformation of its political landscape. It also means that populism has gained further momentum in the UK, while the traditional establishment has significantly declined. The rise of Reform UK is the most notable manifestation and result of this trend.

Reform UK was formerly known as the Brexit Party, whose main platform at the time was advocating Britain’s “decoupling” from the European Union. The party later gradually evolved into a right-wing populist “big tent” party based on white nationalism, populism, xenophobia, anti-establishment sentiment, and opposition to multiculturalism, bringing together various anti-establishment populists and groups.

The party is broadly similar in its core ideology and political orientation to other right-wing populist parties in Europe and the United States, such as the National Rally, Alternative for Germany, and Fidesz, though it also possesses certain “British characteristics.”

Compared with right-wing populist parties in other countries, Reform UK places greater emphasis on the uniqueness of the “Anglo-Saxon” people, separation from continental Europe, and opposition to the European Union. Its anti-immigration and exclusionary positions are also relatively stronger. Asian immigrants such as Indians and Chinese, as well as Muslims, who form sizable communities in Britain, are among the main targets of Reform UK. The opportunity for its rise came from the Brexit wave roughly a decade ago, echoing the rise of America’s “MAGA” movement and France’s “Yellow Vest Movement.”

The rise of British populism is, in fact, somewhat surprising. Traditionally, unlike the prevalence of radicalism in continental Europe, Britain has long been the major Western country with the weakest soil for populism and the strongest tradition of moderate democratic forces.

Whether in ideology or political tradition, Britain has long leaned toward “moderate conservatism.” In confronting social problems, reformist approaches such as “Fabianism” and the “Third Way” have been prevalent. British conservatism was also long dominated by the establishment-oriented Conservative Party, and Britain’s electoral system favored traditional major parties, leaving almost no room for populism.

From the early 20th century to the early 21st century, for more than a hundred years, British politics was essentially characterized by alternating rule between the Labour Party and the Conservative Party, each serving as the other’s opposition, with the Liberal Democrats functioning as an important third party. Regional parties in Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales also held a place in politics. The rise of Reform UK, especially its major victory in this local election, has strongly impacted this tradition, ushering in what could be described as “changes unseen in a century” in Britain’s political landscape.

In previous years, Reform UK had already gained considerable public support, second only to Labour and the Conservatives. However, Britain’s electoral system elects all members of Parliament and local councils through single-member constituencies with plurality voting. This benefits the leading party in elections and parties with deep local roots, while disadvantaging parties with relatively high nationwide support but whose supporters are evenly dispersed across constituencies and whose organizational foundations are weaker.

As a result, although Reform UK had a fairly high support rate in previous elections, it struggled to gain seats. For example, in the 2024 British House of Commons election, Reform UK won 14.3% of the vote but secured only 5 out of 650 seats. Labour and the Conservatives still monopolized the House of Commons and most parliamentary and local council positions.

However, as Reform UK’s support rate continued to rise and surpassed Labour and the Conservatives in many constituencies, climbing into first place, its support and votes began to convert efficiently into parliamentary seats.

In the 2025 British local elections, Reform UK already achieved a remarkable victory, ranking first in vote share and surging from its previous 2% to 30%, winning 677 out of 1,641 contested seats, five times its previous number of local council seats. In this year’s elections, although Reform UK’s vote share slightly declined compared with 2025, it won even more seats and further expanded its advantage.

Although Labour and the Conservatives still hold more total local council seats than Reform UK because Britain only re-elects part of local councilors each year, based on election results and seat changes over the past two years, if Reform UK maintains its current momentum and support rate, it is highly likely to gain even more local council seats over the next two years and become the largest party in local government. If its public support remains stable, it could also secure more seats in the next parliamentary election and may even become the ruling party.

After the conclusion of the 2026 local elections, Reform UK newly gained control of 14 local councils. Combined with those it had already won previously, it is now able to exercise local governing power in more than 20 counties and districts.

This means Reform UK is no longer merely an opposition populist party that voices protests without the ability to determine policy. It is now a genuine ruling force capable of implementing policies such as anti-immigration, opposition to multiculturalism, and anti-environmental measures. If Reform UK wins control of more municipalities and eventually gains a parliamentary majority, it could implement its policies nationwide, fundamentally reshaping Britain’s political ecology as well as its domestic and foreign affairs.

The reason Reform UK has risen so powerfully, step by step evolving from a fringe party into a major political force and climbing to first place in support ratings, is due to a combination of internal and external factors. Among them, immigration issues and conflicts between different ethnic groups and cultures are the most direct and critical causes.

Traditionally, Britain has been a country dominated by white Anglo-Saxon ethnic groups, with Christianity as the primary religion of its people. During Britain’s colonial expansion from the 17th to the 20th century, which established the “Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets,” many people from colonized nations came to Britain to study and work, but relatively few settled permanently, and they often could not enjoy the same rights and status as native British whites.

Only after the development of globalization following World War II and the influence of anti-racist movements did Britain grant more non-white and non-Christian people British citizenship. In the 21st century, the promotion of multiculturalism and humanitarianism, combined with the practical demand for cheap labor, led Britain to accept more immigrants and refugees.

The new immigrants and refugees made Britain more diverse, increased its labor force, and promoted economic development, but they also brought many problems such as public security concerns, cultural conflicts, and disputes over interests. For example, Muslim communities practicing forms of “self-governance” based on Islamic law and customs, South Asian gang crime, and Chinese communities occupying educational resources and white-collar positions in Britain have all triggered dissatisfaction among native British whites, especially lower- and middle-class conservative whites.

In recent years, scandals involving Pakistani-origin criminals in Muslim communities grooming underage British girls into sexual exploitation, with more than 1,400 underage white girls reportedly victimized, and the government and police allegedly failing to intervene aggressively due to fears of ethnic tensions, have provoked especially strong anger among many whites.

In addition, Britain’s economic stagnation in recent years and the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on people’s livelihoods have further intensified public dissatisfaction and anxiety, making immigrants and minorities even more likely targets of hostility. At the same time, anti-immigration sentiment has surged across the United States and continental Europe. Billionaire Elon Musk has openly supported Reform UK, criticized the establishment, and attacked Britain’s immigration policies and perceived tolerance of crimes committed by non-whites. This has further boosted the momentum of Britain’s conservative populist forces, whose support rates have steadily risen.

Of course, immigration is not the only issue. Many longstanding social problems and structural illnesses in Britain — such as persistent wealth and class inequality, corruption and inefficiency in bureaucracy, and dissatisfaction caused by pension and healthcare reforms under fiscal pressure — have also caused people to lose faith in the traditional establishment and turn toward populist forces such as Reform UK that promise to break the status quo. Compared with the “politically correct” rhetoric of traditional establishment politicians, the unconventional and provocative statements of populist politicians such as Nigel Farage are indeed more attractive.

In addition, many conservative voters are dissatisfied with the “multiculturalism,” feminism, environmentalism, and related agendas promoted by Labour and the left, while believing that the traditional establishment right represented by the Conservatives has been ineffective in opposing them. As a result, they have chosen to support more right-wing and radical anti-multicultural, anti-feminist, and anti-environmentalist forces such as Reform UK. This resembles the situation in the United States, where some voters, frustrated by the Democratic Party’s progressive policies, support the Republican Party, while the Republican establishment has gradually yielded ground to populist forces.

The British right-wing populist forces represented by Reform UK are, in essence, rooted in extreme nationalism and racial superiority. Their policies also include tax cuts and welfare reductions, opposition to environmental protection, and measures harmful to vulnerable groups. These are detrimental to fairness and harmony in British society and damaging to Britain’s long-term interests.

Although some of the populists’ criticisms of the establishment are valid, the remedies they offer carry severe side effects, and most problems ultimately remain unresolved. Issues such as wealth inequality and bureaucracy often continue to exist after populists take power and may even worsen.

Farage and other British populist leaders are similar to Donald Trump in that they rely on sensational rhetoric and attacks on the establishment to attract support. However, both their moral character and governing abilities are questionable, and if they govern, they are unlikely overall to bring beneficial changes to Britain.

Nevertheless, judging from the results of recent British elections, more and more Britons are choosing to vote for populist forces such as Reform UK. Not only did right-wing populists achieve sweeping victories, but the Green Party, representing the radical left and also possessing some populist characteristics, achieved results several times greater than its previous vote share and seat count in this election.

This means that left-wing voters are becoming more left-wing and right-wing voters more right-wing, with both sides moving toward extremism and populism, while the traditional establishment and centrist forces are shrinking dramatically. British politics is becoming increasingly polarized, and society will become more divided as well.

In this election, Britain’s two traditional major parties — the center-left Labour Party and the center-right Conservative Party — both saw dramatic declines in votes and seats, symbolizing the decline of the traditional establishment. In particular, the Labour Party, which represents center-left social democracy and long enjoyed support from the working class, suffered the largest seat losses, reflecting the decline of center-left social democracy and the shift of the working class.

Most of these workers chose to switch their support to Reform UK, reflecting how many British workers, like their American counterparts, have shifted from left to right, from supporting traditional establishment parties to embracing populism. The Conservative Party also faces the danger that conservative voters will abandon it for Reform UK, replacing the Conservatives as the political representative of the right-wing electorate. In short, both the center-left and center-right establishment camps are facing severe crises.

However, Britain’s future political trajectory is still not settled. Although populist forces represented by Reform UK are advancing aggressively and rapidly expanding their influence in politics, their advantage may not last long, nor are they guaranteed to become a national ruling party. Labour and the Conservatives possess deep roots and strong resilience. Although they have suffered setbacks for now, they still have a strong possibility of regaining support in various constituencies.

As Reform UK rises forcefully, Labour and the Conservatives may also, like the center-left and center-right forces in France confronting the far right, reach compromises and alliances in elections to jointly suppress Reform UK. In that case, Reform UK would face extremely difficult challenges. Likewise, whether the radical left-wing Green Party can continue breaking through in the future or will fade after a brief surge remains uncertain.

Britain’s long tradition of moderate conservatism may also restrain the further rise of far-left and far-right populism. During the several centuries since the birth of modern political systems and ideologies, continental Europe, Asia, Africa, and Latin America have all experienced many violent revolutions, upheavals, and populist waves, whereas Britain has remained comparatively stable. Before World War II, fascism rose across many countries, with fascist groups becoming active and even seizing power, yet British fascism failed to gain dominance.

Meanwhile, “Fabianism,” advocated by famous thinkers such as George Bernard Shaw and Bertrand Russell and promoted by certain politicians as a reformist social democratic path, enabled Britain to achieve social progress without revolution and with relatively little bloodshed, including the establishment of the globally respected National Health Service (NHS), with remarkable results. A Britain possessing such resilience may still be capable of containing populism.

Regarding the results of this election and the rise of populist forces such as Reform UK, if this had happened many years ago, the author would certainly have adopted a wholly negative critical stance. However, after experiencing more events and engaging in deeper reflection, the author now has more “sympathetic understanding” toward the rise of populist forces and a greater awareness and criticism of the flaws of the establishment and the current order. Simply labeling populist supporters as “ignorant” is an oversimplification, an evasion of the problem, and irresponsible.

Although the author still does not support populist forces and does not believe Reform UK or populist parties around the world can bring beneficial changes to their countries, the author does recognize and respect the public’s use of voting to express dissatisfaction with the establishment, their strong desire for change, and the voices of those who feel ignored. The public possesses its own consciousness and emotions, and populism is also a way of expressing emotions and achieving goals. Even if this may not be wise, from their perspective, supporting the establishment is not necessarily a good choice either.

Compared with ordinary people who, burdened by difficult livelihoods, troubles, and lack of prospects, desperately turn to populism as a “last resort,” Britain’s establishment and social elites bear greater responsibility and possess greater capacity to reflect upon themselves and the structural problems of British society, to better understand the hardships of ordinary people, to confront both longstanding illnesses and new problems of the current era, and to seek solutions beneficial to all sides while favoring the vulnerable. Only in this way can Britain hope to ease social divisions and prevent the country from sliding down a more dangerous path under populist rule.

(The author of this article is Qingmin Wang(王庆民), a Chinese writer based in Europe and a researcher of international politics.)