I like
Communism
and Catholicism, but Catholicism always comes first.
Lifton-Robert-Jay-Thought-Reform-and-the-Psychology-of-Totalism
"I made a list in French .
.
.
for my own use of ten points which I should never mention.
.
.
.
Sixmonths later I had told everything.
.
.
.
I was then ready to tell everything about myself and anyone else.
"
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 211
His list had, of course, been his unconscious preparation for what was to come. When he made it he decided that "if I put together all these faults I had been accused of . . . I could say I was guilty. "
When I asked him what he had to feel guilty about, he first an- swered evasively, "We had plenty of things. " And then he did describe one of them--an occasion soon after World War II when Catholic chaplains from the American Army brought an intelligence officer to see Simon and some of his colleagues, "and then we told them plenty of things. " But, as if realizing that this might not be in itself so damning, he added, "What we did any foreigner would have done, but we should have been more careful. " Then, as if to justify further his guilt, he explained that "In jail we didn't ac- cuse only our crimes, but rather the intention of our crimes"; he went on to describe how he had contemplated (but had never carried out) telling an American missionary who was leaving de- tails about Communist work on an airfield, realizing that this in- formation might be passed on to an official American group.
I had no way of knowing whether this idea had really occurred to Simon before his imprisonment, or whether it was a product of the guilt-stimulating pressures of imprisonment itself. Either way, it was part of his need to find evidence of both wrongdoing and wrong-thinking so he could rationalize, in thought reform terms, his own psychological state: "Every time I found a crime I had committed, I was glad to find it. " But among a myriad of trivial self-accusations, the encounter with an American intelligence officer was undoubtedly a true source of psychological guilt, as it violated Simon's deepest sense of what a missionary should do and be.
His guilt established in his own mind, Simon moved on to the next step--complete enthusiasm and complete trust:
One of the prisoners suggested writing diaries--only about our change of mind. . . . Every day we gave the cell chief our diary. We had the feeling we were living in a glass house--but we had no bad feelings at all. Our souls were entirely open. It was complete confidence. We could trust the government.
Simon's attainment of mutual trust and harmony with the Chi- nese realized a long-desired goal, a goal which he felt had before this always eluded him: "I never had a good chance to live among the Chinese except the last three years in jail. " During this period
? 212 THOUGHT REFOKM
he held nothing back from his colleagues and cellmates ("I was glad to get rid of all I had on my mind and to speak very frankly"), and his statements included extensive denunciations of the behavior of many of his colleagues, both in and out of jail,
He was transferred during his last year to a jail where he was permitted to do manual labor. His guilt had led to a feeling of tranquility: "I was more quiet. I thought I am guilty and deserve it. " Once he was happy in jail, his main fear was that he would soon be released. He knew that jail was a safer place for him than life in China on the outside; and contact with his own colleagues in Europe seemed least safe of all:
When I was in labor camp during the last year, I was glad to be there. I was afraid to be out, because if allowed to stay in China I would have much trouble. If I came out, there would be trouble with my Order. . . . When I received my sentence, I wrote immediately to the head of the court, "I do not ask for a reduction in the sentence, but I would like you to cross out the clause about being kicked out of the country. "
By this time, he was, more than any of my subjects, identifying himself with his reformers. He took pride in bringing others around: "There was one fellow we worked on for two full days. At first we couldn't get to him . . . but finally we did. " Much impressed with individual Communists, he set them up as his standard, and always compared himself unfavorably to them: "We worked hard--but could not beat them. . . . They worked all of the days, and had meetings at night. . . . And they were very enthusiastic about their work. " He could justify in his mind even their curbs upon religion: "They said that outside of jail there is religious freedom, inside no. . . . That was tough on us, but we had to follow regulations"; and he was grateful for a slight relaxation in this area: "At the end,
for instance, I was allowed to say my breviary. "
He emphasized that in all this he had become increasinglyim-
pressed with the sincerity of the Communist officials, and illustrated this with their attitude toward their false accusation about the radio:
At the beginning, I thought that this was a pretext to arrest me. They wanted to take over our university and used this as their pretext. Later I found they really believed it. They were in good faith. . . . Then they dropped it, and they believed me.
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 213
Thus he had, during the course of his imprisonment, run the gamut from opposition to merger: "When they called me at the beginning, it was a fight--at the end it was a chat with a friend. "
Simon related this story to me in a simple, straightforward manner, impressing me both with his conscientiousness and his naivet6. At times he seemed totally unaware of the degree to which he had been manipulated. But at other times, I felt that awareness of this manipulation--as well as of the inconsistencies of the Com- munist position--had intruded upon his consciousness, and that he was hard put to fend it off. This inner struggle became more evident as he told me of his experiences after his release.
Tense and agitated upon his arrival in Hong Kong, Simon had found himself in total disagreement with everyone and everything around him. His situation was aggravated by his compulsion to ex- press these antagonistic feelings:
I couldn't control myself . . . when I was in jail, I could read Chinese newspapers for an entire month with no reaction, but when I came out, after every paragraph, I jumped . . . when someone told me something I thought was wrong, I had to speak.
At that time, he was convinced that because of his "change of ideas" he would not be able to remain in the Jesuit Order: "I don't mean I thought I would leave, but that I might be kicked out. " He thought he might have to become a secular priest (one who be- longs to no special order) and "find a bishop who would take me. "
His Jesuit colleagues, however, felt differently. Appalled at his behavior and attitudes, but for the most part sympathetic to him as a person, they were intent upon tiding him over what they con- sidered to be a crisis and winning him back to a more acceptable set of views. One of them with whom I had talked in Hong Kong had even asked my advice about the problem. He had decided--partly in response to pressures from other colleagues and partly because of his own convictions--to apply to Simon what he called "shock therapy. " By this he meant confronting him with the disparaging material that had been published about him in Chinese Com- munist newspapers and magazines, including accusations and con- fessions of heterosexual and homosexual behavior. (Simon had been accused of committing a "sexual crime" [homosexual act] during his imprisonment; although this was probably a false accusation, it
? 2 1 4 THOUGHT R E F O R M
could well have touched off latent fears and impulses and stimulated a good deal of confession material. ) Simon's Jesuit friend had hesitated to use his "shock" approach because he had noted that on the few occasions when he had attempted to bring up the sub- ject of prison confessions, Simon had become silent and fearful. I felt he had good reason to hesitate, and advised him against the "shock therapy/' However, influenced by the fact that Simon was leaving for Europe in a few days, and believing that others in the Church might be less understandingabout the whole problem than he was, the Jesuit had disregarded my advice and gone ahead with his direct but gently-administeredconfrontation.
He felt at the time that his shock therapy had been effective, since Simon had responded with surprise and a certain amount of anger directed at the Communists. But like many therapists, shock or otherwise, he had been premature in his evaluation; for soon Simon overcame his resentment toward the Communists through a rationalized analysis of the situation, which he also gave to me:
The Communists have two different departments, justice and propa- ganda. Justice wants to know the truth. Propaganda wants to amplify everything. . . . For justice, I still have the document of condemna- tion . . . based on the true facts. . . . Some expressions are rather ambiguous, but what they charged me of, I have admitted. . . . What they wrote in the newspapers [for propaganda] is entirely different.
It is possible, however, that this incident did play a part in Simon's gradual realization that the Communists were not com- pletely truthful:
That's one point on which I have changed a little. Then [when in prison] I had the feeling that the Communists never lied. I feel now that although there are more lies on the other side, the Communists also lie--although they are more clever and more skillful. . . . If the Communists only told the truth, it would be awful for us.
Despite this small concession, he remained acutely at odds with his fellow priests. He looked upon them as "reactionary," and they tended to view him as one who had been convinced (and deceived) by the Communists because he was "doctrinally unsound" in his Catholic theology. One priest used him to illustrate the point that it is the "technicians" among Catholic priests who are likely to be most affected by thought reform, rather than those who are more
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 215
strongly grounded philosophically. Another, who had been de- nounced in prison by Simon, referred to the latter's behavior as a "twist of conscience. . . . He is a very conscientious man, and when he reported against me he was being very conscientious in another way. "
The Jesuit organization seemed to have more tolerance for his point of view than Simon had anticipated; but he felt that in re- assigning him to a teaching position, they had expected him even- tually to "become normal again/' He made a point of expressing his Communist sympathies clearly to his superiors, and he finally reached a modus Vivendi with them in which they accepted his right to hold any beliefs he pleased as long as he did not proclaim them too loudly to the outside world. He accepted this restriction as part of the principle (emphasized by both the Communists and the Catholics) that an individual priest cannot separate his actions from his responsibilities to his order; at the same time he indicated that he would like to express his views publicly through writing or speak- ing "if I were free. "
He was--emotionally and intellectually--much more distant from his colleagues than before. He had always viewed himself as "rather cold toward other people/' and this isolation was increased "because I live with people who don't share the same idea. " When I asked him if he had been influenced by any of his colleagues since his return, he replied, "There couldn't be much influence because their ideas are so contradictory to mine. "
He was so much alone with his thoughts that his only oppor- tunities to express himself came during long automobile trips he made to preach in outlying areas. These trips were arranged by a local organization, and on them he found release in talking to the driver, usually a businessman volunteer: "I know they don't share my opinions, but it is very enjoyable for me. " Sometimes his com- panion, when he first heard that Simon had been through interest- ing experiences in China, would enthusiastically invite him to speak before a local club--to which Simon would reply, "Let us talk together for a few more minutes and then see whether you still wish me to speak before your group. " The invitation was never repeated. Simon concluded that "they don't want their members to hear that kind of stuff. "
Toward the end of our three-hour talk, he described to me his
? 2l6 THOUGHT REFORM
attempts to achieve an inner synthesis between his older Catholic and newer Communist ideologies. He claimed that this attempt had begun even before he was imprisoned, when he had envisioned a political party "entirely Communist but with Christian prin- ciples" (although at the time he supported his fellow priests against the encroachments of the Communist regime). Like other priests among my subjects, he felt that he had reinforced his own spiritual life through his imprisonment: "The fact of feeling guilty is good Christian humility/' But unlike the others, he believed that the Communists themselves possessed the Christian virtues ("I feel that most of the Communists are humble"), a strong expression of praise from a Catholic priest.
He claimed that through his experience he felt himself closer to the Catholic religion "because, in one way I am nearer the truth. " His facial expression became animated and enthusiastic as he de- scribed to me the way in which he had improved his inner life:
I have had more experience with introspection. With all of the methods of criticism we go very deep into the subconscious. I remember in jail . . . everyone told their faults against the discipline, then we decided to get deep into the reasons. Then others would say, "This and this is the reason/' We would say, "No, no, no--that's not it/' Then at night you would think they are right, and as soon as you realized this, the fault was corrected at once. . . . This is very important for the re- ligious life. . . . A very powerful tool.
I felt his alternation in this statement between first person sin- gular and plural, and the second and third persons, was more than a matter of a European speaking English (his English was, in fact, fluent), and really reflected his alternating images of himself as a member of the Communist-oriented group, as the target of its criticism, and as a spiritually-active European Catholic. He in fact emphasized that it was not possible to use this kind of group criticism in his present circumstances, and that he was forced to apply this "tool" himself--and so, in effect, assumesimultaneously all three identities. He believed that Communism and Catholicism should maintain their interchange of techniques and that Catholi- cism should seek to benefit from the Communist improvements "Lenin borrowed many things from religious orders, but amplified them a lot. . . . If we can get them back from Lenin, that is all right. "
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 217
Yet he could not avoid recognizing his inevitable conflict, as a Catholic priest, with the Communist creed. When I asked, for in- stance, if he were troubled by the problem of materialism--a point of bitter controversy, at least theoretically, between Communism and Catholicism--he replied, "No, but it means I can never be a Communist/' and went on to say:
My conflict with the Communists came when I said, "For me religion is first, Communism is second/' If I had been able to write a blank check and say that anything the Communists do about religion is OK, then I could have stayed. That much I could not have done. . . . I trusted them very much, but not that much. . . . If not for this prob- lem of religion I would have followed the Communist Party entirely, without any restriction.
He added that during his last month in jail he wondered, "Do I not go too far? " and then decided, "I shall never have an uncondi- tional surrender. I shall never sign a blank check. " Now he con- cluded, not without some sadness, that because of this unwilling- ness, "for the Communists I am still an enemy . . . since if you don't accept them entirely, they consider you an enemy. "
When I asked him whether he would consider such a black-and- white judgment on the part of the Communists to be at all unfair, his answer was what could be expected--but its implications were nonetheless striking:
No. To understand Communism you must compare it with Catholic belief. If with Catholic belief, you don't accept one article of faith, you are not a Catholic. If you don't sign a blank check, you are not a Catholic.
Simon had no objection to the demand itself. When I asked him whether he was willing to make this "unconditional surrender" to Catholicism, he replied:
Of course. . . .
I like Communism and Catholicism, but Catholicism always comes first. In case of conflict, I will stay with Catholicism.
World politics were, of course, another matter. As far as Com- munist activities in general were concerned, Simon said, "I am not even against a revolution--of course as mild as possible, but you cannot always do anything about that. " And about the return of
? 2l8 THOUGHT REFORM
General de Gaulle to power during 1958, he offered a remarkably candid opinion:
W ell, give him a chance. See what he can do. I was rather against him at first because I thought he was reactionary. Then someone said that Moscow was not against him because they thought he would break NATO. Since then I have not been so much against him because Mos- cow had that opinion. If Moscow stands for de Gaulle, then I am for de Gaulle.
But in discussing thought reform, he made a statement far more significant than he realized:
The way you look at it depends upon whether you feel that their opin- ions are true or false. If you say they are false, then it is all brainwashing stuff. If you think them true, they help you. I saw cases of serious offences--even some real crimes--completely changed. . . . With the habit of introspection you can very quickly see whether someone is tell- ing the truth.
Here Simon, quite unintentionally, let his inner doubts out of the bag, implying with this slip that he and others like him were not guilty of "real crimes/' but of something else that must be dis- tinguished from them.
He ended the interview--just as he began it--with praise for the 'Very powerful" and "wonderful" thought reform methods, and denunciation of those Catholic priests who he felt had presented distorted views of Communist China.
Why did Father Simon go so far that his conversion strains the meaning of apparent? It is interesting to compare him with our other apparent convert, Miss Darrow. The two are very different kinds of people; and yet there are striking similarities in their emo- tional reactions. Both responded very strongly to the opportunity to merge with the Chinese people; both experienced an unusually strong sense of guilt, and a strong need to be absolutely sincere with their captors; both eventually achieved a greater harmony with their prison environment than with any they had previously known, and were loath to surrender it for the anticipated pain of "freedom. " This authoritarian priest shared with the liberal mis- sionary's daughter psychological traits characteristic for the ap- parent convert: strong susceptibility to guilt, confusion of identity,
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 2 1 9
and most important of all, a long-standing pattern of totalism. Simon's totalism had in fact always been much more prominent than,Miss Darrow's. As the conscientious enthusiast, he had shown a tendency to embrace totally a series of influences--Catholicism, American know-how, Chinese life, and then Chinese Communism. Unlike Miss Darrow, he had not rebelled from the religious in- fluences which helped to shape this totalism during his early life. He did not seek a liberal alternative; rather, in his "unconditional surrender" to Catholicism he was attracted toward the most au- thoritarian and uncompromising elements within a many-sided (but
always potentially authoritarian) ideology.
But within his identity of conscientious enthusiast were two
vying elements, the convert and the defier. As the former, he sought, and as the latter feared, total unity with an all-powerful force. He required a pattern of defiance in order to ward off the strong attrac- tions to continuous influences around him. Sometimes he would defy one first and convert to it later, sometimes convert to it first and then defy it; or on still other occasions, defy one strong in- fluence while converting to another. Thus he defied his father to convert to the priesthood (it would be interesting to know whether he had originally been at all defiant in his attitude toward religion), defied French influencein his conversion to America and Western influence in his conversion to China, defied both Catholic and American influences in his conversion to Communism, and then continued to defy Catholic pressures as a means of maintaining this conversion. Whether defying or converting, his was an all-or- none approach. This is symbolized in his repeated use of the term "blank check": for one who issues a "blank check" to another may be offering either everything or nothing, without specifying how much of himself he gives and how much he insists upon retaining.
As a conscientious Catholic priest and scientist, his total dedica- tion to missionary work, credal purity, truthfulness, and sincerity were basic to his affirmative self-image. But both the defier and the convert within him could interfere and become part of his negative identity; for underneath both of them was a profound inability to trust or to become intimate with other human beings. Each con- version was a quest for the trust and intimacy that had long eluded him; unable to experience them in ordinary human doses, he sought trust and intimacy on absolute terms. For him, both conversion and
? 22O THOUGHT REFORM
defiance were attempts to ward off inner feelings of aloneness, weakness, and helplessness.
In prison, he was first the defier (an unusually courageous one), and then the convert (an unusually loyal one). In both identities, his conscientiousness was outstanding; but his behavior also re- vealed the basic contradiction within his convert-defier pattern. His ideal of "unconditional surrender" was not fully attainable. He could not, after all, sign the "blank check. " He tells us that this was because he could not submit simultaneously and totally to two masters; and this is true enough. But it is also true that he could not--either then or before--submit totally to any master. Ulti- mately, the "unconditional surrender*' and the "blank check" were unrealizable ideals, as they so often are for those who seek them. For Simon, they had been an inspiring myth; but defiance, doubt, and mistrust eventually interfered in relation to both Catholicism and Communism.
In his post-prison years, Simon--despite his outward assurance-- was inwardly walking an emotional tightrope. Whatever his denials, he did continue to serve two emotional masters, and this is a con- siderable strain. Even more subject to totalism than Miss Darrow, he remained truer than she to his thought reform conversion. Three-and-a-half years after his release he was still unable to come to terms with the actualities of his experience; he felt the need to reconstruct thought reform events to make them more congenial and less brutal, and to emphasize his compliance rather than his resistance. He had to avoid the recognition of having been manipu- lated, or else minimize the manipulation and justify its usage.
Obviously all was not well with this last--and perhaps most profound--of Simon's conversions. He was not, after all, immune from the Catholic influences around him, nor from the forces of reality testing, nor from the voice of his own doubts. Evidence for this lies in his slightly more critical (though hardly very critical) attitude toward Communism, in his slips of the tongue, in his over- stated protestations. As with all true believers, his doubts were not easy to tolerate, since unconsciously he tended to see them as a lack of total sincerity on his part. Yet his doubts were constantly stimulated by the presence of his other (Catholic) master--that is, by Church officials and Catholic ideas. This accounts for some of the vehemence with which he criticized his fellow clergymen; he was
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 2 2 1
calling his defiant self into play in order to purge the doubts which threatened to "betray" his thought reform experience, and conse- quently overstating his praise for Communism.
It may be that in the long run he, too, will backslide. But the tenacity with which this Jesuit priest had held on to his Chinese Communist conversion was as impressive a reform result as any I witnessed, particularly since there was no environmental reinforce- ment for his thought reform views. To be sure, the unanimity of his colleagues' opposition served as a stimulus to his defiance of them; and some reinforcement was available, even if from a dis- tance, in the constant information about the Communist world reaching him through newspapers, magazines, and casual conversa- tions. But even after all of this has been said, Father Simon's case leaves one with a renewed respect for the emotional power of thought reform.
? CHAPTER 12
RECOVERY AND RENEW AL: A SUMMING UP
We have described in the last two chapters the
emotional trials of Westerners during their first few post-thought reform years. These were never easy, and they took many different personal forms, but the common pattern was one of recovery and renewal. There were certain basic tasks which they all faced, psychological principles to which they were all subject. Their common problems were mainly the result of the thought re- form emotions they had shared; but they were also related to an- other heritage common to all these men, that of the Westerner in China.
Mastery and Integrity
When the Westerners returned home, typically they found them- selves compelled to be active, preoccupied with thought reform in particular and with China in general, and unable to become im- mediately interested in their Western environments. It was as if they had some piece of psychological business to attend to before they could permit themselves the luxury of rest or could assume the responsibility of new involvements. This unrest represented the psychological need to re-enact a highly disturbing experience, and
2
? RECOVERY AND RENEWAL 223
is related to what Freud called the "repetition compulsion. " * It is an effort at mastery in which, as Erilcson has described, "The in- dividual unconsciously arranges for variations of an original theme which he has not learned either to overcome or to live with/' and deals with the stressful situation by "meeting it repeatedly and of his own accord. "2
As is also true of people put through many other kinds of painful experiences, these subjects were reliving their thought reform as a means of coming to terms with it. Their experience involved spe- cial emphasis upon problems of shame and guilt, and it was these emotions which they had in some measure to overcome. Otherwise they would be unable either to overcome or to live with their thought reform, and unable to recover their self-esteem. We may therefore describe their psychological task as mastery through res- toration of integrity.
Lecturing and writing about thought reform were particularly effective ways of achieving this mastery. By these acts the subject was in effect saying: "I am no longer the passive, helpless criminal and betrayer. I am an active, strong authority on a manipulative process which could affect any of you in my audience or reading public/7 Such retelling is the former prisoner's means of declaring his identity shift, his beginning disengagement from his own ex- perience.
However, after any great adventure, or even a commonplace oc- currence, the reconstruction can never reproduce exactly the ex- perience itself. The changed inner and outer circumstances and the passage of time must induce distortions. Truth is at best an ap- proximation, and for these men the need for altered reconstruction is likely to be great. The direction and the degree of distortion depended upon the Westerner's way of responding to thought re- form, his developing relationship with his new environment, and his long-standing psychological techniques for dealing with threats to his sense of integrity.
Bishop Barker's reconstruction, for instance, was the story of a clever and heroic man who made no concessions and who out- witted his reformers at every turn. I said of him that he had ex- tended his use of the mechanism of denial to the point of con- fabulation, because I knew that his reconstruction was inaccurate both in terms of actual events and attitudes towards those events.
? 224 THOUGHT REFORM
Such a distortion in self-representation was characteristic for ap- parent resisters: in order to maintain a sense of integrity, over the years they would build upon the heroic self-image, and "forget" events and emotions associated with their having been weak or deceived. While Bishop Barker was by no means completely free of inner doubts about his heroic self-image, he had been able to master the thought reform experience sufficiently to carry through his distortion rather effectively.
But there were apparent resisters to whom these patterns of denial and repression were dangerous. Another priest whom I saw in follow-up (he was not mentioned earlier) had, like Bishop Barker used denial and repression to reinforce the heroic image which others were ready to confer upon him. He too gave many crusading speeches, and impressed both his audiences and his colleagues with his strength, energy, and stature. Yet when I saw him, I noticed that his eyes expressed fear and agitation. His gaze resembled the "thousand-mile stare" characteristic of prisoners immediately after their release--and he was the only one of my subjects who looked this way three years later. For almost two hours this priest de- scribed his flawless adjustment to European life, denied emotional difficulties of any kind, and spoke of the enthusiasm which he was able to arouse during his lectures on thought reform. Then, in a suddenly lowered voice, he made this admission:
But one thing was strange. . . . For months after I came out, each time I saw a stairway in a house, I thought, "What a wonderful place to jump . . . to commit suicide. "
Underneath the show of strength he was a deeply troubled man who could not fully believe his own self-representation. His obses- sive thoughts of suicide and his outer signs of fear revealed under- lying patterns of depression and anxiety. His efforts at mastery could not still his inner self-accusations, and his need to idealize his behavior prevented him from coming to terms with his strong feelings of guilt. Although he demonstrated strength and effective- ness in many areas, he was having great difficulty restoring his sense of integrity.
Father Simon made use of similar mechanisms, but his distor- tions were in the opposite direction. His need was to justify his conversion to Communism and live up to his identity of the con-
? RECOVERY AND RENEWAL 22 5
scientious enthusiast. This involved denial of brutality during his imprisonment, repression of antagonisms toward the Communists and of recent doubts, and rationalization to justify and explain Communist behavior. Like all apparent converts, his sense of in- tegrity required that he idealize the Communists and deprecate himself, and he reconstructed, in this light, not only his prison experience, but his entire life history. The identity of the apparent convert (and this was true of Miss Darrow as well) puts one in a masochistic stance, the paradoxical situation of being able to main- tain self-esteem only by continuous self-flagellation.
The same thing was true of Father Benet Although he had run the gamut from apparent convert to apparent resister, his ap- proach to mastery required that he continually focus upon thought reform's capacity to humiliate and to make men betray themselves. His distortion was in the direction of exaggerating both thought reform's power and the human weakness of those put through it. This "analysis" was partly a reflection of his own experience, and partly a means of restating the sado-masochistic self-representation which he needed for his sense of integrity.
Father Vechten required a serious "accident" to interrupt his compensatory overactivity and permit him the opportunity to deal with his inner conflicts. As one of the obviously confused, he had not resorted to the gross distortions which were characteristic for
(although by no means limited to) apparent resisters and apparent converts. He in fact went to the opposite extreme, and his inability to permit himself the slightest amount of poetic license was a large factor in his difficulties. His approach to integrity demanded that he spare no details of his own "misbehavior" in his reconstruc- tion; on the other hand, his intensified shame and guilt, and his fear of not finding acceptance within his European Catholic en- vironment, prevented him from sharing this accurate version with his colleagues and as a result, he had no way to express his inner preoccupations. His integrity could not be restored until the "ac- cident" broke this impasse.
The struggle for mastery is most intense immediately following thought reform, and during the first weeks and months after re- lease emotional crises center around it. In most of my Western subjects> it tended to subside a great deal after a year, as distance and perspective were gradually achieved, and the Westerners be-
? 226 THOUGHT REFORM
came able to formulate an explanation of their behavior. This re- construction is the subject's new psychological truth, his means of coming to terms with both his thought reform and his Western environment. A subject was likely to have difficulty with his re- construction when it was so distorted that he found it hard to sup- port his own belief in it, or when it was so literal and unsparing that he was unable to express it. In any event, each subject's struggle for mastery probably will continue indefinitely, whether or not he is consciously aware of the struggle.
Separation
A second major emotional conflict for these men and women was the problem of separation. At first I was surprised when West- ern subjects, almost without exception, put as much emphasis on their sadness at being separated from China as on their conflicts over thought reform, and wondered if their doing so was a means of avoid- ing more disturbing emotions. This was the situation to some extent in a few; but the continued longing for China which most of them expressed years later convinced me that separation was a profound problem in itself. They were clearly experiencing a "grief" reaction. But what were they mourning?
Some were mourning the loss of the very special intimacy of the thought reform group--the delight in total exposure and sharing. As was true of Dr. Vincent, this delight can be keenly felt if one has never before known it; and Father Simon still retained the effects of this loss years later. Others, like Father ? mile, mourned for those (in his case, Chinese Catholic priests) who were left be- hind to suffer. As a Western missionary, he felt that because he had helped introduce the alien religion now being persecuted, he was responsible for the suffering. This emotion is not unlike that of a man who has lost a wife, parent, or, perhaps more appropriately, brother or son by death; he remembers all the ways in which he had caused his loved one suffering, to the point where (at least uncon- sciously) he feels he is responsible for the death itself. This type of reaction is intensified by any pre-existing hostility which the mourner might have had for the mourned, since this makes the assumption of a sense of responsibility for the death or suffering all the easier.
? RECOVERY AND RENEWAL 22J
Others among my subjects--Father Luca is a notable example-- suffered from the realization that they were being separated per- manently from their life in China. They would have no more con- tact with the special combination of human beings and landscape which had nourished them during important adult years. This more generalized grief at separation from China includes and transcends the first two reactions. In fact, the fear of separation, and the anticipated grief could render a prisoner susceptible to thought reform, as was clearly true of Father Simon. When this separation does occur, finally and irrevocably, the Westerner must experience true mourning: he temporarily intensifies his identification with China, preoccupies himself with reminders of his past existence there, and then bit-by-bit works through the process of detaching himself from what has been lost. 3
All these Westerners mourned the loss of something which in- volved their most profound emotions; we may say that each mourned a lost part of himself. Moreover, this symbolic splitting of identity was forced upon these men under the most dishonorable conditions; they were expelled from China as criminals and spies. This separation with dishonor at the same time robbed them of that part of their identities they most treasured, and imposed on them the shameful and guilt-laden thought reform elements.
The problem of separation becomes most acute when a West- erner arrives in Europe or America: at that time he becomes aware of having been totally removed from the Chinese environment. He will then seek to return to a Chinese environment, or to main- tain contact with others who are in one, in order to recapture what has been lost of himself, to reverse the separation process. Much depends, of course, upon the degree of involvement with China; but among my subjects, there were few for whom the problem of separation is not a lingering source of pain.
Expatriates Return
The return to Europe or America confronts the Westerner with still another difficult psychological issue, that of the expatriate's return. (None was literally an expatriate; the term is used here symbolically. ) Long residence in China had created in many of them a sense of alienation from their own countries, an alienation
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which thought reform greatly intensified; and almost all felt them- selves emotionally removed from those around them who had not shared their Chinese experiences. They themselves created and perpetuated this emotional distance, partly because of their need for a personal moratorium which would help them solve problems of mastery and separation. This moratorium also allowed them to postpone their confrontation with the Western milieu.
Most of my subjects found the Western world strange and hard to get used to. And indeed, for those who had been in China for several decades, the changes that had occurred in the Western en- vironment during that time, as well as in its people, must have been striking. Yet the problem was not so much strangeness as it was familiarity. Father Vechten's visit to Rome (the center and the spiritual patria for all Catholic priests) confronted him with beliefs, behavioral codes, and a world view which had always been part of him, but which had, during his years in China--and espe- cially during his imprisonment--become in some ways modified, combined with other influences, and less clearly present in his moment-to-moment consciousness. This confrontation did not have the effect of something new; rather, he felt an uneasy revival within him of a "way of thinking and judging . . . more that which I had formerly. " The same kind of revival also occurred, usually in a more insidious fashion, with all of my Western subjects, whether in mat- ters religious, cultural, or specifically personal.
The expatriate's return then is a confrontation with elements of one's identity which one has long denied, repressed, or modified be- yond easy recognition. The Westerners had originally become ex- patriates only in relation to their own identity: the emotions which led them to choose careers in China included a need to deny or repress, at least temporarily, portions of their heritage in the search for a newer synthesis. Each man's early self had been further un- dermined by the imposed judgments of thought reform. Back home, they were brought in contact---sometimes critically, some- times with psychological sensitivity, but always with full impact-- with these archaic parts of themselves, reminded of them by the physical surroundings they encountered and by the people they met. Having to face their roots in this manner was both nourish- ing and disturbing: they could feel strengthened by being brought back to what they had been, and at the same time feel threatened
? RECOVERY AND RENEWAL 229
by partisan and provincial emotions arid ideas which they thought they had long discarded in their cosmopolitan existence. This ex- perience of outward journey and inward return is not characteristic only of the temporary exile or expatriate; it occurs with anyone who risks the slightest deviation from the life patterns originally assigned him. 4 For these subjects, either their years of work in China or the thought reform experience alone would have made this problem a profound one. Together, the two exposures produced one of the most difficult forms of expatriate's return imaginable.
Renewal of Identity
The overriding task for these men--a task which included and went beyond problems of mastery, separation, and return--was that of renewal of identity. To renew, one must look to what has gone before; and it was no accident that so many of these men ap- proached the problem historically, in both a personal and a broader sense.
Sometimes, as in the case of Mr. Kallmann, this historical orienta- tion led to a good deal of confusion: unable to trust sufficiently any one among many identity elements, he clung tenaciously and some- what uncritically to a number of antithetical sides of himself, re- lating to Communism and anti-Communism, Nazism and anti- Nazism, authoritarian and libertarian emotions, China and the West, and a general sense of being "all things to all men" in mediating among men. In other cases the historical search had a careful, almost academic pattern, although no less emotionally in- volved: when Father Luca, for example, studied the life of a great modern missionary, he was also immersing himself in the historical problems of all Western missionaries in China. To understand this process of renewal, we must make a brief excursion into some of these historical aspects of the identity of the Westerner in China.
We may begin with the most painful of Western identities--- that of the imperialist. The Communists built a highly personalized image around this term; a non-Communist Westerner was per se an "imperialist" (one spoke in prison of "the People" and "the Imperialists"); he was greedy, demanding, intrusive, and unscru- pulous; he sought to further his own interests by taking from
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others what was rightfully theirs. And only a Westerner could be an imperialist; Chinese might be "bourgeois" or "reactionary"--even "lackeys" of the imperialists--but never imperialists themselves. In ideological terms derived from Lenin's theory of imperialism, they considered the imperialist the agent of,'military, political, economic, and cultural subversion, and the destroyer of all that was good and noble in Chinese civilization.
The Westerners who had this version of the imperialist identity drummed into them during imprisonment began to dislodge them- selves from it during the years after release; but each remained troubled by the Icernel of truth around which the identity is built. It is mainly to decide how much of this guilt they should personally assume that so many of them made investigations of what the West- erner in China had really been. Each discovered what he had al- ready known, that the heritage was mixed; schools and gunboats, industrial techniques and exploitation, enlightenment and dog- matism.
At best, Chinese attitudes toward Westerners have always been ambivalent. They have always viewed Westerners with an ethno- centric eye, and during four centuries of contact there have been periodic waves of persecution and anti-foreign outbreaks. Many times before, they have accused the foreigner (with his strange, non-Confucian doctrines) of being dangerous and "subversive. " Conflicts magnified during the latter part of the nineteenth and the early part of the twentieth centuries, the era of the West's most vigorous military penetration of China. Then all individual West- erners became party to the special arrangements and privileges of the "unequal treaties" so much resented by the Chinese. This was as true for the missionaries as for anyone else--perhaps even truer for them because of their influence on Chinese subjects:
. .
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 211
His list had, of course, been his unconscious preparation for what was to come. When he made it he decided that "if I put together all these faults I had been accused of . . . I could say I was guilty. "
When I asked him what he had to feel guilty about, he first an- swered evasively, "We had plenty of things. " And then he did describe one of them--an occasion soon after World War II when Catholic chaplains from the American Army brought an intelligence officer to see Simon and some of his colleagues, "and then we told them plenty of things. " But, as if realizing that this might not be in itself so damning, he added, "What we did any foreigner would have done, but we should have been more careful. " Then, as if to justify further his guilt, he explained that "In jail we didn't ac- cuse only our crimes, but rather the intention of our crimes"; he went on to describe how he had contemplated (but had never carried out) telling an American missionary who was leaving de- tails about Communist work on an airfield, realizing that this in- formation might be passed on to an official American group.
I had no way of knowing whether this idea had really occurred to Simon before his imprisonment, or whether it was a product of the guilt-stimulating pressures of imprisonment itself. Either way, it was part of his need to find evidence of both wrongdoing and wrong-thinking so he could rationalize, in thought reform terms, his own psychological state: "Every time I found a crime I had committed, I was glad to find it. " But among a myriad of trivial self-accusations, the encounter with an American intelligence officer was undoubtedly a true source of psychological guilt, as it violated Simon's deepest sense of what a missionary should do and be.
His guilt established in his own mind, Simon moved on to the next step--complete enthusiasm and complete trust:
One of the prisoners suggested writing diaries--only about our change of mind. . . . Every day we gave the cell chief our diary. We had the feeling we were living in a glass house--but we had no bad feelings at all. Our souls were entirely open. It was complete confidence. We could trust the government.
Simon's attainment of mutual trust and harmony with the Chi- nese realized a long-desired goal, a goal which he felt had before this always eluded him: "I never had a good chance to live among the Chinese except the last three years in jail. " During this period
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he held nothing back from his colleagues and cellmates ("I was glad to get rid of all I had on my mind and to speak very frankly"), and his statements included extensive denunciations of the behavior of many of his colleagues, both in and out of jail,
He was transferred during his last year to a jail where he was permitted to do manual labor. His guilt had led to a feeling of tranquility: "I was more quiet. I thought I am guilty and deserve it. " Once he was happy in jail, his main fear was that he would soon be released. He knew that jail was a safer place for him than life in China on the outside; and contact with his own colleagues in Europe seemed least safe of all:
When I was in labor camp during the last year, I was glad to be there. I was afraid to be out, because if allowed to stay in China I would have much trouble. If I came out, there would be trouble with my Order. . . . When I received my sentence, I wrote immediately to the head of the court, "I do not ask for a reduction in the sentence, but I would like you to cross out the clause about being kicked out of the country. "
By this time, he was, more than any of my subjects, identifying himself with his reformers. He took pride in bringing others around: "There was one fellow we worked on for two full days. At first we couldn't get to him . . . but finally we did. " Much impressed with individual Communists, he set them up as his standard, and always compared himself unfavorably to them: "We worked hard--but could not beat them. . . . They worked all of the days, and had meetings at night. . . . And they were very enthusiastic about their work. " He could justify in his mind even their curbs upon religion: "They said that outside of jail there is religious freedom, inside no. . . . That was tough on us, but we had to follow regulations"; and he was grateful for a slight relaxation in this area: "At the end,
for instance, I was allowed to say my breviary. "
He emphasized that in all this he had become increasinglyim-
pressed with the sincerity of the Communist officials, and illustrated this with their attitude toward their false accusation about the radio:
At the beginning, I thought that this was a pretext to arrest me. They wanted to take over our university and used this as their pretext. Later I found they really believed it. They were in good faith. . . . Then they dropped it, and they believed me.
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 213
Thus he had, during the course of his imprisonment, run the gamut from opposition to merger: "When they called me at the beginning, it was a fight--at the end it was a chat with a friend. "
Simon related this story to me in a simple, straightforward manner, impressing me both with his conscientiousness and his naivet6. At times he seemed totally unaware of the degree to which he had been manipulated. But at other times, I felt that awareness of this manipulation--as well as of the inconsistencies of the Com- munist position--had intruded upon his consciousness, and that he was hard put to fend it off. This inner struggle became more evident as he told me of his experiences after his release.
Tense and agitated upon his arrival in Hong Kong, Simon had found himself in total disagreement with everyone and everything around him. His situation was aggravated by his compulsion to ex- press these antagonistic feelings:
I couldn't control myself . . . when I was in jail, I could read Chinese newspapers for an entire month with no reaction, but when I came out, after every paragraph, I jumped . . . when someone told me something I thought was wrong, I had to speak.
At that time, he was convinced that because of his "change of ideas" he would not be able to remain in the Jesuit Order: "I don't mean I thought I would leave, but that I might be kicked out. " He thought he might have to become a secular priest (one who be- longs to no special order) and "find a bishop who would take me. "
His Jesuit colleagues, however, felt differently. Appalled at his behavior and attitudes, but for the most part sympathetic to him as a person, they were intent upon tiding him over what they con- sidered to be a crisis and winning him back to a more acceptable set of views. One of them with whom I had talked in Hong Kong had even asked my advice about the problem. He had decided--partly in response to pressures from other colleagues and partly because of his own convictions--to apply to Simon what he called "shock therapy. " By this he meant confronting him with the disparaging material that had been published about him in Chinese Com- munist newspapers and magazines, including accusations and con- fessions of heterosexual and homosexual behavior. (Simon had been accused of committing a "sexual crime" [homosexual act] during his imprisonment; although this was probably a false accusation, it
? 2 1 4 THOUGHT R E F O R M
could well have touched off latent fears and impulses and stimulated a good deal of confession material. ) Simon's Jesuit friend had hesitated to use his "shock" approach because he had noted that on the few occasions when he had attempted to bring up the sub- ject of prison confessions, Simon had become silent and fearful. I felt he had good reason to hesitate, and advised him against the "shock therapy/' However, influenced by the fact that Simon was leaving for Europe in a few days, and believing that others in the Church might be less understandingabout the whole problem than he was, the Jesuit had disregarded my advice and gone ahead with his direct but gently-administeredconfrontation.
He felt at the time that his shock therapy had been effective, since Simon had responded with surprise and a certain amount of anger directed at the Communists. But like many therapists, shock or otherwise, he had been premature in his evaluation; for soon Simon overcame his resentment toward the Communists through a rationalized analysis of the situation, which he also gave to me:
The Communists have two different departments, justice and propa- ganda. Justice wants to know the truth. Propaganda wants to amplify everything. . . . For justice, I still have the document of condemna- tion . . . based on the true facts. . . . Some expressions are rather ambiguous, but what they charged me of, I have admitted. . . . What they wrote in the newspapers [for propaganda] is entirely different.
It is possible, however, that this incident did play a part in Simon's gradual realization that the Communists were not com- pletely truthful:
That's one point on which I have changed a little. Then [when in prison] I had the feeling that the Communists never lied. I feel now that although there are more lies on the other side, the Communists also lie--although they are more clever and more skillful. . . . If the Communists only told the truth, it would be awful for us.
Despite this small concession, he remained acutely at odds with his fellow priests. He looked upon them as "reactionary," and they tended to view him as one who had been convinced (and deceived) by the Communists because he was "doctrinally unsound" in his Catholic theology. One priest used him to illustrate the point that it is the "technicians" among Catholic priests who are likely to be most affected by thought reform, rather than those who are more
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 215
strongly grounded philosophically. Another, who had been de- nounced in prison by Simon, referred to the latter's behavior as a "twist of conscience. . . . He is a very conscientious man, and when he reported against me he was being very conscientious in another way. "
The Jesuit organization seemed to have more tolerance for his point of view than Simon had anticipated; but he felt that in re- assigning him to a teaching position, they had expected him even- tually to "become normal again/' He made a point of expressing his Communist sympathies clearly to his superiors, and he finally reached a modus Vivendi with them in which they accepted his right to hold any beliefs he pleased as long as he did not proclaim them too loudly to the outside world. He accepted this restriction as part of the principle (emphasized by both the Communists and the Catholics) that an individual priest cannot separate his actions from his responsibilities to his order; at the same time he indicated that he would like to express his views publicly through writing or speak- ing "if I were free. "
He was--emotionally and intellectually--much more distant from his colleagues than before. He had always viewed himself as "rather cold toward other people/' and this isolation was increased "because I live with people who don't share the same idea. " When I asked him if he had been influenced by any of his colleagues since his return, he replied, "There couldn't be much influence because their ideas are so contradictory to mine. "
He was so much alone with his thoughts that his only oppor- tunities to express himself came during long automobile trips he made to preach in outlying areas. These trips were arranged by a local organization, and on them he found release in talking to the driver, usually a businessman volunteer: "I know they don't share my opinions, but it is very enjoyable for me. " Sometimes his com- panion, when he first heard that Simon had been through interest- ing experiences in China, would enthusiastically invite him to speak before a local club--to which Simon would reply, "Let us talk together for a few more minutes and then see whether you still wish me to speak before your group. " The invitation was never repeated. Simon concluded that "they don't want their members to hear that kind of stuff. "
Toward the end of our three-hour talk, he described to me his
? 2l6 THOUGHT REFORM
attempts to achieve an inner synthesis between his older Catholic and newer Communist ideologies. He claimed that this attempt had begun even before he was imprisoned, when he had envisioned a political party "entirely Communist but with Christian prin- ciples" (although at the time he supported his fellow priests against the encroachments of the Communist regime). Like other priests among my subjects, he felt that he had reinforced his own spiritual life through his imprisonment: "The fact of feeling guilty is good Christian humility/' But unlike the others, he believed that the Communists themselves possessed the Christian virtues ("I feel that most of the Communists are humble"), a strong expression of praise from a Catholic priest.
He claimed that through his experience he felt himself closer to the Catholic religion "because, in one way I am nearer the truth. " His facial expression became animated and enthusiastic as he de- scribed to me the way in which he had improved his inner life:
I have had more experience with introspection. With all of the methods of criticism we go very deep into the subconscious. I remember in jail . . . everyone told their faults against the discipline, then we decided to get deep into the reasons. Then others would say, "This and this is the reason/' We would say, "No, no, no--that's not it/' Then at night you would think they are right, and as soon as you realized this, the fault was corrected at once. . . . This is very important for the re- ligious life. . . . A very powerful tool.
I felt his alternation in this statement between first person sin- gular and plural, and the second and third persons, was more than a matter of a European speaking English (his English was, in fact, fluent), and really reflected his alternating images of himself as a member of the Communist-oriented group, as the target of its criticism, and as a spiritually-active European Catholic. He in fact emphasized that it was not possible to use this kind of group criticism in his present circumstances, and that he was forced to apply this "tool" himself--and so, in effect, assumesimultaneously all three identities. He believed that Communism and Catholicism should maintain their interchange of techniques and that Catholi- cism should seek to benefit from the Communist improvements "Lenin borrowed many things from religious orders, but amplified them a lot. . . . If we can get them back from Lenin, that is all right. "
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 217
Yet he could not avoid recognizing his inevitable conflict, as a Catholic priest, with the Communist creed. When I asked, for in- stance, if he were troubled by the problem of materialism--a point of bitter controversy, at least theoretically, between Communism and Catholicism--he replied, "No, but it means I can never be a Communist/' and went on to say:
My conflict with the Communists came when I said, "For me religion is first, Communism is second/' If I had been able to write a blank check and say that anything the Communists do about religion is OK, then I could have stayed. That much I could not have done. . . . I trusted them very much, but not that much. . . . If not for this prob- lem of religion I would have followed the Communist Party entirely, without any restriction.
He added that during his last month in jail he wondered, "Do I not go too far? " and then decided, "I shall never have an uncondi- tional surrender. I shall never sign a blank check. " Now he con- cluded, not without some sadness, that because of this unwilling- ness, "for the Communists I am still an enemy . . . since if you don't accept them entirely, they consider you an enemy. "
When I asked him whether he would consider such a black-and- white judgment on the part of the Communists to be at all unfair, his answer was what could be expected--but its implications were nonetheless striking:
No. To understand Communism you must compare it with Catholic belief. If with Catholic belief, you don't accept one article of faith, you are not a Catholic. If you don't sign a blank check, you are not a Catholic.
Simon had no objection to the demand itself. When I asked him whether he was willing to make this "unconditional surrender" to Catholicism, he replied:
Of course. . . .
I like Communism and Catholicism, but Catholicism always comes first. In case of conflict, I will stay with Catholicism.
World politics were, of course, another matter. As far as Com- munist activities in general were concerned, Simon said, "I am not even against a revolution--of course as mild as possible, but you cannot always do anything about that. " And about the return of
? 2l8 THOUGHT REFORM
General de Gaulle to power during 1958, he offered a remarkably candid opinion:
W ell, give him a chance. See what he can do. I was rather against him at first because I thought he was reactionary. Then someone said that Moscow was not against him because they thought he would break NATO. Since then I have not been so much against him because Mos- cow had that opinion. If Moscow stands for de Gaulle, then I am for de Gaulle.
But in discussing thought reform, he made a statement far more significant than he realized:
The way you look at it depends upon whether you feel that their opin- ions are true or false. If you say they are false, then it is all brainwashing stuff. If you think them true, they help you. I saw cases of serious offences--even some real crimes--completely changed. . . . With the habit of introspection you can very quickly see whether someone is tell- ing the truth.
Here Simon, quite unintentionally, let his inner doubts out of the bag, implying with this slip that he and others like him were not guilty of "real crimes/' but of something else that must be dis- tinguished from them.
He ended the interview--just as he began it--with praise for the 'Very powerful" and "wonderful" thought reform methods, and denunciation of those Catholic priests who he felt had presented distorted views of Communist China.
Why did Father Simon go so far that his conversion strains the meaning of apparent? It is interesting to compare him with our other apparent convert, Miss Darrow. The two are very different kinds of people; and yet there are striking similarities in their emo- tional reactions. Both responded very strongly to the opportunity to merge with the Chinese people; both experienced an unusually strong sense of guilt, and a strong need to be absolutely sincere with their captors; both eventually achieved a greater harmony with their prison environment than with any they had previously known, and were loath to surrender it for the anticipated pain of "freedom. " This authoritarian priest shared with the liberal mis- sionary's daughter psychological traits characteristic for the ap- parent convert: strong susceptibility to guilt, confusion of identity,
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 2 1 9
and most important of all, a long-standing pattern of totalism. Simon's totalism had in fact always been much more prominent than,Miss Darrow's. As the conscientious enthusiast, he had shown a tendency to embrace totally a series of influences--Catholicism, American know-how, Chinese life, and then Chinese Communism. Unlike Miss Darrow, he had not rebelled from the religious in- fluences which helped to shape this totalism during his early life. He did not seek a liberal alternative; rather, in his "unconditional surrender" to Catholicism he was attracted toward the most au- thoritarian and uncompromising elements within a many-sided (but
always potentially authoritarian) ideology.
But within his identity of conscientious enthusiast were two
vying elements, the convert and the defier. As the former, he sought, and as the latter feared, total unity with an all-powerful force. He required a pattern of defiance in order to ward off the strong attrac- tions to continuous influences around him. Sometimes he would defy one first and convert to it later, sometimes convert to it first and then defy it; or on still other occasions, defy one strong in- fluence while converting to another. Thus he defied his father to convert to the priesthood (it would be interesting to know whether he had originally been at all defiant in his attitude toward religion), defied French influencein his conversion to America and Western influence in his conversion to China, defied both Catholic and American influences in his conversion to Communism, and then continued to defy Catholic pressures as a means of maintaining this conversion. Whether defying or converting, his was an all-or- none approach. This is symbolized in his repeated use of the term "blank check": for one who issues a "blank check" to another may be offering either everything or nothing, without specifying how much of himself he gives and how much he insists upon retaining.
As a conscientious Catholic priest and scientist, his total dedica- tion to missionary work, credal purity, truthfulness, and sincerity were basic to his affirmative self-image. But both the defier and the convert within him could interfere and become part of his negative identity; for underneath both of them was a profound inability to trust or to become intimate with other human beings. Each con- version was a quest for the trust and intimacy that had long eluded him; unable to experience them in ordinary human doses, he sought trust and intimacy on absolute terms. For him, both conversion and
? 22O THOUGHT REFORM
defiance were attempts to ward off inner feelings of aloneness, weakness, and helplessness.
In prison, he was first the defier (an unusually courageous one), and then the convert (an unusually loyal one). In both identities, his conscientiousness was outstanding; but his behavior also re- vealed the basic contradiction within his convert-defier pattern. His ideal of "unconditional surrender" was not fully attainable. He could not, after all, sign the "blank check. " He tells us that this was because he could not submit simultaneously and totally to two masters; and this is true enough. But it is also true that he could not--either then or before--submit totally to any master. Ulti- mately, the "unconditional surrender*' and the "blank check" were unrealizable ideals, as they so often are for those who seek them. For Simon, they had been an inspiring myth; but defiance, doubt, and mistrust eventually interfered in relation to both Catholicism and Communism.
In his post-prison years, Simon--despite his outward assurance-- was inwardly walking an emotional tightrope. Whatever his denials, he did continue to serve two emotional masters, and this is a con- siderable strain. Even more subject to totalism than Miss Darrow, he remained truer than she to his thought reform conversion. Three-and-a-half years after his release he was still unable to come to terms with the actualities of his experience; he felt the need to reconstruct thought reform events to make them more congenial and less brutal, and to emphasize his compliance rather than his resistance. He had to avoid the recognition of having been manipu- lated, or else minimize the manipulation and justify its usage.
Obviously all was not well with this last--and perhaps most profound--of Simon's conversions. He was not, after all, immune from the Catholic influences around him, nor from the forces of reality testing, nor from the voice of his own doubts. Evidence for this lies in his slightly more critical (though hardly very critical) attitude toward Communism, in his slips of the tongue, in his over- stated protestations. As with all true believers, his doubts were not easy to tolerate, since unconsciously he tended to see them as a lack of total sincerity on his part. Yet his doubts were constantly stimulated by the presence of his other (Catholic) master--that is, by Church officials and Catholic ideas. This accounts for some of the vehemence with which he criticized his fellow clergymen; he was
? FATHER SIMON: THE CONVERTED JESUIT 2 2 1
calling his defiant self into play in order to purge the doubts which threatened to "betray" his thought reform experience, and conse- quently overstating his praise for Communism.
It may be that in the long run he, too, will backslide. But the tenacity with which this Jesuit priest had held on to his Chinese Communist conversion was as impressive a reform result as any I witnessed, particularly since there was no environmental reinforce- ment for his thought reform views. To be sure, the unanimity of his colleagues' opposition served as a stimulus to his defiance of them; and some reinforcement was available, even if from a dis- tance, in the constant information about the Communist world reaching him through newspapers, magazines, and casual conversa- tions. But even after all of this has been said, Father Simon's case leaves one with a renewed respect for the emotional power of thought reform.
? CHAPTER 12
RECOVERY AND RENEW AL: A SUMMING UP
We have described in the last two chapters the
emotional trials of Westerners during their first few post-thought reform years. These were never easy, and they took many different personal forms, but the common pattern was one of recovery and renewal. There were certain basic tasks which they all faced, psychological principles to which they were all subject. Their common problems were mainly the result of the thought re- form emotions they had shared; but they were also related to an- other heritage common to all these men, that of the Westerner in China.
Mastery and Integrity
When the Westerners returned home, typically they found them- selves compelled to be active, preoccupied with thought reform in particular and with China in general, and unable to become im- mediately interested in their Western environments. It was as if they had some piece of psychological business to attend to before they could permit themselves the luxury of rest or could assume the responsibility of new involvements. This unrest represented the psychological need to re-enact a highly disturbing experience, and
2
? RECOVERY AND RENEWAL 223
is related to what Freud called the "repetition compulsion. " * It is an effort at mastery in which, as Erilcson has described, "The in- dividual unconsciously arranges for variations of an original theme which he has not learned either to overcome or to live with/' and deals with the stressful situation by "meeting it repeatedly and of his own accord. "2
As is also true of people put through many other kinds of painful experiences, these subjects were reliving their thought reform as a means of coming to terms with it. Their experience involved spe- cial emphasis upon problems of shame and guilt, and it was these emotions which they had in some measure to overcome. Otherwise they would be unable either to overcome or to live with their thought reform, and unable to recover their self-esteem. We may therefore describe their psychological task as mastery through res- toration of integrity.
Lecturing and writing about thought reform were particularly effective ways of achieving this mastery. By these acts the subject was in effect saying: "I am no longer the passive, helpless criminal and betrayer. I am an active, strong authority on a manipulative process which could affect any of you in my audience or reading public/7 Such retelling is the former prisoner's means of declaring his identity shift, his beginning disengagement from his own ex- perience.
However, after any great adventure, or even a commonplace oc- currence, the reconstruction can never reproduce exactly the ex- perience itself. The changed inner and outer circumstances and the passage of time must induce distortions. Truth is at best an ap- proximation, and for these men the need for altered reconstruction is likely to be great. The direction and the degree of distortion depended upon the Westerner's way of responding to thought re- form, his developing relationship with his new environment, and his long-standing psychological techniques for dealing with threats to his sense of integrity.
Bishop Barker's reconstruction, for instance, was the story of a clever and heroic man who made no concessions and who out- witted his reformers at every turn. I said of him that he had ex- tended his use of the mechanism of denial to the point of con- fabulation, because I knew that his reconstruction was inaccurate both in terms of actual events and attitudes towards those events.
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Such a distortion in self-representation was characteristic for ap- parent resisters: in order to maintain a sense of integrity, over the years they would build upon the heroic self-image, and "forget" events and emotions associated with their having been weak or deceived. While Bishop Barker was by no means completely free of inner doubts about his heroic self-image, he had been able to master the thought reform experience sufficiently to carry through his distortion rather effectively.
But there were apparent resisters to whom these patterns of denial and repression were dangerous. Another priest whom I saw in follow-up (he was not mentioned earlier) had, like Bishop Barker used denial and repression to reinforce the heroic image which others were ready to confer upon him. He too gave many crusading speeches, and impressed both his audiences and his colleagues with his strength, energy, and stature. Yet when I saw him, I noticed that his eyes expressed fear and agitation. His gaze resembled the "thousand-mile stare" characteristic of prisoners immediately after their release--and he was the only one of my subjects who looked this way three years later. For almost two hours this priest de- scribed his flawless adjustment to European life, denied emotional difficulties of any kind, and spoke of the enthusiasm which he was able to arouse during his lectures on thought reform. Then, in a suddenly lowered voice, he made this admission:
But one thing was strange. . . . For months after I came out, each time I saw a stairway in a house, I thought, "What a wonderful place to jump . . . to commit suicide. "
Underneath the show of strength he was a deeply troubled man who could not fully believe his own self-representation. His obses- sive thoughts of suicide and his outer signs of fear revealed under- lying patterns of depression and anxiety. His efforts at mastery could not still his inner self-accusations, and his need to idealize his behavior prevented him from coming to terms with his strong feelings of guilt. Although he demonstrated strength and effective- ness in many areas, he was having great difficulty restoring his sense of integrity.
Father Simon made use of similar mechanisms, but his distor- tions were in the opposite direction. His need was to justify his conversion to Communism and live up to his identity of the con-
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scientious enthusiast. This involved denial of brutality during his imprisonment, repression of antagonisms toward the Communists and of recent doubts, and rationalization to justify and explain Communist behavior. Like all apparent converts, his sense of in- tegrity required that he idealize the Communists and deprecate himself, and he reconstructed, in this light, not only his prison experience, but his entire life history. The identity of the apparent convert (and this was true of Miss Darrow as well) puts one in a masochistic stance, the paradoxical situation of being able to main- tain self-esteem only by continuous self-flagellation.
The same thing was true of Father Benet Although he had run the gamut from apparent convert to apparent resister, his ap- proach to mastery required that he continually focus upon thought reform's capacity to humiliate and to make men betray themselves. His distortion was in the direction of exaggerating both thought reform's power and the human weakness of those put through it. This "analysis" was partly a reflection of his own experience, and partly a means of restating the sado-masochistic self-representation which he needed for his sense of integrity.
Father Vechten required a serious "accident" to interrupt his compensatory overactivity and permit him the opportunity to deal with his inner conflicts. As one of the obviously confused, he had not resorted to the gross distortions which were characteristic for
(although by no means limited to) apparent resisters and apparent converts. He in fact went to the opposite extreme, and his inability to permit himself the slightest amount of poetic license was a large factor in his difficulties. His approach to integrity demanded that he spare no details of his own "misbehavior" in his reconstruc- tion; on the other hand, his intensified shame and guilt, and his fear of not finding acceptance within his European Catholic en- vironment, prevented him from sharing this accurate version with his colleagues and as a result, he had no way to express his inner preoccupations. His integrity could not be restored until the "ac- cident" broke this impasse.
The struggle for mastery is most intense immediately following thought reform, and during the first weeks and months after re- lease emotional crises center around it. In most of my Western subjects> it tended to subside a great deal after a year, as distance and perspective were gradually achieved, and the Westerners be-
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came able to formulate an explanation of their behavior. This re- construction is the subject's new psychological truth, his means of coming to terms with both his thought reform and his Western environment. A subject was likely to have difficulty with his re- construction when it was so distorted that he found it hard to sup- port his own belief in it, or when it was so literal and unsparing that he was unable to express it. In any event, each subject's struggle for mastery probably will continue indefinitely, whether or not he is consciously aware of the struggle.
Separation
A second major emotional conflict for these men and women was the problem of separation. At first I was surprised when West- ern subjects, almost without exception, put as much emphasis on their sadness at being separated from China as on their conflicts over thought reform, and wondered if their doing so was a means of avoid- ing more disturbing emotions. This was the situation to some extent in a few; but the continued longing for China which most of them expressed years later convinced me that separation was a profound problem in itself. They were clearly experiencing a "grief" reaction. But what were they mourning?
Some were mourning the loss of the very special intimacy of the thought reform group--the delight in total exposure and sharing. As was true of Dr. Vincent, this delight can be keenly felt if one has never before known it; and Father Simon still retained the effects of this loss years later. Others, like Father ? mile, mourned for those (in his case, Chinese Catholic priests) who were left be- hind to suffer. As a Western missionary, he felt that because he had helped introduce the alien religion now being persecuted, he was responsible for the suffering. This emotion is not unlike that of a man who has lost a wife, parent, or, perhaps more appropriately, brother or son by death; he remembers all the ways in which he had caused his loved one suffering, to the point where (at least uncon- sciously) he feels he is responsible for the death itself. This type of reaction is intensified by any pre-existing hostility which the mourner might have had for the mourned, since this makes the assumption of a sense of responsibility for the death or suffering all the easier.
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Others among my subjects--Father Luca is a notable example-- suffered from the realization that they were being separated per- manently from their life in China. They would have no more con- tact with the special combination of human beings and landscape which had nourished them during important adult years. This more generalized grief at separation from China includes and transcends the first two reactions. In fact, the fear of separation, and the anticipated grief could render a prisoner susceptible to thought reform, as was clearly true of Father Simon. When this separation does occur, finally and irrevocably, the Westerner must experience true mourning: he temporarily intensifies his identification with China, preoccupies himself with reminders of his past existence there, and then bit-by-bit works through the process of detaching himself from what has been lost. 3
All these Westerners mourned the loss of something which in- volved their most profound emotions; we may say that each mourned a lost part of himself. Moreover, this symbolic splitting of identity was forced upon these men under the most dishonorable conditions; they were expelled from China as criminals and spies. This separation with dishonor at the same time robbed them of that part of their identities they most treasured, and imposed on them the shameful and guilt-laden thought reform elements.
The problem of separation becomes most acute when a West- erner arrives in Europe or America: at that time he becomes aware of having been totally removed from the Chinese environment. He will then seek to return to a Chinese environment, or to main- tain contact with others who are in one, in order to recapture what has been lost of himself, to reverse the separation process. Much depends, of course, upon the degree of involvement with China; but among my subjects, there were few for whom the problem of separation is not a lingering source of pain.
Expatriates Return
The return to Europe or America confronts the Westerner with still another difficult psychological issue, that of the expatriate's return. (None was literally an expatriate; the term is used here symbolically. ) Long residence in China had created in many of them a sense of alienation from their own countries, an alienation
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which thought reform greatly intensified; and almost all felt them- selves emotionally removed from those around them who had not shared their Chinese experiences. They themselves created and perpetuated this emotional distance, partly because of their need for a personal moratorium which would help them solve problems of mastery and separation. This moratorium also allowed them to postpone their confrontation with the Western milieu.
Most of my subjects found the Western world strange and hard to get used to. And indeed, for those who had been in China for several decades, the changes that had occurred in the Western en- vironment during that time, as well as in its people, must have been striking. Yet the problem was not so much strangeness as it was familiarity. Father Vechten's visit to Rome (the center and the spiritual patria for all Catholic priests) confronted him with beliefs, behavioral codes, and a world view which had always been part of him, but which had, during his years in China--and espe- cially during his imprisonment--become in some ways modified, combined with other influences, and less clearly present in his moment-to-moment consciousness. This confrontation did not have the effect of something new; rather, he felt an uneasy revival within him of a "way of thinking and judging . . . more that which I had formerly. " The same kind of revival also occurred, usually in a more insidious fashion, with all of my Western subjects, whether in mat- ters religious, cultural, or specifically personal.
The expatriate's return then is a confrontation with elements of one's identity which one has long denied, repressed, or modified be- yond easy recognition. The Westerners had originally become ex- patriates only in relation to their own identity: the emotions which led them to choose careers in China included a need to deny or repress, at least temporarily, portions of their heritage in the search for a newer synthesis. Each man's early self had been further un- dermined by the imposed judgments of thought reform. Back home, they were brought in contact---sometimes critically, some- times with psychological sensitivity, but always with full impact-- with these archaic parts of themselves, reminded of them by the physical surroundings they encountered and by the people they met. Having to face their roots in this manner was both nourish- ing and disturbing: they could feel strengthened by being brought back to what they had been, and at the same time feel threatened
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by partisan and provincial emotions arid ideas which they thought they had long discarded in their cosmopolitan existence. This ex- perience of outward journey and inward return is not characteristic only of the temporary exile or expatriate; it occurs with anyone who risks the slightest deviation from the life patterns originally assigned him. 4 For these subjects, either their years of work in China or the thought reform experience alone would have made this problem a profound one. Together, the two exposures produced one of the most difficult forms of expatriate's return imaginable.
Renewal of Identity
The overriding task for these men--a task which included and went beyond problems of mastery, separation, and return--was that of renewal of identity. To renew, one must look to what has gone before; and it was no accident that so many of these men ap- proached the problem historically, in both a personal and a broader sense.
Sometimes, as in the case of Mr. Kallmann, this historical orienta- tion led to a good deal of confusion: unable to trust sufficiently any one among many identity elements, he clung tenaciously and some- what uncritically to a number of antithetical sides of himself, re- lating to Communism and anti-Communism, Nazism and anti- Nazism, authoritarian and libertarian emotions, China and the West, and a general sense of being "all things to all men" in mediating among men. In other cases the historical search had a careful, almost academic pattern, although no less emotionally in- volved: when Father Luca, for example, studied the life of a great modern missionary, he was also immersing himself in the historical problems of all Western missionaries in China. To understand this process of renewal, we must make a brief excursion into some of these historical aspects of the identity of the Westerner in China.
We may begin with the most painful of Western identities--- that of the imperialist. The Communists built a highly personalized image around this term; a non-Communist Westerner was per se an "imperialist" (one spoke in prison of "the People" and "the Imperialists"); he was greedy, demanding, intrusive, and unscru- pulous; he sought to further his own interests by taking from
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others what was rightfully theirs. And only a Westerner could be an imperialist; Chinese might be "bourgeois" or "reactionary"--even "lackeys" of the imperialists--but never imperialists themselves. In ideological terms derived from Lenin's theory of imperialism, they considered the imperialist the agent of,'military, political, economic, and cultural subversion, and the destroyer of all that was good and noble in Chinese civilization.
The Westerners who had this version of the imperialist identity drummed into them during imprisonment began to dislodge them- selves from it during the years after release; but each remained troubled by the Icernel of truth around which the identity is built. It is mainly to decide how much of this guilt they should personally assume that so many of them made investigations of what the West- erner in China had really been. Each discovered what he had al- ready known, that the heritage was mixed; schools and gunboats, industrial techniques and exploitation, enlightenment and dog- matism.
At best, Chinese attitudes toward Westerners have always been ambivalent. They have always viewed Westerners with an ethno- centric eye, and during four centuries of contact there have been periodic waves of persecution and anti-foreign outbreaks. Many times before, they have accused the foreigner (with his strange, non-Confucian doctrines) of being dangerous and "subversive. " Conflicts magnified during the latter part of the nineteenth and the early part of the twentieth centuries, the era of the West's most vigorous military penetration of China. Then all individual West- erners became party to the special arrangements and privileges of the "unequal treaties" so much resented by the Chinese. This was as true for the missionaries as for anyone else--perhaps even truer for them because of their influence on Chinese subjects:
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