The Conscience of the Party is the definitive biography of Hu Yaobang, the Chinese Communist Party’s most passionate reformer and its General Secretary during the monumental shifts of the 1980s. China analyst Robert L. Suettinger skilfully integrates Hu Yaobang’s life story into the broader narrative of modern Chinese history, offering readers a comprehensive understanding of the nation’s political system, economic development and culture. In the introduction, the author argues that “understanding a country’s internal politics is a prerequisite for understanding its foreign policies, goals, ambitions, and strategy.” I believe this book is a much-needed contribution to an understudied area of modern Chinese history, specifically the changes in the aftermath of Mao’s death. Hu Yaobang was known for his sophisticated mind, brilliant organisational skills, and courageous efforts to reform the Chinese government. He was remembered for his tolerance, integrity, and concern for ordinary people—qualities that unfortunately seem lacking in his successors.

Hu did not initially strike one as a natural leader. Born in 1915 in Hunan Province, he began his life in the modest and challenging conditions of a peasant family. He was of short stature and of slight build. Noticed at a young age to be intellectually curious and interested in reading, his entire family pooled their resources together to send him to school. As a boy, he walked back and forth between his home and school, totalling about twelve and a half miles. He left school at age fourteen but never abandoned his appreciation for education and the educated. Hu Yaobang read avidly anytime and always had a book at hand. We can see now how Hu Yaobang’s birthplace, cultural heritage, and upbringing put him in the path of China’s political revolution.

His wiry strength would pay off after he joined the Chinese Communist Party and was one of the youngest veterans of the Long March. When he arrived at Yan’an, he had been a thin, sickly “little red devil” who had barely survived the march. As a youth activist, he showed a talent for propaganda and organisation. An enthusiastic and bright student of Mao Zedong, he utilised his writing skills in the cause of the revolution. Hu further developed these skills during his long tenure in the Youth League, where he actively developed its daily and weekly publications. His literacy and love of poetry enabled him to create a unique training manual for poorly educated soldiers in the form of the People’s Army Three-Character Classic, a comprehensive and memorable guide in three-character phrases explaining various Communist Party principles. He also had the rare habit of preparing his own speeches throughout his career.
Hu, disillusioned by Maoism, endured brutal physical and emotional torment during the Cultural Revolution. Remarkably, he never “broke, begged, betrayed, or confessed.” Despite marrying and starting a family, he was powerless to shield his young wife from the psychological oppression inflicted by the political party they both served, which frequently led to their separation from their children. After a complete physical collapse, influential friends intervened, rescuing him. He emerged from this ordeal as a seasoned party bureaucrat, resilient and unbroken.

Hu’s lifelong opposition to forced confessions and guilt by denunciation is highlighted through his advocacy of the “four nos”: no attacking personal shortcomings, no political labelling, no violence, and no bringing up unverifiable evidence. His relationship with Deng Xiaoping is contrasted with those of other party leaders, illustrating the complex dynamics within the party. One major theme of this book is clarifying that Deng and Hu “… had worked together over many years, always in a superior-subordinate, although not patron-protégé, relationship.” Hu was later persecuted for his economic ideas by those from much wealthier backgrounds, despite – or perhaps due to – his popularity and understanding with the common people.

Hu, renowned for his reformist zeal, was a pivotal advocate for economic and political reforms in the 1980s, championing greater openness and tolerance. With intimate knowledge of farming and the worldview of the working classes, Hu frequently clashed with critics who, from the comfort of their luxury villas, opposed his efforts to decollectivize the countryside and dismantle the “much hated and inefficient” commune system. Similarly, his relatively pragmatic and sensitive policies relating to Tibet were unfortunately very short lived. He worked relentlessly to rehabilitate many individuals who had suffered during the Cultural Revolution, a topic that may interest those in post-conflict studies. I was previously unaware of how the aftermath of the Cultural Revolution was documented, analysed, and processed in the subsequent decades, and found these chapters to be exceptionally enlightening.

One of the best aspects of this book is that it provides a way to examine this era with greater detail and purpose, including many new interpretations based on more recently available materials. Most of the evidence used in this book is from Chinese-language articles, personal memoirs of officials, family members and journalists, and more recently published documents. The book is honest about gaps in knowledge, acknowledging the difficulty of reconstructing events accurately when they touch upon sensitive topics or time periods.

His removal from office in 1987 was related to his perceived leniency towards student protests and his moves to encourage the numerous elderly leaders to retire. These seniors wanted to “enjoy a few more years of comfort and secure appropriate comforts for their families after they stepped down.” Hu put much effort into rehabilitating these old party members, sometimes putting himself at odds with those who clung to Maoism, and eventually these men would turn on him. Despite his humiliating and devastating dismissal, he had to visit his superiors, including Deng Xiaoping, at their homes during the Spring Festival, adding insult to injury.

There were many periods of his life covered in this book where it is impossible to know how he felt, either due to a lack of sources or how he must have hidden his feelings for his own self-preservation. The reader does feel his suffering when he set himself the task of re-reading the complete works of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engles, to determine whether “his own words and actions were consistent with the canonical works of his faith.” His death and the public outpouring of grief is tied to the Tiananmen Square protests, and therefore he subsequently became a “non-person.” At his funeral and other later commemorations of his death, the party refused to do him the honour of acknowledging him as a “great Marxist.” It is poignant to consider how Hu Yaobang, emerging from humble beginnings through his love of books, sought comfort and solace in reading during his final years. His spirit remerges, however, with how his legacy was reignited by publishers from Hong Kong and collections of his works appearing on the internet. The Hu Yaobang Historical Materials Information Web (胡耀邦史料信息网) is highlighted as an example of how websites can serve as living memorials, garnering more attention than originally expected. Those wishing to understand how Hu Yaobang’s influence and the influence of his detractors shape Chinese policy today will find this book insightful.

Hu’s life and career are presented as the story of an extremely capable and decent man operating in a system that did not always reward decency and innovation. As Suettinger observes, “Hu was a classic tragic hero, whose efforts to do the right thing brought about his own downfall.” Hu failed as a political reformer, and his successors have not learned, or been empowered, to do much better. In many ways, they are doing worse, and the book prompts us to ask why. The author sometimes provides extensive backstory about other figures to explain rivalries and intrigues, which could have been better signposted to connect back to Hu Yaobang. Naturally, readers should brace themselves for summaries of every type of possible CCP discussion, from self-criticism sessions, standard meetings, conferences, workgroups to plenums.

The Conscience of the Party ends on a sombre note. Many of the issues and abuses that Hu Yaobang sought to address—such as the cult of personality, lifetime tenure, ideological rigidity, and the absence of political accountability—have resurfaced with renewed intensity. This book is a must-read for those seeking a deep dive into China’s domestic policies and political reform efforts. It illuminates the sweeping transformations in Chinese society over the past century, spanning cultural, social, and economic shifts. Through the lens of Hu Yaobang’s life, the book unravels the intricate challenges of political reform and the delicate dance around power and relationship hierarchies. While China’s economic productivity has been remarkable, lifting it to a world-leading position in many areas, Hu Yaobang’s aspiration to let ordinary people prosper first has not been fully realised.

This book was provided by Harvard University Press for review.