Wang Zhiming, Chinese Christian Martyr, 1973

By Nigel Tomes

Wang Zhiming (1907-1973) was a Christian minister serving ethnic minority believers in Wuding, Yunnan, SW China. In the mid-1960s, during the Cultural Revolution, Wang refused to take part in public denunciations, stating, "My hands have baptized many converts, and should not be used for sinfulness." He was arrested in 1966 and held ‘til he was put to death 4 years later. In 1981 a memorial was built at Wang’s grave, in China, the only memorial to a Christian martyr of the Cultural Revolution. He is also honored (among 20^th century martyrs) with a statue above the door of Westminster Abbey in London, UK.

Wang's family rarely talks to the mainstream media, but his son Wang Zisheng (b. 1940) granted an interview to Liao Yiwu in 2007. Below are excerpts of that interview from Liao’s book: God Is Red: The Secret Story of How Christianity Survived and Flourished in Communist China, (2011).

Wang: My father was held for 4 years in Wuding County. In December 1973 they executed him.

They listed 5 charges against him: 1^st he was a lackey of the foreign imperialists and an incorrigible spy, using spiritual opium to poison people's minds; 2^nd he was a counter-revolutionary; 3^rd he consistently boycotted the government's religious policy; 4^th he was a member of a local landlord gang; 5^th he led a large group of evil landlords & their followers to ambush the Communist Red Army…in the 1930s, killing 7 Communist soldiers. [There was such an incident, But] the battleground was far from here. My father had nothing to do with it.

Liao: Were you able to visit your father before he was killed?

Wang: We could visit the detention center but were not allowed to see him…They wouldn't give us any information about his physical condition. We were constantly taunted by the revolutionary soldiers: "Your old man was a bad guy. He believed in God. Why don't you draw a clear line with him?" "God is not the savior. Chairman Mao and the Communist Party are the saviors of the people. Do you believe in God or in Chairman Mao and the Communist Party?"

Eventually, we received a notice…saying he would be executed. …

On December 28, 1973, the day before my father's execution, members of the local militia showed up at our door and informed us that we could visit him. A dozen of our family members gathered, and we went together. It took us several hours…we finally saw our father. His hair had turned gray; he was thin, like a skeleton. Each time he moved, the shackles around his ankles clanked loudly. As he hobbled toward us, we all cried….Seeing our whole family crying & sobbing, one guard howled at us: "Stop crying! Hurry up and talk to your father one by one. Time is limited."

My mother nodded at my father and said, "You are the one who used to do all the talking. We listen to you first." My father smiled. …"I haven't been able to reform my thinking," my father said. "Since I cannot be changed, I am responsible for, and deserve, what I receive. But for all of you, don't follow me. Listen to what 'the above' tells you."

Liao: …I assume that your father meant "God."

Wang: Exactly. Christians knew what he meant right away….

Our father's words warmed our hearts. …I stepped up to him and sobbed: "Dad, we will listen to what 'the above' tells us, but we have many children at home who need you…

At that point, a prison officer announced, "Wang Zhiming has been sentenced to death. The execution will be carried out tomorrow after a public trial. The criminal's body shall be handled by the government. Family members don't need to get involved …the government had decided to blow up his body with explosives.”

We were shocked. We kept begging. We promised not to erect a tombstone or put up any prominent signs... The guard refused….

After Father was taken away, we refused to leave, demanding the right to collect his body. The prison officer became mad and summoned the local militia to drive us out. We did not resist them. It was already dark when we got home, and several dozen villagers were waiting for us there. They cried after hearing that my father's body would be blown up into pieces. We stayed home & prayed for God's help.

Trail & Execution

Early the next morning, a village official came and told us to borrow a horse-drawn cart. He said we could go to Father's public trial, which would be attended by 10,000 people. Afterward, we could, in his words, "drag home the body of the counterrevolutionary."

God must have heard our prayers, we said to ourselves. On the road, we quietly sang hymns together. The meeting site was packed with people shouting slogans & waving red flags. Two other criminals were also on trial, but they wouldn't get the death penalty. They were there to receive "education."

As soon as we arrived, several armed soldiers walked over and aimed their guns at us: "Don't move. Squat down with your hands clutching your heads." So we did, our backs toward the stage, but during the meeting, when the soldiers were distracted, we would…take a quick glance…at what was going on with our father. There were two rows of seats on the stage. All the county leaders were sitting there. My father, with his hands & legs tied with ropes, stood in the middle of the stage, the two other criminals on either side. There was blood at the corner of his mouth. We learned later that a guard had used his bayonet to slash his tongue so he wouldn't be able to shout or preach. Some former church members and leaders went up on the stage and denounced my father's crimes. After that was over, a leader grabbed the microphone & announced, "Wang Zhiming has been sentenced to death; the execution will be carried out immediately." Soldiers raised Father into the air so everyone could see him. The crowd roared. They raised their fists high and shouted, "Down with . . . ," "Smash . . . ," and "Long live Chairman Mao." …

The soldiers put a wooden sign on his back—a "death sign," it was called. It listed the 5 crimes my father was said to have committed. His name was also there, with a big red X over its characters. The soldiers carried him to a truck and pushed him in with the other prisoners, bending his head low. Two cars led the way. My father's truck was in the middle. Another truck with fully armed soldiers followed, a machine gun was perched on its roof. They paraded my father around the streets for half an hour before taking him to an old airport where he was shot.

Liao: Where were you?

Wang: We were still at the meeting place, guns pointing at us. When most of the spectators had left, the soldiers tied all of us together with a long rope and led us to the detention center…where all of my father's belongings were on the floor. A public security officer said, "That's the garbage left by the counter-revolutionary. Take it home."

Friends in the village collected our father's body for us. They borrowed a cart, and when they reached the old airport, my father's body was surrounded by several hundred gawkers... A soldier was guarding the body…he let them take my father. We met up with them…I wiped my father's face with a wet cloth. My sister covered his body with a quilt. It was one p.m. It was sunny and the sky was blue. The road was empty by the time we left, the cart moving slowly, us on each side walking with it.

Some [ethnic minority] Miao people stopped our cart and said their good-byes to my father. Some were old, some young, some we knew, some were strangers. A little girl climbed onto the cart, opened the quilt, and touched my father's body, from head to toe. We smiled at her innocent gesture …

By the time we reached the village, the sun had set. We took my father's body inside the house. His face looked peaceful, as if he were just taking a nap. Village officials & militia guarded the house to keep out visitors wanting to pay tribute, but after midnight, when the guards went home to sleep, fellow Christians quietly knocked & came in to pray with us.

From God Is Red: The Secret Story of How Christianity Survived and Flourished in Communist China (2011) by Liao Yiwu. Translated from the Chinese by Wenguang Huang, HarperOne, a division of HarperCollins Publishers, pp. 107-112.