a power even in her own “backyard.” This was also a period which saw a rise in ethnic Chinese nationalism, a “China for the Chinese” sentiment that rejected the foreign Manchu, even after so many centuries in power. As the early 1900s advanced, calls for modernization, liberalization, nationalism, and even republicanism grew from a whisper to a roar as the death of Cixi approached. In 1911, an uprising in the city of Wuchang (part of modern-day Wuhan) led to a revolution which created the Republic of China, and in 1912, the child emperor Puyi abdicated, abolishing the Qing dynasty. Sun Yat-sen, the guiding light of the revolutionary movement was appointed provisional president, but was not as strong a leader as was needed; with the collapse of the Qing, warlords throughout the Empire took control of territory for themselves, and it was with these military strongmen that the fledgling Republic had to contend.
This was the period in which Robert Pearsall would have been in China—a time of rapid changes and of questionable futures. While perhaps not communist in name, there were definitely groups scattered across the former Empire which advocated socialist ideals. If he was indeed in Peking, the chances of his coming across sympathetic ears only increased: the two recognized founders of the Chinese Communist Party, Li Dazhao and Chen Duxiu, were professors at Peking University—also employed there was a young library clerk named Mao Zedong. Yuan Shikai, a powerful warlord who succeeded to the presidency upon the resignation of Sun Yat-sen, did not hold the revolutionary fervor of his predecessor; in 1915, he attempted to establish a new dynasty, with himself as Emperor of a new Chinese Empire, a move that only emboldened revolutionary and reform movements throughout the country. It is not impossible, in the least, that Robert, during his years in China, had some interaction with socialist-minded students and thinkers. Peking at the time was literally a melting pot of political and nationalist questions and ideas.
From the picture that comes to us through both familial recollections and his own writings and actions, Robert Pearsall was drawn to socialism and communism for their utopian and idealistic aspects, as were many writers of the time, who either were not aware, or chose not to be aware, of the horrors communism had brought to Russia, from the famine of 1921, to Stalin’s purges of the 1930s. In the early days of the Soviet Union, many on the political left believed that the revolution had indeed lit a path to the ideal, classless society; disillusionment, as the truth became increasingly apparent, gradually affected many such thinkers. As late as 1934, letters appeared in newspapers’ editorial sections under Robert’s name, asserting that a “warless world” and a “classless society” were in fact being built in Soviet Russia. His break with the CPUSA, which by his own admission came about as a result of his belief that the Soviets exerted too much control over the CPUSA, may have been fueled by the realization that no such utopian society was even being attempted, let alone created, in Russia despite what propaganda claimed. It is also possible that, like many socialist-minded thinkers of the day, he believed that Stalinist excesses represented a brief “bump in the road” on an otherwise promising path toward actual, realized communism, which was begun in 1917. After leaving the CPUSA, Robert spoke publically, even opening his own home for some functions, against the Russian influence over the CPUSA. Perhaps the best understanding of how Robert approached society and politics can be found in his own words, in a letter he wrote to the Editorial Page of the Oakland Tribune, published in its May 7, 1932 edition:
One-tenth of this country’s population possesses nine-tenths of its purchasing power. This small minority cannot spend its income. Most of it is re-invested to make more profits, and thus,