The 1940 Leadership Playbook

On Leadership Methods

I

Yan'an, December 23, 1940. Chen Yun, head of the Organization Department of the CPC Central Committee, wrote a draft outline at his desk, titled "Learn Leadership Methods."

This was not a leisurely essay, but a diagnostic note aimed at specific ailments. At the time, the Party had acquired a large number of new members and new cadres across various base areas, its organizational structure was rapidly expanding, and leadership work in the wartime environment was growing increasingly complex. Among the reports received by the Organization Department, certain problems recurred: higher-level organs talked only about the political line without understanding grassroots realities; lower-level cadres immersed themselves in specific tasks without grasping the overall strategy; plans were drawn up but fell apart in execution; work inspections turned into exercises in finger‑pointing; and superior‑subordinate relations became increasingly strained.

These problems were not the fault of any individual; they were common ailments of an organization undergoing rapid expansion. From his vantage point as Organization Department head, Chen Yun saw a leadership machine that was still immature, exposing cracks and jams as it ran at high speed.

He set down twelve points. None was long – the shortest ran a few dozen characters, the longest a couple of hundred. No slogans, no exclamations, no "worthy of our deep reflection" – only problems and solutions. It was a working manual, not a sermon.

II

The first point addresses the relationship between the political line and concrete reality.

"Organizational work must conform to the requirements of the political line and ensure its implementation." This is stated at the outset, but what follows immediately is not an emphasis on the line, but a qualification of it – it demands two prerequisites: a correct understanding of the political line, and a genuine understanding of specific circumstances.

Chen Yun saw clearly: to talk only about the line without understanding concrete conditions is empty talk; to know only concrete conditions without understanding the line is blind action. The empty talkers float above issuing documents; the blind actors toil below in a fog. Each group thinks the other is unreliable. His concrete remedy: superiors should not confine themselves to the political line, and subordinates should not confine themselves to specific work – the two must be connected.

This was not a mild suggestion. In many base areas at the time, such a "division of labor" between upper and lower levels did exist – the upper levels were responsible for expounding principles, the lower levels for getting the work done. Chen Yun rejected the legitimacy of this division: those who do not understand concrete conditions have no right to issue directives; those who do not understand the larger picture have no right to decide how to carry out the work.

III

The second point turns to epistemology: the subjective must align with the objective. In a wartime environment swept up by mass mobilization, every step – from planning to execution to inspection – was filled with subjective impulses. Plans looked good on paper but could not be implemented; policies were correct in direction but went completely wrong once they reached the villages.

Chen Yun did not stop at principle. He specifically listed four characteristics of the work at that time: holding power in the base areas; operating mainly in rural areas; the primary form of struggle being warfare; the work having developed considerably, with large numbers of new Party members everywhere. These four characteristics were not chosen at random – each one reminds the leader: if your plan is formulated in a city office following books, it will fail once you get to the rural base area; if you still work the way you did in the underground struggle of the white areas, you will fail once you are in open power in the base areas.

Aligning the subjective with the objective is not a philosophical slogan. It is this: before you formulate a plan, first see clearly what ground you are standing on.

IV

The third point continues the discussion of planning. "Plans are subjective, but they must be built on the basis of objective possibility."

Chen Yun's wording is cautious. He does not deny the subjectivity of plans – plans are made by people, so of course they are subjective. But he shifts the focus to "objective possibility": a plan must both conform to the line and suit the actual circumstances. Then he adds: "Objective conditions are fundamental."

The word "fundamental" carries great weight. It means: no matter how good the line is, if objective conditions do not give you room, you must wait, you must change, you must find another way. This is not passivity – it is respect for things as they are.

V

The fourth point is only one sentence: "New development must proceed from the old position."

Seven characters. No elaboration, no examples, no "as we have seen" preambles. This is a hard‑earned lesson from practice – if you have built a mass base, an organizational network, and work experience in one village, and you want to expand to the neighboring village, you do not start from scratch; you push outward with the strength you already have. To tear down and start over is the greatest waste; to sever history is the greatest folly.

VI

The fifth point addresses the center and the whole. "In work, we must grasp the center while taking care of other matters. The center is primary, achieving consistency between the whole and the parts."

This is not a cliché. In 1940, a cadre had on his desk more than a dozen tasks simultaneously: conscription, grain requisition, mass mobilization, organizing militias, developing Party members, transforming the regime, handling frictions, and so on. If he did not prioritize, if he tried to grasp everything, he would end up grasping nothing. Chen Yun's reminder: the center is not found by instinct; it is determined by the principal contradiction at the current stage. Once the center is set, other tasks are not discarded – they are "taken care of" – given time, manpower, and attention, but they must not crowd out the center's position.

VII

The sixth point uses two grand terms: "great sweep" and "fine carving." But Chen Yun does not leave them floating. He immediately adds: first seize, then digest. Work must be done bit by bit, solidly; one cannot rely on luck, nor hope for instant success.

"First seize" is about breaking open the situation – it relies on boldness and speed; "then digest" is about taking root and consolidating – it relies on patience and meticulousness. Many cadres are only good at the first part – they charge in, spread the work out, and then leave it unfinished. What Chen Yun criticizes is exactly this flaw of "spreading but not closing, seizing but not holding." He deliberately uses the phrase "instant success" – not to oppose rapid development, but to oppose the illusion of skipping a necessary stage.

VIII

The seventh point discusses inspection of work. "In inspecting work, we must conduct criticism and self‑criticism, sum up experience and lessons, examine, supplement and amend resolutions, so that the subjective gradually aligns with the objective."

Note the word "gradually." Chen Yun does not believe that one can think everything through at the moment of planning; he acknowledges that understanding is a process – plan formulated, implemented, inspected, problems identified, amended, then implemented again. The subjective approaching the objective is not accomplished in one go; it is honed round after round.

Criticism and self‑criticism are not moral postures here; they are cognitive tools. If you do not criticize, you will not see the deviation; if you do not criticize yourself, you will rationalize the deviation. Chen Yun places "inspecting work" before "supplementing and amending resolutions," meaning: look at the facts first, then revise the documents – the order cannot be reversed.

IX

The eighth point is a specific method: "examine to the bottom."

This phrase is rarely used now. It means to investigate thoroughly, to turn over every stone. But Chen Yun does not ask people to investigate everywhere – you cannot check everything. He only asks that you seize one or two typical cases: one branch, one township. Investigate them thoroughly, summarize the experience, and use it to educate other units.

This is the method of "dissecting a sparrow." Chen Yun did not use that metaphor, but the principle is the same: to understand a system, you do not need to take apart every component; you take apart the most typical one, see how it operates, and then you have a rough idea of how the other parts work.

X

The ninth point is the longest in the outline. Chen Yun identifies it as "the central issue in leadership style" – the relationship between superior and subordinate.

He writes very concretely. The basic attitude of the superior is to help the subordinate, and to absorb the subordinate's experience to improve leadership. If the superior's decision itself has defects, the superior bears full responsibility; if the subordinate makes mistakes in execution, the superior must also bear the responsibility for inadequate instruction. One cannot only criticize the subordinate while the superior fails to engage in self‑criticism.

These words remain sharp today. Chen Yun actively pushes the weight of responsibility upward – not to gloss over problems, but to clearly tell the superior: you cannot shirk it. The decision was made by you, so you bear full responsibility; if the subordinate did not do well, did you teach him? Did you give him enough support? Did you explain the situation beforehand? If you did none of that, on what grounds do you only blame the subordinate?

He criticizes the "method of learning from authoritarianism" as completely wrong. This was not an empty moral critique at the time – there were indeed cadres who, after coming to power in the base areas, picked up the commandist habits of old regime bureaucrats, issuing only directives to subordinates without listening to reports or explaining reasons. By elevating this to "the central issue," Chen Yun is effectively saying: if you do not straighten out the superior‑subordinate relationship, all work methods are castles in the air.

He also demands that subordinates respect their superiors and offer criticism and suggestions in good faith. But he adds one sentence: "When the superior‑subordinate relationship is not harmonious, under normal circumstances, the superior bears primary responsibility." The qualifier "under normal circumstances" is important – not in all cases, but in most, because power, resources, and information are concentrated at the top; if the relationship goes wrong, the root cause is usually above.

XI

The tenth point distinguishes between orders and recommendations. "Leading organs must distinguish between orders and recommendations. Orders are necessary, but on certain issues there must be flexibility, allowing subordinates to act according to actual conditions."

Chen Yun is not an unconditional decentralizer. He knows that in wartime, orders are necessary – orders admit no flexibility when life and death are at stake. But he also understands: the superior cannot know the actual situation in every place; if there is no flexibility on every matter, subordinates will either stubbornly do the wrong thing or pay lip service while evading you. So his approach is to delimit the scope: core matters must be carried out, marginal matters leave room for discretion.

XII

The eleventh point is a warning. "A large Party in power – its leading cadres are very likely to become bureaucrats. We must resolutely prevent and overcome bureaucratism."

This is the strongest statement among the twelve. The phrase "very likely" shows that Chen Yun does not regard this as an isolated phenomenon, but as an institutional risk – as power grows, distance from the masses increases, documents multiply, investigations decrease, and bureaucratism naturally sprouts. The way to prevent it is not through moral awakening, but through working methods: make concrete distinctions, assign different tasks to different places; distinguish urgent from less urgent tasks; distinguish primary from secondary work.

"Steer the helm well, point out the main direction of effort, and prevent deviations of a certain tendency." This is his concise summary of the leading cadre's responsibility. Steering is not rowing – it is setting the direction; preventing deviation does not mean correcting it after it appears, but seeing one step ahead and speaking one step earlier.

XIII

The twelfth point is the closing of the work methods, and the most detailed and practical one.

Distinguish central work from routine work. Do not forget routine work, but you must grasp the center; prevent routinism – routinism is a chronic disease of many cadres: busy all day, feet never touching the ground, but if you ask what they are busy with, they cannot say.

Do work one piece at a time. Finishing each piece to the end is the most effective and the fastest way. Chen Yun's statement corrects a common misunderstanding: many people think "fast" means doing many things at once; he believes true speed lies in doing one thing and getting it done. Spreading effort evenly and grasping at everything randomly will surely yield no results.

Do not panic when things happen, nor become slack. These two sentences are a psychological prescription for young cadres in wartime – panic makes you make wrong decisions, slackness makes you miss opportunities.

Not only must you be able to do the work yourself, but you must also be able to push others to do it. Change the situation of "one person busy while everyone else is idle, superiors busy while subordinates are idle" – this remains a true picture in many units today. Being able to push others is not dumping work on them; it is breaking down tasks, assigning them, teaching methods, providing conditions, so that everyone has work to do and can do it.

Not only must you have time to listen, but you must also have time to think. From the perceptual to the rational – this is the process of thinking. Chen Yun places "thinking" on a par with "listening." Many leaders spend all day in meetings and listening to reports, but once the listening is over, they have no time to sift through the material in their minds and sort it out. They remain forever at the perceptual stage and never form judgments.

Hold fewer meetings. When you do meet, come prepared; issue documents that solve problems, otherwise there will be no results. These final sentences are almost colloquial, as if spoken directly at a cadre meeting. Holding fewer meetings does not oppose meetings as such – it opposes unprepared meetings, inconclusive meetings, and unenforced meetings.

XIV

In the winter of 1940, after writing this outline, Chen Yun read it aloud at a cadre meeting. How long he spoke, in which cave dwelling, and who sat before him – the historical record does not say.

What remains is this outline of less than two thousand Chinese characters. It contains no sensational examples, no moving stories, no "let us" exhortations. It simply takes the twelve most common types of problems in cadre work at the time and offers a practical solution for each. Its power lies in its concreteness – every point could find a corresponding failure case in the base areas, and every point could make listeners mentally murmur, "He's talking about us."

More than eighty years later, the specific context of the twelve points has receded. But the proposition of "aligning the subjective with the objective" remains; the relationship between "center and whole" remains; the difficulty of "superior‑subordinate relations" remains; the trap of "routinism" remains. As long as these remain, this outline remains alive – not because it offers eternally correct answers, but because it demonstrates a work attitude: no empty talk, no blind action, no shifting blame, no relying on luck.

December 23, 1940, Yan'an. A working outline has finished its opening.