Here goes!
Republic of China
My train meanders sluggishly through the hinterland of southern China, and I watch the scene through my window change from the busting streets of Hong Kong to the communes and airfields of the Chinese Soviet Zone. I eventually fall asleep halfway through the Jianxi-Fujian Soviet Province, but wake up just in time for my destination, the moderately-sized town of Yingtan, just outside of the Soviet Zone.
Walking down the steps from the rudimentary train platform, I take a look at the town. It’s clearly election season, and posters for different candidates coat every available surface. A large banner hangs between the modern-styled post office and a traditional house: “Zheng Cheng for National Assembly: A candidate for the working people!”
Continuing on, I come to a modest office building. Reading the sign over the door, the words COMMUNIST PARTY FUJAN HEADQUARTERS are painted in plain, blocky characters. I stop at an office at the second floor and knock twice. “Come in,” responds a voice. I step inside to an immaculately-kept, if somewhat cramped office. Maps of China adorn the walls, and two pristine portraits of Sun Yat-sen and Mao Zhedong are hung side by side. In the center of it all, a lean man in a simple military uniform pours over a document. A prominent insignia of a red hammer and sickle inset into a white sun adorns his clothes.
As soon as I shut the door, he looks up at me and adjusts his reading glasses. “Ah, professor!” Here he breaks into a wide grin. “I was wondering how late the train would be!” I ask him if this is normal. His grin fades. “Unfortunately so. The Revolutionaries have been getting more and more zealous with their inspections of trains leaving the Soviet Zone.” Revolutionaries? “Oh, the National Revolutionary Army, the central government’s military and perpetual pain in my ass.”
This is Zheng Cheng, a popular officer in the Chinese Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army, and current Communist Party candidate for an Assembly seat of Fujian National Province. While this may not seem like any sort of landmark event to a reader not versed in this China’s politics, he is the first Communist candidate for any office outside of the Soviet Zone since the end of the Great Patriotic War.
The Great Patriotic War, more academically referred to as World War II, was a destructive and worldwide conflict marked by the Axis’ frequent use of chemical agents and long-range delivery methods, as well as their ruthlessly effective scorched-earth methods when in retreat. It only ended with American development of the Atom bomb and its use on several German and Japanese cities to secure a bitter victory.
China was hit hard by Japanese invasion, which lead to the development of the United Front, a shaky alliance between the factions of its civil war. Fighting together for the better part of a decade made the Communist and government soldiers hesitant to turn against one another, a sentiment their governments shared. The Soviet Union, devastated by war, could afford little aid for the Communists and the United States, looking to expand its opportunities in Asia, pressured the sides into a permanent agreement at the Treaty of Shanghai. The Communists would operate under the Republic of China, but basically govern themselves in the areas they controlled, called the Soviet Zone. Another problem quickly presented itself, however. Revolutionary Army generals given total authority in areas near the front refused to give up their wide powers. With its own forces still war-weary and of questionable loyalty themselves, the Nationalist government was forced to the negotiating table yet again. The reborn Cliques would govern themselves mostly unmolested, but they had to give a portion of their tax proceeds to Peking and their forces could be placed under central command in the event of war. With the guns silent across the country, China began the long process of rebuilding.
I ask Cheng how the peace has lasted for over a decade. “It’s not for nothing the people call their politicians acrobats!” he says with a chuckle. “I’m fairly certain we have more ‘gentlemen’s agreements’ than actual laws.” But isn’t one of those that the Communist Party won’t run candidates outside the Soviet Zone? “It was, but that was predicated on another gentleman’s agreement Peking wouldn’t have a nuclear program, which they’ve now stated they intend to pursue.” That makes sense, I tell him, and move on.
Are the Maoists happy with this state of affairs? “Not exactly,” he admits, “but the mark of a good compromise is that neither side is fully satisfied.”
Compromise is the watchword of today’s China, which has more treaties with itself than other nations. The Red Army is an organ of the Communist Party and so officers can run as candidates, but the army must limit itself in size; The Communists and Peking maintain separate Japanese occupation zones, but both zones report to a Clique general… The agreements, official and otherwise, are far too numerous to list here.
With such a byzantine government, how does China maintain a coherent foreign policy?
“That’s easier than it sounds, actually. The communists can admire our communists, the west can admire Peking, and the populists can admire the Cliques. Everyone thinks of China as ‘their’ China.” But surely any agreements with one power would make enemies of the others? Cheng shakes his head. “Our neutrality is pretty much accepted. Like I said, we’re acrobats. Neither the Russians or Americans have the will to intervene in China.” I ask him for more detail. “The populations of each superpower are beyond war-weary. Any ‘cold war’ or prolonged hostility between them would probably result in riots and instability. Sure, they each have spheres of influence, but they keep their thumbs out of each other’s pies, to use a cliche.”
I move on to my final question. If he is elected, what will Cheng’s policy be? He looks at me as if the answer is obvious. “Obstructionism, of course! Everyone knows a government with too much unity will eventually turn their energies towards oppressing the people.”
Republic of China
My train meanders sluggishly through the hinterland of southern China, and I watch the scene through my window change from the busting streets of Hong Kong to the communes and airfields of the Chinese Soviet Zone. I eventually fall asleep halfway through the Jianxi-Fujian Soviet Province, but wake up just in time for my destination, the moderately-sized town of Yingtan, just outside of the Soviet Zone.
Walking down the steps from the rudimentary train platform, I take a look at the town. It’s clearly election season, and posters for different candidates coat every available surface. A large banner hangs between the modern-styled post office and a traditional house: “Zheng Cheng for National Assembly: A candidate for the working people!”
Continuing on, I come to a modest office building. Reading the sign over the door, the words COMMUNIST PARTY FUJAN HEADQUARTERS are painted in plain, blocky characters. I stop at an office at the second floor and knock twice. “Come in,” responds a voice. I step inside to an immaculately-kept, if somewhat cramped office. Maps of China adorn the walls, and two pristine portraits of Sun Yat-sen and Mao Zhedong are hung side by side. In the center of it all, a lean man in a simple military uniform pours over a document. A prominent insignia of a red hammer and sickle inset into a white sun adorns his clothes.
As soon as I shut the door, he looks up at me and adjusts his reading glasses. “Ah, professor!” Here he breaks into a wide grin. “I was wondering how late the train would be!” I ask him if this is normal. His grin fades. “Unfortunately so. The Revolutionaries have been getting more and more zealous with their inspections of trains leaving the Soviet Zone.” Revolutionaries? “Oh, the National Revolutionary Army, the central government’s military and perpetual pain in my ass.”
This is Zheng Cheng, a popular officer in the Chinese Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army, and current Communist Party candidate for an Assembly seat of Fujian National Province. While this may not seem like any sort of landmark event to a reader not versed in this China’s politics, he is the first Communist candidate for any office outside of the Soviet Zone since the end of the Great Patriotic War.
The Great Patriotic War, more academically referred to as World War II, was a destructive and worldwide conflict marked by the Axis’ frequent use of chemical agents and long-range delivery methods, as well as their ruthlessly effective scorched-earth methods when in retreat. It only ended with American development of the Atom bomb and its use on several German and Japanese cities to secure a bitter victory.
China was hit hard by Japanese invasion, which lead to the development of the United Front, a shaky alliance between the factions of its civil war. Fighting together for the better part of a decade made the Communist and government soldiers hesitant to turn against one another, a sentiment their governments shared. The Soviet Union, devastated by war, could afford little aid for the Communists and the United States, looking to expand its opportunities in Asia, pressured the sides into a permanent agreement at the Treaty of Shanghai. The Communists would operate under the Republic of China, but basically govern themselves in the areas they controlled, called the Soviet Zone. Another problem quickly presented itself, however. Revolutionary Army generals given total authority in areas near the front refused to give up their wide powers. With its own forces still war-weary and of questionable loyalty themselves, the Nationalist government was forced to the negotiating table yet again. The reborn Cliques would govern themselves mostly unmolested, but they had to give a portion of their tax proceeds to Peking and their forces could be placed under central command in the event of war. With the guns silent across the country, China began the long process of rebuilding.
I ask Cheng how the peace has lasted for over a decade. “It’s not for nothing the people call their politicians acrobats!” he says with a chuckle. “I’m fairly certain we have more ‘gentlemen’s agreements’ than actual laws.” But isn’t one of those that the Communist Party won’t run candidates outside the Soviet Zone? “It was, but that was predicated on another gentleman’s agreement Peking wouldn’t have a nuclear program, which they’ve now stated they intend to pursue.” That makes sense, I tell him, and move on.
Are the Maoists happy with this state of affairs? “Not exactly,” he admits, “but the mark of a good compromise is that neither side is fully satisfied.”
Compromise is the watchword of today’s China, which has more treaties with itself than other nations. The Red Army is an organ of the Communist Party and so officers can run as candidates, but the army must limit itself in size; The Communists and Peking maintain separate Japanese occupation zones, but both zones report to a Clique general… The agreements, official and otherwise, are far too numerous to list here.
With such a byzantine government, how does China maintain a coherent foreign policy?
“That’s easier than it sounds, actually. The communists can admire our communists, the west can admire Peking, and the populists can admire the Cliques. Everyone thinks of China as ‘their’ China.” But surely any agreements with one power would make enemies of the others? Cheng shakes his head. “Our neutrality is pretty much accepted. Like I said, we’re acrobats. Neither the Russians or Americans have the will to intervene in China.” I ask him for more detail. “The populations of each superpower are beyond war-weary. Any ‘cold war’ or prolonged hostility between them would probably result in riots and instability. Sure, they each have spheres of influence, but they keep their thumbs out of each other’s pies, to use a cliche.”
I move on to my final question. If he is elected, what will Cheng’s policy be? He looks at me as if the answer is obvious. “Obstructionism, of course! Everyone knows a government with too much unity will eventually turn their energies towards oppressing the people.”
