Even in America we have heard of one Chinese revolution, that which
thrust the Manchu dynasty from the throne. The visitor in China gets
used to casual references to the second revolution, that which
frustrated Yuan Shi Kai's aspirations to be emperor, and the third,
the defeat in 1917 of the abortive attempt to put the Manchu boy
emperor back into power. And within the last few weeks the (September
1920) fourth upheaval has taken place. It may not be dignified by the
name of the fourth revolution, for the head of the state has not been
changed by it. But as a manifestation of the forces that shape Chinese
political events, for evil and for good, perhaps this last disturbance
surpasses the last two "revolutions" in significance.
Chinese politics in detail are highly complicated, a mess of
personalities and factions whose oscillations no one can follow who
does not know a multitude of personal, family and provincial
histories. But occasionally something happens which simplifies the
tangle. Definite outlines frame themselves out of the swirling
criss-cross of strife, intrigue and ambition. So, at present, the
complete collapse of the Anfu clique which owned the central
government for two years marks the end of that union of internal
militarism and Japanese foreign influence which was, for China, the
most marked fruit of the war. When China entered the war a "War
Participation" army was formed. It never participated; probably it was
never meant to. But its formation threw power wholly into the hands of
the military clique, as against the civilian constitutionalists. And
in return for concessions, secret agreements relating to Manchuria,
Shantung, new railways, etc., Japan supplied money, munitions,
instructors for the army and a benevolent supervision of foreign and
domestic politics. The war came to an unexpected and untimely end, but
by this time the offspring of the marriage of the militarism of Yuan
Shi Kai and Japanese money and influence was a lusty youth. Bolshevism
was induced to take the place of Germany as a menace requiring the
keeping up of the army, and loans and teachers. Mongolia was persuaded
to cut her strenuous ties with Russia, to renounce her independence
and come again under Chinese sovereignty.
The army and its Japanese support and instruction was, accordingly,
continued. In place of the "War Participation" army appeared the
"Frontier Defense" army. Marshal Tuan, the head of the military party,
remained the nominal political power behind the presidential chair,
and General Hsu (commonly known as little Hsu, in distinction from old
Hsu, the president) was the energetic manager of the Mongolian
adventure which, by a happy coincidence, required a bank, land
development companies and railway schemes, as well as an army. About
this military centre as a nucleus gathered the vultures who fed on the
carrion. This flock took the name of the Anfu Club. It did not control
the entire cabinet, but to it belonged the Minister of Justice, who
manipulated the police and the courts, persecuted the students,
suppressed liberal journals and imprisoned inconvenient critics. And
the Club owned the ministers of finance and communications, the two
cabinet places that dispense revenues, give out jobs and make loans.
It also regulated the distribution of intelligence by mail and
telegraph. The reign of corruption and despotic inefficiency, tempered
only by the student revolt, set in. In two years the Anfu Club got
away with two hundred millions of public funds directly, to say
nothing of what was wasted by incompetency and upon the army. The
Allies had set out to get China into the war. They succeeded in
getting Japan into control of Peking and getting China, politically
speaking, into a seemingly hopeless state of corruption and confusion.
The militaristic or Pei-Yang party was, however, divided into two
factions, each called after a province. The Anwhei party gathered
about little Hsu and was almost identical with the Anfus. The Chili
faction had been obliged, so far as Peking was concerned, to content
itself with such leavings as the Anfu Club tossed to it. Apparently it
was hopelessly weaker than its rival, although Tuan, who was
personally honest and above financial scandal, was supported by both
factions and was the head of both. About three months ago there were a
few signs that, while the Anfu Club had been entrenching itself in
Peking, the rival faction had been quietly establishing itself in the
provinces. A league of Eight Tuchuns (military governors of the
provinces) came to the assistance of the president against some
unusually strong pressure from the Anfu Club. In spite of the fact
that the military governor of the three Manchurian provinces, Chang
Tso Lin, popularly known as the Emperor of Manchuria, lined up with
this league, practically nobody expected anything except some
manoeuvering to get a larger share of the spoils.
But late in June the president invited Chang Tso Lin to Peking. The
latter saw Tuan, told him that he was surrounded by evil advisers,
demanded that he cut loose from little Hsu and the Anfu Club, and
declared open war upon little Hsu--the two had long and notoriously
been bitter enemies. Even then people had great difficulty in
believing that anything would happen except another Chinese
compromise. The president was known to be sympathetic upon the whole
with the Chili faction, but the president, if not a typical Chinese,
is at least typical of a certain kind of Chinese mandarin,
non-resistant, compromising, conciliating, procrastinating, covering
up, evading issues, face-saving. But finally something happened. A
mandate was issued dismissing little Hsu from office, military and
civil, dissolving the frontier defense corps as such, and bringing it
under the control of the Ministry of War (usually armies in China
belong to some general or Tuchun, not to the country). For almost
forty-eight hours it was thought that Tuan had consented to sacrifice
little Hsu and that the latter would submit at least temporarily. Then
with equally sensational abruptness Tuan brought pressure to bear on
the president. The latter was appointed head of a national defense
army, and rewards were issued for the heads of the chiefs of the Chili
faction, nothing, however, being said about Chang Tso Lin, who had
meanwhile returned to Mukden and who still professed allegiance to
Tuan. Troops were mobilized; there was a rush of officials and of the
wealthy to the concessions of Tientsin and to the hotels of the
legation quarter.
This sketch is not meant as history, but simply as an indication of
the forces at work. Hence it is enough to say that two weeks after
Tuan and little Hsu had intimidated the president and proclaimed
themselves the saviors of the Republic, they were in hiding, their
enemies of the Chili party were in complete control of Peking, and
rewards from fifty thousand dollars down were offered for the arrest
of little Hsu, the ex-ministers of justice, finance and
communications, and other leaders of the Anfu Club. The political
turnover was as complete as it was sensational. The seemingly
impregnable masters of China were impotent fugitives. The carefully
built up Anfu Club, with its military, financial and foreign support,
had crumbled and fallen. No country at any time has ever seen a
political upheaval more sudden and more thoroughgoing. It was not so
much a defeat as a dissolution like that of death, a total
disappearance, an evaporation.
Corruption had worked inward, as it has a way of doing.
Japanese-bought munitions would not explode; quartermasters vanished
with the funds with which stores were to be bought; troops went
without anything to eat for two or three days; large numbers,
including the larger part of one division, went over to the enemy en
masse; those who did not desert had no heart for fighting and ran away
or surrendered on the slightest provocation, saying they were willing
to fight for their country but saw no reason why they should fight for
a faction, especially a faction that had been selling the country to a
foreign nation. In the manner of the defeat of the Anfu clique at the
height of its supremacy, rather than in the mere fact of its defeat,
lies the credit side of the Chinese political balance sheet. It is a
striking exhibition of the oldest and best faith of the Chinese--the
power of moral considerations. Public opinion, even that of the coolie
on the street, was wholly against the Anfu party. It went down not so
much because of the strength of the other side as because of its own
rottenness.
So far the results are to all appearances negative. The most marked is
the disappearance of Japanese prestige. As one of the leading men in
the War Office said: "For over a year now the people have been
strongly opposed to the Japanese government on account of Shantung.
But now even the generals do not care for Japan any more." It is
hardly logical to take the easy collapse of the Japanese-supported
Anfu party as a proof of the weakness of Japan, but prestige is always
a matter of feeling rather than of logic. Many who were intimidated to
the point of hypnotism by the idea of the irresistible power of Japan
are now freely laughing at the inefficiency of Japanese leadership. It
would not be safe to predict that Japan will not come back as a force
to be reckoned with in the internal as well as external politics of
China, but it is safe to say that never again will Japan figure as
superman to China. And such a negation is after all a positive result.
And so in its way is the overthrow of the Anwhei faction of the
militarist party. The Chinese liberals do not feel very optimistic
about the immediate outcome. They have mostly given up the idea that
the country can be reformed by political means. They are sceptical
about the possibility of reforming even politics until a new
generation comes on the scene. They are now putting their faith in
education and in social changes which will take some years to
consummate themselves visibly. The self-styled southern republican
constitutional party has not shown itself in much better light than
the northern militarist party. In fact, its old leader Sun Yat Sen now
cuts one of the most ridiculous figures in China, as shortly before
this upheaval he had definitely aligned himself with Tuan and little
Hsu.[2]
[2] This was written of course several months before Sun Yat
Sen was reinstated in control of Canton by the successful
revolt of his local adherents against the southern
militarists who had usurped power and driven out Sun Yat Sen
and his followers. But up to the time when I left China, in
July of this year, it was true that the liberals of northern
and central China who were bitterly opposed to the Peking
Government, did not look to the Southern Government with
much hope. The common attitude was a "plague upon both of
your houses" and a desire for a new start. The conflict
between North and South looms much larger in the United
States than it did in China.
This does not mean, however, that democratic opinion thinks nothing
has been gained. The demonstration of the inherent weakness of corrupt
militarism will itself prevent the development of any militarism as
complete as that of the Anfus. As one Chinese gentleman said to me:
"When Yuan Shi Kai was overthrown, the tiger killed the lion. Now a
snake has killed the tiger. No matter how vicious the snake may
become, some smaller animal will be able to kill him, and his life
will be shorter than that of either lion or tiger." In short, each
successive upheaval brings nearer the day when civilian supremacy will
be established. This result will be achieved partly because of the
repeated demonstrations of the uncongeniality of military despotism to
the Chinese spirit, and partly because with every passing year
education will have done its work. Suppressed liberal papers are
coming to life, while over twenty Anfu subsidized newspapers and two
subsidized news agencies have gone out of being. The soldiers,
including many officers in the Anwhei army, clearly show the effects
of student propaganda. And it is worth while to note down the name of
one of the leaders on the victorious side, the only one whose troops
did any particular fighting, and that against great odds in numbers.
The name is Wu Pei Fu. He at least has not fought for the Chili
faction against the Anwhei faction. He has proclaimed from the first
that he was fighting to rid the country of military control of civil
government, and against traitors who would sell their country to
foreigners. He has come out strongly for a new popular assembly, to
form a new constitution and to unite the country. And although Chang
Tso Lin has remarked that Wu Pei Fu as a military subordinate could
not be expected to intervene in politics, he has not as yet found it
convenient to oppose the demand for a popular assembly. Meanwhile the
liberals are organizing their forces, hardly expecting to win a
victory, but resolved, win or lose, to take advantage of the
opportunity to carry further the education of the Chinese people in
the meaning of democracy.
August, 1920.
V