Apparently opium is not good for the children of South Africa. That it

would be good (to get still nearer home) for the children and infants of

Great Britain, is an idea so monstrous, so horrible, that I hardly dare

suggest it. No one, I think, would go so far as to say that the Royal

Commission would have reached those same extraordinary conclusions had the

problem lain in Great Britain instead of in far-off India and China. Walk

about, of a sunny afternoon, in Kensington Gardens. Watch the ruddy,

healthy children sailing their boats in the Round Pond, or playing in the

long grass where the sheep are nibbling, or running merrily along the

well-kept borders of the Serpentine. They are splendid youngsters, these

little Britishers. Their skins are tanned, their eyes are clear, their

little bodies are compactly knit. Each child has its watchful nurse. What

would the mothers say if His Majesty's Most Excellent Government should

undertake the manufacture and distribution of attractive little pills of

opium and spices for these children, and should defend its course not only

on the ground that "the practice does not appear to any appreciable extent

injurious," but also on the ground that "the revenue obtained is

indispensable for carrying on the government with efficiency"?

What would these British mothers say? It is a fair question. The

"conservative" pro-opiumist is always ready with an answer to this

question. He claims that it is not fair. He maintains that the Oriental is

different from the Occidental--racially. Opium, he says, has no such

marked effect on the Chinaman as it has on the Englishman, no such marked

effect on the Chinese infant as it has on the British infant. I have met

this "conservative" pro-opiumist many times on coasting and river steamers

and in treaty port hotels. I have been one of a group about a rusty little

stove in a German-kept hostelry where this question was thrashed out. Your

"conservative" is so cock-sure about it that he grows, in the heat of his

argument, almost triumphant. At first I thought that perhaps he might be

partially right. One man's meat is occasionally another man's poison. The

Chinese differ from us in so many ways that possibly they might have a

greater capacity to withstand the ravages of opium.

It was partly to answer this question that I went to China. I did not

leave China until I had arrived at an answer that seemed convincing. If,

in presenting the facts in these columns, the picture I have been painting

of China's problem should verge on the painful, that, I am afraid, will be

the fault of the facts. It is a picture of the hugest empire in the whole

world, fighting a curse which has all but mastered it, turning for aid, in

sheer despair, to the government, that has brought it to the edge of ruin.

Strange to say, this British government, as it is to-day constituted,

would apparently like to help. But, across the path of assistance stands,

like a grotesque, inhuman dragon,--the Indian Revenue.

VIII

THE POSITION OF GREAT BRITAIN

An observant correspondent recently wrote from Shanghai to a New York

newspaper: "China has missed catching the fire of the West in the manner

of Japan, and has lain idle and supine while neighbour and foreigner

despoiled her. Her statesmanship has been languid and irresolute, and her

armies slow and spiritless in the field. Observers who know China, and are

familiar at the same time with the symptoms of opium, say that it is as if

the listless symptoms of the drug were to be seen in the very nation

itself. Many conclude that the military and political inertia of the

Chinese is due to the special prevalence of the opium habit among the two

classes of Chinamen directly responsible: both the soldiers and the

scholars, among whom all the civil and political posts are held in

monopoly, are notoriously addicted to opium."

The point which these chapters should make clear is that opium is the

evil thing which is not only holding China back but is also actually

threatening to bring about the most complete demoralization and decadence

that any large portion of the world has ever experienced. It is evident,

in this day of extended trade interests, that such a paralysis of the

hugest and the most industrious of the great races would amount to a

world-disaster. Already the United States is suffering from the weakness

of the Chinese government in Manchuria, which permits Japan to control in

the Manchurian province and to discriminate against American trade. This

discrimination would appear to have been one strong reason for the sailing

of the battleship fleet to the Pacific. If this relatively small result of

China's weakness and inertia can arouse great nations and can play a part

in the moving of great fleets, it is not difficult to imagine the

world-importance of a complete breakdown. Every great Western nation has a

trade or territorial footing in China to defend and maintain. Every great

Western nation is watching the complicated Chinese situation with

sleepless eyes. Such a breakdown might quite possibly mean the

unconditional surrender of China's destiny into the hands of Japan;

which, with Japan's growing desire to dominate the Pacific, and with it

the world, might quite possibly mean the rapid approach of the great

international conflict.

We have seen, in the course of these chapters, that China appears to be

almost completely in the grasp of her master-vice. The opium curse in

China is a dreadful example of the economic waste of evil. It has not only

lowered the vitality, and therefore the efficiency of men, women, and

children in all walks of life, but it has also crowded the healthier crops

off the land, usurped no small part of the industrial life, turned the

balance of trade against China, plunged her into wars, loaded her with

indemnity charges, taken away part of her territory, and made her the

plundering ground of the nations. She has been compelled to look

indolently on while Japan, alight with the fire of progress, has raised

her brown head proudly among the peoples of the West. So China has at last

been driven to make a desperate stand against the encroachments of the

curse which is wrecking her. The fight is on to-day. It is plain that

China is sincere; she must be sincere, because her only hope lies in

conquering opium. She has turned for help to Great Britain, for Britain's

Indian government developed the opium trade ("for purposes of foreign

commerce only") and continues to-day to pour a flood of the drug into the

channels of Chinese trade. Once China thought to crowd out the Indian

product by producing the drug herself, as a preliminary to controlling the

traffic, but she has never been able to develop a grade of opium that can

compete with the brown paste from the Ganges Valley.

This summing up brings us to a consideration of two questions which must

be considered sooner or later by the people of the civilized world:

1. Can China hope to conquer the opium curse without the help of Great

Britain?

2. What is Great Britain doing to help her?

In attempting to work out the answer to these questions, we must think of

them simply as practical problems bearing on the trade, the territorial

development, and the military and naval power of the nations. We must try

for the present to ignore the mere moral and ethical suggestions which the

questions arouse.

First, then: can China, single-handed, possibly succeed in this fight, now

going on, against the slow paralysis of opium?

China is not a nation in the sense in which we ordinarily use the word. If

we picture to ourselves the countries of Europe, with their different

languages and different customs drawn together into a loose confederation

under the government of a conquering race, we shall have some small

conception of what this Chinese "nation" really is. The peoples of these

different European countries are all Caucasians; the different peoples of

China are all Mongolians. These Chinese people speak eighteen or twenty

"languages," each divided into almost innumerable dialects and

sub-dialects. They are governed by Manchu, or Tartar, conquerors who

spring from a different stock, wear different costumes, and speak, among

themselves, a language wholly different from any of the eighteen or twenty

native tongues.

In making this diversity clear, it is necessary only to cite a few

illustrations. There is not even a standard of currency in China. Each

province or group of provinces has its own standard tael, differing

greatly in value from the tael which may be the basis of value in the next

province or group. There is no government coinage whatever. All the mints

are privately owned and are run for profit in supplying the local demand

for currency, and the basis of this currency is the Mexican dollar, a

foreign unit. They make dollar bills in Honan Province. I went into Chili

Province and offered some of these Honan bills in exchange for purchases.

The merchants merely looked at them and shook their heads. "Tientsin

dollar have got?" was the question. So the money of a community or a

province is simply a local commodity and has either a lower value or no

value elsewhere, for the simple reason that the average Chinaman knows

only his local money and will accept no other. The diversity of language

is as easily observed as the diversity of coinage. On the wharves at

Shanghai you can hear a Canton Chinaman and a Shanghai Chinaman talking

together in pidgin English, their only means of communication. When I was

travelling in the Northwest, I was accosted in French one day by a Chinese

station-agent, on the Shansi Railroad, who frankly said that he was led to

speak to me, a foreigner, by the fact that he was a "foreigner" too. With

his blue gown and his black pigtail, he looked to me no different from the

other natives; but he told me that he found the language and customs of

Shansi "difficult," and that he sometimes grew homesick for his native

city in the South.

That the Chinese of different provinces really regard one another as

foreigners may be illustrated by the fact that, during the Boxer troubles

about Tientsin, it was a common occurrence for the northern soldiers to

shoot down indiscriminately with the white men any Cantonese who appeared

within rifle-shot.

This diversity, probably a result of the cost and difficulty of travel, is

a factor in the immense inertia which hinders all progress in China.

People who differ in coinage, language, and customs, who have never been

taught to "think imperially" or in terms other than those of the village

or city, cannot easily be led into cooeperation on a large scale. It is

difficult enough, Heaven knows, to effect any real change in the

government of an American city or state, or of the nation, let alone

effecting any real changes in the habits of men. Witness our own struggle

against graft. Witness also the vast struggle against the liquor traffic

now going on in a score of our states. Even in this land of ours, which is

so new that there has hardly been time to form traditions; which is alert

to the value of changes and quick to leap in the direction of progress;

which is essentially homogeneous in structure, with but one language,

innumerable daily newspapers, and a close network of fast, comfortable

railway trains to keep the various communities in touch with the

prevailing idea of the moment, how easy do we find it to wipe out

race-track gambling, say, or to make our insurance laws really effective,

or to check the corrupt practices of corporations, or to establish the

principle of local municipal ownership? To put it in still another light,

how easy do we find it to bring about a change which the great majority of

us agree would be for the better, such as making over the costly,

cumbersome express business into a government parcels post?

But there are large money interests which would suffer by such reforms,

you say? True; and there are large money interests suffering by the opium

reforms in China, relatively as large as any money interests we have in

this country. The opium reforms affect the large and the small farmers,

the manufacturers, the transportation companies, the bankers, the

commission men, the hundreds of thousands of shopkeepers, and the

government revenues, for the opium traffic is an almost inextricable

strand in the fabric of Chinese commerce. In addition to these bewildering

complications of the problem, there is the discouraging inertia to

overcome of a land which, far from being alert and active, is sunk in the

lethargy of ancient local custom.

No, in putting down her master-vice, China must not only overcome all the

familiar economic difficulties that tend to block reform everywhere, but,

in addition, must find a way to rouse and energize the most backward and

(outside of the age-old grooves of conduct and government) the most

unmanageable empire in the world.

On what element in her population must China rely to put this huge reform

into effect? On the officials, or mandarins, who carry out the

governmental edicts in every province, administer Chinese justice, and

control the military and finances. But of these officials, more than

ninety per cent. have been known to be opium-smokers, and fully fifty per

cent. have been financially interested in the trade.

Still another obstacle blocking reform is the powerful example and

widespread influence of the treaty ports. Perhaps the white race is

"superior" to the yellow; I shall not dispute that notion here. But one

fact which I know personally is that every one of the treaty ports, where

the white men rule, including the British crown colony of Hongkong, chose

last year to maintain its opium revenue regardless of the protests of the

Chinese officials.

Putting down opium in China would appear to be a pretty big job. The

"vested interests," yellow and white, are against a change; the personal

habits of the officials themselves work against it; the British keep on

pouring in their Indian opium; and by way of a positive force on the

affirmative side of the question there would appear to be only the

lethargy and impotence of a decadent, chaotic race. How would you like to

tackle a problem of this magnitude, as Yuan Shi K'ai and Tong Shao-i have

done? Try to organize a campaign in your home town against the bill-board

nuisance; against corrupt politics; against drink or cigarettes. Would it

be easy to succeed? When you have thought over some of the difficulties

that would block you on every hand, multiply them by fifty thousand and

then take off your hat to Tong Shao-i and Yuan Shi K'ai. Personally, I

think I should prefer undertaking to stamp out drink in Europe. I should

know, of course, that it would be rather a difficult business, but still

it would be easier than this Chinese proposition.

So much for the difficulties of the problem. Suppose now we take a look at

the results of the first year of the fight. There are no exact statistics

to be had, but based as it is on personal travel and observation, on

reports of travelling officials, merchants, missionaries, and of other

journalists who have been in regions which I did not reach, I think my

estimate should be fairly accurate. Remember, this is a fight to a finish.

If the Chinese government loses, opium will win.

The plan of the government, let me repeat, is briefly as follows: First,

the area under poppy cultivation is to be decreased about ten per cent.

each year, until that cultivation ceases altogether; and simultaneously

the British government is to be requested to decrease the exportation of

opium from India ten per cent. each year. Second, all opium dens or places

where couches or lamps are supplied for public smoking are to be closed at

once under penalty of confiscation. Third, all persons who purchase opium

at sale shops are to be registered, and the amount supplied to them to be

diminished from month to month. Meantime, the farmer is to be given all

possible advice and aid in the matter of substituting some other crop for

the poppy; opium cures and hospitals are to be established as widely as

possible; and preachers and lecturers are to be sent out to explain the

dangers of opium to the illiterate millions.

The central government at Peking started in by giving the high officials

six months in which to change their habits. At the end of that period a

large number were suspended from office, including Prince Chuau and Prince

Jui.

In one opium province, Shansi, we have seen that the enforcement was at

the start effective. The evidence, gathered with some difficulty from

residents and travellers, from roadside gossip, and from talks with

officials, all went to show that the dens in all the leading cities were

closed, that the manufacturers of opium and its accessories were going out

of business, and that the farmers were beginning to limit their crops.

The enforcements in the adjoining province, Chih-li, in which lies Peking,

was also thoroughly effective at the start. The opium dens in all the

large cities were closed during the spring, and the restaurants and

disorderly houses which had formerly served opium to their customers

surrendered their lamps and implements. Throughout the other provinces

north of the Yangtse River, while there was evidence of a fairly

consistent attempt to enforce the new regulations, the results were not

altogether satisfying. Along the central and southern coast, from Shanghai

to Canton, the enforcement was effective in about half the important

centers of population. In Canton, or Kwangtung Province, the prohibition

was practically complete.

The real test of the prohibition movement is to come in the great interior

provinces of the South, Yunnan and Kweichou, and in the huge western

province of Sze-chuan. It is in these regions that opium has had its

strongest grip on the people, and where the financial and agricultural

phases of the problems are most acute. All observers recognized that it

was unfair to expect immediate and complete prohibition in these regions,

where opium-growing is quite as grave a question as opium-smoking. The

beginning of the enforcement in Sze-chuan seems to have been cautious but

sincere. In this one province the share of the imperial tax on opium

alone, over and above local needs, amounts to more than $2,000,000

(gold), and, thanks to the constant demands of the foreign powers for

their "indemnity" money, the imperial government is hardly in a position

to forego its demands on the provinces. But recognizing that a new revenue

must be built up to supplant the old, the three new opium commissioners of

Sze-chuan have begun by preparing addresses explaining the evils of opium,

and sending out "public orators" to deliver them to the people. They have

also used the local newspapers extensively for their educational work; and

they have sent out the provincial police to make lists of all

opium-smokers, post their names on the outside of their houses, and make

certain that they will be debarred from all public employment and from

posts of honour. The chief commissioner, Tso, declares that he will clear

Chen-tu, the provincial capital, a city of 400,000 inhabitants, of opium

within four years; and no one seems to doubt that he will do it as

effectively as he has cleared the streets of the beggars for which Chen-tu

was formerly notorious. When Mr. J. G. Alexander, of the British

Anti-Opium Society, was in Chen-tu last year, this same Commissioner Tso

called a mass-meeting for him, at which the native officials and gentry

sat on the platform with representatives of the missionary societies, and

ten thousand Chinese crowded about to hear Mr. Alexander's address.

The most disappointing region in the matter of the opium prohibition is

the upper Yangtse Valley. In the lower valley, from Nanking down to

Soochow and Shanghai (native city), the enforcement ranges from partial to

complete. But in the upper valley, from Nanking to Hankow and above, I

could not find the slightest evidence of enforcement. At the river ports

the dens were running openly, many of them with doors opening directly off

the street and with smokers visible on the couches within. The viceroy of

the upper Yangtse provinces, Chang-chi-tung, "the Great Viceroy," has been

recognized for a generation as one of China's most advanced thinkers and

reformers. His book, "China's Only Hope," has been translated into many

languages, and is recognized as the most eloquent analysis of China's

problems ever made by Chinese or Manchu. In it he is flatly on record

against opium. Indeed, when governor of Shansi, twenty odd years ago, this

same official sent out his soldiers to beat down the poppy crop. Yet it

was in this viceroyalty alone, among all the larger subdivisions of China,

that there was no evidence whatever last year of an intention to enforce

the anti-opium edicts. The only explanation of this state of things seems

to be that Chang-chi-tung is now a very old man, and that to a great

extent he has lost his vigour and his grip on his work. Whatever the

reason, this fact has been used with telling effect in pro-opium arguments

in the British Parliament as an illustration of China's "insincerity."

The situation seems to sum up about as follows: The prohibition of opium

was immediately effective over about one-quarter of China, and partially

effective over about two-thirds. This, it has seemed to me, considering

the difficulty and immensity of the problem, is an extraordinary record.

Every opium den actually closed in China represents a victory. Whether the

dens will stay closed, after the first frenzy of reform has passed, or

whether the prohibition movement will gain in strength and effectiveness,

time alone will tell. But there is an ancient popular saying in China to

this effect, "Do not fear to go slowly; fear to stop."

We have seen, then, that while the Chinese are fighting the opium evil

earnestly, and in part effectively, they are still some little way short

of conquering it. Also, we must not forget, that all reforms are strongest

in their beginnings. The Chinese, no less than the rest of us, will take

up a moral issue in a burst of enthusiasm. But human beings cannot

continue indefinitely in a bursting condition. Reaction must always follow

extraordinary exertion, and it is then that the habits of life regain

their ascendency. Remarkable as this reform battle has been in its

results, it certainly cannot show a complete, or even a half-complete,

victory over the brown drug. And meantime the government of British India

is pouring four-fifths of its immense opium production into China by way

of Hongkong and the treaty ports. It should be added, further, that while

the various self-governing ports, excepting Shanghai, have very recently

been forced, one by one, to cover up at least the appearance of evil, the

crown colony of Hongkong, which is under the direct rule of Great Britain,

is still clinging doggedly to its opium revenues. The whole miserable

business was summed up thus in a recent speech in the House of Commons:

"The mischief is in China; the money is in India."

What is Great Britain doing to help China? His Majesty's government has

indulged in a resolution now and then, has expressed diplomatic "sympathy"

with its yellow victims, and has even "urged" India in the matter, but is

it really doing anything to help?

There are reasons why the world has a right to ask this question.

If China is to grow weaker, she must ultimately submit to conquest by

foreign powers. There are nine or ten of these powers which have some sort

of a footing in China. No one of them trusts any one of the others,

therefore each must be prepared to fight in defense of its own interests.

It is not safe to tempt great commercial nations with a prize so rich as

China; they might yield. Once this conquest, this "partition," sets in,

there can result nothing but chaos and world-wide trouble.

The trend of events is to-day in the direction of this world-wide trouble.

The only apparent way to head it off is to begin strengthening China to a

point where she can defend herself against conquest. The first step in

this strengthening process is the putting down of opium--there is no

other first step. Before you can put down opium, you have got to stop

opium production in India. And therefore the Anglo-Indian opium business

is not England's business, but the world's business. The world is to-day

paying the cost of this highly expensive luxury along with China. Every

sallow morphine victim on the streets of San Francisco, Chicago, and New

York is helping to pay for this government traffic in vice.

But is Great Britain planning to help China?

Drugging a Nation: The Story of China and the Opium Curse · 第 8 / 10 段