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Looking For Commies In China
You'd Do Better In The Harvard Faculty Lounge
by Fred Reed

Shanghai
Guadalajara—
Just finished the last bag-drag back from China, jet-lagged, brain fried on
caffeine, edgy groggy. Maybe I’ll kill something. Or hibernate. What province am
I in? Why do these Mexicans have round eyes? It’s not natural. Some thoughts,
barely:
I couldn’t find the commies. Conservatives, who apparently preserve their
minds in amber at birth, ramble on about Communist China. I guess their brains
have parking brakes. Things are much less confusing if you have only one idea
and stick with it. Anyway, if China is a communist country, I’m Julius Didianus.
Who ever heard of a communist economy growing at nine percent? Or at all?
I grant you, the rascals used to be commies, but they’ve degenerated, and
lost their touch. I could do it better. When I landed at Beijing, I got
through passport control in about thirty seconds. They didn’t even glance at my
baggage. Grabbed a cab to my hotel. The driver tried to overcharge me. It looked
like capitalism to me.
I remember going into the Soviet Union on some junket or other. Now, the
Russkies could do some communism: Paranoia, thuggishness, ugly boring buildings,
clothes that looked air-dropped and people walking hunched over as against a
cold wind when there wasn’t any wind. Nothing in the stores, and not many
stores. Nothing worked. Nobody cared about anything. It was like Mexico but
without the technology and consumer goods. Or the sense of urgency.
I went into St. Petersburg from Helsinki on a train, like Lenin though with
less effect, because Aeroflop had lost our reservations in its central abacus.
The border Nazis rolled down window shades in case we might have stashed
propaganda in them. It was like going into a prison. It was going into
a prison. That’s how communism is supposed to work.
But China. If the government had the slightest interest in us, I didn’t
notice it. For two weeks we rushed about—Beijing, Xian, Chungking, Shanghai,
Guilin, and such like, and spat ourselves out into Hong Kong like a cud. I don’t
astound easily, but this time I astounded. Sure, I knew about the vast rivers of
vacuum cleaners and calculators spewing out of China into Wal-Mart. But knowing
it was like knowing that the Grand Canyon is a large hole. It doesn't convey the
reality.
The joint is hopping. China has 1.3 billion people, and 1.5 billion
construction cranes. I counted them. Pretty girls wander around in snug jeans
and camisetas ombligueras so you won’t wonder whether they have navels.
Stores are full of things that stores are usually full of. Some of the malls
could have been in Japan. China has lots of ordinary five-star hotels just like
any anywhere, well-run, unpleasantly air-conditioned, and with free
toothbrushes. The country is alive and shows indications of going somewhere. The
shopkeepers spot a Western mark and holler. One of them successfully sold me a
bottle of local booze with a cobra pickled in it.
Oh Mexico, thou of the mere little worm in thy tequila….
I suppose I
was unconsciously expecting something third-worldly, maybe like
Guadalajara—tolerably prosperous, sidewalks crumbling, most things working most
of the time, low buildings not excessively well maintained, nothing happening
and nothing indicating that anything ever would. No. Chungking is what New York
would be if New York were a big city. We’re talking forty-storey high rises that
somehow don’t look as dull as ours, massive highways and bridges. Every time we
landed the airport turned out to have been completed four years ago, one year
ago, what have you. Those cities aren’t Guadalajara. They’re Chicago.
The clunky Russian aircraft are gone. Now you see new stuff from Boeing and
Airbus.
OK, that’s the up side. The downside is lots, and smart people see real
instability that could lead to an explosion. The Chinese explode well, as the
Cultural Revolution of 1966-76 demonstrated. One problem is that said Revolution
also left a generation of jobless ex-radicals who can’t read, a bit like New
Orleans. You can criticize Mousy Dung all you want, but you have to give him
credit for being an unconscionable ass with no concern for his people. Anyway,
those kids, no longer kids, could be trouble.
Then the policy of one child per family, combined with a preference for boy
children, has left huge numbers of excess males who aren’t going to find wives.
They too might become disagreeable. I would. Add that the new wealth isn’t
reaching a whole lot of people. Corruption is rife. Poverty remains horrendous
in many parts. Finally, China is said to have eighty million evangelical
Christians, which means that it will likely attack Iraq, as well as a lot of
Moslems.
Years ago I lived in Taiwan for a bit, studying Chinese, both the language
and the young ladies, and living on fried squid bought in stalls under a bridge.
At the time the island was doing a Five Year Plan. Back then every country with
a patch of jungle, two colonels and a torture chamber had a Five Year Plan,
efficiently doing nothing. I noticed that Taiwan was actually following its
Plan: The reactors at Jin Shan were almost complete, the port at Gau Syung
functioned, the steel mill made steel.
I thought: “Hmmm. These folk can obviously play big-city hardball finance and
such, since that’s what they are doing in Hong Kong, which is just Manhattan
with slanted eyes. They can run a high-tech economy, since Taiwan is doing it.
That leaves Mau, keeping China mired in darkness, as America’s first line of
defense.”
Mau croaked. You really can’t rely on communists. China now appears to be
doing what Taiwan did. My take is that the Communist Party figured out that
Marxism was great except that it didn’t work, and anyway it could bore a tax
accountant into the shrieking gollywoggles, so they decided to keep the name
while doing whatever worked. This is a novel concept for the West, which tends
to eschew reason for organized imbecility, as for example liberalism and
conservatism. Anyway, Katie bar the door. Better, open the bar.
Now, Beijing isn’t the headwaters of compassion. I avoided staging any
protests in Tien An Men Square, as the government is unprincipled and would not
hesitate to use Waco-style methods to crush me. Russia, though, China isn’t.
Remember that when the Soviet Union was a superpower, though usually with a
Guatemalan level of technology, it couldn’t make a decent personal computer.
Taiwan was spitting them out like aspirin tablets. Well, same people. And no Mau
to paralyze them.
I’m going to go to sleep, or maybe jump off a roof. I hate airplanes.

Guilin. Nicely moody, but
residual.
—(09/14/05)
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Fred Reed has worked on the staff of the Army Times, The Washingtonian, Soldier of Fortune, Federal Computer Week, and The Washington Times, and has been published in Playboy, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, Harper's, National Review, Signal, and Air&Space. He has served in the Marines, worked as a police writer, technology editor, military specialist, and as an authority on mercenary soldiers.
Get Fred's new book, Nekkid in Austin: Drop Your Inner Child Down a Well or his previous book The Great Possum-Squashing and Beer Storm of 1962: Reflections on the Remains of My Country. See Fred's homepage, Fred On Everything.
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