Knowledge, Power, and Networks Elites in Transition in Modern China 9004506985, 9789004506985

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Knowledge, Power, and Networks

Studies on Modern East Asian History Edited by Robert Bickers (University of Bristol) Rana Mitter (Oxford China Centre) Peter O’Connor (Musashino University)

Volume 3

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/smea

Knowledge, Power, and Networks Elites in Transition in Modern China Edited by

Cécile Armand Christian Henriot Sun Huei-min

LEIDEN | BOSTON

This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement No 788476). This publication was sponsored by the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange. Cover illustration: Shanghai Mayor Wu Guozhen in a meeting—上海市長吳國楨先生, January 1947, Photographer: Mark Kauffman, Life Magazine, © Time Inc. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Armand, Cécile, editor. Title: Knowledge, power, and networks : elites in transition in modern  China / edited by Cécile Armand, Christian Henriot, Sun Huei-min. Description: Boston : Brill, [2022] | Series: Studies on modern East Asian  history, 2468-8223 ; volume 3 | Includes index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022027961 (print) | LCCN 2022027962 (ebook) |  ISBN 9789004506985 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004520479 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Elite (Social sciences)—China. | Power (Social sciences)  —China. Classification: LCC HN740.Z9.E4 K467 2022 (print) | LCC HN740.Z9.E4  (ebook) | DDC 305.5/20951—dc23/eng/20220808 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022027961 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022027962

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2468-8223 isbn 978-90-04-50698-5 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-52047-9 (e-book) Copyright 2022 by Cécile Armand, Christian Henriot, and Sun Huei-min. Published by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau and V&R unipress. Koninklijke Brill NV reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents List of Figures and Tables vii Abbreviations xi 1

Introduction: Knowledge, Power, and Networks—Elites in Transition in Modern China 1 Christian Henriot, Cécile Armand, and Sun Huei-min

2

Who Are Elites? Elite Distinction and Who’s Who Publications in Early 20th-Century China 22 Sun Huei-min

3 X-Boorman: The Biographical Dictionary of Republican China in the Digital Age 54 Cécile Armand and Christian Henriot 4

Middling Elites: Middle Managers and Bank Professionals at the Shanghai Bank of China on the Eve of the Communist Revolution 83 Brett Sheehan

5

Structures of Empowerment: A Network Exploration of Women Activists’ Collective Biographies in 20th-Century China 113 Henrike Rudolph

6

“Service to the Empire and to the Community”: The British Women’s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51 145 Ling-ling Lien

7

Revolutionary Roads: An Integrative Analysis Utilizing a Chinese Biographical Database 181 Marilyn Levine

8

Foreign Clubs with Chinese Flavor: The Rotary Club of Shanghai and the Politics of Language 231 Cécile Armand

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Contents

9

The American-Returned Students: Educational Networks and New Forms of Business in Early Republican China 258 Peter E. Hamilton

10

Navigating between Political Authorities: Chinese Rockefeller Fellows in Biology and Chemistry and Their Career Trajectories from 1949 to 1966 289 Yi-Tang Lin Index 323

Figures and Tables Figures 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5a 4.5b 4.6 4.7 4.8a 4.8b

The countries and schools from which the return students received their highest degree 31 The nominated great living Chinese in the first two editions of Who’s Who in China 33 Entrants of the first edition of Who’s Who in China nominated for the great living Chinese 34 Entrants of the second edition of Who’s Who in China nominated for the great living Chinese 34 The social relations among the entrants of the Zhongguo Gemin Mingrenzhuan 41 Entrants of the Haishang Mingrenzhuan reported by Shunpao 44 The entrants of the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu and their current affiliations 48 The 2-step ego network of the Bank of China 49 The related institutions of the top ten banks with high in-degree 50 Distribution of birthplaces in the BDRC 62 Distribution of the places of higher education in the BDRC 66 MCA of positions in the BDRC 73 The affiliation network of academic institutions in the BDRC 78 Bank of China hierarchy and numbers of bankers surveyed 89 Sample survey sheet 90 Personal and educational background of middle managers and rank-and-file employees 96 Field of study of middle managers and rank and file employees with college degrees 97 Women employee personal information compared with male middle managers and rank-and-file employees 100 Education and skills of women employees compared with male middle managers and rank-and-file employees 100 Monthly compensation of bankers by gender and year started work 103 Economic status of male middle managers and rank-and-file employees compared to women employees 103 Distribution of middle managers by family size 105 Distribution of rank-and-file employees by family size 105

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Figures and Tables

4.9 Reported health concerns of middle managers, male rank-and-file employees and women employees 107 4.10 Distribution of outside interests among those who reported outside interests: middle managers, male rank-and-file employees, and women employees compared 107 5.1 Connected components in the person-to-person network 125 5.2 Two-mode network with 738 nodes and 948 ties, node size according to degree 129 5.3 Degree distribution in the large component of the two-mode graph and the filtered graph with minimal degree 2 132 5.4 Biographical network preceding 1949, node size according to degree 137 6.1 Locations of the British Women’s Association in Shanghai 149 6.2 British population in the International Settlement, Shanghai 152 6.3 BWA membership 153 6.4 Organizational structure of the BWA 155 6.5 Number of terms of executive committee members 157 6.6 Annual Donations from the Shanghai Race Club to the BWA 166 6.7 Naval dance at the BWA headquarters 171 7.1 Distribution of birth year for Soviet group (N=61) and ECCO cohort (N=52) 194 7.2 Distribution of birth year for 3P dataset individuals (N=405) 195 7.3 Distribution of lifespan for the Soviet group (N=61) and Euro-Soviet group (N=50) 197 7.4 Distribution of lifespan for 3P dataset individuals (N=319) 198 7.5 Origin of SRL dataset individuals (N=115) versus provincial population (1910) 199 7.6 Clustered distribution of individuals and birth cities for SRL dataset (N=112) 201 7.7 Clustered distribution of individuals and birth cities for 3PX dataset (N=532) 202 7.8 Cluster analysis of SRL dataset (N=115, Attributes 181) 203 7.9 Detail of Changsha region of Hunan with 3PX dataset individuals (N=145) 206 7.10 Network graph of 3PX, 1,192 ties, individuals with ties greater than 11 ties, Louvain subgroups 209 7.11 Network graph of SRL containing 91 individuals with 1,686 ties 217 7.12 Network graph of 3PX containing 100 individuals with 1,192 ties 218 7.13 Network graph of 3PX containing 19 individuals with 78 ties 219 7.14 Ego network graph for Zhou Enlai from 3PX containing 56 individuals at the GT 11 ties level 220

Figures and Tables

ix

7.15 Ego network graph for Liu Shaoqi from 3PX containing 59 individuals at the GT 11 ties level 222 7.16 Ego network graph for Mao Zedong from 3PX containing 17 individuals at the GT 11 ties level 223 8.1 Rotary clubs in China (1919–52) 232 8.2 Chinese membership in the Rotary Club of Shanghai (1919–49): (a) Growth of Chinese membership; (b) Distribution between Chinese and foreign members 237 8.3 Professional classification of Chinese Rotarians in Shanghai 239 8.4 Chinese and American Rotarians’ workplace and residence in Shanghai 240 8.5 Year of birth 241 8.6 University of graduation in the United States 241 8.7 Province of origin 242 8.8 Country of education 243 8.9 Affiliation network of the Chinese Rotarians 245 8.10 The planned Rotary Club of Shanghai South (1936) 251 8.11 The Rotary Club of Shanghai West (1948) 253 10.1 Known birth years of biology and chemistry fellows (66) 300 10.2 Multiple correspondence analysis map of biology and chemistry fellows 305 10.3 Most-contributing variable categories with concentration ellipses lines 306

Tables 2.1 2.2 4.1 5.1

Bilateral relations between the Kuowen Weekly and Who’s Who in China 38 Current affiliations of the entrants of the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu 47 Fields included in the 1949 Bank of China Employee Survey 91 List of women activists and the source of their biography as included in the sample 123 5.2 Ranking of the ten individuals with the highest degree in the one-mode graph 132 5.3 Ranking of the twelve individuals with the highest degree (number of ties) in the two-mode graph 133 6.1 Backgrounds of the chairwomen of the BWA executive committee 160 7.1 Chinese Biographical Database (CBD) Summary, N=2,109 individuals 184 7.2 Historical period of death years ranges for Soviet group (N=61) and Euro-Soviet group (N=51) 196 7.3 Historical period of death years ranges for 3P dataset (N=319) 197 7.4 Summary of 25 hierarchical clusters for 3PX dataset (N=587 Attributes = 439) 204

x 7.5

Figures and Tables

Seriation table of four key centralities from SRL dataset (N=115) with descending sorting obtained from two-mode analysis showing the highest 25 individuals 212 7.6 Seriation of four key centralities from the 3PX dataset (N=587) obtained from the two-mode analysis showing the highest 35 individuals 214 8.1 Information discrepancies on the Chinese Rotarians 238 8.2 Most central institutions, ranked by degree centrality 246

Abbreviations 3P 3PX ACWP ARSC BDRC BWA BWWA CAAS CAS CASS CBD CCP CEM CMB CMS CPPCC CVEA CWR CYP CYY ECCO EGMD GIS GMD GYS HNA HNR IMH JCRR KPC KUTV LBM MCA MFA MRFE NCH NCHSCCG

three-province three-province expanded Authorship of Chinese Women’s Periodicals Database American Return Students’ Club Biographical Dictionary of Republican China British Women’s Association British Women’s Work Association Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences Chinese Academy of Sciences Chinese Academy of Social Sciences Chinese Biographical Database Chinese Communist Party Chinese Educational Mission China Medical Board Church Missionary Society Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference Chinese Vocational Education Association The China Weekly Review Chinese Youth Party Cong ‘Yi er jiu’ Yundong Kan Nüxing De rensheng Jiazhi European Branch of the Chinese Communist Organizations European Branch of the Chinese Nationalist Party geographical information systems Nationalist Party Anarchist Party historical network analyses historical network research Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica Joint Commission for Rural Reconstruction Kwang Pu Chen Papers, 1936–1958 Toilers of the East University Messrs. Lowe, Bingham & Matthews multiple correspondence analysis multiple factor analysis Millard’s Review of the Far East The North China Herald The North China Herald and Supreme Court & Consular Gazette

xii NLP NPC PRC PUMC RBLC RI ROC SCSB SDP SRL YMCA YWCA ZFM

Abbreviations Natural Language Processing National People’s Congress People’s Republic of China Peking Union Medical College Rare Book and Library Collection, Columbia University Rotary International Republic of China Shanghai Commercial and Savings Bank Chinese Social Democrats Soviet-Returned Leaders Young Men’s Christian Association Young Women’s Christian Association Zhongguo Funü Mingrenlu

chapter 1

Introduction: Knowledge, Power, and Networks— Elites in Transition in Modern China Christian Henriot, Cécile Armand, and Sun Huei-min 1

Introduction

In the last two decades, the world has witnessed the rise of China as an economic and military power and the emergence of a new class of Chinese transnational elites. What may seem like a new phenomenon actually marks the revival of a trend—the deep transformation of elites—initiated at the end of the Qing dynasty in 1912. The redistribution of power, wealth, and knowledge among newly formed elites matured during the Republican period (1912–49). The Sino-Japanese War, far from halting the process, gave it a different twist, contributing to the formation of a more interventionist state backed up by a growing group of technocracy-driven officials. Yet Chinese society remained on its course of nurturing elites—Chinese mostly, but foreigners as well—that played at the national and international level. While the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) inherited most of the nationalist institutional setting and social makeup, the violent turn of politics in the Maoist period and the suspension of relations outside the Socialist bloc debased the process of diversification and internationalization of elites in China. This volume intends to shed light on the remarkable renewal of elites in China. It focuses on the Republican period, but it also extends to the People’s Republic of China (PRC), established in 1949. 2

Elites in Historiography

If one looks at the historiography of elites in China, it appears that a flurry of works addressed this issue, or at least found the notion important and central enough to use it in the title. Yet, as we discuss below, the term “elites” has often been used quite loosely, more to designate a category of population than as a heuristic notion through which to study Chinese society. The first two major works that actually studied elites in China did not use this term, except in the text. Chang Chung-li’s [Zhang Zhongli] The Chinese Gentry and Ho Ping-ti’s [He Bingdi] The Ladder of Success represent two master pieces that examined

© Christian Henriot et al.,

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from a different angle the ruling class of literati and officials in Qing China. There was no sequel to these works.1 Historical research that focused on more diverse groups of social elites went in different directions.2 1 Ho Ping-ti continued a brilliant and productive career that took him to explore other topics. Zhang Zhongli was stopped by the Cultural Revolution, which cost him 12 years of his life. After his rehabilitation in 1978, he became involved in academic administration and produced only a conventional book on Shanghai history. Except for Mark Elvin’s work on “gentry democracy,” the notion of gentry faded away from historical research. On the role of imperial examinations, however, Benjamin Elman has produced a consistent array of books. Ping-ti Ho, The Ladder of Success in Imperial China: Aspects of Social Mobility, 1368– 1911 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962); Benjamin A. Elman, A Cultural History of Civil Examinations in Late Imperial China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000); Benjamin A. Elman, Civil Examinations and Meritocracy in Late Imperial China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013); Mark Elvin, “The Gentry Democracy in Shanghai 1905– 1914,” Ph.D. Diss. (Oxford University, 1967). 2 A significant number of major works has centered on the role of social elites, especially the economic or business elites (Marie-Claire Bergère, The Golden Age of the Chinese Bourgeoisie, 1911–1937 [Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989]; Man Bun Kwan, The Salt Merchants of Tianjin: State-Making and Civil Society in Late Imperial China [Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2001]; Xiaoqun Xu, Chinese Professionals and the Republican State: The Rise of Professional Associations in Shanghai, 1912–1937 [Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001]; Brett Sheehan, Trust in Troubled Times: Money, Banks, and State-Society Relations in Republican Tianjin [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003]; Luca Gabbiani, Pékin à l’ombre du mandat céleste. Vie quotidienne et gouvernement urbain sous la dynastie Qing, 1644–1911 [Paris: Éd. de l’EHESS, 2011]; Seunghyun Han, After the Prosperous Age: State and Elites in Early Nineteenth-Century Suzhou [Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2016]; Sun Huei-min 孫慧敏, Zhidu Yizhi: Minchu Shanghai de Zhongguo Lüshi 制度移 植: 民初上海的中國律師 (1912–1937) [Institutional Transplantation: The Chinese Lawyers in Republican Shanghai, 1912–1937] [Taipei: Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, 2012]. On their organizations (Joseph Fewsmith, Party, State, and Local Elites in Republican China: Merchant Organizations and Politics in Shanghai, 1890–1930 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1985); William T. Rowe, Hankow: Commerce and Society in a Chinese City, 1796–1889 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1984); William T. Rowe, Hankow: Conflict and Community in a Chinese City, 1796–1895 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1989); Bryna Goodman, Native Place, City, and Nation Regional Networks and Identities in Shanghai, 1853–1937 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995); Richard Belsky, Localities at the Center: Native Place, Space, and Power in Late Imperial Beijing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center: Distributed by Harvard University Press, 2005). On cultural practices (Wu Jen-shu 巫仁恕, Youyou fangxiang: Ming Qing Jiangnan Chengshi de Xiuxian Xiaofei yu Kongjian Bianqian 優游坊廂: 明清江南城市的休閑消費與空間變遷 [Urban Pleasures: Leisure Consumption and Spatial Transformation in Jiangnan Cities during the Ming-Qing Period] (Taipei: the Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, 2014); Xavier Paulès, Histoire d’une drogue en sursis l’opium à Canton, 1906–1936 (Paris: Éd. de l’École des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, 2010). Even when the term appears in the title (Brook, Timothy, and Andre Schmid. Nation Work: Asian Elites and National Identities (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000); Brook, Timothy. Collaboration: Japanese Agents and Local Elites in Wartime China (Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2005)), “elites” was not used as a central heuristic concept.

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Yet between 1969 and 2020, a total of 21 books or dissertations and ten papers in Western languages included “elite(s)” in their title. In China, the distribution is quite different, with only five monographs, eight doctoral dissertations, but a huge flurry of papers, both in academic journals and in more public-oriented publications. The first historian to use “elites” in his work was Thomas J. Weiss in 1969 with his unpublished doctoral dissertation “Hunanese among China’s Elites, 1851–1911.”3 Except for a few works in the late 1970s, the first significant cluster of monographs appeared in the early to mid-1980s, with a focus on local elites and activism. This reflected a shift away from the former dominant paradigms inspired by Marxist categories, even among non-Marxist historians (bourgeoisie, working class, peasants). Nevertheless, this interest faded throughout much of the 1990s, perhaps because the field of Chinese studies moved significantly toward cultural history. It was only in the first decade of the millennium that when China reemerged as a force to be reckoned with that historians in this sphere returned to a more fervent use of elites in academic titles, but the subsequent decade bore witness to more sporadic books and papers that focus on elites. In China, if we consider the 97 publications including jingying (精英) in their title, it is obvious that this appeared in historiography much later than the 1970s. The term was virtually non-existent in the 1980s and 1990s, with about 6 percent of the works published. There was a more significant use of the term in the first decade of the millennium, but the real upsurge happened in the subsequent decade with slightly more than 70 percent of all titles. Clearly, Chinese specialists have made a radical shift from the previous Marxist categories that prevailed in historiography (bourgeoisie, 劣紳, 紳士) to the broader notion of elites. Yet, while many papers have heralded this term, there was less enthusiasm in monographs. Our review identified only five, all published after 2001 in China, and one study in Taiwan, published in 1993. What can we surmise from this global overview of historical production? The term “elites” has established itself as a fairly accepted and widespread notion both in Western and Chinese historiography, and it appears to be gaining more popularity in China. This trend, however, may not reflect a critical use of elites conceptually. It may also obscure the fact that part of historical production focuses on more specific social or professional groups that could be included in the category of elites. There has been a propensity in the majority of cases to dispense with a genuine discussion of what could or should be included under elites, why it is relevant to use this term to the exclusion of, or

3 Thomas J. Weiss, “Hunanese among China’s Elites, 1851–1911,” Ph.D. diss. (University of Chicago, 1969).

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in combination, with other terms. More often than not, the term “elites” as a self-defining notion is taken for granted. As discussed below, we believe that “elites” is a term with a compelling heuristic value, providing historians engage in a purposeful and critical discussion of its use. The use of elites as a category, however, could also be better served by a more innovative approach to historical research. 3

What are Elites?

One relevant and common question is: “What are elites”? It is an elusive term that historians have used quite liberally, mostly with no clear framework. There is a rich literature in sociology and political science that addresses the issue of definition and provides a substantial corpus of case studies on contemporary societies. These works provide a vast repertoire of concepts and methodologies, at the heart of developing studies on elites and their specific types. Defining “elites” in history is more problematic because they represent a complex and changing group over time. The continuity of elites may follow the path of a gentle and peaceful transformation, but economic, political or military events may sometimes accelerate the pace of change or even bring about a traumatic reversal, as was the case in China after 1911 in the wake of the collapse of the Qing dynasty or after 1949 under the CCP. Elites do not exist as identifiable groups even if specialists (anthropologists, historians, political scientists, and sociologists) can point to well established groups to which the “elite” label does apply. However, defining particular groups does not answer the more complex question of what we include under the term “elites”. One of the reasons for this difficulty, pinning down who and who do not belong, is the changing nature of elite groups, their circulation and transformation. While this may have a different impact, depending on which society a historian is observing and through which lenses and methods, the more the time factor is included and extended, the more the historian is facing change, renewal, and substitution. Even within a short span of time, in modern societies, there can be a radical realignment of elite groups. In other words, elite groups do not exist per se, they always exist in relation to others, which include the various social layers of society and, of course, those that strive or compete to seize, take, ascend, or hold onto power (be it political, social, or economic). The relation to power, formal and informal, and access to the state, also defines much of the field of action of elites. In complex societies, however,—pre-modern and modern—there are always groups that compete for wealth, power, and moral standing. There is little doubt that China

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was a case in point, probably for the past two millennia. Yet such competition should not be understood as some sort of cut-throat struggle, rather it involved various forms of power play within a given socio-political context; as circumstances changed, so did elite politics. In modern China, as today, power was accrued by individuals/groups that crossed borders, intermeshed hierarchies and networks, with positions that spanned government and business command posts, and new media outlets. The capacity for gain resulted from serving as connectors through these multiple positions.4 The main concept that most aptly catches these dynamics is Nobert Elias’ notion of “configuration,” away from the well-established but heuristically poor categories of elites (cultural, economic, military, political, social).5 Elites may be seen as an assemblage of circles at various scales of spatial and social connections. Rather than seeing them in terms of hierarchical layers placed along a formal vertical axis, they are better comprehended in terms of overlapping and fluid configurations. These configurations are in constant interaction with the formal organizations that structure society.6 The depth and breadth of these interactions—the fields of action—vary depending on the realm in which they take place. If time is important in our understanding of elites, space is equally significant as the playing field can be local, regional, national, or international. Different configurations of elites will act at either one or several levels at the same time. 4

Elites in Modern China

The period we examine—modern China—saw the rapid and radical transformation of society and political order in less than a century. The fairly stable imperial system in place since at least the Song dynasty (960–1279) collapsed in the face of multiple challenges and weaknesses. It gave way to a largely weak Republican regime, torn between internecine conflicts, military strife, and the Sino-Japanese conflicts. Eventually, this regime disintegrated and left the political and economic order in ruins, which gave way to the establishment of the PRC under communist rule. How does the study of elites in China fit in 4 Janine R. Wedel, “From Power Elites to Influence Elites: Resetting Elite Studies for the 21st Century”. Theory, Culture & Society 34, no. 5–6 (September 2017): 17–18. 5 Alexis V. Pinilla-Díaz, “Eliasian Configurations and Historical Knowledge,” Folios, no. 47 (June 2018): 69–79. 6 Florence Delmotte, “La sociologie historique de Norbert Elias,” Cahiers philosophiques 1, no. 128 (January 2012): 44.

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unraveling the process of the disruption of the political and social order in this period? It is appropriate to begin with a discussion of elites in late imperial China. Late Qing society may be described as a relatively stable social and political order linked to a well-honed mode of elite selection.7 In the exercise of power, a state bureaucracy relied heavily on local literati (countryside/cities) and collective organizations (cities) to maintain social order.8 A dual military system under the control of civil administrators or Manchu lineages was at hand to quell any local rebellions.9 In this particular political order, knowledge more than wealth was paramount, but wealth could be turned into knowledge by supporting schooling and success in imperial examinations. Merchants, in particular, played a highly efficient, recognized, and profitable role in a pre-modern market economy rooted in agricultural production. Merchants were separate from literati (though marriage created bridges), but dynamically over time, families, not individuals, raised various members of the group to take up the family business or the path of imperial examinations. Demography and the scarcity of resources, however, started to grip the system. Late Qing society was affluent but in deterioration with an uneven distribution of wealth due to geographical and social inequalities, yet with a low level of conflict until the mid-19th century.10 It could be argued that the social and political order based on the meritocratic system of imperial examinations made China a paragon of an elite regime from the perspective of Vilfredo Pareto.11 In essence, the thin layer of Confucian-trained officials who wielded political power in the name of the emperor ran the imperial bureaucracy that held the empire together and 7 8 9

10 11

Ho, The Ladder of Success in Imperial China; Elman, Civil Examinations and Meritocracy in Late Imperial China. Chung-Li Chang, The Chinese Gentry Studies on Their Role in Nineteenth-Century Chinese Society (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1974); Rowe, Hankow, 1984, 1989. Mark C. Elliott, The Manchu Way: The Eight Banners and Ethnic Identity in Late Imperial China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001); Yingcong Dai, “Qing Military Institutions and Their Effects on Government, Economy, and Society, 1640–1800,” Journal of Chinese History 1, no. 2 (2017): 329–352; Edward Allen McCord, The Power of the Gun: The Emergence of Modern Chinese Warlordism (Taipei: SMC Pub., 1997), 17–45. Susan Naquin and Evelyn Sakakida Rawski, Chinese Society in the Eighteenth Century (Boulder: University Press of Colorado, 2013). Vilfredo Pareto, Traité de sociologie générale (Paris: Payot, 1932), chapter 1. Vilfredo Pareto is known for his work in economy, but he devoted his later years to a sociological approach of society, which translated into his formulation of one of the first theoretical perspectives on elites.

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enjoyed the highest social status, comprising the ruling elite above non-ruling elites. They were the product of a sustained process of training, education, and selection that contributed to a distinctive form of sociological homogenization. This was not because they came from the same social group—it was not hereditary—but due to the common intellectual and moral mold that shaped them—the genius of the system of imperial examinations—nurtured the formation of a highly self-conscious educated elite group that shared the same moral and political values.12 Yet, as Mills reminds us, the constitution of power elites may be seen as the result of research and not as a given sociological fact.13 In fact, if the notion of power elites that Mills applied to American society in the 1950s is debated in the context of late imperial China, his observation is pertinent. This may be related to the artificial nature of categorizing Chinese officials as a “ruling elite,” which resonates in the work of some historians of China who have addressed this issue in earnest. The major contribution on elites and power in late imperial China remains the book edited by Joseph Esherick and Mary Backus Rankin, Chinese Local Elites and Patterns of Dominance.14 In the introductory chapter, the authors make the case of the diversity of configurations across space and time. They argue that elites in late imperial and early Republican China represented a much broader spectrum, especially when shifting their focus from the state to the activities of the elites in local society.15 Rather than using the conventional categories of wealth, status, and power, they placed the emphasis in their analysis on the strategies and resources—the dynamic and processual aspects of power—that elites mobilized to establish or retain their dominance over actors in local society.16 This diversity of patterns became magnified after the collapse of the Qing in 1911 when the thin but robust net of officials that formed a “national elite” disintegrated. With the Republican era, China seems to have been engulfed in a succession of troubles, unrest, and warfare. It is undeniable that instability prevailed, though again unequally across time and space. Yet focusing on political or 12 13

14 15 16

Elman, Civil Examinations and Meritocracy in Late Imperial China; Elman, A Cultural History of Civil Examinations in Late Imperial China. C. Wright Mills, The Power Elite (New York: Oxford University Press, 1956), chapter 5. Wright Mills is one of the best-known power-elite theorists whose work on the organization of power in the United States asserted the existence of firmly interlinked networks of power between the military, corporate, and political elite. Joseph W. Esherick and Mary Backus Rankin, Chinese Local Elites and Patterns of Dominance (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 1–24. Ibid., 7. Ibid., 10.

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military history obscures the rapid transformation in society. The process of transformation of the elites in China led to the rise of a new educated elite with much social and cultural influence, but little actual power due to the disconnection with government circles for most, and the rise of new competitors. The abolition of imperial examinations created the conditions for the rise of the military once the imperial system itself had collapsed. Change in various sectors of society—intellectuals, businessmen—occurred rapidly, not just with the capacity to learn from the West, but to adapt and reach the highest levels on a par with it (though in smaller numbers). The issue was not the lack of adaptive capacity, but the capacity to gain positions of power in order to effectively implement the reforms that would have propelled China to the fore. 5

China in Transition

In the early decades of the 19th century, China suffered a setback in its commercial exchanges. The trade of opium induced a reversal of the flow of silver, in the context of a military confrontation with Western powers, leading to rising economic and social tensions. A succession of rebellions occurred, until massive popular uprisings—the Taiping Civil War—challenged and crippled the Qing imperial order. In the face of this multifarious contestation, both state and society explored new avenues to redress the course of decline that seemed to grip the country. Simultaneously, there was a quest for technologies, new knowledge, and also an alternate model of governance. This was not a uniform and organized movement. On the contrary, the search for “new knowledge” led to the fragmentation and pluralization of education paths and models (new schools, missionary schools, education abroad). There was also an extraordinary blossoming of many new forms of social organizations, notably associations, clubs, societies, and movements, to a degree unknown in imperial society. While this could be seen as a fragmentation of social energies, there was a congruence between the previous social organizations (such as huiguan, gongsuo) and these new collective actors. This transformation should change the perspective of historians who specialize in modern China in how they perceive Chinese society. In a context of rising uncertainty and doubts among elites about the capacity of the Qing to save China from its predicament, few things were needed to unsettle the regime in power. If we set aside the more conjunctural events, the first trigger of revolution was the abolition of the system of imperial examinations. This rushed decision simply ruined the prospects of a career as hundreds

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of thousands of literati had imagined and it severed for good the umbilical cord between the ruling dynasty and its constituency of literati. On the other hand, the rise of news media and the establishment of early political organizations contributed to the formation of a thriving public sphere. This new sphere succeeded in redrawing the lines between elite groups and it facilitated unprecedented political dynamics and elite configurations beyond the reach of the dynasty. “A single spark can start a prairie fire,” wrote Mao Zedong. In the case of the Qing, it was a lack of foresight that precipitated the demise of the imperial order. The Republican revolution, however, was hardly more than a prairie fire. For the elites to embrace revolution an alternative social and political model was needed that was not yet in place, not even conceptually, even less organizationally and the still-born Republic left open the gates to military rule (1916–49). This was the consequence of the rise and formation of an autonomous military polity nursed initially to combat the invading foreign powers. It definitely failed on this account, but the infant Republic soon turned into a battlefield for political ambitions. The point, however, is that the military, once tamed under a civil political power, became a force and an elite organization to be reckoned with. Throughout the 1920s and 1940s, it wielded much more power than any other group in society and it was only due to internal rivalries that the military apparatus failed to gain a complete grip on the country. Eventually the Nationalists succeeded in bringing order under a formal civil government, but the military remained prominent, if not dominant, under Guomindang rule. A small but influential group of the population needs to be taken into account with regard to the reconfiguration of elites in China. After the opening of settlements in treaty ports, a diverse foreign community emerged that eventually spread across China, though mostly only in cities (except for villagebased missionaries), with the majority concentrated in a few major urban centers (Shanghai, Hong Kong, Beijing, Tianjin). Foreigners joined the bandwagon of China’s efforts in economic development as businessmen and entrepreneurs, and in state building as political and military advisors. The foreign settlements in treaty ports furnished the population with a broad social spectrum within which only a minority emerged as the upper strata of local society. The degree of interaction between this segment of the foreign population varied greatly, depending on the national community—Americans, British, and Japanese—but there is no denying that far more contacts and intermingling happened than previously asserted. Outside formal institutions, including companies, there were many social venues that brought Chinese and foreigners into regular and sustained relationships.

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To grasp more fully the extent and depth of the transformation of elites in modern China, we need to look beneath the froth of political events. Moments of crisis crystallized a deep-running frustration and dissatisfaction with the status of China vis-à-vis foreign powers and their privileges. At times, youth and other social groups vented their anger through large-scale protest movements and boycotts. Deep down, however, the foreign factor made all sorts of in-roads in Chinese society in the form of institutions, technologies, ideas, knowledge, and religions. The latter was hardly successful in terms of religious conversion that never touched more than a very small percentage of the population. On the other hand, missionary organizations invested considerably in health protection and educational enterprises. Missionary schools and colleges were a key ingredient in supporting the rise of foreign-educated elites that built bridges with society at large. 6

Knowledge

In the Republican era, as in imperial China, education remained the key to elite reproduction, formation, and reconfiguration. After the abolition of imperial examinations, the Chinese government set in motion a complete revamping of the educational landscape, seeking reform templates from the foreign-run schools in the country as well as from foreign educational systems, starting with Japan. Within society, however, especially among the educated and affluent groups, there was no wait-and-see attitude. On the contrary, elite groups began at once to send their children to be educated abroad, first in Japan in massive numbers, then to Europe, and above all, the United States. There were successive waves over time, related in part to the availability of funding. The Boxer indemnity produced scholarships for Chinese students and generated a much larger flow of self-funded young Chinese students seeking their education in the United States. While Japan remained a destination of choice well into the 1930s, the major winner in attracting young avid minds was the United States. Much has been written about “China’s response to the West,” a large strand of scholarship per se, including works that examined the Chinese intellectuals who went to the West to receive their training.17 The “China-centered” paradigm that consumed Chinese studies in the 1980s led to minimizing, or even 17

Ssu-yü Têng and John King Fairbank, China’s Response to the West: A Documentary Survey 1839–1923 (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1982); Y. C. (Yi Chu) Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1966).

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discarding altogether, the importance of the foreign factor in China and to focus on the internal dynamics of Chinese society to explain its transformation. The two visions are in fact compatible. If we look at how Chinese society transformed and at the prime actors of this change, there is little doubt that receiving a new modern form of education played a key role. But rather than viewing those Chinese who studied in foreign universities as being on the receiving hand of advanced nations, it makes better sense to consider that they were partaking in global modernity. They were not just recipients, since many excelled in their respective fields and made major contributions to the advancement of knowledge. The United States and its large number of universities played a leading role in this process. This is not to belittle the role of European universities, but figures speak for themselves. There was a massive flow of Chinese students who not only integrated with American universities, but also gained access to the most prestigious institutions. Although a great number of universities received Chinese students, there was a clear concentration in a small group of Ivy League universities and a handful of other well-known establishments (Chicago, Illinois, etcetera). That Chinese students became aware of these distinctions at an early stage is clearly demonstrated by their strategies, either going straight to a major university or moving to one at graduate level. The influx of Chinese students may even have contributed to shaping the hierarchy of American universities. The impact of this shift toward the United States was enormous in China as returning graduates became the initiators of a thorough reform of the educational system, both in schools and universities, within a US framework. A fundamental characteristic of the long century subsumed under “modern China” was the remarkable diversification of social actors, groups, and organizations. This did not happen immediately. The high degree of disruption in the political order should not be confused with the more hesitant and progressive pace of social organization. As new social and professional layers were added, they came to be intimately interwoven with existing layers, which eventually produced a “new” social order. The same was true of the Chinese literary language since it did not immediately jump from classical prose in wenyan style to the vernacular language that became the norm of the early 1950s. Anyone familiar with the sources of the period has observed the gradual and successive shifts that ran through the print media and led to the birth of a new national language. We should look at the process of the transformation of elites from the same perspective. Elites in modern China—note the choice of not using “Chinese elites”—were elites caught in a process of accelerated transition. They reached a certain degree of stabilization and balance by the mid-1930s, which the Sino-Japanese war affected badly, but did not alter fundamentally.

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After 1949, however, there was a complete breakdown and overhaul of elites in China. A thorough research on elites in modern China demands a study of what changed in the sociology of elites. What shaped their world view, especially the role of education? Where did they find the resources to fund their studies, especially abroad? What changed in the relationship between elites and society and in the modes and capacity of action of elites (power)? How did the source and nature of elite fortune/capital change in the late Qing—early Republic? 7

What Is the Approach to Elites in Modern China?

China represents a case that does not fit into the usual paradigms through which historians have studied the relationship between the dominant Western powers or Japan and, more broadly, the colonial world in the modern era. China maintained her sovereignty, despite the encroachment of treaties, but the most significant factor was the existence of highly sophisticated and responsive elites. In the period that followed China’s forced entry into the world order shaped by the advancing Western empires (1832–1949), the nature of elite groups in China experienced a radical transformation, following different historical trajectories and becoming part of multiple intersecting histories. To address these key issues, we argue that it is possible to engage in a different approach. Historians now have access to sources that were hitherto inaccessible, or in which they were not interested or in a position to exploit, on an unprecedented scale. They also have the means, thanks to sophisticated methods of text processing, data mining, and visualization to optimize them from a new angle with different approaches. We can reinvigorate the study of elites and rethink it through several historiographical debates: (1) the process of state building versus disintegration; (2) state—society relations (debates around the notions of society in the civil/public sphere) and the role of elites as intermediaries, mediators, and the “third realm” between the two (professionals, intellectuals, opinion leaders); (3) the notion of network, a concept that has gained phenomenal currency since 2000, yet has failed to contribute to a renewed perspective due to its frequent misuse, and use, in a metaphorical sense; (4) interest in foreigners, inter/transnational elites and Chinese/ foreign elite relations, which constitutes a major historiographical shift. This approach, that we subsume under data-rich integrative history, leads us to change the scale of observation, or more exactly, to multiply and fit together the various scales of observation. It leads us to seek new sources, not only in

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China but in the countries where Chinese and non-Chinese students studied, worked, or emigrated, where their contacts were, and where they joined organizations. This has now been initiated. Historians are facing a thoroughly transformed research ecology way beyond the early promises of digital history. It is now possible to research in a wide array of sources hitherto beyond grasp thanks to the massive digitalization of core collections of historical documents (newspapers, local gazetteers, biographical dictionaries) in Chinese, Japanese, or English. These vast resources, however, can only be harnessed through the use and development of language-geared technologies and methods (natural language processing) reliant upon scalable computing power. While the most common term in this approach is “data mining,” the second major challenge after extracting information is how to handle and process the vast amount of data in the historian’s hands. Quantity per se does not make good history. Aside from filtering, sorting, and analyzing data, the main challenge for modern historians is to keep track of, and to connect, such data to their research questions. This is a genuine and serious methodological, and probably, an epistemological challenge, but it is also a formidable opportunity which an integrative approach to data-rich history can actualize. In this chapter, we bring together two distinct visions of historical research. The first is data-rich history which, we believe, has more bearing and relevance to historians than the illusory dreams of “big data history.” Big data has become one of the most fashionable catchwords in the humanities. For historians, however, even if the processing of massive digital corpora can produce large quantities of data, they will remain bound by several limits: The degree of transformability of sources (archives), the finite nature of historical sources, and the highly qualitative nature of the sources. While big data is beyond the historian’s scope and reach, our enhanced capacity to retrieve historical information allows us to integrate considerable amounts of data in research, not as a series of quantitative measures of everything, but precisely as highly qualitative data. This is what we mean by data-rich history: Research questions embedded in large quantities of qualitative data. An integrative approach to history is represented by a proposal made by Marilyn Levine in recent publications.18 The notion of integrative history has come a long way, and it was actually born in the field of Chinese studies. His major proponent was Joseph Fletcher, an eminent scholar who despaired of 18

Marilyn Levine, “Through a Euro-Soviet Lens: Bolshevism, Loyalties, and the Euro-Soviet Cohort during the early 1920s,” American Historical Association Annual Meeting, Chicago, January 3–6, 2019.

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the parochial nature of Euro-American historical research and introduced his notion as a way to “look underneath the surface of political and institutional history” and to “find the interconnections and horizontal continuities of […] history.”19 Levine has revisited and transposed this notion to historical research in the digital era. The issue is not just the rich data, but is the combination of methods and tools to look at the data and seek connections from various angles. In studying elites we are looking for interconnections and horizontal continuities, not just vertical links. We can collect data on the actual facts of life of an individual and pursue a multilinear history or even multigenerational histories. We can explore the grouping of individuals not only as pre-determined groups, but as open and changeable configurations. Groups exist in society, usually with an identity and a form of organization. Yet, while a group is by definition a network, a network is not necessarily a group. We can seek to uncover patterns: Why people tended to follow certain paths, to go to certain places, eventually to connect or to bond. There is no need today to make a choice between the individual or the collective level. We argue that the combination of the historian’s craft, digitalized documentary sources, and the set of available digital tools and methods lay the ground for a data-rich integrative history of elites in modern China. Historical research can now rely on far more extensive and varied information than ever realised, not because of new sources becoming unexpectedly available (of course there are always new sources over time), but in light of the fact that we are now in a position to combine close and distant reading of our materials. Distant reading is taken here to mean the capacity to “travel through” vast numbers of documents, to explore, extract, and synthesize data using a range of approaches (topic modeling, time series, sequence analysis). Rather than approaching the study of elites as specific groups of individuals framed in distinct organizations or occupations, we shall consider them as individuals embedded in multiple and evolving networks, of which formal organizations represented one important but not unique facet. This approach will allow us to rethink intellectually the meaning of elites and networks in modern China. The following chapters in this volume examine a wide set of issues on the transformation of elites in China using various methodologies. It commences with a study of the term “elites” in Chinese by Sun Huei-min who examines how the notion came to China and the ways in which Chinese literati rendered it with terms drawn from a classical repertoire. Sun extracted rich data from a wide range of sources, including dictionaries, “Who’s whos,” and newspapers. 19

Joseph F. Fletcher, “Integrative History: Parallels and Interconnections in the Early Modern Period, 1500–1800,” Journal of Turkish Studies 9 (1985): 37–57.

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By connecting the dots between these “visions” of elites, she demonstrates that in the publications that centered on elites in China, there was a conscious choice to avoid the classical terms and to place the focus on eminence, mostly political. Although the initial push came from publications in English, Chinese publishers quickly began to produce Who’s whos. While the early volumes focused on political or intellectual figures, there was a growing trend to expand the categories included in these publications. In particular, since many of these works were published in Shanghai, there was a clear shift toward the business community, which accorded with a move away from using any notion of “elites” and focused on “entrepreneurs” and “business celebrities.” These publications, in turn, shaped a new vision of the social landscape and hierarchies. In the third chapter, Cécile Armand and Christian Henriot revisit the Biographical Dictionary of Republican China (BDRC) by scrutinizing it with an analytical process based on the implementation of a set of text and network analysis tools. With its 589 biographies, the BDRC represents only a thin segment of Chinese elites, and the range of individuals included in the dictionary shows a definite bias toward individuals with positions of power in the government and the military. The wealth of data in the BDRC, however, goes beyond the 589 main figures; it extends to thousands of other individuals and their interaction which can only be revealed and harnessed through data extraction. The chapter argues that this sample of Chinese elites does provide a rich source to examine where these elites came from in historical terms. It establishes the permanence of education as a crucial factor, with a majority that received a modern education in Chinese or missionary middle schools, then a higher education in China and, to a large extent, abroad. This applies to all the categories of individuals and their field of learning (engineering, military, humanities, etcetera). The authors also highlight the complexity and diversity of career patterns, the involvement in a variety of institutions, as leaders, employees/public servants or as volunteers in a multitude of social organizations. The BDRC contains, with few exceptions, the national elites that held power during the Republican period or took over after 1949. These individuals seized the opportunities that political and institutional unrest presented and became the actors of the transformation of the political, military, and government setting. They contributed significantly to reshaping the social order and redefining hierarchies of actual and informal power. Brett Sheehan’s chapter effectively muddies the water of elite definition with his study of “middling elites” in the banking sector. He makes skillful use of the rich information collected by the Shanghai Bank of China on its staff in 1949 to examine the nature of the stratum of bank managers and professionals.

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He argues that the massive expansion of banks in China in the early 20th century was conducive to a parallel expansion of the ranks of “middle managers.” They formed a group whose income and lifestyle placed them way above most in the urban context, even if they did not compare to the wealthy bankers that ran China’s financial institutions. Yet these “middling elites” were essential to the day-to-day operation of banks. They were the product of the hybrid forms of education that characterized China in the late Qing—early Republic. Their professional training was mostly dispensed within the company itself and their performance conditioned their promotion more than their original background. Sheehan relies on the unique source mentioned above, which lends itself to a study from a multitude of angles (sociological background, training, family life, private activities). His chapter exemplifies the tremendous transformation within the banking profession and more broadly in urban society since the end of the Qing dynasty. Henrike Rudolf shifts the perspective from actors in action to their representation in biographical narratives published in the 1980s in China. Her approach intersects both with Armand and Henriot in using data extracted from biographical dictionaries and with Levine in using network analysis to make sense of the data. The collective biographies of women activists that Rudolf examines represent a well-established genre in the PRC as works that present “life narratives” from the past with a view to serve as exemplary lives” (actors, practices) to reflect on the present. Her chapter trawls through the formulaic biographies of these “exemplary” women to uncover and abstract the network structures that are embedded. By using network analysis, Rudolf proposes both a new way of exploring and deciphering biographical texts and a thorough discussion of the potential and limitations of this methodology in the study of Chinese biographies. Her chapter highlights the power mechanisms at play in the biographies, in particular the dependency of women on their connection to the CCP, or influential leaders, for their integration in the master narrative produced in the form of dictionaries and other publications. The chapter by Lien Ling-ling opens a new window in the study of elites in the Republican era. She studies a private association established by foreigners, and more specifically British women in Shanghai. Her chapter intersects both with Rudolph (it is focused on proactive women, in contrast with CCP-defined women) and Armand (a civil society organization with the twin goals of socializing/public service), but in sharp contrast with the Rotary and its exclusively male membership, The British Women Association (BWA) presented itself as an all-encompassing organization that sought to bring together all British Women in Shanghai to “unite British women in the social service of the community and the Empire.” It was not an elitist association per se, but

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it emanated clearly from the higher circles of the British community. On the one hand, the women who took the lead and ran the association for decades belonged to almost all of the most privileged groups in the city. They relied on their own efforts, but also benefited from their relation to men of position, often as wives, to get access to funding and premises for the association. The BWA had a dual purpose of serving as a place for leisure and social interaction among British women and providing services to the community, including the transient population of British soldiers. Through personal and institutional contacts with other associations in China or abroad, the BWA built an extensive network to support its actions. The association can also be seen as an example of female activism within the foreign communities in the specific context of treaty ports. The actors that Marilyn Levine examines form a different group of elites. This was not just because they came mostly from less affluent regions of China and often from less affluent families, but also because they chose a path that eventually took them to Europe where they experienced a far broader range of educational training than their counterparts in the United States. Yet a major difference was their exposure to different strands of political thought and activism. Levine relies on the unique China Biographical Database she has been developing for three decades. She puts this under various digital lenses that complement one other to offer shifting perspectives on her subject. Levine examines the group of 116 CCP members who went to Soviet Russia, which she compares with larger samples of Chinese communists in three provinces (Hunan, Sichuan, and Zhejiang). Her study draws on the rich dataset of the Chinese Biographical Database, as well as oral sources that she collected for her Chinese Conversations Project. Combining these various sources and data to network and spatial analysis, Levin presents a concrete case for implementing the new form of integrative history that she envisioned. Her chapter highlights a high degree of generational cohesion in the group of communist activists that received their training in Soviet Russia and in Europe. Spatial analysis shows that embarking on the pathway of revolution had its roots— the power of place—in geographical origin and proximity for many of these activists. Yet network analysis also shows the emergence of distinct networks among Chinese communists between those who remained in China and those who went abroad. The Rotary Club that Cécile Armand introduces in her chapter was an American-born organization that expressly catered to businessmen and professionals, even if the range of professions represented included individuals with positions in public institutions. It assumed its vocation as an elite organization intended to serve the public good and society at large. In Shanghai, the

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Rotary Club opened its membership at an early stage Chinese, who became very active members of the club, both locally, in China, and in its international organization. The profile of Chinese members was male, generally with a high level of education, often with a degree from a foreign university, especially in the United States. This was a very successful example of a cross-cultural and transnational organization where English served as the lingua franca. Yet the Chinese members were also aware of the necessity to reach out to wider circles of Chinese elites and successfully facilitated the creation of a Chineselanguage club. Their commitment, however, was cut short by the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, then the communist takeover in 1949. The Rotary Club remains one of the prime examples of a platform for a direct and fruitful dialogue among the elites in Republican China. Armand’s study mobilizes a large amount of data, some extracted manually from archives or rosters, but the bulk was extracted systematically from the Chinese and English-language press. No stone was left unturned in this quest for a data-rich history of the Rotary Club. Peter E. Hamilton also brings to light a group of individuals who received their higher education in the United States. He offers a highly qualitative examination of American-returned students and their role in the development of networks that they mobilized to establish companies, especially industrial firms. The education they received and the contacts they made were keys to their success in the new forms of business that they engaged in. They were part of a large cohort of young Chinese who sought an education in the United States after 1909, on the wake of the first aborted program initiated in the 1870s and 1880s. Hamilton argues that the group of American-returned students who gained prominence in modern banking and textile industries in the Republican era built their success on the combination of existing social capital, advanced foreign learning, and overseas networks that enabled them “to pioneer new fields and amass wealth.” His chapter makes the case for further in-depth study of “on American-returned students as an interconnected elite network in Republican China.” Lin Yi-tang offers yet another perspective on American-returned students through her study of a group of scientists in the field of biology and chemistry who benefited from the Rockefeller Foundation, the largest private fellowship program active in China. She focuses on their professional trajectory and place in the academic institutions that they joined before and after 1949. Her chapter relies on rich qualitative data patiently culled from the Foundation’s individual records. Lin examines the data through the lenses of quantitative analytical methods, especially multi correspondence analysis to bridge the gap between the study of these scientists as individual actors and as a group. Lin

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establishes the prominent role that these scientists played in the development of their respective fields, both in the PRC and in the Republic of China (ROC). Many became key actors in research institutions, but also in governmental scientific organizations. Depending on the political and institutional context, PRC or ROC, of course, they formed different career patterns. Yet in both cases Lin unveils a continuity between the Republican and the Communist eras in China. The present volume demonstrates both the difficulty and the value of rethinking elites in modern China. One may argue that if elites represent such a constantly moving target, the study of elites per se might be an illusory chase; but it is precisely the dynamic tensions within the elite and among elite groups in this epochal era that makes the task of today’s historian so thrilling. The chapters in this volume establish that such a task is within reach if we are prepared to embrace forms of historical inquiry that integrate fully the abundant, and even limitless, historical resources now at our fingertips, that engage with the rich repertoire of digital techniques/instruments available, and that question and destabilize our previous research paradigms. There is without doubt a lot more uncertainty (concepts, methods) and instability (technologies) in this renewed approach, but also an exhilarating sense that historians have an unprecedented opportunity to go off the beaten track and put their scholarship and skills to the service of an integrative data-rich history of modern China. References Belsky, Richard. Localities at the Center: Native Place, Space, and Power in Late Imperial Beijing. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center: Distributed by Harvard University Press, 2005. Bergère, Marie-Claire. The Golden Age of the Chinese Bourgeoisie, 1911–1937. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Brook, Timothy, and Andre Schmid. Nation Work: Asian Elites and National Identities. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000. Brook, Timothy. Collaboration: Japanese Agents and Local Elites in Wartime China. Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2005. Chang, Chung-Li. The Chinese Gentry Studies on Their Role in Nineteenth-Century Chinese Society. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1974. Dai, Yingcong. “Qing Military Institutions and Their Effects on Government, Economy, and Society, 1640–1800”. Journal of Chinese History 1, no. 2 (July 2017): 329–352. Delmotte, Florence. “La sociologie historique de Norbert Elias.” Cahiers philosophiques 128, no.. 1 (January 2012): 42–58.

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Elliott, Mark C. The Manchu Way: The Eight Banners and Ethnic Identity in Late Imperial China. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001. Elman, Benjamin A. A Cultural History of Civil Examinations in Late Imperial China. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000. Elman, Benjamin A. Civil Examinations and Meritocracy in Late Imperial China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013. Elvin, Mark. “The Gentry Democracy in Shanghai 1905–1914.” PhD Diss., Oxford University, 1967. Esherick, Joseph, and Mary Backus Rankin. Chinese Local Elites and Patterns of Dominance. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. Fewsmith, Joseph. Party, State, and Local Elites in Republican China: Merchant Organ­ izations and Politics in Shanghai, 1890–1930. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1985. Fletcher, Joseph F. “Integrative History: Parallels and Interconnections in the Early Modern Period, 1500–1800.” Journal of Turkish Studies 9 (1985): 37–57. Gabbiani, Luca. Pékin à l’ombre du Mandat Céleste. Vie quotidienne et gouvernement urbain sous la dynastie Qing, 1644–1911. Paris: Éd. de l’EHESS, 2011. Goodman, Bryna. Native Place, City, and Nation Regional Networks and Identities in Shanghai, 1853–1937. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995. Han, Seunghyun. After the Prosperous Age: State and Elites in Early Nineteenth-Century Suzhou. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2016. Ho, Ping-ti. The Ladder of Success in Imperial China: Aspects of Social Mobility, 1368–1911. New York: Columbia University Press, 1962. Kwan, Man Bun. The Salt Merchants of Tianjin: State-Making and Civil Society in Late Imperial China. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2001. Levine, Marilyn, “Through a Euro-Soviet Lens: Bolshevism, Loyalties, and the EuroSoviet Cohort during the early 1920s,” American Historical Association Annual Meeting, Chicago, January 3–6, 2019 McCord, Edward Allen. The Power of the Gun: The Emergence of Modern Chinese Warlordism. Taipei: SMC Pub., 1997. Mills, C. Wright. The Power Elite. New York: Oxford University Press, 1956. Naquin, Susan, and Evelyn Sakakida Rawski. Chinese Society in the Eighteenth Century. Boulder: University Press of Colorado, 2013. Pinilla-Díaz, Alexis V. “Eliasian Configurations and Historical Knowledge.” Folios, no. 47 (June 2018): 69‑79. Pareto, Vilfredo. Traité de sociologie générale. Paris: Payot, 1932. Paulès, Xavier. Histoire d’une drogue en sursis l’opium à Canton, 1906–1936. Paris: Éd. de l’École des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, 2010. Rowe, William T. Hankow: Commerce and Society in a Chinese City, 1796–1889. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1984.

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Rowe, William T. Hankow: Conflict and Community in a Chinese City, 1796–1895. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1989. Sheehan, Brett. Trust in Troubled Times: Money, Banks, and State-Society Relations in Republican Tianjin. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003. Sun, Huei-min 孫慧敏. Zhidu Yizhi: Minchu Shanghai de Zhongguo Lüshi 制度移植: 民初上海的中國律師 (1912–1937) [Institutional Transplantation: The Chinese Lawyers in Republican Shanghai]. 中央研究院近代史研究所 Taipei: Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, 2012. Têng, Ssu-yü, and John King Fairbank. China’s Response to the West: A Documentary Survey 1839–1923. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982. Wang, Y. C. (Yi Chu). Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949. Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina Press, 1966. Wedel, Janine R. “From Power Elites to Influence Elites: Resetting Elite Studies for the 21st Century.” Theory, Culture & Society 34, no. 5–6 (September 2017): 153–178. Weiss, Thomas J. “Hunanese among China’s Elites, 1851–1911.” PhD diss. University of Chicago, 1969. Wu Jen-shu 巫仁恕. Youyou Fangxiang : Ming Qing Jiangnan Chengshi de Xiuxian Xiao­ fei yu Kongjian Bianqian 優游坊廂: 明清江南城市的休閑消費與空間變遷 [Urban Pleasures: Leisure Consumption and Spatial Transformation in Jiangnan Cities during the Ming-Qing Period]. Taipei: Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, 2014. Xu, Xiaoqun. Chinese Professionals and the Republican State: The Rise of Professional Associations in Shanghai, 1912–1937. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001.

Chapter 2

Who Are Elites? Elite Distinction and Who’s Who Publications in Early 20th-Century China Sun Huei-min 1

Introduction

This chapter explores how people in early 20th-century China recognized and evaluated “elites” by examining the rising fashion of who’s who publications. “Elite(s)” was a newly imported concept at that time and is a frequently used term in recent historiography. Since the end of the 19th century, the concept of elite(s) and the group(s) of people to which the term referred attracted the increasing attention of social scientists, first in Europe and then in the United States.1 By the beginning of the 1950s, the concept had been applied to Chinese historical studies. Unlike the “gentry,” another concept borrowed from Europe, which was carefully defined upon its introduction and related to the Chinese term shenshi (紳士) or shenjin (紳衿),2 “elites” was often used arbitrarily. The referents of this term therefore varied from person to person. For example, Robert C. North used it to refer to the leading members of the Nationalist Party and the Communist Party.3 Joseph Esherick and Mary Backus Rankin stated that the “local elites” encompassed all the people at the top of local social structures including the gentry, the merchants, the militarists and the community leaders.4 Cong Cao regarded the members of the Chinese Academy of Sciences as “China’s scientific elite.”5 On what grounds do these people belong 1 Jan Pakulski, “Elite(s),” in The Wiley-Blackwell Encyclopedia of Social Theory, ed. Bryan S. Turner (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley, 2017). According to Michael Hartmann, early theorists preferred the singular form of the concept, which emphasizes the dichotomy between elite and mass. After the Second World War, the plural form which highlights functional or sectoral differences among elites became prevalent. See Michael Hartmann, The Sociology of Elites (London and New York: Routledge, 2007), 2–3. 2 Franz Michael, introduction to The Chinese Gentry, Studies on Their Role in Nineteenth-Century Chinese Society, Chung-li Chang (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1955), xviii–xx. 3 Robert C. North, Kuomintang and Chinese Communist Elites (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1952). 4 Joseph W. Esherick and Mary Backus Rankin, eds., Chinese Local Elites and Patterns of Dominance (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and Oxford: University of California Press, 1990), 12. 5 Cong Cao, China’s Scientific Elite (London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004).

© Sun Huei-min, 2022 | doi:1

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to the category of elites? Applying the same criteria, who else can be included in this category? To what extent such an inclusive concept helps researchers to analyze and represent Chinese society in flux? These questions have not yet been examined in detail. The ambiguity of the concept of elite(s) has puzzled scholars in European and American elite studies for decades. Beyond the etymological approach, Paolo Zannoni compared in the late 1970s the concept with its “apparent” synonymies, such as “ruling class,” “political class,” “aristocracy” and “oligarchy.” He noticed that their common characteristics were the idea of fewness and the existence of criteria of distinction. The criteria for differentiating elites and non-elites, which included but was not limited to the efficiency of using resources, excellence in talent or morality, as well as the ability to hold positions, resources or amounts of property, were the source of ambiguity. He therefore reminded his fellow researchers to make a careful choice of criteria and express them as explicitly as possible.6 However, 30 years later, John Scott still complained that, in the heyday of elite studies, “almost any powerful, advantaged, qualified, privileged, or superior group or category might be described as an elite,” which made the term meaningless. In order to make “elite” a useful analytical concept again, he suggested narrowing down the meaning of elites to power holders and exercisers.7 On the contrary, Jean-Pascal Daloz valued the inclusiveness of the term “elite” because it subsumed all sorts of upper groups. Instead of choosing criteria by dogmatic reasoning, Daloz encouraged researchers to explore the variety of elite distinction logics effected in different places and time periods, which would facilitate dialog among elite researchers with different intellectual backgrounds.8 At the turn of the 20th century, an increasing number of global publishers became interested in publishing who’s who books to introduce preeminent people to the public. Who’s Who was initially the title of an annual publication in the United Kingdom. The first edition was published in 1849, which provided little personal information except the names of holders of honorable ranks or posts. It was not until 1896 when a new publisher took over the publication that the editors of Who’s Who began to actively solicit biographical

6 Paolo Zannoni, “The Concept of Elite,” European Journal of Political Research 6, no. 1 (March, 1978): 1–30. 7 John Scott, “Modes of Power and the Re-Conceptualization of Elites,” The Sociological Review 56, no. 1 (May 2008): 25–43. 8 Jean-Pascal Daloz, The Sociology of Elite Distinction: From Theoretical to Comparative Perspec­ tives (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010).

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information of entrants.9 In the preface of the 1897 edition, the editor stated clearly that the aim of this book was to include “all the most prominent people in the kingdom, whether their prominence is inherited, or depending upon office, or the result of ability which singles them out from their fellows in occupations open to every educated man and woman.”10 The list began to include notable Americans in the 1899 edition,11 but in the same year, a publisher in the United States, A. N. Marquis & Company, started to publish Who’s Who in America which claimed to be “more perfectly suited to American conditions and requirements.”12 For more than a hundred years, the new editions of both publications continued to be published annually, and the biographical data they collected therein have been an important resource for the study of elites in the United Kingdom and the United States.13 This chapter begins by tracing how the term “elite” was translated into Chinese by early dictionary compilers and how the trend of publishing who’s who publications spread to China. It then explores how foreign and Chinese compilers participated in publishing who’s who books focused on Chinese people. Finally, by analyzing and comparing the selections made by various who’s who publications, this chapter indicates that Chinese elite distinction logics were undergoing a great change during the early 20th century. 9 10 11

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Preface, Who’s Who, 1998: An Annual Biographical Dictionary (New York and London: St. Martin’s Press, A & C Black, 1998), 12–17. Preface, Who’s Who, 1897, ed. Douglas Sladen (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1897), iii. https://books.google.com.tw/books?id=XLQQAAAAYAAJ&dq=who’s%20who&pg =PR3#v=onepage&q=who’s%20who&f=false (accessed December 9, 2020). Preface, Who’s Who, 1899: An Annual Biographical Dictionary, ed. Douglas Sladen (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1899), iii. https://books.google.com.tw/books?id=c6ZDAQAAMAA J&dq=%22who’s%20who%22&pg=PR3#v=onepage&q=%22who’s%20who%22&f=false (accessed December 9, 2020). John W. Leonard, ‘Preface’, in Who’s Who in America: A Biographical Dictionary of Living Men and Women of the United States, 1899–1900 (Chicago: A. N. Marquis & Company, 1899), i. https://books.google.com.tw/books?id=6sef9ko0po4C&dq=%22who’s%20who%22&pg =PR3#v=onepage&q=%22who’s%20who%22&f=false (accessed December 9, 2020). Michael Useem, “The Social Organization of the American Business Elite and Participa­ tion of Corporation Directors in the Governance of American Institutions,” American Sociological Review 44, no. 4 (August 1979): 553–572; Gareth Williams and Ourania Filippakou, “Higher Education and UK Elite Formation in the Twentieth Century,” Higher Education 59, no. 1 (January 2010): 1–20; Aaron Reeves et al., “The Decline and Persistence of the Old Boy: Private Schools and Elite Recruitment 1897 to 2016,” American Sociological Review 82, no. 6 (October 2017): 1139–1166, https://doi.org/10.1177/0003122417735742. I thank Professor Thomas David at the Ecole Polytechnique Fédérale of Lausanne (EPFL) for guiding me to these studies.

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Conveying the Idea of “Elite” to China

2.1 Translating “Elite”: the Dictionaries It was not until the end of the 1860s that the French word “élite” and its English cognate “elite” appeared in Chinese dictionaries. Both Paul Perny (1818–1907), the compiler of an early French-Latin-Chinese dictionary, and Wilhelm Lobscheid (1822–93), the compiler of an English-Chinese dictionary, explained the word as referring to a select few, but only Perny emphasized that “élite” meant “the best.” Perny and his collaborators failed to find adequate Chinese nouns to translate the word. Their next best choice was two adjective expressions touyidengde (頭一等的) and shangdengde (上等的). Both expressions mean first-rate.14 In 1908, William Wei-Ching Yan (Yan Huiqing, 顏惠慶, 1877– 1950), the leading compiler of An English and Chinese Standard Dictionary published by the Commercial Press in Shanghai, integrated the dichotomy between French-Chinese and English-Chinese dictionaries. Moreover, Yan added two new Chinese equivalent terms, jinghua (精華) and jingying (精英), to the English word “elite.”15 Both jinghua and jingying come from classical Chinese, but the original meanings are not similar to “elite” in the western sense. In the database Scripta Sinica developed by the Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, Taiwan, 1,863 sections in 408 books mention jinghua and 606 sections in 256 books mention jingying. They appeared most frequently with prefixes: Those associated with jingying are jingshui (金水, gold and water) and tiandi (天地, sky and earth); those associated with jinghua are riyue (日月, Sun and Moon) and the names of various human organs. Apparently, in both cases the terms referred to the most refined essence of the universe and Yan borrowed them to highlight the excellence of the elites.16

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Paul Perny, Dictionnaire français-latin-chinois de la langue mandarine parlée (Paris: Librairie de Firmin Didot Frères, Fils et Cie, 1869), 159. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148 /bpt6k6510334h/f185.item.r=%C3%A9lite (accessed July 7, 2020). Wilhelm Lobscheid, English and Chinese Dictionary with the Punti and Mandarin Pronunciation (Hong Kong: The Daily Press Office, 1866–69), 715. http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/dictionary/image .php?book=1866&page=715 (accessed July 7, 2020). William Wei-ching Yan, An English and Chinese Standard Dictionary (Shanghai: The Commercial Press, 1908), 736. http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/dictionary/image.php?book =1908&page=736 (accessed July 7, 2020. http://hanchi.ihp.sinica.edu.tw/ihp/hanji.htm (accessed July 20, 2020).

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It is well known that during the late 19th century and the early 20th century the Chinese translators borrowed a great many terms from Japanese for introducing Western ideas, and it is therefore not surprising that to translate “elite” as jinghua or jingyin is not an invention of Yan and his co-editors. Several years before Yan’s dictionary was published, an English-Japanese dictionary edited by the former principals of Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Kanda Naibu (神田乃武, 1857–1923) and Takakusu Junjiro (高楠順次郎, 1866–1945), had adopted the same two kanji expressions as the Japanese rendition of “elite.”17 This reveals that for the Chinese in the beginning of the 20th century, the concept of “elite” was not only foreign but the “Chinese” equivalent terms were indeed imported from Japan. Probably for this reason, Yan did not translate the word “elite” in the example phrase “the elite of Shanghai society” into either of the equivalent Chinese nouns he had adopted, but he interpreted it as jinshen (縉紳), a frequently used Chinese noun which meant “officials” more generally. By identifying the referent of the word “elite” in Chinese society, Yan made his Chinese readers understand that elites were a group of people who were more educated and closer to power than any other. The two equivalent Chinese terms Yan had adopted and the Chinese referent he had identified were soon accepted by later English-Chinese dictionary compilers.18 Nevertheless, in the early 20th century, neither the foreign concept nor its imported Chinese equivalent terms became prevalent in China. In Shenbao (申報), a long-lived and widely circulated newspaper in Shanghai during the late 19th and early 20th century, both jinghua and jingying appeared, but they did not refer to the idea of “elite” in most cases. Furthermore, I found that the occurrences of jinghua overwhelmingly surpassed that of jingying in the newspaper although the reference between jinghua and elite was much weaker than that between jingying and elite.19 It is probably the reason why 17 18

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Kanda Naibu 神田乃武 et al., Shinyaku eiwa jiten 新譯英和辭典 [New English-Japanese Dictionary] (Tokyo: Sanseidō, 1902), 329. https://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/870151 (accessed August 5, 2020). Richard Wilhelm, Deutsch-Englisch-Chinesisches Fachwörterbuch (Tsingtau: DeutschChinesischen Hochschule, 1911), 127; Karl Ernst Georg Hemeling, English-Chinese Dictionary of the Standard Chinese Spoken Language (官話) and Handbook for Translators (Shanghai: Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Customs, 1916), 448. Institute of Modern history, Academia Sinica, The English-Chinese Dictionary Database, http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/dictionary/index.php (accessed July 20, 2020). By searching the full-text database made by the Green Apple Data Center, I got 1,415 hits for jinghua and 76 hits for jingying. The numbers do not represent the real occurrences because the database omits a lot of full-text data in advertisements and literary works. After eliminating the duplicates and the passages published before 1910, 432 occurrences of jinghua and 44 occurrences of jingying remained. Only 18 occurrences of jinghua and

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both Ciyuan (辭源, The Origin of Terms) and Cihai (辭海, The Sea of Terms), the most important dictionaries of Chinese terms compiled in early 20th century China, included jinghua only, and neither of them mentioned the newly given meaning of jinghua by Yan Huiqing.20 2.2 Showcasing the Living Elites: Who’s Who Publications The trend of publishing who’s who books spread quickly to the easternmost British colony in the Far East, Hong Kong. In 1906, The China Mail, the most influential English media in Hong Kong at that time, published the first edition of Who’s Who in the Far East. It included 2,125 biographies of western immigrants and local people in East Asia. The editors did not explain how they made their selection, nor did they claim that the entrants were of any superiority. However, most entrants did occupy a distinguished social status. For example, the Japanese entrants consisted of officials, university professors, managers of large businesses, and eminent artists. As for the Chinese entrants, almost all of them served the Chinese government.21 The China Mail ceased to publish a new edition of Who’s Who in the Far East after 1908, but the Japanese publishers took over the work soon after this. In 1914, in order to celebrate the ascendance of the new emperor Taishō, the news agency Mainichi Tsūshinsha (每日通信社) published a book titled Nihon no Seika (日本之精華, The Elites of Japan), which introduced thousands of eminent people in various fields.22 The style of this book was an imitation of the Western Who’s Who publication but it came from a new native current. Since the end of the 19th century, Japanese books titled Seika and Seiei (the Japanese pronunciations of jinghua and jingyin) came out in succession. The pioneering work was Bisan Seika (尾参精華, The Elites in Owari and Mikawa) published in 1899. This book consisted of 500 biographies of political leaders and virtuous people in Owari and Mikawa, the original territories of Oda Nobunaga

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15 occurrences of jingying were related to the concept of elites. Green Apple Data Center, Shenbao, 1872–1949, http://spas.egreenapple.com/WEB/INDEX.html (accessed August 20, 2020/8/20). Fang Yi 方毅 et al., Ciyuan zhengxubian hedingben 辭源正續編合訂本 [The Origin of Terms, a bound volume] (unknown: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1947), 1145–1146. Shu Xincheng 舒新城 and others, Cihai 辭海 [The Sea of Terms] (Shanghai: Zhonghua Shuju, 1948), 1025–1026. Who’s Who in the Far East (San Francisco, CA: Chinese Material Center, Inc., reprint 1906 edition, 1979). https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=msu.31293027863996&view=1up& seq=7 (accessed December 12, 2020). Kitayama Yoshinosuke 北山由之助 ed., Nihon no Seika 日本之精華 [The Elites in Japan] (Tokyo: Mainichi Tsūshinsha, 1914). https://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/980768 (accessed August 13, 2020).

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(織田信長, 1534–82) and Tokugawa Ieyashu (德川家康, 1543–1616), the socalled “unifiers of Japan.”23 In 1913, the famous novelist and researcher of Chinese literature Kōda Rohan (幸田露伴, 1867–1947) edited a book titled Nihon Seiei (日本精英, The Japanese Elites) which contained biographies of great people in Japanese history prior to the Meiji restoration.24 It was nothing new to compile biographies of preeminent people, but to name them collectively as “elites” was exceptional. Two years after Nihon no Seika was published, a Japanese journalist working in China compiled a book with a similar title, Minguo zhi Jinghua (民國之精華 The Elites of the Republic of China). In the preface, the editor explained jinghua as a more frequently used Chinese term junjie (俊傑, “outstanding people”), and he emphasized that the members of the National Assembly who represented the people and supported the Republic were the best of the best. The editor admitted that the difficulty of soliciting biographical information was much more difficult than he expected. Finally, the book comprised 452 multilingual biographies of incumbent cabinet members and assembly representatives, which constituted less than two thirds of the whole membership of the National Assembly.25 3

Interpreting “Elites”: from the Leaders to the Best-known People

The Who’s Who in China published since 1919 by the Millard’s Review of the Far East is probably the first English who’s who publication that focused on Chinese people only. The first edition comprised 60 biographies and 59 of these had been published in the Milliard’s Review of the Far East during the period of April 20th, 1918 to June 7th, 1919. The Millard’s Review of the Far East was an American weekly journal based in Shanghai. Though both the founder, Thomas Franklin Fairfax Millard (1868–1942), and the chief editor, John Benjamin Powell (1888–1947), were Americans, the journal targeted English-reading Chinese from the beginning and relied increasingly on Chinese advertisements 23 24 25

Kosuge Kiyoshi 小菅廉 ed., Bisan Seika 尾参精華 [The Elites in Owari and Mikawa] (Aichi: Hidefumisha, 1899). https://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/778605 (accessed August 14, 2020). Kōda Rohan 幸田露伴 ed., Nihon Seiei 日本精英 [The Japanese Elites] (Tokyo: Shūseidō, 1913). https://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/950580; https://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp /pid/950581 (accessed Augest 13, 2020). Sato Saburo 佐藤三郎 ed., Minguo zhi Jinghua 民國之精華 [The Elites of the Republic of China] (Beijing: Beijing xiezhen tongxinshe, 1916). http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw /mhpeople/bookImage.php?book=J11 (accessed August 14, 2020).

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after the founder transferred all of his stocks to the chief editor in 1922.26 On April 20th, 1918, the journal launched a “Who’s Who at Peking” column. The title of the column was soon changed into “Who’s Who in Peking” in the next issue. The journal renamed the column again on June 22nd, 1918; with the new title “Who’s Who in China” that remained in use until the end of 1948. At the beginning, the column focused on people highly involved in foreignrelated affairs. The first three people who were reported about in 1918 were senior diplomats, the fourth was the principal of Qinghua College, a preparatory school for students who planned to study in the United States, and the fifth was the secretary of the president office, in charge of foreign press affairs.27 Besides importance and influence, friendship with the reporter seemed to be a factor in being included. For example, Tyndall Wei became the first person reported on by the “Who’s Who in China” column although he was just a secretary of the loan department in the Ministry of Finance. The editors selected Wei because he was “one of the most hard-working men in that Ministry” and he used to be a capable assistant of foreign journalists in Beijing. Moreover, he was a friend of Dong Xianguang (董顯光, Hollington K. Tong, 1887–71), the correspondent in Beijing of Millard’s Review of the Far East, and he had shared his house with Tong for some time when Tong had just started to work in Beijing.28 The writer(s) and editor(s) of the column gradually developed the aim and scope of their project, and in the advertisement announcing the first publication of the book, the publisher stated that it aimed to introduce “China’s present political and industrial leaders.”29 During the period of April 20th, 1918 to June 7th, 1919, 60 people were introduced in the column. The editors of the first edition of Who’s Who in China left out one person, Jing Shaocheng (金紹城, 1878–1926), a congressman. On the other hand, they added another, whose biography had never been published in the journal, Xu Shuzheng (徐樹錚, 1880–1925), the right-hand man of former premier and leader of Anhui clique, Duan Qirui (段祺瑞, 1865–1936). 26 27

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John B. Powell, My Twenty-Five Years in China (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1945), 11–13, 90–91. https://archive.org/details/mytwentyfiveyear009218mbp/mode/2up (accessed August 14, 2020). “Who’s Who at Peking,” Millard’s Review of the Far East, April 20, 1918, 276. “Who’s Who in Peking,” Millard’s Review of the Far East, April 27, 1918, 313; May 4, 1918, 352; May 11, 1918, 391; May 18, 1918, 428. Dong Xianguan 董顯光, Dong Xianguang Zizhuan 董顯光 自傳 [The Autobiography of Dong Xianguang], tran. Zheng Xubai 曾虛白 (Taipei: Taiwan Xinshengbao she, 1973), 36. “Who’s Who in China,” Millard’s Review of the Far East, June 22, 1918, 142. Dong Xianguang Zizhuan, 30. “Who’s Who in China,” Millard’s Review of the Far East, April 12, 1919, 265.

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In the first edition of Who’s Who in China, it is not surprising to observe that people of political power constituted the majority of entrants. Besides the incumbent and former presidents, premiers and their trusted aides, the book contained the heads of selected ministries, such as interior, finance, communications, foreign affairs, agriculture, and commerce, as well as education, which interacted with the foreign community in China more frequently than others. The diplomatic envoys had been a center of attention since the project began. However, three of seven diplomats included were stationed in the United States, which revealed the preference of the publisher. The book also comprised powerful warlords in Jiangsu, Zhili, Fengtian, and Shanxi, as well as the leaders of the rival regime in southwest China. In contrast to the above-mentioned Minguo zhi Jinghua, Who’s Who in China was indifferent to the members of the National Assembly. Only its speakers were incorporated. The number of so-called “industrial leaders” was very small, and most of them were in fact managers of state-owned banks and railroad companies. In other words, they were indeed a part of political circles.30 Who’s Who in China made no efforts to hide its preference for the returned students, especially those who had received their degrees in the United States. Of the 60 people introduced in the first edition, 21 had studied abroad. There were 12 individuals who had studied in the United States and the alumni of Columbia University accounted for almost half of them (see Figure 2.1). Its predilection led it to pay attention to the people who had limited political influence or resources. For example, Chen Huanzhang (陳煥章, 1880–1933), a recipient of the jinshi degree in China and Ph.D. from Columbia University, was an ardent disciple of Kang Youwei (康有為, 1858–1927), the founder of the Kongjiaohui (孔教會, Confucianism Association). Chen had been a legal adviser of Yuan Shikai (袁世凱, 1859–1916), but he was an enthusiastic advocate of Confucianism when the Who’s Who in China compiling project was commenced. Who’s Who in China included the biography of Chen and placed it in 15th place, while his mentor’s biography was the last entry of the book.31 Hu Shi (胡適, 1891–1962), another Columbia University Ph.D. graduate, became an entrant in the book even though he had few connections with the political authorities at that time, except for working at National Peking University.

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Who’s Who in China (Shanghai: Millard’s Review, 1919), http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw /mhpeople/bookview.php?bookno=48#b48 (accessed August 14, 2020). Who’s Who in China, 27–28, 131–132.

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Figure 2.1 The countries and schools from which return students received their highest degree

The editor titled him as a “literary revolutionist” and “a prominent leader of the social revolution.” His biography appeared as the 52nd entry.32 The editors of the first edition of Who’s Who in China did not clarify how they ordered the biographies, but it seemed that perceived importance might be a key sorting criterion. The biography of the incumbent president Xu Shichang (徐世昌, 1855–1939) occupied the first place. It was followed by the biography of Tang Shaoyi (唐紹儀, 1862–1938), the former prime minister and the current chief of Southern Delegation. The biography of Xu Enyuan (徐恩 元, 1885–1926), the councilor of the Cabinet, appeared as the third entry. The fourth place was assigned to the biography of S. P. Chen (Chen Sibang, 陳祀邦), a medical expert in charge of epidemic disease prevention and control. The second edition of Who’s Who in China was published in 1920. The editors added 93 new biographies in addition to those which had appeared in the first edition. Instead of describing the entrants as “China’s present political and industrial leaders,” they stated in the preface that they were “some of China’s political, financial, business and professional leaders.” In fact, of the 93 new entrants, those who held posts in the government remained in the majority although many of them were also professional diplomats, experienced

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Who’s Who in China, 110–112.

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bankers, and well-trained military, legal, educational, and engineering professionals. The new edition did include a private practicing lawyer and 13 entrepreneurs.33 It evinces that the editors were widening their definition of Chinese “leader.” In order to find more eye-catching candidates for the “Who’s Who in China” column, and create a trending topic to increase circulation, the journal, which by then had been renamed The Weekly Review, launched an event in the last quarter of 1922 asking its readers, especially the Chinese, to nominate in their opinion 12 great living Chinese people on the ballots printed in the journal.34 The journal urged the voters to make their selections as broadly as possible from the outset, and the voters nominated a great variety of people. Beyond the fields that had been mentioned in the announcement, such as government officials, political or military leaders, businessmen, bankers, and professionals, philanthropists and even actors became nominees in the first two days following the publication of the ballots.35 The journal updated the preliminary result of the vote every week, and announced the final result on January 6, 1923. Yang Tianhong’s study of this event has shown how contemporary media questioned the result, and to what extent the result and the reactions to it represented the political attitudes, social values, and cultural views of contemporaries.36 Analysis will focus on the influence of the event on the compilation of Who’s Who in China.There were altogether 195 nominees who received four votes or more, but only 46 of them had appeared in the first two editions of Who’s Who in China. Figure 2.2 shows that except for the top 24 nominees, most individuals were non-entrants.37 The only two non-entrants in the first 12 nominees, Wellington Koo (Gu Weijun, 顧維鈞, 1888–1985) and David Z. T. Yui (Yu Rizhang, 余日章, 1882–1936), were actually included in the 3rd edition. Both of them had studied in the United States, the former the holder of a Ph.D. degree from Columbia University, and the latter a master’s degree graduate from Harvard University.38 In contrast, only half of the new nominees in the second half of this group (13–24) were included in 33 34 35 36

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M. C. Powell and H. K. Tong, eds., Who’s Who in China (Shanghai: Millard’s Review, 1920), http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/bookview.php?bookno=49#b49 (accessed August 14, 2020). “Who are the Twelve Greatest Living Chinese,” The Weekly Review, October 7, 1922, 200. “Who are the Twelve Greatest Living Chinese,” The Weekly Review, October 14, 1922, 228. Yang Tianhong 楊天宏, “Mileshibao ‘Zhongguo Dangjing Shierwei Darenwu’ Wenjuan Diaocha fenxi,” 密勒氏報「中國當今十二位大人物」問卷調查分析 [An Analysis of the Questionnaire Survey on “Who are the Twelve Greatest Living Chinese”], The Weekly Review], Lishi Yanjiu 歷史研究 3 (2002): 65–75. “The Twelve Greatest Living Chinese,” The Weekly Review, January 6, 1923, 29. M. C. Powell, ed., Who’s Who in China (Shanghai: The China Weekly Review, 1925), 416, 947, http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/bookImage.php?book=3 (accessed December 30, 2020).

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Figure 2.2 The nominated great living Chinese in the first two editions of Who’s Who in China

the third edition, and most of the new nominees in the other groups failed to make it into 1925 edition.39 On the other hand, Figures 2.3 and Figure 2.4 demonstrate that over half of the entrants in the first two editions of Who’s Who in China were not nominated by the readers and most of the nominated entrants did not get a good ranking. All this indicates a wide gap between the editors and the readers on whom to recognize as great living Chinese. The editors of Who’s Who in China insisted on their own standard of selection, but chose not to clarify and defend their own criteria for recognizing “leaders” and evaluating “greatness.” They declared in the preface of the third edition that what the book attempted to contain were “most” of the “best known” but not “all” the “best” people. They no longer called the entrants “leaders.” Instead, they described them as “China’s best known political, financial, business and professional men.” Apparently, the editors believed that the English statement alone was not enough to express their intention. Besides translating the English statement into Chinese and printing it on the cover page of the third edition, they added a Chinese title Zhongguo mingrenlu (中國名人錄) for the book, which literally meant “a list of famous Chinese.” The title showed the editors’ unwillingness to evaluate the entrants as well as

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M. C. Powell, ed., Who’s Who in China (Shanghai: The China Weekly Review, 1925), http:// mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/bookImage.php?book=3 (accessed December 30, 2020).

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Figure 2.3 Entrants in the first edition of Who’s Who in China nominated for the great living Chinese

Figure 2.4 Entrants in the second edition of Who’s Who in China nominated for the great living Chinese

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their intention to keep neutrality at a time of political, military, and cultural conflict. Who’s Who in China was not a pioneer in translating “Who’s who” into “mingrenlu.” In 1921, the Chinese Engineer & Contractor (Gongye Zazhi, 工業襍誌), a Chinese monthly magazine which was taken over by American journalist Carl Crow (1884–1945) in late 1920,40 launched a who’s who column. The editors chose to title the column in both Chinese and English. The Chinese title was “Zhongguo shiye mingrenlu” (中國實業名人錄) and the English parallel title was “Who’s Who of Industrial China.” The column introduced 11 Chinese and a Swede. Of the 11 Chinese, ten appeared in the second edition of Who’s Who in China. It indicates that the criteria used by the Chinese Engineer & Contractor in selecting the industrial leaders were similar to those of the Who’s Who in China. However, for the editors of the Chinese Engineer & Contractor, the entrants in the column were not merely well known but also influential and excellent. 4

The Chinese-built Hall of Fame

4.1 “Mingren” as a Category The Chinese term mingren had gradually become a frequently used word in the written language since the end of the 19th century, and the trend was initiated by the translators of foreign books. Diqiu Yibai Mingren Zhuan (地球一百 名人傳, One Hundred Famous People on the Earth), one of the earliest translations that used the term in its title, was first serialized in A Review of the Times (Wanguo Gongbao, 萬國公報) starting in 1898. After tracing back the original book, I found that “mingren” was the Chinese translation of the English expression “the greatest men.”41 There are a lot of expressions in Chinese that refer to outstanding people. However, in 1901, the translator of selected passages of two Japanese books, Kinsei Hyakuketsu Ten [近世百傑傳, Biographies of One Hundred Great People in Modern Times] and Yōgaku Taika Retten [洋學大家 列傳, Collected Biographies of Great Scholars of Western Learning], also chose “mingren” rather than the Chinese characters jie (傑) and dajia (大家) selected

40 41

“Sun Yat-sen to Carl Crow” (picture), Gongye Zazhi 工業襍誌8, no. 7 (November 1920). The Hundred Greatest Men, Portraits of One Hundred Greatest Men of History, Reproduced from Fine and Rare Steel Engravings (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle, and Rivington, 1879). https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uiug.30112107850502&view=1up &seq=5, https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uiug.30112083222544&view=1up&seq=8 (accessed January 4, 2021).

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by the Japanese authors in titling the translation.42 It is intriguing that both translators picked a Chinese term emphasizing fame to translate the foreign texts highlighting eminence. In the first decade of the 20th century, the term “mingren” usually associated with foreign people and only a few writers who worked for vernacular newspapers used the term to refer to the Chinese. For example, in 1904, Anhui Suhua Bao (安徽俗話報, Anhui Vernacular Newspaper) published a series of articles titled “Anhui mingren zhuan [安徽名人傳, Biographies of Famous People in Anhui]”. The serial articles contained biographies of the legend heroine Mulan (木蘭) and the founder of the Ming dynasty Zhu Yuanzhang (朱元璋, 1328–98). In 1905, Zhili Baihua Bao (直隸白話報, Zhili Vernacular Newspaper) serialized the “Zhongguo Mingren Zhuan” [中國名人傳, Biographies of Notable Chinese],” which consisted of the biographies of five people in ancient China, including the Yellow Emperor (黃帝), King Wuling of Zhao (趙武靈王), general Li Mu (李牧), general Qin Kai (秦開), and the Empress Dowager Xuan of Qin (秦宣 太后). In 1909, Yulun Ribao Tuhua [輿論日報圖畫, The Pictorial of Public Opinion Daily News] published portraits of 37 people who had made contributions during the suppression of the Taiping Rebellion in a column titled “Mingren xiaoyin [名人小影, Pictures of Famous People]”. Literally, any people of fame could fit into the category of mingren. In practice, writers in the first decade of the 20th century were inclined to include well-reputed Chinese people only, especially the defenders of the nation. 4.2 The Interactions of Various Agendas At about the same time when the Millard’s Review of the Far East started the column of “Who’s Who in China,” Fei Xingjian (費行簡, 1871 or 1872–1954),43 a freelance writer who had taken refuge in Shanghai after the anti-Monarchy troops invaded his hometown in 1916, launched a project to write biographies for recent Chinese celebrities. Fei claimed that he was emulating the great ancient historian Sima Qian (司馬遷) who wrote contemporary history by writing biographies for his contemporaries. In 1918, he published a book titled 42 43

“Riben Jinshi mingren shilue,” 日本近世名人事略 [Brief Biographies of Famous People in Modern Japan], Yilin 譯林1 (February 1901), 1. Fei Xingjian wrote under the pseudonym of Woqiuzhongzi (沃丘仲子). Some materials indicate that Woqiuzhongzi is a penname of Sun Xuelian (孫學濂), also known as Sun Shouchang (孫壽昌) or Sun Zhongyue (孫仲約). Recently, a scholar has convincingly demonstrated that “Sun Xuelian” as well as the other names associated with it were all pseudonym of Fei. Qin Zhen 秦蓁, “Wang Guowei Wanghuan Shuxin Zhong De Liangfeng ‘Queyi Daikao’ De Xin,” 王國維往還書信中兩封「闕疑待考」的信 [Two Letters of Uncertain Senders in the Letter Collections of Wang Guowei], Wenhui Bao 文匯報, December 29, 2017, W04. Jiang Lan 蔣藍, “Woqiuzhongzi Kao,” 沃丘仲子考 [A Research on Woqiuzhongzi], Shuxue 蜀學 15 (2018): 170–177.

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Jindai mingren xiaozhuan (近代名人小傳, Brief Biographies of Famous People in Modern Times), which comprised 607 biographies of deceased people who were active between the 1860s and the second decade of the 20th century.44 One year later, a sequel volume focused on living people was published. The book, Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan (當代名人小傳, Brief Biographies of Famous People in the Contemporary Era), consisted of 324 biographies in 14 categories. Unlike prior biographical compilers of Chinese celebrities, Fei Xingjian did not always think highly of the people included in his books. In the eyes of Fei, most entrants were well known and perhaps influential but not always excellent in ability and morality. It is the mission of historians to appraise the accomplishments and shortcomings of these famous people. His Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan is similar to Who’s Who in China in that people of political power constituted the majority of entrants. Besides the incumbent and former presidents, the book included 135 incumbent officials, 75 military commanders, and 13 Manchu and Mongol princes. People with potential political influences, such as the Qing-loyalists, the monarchists who used to support Yuan Shikai, the revolutionists and the politicians who shuttled among rival powers constituted the secondary element. The most evident difference between this book and Who’s Who in China was that the author, who had received a good education in a traditional vein, paid more attention to scholars and educators. The book contained 21 biographies of scholars and seven biographies of educators. In contrast, only 3 businessmen were included, but all of them had received the jinshi degree.45 It obviously reflected the view of elite distinction held by the literati. In sum, Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan does bear a resemblance to Who’s Who in China, but the intellectual background and writing style of the two publications are totally different. During the 1920s, some Chinese journals did imitate the Millard’s Review of the Far East to set up a who’s who column, and the Kuowen Weekly (Guowen Zhoubao, 國聞週報) was the most notable case. The journal, found by Japanese returned student and well-known political journalist Hu Zhengzhi (胡政之, 1889–1949), inaugurated a who’s who column from the first issue published in August 1924. The column continued until the last issue was published in December 1937. The editors titled the column “Mingrenlu (名人錄, A List of Famous people”) at the beginning. In 1926, they decided to rename it “Shirenhuizhi (時人彙誌, Collective Records of Contemporaries”), which 44 45

Woqiuzhongzi 沃丘仲子, Jindai Mingren Xiaozhuan 近代名人小傳 [Brief Biographies of Famous People in Modern Times] (1918; repr., Shanghai: Chongwen shuju, 1922). Woqiuzhongzi 沃丘仲子, Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan 當代名人小傳 [Brief Biogra­ phies of Famous People in the Contemporary Era] (1919; repr., Shanghai: Chongwen shuju, 1920).

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eliminated the distinctiveness of the entrants, though they claimed that the column would include “important people” in various walks of life.46 Until December 1937, when the last issue of Kuowen Weekly was published, the who’s who column of the journal had introduced 644 people in 662 entries (17 people were presented more than once). The column continued to focus on people in political and military circles even after the editors claimed to include people in various walks of life. Only one of the 13 entrepreneurs who had appeared in the 1920 editions of Who’s Who in China made their way to the column. One of the “lucky” men was Zhang Jian (張謇, 1853–1926), who was also one of the three businessmen included in Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan. The biography of Zhang Jian came out on January 10, 1926, about six months before his death.47 Just like the author of Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan, the editors of Kuowen Weekly showed indifference to businessmen. The relations between the Kuowen Weekly and Who’s Who in China was not unilateral but bilateral. By comparing with the 1920, 1925, 1931 and 1936 editions of Who’s Who in China, it was found that over 70% of the people who appeared in the who’s who column of the Kuowen Weekly had not been included in Who’s Who in China. I defined such entrants as “unique entrants.” Half of the unique entrants appeared during the period from 1924 to 1935 were co-opted by Who’s Who in China after they were selected by the Kuowen Weekly. It indicates the possibility that the selection of the Kuowen Weekly influenced the choices of the editors of Who’s Who in China (See Table 2.1). Table 2.1

Bilateral relations between the Kuowen Weekly and Who’s Who in China

Publication Year

1924 1925 1926– 1931 1930

1932– 1936– Overall 1935 1937

Number of entrants (A) minus: Number of entrants appeared in Who’s Who in China published previously Unique entrants (B) Percentage of unique entrants (B/A) Unique entrants adopted by Who’s Who in China published later (C) Adoption rate (C/B)

22 15

189 41

46 47

50 30

247 50

49 19

87 23

7 20 197 30 148 64 32% 40% 80% 61% 78% 74% 6 8 80 17 91 N/A 86% 40%

41% 57%

61% N/A

644 178 466 72% 202 43%

“Jinggao Duze,” 敬告讀者 [To the readers], Guowen Zhoubao 國聞週報 3, no. 6 (February 7, 1926). “Mingrenlu: Zhang Jian,” 名人錄: 張謇 [A list of famous people: Zhang Jian], Guowen Zhoubao, 國聞週報, 3, no. 2 (January 10, 1926).

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The Power of Business

5.1 For Profit and Politics In 1928, when the Northern Expedition was coming to an end, some obscure Chinese publishers in Shanghai sensed a new business opportunity in that people were interested in knowing more about the leaders of the Nationalist government. The chief editor of the Shangye Shuju (商業書局, The commercial bookstore), Xi Chuming (奚楚明), launched a project to compile Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan (中國革命名人傳, Biographies of Notable Revolutionaries in China). The Tianyi Shuyuan (天一書院) also commissioned Yu Muren (余牧人) to write a book titled Dangguo Mingrenzhaun (黨國名 人傳, Biographies of the Notable People of the Party-State). Both Xi and Yu were cadres of the local bureaus of the Nationalist Party,48 and they were eager to demonstrate how the party leaders had contributed to the country, but they both encountered the difficulty of material collecting. Yu Muren, a young freelance writer who graduated from the Nanking Theological Seminary in less than five years tried to collect writing materials by conducting interviews and sending questionnaires, but he soon ran into difficulty. He said in the preface: Many modest great people were reluctant to let the public know their personal history when they were alive. They were afraid of incurring undeserved compliments or criticisms.49 Yu did not give up his plan for writing a history of the Nationalist Revolution. With limited information, he wrote biographies for 19 dead and 74 living people. fifty-five of the living subjects were the incumbent members of the Nationalist Government Committee, the Military Affair Commission, as well as ministers and deputy ministers, that is, the corridors of power. Three of them, including Wang Zhaoming (汪兆銘, 1883–1944), Song Qingling (宋慶齡, 1893–1981), and Eugene Chen (Chen Youren, 陳友仁, 1878–1944), were former

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Xi Chuming worked for the Shanghai Bureau, and Yu Muren served the Songjing Bureau after the Nationalist Party purged the communist members. “Tebieshi dangbu gongzuo xiaoxi, 特別市黨部工作消息 [News on the Works of the Shanghai Bureau of the Nationalist Party], Shenbao 申報, July 14, 1927, 14. “Xiandangbu huiyijilu,” 縣黨部會議 紀錄 [Meeting Minutes of the Songjian Bureau of the Nationalist Party],” Shenbao 申報, January 1, 1928, 12. “Bianze Daoyan,” 編者導言 [Introduction], Yu Muren, 余牧人, Dangguo Mingrenzhuan 黨國名人傳 [Biographies of Notable People in the Party-State] (Shanghai: Tianyi Shuyuan, 1928), 2–.

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leaders of the Wuhan Nationalist government. Other subjects were mainly leading members of provincial and municipal governments.50 In contrast, Xi Chuming, a senior social activist, medical doctor, journalist, and businessman,51 did not adhere to the introduction of the most influential people. He solicited self-descriptions and recent photos by circulating a letter in the name of the publisher, Shangye Shuju, to the leaders of central and provincial governments, high-ranking military commanders, and notable politicians who were currently not in office. The publisher asserted that, beyond making the public know what the revolutionary leaders had dedicated to the party-state, their inclusion in the compilation was also a chance to go down in history. The publisher therefore asked the contributors for publishing and postage fees of five yuan (the list price of the book was three quarters of a yuan).52 Seventy-two people responded to his call. Most of them served in the military. However, only 11 of them were members of the Military Affair Commission, and none in the core team of the government. In order to make the book more attractive to the readers, Xi placed six photos of the most influential leaders in front of the pictures of biography contributors. The first four photos were of military leaders, that is, Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi, 蔣介石, 1887–1975), Yan Xishan (閻錫山, 1883–1960), Feng Yuxiang (馮玉祥, 1882–1948), and Li Zhongren (李宗仁, 1891–1969). The fifth and sixth were of Tan Yankai (譚延闓, 1880–1930) and Li Liejun (李烈鈞, 1882–1946), members of the general committee of the Nationalist Government Committee, that is, the leaders of the Nationalist government. Figure 2.5 demonstrates the relations among entrants in the book, which were exposed by the biography contributors themselves. About one third of the contributors mentioned they used to be followers of Feng Yuxiang, most of them were from northern provinces. Though Li Zhongren and the Guangxi clique he led indeed controlled the Nationalist government at the turn of 1927 and 1928, none of the contributors related themselves to Li. On the other hand, some contributors preferred to emphasize their relations with the dead leaders, such as Sun Zhongshan (孫中山, Sun Yat-sen, 1866–1925), Huang Xing (黃興, 1874–1916), and Cai E 50 51 52

Yu Muren, Dangguo Mingrenzhuan. Zhang Xinlan 張心蘭, “Xu,” 序 [Preface], Xi Chuming 奚楚明, Chen Yeou 陳野鷗, Luo Jianqiu 羅劍秋, Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan 中國革命名人傳 [Biographies of Notable Revolutionaries in China], 1–2. “Zhenqiu Dangguo Geming Mingren Zhuanlue Qishi,” 徵求黨國革命名人傳略啟事 [An Announcement of Soliciting Brief Biographies of the Notable Revolutionaries], Xi Chuming 奚楚明, Chen Yeou 陳野鷗, Luo Jianqiu 羅劍秋, Zhongguo Gemin Mingrenzhuan 中國革命名人傳 [Notable Revolutionaries in China] (Shanghai: Shangye Shuju, 1928), 1–2.

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Figure 2.5 Social relations among the entrants in the Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan

(蔡鍔, 1882–1916) rather than current leaders, in order to show their seniority in the revolution movement and their neutrality in factional struggles within the party.53 In all, the Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan provided a purchasable space for the second-tier power holders in the Nationalist government to present themselves to the people. Both Yu and Xi regarded their works as a preparatory process of historical writing, while at about the same time, Tao Jianhua (陶建華) announced that he and his colleagues would imitate the western who’s who publications and compile a serial of publications titled Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian (中國名人 年鑒, Yearbook of the Notable Chinese).54 Tao used to be a journalist, and then accumulated his reputation by founding a school, news agency and newspaper, managing businesses, as well as organizing social movements. Moreover, he was keen on associating with political and military holders of power, and he 53 54

Xi Chuming 奚楚明, Chen Yeou 陳野鷗, Luo Jianqiu 羅劍秋, Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan 中國革命名人傳 [Notable Revolutionaries in China]. “Yuanqi, 緣起 [The Origin],” Tao Jianhua 陶建華 ed., Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian 中國 名人年鑑 [Yearbook of the Notable Chinese] (Shanghai: Zhongguo mingren nianjian she, 1932), 107.

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did acquire some virtual titles and positions, which in turn helped to develop his social and business activities.55 It is clear that Tao found business profits and political interests in publishing who’s who publications. Like Xi Chuming, Tao encouraged people to provide self-descriptions and recent photos, but he lowered the threshold considerably. He stated that people who had been a mayor or a chief of police, acquired a position equal to— or higher than—division chiefs in the provincial government, or attained a military rank equal to or higher than major were qualified to be entrants in the book. In addition to the government employees, businessmen, educators, and philanthropists were also welcome to submit their personal information.56 Tao’s activity attracted the attention of the Ministry of Education. According to the investigation of the Ministry, he mailed the call for submission to the members of many different institutions. He claimed that he was “encouraged by the comrades of the party state” and his work would “honor the party state,” but the ministry accused him of acting under false pretenses. Moreover, he asked the contributors to pay 30 yuan for publishing fees (the list price of the book was one yuan), and he emphasized that a biography would not be published if the fee was not received. The Ministry of Education criticized him on the basis that anyone would be qualified as a “mingren” by sending 30 yuan, and it therefore regarded Tao’s publication as a who’s who scam and ordered the Shanghai Municipal Government to ban the book.57 In fact, most of the entrants in the first edition of Tao’s book were incumbent or retired high ranking officials and military commanders. The first edition included 54 people; 11 of whom were members of the Military Affair Commission, and seven of them had appeared in the who’s who column of the Kuowen Weekly. The real problem may be that the book proclaimed the contributions and accomplishments of the Kuangxi clique, which was now at odd with Chiang Kai-shek.58 Tao’s book was not the only one to have been banned. Yu Muren’s book, which expressed sympathy with the leaders of the Wuhan 55

56 57 58

Tao Jianhua 陶建華 ed., Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian (Shanghai: Zhongguo mingren nianjian she, 1929), 68. “Tao Jianhua Deng Zuori Fu Ning,” 陶建華等昨日赴甯 [Tao Jianhua and Others Went to Nanjing], Shenbao 申報, October 25, 1925, 13. “Tao Jianhua laihan,” 陶建華來函 [The Letter from Tao Jianhua], Shenbao 申報, January 5, 1926, 11. Tao Xuesheng 陶雪生, Tao Xuesheng Suilu 陶雪生隨錄 [Miscellaneous Notes of Tao Xuesheng] (Shanghai: Qiushi xinbao guan, 1922). Tao Jianhua ed., Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian (1929), 59. “Zi,” 咨 [Order of the Ministry of Education], Jiaoyubu Gongbao 教育部公報 [Ministry of Education Gazette] 1, no. 12 (December 1929): 46–48. Tao Jianhua ed., Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian (1929).

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Nationalist Government was banned by the Zhejiang Provincial Government in 1929.59 The risk of being banned made future who’s who publishers adjust their focus and style. 5.2 The New Themes: Shanghai and the Businessmen During the 1920s, the compilers of who’s who publications seldom paid attention to people who lived in Shanghai, though most of these publications were produced in the city. Haishang Mingrenzhuan (海上名人傳, Biographies of Notable People in Shanghai), published in 1930, pioneered the promotion of preeminent people in Shanghai. The copyright page of Haishang Mingrenzhuan did not show the name of the editor-in-chief, but the preface writer Chu Minyi (褚民誼, 1884–1946) indicated that the book was edited by his friend Wang Boqian (王博謙, 1876–?). Wang received a good education in the traditional way and earned a juren degree. He experienced Western culture by serving as a private secretary under the Chinese magistrate in the Mixed Court of International Settlement in Shanghai. After the Chinese authority lost control of the Mixed Court in 1911, Wang became a full-time journalist and accumulated a lot of important connections, which facilitated this project.60 The Haishang Mingrenzhuan was similar to former Chinese who’s who publications in the method of data collection and the style of data display. However, the editor did not related his compilation to the new fashion, but drew a parallel between his book and two ancient collected biographies of local gentry, that is, Xiangyang Qijiuji (襄陽耆舊記, Aged and Virtuous people in Xiangyang) and Luoyang Jinshen Jiuwenji (洛陽縉紳舊聞記, Story of the Gentry in Luoyang). Wang defined the “Shanghai celebrities” as the celebrities who had been in Shanghai. He announced that the book would include, but not be limited to, famous civil or military officials, businessmen, professionals, and specialists of any kind of arts. He even encouraged women to participate in this project.61 This did not go as planned since such a loose standard did not attract vast contributors, nor any female participants.

59 60 61

Wang Yongkang 王永康, “Hangshi Xinzheng Zatan,” [Comments on the New Policies in Hangzhou], Shenbao 申報, March 6, 1929, 17. Bu Min, 不名, not titled, Jingangzhuan 金鋼鑽, May 3, 1929, 2. “Zhengji Haishang Mingrenzhuan Qishi,” 徵輯海上名人傳啟事 [Advertisement for Soliciting Biographies of the Notable People in Shanghai], Shenbao 申報, April 30, 1929, 3.

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Figure 2.6 Entrants in the Haishang Mingrenzhuan reported by Shunpao

A large portion of the entrants were businessmen, which made the Haishang Mingrenzhuan unique. The book comprised 100 biographies, and 65 biographies mentioned that the subject had found or managed business organizations.62 How famous were these businessmen? An indicator of this is the number of reports they got in Shenbao before January 1st, 1930. With the technical support of the ENP-China project, I searched the Shenbao corpus with the names and aliases of the entrants mentioned in the biographies. An overview of the results is shown in Figure 2.6. According to this study, the most “famous” entrant was Wang Yiting (王一亭, 1867–1938), a businessperson, who was reported by 5,740 articles. The most “famous” non-businessperson is Tang Shaoyi, who appeared in 3,540 articles. The least “famous” entrant is Wang Xiangfu (王向甫), the founder of a textile company, who only got seven reports. I further examined whether the businessmen were less famous than the nonbusinessmen by calculating the correlation coefficient between the occupation of the entrants and the number of articles dedicated to them. The value of the occupation variable was coded according to the following principal:

62

Haishang Mingrenzhuan Bianjibu 海上名人傳編輯部, Haishang Mingrenzhuan (Shanghai: Wenming Shuju, 1930). http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/bookImage .php?book=12 (accessed February 8, 2021).

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If the subject was a businessperson, the value was defined as one, otherwise zero. The calculated number is −0.06119, which demonstrates that the publicity of an entrant is hardly related to whether he was a businessperson or not. Before the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in Shanghai (in 1937), two more who’s who books that focused on the business people in Shanghai were published, and both of them deviated from the existed modes of Chinese who’s who compilations. The first book, titled Xiandai Shiyejia (現代實業家, The Modern Entrepreneurs), was edited by Sun Minqi (孫鳴岐, 1902–?) and published by the Shanghai Mercantile Press (Shanghai Shangbao, 上海商報), which was the organ of the Chamber of Commerce in Shanghai. The publisher followed the ways that former Chinese who’s who publishers used to collect and display information, but, instead of the highly depreciated “mingren,” the publisher chose the term “shiyejia” (實業家, entrepreneur) to be the collective name of the entrants. On the surface of things, the publisher did not highlight its geographical preference. In fact, 269 of the 275 people included in this book ran their business in Shanghai, which demonstrated the spatial focus of this book.63 The second book, Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu (上海工商人 名錄, A List of the Businessmen in Shanghai), was edited by the China Credit Bureau (Zhongguo Zhengxinsuo, 中國徵信所). It did not adopt the term “mingren” in the title, nor the biographical writing style. The aim and style of this book are similar to the Dangdai Zhongguo Mingrenlu (當代中國名人錄, A List of Notable People in Contemporary China) published in 1931, which suggested that to include more people and provide factual information in a wellorganized list format would make a who’s who publication more useful and convenient for the readers.64 The Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu included 1,829 businessmen. According to the editor, the information came mainly from document investigations and most of the information had been confirmed by the entrants.65

63 64 65

Xiandai Shiyejia 現代實業家 [The Modern Entrepreneurs] (Shanghai: Shanghai Shangbaoshe, 1935), http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/bookImage.php?book=18 (accessed February 14, 2021). “Liyan,” 例言 [Introductory Remarks], Fan Yinnan 樊蔭南, Dangdai Zhongguo Mingrenlu 當代中國名人錄 [A List of Notable People in Contemporary China] (Shanghai: Liangyou tushu yinshua gongsi, 1931). “Liyan,” 例言 [Introductory Remarks], Zhongguo Zhengxinsuo 中國徵信所, Shanghai Gongshang Mingrenlu 上海工商名人錄 [A List of the Businessmen in Shanghai] (Shanghai: Zhongguo Zhengxinsuo, 1936).

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The three books all focused on the businessmen in Shanghai, and they were published in the same decade, but there were not many overlapping entrants. Of the 275 entrants in the Xiandai Shiyejia, only 11 had appeared in the Haishang Mingrenzhuan, and 90 were included by the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu. The low overlapping rate may result from generational difference. In contrast to prior Chinese who’s who publications, the three who’s who books that focused on businessmen provided less educational information of the entrants. Of the 65 businessmen included in the Haishang Mingrenzhuan, 33 people mentioned the schools they had attended or the degrees they had received, that is, about 50%. The percentages of the other two books are much less. Of the 275 entrants in the Xiandai Shiyejia, 91 people stated their education level, that is, 33%. Of the 1,829 entries in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu, only 332 people had educational records, that is, 18%. On the contrary, of the 72 second-tier power holders who provided their biographies to the Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan, 59 mentioned their educational background, that is 81.9%. This reveals that these businessmen received less formal schooling than those who were active in political and military circles. Nonetheless, the compiler of the Xiandai Shiyejia emphasized that many entrants in the book who had never received any degree were actually very learned because they studied hard by themselves in their spare time. In contrast, he relentlessly criticized the contemporary university students for their arrogance and ignorance. This appears to have been a great challenge to the evaluation criterion set by welleducated intellectuals.66 At first glance, the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu was an inclusive list of the businessmen in Shanghai. Unlike the Xiandai Shiyejia, which focused on industry and included the founders and their most important partners or assistants only, the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu comprised more trades and staff members. Apart from 47 entrants who were private practice professionals, 1,782 entrants in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu were affiliated with 1,830 institutions. Table 2.2 shows that the categories of industry, trade, and finance constituted the majority of entrants. However, by applying the method of social network analysis, a different picture will be presented. Figure 2.7 visualized the relations between the entrants in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu and the institutions they were affiliated with. The size of each node was determined by “degree,” that is, the total number of links connected to a particular node. In this case, the biggest green node denotes that Du Yuesheng (杜月笙, 1888–1951) had the largest number of affiliations, and the biggest yellow node, the Bank of China (Zhongguo Yinhang, 中國銀行), 66

Xiandai Shiyejia 現代實業家, 39, 43, 88, 352, 363, 467, 509, 532.

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indicates that this financial institution has the largest number of affiliates. It is apparent that the yellow nodes are more conspicuous than others except for the green nodes. Furthermore, I applied K-core analysis to find out the most interlinked subgroup in this network, which was a five-core including seven people, four banks, and a government agency. Not surprisingly, the Bank of China was in the core group. Table 2.2 Current affiliations of the entrants in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu

Category

Industry Trade

Finance Association

Service Government Transportation Academic and Education

Construction Communication and Information Entertainment Mining Health Agricuture and Fishing Utility Uncertain Total

Sub-category

Number of Businesses

Retail Trade Trade

285 83

Business Organization Association Civic Association

132

Education Academic

Total Number of Businesses 507 368

311 151

13 6

40 10

115 62 50 50

37 27 23 18 7 5 28 71 1830

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Figure 2.7 Entrants in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu and their current affiliations

To what extent were the affiliates of the Bank of China included in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu? By checking the staff list of the bank published in 1935, I found that all the directors and supervisors except the managing director Wang Baolun (王寶崘, 1879–?) and over 90% of the chiefs of the general administration office (Zongguanglichu, 總管理處) were entrants in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu. The headquarters of the Bank of China had moved to Shanghai in 1928, so these leaders were no doubt “Shanghai businessmen.” Moreover, the book comprised the manager, deputy managers, and assistant managers of the Shanghai branch, as well as the chiefs of local offices except those located in Songjiang County. Besides the Shanghai branch, there were another nine branches of the bank, but only three managers of the branches were included in the book, who were the managers of the Hangzhou, Nanjing, and Qingdao branches.67 This demonstrates that the book focused on businessmen in Shanghai. The two-step ego network of the Bank of China (Figure 2.8) shows that 42 affiliates of the bank with more than one link (out-degree > 1) were linked to

67

Zhongguo Yinhang Zongguanlichu 中國銀行總管理處, Zhongguo Yinhang Zhiyuanlu 中國銀行職員錄 [Staff List of the Bank of China] (Shanghai: Zhongguo Yinhang Zongguanlichu, 1935).

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Figure 2.8 The 2-step ego network of the Bank of China

221 institutions other than the bank. Fifty of the 221 institutions were with one link only, and they linked only with the affiliates of the bank. This indicates that these institutions were included in the book because they related to the affiliates of the Bank of China. Almost all the top ten institutions which had highest in-degree were banks. It reveals that the Shanghai Gongshang Mingrenlu had a very good command of the personnel information of the banks. This is not surprising because the China Credit Bureau, the editor of the book, was an institution established for, and supported by, the banks.68 There were 339 entrants affiliated with the top ten banks which had most affiliated entrants. Some 179 of them had only one link, which meant that they were included in the book only because they were members of the management teams of the major bank. The remaining 160 people were related to another 452 institutions, including the Municipal Councils of the International settlement and the French Concession, the 68

Sun Jianguo 孫建國, Xinyong de Chanbian: Shanghai Zhongguo Zhengxinsuo Yanjiu 信用 的嬗變：上海中國徵信所研究 [The Development of Credit: A Study of the China Credit Bureau] (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2007), 119–289.

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Figure 2.9 The related institutions of the top ten banks with high in-degree

Chinese Ratepayer’s Association, the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce, and a great variety of business institutions (Figure 2.9). On the whole, the boards and the management teams of the major banks as well as the keypersons of various business institutions who invested in and/or were managed by bankrelated people constituted most of the entrants in the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu. These people were not necessarily well known to their contemporaries, and that may be why the compiler did not title the book Mingrenlu. What the Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu provided was a list of business leaders that people may want to know, and perhaps ought to know, rather than a list of businessmen as its title stated. 6

Conclusion

During the early 20th century, the term “elite” did not prevail in China, and hardly anyone was categorized as an “elite.” This is not to say that no one was more powerful, privileged, and eminent than another in China at that time. Contemporary Chinese writers just avoided labeling people of superior political, social, or economic status as “elite,” which implied excellence. In contrast

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to the Chinese translations of “elite,” such as jinghua and jingying, mingren which literally meant “celebrities,” made contemporary Chinese writers feel more comfortable. It was not new for the Chinese to publicize outstanding people. In late Imperial China, Jinshenlu (縉紳錄), Dengkelu (登科錄), and Tongnian Chilu (同年齒錄), lists of the officials and the jinshi or juren degree holders, had been commercial publications. Unlike the later who’s who books, these publications aimed at providing comprehensive lists of people whose preeminence had been recognized by the government and acknowledged by the people. On the contrary, the compilers and publishers of who’s who books often had to select and sometimes evaluate the entrants by their own opinions. The official position accredited was one of the most common criteria for elite distinction. Nevertheless, it was difficult for the compilers of who’s who books to keep up with politics in China because of rapid changes. How to evaluate the significance of an official position is another problem. Who’s Who in China focused on the high rank officials in the central government in the beginning, but it soon took into account the influence of powerful warlords who controlled provincial governments. On the other hand, the editor of Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian intended to include the chiefs of municipal and county governments, yet the Ministry of Education considered him as fraudulent. Degrees used to be an important criterion for elite distinction in China, and the Who’s Who in China did evince a preference for the returned students from elite American universities; however, they were no longer the key to enter the hall of fame. After the abolishment of the civil examination system, holders of domestic and foreign university degrees multiplied, but the general acknowledged degree evaluation standards were yet to be established. Most who’s who publications disclosed the information of degrees without discrimination, and they did not exclude those who received little formal education. Some, for example, the Xiandai Shiyejia, even questioned the significance of university degrees and praised those who became erudite by self-study. The rise of who’s who publications in China was, at the outset, a response to the need of readers who wanted to know who was influential in China. The astute businessmen soon discovered that they could also make a profit from selling memberships. In order to attract more contributors, editors and publishers of this kind of who’s who publications lowered the threshold. However, according to this study, they usually attracted not people of low official ranking but those in political eclipse. The risk of being involving in political conflicts impelled the publishers of who’s who books to find new target entrants, and they soon noticed prosperous businessmen who flocked to

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Shanghai. Successfully founding and managing a business became a new criterion of elite distinction. In the meantime, the well-educated intellectuals who were not active in the political and business circles were excluded from who’s who publications. References Cao, Cong. China’s Scientific Elite. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004. Daloz, Jean-Pascal. The Sociology of Elite Distinction: From Theoretical to Comparative Perspectives. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Esherick, Joseph W., and Mary Backus Rankin, eds. Chinese Local Elites and Patterns of Dominance. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and Oxford: University of California Press, 1990. Hartmann, Michael. The Sociology of Elites. London and New York: Routledge, 2007. Jiang Lan 蔣藍. “Woqiuzhongzi Kao,” 沃丘仲子考 [A Research on Woqiuzhongzi], Shuxue 蜀學 15 (2018): 170–177. Michael, Franz. The Chinese Gentry, Studies on Their Role in Nineteenth-Century Chinese Society, by Chung-li Chang. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1955), xviii–xx. North, Robert C. Kuomintang and Chinese Communist Elites. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1952. Pakulski, Jan. “Elite(s).” In The Wiley-Blackwell Encyclopedia of Social Theory, edited by Bryan S. Turner, 1–3. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2017. https://onlinelibrary .wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1002/9781118430873.est0638. Qin Zhen 秦蓁. “Wang Guowei Wanghuan Shuxin Zhong De Liangfeng ‘Queyi Daikao’ De Xin,” 王國維往還書信中兩封「闕疑待考」的信 [Two Letters of Uncertain Senders in the Letter Collections of Wang Guowei]. Wenhui Bao 文匯報, December 29, 2017, W04. Reeves, Aaron, Sam Friedman, Charles Rahal, and Magne Flemmen. “The Decline and Persistence of the Old Boy: Private Schools and Elite Recruitment 1897 to 2016.” American Sociological Review 82, no. 6 (October 2017): 1139–1166. https://doi .org/10.1177/0003122417735742. Scott, John. “Modes of Power and the Re-Conceptualization of Elites.” The Sociological Review 56, no. 1 (May 2008): 25–43. Sun Jianguo 孫建國, Xinyong de Chanbian: Shanghai Zhongguo Zhengxinsuo Yanjiu 信用的嬗變：上海中國徵信所研究 [The Development of Credit: A study of the China Credit Bureau] (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 2007). Useem, Michael. “The Social Organization of the American Business Elite and Participation of Corporation Directors in the Governance of American Institutions.” American Sociological Review 44, no. 4 (August 1979): 553–572.

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Williams, Gareth, and Ourania Filippakou. “Higher Education and UK Elite Formation in the Twentieth Century.” Higher Education 59, no. 1 (January 2010): 1–20. Yang Tianhong 楊天宏. “Mileshibao ‘Zhongguo Dangjing Shierwei Darenwu’ Wenjuan Diaocha fenxi,” 密勒氏報「中國當今十二位大人物」問卷調查分析 [An Analysis of the Questionnaire Survey on “Who are the Twelve Greatest Living Chinese” by The Weekly Review], Lishi Yanjiu 歷史研究, 3 (2002): 65–75. Zannoni, Paolo. “The Concept of Elite.” European Journal of Political Research 6, no. 1 (March 1978): 1–30. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1475–6765.1978.tb00547.x.

Chapter 3

X-Boorman: The Biographical Dictionary of Republican China in the Digital Age Cécile Armand and Christian Henriot 1

Introduction

Republican China saw the rise and maturing of new groups of elites. The process of social transformation was initiated almost a century earlier with the growing difficulty for the imperial administration to handle and solve the multiple tensions that ran through the country. Population growth, scarcity of farmland, and recurring social unrest placed the imperial system under severe pressure. At the local level, various groups of elites became more engaged in public affairs. The Taiping Civil War was the final onslaught on a worn-out dynasty that also failed to cope with the intrusion of foreign powers. It took another 50 years to bring the Qing dynasty to its end, but between this time tremendous changes had occurred, especially in cities, where education, professions, social organizations, and institutions went through a far-reaching overhaul. Not all the elites that we can observe in the Republican period were new, but none escaped change because they operated in a very different social, economic, and political setting. Who and what were these elites? We approach these issues through a ready-made corpus of biographies of Republican elites—the Biographical Dictionary of Republican China (BDRC). The BDRC consists of four volumes published between 1967 and 1971, with an additional name index volume issued separately in 1979.1 The BDRC was produced under the editorship of Howard L. Boorman, a China specialist active in the 1950s through the 1970s.2 Although he wrote mostly on contemporary affairs, he had an inkling for history and the biographical genre. He started working on the BDRC in the mid-1950s with the objective of collecting and compiling information on 800 representative individuals. The compilers of the BDRC sought to provide a sequel to a similar reference work on the Qing period 1 Howard L. Boorman and Richard C. Howard, Biographical Dictionary of Republican China (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967–1971). 2 “Collection: Howard L. Boorman Papers, Special Collections & Archives” (accessed November 29, 2020), https://archives.colorado.edu/repositories/2/resources/119.

© Cécile Armand and Christ

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by Arthur Hummel, Eminent Chinese of the Ch‘ing period, 1644–1912, published in 1943–44, which provided the template for the confection of the BDRC.3 The biographical genre about Chinese elites reached a peak in this period. By the time the last volume was published in 1971, another biographical dictionary, Biographic Dictionary of Chinese Communism, 1921–1965, had appeared, which overlapped with the BDRC, although it focused solely on Chinese communism.4 While these three biographical dictionaries address distinct historical periods, they share a number of individuals whose life spanned the period of both publications. The BDRC served generations of China historians as the main reference work one could turn to in order to seek biographical information when studying the Republican period. “The events, the institutions, and the processes of change in Republican China may be best revealed through the lives of the prominent Chinese of the period,” Boorman concluded in the general preface.5 It provided concise and well-informed individual biographies and snapshots of the turbulent republican period. It is hard to say how much the BDRC is still in use among students and scholars today, but it is likely that, at least for the former, the BDRC is no longer a resource. The major reason is that the internet-born generation will more likely rely on digital resources and tools, and Google and Wikipedia, not to mention their Chinese avatar like Baidu. The BDRC is not available in digital format, except for a single copy on loan on Internet Archive (but not the Name Index volume). Another reason is the use of the Wade-Giles transliteration system for the names of individuals, organizations, and places, which all those trained after the 1980s are no longer familiar with, especially when it comes to lesser-known place-names or organizations. At the onset of the ENP-China project, we chose to work on the BDRC for several reasons. The first one was simply a choice by default: We knew that the negotiations to purchase the access to our main primary sources—Englishand Chinese-language press corpora—in data-mining ready text files would take months and in between we decided to test and hone our tools on the BDRC. The main reason, however, was that the BDRC constituted a reference work on the Republican elites and offered structured knowledge on major historical figures. Biographical dictionaries have indeed been used extensively as the main source for biographical databases of elites in various national contexts 3 Arthur W. Hummel, Eminent Chinese of the Ch‘ing Period, 1644–1912, 2 vols. (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1943–44). 4 Donald D. Klein and Anne B. Clarke, Biographic Dictionary of Communism, 1921–1965, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press). 5 Boorman and Howard, Biographical Dictionary of Republican China, Vol. I, viii.

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(e.g., Swiss, Dutch, Austrian),6 or the study of elites.7 Eventually, our work gave birth to an enhanced digital edition of the BDRC that we chose to call X-Boorman.8 There were three main purposes in harnessing digital methods to explore and process the BDRC: 1. Rather than reading the BDRC as a collection of individual biographies, as historians usually do, we took the BDRC as a whole historical narrative in order to critically assess the sample of prominent figures that the editors chose to elect as representatives of the Republican elites. 2. We aimed to implement Natural Language Processing (NLP) techniques to retrieve information and turn it into data in order to produce a biographical database. Making the BDRC into a biographical database would make possible the analysis of the life trajectories, interpersonal connections, of this elite population at an unprecedented level, an approach that is impossible with a printed book. 3. We wished to provide an enhanced and updated online version of the BDRC (use of pinyin, identification of places, organizations, etc.) connected to our biographical database, as well as visualization tools. The objective was to allow users not just to read the whole text in a novel way but to explore the text at an unprecedented level of granularity and to circulate through the text to unveil connections and patterns they would not see otherwise.

6 “Österreichisches Biographisches Lexikon,” accessed November 29, 2020, https://apis.acdh .oeaw.ac.at/; “Base de données sur les élites suisses au XXe siècle,” accessed November 29, 2020, https://www2.unil.ch/elitessuisses/index.php?page=accueil; “BiographyNet. Extracting Relations between People and Events,” accessed November 29, 2020, http://www.biogra phynet.nl/. 7 Matje van de Camp, “A Link to the Past: Constructing Historical Social Networks from Unstructured Data,” Ph.D. Diss. (International Institute of Social History, Amsterdam, 2016); Matje van de Camp and Antal van den Bosch, “A Link to the Past: Constructing Historical Social Networks,” in Proceedings of the 2nd Workshop on Computational Approaches to Subjectivity and Sentiment Analysis (WASSA 2011), ed. A. Balahur, E. Boldrini, A. Montoyo, and P. Martinez-Barco (Stroudsburg, PA: Association for Computational Linguistics, 2011), 61–69. 8 X-Boorman: https://xboorman.enpchina.eu/. Rather than e-BDRC, we chose to honor the main editor, Howard L. Boorman, in naming the digital version of the BDRC and added “X” in reference to the ChinaX mooc (https://projects.iq.harvard.edu/chinax) at Harvard University.

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Methodological Approach

Methodologically, we proceeded in several successive steps. Starting from a digital version of the BDRC, we extracted the ocerized text and divided it into individual documents for each biography. The BDRC is written in modern American English, with lots of proper names (persons, places, organizations) and dates, as well as a wealth of transliterated Chinese terms (such as, common words, persons, places, organizations). Although it came to be known in the field as the “Boorman” dictionary, the enterprise actually involved 100 contributors. Even if the biographies eventually went through the hands of a small group of researchers and editors, the first thing that our digital forensics revealed was inconsistencies in the vocabulary used to describe positions and institutions (such as, ministry, school, university, bureau, army unit) in English and the unsystematic use of transliteration for Chinese names. While the permanent institutions were usually recorded using a standard name, the more ephemeral organizations appeared under various terms (such as, Central Soviet Government, Jiangxi Soviet Government, Canton Government, National Canton Government). For the lower levels of civil and military administration, it was even more confusing, which also reflected the relative uncertainty of the authors about what the role and position of an individual were (e.g., communist forces, Jiang Jieshi’s adviser). We strove to identify the exact position and related institution for each, but in many cases, we drew a blank. Yet we are confident that the development and enrichment of a database based on the BDRC will eventually fill in the gaps. We also look forward to comparing the original BDRC to its translation in Chinese. We implemented NLP techniques to index the whole text and identify all the named entities (persons, places, institutions, dates) and build specific dictionaries. The most important stage was the extraction of information that we considered relevant to examine and reconstruct the major milestones in the life of individuals: sex, birth-death dates and places, education, occupation/ positions, and relations. We used Stanford Core NLP to perform the task of text annotation and data extraction.9 The spreadsheets based on these extractions were cleaned, homogenized and enriched with external data from web sources (e.g., Wikipedia, Baidu). The extracted data, however, came with increasing levels of noise and complexity.

9 “CoreNLP,” CoreNLP, accessed November 29, 2020, https://stanfordnlp.github.io/CoreNLP/.

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The main challenge was to identify the multitude of names for persons (besides the main entries in the BDRC), places, and organizations found in the text.10 While gender hardly presented any challenge (“she,” “her” at the beginning of a biography were clear markers), birth offered a first challenge, not so much for the dates but rather for birthplaces.11 The locations were given at various levels of granularity: village, xian, town. Since these names were provided in Wade and Giles, we had to identify them in Chinese and locate them on a map. To do this, we scoured the available Chinese Wikipedia and Baidu web pages and matched their content to our data.12 For the date of death, except for the few individuals who died before the BDRC was published (most died before 1949), we proceeded in the same way. This was the only case where we entirely sought additional information to enrich the data from the BDRC. The first serious challenge arose with education. First, because data extraction produced a high number of entries (1,460); second, in light of the number of variables (institutions, places, disciplines, degrees, dates), which all required refining, homogenizing, and identifying.13 While we kept the original data output, we identified and standardized all the names of institutions, places, and degrees, and added a system of coding for the levels of education and the disciplines. One of the outcomes of this processing was the production of a dictionary for the institutions of education which the individuals in the BDRC attended from primary education to college. Occupations—namely all the positions held in a lifetime—became the most complex data in our analysis of the BDRC. The extraction produced more than 4,100 individual entries, but a manual verification and processing of these created another 500 entries (mostly successive positions mentioned within the same sentence). We also faced a broader range of institutions, an incredible variety of position denominations, a confusion or overlapping of denominations for different disciplines, degrees, and positions (e.g., for a university department: head, director, chair), while many terms actually covered distinct positions (e.g., 10 11 12 13

The index volume produced nine years after the publication of volume 4 of the BDRC unfortunately addressed only the names of persons. For birth dates, we used the data in the BDRC, except when it was missing or approximate in the original text; or when a more accurate and precise date occurred from our search for dates of death. Baptiste Blouin, Pierre Magistry, and Nora Van den Bosch, “Creating Biographical Net­ works from Chinese and English Wikipedia,” Journal of Historical Network Research no. 5 (2021), 303–317. The raw output from the data extraction provided the following items: name, trigger word, what (education), institution, location, date, extracted sentence. Our final data included name, institution, school (sub-level in universities), institution (Chinese), level, discipline (two levels), degree, locality, province/state, country, start and end years.

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chairman: committee, association, club, board of directors, party). Moreover, due to the number of positions an individual held, sometimes within a short span of time, the date got lost in the extraction because it was too remote from the actual mention of a position (34%). We did another round of refining and homogenizing the denomination of positions and institutions, of supplementing the missing dates, and of adding the location whenever possible. The last element in our analysis was that of relations. We were interested in examining those between the individuals that formed the main entries in the BDRC, their relations with all of the other persons mentioned in the individual biographies, and their relations with the institutions they were trained at or involved in. The first step was based on an extraction of all mentions of individuals and their relations based on co-occurrences. The next step aimed at achieving a more qualitative analysis of the nature of the relations between individuals. How did these individuals relate to each other? Could we better qualify the nature of relations between them and reveal clusters of individuals and pivotal persons that connected the individuals in the BDRC, who would remain hidden with conventional reading?14 On the basis of the data extracted and processed, as discussed above, we produced statistical analyses, maps, and graphs (Padagraph) to shed light on the profile, life trajectories, and relations embedded in the BDRC.15 Where did these individuals come from? Were there specific spatial patterns such as an overrepresentation of particular provinces or cities? Was there any relationship between their place of origin and their career path? We also focused on their educational background: What type of education did they receive? In which institutions did they study? In which places and countries? Which level of education did they reach? Can we identify generational patterns and factors (constraints, opportunities) that determined their educational choices? How does this population reflect the changes in the educational system in modern China? The career path of this elite group was a central issue. What were the characteristics of this group in terms of occupations? What did their highest positions tell us about their status in society and about the constitution of the BDRC sample? Could we identify biases in the selection of these individuals? How does this analysis allow us to rethink the categories in which historians usually tend to classify elites (e.g., political, military, economic, religious)? Could we identify circulations and connections between different social 14 15

Cécile Armand, Christian Henriot, and Pierre Magistry, “From Textual to Historical Networks: Reconstructing Social Relations in the Biographical Dictionary of Republican China,” Journal of Historical Network Research no. 5 (2021), 114–153. X-Padagraph: https://pdg.enpchina.eu/rstudio?gid=Boorman.

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milieu and what did it tell us about the degree of fluidity in Chinese society? How could we revisit the issue of power in modern China based on the BDRC population? Historians familiar with prosopography will find these questions familiar. What we managed to do in this study, however, relied on a set of innovative digital techniques both for the extraction of information and the analysis of the data through various lenses. We do not present all the possible venues of analysis here, for instance in reconstructing individual careers and professional trajectories. Elements of this approach, as well as all the processed data, can be found on X-Boorman.16 3

Life and Death

The BDRC contains 589 individual biographies and one devoted to the Song family which the editor considered as central to the history of the Republican period. In our analysis, we excluded this collective biography. Prominent individuals (such as, Song Ziwen and Song Qingling) in the Song family had their respective biography in the BDRC. From a demographic perspective, the BDRC population can be split into four main generational groups. The first block includes individuals born between 1833 and 1874 (97 individuals, 16%) who grew up in the second half of the 19th century when China met a double challenge from inside (rebellions) and from outside (Westerners). Yet we may assume that they envisioned their careers within the established framework of classical education and imperial examinations/elite (re)production. The second block includes individuals born between 1875 and 1885 (127 individuals, 22%). They came of age at a time of instability and uncertainty, starting with the abolition of imperial examinations and the final collapse of the imperial regime. The third block includes individuals born between 1886 and 1895 (190, 32%). This is the single largest block of individuals. They experienced the turbulent period of the early Republic, the unraveling of political references, the rise of nationalism, and lived the last part of their life in wartime. The fourth block includes individuals born between 1896 and 1905 (128, 22%). They matured at the time of the reestablishment of a national political order under the GMD, after experiencing the vagaries of warlord China in their youth. In their final years, they lived through the civil war and the communist takeover. In other words, the number of individuals who were born after the establishment of the Chinese Republic and grew up in this new institutional and political context amount to 284 (48%). They became Republican elites within the 16

X-Boorman is available online at https://xboorman.enpchina.eu.

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new political and cultural order. The other half of the BDRC population definitely came from the imperial period and had come of age, if not succeeded socially and politically, within an imperial system whose demise few would have foreseen. The last group includes individuals born between 1906 and 1920 (46, 8%). It is the smallest cohort that experienced a relatively stable China in their youth, to plunge later into the Sino-Japanese War, and eventually the communist regime. Unsurprisingly, the Republican elites were born mainly in China proper (569, 96.8%). Among the 19 individuals who were born abroad, 2% were born in Asian countries, 0.5% in the United States and the Caribbean, and 0.5% in Europe. The latter includes one Belgian citizen, the missionary Vincent Lebbe, listed under his Chinese name. Lebbe was the only foreigner included in the BDRC.17 Within China, four provinces provided more than 50% of the BDRC population with Zhejiang ranking first (79, 13.9%), followed by Jiangsu (76, 13.4%), Hunan (73, 13.4%), and Guangdong (67, 11.8%). It is not surprising to encounter this hierarchy in the Republican era, except for the unusual representation of Hunan, as we discuss below.18 The second group hailed from provinces that provided between 5% and 8% of the BDRC sample. All of them were southern and central provinces (Hubei, Sichuan, Fujian, Jiangxi), except for Hebei. The third significant group of provinces representing between 2% and 4% included Anhui, Shandong, Shanxi, and Yunnan. The remaining birthplaces were scattered among 14 other provinces. Most of the individuals were born in small rural localities and only a small number (85, 14%) were born large urban centers like Shanghai, Beijing, or Hangzhou. Whether owing to good genes or other factors, and despite a life spent sometimes in harsh or even hazardous conditions (war), a large number of individuals enjoyed an exceptional longevity, and many were still alive in the last decade of the 20th century and the first of the 21st century. They represented a formidable source for oral history—the contributors to the BDRC relied substantially on interviews—which various oral history projects conducted in the 1960s by Columbia University (19) and the Institute of Modern History of Academia Sinica (37) tapped into.19 In fact, across all generations, 204 (35%) 17 18 19

Vincent Lebbe acquired Chinese citizenship in the late 1920s. Y. C. (Yi Chu) Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1966), 157. Su Chen and Chengzhi Wang, Archival Resources of Republican China in North America (New York: Columbia University Press, 2015); “Chinese Oral History & Papers,” accessed November 29, 2020, https://library.columbia.edu/libraries/eastasian/chinese/oral_history.html; Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica 中央研究院近代史研究所, “Oral History Series,” accessed November 29, 2020, http://www.mh.sinica.edu.tw /Historicalsources.aspx?lang=enUS&pageNumber=3.

62

ARMAND AND HENRIOT Asia South Equidistant Conic projection

N

Fuwen

Yining Faku

Mizhi Hezhou Linxia

1

3

Number of births

6 12 23

Thakpo Langdun

Pucheng

Dali

Huai’an Zhenjiang Hefei Suzhou Shanghai Chengdu Nanchong Huanggang Wuxing Dayi Wujin Yuhang Guang’an Wuchang Jiujiang Neijiang Taoyuan Jinhua Shaoxing Yuanling Changsha Nanchang Qingtian Fenghuang Xiangshan Zhaotong Xiangtan Liling Minhou Shaoyang Anshun Minxian Fuzhou Lingling Guilin MeixianDapu Guangzhou Zhangzhou Mengzi Nanhai Huizhou Haifeng Rongxian Shunde Xinhui Hong Kong Taishan

1 000 km

Figure 3.1 Distribution of birthplaces in the BDRC

lived into their 80s and beyond and one is still living as we write this chapter. At the opposite end of the spectrum, 6% died before the age of 40, many of them victims of political executions. In 1949 a significant dividing line is discernible when it comes to death. A substantial number (39%) of the BDRC population died before 1949, while the majority died after that year. Taken together, one could be surprised to observe that only 67% died in China proper, while 16% died in Taiwan, 4% in Hongkong, and the remaining 13% died abroad (or in unknown locations). That one third of the Republican elite died outside of China proper is unusual and reflects the vagaries of modern Chinese history. In fact, if we look at those who died before 1949, the vast majority (90%) died in China proper (189 individuals, 86%) if we include Hong Kong (9, 4%). On the opposite end of the spectrum, only 54 of those who died after 1949 died in mainland China, while 25% died in Taiwan, 11% in the United States, 4% in Hongkong, and the rest in a number of foreign countries. Even if we exclude Hong Kong from the tally, the total of deaths outside China amounts to 42%. Because the BDRC focused on certain groups of elites, as we discuss below, this distribution reflects the migration pattern of these elites after the communist victory in China. Hence

Source : Biographical Dictionary of Republican China

Kashgar

Kaiyuan

Liaoyang Beijing Haicheng Luanxian Wanping Laoting Dalian Wutai Tianjin Ninghe

X-BOORMAN: THE BDRC IN THE DIGITAL AGE

63

the high percentage of deaths in Taiwan where the Nationalist government sought refuge and transferred the institutions of the Chinese Republic. But the significant portion of deaths in the United States also points to individuals who thought it better than to stay in China or in Taiwan. A significant number of former high-ranking officials in government, banking, and education settled in the United States, a country where many had studied as private citizens, or became active in American institutions. Many eventually bequeathed their personal papers to university libraries or archives such as the Hoover Archives, for the great benefit of historians. 4

Learning and Training

The individuals included in the BDRC present a general profile skewed toward a high level of education. This bias does not just reflect the elite nature of the population in the dictionary, but it also results from the choice made by the editors of the BDRC to focus on certain categories—overrepresentation of United States-returned students—and include only marginally representatives of groups with less political prominence (such as, artists and businessmen). The analysis of the educational background presented us with a major challenge. The categories that contemporary sociologists use do not easily fit the fluid and evolving Chinese educational system of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The standard three-tier educational system (primary, secondary, and higher education) took form in China only after the 1903 general reform by the Ministry of Education, which itself matured from a slow process in the previous decade.20 For the sake of clarity, we shall refer to these mainstream categories in our analysis, but with many caveats. For instance, primary education includes education received in the family, by private tutors, in lineage and village schools. The formal and modern notion of xiaoxue simply did not exist in late imperial China. Secondary education matches actual education in modern secondary schools in most cases, but we also included various academies, notably those that prepared to the first level of imperial examinations (xiucai). Finally, higher education is almost exclusively related to modern colleges, even if some cases of private missionary colleges left us with a degree of uncertainty as to the exact nature of their curricula. Because 20

Marianne Bastid and Chien Chang, Educational Reform in Early Twentieth Century China (Ann Arbor, MI: Center for Chinese Studies, University of Michigan, 1985); Suzanne Pepper, Radicalism and Education Reform in 20th-Century China: The Search for an Ideal Development Model (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 59.

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the BDRC population includes literati who passed only the imperial examinations until 1905, we had to distribute them under the three-tier system. We made the choice to consider xiucai equivalent to graduates from secondary schools, and juren (provincial examination) and jinshi (metropolitan examination) equivalent to college graduates.21 The BDRC provides a limited level of information on primary education. In most cases, it was expressed in fairly vague or imprecise terms. If we take 1903 as a benchmark for the establishment of primary schools, the largest part of the BDRC population could not have attended such primary schools, since 510 of them were born and received their education before that year. We garnered from the information retrieved in the BDRC that 286 individuals (49%) received a form of elementary education, of which 51 (9%) received it at home or from private tutors. The most common expressions in the BDRC was an education in the “Chinese classics” in local or village schools. Yet, except for few cases, we can assume that most individuals received some form of primary education. We have slightly more information about secondary education (328 individuals, 66%), which a vast majority received in China proper (85%). We identified a wide variety of institutions (170 different schools), with Nankai Middle School mentioned most (6, 3.1%), followed by the Anglo-Chinese College in Shanghai (4, 2%). But it is fair to say that no single institution or place emerges and that geography—where one was born—dictated in most cases the place where individuals attended a secondary school. A small number of individuals (31, 9.4%) took the opportunity missionary institutions offered to pursue their secondary education in such institutions. Among those who attended missionary schools, 63% belonged to the generation born before the establishment of formal “middle schools.” Yet we may not have identified all the missionary schools from the transliterated names found in the BDRC since many schools adopted full Chinese names only. It is worth pointing out that a substantial proportion (15%) received their secondary education abroad, with Japan (5%) and the United States (4.7%) as the most favored countries, and less than 1% in Europe. The BDRC includes a few individuals who were overseas Chinese or were born in Hong Kong (1.9%), which in part explains why they attended a secondary school abroad. Finally, even if it represented only 29 individuals (8.7%), graduates of normal schools (including five schools for girls) again were difficult to categorize. The rise of normal schools was an uneven process and their place in the new educational landscape set them between secondary and higher education. Many of them were 21

After the abolition of imperial examinations, the imperial government organized special examinations for graduates from modern universities, mostly foreign universities, and bestowed juren or jinshi degrees to the successful candidates.

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higher secondary schools and only a few were eventually labeled as collegelevel normal schools.22 Higher education was much better documented in the BDRC. Yet our analysis met with several inconsistencies, first because of the labeling of educational institutions in the source document (BDRC); second, in light of the state of flux which also characterized higher education in China in the late Qing/ early Republican period. New institutions of higher learning such as colleges and universities were being created and developed at the very time when most of our individuals had to make choices about their education. What actually came under the “university” denomination, however, varied greatly from preparatory colleges or training institutions for officials to full-fledged universities. Even the universities established by Westerners—mostly by missionaries—began mostly as advanced high schools (e.g., St John’s College/ St John’s University, Canton Christian College/Lingnan University, Bishop Boone Memorial School/College/University). The abolition of imperial examinations gave a further major impetus to the rise of universities in China. The individuals that figure in the BDRC received, for the most part, a high level of education in modern universities. Altogether 264 of them earned a college degree (we retained only the highest degree obtained by each individual) while 255 received a higher education, even if the nature of their degree is unknown. In sum, 519 individuals received a higher education, in China and abroad, which represents 88% of the BDRC population. Among those who obtained a degree, 60 passed the imperial examinations: 19 jinshi 進士 (7% of the total of graduates), 14 juren 舉人 (5%), and 27 shengyuan 生員 (10%).23 We also found 52 Ph.D. degrees (19.7%), 41 Masters of Arts (15.5%), 59 Bachelor of Arts (22.3), six Masters of Science (2.3%), and 17 Bachelors of Sciences (6.4%).24 At first sight, one can readily observe that a vast majority of the elites selected in the BDRC leaned toward humanities rather than sciences.25 It is definitely a different profile from previous studies on Chinese-returned students, 22 23

24 25

Xiaoqing Diana Lin, Peking University: Chinese Scholarship and Intellectuals, 1898–1937 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005), 160. We retained only those who actually passed the examinations, not those who received these titles through the post-1905 equivalence system implemented to issue corresponding degrees to graduates of foreign universities. The equivalence system itself was based on nationwide examinations. For the sake of analysis, we homogenized the names of degrees as these titles varied from one country to the other, as well as the corresponding curricula. The actual data provided a wide range of disciplines that did not always match current academic categories. Although we preserved the original denomination, we regrouped the fields of language, literature, history, philosophy, and religion under “humanities”; sociology, political science, economy and law under “social sciences”; and the fields of natural and experimental sciences under “science,” except “medicine.”

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N

Hailun

Yining Qinghe

Tongzhou

Sanyuan

Changzhi Dali

Liaocheng

Kaifeng

33

Yantai

Dongtai Lianshui Changzhou Huai’an Jiangyin Wuxi

Nanjing 89

Neijiang Fushun

Yongqing

Suzhou

Baoshan Wuhu Wuhan Wuxian Jiading Hankou Anqing Huzhou Jiaxing Shanghai Yuhang Hanzhou Huangzhou Huaning Wujin Ningbo Jiujiang Shaoxing Fenghua Chengxian Taoyuan Nanchang Jinhua Wuyi Changsha Yuanling Yiyang Ninxiang Shaoshan Fenghuang Wenzhou Xianxiang Liling Xiangtan Guiyang Hengyang Chengguan Fuzhou Lingling Changde Longyan Guilin Tanshui Guangzhou Xiamen Kunming Wuzhou Huangpu Haifeng Yulin Huiyang

Chengdu

Shunqing

Yichang

Nanchong Chongqing

Hong Kong

1 000 km

Figure 3.2 Distribution of the places of higher education in the BDRC

especially the classic work of C. Y. Wang.26 It also seems to militate against the prevailing push by both the imperial and republican authorities to steer students toward scientific disciplines. As we shall discuss below, the peculiar distribution of disciplines and degrees had much to do with the orientation of elite selection by the editors of the BDRC. Degrees, however, fail to convey the diversity of college education that the selected population received. First, we need to separately examine the large group of individuals who were trained in the Chinese classics and passed the two highest levels of imperial examinations. The majority belonged to our first generational group (1833–74) and represented one quarter of this age group, while the graduates from the second generation represented only 10% of their age group. Although various measures were introduced to modernize the content of the examinations, these individuals were the last to receive a thorough education in the main corpus of Chinese classics.27 Except for Cai Yuanpei 26 27

Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949. Benjamin A. Elman, A Cultural History of Civil Examinations in Late Imperial China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008).

Source : Biographical Dictionary of Republican China

Number of graduates

Taigu

Lanzhou

19

Tianjin

Cangxian

Taiyuan 4

12

Tangshan Nankai

Baoding

Hengshan

Shenyang

Chengde

Beijing

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67

(蔡元培), none of the jinshi degree holders and only two of the juren degree holders (Zhou Ziqi 周自齊, Shao Lizi 邵力子) pursued further studies in China or abroad. The shift from “classical” to “modern” studies is clearly demarcated within the elites included in the BDRC. We identified a total of 628 curricula in higher education about which we know the disciplines for 412 (such as, distinct disciplines in which individuals were trained). For the sake of analysis, we relied on the classification found in the BDRC, but regrouped the various fields of study under 12 major headings.28 As observed in the distribution of degrees, a large group of individuals were trained in the humanities (97, 23.5%), followed by military training (71, 17.2%), social sciences (52, 12.6%), and law (43, 10.4%). If we except the distinct field of military training (see infra), it is obvious that humanities and social sciences constituted the dominant field of education (>50%). As to the content of the remaining curricula, classical education (examinations), engineering, and sciences leveled each at about 6%. Preparatory college education and medicine represented a mere 4.5% of the BDRC population, while agriculture and business were negligible (1%). The distribution of the 53 Ph.D. holders for whom we know the discipline show that most received their degree in law (9, 18.8%), philosophy (7, 14.6%), medicine (6, 12.5%), physics (4, 8.3%); education and political science (3, 6.3% each); and agriculture, chemistry, literature (2, 4.2%). There was also a small number of graduates from pre-university preparatory schools, such as Tsinghua College (17, 7.9%, each). A crucial characteristic of the elite group in the BDRC points not just to a highly educated elite but elites that were exposed to international education early in their life. A total of 200 individuals (34%) pursued their studies abroad and their training represented 343 different curricula (55%). What the much higher number of curricula indicates is that many individuals pursued successive degrees or studied in successive institutions. It was usual to do one’s undergraduate studies in one university and to pursue graduate studies in another. Very often this meant a clear movement to a major university (such as, Harvard, Columbia, Chicago). The United States represent the destination of choice (36.3%), but Japan comes reasonably close (29.6%), followed by the United Kingdom (12%), France (7.6%), Germany (7.6%), and the Soviet Union (3.6%). These figures, however, do not fully reflect the respective weight of the various countries. If we look at the distribution of curricula by country, the 28

The classification of disciplines raised several issues: disciplines at the time were not always properly defined and several were in the course of formation; denominations varied across countries; disciplines were sometimes mentioned jointly, such as, “law and political science,” “economics and sociology.” It is impossible to disentangle them fully.

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United States (46.8%) takes the lion’s share, followed by Japan (25.7%). The other countries appear in the same order, but with a lower percentage: United Kingdom (9.9%), France (6.7%), Germany (5.6%), and the Soviet Union (2.9%). All the other countries represent less than 1%. Another major difference lies in the nature of education. Except for one individual, military studies were nonexistent in the United States, whereas 27% of the Japan cohort went to Japanese military academies.29 Among those who studied abroad, we observed an even more obvious overrepresentation of individuals trained in the humanities and social sciences (versus “practical sciences” such as engineering, science, and medicine). This reflects a shift in individual curricula when some of them moved from China to foreign countries. This distribution also produced a specific geography of knowledge, with a prevalence of humanities, social sciences, and education in the United States. In Europe, the pattern was quite similar, with a dominance of humanities, law, and social sciences, but with a greater emphasis on sciences and medicine. By contrast, in Japan military studies came first, even if social sciences (17, 23%), humanities (13, 17%), and law (12, 16.2%) were also privileged fields of study. The educational profile of the individuals selected by Boorman diverges from the geographical patterns established in previous works, which points to a certain bias in the constitution of the BDRC sample.30 In China proper, we identified 203 institutions of higher education (and 72 unknown). Beijing University and Tsinghua ranked first (21, 10.4% each), followed by St John’s University (12, 5.4%), Beiyang University (7, 3.4%); Boone College, Dongwu, Nanyang College, Yanching, and Yunnan (each 4, 2%) and finally Tianjin University (3, 1.5%). The term “university” here should not be taken at face value because many of them, in their early history, did not offer a fully fledged degree curriculum. For example, Imperial Beijing University was initially designed to prepare students to serve the state until 1911, while Tsinghua began, in 1909, as a preparatory school for students to actually pursue their higher education in the United States under the Boxer Indemnity Scholarship Program.31 It offered a full curriculum only in 1925.32 Although

29 30

31 32

The agreement signed for the use of the Boxer Indemnity Fund of the United States actually barred Chinese from entering military school and to receive military training. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West; Paul B. Trescott, Jingji Xue: History of the Introduction of Western Economic Ideas into China 1850–1950 (Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 2007); Chih Meng, “The American Returned Students of China,” Pacific Affairs 4, no. 1 (January 1931): 1. Lin, Peking University, 29–30. Teresa Brawner Bevis, A History of Higher Education Exchange: China and America (New York: Routledge, 2013), 92–93.

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there was a certain degree of concentration with a quarter of the BDRC population graduating in three universities, the most significant feature was the wide array of institutions of higher education that had emerged in post-examination China. It points to a quick and tremendous adaptation and transformation of elite production. The distribution of institutions abroad presented a varying landscape by country, but only two countries have a certain degree of representativeness. Those who studied in the United States attended a wide range of 161 institutions of higher education, but a large number graduated from a select group of universities. Columbia University ranked first (30, 18.8%), followed by Harvard (24, 15%), Chicago (11, 6.9%), Yale (10, 6.3%), Michigan (9, 5.6%), Illinois (5, 3.1%), Cornell and Oberlin College (4, 2.5%). Five universities received more than 50% of our group of Chinese graduates and most were located in the eastern part of the United States. The other graduates were scattered among institutions that received only two or less individuals from the BDRC group. In Japan, most graduates attended institutions in the Tokyo area. If we set aside military institutions, four universities—Waseda University (10, 12.7%), Tokyo University (8, 10.1%), Kobun Gakuin and Meiji University (5, 6.3% each)—received the bulk of these Chinese students (35%). In European countries, we identified 86 curricula distributed among 37 institutions. The group of 34 individuals who went to the United Kingdom was distributed among 14 different institutions, but close to one half were concentrated in three institutions (University of London, Cambridge University, and the University of Edinburgh). Among the 23 individuals who studied in France, all but two studied in Paris, with 17 at the University of Paris. In Germany—19 individuals—seven chose institutions in Berlin and the remaining were scattered among four other universities. Finally, in the Soviet Union, the majority attended Sun-Yat-sen University for the Toilers of the East, a political cadre training school. Military training figured prominently in the education of many individuals in the BDRC. China faced a genuine challenge in the armed confrontation with European powers and Japan in the mid-19th century. This challenge and the successive military defeats China suffered led to various policies to strengthen the nation militarily. While a few major new academies were established, the imperial government also pushed for the creation of military primary and secondary schools throughout the country.33 It provided a steppingstone to many in the BDRC population for admission into a military academy. Altogether higher military training represented 73 curricula in 31 different institutions. 33

Shi, Duqiao 施渡橋, ed., Zhongguo Junshi Tongshi. Qing Dai Houqi Junshi Shi 中國軍事 通史. 清代後期軍事史 [General Military History of China. A Military History of the Late Qing Dynasty], 17, (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1998), 1102–1120.

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The majority of these curricula were dispensed in military academies in China proper, with 45 curricula in 21 institutions. Yet there were 28 curricula provided in 11 foreign institutions: six in Japan (Shikan Gakko, Shinbu Gakko, Japanese Naval school), two in Germany (Kriegsschule, Prussian Military Academy), one in the United Kingdom (Royal Naval College) and one in the United States (Virginia Military Institute). There is no doubt about the preference for Japan that ranked first with 22 curricula. This resulted from a policy by both countries to send military officers to Japan for reasons of geographical and linguistic proximity, but also reputation after Japan’s victory in the Russo-Japanese War. Many academy graduates in Japan and Germany were actually incorporated into local regiments and even took part in combat before returning to China. 5

Positions

The study of the positions held by the individuals selected in the BDRC presented us with numerous challenges. The main hurdle was the sheer number of positions and institutions, all of them, with very few exceptions, denominated only in English. The high number of denominations meant an extreme variety of terms used to define positions and label institutions (including variations for the same institution). More fundamentally, however, the second main difficulty was to make sense of the institutions and their relative status within their respective state, military or party apparatus. While the Guomindang or the Communist Party presented a less complex issue in terms of structure, hierarchy, and range of sub-units, the very nature of the different “state” authorities raised difficult questions. How should a self-proclaimed “revolutionary government” (1911–12) or “national government” (Guangzhou, 1923–26) be considered? Is it a “local government” (but it does not belong to an upper level of the state), a “central government” (illegal/legitimate/legal) or a “separatist government”? Yet what constituted a challenge was the myriad of sub-units that occurred, whose status remained unclear or would have necessitated an extensive research that was beyond the scope of this project. Our work points precisely to a major weakness of the BDRC in this regard: the name-dropping of positions and institutions without any clue as to where they fit. This is especially true of the committees, commissions, and bureaus of all kinds mentioned in the text. They could be a spontaneous group of individuals or a formal unit under a ministry, a local or a national entity. Eventually, we proceeded along a dual path: on the one hand, a systematic but quick verification of the nature

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of any named entity, on the other hand, the introduction of a system of coding to bring the number of categories to a manageable range, with two levels for more granular analysis when necessary. The number of individuals for whom we were able to extract positions from the BDRC did not match the whole sample. This was an expected outcome. A number of individuals did not hold “positions” as such, and they eluded the word net with which we collected data. This does not question our approach. The individuals we missed were somehow peripheral and had activities that did not represent “trajectories” with identifiable “stops” (such as, actress and painter). Neither did they join any political organization at a leadership level. Altogether, the missing individuals amount to 41 persons. In the sample of 548 individuals whose career is documented in the BDRC, we identified a total of 3,721 named positions over the century (1860–1968) during which these individuals were active or alive. A fundamental point requires a clarification from the outset: Our use of the term “positions” actually covers two main categories that diverge in their nature, titles and occupations. While we shall be using “position” throughout this chapter—we shall discuss later why they cannot and should not be separated—it is essential to note that many individuals in the BDRC often held one or more titles and one or more occupations concurrently. By occupation, we mean positions from which the individuals derived their income (such as, company manager, military officer, professor), namely a professional occupation. By title, we mean positions in all sorts of organizations, especially political parties, from which they derived power, influence, social recognition, but not an income per se. Of course, as in the case of political parties, a major question is precisely the interaction between these various positions and their related impact on the trajectory and career of an individual. The first obvious observation to be made about the distribution of positions and institutions is the heavy weight of central government institutions (835) and central political organizations (651). The next most important group consists of positions in military units (424), to which we can add those in military command institutions (197) and in military academies (66). Altogether the military provided 687 positions. The range of positions in the BDRC included a secondary layer of positions in local governments (422), as well as positions in Chinese diplomacy (41). This structure confirms with precise measurement the comments made by reviewers at the time of publication about the choice made by the editor to focus on major political and military figures. This obvious bias undermines the notion that the sample of individuals in the BDRC was representative of

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the Republican elites, even if one could argue that the military played indeed a central role in Republican politics and that many individuals who held political/military positions actually came from the ranks of the military. This is not, in itself, an issue because defining a “representative” sample of elites was beyond the documentary and methodological resources available to the editor. The notion of “representative” may not even be a relevant approach as we attempt to establish in the ENP-China project. The bias observed and discussed above, however, may be used to our advantage to examine a substantial sample of the political and military elites who played a significant role in the Republican period. Intellectuals also played a defining role in the Republican era. They also represent a group of individuals about whom information may have been more readily available. They constitute a fair number (339) of positions in academic institutions, along with teachers in other pre-college educational institutions (51). While we decided to group them as belonging to the sphere of education, there was a noticeable divide between those who made a career in institutions of higher learning and those who taught in primary or secondary schools. Among the former, there were also people who taught in universities, to earn money or to dispense specific knowledge, even if they did not pursue an academic career. The divide was most noticeable in their respective educational background and their professional and political career. Although we had information on the positions held by 548 individuals, a large number held too few positions to provide a suitable and significant basis for more systematic analysis, especially for outlining profiles based on these positions. We chose to retain a smaller sample of individuals who held at least ten positions. This selection produced 251 individuals with a sufficient number of positions to reconstruct their professional career, and 249 for whom we also had complete information on their province of origin, education, and generation. We implemented a Multiple Correspondence Analysis (MCA) on this population in order to (1) identify “positional profiles” (combination of different positions) and to redefine individuals as “positional profiles” who held multiple positions across various spheres instead of homogeneous “classes” (politician, military, intellectual); (2) examine relationships between professional career (positions), political affiliation, place and year of birth (province, generation), and educational background (country of education, academic major). To this end, we coded all the positions under generic categories that distinguished between political positions, positions in central governments, local governments, parallel governments (e.g., the Canton Government in 1921–25

X-BOORMAN: THE BDRC IN THE DIGITAL AGE

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Figure 3.3 MCA of positions in the BDRC

and collaborationist governments), positions in the military, in academia and other type of positions (such as, business professionals).34 For political positions, we further distinguished between positions in early political organizations (pre-1921), positions in alternate political parties (mostly wartime and postwar), and of course Nationalist Party (Guomindang, GMD) and Communist Party (CCP). For the two latter parties, we divided the time of membership (year of joining or year of first mention of a position) into three and four periods for the CCP and GMD respectively.35 These periods were considered as significantly different in the history of these parties. Central government positions were also distributed into four periods along conventional political

34 35

The data is available in the BDRC Collection of the ENP-China data repository on Zenodo, https://zenodo.org/communities/enp-china/. Guomindang: Pre-1924; 1924–38; 1939–49; post 1949. CCP: 1921–34; 1935–49; post-1949.

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history.36 For local governments, we simply drew a line between pre- and post1927. Finally, we broke down positions in the military into five periods.37 The Multi Correspondence Analysis (MCA) produced a graph from which we eventually retained the first four dimensions that captured altogether 18% of information (see Figure 3.2). Dimensions 3 and 4 were especially useful for analyzing the weight of provincial origin and discipline of education. Dimension 1 shows a negative correlation for CCP members on the left side of the graph and a strong positive correlation for Guomindang and other non-CCP organizations on the right side of the graph. It also delineates an opposition between those who served in the Republican central governments (1912–27 and 1928–38). on the right; and those who held positions in the PRC government after 1949, on the left. None were likely to have held intellectual positions. Dimension 1 also separates individuals with military positions, especially during the period 1928–49, on the left; from individuals with no military positions, on the right. It is interesting to note that the military tend to group together, regardless of political orientation. This may be due to the fact that during the war, a lot of individuals who otherwise held civilian/political positions, also held military positions. This was particularly true of the CCP. Central government position for 1938–49 does not show on the graph because they are probably in the middle. Again, this was due to the blending of profiles when the CCP turned into a full government apparatus during the war, with many formal positions in “central institutions” among our individuals. If we add the observation on the clear opposition between individuals who studied in China only on the left and those who received training abroad, we see a sharper picture emerging of the main characteristics of this sample of the individuals in the BDRC. The other dimensions provide additional information. Dimension 2 separates the group along generational lines, especially between generation 1 (born 1833–74) and generation 3 (born 1886–96). Dimension 3 further delineates a line between those who were trained in the humanities on the right and those who received a military education or an undetermined education, or even no formal education. One can also see a sharp opposition between humanists and military. Dimension 3 also opposes the returned students on the right and those who were trained in China only on the left. Dimension 4 distinguishes further between individuals trained in Japan and those trained in the USSR. Dimensions 3 and 4 together clearly isolate the individuals who enrolled in revolutionary study programs in the USSR. In sum, military education in Japan 36 37

Pre1911; 1912–27; 1928–38; 1939–49, Post-1949 (RPC or ROC). Pre-1911; 1912–27; 1928–38; 1939–49; Post-1949.

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is closely associated with the second generation (born 1875–85), with individuals who held military and local government positions in the early years of the Republic (1912–27) and positions in provisional governments (all positively correlated with dimension 4), whereas education in the humanities, especially in the United States is negatively associated with military positions (both variables are negatively correlated with dimension 4). Interesting profiles also emerge from the hierarchical classification of the 249 individuals. The analysis consists of clustering together individuals who share common characteristics. We performed this classification on all 35 dimensions of the previous MCA. The partition was strongly determined by political affiliation (CCP, GMD), participation in parallel governments, participation in post-1949 governments (PRC, ROC), and intellectual positions. Military positions clearly did not drive this classification. Four clusters were identified: – Cluster 1: “Communists.” Individuals characterized by an early membership in the CCP (1921–34) and positions in PRC government institutions (this was antagonistic with membership in the GMD and participation to the Nationalist government in Nanjing) – Cluster 2: “Outsiders.” Individuals characterized by their participation into parallel governments, including collaborationist governments. – Cluster 3: “Intellectuals”. This group includes politically non-aligned intellectuals, and members of alternative political organizations (Tongmenhui, Federalist movement, Postwar parties). They held mostly intellectual positions or positions in the pre-Republican central government. – Cluster 4: “Nationalists”. Individuals closely associated with the GMD (1924–38) and the Nanjing government, including early political activists (members of early Republican parties) (this was antagonistic with CCP membership and positions in PRC institutions) Finally, we implemented a set of Multiple Factor Analysis (MFA) operations to explore the correlations between different groups of variables.38 We examined different configurations: – MFA1: Political affiliation/party (two variables), central government (nine variables), military service (five variables), and local government (two variables).

38

We cannot, in this chapter, delve into the methodological details of using MFA. All such details can be consulted in the online collections of research notes published in the DH Lab Pamphlets on the Peers platform.

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– MFA2: Political affiliation/party (four variables), positions in various sectors (four groups of positions, same as in MFA3), origin (province, generation, two variables) and education (country, discipline, seven variables). – MFA3: Political affiliation/party (four variables), career (positions, 18 variables), origin (province, generation, two variables) and education (country and discipline, seven variables). The first MFA shows that positions in central government and party affiliation are strongly related, whereas local government is more strongly connected with military positions. There is a clear separation between the two groups “military local government” on the one hand, and “central government party” on the other. The greatest distance separates military positions from party affiliation. The second MFA failed to establish clear correlations between provincial origin, party affiliation, and other positions. This suggests that political affiliation and intellectual or other activities were not determined by the individuals’ origin. In other words, party members or individuals who held intellectual positions constituted a multigenerational group with a wide spread of geographical origin. In addition, party members were unlikely to engage in intellectual or other activities. There was a stronger connection between education and positions in government (especially local), but all these variables are not well projected and should be interpreted with caution. Finally, the third MFA confirmed that education was strongly correlated with positions, especially positions in central government. To explore further the nature of the population in the BDRC, we built a twomode network linking all persons and institutions. The network contains 2,144 nodes (547 persons and 1,597 institutions) and 4,244 edges (= positions), with a total of 41 connected components: one large component, and 40 components based on single individuals. We used degree centrality to identify the most central actors in the network. The importance of individuals in this network is a direct reflection of the number of positions that we were able to document, as discussed previously. The first individual who tops the list is Chen Cheng (陳誠) whose positions are best documented in the BDRC (38 in total). The most central persons present two different profiles: military/government and diplomats, and cross-sector careers like Wang Zhengting’s (王正廷) who served in private companies and associations as well. In terms of institutions, the two major political parties—CCP, GMD— unsurprisingly provide the largest share of positions. Their share is inevitably magnified by the fact that we chose to subsume all the positions, regardless of the various sub-units (e.g., hierarchical and geographical) under a single heading. Yet this also conveys quite clearly how much the selected individuals in the BDRC emanated from the political world. This reflects both the political

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inflection of the BDRC population and the editors’ emphasis on elites’ political affiliation. Individuals outside the main component may be considered as people with weak or non-existent or alternative political affiliation. These individuals held positions in academic institutions, private companies, associations, and a few in local or technical government branches. The next most important political party is the Tongmenhui, a critical organization—often a stepping stone—in the political trajectory of a large number of Republican elites. Besides political parties, the next group of most central institutions comprises government institutions. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs tops the list of institutions, followed by the post-1949 National People’s Congress, State Council, the Ministry of Finance (pre- and post-1949), the Military Affairs Commission (pre-1949), the Ministry of War (pre-1949), the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (post-1949), the Ministry of Education (preand post-1949), and Prime Minister office (pre-1949). From the general network of affiliations, we built a series of sub-networks by sectors of activity (code) to compare their structure. The sub-network built on positions in business, or as professionals, revealed a high number of components, essentially around single individuals. There were a few notable sub-clusters based on major companies such as the Commercial Press, the Dagongbao, or prominent individuals such as Chen Guangfu (陳光甫, banker) or Niu Huisheng (牛惠生, physician). The main component in this network connects financial institutions (Bank of China, Bank of Communications, Central Bank of China) and the major figures involved in these institutions (Li Ming 李銘, Qian Yongming 銭永銘, Zhou Zuomin 周作民, Ji Chaoding 冀朝鼎). The scattered structure of the networks built on non-government activities indicates that few direct links connected the individuals and the companies they worked for. This does not preclude the existence of other connections (through institutions or political parties), but the world of business (and associations as well) was not a defining factor in the activities that the individuals selected in the BDRC pursued. When business does connect some individuals, it is mostly through companies that either came under the control of government or emanated from it. Institutions with lower degree centrality (peripheral institutions) comprised mostly individual military units, private companies or professional organizations, associations, transnational organizations, and academic institutions. Hence, the networks built on the positions in military institutions showed a high degree of dispersion due to the large number of individual military units listed in the BDRC. In fact, the network of military positions placed the emphasis on individuals (such as, Chen Cheng, Xue Yue 薛岳, Liu Zhi 劉峙, Jiang Dingwen 蔣鼎文, Gu Zhutong 顧祝同), by virtue of their number of

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8.00% 7.00% 6.00% 5.00% 4.00% 3.00% 2.00% 1.00% 0.00%

Middle Managers

Rank and File

Figure 3.4 The affiliation network of academic institutions in the BDRC

identified positions. The two main institutions that emerge are the Huangpu Military Academy and the National Defense Council (post-1949). The Huangpu Academy is at the center of a large network, with 17 individuals (but Lin Biao 林彪 is absent). Several of them did not serve in military positions or as cadets, but as political instructors or party representatives (five). Two others were deputy directors at the time of the United Front and actually represented the CCP (Zhou Enlai 周恩來, Ye Jianying 葉劍英). In terms of actual positions in military units or institutions, there were few direct connections, but even in such cases this does not mean that they served at the same time. Most served in distinct military units. Clusterization confirmed the analysis based on degree centrality. Of the 16 clusters that emerge, four stand out with very characteristic features. The two most important ones are logically the CCP and the GMD. The third most significant cluster is built around academic institutions, with ties into civic associations and international organizations (e.g., the League of Nations). What is more unexpected is the density of connections between individuals serving in ministries in the central government. These individuals are connected by common institutions, among which the Ministry of Foreign Affairs appears as the leading institution. This also highlights another dimension of the profile of the individuals in the BDRC, namely the fact that a large number served in various capacities abroad or in international relations. This is something that only our approach through network analysis can establish. Positions in academic institutions establish the prominence of three insti­ tutions: Beijing University, Qinghua University, and Academia Sinica, followed by Central University and Yanjing University, and Peking Union Medical

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College. We can see here the weight of past education for many individuals who graduated from these schools, except for Central University, established only in 1928. The individuals found in academic positions included a wide range of institutions, but there is no denying that they included a number of more tightly connected individuals, either through their concurrent affiliation with the same institution or through their circulation from one institution to the other. Another interesting cluster groups individuals working in local government, but in contrast to ministry officials, the connecting nodes are individuals, rather than institutions (Zhou Xuexi 周學熙, Cao Kun 曹錕, Qian Dajun 錢大鈞), except for the Ministry of War. It serves as the central node in this cluster which suggests/reflects that many local officials worked for the Ministry of War or held military positions in the course of their career. The remaining clusters are mostly ego-entered clusters, centered on individual figures. 6

Conclusion

The ambition of Howard L. Boorman and his collaborators was to provide a modern version of “Eminent Chinese” in the Republican era to serve as a bedrock for understanding this turbulent period. The BDRC elicited praise for providing a well-documented reference tool and criticism for its choice of the individuals selected in this historical hall of fame. Our study has established that the BDRC population does provide a formidable basis to study the extraordinary transformation of elites in modern China. Even a cursory comparison with Hummel’s “Eminent Chinese” who lived through the late Qing and Republican periods, and the individuals in the BDRC, demonstrates that a giant step was made in the rise of new elites in China. The issue here is not one of completeness, which can only remain an illusory ideal goal, it is the tremendous wealth of information to be found in the BDRC that can be harnessed to examine the characteristics of the Republican elites. Except for some types of individuals—such as, artists, writers, actors—the BDRC presents us mostly with members of a national elite. The overwhelming number of high-level positions in government institutions, including the military, and political parties delineates a group of individuals who played a key role in the fairly volatile political and institutional landscape that emerged from the ashes of the imperial state. Political parties were a novelty that offered new pathways to formal power and informal influence. Military institutions were fully reshaped at all levels (academies, structure, command). The world of education, especially higher learning, underwent a complete overhaul that

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sowed the seeds of major social and sociological changes. Finally, government institutions at the local and central levels followed a turbulent course until the Nationalists took the reins of the country after 1927. At every turn, the transformation of these various institutions offered opportunities to gain entry into positions of responsibility and eventually to break into leading positions, by virtue of the use of force, knowledge, and/or connections. The individuals who seized these opportunities were also the actors of the transformation of the political, military, and government setting. The process worked both ways. The individuals in the BDRC contributed significantly to reshaping the social order and redefining hierarchies in terms of actual and informal power. Our study has established with certainty the existence of strong and overlapping networks among these elites, which probably extended beyond the “small world” of the BDRC. Although career patterns emerged, many if not most of the individuals in the BDRC, did not fit into a single category such as political or military leader. There was a high degree of circulation from one domain of activity to the other in their life course as well as concomitant responsibilities in government, military, educational, political, and social organizations. The factors in the rise of these new elites were multiple, but we can ascertain with a degree of confidence that three elements played a central role: wealth, education, and military training. While we were not able to trace the family background of most, the overrepresentation of natives of coastal provinces, especially Jiangsu and Zhejiang points to the persistent advantage of being born in an affluent area. The high level of education of the vast majority of the BDRC population—higher degrees and education in prominent foreign universities—is exemplary of both the continuing role of knowledge in social and political power, and the undeniable capacity of bouncing back from the abolition of the imperial examinations and tracing new pathways to gaining knowledge. Military power has had a bad press due to the instability and violence that prevailed in Republican China. Yet military training constituted a powerful lift for many to rise from humble origins to positions of power, and to participate not just in military action, but in shaping the institutions, the economy, and society across China. Much remains to be done to understand the process of transformation of elites in modern China. We are still facing some gaping holes on certain aspects—for example, kinship, marriage, careers. Yet we now have a solid methodological basis for further exploration not just of the data in the BDRC, but also in major biographical repositories or through connections to ongoing research projects. Databases and digital methods pave the way toward blending individual trajectories with a high degree of historical knowledge and collective biographies based on sophisticated forms of modeling.

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References Armand, Cécile, Christian Henriot, and Pierre Magistry. “From Textual to Historical Networks: Reconstructing Social Relations in the Biographical Dictionary of Republican China.” Journal of Historical Network Research, no. 5 (2021), 114–153. “Base de Données sur les Élites Suisses au XXe Siècle.” https://www2.unil.ch/elitessu isses/index.php?page=accueil. Accessed November 29, 2020. Bastid, Marianne, and Chien Chang. Educational Reform in Early Twentieth Century China. Ann Arbor: Center for Chinese Studies, University of Michigan, 1985. Bevis, Teresa Brawner. A History of Higher Education Exchange: China and America. New York: Routledge, 2013. “BiographyNet. Extracting Relations between People and Events.” http://www.biogra phynet.nl/. Accessed November 29, 2020. Blouin, Baptiste, Pierre Magistry, and Nora Van den Bosch. “Creating Biographical Networks from Chinese and English Wikipedia.” Journal of Historical Network Research, no. 5 (2021), 303–317. Boorman, Howard L., and Richard C. Howard. Biographical Dictionary of Republican China. New York: Columbia University Press, 1967–1971. Chen, Su, and Wang, Chengzhi. Archival Resources of Republican China in North America. New York: Columbia University Press, 2015. “Chinese Oral History & Papers.” https://library.columbia.edu/libraries/eastasian /chinese/oral_history.html. Accessed November 29, 2020. “Collection: Howard L. Boorman Papers, Special Collections & Archives.” https:// archives.colorado.edu/repositories/2/resources/119. Accessed November 29, 2020. CoreNLP. “CoreNLP.” https://stanfordnlp.github.io/CoreNLP/. Accessed November 29, 2020. Shi, Duqiao 施渡橋, ed., Zhongguo Junshi Tongshi. Qing Dai Houqi Junshi Shi 中國軍事 通史. 清代後期軍事史 [General Military History of China. A Military History of the Late Qing Dynasty], 17, (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1998), 1102–1120. Elman, Benjamin A. A Cultural History of Civil Examinations in Late Imperial China Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008. Hummel, Arthur W. Eminent Chinese of the Ch‘ing Period, 1644–1912, 2 vols. Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1943–44). Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica 中央研究院近代史研究所. “Oral History Series.” Accessed November 29, 2020. http://www.mh.sinica.edu.tw/Historical sources.aspx?lang=enUS&pageNumber=3. Klein, Donald D., and Clarke, Anne B. Biographic Dictionary of Communism, 1921–1965, 2 vols. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Lin, Xiaoqing Diana. Peking University: Chinese Scholarship and Intellectuals, 1898–1937. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005.

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Meng, Chih. “The American Returned Students of China.” Pacific Affairs 4, no. 1 (January 1931): 1. https://doi.org/10.2307/2750435. “Österreichisches Biographisches Lexikon.” https://apis.acdh.oeaw.ac.at/. Accessed November 29, 2020. Pepper, Suzanne. Radicalism and Education Reform in 20th-Century China: The Search for an Ideal Development Model. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Trescott, Paul B. Jingji Xue: History of the Introduction of Western Economic Ideas into China 1850–1950. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 2007. van de Camp, Matje. “A Link to the Past: Constructing Historical Social Networks from Unstructured Data.” Ph.D. Diss. International Institute of Social History, Amsterdam, 2016. van de Camp, Matje, and Antal van den Bosch. “A Link to the Past: Constructing Historical Social Networks.” In Proceedings of the 2nd Workshop on Computational Approaches to Subjectivity and Sentiment Analysis (WASSA 2.011), edited by A. Balahur, E. Boldrini, A. Montoyo, and P. Martinez-Barco, 61–69. Stroudsburg: Association for Computational Linguistics, 2011. Wang, Y. C. (Yi Chu). Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1966.

Chapter 4

Middling Elites: Middle Managers and Bank Professionals at the Shanghai Bank of China on the Eve of the Communist Revolution Brett Sheehan 1

Introduction

Republican Chinese banking elites have already received considerable scholarly attention. I have argued elsewhere that too much of this scholarship focuses on a small number of prominent foreign-trained bankers—“entrepreneurs” and “business celebrities” in the words of this volume’s introduction—and that the actual ranks of bank upper management were broader and more diverse than this literature allows.1 In this chapter, I would like to refocus the lens in a different direction. Rather than broadening our gaze at the top, at the most elite and powerful bankers, I would like to look down, to the middling elites, the large number of middle managers who filled out the hierarchy between the upper elites and the rank-and-file bank employees. This focus on middling 1 Brett Sheehan, “Myth and Reality in Chinese Financial Cliques in 1936,” Enterprise and Society 6.3 (September, 2005): 452–491; and “Urban Identity and Urban Networks in Cosmopolitan Cities: Banks and Bankers in Tianjin, 1900–1937,” in Joseph Esherick, ed., Remaking the Chinese City: Modernity and National Identity, 1900–1950 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2000), 47–64. For examples of works which focus on a narrow vision of the financial elite, see Marie-Claire Bergère, “The Shanghai Bankers’ Association, 1917–1927: Modernization and the Institutionalization of Local Solidarities,” in Frederic Wakeman Jr. and Wen-hsin Yeh, eds., Shanghai Sojourners (Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California at Berkeley, 1992), 15–34; Andrea McElderry, “Confucian Capitalism: Corporate Values in Republican Banking,” Modern China 12, no. 3 (July 1986): 401–416; Yao Huihuan 姚會元, Zhejiang Jinrong Caifa Yanjiu 浙江金融財閥研究 [Research on the Zhejiang Jiangsu Finance Clique] (Beijing: Zhongguo Caizheng Jingji Chubanshe, 1998); Linsun Cheng, Banking in Modern China: Entrepreneurs, Professional Managers, and the Development of Chinese Banks, 1897–1937 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), Parks Coble, The Shanghai Capitalists and the Nationalist Government, 1927–1937 (Cambridge: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1986); Shanghai Wenshi Ziliao 上海文 史資料, Jiu Shanghai de Jinrong Jie 舊上海的金融界 [Finance Circles in Old Shanghai] (Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe, 1988); Xu Mao, Gu Guanlin, and Jiang Tianying 徐矛, 顧關林 和 姜天鷹, Zhongguo Shi Yinhangjia 中國十銀行家 [Ten Chinese Bankers] (Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe, 1997).

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elites allows a new understanding of the “overlapping and moving configurations” of elite status within the professional setting of the modern bank.2 Here, the configurations of elite status derived primarily from professional position, from education (including, but not limited to, skills associated with global modernity such as typing, foreign languages, and telegraphy), from income, and from networks external to the bank which provided the paths by which most middle managers found employment in the first place. The focus on middling elites demonstrates that for all the “modernity” of banks, hierarchies still mattered and upward mobility into the ranks of middle managers depended as much on experience as it did on knowledge gained from Western-influenced education. In addition, although much of this chapter looks at middling elite bankers as a group, the techniques of data-rich integrated analysis allow glimpses of them as individuals as well. These glimpses will show the range of variation and individual experience often elided by aggregated analysis. By using the phrase “middling elites” I do not mean to imply that they were not important. On the contrary, the day-to-day operations of the bank, the enforcement of professional conduct, training of employees, and many other duties fell squarely on their shoulders. They were highly paid and lived a life which mirrored, on a more modest scale, the urban lifestyles of their superiors. Middling elites such as these bank middle managers were far from a new phenomenon in China. The cash shops (qianzhuang 錢莊, yinhao 銀號) and remittance houses (piaohao 票號) of the late 19th and early 20th centuries had their share of assistant managers, head clerks, and department heads.3 In some ways—especially through on-the-job-training—the processes of professionalization of bank middle managers in the Republican period mirrored those of the late Qing. Nonetheless, the massive expansion of the size of banks in the early 20th century enlarged the ranks of middle managers. At the same time, the knowledge and skills associated with global modernity became important as well. A survey of Bank of China employees in Shanghai taken in 1949, gives us an unusual window into the nature of middling professional banker elites. Since the Bank of China was, by far, China’s largest bank, it makes a particularly good 2 Nobert Elias’ notion of “configuration” is discussed in the introduction. 3 On the history and nomenclature for financial institutions in China, see Brett Sheehan and Zhu Yingui, “Financial Institutions and Financial Markets,” in Debin Ma and Richard Van Glahn, eds., The Cambridge Economic History of China, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022), 280–323. On the internal organization of cash shops, see Andrea Lee McElderry, Shanghai Old-Style Banks (Ch’ien-Chuang) 1800–1935 (Ann Arbor: Center for Chinese Studies, the University of Michigan, 1976), 33–42 and Huang Jianhui 黃鑒暉, Shanxi Piaohao Shi 山 西票號史 [History of the Shanxi Remittance Houses] (Taiyuan: Shanxi Jingji Chubanshe, 1992), 54–59.

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choice for studying this subject. This survey reflects the world of the middling elites and broader processes of professionalization at the Bank of China in three ways. First, the structure of the survey itself, the kinds of questions asked, and those not asked, which data was rigorously included and which seemed to be an afterthought, give us a picture of the kinds of information the managers of China’s largest bank thought they needed about their employees. This allows us to construct an “imagined” profile of the characteristics of professional bank employees and the processes of professionalization. Following the lead of Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, this survey can be analyzed to understand the “signs of spatial and occupational division, and their relation to social practices.”4 The survey paints a vision of professionals defined mostly by their jobs, education, skills, and “modern” interests. This bank- and professional-focused identity elided particularistic divisions, such as native place and personal networks, while ignoring housing and the day-to-day struggle of living at a time of great political and economic instability engendered by the civil war and rampant inflation. Second, the survey provides empirical evidence, for example, on the age, family status, educational background, outside interests of the middle managers at the bank. At the same time, it allows comparison with the rank-andfile bank employees. This data and the comparison to non-managers combine to give a new perspective on the processes of professionalization and elite recruitment in Republican China. In his study Xiaoqun Xu notes that, “The lower tier of the professional class would include white-collar workers (about whom little is known).”5 Of course Wen-hsin Yeh has pioneered the study of what she calls the Shanghai lower-middle class, and employees of the Bank of China provide one of her most important cases in outlining the nature and expectations of this class, as well as the crisis faced by it during the Republican period.6 In her work, Yeh portrayed the bankers who were part of the lowermiddle classes as “among the best educated, licensed, or trained career

4 Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, “Axes of Gender: Divisions of Labor and Spatial Separation,” in Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, eds., Gender in Motion: Divisions of Labor and Cultural Change in Late Imperial and Modern China (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005), 1. 5 Xiaoqun Xu, Chinese Professionals and the Republican State: The Rise of Professional Associations in Shanghai, 1912–1937 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 68. 6 Wen-hsin Yeh, Shanghai Splendor: Economic Sentiments and the Making of Modern China, 1843–1949 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007), especially Chapter 4; and “Corporate Space, Communal Time: Everyday Life in Shanghai’s Bank of China,” American Historical Review 100, no. 1 (February 1995): 97–122.

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workers climbing the ladder in large organizations. Visible in daily life as tram passengers, shoppers, moviegoers, newspaper readers, postal customers, restaurant patrons, and so forth, they occupied the middle space that separated the city’s small financial elite from its multitude of migrant laborers from the countryside.”7 Expanding on Yeh’s work, the analysis in this chapter differentiates a cohort of middle managers from the rank-and-file employees. These middle managers were partly the product of new forms of education and their ranks were theoretically open to women, but in reality they were overwhelmingly male, more diversely educated than might be expected, and largely trained and promoted within the bank. In terms of background, they were distinguished from rank-and-file employees mostly by age and years of employment. Yes, some of them had a greater range of skills, such as knowledge of foreign languages, and some were more likely to have had a higher education than the employees they supervised. For the most part, however, middling elite banker status in Shanghai came largely from on-the-job training and selection for promotion. This firm-centered process of elite recruitment was different from that of other professionals, such as the lawyers, doctors, and journalists studied by Xiaoqun Xu. External credentialing, particular skills, and educational background were all important, but status came first and foremost from position within the firm. Thus, unlike lawyers, doctors, and journalists, training of middling banking elites had greater continuity with earlier periods. Third, analysis of the survey can show some of the variability, texture, and power structures of middling elite status. Professionalization is sometimes discussed in terms of attributes such as technical competence and a system of credentialing.8 On the surface, the survey analyzed in this chapter seems to lend itself well to such an approach because the data is mostly that, attributes. Close reading and contextualization, however, can contribute to an approach which sees professionalization as embedded in processes of power relations and difference, what Xiaoqun Xu calls “a process or power-analysis approach.”9 Such an approach shows the impact of gender and circumstance on the process of professionalization, and the extent to which the lived experiences of professionals diverged from the ideals put forth by the Bank of China itself. Whereas Yeh’s study focused on the Bank of China’s vision of a particular kind of modern banker and the stress and alienation felt by many of the rank-andfile, this chapter will expand that view by showing the diversity of both middle 7 Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 82. 8 For an example of this approach, see William Alford, William Kirby, and Kenneth Winston, Prospects for the Professions in China (London: Routledge, 2009). 9 Xiaoqun Xu, Chinese Professionals and the Republican State, 9–10.

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managers and rank-and-file employees, the range of skills and experiences each had in their professional career, the gendered nature of work and skill sets, and, to some extent, how the lived experiences of professionals departed from the visions of the bank’s upper management. 2

The Survey and the Imagined Banker

Unfortunately, I have found no archival or published documents to provide background on this survey which I discovered in the Bank of China archives at the Number Two Historical Archive in Nanjing. Clearly, however, it stemmed from the intersection of two trends in Republican China. First, at that time companies of all kinds became obsessed with scientific and statistical measurement of their employees. The Dongya textile corporation in Tianjin, for example, compiled and published statistics on the height of its workers.10 This kind of statistical reckoning was consistent with the various forms of scientific management which were popular in China, and around the world, in the first half of the 20th century.11 Second, in a related trend, the social survey became popular among all kinds of elites. As noted by Tong Lam, the rise of the social survey was part of “the larger epistemological upheaval in which Chinese intellectuals increasingly used the claims of science and reason to construct new organizing principles for cultural production and political life.”12 Conveniently, this “passion for facts” of the social survey movement complemented nicely the applied psychology side of scientific management. Often critical of Taylorist ideas, “proponents of applied psychology argued that it offered a uniquely rational and scientific means to determine the basic qualifications

10 11

12

Brett Sheehan, Industrial Eden: A Chinese Capitalist Vision (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015), 124. On the various strands of scientific management, see Barbara Weinstein, For Social Peace in Brazil: Industrialists and the Remaking of the Working Class in Sao Paulo, 1920– 1964 (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 4–7. On the introduction and use of scientific management in China, see Sheehan, Industrial Eden, chapter 4; Helen M. Schneider, Keeping the Nation’s House: Domestic Management and the Making of Modern China (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011), 17; Stephen L. Morgan, “Professional Associations and the Diffusion of New Management Ideas in Shanghai, 1920–1930s: A Research Agenda,” Business History Conference 2 (2004): 1–24; and Stephen L. Morgan, “Transfer of Taylorist Ideas to China, 1910–1930s,” Journal of Management History 12, no. 4 (2006): 408–424. Tong Lam, A Passion for Facts: Social Surveys and the Construction of the Chinese NationState, 1900–1949 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), 2.

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and proclivities of job candidates.”13 Thus, employees had to be understood as whole individuals, and not just cogs in a productive machine. As a reflection of both the scientific management and social survey trends of Republican China, the Bank of China survey combines information of both professional and personal attributes of employees. Originally intended for all the employees of the bank, the archival file I consulted had results only for those employees working in Shanghai, either at branches in the city or at the bank headquarters, and for a few other offices in the lower Yangzi region near Shanghai. The limited data could be a lacuna of the archive, or it could have reflected the times as areas closer to the civil war were probably not conducive to this kind of paternalistic intervention. The vast majority of employees surveyed worked in Shanghai, and this discussion will be limited to their data. Bank hierarchies were complex, and the Bank of China was the largest bank in the country making its hierarchy especially so. Nonetheless, a rough schematic can represent hierarchies both at the Bank of China and other banks, though of course there would be some variation. At the very top of bank hierarchies were the founding entrepreneurs, members of the boards of directors and presidents and vice-presidents of banks. A too-narrow subset of this group has served as the subject of most previous research about banking elites. Unfortunately, these upper elites were not included in the Bank of China survey studied here, so they are not considered in this chapter. Below these upper elites lay the middle managers, the middling elites at the heart of this chapter. Below them were the rank-and-file employees. To give an idea of the complexity of bank hierarchies governing middle managers as well as rank-and-file employees, the Bank of China survey included 64 different positions. Fortunately, the survey itself lists these positions in a kind of hierarchical order. That order, as well as an understanding of the working of banks in this period, acted as my guide in coming up with the rough schematic of this hierarchy. Figure 4.1 shows this hierarchy along with the numbers of Bank of China employees surveyed in each group. In all, the survey, though limited to Shanghai, included about 24% of the approximately 5,900 Bank of China employees nationwide in 1949.14 The concentration of employees in Shanghai 13 14

Weinstein, For Social Peace in Brazil, 7. Annual reports for both 1947 and 1948 list a total of 5,864 employees, see, Zhongguo Yinhang Zonghang 中國銀行總行 and Zhongguo Di’er Lishi Dang’anguan 中國第二歷 史檔案館 [Headquarters of the Bank of China and the Number Two Historical Archives], eds., Zhongguo Yinhang Hangshi Ziliao Huibian 中國銀行行史資料彙編, Shang Bian 上編 (1912–1949), San 三 [Historical Materials on the History of the Bank of China, Series One (1912–1949, Vol. 3]. (Nanjing: Dang’an Chuban She, 1991), 2364, 2391.

Middle Managers and Bank Professionals at the Shanghai Bank

Figure 4.1 Bank of China hierarchy and numbers of bankers surveyed

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Figure 4.2 Sample survey sheet

is partly attributable to the location of the bank’s headquarters there. Of the 1,423 bankers included in the survey, 297 were middle managers and 1,126 were rank-and-file employees. In all, the survey included 23 pieces of information about the bankers, though not every field is complete for every banker (see Figure 4.2). A 24th field, political party affiliation, was included but left blank in every case. That was probably for the best since the Communist armies were literally on the verge of taking over China as this survey was compiled. Open membership in the Communist Party would have been dangerous as long as the Nationalists still held Shanghai, and membership in the Nationalist Party would have become dangerous as soon as the Communists took the city. The fields that did include data are summarized in Table 4.1. In looking at the vision of the bank managers who designed and compiled this survey, there was an interest in systematizing professional information such as position, time with the bank, skillsets, and education, and they were interested in disaggregating this data down to the individual since employee identification numbers were included. Consistent with society-wide trends on social surveys and management techniques focused on applied psychology,

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Table 4.1 Fields included in the 1949 Bank of China Employee Survey

Category (English)

Category Category (English) (Chinese)

Gender Year of birth Country of citizenship Marital status Number of dependents Economic status Education

性別 年齡 國籍 婚姻 家屬 經濟 教育

Foreign languages Chinese dialects Skills

外文 方言 技能

Field of education Work experience Health Outside interests Office (location) Position Salary (includes base salary, merit increase, benefits, and allowance) Training Year started at the Bank of China Manner of entry into the bank

Category (Chinese) 學術 辦公經驗 健康狀況 業餘 興趣 行別 職別 本俸, 年功加 俸, 公費, 津貼 訓練 入行日期 入行情形

Source: Archives of the Bank of China, Number Two Historical Archive, Nanjing, 397–10,313

the survey went well beyond professional issues, and included questions about marital status, family size, economic wellbeing, and health. In short, the survey showed the kind of paternalistic intrusiveness which was not uncommon for employers in the period, and, as has been shown by Wen-hsin Yeh, was particularly true of the Bank of China.15 That they had even considered asking about political party affiliation indicated that political identities were not exempt from the paternalistic corporate gaze, but the fact that party affiliations were not actually recorded indicates a certain sensitivity to the vulnerability of their employees, and of the bank itself, to accusations of questionable loyalty. The desire to find out about outside interests also shows the idealistic vision that bank management had of the well-rounded employee. As Wen-hsin Yeh has noted, Bank of China employees who lived in the corporate compounds were expected to engage in outside pursuits for the cultivation of their health and cultural outlook. Employees who lived in bank-sponsored compounds could participate in any number of organized activities including sports, painting, drama, chess, choir, charity, reading, social

15

On corporate paternalism, see Sheehan, Industrial Eden, chapter 5; and Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, chapters 4 and 5 and “Corporate Space, Communal Time.”

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service, hiking, and travel.16 The list of activities included in the survey mirrored these almost exactly: movies, radio, drama, writing, sports, dance, photography, painting, music, horses, travel, swimming, bridge / chess, ice skating, walking, boxing / martial Arts. Thus, there is evidence that the survey was an attempt to gauge the extent to which employees were living the vision of active and dynamic life that bank leaders promoted. The section on health falls into both the categories of paternalist concern for workers and the desire that they live active lives. The survey recorded information on 12 categories of ill health ranging from “defective limbs” and intestinal disease to sexually transmitted disease and malaria. It is also worth considering what the survey left out. First and foremost, there was no question about native place. Virtually every published directory of professional bankers, archival list of bank representative members of bankers’ associations, or bank personnel record I have seen included, at minimum, three pieces of information: name, age, and native place.17 The omission of native place in the Bank of China survey is puzzling, but it suggests a more “bank centered” view where employees’ identities were to be aligned closely with roles and activities centered on and approved by bank leadership. With this kind of vision, the ability to speak Shanghai dialect becomes, perhaps, a business skill rather than a marker of identity. Interestingly, though, Chinese dialects spoken was one of the fields most completely filled out in the survey. Chinese dialect information was missing for only 4% (12 people) of the middle managers and for only 8% (90 people) of the rank-and-file employees. Of course, it would be important to know if employees would be able to communicate with their colleagues and customers, so, on the surface, “Chinese dialects spoken” may have seemed like a business skill, but the thoroughness with which it was completed may indicate that it simultaneously stood as a proxy for native place. Besides omission of native place, there was also no question on housing, which in crowded Shanghai seems odd. The bank offered housing to some employees and it seems like they would have wanted to know who lived in bank compounds and who did not, who lived in crowded, and potentially unhealthy circumstances, and who did not. In fact, the diary of Bian Baimei (卞白眉), a high-level executive at the bank, shows a preoccupation with housing. In February 1947, he remarks on the fact that construction had stopped on the bank’s latest housing project and his worry about employee 16 17

Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 90–91. For an example of a published source, see Zhongyang Yinhang Jingji Yanjiu Chu 中央銀 行經濟研究處 [Research Office of the Central Bank of China] Quanguo Yinhang Renshi Yilan 全國銀行人事一覽 [Chinese Banking Personnel at a Glance] (Shanghai, 1936).

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concerns in this regard.18 As is well known, availability of running water, sewage connections, and adequate floor space per person were all problems faced by Shanghai residents in the Republican period that have not been completely addressed in Shanghai even today. Finally, there was no concern in this survey for household duties. As will be discussed below, most bank employees were men and perhaps it was assumed that housework was done by their wives or servants. 3

Bank of China Middling Elites and Processes of Professionalization

The Bank of China survey potentially included 23 varied pieces of information about 1,423 employees living in Shanghai in 1949. Although many of the fields are incomplete for many employees, there are still thousands of pieces of data. As with many of the social surveys discussed by Tong Lam during the Republican period, this one too had the potential to produce a “Babel of facts.”19 Careful analysis, however, can show some patterns within this babel of facts which can tell us a lot about middling banking elites. If you were a middle manager of the Bank of China in Shanghai in 1949, you were on average 40.6 years old, male (99.7%), married (96%), had an average of 4.5 family members, had worked for the bank for an average of 24 years, had graduated from high school or higher (81%–29.6% college graduates), spoke only Shanghai dialect (53.9%), Shanghai dialect and one or more other dialects (25.2%) or only Mandarin (13.8%), and had a 43.5% chance of speaking a foreign language, most commonly English or English and another language (42.8%). You earned an average of 373.61 yuan per month, though that did not include inflation adjustment.20 By the late 1940s, hyperinflation had led businesses to multiply base salaries by an inflation multiplier which meant actual earnings could be tens or hundreds of thousands of times higher. For purposes here, however, unadjusted total compensation is a good measure of hierarchical difference and the ability, in normal times, to consume and enjoy pursuits and activities that might mark you as higher status. Averages, of course, do not tell the whole story. Take, for example, the two oldest middle managers in the survey who held similar positions. One man was 18 19 20

Bian Baimei 卞白眉, Bian Baime Riji, Di San Juan 卞白眉日記, 第三卷 [Diary of Bian Baimei, Vol. 3] (Tianjin: Tianjin Guji Chubanshe, 2008), 1947–02–11, 66. Lam, A Passion for Facts, 16. Here, I use “base salary” to include three categories of remuneration included in the survey.

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65 years old, had been working at the bank for 35 years, had four dependents, spoke only Mandarin, had not attended a modern school, but was skilled at calligraphy, and earned 640 yuan per month, almost twice the average. The other was 66, had been working for the bank for only three years, had graduated from college with a degree in logistics, and spoke English. His salary was not specified, and it is hard to know why a 66-year-old man would have just started at the bank three years earlier. Perhaps his career had been disrupted by the war, and he was starting over. In any case, the divergence of these two mens’ career paths was clear even though they ended up in similar jobs in the same city at the same time. By comparison, the two youngest middle managers in the survey had similar career paths. Both were 37 years old, male, married, spoke English, held similar positions toward the bottom of the middle manager hierarchy, and earned the same salary, only 110 yuan per month. One, however, was a college graduate with a degree in finance and the other only a high school graduate with some post-secondary education and the ability to type in English. The example of these two employees hints at the fact that a college degree did not necessarily lead to a different status as entry-level middle managers at the bank. Between these two extremes of age and youth, there was also a great deal of variation. A 49-year-old man with nine dependents spoke English, Fuzhou dialect, and Mandarin. A college graduate, his law degree made him one of the highest paid of the middle managers, thus he listed his economic status as “relatively well off,” in spite of the large size of his family. A 43-three-year-old department head had joined the bank only in 1946 after the war, held a college degree in applied science, spoke Shanghai dialect, English, German, and Hindi, and had an interest in travel. A total of 30 middle managers were either 40 or 41 years old at the time the survey was taken. The age of these 30 people puts them right at the average of the group as a whole, but even here there is considerable variation. One 40-year-old had eight dependents, was a high school graduate, spoke Mandarin, was skilled at calligraphy, and earned 180 yuan per month. Another from the same age cohort, was also a high school graduate, spoke Mandarin and Shanghai dialect, had seven dependents, was skilled at calligraphy and earned 240 yuan per month. The two were the same age, had achieved the same level of education, both had skills with calligraphy, but one earned 33.33% more than the other, in spite of the fact that both had large households to support. Elite status, of any kind, is by nature comparative, so it is illuminating to see how these middle managers differed or were the same as the rank-andfile employees they supervised. If you were a rank-and-file employee of the Bank of China in Shanghai in 1949, you were 32 years old, male (93% chance),

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married (96.4% chance), had 4.4 family members, had worked for the bank for about 13 years, had graduated from high school or higher (75%–11% college graduates), spoke only Shanghai dialect (61%) Shanghai dialect and one or more other dialects (12.4%) or only Mandarin (25%), had a 19% chance of speaking a foreign language, and earned an average of 93.06 yuan per month before inflation adjustment. If this description sounds eerily close to that of the middle managers, it is. Middle managers were slightly older than the rank-and-file employees in 1949, but, on average, members of the two groups started working for the bank at about the age of 25. The biggest difference is in the number of years working for the bank. Middle managers were longer-term employees while there was apparently considerable turnover among rank-and-file employees. Similarities were also the rule for personal qualities such as gender, educational background, and linguistic skills, as shown in Figure 4.3. Bankers of all ranks were overwhelmingly male, high school graduates, and speakers of Shanghai dialect. While it is true that middle managers were college graduates at twice the rate of the rank-and-file, most middle managers were not college graduates. Middle managers were almost twice as likely to speak a foreign language as rank-and-file employees, and it is possible that facility in foreign languages was a prerequisite for many management jobs. The foreign language they most often spoke was English. The predominance of Shanghai dialect is salient in both groups. While some Shanghai dialect speakers also spoke Mandarin or another dialect, it is clear that the bank recruited primarily locally, and the eight years of exile of the head office to Chongqing during World War II did not significantly alter the dominance of Shanghai dialect. The biggest difference between middle managers and rank-and-file employees was income. On average, middle managers’ 373.61 yuan/month was roughly four times the 93.06 yuan/month earnings of rank-and-file employees. Of course, even rank-and-file employees were better off than the workers and laborers who populated Shanghai’s lower classes. As noted by Xiaoqun Xu for the prewar period, “If a Shanghai worker’s family could survive, however miserably, on a wage of 35 yuan a month or lower, an income of 70 to 300 yuan for a professional’s family would make significant difference in quality of life.”21 Nonetheless, the disparities in income between Bank of China middle managers and rank-and-file employees were still significant. The income of both placed them in the middle class, but that of the middle managers made them middling elites. 21

Xiaoqun Xu, Chinese Professionals and the Republican State, 63–64.

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Percent of Bankers Who... 100.0% 90.0% 80.0% 70.0% 60.0% 50.0% 40.0% 30.0% 20.0% 10.0% 0.0%

Middle Managers Rank-and-File Emloyees

Figure 4.3 Personal and educational background of middle managers and rank-and-file employees

Since disparities in income were so great, income makes a good proxy for hierarchy as a whole. I ran a number of regressions to look for a correlation between income and other variables. I found that in the sample as a whole (including both middle managers and rank-and-file employees), level of education had the highest correlation with the income of any single variable. A simple regression suggests that education could explain about 45% of the variation in income. Interestingly, education was not highly correlated with income within the two groups. Within the group of middle managers, education level could only explain about 2% of variation in income. Within the rankand-file employees, it was less than 1%. Instead, within the two groups, age had the best correlation with income. Age could explain about 35% of variation in income among middle managers and about 40% within the rank-and-file group. Thus, though education was important, age, experience, and time with the bank were also salient factors in determining income. The mixed results in regard to education complicate our understanding of the processes of professionalization in Republican China. Several studies have linked professionalization in late imperial and Republican China with specialization in certain kinds of knowledge obtained through new forms of education. Huei-Min Sun, for example, has shown how early foundations of the legal profession depended in part on “the formation of the discipline of law in the

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8.00% 7.00% 6.00% 5.00% 4.00% 3.00% 2.00% 1.00% 0.00%

Middle Managers

Rank and File

Figure 4.4 Field of study of middle managers and rank-and-file employees with college degrees

higher education system.”22 In addition to emphasizing education, Xiaoqun Xu goes so far as to argue that professionalization was a completely modern phenomenon. Looking at lawyers, doctors, and journalists during the Republican period. He states that, “The emergence of professionals as a social type was predicated upon modern education, modern economy and technology, modern mass media, new concepts of the intellectual’s role in society, new patterns of career development, and Western influence in general.”23 While there is no doubt that the middle managers who worked for the Bank of China had mostly gone to so-called “modern” schools, most did not have specific professional training in banking. In fact, as seen in Figure 4.3, the vast majority of Bank of China middle managers did not attend college at all. As a result, only a small number of middle managers had educational training specific to banking or business as shown in Figure 4.4. In all, about 23% of middle managers had received some higher education in fields specific to economics, Money and Banking, Accounting, or other business topics (6.06% + 5.39% + 7.07% + 4.71% = 23.23%). Another 7.76 % studied unrelated topics such as science, architecture, sociology, or the humanities. Areas in the humanities such as literature, art, and history were the most likely field of study outside of business. Similarly, though, in slightly reduced percentages, only 14.78% of rank-and-file employees had received some higher 22 23

Huei-Min Sun, “From Literati to Legal Professionals,” in Robert Culp, Eddy U, and Wen-hsin Yeh, eds., Knowledge Acts in Modern China: Ideas, Institutions, and Identities (Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, 2016), 89–113 (112). Xiaoqun Xu, Chinese Professionals and the Republican State, 4.

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education in business-related fields, while another 4.81% had received higher education in fields unrelated to business. It is also interesting to note that higher education in other areas of business was actually more prevalent among the rank and file than the middle managers. Clearly there was no one-to-one relationship between particular fields of study and elite status. In sum, although education was an important component in both the professionalization of bankers and in the recruitment of middling elite bankers, it was not definitive for either. Education alone did not fully explain which professional bankers could rise to the level of middle manager, nor could it explain differences in earnings among middle managers. Specific fields related to the profession were important for about a quarter of middle managers, but not for most. On-the-job training, age, time with the bank, and seniority were clearly also important components. On-the-job training stands out because it had been important for advancement in financial institutions in China for at least a century, if not longer. Xiaoqun Xu’s emphasis on the modernity of professionalization is perhaps overstated in the case of banking professionals and middle manager elites. Some middle managers did have specific skill sets, though they are not neatly summed up by the phrases “modern education” or “field of study.” Some of these skills were new in the Republican period. For example, 16.5% (49 individuals) of middle managers could type in English, the single most common skill associated with Bank of China middling elites. Also, 3% (nine individuals) could operate telegraph equipment or send and receive telegrams. Not all skills had such a “modern” ring to them, however. Another 5.4% (16) people were good at calligraphy, a skill which would have been valued in earlier periods as well. It is interesting to note that the vast majority of middle managers (74.4%) had no special skills listed at all, and this was true for 79.8% of the rank and file as well. Clearly, some specific skills such as typing, telegraphing, and calligraphy were important to some of these banking professionals, but only to a few. The 1949 Bank of China survey included another piece of information which gives us a glimpse at the reality behind the veneer of professional life in Republican-period banking: manner of entry into the bank. Roughly half of the bankers in the survey (136 middle managers and 513 rank-and-file employees) included information on the manner in which they obtained their jobs at the bank. Although the survey allowed for three means of entry—by introduction, by passing a test, and by school recommendation—in reality there was only one. For those on whom we have information, 96.3% of middle managers and 92.6% of rank-and-file employees found their jobs through introductions. The remaining 3.7% of middle managers and 7.4% of rank-and-file employees

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found jobs by school recommendation, but all of the latter had entered the bank fairly recently, in the 1940s. For most, introduction of a friend or relative was the key means of securing one of these “golden rice bowl” jobs that were so much in demand.24 For all of the ways in which the “science” of this survey fit within a bank-centered vision of the qualities of a modern and professional banker, most employees still found their jobs through “old-fashioned” particularistic networks. This, too, leads to the reconsideration of continuities in professionalization between the Republican period and earlier times. While it is true that banking in Republican-period China was an over­ whelmingly male profession, there was a small and growing presence of women bankers. In China, as in much of the rest of the world, women in the professional workforce were somehow suspect. Bryna Goodman has noted that, “To be fully modern, women had to be employed. To convey personhood, such employment should reflect a meaningful vocation.”25 It is hard to know how or if banking could have been considered “meaningful,” but women were joining the Bank of China workforce in larger numbers by the 1940s. There was only one woman middle manager, however, so it is hard to generalize other than to say that middling Bank of China elites were almost exclusively male. She was 49 years old, had worked for the bank since 1931, listed five family members, had a college degree in statistics, had no other specific skills listed, and spoke English, Mandarin, Shanghai dialect, and Cantonese. Her salary placed her in the mid-range of middle managers, and she listed her economic situation as “relatively well off.” While accomplished, on the surface these characteristics do little to distinguish her from many of her male colleagues. We can imagine, however, that she would not have achieved middle manager status without her specialized knowledge of, and degree in, statistics. Although many men made it into management ranks based on experience alone, it is unlikely to be a coincidence that the only woman exemplified was more highly educated than average, and had relevant technical knowledge most of her colleagues did not possess. In contrast to her situation, there were 72 women among the 1,127 rank-andfile bankers and their data can tell us much about gender and processes of professionalization in Republican China. As shown in Figures 4.5a, b, although these women, like their male colleagues, went to work aged around 25, they 24 25

Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 93. Bryna Goodman, “The Vocational Woman and the Elusiveness of ‘Personhood’ in Early Republican China,” in Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, eds., Gender in Motion: Divisions of Labor and Cultural Change in Late Imperial and Modern China (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005), 265–286 (265).

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45 40 35 30 25 20 15 10 5 0

Average Age

Average Number of Years Working for Bank

Middle Managers

Figure 4.5a

Average Age Started Working for Bank

Rank-and-File Emloyees

Average Number of Family Members Women

Women employee personal information compared with male middle managers and rank-and-file employees

Percent of Bankers Who... 90.0% 80.0% 70.0% 60.0% 50.0% 40.0% 30.0% 20.0% 10.0% 0.0%

Spoke Shanghai Dialect

Spoke Mandarin

Middle Managers

Figure 4.5b

Spoke a Foreign Language

Spoke English

Graduated from High School

Rank-and-File Emloyees

Graduated from College

Women

Education and skills of women employees compared with male middle managers and rank-and-file employees

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were generally younger, had started working for the bank in 1940 or later, were more highly educated (83% had at least graduated from high school or had gone on to tertiary education), and less likely to be married (more than half were unmarried) than their male counterparts.26 A slightly larger percentage of them spoke Mandarin rather than Shanghai dialect, and this might hint at a different pattern of recruitment. It is possible that disruption and travel during the war brought opportunities to women who were not necessarily native to Shanghai. In many respects, womens’ attributes looked more like middle managers than the rank-and-file group as a whole. Their young age and recent entry into the bank did set them apart, and may have excluded them from middling elite status. Careful study of the survey results shows, however, that specific gendered jobs and skills set them apart from both middle managers and their male rank-and-file colleagues. Of the 72 women bankers in the rank and file, the vast majority worked in four departments, the international department (25 individuals), the savings department (18 individuals), the trust department (eight individuals), and the secretariat (five individuals). In all, these four departments employed 77.8% of the women working at the Bank of China in Shanghai in 1949. Women had long been confronted with ideas about separate physical and social realms of women and men—often thought of in terms of inner and outer realms.27 Along these lines, there is scattered evidence that banking services were sometimes segregated by gender. During a 1927 bank run in Tianjin, special hours had been set aside for women to come to the bank to exchange their paper money for silver.28 In addition, Shanghai had a Women’s Bank which was run by Zhang Youyi, the sister of the elite banker Zhang Jia’ao.29 More research remains to be done on this topic, but it is possible that some banks tried to structure their services in ways which could appeal to notions of separate realms for women customers. The segregation of women into a limited number

26 27 28 29

On women’s education in China during the Republican period, see Paul J. Bailey, Gender and Education in China: Gender Discourses and Women’s Schooling in the Early Twentieth Century (New York: Routledge, 2007). On the inner (內 nei) and outer (外 wai) divisions, see Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, “Axes of Gender,” 4–5. Brett Sheehan, Trust in Troubled Times: Money, Banks, and State-Society Relations in Republican Tianjin (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), 115. Pang-Mei Natasha Chang, Bound Feet and Western Dress: A Memoir (New York: Anchor Books, 1997), 179–182.

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of departments as employees shows that somewhat separate realms existed for women employees as well. On the surface, it is difficult to tell why women bankers were segregated into these departments. Looking at “skills,” however suggests the nature of women’s work at the bank. Although not noted as proficient in foreign languages, 11 of the 25 women in the international department could type in English. In fact, 35% of the women rank-and-file employees at the Bank of China could type in English, compared with only 8% of their male colleagues. Likewise, another 8% of women could type in Chinese compared with 1.7% of men. Women dominated skills in typing, stenography, and using statistics machines, while men, and men only, were listed with skills in the use of telegraph equipment or sending and receiving telegrams. A small difference in recruitment patterns is also visible in the manner women bankers entered into the bank. Although, like their male counterparts, most relied on introductions to gain employment, they were more likely to have been recommended by their schools. For those on whom we have information, 10.7% of rank-and-file women entered the bank through school introduction, compared with only 7.4% of men. Interestingly, the women who came through school introductions were not women with specific skills, such as typing or stenography. Thus, women’s entry into the professional ranks of Bank of China bankers were more likely than men to have specific skills or more likely than men to have been recruited outside of the standard channel of personal introduction. Added to the fact that women were more highly educated than men, and we begin to see suggestions of patterns of professionalization for women which were more dependent on having specific, and gendered, skills or on education than their male colleagues. The rank-and-file women in the sample made less money than the average of the entire cohort of bankers, but this is explained almost entirely by their recent entry into the bank. Compared to rank-and-file bankers who started in 1940 or later, women earned slightly less, but the difference was not great as shown in Figure 4.6. Their relatively low income did not adversely impact the economic status of women. According to the survey, as seen in Figure 4.7, their economic status was better than that of the average rank-and-file employee, though not as good as that of the middle managers. Since most were relatively young and many were unmarried, it is possible that their economic status reflects the fact that they still lived with their families. In sum, most women who worked for the bank were young and many single. They had higher educations than their male peers, often had gender-specific

Middle Managers and Bank Professionals at the Shanghai Bank

¥100.00 ¥90.00 ¥80.00 ¥70.00 ¥60.00 ¥50.00 ¥40.00 ¥30.00 ¥20.00 ¥10.00 ¥-

Rank-and-File Average

Rank-and-File Women

103

Men who Started in 1940 or later

Figure 4.6 Monthly compensation of bankers by gender and year started work

80.0% 70.0% 60.0% 50.0% 40.0% 30.0% 20.0% 10.0% 0.0%

Only Enough to Get By

Normal

Middle Managers

Rela�vely Well Off Rank-and-File

Well to Do

Women

Figure 4.7 Economic status of male middle managers and rank-and-file employees compared with women employees

skills, and were more likely than men to have come to the bank through school recommendation rather than introduction through personal networks. As a result, they were often more professionalized than their male counterparts, though that professionalization had yet to result in promotion to middle manager status in any numbers. Instead, their specific skillsets in typing and stenography relegated them to specific departments rather than to a general professional track.

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Private Lives of Professional Bankers and Elite Visions of Bank Professionals

The data from the survey provide glimpses into the private lives of Bank of China middle managers and rank-and-file employees. Personal information, however, is blank much more often than the professional data discussed so far. On the one hand, these very small data sets need to be treated with care, and generalizations are tentative. On the other hand, the lack of thoroughness with which personal information was compiled likely represents a disconnect between the paternalistic vision of the survey and reality. The idea that the Bank of China set standards for its employees’ personal lives was ingrained in the vision of upper managers, as shown convincingly by Wen-hsin Yeh. In reality, however, it is possible that this paternalistic vision was not thoroughly carried out in practice. Perhaps employees balked at providing such detail. Perhaps the managers who oversaw the survey simply did not care enough about personal information to follow up. Or perhaps, the exigencies of the civil war period made the compilation of such information less pressing. Three pieces of personal information were almost universally included for all middle managers and rank-and-file employees, however: age, marital status, and number of dependents. All of these were discussed briefly above, but a closer look at family size can tell us much. As noted above, average family size was 4.5 family members, but larger families were more common than smaller families. Figures 4.8a, b show the distribution of family size per middle manager compared to the distribution for rank-and-file employees. More than 90 of the middle managers had seven, eight, or nine family members (just over 30 in each category). Less than ten middle managers had only one family member in addition to themselves. Since almost all were married, families which included only a spouse were rare. A similar pattern held true for rank-and-file employees who had the same number of average family members, and a similar distribution, though somewhat lesser representation at the larger family sizes. Interestingly, family size had no correlation with either age or income for either group. The lack of correlation with age indicates that these large families likely included multiple generations in spite of the fact that housing in bank compounds did not normally include rooms for in-laws.30 Even if the ideal of bank managers was the nuclear family as reflected in company housing design, in fact most Shanghai employees had more complicated home conditions. The lack of correlation with income indicates that family size was more of a personal than 30

Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 89.

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Figure 4.8b

Distribution of rank-and-file employees by family size

an economic choice. It is likely, however, that bank employees worried about the burdens of supporting their families as much as other Shanghai petty urbanites.31 In fact, Bian Baimei’s diary notes concerns about pay and benefits for bank employees, and the unhappiness of the latter, at least five times in 31

Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 130.

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1947 and 1948.32 The lack of correlation between status and family size reminds us that it is “impossible to abstract ‘women’s’ or ‘men’s’ calculations from family units and family strategies.”33 The study of professional elites and professionalization need to include such family strategies, though they are often hidden in the historical record. At the very least, the information on family size in the Bank of China survey shows that the modern, nuclear family imagined by bank leaders and other intellectuals in society did not reflect the reality of everyday lived experience.34 Moving on to the health and outside interests of professional bankers, we are treading on less solid empirical ground because of the small number of bankers with completed data. Nonetheless, a few tantalizing details suggest the complexity of their personal lives. Figure 4.9 shows data on ill health showing 109 middle managers, 219 rankand-file men, and 34 rank-and-file women with health conditions (some employees had more than one condition). Since there were almost four times as many rank-and-file employees as middle managers, the relatively small number of the latter with health conditions is a mystery. Perhaps middle managers were more likely to live in bank compounds and use bank doctors so their medical history was better known, perhaps they felt a greater responsibility to be responsive in the survey, perhaps they had more health problems on average because they were older, or perhaps, the bank was more concerned with the health of these middling elites than its rank-and-file employees. In contrast to their male colleagues, more than half (34 out of 73) of the women had reported health conditions, though it is hard to know if this reflects their health or their greater likelihood to report. In spite of the disparity in numbers among groups, distribution of conditions was very similar. The most common conditions were limb defects, circulation problems, and nervous system disease, followed by sexually transmitted disease, skin disease, and eye disease. Eye problems seemed to be most prevalent among rank-and-file employees, perhaps because of the “mind-numbingly repetitive” and detailed work many of them did.35 The survey included information on outside interests for only 78 middle managers (all male—there was no information for the one female middle manager), 133 male rank-and-file employees, and 27 female rank-and-file employees as shown in Figure 4.10. This data is clearly incomplete; the remaining 32 33 34 35

Bian Baimei, March 4, 1947, September 9, 1947, September 20, 1947, November 24, 1947, and August 30, 1948, 68, 88, 89, 96, and 132. Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, “Axes of Gender,” 16. On the debates around the nuclear family, see Susan Glosser, Chinese Visions of Family and State, 1915–1953 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003). Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 92–93.

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70 60 50 40 30 20 10 0

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Figure 4.9 Reported health concerns of middle managers, male rank-and-file employees and women employees

50.0% 45.0% 40.0% 35.0% 30.0% 25.0% 20.0% 15.0% 10.0% 5.0% 0.0%

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Figure 4.10

Male Rank and File

Female Rank and File

Distribution of outside interests among those who reported outside interests: middle managers, male rank-and-file employees, and women employees compared

thousand or so employees must have had outside interests of their own, though perhaps those interests did not fit neatly in the vision of modern and dynamic professionalism encapsulated in the survey. Nonetheless, this data is suggestive of certain patterns for the activities which did fit within that vision. Many had outside interests, such as music, stage performance, travel, movies,

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sports, and swimming. Slightly smaller numbers played bridge or chess, practiced calligraphy, or were interested in radio and writing. As noted above, these activities were part of the approved vision of the dynamic and forward-looking bank employee, and at least some of both the middle manager and rank-andfile groups participated. The middle managers (all male) had similar levels of interest to those of the male rank-and-file in most areas. The biggest contrast was not between middle managers and rank-and-file employees, but between men and women. More women than men preferred music, drama, movies, and swimming, while fewer liked sports, bridge, chess, or martial arts. As with professional skills, outside interests of women bankers were highly gendered. This glimpse into the lives of middle managers and rank-and-file bankers shows that both were likely to live in large, multi-generational families regardless of income. The structure of the survey and earlier work by Wen-hsin Yeh on paternalistic bank management both point to the ideal that Bank of China managers were interested in every detail of their employees’ lives. The lack of data on health and outside interests, however, points to the fact that these may not have been priorities in reality. Combined with the lack of questions about housing and housework in the survey itself, it appears that the bank was not following through on monitoring the lives of its employees in accordance with its own paternalistic vision. The clearest conclusion that can be made is that outside interests, like work at the bank itself, were highly gendered. This gendered nature shows one way in which professionalization was part and parcel of gender and power relations in the larger society. 5

Conclusion

In 1994, I interviewed an elderly man who had spent his youth as an apprentice at a cash shop in the 1920s. He joined the cash shop as a 14-year-old adolescent through the intercession of a relative. He had no specialized education prior to beginning his financial career. During his apprenticeship, he lived on site, spreading out a mat behind one of the counters to sleep at night. During the day, he worked at tasks he was given and, in the evenings, practiced such important skills as calligraphy or using an abacus. Professionalization at the Bank of China in Shanghai in 1949, as shown in this survey, differed in significant aspects. Most employees completed high school and many had higher education before joining the bank. Rather than beginning in their teens, they started working for the bank in their mid-20s. Skills now included foreign languages, typing, and use of telegraph equipment. Women now worked in

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financial institutions, though in limited numbers and mostly at gendered tasks. At the same time, many aspects had considerable continuity. Calligraphy, for example, was still a prized skill more than two decades later. In addition, most Bank of China employees entered the bank by capitalizing on personal networks, as had the man I interviewed. Most importantly, although the Bank of China’s professionals had at least a high school education before joining the bank, and a quarter had gone to college, they had diverse backgrounds, and for most their education was generalist. For most, specialized training came on the job. Although higher education had become one factor in promotion to middling elite status, most middle managers were promoted based on performance and skills learned at the bank, not on outside certification. For both, the cash shop apprentice in the 1920s and the Bank of China employees in 1949, a specific job at a specific firm was the route to both professionalization, and for a few, status as middling elites. In fact, the former cash shop apprentice I interviewed went on to work at a bank as an adult showing a kind of seamless transition that belies notions of professionalization as new and different. The survey at the heart of this chapter was structured around bank management visions of a bank-centered identity, where employees were defined by professional skills rather than native place, spent their free time on healthy and modern pursuits, and whose housing was not a subject of interest. In fact, most lived in large and likely multi-generational families, most found their jobs through particularistic networks, most were likely Shanghai natives, as shown by their facility with the Shanghai dialect, and many had jobs and interests in line with gendered expectations. The survey failed to follow through on questions of health and outside interests, showing that the paternalistic reach of the bank had its limits in reality. The key questions of housing and housework were simply excluded, leaving us and the bank’s upper management in the dark on these most important issues in spite of the substantial resources the bank invested in providing housing for at least some of its employees. As Wen-hsin Yeh notes, “banking as a profession enjoyed high prestige in the 1920s. Bank workers were among the highest paid and most securely employed in Shanghai middleclass society.”36 The Bank of China’s middle managers were thus fortunate in many ways. The pressures to adopt the lifestyles of urban Shanghai must have been great, however, since only about a third of them considered themselves “relatively well off” or “well to do.” As middling elites, they stood between the more prosperous elite bankers, about whom much has been written, and the rank-and-file employees about whom we know less. They stood between professional processes based on specialized education 36

Yeh, Shanghai Splendor, 81.

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and on-the-job training. Finally, they stood between bank visions of a modern, professional banker and the lived reality of diverse backgrounds, extended families, personal networks, and gendered expectations. These middling elites serve as an important reminder that elite status and professionalization were not neat and clean categories, but dynamic processes dependent on, and embedded in, larger processes of power and difference. References Alford, William, William Kirby, and Kenneth Winston. Prospects for the Professions in China. London: Routledge, 2009. Bailey, Paul J. Gender and Education in China: Gender Discourses and Women’s Schooling in the Early Twentieth Century. New York: Routledge, 2007. Bergère, Marie-Claire. “The Shanghai Bankers’ Association, 1917–1927: Modernization and the Institutionalization of Local Solidarities.” In Frederic Wakeman Jr. and Wen-hsin Yeh, eds., Shanghai Sojourners. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California at Berkeley, 1992, 15–34. Bian Baimei 卞白眉. Bian Baimei Riji, Di San Juan 卞白眉日記, 第三卷 [Diary of Bian Baimei, Vol. 3]. Tianjin: Tianjin Guji Chubanshe, 2008. Chang, Pang-Mei Natasha. Bound Feet and Western Dress: A Memoir. New York: Anchor Books, 1997. Cheng, Linsun. Banking in Modern China: Entrepreneurs, Professional Managers, and the Development of Chinese Banks, 1897–1937. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Coble, Parks. The Shanghai Capitalists and the Nationalist Government, 1927–1937. Cambridge, MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1986. Glosser, Susan. Chinese Visions of Family and State, 1915–1953. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003. Goodman, Bryna and Wendy Larson, “Introduction: Axes of Gender.” In Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, eds., Gender in Motion: Divisions of Labor and Cultural Change in Late Imperial and Modern China. New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005, 1–28. Goodman, Bryna. “The Vocational Woman and the Elusiveness of ‘Personhood’ in Early Republican China.” In Bryna Goodman and Wendy Larson, eds., Gender in Motion: Divisions of Labor and Cultural Change in Late Imperial and Modern China. New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005, 265–286. Huang Jianhui 黃鑒暉, Shanxi Piaohao Shi 山西票號史 [History of the Shanxi Remittance Houses]. Taiyuan: Shanxi Jingji Chubanshe, 1992.

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Lam, Tong. A Passion for Facts: Social Surveys and the Construction of the Chinese Nation-State, 1900–1949. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011. McElderry, Andrea Lee. Shanghai Old-Style Banks (Ch’ien-Chuang) 1800–1935. Ann Arbor: Center for Chinese Studies, the University of Michigan, 1976. McElderry, Andrea Lee. “Confucian Capitalism: Corporate Values in Republican Banking.” Modern China 12, no. 3 (July 1986): 401–416. Morgan, Stephen L. “Professional Associations and the Diffusion of New Management Ideas in Shanghai, 1920–1930s: A Research Agenda.” Business History Conference 2 (2004): 1–24. Morgan, Stephen L. “Transfer of Taylorist Ideas to China, 1910–1930s.” Journal of Management History 12, no. 4 (2006): 408–424. Schneider, Helen M. Keeping the Nation’s House: Domestic Management and the Making of Modern China. Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press, 2011. Shanghai Wenshi Ziliao 上海文史資料, Jiu Shanghai de Jinrong Jie 舊上海的金融界 [Finance Circles in Old Shanghai]. Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe, 1988. Sheehan, Brett and Zhu Yingui. “Financial Institutions and Financial Markets.” In Debin Ma and Richard Van Glahn, eds., The Cambridge Economic History of China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022, 280–323. Sheehan, Brett. “Urban Identity and Urban Networks in Cosmopolitan Cities: Banks and Bankers in Tianjin, 1900–1937.” In Joseph Esherick, ed., Remaking the Chinese City: Modernity and National Identity, 1900–1950. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2000, 47–64. Sheehan, Brett. Trust in Troubled Times: Money, Banks, and State-Society Relations in Republican Tianjin. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003. Sheehan, Brett. “Myth and Reality in Chinese Financial Cliques in 1936.” Enterprise and Society 6, no. 3 (September 2005): 452–491. Sheehan, Brett. Industrial Eden: A Chinese Capitalist Vision. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015. Sun, Huei-Min. “From Literati to Legal Professionals.” In Robert Culp, Eddy U, and Wen-hsin Yeh, eds. Knowledge Acts in Modern China: Ideas, Institutions, and Identities. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, 2016, 89–113. Weinstein, Barbara. For Social Peace in Brazil: Industrialists and the Remaking of the Working Class in Sao Paulo, 1920–1964. Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1996. Xu Mao, Gu Guanlin, and Jiang Tianying 徐矛, 顧關林 和 姜天鷹. Zhongguo Shi Yinhangjia 中國十銀行家 [Ten Chinese Bankers]. Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe, 1997. Xu Xiaoqun. Chinese Professionals and the Republican State: The Rise of Professional Associations in Shanghai, 1912–1937. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

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Yao Huihuan 姚會元. Zhejiang Jinrong Caifa Yanjiu 浙江金融財閥研究 [Research on the Zhejiang Jiangsu Finance Clique]. Beijing: Zhongguo Caizheng Jingji Chuban­ she, 1998. Yeh, Wen-hsin. “Corporate Space, Communal Time: Everyday Life in Shanghai’s Bank of China.” American Historical Review 100, no. 1 (February 1995): 97–122. Yeh, Wen-hsin. Shanghai Splendor: Economic Sentiments and the Making of Modern China, 1843–1949. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007. Zhongguo Yinhang Zonghang 中國銀行總行 and Zhongguo Di’er Lishi Dang’anguan 中國第二歷史檔案館 [Headquarters of the Bank of China and the Number Two Historical Archives]. Eds. Zhongguo Yinhang Hangshi Ziliao Huibian 中國銀行行史 資料彙編, Shang Bian 上編 (1912–1949), San 三 [Historical Materials on the History of the Bank of China, Series One (1912–1949), Vol. 3]. Nanjing: Dang’an Chuban She, 1991. Zhongyang Yinhang Jingji Yanjiu Chu 中央銀行經濟研究處 [Research Office of the Central Bank of China]. Quanguo Yinhang Renshi Yilan 全國銀行人事一覽 [Chinese Banking Personnel at a Glance]. Shanghai, 1936.

Chapter 5

Structures of Empowerment: A Network Exploration of Women Activists’ Collective Biographies in 20th-Century China Henrike Rudolph 1

Introduction*

The waning of the old political and social order in late 19th-century China opened new spaces for women’s participation in public life. Even though the political arena remained dominated by men and women’s areas of activism were often limited to “women’s questions” ( funü wenti) such as social welfare and girl’s education, many women stepped onto the political stage. Some became so visible in their activism that they are revered posthumously as heroines of the Chinese revolutionary struggle. Others have been largely forgotten in Chinese historiography, and even though they might have been influential leaders in their day, their traces faded in public memory. This chapter studies biographical sketches of 37 female activists of the Republican period to understand why and how certain women have been chosen as moral examples and how their biographies relate to the official narration of revolution and Socialist construction that emerged in the 1980s. It investigates the possibilities and limits of using the methodology adopted from the field of historical network research (HNR) to uncover ties between elite biographies and official historiography and explores narrative commonalities between biographical sketches. In contrast to classical prosopographical projects, this study does not attempt to explain the women’s motives and actions by pointing to overlaps in their “common background characteristics.”1 It instead seeks to critically reengage with our understanding of biographies not only as portrayals of an individual life but as a representation of how society gives meaning to its past through relational narrative structures. Collective biographies resemble autobiographies in the way that they present “life narratives” as “a set of shifting self-referential practices that, in engaging * I am grateful to Christian Henriot, Cécile Armand, Marilyn Levine, and Barbara Mittler for comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. 1 Lawrence Stone, “Prosopography,” Daedalus 100, no. 1 (1971): 65.

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the past, reflect on identity in the present.”2 Institutions, organizations, and even states use similar practices to ground their identity, and thereby their legitimacy, in history. John Israel described the official historiography of 20thcentury China as an autobiographical exercise in which “the leading character is none other than the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) itself.”3 As the CCP took the starring role, individuals and their biographies became supporting actors whose historical value was determined by their relation to the CCP’s cause. The compilation of biographical collections was thus driven less by a quest to understand the identities of historical actors on their own terms, but rather to showcase exemplary lives in times of revolutionary struggle. Exemplarity is a much broader category than elite, especially as collective biographies also emphasize virtuous lives of common people, but just like elite (as described in the introduction to this volume), it is a relational concept. Ties to actors or events of revolutionary eminence not only define “who belongs” but also “who fits how” into the official historiography. The subjecting of the individual life story to narratives reinforcing and justifying existing power structures is not, however, a new phenomenon, to which in particular the long tradition of women’s biographies testifies. Ever since Liu Xiang compiled the Lie nüzhuan (The Biographies of Women) in the Han dynasty (206 BC–AD 220), collective biographies of Chinese women (predominantly compiled by men) served to stage examples of virtuous lives and thereby document how the evaluation of women’s proper conduct changed over the centuries.4 As Joan Judge and Hu Ying concluded in Beyond Exemplar Tales: Women’s Biography in Chinese History: when the biographical record is limited or formulaic, as it most often is in the Chinese case, we must both interpret the silences and omissions in orthodox texts and find new, unorthodox sources that may provide access to fragments of the subject’s story.5

2 Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson, Reading Autobiography: A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010), 1. 3 John Israel, “The December 9th Movement: A Case Study in Chinese Communist Histo­ riography,” The China Quarterly 23 (1965): 140–169 (140). 4 Sherry J. Mou, Gentlemen’s Prescriptions for Women’s Lives: A Thousand Years of Biographies of Chinese Women (London: Routledge, 2004), 19. See also Wang Zheng, Women in the Chinese Enlightenment: Oral and Textual Histories (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 121. 5 Joan Judge and Hu Ying, ed., Beyond Exemplar Tales: Women’s Biography in Chinese History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), 7.

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The following study on biographies of female political activists does not present new sources, but an unorthodox method of revisiting these formulaic texts. It is founded on the two premises outlined above: First, that collective biographies of 20th-century China are tied to a didactic purpose of giving meaning to the history of the Chinese revolution through the portrayal of exemplary individual lives; second, that within a predominantly patriarchal society, the historical role of women is not judged on the basis of their individual accomplishments alone, but is also based on their ties to influential men or entities at the nexus of political power. In sum, it is this double bind of the individual to the collective that makes it so promising to use network approaches to study the structures embedded in group biographies. The following section examines the participation of women in the political sphere of Republican and Maoist China before turning to a discussion of how we can abstract network structures from biographical sketches in a meaningful way. In a third step, these network structures are analyzed using the network analysis software Gephi. The chapter ends with a critical evaluation of the potential and limitations of HNR methodology in the study of modern Chinese biographies. 2

Political Activism of Women since the Republican Period

In recent years, scholars of the Republican period have increasingly turned to network approaches in an attempt to understand how Chinese elites developed new forms of social organization and political activism during a time of institutional instability. During the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945), large parts of China’s best-educated elites retreated from the coastal regions to inland cities like Chongqing, leading to the uprooting of locally grounded networks and the expansion or reinvention of transregional networks. Migration, especially for elite women, provided opportunities to reinvent themselves and to diversify their social contacts.6 Even for those women who did not move, diverse platforms for political activism, and, therefore, for the forging of new social ties emerged. The selfstrengthening efforts of the late Qing and Republican periods tied the “women question” to the larger patriotic quest of a Chinese rejuvenation.7 Even though 6 Vivienne Xiangwei Guo, Women and Politics in Wartime China: Networking Across Geopolitical Borders (London: Routledge, 2018), 4. 7 Paul J. Bailey, Women and Gender in Twentieth-Century China (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 25.

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such male-dominated discourses often envisioned women as mothers and wives of male citizens rather than as politicized subjects in their own right, the gradual politicization of elite women can be traced back to the suffrage campaigns of the late Qing.8 New arenas for political engagement, such as the Federation of Women’s Circles (Nüjie lianhehui), further encouraged women to get actively involved in political affairs during the early Republican period. Their activities ranged from organizational support to girl’s schools and political discussion groups on women’s rights to editorial, translational, or journalistic work. In this sense, the term “women activists” incorporates all women that ventured out of the private sphere to which society had confined them, and sought to influence local or national policies, especially concerning—but not limited to—women’s causes. These early women activists were so successful in mobilizing fellow women that they soon caught the attention of Communist leaders, such as Chen Duxiu and Mao Zedong.9 What, in turn, attracted women activists to the CCP was that its close-knit circles and subculture offered shelter and a supportive environment within a society that remained antagonistic to female liberation.10 Additionally, in areas under the Nationalist Party’s (Guomindang, GMD) control during the Second Sino-Japanese War, GMD authoritarianism and CCP united front policies further drove women activists to the left.11 The early Shanghai branch of the CCP, for instance, affiliated itself with the Federation of Women’s Circles (Shanghai funüjie lianhehui), and both the CCP and the GMD established a Central Women’s Department (Zhongyang funübu).12 Both parties nonetheless denied women access to the highest party functions and confined their activism to the realm of “women’s work.” Today, the CCP continues to encourage women to concentrate on “soft” issues, such as health, education, and family planning. Even if women are very successful in these fields, their accomplishments are often belittled in comparison to male cadres

8 9 10 11 12

Louise Edwards, “Chinese Women’s Campaign for Suffrage: Nationalism Confucianism and Political Agency,” in Women’s Suffrage in Asia: Gender, Nationalism and Democracy, ed. Louise Edwards and Mina Roces (London: Routledge Curzon, 2004), 59–78. Christina Gilmartin, Engendering the Chinese Revolution: Radical Women, Communist Politics, and Mass Movements in the 1920s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 46. Gilmartin, 100. Vivienne Xiangwei Guo, “Leaning to the Left: The Political Reorganisation of Chinese Women Activists within the CCP United-Front Framework,” Journal of the British Association for Chinese Studies 7 (2017): 29–62. Gilmartin, Engendering the Chinese Revolution, 46 and Guo, Women and Politics, 14.

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who can gain recognition in those “hard” areas as economic planning or local administration.13 Under these conditions, personal relations could provide alternate paths to political influence. In fact, many of the most influential women of the Communist movement, who went on to hold political offices after 1949, were married to high ranking cadres. As Gilmartin concludes, “the most important criterion for a woman’s high political status in Communist institutions was not her political accomplishments but the political rank of her partner.”14 Furthermore, because the male leaders of the GMD and CCP often perceived the advancement of women’s liberation as a tool to national strengthening or class struggle and not as a goal in itself, women activists learned to rephrase their demands and to align them with the main party line in what Wang Zheng calls “a politics of concealment.”15 In sum, women assumed in both GMD and CCP a “bridge leadership,” to adopt a term coined by Belinda Robnett, by crossing the “boundaries between the public life of a movement organization and the private spheres of adherents and potential constituents.”16 Due to these two phenomena, that is the reliance on informal power structures and the enmeshing of women’s demands in broader political issues, women’s agency during the Republican and early Maoist period has long been underestimated. In the late 1970s and 1980s, Euro-American and Chinese scholarship witnessed a resurgence in the study of the icons of the Chinese women’s movement, often just in time to record their life stories before they would have been lost.17 The activists themselves spoke up to make their voices remembered as 13 14 15 16

17

Jing Song, “Personal Traits, Opportunities, and Constraints: Female Cadres and Rural Politics in China’s Modernization,” Asian Anthropology 17, no. 2 (2018): 100–115. Gilmartin, Engendering the Chinese Revolution, 46 and Guo, Women and Politics, 109. Wang Zheng, Finding Women in the State: A Socialist Feminist Revolution in the People’s Republic of China, 1949–1964 (Oakland: University of California Press, 2017), 17. Belinda Robnett, How Long? How Long? African American Women in the Struggle for Civil Rights (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 19; Belinda Robnett, “African-American Women in the Civil Rights Movement, 1954–1965: Gender, Leadership, and Micro­ mobilization,” American Journal of Sociology 101, no. 6 (1996): 1661–1693 (1665). See, for example, Delia Davin, Woman-Work: Women and the Party in Revolutionary China (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976); Wang Zheng, “Call Me Qingnian But Not Funü: A Maoist Youth in Retrospect,” Feminist Studies 27, no. 1 (2001), 9–34; Wang, Women in the Chinese Enlightenment, Phyllis Andors, The Unfinished Liberation of Chinese Women (Bloomington, Indiana University Press, 1983); Liu Jucai 劉巨才. Zhongguo Jindai Funü Yundongshi 中國近代婦女運動史 [History of the Women’s Movement in Modern China]. Beijing: Zhongguo funü chubanshe, 1989; Zhonghua quanguo funü lianhehui 中華全國婦女聯合會, ed. Zhongguo Funü Yundongshi (Xinminzhu zhuyi shiqi) 中國 婦女運動史（新民主主義時期） [History of the Women’s Movement in China (The

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official party history continues to be dominated by male perspectives. Had it not been for the backing of the All-China Women’s Federation (Zhongguo quanguo funü lianhehui), a government body under CCP supervision, women’s studies would not have received the necessary institutional support to transform into an academic field in the People’s Republic of China (PRC).18 Marketdriven publications opened new spaces for feminist writers and journalists to reclaim their place in history in the 1980s. Nonetheless, women employed by the state as researchers or Women’s Federation cadres could only give voice to their self-identity within the confines of official party historiography.19 The CCP shunned any narrative that would, for example, question the conduct of the male leaders or the CCP’s integrity. Instead, female political activists were portrayed as heroic women who struggled against hardships that grew out of class differences and a feudalist suppression of women, or, in other words, against injustices that were exogenous to CCP party structures: Functioning mainly to illustrate the glorious history of the CCP, the construction of Communist heroines served both to celebrate and obliterate women’s contribution in history. The key issue here is not whether women get to be remembered, but rather, which women get to be remembered…. This simultaneous celebration and obliteration helped to form a master narrative that created and maintained the legitimacy of CCP dominance.20 We lack, however, a deeper understanding of this process of selecting and constructing “Communist heroines” that took off in the 1980s and continues to dominate PRC discourses on women’s roles in 20th-century history until today. This study, therefore, seeks first, to explore how collective history writing on Chinese women activists took shape in the 1980s and how collective biographies, despite their ideological constrictions, became a locus of reclaiming women’s place in 20th-century history. Second, it develops a new understanding of the inner logic of the standardization of women’s biographies and how

18 19 20

New Democratic Period)]. Beijing: Chunqiu chubanshe, 1989; Shanghaishi funü lianhehui 上海市婦女聯合會, ed. Shanghai Funü Yundongshi (1919–1949) 上海婦女運動史 (1919–1949) [History of the Women’s Movement in Shanghai (1919–1949)]. Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1990. Li Xiaojiang and Zhang Xiaodan, “Creating Space for Women: Women’s Studies in China in the 1980s,” Signs 20, no. 1 (1994): 137–151 (140). Min Dongchao, “Awakening Again: Travelling Feminism in China in the 1980s,” Women’s Studies International Forum 28 (2005): 274–288 (276). Wang, Women in the Chinese Enlightenment, 121–122.

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this standardization helped to align women’s biographies with the CCP’s master narrative. Third, as the modes of alignment differ between biographies, it discusses how this might be indicative of differences in the public perception of the women activists. 3

Sampling from Collective Biographies

In 1988, under the auspices of the All-China Women’s Federation, two volumes of collective biographies were published seeking to reevaluate women’s intellectual contributions to the patriotic student protests in Beijing in 1935, later known as the so-called “December Ninth Movement” (Yi er jiu yundong). One year earlier, the CCP had been forced to retreat on the Long March that left the party as “a tiny, battered rump of survivors, far from the centers of Chinese life.”21 Nonetheless, the CCP laid claim to the 1935 student protests as a core element of the post-1949 narrative of the party’s leadership in the Chinese people’s battle against Japan.22 The book “Considering the Value of Women’s Lives from the December Ninth Movement” (Cong ‘Yi er jiu’ yundong kan nüxing de rensheng jiazhi, hereafter CYY) collected women’s voices from the years 1935 to 1937. Luo Qiong, who had been the editor of the journal Women’s Life (Funü shenghuo) in Shanghai at the time of the Beijing protests, and joined the CCP in 1938, explained in the preface her motivation for compiling the book as follows: The aim of editing [this volume] was to offer study material for China’s revolutionary history, especially the study of the course of the women’s movement. At the same time, these historical facts also help to answer the question of the value of women’s lives (nüxing rensheng jiazhi), which people still discuss today. I believe that this book provides a valuable inspiration to encourage women to rise up for the establishment of socialism with Chinese characteristics and to strive for advancing their own liberation.23

21 22 23

Diana Lary, The Chinese People at War: Human Suffering and Social Transformation, 1937– 1945 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 15. Israel, “The December 9th Movement.” Quanguo fulian funü yundong lishi yanjiushi 全國婦聯婦女運動歷史研究室, ed., Cong ‘Yi er jiu’ Yundong Kan Nüxing de Rensheng Jiazhi 從“一二・九”運動看女性的人 生價值 [Considering the Value of Women’s Lives from the December Ninth Movement] (Beijing: Zhongguo funü chubanshe, 1988), 1.

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Thus, individual contributions to the revolutionary cause became the yardstick of measuring “the value of women’s lives” for past and future generations of Chinese women. Apart from the women’s publications assembled in that volume, an appendix of biographical sketches of the leading female activists contributes to the didactic purpose of the book. These biographical sketches that the editor compiled or copied from other biographical dictionaries have been included in the sample. In an even more ambitious project, and after over a decade of work, in 1988, Xue Weiwei released the “Record of Famous Chinese Women” (Zhongguo funü mingrenlu, hereafter ZFM), a biographical dictionary that assembled 1,439 biographical entries.24 Criteria for including a women activists’ biography were listed as follows: She had to be either a high ranking government official, a veteran (lao qianbei) of women’s work, a veteran participant of a significant early political movement, a martyr who had suffered under the “Gang of Four” during the Cultural Revolution, an early member of the so-called “democratic parties and groups” (minzhu dangpai), or a former supporter of the anti-Qing and early women’s rights movement. Other criteria applied to women artists, scientists, and so on, amounting to 14 categories of exemplary women.25 To get a sense of how selective the editors proceeded, or, in other words, how many politically active women never met the criteria put forward by Xue Weiwei, we can examine the list of signatories of the 1945 “Chongqing Women’s Declaration on the Current Political Situation” (Chongqing funüjie fabiao dui shiju de zhuzhang).26 The 104 signatories expressed their concern over the GMD’s authoritarian rule and called for cooperation with all political forces. Many of them, even though active in what became later known as the “democratic parties and groups” in the provisional capital of Chongqing, sympathized with the fate of the CCP, which they saw as a fellow suppressed civil opposition.27 Nonetheless, only 24 of these more than 100 women were commemorated as women activists after the war and entered the “Record 24 25 26

27

Xue Weiwei 薛維維, ed. Zhongguo Funü Mingrenlu 中國婦女名人錄 [Record of Famous Chinese Women] (Xi’an: Shaanxi renmin chubanshe, 1988). Xue, Zhongguo funü mingrenlu, 1–2. “Chongqing Funüjie dui Shiju de Zhuzhang,” 重慶婦女界對時局的主張 [Chongqing Women’s Declaration on the Current Political Situation], in Zhongguo Funü Yundong Lishi Ziliao, 1937–45 中國婦女運動歷史資料 [Historical Materials on the Chinese Women’s Movement, 1937–1945], ed. Zhonghua quanguo funü lianhehui funü yundongshi yanjiushi 中華全國婦女聯合會婦女運動史 研究室 (Beijing: Zhongguo funü chubanshe, 1991), 840–842. See also Guo, “Leaning to the Left,” 29.

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of Famous Chinese Women.” Other women’s biographies were not deemed important enough to be included in the remaining signatories, even though they might have been influential in the informal women’s circles of Chongqing, fell into oblivion. Even though we cannot study the lives of the women that have been erased from public memory, we can try to grasp why certain women were selected to represent the two or three generations of women activists of the Republican period by studying how their life stories are narrated and tied to the master narrative of the CCP. Even though the biographical dictionaries adhere to the rules of storytelling put forward by the CCP, these are nonetheless stories told by women and thereby give insights into how women tried to reclaim recognition for their “life value” in the 1980s. 4

From Biographical Sketches to Networks

The 37 biographical sketches selected for analysis stem from the two sources described above, namely all those compiled in the CYY (19) as well as the biographies of the signatories of the Chongqing Women’s Declaration included in the ZFM that were not already included in the CYY (18) (see Table 5.1).28 The sample thus covers both names from reputed and less prominent activists, because not all of those women included in the CYY met the requirements for the ZFM. Nonetheless, the two works the same structural and linguistic features that make the biographical sketches comparable across both volumes. Despite the structural conventions, abstracting network data from the biographical sketches is still challenging. Information provided in the opening paragraphs, such as the gender as well as the date and place of birth, is relatively easy to extract and to store in a relational database or table format.29 To codify what 28

29

Six signatories were included both in the CYY and the ZFM. These six biographies differ in length, but the most ideologically charged references to persons and events (which determine network positions) are present in both versions. Therefore, a detailed comparison of the network structures abstracted from the CYY and the ZFM would not create new insights for this study. For the sample, those six women’s biographies were taken from the CYY so that the sample is roughly made up by one-half of biographies from the CYY and half from the ZFM. Even though place-names were recorded as given in the sources, geospatial analysis of the data was not implemented. Therefore, the problems arising with coding geographical data as highlighted, for example, by “The Chinese Deathscape” project will not be discussed here. See Thomas Mullaney, ed., “A Note Regarding Datasets, Accuracy, and Errors,” https://chinesedeathscape.supdigital.org/data. (accessed August 29, 2019).

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I have termed “biographical nodes,” defined as mentions of people, events, institutions, or organizations that relate an individual’s life to the historical and social background, or larger historical narratives, is more complicated.30 At the heart of the problem is the requirement to first, produce nonambiguous statements and second, to allow for precision while at the same time creating meaningful ontologies. Take, for instance, the statement that “Hu Ziying participated in the funeral of Lu Xun.”31 It is somehow likely that the biographical entry mentions this incident in order to highlight a social relationship between Hu and the famous writer Lu Xun. From this statement alone, however, it is not clear if, or how well, both knew each other. To find a way to denote such ambiguous or even contradictory statements in prosopographical databases, Michele Pasin and John Bradley proposed a “factoidbased” approach. The factoid “represents the spot in a primary source where something is said about one or more persons. It links people to the information about them via spots in primary sources that assert that information.”32 The power of these semantic web techniques and the factoid-based approach lie in their complexity and interoperability, and as such, they require a high level of formal description and data modeling. This method would provide a fruitful approach to a large-scale study of Chinese women’s collective biographies. However, for this small sample and the network approach chosen here, a simpler data model suffices. In this simplified data model, developed specifically for this study, two relationship types were abstracted (or “codified”): First, person-to-person as well as second, person-to-event/institution/organization.33 In network terms, this translates into a one-mode and a two-mode data set. In the former, only one type of biographical nodes (persons) is connected by ties, while in the latter two types (for example, persons and institutions) interlink. A similar approach to abstracting two-mode networks from biographical sources has been pursued in Academia Sinica’s “Modern Women Journals Database” (MWJD). Here, information from several sources was collected to form a

30 31 32 33

On the difficulties of coding narrative networks see also Peter S. Bearman and Katherine Stovel, “Becoming a Nazi: A Model for Narrative Networks,” Poetics 27 (2000): 69–90. ZFM, 338. Michele Pasin and John Bradley, “Factoid-based Prosopography and Computer Ontolo­ gies: Towards an Integrated Approach,” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities 30, no. 1 (2015): 86–97 (89). Publications, movies, plays, and so on, are in this context understood as events that take place at a specific time and location with certain participants.

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comprehensive biographical database entry.34 I will discuss the possibilities of applying the approach outlined in this chapter to the dataset compiled by the Academia Sinica in the concluding section. To document the different ways in which a women-node is linked to a biographical node, I created an ontology of relationship types, such as “married to,” “member of,” “author of,” and so on. If the biographies identify a ties’ date, then this is recorded as well. A further hurdle in creating meaningful datasets are terminological variations. The same institution, for example, might be referred to by its full name or an abbreviation, the name could also have changed, so that it appears in different forms across biographies. Furthermore, if we want to understand which events and institutions held high symbolic power, it would be misleading to treat Shanghai’s and Chongqing’s National Salvation Association as two non-related groups since their active members all supported the same cause. Therefore, in this dataset, nodes for these overarching organizational structures were added. Ultimately, no data model will be able to represent historical sources in their ambiguity entirely. Neither historians coding by hand nor machine learning technology will be able to solve this dilemma. Table 5.1

List of women activists and the source of their biography as included in the sample (Chongqing Women’s Declaration signatories in grey)

No.

Name

Pinyin

Source for the Sample

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

白薇 白杨 曹孟君 陈衡哲 陈修良 杜君慧 葛琴 韩幽桐 何香凝 胡子婴 黄碧瑶 姜平

Bai Wei Bai Yang Cao Mengjun Chen Hengzhe Chen Xiuliang Du Junhui Ge Qin Han Youtong He Xiangning Hu Ziying Huang Biyao Jiang Ping

ZFM ZFM CYY CYY CYY CYY ZFM ZFM CYY CYY CYY CYY

34

“Modern Women Journals Database” https://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/magazine/web /acwp_index.php (accessed July 4, 2022).

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Table 5.1

List of women activists and the source of their biography (cont.)

No.

Name

Pinyin

Source for the Sample

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

李德全 李健生 梁柯平 廖梦醒 刘清扬 刘王立明 陆璀 罗琼 罗叔章 彭子冈 浦熙修 饶国模 沈兹九 史良 宋庆龄 谭惕吾 王会悟 王孝英 吴全衡 吴似鸿 夏英喆 郁风 于立群 张晓梅 赵清阁

Li Dequan Li Jiansheng Liang Keping Liao Mengxin Liu Qingyang Liu-Wang Liming Lu Cui Luo Qiong Luo Shuzhang Peng Zigang Pu Xixiu Rao Guomo Shen Zijiu Shi Liang Song Qingling Tan Tiwu Wang Huiwu Wang Xiaoying Wu Quanheng Wu Shihong Xia Yingzhe Yu Feng Yu Liqun Zhang Xiaomei Zhao Qingge

CYY ZFM ZFM ZFM ZFM ZFM CYY CYY CYY ZFM ZFM ZFM CYY CYY CYY ZFM ZFM CYY ZFM ZFM CYY ZFM ZFM CYY CYY

5

Person-to-person: One-mode Approach

The data representation of the sample results in a network that consists of 1,034 ties linking 795 biographical nodes, of which 114 are persons. If we exclude the 37 activists themselves, we are left with 15 women and 62 men. In network terms, the 37 nodes of the women activists could be connected to 77 other persons either directly or indirectly. A direct connection would be, for example,

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Figure 5.1 Connected components in the person-to-person network Notes: 1. Women in yellow, men in green. Node size according to in-degree (number of incoming ties) 2. All graphs in this chapter have been created using the software Gephi. For visualizations I applied Yifan Hu with no overlap layout or manual adjustments for better visibility

that a person was married, related, or friends with another person. The mention that a women activist, for example, worked together with other men or women in editing a newspaper, is considered an indirect tie via the newspaper. We can glean from this that, as colleagues, they are very likely to have had at least a working relationship. Direct mentions do not necessarily translate into close personal relationships, because, for example, Li Dequan’s one-time encounter with Lenin’s sister and his wife does not mean that they became close friends. As this example illustrates, the mentioning of Anna Ulyanova and Nadezhda Krupskaya in the biography of Li Dequan thus does not grant readers a glimpse into Li’s network of close confidantes, but nonetheless creates an association between her and revolutionary leaders in the reader’s mind. By coding the occurrence of both names (of the women activists and those persons she was said to have encountered) as a person-to-person relation, the network structure stays true to the subtle biographical technique of tying women activists to other persons while remaining somehow ambiguous about their type of relationship. To understand the phenomenon of constructing direct ties between the women activists and other individuals, I have abstracted a network that depicts all direct connections that the biographical sketches draw between individuals. Before we turn to the network, we should try to get a sense of how a network constructed from a biographical text differs from a network that would try to portray the women’s social connections most

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accurately. In order to understand the significance of a narrated life story network, we have to ask ourselves what the network graph would look like if we had the chance to visit the women activists and let them draw up their social network themselves as sociologists would do. First of all, the graph would be much more complex than the graph abstracted from the short biographies, but we would also expect it to exhibit a higher number of ties among women than among men. In our social lives, we tend to interact most with those people who are similar to ourselves. Ties to non-similar persons are not only smaller in number, but they also tend to be less durable. This phenomenon has been labeled homophily in network research.35 If we turn now to the network of interpersonal ties that the biographies paint, however, we see a very different picture. The result is a network that consists of seven components: One large component as well as six smaller components made up of only two or three nodes connected to each other (see Figure 5.1). In the following, we will focus on the largest component with its 61 nodes (25 female and 36 male) connected by 68 ties. The direction of the ties connects the women activists to the persons mentioned in their biographies. Eleven out of the 37 women activists are not included in this large component, because their biographies either contained no mentions of other persons or only to a person that no other biography mentioned. From the visualization, it becomes directly apparent that connections to men feature at least as prominent as those among women and that, therefore, the network is not homophilic.36 In other words, even though Guo observed that “elite women’s networks were, above all, women’s networks,”37 ties to men dominate the narrative in women’s biographies. But does this graph further exhibit features in the way women and men are connected that deviate from a graph in which the same number of male and female nodes were connected by the same number of ties randomly? If we use statistical measures to compare this network to a network that would randomly connect the nodes, two distinctive features become apparent: First, female nodes are more densely

35 36

37

Miller McPherson, Lynn Smith-Lovin, and James M. Cook, “Birds of a Feather: Homophily in Social Networks,” Annual Review of Sociology 27, no. 1 (2001), 415–444 (416). Apart from gender, factors such as social and educational background, birthplace, and family ties can constitute homophily. The systematic collection and classification of complex attribute data would, however, require a much larger dataset and thus awaits future projects. Guo, Women and Politics, 8.

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connected to other female nodes than would be expected, a phenomenon called dyadic. At the same time, the network is heterophilic, because women have a higher number of ties to men than in a randomized graph.38 From this, we can discern the role of prominent individuals in these biographies. Women have ties to men in such disproportionately high numbers because the mentioning of relations to revolutionary leaders like Mao Zedong, Lu Xun, Hu Yuzhi, or Yu Dafu serves to elevate the female activists’ prestige. Prominent women activists held the same radiant power. Just like the male leaders, they tie other women to the echelons of the CCP. Accordingly, Song Qingling was mentioned in several biographies and hence has a high in-degree, just like Deng Yingchao.39 It is hard to distinguish, however, whether the reputation of the women themselves or rather their proximity to their husbands, Sun Yixian (Sun Yat-sen) and Zhou Enlai, was instrumental in turning them into symbols of revolutionary elites. In interpreting these networks, we, therefore, have to keep an awareness for associations that readers were likely to draw, for example, in thinking of Zhou Enlai when reading the name Deng Yingchao. As one can see, this is not an explicit connection laid down in the sample, so in the graph there is no tie linking Deng and Zhou, yet if the sample were to be expanded to an entire biographical dictionary, these associations would become visible. In sum, the small sample size can uncover tendencies, that in turn, might lead to new avenues for research. The prominence of Lu Xun, for example, might be connected to the growing appreciation for his literary criticism in Chinese feminist circles in the 1980s.40 Thus, one might venture to examine whether mentions of Lu Xun (such as the somewhat opaque detail of Hu Ziying attending Lu’s funeral mentioned above) might form patterns across women’s biographies compiled in the 1980s that might not have been present in earlier biographical writings. Furthermore, the reconstruction of these networks that span collective biographies also opens up possibilities for comparative

38

39 40

Jyong Park and Albert-László Barabasi, “Distribution of Node Characteristics in Complex Networks,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 104, no. 46 (2007): 17,916– 17,920. In this network, the dyadic (D) and heterophilic (H) magnitude are 2,807 and 3,21 respectively. As Deng Yingchao’s biography was not included in the sample, she has no other connections in this network. Carolyn T. Brown, “Women as Trope: Gender and Power in Lu Xun’s ‘Soap’,” in Gender Politics in Modern China: Writing and Feminism, ed. Tani E. Barlow (Durham: Duke University Press, 1993), 74–89 (81).

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perspectives, such as with collective biographies of male political activists. There might be differences in which male revolutionary leaders were mentioned in men’s and women’s biographies or the number of interpersonal connections. After the analysis of the portrayal of interpersonal relations in the biographies, we can now move on to examine how women activists’ life stories were linked to each other and the official CCP historiography through common associations with events, institutions, or organizations in so-called affiliation (or two-mode) networks. 6

One- and Two-mode Networks

In networks where two types of entities are connected, such as people with events, statistical analysis becomes more difficult. In a random one-mode graph, the probability of a connection between any two nodes is equal to that between any other two nodes. In studying networks, we try to understand the patterns that deviate from these random graphs, because we assume that ties do not emerge randomly but that social, political, or historical factors lead to their formation. In a two-mode graph, however, only nodes of different types can create ties, so that the probability of a tie between nodes changes according to their category. A solution to this problem can be to project a two-mode graph into a onemode graph, meaning that if, for instance, two people participated in the same event, then a link is drawn between them replacing the event-node.41 For the biographical data at hand, however, this would mean that we would have to make assertions that are not grounded in the narrative itself. For instance, we cannot assume that the biographies portray two women as being connected simply because both biographies describe them as having studied at the same university. The reader associates each woman with the university, not with the other women, even though the university might be a crucial biographical node. As the problem of analyzing two-mode networks that can or should not be projected into a one-mode dataset poses itself most often in historical

41

See, for example, Martin Stark, “Netzwerkberechnungen. Anmerkungen zur Verwendung formaler Methoden,” in Handbuch Historische Netzwerkforschung: Grundlagen und Anwendungen, ed. Marten Düring, Ulrich Eumann, Martin Stark, and Linda von Keyserlingk (Münster: LIT, 2016), 155–172 (162).

Network Exploration of Women Activists ’ Collective Biographies 129

Figure 5.2 Two-mode network with 738 nodes and 948 ties, node size according to degree Note: Institutions in red, events in blue, men in green, women in yellow

or archeological research, mathematical solutions to this problem have been developed based on historical datasets. For the following analysis, I adopted the statistical methods proposed by Borgatti and Everett to analyze the twomode network as apparent in the biographical sketches.42

42

Stephen P. Borgatti, “2-Mode Concepts in Social Network Analysis,” in Encyclopedia of Complexity and System Science, ed. Robert A. Mayers (New York: Springer, 2009), 8279– 8291; Stephen P. Borgatti and Martin G. Everett, “Network Analysis of 2-Mode Data,” Social Networks 19, no. 3 (1997), 243–269.

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Person to Other Entities: The Two-mode Network

In the full network graph depicted in Figure 5.2, we see all of the biographical nodes and their connections, as stated in the 37 biographies. The ties are undirected as only one possible direction exists. All ties that connect a womennode with a biographical node are the result of this biographical node being mentioned in the woman’s biographical sketch. In the case of the one-mode (person-to-person) network above, the connection could be reciprocal or unilateral depending on whether or not both or only one women’s biography alluded to the other person. In the two mode-network, men are only included if they were named as participating in the same event or institution as a woman. Without further analysis, it is already telling that such an extensive network (rather than many smaller networks) emerged from the coding of the biographical sketches. This is in part to be explained by the fact that through the selection of the biographies to be included in the sample, it was already made sure that the women had at least some biographical overlap (by participating in the December Ninth Movement and by signing the Chongqing Women’s Declaration, even though the biographies do not necessarily mention these events). Nonetheless, how many biographical nodes reappear across the biographical sketches is still remarkable.43 Furthermore, it might lead us to question why Wu Shihong is not connected to the rest of the network (see bottom right in Figure 5.2)? One might assume that Wu did not have many connections to such movements or leaders and that this might be the reason for the absence of overlaps in biographical nodes. Yet when comparing her biography in the ZFM with that put forward by Xue Jiazhu in 2009, we see how two biographical sketches can tell different stories: The ZFM mainly defines the life story of Wu Shihong through her literary works; only the biography by Xue features her participation in Shanghai’s National Salvation Association and her acquaintance with Shen Zijiu.44 In other words, the editors of the ZFM could have told the life story of Wu very differently, yet they chose to portray Wu as a writer rather than an activist. This example indicates that biographical nodes are only shared among those biographies that belong to the same category of those 14 different categories 43 44

The density of the network which has been normalized for a two-mode graph as proposed by Borgatti (Borgatti, “2-Mode Concepts”) is 0.094. Xue Jiazhu 薛家柱. “Zhongsheng Piaobozhe—Ji Nüzuojia Wu Shihong” 終生漂泊 者—記女作家吳似鴻 [A Life of Wandering: Remembering the Women Writer Wu Shihong], Jiangnan 江南, no. 6 (2009): 152–161.

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of exemplary women laid out in the introduction to the ZFM.45 An analysis of all biographies in the ZFM using community detection and clustering methods could thus reveal implicit narrative patterns in evaluating women’s life stories.46 Without a network approach, these divisions would be hardly discernible. Furthermore, through the comparison of one-mode and two-mode networks, we can glean whether certain women activists’ life stories were mainly described as being shaped by personal ties, or rather by being associated with events, institutions, or organizations. Persons who possessed a high degree in a one-mode network might have a lower degree in a two-mode network. For example, Lu Xun’s degree, which was four in the one-mode network because his name was mentioned in four women activists’ biographies, is lowered to one in a two-mode view as he was associated with only one other nonperson biographical node. Out of the 37 biographies, Song Qingling’s and Shi Liang’s biographies draw most connections to other persons as depicted in the one-mode graph (see also Table 5.2). In comparing how many events, organizations, or institutions the women’s biographies mention (as depicted in the two-mode graph), we detect that Shi Liang was associated with 43 such biographical nodes (see Table 5.3), which can be explained with the relative length of her biography. However, Song Qingling, even though her biographical sketch was much longer than, for example, that of Bai Yang, in the two-mode graph, is linked to a smaller number of biographical nodes (30) than Bai Yang (56). As we have seen above, Song Qingling was one of those revered leaders of the women’s movement, and in her biography, we see vaguer descriptions of her contribution to the revolutionary cause than in other biographies. The narration of her life does not need to rely on listing all the events and organizations she participated in order to prove her “life value.” In consequence, we can conclude that in a larger sample, a high in-degree (several mentions in other women’s biographies) paired with a low degree in the two-mode network (few references to events, organizations, or institutions) might be indicative of the revolutionary fame of a women activist.47

45 46

47

ZFM, 1–2. Michael J. Barber, “Modularity and Community Detection in Bipartite Networks,” Physical Review E 76 (2007): 066102. For measuring modularity in one-mode networks see also Vincent D. Blondel, Jean-Loup Guillaume, Renaud Lambiotte, and Etienne Lefebvre, “Fast Unfolding Communities in Large Networks,” Journal of Statistical Mechanics: Theory and Experiment, no. 10 (2008): P10008. In future research, the number of biographical ties within one biography could be put in relation to the length of the biographical sketch to normalize results.

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Despite the degree’s usefulness in assessing the number and type of biographical nodes within single biographical sketches, if we want to derive an understanding of which biographical nodes reappear across different biographies and, therefore, seem to be central in connecting women activists’ biographies to the master narrative of the CCP, we have to filter out those nodes that only appear in a single biography. As is already apparent from the visualization in Figure 5.2, within the large component, a high number of nodes have a degree of one. On average, the graph’s nodes have a degree (number of ties per node) of 2.589 (Figure 5.3). Table 5.2 Ranking of the ten individuals with the highest degree in the one-mode graph

Rank Name

Transliteration In-degree Out-degree Degree (sum) Gender

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Song Qingling Shi Liang He Xiangning Li Dequan Yu Feng Shen Zijiu Wang Huiwu Mao Zedong Zhou Enlai Ge Qin

宋庆龄 史良 何香凝 李德全 郁风 沈兹九 王会悟 毛泽东 周恩来 葛琴

2 1 2 0 0 1 0 5 4 0

11 10 6 7 6 4 5 0 0 4

13 11 8 7 6 5 5 5 4 4

f f f f f f f m m f

Figure 5.3 Degree distribution in the large component of the two-mode graph (left) and the filtered graph with minimal degree 2 (right) Note: The filtering out of all nodes with a degree of one creates new nodes with a degree of one because adjacent nodes have now been excluded

Network Exploration of Women Activists ’ Collective Biographies 133 Table 5.3 Ranking of the twelve individuals with the highest degree (number of ties) in the two-mode graph, their degree after excluding all nodes with a degree of 1, and the remaining percentage of ties

Rank Name

Transliteration

Gender Degree Degree (min. 2) Percent

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Bai Yang Han Youtong Liu Qingyang Shi Liang He Xiangning Luo Qiong Shen Zijiu Du Junhui Yu Feng Liu-Wang Liming Song Qingling Bai Wei

f f f f f f f f f f f f

白杨 韩幽桐 刘清扬 史良 何香凝 罗琼 沈兹九 杜君慧 郁风 刘王立明 宋庆龄 白薇

56 50 45 43 37 37 34 32 31 31 30 30

9 14 24 25 16 21 26 15 6 15 19 5

16.07% 28% 53.33% 58.14% 43.24% 56.76% 76.47% 46.88% 19.35% 48.39% 63.33% 16.67%

Note: As the graph is undirected, there is no difference between in- and out degree

Some nodes hold a high symbolic significance but appear seldomly, such as the node of the Communist mouthpiece Liberation Daily ( Jiefang ribao). Luo Qiong edited the Liberation Daily women’s supplement in Yan’an in the early 1940s, making it a significant node that testifies to her early commitment to the Communist revolution as well as to the women’s cause. Out of our sample, only one more woman, namely Xia Yingzhe, who was also in Yan’an at the time, got involved in the journal’s publication. Therefore, despite its symbolic significance, the Liberation Daily has only a degree of two in our network. Moreover, even though her biographical sketch is short, the mentioning of her contribution to this journal gave Xia Yingzhe high revolutionary credibility. Nonetheless, in order to find commonalities in narrations linking women to the revolution, the filtering of biographical nodes is useful. Excluding all nodes with a degree of one from the large component of the two-mode network, leaves us with a graph of 160 nodes (20.13%), 371 ties (39.14%), and an average degree of 4.539. Measuring the individual degrees again after filtering, we see that there are biographies like that of the lawyer Han Youtong that contained 50 biographical nodes, but only 14 (28%) of them mention her in connection with events or institutions mentioned in other

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biographies. In Han’s case, this is because a large part of her biographical sketch is taken up by listing all her publications on law subjects (here tagged as events). Those 14 ties that remain are cornerstones of the narrative of women’s political activism, such as participation in the National Salvation Association ( Jiuguohui), membership in the CCP, and studies at Beijing University. After applying the degree filter, Shen Zijiu has the highest degree of all nodes (26), which are still over 76% of her previous degree, indicating Shen’s importance in the narrative of the women’s movement. The events, institutions, and organizations she (allegedly) participated in are among those that other women activists also frequented and that many other biographies list as cornerstones in the life stories of Chinese women activists. One measure to calculate which nodes (both persons and other biographical nodes) take a central position in the network is closeness centrality. The underlying idea is that the closer a node is to all other nodes in the network, meaning the less “steps” are needed to “reach” other nodes, the more central this node is. Closeness centrality is generally normalized to be comparable across different graph sizes and expressed as a value between zero and one in which the higher the centrality score, the more central a node is in the network.48 In our network of biographical nodes, closeness centrality indicates that a node or its adjacent nodes appear in several biographical sketches. This measure is only meaningful in a graph in which all components are connected. Thus, Wu Shihong’s small separated component, as well as all nodes with a degree below two, are again filtered out for the following analysis. In terms of closeness centrality, Shi Liang, He Xiangning, Shen Zijiu, Han Youtong, Song Qingling, and Du Junhui are the most central nodes in the twomode graph with a degree between 0.495 and 0.478.49 The central position of Shi, Shen, Song, and He as icons of the women’s movement was to be expected. However, the high centrality score of Du Junhui and Han Youtong demands further explanation. Du Junhui’s biographical sketch is one of the shortest in the sample and Han Youtong’s contained only 14 nodes (not counting those with a degree below two), which illustrates that neither the length of the biographical sketch nor the number of biographical nodes determines the centrality of a person in the network. Instead, as early party members, their direct links to the CCP and its political bodies secured Du and Han a central position in the network. 48 49

Ulrik Brandes, “A Faster Algorithm for Betweenness Centrality,” Journal of Mathematical Sociology 25, no. 2 (2001): 163–177 (166). The calculation of closeness centrality has been adapted for this two-mode graph as proposed by Borgatti, “2-Mode Concepts in Social Network Analysis.”

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Not surprisingly, the CCP is the organization with the highest centrality score (0.745), constituting the leitmotiv of the biographical narratives. Other political organizations or movements that recur as biographical nodes across biographies and thus exhibit high closeness centrality scores are the antiJapanese movement (Kang Ri jiuwang yundong, 0.630), the National Salvation Association (0.617), and the Wartime Children’s Welfare Association (Zhanshi ertong baoyuhui, 0.606). Several political representative bodies also possess a high centrality, namely the first, second, and third Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC, 0.731, 0.622, and 0.58 respectively) as well as the first and third National People’s Congress (NPC, 0.6 and 0.595). While many institutions and events tied women’s life stories together before 1949, such as the anti-Japanese struggle or the work in charitable organizations, after 1949, when these groups disbanded, new biographical nodes emerged that created new linkages to the dominant narrative of the CCP. In order to examine preand post-war modes of constructing exemplary women activists’ biographies, the following section analyzes the biographical passages narrating the late Qing and Republican as well as early PRC life stories separately. 8

Comparing the Representation of Pre- and Post-1949 Networks

The division into a pre- and post-war segment is already explicit in the biographies’ structures through the recurring delimiter “after the liberation” ( jiefang hou). The military victory of the Communist forces and the establishment of a new political regime was indeed a decisive point in the public but also the private life of women activists. As I argue, however, the repetitive use of the phrase jiefang hou, that is not varied, for example, by merely referring to the date 1949 (or a later date), serves not only to give a chronological order or temporal orientation to the reader. Instead, this phrase divides the narrative threat of the biographical sketches: The mentioning of the same institution or person might carry a different meaning depending on whether they are mentioned in the first or second part of the narrative. For instance, membership of the CCP preceding the year 1949 underscores a women’s revolutionary spirit despite political persecution, whereas a CCP membership after 1949 often signifies an honorary reward after years of dedicated, but not necessarily heroic service. Likewise, seniority in terms of party membership determined one’s position in the inner CCP hierarchy, even though, as Wang Zheng has pointed out, men with less revolutionary experience still outranked women cadres.50 50

Wang, Finding Women in the State, 69.

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A simple formula summarizes how the structuring of the biography signifies the revolutionary vigor of women activists: The earlier and the more frequent a women is associated with events or institutions that became cornerstones of the official Communist historiography, the more “life value,” as Luo Qiong called it, was bestowed upon her. Therefore, an association with the CCP (whether before or after 1949) results in a high centrality score in the network. By comparing centrality scores from a network that only comprises the pre1949 part of the biography with the complete network, we can get a sense of whether the narrative portrayed certain women foremost as early activists of the Republican period, or if it also stressed their involvement in political affairs under CCP rule. The network limited to those connections that appear in the biographical sketches before the watershed date of 1949 is made up of 511 nodes and 601 edges (Figure 5.4). While the complete network in Figure 5.2 consisted of one large and two small components, this pre-1949 graph contains one large and three smaller units, namely those of the biographical sketches of Wu Shihong (again as in Figure 5.2), as well as Zhao Qingge and Bai Yang. Thus, only the post-1949 part of the biographies of Zhao and Bai show an overlap with other biographies in the sample. Within the new political system of the PRC, the writer Zhao Qingge participated in the Chinese Writers Association (Zhongguo zuojia xiehui) in which also Bai Wei and Peng Zigang were active. Bai Yang’s post-1949 links stem from her joining the CCP in 1958 and being a representative to the CPPCC and the NPC. Here again, we see how these two political bodies developed into important reference points that even led to a reconfiguration from exemplary life stories of writers to stories of political figures. We can further measure the difference between the pre-1949 network and the complete network that includes post-1949 nodes by again calculating the closeness centrality value for each of the women activists. The highest deviation between closeness centrality values in the complete network and the pre1949 graph (largest component) can be seen in the nodes of Tan Tiwu (0.43 to 0.25) and Li Dequan (0.43 to 0.25). Tan Tiwu’s centrality degree increased after 1949 mainly because she participated in the first CPC as well as the first, fifth, and sixth CPPCC. Likewise, Li Dequan’s participation in the first, second, and third CPC helped to increase her centrality degree. For the node of Jiang Ping, however, the deviation is relatively low (0.41 to 0.32), because the post-1949 part of her biography was statistically insignificant. Jiang was an early member of the CCP and held a comparatively high centrality score before 1949. From 1949 onwards, no representative functions or political offices are mentioned, her only two biographical nodes given until her death in 1968 are her work at

Network Exploration of Women Activists ’ Collective Biographies 137

Figure 5.4 Biographical network preceding 1949, node size according to degree Note: Institutions in red, events in blue, men in green, women in yellow

the Anhui Provincial Department of Education and the Shanghai Education Bureau. Even though the CYY’s editors saw her writings as so influential that they, along with her biography, were included in the CYY, Jiang’s biography is not part of the ZFM. Thus, not only the criterion of whether someone was a “veteran” of the women’s movement drove the compilation of the ZFM, but also whether the person continued to be closely aligned with the CCP during the Maoist period. Du Junhui’s biography offers a further example of the process of the CYY’s and ZFM’s remolding of life stories. As pointed out above, as a CCP member and CPPCC delegate, Du held one of the highest closeness centrality scores in the two-mode network. What the biographical sketches of Du in both the CYY and ZFM fail to mention, however, is that she lost her party membership in 1936. Her husband Jin Kuiguang, who had joined the CCP in 1925, was suspected

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of fraternizing with Trotskyists, and Du was found guilty by association. After her death in 1981, the Shanghai branch of the Women’s Federation published a volume of reminiscences of her friends and children in which fellow female Communist Liang Keping retells Du’s struggle to regain party membership: The innocent Du is excluded from the party without explanation, but instead of losing faith in the CCP, she continues to serve the Communist cause with all her strength through times of hardship and the loss of a child until she is allowed to “return to the party’s warm embrace” in 1946. According to Liang, during that decade, Du appealed to male party leaders time and again but to no avail. Only Deng Yingchao, Zhou Enlai’s wife, offered friendly advice and financial support but did not intervene on her behalf.51 Liang reframed this episode as a testament to Du’s unwavering support to the party, only tacitly alluding to the power imbalance between male and female party members. The CYY and ZFM completely omit the temporary severance of ties between Du and the CCP. Without an elaborate story of trial and redemption, as presented by Liang, it would reflect poorly either on the CCP or on the heroine of the women’s movement. A further interesting detail is the conspicuous absence of Du’s husband. While the CYY does not mention Jin Kuiguang at all, the ZFM mentions him only as a co-author of two of her books. Readers not familiar with her life would thus fail to recognize Jin as Du’s husband. Accordingly, the network abstraction of her biographical sketch only shows an indirect connection between them bridged by the co-authored books. Like unpleasant smudges, Jin Kuiguang, who vanished from all historical accounts after 1936, as well as Du’s CCP membership suspension, are erased in the collective biographies. This example illustrates the genre’s peculiar mode of writing life stories: Collective biographies enumerate rather than narrate, trials and tribulations disappear, and causal relationships remain implicit. How did, for example, personal friendships, the participation in political movements, and publication activities inform or instigate later life events? Through their chronological structure, biographical sketches tacitly construct sequences of cause and effect. The analysis of the pre-1949 sections of the biographies exemplifies how early activism is rewarded with political posts after the founding of the PRC. Hence, comparing the results of the proposed network study of collective biographies 51

Liang Keping 梁柯平. “Fuyun Qianqu Du Junhui” 婦運前驅杜君慧 [The Pioneer of the Women’s Movement Du Junhui], in Yanjiu Funüyundong Lilun de Xianxingzhe Du Junhui 研究婦女運動理論的先行者—杜君慧 [Du Junhui—Forerunner in Studying the Women’s Movement’s Theories], ed. Shanghaishi funü lianhehui fuyunshi ziliaozu 上海 婦女聯合會婦女運動史資料組, 1–20. Shanghai: Shanghaishi funü lianhehui, 1984.

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with other biographical sources can uncover the logic behind such tacit simplifications and correlations. Nonetheless, in all of these biographical sources, the relationship between historical facts and life stories remains complicated. Life stories, whether preserved as autobiographical accounts, in obituaries or as part of collective biographies, are often adjusted to the master narratives of the time. However, historical truth limits these narrative shifts, accentuations, and omissions. By selecting those biographies that could be directly related to CCP narratives of revolution and reconstruction, as well as by emphasizing certain connections and excluding others, the Women’s Federation contributed through the publication of the CYY and ZFM to a streamlining of life stories of early Chinese women activists. 9

Conclusion and Outlook

This study draws on a limited sample size of 37 biographies, yet the methodology proposed here could be adopted for the study of much larger, older, or more diverse corpora of collective biographies. Instead of employing a prosopographical mode of uncovering common characteristics among persons, the network approach enables us to reconsider narrative structures, symbolic representations, and their didactic purpose. Collective biographies of women activists, as compiled here by the Women’s Federation, serve to reintegrate a narration of female agency into the dominant CCP historiography. Women’s life stories that did not offer biographical nodes tying their fate to the fate of the party, however, are neglected. The concept of biographical nodes thus helps us to grasp the inner logic of the reinvention and reappropriation of women’s life stories in the production of public memory in the PRC. In this particular sample, we saw that biographies portray women such as Song Qingling and Deng Yingchao not only as members of the Communist elite in their own right, but also as significant bridgeheads to the CCP’s maledominated center of political power. In this sense, the collective biographies contain a concentric construction of revolutionary elites: As a network of women in which men (or at least their wives) still occupy the most central positions. Furthermore, the results underscore that for the Chinese Women’s Federation being labelled “exemplary” is an honor that is awarded in specific categories and thus offers a clear guide to “who fits how” into the construction of exemplarity. Wu Shihong, for example, was portrayed as a writer rather than a political activist, while the blemish of being married to Jin Kuiguang was erased from Du Junhui’s biography so that she could remain in the category of being an exemplary women activist. With the establishment of the PRC, the

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criteria of being “exemplary” became institutionalized. Formal membership in political bodies and corporatist structures, such as the CPPCC, elevated the status of Zhao Qingge, Bai Yang, Tan Tiwu, and Li Dequan and tied them to the CCP. Even though we have to be careful not to mistake the life stories presented in collective biographies for network structures, such as social scientists might uncover them for present-day women activists, the conclusions of this study can nonetheless point to certain peculiarities that might seem worthy to be revisited in studies of individual lives. After all, network analysis: provides a useful set of tools for investigating the patterned relationship between historical actors. These tools, however, by themselves fail ultimately to make sense of the mechanisms through which these relationships are reproduced or reconfigured over time.52 As such, a network approach to the study of larger corpora of texts provides scholars with new perspectives on their sources, which will then lead us to return with new questions to the micro levels of history. For instance, further examination of the CCP’s strategic integration of famous women leaders, who were not part of Communist circles before 1949 and then entered political bodies like the CPPCC, might shed new light on the importance of such women as bridge leaders, tying pre-revolutionary networks to the new regime. The sample selected for this analysis consisted of biographical sketches compiled in the 1980s. As was demonstrated, we can use the tools of historical network research to find overlaps in the narration of life stories across different volumes of collective biographies. Ideally, we could also compare narratives dominant in the PRC to alternate narratives produced in the Republic of China. To this end, the dataset compiled in this project might be compared with datasets from the Academia Sinica database on authors of Chinese women’s periodicals. The problem with the MWJD dataset is, however, that most sources on which the database draws were published in the PRC, not the Republic of China. Furthermore, the MWJD combined information from sources published between the 1930s and today, and the source of each data entry is not noted in the dataset. This obliterates changes in narrating women’s biographies in different historical stages, and mixes, for example, official biographical dictionary entries with autobiographical accounts. 52

Mustafa Emirbayer and Jeff Goodwin, “Network Analysis, Culture and the Problem of Agency,” American Journal of Sociology 99 (1994): 1411–1154, 1446–1147.

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Another possibility would be to expand the dataset of this project further to comprise the complete ZFM. When drawing from a larger sample, additional analytical approaches could be pursued. First, we could extract the most central persons, events, and institutions of women’s biographies and assign tie values accordingly. Ties to Mao Zedong would then, for example, receive a very high tie value, because of the ideological significance of having a personal connection with him. Such a weighted network would open up new research questions, for example, on the interdependence of biographical nodes where close associations with few important nodes render the listing of less important nodes redundant (see the case of Song Qingling above). Secondly, we could examine the geographical distribution of biographical nodes by visualizing and analyzing the geospatial dimension of women’s life stories. Overall, because of the growing corpora of digitized texts and simultaneously decreasing access to archival sources in the PRC, especially the field of Chinese 20thcentury history can profit from such a combination of critical source readings and digital approaches. References “Modern Women Journals Database.” https://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/magazine/web /acwp_index.php. Accessed July 4, 2022. “Chongqing Funüjie dui Shiju de Zhuzhang” 重慶婦女界對時局的主張 [Chongqing Women’s Declaration on the Current Political Situation]. In Zhongguo Funü Yundong Lishi Ziliao, 1937–1945 中國婦女運動歷史資料 [Historical Materials on the Chinese Women’s Movement, 1937–1945], edited by Zhonghua quanguo funü lianhehui funü yundongshi yanjiushi 中華全國婦女聯合會婦女運動史研究室, 840–42. Beijing: Zhongguo funü chubanshe, 1991. Andors, Phyllis. The Unfinished Liberation of Chinese Women. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983. Bailey, Paul J. Women and Gender in Twentieth-Century China. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012. Barber, Michael J. “Modularity and Community Detection in Bipartite Networks.” Physical Review E 76 (2007): 066102. Bearman, Peter S. and Katherine Stovel. “Becoming a Nazi: A Model for Narrative Networks.” Poetics 27 (2000): 69–90. Blondel, Vincent D., Jean-Loup Guillaume, Renaud Lambiotte, and Etienne Lefebvre. “Fast Unfolding Communities in Large Networks.” Journal of Statistical Mechanics: Theory and Experiment, no. 10 (2008): P10008–12.

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Network Exploration of Women Activists ’ Collective Biographies 143 Liu Jucai 劉巨才. Zhongguo Jindai Funü Yundong 中國近代婦女運動史 [History of the Women’s Movement in Modern China]. Beijing: Zhongguo funü chubanshe, 1989. McPherson, Miller, Lynn Smith-Lovin, and James M. Cook. “Birds of a Feather: Homophily in Social Networks.” Annual Review of Sociology 27, no. 1 (2001): 415–444. Min Dongchao. “Awakening Again: Travelling Feminism in China in the 1980s.” Women’s Studies International Forum 28 (2005): 274–288. Mou, Sherry J. Gentlemen’s Prescriptions for Women’s Lives: A Thousand Years of Biographies of Chinese Women. London: Routledge, 2004. Mullaney, Thomas, ed. “A Note Regarding Datasets, Accuracy, and Errors.” https:// chinesedeathscape.supdigital.org/data. Accessed August 29, 2019. Park, Jyong and Albert-László Barabasi. “Distribution of Node Characteristics in Com­ plex Networks.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 104, no. 46 (2007): 17,916–17,920. Pasin, Michele and John Bradley. “Factoid-based Prosopography and Computer Ontologies: Towards an Integrated Approach.” Digital Scholarship in the Humanities 30, no. 1 (2015): 86–97. Quanguo fulian funü yundong lishi yanjiushi 全國婦聯婦女運動歷史研究室, ed. Cong ‘Yi er jiu’ Yundong Kan Nüxing de Rensheng Jiazhi 從“一二・九”運動看女性 的人生價值 [Considering the Value of Women’s Lives from the December Ninth Movement]. Beijing: Zhongguo funü chubanshe, 1988. Robnett, Belinda. “African-American Women in the Civil Rights Movement, 1954–1965: Gender, Leadership, and Micromobilization.” American Journal of Sociology 101, no. 6 (1996): 1661–1693. Robnett, Belinda. How Long? How Long? African American Women in the Struggle for Civil Rights. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. Shanghaishi funü lianhehui 上海市婦女聯合會, ed. Shanghai Funü Yundongshi (1919– 1949) 上海婦女運動史 (1919–1949) [History of the Women’s Movement in Shanghai (1919–1949)]. Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1990. Smith, Sidonie and Julia Watson. Reading Autobiography: A Guide for Interpreting Life Narratives. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010. Song, Jing. “Personal Traits, Opportunities, and Constraints: Female Cadres and Rural Politics in China’s Modernization.” Asian Anthropology 17, no. 2 (2018): 100–115. Stark, Martin. “Netzwerkberechnungen. Anmerkungen zur Verwendung formaler Methoden.” In Handbuch Historische Netzwerkforschung: Grundlagen und Anwend­ ungen, edited by Marten Düring, Ulrich Eumann, Martin Stark, and Linda von Keyserlingk, 155–172. Münster: LIT, 2016. Stone, Lawrence. “Prosopography.” Daedalus 100, no. 1 (1971): 46–79. Wang Zheng. “Call Me Qingnian But Not Funü: A Maoist Youth in Retrospect.” Feminist Studies 27, no. 1 (2001): 9–34.

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Wang Zheng. Finding Women in the State: A Socialist Feminist Revolution in the People’s Republic of China, 1949–1964. Oakland: University of California Press, 2017. Wang Zheng. Women in the Chinese Enlightenment: Oral and Textual Histories. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Xue Jiazhu 薛家柱. “Zhongsheng Piaobozhe—Ji Nüzuojia Wu Shihong” 終生漂泊 者—記女作家吳似鴻 [A Life of Wandering: Remembering the Women Writer Wu Shihong]. Jiangnan 江南, no. 6 (2009): 152–161. Xue Weiwei 薛維維, ed. Zhongguo Funü Mingrenlu 中國婦女名人錄 [Record of Famous Chinese Women]. Xi’an: Shaanxi renmin chubanshe, 1988. Zhonghua quanguo funü lianhehui 中華全國婦女聯合會, ed. Zhongguo Funü Yun­ dongshi (Xinminzhu zhuyi shiqi) 中國婦女運動史（新民主主義時期）[History of the Women’s Movement in China (The New Democratic Period)]. Beijing: Chunqiu chubanshe, 1989.

Chapter 6

“Service to the Empire and to the Community”: The British Women’s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51 Ling-ling Lien 1

Introduction

On March 4, 1921, hundreds of British women gathered at the Lyceum Theatre in Shanghai for the inception of the British Women’s Association (BWA), which was claimed to be the first and only organization binding all British women for the purpose of serving the community and the Empire.1 This plan quickly gained an enormous response as the BWA reported to have recruited one thousand members before its first anniversary, roughly 50% of the British women’s population in Shanghai.2 Lasting for three decades except for a temporary interruption during World War II and its aftermath, the BWA provided a venue for socializing while participating in public good. Britain had a long history of voluntary societies and developed a unique culture of clubs and associations as early as the 17th century. According to R. J. Morris, British voluntary societies went hand-in-hand with the rise of the middle class, who sought to solve various kinds of social problems such as poor relief, education, and moral reform, particularly when the state was unable to fulfill its commitment for citizens’ well-being. Most societies were dominated by the elite of that class as their interest in public order was at stake.3 The tradition of voluntary societies and clubs also spread to the remote colonies as the Empire expanded; and Shanghai likewise witnessed a flourishing club culture

1 “The British Women’s Association,” North-China Herald and Supreme Court & Consular Gazette (hereafter NCH), February 26, 1921, 524. 2 “British Women’s Association: Annual General Meeting,” NCH, March 18, 1922, 761. 3 R. J. Morris, “Introduction: Civil Society, Associations and Urban Places: Class, Nation and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Europe,” in Civil Society, Associations and Urban Places: Class, Nation and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Europe, ed. Graeme Morton, Boudien de Vries and R. J. Morris (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2006), 8. R. J. Morris, “Voluntary Societies and British Urban Elites, 1780–1850,” The Historical Journal 26, no. 1 (March 1983): 95–118.

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along with the creation of the British settlement.4 Even though those organizations were customarily run by men, women were by no means restrained from the associational culture. The Ladies’ Benevolent Society established in the 19th century across the Empire was an example of how British women took part in the public sphere.5 In addition to improving the local conditions, like many other voluntary societies, the BWA in Shanghai kept in mind the welfare of the Empire. Regarding gender and the British Empire, scholars have identified three broad subjects of research: Women’s life in the empire-wide territory, women’s participation in empire building and/or dismantling, and gender/sexuality analysis of the imperial system. While the study of gender and imperialism has grown to supplement and even rewrite the conventional field of imperial history, current scholarship has primarily focused on India and Africa.6 As the forms of colonial rule of the British Empire varied, so did women’s experiences in the colonies. In particular, the International Settlement of Shanghai, known as a treaty port governed by China and foreign powers including the British, manifested a special type of “transnational colonialism,” that is, under the jurisdiction of the Shanghai Municipal Council consisting of individuals of different nations.7 Shanghai’s unique legislative position helped create colonial experiences different from that in other parts of the Empire. In response to the first two subjects mentioned above, this chapter on the British Women’s Association in Shanghai demonstrates women’s efforts to stage themselves as Empire builders in spite of living at the edge of the Empire. 4 Mrinalini Sinha, “Britishness, Clubbability, and the Colonial Public Sphere: The Genealogy of an Imperial Institution in Colonial India,” Journal of British Studies 40, no. 4 (October 2001): 489–521. Chang Ning 張寧, “Julebu yu Zhimin—Jindai Hushang de Shanghai Zonghui” 俱樂 部與殖民—近代滬上的上海總會 [Social clubs and the Empire: The Shanghai Club], Xinshixue 新史學 32, no. 2 (June 2021): 251–318. 5 This society appeared in several colonial cities such as Auckland, Cape Town, and Melbourne. B. J. Gleeson, “A Public Space for Women: The Case of Charity in Colonial Melbourne,” Area 27, no. 3 (September 1995): 193–207. Margaret Tennant, “Fun and Fundraising: The Selling of Charity in New Zealand’s Past,” Social History 38, no. 1 (February 2013): 46–65. Edna Bradlow, “‘The Oldest Charitable Society in South Africa’: One Hundred Years and More of the Ladies’ Benevolent Society at the Cape of Good Hope,” South African Historical Journal 25 (1991): 77–104. 6 For reviews of the field, see Antoinette Burton, Burdens of History: British Feminists, Indian Women and Imperial Culture, 1865–1915 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994), 1–32. Clare Midgley, “Introduction: Gender and Imperialism: Mapping the Connections,” in Gender and Imperialism, ed. Clare Midgley (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), 1–18. Barbara Bush, “Gender and Empire: The Twentieth Century,” in Gender and Empire, ed. Philippa Levine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 77–111. 7 Isabella Jackson, Shaping Modern Shanghai: Colonialism in China’s Global City (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018).

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147

The Establishment of the BWA

The formation of a British community in modern Shanghai was an episode of colonial expansion and global migration during the 19th century. Following the Opium War in 1842, Britain was allowed to establish settlements in the newly opened treaty ports. Similar to migration patterns elsewhere, it was largely men who—mostly young and brimming with courage—took the initiative to leave their homelands and start again in the new world, and as China was conceivably a “dangerous” foreign country, the vast majority of male immigrants arrived alone. Even after Shanghai had been a treaty port for nearly 30 years, the sex ratio among foreign residents remained disproportionate, with 1,281 men to 218 women in 1870.8 Not until the development of the urban infrastructure when life became generally easier in Shanghai were more British residents willing to bring their wives and raise children; nevertheless, women remained a mere fraction of their male counterparts even into the 1930s. Aside from those who were missionaries, it was exceedingly rare that a single woman would travel thousands of miles and pursue independent employment in Shanghai at the turn of the century, and most British women thus lived as “dependents” of their male relatives—further evidenced by the fact that even Chinese women faced limited job opportunities in their own localities. Stated simply, these female immigrants endured all sorts of inconvenience and stress to live in an alien country to essentially support their fathers’ or husbands’ careers overseas. Despite this “dependency,” British women in Shanghai were by no means confined to the domestic sphere: The wives of diplomats and major businessmen were, in particular, often obligated to entertain guests, a role which was an extension of their husbands’ work, or participated in philanthropic activities that were symbolic of a well-managed local community. As early as 1877, for instance, the Shanghai Ladies’ Benevolent Society was formed to conduct charitable work which provided assistance to the needy. Its members often demonstrated an enthusiasm and talent for the various kinds of responsibilities, ranging from surveying and fundraising to administration,9 experiences which helped cultivate their capability for leadership among women’s circles within the foreign community of Shanghai.

8 C. Y. Lo 羅志如, Tongjibiao zhong zhi Shanghai 統計表中之上海 [Shanghai as Shown in Statistical Tables] (Nanking: National Research Institute of Social Science, Academia Sinica, 1932), 30. 9 “Shanghai Ladies’ Benevolent Society,” NCH, February 1, 1881, 100.

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Although British women did not lack the opportunity to engage in public affairs in Shanghai, an organization based on both their nationality and sex did not exist until the establishment of the British Women’s Association in 1921, as it had been claimed.10 Its founding was inspired by Mrs. C. Neville-Rolfe (1885– 1955), who had visited Shanghai along with the Eastern Commission of the British National Council for Combating Venereal Diseases in 1920.11 Wishing to broadly address British women, she surprisingly found no proper occasion to host such an event, and when inquiring about a women’s club, Mrs. Rolfe was told, “British women were not made that way.” To those whom she had met in the course of her work, Mrs. Rolfe then made the suggestion “the women should organize themselves at the earliest possible moment,” and early in the following year with the support of Lady Fraser, the wife of British Consul-General in Shanghai Sir Everard Duncan Home Fraser (1859–1922), Mrs. W. B. Billinghurst and her cohorts proclaimed the inception of the British Women’s Association.12 According to its constitution, the Association intended to: unite British women in the social service of the community and the Empire; that British, born women, and women of British nationality, shall be eligible for membership, and upon joining shall sign a form undertaking to uphold the objects of the Association.13 In other words, the BWA meant to assume the role of connecting and coordinating all British women in Shanghai. At its onset, the British Women’s Association was granted use of the rooms situated at the back of the Chartered Bank building at no charge until the premises were to be demolished in July. In September 1921, the BWA moved to the upper half of 9 Kiukiang Road and a tea lounge, reading room, library, committee room, and secretary’s office were installed, rooms which were

10

11 12 13

In fact, Lady de Sausmarez (1856–1947) organized the British Women’s Work Association (BWWA) in September 1914 before the BWA to mobilize resources for the health and comfort of British sailors and soldiers during World War I. In spite of its name, the BWWA claimed that it “has never been run on national lines but according to the different spheres of employment in Shanghai.” “British Women’s Work for Soldiers and their Families,” NCH, October 3, 1914, 41; “Notes & Comments,” NCH, October 10, 1914, 77. “Health Commission in Shanghai,” NCH, December 18, 1920, 808. “British Women’s Association,” The Shanghai Times, March 5, 1921, 9. “The British Women’s Association,” NCH, February 26, 1921, 525.

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

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Figure 6.1 Locations of the British Women’s Association in Shanghai

reportedly “most cozily fitted up and in their convenient location are furnishing admirable service to appreciative members.”14 In September 1923, however, the organization was relocated to 12 Kiukiang Road,15 and in May 1924 the BWA finally settled into its new home, 12 The Bund, sharing the building with Hongkong and Shanghai Bank Corporation (see Figure 6.1).16 Concerning the event, the chairwoman Mrs. E. M. Gull (1869–1951) commented: The outstanding event in B. W. A. history of the past year is of course our removal to these palatial premises. We have a thoroughly modern and up-to-date organization, which is being conducted on dignified and decorous lines, and with which any Englishwomen may feel proud of being 14 15 16

“British Women’s Association,” NCH, May 21, 1921, 536; Elizabeth Pepys, “A Retrospect of the British Women’s Association’s First Year of Work,” NCH, January 7, 1922, 58. “Agencies to Which Money May Be Sent,” NCH, September 15, 1923, 768. “British Women’s Association Holds Eighth Annual General Meeting Yesterday Afternoon,” The China Press, March 21, 1929, 14.

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connected. You will realize before you leave this meeting that the B. W. A. has never been in a more flourishing or promising condition than it is today.17 Being located in the most prosperous area with the highest rents in Shanghai, the BWA not only made itself easily accessible for members, but also demonstrated its social prestige and rapport with prominent enterprises. The club was open to members from 10am to 7pm daily and light refreshments were provided, including “a genuine English tea is served” at a charge of 40 cents between 4 and 6 in the afternoon.18 In view of its setting and amenities, the BWA offered a venue most suitable for socializing and entertaining. 3

The Membership of the BWA

As indicated in the BWA’s constitution, all British women, either by birth or acquisition of nationality, were eligible for membership. In a cosmopolitan city such as Shanghai, however, the identification of “Britishness” could be controversial, particularly concerning the issue of mixed marriage. Robert Bickers has indicated that sexual liaisons with the Chinese were considered a social taboo within the British settlement, to the extent that middle-class British men were prohibited from taking Chinese women as legal spouses. In spite of a few exceptions, Sino-British intermarriages were very rare, and the Chinese wives of British men were likely deterred from BWA membership. Meanwhile, with the influx of Russian refugees from 1917 onwards, white European women became a convenient alternative for the British men facing a shortage of their fellow women in Shanghai.19 Considering that married women customarily took their husbands’ surnames as their public identities instead of disclosing their own given or maiden names, it is difficult to identify their original nationalities. Disputes within the Association though reveal the wide range of its participating members: A member of the executive committee in 1929 proposed, “No member may serve on the Executive Committee of the BWA who is at the same time on the Executive Committee of any other foreign national organization,”20 and in 1930, the executive committee sug17 18 19 20

“Clubs and Societies: British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 21, 1925, 491. “British Women’s Association: Club Rooms Opened,” NCH, April 2, 1921, 31. Robert Bickers, Britain in China: Community, Culture and Colonialism 1900–1949 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), 98–102. “The British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 23, 1929, 485.

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

151

gested that “members of the Executive Committee must be British born, and if married, of British nationality by marriage.”21 These two proposals suggest that certain tensions may have occurred along the lines of differing national interests, which led the executive committee to confine its members to a “purer” British nationality. The second resolution, however, was defeated by an overwhelming majority “as it was generally felt that the Executive Committee should be representative of our large and varied membership, and that all women who were eligible for membership suitable, should not be debarred from its inner Council.”22 This decision further indicates that non-British women (presumably European and/or American) were eligible for—and granted—BWA membership on the condition of sanctioned marriage. To join the BWA, one would require an invitation from a current member; it appears, however, this was a mere formality of candidature as she could simply visit the BWA headquarters and have the secretary endorse her application.23 This mechanism allowed for the Association to retain its discretionary power, namely preventing any unsuitable or unwanted person from procuring membership, and thus, BWA reports often described their new members as “elected.” In addition, each member was obliged to pay annual fees to maintain her membership, and in an effort to keep the cost affordable for all British women in Shanghai, it was deliberately fixed in the beginning as low as 3 dollars. The small amount of operational funds, however, would prove to constrain the range of work conducted by the BWA, and the fee was later raised to 5 dollars in 1925, to 6 dollars in 1932, and to 10 dollars in 1935.24 The prudent policy of maintaining low annual fees was seemingly effective in drawing a large membership base. According to the quinquennial census conducted by the Shanghai Municipal Council, approximately two thousand British female adults resided in the International Settlement (Figure 6.2). The French Concession, however, did not keep records during the same time interval, and thus, we do not possess an accurate aggregate of British residents in Republican Shanghai—a comparable census taken by the French Municipal Council in 1936 shows the numbers of British male and female adults were 1,093 and 1,065, respectively.25 21 22 23 24 25

“The British Women’s Association,” NCH, April 1, 1930, 16. “The British Women’s Association,” NCH, April 1, 1930, 16. “B. W. A. Annual Meeting,” NCH, April 5, 1932, 24. “British Women’s Association,” NCH, Mar. 12, 1921, 668; “British Women’s Association,” March 27, 1926, 578; The China Press, “B. W. A. Increases its Subscriptions from First of January,” December 24, 1931, 18; “B. W. A. Holds Annual Meeting,” April 6, 1935, 11. “Shanghai Fazujie renkou diaochabiao” 上海法租界人口調查表 (Population Surveys of the French Concession in Shanghai), Shanghai Fagongdongju Gongbao上海法公董局 公報, no. 256 (February 18, 1937), 4. The census defined an adult as above the age of 15.

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3,000 2,872

2,794 2,613 2,398

2,250

2,374 2,123

2,017

1,969 1,768

1,500

1,591 1,330 1,007

750

0

1915

1920

1925 Male adults

1930

1935

1942

Female adults

Figure 6.2 British population in the International Settlement, Shanghai Sources: The Municipal Gazette, November 25, 1915, 338–339; November 20, 1920, 381–382; December 3, 1925, 380–381; December 5, 1930, 520–521; December 20, 1935, 510–511; March 24, 1942, 34

Using the figures of the two settlements in 1935 and 1936, one may estimate that roughly three thousand British women resided in Shanghai in the mid1930s, and as shown in Figure 6.3, the BWA maintained more than one thousand members over the years, including a few dozens of out-of-port and on-leave members. Therefore, the BWA on the whole was able to secure the membership of as many as a half of the British adult women in Shanghai, a rather admirable achievement. Nevertheless, the BWA set the lofty goal to recruit all British women in Shanghai and thus found no satisfaction with the status quo. Mrs. E. T. Byrne, the chairwoman of the executive committee from 1927–1929, strongly encouraged her fellow members to invite more ladies to join the BWA, saying: Let us keep this in mind, and not rest content till every British woman we know has come forward, not primarily for her own benefit, though we hope that will follow, but in support of the many activities that are being carried on by her fellow country women in this city.26 26

“British Women’s Association Holds Eighth Annual General Meeting Yesterday After­ noon,” The China Press, March 21, 1929, 14.

153

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51 1,500 1,377

1,200 900

1,172

1,415

1,191 1,090

1,241

1,113

1,000

1,050

1,046

1,022

980

1932

1933

1936

1938

600 300 0

1922

1923

1925

1926

1927

1929

1930

1931

Figure 6.3 BWA membership Sources: NCH, March 18, 1922; March 24, 1923; March 27, 1926; March 23, 1929; April 1, 1930; March 31, 1931; April 5, 1932; North-China Daily News, March 31, 1927; The China Press, March 19, 1925; March 29, 1928; March 25, 1933; March 27, 1936

Lady Brenan, the wife of British Consul-General in Shanghai Sir John Fitzgerald Brenan (1883–1953) and the honorary president of the BWA, even wrote a personal letter to all members in May 1934, asking them each to enroll at least one new member. As a result, nearly 200 new members were enlisted that year.27 But why did the BWA insist on including all British women in Shanghai? Undoubtedly, the Association needed resources, workforce, and support from the British community to achieve its goals; and naturally, more members equated to more funding. As the BWA was economically sustained by membership fees, donations, and fundraising activities, a larger membership base would secure its footing and reduce financial uncertainty, and the chairwomen during annual meetings thus incessantly called on members to invite others. Meanwhile, the BWA seemed reluctant to make up for its deficit by collecting a higher fee as one chairwoman clearly stated that the committee “would rather do anything than lose even one member by raising the subscription.”28 Although the BWA did eventually increase its rates as mentioned above, the fee was inexpensive compared with other associations and clubs. For instance, the Shanghai branch of the China Association, which claimed to be “so important

27 28

“B. W. A. Has Year Meet Yesterday,” The China Press, March 19, 1937, 11. “British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 18, 1922, 762.

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nationally that every British subject ought to join it as a patriotic duty,” collected a subscription of 10 dollars per annum in 1920, whereas the prestigious Shanghai Club charged 9 dollars per month in addition to a one-time entrance fee of 125.29 Moreover, the BWA hesitated to annul one’s membership on the account of arrearages in spite of their rather serious financial situation. The total membership in 1923 amounted to 1,172, but only 936 paid their annual subscription, which, according to Mrs. Dorothy Lee on the executive committee, “would be impossible in any men’s club or association.”30 Similarly, in 1930 the number of members on the BWA books was 1,191, but only 794 paid their fees for the previous year.31 It apparently mattered more to have an all-embracing institution rather than expelling a number of defaulters, and this fact was further confirmed by the original intent of the BWA founders, which was to build an organization that could more effectively convene British women in Shanghai so as to represent them as a beneficial segment to the Empire in which no subject should be left out. Only in 1936 did the BWA decide to remove those who had not paid their dues for over a year in an effort to “have an active list rather than an inflated membership on paper.”32 The accessibility to, and inclusiveness of, the BWA thus reveals its significance, just as Mrs. Brooke at an annual meeting stated, “We must keep up our membership, not only because our subscriptions are our chief source of revenue, but because the larger our membership list the more important we are as an organization.”33 Unlike many clubs whose high barriers to entry created social distinctions symbolizing one’s social status, the BWA aimed to recruit as many members as possible; therefore, its membership hardly served as a marker of the upper social stratum. 4

The Organization of the BWA

The BWA operated through three divisions: The headquarters, various recreational sections, and the social service board (Figure 6.4). The headquarters represented the organization, communicated with the public, and coordinated all internal administrative work. Recreational sections were initiated 29 C. E. Darwent, Shanghai: A Handbook for Travellers and Residents to the Chief Objects of Interest in and around the Foreign Settlements and Native City (Shanghai: Kelly & Walsh, Limited, 1920), 142–143. 30 “British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 24, 1923, 812. 31 “The British Women’s Association,” NCH, April 1, 1930, 16. 32 “B. W. A. Has Annual Meeting,” The China Press, March 27, 1936, 11. 33 “Annual Meeting of B. W. A.,” NCH, March 15, 1939, 460.

155

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51 Execu�ve Commi�ee Headquarters

House Commi�ee Entertainment Commi�ee Gardening Sports Literary (Library)

Bri�sh Women's Associa�on

Sec�ons

Music Arts Drama Needlecra�

Social Service Board

Hospital Aid Department Hospital Visi�ng Department

Figure 6.4 Organizational structure of the BWA

by members with common interests in order to provide social amenities as well as cultivating a sense of belonging and purpose, whereas the social service board implemented the charity projects proposed by the executive committee. Outside of the annual general meeting, members of each committee and section also convened and held activities regularly. The executive committee, house committee, and entertainment committee were all positioned under the headquarters, and while the latter two committees were responsible for auxiliary tasks such as the decoration of rooms or

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handling of recreational programs, the former served as the central agency for decision making. The executive committee consisted of 12 members in the year of the BWA’s inception and increased to 18 from the second year onward. Annual elections were held for the posts, and a ballot with the candidates’ names was distributed to all registered members in advance and collected at the annual general meeting.34 A further requirement, according to a resolution proposed in 1925, stated, “Each year two-thirds of the executive committee shall be eligible for re-election and one-third shall retire voluntarily at the end of three years of service; further, that one year elapse before retiring members shall stand for re-election.”35 In so doing, the executive committee could borrow experience while allowing for more diversity and reducing the risk of factional monopoly. The committee then elected a chairwoman, vice chairwoman, and treasurer to assist in its administrative tasks, and the wife of the British Consul-General could—if willing—be the honorary president of the Association as seen by the example of Lady Brenan above. In the first two decades of the history of the BWA, 151 individuals served on the executive committee; and as Figure 6.5 indicates, 60 members (roughly 40%) served only a single term, and 35 sat on the committee for four or more years, signifying that the composition of the executive committee was wideranging. It was common for expatriates such as British diplomats and officers as well as employees of transnational enterprises to transfer from post to post, resulting in low geographical loyalty; and thus, the high turnover of the committee was partly due to this frequent change in the residency of overseas Britons. In this way, clubs and associations provided an English style of social life and an escape from the daily tedium for this type of individual,36 a category to which Mrs. G. H. Borrett, one of the BWA founders and executive committee members in 1921, belonged. Her husband, Lieutenant George H. Borrett, served in the navy and arrived in China to suppress the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, and afterwards was assigned to various ports around the globe and fought in the Battle of Jutland during World War I.37 In 1919 he was promoted to Rear Admiral and enlisted in the China Squadron, and in the following two years

34 35 36 37

“British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 18, 1922, 760. “BWA Records Prosperous Year at Annual Gathering,” The China Press, March 19, 1925, 5. Robert Bickers, “Shanghailanders: The Formation and Identity of the British Settler Community in Shanghai, 1843–1937,” Past and Present 159 (May 1998): 184. “M. A. P.,” The Shanghai Times, December 18, 1917, 11.

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

157

Figure 6.5 Number of terms of executive committee members Sources: NCH, March 12, 1921; March 18, 1922; March 24, 1923; March 27, 1926; March 31, 1931; April 5, 1932; March 24, 1937; March 16, 1938; March 15, 1939; March 20, 1940; April 2, 1941; The China Press, March 19, 1925; March 29, 1928; March 21, 1929; March 31, 1930; March 25, 1933; March 24, 1934; April 6, 1935; March 27, 1936; North-China Daily News, March 31, 1927

was appointed Senior Naval Officer in central China, often traveling between Shanghai and the ports in the upper Yangzi.38 Mrs. Borrett, who had in the meanwhile been accompanying her husband from one place to another, was quite active in the British community of Shanghai, joining her friends Mrs. F. Ayscough and Mrs. George Wilson, for instance, in exhibiting her collection of porcelains at the American Women’s Club.39 She was also one of the first to enthusiastically respond to Mrs. C. Neville Rolfe’s call to organize British women in Shanghai despite the fact that she would soon depart the treaty port, and thanks largely to her efforts, the BWA was able to establish its headquarters within the Bund. Her daughter, Miss Borrett, also devoted her time and energy to furnishing the headquarters

38 39

“The China Squadron: Details of Appointments,” The Shanghai Times, June 13, 1919, 12; “British Senior Naval Officer on Yangtsze,” The Canton Times, April 15, 1920, 1. “Chinese Curios Exhibition: Interesting Display at American Woman’s Club by Mrs. Ayscough,” NCH, Mar. 5, 1921, 604.

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with an abundance of journals and books.40 In spite of all these endeavors, they had to move along with their husband and father in November 1921, only eight months after the establishment of the BWA. Similar instances of the rotation of men’s work prompted the rapid change in the BWA executive committee. On the other hand, many of those who served on the executive committee for longer periods of time were the so-called “Shanghailanders,” British settlers who, while retaining their national and imperial identities, cultivated a peculiar sense of belonging to the local community,41 exemplified by Mrs. R. E. Toeg, one of the longer-serving members of the executive committee. Her husband, Raymond Ezekiel Toeg (1851–1931), was born in Baghdad in 1851 and arrived in China in 1874 as an agent for Messrs. E. D. Sassoon & Co. in Ningbo and Chefoo. By 1881 Mr. Toeg had become an exchange broker in Shanghai and seven years later was in partnership with Mr. R. A. Gubbay in Hong Kong. In 1900 he entered into a business association with Mr. H. H. Read that lasted until 1918, when he withdrew and once again became an exchange broker on his own account, and he finally retired in 1922. Aside from engaging in these commercial circles, Mr. R. E. Toeg was also socially active in Shanghai, holding memberships in the Shanghai Club, the Shanghai Race Club, Hong Kong Jockey Club, the Tsingtao Race Club, the Shanghai Cricket Club, the International Recreation Club, and the Chinese Jockey Club of Shanghai. Mr. R. E. Toeg passed away in Shanghai at the age of 80 in 1931.42 Mrs R. E. Toeg, née Sophie Raphael, was born to a Jewish family in Shanghai in 1875. Her father, R. S. Raphael (1843–1902), had arrived in China to join the firm of David Sassoon, Sons and Co. in 1862, but subsequently established his own business mainly engaged in the tea and opium trades.43 Sophie was sent to London for education in 1883 and returned to Shanghai ten years later, not to have a reunion with her original family, but to marry Mr. R. E. Toeg, a strange man older than herself by 24 years. During the first seven years of her marriage, Mrs. Toeg gave birth to two daughters and two sons, which kept her occupied with childrearing and housework until they became adults, and according to

40 41 42 43

“British Women’s Association: Farewell Reception to Mrs. Borrett,” NCH, Nov. 5, 1921, 383. Robert Bickers, “Shanghailanders,” 161–211. “An Old-Time Sportsman: ‘Sutherlander’s’ Tribute to the Late Mr. R. E. Toeg,” NCH, October 20, 1931, 99; “Obituary: A Well-Known Shanghai Sportsman Mr. R. E. Toeg’s Career,” South China Morning Post, October 14, 1931, 10. “Readings for the Week,” NCH, February 19, 1902, 309.

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159

one newspaper’s coverage, Mrs. Toeg had not begun to participate in public affairs until reaching the age of 40. As one of the founding members of the BWA, she was elected to the executive committee in 1924, and following her husband’s death, she remained in Shanghai and continued to serve the BWA (in which she was on the executive committee for 12 terms in total). In addition to the BWA, she was also involved in the Jewish Ladies Benevolent Society and the Shelter House, as well as assuming the presidency of the Shanghai Zionist Association for seven years beginning in 1929. Not until the Second Sino-Japanese War and the intensifying of the following civil war did the Toegs depart: Nora to the United States, Dora and Edmund to London, and David to Hong Kong. In 1947 Mrs. R. E. Toeg left Shanghai for the United States and eventually settled in London, where she passed away in 1955.44 Both female expatriates and Shanghailanders had the opportunity to take part in the BWA, but their trajectories were highly subject to their male kin’s attachment to the settlement. Female expatriates would have to terminate their activities in Shanghai once their husbands transferred to other posts or jobs, returned home for retirement, or even unexpectedly passed away in the settlement; Shanghailanders, however, took Shanghai as their home in spite of their foreign identity, which presumably resulted in long-term service within the executive committee. As shown in Table 6.1, the upbringing of the majority of chairwomen belonged to this Shanghailander category, who tended to serve not only longer but also more ardently. Although one BWA leader asserted, “It has always been the policy to make the Executive as truly and genuinely representative of every section of British women in the community as possible,” and continued, “They had never had any one on the Committee merely on account of what her husband had done or because of any social pull,”45 the composition of the executive committee was essentially limited to the upper social echelon. Those who chaired the Association particularly came from prominent families in the Shanghai settlement, in which their husbands played a leading role in business, politics, or social circles, as indicated in Table 6.1.

44 45

“Mrs Sophia Toeg: Old Shanghai Resident Dies in London,” South China Morning Post, March 4, 1955, 7. “British Women’s Association: Enthusiastic Gathering at Annual Meeting: The Year’s Work: New Officers,” NCH, March 24, 1923, 812.

Husband’s Club & Association Memberships

1921

1925, Head of Messrs. 1927–1929 Heffer & Co. and of Oriental Cotton S. & W. Co.; Director of Senawang Rubber Estates Co., of Kapayang Rubber Estates Co., and of Dominion Rubber Co.

E. T. Byrne

Race Club; Golf Club; St. Patrick’s Society; Rowing Club; China Kennel Club; Midget Sailing Club; Shanghai Yacht Club

Paper Hunt Club; Medical Staff Shanghai Polo of Shanghai Volunteer Corps Club; Golf Club

Chair of Husband’s the BWA Occupation Executive Committee

W. B. Billinghurst

Name

Departed from China

1913 1923

1908 1930**

1908

1873*

1930

1923

Husband Wife Husband Wife

Arrived in China

Table 6.1 Backgrounds of the chairwomen of the BWA executive committee

Sources (d/mo/yr)

Shanghailander NCH 06/06/14 NCH 22/05/20 NCH 21/05/21 NCH 01/09/28 NCH 20/05/30 NCH 25/11/30

Shanghailander NCH 27/03/08 NCH 07/02/14 NCH 27/01/23

Type of Residency

160 lien

P. D. G. Gain 1940

1926, 1927, Treasurer of SMC Society of Chartered 1930, 1931, Accountants; 1935, 1937 St. George’s Society

Director of Messrs. Slowe, & Co.; Trade Commissioner in China for South Africa

Zero Club; Golf Club; BritishAmerican United Association; SVC Club; Race Club

J. T. Ford

Director of Senawang Rubber Estates Co.

1930

E. O. Cumming

Husband’s Club & Association Memberships

Chair of Husband’s the BWA Occupation Executive Committee

Name

Departed from China

1903 1936

1908 1939

1941

1896

1908

1913

Sources (d/mo/yr)

Shanghailander CP 28/04/36 NCH 13/11/03 NCH 31/05/07 NCH 22/09/31 NCH 29/04/36

Type of Residency

1940

Shanghailander NCH 08/01/36 NCH 02/04/41

1937** Shanghailander NCH 01/11/33 NCH 30/06/37 NCH 01/03/39 SCMP 26/02/48

1936

Husband Wife Husband Wife

Arrived in China

Table 6.1 Backgrounds of the chairwomen of the BWA executive committee (cont.)

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

161

1913 1926

1922–1924 Staff in Maritime China Association 1906 Customs; Asst. Editor of NCDN

E. M. Gull

1940, 1941 Electrical Engineer of China General Omnibus Co.

V. A. Jones

Accountant; Partner of Messrs. Lowe, Bingham and Matthews

1938

E. F. Hardman

1919 After 1945

1943

1896*

Shanghai Rowing 1911 Club; Amateur Dramatic Club

St. Patrick’s Society; Zero Club

1911 1930

St. George Society; 1905 China Association

Editor of NCDN

1923

Departed from China

1941

After 1945

1926

1930

Husband Wife Husband Wife

Arrived in China

O. M. Green

Husband’s Club & Association Memberships

Chair of Husband’s the BWA Occupation Executive Committee

Name

Table 6.1 Backgrounds of the chairwomen of the BWA executive committee (cont.)

Sources (d/mo/yr)

NCH 25/09/26 NCH 03/06/36

Shanghailander COE, p. 593. NCH 20/01/12 NCH 18/10/13 NCH 01/07/36

Shanghailander NCH 12/04/19 NCH 01/11/33 NCH 22/11/33

Expatriate

Shanghailander CP 22/02/29 CWR 30/03/30 NCH 13/01/11 ST 04/05/17

Type of Residency

162 lien

1923

H. G. Simms

J. S. Whitney 1936, 1939 Staff of the Municipal Electricity Department

V. G. Sutcliffe 1932, 1933 Sub-Dean of Holy Trinity Cathedral

North China Insurance Co.; Shanghai Mutual Telephone Co.; Chairman of SMC

Chair of Husband’s the BWA Occupation Executive Committee

Name

Cricket Club

Departed from China

1928 1934

1927 1939

1928

1927

1923

1939

1934

1923

Husband Wife Husband Wife

Arrived in China

China Association; 1899 St. Patrick’s Society; Shanghai Club

Husband’s Club & Association Memberships

Table 6.1 Backgrounds of the chairwomen of the BWA executive committee (cont.)

Sources (d/mo/yr)

Expatriate

Expatriate

NCH 12/03/27 NCH 20/03/40

CP 05/12/28 CP 16/10/32

Shanghailander NCH 20/10/23 NCH 29/07/36 ST 04/05/17

Type of Residency

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

163

1934

H. V. Wilkinson

St. George’s Society; Swimming Bath Club; Zero Club

Husband’s Club & Association Memberships

Departed from China

1906

After 1937 1919

1937

Husband Wife Husband Wife

Arrived in China

Notes: 1. * Born in China; ** Died in China 2. COE: Greg Leck, Captives of Empire: The Japanese Internment of Allied Civilians in China, 1941–1945 (Bangor, PA: Shandy Press, 2006); CP: China Press; CWWF: China Who’s Who (Foreign); NCH: North-China Herald; SCMP: South China Morning Post; ST: Shanghai Times.

Shanghai Dock & Engineering Co.; Shanghai Water Works Co.

Chair of Husband’s the BWA Occupation Executive Committee

Name

Table 6.1 Backgrounds of the chairwomen of the BWA executive committee (cont.)

Sources (d/mo/yr)

Shanghailander CP 12/03/37 CWWF, p. 275. NCH 24/12/26 NCH 04/06/27 NCH 07/03/34 NCH 06/02/35 NCH 17/03/37

Type of Residency

164 lien

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

165

Take the example of Mrs. E. T. Byrne, who served on the executive committee from 1924 to 1929 (except in 1926 when she was on home leave) and was elected as chairwoman four times. Her husband, Edwin Thomas Byrne (1873–1930), was born in Shanghai and his father was a partner of Messrs. Hall & Holtz, the first department store in Shanghai. Mr. E. T. Byrne entered the silk trade at a young age and was later associated with various firms: It was reported that the companies under his chairmanship or directorship numbered around 20. These experiences allowed him to build up and strengthen wide connections with numerous business persons and to sit on the Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce committee for several years, which in turn further bolstered his career. Mr. Byrne was also active in a myriad of sports clubs, being a member of the Golf Club, Race Club, St. Patrick’s Society, Rowing Club, China Kennel Club, Midget Sailing Club, and Shanghai Yacht Club.46 These positions and memberships demonstrate the influence that he wielded in the foreign community of Shanghai, which then also enhanced Mrs. Byrne’s status within the British community and helped to foster her concern for public affairs. In other words, even though the BWA claimed to be an all-inclusive organization run by women, it was the elites, usually male powerholders in the foreign community that determined women’s role in the Association. The social status of their husbands did not matter just ostensibly as the BWA often relied on men’s social networks to gain material support. For instance, the Shanghai Race Club (SRC) was the major donor of the BWA with total donations between 1921 and 1936 amounting to 58,640 dollars (see Figure 6.6). As both the BWA and the SRC were viewed as prestigious societies for British women and men in Shanghai, it is more than likely that members of both societies were socially connected. As indicated in Table 6.1, Mrs. E. T. Byrne and Mrs. E. O. Cumming chaired the BWA for several years while their husbands were active SRC members. Instances such as these may well explain the large endowments gifted by the SRC to the BWA. Beyond the headquarters, the BWA established recreational sections and a social service board to assume the roles of providing entertainment and charity work, which distinguished the BWA from other women’s organizations. As mentioned above, British women in Shanghai formed societies mainly for philanthropic and nationalist purposes, but at the same time, were often excluded from the form of social gathering characterized as the “gentlemen’s club” in the British tradition.47 To break the male cultural monopoly on clubs, the BWA claimed that women would also need “a thoroughly up-to-date club run on 46 47

“Obituary: Mr. Edwin Thomas Byrne,” NCH, May 20, 1930, 310. Amy Milne-Smith, London Clubland: A Cultural History of Gender and Class in Late Victorian Britain (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011).

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Figure 6.6 Annual donations from the Shanghai Race Club to the BWA Sources: NCH, December 17, 1921; May 27, 1922; December 9, 1922; June 16, 1923; December 29, 1923; June 7, 1924; December 13, 1924; June 6, 1925; December 12, 1925; May 29, 1926; December 11, 1926; June 18, 1927; December 11, 1927; June 16, 1928; December 15, 1928; June 8, 1929; December 14, 1929; May 20, 1930; December 9, 1930; June 2, 1931; December 1, 1931; May 31, 1932; December 14, 1932; June 14, 1933; December 13, 1933; June 9, 1934; December 9, 1934; June 26, 1935; January 8, 1936; July 1, 1936; The China Press, January 8, 1937

broad, modern lines, where a certain number of members whose homes are elsewhere may live, and where an unlimited number may enjoy the usual club privileges untrammeled by restriction.” As a result, the Association was conceived to be “a residential and social club” in the model of the Shanghai Club, where guest rooms would be available to its members, and various sections, a library, and lectures would be instituted and held to “evoke warm interest.”48 Despite its efforts in the first few years, the BWA realized that the premise of combining a residence with the headquarters was not feasible due to financial uncertainty. Recreational sections, however, developed as intended and performed quite well in attracting new members. In the first year alone, the sections together recruited nearly 600 new members and provided a great variety of activities, and as quoted in an annual report in 1922, an anonymous prominent woman—who had seldom participated in any form of social amenities—claimed, “The BWA has provided us with a great deal of enjoyment this winter—it has made all the difference to busy women like myself.”49 48 49

“Inaugural Meeting of British Women’s Association,” Millard’s Review of the Far East, February 26, 1921, 22. “British Women’s Association: Annual General Meeting,” NCH, March 18, 1922, 762.

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The sections functioned independently of the headquarters in the sense that each organized its own activities, elected its own executive committee, collected its own fees, and kept its own treasury; and in the first year, BWA members paid 1 dollar for their enrollment in each section in addition to the regular annual fee of 3 dollars.50 To maintain their connection and communication, each section was required to have at least one representative in the executive committee of the headquarters. Furthermore, the sections were entitled to make use of the facilities at the headquarters, but all the while being expected to make financial contributions. For instance, the drama section organized a number of small entertainment activities at the headquarters during the winter of 1927; in return, it donated 240 dollars to the social service board and 493 to the headquarters fund.51 Flourishing as these sections were, certain problems arose that seemed to fracture the unity of the main organization. Addressing the issue, the chairwoman Mrs. E. T. Byrne commented in length during the annual meeting in 1930: It is one of the problems of a body such as ours, that by reason of its very large membership, interests must necessarily be divided, and I sometimes find that through enthusiasm for the work of a certain section, the welfare of the Association as a whole, tends somewhat to sink into the background, and this is a danger that will increase as the Association grows. […] But as is the case of Shanghai, the interest of the Community should come before that of the group, so the welfare of the Association should not be obscured by interest in one department only, and though we welcome members who may have joined because the work of a particular section appeals to them, or even because they enjoy the books of the library, it is important that they should feel that this is not enough and that the Association as a whole has an equal claim on them, not only in the days of stress and emergency when there is always a rally to the colors, but also in the more uneventful days of peace.52

50 51 52

Elizabeth Pepys, “A Retrospect of the British Women’s Association’s First Year of Work,” NCH, January 7, 1922, 59. “British Women’s Activities Reviewed at Annual Meeting of the Local Association,” The China Press, March 29, 1928, 3. “The British Women’s Association Holds General Meeting,” The China Press, March 26, 1930, 5.

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Mrs. Byrne’s concern shows the growing competition between the head­ quarters and the sections for members’ time, energy, and money—especially when the three became limited. More importantly, as the members focused more on the recreational programs, this tendency may have obscured the BWA’s profile as an altruist organization. This point is most evident in the chairwomen’s repeated emphasis that the Association was by no means a self-seeking club for recreational purposes alone and often called their fellow women to bear in mind “what we British women in Shanghai can give to the Association and not what we can get out of it.”53 5

The BWA’s Service to the Empire and the Community

The British Women’s Association declared its motto to be “service to the empire and the community,” but the community under consideration was primarily referred to as the British women and men in Shanghai and excluded the majority of their neighbors, namely the Chinese. Within this community, they were particularly concerned about single women who arrived in Shanghai for work, as it was reported: Few girls dependent on their work could suddenly command a hundred or two hundred taels for the costs of sickness, and although doctors and hospitals are kind in granting credit, a self-respecting girl would dislike the idea of keeping them out of their money and would appreciate the ability to go to her own association for temporary assistance.54 To facilitate its services, the BWA established the social service board to coordinate all conducted charity work, and the board held meetings twice a month in which the applications for assistance were carefully investigated. Financial help was particularly given—but not limited—to women who were stranded in Shanghai and unable to afford passage to return home, deserted or poor children who could not afford an education, and young women who wished to be trained as typists but lacked resources of their own.55 A summary of the cases processed in 1928 also reflects the Association’s priorities:56

53 54 55 56

“Year’s Working of the BWA,” NCH, April 1, 1936, 17. “British Women,” NCH, October 22, 1921, 215. “B. W. A’SSN: Social Service Suggestion,” NCH, May 1, 1926, 205. “Report of BWA Social Service Board Is Issued,” The China Press, March 23, 1929, 16.

The British Women ’ s Association in Shanghai, 1921–51

Temporary help given those in need Educational help for children Medical help Help given towards a family going to Australia

169

9 14 4 1

In addition to the assistance provided on an individual basis, the social service board extended its helping hand to British-run hospitals throughout China, both the larger ones found in urban centers and the smaller ones in remote areas. The members of the hospital aid department of the social service board, for instance, gathered in the workroom at the BWA headquarters to make medical supplies such as bandages, pads, and other hospital necessities. In 1925, 42 bundles that contained 9,101 articles were sent out, and in 1928 there were 13 hospitals assisted by 20 parcels that comprised 3,575 items.57 Moreover, when a devastating earthquake occurred in Japan in September 1923 and the prospect emerged that numerous refugees would be arriving in Shanghai, the social service board immediately produced a list of members who were willing to take in refugees and care for them. The board also shipped clothes and supplies to affected areas in Japan.58 In the spring of 1927 the clash over the British concession in Hankow led many Britons to promptly evacuate to Shanghai, leaving behind all their personal belongings. The social service board “sprang forward, met the arrivals as they came to Shanghai, arranged for a supply of clothing for all who needed and saw that they all had somewhere to stay.”59 It was the members’ enthusiasm that earned the BWA the reputation of “[having] achieved much and their work lay in the hearts of the people.”60 Beyond these philanthropic activities, the BWA provided other forms of assistance when the British community was in times of need. In May 1925 Japanese-owned cotton mills jointly dismissed male workers who were reported to have joined a demonstration. During the conflict one worker was killed and several were wounded, resulting in furious anti-foreign sentiment, ruthless bloodshed, and arrests, as well as a strike that lasted for three weeks. Owing to the disturbances, the BWA was asked to undertake the registration of volunteers for work that could be performed by women, and as a result, 490 members registered their names to assist in companies such as the Shanghai Mutual Telephone Company, the North-China Daily News, the Shanghai Mercury, and 57 58 59 60

“B. W. A. Hospital Work,” NCH, February 27, 1926, 391; “Report of BWA Social Service Board Is Issued,” The China Press, March 23, 1929, 16. “British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 22, 1924, 435. “BWA Social Service,” NCH, February 11, 1928, 243. “British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 21, 1925, 492.

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Messrs. Edward Evans, as well as in the kitchen department of the Shanghai Volunteer Corps.61 To attain the goal of “serving the empire,” the BWA enthusiastically participated in activities that manifested the glory of the British Empire, such as the annual celebration of Empire Day. Since the early 1900s Empire Day, in honor of Queen Victoria, had been celebrated on the day of her birth, May 24th, “in glorification of the Empire,” and the idea was to “inspire the rising generation with proper pride in our Empire and to instil [sic] into them the requisite knowledge of its greatness.”62 This empire-wide holiday was also meant to nurture the belongingness of all subjects throughout the colonies to the “imagined community” of the Empire. Situated at its periphery, the British community in Shanghai also organized various activities as a means of expressing its devotion to the Empire. For instance, the ceremony of unfurling the Union Jack in the British Consulate compound was performed by the Baden Powell Boy Scouts and Girl Guides, a special Empire Day service was held at Holy Trinity Cathedral, and a parade was assembled on the Consulate grounds. The BWA’s role within the celebrations of Empire Day was somewhat muted and recreational, including the hosting of a tea party and the organization of a dance, but nonetheless, the day reminded its members of their connection to the Empire in spite of—or because of—their distance.63 A more concrete and direct manner in which the BWA served the Empire was to provide entertainment to British soldiers who were temporarily visiting Shanghai. As Shanghai had been a significant port in Asia since the mid19th century, a number of commercial and military vessels docked for various amounts of time, and while staying in Shanghai for the time being, sailors and servicemen of the mercantile marine often found themselves in a city full of temptation. In order to prevent the moral degradation of these young men who were lonely and in a strange, yet alluring city during their off-work hours, the BWA aimed to provide them sound and healthy recreation, as Mrs. Gull pointed out in her speech in a BWA preliminary meeting: In any case, many of them have a very lonely time and loneliness for men and women often provides the open door to a variety of undesirable paths. Far be it from me to imagine that we can clean up Shanghai— nothing we can do will alter human nature. But what we can do, perhaps, 61 62 63

“British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 27, 1926, 578. “London: Empire Day,” NCH, July 8, 1904, 72. “Empire Day Celebrations,” NCH, May 28, 1921, 592; “British Women’s Association,” The China Press, May 22, 1927, 5; “B. W. A. Dance,” The China Press, May 21, 1928, 11.

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171

is to get out some sort of program of counter-attractions that may possibly save a few young men and lads from the moral degradation of having nowhere else to go to but these abominable places of which we have lately heard so much.64 With this purpose in mind, the BWA established the entertainment committee to arrange activities, mainly dances, for British sailors and servicemen in the Merchant Navy. Such events were often of great interest to the extent that hundreds of people joined (Figure 6.7). After the Second Sino-Japanese War broke out in 1937, however, the keynote of the BWA changed its tune, as its chairwoman Mrs. J. S. Whitney commented, “Work and more work, with, in the face of the need around us, no heart for play.”65 As numerous refugees flooded into the International Settlement, the BWA particularly cooperated with other societies to assist with relief work, including the production and distribution of daily necessities to the needy. Moreover, following the outbreak of war in Europe in September 1939, the BWA was further enthusiastic towards the war effort in that “during the six months of work 8,000 knitted articles, 217 Red Cross garments and 14,513 bandages, dressing etc. have been made and twenty-three cases in all have been dispatched to date.”66

Figure 6.7 Naval dance at the BWA headquarters Source: North-China Sunday News, July 3, 1932, 5

64 65 66

“The British Women’s Association,” NCH, February 26, 1921, 524. “British Women’s Part in Crisis,” NCH, March 16, 1938, 421. “Widespread B.W.A. Activities,” NCH, March 20, 1940, 452.

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In general, the services of the British Women’s Association received recognition from the public. “A grateful mother” wrote to the North-China Daily News expressing her gratitude to the BWA for a Christmas hamper: I am sure all the mothers of the families that have received such hampers must join with me in offering our most grateful and sincerest thanks to the group of ladies whose aim it is to help their unfortunate countrywomen in times of need and also to gladden the hearts of the little ones.67 To similarly show gratitude for the medical supplies sent from Shanghai, Sir Percy Noble wrote, “I am writing to tell them (the Royal Naval Comforts Depot) of your Association and its work—and I can assure you that your comforts will be very gratefully received.”68 The latter was particularly significant to the BWA as it not only demonstrated their “[doing] something good,” but also enabled them to connect with their home country and prove themselves as “good citizens,” just as the chairwoman concluded after quoting Sir Noble’s letter: “So our work will reach England with a good recommendation.” 6

The Social Networks of the BWA

As a major organization that aimed to provide social services, the British Women’s Association unequivocally needed to maintain good rapport with various groups. According to the coverage of local newspapers, the BWA was primarily associated with three types of organizations: The medical institutions receiving assistance from the BWA, the clubs and enterprises aiding the BWA, and other women’s organizations maintaining cooperation or affiliation with the BWA. As mentioned above, the BWA in principle extended assistance to British citizens and British-run organizations, among which the hospitals of the Church Missionary Society (CMS) were a primary beneficiary. Founded in London in 1799, the CMS sought to spread the gospel throughout the heathen world and established missionary stations in various treaty ports with a focus centered on medical concerns. By the 1880s China was reported to have the largest group of dispensaries and hospitals in any country in which the CMS operated, and by the 1930s the CMS ran hospitals in Zhejiang, Fujian,

67 68

“Christmas Hampers: Thanks from Recipients,” NCH, January 6, 1937, 25. “Widespread B.W.A. Activities,” NCH, March 20, 1940, 452.

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Guangdong, Yunnan, and Sichuan provinces.69 Considering the fact that the majority of the patients receiving care and services at these hospitals were Chinese, the BWA was indirectly extending assistance to their Chinese neighbors; but in so doing, it helped British institutions further demonstrate the capacity of good management found within the settlement, and in turn, manifest the superiority of the British Empire. The BWA also made efforts to gain support from other organizations. In addition to the Shanghai Race Club, which generously and faithfully made donations to the Association, for instance, the Country Club granted the privilege of being able to host social events on their premises to BWA members. Founded in 1879 by a group of Shanghailanders, the Country Club aimed to provide a spacious recreational venue consisting of drawing rooms, ballrooms, bars, theaters, tennis courts, croquet courts, bowling greens, and other facilities.70 In spite of excluding women from obtaining membership, the Club often lent its facilities to the BWA: The drama section held performances on its stage, the sports section played on its tennis courts and miniature nine-hole golf course, and the arts section held exhibitions in its hall.71 As a result and out of a sense of gratitude, the Country Club was often acknowledged in the BWA’s annual meetings. At the same time, the BWA frequently drew assistance from local, mainly British, corporations. Aside from the Chartered Bank and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank Corporation through which the BWA established its headquarters, Messrs. Lowe, Bingham & Matthews (LBM), a British accounting and auditing firm, offered services to the BWA from 1927. Earning its reputation by providing noteworthy services to such prestigious clients as the Ministry of Communication of China, the Bank of China, the Shanghai Waterwork Co., and other organizations,72 LBM further strengthened the BWA’s financial accountability. The BWA also obtained a fair amount of media exposure: 69 The Centenary Volume of the Church Missionary Society for Africa and the East, 1799–1899 (London: Church Missionary Society, 1902), 143–146. Rosemary Keen, “Church Missionary Society Archive: General Introduction and Guide to the Archive,” accessed March 26, 2020, http://www.ampltd.co.uk/digital_guides/church_missionary_society_archive_gen eral/editorial%20introduction%20by%20rosemary%20keen.aspx. “C.M.S. Work in the Far East,” NCH, October 31, 1934, 172. 70 “Country Club’s 50th Birthday,” NCH, July 6, 1929, 14. 71 “Entertainment at Country Club,” NCH, January 5, 1924, 11. “British Women’s Association,” NCH, May 21, 1921, 536; “British Women’s Activities Reviewed at Annual Meeting of the Local Association,” The China Press, March 29, 1928, 3. 72 “Reforms for Post Office: Expert Auditors to Report and Advise,” NCH, January 31, 1934, 169; “The Bank of China: Report by Messrs. Lowe, Bingham and Matthews,” Peking Gazette, March 29, 1916, 4; “Company Meetings: Shanghai Waterworks Co.,” NCH, April 5, 1932, 28.

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The North-China Herald and The China Press reported on all of the Association’s events and activities in a rather positive manner, enabling it to both receive public attention and establish social creditability, which was essential to its fundraising and the recruitment of new members. According to statistics gathered from the ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Chinese Newspapers Collection database, 2,152 news items were published concerning the BWA from 1921–1941, nearly one in every three days on average.73 Although the BWA was hardly identified as an endeavor out of “feminist activism” since its primary target of service was the “masculine” British Empire, it did, however, deliberately maintain a strong tie with other women’s organizations and particularly strengthened its affiliation with British women on an empire-wide scale, among which the Victoria League was a typical example worthy of discussion. Established in 1901 in London and named in honor of Queen Victoria, the League “was dedicated to binding in closer sympathy the scattered people of the Empire and promoting unity.” While both British men and women were entitled to its membership, the League was founded and administered by a group of pro-imperialist elite women.74 In 1929 the BWA announced in an annual meeting that it had been able to “enter into corresponding relations with the Victoria League,” and continued: Any member of the BWA who carries an introduction from our Associ­ ation may have the privilege of using the facilities of the League for a period of six months, after which date, if still benefiting by it they will be required to pay the usual subscription. On the other hand, members of the League who visit China will be welcomed by the Association, and permitted to use Headquarters for the same length of time.75 Via the Victoria League in London, the BWA was also able to stay in touch with League branches throughout the Empire. For instance, the BWA received members of the Victoria League in Victoria, Australia, who visited Shanghai in 1932 with an introduction from the London office.76 73

74 75 76

This search was conducted using the keywords “British Women’s Association” and “B.W.A.,” and the majority of the results came from The China Press (1,549) and The North-China Herald and Supreme Court & Consular Gazette (571). See https://search .proquest.com/hnpchinesecollection/results/49BC186C6097454APQ/1?accountid=13877, accessed April 21, 2020. Barbara Bush, “Feminising Empire? British Women’s Activist Networks in Defending and Challenging Empire from 1918 to Decolonisation,” Women’s History Review 25, no. 4 (February 2016): 503. “The British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 23, 1929, 485. “B.W.A. Annual Meeting,” NCH, April 5, 1932, 24.

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Moreover, a large-scale collaborative event took place in 1935 on the 25th anniversary of the accession of King George V to the throne, in which the Victoria League as a member of the Joint Committee of Empire Societies asked the BWA—an affiliated society—to participate in the creation of the Silver Jubilee Shilling Fund; that is, as its name implies, a fund composed of donated shillings from British subjects throughout the Empire and was to be presented as a gift to His Majesty.77 Within two months, the BWA collected 7,780 shillings from the British community in China and remitted the sum to the Victoria League in London as a token of “intimate tribute of loyalty and affection to the King.” Through this joint endeavor, the BWA declared, “Whatever may be the contributions from other British communities overseas, it will be recognized that, under present difficulties, British subjects here have made a really effective demonstration of their cooperation in the general celebrations of a memorable national event.”78 The BWA did not only associate itself with the homeland, but also made connections with British women in other ports. As demonstrated in the case of Shanghai, the BWA was not an umbrella organization expanding from the metropolis to other colonies, but was rather created out of the settlers’ initiative to improve their local well-being, and outside of Shanghai, the BWA also operated in other British colonies and dominions such as India, New Zealand, and South Africa.79 Despite adopting the same title, however, no central office was established to bring in all of the “branches” and each BWA remained independent, but they did form affiliations to provide assistance for any members traveling in between ports. In 1925, for instance, the BWA of Shanghai entered into a reciprocal agreement with the BWA of Yokohama which allowed for any member of one of the two parties, who would be passing through the other’s respective city, to have access to BWA headquarters facilities at no charge. For those who were visiting for a period from one to four months, they were eligible to obtain the rights of full membership upon paying an out-of-port subscription of 1 dollar, and those who stayed for more than four months needed to become ordinary members in order to continue enjoying the privileges.80 Meanwhile, in cities with smaller British communities which lacked an organized British 77 “Jubilee Shillings,” NCH, February 6, 1935, 203. 78 “Silver Jubilee Fund,” NCH, April 10, 1935, 45. 79 Benjamin B. Cohen, “Networks of Sociability: Women’s Clubs in Colonial and Postcolonial India,” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 30, no. 3 (2009): 178. Edward Tregear, Report of Commission on the Cost of Living in New Zealand, Together with Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence (Wellington: J. Mackay Government Printer, 1912), 133. “A Special Defence Corp,” The Geelong Advertiser, January 7, 1901, 3. 80 “British Women’s Association: Affiliation with the BWA Yokohama,” The China Press, September 30, 1925, 6.

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Women’s Association, the BWA of Shanghai sought alliances with the British members of other foreign women’s organizations, such as the Tientsin Women’s Club and the Women’s League in Peiping.81 In addition to the above British-based organizations, the BWA was also associated with women’s groups of other nationalities. At its onset, the BWA expressed interest in “fostering more friendly relations with the modern, English-speaking Chinese women and girls, and in affording information, encouragement and assistance to those Chinese girls who wished to imbibe western education” since very few Chinese women and girls traveled abroad to England at that time.82 From 1922 onwards, the BWA, together with local organizations, such as the American Women’s Club, the Japanese Women’s Club, the Moral Welfare Society, the Shanghai Women’s Club, and the YWCA, formed a joint committee to investigate the foul conditions of child labor in Shanghai and urged the Shanghai Municipal Council to take remedial actions.83 The Joint Committee of Shanghai Women’s Organizations was formally established in 1926 with the objectives of “linking up organizations of women in the various community units,” “obtaining representation for women of those nationalities not yet organized in Shanghai in club work,” and providing “a definite medium for the expression of thinking and civic minded women here.”84 By 1927 the Joint Committee had 12 institutional members from Britain, China, Germany, Japan, the Netherlands, Portugal, and the United States.85 7

Conclusion

Since its inception, the British Women’s Association persistently provided services until the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, after which Japanese troops occupied the International Settlement; all recreational venues were closed, and the civilians of the Allied nations were eventually interned by enemy forces. Following the conclusion of World War II, the people’s lives returned to relative normalcy and the BWA resumed operations in January 1947, 81 82 83 84 85

“Year’s Working of the BWA,” NCH, April 1, 1936, 17. “Inaugural Meeting of British Women’s Association,” Millard’s Review of the Far East, February 26, 1921, 22–23. “British Women’s Association,” NCH, March 18, 1922, 761; “Child Labour in Shanghai,” NCH, February 17, 1923, 447; “Child Labour in Shanghai,” NCH, December 20, 1924, 494. “Shanghai Club Women,” NCH, June 19, 1926, 567; “Shanghai’s Women’s Movement,” NCH, January 15, 1927, 87. “Shanghai Women’s Organizations,” NCH, December 3, 1927, 412.

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declaring that “though the numbers of members may be somewhat reduced temporarily, it is but fitting that such organizations which did such excellent work in times of stress should again be getting under way.”86 The postwar BWA continued its charitable and recreational programs, but as fundraising activities such as jumble sales, fun fairs, and other activities became almost impossible to organize and bring to a successful conclusion—not to mention the exodus of many members—the Association found it difficult to sustain itself.87 Coinciding with an overall withdrawal of British firms and citizens from China in 1951, the history of the British Women’s Association in Shanghai came to a close.88 Being active for more than two decades, the BWA truly made notable contributions to both its community and the greater Empire: Providing assistance to unemployed British women and uneducated children, supporting British-run hospitals in China to treat patients, entertaining British sailors and soldiers temporarily ashore, and donating medical supplies to the British frontlines during World War II. Aside from those recipients, however, it was the members themselves who benefited a great deal from their experiences within the organization. Many members of the BWA were full-time housewives, whose primary responsibility was to care for their families in a foreign country, and the Association served as a social space where women could participate in public affairs and demonstrate their usefulness and capabilities outside of the home. In particular, the organization and operation of the BWA allowed for its members to practice democracy by nominating and voting in the executive committee, as well as cultivating such skills as sociability, leadership, coordination, negotiation, and management, which in turn, resulted in a widespread social network teeming with affiliated groups. Moreover, the BWA opened an avenue for overseas British women to connect with their home country, precisely as Mrs. Gull concluded in her address in a preparatory meeting: As an organized and representative body of women we can become— I am sure of it—a distinct asset to the British community here; and in being an asset to our fellow nationals in the Far East we are capable of rendering service to our great country on the other side of the world.89

86 87 88 89

“B.W.A. to Restart?” North-China Daily News, January 20, 1947, 5. “B.W.A. Appeal,” North-China Daily News, November 18, 1949, 3. “Roundabout,” North-China Daily News, January 21, 1951, 3. “The British Women’s Association,” NCH, February 26, 1921, 524.

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This self-confident statement shows a strong eagerness to prove its value to the state while simultaneously shedding a sense of anxiety for being plausibly marginalized. Therefore, membership to a “nation-based” organization such as the British Women’s Association functioned not merely as a channel for socialization or as a bonding agent that connected one to their cultural inheritance, but also as a testimony of their contribution to the state and empire. Finally, as the only organization exclusively run by British women in Shanghai, one may be curious whether the BWA provoked gender identity to echo global women’s rights movements and redefined gender roles. The answer is a resounding no. In its inaugural meeting, the chairwoman Mrs. W. B. Billinghurst made a statement, paraphrased by a journalist from the Shanghai Times, which reveals how the new gender roles of the time were perceived: The Association was not merely a local movement but was part of a worldwide awakening of the women. The women of the whole world were organizing to help the men. They were impelled by some outside force and were borne along by some great tide towards an equally great end. They could not tell what that end was but they believed that it was good and right. They wanted to take their share of responsibility with their husbands and their brothers. The men had told them that they stood for what was good and pure and they wanted to bring those attributes into their public service, thus carrying on the great work of the pioneer women.90 This resonant and forceful speech indicates that the BWA represented an ambitious response to the global movement concerning the “awakening of the women,” but not to the monolithic phenomenon of gender inequality, rather a sharing of the responsibility towards society. By accepting the role of “help to men,” the BWA had no intention of challenging the prevailing and male-dominant gender hierarchy, but sought to cooperate with men to accomplish—while sometimes inevitably compromising—its goals. An example of this reality was the controversy over child labor, in which many members—while supporting any limits put on child labor practices for the sake of humanitarianism—were reluctant to take up any definite stand as it seemed to “interfere in men’s business concerns.”91 Even under the auspices 90 91

“British Women’s Association Inaugurated in Lyceum Theatre by Crowded and Enthusiastic Gathering,” The Shanghai Times, March 5, 1921, 9. “B.W.A. Records Prosperous Year at Annual Gathering,” The China Press, March 19, 1925, 5.

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of the Joint Committee of Shanghai Women’s Organizations, the issue was never fully resolved. On the first anniversary of the BWA, one male reader of the North-China Herald, while congratulating the Association’s achievements, even appealed to the BWA: “When women come down into the way of life, whether to compete or to cooperate with men, we like them to be more and not less truly womanly; and when women band together to get things for themselves, they will not, we hope, forget how much it is in them to do for the deplorable creatures of the other sex.”92 This sarcastic plea, whether heard by BWA members or not, foreshadowed the Association’s conformist gender ideology, which on the one hand may very well have allowed them to gain support from men and justify their engagement within the public sphere, but on the other, ultimately lost them the opportunity of operating through and raising the fundamental issue of gender inequality. References Bickers, Robert. Britain in China: Community, Culture and Colonialism 1900–1949. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999. Bickers, Robert. “Shanghailanders: The Formation and Identity of the British Settler Community in Shanghai, 1843–1937.” Past and Present 159 (May 1998): 161–211. Bradlow, Edna. “‘The Oldest Charitable Society in South Africa’: One Hundred Years and More of the Ladies’ Benevolent Society at the Cape of Good Hope.” South African Historical Journal 25 (1991): 77–104. Burton, Antoinette. Burdens of History: British Feminists, Indian Women and Imperial Culture, 1865–1915. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994. Bush, Barbara. “Feminising Empire? British Women’s Activist Networks in Defending and Challenging Empire from 1918 to Decolonisation.” Women’s History Review 25, no. 4 (February 2016): 499–519. Bush, Barbara. “Gender and Empire: The Twentieth Century.” In Gender and Empire, edited by Philippa Levine, 77–111. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Chang, Ning 張寧. “Julebu yu Zhimin—Jindai Hushang de Shanghai Zonghui” 俱樂部 與殖民—近代滬上的上海總會 [Social Clubs and the Empire: The Shanghai Club]. Xinshixue 新史學 32, no. 2 (June 2021): 251–318. Cohen, Benjamin B. “Networks of Sociability: Women’s Clubs in Colonial and Postcolonial India.” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 30, no. 3 (2009): 169–195.

92

“B.W.A.,” NCH, March 18, 1922, 725.

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Darwent, C. E. Shanghai: A Handbook for Travellers and Residents to the Chief Objects of Interest in and around the Foreign Settlements and Native City. Shanghai: Kelly & Walsh, Limited, 1920. Gleeson, B. J. “A Public Space for Women: The Case of Charity in Colonial Melbourne.” Area 27, no. 3 (September 1995): 193–207. Jackson, Isabella. Shaping Modern Shanghai: Colonialism in China’s Global City. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018. Lo, C. Y. 羅志如, Tongjibiao zhong zhi Shanghai 統計表中之上海 [Shanghai as Shown in Statistical Tables]. Nanking: National Research Institute of Social Science, Academia Sinica, 1932. Midgley, Clare. “Introduction: Gender and Imperialism: Mapping the Connections.” In Gender and Imperialism, edited by Clare Midgley, 1–18. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998. Milne-Smith, Amy. London Clubland: A Cultural History of Gender and Class in Late Victorian Britain. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Morris, R. J. “Introduction: Civil Society, Associations and Urban Places: Class, Nation and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Europe.” In Civil Society, Associations and Urban Places: Class, Nation and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Europe, edited by Graeme Morton, Boudien de Vries and R. J. Morris, 1–16. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2006. Morris, R. J. “Voluntary Societies and British Urban Elites, 1780–1850.” The Historical Journal 26, no. 1 (March 1983): 95–118. Sinha, Mrinalini. “Britishness, Clubbability, and the Colonial Public Sphere: The Genealogy of an Imperial Institution in Colonial India.” Journal of British Studies 40, no. 4 (October 2001): 489–521. Tennant, Margaret. “Fun and Fundraising: The Selling of Charity in New Zealand’s Past.” Social History 38, no. 1 (February 2013): 46–65.

Chapter 7

Revolutionary Roads: An Integrative Analysis Utilizing a Chinese Biographical Database Marilyn Levine Zhou Enlai was the Chinese Communist Party … He was the kind of leader who was able to be effective in his leadership position. Along with Zhou Enlai, there was a group of people for whom Zhou Enlai was representative, and the “Zhou Enlai Spirit” was continued  … and being carried on by Deng Xiaoping. From the perspective of the leadership of our Communist Party, this entire leadership level, speaking of their thoughts and ideology were due to their direct access to Marxism. The direct access to Marxism [was profound] for this entire group of people who had been to Europe and experienced capitalism [while residing in] the most developed capitalist [societies] in Europe, including Germany, England, and France. Hou Junchu (侯浚楚) Interview, November 15, 1985

∵ This chapter focuses on two database subsets from a Chinese Biographical Database (CBD) to explore Chinese revolutionary and intellectual leaders (see Table 7.1).1 The leaders discussed in the above quote by Professor Hou Junchu, a Zhou Enlai specialist from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, also mentions that many of them returned home to China through the Soviet Union, the “cauldron of revolutionary practice.” The first database subset focuses on this important group of Chinese revolutionaries, who are labeled 1 I would like to acknowledge two grants that allowed the initial creation of the Chinese Biographical Database which is the source of the SRL data subset from the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation and the Idaho Higher Education Major Research Grant program; I valued from collaborations and help from Chen San-ching, Yves Chevrier, Christian Henriot, Jean-Louis Boully, Liu Guisheng, and Zhu Yuhe. For original entry in the CBD, the help of Zhou Baodi and Eric Barnes was excellent and in updating the database I am indebted to Howie X. Lan, John Bowen, Tan Hongxing, and Wu Yiwei.

© Marilyn Levine, 2022 | do

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the Soviet returned leaders (SRL dataset, N=115). This dataset consists of two groups: A Euro-Soviet group (N=54) who traveled to both Western Europe (France, Germany, and Belgium); and a Soviet group (N=61) who traveled only to the Soviet Union. Some of the most prominent Chinese Communist Party (CCP) members came from these Soviet returned leaders, such as those who suffered early deaths like Cai Hesen (蔡和森 1895–1931), Zhao Shiyan (趙世炎 1901–27), Qu Qiubai (瞿秋白 1899–1935), and Zhang Tailei (張太雷 1899–1927); and longer surviving leaders such as Zhou Enlai (周恩來 1898–1976), Liu Shaoqi (劉少奇 1898–1969), Zhu De (朱德 1886–1976), Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平 1904–97), Nie Rongzhen (聶榮臻 1899–1992), Cai Chang (蔡暢 1900–90), Li Fuchun (李富春 1900–75), Zhang Wentian (張聞天1900–76), Wang Ming (王明 1904–74), Qin Bangxian (秦邦憲 1907–46), Ye Jianying (葉劍英 1897– 1986), Wang Jiaxiang (王稼祥 1906–74), and Yang Shangkun (楊尚昆 1907–98). The second biographical dataset, also selected from the CBD, is based on individuals from the three provinces Hunan, Sichuan, and Zhejiang and is called the Three province group (3P dataset, N=472). Combined, the SRL and 3P datasets will be analyzed as the Three province expanded group (3PX dataset, N=587). The research objective is to integrate an array of methodological tools to examine affiliations (for example, birth city, education, positions, see Table 7.1) to understand Chinese political and cultural biographies in the 20th century. The chapter organization will include four sections: First, there will be a discussion of sources and methodologies for researching revolutionary elites; second, a brief section on the context of the Soviet returned leaders; thirdly, a section of analyses of the datasets via methods that include quantitative and geospatial analyses, followed by a historical network analysis; and finally, a conclusion will review major themes and suggest further development of integrative history for understanding patterns of individual and group behaviors in new ways. 1

Researching Revolutionary Elites: Sources and Methodologies

There is a wealth of information on Chinese politics during the 20th century. In addition to primary sources from archives and secondary sources, two original sources have been used in this study.2 The first source is the Chinese Biographical Database (CBD), which was originally created in 1997–98 and 2 For more expansive information on the CBD see “Biography for Historical Analysis: A Chinese Biographical Database” to be published in the Journal of Historical Network Research, https:// jhnr.uni.lu/index.php/jhnr.

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available online through 2006.3 The CBD originated in the study of Chinese politics in Europe during the 1920s and included information on more than 1,100 Chinese who went to France, Germany, and Belgium. The database was later enlarged to over 2,500 individuals and included a diverse array of additional Chinese individuals in politics, academia, and other spheres. The CBD was configured for 12 relational tables that included multilingual input and latitude and longitude. From 1998 through 2006 the CBD was online and had the capacity for queries and reports from the various relational data tables. An objective of the original CBD was to expand the utility to do large-scale analysis with the large array of attributes. This is now possible, and current work is focusing on the quantitative and network analyses based on the CBD (Table 7.1). Since 2018, the CBD has been transformed to develop more quantitative capability. Categorical encoding has been used mostly as well as numeric encoding (for example, birth/death years, latitude, longitude). Those whose death dates were before 1899 were excluded from the current dataset that now includes 2,109 individuals, 840 attributes, and 1.7 million pieces of data (see Table 7.1). A brief profile of potential subsets within the CBD are: – Gender: 152 women (7% of the CBD) and 46 individuals are affiliated with the CCP Women’s Bureau. – Political party membership: CCP (N=580), Guomindang (GMD, N=167), European Branch of the Chinese Communist Organizations (ECCO, N=273), European Guomindang (EGMD, N=241), Chinese Youth Party (CYP, N=71), Chinese Social Democrats (SDP, N=41), Anarchist Party (N=17), and Democratic League (N=41), among other groups. – Diverse affiliations, careers, positions for individuals: Academic Science (N=52), Academic Arts and Letters (N=81), Academic Social Sciences (N=52), Academic Politicians (N=99), Military Leaders (N=161), Artists (N=42), Journalists (N=25), Foreign Policy Delegations (N=122), and Party Position Provincial (N=137). – Education: University enrollment is a key area with 570 institutions overall. Some of the larger Chinese student populations include matriculation at Montargis College (N=116), Sino-French Institute in Lyon (N=92), 3 The Chinese Biographical Database was online for several years and was heavily used. It is estimated that over a million people queried the database, which was linked with the Australia National University’s WWW Virtual Library for China, monitored by T. Matthew Ciolek and later by Hanno Lecher. Due to institutional incompatibility, the site was taken down in 2006. For a discussion of the original purposes of the CBD, see Marilyn Levine, “The Chinese Biographical Database Project: A Model for Collaborative Scholarship,” in Proceedings of the EBTI, SEER, ECAI, and PNC Meeting (Taipei: Pacific Neighborhood Consortium, 1999), 514–520.

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Beijing University (N=62), Charleroi University in Belgium (N=67), Tsinghua University (N=38), and University of Paris (N=20). – Importance of Archives: About one-third of the CBD includes individuals from archival findings, such as a Young Catholic aid listing of 270 financial aid recipients, a charitable endeavor of the famous Belgian Priest, Father Lebbé, in 1920 to combat the influence of communism. The list gives addresses for a good portion of aid recipients, and those individuals often have other cross-listings in the CBD. Sûreté political reports and captured documents, factory work listings, educational matriculation listings, and other lists provide a more rounded view of who people were and where they lived, and what activities they participated in. Table 7.1

Chinese Biographical Database (CBD) Summary, N=2,109 Individuals

Table Names

N. Attributes

1. Basic Biodata

46

2. Career

40

3. Affiliations

50

4. Education

570

5. Positions

45

6. Youth 17 7. Historical Events 72 Total Attributes 840

Types of Attributes Includes: Full name, last name, first name, Chinese characters name, gender, birth year, death year, lifespan, birth province, birth city, latitudes and longitudes for birth city, comments, and links. Careers range from academic categories to veterinarian. Focus on affiliations in the 20th century with the majority political. Most of the institutions are post-secondary. Because of the focus on Europe there are numerous cohorts from French institutions. Wide range of positions, with a focus on academic, political, and military positions. Focus on May Fourth groupings. Focus on the 20th century events in China.

Note: There are five other database tables in the CBD: Family (N=148), Alternate Names (N=2,606), Sources (N=5,127), and two tables for expansion location identifiers and graphics/ multimedia.

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Since the CBD was created in 1997–98 there has been an explosion of new biographical data. There is more explicit information on key individuals and attributes, such as birth and death dates, place of birth, education, and positions in published biographies and online resources. The CBD has benefited from these biographies, additional data has been added, and a library of links and articles has been developed for documentation as well as the existent sources table mentioned above. The CBD is the main source for this chapter, but the second original source that has informed this study is the Chinese Conversations Project. This was a series of interviews that were conducted in China during the fall of 1985 and summer of 1990. The interviews were held with participants who were part of the political fabric of Chinese radicalization in Europe during the early 1920s, relatives of participants, and Chinese CCP scholars. Due to the generosity of my colleagues, Professors Liu Guisheng (劉桂生) and Zhu Yuhe (朱育和) at Tsinghua University, we were able to conduct more than 20 recorded sessions of interviews and discussions in 1985 and follow-up sessions in 1990. The participant and family member interviews were fascinating, including four sessions with Sheng Cheng (盛成 1899–1997) who was one of three Asian founders of the French Communist Party in 1920; two sessions with Zheng Chaolin (鄭超麟 1901–98) who had been released from prison in 1979 but still was under house arrest in Shanghai in 1985; and an informative interview with Zhao Shiyan’s niece, Zhao Lengzhuang (趙冷莊) in Chongqing, who was able to fill in much family history about Zhao’s brothers, sisters, and famous nephew, Li Peng (李鹏 1928–2019). Among the scholars who graciously gave of their time were Li Xin (李新), Direct or of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS) and three other CASS historians Hou Junchu, Li Zongyi (李宗一) and Ding Shouhe (丁守和), historians Wang Yongxiang (王永祥) and, Zhang Hongxiang (張洪祥) from the then newly opened Zhou Enlai Research unit at Nankai University, Hu Hua (胡華), Editor-in-Chief of the multivolume series Zhonggong dangshi renwuzhuan (中共黨史人物傳, Biographies of Chinese Communist Party Members), and in Chongqing, historian Peng Chengfu (彭承福), the biographer of Zhao Shiyan. Because of the breadth and depth of these sources, many more analytical approaches have become possible and strengthened due to larger amounts of data. An argument for methodological breadth was succinctly and presciently put forward by Tsou Tang who advocated a cross-fertilization of methods to understand the micromechanisms that inform the broader macrohistory. Tsou argued that human agency is capable of innovation, the ability to organize

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systems, and to strategize.4 This study supports Tsou’s vision of an integrative approach to Chinese leadership studies. The growth of statistical and network analysis allows for this cross-fertilization of disciplines in new ways that support exploration of new narratives and new ideas. Particularly key to expanding possibilities in prosopography is a larger scale creation of collective biography based on traditional sources and the growth of digital sources. Prosopography studies in Chinese history are expanding due to both theoretical and technical advances from microhistories to database collections. The study of various groups, their historical trajectories, and networks including political parties, military clusters, and a growing focus on political and financial elites. This does not mean losing the individual view, as leaders often play significant roles in history. An illustration of this group view were the debates in political science on the development of factions in the seminal works and national dialogue between Andrew Nathan and Tsou Tang. These debates culminated in some ground-breaking methodologies and theories, including those based on systematic collection and analysis of databases, such as done by Victor Shih, Christopher Adolph, and Liu Mingxing, in their meticulous work on CCP Central Committee elites.5 The ability to ascertain patterns through a time series analysis of CCP Central Committee memberships allowed the authors to make strong assertions on CCP elite factions and behaviors. Moreover, they were able to incorporate other data, such as regional origin and education.6 Franziska Keller, in her study of CCP Central Committee political elites (1982–2012), creatively used several social network analyses to determine the variations in power elite groups beyond just their common relationships.7 Other works, old and new, also attempt to systematize the analysis of leadership and especially for factions, groups, and cohorts.8 4 Tang Tsou, Interpreting the Revolution in China: Macrohistory and Micromechanisms,” Modern China 26, no. 2 (2000): 205–238. 5 Victor Shih, Christopher Adolph, and Liu Mingxing, “Getting Ahead in the Communist Party: Explaining the Advancement of Central Committee Members in China,” The American Political Science Review 106, no. 1 (2012): 166–187. 6 See in particular, Victor Shih, Shan Wei, and Mingxing Liu, “The Central Committee, Past and Present: A Method of Quantifying Elite Biographies,” in Contemporary Chinese Politics New Sources, Methods, and Field Strategies, by Allen Carlson et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 7 Franziska Keller, “Networks of Power. A Social Network Analysis of the Chinese Communist Elite, 1982–2012,” 2015, https://doi.org/10.13140/RG.2.1.2313.3609; Franziska Keller, “Analysis of Elite Networks,” in The Palgrave Handbook of Political Elites, ed. Heinrich Best and John Higley (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 135–152. 8 Anna Belogurova, “Networks, Parties, and the ‘Oppressed Nations’: The Comintern and Chinese Communists Overseas, 1926–1935,” Cross-Currents: East Asian History and Culture

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Hilda De Weerdt’s book on the relationship between information, territory, and networks in Song China represents a pioneering effort to utilize large-scale databases and geographical information systems (GIS).9 In-depth databases inform microhistorical studies, such as focusing on one Chinese family in Brett Sheehan’s “Industrial Eden: A Chinese Capitalist Vision.”10 Statistical and network analysis and shared online databases are now being transformed as digital history, which has begun, in earnest, the idea of new tools, new theories, and new interpretations of history at the micro and macro level.11 While academic attention is growing in these areas, the need for asking rigorous questions and not going beyond what the data can demonstrate in historical network analysis should be borne in mind, as articulated in “Formal Network Methods in History: Why and How?” by Claire Lemercier: There are therefore possibilities for formal network analysis in history, as long as our aim is not to “map social reality” generally, but to understand the patterns of precisely defined ties, by deliberately abstracting them in order to carefully consider their effects, their origins … their changes

9 10 11

Review 6, no. 2 (2017): 558–582, https://doi.org/10.1353/ach.2017.0019; Xu Xiaohong, “Belonging Before Believing: Group Ethos and Bloc Recruitment in the Making of Chinese Communism,” American Sociological Review 78, no. 5 (2013): 773–796, http://www.jstor .org/stable/43187505; Huang Jing, Factionalism in Chinese Communist Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000); William Whitson, “The Field Army in Chinese Communist Military Politics,” The China Quarterly 37 (1969): 1–30, http://www.jstor.org /stable/652212; Paul Hollander, “Research on Marxist Societies: The Relationship Between Theory and Practice,” Annual Review of Sociology 8 (1982): 319–351, http://www.jstor.org /stable/2945998; Xuezhi Guo, “Dimensions of Guanxi in Chinese Elite Politics,” The China Journal 46 (2001): 69–90, https://doi.org/10.2307/3182308. Hilde De Weerdt, Information, Territory, and Networks: The Crisis and Maintenance of Empire in Song China, Harvard East Asian Monographs; 388 (Cambridge: Published by the Harvard University Asia Center, 2015). Brett Sheehan, Industrial Eden: A Chinese Capitalist Vision (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015). Early online societies developed in the 1980s, such as the Association for History and Computing, held meetings and published journals. Two early online endeavors that have robust activities are: Richard Jensen, Mark Kornbluh, and Peter Knupfer, “H-NET: Humanities and Social Sciences Online,” H-Net: Humanities and Social Sciences Online, Origin in 1994, https://networks.h-net.org/h-net; and Lewis R. Lancaster and Michael Buckland, “ECAI—Electronic Cultural Atlas Initiative,” accessed November 23, 2018, http://ecai.org/index.html. In the Asian field, two dynamic projects that are on an international scale are: Peter Bol, “China Biographical Database Project (CBDB),” accessed November 22, 2018; https://projects.iq.harvard.edu/cbdb/home; and Christian Henriot, “Elites, Networks and Power in Modern China,” Elites, Networks and Power in Modern China (blog), accessed November 22, 2018, https://enepchina.hypotheses.org/.

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in response to external events and their consequences…. [A]ny network study—and it is in fact also true for the most qualitative ones—should begin with a careful definition of the tie(s) to be studied, especially taking into account three dimensions that have sadly, up to now, been scarcely discussed in the network literature and about which historians should have something to say: The difference between interaction and potential for interaction; the awareness of relational patterns among the actors; and the temporality of ties.12 These three issues: The documentation of the interaction, relational patterns, and the temporality of ties are challenges as well as opportunities for the historian. We all should be considering how we can document degrees of interaction with an attribute and place it in time. For the CBD, this must be a consideration in terms of the addition of time series data and a further reification of the categories that would expand the capacity of the database, as well as more data entered due to the proliferation of biographical information for Chinese historical individuals. Some first steps have been taken in curating the database to achieve these ends, but more is necessary. The selection of the Soviet-returned leader category for this study does frame these leaders in a particular period of politicization with most individuals matriculating at Toilers of the East University (KUTV), in the mid-1920s, during the transitional years from Leninism to Stalinism. Approximately half of the individuals in the SRL dataset survived beyond the Chinese Revolution. The additional 3P dataset of individuals from Hunan, Sichuan, and Zhejiang from the CBD was compiled to analyze how these other individuals, who did not comprise Soviet-returned leaders, but shared regional affiliations, would compare. There are differences between those individuals that went to Europe and those that remained in China. The SRL subset has more political and military attributes while the 3P dataset has more academic and cultural attributes. For example, the SRL dataset has more revolutionaries (49% versus 11%) and more CCP members (95% versus 30%) than the 3P dataset. Both have between 15–19% educational positions on campuses, but the 3P dataset has a more academic constitution, with scientists and academic listings in arts and letters, social sciences, and science all reaching the top attributes, while these are not highly ranked in the SRL dataset. The 3P dataset also ranks highly on 12

Claire Lemercier, “12. Formal Network Methods in History: Why and How?,” in Social Networks, Political Institutions, and Rural Societies, ed. Georg Fertig, vol. 11 (Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2015), 281–310, https://doi.org/10.1484/M.RURHE-EB.4.00198.

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the educational institution matriculation attributes. For instance, all 26 individuals from the Sino-French Institute belong to the 3P dataset. However, both datasets have a 5 to 6% representation of individuals from Charleroi University, which was known as a worker’s university. Both datasets contain important revolutionary, political, and cultural elite leaders. Most scholars have focused on established political actors, military leaders, and corporate leaders in understanding political elites. This was the fundamental structure of C. Wright Mills’ classic, The Power Elite.13 In one recent definition of a power elite, Jan Pakulski observed that analyses of political elites that have undergone transformation and become more “operational and value neutral.” The focus for contemporary studies is the top echelons of the powerful in national and business groups who exert “major decisional power.” The selection of these groups relies on three methods of positional, reputational, and sociometric research.14 However, other than some comparative biographies, few scholars have studied revolutionaries to analyze their characteristics and networks of elite leadership status.15 One exception that expanded the discussion of social class boundaries, was Ho Ping-ti’s landmark study on elite mobility during the Ming and Qing dynasties. He argued that the farmers, not just the gentry, developed pathways to become part of the political and social elites, “Thus, within the vast body of commoners (farmers) there was distinctly an “elite,” which drew its sources from various functional orders, and the traditional Chinese society never consisted of only two polarized classes of the ruling and the ruled.”16 One of the difficulties of studying revolutionary elite leaders is the lack of standardized methods that can be applied universally to the rise of the elite rank that considers transitions of power dynamics within revolutionary cohorts. Quantitative and network analysis, particularly centrality measures and subgroup network analyses, allows us to capture more of these relatively unknown individuals and their role in relation to the more familiar group of individuals usually highlighted in historical studies.

13 14 15

16

C. Wright Mills, The Power Elite (London: Oxford University Press, 1956). Jan Pakulski, “The Development of Elite Theory,” in The Palgrave Handbook of Political Elites, ed. Heinrich Best and John Higley (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 9–16. For example, in the rich collection of political elite studies by Best and Higley cited above, there are no chapters on revolutionary elites. Heinrich Best and John Higley, eds., The Palgrave Handbook of Political Elites (London: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 2018), https://doi .org/10.1057/978-1-137-51904-7. Ping-ti Ho, The Ladder of Success in Imperial China: Aspects of Social Mobility, 1368–1911 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), 21.

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A historical network analysis endeavors to understand the characterization of individuals and their relations to the whole social enterprise. “The idea of network analysis is to characterize networks and present visualizations that illustrate patterns based on social connections of defined groups.”17 Bonnie Erickson mentions the range of individuals and their ties, “The actors may be people, organizations, positions within organizations, city-states, nations, families, and so on. The links may be friendship, hatred, trade, war, alliance, or any other relationship of interest.”18 Both quantitative and network software programs were used in this CBD study.19 The research data is binary, so these are undirected ties between individuals and attributes, and the ties are not weighted. Five attributes that were continuous (birth year, death year, lifespan, and latitude and longitude for birth city) were normalized for this analysis.20 The reason for this is that unlike quantitative analyses, network analysis techniques currently do not perform well when numeric and continuous data are mixed. Another methodological issue is that because the social sciences are often concerned with establishing relations with people, then datasets with two-modes (individuals and attributes for example) have fewer measurements in network programs. A common practice in network analysis is to convert two-mode data into one-mode data so that more relationship measurements can be analyzed. According to social network theory there is some loss of data, but the results are still acceptable.21 Because the results are calculated differently, it was decided to use both one- and two-mode analysis in this chapter at various points to 17 18 19 20

21

Robert A. Hanneman and Mark Riddle, Introduction to Social Network Methods (Riverside: University of California, Riverside, 2005), https://faculty.ucr.edu/~hanneman/. Bonnie H. Erickson, “Social Networks and History,” Historical Methods 30, no. 3 (Summer 1997): 149, https://doi.org/10.1080/01615449709601182. Programs used for statistical and network analyses included Excel (with data analysis add-in), SYSTAT, Sigmaplot, Orange Data Mining, Google Earth, and UCINET. There are several methods for binarizing data, and this study calculates the mean for the attribute and then includes the standard deviation values on either side of the mean assigning the value of 1 to numbers within that range and 0 to the outlier ranges. For fundamental articles on binarization and two-mode analysis challenges, see: Hanneman, and Riddle, Introduction to Social Network Methods. Matthew A. Peeples and John M. Roberts, “To Binarize or Not to Binarize: Relational Data and the Construction of Archaeological Networks,” Journal of Archaeological Science 40, no. 7 (2013): 3001–3010. Stephen P. Borgatti, “Two-mode Concepts in Social Network Analysis,” Encyclopedia of Complexity and System Science 6 (2009): 8279–8291; Patrick Doreian, Vladimir Batagelj, and Anuška Ferligoj, “Generalized Blockmodeling of Two-Mode Network Data,” Social Networks 26, no. 1 (January 2004): 29–53; and Tore Opsahl, “Triadic Closure in Two-Mode Networks: Redefining the Global and Local Clustering Coefficients,” Social Networks 35 (2013): 159–167.

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understand how historical network analysis can be used with varying methods. To iterate the two-mode data is more accurate to the dataset information, but it is unavailable for all measurements in network analysis programs. This a serious issue that historians need to address who are interested in creating a genuine historical network analysis historiography. History is more complex than just understanding the flow of relationships. Historical network analysis should reflect historical complexity and be part of a more integrative approach to history. 2

Brief History of the Soviet-returned Leaders

The Soviet-returned leaders consisting of the Euro-Soviet group and the Soviet group were yong Chinese who looked to the West for solutions to a discordant China in the early 20th century. Those born between 1890 and 1905 were raised in childhood before the abolition of the Confucian examination and the Republican revolution was realized. Those born earlier or later had different childhoods and historical influences, for instance, generational influences. In a period marked by political and economic instability, Chinese youth sought out solutions that could define their own futures, while striving to save their country. One solution was a youth movement that advocated travel to France for diligent-work and frugal-study (Fufa qingong jianxue yundong) 赴法勤工 儉學運動). Promoted by several giants of Chinese “modern” politics and education, between 1919 and 1921, this movement drew over 1,800 Chinese youth to travel to France to work in the factories and earn money for an education. Provincial leaders had supported the young people with preparatory schools and some funding, but there was an overestimation of the need for factory labor in France. The year 1921 marked a turning point for Chinese workerstudents and various struggles with their government over funding and other issues turned a whole segment of the worker-students into political activists.22 22

The work-study movement and the development of Chinese political parties has been extensively covered in numerous studies. Because of the nature of leaders who emerged from this environment, this topic received wide attention and excellent documentation by Chinese scholars in the 1980s. Marilyn A. Levine, The Found Generation: Chinese Communists in Europe during the Twenties (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1993). There are primary documents available in Chinese compendia such as: Qinghua daxue zhonggong dangshi jiaoyanzu, 清華大學中共黨史教研組 [Tsinghua University Faculty Research Unit on the History of the Communist Party] FuFa Qingong Jianxue Yundong Shiliao, 復發慶功儉學運動史料 [Documents on the Travel to France Work-Study Movement], vol. 1–3 (Beijing: Beijing chubanshe, 1979); 陳三井 Qingong Jianxue Yundong

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Five political parties were formed between 1922 and 1923. These were the Anarchist Party or Surplus Society (工餘社 Gongyushe, established in 1922, GYS); the ECCO (旅歐中國共產主義組織 Lü Ou Zhongguo gongchan zhuyi zuzhi, established in 1922); the SDP (中國社會民主黨 Zhongguo shehui minzhudang, established in 1922); the EGMD (中國國民黨旅歐支部 Zhongguo guomindang lü Ou zhibu, established in 1923); and the CYP (青年黨 Qingniandang, established in 1923). These parties all had robust activities, and the most active was the EGMD that in this case was controlled by the ECCO and the Leftist EGMD. For example, among Deng Xiaoping’s earliest activities was the chairing of an EGMD meeting that expelled over a dozen Rightist EGMD members.23 For the Chinese Communist members in Europe, they were asked to travel home via the Soviet Union to study ideology and agitation techniques in the heartland of what was seen as the coming world revolution. When the Euro-Soviet contingents arrived in several groups between 1923 and 1926, there was a vibrant political environment that existed before Stalinization. For the Chinese Communists, the Soviet experience did create new ties and alliances, and a very cohesive group. However, as explored in the results presented below, there also were distinct differences between the Euro-Soviet and Soviet groups.24 Key questions include: What was the status of relational ties in the Soviet-returned leadership cohort throughout the following several decades? What alliances were there with high-ranking non-Soviet-returned leaders? What other patterns can we discern as the Chinese Revolution unfolded? There were some power dynamics built into the notion of receiving training in Western Europe and the Soviet Union. As Zheng Chaolin observed in his memoir (written in 1945), “Before and after the Fourth Congress, almost all the important jobs in the Party were in the hands of comrades who had returned to China from France via Moscow [emphasis mine].” Both Zheng Chaolin and CCP historians indicate this turn to the Euro-Soviet group for leadership was primarily based on their perceived expertise.25 In essence, the SRL returnees,

23 24 25

勤工儉學運動 [The Diligent-Work Frugal-Study Movement] (Taipei: Zhengzhong shuju, 1981). For more in-depth information on these parties see: Marilyn A. Levine and San-ching Chen, “Communist-Leftist Control of the European Branch of the Guomindang, 1923– 1927,” Modern China 22, no. 1 (1996): 62–92, http://www.jstor.org/stable/189290. The SRL database subset is extensively analyzed in “Post WWI Chinese Revolutionary Leaders in Europe,” and will be published in the Journal of Historical Network Research: https://jhnr.uni.lu/index.php/jhnr. Zheng Chaolin, An Oppositionist for Life: Memoirs of the Chinese Revolutionary Zheng Chaolin, trans. Gregor Benton (Atlantic Highlands: Humanity Books, 1997), 82; Wang Yongxiang 王永祥 and Zhang Hongxiang 張洪祥. Interview by Marilyn Levine and Liu

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particularly those who also had the ideological and worker experiences in Western Europe, comprised a revolutionary elite. As demonstrated below, the Euro-Soviet leaders paid a heavy price for this vanguard position.26 Interestingly, like the CCP during the early 1920s, the GMD also sent leaders to the Soviet Union and those people are also represented in this study, in particular Jiang Jieshi (蔣介石 1887–1975) and his son, Jiang Jingguo (蔣經國 1910–88) who are part of the Soviet group. The GMD cohort in this study contains those CCP members who joined via the United Front in 1924 and other factions of the GMD, for example, the GMD cohort includes Chen Chunpu (陳春圃 1900–66) who followed Wang Jingwei (汪精衛 1883–1944). Thus far there have been discussions of sources and methods, the issue of revolutionary elites, and a brief overview of the Soviet returned leaders group. The following sections will analyze the datasets via statistical and historical network analyses. 3

Towards a More Integrative History

Integrative history has a potential to help create a broader understanding of historical events and processes. The capability now exists to examine largescale datasets to analyze variables, to view and analyze similar individuals in a hierarchical cluster analysis with hundreds of attributes, as well as measure and visualize networks. The remainder of this chapter will analyze comparatively: – Birth year, death year, lifespan, and geospatial information. – Hierarchical clustering that reveals the distances or similarities between individuals. – Network measures that characterize the cohorts through: – Cohesion of the individuals in terms of how closely they are linked. – Louvain analysis of subgroups for the entire network. – Centrality measures the network position of an individual which can impact influence or brokering of communication. – Network graphs examine the internal structure and relationships in a network.

26

Guisheng. Tianjin, November 26, 1985; Shi Guang 施光. Interview by Marilyn Levine, Beijing, December 12, 1985. For more information on the Chinese in the Soviet Union during this period see: Alexander Pantsov, Bolsheviks and the Chinese Revolution 1919–1927 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2000); Belogurova, “Networks, Parties, and the ‘Oppressed Nations.’”

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Statistical Analysis of Birth and Death Years and Lifespans of the SRL and 3P Groups Some of the most surprising comparisons were the differences between the Euro-Soviet group and the Soviet group in univariate analyses of birth year, death year, lifespan, and provincial origin. As seen in Figure 7.1, there was a generational difference in the two groups. The Euro-Soviet individuals were born primarily between the 1890s and 1905, while the Soviet group individuals were born between 1876 and 1912. This meant that the Euro-Soviet group had a unique window of generational development, experiencing some of their childhood during the Qing, while it transformed through the reform era to revolution, and then their young adulthood in the New Culture Movement. This is not to say that the Soviet group or those who remained in China did not experience the same challenges of a turbulent history, but their age did determine how they processed those changes as a generation. As Robert Wohl, writing of this generation in Europe, as the Generation of 1914, explains, “What is essential to the formation of a generational consciousness is some common frame of reference that provides a sense of rupture with the past and that will later distinguish the members of the generation from those who follow them 3.1

Figure 7.1 Distribution of birth year for Soviet group (N=61) and ECCO cohort (N=52) Note: Soviet group (blue), ECCO cohort (red). There are two missing birth dates

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Figure 7.2 Distribution of birth year for 3P dataset individuals (N=405) Note: There are 67 missing birth years

in time. This frame of reference is always derived from great historical events like wars, revolutions, plagues, famines, and economic crises.”27 One of the most important keys to understanding the longevity and cohesion of the SRL, who became revolutionary elites during the 20th century, lies in understanding their particular attributes and experiences as funneled through time and eras that made them cohere as a generational cohort, including their childhoods and their experiences in Europe. The birth year graph (Figure 7.2) for the 3P dataset shows an even broader range of birth years that gives more dispersion to potentially shared experiences of history. The mean was 1901 +/– 11.7 years which means the majority (68%) were born between 1889–1913.

27

Robert Wohl, The Generation of 1914 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981), 210.

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Table 7.2 Historical period of death years ranges for Soviet group (N= 61) and Euro-Soviet group (N=51)

Historical Period

Deaths

Soviet group

Total group (%)

Euro-Soviet group

Total group (%)

1924–1930 1931–1939 1941–1961 1962–1979 1983–2008 Total

24 17 15 29 27 112

6 13 10 17 15 61

10 21 16 28 25 100

18 4 5 12 12 51

34 8 10 24 24 100

Note: Missing death years=3 individuals (all in the Euro-Soviet group)

The death years are also dramatic in the comparison between the EuroSoviet and Soviet groups (Table 7.2) and indicate two distinct groups. The Euro-Soviet group lost over one-third of its members in the violence from 1924 to 1930. The Soviet group lost less than 10%. Yet in the next two periods: 1931– 39 and 1941–61 it was the Soviet group that lost more of its members, almost 40%, while the Euro-Soviet group lost about 18%. The Soviet group was more impacted by the battles with the GMD, Japan, and the early CCP governance era. One wonders if the cohesion of the Euro-Soviet group protected them from some of the worst excesses through 1961? Also, surprisingly, both groups had many members survive into old age, 48% for the Euro-Soviet group and almost 53% for the Soviet group. The 3P dataset, because of their broader range of births and deaths, has a different pattern. They lost 11% of their members before 1931. The 3P dataset individuals were not necessarily oriented towards revolutionary work, and includes academics for example, so their death rate through 1962 is only 20% (Table 7.3). However, they have a 22% death rate between 1962 and 1979, which probably occurs through aging, but might also have been impacted by CCP campaigns, and a 39% death rate between 1978 and 2000, with 8% dying between 2001 to 2018. For the SRL dataset the lifespan patterns are evident with the Euro-Soviet group losing 22% of their individuals before they reached the age of 30. Though there was 28% of loss from 31 to 59 years of age, 50% of the Euro-Soviet group survived beyond the age of 61, with 28% of that number surviving beyond 81 years old. The Soviet group had an even higher survival rate in terms of lifespan. They lost only 10% of their individuals before the age of 30, and over

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56% of their members lived beyond 61, with 30% living beyond 81 years old. Figure 7.3 compares both groups which makes clear the unevenness of lifespan expectation between them. Table 7.3 Historical period of death years ranges for 3P dataset (N=319)

Historical Period

Deaths

% of Group

Pre–1924 1924–30 1931–39 1940–61 1962–79 1980–2000 2001–2018 Total

9 26 21 41 71 124 27 319

3 8 7 13 22 39 8 100

Note: Missing death years=153 individuals

Figure 7.3 Distribution of lifespan for the Soviet group (N=61) and Euro-Soviet group (N=50) Note: Soviet group (red), Euro-Soviet group (blue). There are five missing lifespans

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Figure 7.4 Distribution of lifespan for 3P dataset individuals (N=319) Note: There are 153 missing birth years

In Figure 7.4, the 3P dataset individuals (N=319) significantly survived to old age.28 This fact is more evident in their lifespan statistics that show 73% of this cohort lived beyond 60 years old, with 27% reaching into their 80s and 15% reaching from 91 years of age to 111 years old. The analysis of birth year, death year, and lifespan permits an insight into the consequences of the importance of place and time in history for both individuals and the group. For example, for the death years and lifespan data, the impact of losing one-third of their comrades, many of whom were looked up to as leaders, had an impact on those left behind. For most in the Euro-Soviet group, particularly the ECCO members, they formed tight bonds through their 28

It should be mentioned that one-third of the death dates are unavailable, and more research must be conducted to try and obtain these data.

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grief and the necessity to stay alive. They had new comrades from their time in the Soviet Union, and old and new acquaintances back in China. Losing large clusters of members during their 20s and 30s also raises the issue of functionality and strategic adaptation, important elements to organizational survival. Did surviving CCP members train for duplicative roles and/or wear two hats of command at one time? How did the provincial positions adapt with both the death of comrades and the need to act underground during the antiCommunist campaigns between 1927 and 1936? Geospatial Analysis of Birth Provinces and Cities of the SRL and 3P Groups Another key influence in terms of behavior in China was the importance of common provincial ties. Geographic affiliation of birth city and province was performed with a geospatial analysis. In examining the SRL dataset the number of participants correlated with the provincial population size. A scatterplot of individuals from their respective province versus provincial population showed the general relationship of increased participation with increases in provincial population (Figure 7.5). The mean ratio was 7.1 participating individuals per million provincial participants. The regression analysis (least squares) 3.2

Figure 7.5 Origin of SRL dataset individuals (N=115) versus provincial population (1910) Note: Guangxi and Heilongjiang overlap. Shanxi (N=1) is not shown

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between the total number of individuals from their province with provincial populations in 1900, 1912, and 1928 (latter years not shown) had a significant relationships (p-value=0.001) with one outlier (Hunan) removed which had a higher number of participants (N=31) versus the predicted regression of four participants (with Hunan included, p-value was 0.073). Sichuan was also recognized as having high leverage (statistical influence) which can be seen in Figure 7.5, where the much higher population affected the linear regression. Sichuan had 19 participants per million, but the regression prediction based on provincial population showed it should have been 31 individuals. It is not known yet why the trends in these two provinces behaved in an opposite manner. As will be seen in the network analyses, the role of Hunan individuals as key network players endures to the upper echelons of importance. They really constitute a significant part of the revolutionary elite. Besides provincial participation it was important to analyze birth city spatial distribution within China. The results showed that these were not random but occurred as localized clusters. The cluster distribution map (Figure 7.6) shows the high concentration of individuals clustered in Sichuan, Hunan, and Zhejiang-Jiangsu regions for the SRL dataset. A second cluster map (Figure 7.7) also shows the larger dataset clustering by birth cities that were near each other. The two cluster maps spatially show a wide band of individuals in the three provinces who have a unique advantage of proximity to roads or water travel that are shown in even more detail for Hunan in Figure 7.9. 3.3 Hierarchical Cluster Analysis of the SRL and 3PX Groups Hierarchical cluster analysis is a methodology that seeks to find similarities among entities. Using Euclidean distance to calculate similarity between individuals, the production of a hierarchy can be seen graphically in a dendrogram (also known as a tree diagram) that displays relationships based on similarities or dissimilarities between these studied entities and their linkages. The key analytical issue for a cluster analysis is that it analyzes, through an algorithm, the distances of everyone to each other based on where they connect through the attributes. In this analysis, the attributes, as mentioned, range from personal information to affiliations and to career and positions. The shorter the connecting linkage line between individuals, the higher the similarity. Conversely, distantly related individuals are further apart and link at much higher levels. Thus, all cohort individuals in Figure 7.8 were grouped into clusters that express their similarities in two ways. First, everyone is proximate to their nearest neighbor, with a linkage showing the level that they connect. Secondly, gaps can be seen between clusters or sometimes between one or a few individuals.

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Figure 7.6 Clustered distribution of individuals and birth cities for SRL dataset (N=112) Note: Three individuals missing

The SRL dataset had ten clusters (Figure 7.8) that demonstrated the uniqueness of both the Euro-Soviet and Soviet groups, who largely remained apart. What is interesting about this result is that people really did appear to be clustered along historically realistic lines. Family relationships are not considered in these two datasets. Yet husbands and wives, brothers, father, and son were also were linked together, even though family/relationship attributes were not used. These included, brothers Chen Yannian (陳延年 1898–1927) and Chen Qiaonian (陳喬年 1902–28), father and son Jiang Jieshi and Jiang Jingguo,

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Figure 7.7 Clustered distribution of individuals and birth cities for 3PX dataset (N=532) Note: Fifty-six individuals missing

and wives and husbands, Liu Qingyang (劉清揚 1894–1977) and Zhang Shenfu (張申府 1893–1986), and Cai Chang and Li Fuchun. In fact, Cai Chang and Li Fuchun were their own dyadic cluster.29 Other cluster types included a primarily military cluster; the nearness of most Trotskyites to each other in two groups; the closeness of the “so-called” 28 Bolsheviks’ four key leaders to each other and to several other Soviet trained high-ranking leaders like Zhang Guotao ((張國燾 1897–1979), and Rao Shushi (饒漱石 1903–75); and the importance of the highest and very highest ranked leadership groups. For example, the highest ranked leaders like Zhou Enlai and Liu Shaoqi were neighbors, along with Deng Xiaoping and Nie Rongzhen. The hierarchical cluster analysis for the 3PX dataset revealed 25 clusters (data not shown), that are seen in a summary table (Table 7.4) with rows displaying number of individuals and the columns displaying affiliations (such as, party, military, educational).

29

It was then surprising that so many relatives were in fact next to or near to each other in the dendrograms. This was especially true for the Euro-Soviet group, not as true for the Soviet-returned leaders, and generally true for the Guomindang individuals.

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Figure 7.8 Cluster analysis of SRL dataset (N=115, Attributes 181)

There are some similarities among the attributes that can be discerned in these clusters. For example, clusters one through five have high-ranking leaders and the most important leaders in the dataset in terms of the CCP revolution, including three leaders in cluster four: Zhou Enlai, Mao Zedong (毛澤東 1893–1976), and Liu Shaoqi. The tenth cluster is all women, including three famous widows: Xia Zhixu (夏之栩 1906–87), the widow of Zhao Shiyan, Yang Zhihua (楊之華 1901–73), the widow of Qu Qiubai, and Li Yichun (李一純 1899–1984), who was married to Cai Hesen. The position of the political intellectuals is one of the most significant observations, with clusters 12 through 24 having a large occurrence of intellectual activists, who have similarities in birth year, regional, and affiliation attributes.

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Table 7.4 Summary of 25 hierarchical clusters for 3PX dataset (N=587 Attributes=439) C#

No. Male Female Hunan Sichuan Zhejiang CCP GMD SRL SFI/ KUTV Rev MilL EdPos CH

C1 C2 C3 C4 C5 C6 C7 C8 C9 C10 C11 C12 C13 C14 C15 C16 C17 C18 C19 C20 C21 C22 C23 C24 C25 Totals: 

5 5 28 28 4 4 3 3 5 4 36 34 21 20 17 17 11 11 6 0 17 14 21 16 8 8 15 13 19 19 30 30 6 6 38 36 10 10 47 47 33 18 36 36 58 56 74 62 39 38 587 534

0 0 0 0 1 2 1 0 0 6 3 5 0 2 0 0 0 2 0 0 15 0 2 12 1 53

1 19 0 2 5 13 21 3 1 2 5 17 1 1 0 2 3 0 1 0 0 0 0 74 32 203

0 3 4 0 0 11 0 1 1 1 0 3 0 6 13 5 0 1 0 4 32 36 58 0 1 180

0 1 0 0 0 0 0 8 0 3 0 0 7 7 6 23 3 37 8 43 1 0 0 0 1 148

5 1 28 2 4 4 3 2 5 0 36 7 15 0 17 1 11 4 3 3 12 7 17 1 5 1 11 0 15 1 4 23 0 0 16 0 0 1 6 0 1 0 3 0 5 0 2 3 24 4 248 65

4 0 10 0 3 1 2 0 3 1 35 2 0 1 11 0 11 0 3 0 17 0 2 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 1 3 0 4 1 1 0 1 1 18 0 25 6 0 115 59

3 7 1 1 2 31 0 11 8 3 9 2 0 0 1 3 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 84

1 1 3 2 3 1 3 0 2 1 26 2 14 1 6 2 6 2 3 0 6 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 4 5 0 7 4 0 1 0 1 0 0 0 3 0 12 3 4 3 0 0 3 10 105 41

4 6 1 1 1 3 0 1 3 3 2 17 7 2 3 7 1 6 0 17 0 0 2 4 11 102

Note: G=Gender, CCP=Chinese Communist Party, GMD=Guomindang, SRL=Soviet-returned Leader, SFI=Sino-French Institute, CH=Charleroi University, Rev=Revolutionary, MilL=Military Leader, and EdPos=Educational Position.

3.4 Revolutionary Road: Theory or Reality? One of the key opportunities for historians involved in quantitative analysis and historical network analysis is the opportunity to analyze far greater amounts of data. One can easily analyze thousands of individuals or attributes and discover subgroups as well as focus on individual-individual relationships. This is shown in the geospatial analyses and hierarchical clustering above, as historical networks shown below. What if the road to revolution was composed of actual roads for this generational group of leaders?

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As an experiment, a cluster analysis was performed on birth city latitude and longitude for just the 3 Prov dataset and that confirmed there were three clusters, although one cluster, Sichuan, was split into two major sub-clusters representing the separation of individuals from the Chongqing area versus those from the Chengdu area. The linkage level of this dendrogram (not shown) was then lowered to produce 105 smaller clusters with typical numbers of around 5–10 individuals that were very close in birth city latitude and longitude. These small sub clusters are termed here “cells.” Each of these cells was then submitted to spherical distance calculation from latitude and longitude to obtain physical distances between each cell member. Picking cells at random: Cells 1 (Zhejiang), 12 (Zhejiang), 27 (Hunan), and 102 (Sichuan) had mean walking distances from individual birth locations (childhood residences) of 9.8 km, 18.7 km, 10.3 km, and 15.4 km, which are all easily reachable in a morning walk at 5 km/hr. These four cells had an average of 12 members, with many members having zero distance between themselves (same village or city). What is fascinating about these shared roads are the potential lifelong linkages based on common experiences tied to origin cities and provinces. The proliferation of New Culture youth groups, progressive middle schools, newspapers, the cult of travel and physical exercise, along with the sense of generational urgency, animated a network that is well documented from publications and a proliferation of political and cultural societies at the time. In fact, there appear to be revolutionary roads in philosophy and in many cases in physical reality.30 An example of this revolutionary road hypothesis is dramatically outlined in cluster 22 (see Table 7.4) where all 36 individuals are from Sichuan. The influence of Jiangjin on Sichuan as a cohort within early CCP leadership is clearly indicated. The most famous member born in Jiangjin is Nie Rongzhen (who is ranked in a cluster with other highly ranked individuals). Nie was one of the ten marshals of China, Minister of Science and Technology, and was highly regarded before and after the revolution.31 According to his younger protégé, Jiang Zemin (江澤民 1903–89), Nie really did encourage Jiangjin workerstudents to attend Charleroi, to join the ECCO, to travel to the Soviet Union, 30 31

See a very well-developed argument for the importance of the Hunanese focus on local linkages in Liu Liyan, Red Genesis: The Hunan First Normal School and the Creation of Chinese Communism, 1903–1921 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012). Nie Rongzhen, Nie Rongzhen Huiyilu 聶榮臻回憶錄 [Memoirs of Nie Rongzhen], 5 vols. (Beijing: People’s Liberation Press, 1983), Marilyn Levine, “Chinese Students in France: Pedagogy and Politics,” in Contacts between Cultures: Selected Papers from the 33rd International Congress of Asian and North African Studies, Toronto, August 15–25, 1990. 4: Eastern Asia: History and Social Sciences, vol. 4 (Lewiston, NY: Mellen, 1992), 580–586.

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Figure 7.9 Detail of Changsha region of Hunan with 3PX dataset individuals marked in red (N=145)

and to fight alongside him back in China.32 Some 75% of the 17 individuals from Jiangjin (N=15) joined the work-study movement, entered the CCP, and many returned to China through study in Moscow. Significantly, six of those 15 individuals are in cluster 22 in the 3PX hierarchical clustering. In terms of revolutionary roads, the pattern is clearer with a detailed map on Hunan displaying the Changsha and surrounding region that had a dense concentration of individuals (Fig. 9). This probably results from the topography which had both a good system of roads and potential river travel, as mentioned above, short distances, and the commonality of the river. The Sichuan concentrations, largely in Chongqing and Chengdu (map not shown) were divided by mountains and historical traditions of Chengdu as a center of culture. This appears to have created smaller cohorts who were strongly cohesive. Whether bounded by mountains, roads, or water, young people met the regional and

32

Jiang Zemin 江澤民. Interview by Marilyn Levine and Liu Guisheng. Beijing, October 25, 1985. Jiang was Nie’s roommate at Charleroi University and obtained an engineering degree.

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national challenge by forming into groups, leading many to follow a revolutionary road to Europe and the future of China. The above statistical, geospatial, and hierarchical cluster analyses provide a basis to explore network relationships and the formation of subgroups. Further connections between individuals and group data will be shown in the next section which assesses affiliations through historical network analysis. The use of both quantitative and historical network analyses is meant to help evolve toward a more integrated historical analysis. 3.5 Network Cohesion Analysis of the SRL and 3P Groups How cohesive the various nodes (in this case individuals) might be is one overall concept of a network. Is the network compact or expansive? Are nodes distant from each other or are there distinct multiple clusters of nodes or factions strewn throughout. Several network cohesion metrics can be computed, such as identifying the core and its peripheral nodes; cohesion (for instance, clustering presence, average distance between nodes), and various centralities that measure how central an individual might be when interacting with other network members (see below). One can even combine some of these measurements to determine whether the entire network is highly efficient with many short distances for everyone often by going through key individuals. One such metric is the small world index which is simply the ratio of the amount of clustering divided by the average path length which would yield an idea of a highly efficient network, with few jumps needed to get from one individual to another. In this work, the cohesion measures for the small world index were 1.374 for the SRL dataset and 1.360 for the 3PX dataset. This small world network is dense enough to be a scale free network. It is so cohesive that when individuals are randomly removed from the network, the network maintains functionality. This may have meant literal survival to the two SRL groups in the mid-1920s (Euro-Soviet group) and 1930s (Soviet group) when they lost numerous individuals (see Tables 7.2 and 7.3).33 Two theories that explore the reasons for cohesion in network theory are preferential attachment and fitness. The first is based on the idea that individuals prefer to attach to nodes that are well connected.34 The second model posits that the fittest nodes possess a trait(s) that attract(s) a greater number of nodes.35 33 34 35

Duncan Watts and Steven Strogatz, “Collective Dynamics of Small-World Networks,” Nature 393 (1998): 440–442. Albert-Laszlo Barabasi and Reka Albert, “Emergence of Scaling in Random Networks,” Science 286 (1999): 509–512. G. Caldarelli et al., “Scale-Free Networks from Varying Vertex Intrinsic Fitness,” Physical Review Letters 89 (December 1, 2002): 258702, https://doi.org/10.1103/Phys RevLett.89.258702.

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3.6 Louvain Analysis of the 3PX Group The Louvain method allows for the detection of subgroups, also known as communities, groups, or clusters.36 Louvain subgroup analysis showed four clusters for the 3PX dataset that display strong provincial affinities. Group one (N=143) is composed entirely of individuals from Zhejiang. In sorting for the most frequent attributes there are 42 members of the CCP and 20 members of the GMD, with 35 individuals with educational positions on campuses. Group two (N=162) is composed entirely of individuals from Sichuan, with 44 participants in the work-study movement, and 41 individuals who joined the ECCO, and 19 who belonged to the EGMD. There are 15 members who attended Charleroi University. Group three (N=175) is composed entirely of individuals from Hunan. There are 34 participants in the work-study movement, and 72 CCP members. Group 4 (N=107) has the highest diversity of any group, with 25% of the individuals from Hunan, 17% from Sichuan, and between 5 to 7% of individuals each from Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Anhui, Hubei, and Hebei. All but two of the individuals in this group are from the Soviet-returned leaders (N=105). Group four also has the entire group of the so-called 28 Bolsheviks and the Trotskyists. In terms of gender affiliations, women were most numerous by percentage in group three (12.6%), group two (10.5%), group four (9.3%), and lowest in group one (5.6%). Military officials represent more than 20% of groups three and four, and 5 to 7% in groups one and two. Due to the high number of network ties (317,948), the entire Louvain network visualization is unwieldly in terms of clarity. Figure 7.10 is a visualization for 100 individuals at 1,164 ties who remain in the network after more than 11 ties have been eliminated, which greatly facilitated ties and elite individual recognition. Figure 7.10 easily shows Louvain groups 3 and 4 as distinct from each other. Also, Soviet-returned leaders and individuals from Hunan occupy different parts of the network. With this pruned down network, there only are two members of group one (from Zhejiang), and four members of group two (from Sichuan) who remain in the network.37 36 37

Vincent D. Blondel et al., “Fast Unfolding of Communities in Large Networks,” Journal of Statistical Mechanics: Theory and Experiment 2008, no. 10 (October 2008): P10008, https:// doi.org/10.1088/1742-5468/2008/10/P10008. These members include from group one: Wu Liangping (吳亮平 1908–86), who was present at many pivotal moments of CCP history, including the Long March and was highly educated and translated important Marxist works, and Xia Zhixu, who as mentioned above, was the widow of the key ECCO organizer, Zhao Shiyan, and held light industry government posts after 1949. From group two are Chen Bojun (陳伯鈞 1910–74), President of the Higher Military College, Guo Moruo (郭沫若 1892–1978), famous writer, doctor,

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Figure 7.10

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Network graph of 3PX, 1,192 ties, individuals with ties greater than 11 ties Note: Louvain subgroups: 1-yellow, 2-green 3-blue, and 4-red, square=SRL, and green rim=Hunan

3.7 Measurement of Centralities of the SRL and 3PX Groups Social networks invariably include key individuals. Centrality refers to a group of metrics that quantify the importance or influence of a particular individual (or attribute) within a network.38 The centrality measures utilized in the tables below include:

38

and diplomat, and Li Yimeng (李一氓 1903–90), a youthful colleague of Guo Moruo, who was involved in the Red Bases and in later party organizational work, and Zhang Aiping (張愛萍 1910–2003), who was also a military leader and headed the Young Pioneers Corps in 1931. For information on Xia Zhixu I was able to speak to her grandson, Zhao Xinyan 趙新炎. Interview by Marilyn Levine and Qun Dong. Beijing, June 27, 1990. Stephen P. Borgatti, “Centrality and Network Flow,” Social Networks 27, no. 1 (January 2005): 55–71.

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– Degree centrality which measures the number of links per individual or node. This is one way to determine the general influence of an individual’s activity and high scores indicate high power and/or prestige. – Eigenvector centrality indicates that a node is connected to nodes who themselves are highly connected. It is about connecting to strongly networked individuals in the larger network structure. These are individuals who are at the centers of power and important to potential collaborations. – Closeness centrality measures how close nodes are to each other. The more central a node is the closer it is to all other nodes. These individuals have access to information through their closeness to others in the network. – Betweenness centrality measures the extent to which a node lies between other nodes like a gate that others must pass to get to another node. A high betweenness measure indicates a potential power broker in the network through their control of communication. The analysis of centrality measures in this study were completed using twomode analysis and are in a seriation table. Seriation is an ordering or sorting of one-dimensional data. Tables 7.5 (SRL dataset) and 7.6 (3PX dataset) display the top 25 and 35 individuals respectively for degree, eigenvector, closeness, and betweenness centralities. There are some patterns that emerge in this analysis. In examining Table 7.5, Zhou Enlai clearly is a highly ranked leader for all four measures and is followed by Liu Shaoqi and Nie Rongzhen in the first three measures. Importantly, the Euro-Soviet group individuals rank higher than the Soviet group in the first three categories. The betweenness measure has different rankings in the fourth column. Particularly intriguing is the inclusion of Jiang Jingguo (second in the hierarchy) and Jiang Jieshi, along with Cao Chengde (曹承德 1903–78), a female activist who later went to Taiwan. While the Euro-Soviet subset of leadership is well represented by those who lived longer lives, it is interesting that there are leaders with shorter lifespans in the high scoring individuals, Zhao Shiyan, Li Lisan, (李立三 1899–1967), and Wang Ruofei (王若飛 1896–1946), who had a strong friendship triad), all placed as high scoring and were indeed influential leaders. Zhao died at 26 years old in 1927, Li Lisan was deprived of power after 1930, and Wang Ruofei was killed in 1946 in a plane crash at the age of 50. In addition, there are several individuals from the Euro-Soviet group who are on the higher centralities listings who belong to various factions: For example, Yin Kuan (尹寬 1897–1967) and Wang Zekai (汪澤楷 1894–1959) were influential Trotskyites. Examining the four centralities sorted in Table 7.6, once more, Zhou Enlai is a powerful individual in terms of degree, eigenvector, and betweenness. Along with his position in Table 7.5, a reasonable conclusion is that Zhou Enlai was a “boundary spanner,” someone who was a key resource for his group.

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In his research on the special boundary role of organizational leaders in teams, Michael Tushman explained, “Individuals filling these roles [as boundary spanners] are capable of translating contrasting coding schemes and therefore of acting as boundary spanners between the work unit and external information areas. Thus, information may flow … in a two-step fashion through a set of key persons who channel this information to their colleagues.”39 During his long career, Zhou Enlai certainly experienced breadth of travel, education, and experience that equipped him for a broader understanding and communication of the issues. The degree centrality column of the 3PX dataset also highlights the importance of other influential individuals such as Liu Shaoqi, Nie Rongzhen, Zhu De, Zhao Shiyan, Deng Xiaoping, Mao Zedong, Cai Chang, Chen Yi (陳 毅 1901–72), and Hu Yaobang (胡耀邦 1915–89). There also are two important GMD individuals, Jiang Jingguo and Dai Jitao (戴季陶 1891–1949). The so-called 28 Bolsheviks have one very high degree centrality individual, Zhang Wentian, but Qin Bangxian and Wang Ming also rank in the top 35 individuals. Column two of Table 7.6 displays eigenvector centrality with Liu Shaoqi at the top, followed by other high-ranked leaders. But there are others in the high rankings such as Li Weihan (李維漢 1896–1984), who although known for his liaison work with minorities after 1949 was important in the early ECCO and CCP leadership structure, particularly the August 1928 Emergency meeting. Interestingly Deng Xiaoping is not one of the eigenvector top leaders, but he is highly placed in all three other measures, possibly suggesting that his source of power was more limited by his lack of access to powerful nodes. For closeness centrality in the 3XP dataset, there is an interesting phenomenon that Zhou Enlai is not in the top 35 individuals. He is the highest in the SRL dataset in all measures and tops the 3PX dataset for degree, and in the top five for eigenvector and betweenness, but is not ranked highly in closeness for the 3PX dataset. One wonders if it is the nature of this three-province inclusion that excludes Jiangsu or Hebei and therefore might not have captured more of his regional origin and educational cohort? Or could there also be an element of standing above the fray, and being close to powerful nodes or between powerful clusters, but not a part of the groups themselves in terms of the closeness? The fourth centrality measure of betweenness is informative in Table 7.6. It differs from the other three measures. It is in this measure that Mao Zedong rises to the top, followed by Zhu De and Zhou Enlai. Jiang Jingguo is high on betweenness (ranked sixth) and was second in the SRL dataset. The rest of the 39

Michael L. Tushman, “Special Boundary Roles in the Innovation Process,” Administrative Science Quarterly 22, no. 4 (1977): 587–605, https://doi.org/10.2307/2392402.

Name

Zhou Enlai Nie Rongzhen Liu Shaoqi Zhu De Cai Chang Deng Xiaoping Zhang Wentian Li Fuchun Qu Qiubai Zhang Guotao Dong Biwu Xing Xiping Jiang Jingguo Ren Bishi Ye Jianying Chen Yu_1 Li Lisan Ulanfu Zhao Shiyan

No

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

0.287 0.227 0.221 0.199 0.177 0.177 0.177 0.166 0.160 0.160 0.155 0.149 0.144 0.144 0.138 0.133 0.133 0.133 0.133

Degree

Zhou Enlai Liu Shaoqi Li Fuchun Cai Chang Nie Rongzhen Zhang Guotao Zhang Wentian Ren Bishi Li Lisan Zhu De Deng Xiaoping Yin Kuan Xing Xiping Wang Ming Qu Qiubai Xiang Ying Zhao Shiyan Kang Sheng Dong Biwu

Name 0.174 0.162 0.152 0.141 0.140 0.132 0.131 0.131 0.128 0.124 0.122 0.121 0.120 0.119 0.117 0.115 0.114 0.114 0.113

Zhou Enlai Nie Rongzhen Liu Shaoqi Zhu De Cai Chang Zhang Wentian Deng Xiaoping Li Fuchun Zhang Guotao Qu Qiubai Dong Biwu Xing Xiping Ren Bishi Li Lisan Zhao Shiyan Ye Jianying Xiang Ying Kang Sheng Guo Longzhen

Eigenvector Name

Table 7.5 Seriation table of four key centralities from SRL dataset (N=115) with descending sorting obtained from two-mode analysis showing the highest 25 individuals

0.614 0.595 0.593 0.586 0.580 0.580 0.580 0.576 0.575 0.575 0.573 0.572 0.57 0.567 0.567 0.567 0.565 0.565 0.565

Zhou Enlai Jiang Jingguo Zhang Wentian Liu Shaoqi Qu Qiubai Zhu De Nie Rongzhen Deng Xiaoping Kang Sheng Cao Chengde Zhang Wenjin Xing Xiping Guo Huaruo Ren Bishi Chen Boda Qian Yishi Jiang Jieshi Ulanfu Cai Chang

Closeness Name 0.057 0.036 0.031 0.030 0.030 0.028 0.026 0.023 0.023 0.021 0.021 0.019 0.019 0.018 0.018 0.018 0.018 0.017 0.016

Betweenness

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Guo Longzhen Kang Sheng Liu Qingyang Xiang Ying Qin Bangxian Wang Jiaxiang

20 21 22 23 24 25

0.127 0.127 0.127 0.127 0.122 0.122

Degree Rao Shushi Xia Xi Liu Bojian Wang Ruofei Lin Wei Wang Zekai

Name 0.111 0.111 0.110 0.109 0.109 0.109

Chen Yu_1 Wang Ming Wang Jiaxiang Qin Bangxian Ulanfu Liu Qingyang

Eigenvector Name

Note: Centralities and names are sorted in four pairs of columns for highest scores. Names such as Chen Yi_1 is marked as a unique biographical identifier for multiple same names. Italicized names are Euro-Soviet group and bold names are Soviet group

Name

No

Table 7.5 Seriation table of four key centralities from SRL dataset (N=115) (cont.)

0.565 0.564 0.564 0.564 0.564 0.564

Wang Ruofei Han Guang Chen Chunpu Zhang Guotao Liu Qingyang Rao Shushi

Closeness Name 0.016 0.016 0.016 0.015 0.015 0.015

Betweenness

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Name

Zhou Enlai Liu Shaoqi Nie Rongzhen Zhu De Deng Xiaoping Mao Zedong Cai Chang Zhang Wentian Chen Yi_1 Hu Yaobang He Changgong Li Fuchun Zhang Guotao Dong Biwu Zhao Shiyan Ye Jianying Qu Qiubai He Long Zhou Yang Ren Bishi

No

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

0.112 0.092 0.087 0.085 0.078 0.076 0.076 0.074 0.071 0.067 0.065 0.065 0.065 0.065 0.060 0.060 0.058 0.058 0.056 0.056

Degree

Liu Shaoqi Cai Chang Li Fuchun Zhou Enlai Zhu De He Changgong Ren Bishi Li Weihan Nie Rongzhen Li Lisan Chen Yi_1 Xiao Jingguang He Long Li Zhuoran Liu Xiao Tan Zheng Zhang Guotao Zhang Wentian Ouyang Qin Dong Biwu

Name 0.090 0.086 0.081 0.078 0.077 0.078 0.077 0.077 0.080 0.075 0.074 0.071 0.077 0.074 0.070 0.069 0.073 0.073 0.072 0.068

Eigenvector Nie Rongzhen Liu Shaoqi Cai Chang Zhu De Mao Zedong He Changgong Li Fuchun Chen Yi_1 Deng Xiaoping Li Weihan Li Lisan Zhou Yang Zhao Shiyan Ren Bishi Yin Kuan Ren Zhuoxuan Zhang Wentian He Long Ouyang Qin Lin Wei

Name 0.671 0.668 0.667 0.665 0.664 0.666 0.664 0.664 0.667 0.661 0.661 0.659 0.662 0.659 0.658 0.658 0.659 0.659 0.659 0.657

Closeness

Table 7.6 Seriation of four key centralities from the 3PX dataset (N=587) obtained from the two-mode analysis showing the highest 35 individuals

Betweenness 0.016 0.010 0.009 0.008 0.008 0.008 0.008 0.008 0.008 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.007 0.006

Name Mao Zedong Zhu De Zhou Enlai Ding Ling Chen Guofu Jiang Jingguo Wu Liangping Cao Hengwen Deng Xiaoping He Changgong Chen Yi_1 Lu Xun Liu Shaoqi Dai Jitao Yan Yangchu Zou Rong Cai Yuanpei Hu Yuzhi Zhang Binglin Xia Yan

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Jiang Jingguo Ulanfu Li Lisan Li Weihan Dai Jitao Qin Bangxian Wang Ruofei Yang Zhihua Guo Longzhen Xing Xiping Kang Sheng Li Yimeng Wang Ming Xu Teli Xiang Ying

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

0.054 0.054 0.054 0.054 0.051 0.051 0.051 0.051 0.051 0.051 0.049 0.049 0.049 0.049 0.049

Degree

Eigenvector 0.067 0.068 0.068 0.068 0.067 0.068 0.068 0.066 0.066 0.065 0.065 0.066 0.065 0.066 0.065

Name

Zhou Yang Wang Zekai Xiao San Mao Zedong Chen Geng Hu Yaobang Yin Kuan Wang Zhen Wang Renda Huang Kecheng Wang Ming Xu Teli Li Yichun Rao Shushi Zuo Quan

Centralities and names are sorted in four pairs of columns for highest scores. Italicized names are SRL dataset and bold names are 3P individuals

Name

No Jiang Zemin Wang Zekai Xiao San Xu Teli Xiang Jingyu Yang Zhihua Zhang Guotao Li Yichun Li Yimeng Chen Gongpei Wang Linghan Li Zhuoran Dai Jitao Xiao Jingguang Liu Xiao

Name

Table 7.6 Seriation of four key centralities from the 3PX dataset (N=587) (cont.)

0.657 0.657 0.657 0.657 0.657 0.657 0.657 0.656 0.656 0.656 0.656 0.656 0.656 0.656 0.655

Closeness Gu Gongxu Zhou Yang Chen Xuezhao Chen Jingzhi Huang Xing Chen Cheng Zhang Wentian Tang Daogeng Hu Shuying Chen Dingmin Chen Lifu He Luo Chen Anyu Chen Tanqiu Chen Xing

Name 0.006 0.006 0.006 0.006 0.006 0.006 0.006 0.005 0.005 0.005 0.005 0.005 0.005 0.005 0.005

Betweenness

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leaders are intriguing in terms of those who possess short distances to other nodes, ranking high in betweenness, and are seen as information brokers who can use that position as a form of power. The betweenness column uniquely has political and cultural leaders, including powerful “elders,” Cai Yuanpei (蔡元培 1868–1940), Huang Xing (黄興 1874–1916), and Zhang Binglin (章炳麟 1869–1936) who are ranked high in this measure. Cultural leaders and theorists show high betweenness values, such as Lu Xun (魯迅 1881–1936), Ding Ling (丁玲 1904–86), Dai Jitao, Zhou Yang (周楊 1908–89), Chen Lifu (陳立夫 1900– 2001), and Chen Guofu (陳果夫 1892–1951). Finally, it is worth noting that these centralities and network graphs will allow additional views of Mao Zedong’s leadership pattern. He is sixth in degree centrality, twenty-fourth in the eigenvector measure, and rises to fifth in the closeness measure, but significantly is first in the measure of betweenness. As shown below, Mao was not necessarily strongly connected directly to others, but he was what is known as a potential major power broker through his betweenness and his closeness to others. Mao tended to be served by, and connected to, military figures, with some serving as his secretaries, such as Tan Zheng (譚政 1906–88) who ranked higher than Mao in the eigenvector category (Figure 7.16). These findings align with Franziska Keller’s conclusions for her network study of the CCP politburo leaders (1982–2012): “Closeness centrality is significantly associated with appointment to the Politburo up to ten years ahead, and betweenness centrality can help identify relevant patrons. This is consistent with the results of the aforementioned agent-based model [of elites]: Closeness centrality captures popularity as coalition partner, while betweenness centrality measures a strategic position that allows leaders to block opposition coalitions.”40 A key difference between the SRL dataset and the 3P dataset analyses is that they demonstrate that, when a large community of network ties is analyzed, individuals will make unexpected strong ties because of their proximity to other nodes and communities. In this instance, the 3PX dataset has a larger number of ties that show the different strengths of individuals depending on the type of centrality, and there is an emergence of individuals from different parties, factions, cultural leaders, and revolutionaries than just the CCP, again, primarily in the betweenness centrality. These data remind us that history does not emerge in fragmented episodes, but in complex internal and external interactions that cross many social, political, and cultural subgroups. These subgroups and interactions will become obvious as well in the visualizations below. 40

Keller, “Networks of Power. A Social Network Analysis of the Chinese Communist Elite, 1982–2012,” 6.

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3.8 Network Visualizations of the SRL and 3PX Groups The final part of this section on network analysis will explore network visualizations, with a focus on the 3PX dataset at the group and individual level. The visualizations have, as their main goal, to demonstrate the relationships and affinities between individuals in a clear manner, and to avoid dense networks with unreadable labels. This was achieved, again, by simply pruning away low tie individuals to reveal the most connected individuals. In addition, the attributes per individual are displayed via sizes, shapes, colors, and rims of the nodes so that the readers can also see potential affinities and differences in the affiliations. Figure 7.11 is a network graph for 91 individuals at 1,686 ties who remain in the SRL network after more than eight ties have been eliminated. The ECCO groups basically form their own cluster on the right and only Zhu De is located on the non-ECCO grouping, with high degree individuals such as Deng Xiaoping and Zhou Enlai near the left center of the figure. In addition, there is a proximity to each other of individuals from Hunan, while Sichuan

Figure 7.11

Network graph of SRL containing 91 individuals with 1,686 ties Note: Degree centrality=symbol size, provincial origins: circle=Sichuan, all other provinces=square, yellow rim=Hunan, and red color=ECCO membership

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Figure 7.12

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Network graph of 3PX containing 100 individuals with 1,192 ties Note: Eigenvector centrality=symbol size, provincial origins: circle=Sichuan, all other provinces=square, green rim=Hunan, and red color=ECCO membership

individuals are more dispersed. There also is an indicator for membership in the ECCO (red color) that allows the viewing of subgroup formations and the important position of ECCO members, who constitute 46% of individuals in the SRL dataset. The 1,920 ties in Figure 7.12, who remain in the network after more than 11 ties have been eliminated. The Hunanese represent almost 50% of the individuals on the graph. Like the SRL dataset there is also a central position in the expanded dataset of the three revolutionary elite leaders from Sichuan, Zhu De, Nie Rongzhen, and Deng Xiaoping; and from Hunan, Liu Shaoqi, Cai Chang, and Li Fuchun. It is clear that Zhou Enlai, Liu Shaoqi, and Nie Rongzhen have the maximal contacts. Mao Zedong has some intriguing proximity with the ECCO and largely Hunanese individuals at the top right. One also views outlying individuals, as for example, to the right of the graph is a cohort of

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Figure 7.13

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Network graph of 3PX containing 19 individuals with 78 ties Note: Provincial origins: circle=Sichuan, green rim=Hunan, Jiangsu=label size, and red color=ECCO membership

Euro-Soviet individuals who died young, but nevertheless had network ties that last to greater than the 11 ties level. The next network graph, Figure 7.13, for the 3PX dataset is further pruned to 78 ties and only 19 individuals. The Hunan grouping still is strong, and generally clustered together in the graph. Another interesting pattern is Xiang Jingyu (向警予 1895–1928), who is linked to her in-laws, Cai Chang and Li Fuchun.41 At this stage, it is fascinating that two leaders from Jiangsu (Zhou Enlai and Zhang Wentian) last to the level of greater than 17 ties.42 At this highest number of ties, the importance of He Long (賀龍 1896–1969) and Zhang Guotao, both of whom measured high in centralities, have a role that is worth noting. They both are connected to high-ranked leaders Zhu De, Nie Rongzhen, Deng 41 42

It is worth iterating that these network analyses did not include family relationships. Zhang Wentian was one of the so-called 28 Bolsheviks, who generally have been seen as a Stalinist-influenced cohort who controlled the CCP in the 1930s. Thomas Kampen documented the return of the 28 Bolsheviks, and one of his key themes, supported by this study, is that, as a subgroup, there was no real unitary network back in China. One of the most important facts that Kampen brings forward throughout his study is the support that Zhang Wentian gave to Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai. Thomas Kampen, Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai and the Evolution of the Chinese Communist Leadership (Denmark: NIAS Publishers, 2000).

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Xiaopoing, Liu Shaoqi, and Zhou Enlai. Given the greater need to focus on military leadership in general, Zhu De, Nie Rongzhen, He Long, and Zhang Guotao are important key individuals historically and these relationships could yield a more intriguing understanding of military events. A final tallying of the entire network would show the four highest leaders at greater than 23 ties that include Liu Shaoqi, Zhou Enlai, Nie Rongzhen, and Zhu De. The final two ties are Zhou and Nie at greater than 25 ties (data not shown). 3.9 Ego Network Visualizations of the 3PX Dataset Ego graphs are another method for obtaining important leadership analyses. Rather than focus on subgroupings within the entire network, an ego network displays the direct ties for an individual and their closest neighbors (also called alters). Figures 7.14 through 7.16 are ego networks for Zhou Enlai, Liu

Figure 7.14

Ego network graph for Zhou Enlai from 3PX containing 56 individuals at the GT 11 ties level Note: Eigenvector centrality=symbol size, SRL=square, and red color=ECCO membership, Hunan=green rims, Jiangsu=purple text. Ego network includes direct ties and alter-alter ties

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Shaoqi, and Mao Zedong from the 3PX dataset. All three ego network graphs were pruned to individuals requiring at least 11 ties, which gave easily studied graphs, and both direct ties and alter-alter ties are included. Zhou Enlai has some interesting prosopographical information from the ego network in Figure 7.14. More than half of the individuals are from Hunan and only ten individuals are from Sichuan, clustered mostly at the top of the graph, with the exceptions of Nie Rongzhen and Zhu De who are closer to the center. A cluster of leaders from Jiangsu, Zhou’s province of origin is at the top left, Qin Bangxian, Zhang Tailei, Qu Qiubai, and Zhang Wentian. There is also a Hebei subgroup that exemplify his childhood, education, and youth activities that includes Zhang Shenfu, Liu Qingyan, and Guo Longzhen (郭隆真 1894– 1931) who all made it to this level. The ECCO has 19 individuals in the network, which is 35% of the individuals with two ECCO secretaries, Zhao Shiyan and Ren Zhuoxuan at the top right. In the ego network for Liu Shaoqi (Figure 7.15) also more than half of the 58 other individuals are from Hunan, with only 10 individuals from Sichuan, and in terms of the Jiangsu individuals, Zhang Tailei, is not in this ego network, but the others are included. A major difference, not unexpected, is Liu Shaoqi’s number of ECCO ties, which is 10% less than Zhou Enlai’s ECCO network relationships at this level. One of the interesting comparisons is the dispersion pattern of the two ego networks. Spatial distances are a measure of tie strength. For example, Zhou’s Hunan connections are both close by, but not primarily clustered to one side as are Liu’s Hunan connections. Both Zhou Enlai and Liu Shaoqi were talented leaders who knew how to weave together alliances, but understood the growing central leadership of Mao Zedong. Their common high rankings in the centrality rankings, their persistence in this network, and diversity of their contacts, particularly their dependence on the SRL and ECCO leadership cohort, who shared their early revolutionary experiences, shows up in these two figures. In comparison with Zhou Enlai and Liu Shaoqi, Mao Zedong (Figure 7.16) has fewer ties in his ego network at the level of greater than 11 ties (N=17). In this dataset, it is interesting there are nine ties to SRL individuals, almost as many as ties to Hunan individuals (N=10). There are six individuals or 35% from the ECCO. Like Liu Shaoqi, Mao has key ties to individuals from Jiangsu (Zhou Enlai and Zhang Wentian). An important finding of this graph is 100% of the individuals participated in the Long March (1934–35). Figure 7.16 reflects Mao’s pattern of leadership as shown in his high ranking for the betweenness and in the closeness centralities. When one views the centrality of closeness in this graph, there are only a few individuals who do not have relatively high values. This means that in the 3PX dataset, Mao Zedong’s closeness centrality is important for his linkages. The inclusion of Tao Zheng

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Figure 7.15

Levine

Ego network graph for Liu Shaoqi from 3PX containing 59 individuals at the GT 11 ties level Note: Eigenvector centrality=symbol size, SRL=square, and red color=ECCO membership, Hunan=green rims, Sichuan=purple text. Ego network includes direct ties and alteralter ties

and Su Yu (粟裕 1907–84), two of his secretaries, who also served in the military, both made it to this level of the network, and might have contributed to Mao’s ability to overcome his obvious lack of common experiences with most of the Soviet-returned leaders. It might be that, in terms of being an important power broker, Mao’s military connections were one of his most fluid and rapid vectors for communication in a chaotic war environment and provided a focus on loyalty in terms of military order and behaviors. Certainly, someone like Tan Zheng had close linkages with the most powerful leaders, and he may have helped as a conduit for Mao in a power broker leadership pattern. A final note is the presence of Liu Xiao (劉晓 1908–88) and Huang Kecheng (黄克誠 1902– 86) in this ego network at this level of inclusion. Liu Xiao was an important supporter for Zhou Enlai, serving as the Vice-Minister for Foreign affairs and

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Figure 7.16

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Ego network graph for Mao Zedong from 3PX containing 17 individuals at the GT 11 ties level Note: Closeness centrality=symbol size, SRL=square, ECCO=red, Hunan=green rims, and Jiangsu=purple text. Ego network includes direct ties and alter-alter ties

as the ambassador to the Soviet Union (1955–62). He also worked closely with Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping. Huang Kecheng was a celebrated military figure and wrote an important testament in 1979 to Mao’s nemesis, Peng Dehuai (彭德懷 1898–1974). Could it be that Mao’s network includes key nodes from his closest network tie individuals because of a more indirect leadership pattern of communication and control? 4

Conclusions: Revolutionary Roads, Circles of Comrades, and Lines of Action

This work has taken vast amounts of biographical historical data and explored them via multiple quantitative methods. Potential affiliations included many

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factors, both intrinsic and experiential, such as, regional origins, schooling, social, economic, and cultural circumstances. The period of childhood and youth is one of the most formidable phases of life. The groups studied here, the Chinese born in the late 1800s and early 1900s, were also challenged by a unique history at the national and international level. Those who traveled abroad in a quest for knowledge, and in a spirit of adventure, and pride in their youth, became politicized or committed to other life paths in academia, government, or business and with many achieving revolutionary change. This work has argued that this environment should be further understood at the macro and micro level where these data were studied through statistical and network analyses. The focus was the Chinese Biographical Database subsets of Soviet-returned leaders and a broader provincial sampling from Hunan, Sichuan, and Zhejiang. The random nature and large size of the latter subset allowed the testing of ideas about generation, regional origin, group, and individual dynamics. The results have shown significant themes and patterns of leadership, including the development of a revolutionary elite that need to be further researched and expanded. Five main areas have been suggested through these statistical and historical network analyses: 1. The patterns of birth and death years and lifespans indicate generational cohesion tied to shared experiences. Generation was a key element of political development. Those born between the early 1890s and 1905 comprised a unique generation who were raised under the Qing, with expectations of the traditional political practices, and yet they were also exposed to the vibrant diversity of Western ideas during the New Culture Movement, particularly the work-study movement, as a “found generation,”43 in contradistinction to the Western “lost generation,” or as Robert Wohl calls them “the generation of 1914.” This found generation, joined by their generational allies back in China, identified purpose and strategies in a set of experiences in Western Europe and the Soviet Union and were able to prevail during decades of revolutionary challenges. This close-knit group of revolutionaries cohered and survived to become the government of the PRC after 1949. In comparison with other Chinese leadership in the 20th century, they became a revolutionary elite. 2. Provincial city origin had an impact on the development of these political and cultural cohorts at some point of their development of their revolutionary roads. Looking at the paths to revolution, for some individuals and groups where they grew up and their proximity to like-minded 43

See Levine, The Found Generation, Chapter 1.

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4.

5.

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individuals might have literally walked together on a revolutionary road, particularly the region of Changsha, Hunan. Other regions in Zhejiang and Jiangsu might have followed this pattern. Sichuan had a geographical division between Chengdu and Chongqing regions, but the power of place was demonstrated in the cohesion of birthplace cohorts and politicization, such as occurred in Jiangjin, Sichuan. As this study clearly demonstrated, the regional affiliation created strong linkages for those who were more politically involved. Yet, as history demonstrated, as exemplified in the network graphs, the regional view also accommodated a national and international view of revolution, particularly for the SRL dataset. Cluster analysis in the SRL dataset and the 3PX dataset demonstrates this important group of high ranking, powerful, Chinese Communist Party leaders in the SRL group. The hierarchical clustering for both groups show an amazing cohesion and importance of the SRL dataset even when the 3P dataset is added to the analysis. Also demonstrated are the importance of regional origin and career orientation (e.g. intellectual activists). Understanding the networks allows a narrower examination of network cohesion, detection of subgroups, and ego networks. A major conclusion of a network analysis of the 3PX dataset highlights a finer delineation of connections among high-placed CCP leaders who constituted elite revolutionaries. But the research also uncovers the possible roles of “unexpected actors in Chinese history.” For example, the analysis of the different centrality measures demonstrated different individuals had varying types of connections that led to communication and actions that impacted each other and on history. Visualizations not only validated the idea of cohesion among leaders that have long been contended to be revolutionary elite players, but those who were tied to them can now be appreciated in greater detail, such as the relationship between Mao Zedong and Tan Zheng. Thus, individuals who do not rank at the highest levels might have played important parts in their historical roles. In addition, methodologically the integration of methods allowed different views aided by visualization of the networks when combined with multivariate cluster analysis and network measures such as Louvain subgroup analysis and centralization. Historians should consider focusing on the explanatory and narrative power of the usage of big data methods to examine the attributes as well as to help illustrate the structures. The breadth of information using quantitative and network analysis allows for a rethinking of traditional foci areas and assumptions about Chinese political leadership. To give three examples of potential interpretative changes:

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a.

b.

c.

The traditional view of a group of 28 Bolsheviks needs revision and maybe retirement of the term. A fresh look is needed for the real roles and allegiances of leaders like Wang Jiaxiang, Zhang Wentian, Qin Bangxian, and Wang Ming. The interesting Jiangsu subgroup in Zhou Enlai’s ego network suggests that maybe a provincial analysis would reveal new linkages. Of course, these leaders did link together due to their relationships in the Soviet Union, but this study supports the view of Kampen that they did not form a cohesive block unassociated with others. Reconsidering the foundations of power and leadership philosophy for Mao Zedong. Mao, although tightly linked to the New Citizens’ Study Society, did not participate in the Euro-Soviet experience. He developed a different set of network linkages that are more limited than many of his childhood cohort developed, and he only ranked highly in three out of four centrality measures. It is the nature of these linkages that is compelling and suggest perhaps reinterpreting the storyline of his power. He operated in a more circuitous way than his comrades, through competent leaders with mid-range power. This is clear in his network linkages with Su Yu and Tan Zheng, who are high-ranked leaders, but not the highest. Yet Mao Zedong does rank with Liu Shaoqi and Zhou Enlai in the very highest ranked leadership cluster in the hierarchical clustering. Rethinking the roles of key leaders in terms of their personal interrelationships and network configurations, such as Zhou Enlai and Liu Shaoqi, and Cai Chang and Li Fuchun. By not a priori determining who is special or powerful in these networks, some intriguing avenues for research are illuminated. The role of intellectuals and cultural elites in the betweenness measure is suggestive for example. Likewise, if there are these connections, why think of just the individual, and not begin to think of key dyads or triads? Zhou Enlai is often portrayed as an enigmatic, charismatic, and capable leader and is even more astonishing in these analyses. In the SRL dataset Zhou Enlai has the broadest network, and often the highest ranking in terms of the measurements used. Likewise, Liu Shaoqi also has a wide-spanning breadth in his network and ranks near the top in most measurements. Given the balance in their networks, is it possible to research them as two individuals who had a real symbiotic relationship? They were complementarian in their personae, and this may be demonstrated by further research of their life events and historical actions. Even more unexpected were the roles of wife

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and husband team, Cai Chang and Li Fuchun, who not only have broad network connections and a rank high on measurements, but are hierarchically clustered together in the SRL dataset where they form their own dyad, and remain clustered in the 3PX dataset. All these leaders and many others have compelling leadership issues to explore in future analyses of revolutionary elites. This study has explored some of the powerful potentials of integrative approaches to history. It has analyzed two datasets from a Chinese Biographical Database that when coupled with quantitative and historical network analyses can provide new frames of reference for exploring early CCP history and the leaders who made the Chinese Revolution.

Appendix 1—Abbreviations

Chinese Biographical Database Soviet-Returned Leaders Dataset Three Province Dataset Three Province Expanded Dataset Toilers of the East University in Moscow Chinese Communist Party Chinese Nationalist Party Anarchist Party (Surplus Society) European Branches of the Chinese Communist Organizations Chinese Social Democratic Party European Branch of the Chinese Nationalist Party Chinese Youth Party

CBD SRL 3P 3PX KUTV CCP GMD GYS ECCO SDP EGMD CYP

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Chapter 8

Foreign Clubs with Chinese Flavor: The Rotary Club of Shanghai and the Politics of Language Cécile Armand 1

Introduction*

In his inaugural address to the intercity meeting of the Rotary Club held in Qingdao in August 1935, the famous diplomat and Rotary official Wang Zhengting identified three essential factors to make the movement successful in China: native membership, native leadership, and native literature.1 This program exemplified the challenges raised by the Chinese participation in the emerging American-shaped global capitalism through one of its most emblematic institutions in the first half of the 20th century—the Rotary Club. Founded in Chicago in 1905, the Rotary Club was introduced in China in 1919. As in the United States, its initial purpose was to enable business and professional men to socialize and legitimize their position through promoting higher business standards and devising a new ethics of public service. After the first club was established by foreign residents in Shanghai, the movement spread rapidly throughout the country. By 1949 it comprised hundreds of members distributed across 33 clubs, not only in treaty ports but also in interior China (Figure 8.1). How can we account for the spectacular growth of this foreignborn organization in pre-1949 China? We argue that its nationwide expansion was possible because the Rotary did not rely solely on foreign expatriates, but actively recruited among Chinese elites who, in turn, were prompt to appropriate the organization and its values. Who were the Chinese Rotarians? What was the nature of the elites involved in the Rotary Club in China?

* This research has been supported by the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange. We are very grateful to the Foundation for its generous support. We are also very grateful to Susan Hanf, Heritage Communications Specialist for Rotary International in Evanston, Illinois, for her invaluable assistance in providing us access to the documents on which this research is based, and to Charlotte Aubrun and Feng Yi who helped to design the maps. 1 “Rotary’s Progress in China: Review of Inter-city Club Meeting in Tsingtao,” North-China Herald, August 28, 1935, 343.

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Figure 8.1 Rotary clubs in China (1919–52)

By taking the Rotary as its object of analysis, this chapter deals with the upper echelons of Chinese elites. Indeed, the organization explicitly sought to recruit the very best in their field, based on their high qualifications which translated into positions of power and influence in the rising global capitalist order. As such, the Rotary drew on, as much as it redefined, the Chinese meritocratic system based on success in civil service examinations which had ensured the selection of scholar-officials and the stability of the imperial order since the 10th century. The fields in which the Rotarians excelled were no longer in the government and the administration, but rather the business and professional sectors that were emerging in increasingly globalized urban societies. Academic degrees from foreign universities came to replace former imperial degrees ( jinshi 進士) as the dominant yardstick for measuring individual performance. In the new world fellowship of business that the Rotary envisioned, “good character” and professional reputation superseded Confucian moral virtues. Professionalism became the new mantra for those who pursued the ideal of serving the public outside officialdom. More importantly, beyond these seemingly objective criteria, members were co-opted through their personal connections rooted in college affiliations, professional partnerships, and a common framework of social-cultural references.

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In the multinational setting of treaty ports like Shanghai, moreover, language skills became a tacit requirement for admission to the Rotary. In contrast with colonial elite clubs, whose membership was restricted to foreign expatriates, membership in the Rotary never depended on national or racial criteria. The club not only admitted Chinese members but brought together elites of diverse nationalities. In the mid-1930s, the Rotary Club of Shanghai included as many as many as 21 different nationalities. Internationalism eventually became its motto during the troubled interwar years and the various clubs throughout China competed for the award of the most international club in the world. The major implication of this internationalist fashion was that most Rotary clubs in China used English as their lingua franca to accommodate the diverse nationalities they included. While this linguistic choice met the interwar spirit of internationalism and complied with Rotary International’s vision of a world fellowship of businessmen, it de facto excluded many prominent Chinese who were not conversant in English. Language, rather than race, became the key criterion for selection, with the effect of creating new patterns of exclusion among Chinese elites. While the mastering of classical Chinese (wenyan 文言) had long served as the major dividing line between elites (literati) and nonelites in imperial China, from the “unequal treaties” that marked China’s forced entry into the world order, and the introduction of Western learning in the late 19th century, knowledge of foreign languages introduced new barriers among Chinese elites. After the abolition of civil service examinations (1905), foreign education more profoundly reshaped elite cultural capital and became the linchpin for the formation of a globalized elite in post-imperial China. While Chinese intellectuals in the early years of the Republic were debating on the creation of a vernacular (baihua 白話) then national language (guoyu 國語), the Rotary Club exemplified another, albeit less known, debate on the necessity for Chinese elites to demonstrate proficiency in foreign languages if they were to participate in this changing world order; particularly in English as it was emerging as the dominant vernacular of global capitalism.2 As the Rotary demonstrated, most foreign-educated Chinese did not learn English for its own sake or as a sign of cultural distinction. Rather, they envisioned their language skills as a means for securing access to information networks, business contacts, professional partners, and eventually power, in the new global capitalist order. The history of the Rotary Club in China has remained largely unexplored to date. In the few studies devoted to foreigners or Sino-foreign communities

2 Elisabeth Kaske, The Politics of Language in Chinese Education, 1895–1919 82, Sinica Leidensia (Leiden: Brill, 2007).

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in China, the club is just mentioned in passing.3 Chinese scholars have begun to pay attention to the organization after its revival in Shanghai and Beijing in the early 2000s. Most works have adopted a biographical approach focused on a few exemplary leaders (Kuang Fuzhuo 鄺富灼, Wang Zhengting 王正廷). Overall, they have failed to provide a comprehensive study of membership. One exception is Liu’s survey of Shanghai members, but his analysis has remained superficial.4 The most serious issue has been the limited amount of data available in second-hand sources (official history on the website of today’s clubs), national or local archives in China. Moreover, Chinese and Western scholars alike have tended to uncritically embrace contemporary eulogies of Rotary’s spirit of international goodwill and mutual understanding. Their narrative often conveys the impression of a successful expansion under Chinese leadership, and of harmonious relationships among the Rotary and Chinese society at large. They have celebrated the Rotary’s openness as evidence of its ability to overcome racial boundaries, which they have contrasted with the exclusiveness of foreign elite clubs in treaty ports and colonial cities.5 Yet these narratives have failed to recognize the challenge that this situation may have posed for communicating between Rotarians of various nationalities. More importantly, they have obscured the critical fact that language itself may have hindered the development of Rotary among indigenous elites, as far as to become a vector of cultural imperialism, even not intentionally. On the other hand, historians of Rotary International (RI) and “exotic peer” clubs outside China have addressed language issues in a wide range of colonial and noncolonial settings (Japan, Cuba, Southeast Asia), but they have omitted China 3 See for instance J. Huskey’s thesis on the American community in Shanghai or J. Wasserstrom’s preliminary study of transnational networks and individual “border-crossers” in Shanghai: James Layton Huskey, “Americans in Shanghai: Community Formation and Response to Revolution, 1919–1928,” Ph.D. diss. (Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina, 1985), 65–67; Jeffrey Wasserstrom, “Cosmopolitan Connections and Transnational Networks,” in At the Crossroads of Empires: Middlemen, Social Networks and State-Building in Republican Shanghai, ed. Nara Dillon and Jean Chun Oi (Stanford, CA and London: Stanford University Press, 2007), 214–222. 4 Guan Yuting 管玉婷 and Chen Yunqian 陈蕴茜, “Minguo Shiqi Zhongguo Fulunshe Fazhan Chutan” 民國時期中國扶輪社發展初探 [The Development of the Rotary Club in Republican China], Jiangxi Shehui Kexue 江西社會科學 no. 6 (2009): 154–158; Liu Bensen 劉本森, “Jindai Shanghai Shangye Jingying yu Fulunshe” 近代上海商業精英與扶輪社 [The Rotary Club and Business Elites in Modern Shanghai], Suzhou Keji Xueyuan Xuebao (Shehui Kexue Ban) 蘇州科技學院學報(社會科學版) 29, no. 5 (2012): 64–69. 5 John M. Carroll, “A Place of Their Own: Clubs and Associations,” in Edge of Empires: Chinese Elites and British Colonials in Hong Kong (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2007), 84–107.

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in their analyses so far.6 The Rotary Club of China, however, presented a more complex picture that does not fit in globalizing and post-colonial paradigms. As we will see in this chapter, the Chinese Rotarians’ attempts at reforming the organization complicated the story. Seeing themselves as cultural brokers, they called not just for a greater integration of Chinese elites but for a more profound indigenization through the creation of Chinese-speaking clubs. As it officially catered for the very best, the Rotary Club offers an ideal case to investigate how Chinese meritocracy was redefined in post-imperial China. By taking the issue of language seriously, the purposes of this chapter are twofold: (1) Substantially, to illuminate the central role that foreign education came to play in reconfiguring the processes of elite selection and reproduction in modern China. How did foreign education, especially proficiency in foreign languages, reshape Chinese meritocracy in the newly globalized world? What kind of contradictions did Chinese elites experience through their participation in the American-driven capitalist order? What were the implications of the new bounds and boundaries that foreign education drew among elites in China—new bounds that cut across the Chinese/foreign divide and new boundaries among foreign-educated/non-foreign-educated Chinese? (2) Methodologically, to demonstrate how a data-rich history can redefine previous scholarship focused on exceptional individuals and complicate the oft-uncritical celebration of Rotary internationalism. Drawing on a wide array of hitherto untapped sources, particularly the rich archives of Rotary International, supplemented by Who’s Who, periodicals, and personal papers, the data-rich history we propose consists of the systematic collection of membership and biographical data from these multiple sources, and their multidimensional analysis using statistical, spatial, and network analyses. This chapter consists of four sections. The first and second sections trace the growth of Chinese membership and draw a collective portrait of the Chinese Rotarians aimed at revealing broader patterns regarding their social, educational, and professional background. Using a data-rich methodology, these two sections serve to contextualize the more qualitative approach we pursue in the next sections. The third and fourth sections narrate the Rotarians’ efforts to “sinicize” the club through translation work, Chinese-style programs, and finally, the creation of Chinese-speaking clubs. These two sections aim to complicate the teleological story of the Rotary’s successful expansion depicted in 6 Su Lin Lewis, “Rotary International’s ‘Acid Test’: Multi-Ethnic Associational Life in 1930s Southeast Asia,” Journal of Global History 7, no. 2 (July 2012): 308; Brendan M. Goff, “The Heartland Abroad: The Rotary Club’s Mission of Civic Internationalism,” Ph.D. diss. (University of Michigan, 2008).

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previous studies, and to re-inject some human depth into the data-driven picture drawn in the first two sections. 2

Chinese Membership in the Rotary Club of Shanghai

As suggested in the introduction, the conditions for joining the club were highly demanding. Prospective members could not apply directly but had to be invited by someone who was already a member of the club.7 Membership was restricted to three elite categories: business owners or managers, executives, and local agents of multinational corporations. They were expected to demonstrate a “good character” and a “good business reputation.”8 Such regulations made the Rotary particularly selective compared to more leisure-oriented clubs, such as the French Club (Cercle Sportif français), the Union Club, or the International Club. Despite its internationalist ambition, the Rotary Club of Shanghai did not include any Chinese among its charter members. On average, Chinese members represented 29% of the total membership during the entire period. Although foreigners clearly dominated until the Sino-Japanese war (1937–45), Chinese members gradually increased in the 1930s and eventually became the majority during the war (Figure 8.2). The club ceased to function in practice after 1941. It was reorganized in November 1945 with 75 charter members (40% were Chinese). As foreign residents had massively withdrawn since Pearl Harbor (1941) and the restitution of foreign settlements (1943), the war eventually reduced the gap between Chinese and foreign members. Not only did the war affect membership in numerical terms, but it also brought new faces into the club. Five new Rotarians joined after 1945. Meanwhile, 15 pre-war members had disappeared from rosters, either because they had died (Kuang Fuzhuo) or resettled elsewhere. During the postwar years, the club experienced a far more significant renewal, with 27 new members. This is particularly remarkable since these newcomers could have made the alternative choice of joining the competing Chinese-speaking club of Shanghai West (see Section 4). Although most members joined after 1930, and despite their high level of professional mobility in the politically unstable situation during those years, almost 40% of all Chinese members remained for five years or more, including 22% over ten years. The relative stability of Chinese membership provided the organization with a much stronger basis than if it had relied solely on foreign expatriates. 7 Constitution and By-Laws, 1915 (Article XVI). 8 Constitution and By-Laws (Article III).

The Rotary Club of Shanghai and the Politics of Language

Figure 8.2 Chinese membership in the Rotary Club of Shanghai (1919–49) (a) Growth of Chinese membership; (b) Distribution between Chinese and foreign members

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Based on the rosters preserved in the archives of Rotary International, we were able to identify 113 Chinese Rotarians between 1920 and 1948.9 The rosters indicate their name, the professional class they represented, their main affiliation (employer), and their business and residential address. Table 1 shows the nature and amount of information available on each member.10 In the early 1920s, the Rotary International devised a standard classification of professions that each club throughout the world used as a basis for the selection of members. It was regularly updated and enriched to include emerging or changing professions. In 1930, the classification comprised 79 major categories subdivided into 1,600 minor classes.11 In theory, each club could only include one representative of each class. The Rotary Club of Shanghai, however, experienced difficulties in filling categories such as agriculture which were poorly Table 8.1 Information discrepancies on the Chinese Rotarians

Attributes

Shanghai (1919)

Shanghai West (1948)

Year of joining (R) Office address (R) Residence (R) Birth date/place (W) Education (W) Positions (W) Hobbies (W) Total members in rosters Total members in Who’s Who

88 49 36 55 51 66 9 113 113

25 23 23 8 6 8 2 25 20

77.9% 43% 32% 48.7% 45.1% 58.4% 8% 100%

100% 92% 92% 40% 30% 40% 10% 80%

Note: R=Rosters; W=Who’s Who

9 10

11

The list of names is available on Zenodo ENP-China Community: Cécile Armand (2020). List of Chinese Rotarians in Shanghai (1.0.0) [Dataset]. Zenodo. https://doi.org/10.5281/ zenodo.4283499. This longitudinal study of Chinese membership from 1920 to 1948 is based on 27 rosters and membership lists, which represents an average of 1.5 per year, except during the war (no rosters were available between 1940 and 1945). In addition to Rotary International archives, two rosters (1938–39 and 1948) came from A. B. Calder’s personal papers at the Hoover Institution Archives, Stanford. 1920 corresponds to the year the first Chinese member (Tang Yuanzhan 唐元湛) was admitted to the club, while 1948 refers to the last roster at our disposal. “The Rotary Platform  …” Constitution and By-laws, 1919; Pagoda, no. 531, February 6, 1930, 6.

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Figure 8.3 Professional classification of Chinese Rotarians in Shanghai

developed in the city. Conversely, the activities that were overwhelmingly represented locally, such as medical practice or the press industry, presented more than one candidate. The Rotary Club of Shanghai, therefore, devised a system of “additional member” and adjusted the classification so as to accommodate the principle of “limited membership” to the local conditions.12 Figure 8.3 shows that medical professionals formed the largest group (20 members, 16%), followed by financial services (banking, insurance), the chemical industry (11 members, 9% each), printing/publishing and transportation/storage (9, 7% each). A substantial number (24, 18%) in these sectors worked for United States-based private companies (Colgate-Palmolive, Texas) or non-profit institutions (Henry Lester Institute). Alternatively, some worked in Sino-American joint ventures (Lam & Glines, Joint Savings Society) or in Chinese companies that had adopted American techniques of management, particularly in the textile (Mayar Silk Mills) and chemical industries (China Match Company).13 12 13

Constitution and By-laws, 1919, section 5 (Additional Active Member). Stephen L. Morgan, “Professional Associations and the Diffusion of New Management Ideas in Shanghai, 1920–1930s: A Research Agenda,” Business History Conference 2 (2004): 1–24; Lin-chun Wu, “China and the United States: Business, Technology, and Networks, 1914–1941,” Journal of American-East Asian Relations 27, no. 2 (July 15, 2020): 119–141.

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figure 8.4 Chinese and American Rotarians’ workplace and residence in Shanghai

In short, the Chinese Rotarians’ occupations reflected the extent to which the local economy in Shanghai was increasingly embedded in a global capitalist order, largely defined by American corporate interests. Their American connections shaped not only their professional activities but also the places in which they chose to work and live in Shanghai. Although they never formed a geographically self-contained community, the Chinese Rotarians were inclined to cluster in the foreign settlements, which were relatively protected from the meddling of the Chinese government and offered higher standards of living than the Chinese districts. Figure 8.4 shows that the Chinese and American Rotarians alike generally worked in the Central district of the International Settlement (triangular dots), whereas they resided in the Western district or in the French Concession (regular dots). Spatial proximity cemented social-cultural homogeneity and strengthened the personal bonds established through common membership in Sino-foreign organization like the Rotary Club. 3

Chinese Rotarians Beyond the Club

Beyond membership data drawn from rosters, we also investigated whether membership in the Rotary Club was based on common social attributes. Did the Chinese Rotarians belong to the same generation? Did they come from the same province or locality? What was their educational background? Did their

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Figure 8.5 Year of birth

Figure 8.6 University of graduation in the United States

professional career intersect beyond the club? Based on the rich collection of Who’s Who held at the Academia Sinica Institute of Modern History (IMH), we were able to reconstruct the life trajectories of 55 Rotarians (59% of all members registered in rosters).14

14

Integrated Information System on Modern and Contemporary Characters (IISMCC), http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/, last accessed: September 1, 2021.

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Most members were born during the waning years of the Qing dynasty (1880–96). They grew up in the late 1890s–early 1900s and received their education after the imperial examination system was abolished in 1905, which implied that many of them probably attended modern schools offering foreign-style curricula in China. They were in their twenties or thirties when the Rotary was introduced in China, and in their thirties or forties when they joined the club (Figure 8.5). Almost all Rotarians were American-returned students who graduated from top-ranking universities in the United States, mostly on the East Coast (Columbia, Harvard, Massachusetts Institute of Technology) (Figure 8.6). Many of them obtained the highest possible degree in their field (Ph.D. or Master’s), primarily in the humanities (33%), medicine (25%), engineering, or economics (15% each). Although the Rotary endorsed the mainstream ideology of modernity driven by technological progress, the Rotary Club of Shanghai drew its membership primarily from business and professional elites with a liberal, humanistic rather than technical or technocratic background. Like most American-educated elites, they came from three main provinces: Jiangsu (35%), Zhejiang (20%), and Guangdong (18%) (Figure 8.7). As previous works have established, the weight of Guangdong increases when we consider

Figure 8.7 Province of origin

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Figure 8.8 Country of education

their ancestry.15 The remaining members came from Hubei (three), Hebei (two), Jiangxi (two), and Fujian (two). Five were born overseas (Singapore, Australia, Canada, United States). Even those who did not study in the United States received their education in English-speaking universities in the United Kingdom (Cambridge, Edinburgh), Canada (Toronto) or Australia (Stott’s Business College in Sydney) (Figure 8.8). In other words, all members shared a high level of education by foreign standards and demonstrated proficiency in English before they joined the club. The Chinese Rotarians formed a highly active and mobile population, both professionally and geographically. By their thirties, 66 individuals had been to 1,310 different places, 75% in China and 20% in North America. These multidirectional circulations reflected their overseas background, their education abroad, and their participation in global capitalism. These, in turn, increased their multilingual proficiency and multicultural identity. Furthermore, they demonstrated a high degree of cross-professional mobility. Most positions were held in non-profit associations (29%), private companies (24%), universities (19%), and the government (15%). A few worked in international organizations and more specific institutions related to their professional expertise (court, hospital). Positions in the military or political parties remained 15

Y. C. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1966), 156–158. Stacey Bieler, “Patriots” or “Traitors”?: A History of American-Educated Chinese Students (New York: Routledge, 2003), 381. See also Lin Yi-tang’s chapter on Rockefeller fellows in this volume.

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exceptional, in line with the Rotary’s principle of political neutrality. Only two Rotarians joined either the revolutionary Tongmenhui (Mei Huaquan 梅華銓) or the nationalist Guomindang (Wang Zhengting), but their short-term political affiliation did not overlap with their membership in the Rotary Club.16 To examine more closely their academic or professional connections, we built an affiliation network linking the individuals with the institutions in which they were involved during their life (Figure 8.9).17 Even when they did not actually meet through these institutions (for instance, in the case they graduated from the same university or worked for the same administration, but not during the same time period), they nonetheless shared their particular rules, philosophy, and modes of operation. Interestingly, the most connecting institutions involving the largest number of Rotarians—or in network analysis terminology, the nodes with the highest degree—were all related to North America in one way or another (Table 8.2). They were either physically located in the United States (universities that the Rotarians attended) or had been established by Americans in China. The latter group included voluntary organizations, such as the Young Men’s Christian Association (Y.M.C.A.), missionary schools or universities (St. John’s), and research institutions supported by American philanthropic organizations (Peking Union Medical College, founded by the Rockefeller Foundation). In Shanghai, we find four of the six American institutions that Huskey identified as major channels of Sino-American relations (Rotary Club, Y.M.C.A., American University Club, Community Church).18 In addition to these American-driven institutions, however, the network also includes Chinese professional or business organizations (Chinese Medical Association, Chinese General Chamber of Commerce), welfare associations (Chinese Mission to Lepers, Chinese Red Cross), and government (Municipality of Greater Shanghai). The dual nature of their affiliations also transpired through their hobbies and lifestyles. While the practice of foreign sports (tennis, golf, football) was residual of their studies in the United States, some Rotarians also combined foreign pastimes with Chinese painting and calligraphy, collection of antique porcelains, and rare books.

16 17

18

Constitution and By-laws, 1919 (Article V. Avoidance of Politics). An interactive version of this network is available online on NDEX,: http://public.ndexbio.org/viewer/networks/4273478c-2c02-11eb-9e72-0ac135e8bacf. The data used to build this network is available on Zenodo ENPChina Community: Cécile Armand (2020). Chinese Rotarians’ Affiliation Network Data (Version 1.0.0) [Dataset]. Zenodo, http://doi .org/10.5281/zenodo.4283486. Huskey, “Americans in Shanghai,” 61–67.

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Figure 8.9 Affiliation network of the Chinese Rotarians Note: The size of nodes is proportionate to their degree centrality. Red nodes=individuals; Green nodes=institutions

This brief analysis confirms that Chinese Rotarians participated in a bicultural network in which they played as “border-crossers,” “bridge builders” or “cultural intermediaries.”19 Their uniquely brokering situation, in turn, placed them in a suitable position for opening the club to wider circles of Chinese elites.

19

Huskey, 60; Charlotte Brooks, American Exodus: Second-Generation Chinese Americans in China, 1901–1949 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2019), 63–66. Wasserstrom, “Cosmopolitan Connections and Transnational Networks.”

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Table 8.2 Most central institutions, ranked by degree centrality

Rank

Name

Type

Degree

1 2 3 4 4 5 6 6 7 7 8 9 9 9 9 9

Y.M.C.A. (Chinese) St. John’s University Columbia University Shanghai Municipal Council Y’s Men’s Club University of Shanghai American University Club Tsinghua College Chinese Medical Association Harvard University Peking Union Medical College Chinese General Chamber of Commerce Chinese Mission to Lepers Chinese Red Cross Hospital Municipality of Greater Shanghai University of Pennsylvania

Association University University Government Association University Association University Association University University Association Association Hospital Government University

19 18 15 11 11 10 9 9 8 8 7 6 6 6 6 6

4

Sinicizing the Rotary

In the 1930s, Chinese members not only grew in number but also took positions of responsibility in the club. Like similar organizations, the Rotary Club of Shanghai comprised a board of directors that constituted its governing body and an executive committee consisting of five officers (president, vicepresident, secretary, treasurer, sergeant-at-arms) elected annually. The club also included special committees, each consisting of at least three members.20 Drawing on the lists of officers available in the Rotary archives, we identified 69 Chinese Rotarians who held 266 positions between 1920 and 1948. No less than 28 served as officers or board members, and six were appointed to supreme positions in Rotary International in Chicago. Overall, the Rotary Club of Shanghai elected five Chinese presidents during its 32 years of existence: Zhu Shen’en 朱神恩 (1927–28), Kuang Fuzhuo (1931–32), Zhu Boquan 朱博泉 20

By-Laws of the Rotary Club of Shanghai, 1920, 16–20, 22–25 (Articles I, II, VI, VII). Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 11, f.6.

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(1934–35), Tan Weixue 譚偉學 (1937–38) and Chen Siliang 沈嗣良 (1941, 1945). Three of them (Zhu, Kuang, Zhu) topped the list as the 12 most active officers in the history of the club. Four of them served locally as Chinese representatives for Rotary International (Chen, Kuang, Tan, Zhu). While only a handful of prominent leaders reached the highest echelons in the organization, the mainstream (35) took positions that were nevertheless essential to the daily functioning of the club. Down the hierarchy, 182 positions were held in special committees, particularly Charity/Community Service (21), Fellowship (18), Schools and Education (17), and Public Affairs (15). Thirteen positions referred to the “Rotary Extension” committee which was pivotal in the creation of new Rotary Clubs throughout China. Chinese members were also well represented in the International Service committee (in charge of relations with RI) and the Finance committee (12 positions each), which reflects the weight of Chinese bankers and financiers in the club, as shown earlier. As they grew in importance, Chinese Rotarians engaged more actively in the “indigenization” of their club. Translation work began much earlier than previous studies have suggested.21 By 1922, the two famous mottos of the Rotary had been translated into Chinese. “Service above self” was rendered as Dagong wusi 大公無私, while “He profits most who serves best” was translated into Liren ji liji 利人即利己. These translations were not only meaningful but also phonetically effective. The translators did not just contend with rendering the original message as accurately as possible, but crafted catchy slogans with internal rhymes that sounded more attractive to potential members versed in the Chinese classics. The Rotary Code of Ethics was also translated in 1922. A bilingual version was distributed to every member in 1926.22 The Chinese version of the Rotary ethics mixed American and Chinese references to the effect of creating a hybrid culture of professionalism and public service. According to the preface, the term funlun 扶輪 was derived from the old Chinese classical saying Daya fulun 大雅扶輪 which meant that “the scholar, the experienced 21

22

Guan Yuting 管玉婷 and Chen Yunqian 陈蕴茜, “Minguo Shiqi Zhongguo Fulunshe Fazhan Chutan” 民國時期中國扶輪社發展初探 [The Development of the Rotary Club in Republican China]; Liu Bensen 劉本森, “Minguo Mingzao—Yishi de Gongyi Zuzhi— Shanghai Fulunshe” 民國名噪一時的公益組織—上海扶輪社 [The Shanghai Rotary Club and Public Welfare in Republican China], Shiji 世紀, no. 4 (2013): 42–46. Letter from Julian Petit (Secretary of Rotary Club of Shanghai) to Chesley R. Perry (Secretary-General of International Rotary Association, Chicago), Shanghai, August 12, 1922. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 11, f.6. Letter from Verne Dyson (Secretary of Rotary Club of Shanghai) to Chesley R. Perry (Secretary-General of International Rotary Association, Chicago), Shanghai, May 17, 1926. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 12, f.1. Other Chinese-language pamphlets were issued in 1922, but unfortunately, they have not been preserved in the Rotary Archives.

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and refined co-operate in their efforts to work for the welfare of the public.” In addition, the word lun 輪 was based upon the sentence “Zhui lun wei da lu zhi shi” 椎輪為大輅之始 drawn from the Selected Writings by Jiu Ming, a prince of the Liang Dynasty (502–557), which meant that “we must need to construct a large shell in order to bear a big cart.” Both phrases perfectly matched the object of the Rotary as an elite club aimed at serving the public. Moreover, “Rotary” literally means “turning as a wheel on its axis” and the term fulun also means “turning and advancing around and around.” The translators were clearly concerned with rooting the Rotary philosophy into Chinese classical culture to broaden the spectrum of prospective members. In their effort to “sinicize” the ethical foundations of the Rotary, they also contributed to re-invent a mythical Chinese “tradition” that particularly appealed to the foreign-educated elites.23 Beyond translation work, Chinese reformers attempted to more profoundly “sinicize” the club and its program. In 1934, the newly elected president Zhu Boquan undertook the explicit mission of instilling more “Chinese flavor” to the organization.24 A close examination of the meetings reported in the press, however, reveals that this goal remained difficult to achieve in practice. Except for a “Chinese program” in July 1927 and a “Chinese tiffin for Rotary Ladies” in February 1935, most events held under the four major Chinese presidents (Zhu Shen’en, Kuang Fuzhuo, Zhu Boquan, Tan Weixue) between 1927 and 1938 were rather foreign-style or multinational events (Valentine’s Day, Christmas Tree, stag dinner, scout jamboree, golf or tennis competition).25 Even the so-called “Chinese program” appeared more cross-cultural than expected, involving a Chinese pianist playing Western classical music and a Chinese comedian reciting English poetry. Furthermore, the majority of guest speakers consisted of foreign rather than Chinese experts. In fact, the Chinese lecturers invited at regular meetings never exceeded one third of all speakers during the period under study. Interestingly, most lectures dealing with Chinese culture were delivered by foreign experts, such as the sinologue E. Morgan who lectured on “The Origin and Development of the Chinese Written Characters” or E. M. Gale’s lecture on “Determining Patterns of Chinese Thought.”26 In fact, foreign speakers progressed during Zhu Boquan’s presidency and when Li Yuanxin 李元信 chaired the program committee. Ultimately, the club’s programs during 23 24 25 26

Brooks, American Exodus, 42. North-China Herald, April 11, 1934, 20. According to the unwritten practice of rotating between American, Chinese, British, and European presidents, an American member should have been elected that year instead of Zhu Boquan. China Press, July 22, 1927, 1, 3; China Press, February 13, 1935, 12. China Press, December 28, 1934, 9; China Press, January 18, 1935, 9.

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this period revealed the extent to which the Chinese organizers heavily relied on their foreign, particularly American contacts. In the mid-1930s, Rotary leaders became increasingly critical towards what they saw as a mere “eating together club.” They envisioned higher purposes for the organization in their country, such as promoting public welfare, international peace, democracy, and cultivating the public spirit that the Chinese people was supposedly lacking due to the longstanding prevalence of family sentiment.27 In the backdrop of the mounting tensions with Japan, these progressive Rotarians devised a more radical solution to achieve a fuller indigenization of the movement. 5

War and Postwar Contradictions

The war played a decisive role in the history of the Rotary Club of Shanghai, with two contrasting effects. On the one hand, the growing hostilities between China and Japan fostered the development of an international consciousness among Shanghai Rotarians; on the other hand, the formation of the Outport Tiffin Club for refugee Rotarians anticipated the postwar divorce between Chinese and foreign Rotarians, which the creation of the Chinese-speaking club of Shanghai West enacted in 1948. Following the Japanese invasion of Manchuria in September 1931, the Rotary Club of Shanghai urged the Rotary International to use its influence to facilitate a peaceful settlement of the Sino-Japanese conflict.28 Hiding behind the principle of “political neutrality,” however, Rotary International proved slow to react. One possible reason for wavering was that Japan enjoyed a good reputation in Chicago at the time. As a result of their lobbying efforts since the late 1920s, the Japanese Rotarians were perceived as exemplary members and Rotary International did not overtly question Japan’s colonial expansion in East Asia.29 After the “battle of Shanghai” in January 1932, the club appointed a special committee composed of two Chinese, two Japanese, and one “neutral” (American) member. For three consecutive days, the mixed delegation visited the two sides separately in hope of halting the warfare in the city. The delegation, however, failed to convince the two contending factions to end their

27 28 29

North-China Herald, August 28, 1935, 343. China Press, September 25, 1931, 2, 9. “Anti-Japanese Meeting. Attitude of Local Civic Bodies: Rotary Club Resolution,” North-China Herald, September 29, 1931. Goff, “The Heartland Abroad,” 169–191, 316–321.

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dispute.30 While both sides agreed on the establishment of a “neutral” zone policed by an international body, however, neither China nor Japan was willing to withdraw its troops first. Despite its failure, the work of the mixed delegation combined with various public statements helped to maintain good relationships among Rotarians locally, especially between Chinese and Japanese members. The Rotarians’ mediation in the Sino-Japanese conflict differed in two ways from the strategy that most Chinese elites pursued at the time. In contrast with the political messages sent by students’ associations, chambers of commerce and various anti-Japanese organizations, the Rotary delegation was truly international in nature. Furthermore, as tensions grew in intensity in the 1930s, the club continued to privilege diplomacy over the “war of resistance” endorsed by nationalist organizations. The diplomatic mission, however, placed the club in an ambiguous position, as the constitution officially precluded Rotarians from meddling in politics.31 After the failed attempt at brokering negotiations, therefore, the club resolved that it would never mix in international politics again, and turned instead to lecturing on peace, helping war refugees, and supporting relief work. In the early 1930s, Japanese Rotarians had begun to establish Japanesespeaking clubs in occupied Manchuria, with the deliberate purpose of excluding local Chinese elites.32 In reaction, the most radical Rotarians proposed the creation of Chinese-speaking clubs. The “Rotary Club of Shanghai South” approved by Rotary International in 1936 was to be established along territorial lines. As shown on the map, it would cover the territory south of Avenue Edward VII, comprising the French Concession and the Chinese district of Nantao (Figure 8.10). According to local members, however, this solution was not suited to the situation in Shanghai. As Figure 8.10 shows, Chinese Rotarians were scattered across the city. Only a few members (17) fell within the limits of the prospective southern club, while the majority (58) worked or lived in the International Settlement. While Rotary International regulations did not make provision for language-based clubs, Shanghai Rotarians were exceptionally permitted to experiment with such a club in 1937.33 The war, however, brutally interrupted the process. Although the Rotary Club of Shanghai South remained a still-born project, the story demonstrated the extent to which the 30 31 32 33

“Anti-Japanese Meeting. Attitude of Local Civic Bodies: Rotary Club Resolution,” North-China Herald, September 29, 1931; “Rotarians as Mediators,” North-China Herald, February 23, 1932, 269; “Rotary Unable to Prevent War,” China Press, February 26, 1932, 9. Constitution and by-laws (Article V. Avoidance of Politics). Goff, “The Heartland Abroad,” 316–321. Letter from Fong Sec (Kuang Fuzhuo) to the President of Rotary International Will R. Manier. “English-speaking Club for Shanghai.” Nice, 10 June 1937. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, f.4.

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Figure 8.10

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The planned Rotary Club of Shanghai South (1936)

Chinese Rotarians were eager to reform international rules in order to make the organization more suitable to the local conditions. While the war hindered their efforts, it also created unexpected opportunities for experimenting with alternative forms of Chinese-speaking clubs based on non-territorial grounds. The war brought not only poor refugees to Shanghai but also Rotarians from other cities who had fled their devastated homes to seek protection in the foreign settlements. Although the Rotary Club of Shanghai offered a warm welcome to the visitors, many of them felt uneasy with the English-speaking club. Because most of them lacked proficiency in foreign languages, they could not participate in ordinary meetings. Some of them also claimed they could not afford the expensive Western-style luncheons served at the Metropole Hotel. In order to enable the refugee Rotarians to maintain their fellowship in Shanghai, the district governor Yan Deqing 顏德慶 (the founder of the Rotary Club of Nanjing, and himself a refugee from Nanjing) set up the “Outport Rotarians’ Tiffin Club” with 45 members in February 1938.34 The backbone of the club consisted of Chinese Rotarians from the neighboring provinces of Jiangsu and Zhejiang (Hanghzou, Nanjing, Suzhou, Wuxi). A few members came from farther cities, such as Beijing (Hebei), Hankou (Hubei), Jinan and Qingdao (Shandong). The club also comprised foreign members, such as R. J. McMullen, former president of the Rotary Club of Hangzhou, known as the first club to use 34

MAO Bulletin no. 12, June 5, 1941. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 2.

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Chinese as its official language.35Although the Outport Club did not formally receive a charter from Rotary International, it nonetheless complied with the same regulations as regular clubs. It elected its own officers, and all members assumed their obligations and responsibilities, observing strict regulations regarding attendance and fellowship, and contributing their share in charity work. The club met twice a month at lunch time, moving between different restaurants until finding a more permanent place. The various member clubs defined the program in rotation.36 English-speaking members of the original Rotary Club of Shanghai were allowed to attend as visitors. The two clubs even established a more formal cooperation. On October 9, 1940, for instance, they co-organized the Outport Intercity Meeting at the Park Hotel, which gathered over 110 Rotarians from ten different clubs throughout China (Shanghai, Hanghzou, Hankou, Nanjing, Beijing, Xi’an, Suzhou, Tianjin, Qingdao, Wuxi).37 Both clubs continued to meet regularly until June 1941 at least.38 After the war, the Outport Club found no reasons to be resurrected, since most of its members had returned to their homes or had left the country. However shortlived, this unique experience demonstrated the Chinese Rotarians’ ability to organize a club of their own in parallel to the foreign-dominated Rotary Club of Shanghai. Although it had not been planned, the Outport Club materialized the aborted pre-war project of a Chinese-speaking club and laid the foundations for the postwar Rotary Club of Shanghai West. Formally established on October 21, 1948, the Rotary Club of Shanghai West (Huxi fulun she 滬西扶輪社) was the second, but first successful attempt to organize a Chinese-speaking club in Shanghai. Officially recognized in November 1948, it was not until January 1949 that it received its definitive charter from Rotary International. The club included 25 charter members, among whom five transferred from the original club (Shen Kefei 沈克非, Chao Jimei 巢紀梅, Wang Zhengting, Wei Xianzhang 韋憲章, Wu Zhijian 鄔志堅). Their social, professional, and educational background was similar to that of the Rotary Club of Shanghai. A few members came from other clubs in China, 35 36

37

38

Alex Potter, “Report on Trip to Asia and Europe. Section II.” Shanghai, April 4, 1939, 14–20. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 2. “Member Clubs are by rotation responsible for getting the best of speakers for the regular meetings. A very friendly rivalry exists in this respect. Prominent leaders of the city and visitors from different parts of the world are invited to give talks at the tiffin gatherings.” MAO Bulletin no. 12, June 5, 1941. “Report on the Inter-City Meeting, by Paul Buergin,” Pagoda, Shanghai, October 17, 1940. See also: Letter from W. H. Tan (Tan Weixue), district governor, to Alex Potter, Rotary International. Shanghai, October 14, 1940. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 2. Letter from Yen Te-Ching (Yan Deqing) to Alex Potter, Shanghai, January 4, 1941. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 2.

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Figure 8.11

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The Rotary Club of Shanghai West (1948)

such as Hangzhou and Chongqing. It is most likely that they had participated in the Outport Tiffin Club and stayed in Shanghai after the war.39 The new club met every Wednesday for lunch at the Chinese Y.M.C.A. At the first meeting, Shen Kefei (Chung Shan [Zhongshan] Memorial Hospital) was elected president and Wang Xianting 王顯廷 (manager of the Shenbao) became the secretary.40 In defiance of what the earlier promoters of a Chinese-speaking club had recommended before the war, and at complete odds with the wartime experience of the Outport Club, the Rotary club of Shanghai West was established along territorial lines. As shown on the map, the new club covered a much wider territory than its predecessor in Shanghai South, stretching from Honan Road in the east to Soochow Creek in the north and Minguo Road (formerly “Boulevard des Deux Républiques”) in the south (Figure 8.11). By contrast, the original club was now confined to a narrow portion of the Central district. Although most members of the original Shanghai Club resided or worked within the territory of Shanghai West (71%), only five chose to join the new club. 39 40

Notice of admission. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 4. “Suggested charter members. Rotary Club of Shanghai West. Submitted by the Rotary Extension Committee to the Rotary Club of Shanghai,” September 18, 1948. “List of Charter members. Provisional Rotary Club of Shanghai West, China,” November 2, 1948. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 4.

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The Rotary Club of Shanghai West continued to function after the Com­ munist takeover in May 1949. Due to the CCP’s growing hostility towards foreign-style clubs and civic associations in general, the club could never complete its registration with the Chinese authorities. Like most of its brother clubs in China, the Rotary Club of Shanghai West was eventually terminated in 1952.41 5

Conclusion

Although the Rotary Club of Shanghai used English as its official language, Chinese membership increased in the 1930s and eventually became the majority before the Sino-Japanese war (1937–45). The Chinese who joined the Rotary represented a limited section of Chinese elites. They were “Americanized” through their education, lifestyle, occupations, and residential choices. They were not passive followers of Rotary International but actively engaged in the service of their club. As they grew in importance, they became more willing to “sinicize” the organization by translating its literature into Chinese and adapting its classification system to the local economy. Attempts to reform the Shanghai Club from the inside, however, were doomed to fail as long as English remained the dominant language and as Rotary leaders continued to rely on their foreign contacts. In the backdrop of the mounting tensions between China and Japan, this critical situation eventually led to the formation of a parallel Chinese-speaking club in 1948. Whether the postwar Rotary Club of Shanghai West (Huxi fulun she) was evidence of failure or success remains open to debate. The new club was too short-lived to bring significant changes in membership and activities. As they pushed towards the creation of Rotary Clubs along linguistic instead of territorial lines, however, Chinese leaders demonstrated how far they had appropriated the Rotary ideals. In contrast with Japanese clubs that deliberately chose the English language to distinguish their members from their environment, Chinese Rotarians were successful in forcing Rotary International to change its rules so that the movement could progress further among Chinese elites.42 Their strategy also contrasted with that of Indian and Burmese Rotarians who, in an opposite policy, used the vernacular to build national yet multiethnic clubs in colonial contexts.43 41 42 43

“Termination of Clubs in China,” February 8, 1951. Archives of Rotary International, File 200 (Shanghai), Box 13, folder 4. Goff, “The Heartland Abroad,” 152–201. Lewis, “Rotary International’s “Acid Test.””

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Ultimately, the language barrier that the Rotary Club encountered in China expressed more profound social and cultural divides among Republican elites. As Chinese society experienced tremendous transformations in this transitional period, the tension between internationalism versus sinicization inside the Rotary Club reflected the growing fracture between an emerging transnational elite who had been educated abroad, lived and worked in large urban coastal centers, and increasingly participated in the global capitalist order— what M.-C. Bergère called “the Other China”—on the one hand, and those who remained aloof from the movement, on the other.44 While this gap took its roots in the late imperial years, it dramatically deepened during the Republic. Yet, Chinese Rotarians did not seek to separate from their fellow countrymen. On the contrary, they endorsed the role of mediators and saw the Rotary as a bridge through which broader sections of Chinese society could catch up and benefit from the new world fellowship of business and professional service. In contrast with their overseas counterparts in colonial Hong Kong, who devised their own foreign-style clubs to deliberately distance themselves from the rest of the Chinese community and from foreign expatriates alike, Chinese Rotarians in mainland China did not exploit the organization to simply assert their reputation and prestige.45 While they could just have enjoyed their privileged status, they were not content with socializing with their peers. What were their motivations? Although they certainly hoped to gain access to the resources and networks that remained within the hands of non-Westernized Chinese, these border-crossers also articulated their own interpretation of Rotary’s ethics of service, which they believed was best tailored to the needs of China. Through the Rotary, they sought to invent a middle way between nationalism and internationalism, which would enable them to contribute to their country without yielding to the official mantra of the “national humiliation.” While this study has focused on the Chinese Rotarians in Shanghai, future research should explore the interactions between Chinese and foreign members, not just in treaty ports but also in Chinese-speaking clubs in the interior, and Japanese-controlled clubs in Manchuria. It is equally essential to examine how the Rotary and Rotarians interacted with other actors beyond the club. Our findings suggest that the Rotary Club was part of a transnational web that bridged China with the United States through its members’ common education, affiliations, and earnest concern for social welfare. If we are to assess the broader significance of the Rotary among Chinese society, and to determine 44 45

Marie-Claire Bergère, “Shanghaï ou ‘l’autre Chine ’, 1919–1949,” Annales 34, no. 5 (1979): 1039–1068. Carroll, “A Place of Their Own: Clubs and Associations.”

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whether, how far it was a vector of “Americanization,” we need to situate the organization within its environment at various scales, to reconstruct its interlocking networks and to scrutinize its actual contribution to the local community. At a time when multiple organizations competed for the legitimacy to represent public interests, what kind of public service did the Rotary have to offer to Chinese citizens? Ultimately, the answers to these questions will help reconsider the much-debated question of the American “influence” in China. References Bergère, Marie-Claire. “Shanghaï ou l’autre Chine’, 1919–1949.” Annales 34, no. 5 (1979): 1039–1068. Bieler, Stacey. “Patriots” or “Traitors”?: A History of American-Educated Chinese Students. New York: Routledge, 2003. Brooks, Charlotte. American Exodus: Second-Generation Chinese Americans in China, 1901–1949. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2019. Carroll, John M. “A Place of Their Own: Clubs and Associations.” In Edge of Empires: Chinese Elites and British Colonials in Hong Kong, 84–107. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2007. Goff, Brendan M. “The Heartland Abroad: The Rotary Club’s Mission of Civic Inter­ nationalism.” Ph.D. diss. University of Michigan, 2008. Guan Yuting 管玉婷, and Chen Yunqian 陈蕴茜. “Minguo Shiqi Zhongguo Fulunshe Fazhan Chutan” 民國時期中國扶輪社發展初探 [The Development of the Rotary Club in Republican China]. Jiangxi Shehui Kexue 江西社會科學, no. 6 (2009): 154–158. Huskey, James Layton. “Americans in Shanghai: Community Formation and Response to Revolution, 1919–1928.” Ph.D. diss. University of North Carolina, 1985. Kaske, Elisabeth. The Politics of Language in Chinese Education, 1895–1919. Vol. 82. Sinica Leidensia. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Lewis, Su Lin. “Rotary International’s ‘Acid Test’: Multi-Ethnic Associational Life in 1930s Southeast Asia.” Journal of Global History 7, no. 2 (July 2012): 302–324. Liu Bensen 劉本森. “Fulunshe yu Minguo Shiqi Shangye Jingying” 扶輪社與民國時 期商業精英 [The Rotary Club and Business Elites in Republican China]. Nanfang Luncong 南方論叢 no. 6 (2012): 59–66. Liu Bensen 劉本森. “Jindai Shanghai Shangye Jingying yu Fulunshe” 近代上海商業精 英與扶輪社 [The Rotary Club and Business Elites in Modern Shanghai]. Suzhou Keji Xueyuan Xuebao (Shehui Kexue Ban) 蘇州科技學院學報(社會科學版) 29, no. 5 (2012): 64–69.

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Liu Bensen 劉本森. “Minguo Mingzao—Yishi de Gongyi Zuzhi—Shanghai Fulunshe” 民國名噪一時的公益組織—上海扶輪社 [The Shanghai Rotary Club and Public Welfare in Republican China]. Shiji 世紀, no. 4 (2013): 42–46. Morgan, Stephen L. “Professional Associations and the Diffusion of New Management Ideas in Shanghai, 1920–1930s: A Research Agenda.” Business History Conference 2 (2004): 1–24. Wang, Y. C. Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1966. Wasserstrom, Jeffrey. “Cosmopolitan Connections and Transnational Networks.” In At the Crossroads of Empires: Middlemen, Social Networks and State-Building in Republican Shanghai, edited by Nara Dillon and Jean Chun Oi, 206–226. Stanford, CA and London: Stanford University Press, 2007. Wu, Lin-chun. “China and the United States: Business, Technology, and Networks, 1914–1941.” Journal of American-East Asian Relations 27, no. 2 (July 15, 2020): 119–141.

Chapter 9

The American-Returned Students: Educational Networks and New Forms of Business in Early Republican China Peter E. Hamilton 1

Introduction*

Scholars have long emphasized the key role played by foreign translations and transnational circulations of knowledge in the seismic evolutions of the late Qing and Republican eras. From the establishment of the Tongwenguan (同文館) in 1862 and the first overseas educational missions of the 1870s to missionary schools and the translations of Yan Fu (嚴復), these new circuits of knowledge production accelerated both social and political change, from the Qing state’s modernization efforts to everyday urban life.1 In turn, scholars have long emphasized the abolition of the civil service examinations in 1905 as a turning-point in both educational reform and the political foment that would culminate in the 1911 Revolution.2 In recent years, this conversation has shifted from debates over the Qing’s successes or failures to emphasize how these new circuits of knowledge production shifted public discourses and imaginaries of race, ethnicity, science, technology, and other topics.3 Fewer studies have explored the role of these * Portions of this chapter appeared in my book Made in Hong Kong: Transpacific Networks and a New History of Globalization (Columbia University Press, Studies of the Weatherhead East Asian Institute, 2021). 1 For one classic in this scholarship, see Benjamin Schwartz, In Search of Wealth and Power: Yen Fu and the West (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1964). 2 For an example of the links traced between educational shifts and political change, see Joseph W. Esherick, Reform and Revolution in China: The 1911 Revolution in Hunan and Hubei (Berkeley: University of California Press, Michigan Studies on China, 1976), 34–65. 3 For examples of this scholarship on race and ethnicity, see Frank Dikötter, The Discourse of Race in Modern China (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992); Edward J. M. Rhoads, Manchus and Han: Ethnic Relations and Political Power in Late Qing and Early Republican China, 1861–1928 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2000); Emma Jinhua Teng, Eurasian: Mixed Identities in the United States, China, and Hong Kong, 1842–1943 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013). For examples of this scholarship on science and technology, see Ruth Rogaski, Hygienic Modernity: Meanings of Health and Disease in Treaty-Port China

© Peter E. Hamilton, 2022 | 

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intellectual and educational shifts in China’s nascent capitalist industrialization, however.4 This chapter explores one aspect of that process through interconnected networks of “American-returned students,” then termed liumei xuesheng (留美學生) but today more commonly labeled meihaigui (美海歸). By the Nationalist era (1927–49), American-returned students would achieve a well-known prominence in government and academia, but the focus here is on an earlier role in the development of the modern banking and textile industries in the course of the 1910s and early 1920s. As Confucian educations and the civil-service examinations lost their monopoly over entry into elite status, new credentials and forms of knowledge surged to replace them, with international higher education gaining particular cachet. Japan was the earliest destination of choice in the 1890s and early 1900s, but over the 1910s the United States gained popularity for reasons that we will explore, but briefly included: American missionary elementary and secondary schools, the rapid expansion in China of US-linked higher educational institutions, declining Chinese public opinion of Japanese education, and structured provisions of opportunity in the form of support and scholarships, most especially the Boxer Indemnity scholarships (1908) and the China Institute in America (1926). As we will see in the next section, by the late 1910s an interconnected network of American-returned students was rising to claim an elite status through multiple professional pathways, including academia, government, and big capitalist business. These professional trends built on and accelerated a longer process that had concentrated “modern” educational opportunity in the lower Yangzi region and Guangdong province. In the third section, I then examine four American-returned students who played prominent roles in the development of the modern banking and textile industries in the lower Yangzi region known as Jiangnan. In so doing, I rely on qualitative methodologies to highlight the rich variety of factors that enabled these individuals’ transpacific circulations and subsequent success. While once socially shunned by Qing elites for their foreign mannerisms and lack of classical erudition, over the 1910s and 1920s these ambitious returnees from America accumulated wealth and prestige by combining their rare technical and linguistic capabilities with (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004); Daniel Asen, Death in Beijing: Murder and Forensic Science in Republican China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016); Thomas Mullaney, The Chinese Typewriter: A History (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2017); Eugenia Lean, Vernacular Industrialism in China: Local Innovation and Translated Technologies in the Making of a Cosmetics Empire, 1900–1940 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2020). 4 For an early leader in this conversation, see Wen-hsin Yeh, Shanghai Splendor: Economics Sentiments and the Making of Modern China, 1843–1949 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007).

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new social capital, including advantageous marriages into older elite families, instrumental government contacts, and dense interconnections with each other. Finally, in the fourth section I more fully examine one industrialist, Mu Xiangyue (穆湘玥), who richly demonstrates how transpacific circulations facilitated both social capital and specific circuits of new knowledge production in areas such as a cotton agriculture and spinning, vocational education, and the emergent Chinese discourse of modern management theory. 2

The Emergence of the American-returned Students

Over the late Qing, the lower Yangzi region known as Jiangnan became the epicenter of new forms of business and education. As I have argued elsewhere, the British seizure of Hong Kong during the First Opium War (1839–42) led to its emergence as the first identifiably capitalist Chinese society, accelerating the transpacific integration of the British and US imperial systems over the 1850s and 1860s and gradually widening coastal China’s exposure to global capitalism.5 In turn, following the devastating Taiping Rebellion (1851–64) and the Second Opium War (1856–60), many foreign-linked compradors, concentrated in cities such as Shanghai and Ningbo, began to gradually divest from the Confucian examination culture and engage with self-consciously “modern” educations. In particular, comprador families showed an early preference for Christian missionary schools. Inextricable from foreign imperialism, Euro-American missionaries of every denomination established a huge educational infrastructure in China after the Treaty of Tianjin (1860). By 1890, there were purportedly some 2,000 missionary schools in China with 40,000 students, including thousands of female students.6 British and American missionary schools were particularly widespread. Alongside quality English-language instruction, these schools offered access to both foreigners and other foreignconnected Chinese, while increasing students’ chances for the rare opportunity of higher education, as discussed below.7 As such, this path held clear attractions for comprador families. Other compradors were also leaders in 5 Peter E. Hamilton, “The Imperial and Transpacific Origins of Chinese Capitalism,” Journal of Historical Sociology 33, no, 1 (March 2020): 134–148. 6 Marianne Bastid, “Servitude or Liberation: The Introduction of Foreign Educational Practices and Systems to China from 1840 to the Present,” in Ruth Hayhoe and Marianne Bastid, eds., China’s Education and the Industrialized World: Studies in Cultural Transfer (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1987), 3–20. 7 Wen-hsin Yeh, The Alienated Academy: Culture and Politics in Republican China, 1919–1937 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 1990), 12–15.

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establishing their own modern schools, such as Standard Oil’s comprador Ye Chengzhong (葉澄衷), who opened his eponymous Chengzhong Middle School in Shanghai in 1889. As compradors leaned toward missionary schools, the Qing state began to sponsor overseas studies initiatives. As part of the Self-Strengthening Movement, the dynasty first established schools of foreign language and military technology in the 1860s. By 1872, the Yale graduate Yung Wing (容閎) convinced the Qing to sponsor the famous Chinese Educational Mission (CEM). Its 120 largely Cantonese students were sent to schools across New England in order to study English, American technology, and military science. The young men were also charged with continuing classical studies and forbidden to adopt American ways, but their increasing defiance led to the CEM’s early recall in 1881.8 Over the 1870s, smaller groups were also sent to Germany, the United Kingdom, and France to study military technology and tactics.9 Yet many reformers saw “Western studies” as a second-rate technical education and only after the disastrous First Sino-Japanese War (1894–95) did the conversation at court turn to “wealth and power” and more extensive educational reforms ensue.10 In 1901, the Qing began to reform the civil service examinations and from 1903 plan a new multi-tiered educational system. Yet many men continued to pin their life ambitions on the examinations. Thus, their abolition in 1905 left many devasted and scrambling for alternatives, sowing rippling political consequences.11 The abolition of the exams triggered a seismic shift toward foreign models of education and this shift further privileged both Jiangnan and the expanding bourgeoisie, particularly in accessing higher education. There was also a decisive movement in the regional origins of Republican-era tertiary students. In the late Qing, Jiangsu and Zhejiang provinces accounted for 17.8% of successful examination candidates. Under the Republic, they accounted for 39% 8

9 10 11

On Yung Wing’s mission, see Xu Guoqi, Chinese and Americans: A Shared History (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014), 76–100; Teng, Eurasian, 27–51; Edward J. M. Rhoads, Stepping Forth in the World: The Chinese Educational Mission to the United States, 1872–81 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011). Y.C. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1966), 45–49. On “wealth and power,” see Schwartz, In Search of Wealth and Power. For Zhang Zhidong’s evolution as a lens, see William Ayers, Chang Chih-tung and Educational Reform in China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971). On the evolving examinations, see Benjamin A. Elman, Civil Examinations and Meritocracy in Late Imperial China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013). For one left scrambling, see Henrietta Harrison, The Man Awakened from Dreams: One Man’s Life in a North China Village, 1857–1942 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005).

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of all tertiary students. When combined with Guangdong, this reaches 58%.12 In turn, there was a substantial shift in the class background of students reaching the highest levels of education. The Lee-Campbell Group found that 70% of successful late Qing examination candidates came from official or degreeholding families, but 60% of Republican-era university students came from merchant or professional families. Together, these radical shifts reflected who had geographic and social access to China’s nascent colleges and universities. Not only were Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Guangdong the richest provinces in China, but they also held a disproportionate share of its new and best colleges and universities. At the forefront of Republican-era Chinese higher education were numerous US-linked institutions. American missionaries were more active in this field than any other nationality, establishing at least 13 Christian colleges and universities between the 1860s and the 1920s.13 Most of these institutions taught in English and six were in Jiangnan, including the institution perceived as the training ground of future business leaders, Shanghai’s prestigious St. John’s University. In addition, both Tsinghua University in Beijing and Jiaotong University in Shanghai developed through secular American connections. Established in 1911 as a preparatory school for potential Boxer Indemnity scholarship recipients, Tsinghua remained a heavily US-oriented institution even after becoming a university in 1929.14 Similarly, from its foundation as Nanyang College, Jiaotong University received substantial US aid and developed a heavily US-educated faculty.15 Due to these institutions’ expensive tuition fees and a decline in government scholarships after the fall of the Qing, Jiangnan and Guangdong’s new commercial elites were best positioned to 12

13

14 15

Li Zhongqing 李中清 (James Z. Lee), Bamboo Ren Yunzhu 任韻竹, Chen Liang 梁晨, Zhongguo Zhishi Jieceng de Laiyuan yu Xingcheng, 1951–1952 中國知識階層的來源與 形成, 1912–1952 [The Origin and Formation of the Chinese Intellectual Class, 1912–1952]. Forthcoming from China Social Sciences Literature Press (Zhongguo shehui kexue wenxian chubanshe), 2021. These included: St. John’s University (1879), the University of Nanking (1888), Canton Christian College (later Lingnan University, 1889), Hangchow Christian College (1897), Soochow University (1900), Cheeloo University (1902), Boone College (later Huachung University, 1905), Peking Union Medical College (1906), Fukian Christian University (1907), Shanghai Baptist College and Theological Seminary (1911) (University of Shanghai after 1929), West China Union University (1914), Ginling College (1915), Hwa Nan College (1917), and Yenching University (1919). See Daniel H. Bays and Ellen Widmer, eds., China’s Christian Colleges: Cross-Cultural Connections, 1900–1950 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009). Joel Andreas, Rise of the Red Engineers: The Cultural Revolution and the Origins of China’s New Class (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009), 20. Yeh, The Alienated Academy, 94.

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embrace the new educational pathways and these US-linked institutions in particular.16 In turn, these pathways provided Jiangnan and Guangdong students with disproportionate opportunities to study overseas. As many as 150,000 Chinese studied abroad before 1949. As also discussed by James Lee, around 40,000 graduated. Of these, at least 15,000 graduated from Japanese universities, 13,000 from US institutions, and another 13,000 from all European institutions.17 Again, Japan was the early destination of choice, with as many as 10,000 Chinese students there by 1905, compared with just 200 in the United States.18 Returnees such as Yan Xiu (嚴修) and Zhang Boling (張伯苓) imported Japanese models to found Tianjin’s famous Nankai Middle School in 1904, while others repelled by Japan’s policies toward Chinese students returned to found Shanghai’s China College (中國公學) in 1906.19 Japanese-educated returnees also figured prominently among the era’s leading intellectuals and revolutionaries, from Lu Xun (魯迅) to Qiu Jin (秋瑾). Yet, as Y. C. Wang first emphasized in his classic study, Japan’s proximity and lower expenses encouraged a high rate of part-time and casual students, such that the vast majority did not graduate and Chinese public opinion of studying in Japan gradually deteriorated.20 In contrast, despite its increased distance and expense, the United States became increasingly popular over the 1910s due to the number of US-linked colleges and universities in China, perceptions of US institutions as more open and modern, the rising importance of the English language, Japanese aggression, and active US government recruitment. US Exclusion policies always exempted Chinese students and both states collaborated to open bridges such as the Boxer Indemnity scholarships and the China Institute in America. With their comparative wealth and concentration of US-backed institutions, Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Guangdong provinces sent most of these students. Between 1909 and 1945, in any given year 57 to 82% of Chinese students in the United States came from just these three provinces. When we include where 16 17

18 19 20

Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 150–156. For the 150,000 estimate, see Liping Bu, Making the World Like Us: Education, Cultural Expansion, and the American Century (Westport: Praeger, 2003). Y. C. Wang put the total a little higher, see Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 119–120. For graduation rates, see Li Zhongqing (James Lee), Bamboo Ren Yunzhu, Chen Liang, Zhongguo Zhishi Jieceng de Laiyuan yu Xingcheng, 1951–1952. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 82. For a first-hand account of Nankai, see Chih Meng, Chinese American Understanding: A Sixty-Year Search (New York: China Institute in America, 1981), 53–61. On China College, see Yeh, The Alienated Academy, 102–112. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 116–120.

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students attended secondary school, over half of Chinese students in the United States identified Jiangsu as either their native province or where they attended secondary school.21 Even more surprising, the Lee-Campbell Group found that roughly 40% of Republican-era students in the United States previously attended just 14 schools in China.22 Tsinghua and Jiaotong were the first and fourth largest senders, while another eight were American missionary institutions. For a country of China’s size, these intersecting patterns produced a particular concentration of interconnected US-educated elites in a few major cities, particularly in the lower Yangzi. By 1920, one estimate counted 1,700 returnees with US degrees compared with 400 with British degrees, while the US Commercial Attaché estimated in 1921 that 10,000 had taken courses in America.23 American-returned students did not form a coherent “class” though, but rather an elite network of interconnected individuals and families clustered in particular cities and elite professional areas. Y.C. Wang found that in the 1890s and early 1900s, European- and American-returned students were often frustrated in their professional ambitions due to prejudice against their perceived ‘Westernization’, their own dismissal of Chinese traditions, and sometimes sheer arrogance.24 By 1920, surveys found that most US-returnees had become teachers, engineers, or civil servants.25 “American Returned Students’ Clubs” first formed in Beijing, Shanghai, Tianjin, and Guangzhou and these cities’ reading publics became sufficiently familiar with this term to demand that they use their American connections to defend China.26 Amid the May Fourth movement, Shanghai’s American Returned Students’ Club (ARSC) responded by declaring its intention to help defend China, stressing that the American-returned students could help “place China’s industry and commerce 21 22

23

24 25 26

Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 156–161. The biggest senders in order were: Tsinghua, St. John’s, Huachung/Central, Shanghai Jiaotong, Yenching, Lingnan, Peking, Shanghai, Ginling, Soochow, Zhejiang, and Sun Yat-sen. See Li Zhongqing, Bamboo Ren Yunzhu, Chen Liang, Zhongguo Zhishi Jieceng De Laiyuan Yu Xingcheng, 1951–1952. For the number of degrees, see M. T. Z. Tyau, “Chinese Returned Students: Are They Making Good?” The North China Herald and Supreme Court & Consular Gazette (NCHSCCG), April 3, 1920, 33. For the number having taken courses, see Julian Arnold, “The Chinese American-Returned Student,” Millard’s Review of the Far East (MRFE), February 12, 1921, 594. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 88–95. See Tyau, “Chinese Returned Students,” NCHSCCG, April 3, 1920, 33; “Those Returned Students,” MRFE, November 13, 1920, 573. For one example, see Ida Kahn, “An Appeal to American Returned Students,” in both MRFE, June 22, 1918, 131 and The Peking Leader, June 28, 1918, 3.

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on such a basis that would enable her to compete with imported goods, especially Japanese made articles.”27 Indeed, below, two examples whose efforts focused on outcompeting Japanese imports are examined. In turn, across the 22 Chinese-language newspapers in the “Late Qing and Republican-Era Chinese Newspapers” database, the term liumei xuesheng appears just four times in 1911, but peaks in the early 1920s with 78 references in 1922, 62 in 1923, and 75 in 1924.28 Yet these clubs do not seem to have undertaken much substantive action and remained primarily social spaces with overlapping links to other elite educational and commercial organizations.29 However, over the 1920s American-returned students rapidly gained prominence in a number of areas, particularly academia and the senior ranks of the Nationalist government. As analyzed by James Lee, a foreign degree became almost required to reach senior academia before 1949, with 80% of full professors reporting their highest degree coming from overseas and 40% of all full professors receiving that degree in the United States.30 Under the Nationalists, a similar situation developed for senior government positions. In addition to relocating the capital to the Jiangnan city of Nanjing in 1927, the new regime also gradually became dependent on US aid in the Great Depression. It subsequently showed a marked preference for filling top positions with American-returned students. By 1939, one study found that an “astonishing” 71% of Nationalist officials had studied abroad, of whom 36% had gone to the United States.31 The longtime director of the China Institute in America Paul Chih Meng (孟治)—who himself studied the American-returned students— testified that the government actively sought “American-trained men” to “put in positions of importance, but there were not enough American-returned students to meet the demand.”32 It is worth reiterating, however, that Chinese 27 28

“Returned Students: To Participate in Politics,” The Shanghai Times, May 24, 1919, 7. East View Information Services, “Late Qing and Republican-Era Chinese Newspapers,” https://www.eastview.com/resources/gpa/crl-lqrcn/. 29 “US Returned Students Seek to Organize,” The China Press, June 23, 1933, 9; “Chinese Effort of Patriotism,” NCHSCCG, June 28, 1933, 495; “US Returned Students Plan Reorganization,” The China Press, June 29, 1933, 9; “Ex-Students of US Colleges Organize Here,” The China Press, June 30, 1933, 3; “US Returned Students Hold First Meeting,” The China Press, July 1, 1933, 2. 30 See Li Zhongqing, Bamboo Ren Yunzhu, Chen Liang, Zhongguo Zhishi Jieceng De Laiyuan Yu Xingcheng, 1951–1952. 31 Madeline Y. Hsu, “Befriending the Yellow Peril,” in Trans-Pacific Interactions: The United States and China, 1880–1950, eds. Vanessa Künnemann and Ruth Mayer (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 116. 32 Chih Meng, Chinese American Understanding, 168. For his study, see Chih Meng, “The American Returned Students of China,” Pacific Affairs 4, no. 1 (January 1931): 1–16.

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students continued studying in the United Kingdom, France, Japan, and the Soviet Union by the thousands, and these experiences shaped them in starkly different ways, depending on their personality, politics, studies, and host societies. As Marilyn Levine’s chapter discusses, early Communist leaders were simultaneously having formative socialist experiences in Europe.33 While previous scholars have noted these concentrations in government and academia, fewer have examined the high rate of US higher education in the modern banking and textile industries centered in greater Shanghai and Tianjin. By examining these two sectors in tandem, we see an old boys’ club across these two sectors’ leading figures that facilitated their mutual codevelopment. In 1916, one national survey found 37 cotton mills in China, of which 21 were in Shanghai and the other 16 were in either Jiangsu or Zhejiang.34 By 1937, more than half of China’s factories would still be in greater Shanghai, followed at a distance by Tianjin.35 While exaggerated by the Japanese seizure of Manchuria in 1931, this hyper-concentration of industry reflected these two cities’ layered advantages: plentiful labor, rail and steam networks, foreign legal protections, and concentrations of the modern Chinese-capitalized banks that rose after the Qing dynasty’s collapse. There was a financial symbiosis between these two industries in the 1910s and 1920s. In what Marie-Claire Bergère termed the first “golden age” of Chinese capitalism, both sectors were expanding rapidly amid the First World War’s elimination of European competitors and patriotic boycotts against Japanese and British imperialism.36 In turn, as Tomoko Shiroyama has emphasized, cotton spinning is a highly competitive global industry that incentivizes economies of scale. As a result, the Jiangnan textile mills rapidly became dependent on banks for unsecured credit to purchase cotton, low-cost loans borrowed against fixed assets to fund further expansion, and reliable foreign exchange.37 This deep interlinkage was often undergirded by native-place ties between the industrialists and bankers. For example, scholars have long noted that the modern banks were predominantly led by men from Jiangsu and Zhejiang who used native-place ties to 33 34 35 36 37

See Christina Kelley Gilmartin, Engendering the Chinese Revolution: Radical Women, Communist Politics, and Mass Movements in the 1920s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 71–95. “Quanguo Shachang Xin Diaocha 全國紗廠新調查 [New National Spinners Survey],” Shishi Xinbao 時事新報, February 17, 1916, 10. Coble, Chinese Capitalists, 2. Marie Claire Bergère, The Golden Age of the Chinese Bourgeoisie, trans. Janet Lloyd (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Tomoko Shiroyama, China During the Great Depression: Market, State, and the World Economy, 1929–1937 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008), 60–87.

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secure investment and compose their boards.38 The same largely held true for the textile industrialists. Yet Brett Sheehan has cautioned against overstressing native place, pointing out that different native-place “blocs” of bankers routinely cooperated across supra-local networks as self-conscious professionals and cosmopolitans.39 As we will see over the next two sections, educational networks were one such path to supra-local cooperation between bankers and industrialists. Chen Guangfu (陳光甫) provides a useful first example of bankers. The future founder of the pioneering Shanghai Commercial and Savings Bank (SCSB), Chen was born into an ordinary Jiangsu merchant family, but his father moved the family to Hankou when he found work in a customs brokerage firm. Chen had his own apprenticeship at the firm while studying English at night. He then worked for Hankou’s British-run postal service and later claimed to model the SCSB’s management practices after the disciplined and efficient British.40 He learned banking in the United States, however. According to a biography penned by his longtime friend, native-place associate, and banking colleague Zhang Jia’ao (張嘉璈), Chen also studied bookkeeping at a local commercial college and began working for the China Maritime Customs Service in Hankou, but resigned due to British mistreatment. He then moved to the Hanyang Iron Works, where his talents were recognized by the comprador Jing Weixing (景維行). Jing both arranged Chen’s marriage to his daughter and lobbied Huguang Governor-General Duanfang (端方) to add Chen to Hubei’s delegation to the St. Louis World’s Fair in 1904.41 The subsequent journey was transformative for Chen. In St. Louis, he not only introduced himself to the revolutionary Sun Yat-sen (孫中山), but became “bosom friends” with future Finance Minister Kong Xiangxi (孔祥熙).42 Chen then decided to stay and study, first taking bookkeeping, typing, and correspondence classes in St. Louis. He wrote to the Chinese embassy in Washington for financial aid 38 Marie-Claire Bergère, “The Shanghai Bankers’ Association, 1915–1927: Modernization and the Institutionalization of Local Solidarities,” in Frederic Wakeman, Jr. and Wen-hsin Yeh, Shanghai Sojourners (Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California Press, 1992), 15–34. 39 Brett Sheehan, “Urban Identities and Urban Networks in Cosmopolitan Cities: Banks and Bankers in Tianjin, 1900–1937,” in Joseph W. Esherick, ed., Remaking the Chinese City: Modernity and National Identity, 1900–1950 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2000), 47–64. 40 K. P. Chen, “Half Century Notes,” January 16, 1950, 1, Kwang Pu Chen Papers, 1936–1958 (KPC), Box 9, Folder 10, Rare Book and Library Collections, Columbia University (RBLC). 41 Zhang Gongquan 張公權, “Chen Guangfu yu Shanghai Yinhang 陳光甫與上海銀行 [Chen Guangfu and Shanghai Banking],” 36–37, KPC, Box 9, RBLC. 42 Zhang Gongquan 張公權, “Chen Guangfu yu Shanghai Yinhang,” 41–43.

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and was granted US$100 a month by Ambassador Liang Cheng (梁誠), a CEM graduate who was then negotiating the return of the Boxer Indemnity. After trying out Simpson College and Wesleyan, Chen settled on the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School, where he spent three years studying economics, commerce, and the US banking system.43 After graduation in 1909, he worked in an American bank for a year before returning to China, first working as secretary to the Governor of Jiangsu, then in a traditional bank, and finally revolutionizing operations at the Jiangsu Provincial Bank. He also became a consultant to the new Bank of China, where he befriended Zhang Jia’ao, himself a graduate of Japan’s Keio University.44 Together, these experiences and networks enabled Chen to found the SCSB and make it a success. In 1915, he secured the necessary backing for the bank through Zhang and the Zhejiang Industrial Bank’s Li Ming (李銘), a graduate of an American missionary school in Hangzhou and the Yamaguchi Com­ mercial College. He then implemented British management and American banking practices, while hiring German banker Gustav Baerwald to guide their foreign exchange activity and the older Tang Yuanzhan (“Y. C.” Tong Yuen-cham, 唐元湛) as his managing director. Tang was a Guangdong native and another CEM graduate who had spent 30 years in the Telegraph Administration, as well as serving as a Rotary Club officer and a board member at Fudan College.45 Chen chose another American-returned student for his sub-manager, hiring St. John’s and Yale graduate Zhu Chengzhang (S.C. Chu, 朱成章) in 1917. Alongside bankers’ associations, Zhu would continue to be active in the ARSC, the American University Club, and the St. John’s Club.46 Thus, Chen drew on overlapping networks and resources to launch the SCSB, including connections derived through his native-place, education, and varied professional experiences. Without ranking them, we can observe the value that Chen set on his many American experiences through his development of a US$2 million fund to sponsor SCSB staff for advanced training in the United States. This increasingly US-trained senior staff would help the SCSB to expand its international

43 44

Zhang Gongquan 張公權, “Chen Guangfu yu Shanghai Yinhang,” 38–40. Zhaojin Ji, A History of Modern Shanghai Banking: The Rise and Decline of China’s Finance Capitalism (New York: Routledge, 2016), 118–119. 45 K. P. Chen, “Half Century Notes,” 1, KPC, RBLC. On Baerwald, see Ji, A History of Modern Shanghai Banking, 120. On Tong, see “Who’s Who in China,” MRFE, October 4, 1919, 200; “Y. C. Tong Dies,” The Weekly Review of the Far East, November 12, 1921, 518. 46 “Obituary: Mr. S. C. Chu,” NCHSCCG, January 6, 1931, 15.

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branches such that by the mid-1920s it was both China’s leading conduit of foreign exchange and the favored lender to Shanghai’s industrialists.47 By virtue of his age and the SCSB, Chen became a key early node at the heart of the expanding network of US-educated bankers and industrialists centered in Shanghai. By 1919, Shanghai’s press was noting a growing interconnection between the textile industry, investors, and American-returned students. Multiple papers attributed the “sensational development” of the cotton spinning industry to American-returned students and their access to capital: “Most of the growth is in the hands of American-returned students who are trying their best to persuade the wealthy men to take interest in the industry.”48 In turn, some non-US-educated industrialists such as the Kwoks (Guo) of Wing On attempted to tap into these circuits by consciously hiring US-educated managers, rather than native-place associates.49 To explore the origins of this connection in greater detail, it is instructive to look at several specific bankers and industrialists. By viewing them in tandem, we will see a number of parallel traits and advantages—not only the expected foreign learning or ability to speak English, but also similar kinds of elite social capital that facilitated both their educational and entrepreneurial opportunities. 3

Transpacific Pathways and Elite Social Capital

Chinese students’ transpacific circulations were heavily shaped by province, generation, government support, and individual ambitions. To better understand which factors positioned a handful of men to sojourn overseas and then become leading bankers and industrialists in the 1910s and early 1920s, in this section Chen Guangfu is juxtaposed against fellow banker Bian Baimei (卞白眉) and the textile industrialists Cai Shengbai (蔡聲白) and Tang Pingyuan (唐炳源). By examining their experiences in the order that they sojourned abroad, we gain individualized insight into the evolving factors that shaped opportunities to study overseas and then rise into powerful positions

47

Ji, A History of Modern Shanghai Banking, 120–121. Also, see “Ch’en Kuang-fu” in Howard L. Boorman, ed., Biographical Dictionary of Republican China (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967), 192–196. 48 B. Y. Lee, “Cotton Manufacturing in China,” The Shanghai Times, December 15, 1919, A14. Also see “Those Returned Students,” MRFE, November 13, 1920, 573. 49 B. Y. Lee, “Foreign Competition and Chinese Cotton Mills, The China Weekly Review (CWR), August 30, 1930, 492.

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after returning. We will see that all four hailed from the lower Yangzi, but that their motivations and sources of financial support varied considerably. Each man followed a distinct path that resists quantification, but their overall success must be contextualized through privileged social capital. Chen Guangfu sojourned overseas first and achieved the greatest social mobility amid the rapidly shifting circumstances of the Republican transition. After the recall of the CEM in 1881, the central and provincial Qing governments did not resume sponsoring ordinary overseas studies until after the Boxer Rising (1898–1900). Thus, until the early 1900s, students aspiring to study overseas had to cobble together diffuse sources of funding. By receiving Jing Weixing’s support and joining the Chinese delegation to the St. Louis World’s Fair, Chen was exceptionally fortunate. Although Chen came from an ordinary background, Jing’s advocacy offered a narrow window through which to secure sponsored passage to the United States and probably a diplomatic visa, exempt from US Chinese Exclusion. His experiences in St. Louis then impressed upon him his opportunity to study in the United States, which Liang Cheng and the Chinese embassy’s support enabled him to formalize into a Wharton degree. Simultaneously, while his studies and experience at an American bank were clearly formative, Chen did not immediately pursue banking upon his return in 1910. A government position likely seemed safer, while he had many influential government contacts. The opportunity to launch his bank only came five years later, after both the revolution’s financial shifts and gaining further banking experience and contacts, such as Zhang Jia’ao and Li Ming. In turn, for all Chen’s personal advantages, the SCSB only took off in the late 1910s and early 1920s in conjunction with the broader lending opportunities of the ‘golden age’ and Chen’s re-investment into his senior staff. In short, Chen’s example not only underscores contingency and adaptation, but also that such outsized success depended on a combination of his privileged education and the assistance and labor of many other people. In contrast, fellow banking pioneer Bian Baimei illustrates how at least some established literati elites overcame their traditional ambivalence toward money-making and converted established social capital into capitalist opportunities. As studied by Brett Sheehan, the Bian family was also from Jiangnan, identifying Yangzhou as their native-place but moving to Shanghai in the 1890s. Bian was the grandson of another Governor-General of Huguang, Bian Baodi (卞寶第) and the extended Bian family was intermarried with an array of late Qing elites, including the family of Li Hongzhang. Indeed, in 1900 Bian married the granddaughter of Li Hongzhang’s elder brother. Yet the family’s finances were not strong and he studied as a scholarship student at Shanghai’s Aurora College, established by French Catholic missionaries. He

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then proceeded to US higher education in 1906 or 1907 through a scholarship arranged by the Zhili provincial government, then controlled by family friend Yuan Shikai. Bian studied English for a year at Ithaca High School and then enrolled in Brown University in the fall of 1908. He was the institution’s first Chinese student and he studied political economy under Henry Gardner, an expert in banking and public finance. His scholarship disappeared, however, with the collapse of the Qing dynasty and only help from his wife’s family allowed him to graduate in 1912. Bian and his wife then returned to China and he first became a teacher and reporter in Beijing.50 Yet the combination of his American banking knowledge, and he and his wife’s connections in Yuan Shikai’s administration, opened his entry into the Bank of China.51 With Yuan’s death in 1916 and the ensuing instability in north China, Bian relocated his family from Beijing to the safety of the Tianjin concessions. He helped steer the local Bank of China branch through this crisis and became its longtime manager. By combining international expertise with domestic networks, Bian helped promote Tianjin’s development into Republican China’s second most important industrial city. Chen and Bian thus reflect some interesting parallels and the evolving pathways that led a small but increasing number of Chinese students to the United States in the very early 20th century. Both came from Jiangnan and became bankers, yet ultimately came from distinct social backgrounds. Both relied on high-level Qing contacts and financial support to pursue their studies, but neither studied in the United States in conscious pursuit of a banking career. In stark contrast, both of our next industrialist examples sojourned overseas after the Qing dynasty’s collapse on the comparative security of Boxer Indemnity scholarships and in conscious pursuit of relevant industrial knowledge. Indeed, Cai Shengbai was among the first individuals to receive a Boxer Indemnity scholarship. Like Bian, he came from an elite scholar-official family. His father Cai Song (蔡松) received his juren degree in 1889 alongside Cai Yuanpei (蔡元培), future revolutionary and president of Peking University. Cai Shengbai began his studies at Tsinghua in 1911 and proceeded to Andover in 1914. He entered Lehigh University to study mining and metallurgy, graduating in 1919 and returning to China. That same year, Cai married Mo Huaizhu (莫懷珠), the daughter of Mo Shangqing (莫觴清), comprador to the American

50 51

Brett Sheehan, Trust in Troubled Times: Money, Banks, and State-Society Relations in Republican Tianjin (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), 23–26. Sheehan, Trust in Troubled Times, 35.

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silk importer Robert Lang & Co. (藍樂壁洋行).52 Due to the First World War’s removal of European competition, Mo and Lang partnered in 1917 to found a silk weaving mill in Shanghai, the Mayar Silk Mills (美亞織綢廠). After his daughter’s marriage to this American-returned student, Mo hired his new sonin-law in 1919 as Mayar’s general manager. Thus, marriage and its entwined social capital again proved a potent combination with American education. As Mayar’s general manager, Cai applied American techniques with great success. He imported the latest American power looms and introduced American management practices to cut production costs and compete against Japanese imports. The ensuing profits allowed the firm to expand rapidly, setting up numerous silk filatures and other plants across Shanghai in the 1920s. Hagiographic sources insist that Cai treated his workers well, but the silk industry was notorious for its inferno-like conditions of boiling water and exploited female and child labor.53 In turn, like Chen Guangfu, Cai also befriended Zhang Jia’ao and through him Mayar purportedly secured both favorable loans and import tax waivers from the Bank of China as a “bonded” or duty-free factory (保稅工廠).54 Cai even borrowed Euro-American marketing strategies such as fashion shows and Mayar’s products won prizes at the 1926 Philadelphia World Exposition. By 1934, when Mayar reincorporated as a limited liability company, it would have 3,000 employees manning over 1,200 looms, as well as offices in Bangkok and New York.55 Like Bian, Cai thus further illustrates how an American education paired with an advantageous marriage could help established elites adapt and embrace capitalist opportunities in the expanding treaty-port economies. While Bian’s spousal relations underwrote his American education, it is unclear what role Cai’s degree played in his match with Mo Huaizhu. Since her father was a comprador and a business partner with Americans, it was likely a factor. Our final and youngest example illustrates several further evolutions. Tang Pingyuan came from a Jiangnan mercantile family that was already investing in industry and thus consciously prioritized his American higher education in 52

Feixiang bianji bu 飛翔編輯部 (Feixiang Editorial Department), Nüxing Zhuzai de Shijie: Zui You Quanli de Zhongguo Nüren 女性主宰的世界: 最有權力的中國女人 [A Female Dominated World: The Most Powerful Chinese Women] (Beijing: Feixiang shidai wenhua chuanmei youxian gongsi, 2009), 224. 53 “Cai Shengbai xiansheng 蔡聲白先生 (Mr. Cai Shengbai), Xiandai Shiyejia 現代實 業家 [Modern Industrialists],” (Shanghai: Shanghai shangbao she, 1935), 33–34. Accessed through the Modern History Databases, Academia Sinica (MHDB). 54 Nüxing zhuzai de shijie, 225. 55 Antonia Finnane, Changing Clothes in China: Fashion, History, Nation (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 108–109. Also see “Cai Shengbai xiansheng,” 34.

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service to their industrial ambitions. The Tangs were leaders in Wuxi’s wellknown industrial boom of the 1910s and 1920s.56 Tang’s father was the cloth merchant Tang Baoqian (唐保謙), who had little formal education but worked in a traditional Chinese bank and then strategically invested in industrial operations that catered for life’s basic needs: food, clothing, housing, and transport.57 These included the Qingfeng textile mill, the Jiufeng flour mill, the Jinfeng silk filature, the Runfeng vegetable oil plant, the Yiyuan rice mill, and the Linong brick factory.58 Born in 1898, Tang Pingyuan then first studied at St. John’s in Shanghai followed by the US-endowed Tsinghua in Beijing. He received a Boxer Indemnity scholarship in 1920 and studied at the Lowell Textile School before transferring to MIT. He graduated in 1923 with a degree in management and returned to Wuxi after the death of his older brother. Despite the intermittent Jiangsu-Zhejiang wars, he gradually took over from his father and participated in the “golden age” by expanding the Qingfeng and Jiufeng mills and directly applying his American studies to their operations. Thus, much like Cai Shengbai, he re-organized the factories and implemented American management techniques, such as training professional textile engineers and shifting worker recruitment from guanxi networks to skills-based assessments. Tang also became an established client of the SCSB and he invested in new industries, including the Jiangnan cement plant in Shanghai.59 He remained a Wuxi booster though, serving as its Rotary Club’s president and penning pieces in Shanghai’s press that touted the city as “the Pittsburg of China.”60

56

On Wuxi’s development, see Toby Lincoln, Urbanizing China in War and Peace: The Case of Wuxi County (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015). 57 Jack Chi-Chien Tang, “The Textile Industry and the Development of Hong Kong, 1949– 1999,” 12, an oral history conducted by Carolyn Wakeman in 1999, Regional Oral History Office, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, 2003. 58 Lincoln, Urbanizing China, 39. Also see Tang, “The Textile Industry,” 12. 59 On Tang Pingyuan’s financial relationship to the SCSB, see K. P. Chen Guangfu, “Ya Fang­kuan Dahu Biao 押放款大戶表 [Large Pledged Loan Account Table],” March 22, 1949, 1 and “Fangkuan Touzhi Zhiya Pinfen Chai Biao 放款透支質押品分拆表 [Loan Overdraft Pledged Collateral Split Table],” and “Dahu Touzhi Biao 大戶透支表 [Large Account Overdraft Table],” March 23, 1949, 1, all in KPC, Box 9, Folder 8, RBLC. On the Jiangnan cement plant, see “Jack Tang (‘Mr Textiles’),” The Bulletin (Hong Kong: The Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce), June 1984, 9, HKUSC. Also see Tang, “The Textile Industry,” 12–13. 60 “Tang Pingyuan zi Xinghai 唐炳源字星海 (Tang Pingyuan, Courtesy Name Xinghai),” in Li Yuanxin 李元信, ed., Huanqiu Zhongguo Mingren Zhuanlüe 環球中國名人傳略 [Biographies of Worldwide Chinese Celebrities] (Shanghai: Huanqiu chubanshe, 1944), 189. Accessed through the MHDB; P. Y. Tang, “Wusih—The Pittsburg of China,” CWR, November 1, 1925, 35–37.

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Tang also provides insight into how these new generative patterns became multi-generational through intermarriage with similar families and strategies for the ensuing children’s educations. After returning, his first wife tragically died in childbirth. Tang then re-married into a Cantonese Christian family that similarly prized international education. His second wife, Wen Jinmei (“Kinmay,” 温金美) had studied in the United Kingdom, but returned to teach at Shanghai’s prestigious McTyeire School, run by American Southern Methodists.61 Her father Wen Bingzhong (温秉忠) was another CEM graduate and by 1924 the superintendent of customs in Suzhou. Her mother hailed from the devoutly Methodist Ni family (倪) and her famous Song first cousins also studied at the McTyeire School and then in the United States. Before achieving international fame, the three Song sisters attended school in Georgia and Wellesley, while their brother Song Ziwen (宋子文) attended St. John’s and Harvard. And for their own children, the Tangs first selected an American missionary school in Wuxi affiliated with St. John’s later followed by US higher education.62 Tang thus married into the heart of the rising Nationalist elite and this extended family consistently combined American missionary schools, US and British higher educations, and capitalist industrial development over generations. They cemented these new generative patterns through marriages into similar families and invested in the children’s bilingualism and biculturalism from infancy.63 Juxtaposing these examples not only provides anecdotal insight into the diverse backgrounds, opportunities, and motivations of sojourning students, but also fosters more holistic explanations of their subsequent success in China’s banking and textile industries. By the time the United States became the most attractive destination for overseas students in the early 1920s, all four men were applying their privileged educations, networks, and good timing to spearhead these self-consciously “modern” businesses. In turn, through their educations, businesses, and outside activities, they all gradually came into varying degrees of contact. To better understand how these networks formed, operated, and mapped onto new forms of knowledge and business, the final section examines an industrialist who left a comparatively extensive paper trail.

61 62 63

Tang, “The Textile Industry,” 5. Ibid., 2–3. Sherman Cochran, Encountering Chinese Networks: Western, Japanese, and Chinese Corporations in China, 1880–1937 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 140–143.

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Mu Xiangyue and Overlapping Transplantations

While all well-known names, our previous four examples left relatively thin paper trails that make it difficult to trace their networks or participation in circuits of knowledge with any real specificity. In contrast, Mu Xiangyue was a rare industrialist whose writings and extensive press coverage make it feasible to recover a fuller picture. Like Cai and Tang, Mu went to the United States with specific ambitions: to study American agriculture and apply those studies to China’s modernization. Also known by the personal name Ouchu (藕初) and his English name “H. Y. Moh,” Mu was born in 1876 in what is now Shanghai’s Pudong district. Like Chen, Mu’s father was an ordinary Jiangnan merchant, in this case of cotton cloth. Mu first worked in his father’s cotton shop from the age of 13 until 20, before studying at Shanghai’s Nanyang College, again later Jiaotong University.64 Like Chen, he too worked for the Maritime Customs Service from 1900 to 1905 and studied English at night, eventually teaching English at a secondary normal school. In 1907, he joined the Jiangsu Railway Company as chief of its police department, while around this time he also married and had two sons. Mu only decided to go to the United States in 1909 at the comparatively late age of 34. In his memoir Ouchu at Fifty (Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 藕初五十自述), Mu wrote that his motivation stemmed from deciding that China’s greatest challenge lay in modernizing its vast countryside, while American agriculture led the world in mechanization and efficiency. He would remain consistently passionate about this cause. Yet Mu did not accompany a government delegation, receive a scholarship, or belong to a wealthy family. Instead, by his account, he simply borrowed the necessary silver after being admitted to Wabash College in Indiana.65 Unimpressed, he soon transferred to the University of Wisconsin, which suited him better, but he nonetheless transferred again in 1911 to the University of Illinois. In Urbana-Champaign, Mu found a distinguished agricultural sciences faculty, where soil science pioneer Cyril Hopkins (霍潑根斯最) taught, and increased community among about 30 other Chinese students. Mu also singled out Illinois’s president Edmund James (鏗來君) for demonstrating care for Chinese students, including accepting invitations to address their association. James’ support was particularly meaningful amid the uncertainty of the 1911 Revolution. Mu recalled his fellow 64 65

“Who’s Who in China: Mr. H. Y. Moh,” MRFE, November 1, 1919, 375–377. For his motivations, finances, and initial experiences in the United States, see Mu Xiangyue 穆湘玥, Ouchu Wushi Zishu 藕初五十自述 (上) [Ouchu at Fifty] (1926). (Shanghai: Longwen chubanshe gufen youxian gongsi), 14–30.

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students’ excitement at the establishment of the Republic, but from the perspective of the mid-1920s, he queried: “It is true that the sovereignty of a republic is vested in the people. However, out of the ignorant mob of China’s 400 million people, dare I ask what proportion possess any knowledge whatsoever? … Without the prevalence of truly universal public education, the desire to form a republic is futile.”66 While hindsight colored his political perceptions, Mu’s comment nonetheless illuminates the entrenched elitism that motivated many modernizing ambitions. Mu graduated from Illinois in the summer of 1913 with a Bachelor’s degree in Agriculture, but grasped that it would be difficult to establish a large-scale commercial farm in China. He had also taken interest in the industrial production of agricultural by-products and first dabbled in soap manufacturing at Chicago’s Armour Institute (挨茂專門學校). By fall 1913, however, he decided to dedicate himself to the study of American cotton agriculture and the textile industry at the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, now Texas A&M.67 Like Bian at Brown, Mu was its first Chinese student and this entailed substantial adjustments. A&M was a much smaller school than Illinois, far more rural, all-male, and defined by a militaristic culture. Most seriously, administrators claimed to fear that a Chinese student would elicit racial violence and advised Mu to live in an off-campus boarding house, reflecting their own prejudice. Yet Mu was undeterred. He credited his time in Texas for helping him to attain bilingualism, and he was purposeful about his studies. Before classes began, Mu traveled to the famed Coleman-Fulton Pasture Company in Aransas and San Patricio, known as the Taft Ranch (塔虎脫農場) due to the investment of Charles Phelps Taft, President Taft’s half-brother.68 In turn, A&M had a pioneering School of Agriculture. Its dean, Edwin Jackson Kyle, was a nationally known advocate for teaching agricultural science in public schools and the author of the leading textbook for that purpose, Fundamentals of Farming and Farm Life (1912).69 There were also specialized professors of textile engineering such as J. B. Bagley, who had previously worked in North Carolina’s cotton mills. Perhaps most attractive to Mu, A&M had established its own

66 “共和國之主權在民｡固也｡而中國蚩蚩群氓｡號稱四百兆｡試問有知試著幾何｡ 即使有知識 … 故欲實行共和｡非普及真正之國民教育不為功｡” See Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 42–43. 67 Ibid., 45–46. 68 A. Ray Stephens, The Taft Ranch: A Texas Principality (Austin: The University of Texas Press, 1964). 69 Ann Miller Strom, “Kyle, Edwin Jackson,” Texas State Historical Association. https://tsha online.org/handbook/online/articles/fky04.

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working cotton farm and hands-on spinning mill.70 Thus, Mu received direct training in his chosen field, at least from the perspective of an owner or manager. His memoir makes no mention of the conditions of black sharecroppers, whose labor was the foundation of America’s cotton industry. Nonetheless, Mu was either sufficiently impressed by A&M and/or convinced by Jackson Kyle that he wrote to China’s Minister of Education that fall to advocate for scientific agricultural education.71 While in College Station, Mu also began researching the newly invented field of “scientific management.” He first read the engineer-turned-celebrity Frederick Winslow Taylor’s The Principles of Scientific Management, followed by the work of other leading figures, whom he labeled Taylor’s “disciples” (gaozu dizi, 高足弟子). He was particularly interested in Frank Gilbreth (吉爾培來) and read his Motion Study (Biaozhun dongzuo, 標準動作) (1911).72 He then initiated a correspondence with Taylor in April 1914 in order to request the rights to translate The Principles of Scientific Management into Chinese. Sounding star struck, Mu expressed how “deeply impressed” he was by Taylor’s book, labeling it “the book which increases the human efficiency, promotes the welfare of the people, and enhances the wealth of a nation.”73 He further explained that “the Chinese people at large are in need of being trianed [sic] scientifically,” most especially because of “the industrial revolution is being taken place in China.” While his precise meaning is unclear, Mu implied that the Chinese population as a whole needed to learn scientific management in order to achieve efficiency, accelerate industrialization, and save the nation. Taylor responded almost immediately. He not only gave permission, but also invited Mu to visit him and included a copy of the Japanese translation for reference.74 Mu surely regretted being unable to accept, but he was booked to sail to China on June 3.75 Mu and Taylor corresponded again, however, in the winter of 1914–15, when Taylor sent a headshot for the front of Mu’s translation. Upon returning to Shanghai, Mu consciously applied his American learning to an ambitious spate of agricultural, industrial, and intellectual projects that 70

On A&M’s cotton mill and farm, see The 1914 Longhorn, Texas A&M University, 19. Available online through Texas A&M University Libraries. https://library.tamu.edu/yearbooks/. 71 “Laijian: Mu Xiangyue Jun zhi Nongshi Yijian Shu” 來件：穆湘玥君之農事意見書 [Inbox: Mu Xiangyue’s Agricultural Opinions], Shishi Xinbao, November 10, 1913, 12. 72 Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 51. 73 H.Y. Moh to Frederick Winslow Taylor, April 23, 1914, Frederick Winslow Taylor collection (FWT), Box 63, Folder 3, Stevens Institute of Technology Library Special Collections (SITLSC). 74 Taylor to Moh, May 4, 1914, FWT, Box 63, Folder 3, SITLSC. 75 Moh to Taylor, May 15, 1914, FWT, Box 63, Folder 3, SITLSC.

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centered on his passions: cotton and education. He brought back American cotton seeds in order to experiment with cross-pollinations and develop higher-quality blends. Collaborating with the wealthy comprador Yu Pinghan (郁屏翰), who himself had imported American cotton seeds the previous winter, they began an experimental cotton farm in Pudong.76 In industry, Mu claimed to waver between the soap and textile industries, but he learned that one company already dominated the available sources of alkali, while he had hands-on experience from Texas in running a mill.77 The outbreak of the First World War made it difficult to import looms and spindles from Europe, but again the war removed many competitors. Mu was thus at the leading edge of the “golden age.” He partnered with his brother Mu Shuzhai (穆抒齋) and Cao Rulin (曹汝霖), then Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Beiyang government, to raise 220,000 yuan to purchase second-hand British spinning machinery and launch the Deda Cotton Mill (德大紗廠) in late 1914. It was an unlimited liability company in the Zhabei district of Shanghai.78 To put this into context, the more famous Rong brothers would launch their Shenxin Mills a few months later with 300,000 yuan in initial capital.79 Deda was a vehicle through which Mu not only applied his formal studies, but also his research into management. According to a press visit the next June, the factory was succeeding due to the brothers’ logical division of duties. Mu Shuzhai was the sales manager and handled external relations. Due to his US studies, Mu Xiangyue was the operations manager and supervised everything inside the factory.80 In his memoir, Mu recalled that he was conscious that “to establish a large-scale factory, the management system is the single most important point.”81 He went on to summarize what he had learned of ‘scientific management’ in America: “In my own estimation, the point is to save time, energy, and material and I implemented these three main points in my

76

Also known as Yu Huaizhi 郁懷智, see “郁屏翰/Yoh Ping Han, Shanghai Zongshanghui Tongrenlu 上海總商會同人錄 [Friends of the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce],” (Shanghai: Commercial Press Ltd., 1918), 2. Accessed through the MHDB. Also see “From the Chinese Press: Chinese Cotton Industry,” NCHSCCG, October 17, 1914, 193. 77 Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 47. 78 “Hu Shang Chuangban Da Shachang 滬上創辦大紗廠 [A Large Cotton Mill Established in Shanghai],” Shishi Xinbao, October 31, 1914, 9. 79 Cochran, Encountering Chinese Networks, 118–119. 80 “Canguan Deda Shachang Ji 參觀德大紗廠記 [Notes From a Visit to the Deda Cotton Mill],” Shishi Xinbao, June 30, 1915, 10. 81 “創辦大規模之工廠｡管理法爲最要之一點｡” See Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 51.

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first factory.”82 Mu’s understanding of management theory was more detailed than just striving for general efficiency, though. Heavily influenced by Taylor, he organized Deda into departments and hired foremen to supervise each one: From this 220,000-yuan investment, I organized a cotton mill, including building the plant, arranging the machinery, planning the supervision policies, and one-by-one designating each laborer’s role. This is the work of each mill. Without exception, each department in the factory is entrusted to foremen. There are not inspections or various kinds of reports, but as to whether the cotton quality is good or bad, or whether the output is high or low, I listen to the foremen, or the so-called managers. I only manage the finances and overall business.83 We can observe several hallmarks of Taylorism here. The largest American railroads were the world’s first private businesses to implement specialized departments and career middle-managers from the late 1850s, but this organization’s added expense made it unusual for individual factories to replace one general foreman with multiple departmental foremen.84 Taylor’s disciples distinguished themselves in this regard, such as Carl Garth at the Yale and Towne lock factory in 1905 and Henry Gantt at the Remington Typewriter factory in 1910.85 Deda was thus cutting-edge by international standards. In turn, by designating ‘each laborer’s role’ and relying on ‘so-called managers,’ Mu is gesturing toward Taylor’s famous emphasis on building middle management in order to identify each worker’s abilities, assign their labor roles, and then provide tailored training. Yet Mu’s application of these foreign practices was no blind worship. Instead, he understood Taylorism’s relevance for his goals. Taylorism aimed to reduce the unit cost of production through better management and Mu’s business plan for Deda was to undercut Japanese cotton yarn imports, much like Cai Shengbai’s at Mayar. Indeed, Mu goes on to describe how this system of departments and foremen allowed him to test “several yarns sideby-side” in order to find which blend reduced the unit price without sacrificing 82 “一言以蔽之｡即節省時間精神物質而已｡余本此三大綱｡即從事於甲廠｡” See Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 51. 83 “以二十萬兩之資本｡組織一紗廠｡築建廠房｡安排機件｡規畫督策｡一一親任其 勞｡是時紗廠之工作｡均託之於工頭｡廠內各部｡並無稽核調查及各種報告｡紗 質之良否｡出數之多寡｡悉聽之於工頭｡所謂經理者｡僅管錢財及營業｡” See Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 51. 84 Alfred D. Chandler, The Visible Hand: The Managerial Revolution in American Business (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1977), 175–179. 85 Chandler, The Visible Hand, 275–278.

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quality. Within six months, he reported success in undercutting Japanese imports.86 Like all Taylor disciples, however, Mu did not adopt this system in its entirety. For one, Mu ignored Taylor’s emphasis on written reports and instead favored oral communication with his foremen, perhaps because he moved his family into a lilong alley house opposite Deda and claimed to work 14 to 15 hours a day. Taylor would also have recommended timed production studies and the creation of a planning department, neither of which Mu mentioned.87 Instead, he discussed paying himself only 80 yuan a month and finding time to translate The Principles of Scientific Management.88 He did not mention his workers’ wages, however. Alongside business, Mu immersed himself in a spate of outside projects aimed at the dissemination of modern scientific knowledge to advance China’s development. In this pursuit, his American experiences were a primary source of his inspiration and expertise, and he again focused on cotton and education. From late 1915, he regularly gave speeches at organizations, such as the YMCA, on transplanting the American cotton industry into China, while lecturing the Pudong native-place association on the importance of agricultural reform for “saving the nation’s foundations.”89 In promoting modern education, he invited student groups to tour Deda, while joining the new Chinese Vocational Education Association (中華職業教育社, CVEA).90 Set up in 1916 by the educational reformer Huang Yanpei (黄炎培) and the previously mentioned Cai Yuanpei, the CVEA’s activities focused on sponsoring classes in subjects such as bookkeeping and publishing practical and technical tracts.91 As such, the 86 87 88 89

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Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 52. Chandler, The Visible Hand, 276–277. Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 52. For the YMCA, see “Qingnianhui Xiaoxi: Yanshuo Mianhua Zhongzhi Fa 青年會消息: 演 說棉花種植法 [YMCA News: Speech on Cotton Cultivation],” Shishi Xinbao, October, 25, 1915, 9; “Gailiang Zhimian Zhi Yanjiang” 改良植棉之演講 [Speech on Improving Cotton Planting],” Minguo Ribao 民國日報, February 25, 1918, 10. For the Pudong nativeplace association, see “Pudong Tongrenhui Ji” 浦東同人會紀 [Notes from the Pudong Native-Place Association], Minguo Ribao, April 27, 1917, 10. “Xiqu Xiaoxue Canguan Shachang” 西區小學參觀紗廠 [Western District Primary School Visits Cotton Mill], Minguo Ribao, May 20, 1917, 10; “Zhiye Jiaoyushe Dahui Yuzhi” 職業教育社大會預誌 [Preview of the Vocational Education Society Conference], Minguo Ribao, May 4, 1918, 10. “Ji Zhonghua Zhiye Jiaoyushe Yubei Hui” 紀中華職業教育社預備會 [Notes from the Chinese Vocational Education Society Preparatory Conference], Minguo Ribao, April 30, 1917, 10. On the Vocational Education Association, see Wen-hsin Yeh, “Huang Yanpei and the Chinese Society for Vocational Education in Shanghai Networking,” in At the Crossroads of Empires: Middlemen, Social Networks, and State-Building in Republican Shanghai, eds. N. Dillon and J. C. Oi (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007), 25–44.

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CVEA was a natural fit for Mu and he often promoted his personal experiences with American-style vocational education.92 In turn, after three years of experiments, in 1917 Mu and Yu harvested a full crop of cotton and concluded that American cotton seeds and techniques were indeed ecologically suitable for China. They joined with fellow textile industrialists Nie Yuntai (聶雲臺), Wu Shanqing (吳善慶), and Huang Shoumin (黃首民) to found the China Cotton Plant Improvement Society (中華植棉改良社).93 This society encapsulates how transpacific educational circulations mapped onto specific circuits of translation and knowledge production. Not only was the society’s explicit aim to transplant American cotton seeds and methods into China, but Nie, Huang, and Mu were all American-returned students. Their society proceeded to set up larger testing farms for new blends in Wusong and Nantong, translate and publish American and Chinese scientific agricultural texts, and distribute American cotton seeds and gins.94 Together, Mu’s varied activities offer holistic insight into the intellectual legacies of his American education, as well as the social networks that structured his activities. Through several meetings he attended in late March and early April 1918, we can glimpse the interlocking nature of American-returned students’ networks. Ever since his return, Mu had worked with figures such as SCSB managing director Tang Yuanzhan to promote Chinese attendance in US higher education.95 Now, he led in formalizing that activity. On March 21, almost 80 US-educated men and women attended the inaugural meeting of Shanghai’s ARSC. Among the attendees were diplomat and future Foreign Minister Wang Zhengting (C. T. Wang, 王正廷); Chief Justice of the Shanghai District Court Lu Shoujing (Tachuen S. K. Loh, 陸守經); English editor of the Commercial Press and active Rotarian Kuang Fuzhuo (Fong Foo-sec, 鄺富灼); and the Rev.

92 93

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“Mu Ouchu Xiansheng Yanshuo Shiye shang zhi Zhiye Jiaoyu Guan” 穆藕初先生演說 實業上之職業教育觀 [Mr. Mu Ouchu Gave a Speech on Industry’s View of Vocational Education], Shishi Xinbao, June 20, 1918, 11. “Yizhi Mei Mian Shiye Dajin” 移植美棉實業大進 [Transplanted American Cotton Advances the Industry], Minguo Ribao, September 14, 1917, 10; “Mei Mian Shiyi yu Zhongguo zhi Yanjiu” 美棉適宜於中國之研究 [Research on the Suitability of American Cotton for China], Minguo Ribao, September 22, 1917, 10. For one such translation, see “Mianye Zhuanjia Qiao Bosheng Jun duiyu Zhongguo Yizhi Mei Mian zhi Yijian Shu” 棉業專家喬勃生君對於中國移植美棉之意見書 [Cotton Industry Expert Qiao Bosheng’s Opinions on Transplanting American Cotton to China], Shishi Xinbao, January 15, 1918, 11. “Huansong You Mei Xuesheng Zhi Sheng” 歡送游美學生誌盛 [Record of a Grand Send Off for Students Traveling to America], Shishi Xinbao, August 6, 1915, 10.

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Zhu Youyu (Andrew Y. Y. Tsu, 朱友漁) of St. John’s University.96 At this meeting, Mu was elected the club’s first president. Lu became vice-president, while Cai Yuanpei’s eventual successor at Peking University Jiang Menglin (蔣夢麟) was elected correspondent. Five days later on March 26, most of these men re-convened for a reception at the YMCA for the US Minister to China, Paul Reinsch (芮恩施).97 Seven organizations sponsored this meeting: the YMCA, the General Chamber of Commerce, the Jiangsu Educational Association, the All-China Students’ Association, the CVEA, and the two newest, the ARSC and the Shanghai Construction Association. These organizations’ attending leaderships consisted heavily of the same figures, testifying to their connections across professions. Nie Yuntai gave the opening speech and introduced Reinsch, while fellow ARSC members Wang Zhengting, Kuang Fuzhuo, Jiang Menglin, Chen Guangfu, his deputies Tang Yuanzhan and Zhu Chengzhang, as well as Mu were all in the audience. Familiar non-US educated figures also attended, such as Huang Yanpei and the chairman of the Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce Zhu Baosan (朱葆三). Two weeks later on April 11, the Construction Association held its own first meeting, again reuniting Nie Yuntai as chairman and Tang Yuanzhan as vice-chairman, with Kuang Fuzhuo, Zhu Chengzhang, Wang Zhengting, Zhu Youyu, Minister Reinsch, US-educated educational reform Guo Bingwen (郭秉文), and again Mu all attending.98 Different permutations of these associates were also active in fundraising campaigns for the American Red Cross, the YMCA, and the CVEA.99 In short, Mu’s civic and social activities reveal how American-returned students were 96 97 98 99

“Meiguo Liuxuesheng Hui Kaihui zhi Sheng” 美國留學生會開會誌盛 [Record of the American-Returned Student Association Meeting], Minguo Ribao, March 22, 1918, 10. On Lu Shoujing, see “Who’s Who in China,” CWR, April 19, 1924, 260. “Qi Da Tuanti Huanying Mei Gongshi” 七大團體歡迎美公使 [Seven Large Groups Welcome the US Minister], Minguo Ribao, March 27, 1918, 10. “Jianshehui Chenli Ji 建設會成立記 [Notes from the Establishment of the Construction Association],” Minguo Ribao, April 11, 1918, 10. For the Red Cross, see “Xiezhu Meiguo Honghui Rechen” 協助美國紅會熱忱 [Enthusiasm for Assisting the American Red Cross], Minguo Ribao, April 27, 1918, 10; “Zanzhu Meiguo Hong Shizi Hui Dahui Ji 贊助美國紅十字會大會記 [Notes from the Conference to Support the American Red Cross],” Minguo Ribao, May 9, 1918, 10; “Zanzhu Meiguo Honghui” 贊助美國紅會 [Support for the American Red Cross], Minguo Ribao, May 16, 1918, 10. For the YMCA, see “Tebie Jizai: Shanghai Qingnianhui Jin Wei Jianzhu Xin Huisuo Shi” 特別記載: 上海青年會近為建築新會所事 [Special Report: Shanghai YMCA Will Construct a New Building], Minguo Ribao, June 27, 1918, 11; “Qingnianhui Jin Xie Juankuan Zhujun 青年會謹謝捐款諸君 [The YMCA Sincerely Thanks Those Who Have Donated],” Shishi Xinbao, June 28, 1918, 4. For the CVEA, see “Zhiye Xuexiao Mujuan Jinxun” 職業學校募捐近訊 [Vocational School Fundraising News], Minguo Ribao, September 16, 1918, 10.

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embedded within the broader elite of early Republican Shanghai, as well as their key role in bridging overlapping organizations. In turn, as noted, we can observe how these returnees were beginning to cluster professionally into government, academia, and banking and industry. Yet only through a cross-professional perspective do we appreciate their lived interconnections and enmeshment among likeminded, non-US-educated elites. In this way, American-returned students’ networks mirrored native-place guanxi in creating clusters of interlinked associates and overlapping organizations, yet differed from guanxi by generally including friends and colleagues who lacked this particularistic bond.100 Finally, we can begin to observe the wider social impact of Mu’s transpacific journey through his efforts to leverage his private American learning into public conversation. Most succinctly, in 1916 the China Press published his translation of Taylor’s The Principles of Scientific Management under the title The Industrial Applications of the Scientific Theory of Management (工廠適用 學理的管理法). Through this publication, Mu set a landmark in the nascent Chinese conversation about modern management. Other intellectuals and the CVEA had been dabbling with this topic, but by popularizing Taylor’s concept of “scientific management” Mu was infusing this extremely influential American theorist into the Chinese conversation. His translation merits further research, but the volume remained in publication and on sale until at least 1927.101 Simultaneously, Mu translated other US publications relevant to his passions, such as US Department of Agriculture official W.A. Graham Clark’s report “Cotton Goods in Japan,” which Mu re-edited and published in 1917 as a “A Guidebook for the China Cotton Industry” (中國花紗布業指南).102 In turn, Mu’s business influence was growing. Deda’s success attracted outside attention and investors approached him about opening a second, much larger mill.103 The Housheng Cotton Mill (厚生紗廠) began operation in June 1918 with 1.2 million yuan in investment, six times greater than Deda’s capitalization. This vast expansion in scale represented the leaps-and-bounds development of private Chinese industry, but also Housheng’s incorporation as a limited 100 Bryna Goodman, “New Culture, Old Habits: Native-Place Organization and the May Fourth Movement,” in Shanghai Sojourners, eds. F. Wakeman, Jr. and Wen-hsin Yeh (Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California Press, 1992), 89–92. 101 “Nong Gong Yao Shu: Zhonghua Shuju” 農工要書: 中華書局 [Books for Farmers and Workers: The Zhonghua Book Company], Shishi Xinbao, May 10, 1927, 2. 102 “Zhi Xie” 誌謝 [Expression of Thanks], Shishi Xinbao, June 23, 1917, 11; “Zhi Xie” 誌謝 [Expression of Thanks], Minguo Ribao, June 23, 1917, 11. Also see Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 57. 103 Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 57–58.

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liability company. While limited liability organizations had been possible in China since 1904, it remained uncommon.104 Yet thereafter Mu became an outspoken advocate for the LLC.105 Finally, in August 1918, Mu led the Chinese Cotton Federation (Zhonghua Mianye Lianhehui, 中華棉業聯合會) to begin joint research with the Shanghai Stock Exchange on establishing a dedicated cotton commodities exchange. While futures trading first developed in early modern Europe, the first modern commodity exchanges had developed in the United States over the late 19th century as steam-powered grain elevators and high-speed rail and telegraph networks lowered transportation costs, enabled precise delivery dates, standardized measurements, and incentivized increasing economies of scale in American grain and cotton production.106 In Mu’s studies at Illinois and A&M, the role played by exchanges—and the Chicago Board of Trade in particular—in expanding credit and stabilizing commodity prices would have been a fundamental lesson. As with cotton farming itself, Mu tried to re-teach this lesson in China. From first conceiving the Chinese Cotton Goods Exchange (Shanghai Huashang Mianye Jiaoyisuo, 上海華商棉業交易所) through its establishment in 1921 and dedication in 1923, Mu consistently touted the exchange’s potential to disseminate price and supply information and thereby increase stability, efficiency, and economies of scale in Chinese cotton production.107 Mu would serve six consecutive terms as its chairman, but his efforts must be contextualized within his larger transpacific circulation. Indeed, in 1924 he even re-located the ARSC into the new Cotton Goods Exchange building, streamlining his leadership over both organizations.108 5

Conclusion

Over the 1910s, the United States became a leading destination for Chinese students. For reasons discussed, Jiangnan and the bourgeoisie were the region 104 William Kirby, “China Unincorporated: Company Law and Business Enterprise in Twentieth-Century China,” The Journal of Asian Studies 54.1 (February 1995): 43–63. 105 Mu Xiangyue, Ouchu Wushi Zishu, 60. 106 Chandler, The Visible Hand, 207–215. 107 “Zhuanjian: Mu Ouchu Duiyu Huashang Chuangban Jiaoyisuo Zai Mianye Lianhehui Yanshuoci” 專件: 穆藕初對於華商創辦交易所在棉業聯合會演說辭 [Special Report: Mu Ouchu’s Speech at the Cotton Industry Federation on the Establishment of an Exchange by Chinese Merchants], Minguo Ribao, July 19, 1918, 11; “New Cotton Goods Exchange,” NCHSCCG, July 9, 1921, 108; “Cotton Goods Exchange Dedicates New Building,” The Weekly Review, January 6, 1923, 220. 108 “Men and Events,” CWR, May 24, 1924, 464.

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and class best positioned for educational opportunity in the Republican era. As a result, most Chinese students in the United States hailed from the lower Yangzi or Guangdong. In turn, American-returned students tended to concentrate in these areas’ rapidly expanding and industrializing cities. While initially facing obstacles, over time American-returned students became increasingly prominent and rose to claim an elite status through three primary professional pathways: senior academia, the senior ranks of the Nationalist government, and the entwined modern banking and textile industries. Through detailed analysis of the figures Chen Guangfu, Bian Baimei, Cai Shengbai, and Tang Pingyuan, I analyzed the origins and comparatively overlooked role of American-returned students in the third area. Each of these figure’s American educations was enabled, in part, by existing social capital, while each subsequently made an advantageous marriage, received insider government access or favors, and/or took over budding familial enterprises. These forms of privilege combined with their advanced foreign learning, English-language abilities, and overseas networks to position them to pioneer new fields, amass wealth, and claim an increasingly elite social position. In turn, through Mu Xiangyue, I analyzed in greater detail both specific circuits of translation and knowledge production anchored by these circulations, and the formation of crossprofessional social networks among American-returned students in Shanghai. There is considerable space for further research on American-returned students as an interconnected elite network in Republican China. I would conclude by highlighting four such areas. First, throughout this chapter, the original CEM graduates appeared consistently and their social and professional networks merit detailed mapping with the new digital and quantitative methods utilized by my colleagues in this volume. Second, this chapter’s focus on bankers and industrialists was quite Jiangnan-specific, and the social networks, professional clusters, and outside projects of American-returnedstudents in other cities and regions were likely quite distinct. Third, it was beyond this chapter to explore wider public images of American-returned students, but they figured repeatedly in the public discourse over the Republican era—variously imagined as prospective middlemen between China and the United States, as corrupt and even disloyal foreign collaborators, and as other tropes. Finally, American-returned students offer potential through-lines to help re-integrate the fractured eras and geographies of China’s 20th century. In particular, as many American-returned students fled to Taiwan and Hong Kong during the Communist revolution—including Chen, Bian, Cai, and Tang— they and their descendants offer alternative ways to interweave overseas and mainland histories and recover continuities across the Republican, Mao, and Reform eras.

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Chapter 10

Navigating between Political Authorities: Chinese Rockefeller Fellows in Biology and Chemistry and Their Career Trajectories from 1949 to 1966 Yi-Tang Lin 1

Introduction

Following a series of military defeats against foreign powers in the 19th century, science and technology became the backbone of reforms in Qing-dynasty China. Chinese governments in the 20th century continued this strategy by enacting policies aimed at integrating science and technology into their nationbuilding efforts. How to train and recruit a qualified scientific workforce was a persistent issue. Qing policymakers—despite having different priorities when it came to the type of foreign knowledge required—enacted policies ranging from the establishment of modern schools, to support for translating books that would improve the knowledge of the country’s scientists, to sending Chinese citizens abroad. In 1872, the Chinese Education Mission was launched; it would send 120 young Chinese students to the United States and set the precedent for a Chinese public funding mechanism for sending citizens for overseas training. Established in 1909, the Boxer Indemnity Scholarship Program and the Tsinghua preparatory school inaugurated a system for preparing and sending students to study abroad with public funding. In addition to the Boxer Indemnity Scholarship, which was managed by the central government, some provincial governments also provided funding to send students abroad. This expansion of funding mechanisms for foreign study enriched the education of numerous Chinese students who went on to contribute to modernizing China in areas that range from industry to scientific research, as documented in an abundance of historiographies.1 1 To name only a few: Laurence A. Schneider, Biology and Revolution in Twentieth-Century China (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2005); James Reardon-Anderson, The Study of Change: Chemistry in China, 1840–1949 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991); Marie-Claire Bergère, L’âge d’Or de la Bourgeoisie Chinoise 1911–1937 (Paris: Flammarion, 1992); Yung-chen Chiang, Social Engineering and the Social Sciences in China, 1919–1949 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001); Mary Brown Bullock and Bridie

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The important role that public funding mechanisms played in shaping modern Chinese education systems has already attracted scholarly attention. Y. C. Wang conducted some of the earliest research on the mechanisms that sent Chinese students abroad. Wang’s 1966 book, which focuses on the period from 1872 to 1949, examines a wide array of such mechanisms and includes case studies illustrating the returned students’ contribution to various fields before the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937.2 Following Wang’s line of research, generations of historians have studied Chinese returnees as a group and recounted how returning students applied their foreign training and brought lifestyle changes to China.3 My research aims to complement existing accounts on public funding mechanisms by focusing on Chinese scientists who were awarded Rockefeller Foundation fellowships. Between 1914 and 1949, the Rockefeller Foundation granted more than 600 study-abroad fellowships to college graduates, faculty members, researchers, and public officials in China. Remarkably, these and other privately funded fellowships have received little scholarly attention.4 Instead, research has focused on individual grants from public sources, such as the Chinese national government, Chinese provincial administrations, and foreign government programs. Wang’s study, for example, mentions the Rockefeller Foundation only once, and then only in the context of medical aid provided to China during the Second Sino-Japanese War.5 Other historiographies of US—China scientific and cultural exchanges also merely glance over the Rockefeller fellowship program.6 The only exception is Mary Bullock’s chapter on the transnational training of Chinese medical professionals through

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Andrews, Medical Transitions in Twentieth-Century China (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2014). Y. C. Wang [Wang Yiju], Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1966). Weili Ye, Seeking Modernity in China’s Name: Chinese Students in the United States, 1900–1927 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2002); Stacey Bieler, Patriots or Traitors: A History of American Educated Chinese Students (Armonk, NY: Sharpe, 2014). Joyce K. Kallgren, Educational Exchanges: Essays on the Sino-American Experience (Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley, 1987), 27. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949, 136. Yang Tsui-hua 楊翠華, Zhongjihui dui Kexue de Zanzhu 中基會對科學的贊助 [Patronage of Sciences: The China Foundation for the Promotion of Education and Culture] (Taipei: Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, 1991), 10–12 (64); Joyce K. Kallgren and Denis Fred Simon, eds., Educational Exchanges: Essays on the Sino-American Experience (Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, Berkeley, 1987), 27.

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Rockefeller fellowships.7 As Bullock’s research suggests, the Rockefeller fellows specializing in the medical sciences went on to play a central role in Chinese government ministries and research institutes upon their return. In this chapter, I aim to enrich our understanding of the impact of Rockefeller Foundation fellowships by focusing on another group of Chinese Rockefeller fellows: Biologists and chemists. In China, although the Rockefeller Foundation was not the largest distributor of individual grants, it was probably the second largest after the US government (which granted between 3,000 and 4,000 scholarships through the Boxer Indemnity Scholarship Program).8 In total, the Foundation provided more than 600 individual grants to college graduates, faculty members, researchers, and public officials in China between 1914 and 1949.9 Rockefeller staff also carried weight on the subject of scientific and cultural exchange between the United States and China: Roger S. Greene, the director of the Rockefeller Foundation’s China Medical Board, was a key advocate for continuing to invest Boxer Indemnity funds into Chinese science and education in the 1920s and was associated with the program.10 In contrast to the Boxer indemnity scholarships, the grants given by the Rockefeller Foundation were highly structured and included a clear plan for each recipient. Boxer scholarship recipients could freely select and change their majors, but the Rockefeller Foundation only granted its one-year fellowships to people already active in the field for which the grant was intended. Applicants had to provide a clear statement of purpose and a likely prospect for employment after the fellowship was completed. Rockefeller Foundation staff regularly checked on the fellows’ progress and consulted with their tutors and future employers in China before authorizing fellowship extensions. They also followed up on (and in some cases arranged) fellows’ employment upon their return to China. By tracking fellows’ training and employment, Rockefeller staff ensured that the scientists in 7

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Bullock, Mary Brown, “A Case Study of Transnational Flows of Chinese Medical Professionals: China Medical Board and Rockefeller Foundation Fellows,” in Medical Transitions in Twentieth-Century China, by Mary Brown Bullock and Bridie Andrews (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2014), 285–296. Cong Cao, China’s Scientific Elite (London; New York: Routledge, 2004), 23. The number of grants is based on the Fellowship Recorder Cards conserved at the Rockefeller Archive Center. I will explain the calculations behind this number in the method section of this chapter. Yang, Zhongjihui Dui Kexue De Zanzu, 12. For the relations between the Rockefeller Foundation and the Boxer Indemnity, see also: Wen Heng, “From the China Medical Board to the China Foundation: The Network of Interlocking Patronage and China’s New Scientific Community, 1920s–1930s,” Isis 111, no.2 (2020): 264–283.

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which the Foundation invested would be put in positions where the training they acquired would be useful. In so doing, the Foundation contributed to the Chinese government’s efforts to build the country’s scientific workforce, producing a group of experts who went on to work for Chinese research institutes, universities, and administrations. The career trajectories of the Chinese Rocke­feller fellows, who completed their fellowships before 1949, illustrate how a group of highly trained scientists interacted with China’s two competing regimes: The Nationalist Republic of China (ROC) and the Communist People’s Republic of China (PRC), both of which adopted strategies to make use of the scientists’ expertise while simultaneously attempting to control them during the Cold War.11 Despite the political upheavals that shook China over the following decades, most of the fellows remained scientists for the rest of their careers, with some remaining active even into the 1970s and 1980s. The fact that these fellows remained in relevant scientific fields in the following decades demonstrates that the Rockefeller fellowships created a group of scientific elites.12 The fellowships were consolidators for the grantees’ careers in two ways. It provides expensive abroad training not available in China, distinguishing grantees from most university classmates who could not afford such education. The employment arrangement was also critical. The Foundation staff’s intermediary assured that Chinese institutions readily knew and enlisted these experts. In comparison with other students of science of their generation, this general steadiness of fellows’ careers in relevant scientific fields illustrates the elite nature of this group of scientists. Nevertheless, these elites embarked on different trajectories in terms of their relations with the Chinese regimes. By studying their evolving relations with Chinese political authorities, this chapter also enters into dialogue with political scientist Julia Strauss’ research on the two regimes’ recruitment strategies. In her research on the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in the Republican era, Strauss argues that the Ministry implemented an independent recruiting system to enlist career diplomats whose specific talent was rare in China at the time. By hiring highly trained officials, the Republican government’s 11

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Cao, China’s Scientific Elite; Susan Greenhalgh, Just One Child: Science and Policy in Deng’s China (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2008); J. Megan Greene, The Origins of the Developmental State in Taiwan: Science Policy and the Quest for Modernization (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009); Sigrid Schmalzer, Red Revolution, Green Revolution: Scientific Farming in Socialist China (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2016). Although the Cultural Revolution interrupted the careers of many, those who survived were reestablished by the PRC.

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specialized agencies resisted the system of political patronage.13 Strauss’ latest book extends her line of research to explore how recruitment strategies affected policymaking in the post-1949 Sunan region (under PRC control) and Taiwan (ruled by the ROC).14 This chapter represents another piece of the puzzle, as I examine a group of experts that Strauss does not include in her case studies: Scientists, whose recruitment procedures were even more diverse. Whereas Strauss analyses the selection criteria and procedures used by public administrations, this research on the Rockefeller fellows’ career trajectories focuses on what happened after Chinese political regimes recruited these highly specific talents. This research departs from the scale of analysis used in previous historiographies on returned-Chinese students in two ways. First, this chapter extends the storyline beyond 1949, to fill the gap in historiographies focused on the relationship between Chinese authorities and scientists. Specifically, scholars working on the Nationalist era typically limit their research to the period before 1949, while those of Communist China tend to mention the Nationalist era in passing without truly bridging the two periods.15 Few scholars have studied both eras, even though the two are closely related.16 For example, sociologist Cong Cao’s research on the socioeconomic origins of the members of the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS, the top research institute in the People’s Republic of China) established that a high percentage of CAS members were trained abroad before 1949. Cao also shows that scientists who studied at 13 Julia C. Strauss, Strong Institutions in Weak Polities: State Building in Republican China, 1927–1940 (Oxford and New York: Clarendon Press, 1998). 14 Julia C. Strauss, State Formation in China and Taiwan: Bureaucracy, Campaign, and Performance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019). 15 For the Nationalist era, see: e.g., Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949; Jerome Chen, China and the West: Society and Culture, 1815–1937 (London: Hutchinson, 1979); Peter Buck, American Science and Modern China, 1876–1936 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980); Reardon-Anderson, The Study of Change; Jiang Lijing, “Retouching the Past with Living Things: Indigenous Species, Tradition, and Biological Research in Republican China, 1918–1937,” Historical Studies in the Natural Sciences 46, no. 2 (2016): 154–206. For the Communist era, see: e.g., Cao, China’s Scientific Elite; Wang Yang-Zong 王揚宗, “Cong yuanshi dao xuebu weiyuan—Zhongguo kexueyuan xueshu tizhi jianli de kunjing” 從院士到學部委員—中國科學院學術體制建立的困境 [From Academicians to Academic Division Members: Difficulties in Establishing Academic the CAS], in Liangan Fenzhi: Xueshu Jianzhi, Tuxiang Xuanchuan yu Zuqun Zhengzhi (1945–2000) 兩岸分治：學術建制、圖像宣傳與族群政治 (1945–2000) [Divided Rule across the Taiwan Straits: Educational Reorganization, Visual Propaganda, and Ethnic Politics], ed. Yu Miin-ling 余敏玲, 65–133 (Taipei: Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica, 2012); Schmalzer, Red Revolution, Green Revolution. 16 One rare exception is Schneider, Biology and Revolution in Twentieth-Century China.

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missionary schools accounted for the largest percentage of members of the CAS biology and chemistry institutes (16.6% and 19.5% respectively).17 I will show that Rockefeller fellowships were a key but hidden factor in Cao’s findings, as many Rockefeller fellows in biology and chemistry who had previously been trained at missionary schools became CAS members after 1955. Second, a data-rich method is employed to reconcile a recurring tension in existing historical narratives that purport to study returned Chinese students as a group. In such studies, historians inevitably elaborate at length about individuals whose achievements make them highly visible in archival sources but provide only a brief sketch of the collective angle.18 To study the fellows’ trajectories as a group, I used multiple correspondence analysis (MCA), a technique widely employed by followers of French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, to map individuals on a two-dimensional graph based on the characteristics of their careers. Using the MCA clustering calculation, the fellows were divided into four groups according to the career features they share. MCA analysis and clustering can contribute to our understanding of the fellows’ careers by revealing the similarities and differences among the four groups. This study will commence with an overview of the Rockefeller Foundation’s work in China, to provide the context for why it decided to fund grants for Chinese biologists and chemists, and why particular conditions were attached to those grants. I will then explain the MCA technique and the research strategies for categorizing fellows’ career positions into variables. The descriptive statistics will also be outlined in this section. Finally, each of the four identified career clusters will be discussed in detail, using the personal history of selected fellows as examples. The conclusion will reflect on the scientists as a group and their relationship to the political authorities in 20th-century China. 2

The Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program in China

The Rockefeller Foundation was established in New York in 1913 as one of the first general-purpose philanthropic foundations in the United States; its mission was to “promote the well-being of humanity throughout the world.” The Foundation took an early interest in public health in China. Less than a year after its founding, it formed the China Medical Commission and organized a two-day conference with educators, diplomats, and medical experts to 17 18

Cao, China’s Scientific Elite, 92. Ye, Seeking Modernity in China’s Name; Bieler, Patriots or Traitors; Xu Guoqi, Chinese and Americans: A Shared History (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014).

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discuss how the Foundation might provide aid for public health and medical affairs in China. After the conference, the Commission members traveled in the country to assess public health conditions and the level of medical services there. In its 1914 report, the Commission suggested that the Foundation “should undertake medical work in China,” and that “… medical instruction in which the Foundation is concerned should be on the highest practicable standard.”19 Based on these suggestions and taking inspiration from its own support to Johns Hopkins Medical College, the Rockefeller family founded the Peking Union Medical College (PUMC) and provided it with professors, equipment, and books to ensure that it would be a top-rate medical facility. In the following decades, the PUMC would be the cornerstone of the Rockefellers’ medical philanthropy in China and produce a class of Chinese medical elites who would play an important role in national health planning.20 Significantly, the idea of offering both fellowships for professionals and scholarships for students was already included in the Commission’s 1914 report. The report suggested offering three kinds of grants: Fellowships for select Chinese graduates to study abroad, scholarships for Chinese medical students lacking the financial means to continue their studies,21 and fellowships for missionaries in China seeking to go to the US or Europe for advanced studies.22 The Foundation immediately acted on the Commission’s suggestion that six fellowships be provided to Chinese doctors who wished to study in the United States.23 The fellowship program, which would continue until the Rockefellers withdrew from China in 1949, reflected the Foundation’s overall focus on public health: Of the 425 total fellowships granted to Chinese graduates for overseas training, 248 were awarded in the fields of public health and medicine.

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Rockefeller Foundation. China medical commission, Medicine in China (New York [Chicago: Printed by the University of Chicago Press], 1914), 91, http://archive.org/details /medicineinchina00rock. Ma Qiusha, “The Peking Union Medical College and the Rockefeller Foundation’s Medical Programs in China,” in Rockefeller Philanthropy and Modern Biomedicine: International Initiatives from World War I to the Cold War, ed. William H. Schneider (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2002), 159–184; Gao Xi, “Between the State and the Private Sphere: Chinese State Medicine Movement, 1930–1949,” in Science, Public Health, and the State in Modern Asia, ed. Liping Bu, Darwin H. Stapleton, and Ka-Che Yip, Routledge Studies in the Modern History of Asia 71 (New York: Routledge, 2011), 144–160. Rockefeller Foundation. China medical commission, Medicine in China, 94. Rockefeller Foundation. China medical commission, 98. China Medical Board, “Program of Fellowship Aid in China: Statement,” n.d., 1, RF/1/601/42/346a, Rockefeller Archive Center.

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The Foundation was also committed to supporting the natural sciences, as evidenced by the fact that the PUMC made classes in the natural sciences a required component of its pre-medical program from the very beginning. In 1918, the PUMC set up a preparatory science program for admitted students.24 Although the China Medical Board (CMB)—which supervised the Rockefeller Foundation’s medical philanthropy in China—decided to move the program to other schools in the early 1920s, the CMB hired Nathaniel Gist Gee, formerly a missionary biologist at Soochow University, to select schools to develop basic scientific research and to distribute individual study-abroad grants. Such was the context in which the Rockefeller Foundation and its affiliated boards provided fellowships for 72 Chinese scientists to study biology and chemistry overseas between 1910 and 1949. The general purpose of these fellowships was described in a CMB meeting on April 12, 1923: “To prepare individuals (mainly Chinese) not yet actually members of the staffs of such schools, or not receiving a salary, for definite positions as teachers in medical and premedical schools.”25 There was bitter competition between missionary colleges and national universities for Rockefeller money, a competition that was, interestingly enough, often won by the missionary colleges.26 Likewise, a large proportion of the individual fellowships also tended to be awarded to scholars and students associated with missionary schools. In 1934, Rockefeller Foundation vice-president Selskar Gunn launched the China Program, which significantly changed the Foundation’s strategy in China. This program, which aimed to lift China out of poverty through diverse activities in the areas of social science, agriculture, and rural health, sidelined the PUMC and the natural sciences education program.27 Gunn believed that the science education project administered by Gee was not ideal, and he advocated a different approach to Chinese education: One that downplayed the natural sciences and favored less expensive local fellowships over studyabroad grants, based on the argument that some universities in China were able to provide basic training.28 Gunn was probably referring to Gee’s work 24 25 26

Schneider, Biology and Revolution in Twentieth-Century China, 67. China Medical Board, “Program of Fellowship Aid in China- Statement,” 5. William Joseph Haas, China Voyager: Gist Gee’s Life in Science (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1996), 150–151; Schneider, Biology and Revolution in Twentieth-Century China, 80–81. 27 On Gunn’s China Program, see, e.g., Frank Ninkovich, “The Rockefeller Foundation, China, and Cultural Change,” The Journal of American History 70, no. 4 (1984): 799–820; Socrates Litsios, “Selskar Gunn and China: The Rockefeller Foundation’s ‘Other’ Approach to Public Health,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 79, no. 2 (2005): 295–318. 28 Selskar M. Gunn, “China and the Rockefeller Foundation,” 1934, 17, 33, 361.706 GUN, Rockefeller Archive Center Library.

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when he wrote—in a letter to the Foundation’s president requesting more support for his nascent China Program—that “I am getting frightened lest I simply become a fellowship and grant-in-aid man.”29 This quotation shows the extent to which Gunn was critical of the Foundation’s prior involvement in China. Gunn clearly carried weight with the Foundation headquarters staff in New York, because beginning in the 1930s, the natural science institutes that had previously received generous funding for pre-medical studies (such as the University of Nanking) only managed to retain support by hosting agricultural research sponsored by the China Program.30 Gee’s contract with the CMB was discontinued. Despite Gunn’s new approach, fellowships for overseas study still existed under the China Program, and the Foundation also began to offer fellowships for overseas study in the social sciences and humanities during the same period. Despite Gunn’s criticisms of the PUMC model and the natural science program in the 1930s, historical studies on the development of biology and chemistry in China have shown that former Rockefeller fellows were major players during the Nationalist period.31 This research further confirms that, contrary to Gunn’s assessment, Rockefeller fellowships made a lasting contribution to the development of the two disciplines in China by fostering a workforce of biological and chemical researchers.32 3

A Database of Fellows and their Career Categories

The Rockefeller Foundation’s role in promoting the laboratory sciences in the US and Europe following the interwar years is well known among historians of science,33 but the Foundation’s financial aid for Chinese biological and 29 Selskar M. Gunn, “To Max Mason,” February 3, 1933, RF/2/601/90/716, Rockefeller Archive Center. Cited in: Haas, China Voyager, 254. 30 Selskar Gunn, “Fellowships of China Program,” 1935, RF/1/601/42/349, Rockefeller Archive Center. 31 Reardon-Anderson, The Study of Change, 120; Schneider, Biology and Revolution in Twentieth-Century China, 68. 32 Moreover, Danian Hu’s article illustrates the Rockefeller Foundation’s significant contribution to Chinese physics research through its support of the Yenching University. (Danian Hu, “The Emergence of Modern Physics Research in China: The Yenching Department of Physics and the Rockefeller Foundation, ” Chinese Annals of History of Science and Technology 3, no. 2 (2019): 4–61.) 33 Specifically, life sciences historians consider Rockefeller philanthropic funding during the interwar period in Europe and the United States to have stimulated the advent of molecular biology, which revolutionized biological research in the 1950s. (See, e.g.,

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chemical research has long remained a missing piece of the puzzle. Historical research on the Rockefeller Foundation’s philanthropy in China has largely overlooked its investment in the natural sciences.34 In this chapter, it is the aim to fill that gap by studying the recipients of Rockefeller fellowships in disciplines closely related to the medical field. While the connection with life sciences (such as biology and bacteriology) is obvious,35 I have also included chemistry, since most Rockefeller chemistry fellows were awarded fellowships for medical-related research such as pharmaceutical studies and biochemistry. I used information contained in the Rockefeller Fellows and Fellowships Database, which was constructed as part of the Swiss National Science Foundation project “Rockefeller Fellows as Heralds of Globalization.”36 The database draws on The Rockefeller Foundation Directory of Fellowships and Scholarships, 1917–1970,37 and individual fellowship recorder cards, both of which are conserved at the Rockefeller Archive Center, as primary sources. The Directory was published in 1972 to demonstrate the accomplishment of the fellowship program. Importantly, it does not include China Medical Board fellows and lists only those Chinese fellows who remained outside the PRC after 1949. Fellowship recorder cards were used to identify fellows left out of the directory. These are essentially index cards and were kept by the Rockefeller staff to record fellows’ personal data (names, titles, diplomas, birth date) and

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Lily E. Kay, The Molecular Vision of Life: Caltech, the Rockefeller Foundation, and the Rise of the New Biology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993); Michel Morange, A History of Molecular Biology (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000); Johnathan Harwood, “Chapter 6. Universities,” in The Modern Biological and Earth Sciences, ed. Peter J Bowler and John V. Pickstone, The Cambridge History of Science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 90–107.) Besides Wen Hung and Danian Hu’s articles that were previously cited, accounts mostly focus on the medical sciences and public health: see, for example, Mary Brown Bullock, An American Transplant: The Rockefeller Foundation and Peking Union Medical College (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1980); Ninkovich, “The Rockefeller Foundation, China, and Cultural Change”; Li-Ping Bu, “John B. Grant: Public Health and State Medicine,” in Medical Transitions in Twentieth-Century China, ed. Mary Brown Bullock and Bridie Andrews (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2014), 173–211; Qiusha Ma, To Change China: The Rockefeller Foundation’s Century-Long Journey in China [in Chinese] (Guangxi: Guangxi Normal University Press, 2013); Bullock and Andrews, Medical Transitions in Twentieth-Century China. This includes, for example, botany, entomology, plant breeding. See the project website: http://heraldsofglobalization.net/. Rockefeller Foundation, Directory of Fellowships and Scholarships: 1917–1970 (Rockefeller Foundation, 1972). A team at the Ecole Polytechnique fédérale de Lausanne (EPFL), consisting of Thomas David, Andrea Mazzei, and Alexandru Ardelean, processed the printed version of the directory and digitalized it into a database using ABBYY FineReader and a Python script. The troubleshooting and consolidation of the directory database was done by Steven Piguet, the research engineer for the Heralds of Globalization project.

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fellowship information, including approval, arrival and termination dates, study topics, tutors’ names, and summaries of correspondence with the fellows before, during, and after their fellowships. In most cases, one fellowship recorder card was used per fellow. Those who received more than one fellowship had several cards, each indicating the existence of other fellowships. According to the current database, the Rockefeller philanthropy awarded approximately 18,000 individual grants across 88 territories between 1914 and 1970. Chinese fellows were identified using a two-step process: First, by searching for fellowships awarded to individuals in China using the Rockefeller Archive Center’s internal filing system and filtering for recipients with a Chinese last name. For this reason, fellowship recipients from the Chinese diaspora were included in the study. Biology and chemistry fellows were then identified using the corresponding entries on their fellowship recorder cards, which indicate studies in the life sciences, that is, biology, botany, plant breeding, biochemistry, bacteriology, and physiology, or chemistry. This part of the selection process was thus based on the study plan of the fellowships.38 Since the Rockefeller Foundation lost touch with some fellows shortly after their return to China, online resources were used to find the fellows’ original Chinese names and track their career developments. The main sources were collected and cross-referenced from the Integrated Information System on Modern and Contemporary Characters (hosted by the Academia Sinica’s Institute of Modern History),39 Scientific and Engineering Manpower in Communist China, 1949–1963,40 and Biographies of China’s Modern Scientific Technology Experts.41 The Google online search engine was also used to identify mentions of fellows’

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Among the 72 fellows identified, only Peter Ching fell into this category. His first fellowship was recorded as medical science, whereas the second was specified as chemistry on his fellowship recorder card. 39 The database includes numbers of directories ranging from Who’s Who to the ROC’s officials’ name lists. For more information, please see: Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica 中央研究院近代史研究所, Jinxiandai Renwu Zixun Zhenghe Xitong 近現代人 物資訊整合系統 [The Integrated Information System on Modern and Contemporary Characters] (IISMCC), http://mhdb.mh.sinica.edu.tw/mhpeople/index.php (accessed April 10, 2020). 40 Scientific and Engineering Manpower in Communist China, 1949–1963 (Washington, DC: National Science Foundation, 1965). 41 Zhongguo kexue jishu xiehui 中國科學技術協會, ed., Zhongguo Kexue Jishu Zhuanjia Zhuanlue Nongxue Bian. Zhiwu Baohu Juan 中國科學技術專家傳略・農學編・植物 保護卷 [Biographical Sketches of Chinese Science and Technology Experts: Agronomy/ Plant Protection Volume], vol. 2 (Beijing: Science and technology of China Press, 1992), http://old.hssyxx.com/zhsj/kexue-2/co3-1/05/006/000.htm.

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Figure 10.1

Known birth years of biology and chemistry fellows (66)

names in published documents such as books and reviews.42 In addition, Wikipedia (www.wikipedia.org) and Baidu Baike (baike.baidu.com) were employed to cross reference the main sources mentioned above. Through this process, 72 biology and chemistry fellows were identified (12 of them received a second fellowship), of which 69 were men and three were women. Sixty-six fellows’ birth year was known and all were born between 1882 and 1918 (see Figure 10.1), mainly in coastal provinces such as Jiangsu, Zhejiang Fujian, and Guangdong.43 This geographical distribution corroborates Wang’s statistics on Chinese students in the United States during the first half of the 20th century, which shows Guangdong, Jiangsu, and Zhejiang as the main provinces of origin.44 The similarities in terms of origin suggests that the 42 43 44

Google books (https://books.google.com/) proved helpful for identifying fellows who were not considered major scientists in existing historiographies, as they tended to be mentioned as friends or family in connections of major scientists. The complete list of fellows’ provinces of origin: Anhui, 1; Beijing, 1; Fujian: 6; Guangdong: 5; Hawaii: 2; Hubei: 3; Hunan: 2; Jiangsu, 16; Liaoning: 1; Shandong: 1; Shanghai: 3; Sichuan: 1; Straits settlement: 2; Zhejiang: 12; unknown: 15. Wang, Chinese Intellectuals and the West, 1872–1949, 156–158.

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Rockefeller fellows were part of the wave of Chinese who went aboard for new knowledge and techniques during the Republican era. It further corroborates Cao’s finding that more members of the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS) came from cities on the east coast than from inland cities.45 In the following section, it will be demonstrated that many Rockefeller fellows became CAS members later in their careers. According to the fellowship recorder cards, most fellows returned to take up the positions the fellowships were intended to prepare them for. Upon returning, a vast majority became university professors of varying ranks, while nine took positions in national administrations and research institutes. Despite the waves of migration caused by the Second Sino-Japanese War, the Chinese Civil War, and the Communist takeover in 1949, it is generally accepted that most well-established scientists stayed in mainland China after 1949. The biology and chemistry fellows’ career paths reflect this trend: Of the known trajectories, 43 remained in the PRC, six moved to Taiwan, six migrated to the US, four settled in Hong Kong, and one went to work for the Food and Agriculture Organization.46 The fellows’ post-1949 employment reveals the ROC and PRC’s efforts to recruit researchers in biology and chemistry to their respective administrations. Of the 43 fellows who remained in the PRC, 18 worked for the central government’s research institutions between 1949 and 1966 (the year the Cultural Revolution began). Four of the six fellows who left for Taiwan with the ROC government continued to work for the government there. Lastly, two of the fellows who lived in Hong Kong after 1949 maintained ties with the PRC regime by participating in the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC). To show how the fellows’ career paths intersected with the political authorities, the multiple correspondence analysis technique was used. This technique, which has been employed by French sociologists and historians interested in prosopography, made it possible to compare characteristics among the fellows’ career paths by mapping them in a two-dimensional space. On the MCA map, individuals with similar trajectories appear closer together, while individuals with different trajectories appear farther apart.47 To see how the fellows’ 45 46

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Cao, China’s Scientific Elite, 74. Two fellows passed away before 1949. The post-1949 activity of ten of the fellows, including all three of the women fellows, could not be determined. This was mostly due to a lack of information on their fellowship recorder cards that would have made it possible to identify them in other sources. See, e.g., Pierre Bourdieu, La Distinction: Critique sociale du jugement (Paris: Minuit, 1979); Claire Lemercier and Claire Zalc, Méthodes quantitatives pour l’historien (Paris: La Découverte, 2010); Brigitte Le Roux and Henry Rouanet, Multiple Correspondence Analysis

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careers interacted with the two governments, their career information was compiled into two groups of variables that were used to generate the MCA plot. The first group consists of three variables that record the fellow’s official employment information; the second group of four variables measures the fellows’ distance from, or closeness to, the political authorities between 1949 and 1966. In the first group, the first variable is “worked for the Nationalist government before 1949.” The values of this variable were categorized to include research institutes under the auspices of the government (23), the Academia Sinica (4), Academia Sinica and other research institutes (1), and negative (30). The second variable is “most prestigious type of employment held during the 1949–1966 period.” The following types of employment were identified, in descending order by level of prestige: The Chinese Academy of Sciences (12); research institutes attached to governments, including those attached to the People’s Liberation Army (10); and universities (27). The six fellows who worked for private companies or held purely political positions were grouped together under “others” due to their small number. Using the same categorization of employment types, the third variable, “number of types of employment held during the 1949–1966 period,” aims to capture the fellows’ career mobility by showing if they changed jobs or held positions in different types of organizations. Among all fellows, 33 held positions in only one type of organization, 16 worked for two types of organizations, and only four worked for three types of organization. (Three fellows did not hold any position, and the post-1949 career trajectories of 16 fellows were unknown.) The second group of variables measures the fellows’ distance from political authorities between 1949 and 1966. The first variable is “resident countries post-1949,” which were outlined above. The “political party affiliation” variable included the values: “Chinese Communist Party (CCP) before 1966” (5), “CCP after 1978” (1), “other parties under the PRC regime” (7), “non-CCP parties and joined CCP after 1978” (7), “non-CCP parties and joined CCP before 1966” (1), and “no PRC political parties” (28). Given that the CCP’s attitude towards scientists underwent several intense fluctuations during the period under study, and that CCP membership was difficult to acquire during most of that period,48 the distinction of CCP membership by time period is

48

(Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, 2010); Thomas David, Alix Heiniger, and Felix Bühlmann, “Geneva’s Philanthropists around 1900: A Field Made of Distinctive but Interconnected Social Groups,” Continuity and Change 31, no. 1 (2016): 127–159. For related accounts, see e.g., Joel Andreas, Rise of the Red Engineers: The Cultural Revolution and the Origins of China’s New Class (Stanford, CA.: Stanford University Press, 2009).

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illuminating as to the fellows’ relationship with the Party. The second variable measured whether the fellows took part in a political body under the PRC regime: Either the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC) or the National People’s Congress (NPC), these being the main political institutions outside of the CCP itself. Eleven fellows sat in the CPPCC, nine in the NPC, and five in both bodies. However, seats in the CPPCC and NPC are widely considered to have been awarded based on service rendered to the country.49 Membership in those bodies should therefore be regarded as a sign of recognition of the fellows’ expertise by the CCP and not necessarily an indicator of their level of political engagement. Cao has shown that CPPCC and NPC membership was used by the CCP as an enticement when recruiting scientists, by granting them access to national politics.50 The third variable shows whether fellows were sent abroad to take part in international events between 1949 and 1978. Given that both regimes were fighting to represent China on the international stage during the Cold War, the 15 fellows who were chosen to attend international events were would have been well trusted by their governments at the time. The two regimes’ efforts to retain outstanding scientists after 1949 can be observed by comparing three variables: “Worked for the Nationalist government before 1949,” “most prestigious type of employment held during the 1949–1966 period” and “residence countries post-1949.” Of the 28 biologists and chemists whose talent led them to be recruited by the pre-1949 ROC government— either to the Academia Sinica and/or other research institutes—16 continued to work for central research organizations after 1949 on both sides of the Taiwan strait. Of the rest, four resided overseas, four worked for universities in either the ROC or PRC, and one worked for a private company in the PRC. Those who worked at pre-1949 research institutes showed higher mobility compared to their colleagues who did not, and were evenly distributed between China, Taiwan, and the US. Fellows in Taiwan or mainland China mostly continued to work for similar organizations under their respective governments. Tellingly, of the five elite scientists who were among the first class of academicians at the Academia Sinica in 1948, four went on to be recognized by the PRC with memberships in its political institutions. The only exception was Wu Xian (Wu Hsien 吳憲), a research chemist specializing in proteins who moved to the US after 1949.

49 50

Cao, China’s Scientific Elite, 146. Cao, China’s Scientific Elite, 139.

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Four Career Constellations

Using the variables described above, the MCA graph plots all 72 fellows in a two-dimensional space or “map.” The MCA calculation produced six dimensions to cut the space to represent the 72 fellows and the characteristics of their careers. The first two dimensions were selected to represent, as they best explain the variance among individuals (65% and 26% respectively).51 Figure 10.2 shows the factors used to plot each fellow as a point on the map. Nine fellows’ names have been included for reference, as they are the subject of case studies in the following section.52 Dimension 1 shows how closely the fellows’ careers intersected with the government, be it the Communist or Nationalist regime. Individuals who received particular recognition from either the PRC or the ROC—such as being sent to international events or being given a position at the CAS or another government-sponsored research institute—fall mostly on the right side the map. Individuals whose career paths showed little relationship to either government—those who held only one of type of employment, lived in the US, or did not participate in international events—are mostly located on the left. Dimension 2 concerns which of the two regimes the fellows were closer to. Fellows with characteristics that indicate a closer relationship with the ROC— such as living in Taiwan after 1949 (since no fellow was of Taiwanese origin, this characteristic is highly associated with the Nationalist regime)—are located in the top section on the map. Fellows with characteristics that indicate a closer relationship with the PRC—such as holding a seat in the NPC, joining the CCP before 1966, joining other non-CCP parties, and employment at the CAS as the highest type of employment—are located in the lower section. Based on the MCA map, the ascending hierarchical clustering (Ward) method to the coordinates on all six axes was applied.53 This method grouped the fellows into clusters based on defining characteristics of their careers. In Figure 10.3, each fellow is color-coded by cluster, and variable categories that 51 The MCA map was generated by the soc.mca package for R software, and the soc.mca function used to perform specific analysis. The eigenvalues of the first two of the six dimensions generated were 0.37 and 0.29 respectively. These are high for an MCA map, implying that the variance between fellows can largely be represented by those two dimensions. 52 The names used for the MCA map are those from the fellowship recorder cards. They are romanizations used by the fellows prior to the pinyin system. The pinyin version of their names will be used in the following section, with the romanized names they used during the Republican era in parentheses on first mention. 53 The “agnes” function was used to conduct agglomerative hierarchical clustering using the cluster package in R.

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Figure 10.2

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Multiple correspondence analysis map of biology and chemistry fellows

made an above-average contribution to the two dimensions presented on the MCA map are indicated. Clusters are named based on the characteristics that made the greatest contribution to their grouping. The four clusters are thus: 1) High-achieving scientists, distanced from PRC political circles; 2) Scientists with PRC political recognition; 3) PRC university faculty; and 4) Outsiders to PRC and ROC scientific organizations. Each of the four clusters are described using concrete examples in the following section. 4.1 High-achieving Scientists, Distanced from PRC Political Circles This cluster includes biologists and chemists whose scientific talent led them to be recruited by the ROC government before 1949, and who continued to serve in

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Figure 10.3

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Most-contributing variable categories with concentration ellipses lines

one of the two regimes’ research institutes after 1949. The factors that made the greatest contribution to this cluster were participation in international events and working for two or three different types of organization between 1949 and 1966. These characteristics indicate that the fellows in this first cluster were high-achieving scientists. Most of them had occupied positions under the pre1949 Nationalist government, such as at the National Health Administration’s Central Disease Prevention Center, the Central Field Health Station, or the Ministry of Industry’s Central Agriculture Research Institute. After the regime change in 1949, some of the fellows retreated to Taiwan with the Nationalist government and became key figures in agriculture policymaking there; others stayed on the mainland and were recruited early on by the CCP. All the fellows who moved to Taiwan fell into this cluster; they are marked in purple and concentrated in the upper-right quadrant in the MCA map. Specifically, the career paths of Shen Zonghan (Shen Tsung-Han Hunt, also known as Shen Tsung-Han, 沈宗瀚; fellowship: 1926–27) and Zhang Xianqiu (Chang Hsien-Tsiu, 張憲秋; fellowship: 1942–43) exemplify this sub-group. Both Shen and Zhang worked at the Ministry of Industry’s Central Agriculture

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Research Institute in the 1930s. After the Second Sino-Japanese War, they served as Nationalist government liaisons coordinating US agricultural aid in China. Shen was China’s delegate to the Food and Agriculture Organization in the 1940s, where he led a joint agricultural mechanization project with the International Harvest Company in 1945 (though the project proved to be ill-fated). In 1944, Zhang served as head of agricultural affairs at the Chinese embassy to the US. Both Shen and Zhang worked for the Joint Commission for Rural Reconstruction (JCRR) under the China Aid Act of 1948, which brought them to Taiwan after 1949. Shen continued to work for the JCRR in Taiwan until his retirement, while Zhang worked for various agricultural administrations under the Nationalist government. In contrast with their counterparts in the PRC, Shen and Zhang worked with leading international agriculture organizations at a later stage in their careers. Zhang was a senior agriculturist at the World Bank from 1965 to 1980, while Shen was a trustee of the International Rice Research Institute, which specialized in developing high-yield rice varieties.54 Lin Chuanguang (Lin Chwan-Kwang, 林傳光), a specialist in plant breeding, also followed the career path of a high-achieving scientist, but in the PRC. Lin went to Cornell in 1937 on a Rockefeller fellowship to study plant breeding. In 1940, he returned to China and worked for US relief funds and for the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry under the wartime Nationalist government.55 Despite his history with that government, he became a member of the Democratic League and participated in the National People’s Congress of the PRC. After spending several years at Beijing Agricultural University after 1949, Lin became one of the founding members of the Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences (CAAS), which was established by the PRC Ministry of Agriculture in 1957. Specifically, Lin modified his research to accommodate CCP policy. A specialist in potato pathology, he was influenced by Michurinism, a theory according to which the characteristics an organism acquired from its environment would be passed on to its offspring. The Soviet Union favored this theory because it emphasized environmental influence, and the CCP began promoting it after a period of intense collaboration with the Soviet Union

54

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Huang Chun-Chieh 黃俊傑, Shen Zonghan Xiansheng Nianpu 沈宗瀚先生年譜 [The Chronology of Tsung-Han Shen] (Taipei: National Taiwan University Press, 2016); “Nongfu Hui Yu Zhonghua Minguo Nongye—Zhang Xianqiu Xiansheng Fangwen Jilu” 農復會與 中華民國農業—張憲秋先生訪問紀錄 [The JCRR and the Agriculture in the Republic of China: Interview with Chang Hsien-Tsiu], https://blog.boxun.com/hero/2007/xsj7/3_1 .shtml (accessed 2019/9/8). “Fellowship Recorder Card: Lin Chwan-Kwang,” n.d., RG10.2, Rockefeller Archive Center.

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in the 1950s.56 Michurinists considered high temperatures to be the major cause of potato diseases, not viruses as Western geneticists believed. Lin’s university was the center of Michurinism in China. In March 1953, the Beijing Agricultural University welcomed a Soviet expert in Michurinism from Lenin All-Union Academy of Agricultural Sciences who also acted as a consultant to the PRC Ministry of Agriculture; he came to provide training in plant breeding that was attended by 430 people, including more than 30 of the university faculty and over 300 students.57 In 1955, the university further organized a memorial to mark Michurin’s 100 birthday, during which Michurinism was once again presented to the whole university.58 Historians consider Lin to have made a compromise between the genetics training he had received in the West and Michurinist biology. He conducted research in which he argued potatoes should be planted in cooler soil using a virus-free breed, a conclusion that satisfied proponents of both Michurinist and Western plant-breeding theories. The CCP publicly recognized his research and sent him to a potato pathology conference in the Soviet Union in 1958. However, Lin’s efforts at compromise did not prevent him from being persecuted during the Cultural Revolution, and he died in 1980 from harm suffered during that period.59 The trajectories of this group of fellows confirm that both the CCP and the Nationalist Party recruited Chinese scientists and sought to benefit from their expertise. Their career trajectories also demonstrated that PRC scientists struggled and faced persecution during various periods despite remaining affiliated to leading institutions within the PRC regime. This corroborates Joel Andreas’ research on the PRC’s leading engineering school, Tsinghua University, in which he demonstrates that the cultural elite educated prior to 1949 retained senior faculty positions in scientific organizations, including universities and research institutes.60

56 57

Schneider, Biology and Revolution in Twentieth-Century China, 151–155. Beijing nongye daxue 北京農業大學, “Sulian Zhuanjia Zai Beijing Nongye Daxue: Qingzhu Weida de Shiyue Shehui Zhuyi Geming Sishi Zhounian” 蘇聯專家在北京 農業大學：慶祝偉大的十月社會主義革命四十周年 [Soviet experts at Beijing Agricultural University: Celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution], 1957, Chinese Agricultural University Archives. 58 Beijing nongye daxue 北京農業大學. 59 Qing Ning-Shen 青寧生, “Zhuzhong Shenglixue Yanjiu de Zhiwu Bingli Xuejia—Lin Chuanguang” 注重生理學研究的植物病理學家—林傳光 [Plant Pathologist Who Focused on Physiological Research: Lin Chuanguang], Weishengwu xuebao 微生物學報 49, no. 11 (2009): 1548–1549. 60 Andreas, Rise of the Red Engineers, 68.

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4.2 Scientists with PRC Political Recognition The second cluster mostly includes scientists recognized by the PRC regime, not only scientifically but also politically. These scientists worked for two types of organization and shared contributing factors such as CAS, NPC, or CPPCC membership; their greatest contributing factor was joining the Chinese Communist Party before 1966. At the beginning of the PRC, the CCP worked hard to enlist natural scientists while keeping them at a safe distance from politics, as the Party saw them as belonging to a class of Western-trained intellectuals. The complicated relationship between the CCP and these scientists later translated into a series of campaigns and movements launched by the CCP: The Hundred Flowers Campaign (1956), the Anti-Rightest Movement (1957), the “Replace White Flags with Red Flags” campaign (1958) and the Socialist Education Movement (1963–66), during which scientists suffered different levels of persecution, mostly depending on their class background and history with the Nationalist government.61 The CCP’s method for selecting members of the CAS provides a good illustration of its strategy regarding scientists: The Party distributed questionnaires eliciting peer recommendations for membership, then filtered the shortlist based on political affiliation. Some of the scientists who had collaborated with the pre-1949 Nationalist government were dropped from the list despite their credentials, while others were chosen anyway owing to the country’s urgent need for reconstruction. According to Wang Yangzong, these decisions were usually made on a case-by-case basis. No clear criteria were ever determined, despite several inquiries into the decision-making process made at the time.62 The CCP considered scientists to be a problematic class during most of the period between 1949 and 1966;63 except for some exceptional moments, very few were allowed to join the Party. Among the 40 or so biology and chemistry fellows who lived in the PRC, only five joined before 1966. One of those five was Yang Shixian (楊石先, also known by his old name Yang Shao-Tseng 楊紹曾), a faculty member at Nankai University who 61 62

63

Andreas, Rise of the Red Engineers, 33, 38, 50, 91. Wang Yangzong 王揚宗, “Cong Yuanshi dao Xuebu Weiyuan—Zhongguo Kexueyuan Xueshu Tizhi Jianli de Kunjing” 從院士到學部委員—中國科學院學術體制建立的 困境 [From Academicians to Academic Division Members: Difficulties in Establishing Academic the CAS], 102. One exceptionally relaxed moment came during the Conference on the Issue of Intellectuals in January 1956, during which Zhou En-Lai declared that intellectuals were also working class. The following month, the CCP enlisted scientists to join the National Planning Committee for Science. (Zuoyue Wang, “The Chinese Developmental State during the Cold War: The Making of the 1956 Twelve-Year Science and Technology Plan,” History and Technology 31, no. 3 (2015): 186.)

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accepted a Rockefeller fellowship in 1929 to study chemistry at Yale. Yang’s post-1949 career, in contrast to that of other fellows, brought him into contact with the CCP’s policymaking circle. Before the change of regime, Yang had been a member of the Democratic League, which was established in early 1941 and comprised primarily cosmopolitan elites.64 As its name suggested, the League aimed to form a democratic government in China and thus offer a third way between the CCP and the Nationalist Party. When the CCP took control of the mainland, the League collaborated with the new regime by becoming a minority party under the PRC political system. Perhaps because of his prior membership in the Democratic League, Yang was closely involved in politics in the PRC. He attended the National People’s Council in 1954, was sent by the government to chemistry conferences in the Soviet Union, and joined the CCP in 1960. Significantly, he participated in the 1962 National Conference on Science and Technology Work (Quanguo Kexue Jishu Gongzuo Huiyi, 全國科 學技術工作會議), during which the CCP developed its strategic plans on science and technology for the following ten years (1963–73) and reevaluated its official policy toward intellectuals. During the conference, PRC Premier Zhou Enlai stated in a speech that intellectuals in China should thereafter be considered working class, in an attempt to reconcile with intellectuals who were persecuted during the Great Leap Forward. As Yang grew closer to the CCP, he shifted his research focus to accommodate the needs of the regime. The 1962 National Agricultural Planning Conference identified several priority research areas, including the development of insecticides. Yang was chosen to carry out insecticides research in his laboratory at Nankai.65 The project was cut short by the Cultural Revolution, and one of Yang’s colleagues was killed as a result of persecution. When the Cultural Revolution ended, however, the CCP invited Yang once again to request resources to continue his insecticides research, despite the ten-year hiatus. He pursued this line of research until his retirement in 1980, at the age of 85.66 Chen Xintao (Chen Hsin-Tao 陳心陶), who studied biology at the University of Minnesota on a Rockefeller fellowship from 1928 to 1931, was another natural scientist included in the CCP’s policymaking circle. Despite his former 64 65 66

Timothy Cheek, The Intellectual in Modern Chinese History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 154. Wang Xuexiao 王學孝, “Yang Shixian 楊石先,” Zhongguo Keji Shiliao 中國科技史料, no. 2 (1980): 39–41. Yang Liran 楊麗然, “‘Wenge’ Houqi de Keyan—Shen Panwen Fangtan 「文革」後期的 科研—申泮文訪談 [Scientific Research in the Later Period of the Cultural Revolution: An Interview with Shen Panwen],” Zhongguo Kejishi Zazhi 中國科技史雜誌, no. 2 (1980): 36–47.

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employment at the Central Field Health Station (the highest-ranking public health research institute under the pre-1949 Nationalist government), Chen had been on the CCP’s radar as early as the 1950s because of his specialization in parasitology. As a specialist in schistosomiasis, Chen was included in the scientific policymaking circle even earlier than Yang; fighting schistosomiasis was a priority for the CCP under the Patriotic Public Health Movement, in order to counter bacteriological warfare allegedly conducted by the US army during the Korean War.67 Chen took part in the month-long National Planning Committee for Science in 1956, during which the PRC developed its first national science policy plan.68 Later that year, he took part in the Supreme State Conference chaired by Mao Zedong, which produced the “Outline of Agricultural Development” (“Quanguo Nongye Fazhan Gangyao” 全國農業發 展綱要). In between the two events, Chen met with Chairman Mao several times in person to discuss his schistosomiasis research in Guangdong. Like Yang, Chen was publicly praised for adapting his research focus. According to one article, Chen became a firm advocate of using ecological methods for eradicating the small freshwater snails that were vectors for schistosomiasis (such as burying them in soil or flooding them with water) instead of using chemical insecticides (the preferred method of Western scientists).69 Like Yang, Chen took part in delegations sent by the PRC to bilateral scientific exchanges, visiting Japan, the Soviet Union, and Egypt.70 Chen passed away during the Cultural Revolution, although at the time of writing it is unclear whether his death was a result of persecution. One of his manuscripts, published by his family in 2014, hints at Chen’s experience during the Cultural Revolution. In the preface, his son writes that Chen was prohibited from carrying out his research on schistosomiasis and told to focus on the use of medical herbs to treat the disease, in line with the PRC policy at the time.71 Yang Shixian and Chen Xintao had very similar career paths, both of which are representative of a small group of scientists who were recruited by the CCP in the 1960s and participated in national policymaking circles related to their fields of expertise. Yang and Chen both became CCP members before 67

Miriam Gross, Farewell to the God of Plague: Chairman Mao’s Campaign to Deworm China (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 2016). 68 Scientific and Engineering Manpower in Communist China, 1949–1963, 10. 69 Wang Xiaoyin 王曉吟, “Chen Xintao San Jian Mao Zedong Zhuiji” 陳心陶三見毛澤東 追記 [Notes on Chen Xintao’s Three Meetings with Mao Zedong], Tong Zhou Gong Jin 同舟共進, no. 12 (2004): 35. 70 Chen Sixuan 陳思軒, ed., Chen Xintao Bainian 陳心陶百年 [Centenary of Chen Xintao] (Guangzhou: Sun Yat Sen University Press, 2004), 209–214. 71 Chen Xintao, ed., Guangdong Chang Jian de Zhongyaocao Jiansuo Shouce 廣東常見的 中草藥檢索手冊 [Guangdong Common Herbal Medicine Search Manual] (Guangzhou: Sun Yat Sen University Press, 2014), i.

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the Cultural Revolution, adapted their research interests to accommodate the CCP’s policy needs, and were entrusted with missions of scientific diplomacy in the 1950s and 1960s, a period when China had limited relations with other countries. Importantly, their connections to the CCP did not protect them from persecution during the Cultural Revolution. Chen died during that period, but Yang’s career and membership in CCP policymaking circles were quickly re-established once the Cultural Revolution came to an end. 4.3 PRC University Faculty The third and largest cluster comprises fellows whose highest position during the 1949–66 period was on a university faculty on the mainland. This group of fellows had less professional mobility, as most of them worked only at universities during the period in question and many remained at the same universities where they had been working before 1949. Serving “only” as university faculty does not necessarily mean these fellows did not have reputations comparable to those in the first two clusters. For example, Chen Ziying (Chen Tse-Yin 陳子英), who completed part of his Ph.D. studies with T. H. Morgan’s research group at the University of Columbia on a Rockefeller fellowship from 1925 to 1927, was one of the founders of marine biology in China and worked at the Shanghai College of Aquaculture starting in 1952.72 The major difference between this group and the two groups previously described lies in their distance from both regimes’ central scientific organizations. Though seven of the fellows of this group were at one time members of the NPC or the CPPCC, most did not join any political parties in the PRC between 1949 and 1966. Their distance from the CCP’s inner circle is also evidenced by their absence from any PRC national delegation to other countries. It is worth noting that the greatest contributing factor for membership in this cluster was a lack of record of working for the pre-1949 Nationalist government (see Figure 10.3). It therefore appears that the PRC’s central research institutions did not necessarily prioritize scientists who had not collaborated with ROC research institutions, as it could have easily found researchers with the same foreign qualifications but no association with the ROC among this group. In terms of staffing its central scientific institutions, the PRC regime tended to follow suit with the pre-1949 ROC.

72 Christine Y. L. Luk, “Chen Ziying and Woods Hole: Bringing the Marine Biological Laboratory to Amoy, China, 1930–1936,” Journal of the history of biology 54, no. 2, (2021): 151–173. “Chen Ziying (陳子英) and Chinese Marine Biology | History of the Marine Biological Laboratory,” accessed September 8, 2019, https://history.archives.mbl.edu/exploring/exhibits /china-mbl-1920-1945/narrative/chen-ziying-chen-zi-ying-and-chinese-marine-biology.

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Having the weakest relationship with the CCP did not prevent fellows in this group from being persecuted during the Cultural Revolution. Of the 72 fellows, the only two known to have died during the persecutions—Jiao Qiyuan 焦啟源 and Wang Tiaoxin 王調馨—were university faculty members.73 Tellingly, Jiao and Wang’s biographical information was relatively difficult to find. Traces of their lives could only be found in secondary sources on other topics.74 4.4 Outsiders to PRC and ROC Scientific Organizations The last cluster comprises nine fellows who had no connection with Chinese scientific organizations (whether associated with the PRC or the ROC) after 1949. They either lived outside of mainland China and Taiwan (for instance, in the United States, Hong Kong, Rome) or worked in the private sector, or both. The greatest contributing factor for this cluster was living in the United States after 1949. It should be noted that most of the fellows in this group were already employed in the United States or Hong Kong in 1949. Some were Guangdongborn scientists working for the University of Hong Kong or Lingnan University, which moved to Hong Kong during the Second Sino-Japanese War. Another three were born abroad to Chinese parents and returned to their birthplaces after working for a few years in China. The only exception was Wu Xian, the research chemist specializing in proteins who ended up moving to the US. He accepted his Rockefeller fellowship in 1919 (the first among the 72 fellows in this study) and upon his return worked at Peking Union Medical College until it closed because of the war. Having become a high-ranking researcher in biochemistry, Wu trained many chemists in China; in fact, many of his students at the PUMC later became fellows themselves. During the war, he worked for the Central Field Health Station under the Nationalist 73

74

It is extremely difficult to gauge how many of the fellows were persecuted during the Cultural Revolution. It is safe to say that all their research was undermined, as the Cultural Revolution systematically removed scientists from research positions. Nevertheless, as the Cultural Revolution continues to be a sensitive subject in mainland China, the directories of scientists published by the PRC tend to mention the scientists’ suffering in a single sentence without any detail. A fuller picture of the persecutions would require further data collection. Wang Youqin 王友琴, Wenge Shounanzhe—Guanyu Pohai, Jianjin, yu Shalu de Xunfang Shilu 文革受難者：關於迫害, 監禁與殺戮的尋訪實錄 [Victim of the Cultural Revolution—An Investigative Account of Persecution, Imprisonment and Murder] (Hong Kong: Kaifang zazhi she, 2004); Yang Yang 楊陽, Shuji Diantang de Zhizhe: Jiechu Tushuguan Xuejia Li Huawei Zhuan 書籍殿堂的智者：傑出圖書館學家李華偉傳 [Sage in the Cathedral of Books: The Distinguished Librarian Dr. Hwa-Wei Lee] (Taipei: Independent Author, 2014), 67.

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government and was elected to the Academia Sinica, the ROC’s most prestigious research organization. In 1948, he emigrated to the US to become a visiting professor at the University of Alabama despite having spent his career up to that point in China. Like Wu, the other fellows in this group mainly worked in universities or public administrations, but outside of mainland China and Taiwan. Only two worked for the private sector: Huang Xin-Yan (Wong Sanyin 黃新彥, fellowship: 1923–24), who founded the Xin-Ya pharmaceutical company in Hong Kong, and Chen Shao-Lin (fellowship: 1946–49),75 who was employed by the Red Star yeast company.76 While little is known about Chen, Huang was fairly well known and remained close to the PRC government despite being an outsider to its scientific organizations: He was not only a member of the CPPCC, but also the first president of the pro-Beijing Hong Kong Chinese Reform Association, which was established in 1949 and remains active today.77 Wong was not an exception: It was not uncommon for Hong Kong residents to maintain ties with the PRC regime during the 1949–66 period. Hou Baozhang (Hou Pao-Chang 侯寶璋; fellowship: 1926–28), a physiology professor of the University of Hong Kong, was also a member of the CPPCC during the same period. 5

Conclusion

In this chapter, the career trajectories of Chinese Rockefeller fellows in biology and chemistry following their overseas studies post-1949 have been presented. The similarities and differences between the 72 fellows were examined through a combination of quantitative and qualitative methods, while shifting analytic scales between the individual level and the fellows as a group. The contribution of this study is twofold. First, it ties the Rockefeller fellowship program to the narrative of publicly financed study-abroad programs and their returnees. The results illustrate the extent of the Rockefeller fellows’ contribution to the biological and chemical fields in 20th-century China. Indeed, one common feature of the 72 fellows’ lives was that they all pursued a career in scientific research. A few worked in the private sector but in closely related domains, such as pharmaceuticals. From the Rockefeller Foundation’s 75 76 77

Original romanization is used here as his original Chinese name is unknown to the researcher. “Fellowship Recorder Card: Chen Shao-Lin,” n.d., RG10.2, Rockefeller Archive Center. “Zhongguo Huaxuehui Faqiren, Xianggang Zhiming Renshi Huang Xinyan Shishi” 中國 化學會發起人、香港知名人士黃新彥逝世 [The Founder of the Chinese Chemical Society and a Celebrity in Hong Kong Wong San Yin Passed Away], Huaxue tongbao 化學 通報, no. 9 (1985): 61.

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perspective, the fellowship program was largely a success. It had aimed to provide China with qualified biologists and chemists, and of the 72 fellows, 49 went on to work as scientists in the PRC and ROC using expertise they acquired during their fellowships. Some even represented their governments at international scientific events during the Cold War. It would not be an overstatement to say that the Rockefeller fellows constituted a group of elite biologists and chemists in mainland China and Taiwan, despite major differences in where they lived after 1949, the type of institution they worked for, and their relationships with the government in power. Specifically, the elite nature of this group represented in their employment steadiness in relevant scientific fields, despite the Cultural Revolution. Of those who stayed on the mainland, most continued to conduct relevant research (except during periods of political turmoil). Fellows living in the PRC who survived the Cultural Revolution continued to be active researchers late into their careers. Because the Chinese higher education system was shut down during the Cultural Revolution, the surviving Western-trained fellows were rerecruited, once the turmoil was over, in the service of Deng Xiaoping’s “Four Modernizations” program designed to advance agriculture, industry, defense, and science and technology in China. The second contribution of this study regards the relationship between 20th-century Chinese regimes and their scientists. By charting fellows’ careers pre- and post-1949, it has been demonstrated how both the ROC and the PRC recruited former Rockefeller fellows to their respective governmental scientific organizations. Fellows worked for central research institutes in both mainland China and Taiwan and adapted their research to accommodate policy needs. Some shifted their focus to topics prioritized by the government, such as insecticides; others combined Eastern and Western scientific theories; some conducted research to support existing government stances, such as ecological methods of vector control. Interestingly, the fellows who worked for ROC government research institutes pre-1949 were retained in the PRC government’s corresponding organizations, despite waves of persecution. This shows that there was continuity in scientific research between the Republican and Communist eras in China, an interesting starting point for future research.

Acknowledgments

The author would like to address her gratitude to the editors for their valuable remarks on a previous version of this chapter. Zuoyue Wang offered precious suggestions on refining the final version. Ludovic Tournès, Davide Rodogno, Thomas David, Pierre-Yves Saunier, Ahmad Fahoum, Mathilde Sigalas,

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Hannah Tyler, Steven Piguet—my teammates of the Swiss National Science Foundation “Heralds of Globalization”—with whom I co-constructed the database and reflected on Rockefeller fellows that made this research possible. I would also like to thank Felix Brühlmann, Thierry Rossier, and Pierre Benz of the University of Lausanne for their support and patience in responding to my questions about MCA models and academic elites. Part of this research was conducted during my visit to the Department of History of Science, Technology, and Medicine, Peking University. For that, I would like to express my gratitude for the precious research support I've recieved from Professors Zhang Li, Zhang Daqing, and Zhu Yanmei. 1915 1919 1921 1922 1923 1924 1925 1926 1927 1928 1929 1930 1931 1932 1933 1935 1937 1938 1940 1942 1943 1945 1946 1947

Annex. Appointment Years of Biology and Chemistry Fellowships 4 1 1 1 3 6 7 4 3 8 6 5 4 5 6 3 1 1 3 1 5 2 1 3

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Index Page numbers in bold refer to tables; page numbers in italics refer to figures; ‘n’ after a page number indicates the footnote number. 3P (Three-province dataset) 182, 188 academic and cultural attributes 188 educational institution matriculation attributes 189 geospatial analysis of birth provinces and cities 199–200, 202 network cohesion analysis 207 statistical analysis of birth and death years and lifespans 194–199, 195, 197, 198 see also revolutionary elites 3PX (Three-province expanded dataset)  182, 227 centrality measures 209–216, 214–215 ego network visualizations 220–223, 220 hierarchical cluster analysis 200–203, 204, 225 Louvain analysis 208, 209 network visualizations 217–220, 218, 219 see also revolutionary elites Academia Sinica 25, 61, 78, 123, 302, 303, 314 IMH 61, 241, 299 MWJD 122–123, 140 All-China Women’s Federation (Zhongguo quanguo funü lianhehui) 118, 119, 138, 139 Americanization 254, 256 American-returned students 18, 31, 258–260, 284–285 academic posts 259, 265–266, 283, 285 advanced foreign learning 18, 285 American Returned Students’ Clubs  264–265 areas for further research 285 banking sector 18, 259, 266, 267–271, 274, 283, 285 BDRC 63 business and commerce 259, 264–265 Chinese Rotarians 242 compradors 260–261, 271–272, 278 elite social capital and transpacific pathways 18, 260, 269–274, 285 emergence of 260–269

government posts 259, 265–266, 283, 285 Guangdong province 259, 263, 268, 285, 300 Jiangnan, Yangzi region 259, 260, 261, 262–263, 265, 266, 270, 271, 272, 273, 275, 284–285 Jiangsu 263–264, 266, 267, 268, 273, 282, 300 liumei xuesheng/meihaigui 259, 265 Nationalist era 259, 265, 285 networks 18, 264, 269, 275–284 Shanghai 266, 269, 272, 273, 275, 282–283, 285 textile industries 18, 259, 260, 266, 272–274, 285 Tianjin 266, 271 wealth 18, 259, 285 Who’s Who in China and 30, 32, 51 Zhejiang 263, 266, 268, 273, 300 see also Bian Baimei; Cai Shengbai; Chen Guangfu; education abroad; Mu Xiangyue ancient China 36 Andreas, Joel 308 ARSC (American Return Students’ Club, Shanghai) 264–265, 268, 281–282, 284 Baerwald, Gustav 268 Baidu Baike 55, 57, 58, 300 Bai Yang 131, 136, 140 banking sector 16 American-returned students 18, 259, 266, 267–271, 274, 283, 285 bank hierarchies 88 configurations of elite status 84 educational networks 267 as male-dominated 99 native-place ties 266–267 professionalization process 98 Republican era 83, 84, 99 women in 99 see also Bank of China; middling elites; SCSB

324 Bank of China 77, 272 1949 survey 15, 84–85, 86, 87–93, 90, 91, 104, 108, 109 American-returned students 268, 271 as China’s largest bank 84–85, 88 corporate compounds 91–92 hierarchy 88, 89, 93, 96 housing for employees 92–93, 109 means of entry 98–99, 102, 103, 109 paternalism 91–92, 103, 108, 109 rank-and-file employees 94–96, 96, 97, 98–99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 108 Shanghai 84–86, 88, 93–110 Shanghai dialect 92, 93, 94, 95, 99, 109 Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu 46–47, 48–49, 49 women in 99, 100, 101–103, 103, 106 see also middling elites Bank of Communications 77 BDRC (Biographical Dictionary of Republican China) 15, 54–56, 79–80 American-returned students 63 birthplaces in 61, 62, 80 career patterns 15, 60, 71, 80 challenges and inconsistencies 57–58, 63, 65, 70–71 Chinese provinces 61, 80 editorship and contributors 54, 57, 63 education and training 58, 63–70, 66, 78–80 life and death 60–63 methodological approach 57–60 Name Index volume 54, 55 networks 76–79, 78, 80 NLP 56, 57 oral history 61 positions 58–59, 70–79, 73, 78, 79 purposes in harnessing digital methods  56 as reference work 55 relations among entries 59 Republican era elites 15, 55, 60–62, 72, 79 selection criteria 63, 66, 68, 71–72, 76–77, 79 transliteration 55, 57, 58 X-Boorman 56, 60

Index Beijing University 68, 78, 134, 184 Bergère, Marie-Claire 255, 266 Bian Baimei 92–93, 105, 269, 270–271, 272, 276, 285 Bian family 270 Bickers, Robert 150 Billinghurst, Mrs. W. B. 148, 178 Biographic Dictionary of Chinese Communism, 1921–1965 55 biographies 16, 55, 80 biographical dictionaries 13, 16, 55–56, 120, 121, 127, 140, 186 collective biographies 113–115, 119–121, 127–128, 138–139, 140 “life narratives” 16, 113–114 power mechanisms at play in 16, 114 see also BDRC; Who’s Who publications; women activists Boorman, Howard L. 54, 55, 68, 79 Borgatti, Stephen P. and Martin G. Everett 129 Borrett, Lieutenant George H. 156–157, 158 Borrett, Miss 157–158 Borrett, Mrs. G. H. 156, 157 Bourdieu, Pierre 294 bourgeoisie 3, 261, 284–285 Boxer Indemnity Scholarship Program 10, 68, 259, 262–263, 268, 271, 273, 289, 291 see also education abroad Brenan, Lady 153, 156 Brenan, Sir John Fitzgerald 153 British Empire 266 Empire Day 170 gender and 146 Hong Kong 260 Ladies’ Benevolent Society 146, 147 Shanghai 146, 147–148, 151–152, 152 Sino-British intermarriages 150 see also BWA; United Kingdom Brooke, Mrs. 154 Bullock, Mary 290–291 bureaucracy 6–7 business community as elite 37, 38 American-returned students 259, 264–265 “business celebrities” and “entrepreneurs”  15, 83 merchants 6, 22

Index power of business 39–50 schooling of businessmen 46 shiyejia (實業家, entrepreneur) 45 see also Rotary Club of Shanghai BWA (British Women’s Association, Shanghai) 16, 145–146, 176–179 aim 148, 165–166 branches outside Shanghai 175 British soldiers and sailors 17, 170–171, 171, 177 child labor 176, 178–179 contributions by 177–178 elections 156, 177 as elitist association 16–17, 159, 165 end of 177 Entertainment Committee 155–156, 171 establishment of 145, 147–150 Executive Committee 150–151, 154, 155–156, 157, 158, 159, 167, 177 Executive Committee: chairwomen 152, 153, 156, 159, 160–164, 165, 167–168 fees 151, 153–154, 167 funding 153, 165, 166, 167, 173, 177 gender ideology 178–179 headquarters 154, 155, 157–158 honorary president 153, 156 House Committee 155–156 locations 148–150, 149, 157, 173 membership 145, 148, 150–154, 153, 166, 175, 177 organization of 154–168, 155 postwar BWA 177 recreational sections 154–155, 165–168 serving the Empire and the community  17, 145, 148, 165, 168–172, 177–178 Shanghailanders 158, 159 as socializing and entertaining venue 17, 145, 150, 156, 165–166, 178 social networks of 172–176, 177 social service board 154–155, 165, 168–169 women as Empire builders 146, 173, 175 World War II 145, 171, 176–177 see also British Empire; Shanghai BWWA (British Women’s Work Association, Shanghai) 148n10 Byrne, Edwin Thomas 165 Byrne, Mrs. E. T. 152, 165, 167–168

325 CAAS (Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences) 185, 307 Cai Chang 182, 202, 211, 218, 219, 226, 227 Cai Hesen 182, 203 Cai Shengbai 269, 271–272, 273, 275, 279, 285 Cai Song 271 Cai Yuanpei 66–67, 216, 271, 280, 282 calligraphy 94, 98, 108, 109, 244 Cao, Cong 22, 293–294, 301, 303 Cao Chengde 210 capitalism 181, 266 global capitalism 231, 232, 233, 240, 243, 255, 260 CAS (Chinese Academy of Sciences)  293–294, 301, 304, 309 CASS (Chinese Academy of Social Sciences)  185 CBD (Chinese Biographical Database) 17, 181, 182, 188, 224, 227 network analysis 183, 184, 190 network analysis: one- and two-mode analysis 190–191 objectives 183 online availability 183 origins 182–183 quantitative analysis 183, 184, 190 see also 3P; 3PX; revolutionary elites; SRL CCP (Chinese Communist Party) 1, 22, 114, 307–308 BDRC population 74, 75, 76, 78 campaigns 309 Central Committee elites 186 Central Women’s Department 116 hostility towards foreign-style clubs and civic associations 254 leadership 181, 216 Long March 119, 208n37, 221 persecution by 309, 310, 315 SRL 182 United Front 78, 116, 193 women activists and 16, 116–117, 118–119, 121, 127, 132, 134–139, 140 see also revolutionary elites CEM (Chinese Educational Mission) 261, 268, 270, 274, 285, 289 Central Bank of China 77 Central University 78–79

326 Chao Jimei 252 Chen Bojun 208n37 Chen Cheng 76, 77 Chen Chunpu 193 Chen Duxiu 116 Chen Guangfu 267–269, 270, 271, 272, 282, 285 Chen Guofu 216 Chen Huanzhang 30 Chen Lifu 216 Chen Qiaonian 201 Chen Shao-Lin 314 Chen Sibang 31 Chen Siliang 247 Chen Xintao 310–311 Chen Yannian 201 Chen Yi 211 Chen Youren 39–40 Chen Ziying 312 Chiang Kai-shek 40, 42 Chih Meng 265 child labor 176, 178–179, 272 China 1832–1949 forced entry into Western world order 12 “China-centered” paradigm 10–11 “China’s response to the West” 10–11 “golden age” 266, 270, 273, 278 rise of 1 sovereignty 12 in transition 5, 8–10, 54 China Credit Bureau 45, 49 China Institute in America 259, 263, 265 China Mail (newspaper) 27 China Press (newspaper) 174 Chinese (language) Cantonese 99 classical Chinese 11, 25, 233, 247–248 dialects 92 literary language 11 Mandarin 93, 94, 95, 99, 101 media and 11 national language 233 Rotary Club: Chinese-speaking clubs 18, 235, 250–251, 252, 254 Shanghai dialect 92, 93, 94, 95, 99, 109 typing in 102 vernacular language 11, 233 see also elites, Chinese terms for

Index Chinese Conversations Project 17, 185 Chinese Engineer & Contractor (magazine)  35 Chinese Writers Association (Zhongguo zuojia xiehui) 136 Chu Minyi 43 CMB (China Medical Board) 296, 297, 298 CMS (Church Missionary Society) 172–173 Cold War 292, 303, 315 Confucianism 6, 30, 232, 259 cotton industry 266, 269 American-returned students 269, 275–281, 283–284 China Cotton Plant Improvement Society  281 Chinese Cotton Federation 284 Chinese Cotton Goods Exchange 284 Japan 169, 279–280 Shanghai 269, 284 Country Club (Shanghai) 173 CPPCC (Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference) 77, 301, 303, 309, 312, 314 women activists and 135, 136, 137, 140 Crow, Carl 35 Cultural Revolution (Communist revolution)  2n1, 120, 133, 277, 315 migration after 62–63, 285, 301, 304, 306, 307 persecution during 308, 310, 311, 312, 313 see also revolutionary elites Cumming, Mrs. E. O. 165 CVEA (Chinese Vocational Education Association) 280–283 CYP (Chinese Youth Party) 192 CYY (Cong ‘Yi er jiu’ Yundong Kan Nüxing De rensheng Jiazhi/Considering the Value of Women’s Lives from the December Ninth Movement) 119–120, 121, 123–124, 137–138, 139 see also women activists Dai Jitao 211, 216 Daloz, Jean-Pascal 23 Dangdai Zhongguo Mingrenlu 45 Dangdai Mingren Xiaozhuan 37, 38 Democratic League 307, 310 “democratic parties and groups” (minzhu dangpai) 120

Index Deng Xiaoping 315 CCP leadership and SRL 181, 182, 202, 211, 217, 218, 219–220 EGMD and 192 Deng Yingchao 127, 138, 139 De Weerdt, Hilde 187 dictionaries biographical dictionaries 13, 16, 55–56, 120, 121, 127, 140, 186 Chinese terms for elites in 24, 25–27 Ding Ling 216 Ding Shouhe 185 diplomats 29, 30, 31, 71, 76, 147, 292, 295 Du Junhui 134, 137–138, 139 Du Yuesheng 46 ECCO (European Branch of the Chinese Communist Organizations) 192, 198–199, 205, 208, 211, 221 distribution of birth year 194 network graphs 217–218, 217, 218, 219, 220, 222, 223 education autodidacts 46, 51 Bachelor’s degree 65, 276 BDRC population 58, 63–70, 66, 78–80 businessmen, schooling of 46 college degree 65, 94, 97, 99 Cultural Revolution and 315 elite (re)production and reconfiguration  10, 15, 80 higher education 63, 65, 66, 67, 68–69, 80, 96–98, 108, 109, 262, 315 home-schooling 64 in humanities 65–66, 67 in law 67, 96–97 Master’s degree 65, 242 middle schools 15, 64, 205 middling elites 16, 84, 86, 93, 94, 95, 96–98, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 108, 109 military training 67, 68, 69–70, 80 modern education 15, 67, 97, 259, 260–262, 280, 289 Ph.D. degree 65, 67, 242 primary education 63, 64 private tutoring 64 Qing dynasty 6, 8, 261–262 Republican era 10, 261–262

327 in sciences 65–66, 67 secondary education 63, 64–65 in social sciences 67 system reform 10, 11, 63, 258, 261 teachers 72 tertiary students 261–262 three-tier system 63–64 tuition fees 262–263 universities 65, 68–69, 78–79, 262 US-linked institutions 259, 262–263 vocational education 260, 280–283 women/girls 64, 100, 101, 102, 260 see also education abroad; imperial examinations; missionary schools education abroad 15, 233, 261 Australia 243 BDRC population 64, 65, 67, 69, 80 Canada 243 Chinese Rotarians 18, 233, 241, 242, 243, 243, 255 countries and schools from which return students received their highest degree  31 elites (re)production and 10–11, 80, 233, 235, 259 Europe 10, 11, 64, 69, 263, 266 foreign degrees 265 France 67–68, 69, 261, 266 geography of knowledge 68 Germany 67–68, 69, 70, 261 higher education/universities 31, 65, 67, 69, 259, 261 humanities and social sciences 68, 242 Japan 10, 64, 67–68, 69, 70, 74–75, 259, 263, 266 military training 68, 70, 74–75, 261 Qing dynasty 261, 270, 271, 289 Republican era 264, 285, 301 scholarships and funding 259, 271, 289–290 sciences and technology 68, 242, 261 secondary education 64 Soviet Union 67–68, 69, 266 United Kingdom 67–68, 69, 70, 243, 261, 266 United States 10, 11, 31, 63, 64, 67–68, 69, 241, 242, 259, 261, 263, 265, 274 universities 69, 241, 242

328 education abroad (cont.) see also American-returned students; Boxer Indemnity Scholarship Program; Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program; SRL EGMD (European Branch of the Chinese Nationalist Party) 192, 208 Elias, Nobert 5 elites 1949 breakdown and overhaul of elites  12 in historiography 1–4 imperial China 6–7, 54 internationalization of 1 local elites 22 modern China 5–12 modern China, approach to elites in  12–19 political elites 186, 189 power elites 7 PRC 1 Qing dynasty 1, 6–9 Republican era 1, 7, 9, 18, 54, 55, 60–62, 79, 255 scientific elites 292, 315 transformation of 8–10, 12, 14, 54, 69, 79–80, 262 transnational elites 1, 255 elites, Chinese terms for 14–15, 50–52 20th century (early) 22, 24, 36, 50 business and 39–50 in dictionaries 24, 25–27 interpreting “elites”: from leaders to best-known people 28–35 Japanese and 26, 35–36 jinghua (精華) 25–27, 51 jingying (精英) 3, 25–26, 51 jinshen (縉紳) 26 junjie (俊傑) 28 mingren (名人) 35–36, 42, 45, 51 in newspapers/journals 26, 32, 36, 37 shangdengde (上等的) 25 shenjin (紳衿) 22 shenshi (紳士) 22 shiyejia (實業家, entrepreneur) 45 touyidengde (頭一等的) 25 translating “elite” 25–27, 35, 51 in Who’s Who publications 15, 22, 27–35, 43

Index elites, definition 4–5, 22–23 as category 4 as “configuration” 5 relation to power 4–5, 23, 26 singular/plural form of the concept 22n1 synonymies 23 elites/power relation 4–5, 7, 23, 26 military power 38, 40, 71–72, 74–75, 76, 77–78, 79 official positions 51, 71, 74, 75, 76, 79 political power 15, 23, 30, 37, 38, 39–41, 51, 71–72, 75–77, 78, 79 Republican era 8, 15, 72 Who’s Who in China 30, 37, 51 elites (re)production education and 10, 15, 80 factors in the rise of new elites 80 foreign education and 10–11, 80, 233, 235, 259 imperial examinations and 6–7, 8–9, 60 knowledge and 10–12, 259 military, the 80 missionary schools and 15 wealth and 80 Eminent Chinese of the Ch‘ing period, 1644–1912 55, 79 English (language) 15, 18, 25, 26, 33, 35, 57 instruction in 260, 262 importance of 263 middling elites 93, 94, 95, 98, 99 Rotary Club of Shanghai: English as lingua franca 18, 233, 243, 251, 254 typing in 94, 98, 102 see also languages and dialects ENP-China project 44, 55, 72 Erickson, Bonnie 190 Esherick, Joseph, and Mary Backus Rankin  7, 22 Federation of Women’s Circles (Nüjie lianhehui) 116 Fei Xingjian 36–37 feminism 118, 127, 174 Feng Yuxiang 40 Fletcher, Joseph 13–14 foreigners 9, 10 Belgians 61 Chinese/foreigners relationship 9–10 Japanese 9, 10

Index protests and boycotts against 10 Rotary Club of Shanghai, foreign members 236, 237 in treaty ports 9 see also BWA France Chinese students in 67–68, 69, 191, 261, 266 French missionary schools 270 work-study movement 191, 206, 208, 224 Fraser, Lady 148 Fraser, Sir Everard Duncan Home 148 Gale, E. M. 248 Gee, Nathaniel Gist 296–297 gender-related issues banking sector 99 British Empire and gender 146 BWA 178–179 imperialism and gender 146 middling elites 86, 87, 93, 95, 99, 100, 101–102, 103, 108 gentry 2n1, 22, 43, 189 George V (King of the United Kingdom)  175 Germany: Chinese students in 67–68, 69, 70, 261 Gilbreth, Frank 277 Gilmartin, Christina Kelley 117 GIS (geographical information systems)  187 GMD (Guomindang, Nationalist Party/ government) 9, 22, 60, 75, 80, 90, 244 American-returned students 259, 265, 285 authoritarianism 116, 120 BDRC population 74, 75, 76, 78 Central Women’s Department (Zhongyang funübu) 116 leaders of 39–41, 41 Nationalist Government Committee 39, 40 SRL and 193 US aid 265 women in 116, 117 Goodman, Bryna 85, 99 Google 55, 299–300 Greene, Roger S. 291

329 Guangdong 61, 242 American-returned students 259, 263, 268, 285, 300 educational opportunities 261, 262 Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program 300, 311, 313 guanxi networks 273, 283 Gull, Mrs. E. M. 149–150, 170–171, 177 Gunn, Selskar 296–297 Guo Bingwen 282 Guo Longzhen 221 Guomindang see GMD Guo Moruo 208n37 GYS (Anarchist Party) 192 Haishang Mingrenzhuan 43–45, 44, 46 Han dynasty (206 BC–AD 220) 114 Han Youtong 133–134 Hartmann, Michael 22n1 He Long 219–220 He Xiangning 134 history big data history 13 data-rich integrative history 12–14, 19, 235, 294 defining “elites” in history 4 digital history 13 distant reading 14 elites in historiography 1–4 historical research 12–14 historiographical debates in elite studies  12 integrative history 13–14, 17, 193, 227 Hong Kong 9, 285, 313 British Empire and 260 Chinese elite in 62, 255 as first capitalist Chinese society 260 Hoover Archives 63 Ho Ping-ti 1–2, 189 Hou Baozhang 314 Hou Junchu 181, 185 Huang Kecheng 223 Huang Shoumin 281 Huang Xing 40, 216 Huang Xin-Yan 314 Huang Yanpei 280, 282 Huei-min, Sun 1–21, 22–53, 96–97 Hu Hua 185

330 Hummel, Arthur 55, 79 Hunan 61 revolutionary elites 17, 188, 200, 206, 206, 208, 218, 218, 219, 219, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225 Hu Shi 30–31 Hu Yaobang 211 Hu Yuzhi 127 Hu Zhengzhi 37 Hu Ziying 122, 127 IMH (Institute of Modern History, Academia Sinica) 61, 241, 299 imperial China 255 BDRC population 60–61 bureaucracy 6–7 classical Chinese 233 collapse 5, 8, 54, 60 conflicts and tensions during 54 elites 6–7, 54 lists of officials 51 see also Qing dynasty imperial examinations 6–7, 232, 261 1905 abolition of 8–9, 10, 60, 65, 80, 233, 242, 258, 261 BDRC population 60, 64, 65, 66–67 Chinese classics 64, 66–67, 247 elite (re)production and 6–7, 8–9, 60 jinshi degree 30, 37, 51, 64, 65, 67, 232 juren degree 43, 51, 64, 65, 67, 271 shengyuan degree 65 xiucai degree 63, 64 imperialism 260, 266 see also British Empire; imperial China intellectuals/academics 37, 52, 87, 233, 283 American-returned students and academic posts 259, 265–266, 283, 285 BDRC population 72, 75, 78–79 political intellectuals 203, 225, 226 Republican era 72 Israel, John 114 James, Edmund 275 Japan 1923 earthquake 169 anti-Japanese struggle 135, 250 Chinese outcompeting Japanese imports  265

Index Chinese students in 10, 64, 67–68, 69, 70, 74–75, 259, 263, 266 cotton industry 169, 279–280 Japanese (language) 26, 35–36 Japanese-educated returnees 263 Manchurian invasion by 249–250, 266 military academies 68, 70, 74–75 Rotary Club of 250, 254 Russo-Japanese War 70 see also Sino-Japanese Wars JCRR (Joint Commission for Rural Reconstruction) 307 Jiang Jieshi 40, 57, 193, 201, 210 Jiang Jingguo 193, 201, 210, 211 Jiang Menglin 282 Jiangnan: American-returned students 259, 260, 261, 262–263, 265, 266, 270, 271, 272, 273, 275, 284–285 Jiang Ping 136–137 Jiangsu 61, 251, 300 American-educated elites 242 American-returned students 263–264, 266, 267, 268, 273, 282, 300 educational opportunities 261, 262 revolutionary elites 200, 208, 219, 220, 221, 225, 226 as rich Chinese province 80, 262 Jiang Zemin 205 Jiao Qiyuan 313 Jiaotong University (Shanghai) 262 Ji Chaoding 77 Jing Weixing 267, 270 Jin Kuiguang 137–138, 139 Jiu Ming 248 Joint Committee of Shanghai Women’s Organizations 176, 179 Judge, Joan and Hu Ying 114 Kanda Naibu 26 Kang Youwei 30 Keller, Franziska 186, 216 knowledge circuits of knowledge production  258–259, 260, 277, 281, 283, 285 elites (re)production and 10–12, 259 Qing dynasty 6, 258 role in social and political power 80 wealth and 6 see also education; education abroad

331

Index Kong Xiangxi 267 Kuang Fuzhuo 234, 236, 246, 247, 248, 281, 282 Kuowen Weekly (journal) 37–38 Kuowen Weekly/Who’s Who in China bilateral relations 38, 38 “Who’s Who in China” columns 37–38, 42 KUTV (Toilers of the East University) 188 Kyle, Edwin Jackson 276, 277 Lam, Tong 87, 93 languages and dialects bilingualism 274, 276 foreign languages 233, 260 Japanese 26, 35–36 Rotary Club of Shanghai and foreign languages 233, 235, 243, 251 see also Chinese; English Larson, Wendy 85 LBM (Messrs. Lowe, Bingham & Matthews)  173 League of Nations 78 Lebbe, Vincent 61 Lee, James 263, 265 Lee, Mrs. Dorothy 154 Lee-Campbell Group 262, 264 Lemercier, Claire 187–188 Liang Cheng 268, 270 Liang Dynasty (502–557) 248 Liang Keping 138 Liberation Daily (newspaper) 133 Li Dequan 125, 136, 140 Lie nüzhuan 114 Li Fuchun 182, 202, 218, 219, 226, 227 Li Liejun 40 Li Lisan 210 Li Ming 77, 268, 270 Lin Chuanguang 307–308 Li Peng 185 literati 2, 6, 8–9, 37, 233, 270 Liu Guisheng 185 Liu Qingyang 202, 221 Liu Shaoqi 182, 202, 203, 210, 211, 219–220, 223, 226 ego network 220–221, 222 Liu Xiang 114 Liu Xiao 222–223

Li Weihan 211 Li Xin 185 Li Yichun 203 Li Yimeng 209n37 Li Yuanxin 248 Li Zhongren 40 Li Zongyi 185 Lobscheid, Wilhelm 25 Luo Qiong 119, 133, 136 Luoyang Jinshen Jiuwenji 43 Lu Shoujing 281–282 Lu Xun 122, 127, 131, 216, 263 Manchu lineage 6, 37 Maoist era 1, 115 women activists 115, 117, 135–137 Mao Zedong 9, 116, 127, 141, 311 CCP leadership 203, 211, 218, 221, 225, 226 ego network 221–223, 223 leadership pattern 216, 221–222, 223, 226 marriage advantageous marriages 260, 267, 271–272, 285 elites and 6, 270, 274 Sino-British intermarriages 150 Marxism 3, 181 May Fourth Movement 264 MCA (multiple correspondence analysis) BDRC population 72–75, 73 Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program 18, 294, 301–303, 304–305, 305, 307, 316 McMullen, R. J. 251 media 5, 9, 11, 32, 97 BWA 173–174 language and 11 newspapers and journals: Chinese terms for elites 26, 32, 36, 37 Mei Huaquan 244 meritocracy 6, 232, 235 methodology big data methods 13, 225 cross-fertilization of disciplines 185–186 databases 80, 187 data-rich integrative history 12–14, 19, 84, 235, 294 digital methods 80, 141, 187 factoid-based approach 122

332 methodology (cont.) K-core analysis 47 MFA 75–76 NLP 56, 57 revolutionary elites, research on 182–191 see also MCA; network analysis Michurinism 307–308 middling elites 15–16, 83–87, 108–110 1949 survey 15, 84–85, 86, 87–93, 90, 91, 104, 108, 109 data-rich integrated analysis 84 day-to-day operation of banks 16, 84 education 16, 84, 86, 93, 94, 95, 96–98, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 108, 109 elite recruitment 85, 86, 101, 102 expansion of “middle managers” ranks  16, 84 family size 91, 104–106, 105 gender-related issues 86, 87, 93, 95, 99, 100, 101–102, 103, 108 health 92, 106, 107, 108, 109 imagined banker 85, 93–95, 106, 108, 110 income 16, 93, 94, 95–96, 98, 102, 103, 104, 108 lower-middle classes 85–86 male employees 86, 93, 94, 95 on-the-job-training 16, 84, 86, 98, 109, 110 outside interests 91–92, 106–108, 109 private lives 85, 91–92, 93, 96, 104–108 professionalization process 16, 85, 86, 96–99, 103, 108, 109–110 skills 86, 87, 92, 94, 98, 100, 102–103, 108, 109 upward mobility 84, 86 women 86, 99, 100, 101–103, 103 see also banking sector; Bank of China migration 301 after communist victory 62–63, 285, 301, 304, 306, 307 to Shanghai 147, 169, 171, 251 women 115, 147 military, the BDRC population 74, 76, 77–78, 79 as elite organization 9 elites (re)production and 80 Huangpu Military Academy 78 Japanese military academies 68, 70, 74–75

Index military power/elite relation 38, 40, 71–72, 74–75, 76, 77–78, 79 military training 67, 68, 69–70, 74–75, 80, 261 National Defense Council 78 rise of 8 Military Affairs Commission 39, 40, 42, 77 military rule (1916–49) 9 Millard, Thomas Franklin Fairfax 28–29 Millard’s Review of the Far East 28–29, 36, 37 Mills, C. Wright 7, 189 Ministry of Agriculture 307, 308 Ministry of Education 42, 51, 63, 77 Ministry of Finance 29, 77 Ministry of Foreign Affairs 77, 78, 292–293 Ministry of War 77, 79 missionaries 10, 61, 147 missionary schools 8, 10, 258, 260, 296 American and British missionary schools  259, 260, 262, 264, 274 CAS biology and chemistry institutes  294 elite (re)production 15 English-language instruction 260, 262 foreign-educated elites 10 French missionary schools 270 higher education 260 Qing dynasty 260–261 Republican era 262 secondary education 64 universities 65 modern China 5–12 approach to elites in 12–19 social organization 11 Mo Huaizhu 271, 272 Mongols 37 Morgan, E. 248 Morris, R. J. 145 Mo Shangqing 271–272 Mulan 36 Mu Shuzhai 278 Mu Xiangyue 275–284, 285 Deda Cotton Mill 278–280, 283 Housheng Cotton Mill 283–284 Ouchu at Fifty 275, 277, 278 translations by 277, 280, 283 see also cotton industry MWJD (Modern Women Journals Database, Academia Sinica) 122–123, 140

333

Index Nathan, Andrew 186 Nationalist Party, Nationalists see GMD National Salvation Association 123, 130, 134, 135 network analysis 12, 14, 16, 17, 18, 190, 235 BDRC population 76–79, 78, 80 cross-fertilization of disciplines 186 documentation of interaction, relational patterns, and temporality of ties 188 dyadic clusters 127, 202, 226 Gephi 115 heterophily 126–127 historical network analyses 193, 207, 224, 227 historical network research 113, 115, 140 homophily 126 Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu 46–48, 47, 48 see also revolutionary elites; women activists New Culture Movement 194, 205, 224 Nie Rongzhen 182, 202, 205–206, 210, 211, 218, 219–220, 221 Nie Yuntai 281, 282 Noble, Sir Percy 172 North, Robert C. 22 North-China Herald (newspaper) 174, 179 NPC (National People’s Congress) 77, 135, 136, 303, 304, 309, 312 official positions 51 BDRC population 71, 74, 75, 76, 79 opium trade 8, 156 Opium Wars 147, 260 Outport Rotarians’ Tiffin Club 251–252, 253 Pakulski, Jan 189 Pareto, Vilfredo 6 Pasin, Michele and John Bradley 122 Peng Chengfu 185 Peng Zigang 136 Perny, Paul 25 Powell, John Benjamin 28–29 power BDRC population and 80 business, power of 39–50 knowledge and 80 power elites 7 see also elites/power relation

PRC (People’s Republic of China) 1, 5 women activists 139–140 women’s studies 118 see also Maoist era; Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program prosopography 60, 113, 122, 186, 221, 301 PUMC (Peking Union Medical College)  78–79, 244, 295–297, 313 see also Rockefeller Foundation Qian Yongming 77 Qin Bangxian 182, 211, 221, 226 Qing dynasty (1636–1912) 6, 9 bank middle managers 84 bureaucracy 6–7 collapse of 4, 7, 9, 54, 266, 271 conflicts and revolution 8–9 education 6, 8, 261–262 education abroad 261, 270, 271, 289 elites 1, 6–9 knowledge 6, 258 literati 2, 6, 8–9 missionary schools 260–261 professionalization in 96–97 science and technology 8, 289 Self-Strengthening Movement 261 social organizations 6, 8 suffrage campaigns 116 see also imperial China Qinghua University 78 (see also Tsinghua College and Tsinghua University) Qiu Jin 263 Qu Qiubai 182, 203, 221 Rao Shushi 202 Raphael, R. S. 158 Reinsch, Paul 282 Ren Zhuoxuan 221 Republican era (1912–49) banking sector 83, 84, 99 conflicts and collapse 5, 7 education 10, 261–262 education abroad 264, 285, 301 elites 1, 7, 9, 18, 54, 55, 60–62, 79, 255 elites/power relation 8, 15, 72 knowledge 258 missionary schools 262 network approaches 115 professionalization in 96–97

334 Republican era (1912–49) (cont.) social survey in 87–88 women activists 113, 115–119, 121, 136, 140 see also BDRC; middling elites Republican revolution (1911) 9, 191, 258, 275 1905 abolition of imperial examinations and 8–9, 258 revolutionary elites 17, 181–182, 223–227, 266 Bolsheviks 202, 208, 211, 220n42, 226 centrality measures 209–216, 225 hierarchical cluster analysis 200–203, 225 Hunan 17, 188, 200, 206, 206, 208, 218, 218, 219, 219, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225 Jiangsu 200, 208, 219, 220, 221, 225, 226 network visualizations 217–220, 225 patterns of birth and death years and lifespans 194–199, 224 power of place and time 17, 198 provincial city origin 199–200, 224–225 quantitative and network analyses 17, 182, 189, 190, 207, 222, 226, 227 researching revolutionary elites: sources and methodologies 182–191 revolutionary road: theory or reality?  204–207 revolutionary roads, circles of comrades, and lines of action 223–227 Sichuan 17, 188, 200, 205–207, 208, 218, 218, 219, 221, 222, 223, 224 Trotskyists 202, 208, 210 Zhejiang 17, 188, 200, 208, 224, 225 see also 3P; 3PX; CBD; SRL RI (Rotary International) 17, 231, 234, 238, 250, 252, 254 Burmese Rotary Club 254 Chicago 231, 246, 249 China 231, 232, 233–234, 253, 254 Chinese Rotarians and 246, 247 Indian Rotary Club 254 internationalism 233, 235 Japan/Japanese Rotary Club 249, 250, 254 membership selection 238 Sino-Japanese conflict and 249 see also Rotary Club of Shanghai; Rotary Club of Shanghai South; Rotary Club of Shanghai West

Index Robnett, Belinda 117 ROC (Republic of China) 75 see also Republican era; Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program Rockefeller Fellows and Fellowships Database (Swiss National Science Foundation) 298 Rockefeller Foundation 18, 244, 290, 294 China Medical Commission 294–295 CMB 296, 297, 298 mission of 294 United States/China scientific and cultural exchange 291 see also PUMC Rockefeller Foundation Directory of Fellowships and Scholarships, 1917–1970, The 298–299 Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program  18–19, 290–294, 314–315 applicants’ selection and follow up 291 biology and chemistry fellows 291, 294, 296, 297, 298, 299, 305, 314 biology and chemistry fellows: known birth years 300, 300 biology and chemistry fellowships: appointment years 316 in China 290–297 continuity between ROC and PRC eras  19, 312, 315 database of Fellows and career categories  294, 297–303 fellowship extensions 291 four career constellations 304–314 Guangdong 300, 311, 313 high-achieving scientists, distanced from PRC political circles 305–308, 306 impact of 297, 314–315 MCA 18, 294, 301–303, 304–305, 305, 307, 316 medical sciences fellowships 291, 295 missionary schools and 296 outsiders to PRC and ROC scientific organizations 298, 305, 306, 313–314 PRC and 19, 292, 293, 301, 303, 304, 306, 307, 308, 315 PRC university faculty 305, 306, 312–313 provinces of origin 300 ROC and 19, 292, 293, 297, 301, 303, 304, 306, 307, 315

Index scientific elites 292, 315 scientists with PRC/CCP political recognition 305, 306, 309–312 Rolfe, Mrs. C. Neville 148, 157 Rotary Club of Chongqing 253 Rotary Club of Hangzhou 251–252, 253 Rotary Club of Nanjing 251, 252 Rotary Club of Shanghai 17–18, 231–236, 254–256, 273 Americanization 254, 256 board of directors 246 businessmen 232, 233, 236, 242 Chinese/native membership 231, 236–240, 237, 238, 254 Chinese Rotarians: affiliation network  232, 244, 245, 246 Chinese Rotarians: American connections  239–240, 240, 244, 249, 254 Chinese Rotarians: border-crossers 245, 255 Chinese Rotarians: foreign education 18, 233, 241, 242, 243, 243, 255 Chinese Rotarians: professional classification 238–240, 239, 243 Chinese Rotarians: province of origin  242–243, 242 Chinese Rotarians: year of brith 241, 242 Chinese-speaking clubs 18, 235, 250–251, 252, 254 as elite organization 17, 18, 231, 232, 236, 242, 248, 251 English as lingua franca 18, 233, 243, 251, 254 executive committee 246 foreign languages 233, 235, 243, 251 foreign members 236, 237 internationalism 233, 235, 236, 255 male membership 16, 18 membership selection 233, 236, 238 presidents 246–247, 248 reform 235, 248, 251, 254 Sinicizing the Rotary 235, 246–249, 254, 255 Sino-Japanese War 18, 236, 249–250, 251, 254 translation work 247–248 as transnational web between China and United States 255 war and postwar years 236, 249–254

335 Who’s Who publications 235, 238, 241 see also RI Rotary Club of Shanghai South 250–251, 251, 253 Rotary Club of Shanghai West 236, 238, 249, 252–254, 253 Russo-Japanese War 70 Sausmarez, Annie Elizabeth, Lady de  148n10 schooling see education science and technology 65–66, 67, 68, 242, 261 persecution of scientists 309, 315 Qing dynasty 8, 289 scientific elites 292, 315 see also Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program Scott, John 23 Scripta Sinica (Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, Taiwan) 25 SCSB (Shanghai Commercial and Savings Bank) 267, 268–269, 270, 273, 281 SDP (Chinese Social Democrats) 192 Shanghai American-returned students 266, 269, 272, 273, 275, 282–283, 285 British settlement 146, 147, 151, 152 British women in 147–148, 151–152, 152 club culture 145–146 cotton industry 269, 284 foreigners in 9 International Settlement of Shanghai 146, 151–152, 171, 250 International Settlement of Shanghai, Japanese occupation of 176 migration to 147, 169, 171, 251 Shanghai dialect 92, 93, 94, 95, 99, 109 Shanghailanders 158, 159, 173 “transnational colonialism” 146 as treaty port 146, 147, 157, 233 Who’s Who publications 43–45, 51–52 see also BWA; Rotary Club of Shanghai Shanghai Gongshang Renminglu 45–50 affiliations of entrants in 46–49, 47, 48 Bank of China 46–47, 48–49, 49 banks 49–50 related institutions of the top ten banks with high in-degree 49–50, 50

336 Shanghai Mercantile Press 45 Shanghai Stock Exchange 284 Shangye Shuju (publisher) 39, 40 Shenbao (newspaper) 26, 44, 44, 253 Sheng Cheng 185 Shen Kefei 252, 253 Shen Zijiu 130, 134 Shen Zonghan 306–307 Shih, Victor, Christopher Adolph, and Mingxing Liu 186 Shi Liang 131, 134 Shiroyama, Tomoko 266 silk trade 165, 240, 272, 273 Sima Qian 36 Sino-Japanese Wars 1, 5, 11, 61 1894–95 First Sino-Japanese War 261 1937–1945 Second Sino-Japanese War 18, 115, 116, 159, 171, 290, 301, 313 Rotary Club of Shanghai and 18, 236, 249–250, 251, 254 social surveys 87–88, 90–91, 93 Song dynasty (960–1279) 5 Song family 60, 274 Song Qingling 39–40, 60, 127, 131, 134, 139, 141 Song Ziwen 60, 274 Soviet Union 307–308 Chinese students in 67–68, 69, 266 see also SRL SRC (Shanghai Race Club) 165, 166, 173 SRL (Soviet-returned leaders) 17, 181–182, 188, 224, 227 brief history of 191–193 CCP and 182 centrality measures 209–216, 212–213 Euro-Soviet group 182, 191, 192–193, 194, 196–197, 196, 197, 198–199, 201, 207, 210, 219 geospatial analysis of birth provinces and cities 199–200, 199, 201, 225 GMD and 193 hierarchical cluster analysis 200–203, 203, 225 network cohesion analysis 207 network visualizations 217–220, 217 political and military attributes 188 Soviet group 182, 191, 193, 194, 196–197, 196, 197, 201, 207, 210

Index statistical analysis of birth and death years and lifespans 194–199, 194, 196, 197, 210 see also 3PX; revolutionary elites; work-study movement St. John’s College/University (Shanghai)  244, 262, 268, 273, 274, 282 Strauss, Julia 292–293 Sun Minqi 45 Sun Yat-sen 267 Su Yu 222, 226 Taiping Civil War/Rebellion 8, 36, 54, 260 Taiwan 62–63 Communist revolution and migration to  285, 301, 304, 306, 307 Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship Program and ROC 293, 301, 303, 304, 306, 307, 315 Takakusu Junjiro 26 Tang Baoqian 273 Tang Pingyuan 269, 272–274, 275, 285 Tang Shaoyi 31, 44 Tang Yuanzhan 268, 281, 282 Tan Tiwu 136, 140 Tan Weixue 247, 248 Tan Yankai 40 Tan Zheng 216, 225, 226 Tao Jianhua 41–42 Tao Zheng 221–222 Taylor, Frederick Winslow 277, 279, 280, 283 technology see science and technology textile industries 87 American-returned students and 18, 259, 260, 266, 272–274, 285 see also cotton industry; silk trade Tianjin 9, 87, 101 American-returned students 263, 264, 266, 271 Tianjin Treaty 260 Toeg, Mrs. R. E. (née Sophie Raphael)  158–159 Toeg, Raymond Ezekiel 158 Tongmenhui 75, 77, 244 Tongwenguan 258 translations 57, 247–248, 289

Index

337

Wang Tiaoxin 313 Wang Xiangfu 44 Wang Xianting 253 Wang Yangzong 309 Wang Yiting 44 Wang Yongxiang 185 Wang Zekai 210 Wang Zhaoming 39–40 Wang Zheng 117, 135 Wang Zhengting 76, 231, 234, 244, 252, 281, 282 wealth American-returned students 18, 259, 285 elites (re)production and 80 United Kingdom knowledge and 6 Chinese students in 67–68, 69, 70, 243, Weekly Review (journal) 32 261, 266 Wei, Tyndall 29 voluntary societies and clubs 145 Weiss, Thomas J. 3 Who’s Who publications 23–24 Wei Xianzhang 252 women 146 Wen Bingzhong 274 see also British Empire; BWA Wen Jinmei 274 United States Westernization 264 American universities and China 10, 11, Whitney, Mrs. J. S. 171 241, 242 Who’s Who in China 28–35, 37 Chinese education reform and 11 1st edition 28–31, 33, 33, 34 Chinese elite in 62–63 2nd edition 31–32, 33, 33, 34, 35 Chinese students in 10, 11, 31, 63, 64, 3rd edition 32–33 67–68, 69, 241, 242, 259, 261, 263, 265, American-returned students 30, 32, 51 274 criteria for selecting and ordering Chinese Rotarians: American connections  biographies 31, 33, 35, 51 239–240, 240, 244, 249, 254 elites/power relation 30, 37, 51 Columbia University 30, 31, 32, 61, 69 Kuowen Weekly/Who’s Who in China higher education/universities 69, 262 Ivy League universities 11 bilateral relations 38, 38 Who’s Who publications 24 “Who’s Who in China” columns 29, 32, 35, see also American-returned students 36, 37–38 Who’s Who publications values 7, 32 China 24, 27, 43, 51 Victoria (Queen of the United Kingdom of Chinese terms for elites in 15, 22, 27–35, Great Britain and Ireland) 170, 174 43 Victoria League 174–175 Japan 27–28 Minguo zhi Jinghua 28, 30 Wade-Giles transliteration system 55, 58 mingrenlu 33, 35 Wang, Yi Chu 66, 263, 264, 290 Rotary Club of Shanghai 235, 238, 241 Wang Baolun 48 Shanghai 43–45, 51–52 Wang Boqian 43 United Kingdom 23–24 Wang Jiaxiang 182, 226 United States 24 Wang Jingwei 193 well-educated intellectuals 52 Wang Ming 182, 211, 226 Who’s Who in the Far East 27 Wang Ruofei 210 see also Who’s Who in China

circuits of translation and knowledge production 258, 277, 280, 281, 283, 285 translating “elite” 25–27, 35, 51 transliteration 55, 58 Trotskyists 138, 202, 208, 210 Tsinghua College (Beijing) 67, 68, 264, 271, 273, 289 Tsinghua University (Beijing) 68, 184, 185, 262, 308 Tsou Tang 185–186 Tushman, Michael 211

338 Wikipedia 55, 57, 58, 300 Wohl, Robert 194–195, 224 women 272 Bank of China 99, 100, 101–103, 103, 106 British women 146 CCP and 116–117 collective biographies of Chinese women  114 education 64, 100, 101, 102, 260 in financial institutions 109 GMD and 116, 117 migration 115, 147 participation in public life 113 patriarchy and 115 “women question” 115 women’s studies 118 see also BWA; women activists women activists 16, 113–115, 139–141 1935 protests: “December Ninth Movement” (Yi er jiu yundong) 119 1945 “Chongqing Women’s Declaration on the Current Political Situation” 120, 121 biographical nodes 122, 125, 130–135, 137, 139, 141 biographies 16, 113, 115, 118–119, 121 CCP and 16, 116–117, 118–119, 121, 127, 132, 134–139, 140 collective biographies 119–121, 127–128, 138–139, 140 CPPCC 135, 136, 137, 140 criteria for including biographies in books  120–121 dependency on influential leaders 16, 115, 117, 127, 139 differences in public perception of 119 GMD and 116, 117 as heroic and exemplary/Communist heroines 118, 139–140 list of women activists and source of biographies 123–124 Maoist era 115, 117, 135–137 network analysis 16, 115, 121–139, 140 NPC 135, 136 one- and two-mode networks 122, 128–129 one-mode approach: person-to-person 122, 124–128, 125

Index one-mode graph: individuals with highest degree 131–132, 132 “politics of concealment” 117 PRC 139–140 pre-/post-1949 networks comparison  135–139, 137 Republican era 113, 115–119, 121, 136, 140 ties to men 16, 115, 117, 125, 126–127 two-mode graph: degree distribution  132, 132 two-mode graph: individuals with highest degree 131, 133, 134 two-mode network: person to other entities 122, 129, 130–135 see also CYY; ZFM work-study movement 191, 206, 208, 224 World War I 148n10, 156, 266, 278 World War II 95 BWA 145, 171, 176–177 Pearl Harbor 176, 236 Wu Liangping 208n37 Wu Shanqing 281 Wu Shihong 130, 134, 136, 139 Wu Xian 303, 313–314 Wu Zhijian 252 X-Boorman 56, 60 see also BDRC Xiandai Shiyejia 45–46, 51 Xiang Jingyu 219 Xiangyang Qijiuji 43 Xiaoqun Xu 85, 86, 95, 97, 98 Xia Yingzhe 133 Xia Zhixu 203, 208n37 Xi Chuming 39, 40, 41, 42 Xue Jiazhu 130 Xu Enyuan 31 Xue Weiwei 120 Xu Shichang 31 Yan Deqing 251 Yan Fu 258 Yang Shangkun 182 Yang Shixian 309–310, 311–312 Yang Tianhong 32 Yang Zhihua 203 Yan Huiqing 25, 26, 27 Yanjing University 78

Index Yan Xishan 40 Yan Xiu 263 Ye Chengzhong 261 Yeh, Wen-hsin 85–86, 91, 104, 108, 109 Ye Jianying 78, 182 Yin Kuan 210 YMCA (Young Men’s Christian Association)  244, 253, 280, 282 Yuan Shikai 30, 37, 271 Yu Dafu 127 Yu Muren 39–40, 41, 42–43 Yung Wing 261 Yu Pinghan 278, 281 YWCA (Young Women’s Christian Association) 176 Zannoni, Paolo 23 ZFM (Zhongguo Funü Mingrenlu/Record of Famous Chinese Women) 120–121, 123–124, 130–131, 137–138, 139, 141 see also women activists Zhang Aiping 209n37 Zhang Binglin 216 Zhang Boling 263 Zhang Guotao 219–220 Zhang Hongxiang 185 Zhang Jia’ao 267, 268, 270, 272 Zhang Jian 38 Zhang Shenfu 202, 221 Zhang Tailei 182, 221 Zhang Wentian 182, 211, 219, 221, 226 Zhang Xianqiu 306–307

339 Zhao Lengzhuang 185 Zhao Qingge 136, 140 Zhao Shiyan 182, 185, 203, 208n37, 210, 211, 221 Zhejiang 251, 261, 300 American-educated elites 242 American-returned students 263, 266, 268, 273, 300 educational opportunities 261, 262 revolutionary elites 17, 188, 200, 208, 224, 225 Zheng Chaolin 185, 192 Zhongguo Geming Mingrenzhuan 39–41, 41, 46 Zhongguo Mingren Nianjian 41–42, 51 Zhongli Zhang 1, 2n1 Zhou Enlai 78, 127, 138, 211, 310 as “boundary spanner” 210–211 CCP leadership and SRL 181, 182, 202, 203, 210, 217, 218, 219–221, 226 ego network 220–221, 220, 226 Zhou Yang 216 Zhou Zuomin 77 Zhu Baosan 282 Zhu Boquan 246, 247, 248 Zhu Chengzhang 268, 282 Zhu De 182, 211, 217, 218, 219–220, 221 Zhu Shen’en 246, 247, 248 Zhu Youyu 282 Zhu Yuanzhang 36 Zhu Yuhe 185