The Everyday Cold War: Britain and China, 1950–1972 9781474265447, 9781474265478, 9781474265461

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The Everyday Cold War

The Everyday Cold War Britain and China, 1950–1972 Chi-kwan Mark

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2017 Paperback edition published 2019 Copyright © Chi-kwan Mark, 2017 Chi-kwan Mark has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. Cover image: © Express/Getty Images All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Names: Mark, Chi-Kwan, author. Title: The everyday Cold War: Britain and China, 1950-1972 / Chi-kwan Mark. Description: London; New York: Bloomsbury Academic, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017004460 | ISBN 9781474265447 (hardback) | ISBN 9781474265454 (ePub) | ISBN 9781474265461 (PDF) Subjects: LCSH: Great Britain–Foreign relations–China. | China–Foreign relations– Great Britain. | Cold War–Diplomatic history. | Diplomats–Great Britain–History–20th century. | Great Britain–Foreign relations–Decision making. | Great Britain–Foreign relations–1945-1964. | Great Britain–Foreign relations–1964-1979. | China–Foreign relations–1949-1976. Classification: LCC DA47.9.C6 M37 2017 | DDC 327.4105109/045–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017004460 ISBN: HB: 978-1-4742-6544-7 PB: 978-1-35010-919-3 ePDF: 978-1-4742-6546-1 eBook: 978-1-4742-6545-4 Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

Contents Acknowledgements Abbreviations

Introduction 1 2 3 4 5 6

Negotiating a Post-Imperial Relationship, 1950–3 Fighting and Co-opting Britain, 1954–64 Radicalizing the Everyday Cold War, 1965–6 Performing the Ritual of the Cultural Revolution, 1967 Normalizing the Confrontation, 1968–70 Negotiating Full Diplomatic Relations, 1971–2

vi vii

1 13 43 79 111 135 161

Conclusion

189

Notes Bibliography Index

197 252 274

Acknowledgements I wish to thank Professor Thomas Zeiler for his keen interest in my topic in the first place. I owe a debt of gratitude to the anonymous reviewers of the original proposal and the entire manuscript, who provided constructive and encouraging comments. In writing this book, I have also benefited from the research of other Cold War, British and Chinese historians. Thanks are due to Emma Goode and her production team at Bloomsbury. My research was partly funded by the British Academy, whose financial support is very much appreciated. For the archival materials used in this book, I am grateful to the following archives and libraries: the Bodleian Library, University of Oxford; the British National Archives, Kew; Cambridge University Library; John F. Kennedy Library, Boston, Mass.; Lyndon B. Johnson Library, Austin, Texas; the National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Maryland; the School of Oriental and African Studies Library; and the Trustees of the Harold Macmillan Book Trust. I am grateful to Diplomacy & Statecraft and Diplomatic History for permission to incorporate parts of my articles, ‘Hostage Diplomacy’ and ‘Waiting for the Dust to Settle’, into Chapters 5 and 6, respectively. I dedicate this book to my late father, Mark Lam.

Abbreviations CAAC

Civil Aviation Administration of China

CCP

Chinese Communist Party

CCRG

Central Cultural Revolution Group

CIA

Central Intelligence Agency

COCOM

Coordinating Committee for Multilateral Export Controls

CRO

Commonwealth Relations Office

EEC

European Economic Community

FCO

Foreign and Commonwealth Office

FO

Foreign Office

GMD

Guomindang

MFA

Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China

NCNA

New China News Agency

PRC

People’s Republic of China

ROC

Republic of China

SACU

Society for Anglo-Chinese Understanding

SEATO

Southeast Asia Treaty Organization

UN

United Nations

Abbreviations in endnotes BLO

Weston Library, Bodleian Library, University of Oxford

BT

Board of Trade

viii

Abbreviations

CAB

Cabinet Office

CUL

Department of Manuscripts and University Archives, Cambridge University Library

CWIHPB

Cold War International History Project Bulletin

CYN

Chen Yi nianpu

DEFE

Ministry of Defence

FCO

Foreign and Commonwealth Office

FO

Foreign Office

FRUS

Foreign Relations of the United States

JFKL

John F. Kennedy Library

JWW

Jiemi waijiao wenxian: Zhonghua renmin gongheguo jianjiao dang’an

JYMZJW

Jianguo yilai Mao Zedong junshi wengao

JYMZW

Jianguo yilai Mao Zedong wengao

JYZEW

Jianguo yilai Zhou Enlai wengao

LBJL

Lyndon B. Johnson Library

MZD

Mao Zedong on Diplomacy

MZN

Mao Zedong nianpu

NA

National Archives and Records Administration, United States

RG

Record Group

SOASL

School of Oriental and African Studies Library

TNA

The National Archives, UK

XZWF

Xin Zhongguo waijiao fengyun

ZDZ

Zhonggong dangshi ziliao

ZEN

Zhou Enlai nianpu

ZEWW

Zhou Enlai waijiao wenxuan

ZRGWDX

Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiaobu dang’an xuanbian

ZWDW

Zhongguo wenhua dageming wenku

Introduction

The Cold War in Asia was characterized by the standoff between the United States and the People’s Republic of China, supported by their respective allies. It concerned how they confronted each other over Korea, Indochina and Taiwan in the 1950s and 1960s, and how, during the 1970s, their confrontation gave way to rapprochement. But China was also involved in the other Cold War with a traditional dominant power in the region – the United Kingdom. This Cold War took place on a daily basis. The ‘everyday Cold War’ was being waged not by military means but by negotiation. Negotiations involved not only formal faceto-face talks across the table but also informal contestation and struggle through diplomatic ritual, propaganda rhetoric and symbolic gestures. The everyday sites of contest were Asia, the Chinese mainland and the British colony of Hong Kong. On 6 January 1950, the British government accorded diplomatic recognition to the newly founded PRC. The communist regime under Mao Zedong, however, did not reciprocate London’s recognition, insisting instead on the opening of negotiation over the establishment of diplomatic relations. Formal negotiation commenced in March but was soon deadlocked over the question of Taiwan, as manifested in London’s policy regarding China representation in the United Nations and the Hong Kong government’s treatment of alleged Chinese national property in the territory. The negotiations came to an abrupt end in June, when the Korean War broke out and later China intervened to support North Korea against the American-led UN coalition including Britain. AngloChinese relations did not improve until mid-1954, when, during the Geneva Conference on the Indochina crisis, Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden and Premier Zhou Enlai agreed on the exchange of chargés d’affaires. Nevertheless, to Zhou, Britain and China enjoyed merely ‘semi-diplomatic relations’, thanks to the Taiwan question. Since 1965 the escalation of the Vietnam War, the outbreak of the Chinese Cultural Revolution and the Hong Kong riots, and the sacking of the British Mission in Beijing brought Anglo-Chinese relations to their post1950 nadir. The British diplomats on the ground became virtual ‘hostages’ of their host government; so were a dozen British nationals residing in China.

2

The Everyday Cold War

It was not until 1971, when Mao was winding down the Cultural Revolution and beginning the process of Sino-American rapprochement, that the British and the Chinese seized the opportunity to begin serious negotiations over full diplomatic relations. On 13 March 1972, twenty-two years after the first round of talks, Britain and the PRC agreed to exchange ambassadors, opening a new chapter in their relationship. Why did it take so long for Britain to establish full diplomatic relations with Communist China? How far was Britain’s recognition of the PRC a policy failure? Were successive British governments willing to go to any length to ‘appease’ Beijing? How did the Chinese leaders perceive and deal with Britain and its empire following the ‘century of humiliation’? Above all, what was the nature of interactions between the two powers that were neither real enemies nor permanent friends in the Asian Cold War? This book examines Britain’s efforts at diplomatic normalization with China from 1950 to 1972, with a focus on the critical years since 1965. It argues that Britain and China were involved in the ‘everyday Cold War’ or a continuous process of contestation and cooperation, which allowed them to ‘normalize’ their conflict in the absence of full diplomatic relations. Through the ‘normalization’1 of the ‘everyday Cold War’, they were able to achieve some (if not all) of their respective policy objectives in the short and medium term, while leaving the door open for normal relations in the long run. Rather than a failed policy of ‘appeasement’, British decision makers regarded patient and persistent engagement with China as the best way of fighting the ‘everyday Cold War’. It is necessary to begin with the concept of ‘the everyday’.

Everyday interactions and ritual The concept of ‘the everyday’ or ‘everyday life’ is a highly contested one, but is generally regarded as possessing such features as ‘ordinary’, ‘routine’, ‘repetitive’, ‘unreflexive’ and ‘business-as-usual’. Thus, the ‘everyday life’ refers to the mundane, repetitive and taken-for-granted beliefs, experiences, practices and relations of ordinary people.2 Nevertheless, what appears to be ordinary and unimportant is indeed extraordinary and imbued with meaning. What facilitate everyday interactions are ‘rituals’ or ‘symbolic actions’ that communicate meanings, reinforce identity and construct power relations.3 However small and stereotypical, symbolic acts and words, such as thanks and apologies, allow the

Introduction

3

participants to treat each other with respect. They help sustain an ‘interaction order’ organized on ritual principles.4 Everyday rituals are essential to the construction and maintenance of national identity. National identity ‘in its mundane manifestations’ is as important as grand expressions of nationalism during, for example, independence day celebrations and crowning ceremonies. ‘Grounded in the everyday, in the mundane details of social interaction, habits, routines and practical knowledge’, the power of national identity depends on ‘the habitual performances of everyday life’, such as playing the national sport and cooking country cuisine. Only by repeatedly performing popular rituals will ‘memory and identity become inscribed into the body’ and identification with the nation be sustained.5 Ritual underpinned politics at all levels, from international diplomacy to city politics and village conflicts.6 Scholars writing on the ‘history of everyday life’ have focused on how ordinary people struggled to survive in difficult political circumstances – for example, how ordinary Russians lived extraordinary lives under the totalitarian regime of Joseph Stalin in the 1930s; how the Germans in a divided Berlin survived material shortage and economic blockade in the early Cold War; and how poor peasants in post-independence India interacted with the ‘everyday state’ in charge of almost all socio-economic-political issues at the grassroots level.7 Instead of seeking direct confrontation with the authority, the ‘subaltern actors’ resort to passive resistance, or what James C. Scott called ‘the weapons of the weak’, such as ‘foot dragging, dissimulation, desertion, false compliance, pilfering, feigned ignorance, slander, arson, sabotage, and so on’.8 Through small-scale political actions behind the scenes, ‘the weak make use of the strong’ for the sake of everyday survival.9

The ‘everyday Cold War’ between Britain and China The Cold War encounter between Britain and China was not dissimilar to the ‘everyday’ interactions of ordinary people. The relationship was not vital to the national interests of either Britain or China. Nor was it characterized by high dramas like the Berlin blockade and the Sino-American confrontation. Besides, the post-1949 power relationship between Britain and China was ‘asymmetrical’: preoccupied with Europe and constrained by the domestic economy, declining Britain was obviously a weaker power than the rising China in Asia. In view of this, Britain resorted to the (powerful) ‘weapons of the weak’ – diplomacy, defined as ‘the application of intelligence and tact to the conduct of official

4

The Everyday Cold War

relations between the governments of independent states’ by ‘peaceful means’.10 Traditionally, diplomacy or negotiation had been a main instrument of British foreign policy. In post-1945 Asia, Britain preferred peaceful negotiation to military confrontation. Instead of overt confrontation, the British relied on ‘quiet diplomacy’, an approach that sought to resolve disputes with their opponents behind the scenes with minimal publicity.11 China, too, opted for negotiation in its interactions with Britain. Significantly the Chinese Communists had a unique understanding of the notion of ‘negotiation’, grounded in historical-cultural factors and ideological considerations. Influenced by the Chinese traditional thinking of ying-yang on the one hand and Marxism-Leninism on the other, Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai saw negotiation as having dual aspects – cooperation and struggle. As Premier and Foreign Minister Zhou instructed his diplomatic staff, or ‘diplomatic fighters’, on the day of the official founding of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in November 1949: ‘Diplomacy has two aspects: one is to unite, and the other is to fight.’ ‘Strategically’ China should ‘oppose’ imperialist countries, but ‘tactically’ it could ‘unite’ with them on ‘specific questions’.12 Such an understanding of diplomacy was in line with the doctrine of united front, which encompassed both unity and struggle aspects.13 In negotiating or struggling with their opponents, the Chinese Communists were firm in principle but flexible in tactics, distinguishing between principal contradictions (usually in relation to national sovereignty, which was a non-negotiable principle) and secondary contradictions (where tactical compromises were possible). They were ‘patient’ negotiators, in that negotiation was conceived in terms of an ongoing relationship. Agreement on a secondary issue did not mean the end of negotiation; rather, its implementation required further negotiation and was dependent on China’s continuous assessment of progress on the resolution of the principal issue.14 In handling Sino-British relations, the Chinese Communists were largely influenced by the legacy of British imperialism and the imperative of the Cold War. In their view, capitalist Britain was a ‘reactionary’ state and yet an ‘old colonial’ power different from the United States.15 As early as August 1946, Mao had suggested the existence of the ‘intermediate zone’ comprising capitalist, colonial and semi-colonial countries in Europe, Asia and Africa, which separated the two superpowers and had ‘contradictions’ with ‘US imperialism’. To him, the United States (and the Soviet Union) would not unleash a third world war unless it had controlled the ‘intermediate zone’, including ‘the whole of the British Empire’.16 Mao’s perception of Britain as a declining imperialist power with contradictions with the United States continued to evolve in the

Introduction

5

1950s, and was formally crystallized into the concept of ‘two intermediate zones’ between late 1963 and early 1964.17 Accordingly, China would form a broadest possible international united front with Britain, situating within the ‘second intermediate zone’, in the struggle against the principal enemy, the American imperialists (and increasingly the Soviet ‘revisionists’).18 While cooperating over some issues, China also needed to ‘struggle’ against Britain, which was in Mao’s eyes a ‘wavering element’, because of its indecisive Taiwan policy.19 Herein lay the strategy of both ‘co-opting and fighting’20 Britain in the ‘everyday Cold War’. The sites of the ‘everyday Cold War’ were threefold: Asia, China and Hong Kong. At the international level, Britain and China belonged to the opposing camps in the global Cold War between the two superpowers. Despite according diplomatic recognition to the PRC, Britain needed to maintain a ‘special relationship’ with America, particularly concerning the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations. Beijing condemned London for pursuing a ‘two Chinas’ policy and serving as Washington’s subservient ally during the Korean War, the First Taiwan Strait Crisis and the Vietnam War. In view of London’s ‘insincere’ attitude towards the New China, Beijing refused to establish full diplomatic relations with Britain, while finding every opportunity to exploit Anglo-American contradictions in Asia. China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain was played out most frequently and vigorously on the mainland. After 1950 the British diplomats and the few British nationals in China became postimperial hostages to fortune in a republic whose avowed aims were to destroy all the institutions and legacies of the British informal empire. The MFA sought to discipline the activities of British diplomats over such daily issues as interview and travel. Hong Kong constituted the third site of the ‘everyday Cold War’. What was at stake was less the future of Hong Kong per se than the struggle over its ‘political space’. In 1949 Mao had decided to leave the British colony alone due to its strategic and economic value in the then Chinese Civil War and later the Sino-American conflict. While using Hong Kong for intelligence gathering, propaganda and other purposes, Beijing was sensitive to any attempts by Washington and Taipei to turn Hong Kong into a ‘base of subversion’ against the mainland. As a result, the Chinese Communists and the British (together with other Cold War actors) contested and negotiated the use of Hong Kong’s ‘political space’ on a daily basis. The ‘everyday Cold War’ was marked by diplomatic ritual and symbolic propaganda. Ritual had occupied a vital place within the Chinese tradition and in early Anglo-Chinese encounters.21 In imperial China, rituals helped to

6

The Everyday Cold War

differentiate the Han Chinese from barbarian races, stipulated proper behaviour in social interactions, and constructed the power and legitimacy of the ruling house.22 As for early Sino-British contacts, the most famous, or infamous, example in which guest ritual (binli) had played a key role was the George Lord Macartney Embassy to Qing China in 1793. The insistence on the ritual of kowtow (three kneelings and nine bowings to the Chinese emperor) during Macartney’s imperial audience, according to James L. Hevia, was not a deliberate humiliating and degrading move by the Qing court, but rather had more to do with the traditional Chinese way of treating foreign guests and expecting gratitude for the emperor.23 Nevertheless, ritual activities could not be dictated by one party; instead, they involved ‘negotiation of power relations’ between both sides.24 In other words, the real meaning and function of rituals could be accepted, appropriated or resisted by either party (just as Macartney had refused to perform the kowtow). After 1949 Communist China similarly emphasized rituals in defining its identity and constructing power relations. ‘In symbolism, rituals, and language,’ wrote Lowell Dittmer and Samuel Kim, ‘Beijing fostered the creation of an international socialist identity.’25 Gone was, of course, the insistence of kowtow as a sign of subordination and loyalty to the new Chinese ‘emperor’, Chairman Mao. Nonetheless, the Chinese Communists were as protocolminded as their imperial predecessors. Zhou attached great importance to the ‘form’ of diplomacy: every act of protocol or li towards foreign diplomats and foreign guests (such as a handshake) mattered to China’s foreign policy.26 As far as Sino-British relations were concerned, diplomatic ritual carried symbolic meaning and served useful purposes. Symbolically China performed rituals to assert its new identity and status vis-à-vis Britain following the ‘century of humiliation’ and to signal its displeasure at London’s policy. By refusing to reciprocate London’s recognition in 1950, Mao and Zhou wanted to symbolically communicate the principles of ‘making a fresh start’ and ‘cleaning the house before inviting the guests’: that the New China was in no hurry to establish diplomatic relations with capitalist countries until the government had destroyed all British imperialist institutions and influences on the mainland.27 By refusing to exchange ambassadors until 1972, Beijing intended to signal that Britain, in supporting Taiwan in one way or another, fell short of endorsing the principle of ‘one China’. From an instrumental point of view, the Chinese put protocol matters at the service of domestic politics and foreign policy, notably the upholding of national sovereignty and independence.28 It was imperative for the MFA to constantly remind the British of China’s sovereignty over Taiwan,

Introduction

7

lest they would drift towards a de facto ‘two Chinas’ policy. On a daily basis, the British diplomats in Beijing were subjected to the ritual of Chinese protests and harassment. Propaganda was part and parcel of China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain. Mao’s China was a propaganda state built on the Soviet model and the pre-liberation experiences, especially during the Yan’an years. Under the Propaganda Department of the CCP Central Committee, the propaganda apparatus at the national, provincial and county levels strove to indoctrinate and mobilize both party cadres and ordinary citizens for the cause of Mao’s ‘continuous revolution’.29 International propaganda aimed at enunciating China’s viewpoints to a foreign audience (and to a lesser extent enhancing the Chinese people’s understanding of world events) was equally important. Zhou was heavily involved in both diplomatic and propaganda works, which were inextricably linked.30 The channels of disseminating messages to Britain included publications like Peking Review (a political weekly English-language magazine) and Shijie Zhishi (a Chinese-language bimonthly magazine on world affairs), Radio Peking (which had one-hour daily English-language broadcasts to Europe in the 1960s), and the London branch of the New China News Agency (which published daily bulletins and supplied items to news agencies). But it was the People’s Daily (Renmin Ribao), the organ of the Party Central Committee, that became the major instrument of China’s international propaganda.31 In their day-to-day work, the British and foreign diplomats in China translated its editorials and articles in order to decipher Beijing’s official thinking. China’s everyday propaganda regarding Britain was repetitive and symbolic. The technique of repetition was essential to inculcating China’s aims, principles and identity in its opponents. Until the mid-1960s, Beijing’s international propaganda centred around propagating China’s socialist achievement, firm support for national independence in the Third World, and promotion of friendship and cooperation among nations for the sake of world peace.32 As far as Britain was concerned, the themes of economic decline, growing contradictions within the capitalist camp, and neocolonialism in the Middle East and Africa featured regularly in the editorials and articles of the People’s Daily and in the content of magazines like Shijie Zhishi.33 After Mao had unleashed the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution in 1966, the propaganda machine was dominated by radicals such as Chen Boda and Jiang Qing. Under the influence of ‘ultra-leftism’, the People’s Daily was now charged with the task of propagating Mao Zedong Thought and particularly the message of China being the ‘centre of world revolution’. The tone and content of the paper became,

8

The Everyday Cold War

in retrospect, ‘false’, ‘exaggerated’ and ‘hollow’,34 inflaming anti-foreign feelings and incidents. Besides, Beijing’s anti-British propaganda amounted to ‘symbolic communication’: it often exploited seemingly ‘mundane’ issues to convey more significant hidden messages.35 At the height of the Vietnam War, for example, the People’s Daily seized upon the ‘rest and recreation’ visits to Hong Kong by American military servicemen to symbolically reiterate China’s solidarity with North Vietnam in the midst of the Sino-Soviet split – a political message that was more important, and accurate, than Beijing’s accusations of Hong Kong as an American ‘base of aggression’ against Hanoi. From 1950 to 1972, Britain was confronted with the ‘everyday Cold War’ waged by China. Over time, the British became accustomed to the repetitiveness and predictability of Beijing’s diplomatic ritual and propaganda rhetoric: the extraordinary became the everyday. As Hong Kong governor Alexander Grantham (1947–57) recollected, China was ‘consistently unfriendly, but by 1957 we had become used to this as part of our normal existence’.36 Commenting on an increase in the volume of Chinese propaganda attacks on Britain in 1956, the British chargé in Beijing, Con O’Neill, argued that ‘so long as we intend to maintain possessions or influence in East or South-East Asia’, he did ‘not see how our relations with China can be other than fundamentally difficult and bad’.37 Foreign Secretary Selwyn Lloyd best depicted the character of the ‘everyday Cold War’ by suggesting, during the 1958 Taiwan Strait Crisis, that Anglo-Chinese relations would ‘remain in a state of fairly normal badness’.38

Book structure and outline This book, then, examines Britain’s policy and relations with China between diplomatic recognition in 1950 and the exchange of ambassadors in 1972. Using the ‘everyday Cold War’ as a framework of analysis, it explores how the British and the Chinese contested and negotiated the United Kingdom’s role in the Sino-American confrontations in Asia, the status of British diplomats and private nationals in the New China, and the use of Hong Kong’s ‘political space’. There have been a number of academic monographs on Anglo-Chinese relations in the late 1940s and the 1950s, addressing such topics as British policymaking regarding the recognition of the PRC, the collapse of the British economic ‘empire’ in China, Anglo-American-Chinese interactions in the Cold War, and Britain’s Taiwan policy.39 The only comprehensive account of Anglo-Chinese relations beyond the 1950s was published forty years ago.40 A more recent study

Introduction

9

examines Anglo-American relations with regard to China, albeit with a focus on US policy.41 This book thus fills an important void in the existing literature. While starting with the year 1950, it privileges the under-studied and critical period from 1965 to 1972, during which Britain and China reached the nadir of their relationship and then moved in the direction of full normalization. The formulation of China policy was the responsibility of the Foreign Office (the Foreign and Commonwealth Office after 1968), particularly its Far Eastern Department. While the Cabinet and its committees (e.g. the Cabinet Defence Committee between 1946 and 1963 and the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee since 1964) made final decisions, it was the specialists in the Far Eastern Department and the British diplomats in China who played key roles in drafting policy papers and making recommendations for ministerial approval. As foreign secretaries, the likes of Ernest Bevin (1945–51), Anthony Eden (1951–5) and Alec Douglas-Home (1970–4) were political heavyweights within the Cabinet, and as such were influential in the making of China policy. Although not a Cabinet priority, Prime Ministers Harold Wilson (1964–70) and Edward Heath (1970–4) each had a keen interest in the China issue – the former in relation to the Vietnam War, and the latter due to China’s support for a strong Europe. In addition, China was not a matter for bureaucratic infighting and domestic politics. While the Colonial Office (the Commonwealth Office after 1966), the Ministry of Defence and the Board of Trade might put their bureaucratic interests first – Hong Kong’s well-being, strategic considerations and the British economy respectively – any differences with the FO over China could normally be resolved through interdepartmental consultation. On China, Whitehall officials were seldom subjected to intense parliamentary and public pressures, given the tradition of bipartisanship in foreign policy and the salience of other issues such as Europe and the Middle East.42 Although the ‘hostage’ crisis of 1967–9, as Chapter 4 shows, did result in sharp disagreement between the British diplomats (the FO) and the Hong Kong governor (the Commonwealth Office) on the one hand, and severe agitation among the British journalists and parliamentarians on the other, it was by no means an unmanageable political issue from the British government’s perspective. This book draws heavily on the records of the FO/FCO and other departments in the British National Archives as well as a range of private papers, such as the Harold Wilson Papers in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, and the China Association Papers in the School of Oriental and African Studies Library. Although this book is primarily a study of British foreign policy and diplomacy, the Chinese side of the story is by no means ignored. Nor is it examined merely

10

The Everyday Cold War

from the perspective of British documentary records and Western secondary sources. Given the sudden closure of the once declassified diplomatic files covering the years from 1949 to 1965 in the Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives (the post-1965 materials have never been opened to researchers), this book does not purport to be a definitive account of the Chinese policymaking process. Nevertheless, by using a wide range of published Chinese archival and primary materials, including the two collections of documents sourced from the Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives43 and the recently released chronicle (nianpu) of Mao Zedong,44 I hope to paint as accurate and as complete a picture of China’s aims, principles and policies as possible. During the Cold War, Mao was the ultimate decision maker on all foreign policy issues: Zhou Enlai was a trusted policy implementer. Seeing Britain as a declining imperialist power and thus a low priority in China’s foreign policy, Mao and Zhou approached Sino-British relations within the wider context of the Cold War in Asia and particularly the Sino-American conflict. The Chinese Foreign Ministry and particularly its West European Department were charged with the day-to-day formulation of policy regarding Britain, while negotiating with the British diplomats stationed in Beijing. As such, this study considers not only the high politics of AngloChinese diplomacy, but also how the British diplomats on the ground interacted with Chinese officialdom and experienced the ‘everyday Cold War’. The book is organized both chronologically and thematically, with six main chapters, an Introduction and a Conclusion. Each chapter seeks to illuminate the three sites of the ‘everyday Cold War’ – Asia, mainland China and Hong Kong – which are however not necessarily given equal emphasis. Chapter 1 focuses on the formative years of Anglo-Chinese relations following London’s recognition of the PRC in early 1950. Instead of revisiting familiar ground in detail, the first section briefly outlines the Labour government’s decision on recognition and then, by drawing on the published Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, takes a closer look at the abortive Anglo-Chinese negotiations over the establishment of diplomatic relations. The next two sections of the chapter examine how China eliminated the legacy of British imperialism on the mainland, while tolerating the continuation of British colonialism in Hong Kong. By the close of 1953, as this chapter concludes, Anglo-Chinese relations entered a ‘post-imperial’ era. Chapter 2 begins with the 1954 Geneva Conference on Indochina, where the British and Chinese foreign secretaries used the occasion to improve bilateral relations. It reveals the interplay between the negotiations over Indochina and Anglo-Chinese rapprochement. After the exchange of chargés d’affaires in June 1954, Britain and China enjoyed merely ‘semi-diplomatic relations’, thanks to

Introduction

11

the Taiwan question. As the second and third sections of the chapter illustrate, the Chinese needed to wage the ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain at different levels. Nevertheless, China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ encompassed both ‘struggle’ and ‘unity’ aspects, which were in line with the doctrine of ‘united front’. The last section explores a number of issues where Anglo-Chinese cooperation was visible, such as the sale of British aircraft to China and the resolution of crises in the Taiwan Strait and the Sino-Indian borders. The ‘cooperative’ aspect of China’s ‘united front’ with Britain gave way to the ‘struggle’ dimension by 1965, however. The radicalization of the ‘everyday Cold War’ owned much to the escalation of the Vietnam War and the onset of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Chapter 3 focuses on 1965 and 1966, when China intensified its propaganda attacks on Britain and Hong Kong, and subjected the British diplomats on the ground to the ritual of diplomatic protests. Nevertheless, China’s ‘everyday’ propaganda and protests were largely symbolic, intended to communicate other more important political messages to London. In Chapter 4, with the further radicalization of ‘everyday Cold War’ in 1967, the British diplomats and private nationals in China became the victims of Red Guard violence, culminating in the burning of the British Chargé Office. This chapter explores how the Wilson government assessed the ‘performative’ nature of the Red Guards’ everyday violence, distinguishing it from China’s largely noninterventionist foreign policy in the wider world. Chapter 5 examines how, between 1968 and 1970, Britain and to a lesser extent China sought to ‘normalize’ their confrontation or restore their relations to the pre-1967 level. The first section details the negotiations over the release of the different categories of British ‘hostages’ – diplomats, Anthony Grey and other private Britons – on the mainland. The next section looks beyond the hostage crisis to examine the multifaceted relationship between Britain and China over such issues as trade, nuclear non-proliferation and the Sino-Soviet border war. During 1970, as the final section shows, the Chinese leaders were conducting the diplomacy of gestures to signal to Britain their desire for normal relations in an emerging multipolar world. By the time Britain and China entered into negotiations over an exchange of ambassadors in early 1971, the ‘everyday Cold War’ was all but over. Chapter 6 provides a comprehensive analysis of the yearlong negotiations, culminating in the establishment of full diplomatic relations in March 1972. The British and the Chinese not only sincerely negotiated diplomatic normalization but also concluded a number of commercial deals on the exports of British aircraft to China. Even the outstanding issues relating to Hong Kong, such as the proposal for a Chinese official representative in

12

The Everyday Cold War

the territory, could not stand in the way of their new political and economic relations. The Conclusion takes an overview of the changing nature of AngloChinese interactions from 1950 to 1972, and assesses whether the British efforts to contest and negotiate the ‘everyday Cold War’ represented the ‘failure’ of ‘appeasement’. In this book, I use the Pinyin system for the transliteration of Chinese names, except for Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi), with which Western readers are more familiar. In the endnotes, while the book and article titles of Chinese-language secondary works have been transliterated and translated into English, the specific details of Chinese primary sources (such as the news headlines of the People’s Daily) are simply rendered in English due to space limitation.

1

Negotiating a Post-Imperial Relationship, 1950–3

The First Opium War (1839–42) marked the beginning of China’s degeneration into a ‘semi-colony’ in the face of British imperialism.1 According to the Treaty of Nanjing, the British acquired Hong Kong as a Crown Colony and opened up four Chinese ports for foreign trade. After defeating the Qing state the second time and imposing more ‘unequal treaties’ on it in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Britain gradually constructed an ‘informal empire’ in China. Within the ‘informal empire’ made up of concessions, settlements and leased territories, British diplomats, settlers and businessmen enjoyed extraterritoriality, gunboat protection, control over China’s maritime customs, and comfortable lives in the treaty ports. In particular, the British dominated the International Settlement of Shanghai, which became the centre of their trading, shipping, banking and manufacturing businesses.2 While Britain (and other European powers) inflicted ‘humiliation’ on Qing China, Chinese immigrants caused Sinophobia within the United Kingdom. Fearful of competition from Chinese immigrants for jobs and even white women in Britain and the Empire, and influenced by the negative stereotypes of Chinatowns and ‘Fu-Manchu’ fictions, by the turn of the century more and more British (men) imagined the Chinese in racial terms as the ‘Yellow Peril’, or a source of moral degeneration.3 The collapse of the Qing dynasty in 1911 had not seriously shaken Britain’s ‘informal empire’ in China. With the rise of Chinese revolutionary nationalism in the mid-1920s, however, the British community in the treaty ports was under threat. To accommodate Chinese nationalism, the FO decided to relinquish lesser concessions like Hankou and Weihaiwei so that Britain’s major interests, notably in Shanghai, could be safeguarded.4 By the early 1930s, the Chinese government under Chiang Kai-shek had abolished almost two-thirds of the foreign concessions and reasserted China’s control over customs, salt and

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The Everyday Cold War

postal administrations.5 Preoccupied with the rise of Nazi Germany in Europe, Britain was increasingly concerned about the Japanese encroachment in China, beginning with the 1931 Manchurian crisis and followed by a full-scale invasion in 1937. The onset of war in Europe and later in the Pacific quickened the formal end of the treaty-port system in China. In order to forge a ‘special relationship’ with the United States, Prime Minister Winston Churchill could not but regard Chiang Kai-shek as a key ally in the war against Japan, notwithstanding their differences over Burma, Hong Kong and other issues. On 11 January 1943, the United States and Britain concluded a treaty with Nationalist China, abolishing extraterritorial rights and other special privileges of the old treaties.6 With America’s defeat of Japan in August 1945 and the resumption of the Chinese Civil War the following year, the future of British-Chinese relations became uncertain. This chapter examines how Britain sought to preserve its power and influence after the war, and how China under Mao Zedong strove to bury the ‘century of humiliation’.

Recognizing Communist China After the Labour Party’s landslide victory in the 1945 general election, Prime Minister Clement Attlee aspired to maintain Britain’s power and influence in a rapidly changing world. Notwithstanding the post-war economic problems and the granting of independence to India and Burma, Britain remained militarily stronger than the defeated Germany and the devastated France, held a permanent seat in the UN Security Council, and retained formal and informal empires in Malaya (albeit with a communist insurgency since 1948), Africa and the Middle East. Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin hoped to create a ‘third world force’ in the bipolar international system. By organizing a ‘Western European system’ backed by ‘the power and resources of the Commonwealth and of the Americans’, Bevin argued in early 1948, Britain could exercise its influence and power alongside the two superpowers.7 By late 1949, however, Bevin’s ‘third force’ idea failed to materialize owing to the lack of enthusiasm on the part of Western Europeans and Americans and Britain’s inability to mobilize Commonwealth and African resources.8 Instead, the Atlee Cabinet accepted the recommendation of the Permanent Under-Secretary’s Committee (a long-term planning unit in the FO) that British foreign policy should be based on the maintenance of a close AngloAmerican alliance.9

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True, the declining Britain had to depend on the United States for financial aid and for the defence of Western Europe against the Soviet Union in the emerging Cold War. Still, in the early post-war years, Britain did not shy away from acting as a world power: ‘Awareness of relative economic decline took time to set in.’10 Bevin, the ‘Cold Warrior’, and the more cautious Atlee played active roles in first alerting the Truman administration to the growing Soviet threat and then galvanizing Western European countries to support the US strategy of containment.11 Indeed, Winston Churchill, the wartime prime minister, had as early as March 1946 made his famous ‘iron curtain’ speech to warn against communism in Europe. Churchill was also the first to talk of the ‘three interlocking circles’ in British foreign policy. Accordingly, Britain served as a vital link between the ‘three interlocking circles’ – the Empire/Commonwealth, the United States and Europe. To sustain its power and influence in the world, Britain needed to maintain close links with all ‘three circles’. Given the gap between Britain’s global commitments and its limited resources, however, successive prime ministers tended to prioritize the ‘three circles’. Churchill, for one, after returning to power in October 1951, argued that the first objective of British policy was ‘the unity and consolidation of the British Commonwealth and what was left of the former British Empire’, with cooperation with ‘the Englishspeaking world’ (particularly the United States) being the second objective and creation of a ‘united Europe’ the third. Yet the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ was by no means valued lightly by the peacetime prime minister, who was eager to demonstrate solidarity with, and thereby exert a moderating influence on, his Atlantic ally.12 The Chinese Civil War,13 which resumed in earnest in early 1946, presented the Atlee government with the challenge of managing Britain’s relative decline and redefining its role in a rapidly changing Asia.14 British policy towards the two warring Chinese parties was one of neutrality. In the course of 1949, British ministers and diplomats came to the conclusion that London should accord diplomatic recognition to the PRC, founded by Mao Zedong on 1 October. This policy of ‘keeping a foot in the door’ was based on legal, economic, colonial and geostrategic considerations.15 It was in Britain’s diplomatic tradition to recognize a government that had established effective control over a vast territory and population. The Chinese Communists had achieved a major breakthrough in the civil war by occupying Manchuria in the northeast in late 1948, and were on the brink of total victory after overrunning the major cities of Shanghai and Nanjing in the spring of 1949. With the fall of Guangzhou two weeks after the proclamation of the PRC, as Bevin put it in a memorandum to the Cabinet,

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The Everyday Cold War

the Nationalist government was ‘no longer representative of anything but their ruling clique’, while the Chinese Communists were ‘now the rulers of most of China’. Accordingly, legal advisers in the FO considered ‘de jure recognition’ of the communist government to be ‘legally justifiable’.16 To Bevin, recognition was ‘no more than an acceptance of a fact’; it implied the British ‘willingness to enter into diplomatic relations with the new Government’ and did ‘not signify approval of its ideology or outlook’.17 ‘Keeping a foot in the door’ was aimed to protect British commercial and shipping interests in China. According to a 1941 FO estimate, the total value of British commercial property and investments on the mainland stood at £300 million, one-third of which was situated in Shanghai. Besides trade in China, the British companies were heavily involved in trading with China in terms of exports from the Sterling Area, ocean shipping and ‘invisible’ trade.18 After 1945, both the Board of Trade and the Treasury were under no illusion that the British ‘informal empire’ in China could be revived. Quite apart from the losses suffered during the Second World War, the economic disruption of the civil war and particularly the Nationalist blockade of the port of Shanghai since June 1949 made life extremely difficult for many a British businessman in China. Yet the FO, supported by the Board of Trade and the Treasury, argued that the British firms should endeavour to maintain themselves in China for as long as possible (although a decision as to whether to stay was primarily theirs). It was hoped that, with the end of the fighting, the new Chinese government would need foreign trade and capital for rebuilding its economy, and China would become a potentially huge market for Britons in the long term.19 Britain needed to safeguard the Crown Colony of Hong Kong, which had survived more than three years of Japanese occupation as well as the pressures from US president Franklin Roosevelt and Chiang Kai-shek for its return to China after the war. A free port and a stable city, Hong Kong was valuable for British trading, banking and shipping companies operating in the Far East. As part of the Sterling Area, Hong Kong held its currency balances in London and thus contributed to the financial strength of the United Kingdom. By early 1949, Hong Kong’s future became uncertain in view of the impending communist victory in the Chinese Civil War. Although, according to British intelligence, a direct attack on Hong Kong was deemed unlikely, the risk of internal unrest caused by the influx of refugees and communist-inspired riots could not be dismissed. In April-May, Atlee’s Cabinet decided to reinforce Hong Kong twice, increasing the British garrison from one infantry brigade to a division plus a brigade. With deteriorating US-Soviet relations in Europe, Bevin defined Hong

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Kong’s significance in Cold War terms, as ‘Berlin of the East’, in an attempt to rally US support for the colony’s defence.20 Nevertheless, British ministers realized that the best defence was a diplomacy of engagement with Communist China. As the Cabinet concluded on 26 May, ‘The aim of our policy should be to find a basis on which a Communist Government of China could acquiesce in our remaining in Hong Kong.’21 When consulting with the US secretary of state, Dean Acheson, about China policy in early September, Bevin argued that Britain was ‘not in a hurry’ to recognize Communist China, but it had ‘big commercial interests’ in China and ‘had to keep an eye on Hong Kong’.22 From a geostrategic perspective, a conciliatory approach towards China was in line with the British assessments of Sino-Soviet relations and, more generally, of the Cold War in Asia. In early 1949, British diplomats and intelligence officers concluded that the Chinese Communists were ‘orthodox Marxist-Leninists’ (as revealed in the communist documents captured during a police raid in Hong Kong). On 30 June Mao proclaimed in a speech, ‘On the People’s Democratic Dictatorship’, that China should ‘lean to one side’ – the side of the Soviet Union – in the bipolar Cold War. Despite Mao’s pro-Moscow speech (which aimed to impress upon a suspicious Stalin following the split between Tito’s Yugoslavia and the Soviets),23 the FO opined that over time nationalism would emerge stronger than communism in China. It was estimated that the Chinese Communists, having suffered from decades of foreign imperialism, would not want to see their country become a satellite of Soviet Russia. By developing diplomatic and economic contact with Communist China, Britain hoped to drive a wedge into the Sino-Soviet alliance. ‘The only hope of encouraging the emergence in China of a less anti-Western tendency’, the FO argued, was ‘to give the new regime time to realise both the necessity of Western help in overcoming its economic difficulties, and the natural incompatibility of Soviet imperialism with Chinese national interests’.24 Recognition was not simply a bilateral issue between Britain and China, but one that had wider repercussions for Anglo-American relations and the Commonwealth. To Atlee and Bevin, no decision should be made until after extensive consultations with the United States, the Commonwealth and other friendly powers. From the outset, the British and Americans had divergent views on China. If the FO hoped to split the Sino-Soviet partnership through economic contact with the Chinese Communists, the Department of State was contemplating the use of trade controls to influence their political orientation. Through a ‘hard’ wedge strategy by pressure, the United States hoped to first increase the Chinese dependency on the Soviets and then turn Mao into a

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The Everyday Cold War

‘Chinese Tito’, when he realized that Stalin was an unreliable ally and China’s national interest was bound to clash with Moscow’s.25 While Bevin regarded de facto control over a vast territory as a legal justification for early recognition, Acheson insisted that the new Chinese government should also discharge its international obligations as a prerequisite to recognition.26 In August, the Department of State published the China White Paper, a huge volume of documents with analyses on pre-1949 US-China relations. In his open letter of transmittal, Acheson defended the administration’s opposition to full-scale intervention in the civil war, attributing the Nationalist defeat to their misuse of US aid and their own inefficiency.27 Nevertheless, because of the Department of Defence’s concern about the security implications of China’s loss for Japan and the pressure from Congress and the China lobby, Truman and Acheson could not abandon Chiang outright, but continued to provide limited military and economic assistance to the Nationalist regime so as to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. The administration would wait for the collapse of Nationalist Taiwan, and the emergence in China of a government independent of Moscow, before making the final decision on recognition. Herein lay Acheson’s approach to ‘waiting for the dust to settle’,28 which diverged from the British policy of ‘keeping a foot’ in China. After close consultations in late 1949, the Truman administration ‘agreed to disagree’ with the Attlee government over recognition. Aware that the British had more extensive interests in China than did the Americans, Acheson told Bevin in a meeting on 13 September that ‘we should make a clear distinction between policy and situation’. ‘The British may hold on longer because of their situation and we less longer because of ours, but division of policy is in error,’ lest the communists would be able to ‘drive a wedge’ between Britain and America. Acheson agreed with Bevin that ‘the difference was in tactics and not in objectives’29 – how to encourage Chinese Titoism and thereby crack the communist monolith. After all, both America and Britain regraded the Soviet Union as the main threat, and Europe as the priority in the Cold War. They were willing to accommodate their differences over China as long as they could maintain close cooperation over Europe.30 The British, moreover, received support from the Commonwealth, with India being enthusiastic about recognizing Communist China from the outset and Canada, Australia and New Zealand having initial reservations about breaking ranks with America, and from Western European countries, with the exception of France due to the political implications for Vietnam (where Ho Chi Minh’s forces had been fighting for independence since 1946).31 On 15 December, the

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19

Cabinet approved Bevin’s recommendation for according de jure recognition to the PRC, which came on 6 January 1950. How did China respond to Britain’s recognition?

Negotiating diplomatic relations Even before achieving complete military victory, Mao Zedong had been pondering on the future diplomacy of the ‘New China’. During the spring and summer of 1949, he developed the principles of ‘making a fresh start’, ‘cleaning the house before inviting the guests’, and ‘leaning to one side’. After a ‘century of humiliation’, Mao, who was born in 1893 and had experienced foreign imperialism first-hand, was determined to make a complete break with the past. As ‘Old China was a semi-colonial country under imperialist domination’, Mao said in March, the new communist government was obliged to refuse recognition of ‘the treasonable treaties’ of the Guomindang regime and to ‘systematically and completely destroy imperialist domination’ in China.32 With the founding of the PRC on 1 October, Mao held that the Chinese revolution did not end at that point, but should continue until the new government had made a clean sweep of all remaining imperialist influences on the mainland, and until China had restored its central position in the international system – thus his theory of ‘continuous revolution’.33 Concerning the question of establishing diplomatic relations with the outside world, Mao and Zhou Enlai saw the necessity of ‘differential treatment’. As for socialist countries, the procedure was straightforward: no negotiation but only an exchange of notes was required. Thus, within three months after the PRC’s founding, diplomatic relations were established with eleven socialist states.34 As far as Western capitalist/imperialist countries like the United States and Britain were concerned, Mao argued that ‘we should not be in a hurry’. China was ‘willing to establish diplomatic relations with all countries on the principle of equality’; but as long as ‘the imperialist countries do not change their hostile attitude’ towards the Chinese people, ‘we shall not grant them legal status in China’.35 For one thing, Beijing needed to ‘clean the house before inviting the guests’ (see the next section). Besides, Mao attached great importance to the imperialist countries’ relations with the Nationalist regime, which by late 1949 had retreated to the island of Taiwan. In this regard, he insisted on the principle of ‘negotiation before establishing diplomatic relations’ with the aim of clarifying their attitudes towards Taiwan. In his instruction to Liu Shaoqi (the CCP’s second

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The Everyday Cold War

in command) and Zhou on the Burmese government’s request for establishing diplomatic relations in mid-December, Mao, then in Moscow negotiating a new Sino-Soviet treaty, said that Rangoon36 should be asked whether it was ‘willing to sever diplomatic relations with the Kuomintang’ and to ‘send a responsible representative to Beijing to negotiate establishing Sino-Burmese diplomatic relations’. Such a ‘negotiating procedure’, Mao stressed, was ‘totally necessary’ for ‘all capitalist countries’. In this way, China could ‘keep the initiative in its hands’.37 At two o’clock on the afternoon of 6 January 1950, the British consul general in Beijing, Walter Graham, arrived at the MFA to pass the note of recognition issued by Bevin to Zhou. Accordingly, the United Kingdom recognized the Central People’s Government of the PRC, ‘now in effective control of by far the greater part of the territory of China’, as ‘the de jure Government of China’. The British government was ‘ready to establish diplomatic relations on the basis of equality, mutual benefit and mutual respect for territory and sovereignty’, and ‘prepared to exchange diplomatic representatives with the Central People’s Government’. It had nominated John Hutchinson as ‘His Majesty’s Chargé d’Affaires ad interim’ pending the appointment of an ambassador, and requested the MFA to receive him and grant him ‘all necessary facilities’ for the transfer of himself, his staff and archives from Nanjing to Beijing.38 Received by Wang Bingnan, vice foreign minister at the MFA, and Huan Xiang, head of the MFA’s West European and African Department, Graham said that Britain had on the same day withdrawn its recognition of the Nationalist government and accordingly informed the latter’s embassy in London.39 While Britain derecognized Chiang Kai-shek’s government, America’s policy towards Taiwan appeared to have shifted in the same direction. On 5 January, President Truman announced that the United States had ‘no predatory designs on Formosa’ and would not use military forces to defend the island. A week later, Secretary Acheson spoke similarly of excluding Taiwan from the so-called US ‘defensive perimeter’.40 The FO welcomed Truman’s ‘hands-off ’ approach.41 Indeed, the British policy of recognizing the PRC had been predicated on the assumption that the fall of Taiwan into communist hands was only a matter of time. Now that the Truman administration had apparently written Taiwan off, America’s and Britain’s China policy would be more closely aligned than ever. Washington’s ‘signals’ on Taiwan were probably not lost on Beijing. In the summer of 1950, Mao and his military generals were preparing for the liberation of Taiwan, with assaults on Hainan and other offshore islands first before capturing Taiwan itself. (The liberation plan was to be delayed by logistical and military difficulties, and completely put on hold after the outbreak of the Korean War.)42

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By early 1950, like Britain, Burma, India and Pakistan had accorded diplomatic recognition to the PRC. In his report to Mao on 6 January, Zhou pointed out that ‘Britain was the most cunning’, not least because Bevin’s note of recognition did not mention negotiation. Zhou stressed that Hutchison would be ‘recognised merely as the representative of Britain’ and be allowed to come to Beijing to ‘negotiate the question of establishing diplomatic relations’.43 On 9 January, Zhou sent a formal rely to Bevin, indicating that China was willing to enter into diplomatic relations with Britain ‘on the basis of equality, mutual benefit, and mutual respect for territorial sovereignty’. Zhou was careful in referring to Hutchison’s status: China accepted ‘Hutchison whom you have appointed as Chargé d’Affaires ad interim as the representative of the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland sent to Peking to carry on negotiations on the question of establishment of diplomatic relations between our two countries’, and would ‘give all necessary facilities’ for him and his staff.44 Before Hutchison’s arrival in China, Graham sought to explore the Chinese attitude by paying a visit to the MFA on 16 January. Graham said that it was the British understanding that ‘the exchange of notes constituted the establishment of diplomatic relations’, and asked whether the Chinese government shared the same view. Graham, moreover, indicated that Hutchison should come to Beijing ‘in the capacity of Chargé d’Affaires’, and that he could discuss other ‘technical questions’ first.45 In response to Liu Shaoqi’s report about Graham’s queries, on 26 January Mao, who was having a difficult time in Moscow, gave instructions on how to handle Sino-British relations. Arguing that the exchange of notes showed that the two governments wanted diplomatic relations, Mao confirmed that Hutchison could come with the status of chargé d’affaires to negotiate ‘the preliminary and procedural matters’ pertaining to the establishment of diplomatic relations.46 On 8 February, Mao elaborated on the principles and procedure of Sino-British negotiation in the light of Hutchison’s impending arrival. ‘The most important thing’, Mao told Liu, ‘is the relationship between Britain and the remnants of the Chiang Kai-shek reactionaries.’ Two issues were involved here: British policy regarding Chinese representation in the United Nations and the controversy over the PRC’s assets in Hong Kong.47 Earlier, on 13 January, the British delegation had abstained from voting on a Soviet-sponsored resolution calling for expulsion of the Guomindang representative from the Security Council. To Mao, this demonstrated that London had not severed relations with the Nationalist regime, severance which was regarded as ‘a prerequisite issue for the establishment of Sino-British diplomatic relations’. In addition, the British Hong

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The Everyday Cold War

Kong government was caught up in a dispute over the ownership of seventy-one aircraft grounded in the colony. Back in November 1949, the managing directors and staff members of the China National Aviation Corporation – a Hong Kong-based company with the majority of its share held by the Guomindang government – and the Central Air Transport Corporation – an official agency of the Guomindang government – had defected to Communist China with eleven aircraft, leaving behind seventy-one aeroplanes in Hong Kong. Beijing claimed that the grounded aeroplanes were the property of the PRC. But the Nationalists immediately transferred the ownership of the two corporations to the Civil Air Transport under the pro-Chiang General Claire Chennault and his business partner, thus involving the Americans in the ownership dispute. With China and Taiwan/America making claims and counterclaims, the Hong Kong authorities resorted to legal means to decide the fate of the aircraft.48 Thus, Mao wanted the British to clarify their attitude towards the PRC’s national property in Hong Kong. On 13 February Hutchison arrived in Beijing to commence negotiation. An old China hand posted as a student interpreter to China at the age of twenty-five, Hutchison had from 1919 served in such capacities as vice consul, commercial secretary and commercial counsellor in Shanghai, Hankou, Hong Kong, Nanjing and so forth. His rich experience and China expertise, as it turned out, did not necessarily make his job easier. After a brief call by Hutchison to the MFA on 14 February, formal negotiation between the two sides did not start until 2 March. Receiving Hutchison (and his aides), Vice Minister Zhang Hanfu stated at the outset that, as far as the questions relating to the establishment of diplomatic relations were concerned, ‘the most important, which must be settled first, is question of severance of relations between His Majesty’s Government and Kuomintang remnant of reactionaries’. Referring to the previous British abstention on voting for the Soviet proposal to expel the Nationalist representative in the Security Council and in other UN organs, Zhang claimed that the United Kingdom indeed ‘continues to recognise the legality of so-called “delegate” of Kuomintang remnant of reactionary clique and refuses to accept delegate of legal Government of Chinese people’. Therefore, China insisted that the British ‘should clarify their attitude to this question and demonstrate by actual deeds their complete severance of diplomatic intercourse with Kuomintang remnant reactionaries and their sincerity in desiring to establish diplomatic relations with Chinese People’s Republic’. Besides, Zhang asked the British to clarify their attitude towards Guomindang organizations in Hong Kong and China’s national property there. In response, Hutchison said that the two questions raised were

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‘very complicated’, involving as they did ‘international law and international practice’, and that he was not qualified to answer because he himself was not a ‘legal expert’. Nevertheless, Hutchison expressed his personal opinion that the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations could not be solved by ‘the unilateral action of one state’, but by ‘the collective action of numerous states’. Hutchison added that the British abstention on the Soviet resolution ‘involved mainly procedural questions’. As for Guomindang properties in Hong Kong, Hutchison explained that by the time Britain accorded diplomatic recognition to the PRC, it ceased to recognize them. In short, although Hutchison described the tone of the meeting as ‘courteous and friendly’, the British came to realize the price they had to pay for establishing diplomatic relations with China.49 The British government’s reply to Zhang’s questions came on 17 March. In his interview with Zhang, Hutchison began by reiterating London’s de jure recognition of the PRC and withdrawal of diplomatic relations with the Nationalist government. On the question of China representation in the United Nations, Hutchison said that a decision as to whether to expel the Nationalist representative was premature and could only be reached collectively. The British had abstained on the Soviet resolution in the Security Council and other UN organs ‘because there was at that time no likelihood of a majority decision and it was consequently premature for the question to be raised’. Hutchison, nonetheless, reassured Zhang of Britain’s intention to vote for the PRC as soon as the majority of members in the Security Council similarly supported China’s admission. (Indeed, to break the deadlock, in March Britain began to work behind the scenes to secure a majority in China’s favour: it required two more votes in the Security Council, for five of the thirteen members had already recognized and voted for the PRC.)50 Hutchison said that Guomindang organizations and individuals in Hong Kong did not have ‘any political status at all’, and that Britain recognized the PRC’s right to exercise control over its properties in Hong Kong, but any disputes over actual possession of these properties needed to be settled through the courts.51 (On 23 February, the Hong Kong court had ruled that the seventy-one aeroplanes belonged to the PRC; but due to American pressure, the colonial authorities impeded their transfer to China.) Neither China nor Taiwan was willing to settle the Hong Kong aircraft dispute merely through the legal process, however. On 4 April Hutchison was summoned to the MFA, where Zhang transmitted an earlier statement by Zhou, criticizing that seven of the seventy-one aeroplanes grounded in Hong Kong had been sabotaged two days ago (ostensibly by Guomindang agents). While Hutchison described the incident as ‘unfortunate’, Zhang could not but blame

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The Everyday Cold War

the British: if ‘adequate protection’ had been afforded, Chinese state properties would not have been damaged.52 Moreover, China apparently retaliated against the British on another front. The same day Hutchison was received by Zhang, Beijing’s Military Control Commission ordered the British to surrender their military barracks, an order that had been put on hold shortly after London’s accord of recognition to the PRC in early January (see the next section). It is clear that by early April the Anglo-Chinese negotiation over diplomatic relations had reached an impasse. After almost two months, on 8 May the Chinese delivered their reply to the British through oral communication. In their meeting, Zhang put it bluntly to Hutchison that Beijing found the previous British explanations ‘unsatisfactory’. Concerning Chinese representation in the United Nations, Zhang argued, what was at stake was ‘not the number of favourable votes’, but rather ‘to see in the process of voting whether [other countries] really severed diplomatic relations with remnants of Kuomintang reactionaries and are really taking a friendly attitude towards the Central People’s Government’. Thus, Britain should ‘show with actual deeds’ that it had severed diplomatic intercourse with Taiwan and that it was ‘truly sincere’ in seeking formal relations with China. On Hong Kong, Zhang criticized that the British government had ‘not yet in actual action showed full respect for the State property rights and the right to administer these properties of the Central People’s Government’, first by preventing the seventyone aeroplanes from returning to China and then by failing to give them full protection, with the result that seven of them had been sabotaged.53 Responding to Zhang’s comments on British abstention in the United Nations, Hutchison asked in personal terms whether Beijing regarded a demonstration of attitude through voting as ‘more important’ than the chance of a majority in favour of China. On the Hong Kong aircraft dispute, Hutchison claimed that it was a ‘legal question’, and the two countries had to be ‘patient’. Unconvinced, Zhang insisted on further clarification by the British.54 As a negotiating tactic, Beijing stepped up its public rhetoric. On 22 May, a press statement released by the MFA put the blame for the deadlock in the negotiations squarely on the British, who were criticized for taking no ‘actual deeds’ to ‘completely sever’ diplomatic relations with Taiwan in the United Nations. Worse still, the British allegedly ‘detained’ the seventy-odd aeroplanes grounded in Hong Kong by legal means: an Order-in-Council, issued on 10 May, provided for the detention of the aircraft pending an adjudication as to their ownership, with right of final appeal to the Privy Council in London. It demonstrated all too clearly that Britain had adopted a ‘most unfriendly

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attitude’ towards the PRC and did not ‘respect’ the latter’s property and rights of administration in Hong Kong.55 On the other hand, the British sensed a hardening of the US attitude towards the communist world in the spring of 1950. Prompted by Soviet nuclear development (probably including hydrogen bombs) and the conclusion of the Sino-Soviet Treaty of Friendship, Alliance and Mutual Assistance (during Mao’s visit to Moscow), Paul Nitze, who succeeded George Kennan as head of the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff, had undertaken a comprehensive review of US national security policy and, in mid-April, produced NSC 68, which called for a more global and militant approach to containment. The Sino-Soviet alliance demonstrated that ‘Chinese Titoism’ was nothing more than a distant possibility. In view of this, Dean Rusk, the new assistant secretary of state for Far Eastern affairs, John Forster Dulles, a Republican consultant on foreign affairs, and Nitze began to talk of ‘drawing the line’ at Taiwan. The United States could not afford to continue its ‘hands-off ’ approach towards Taiwan and instead had to explore other options, such as a ‘neutralization’ of the island.56 During the bilateral talks between Acheson and Bevin in London in early May, it became clear that America and Britain had divergent views on China/Taiwan, with neither side being able to persuade the other to change its policy.57 Commenting on the talks, Kenneth Younger, minister of state at the FO, recorded in his diary that ‘there is a danger that in this way we will get the worse of both worlds’. He wrote that ‘in the short run [the British] are not going to get much change out of the Peking Government’, although believing that the PRC should be accepted in the United Nations.58 Against this background, the FO decided to take a tough line in the next round of talks with the Chinese. On 17 June, Hutchison communicated the British government’s reply to Beijing’s demands for further clarification of British policies. Pointing out that five months had elapsed since his arrival to begin negotiation, Hutchison wondered whether the Chinese government was ‘in fact sincerely desirous of the early establishment of diplomatic relations’. Hutchison regarded the British position on severing relations with the Nationalist government as ‘clear and definite’. He reiterated that the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations had to be settled by ‘a collective majority decision’, and refuted the Chinese contention that the colonial government had afforded ‘inadequate protection’ of the disputed aircraft in Hong Kong.59 After reading out the official reply, Hutchison said that in London’s opinion, ‘the Chinese government’s action to delay the establishment of diplomatic relations’ had created ‘difficulties’ in the negotiations. Zhang, however, disagreed that China was responsible. Countering

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The Everyday Cold War

Hutchinson’s remarks that five months had elapsed without progress, Zhang contended that the Hong Kong authorities had been detaining China-owed aeroplanes for six and a half months and that Britain had abstained from voting in the United Nations for over five months.60 In a word, both sides blamed each other for the existing stalemate in Anglo-Chinese negotiations. The British government did not, however, abandon its effort to bring China into the international community. In June it decided to support China’s admission to specialized UN agencies, with the earliest opportunity coming on 3 July when the Economic and Social Council convened in Geneva. But the outbreak of the Korean War on 25 June caused London to postpone the plan, while ending prematurely the Anglo-Chinese negotiations for diplomatic relations.61 Significantly, the Korean War had far-reaching consequences for the British diplomatic and economic establishment in China.

Eliminating British imperialism on the mainland Military barracks At a time when China was negotiating with Britain about the establishment of diplomatic relations on the basis of ‘equality’, Mao and Zhou also contemplated how to ‘fundamentally change the dependency status of old China’.62 Despite the fact that Chiang Kai-shek’s government had recovered most of the foreign concessions by 1945, the Chinese Communists were highly sensitive to foreign ‘informal influences’ on the mainland (while downplaying Chiang’s achievement in front of the Chinese people).63 While the International Settlement in Shanghai had been returned to Chinese rule in 1943, Britain along with the United States and France still kept their barracks (albeit emptied of troops after the war) in Beijing and Tianjin. At the time of the PRC’s founding, the key sectors of the Chinese economy were still dominated by foreign enterprises. Aware of the tremendous challenge of economic revival and political consolidation after liberation, Mao was intent on abrogating the remaining special privileges and influences of the imperialist powers ‘in a planned, step-by-step, and differential manner’.64 The Common Programme, adopted by the first session of the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference in September, stipulated that the new government ‘shall examine the treaties and agreements concluded between the Kuomintang and foreign governments, and shall recognize, abrogate, revise, or re-negotiate them according to their respective contents’.65

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One of the early targets of Chinese Communists was the Legation Quarter at Dongjiaominxiang, a district in the inner city of the old imperial capital of Peking (Beijing). To them, Dongjiaominxiang was a potent ‘symbol’ of China as a ‘semi-colony’ during the ‘century of humiliation’.66 The origin of foreign legations in Peking could be traced back to 1860, when Britain and France, after defeating Qing China in the Arrow War, secured the right of diplomatic residence. The British Legation, formally established in 1861, was installed in the Lianggongfu (the Palace of the Dukes of Liang), with two giant stone lions guarding the main buildings and a magnificent portrait of the Queen decorating the dining room. After the Boxer uprising and the subsequent Eight-Power Expedition, the Boxer Protocol of September 1901 provided for the creation of a Legation Quarter at Dongjiaominxiang, where the eleven signatory foreign powers were allowed to exercise exclusive control. Subsequently, the Legation Quarter became ‘a state within a state’, protected by military guards and high walls, governed by a municipal council of the diplomatic corps, and reserved for foreign residents only. The British Legation was subdivided into a civilian compound and military barracks, and it grew steadily to become the largest of all foreign diplomatic corps. Following the establishment of Chiang’s Nationalist government in Nanjing in 1927–8, Britain moved its embassy from Peking to Nanjing in the mid-1930s, but the civilian and military compounds in Beiping67 continued to function.68 After the liberation of Beijing, on 3 February 1949, tens of thousands of communist soldiers staged a grand parade, marching triumphantly through Dongjiaominxiang.69 Shortly after its official opening in November, the MFA set up a small committee on removing imperialist prerogatives, headed by Vice Foreign Minister Wang Bingnan and composed of Qiao Guanhua (a close aide of Zhou with extensive foreign affairs experience) and Huan Xiang. In line with the principle of eliminating foreign imperialist institutions and influences ‘in a planned, step-by-step, and differential manner’, Wang’s group targeted the military barracks at Dongjiaominxiang first.70 On the early evening of 6 January 1950, the Beijing Military Control Commission posted notices on the walls or gates of the British, American, French and Dutch Embassy or Consulate compounds at Dongjiaominxiang. The notices stated that in the past certain foreign countries, ‘taking advantage of the so-called “right of stationing troops” in the unequal treaties’, had built military barracks and other installations at the Legation Quarter. Now that ‘the unequal treaties had been abolished’, and ‘because of military needs’, these barracks and installations would be requisitioned in seven days.71 A few hours later, however,

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the notice on the gate of the British Embassy compound was removed by the Chinese. Significantly, in the afternoon of the same day, Ernest Bevin had sent a note to Zhou Enlai (communicated by Walter Graham to Wang Bingnan), according diplomatic recognition to the PRC. As Graham assessed it later, the posting and then removal of the notice on the wall of the British Embassy compound ‘were intended as the broadest possible hint that very different treatment would in future be accorded to countries which did and which did not recognise the People’s Government’.72 In the light of London’s recognition, the Chinese thus decided to postpone requisitioning the British barracks in order to facilitate the negotiation process and to differentiate Britain from other countries like the United States.73 On 7 January the American, French and Dutch consuls general received former notification from the Beijing Military Control Commission to the effect that a responsible person should be designated to hand over the barracks and installations at the end of the seven days’ grace. Resisting a hostile takeover, on the 9th, the US consul general in Beijing presented to the municipal government’s foreign affairs department a letter addressed to Zhou by the State Department. Referring to the 1901 Boxer Protocol, which granted the United States rights over the land and buildings in question, and the 1943 Sino-American Treaty, which confirmed those rights,74 the letter stated that Washington hoped that the Chinese government would not take any action that violated such rights. However, the letter was returned since, according to Beijing, the PRC and the United States had no diplomatic relations and the US consul general, as an ‘ordinary foreign resident’, could not make official representation.75 In view of this, the State Department sought the good offices of the British government to pass another letter on to Zhou. In an accommodating yet threatening tone, the letter dated 13 January said that the US government did not oppose handing over that part of the property known as the west glacis and then discussing the question of compensation for the buildings on it. But if any other parts of the consulate compound were requisitioned, the United States would have ‘no alternative’ to ‘closing all its consulates in China’. The British consul general secured an interview with Huan Xiang to pass on the American letter, which was rejected by the Chinese.76 China was undeterred by the American veiled threat. On 13 January, in Moscow Mao instructed Liu Shaoqi to implement the requisition of foreign barracks and prepare for the withdrawal of all US consulates from China.77 The following day, the Beijing Military Control Commission took over the former American, French and Dutch military barracks in Beijing. Four days later,

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Mao cabled Liu, applauding that the withdrawal of all US consulates would be ‘extremely beneficial’ to China78 – after all, the chairman had always yearned to cleanse the China house of suspected American espionage. On the other hand, Mao deliberately and calculatedly delayed the timing of requisitioning the British military barracks in view of the impending negotiation over diplomatic relations. In January Mao repeatedly instructed Liu and Zhou that, in negotiating with Hutchison, the Chinese representative should focus on diplomatic relations and British-Chiang relations, not the question of military barracks.79 After the communist takeover of the American, French and Dutch military barracks, the British could not take the fate of theirs for granted. On 15 January, a Sino-Soviet communiqué was published during Mao’s Moscow visit, stating that the Soviet government had decided to hand over gratis to the PRC all buildings of the former military barracks in Beijing.80 Consequently, Britain, alone among the eleven signatory parties to the 1901 Boxer Protocol, remained in possession of a military compound in the Legation Quarter. To John Shattock, head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, the Chinese desire to recover the foreign military compounds in Beijing ‘rests on psychological and not rational grounds’, these compounds being ‘regarded as a relic of the “unequal treaties” which China vowed to abrogate’. Nevertheless, the FO believed that Britain had on the whole ‘a good prima facie case in law for [the barracks’] continued retention’. Article 3 (iii) of the 1943 Sino-British Treaty about the relinquishment of extraterritorial rights in China read thus: ‘The Government of the Republic of China shall accord to His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom, a continued right to use for official purposes the land which has been allocated to His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom in the diplomatic quarter in Peiping (Peking), on parts of which are located buildings belonging to His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom.’81 Hutchison was less optimistic. ‘Our recognition of the Central People’s Government has apparently so far saved us from forced expropriation of the military compound,’ he argued, and ‘it seems as if the Chinese may have deliberately given us this opportunity of voluntarily offering to hand it over’. To Hutchison, the British government faced three choices – voluntary surrender (which he preferred), surrender by agreement, and China’s unilateral expropriation. He was not convinced that the 1943 Sino-British Treaty could be used to justify the British case since Beijing did not recognize ‘unequal treaty’, and that the surrender of the British rights in the military compound, as some feared, ‘would hasten the day when the Chinese ask for the return of new territories and/or Hong Kong’, for they ‘will raise these questions when

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they consider the time is ripe which is probably not yet the case’.82 The FO had reservations about voluntary surrender, not least because of its implications for Anglo-American relations. Shattock worried that ‘the United States Government, which withdrew its representatives from China over this issue, would probably react very sharply to any such move on our part’. On 3 March, the FO instructed Hutchison to ‘drop a hint [to the Chinese] discreetly that, though we consider we have a good title to the military compound, we should be prepared in the interests of good relations to renounce it, in return for which we should hope the Peking Government would enable us to make use of all or as much as possible of the area on a rental basis’.83 An opportunity to raise the question of military barracks did not arise, however. Worse still, in early April, the Chinese were infuriated by the sabotage of seven aircraft grounded in Hong Kong. Against this backdrop, on 4 April, a representative of the Beijing Military Control Commission handed an order to Graham requiring the surrender of the British barracks on the 11th. The next day, Hutchison addressed a letter to Zhang Hanfu, requesting discussion of the issue at the earliest opportunity. While Britain ‘anticipated no difficulty in reaching, in a courteous manner, an agreement satisfactory to both our Governments’, the letter said, it felt that ‘the requisition in the manner envisaged would provoke strong adverse criticism in the United Kingdom which would … be particularly undesirable at a time when our discussions for formal establishment of friendly relations were actually in progress’. The British government hoped to enlist the vice foreign minister’s help in order to prevent any precipitate implementation of the order by the Beijing Military Control Commission.84 On 7 April Hutchison was called to the MFA, where Huan Xiang made an oral communication to the effect that the British government should hand over the military barracks in compliance with the terms of the Beijing Military Control Commission’s proclamations. The question of property rights in respect of the buildings, Huan stressed, would be separately settled after the requisition of the barracks. As Hutchison reported it to the FO, the Chinese did not regard the question of British barracks as ‘part of [the] preliminary and procedural discussions’ on the establishment of diplomatic relations and thus refused to discuss it further.85 To Hutchison, continued refusal to comply with the Beijing Military Control Commission’s orders would not serve ‘any useful purpose’, and Graham should be asked to meet the requisitioning party to perform the handover of the military compound after removing all residents and movable government property there. Hutchison nonetheless deemed it essential that the civilian part of the British Embassy should be preserved, and that the requisitioning party

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should be left in no doubt from the outset about the ‘boundary between civil and military compound’.86 At 9.30 am on 11 April, the Beijing Military Control Commission sent representatives to take over the British military barracks. The process of transfer was completed by 1.00 pm, and the civilian compound was left unmolested.87 (In June the British military barracks in Tianjin were requisitioned by the city’s Military Control Commission.88)

Foreigner status The way the Chinese Communists treated the American consul general, as an ‘ordinary foreign resident’ with no diplomatic rights, prior to the requisitioning of the US barracks, underscored Mao’s determination to redefine the status of foreign nationals in the ‘New China’. To Mao, management of foreigners in the People’s Republic was of both symbolic and practical importance: the former due to the historical memory of the ‘century of humiliation’, and the latter as a result of internal security concerns.89 Nevertheless, Mao acted cautiously, declaring in early 1949 that the ‘legitimate interests’ of ‘ordinary foreign nationals’ would be ‘protected and not encroached upon’.90 Shanghai had been the centre of Western imperialism during the treaty-port era, with as many as 78,308 foreign nationals residing in the British-dominated International Settlement, the French Concession and the Chinese jurisdiction part of the city in 1934. By December 1949, 25,917 foreign nationals remained in Shanghai, including 2,746 Britons and 1,397 Americans.91 Constrained by limited resources and manpower, the communist authorities in the city needed to balance ideology and pragmatism in building a ‘New Shanghai’. Thus, foreigners and their businesses were allowed to stay as long as they contributed to economic revival and social stability.92 Registration of foreign residents was one of the important steps in supervising and restricting their activities in China. After the liberation of Beijing in 1949, the communist authorities there registered about 1,679 foreign residents, and formulated a series of regulations for aliens, such as residence certificates (to be issued to those with ‘proper occupation’), travel limits (within the Beijing municipality), and entry and exit permits.93 During 1950, registration of all foreign nationals was taking place in Nanjing, Shanghai and other cities.94 In early June, Hutchison drew the attention of the FO to the registration form to be signed by the applicant, which contained the following statement: ‘I hereby guarantee that I will abide by the laws and ordinances of the People’s Republic of China and will not contravene them, otherwise I am willing to submit myself to

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the control of the People’s Government as provided by the law.’ To FO officials, the registration of all foreigners, presumably including foreign diplomats, had implications for international law and diplomatic norms. F. S. Tomlinson found it objectionable that British diplomats and consuls should sign undertakings of this nature primarily because ‘it involves their acknowledging in advance that they are subject to the jurisdiction of the Central People’s Government’, and ‘their waiving in advance various immunities normally granted to Diplomatic and Consular officials which are necessary for the proper performance of their duties’. Tomlinson did realize that the question of consular immunities was ‘somewhat tricky’, not only because the Chinese government did not recognize the status of British consular officials pending the establishment of diplomatic relations, but also due to the British reluctance to raise the general question of consular representation at this stage for fear of Beijing’s concurrent demands for accepting Chinese consuls in Malaya.95 The FO decided that, when signing the statement of registration, each member of the British consular and diplomatic staffs should also express reservations as follows: ‘I give this undertaking without prejudice to any immunities arising out of any official position which I hold now or may hereafter hold.’ As for private British residents, the FO had ‘little objection’ to their making the guarantee ‘provided that it be properly construed in accordance with international law’.96 In Beijing, Hutchison wanted to go one step further than what Whitehall proposed: he was prepared to give (and indeed had given) guarantees for departing members of his consular staff to the effect that they had ‘involved in no dispute over debts or unfinished criminal or civil actions in this municipality’, and, if they were so involved, he was ‘willing to be fully responsible’. To Hutchison, this type of guarantee did ‘not specifically deny any immunities’ that British consuls might have, and was specifically limited in its scope to an existing condition.97 The outbreak of the Korean War on 25 June propelled Beijing to accelerate the process of eliminating the remaining imperialist institutions and influences on the mainland. Seeing a close link between foreign policy and domestic politics, Mao seized upon the political and economic challenges of the Korean conflict to consolidate state power through a series of mass campaigns. On top of the propaganda of ‘Resist America and Assist Korea, and Defend our Home and our Country’ to mobilize the Chinese people,98 in late 1950 and early 1951, Mao launched the campaign to suppress ‘counter-revolutionaries’ in tandem with China’s massive intervention in the Korean War. Between late 1951 and 1952, the ‘three-anti’s and five anti’s’ campaigns were underway, directing against ‘corrupt’ bureaucrats and those committing ‘economic crimes’, respectively.99 As

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the political campaigns swept across the nation, suspicion and paranoia about foreigners living in China reached new heights. During 1950, for instance, the Bureau of Public Security in Beijing dealt with more than a hundred incidents involving foreign residents, mainly related to alleged espionage and arms possession, with 780 foreigners being ordered to leave the country.100 In Shanghai, suppression and arrests of domestic ‘counterrevolutionaries’ and proChiang foreign spies were vigorously carried out.101 Anglo-Chinese political relations deteriorated as a result of Britain’s involvement in the Korean War – participation in the American-led UN coalition against North Korea, voting in February 1951 for a UN resolution branding China an ‘aggressor’, and support for the UN strategic embargo on the PRC in May.102 The British diplomats on the ground were confronted with ‘the arrogance of Chinese bureaucracy’. Leo Lamb, who succeeded Hutchison following the latter’s departure in February 1951, found it difficult to gain access to the MFA. The unrecognized status of Lamb, who was seen merely as a ‘negotiation representative’, remained at the heart of the problem. Thus, written communications from Lamb and his staff were rarely acknowledged. Requests for interview with the Chinese vice foreign minister were consistently ignored or sidetracked. And the MFA refused to issue entry permits for the replacement of British diplomatic staff, arguing that the entry of ‘ordinary civilian residents’ was essentially a matter for the Public Security Bureau to whom applications should accordingly be addressed.103 The British consular establishment in China104 disintegrated in the midst of the Korean War and Beijing’s heightened security concerns. In November 1950, the British vice consul at Shenyang was expelled from China for technical ‘obstruction’ of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) into which he had been goaded. As Hutchison assessed it, the expulsion was probably related to Beijing’s uneasiness that the British consulate there was in a position to observe movements of Chinese troops destined for Korea.105 In January the following year, the British consul general at Urumuqi was expelled on the grounds of espionage and incitement of ethnic differences, and the consulate there was forcibly closed.106 In April the British consul general in Kunming was ordered to vacate the consulate premises at ten days’ notice. It followed the earlier expulsion of the French consular staff at Kunming, which might be ‘linked with Chinese intentions towards French Indo-China’ (Kunming being ‘the nearest listening post’ on developments in Vietnam).107 Owing to the MFA’s refusal to issue visas for replacements of British consular staff, together with the reduction of the size of the British communities and interests in China, the British government decided to close its consular

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posts at Xiamen, Chongqing, Nanjing, Hankou, Kunming and Qingdao in the course of 1951. By the end of the year, the number of British consulates was reduced from sixteen on the eve of the Pacific War to only three – at Shanghai, Guangzhou and Tianjin.108 When consuls were withdrawn from Guangzhou and Tianjin in 1952, Shanghai became the only British diplomatic outpost outside Beijing.109

Economic interests The Korean War and the ensuing trade embargoes propelled the Chinese leaders to accelerate the socialist transformation of the economy and thereby eliminate the ‘dependency nature of semi-colony’.110 The transformation coincided with China’s reorientation towards the Soviet economic bloc during the Korean conflict.111At the time of the PRC’s founding, more than 1,000 foreign-owned businesses were allowed to stay on the mainland, subject to investigation, supervision and control.112 By June 1950 there were 685 foreign enterprises in Shanghai alone, employing over 48,000 Chinese workers.113 In early November, the MFA announced to the nation its preliminary views on dealing with foreign enterprises. Foreign trading firms, banks, manufacturing businesses and so forth would be dealt with separately on the merits of each case and in accordance with nationality, sector and line of profession. Under the policy of differential treatment, the American enterprises in China were the primary target, with priorities being given to industries directly related to China’s defence and economic needs, such as public utilities and petroleum.114 In response to the Truman administration’s 16 December announcement on control over the PRC’s official and private properties in the United States and a ban on American-registered vessels calling at Chinese ports, on the 28th, the Chinese government announced that all US properties and enterprises in China would be investigated and controlled, and US official and private bank deposits would be frozen. The Shanghai authorities subsequently exercised control over some 115 US enterprises in the municipality, including the Standard-Vacuum Oil Company and the Shanghai Power Company. (Part of the property of the Standard-Vacuum Oil Company and all of its petroleum were requisitioned in July 1951.)115 In 1951, while still focusing on eliminating American economic influences on the mainland, China turned its attention to British enterprises in ‘partial retaliation’ for Hong Kong’s events.116 On 7 April the colonial authorities in Hong Kong requisitioned the Chinese oil tanker, Yung Hao, then under repair on the

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harbour, so as to prevent China from acquiring it for military purposes in Korea. On 18 April Vice Foreign Minister Zhang Hanfu made a formal protest to Lamb in Beijing. On the 30th, Beijing announced the requisition of the entire holdings of the British-owned Shell Company of China, Ltd., save its office buildings.117 Not only Shell, but the British economic presence in China as a whole faced an uncertain future. Although, due to China’s stockpiling prior to the Korean conflict, some British import and export firms and shipping concerns had managed to survive, the imposition of US and UN embargoes on China in 1951 seriously disrupted Anglo-Chinese trade. The British manufacturing enterprises carrying out trade in China (as distinct from trade with China), such as textiles and tobacco processing, suffered the most. Through high taxation, arbitrary price controls and draconian labour regulations, the Chinese government made life progressively difficult for many British firms in China. Despite the everworsening business conditions, the British firms were prevented from closure and even staff replacement until after settling all their alleged liabilities and compensating the redundant Chinese labour. They had to keep their businesses afloat by replying on remittances from head offices in the United Kingdom. In other words, China’s policy regarding foreign enterprises was one of utilization and ‘squeezing out’, not of outright appropriation and wholesale expulsion.118 In May Herbert Morrison, who succeeded Bevin as foreign secretary, circulated a memorandum titled ‘treatment of British interests in China by the Central people’s Government’ for consideration by the Cabinet. Besides the communist treatment of British commercial and trading interests in China, the memorandum highlighted the gradual exclusion of British consuls, the requisition of United Kingdom property including the military barracks, delays in granting exit and entry permits to Britons, as well as the arrest and imprisonment of foreign (mostly American and Canadian) missionaries (with the result that most of the British missions in China decided in principle to withdraw). All this suggested, it concluded, ‘a deliberate policy of squeezing out by degrees those British and Western interests which are not of practical use and assistance to the Chinese’.119 Conditions for the British firms in China turned from bad to worse during 1952. By that time, the British government was headed by Winston Churchill of the Conservative Party. Despite Churchill’s personal dislike of Communist China and the FO’s comprehensive review of future relations with Taiwan, the policy of recognizing the PRC as the legitimate government of China was confirmed.120 Nevertheless, the Churchill government could not but conclude that the time had come for a complete commercial withdrawal from the mainland. On

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12 April, Lamb delivered a note to the MFA about the difficulties faced by British firms, warning implicitly that the continued state of affairs would only result in ‘the elimination of British business interests in China to the detriment of friendly relations between China and the United Kingdom’.121 With no official Chinese response after more than a month, on 19 May, Lamb was authorized to address another note to Zhang Hanfu. Facing ‘increasing difficulties’, the note wrote, ‘nearly all, if not all, of the British companies in China’ had concluded that they ‘can no longer operate satisfactorily in China and can serve no useful purpose in future’. The Chinese government was thus requested to provide ‘good offices’ to enable those firms that had decided to close, reorganize or transfer their businesses, for example, by approving the termination of the services of redundant Chinese staff, issuing exit permits for British personnel and setting up a machinery for the custody and transfer of businesses. On the other hand, Lamb’s note included a tentative proposal, by a number of British companies hoping to ‘perform a useful service in the interests of Sino-British trade’, for setting up a new form of organization which ‘would maintain direct contact with the appropriate Chinese authorities’ and ‘act as a permanent trade mission’.122 After more than a month, Lamb received a reply from Zhang. Claiming that China was ready to trade with other countries including Britain on the basis of ‘equality and mutual benefit’, Zhang’s statement attributed the present predicament of British firms to their own ‘bad management’ and to London’s adoption of ‘obstructive embargo’ on China under ‘incessant pressure from the United States’. Nevertheless, law-abiding British companies that wanted to continue operation in China would receive ‘due protection’ by the Chinese government. On the other hand, those firms hoping to wind up their affairs could apply to the local authorities, who would deal with each case according to its merits and reach ‘expeditious and reasonable settlement’. The statement concluded with an assurance that any Britons, provided they did ‘not harbour monopoly designs’, could ‘approach at any time private and state trade organisations of China establishing contact and conducting specific business negotiations with them’.123 Lamb found the tone of the Chinese statement ‘quite encouraging’, while the FO felt that it ‘may provide a useful peg on which to hang any future representations on behalf of British firms if they run into difficulties’.124 Zhang’s assurance notwithstanding, the condition for the British firms did not improve. Although China might have desired economic relations with Britain, it wanted to conduct it through a new channel. The holding of the International Economic Conference in Moscow early in April provided an opportunity for China to develop trade with the outside world by bypassing the old British firms

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or ‘hongs’. Indeed, some ‘dissent’ British traders and individuals had attended the Moscow Conference to explore business opportunities with Chinese state organizations. Later, new economic groups like the British Council for the Promotion of International Trade and the ‘48 Group’, which London depicted as ‘communist front organisations’, sprang up to conduct a new pattern of trade with the PRC.125 The implication was: the days of the traditional British firms on the mainland were numbered. Once again, events in Hong Kong intervened to incite Beijing to retaliate against British concerns in China. On 28 July, the Privy Council in London ruled that forty of the seventy-one aircraft grounded in Hong Kong, claimed by both the American-owned Civil Air Transport and the PRC, belonged to the former. Following a protest to Britain by MFA, on 15 August the Shanghai Military Control Commission requisitioned all the properties of the Shanghai Dockyards and the Mollers Shipbuilding and Engineering Works Ltd. After the Hong Kong Supreme Court, on 8 October, granted the ownership of the remaining thirty-one aircraft to the Civil Air Transport, on 20 November the Shanghai authorities requisitioned all the properties of the three British-owned public utilities companies – the Shanghai Waterworks Company Ltd., the Shanghai Gas Company Ltd. and the Shanghai Electric Construction Company Ltd.126 By late 1952, most British firms faced the stark reality that the only practical way of avoiding further remittances and taxes and securing exit permits for foreign staff was closure in the form of transfer of assets against liabilities. That is to say, the British firms had to apply for the surrender of all their assets to China as a set-off against their liabilities, which had been grossly inflated by the Chinese. The cases of Butterfield and Swire (or Taikoo) and Jardine, Matheson and Co. Ltd. deserve a brief mention here. In June 1952, Holt’s Wharf and Swire and Maclaine, two of Taikoo’s associated companies, applied for closure. In view of the Chinese deliberate policy of ‘squeezing out’, in late April 1954 Taikoo made the decision in principle to withdraw altogether from China. Negotiations between September and December that year concluded with the handing over of all Taikoo assets against its liabilities in China.127 As for Jardine, Matheson and Co. Ltd., in July 1952, an application was filed with the Chinese authorities to close down its Shanghai office. In November, when an agreement was reached to wind up its branch in Tianjin, Jardine had to surrender all its local assets against its liabilities, even though the former exceeded the latter by a great margin (approximately £160,000). As the British chargé in Beijing reported it to Whitehall, ‘This is sheer robbery’.128 By 1954, Jardine had no choice but to pull out completely from China.

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In a matter of three years, Mao had largely cleansed the China house of foreign economic influences. By the end of 1952, a total of 236 British businesses were liquidated, constituting 63 per cent of British capital in China. When 1956 drew to a close, the elimination of British economic presence was almost complete, with 93.1 per cent of British capital being liquidated.129 (The last British firm, Patons and Baldwins, was to close in 1959.)130 Together with the requisition of the former British military barracks in Beijing and the closure of all but one British consular post on the mainland, Anglo-Chinese relations formally entered a ‘post-imperial’ era.

Tolerating British colonialism in Hong Kong If the Chinese Communists were determined to uproot residual British imperialism on the mainland (albeit in a step-by-step manner), they were not similarly eager to end British colonialism in Hong Kong after 1949. In their eyes, the three treaties governing Hong Kong’s colonial status – the Treaty of Nanjing of 1842 and the two Conventions of Beijing, signed in 1860 and 1898, respectively – were ‘unequal treaties’, which were invalid and illegitimate. China always possessed sovereignty over Hong Kong, which was merely under British ‘administration’, and drew no distinction between Hong Kong Island and the Kowloon Peninsula which were ceded ‘in perpetuity’ and the ninety-nine-year lease of the New Territories. Preoccupied with the civil war in the late 1940s, Mao Zedong had decided, even before the PRC’s founding, to leave British Hong Kong alone for the time being (not least because the CCP could use Hong Kong as a base to oversee and coordinate the seizure of power in south China). A few days after Mao had proclaimed from the Tiananmen Gate that the Chinese people had ‘stood up’, Zhou Enlai told Qiao Guanhua, the first director of the Hong Kong branch of the NCNA (or the PRC’s de facto embassy in Hong Kong), that Hong Kong was a problem ‘left behind by history’. Although China did not demand the return of Hong Kong at present, it did not mean ‘abandoning’ or ‘withdrawing’ from it. Rather, the recovery of Hong Kong would be a ‘long-term’ task, and the NCNA in Hong Kong should facilitate it through propaganda and united front work.131 While its role in the Chinese Civil War largely ended by late 1949, Hong Kong assumed a new significance in the Cold War, particularly since the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950. In the spring of 1951, Zhou Enlai spelt out in detail

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his strategic thinking about Hong Kong. China’s Hong Kong policy should ‘not be measured by the narrow principle of territorial sovereignty’, but should be seen as ‘part of the overall strategic arrangements for the East-West struggle’. By recognizing the PRC, Zhou argued, the British government hoped to ‘preserve the British Empire’s interests in China’ and its ‘colonial interests in the Far East’. However, there were ‘contradictions’ between Britain and the United States, for Washington desired to ‘seize Britain’s politico-economic sphere of influence in the Far East’. By allowing Hong Kong to be held in British hands, China could indeed ‘hold the initiative’, and ‘widen and utilize’ the AngloAmerican ‘contradictions’ in Asia. It regarded the British colony as ‘an outpost to break the blockade and embargo imposed on China by the US-led Western coalition’. Herein lay the ‘great strategic significance’ of preserving the status quo of Hong Kong. But Zhou also stressed that if Britain ‘followed too closely the anti-China policy of the United States’, China would oppose it.132 In short, the guiding principles of Beijing’s Hong Kong policy became known as ‘longterm planning and full utilization’. Accordingly, China utilized Hong Kong to collect intelligence on the outside world, earn foreign currency, and exploit Anglo-American differences over China/Taiwan, while resuming sovereignty over Hong Kong when ‘the conditions are ripe’ (probably in 1997 when the New Territories Lease expired).133 The British were acutely aware that after 1949 Hong Kong existed in the shadow of its giant communist neighbour. During the 1950s, the Cold War in Asia was at its height: America and China confronted each other over Korea, Indochina and Taiwan. The British military worried that Hong Kong would be attacked not as an isolated move by China for reunification but in the context of a wider Sino-American war.134 A more immediate, day-to-day concern was internal security. The Hong Kong colonial authorities were constantly alert to not only Beijing-inspired communist subversion but also the possible use of Hong Kong by the United States and Taiwan for intelligence gathering, propaganda and other Cold War purposes.135 China, for its part, was eager to prevent Hong Kong from being turned into a ‘base of subversion’ against the mainland by the Americans and the Chinese Nationalists. As a result, Hong Kong became a site where the global Cold War was played out on a daily basis. The ‘political space’ of Hong Kong was being constantly constructed and contested by the words and actions of China and America/Taiwan, with Britain (particularly the colonial authorities) playing a mediating role to contain their struggles.

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Conclusion During 1949 and early 1950, the Atlee government had seriously underestimated the difficulties of establishing diplomatic relations with a newly founded revolutionary state determined to bury the ‘century of humiliation’. Accustomed to the international practice where the exchange of recognition notes marked the beginning of diplomatic relations, the British failed to grasp Mao’s principles of ‘making a fresh start’ and ‘cleaning the house before inviting the guests’. To the chairman, the New China was not in a hurry to develop formal relations with the capitalist/ or imperialist countries including Britain. The priority, instead, was to eliminate all imperialist institutions and influences on the mainland, albeit in a gradual and differential manner. To ‘delay’ establishing diplomatic relations with Britain, Mao argued, did not mean ‘reaching a deadlock’ but rather ‘keeping the initiative totally in our hands’.136 Holding the initiative was not an end in itself, but rather a means to force Britain to sever all links with Taiwan and truly endorse the principle of ‘one China’. In Mao’s eyes, the British had failed the test of ‘sincerity’ by denying China of its seat in the United Nations and the disputed Hong Kong aircraft. As Zhou claimed in September 1950, Britain had adopted an ‘extremely unreasonable’ and ‘unfriendly attitude’ towards the Chinese people.137 Britain’s ‘failure’ to establish diplomatic relations with China stemmed partly from its Taiwan policy, which was ambivalent and inconsistent. During late 1949 and the first half of 1950, the Labour government (wrongly) assumed that the fall of Taiwan into communist hands was imminent, and thus the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations would soon disappear. Yet the outbreak of the Korean War shattered the British assumptions and calculations about Taiwan. According to historian Wang Hao, there existed three schools of thought within London – the first supporting China’s seizure of Taiwan, the second favouring an ‘independent’ Taiwan that was neither Nationalist nor Communist, and the last one calling for the protection of Chiang’s regime in Taiwan.138 In consequence, the Attlee government found it difficult to pursue a coherent policy towards Taiwan in line with the policy of ‘keeping a foot’ in Communist China. Notwithstanding diplomatic recognition of the PRC, the FO decided to maintain a consulate in Taiwan, accredited to the provincial authorities at Tamsui, for the sake of shipping and trading relations. Although, in September 1950, Britain had voted for an Indian resolution to admit the PRC into the United Nations (but abstained on a Soviet motion to expel the Nationalists), in

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mid-1951 London yielded to American pressure by supporting their proposal for a moratorium on discussion of the question of Chinese representation in the organization.139 What is more, the FO took a legalistic view of Taiwan, regarding its status as ‘undetermined’: the Peace Treaty between Japan and the Republic of China, signed on 28 April 1952, stated that Japan renounced all claim to Taiwan and the Pescadores, but did not specify their final legal disposition. The British, in short, had underestimated Mao’s sensitivity to the principle of China’s sovereignty over Taiwan. Although the Chinese had not raised the Tamsui Consulate and Taiwan’s status during the 1950 negotiations, these issues together with the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations would prove to be the three main obstacles to Anglo-Chinese normalization in years to come.

2

Fighting and Co-opting Britain, 1954–64

Between April and early May 1954, the French, which had been fighting for their empire in Vietnam since 1946, were besieged and eventually defeated by the Vietminh, supported by China, at Dien Bien Phu.1 On 8 May, the Geneva Conference, co-chaired by Britain and the Soviet Union, was convened to discuss the Indochina crisis (a concurrent Korean session had started on 26 April). At Geneva, the British and Chinese foreign secretaries seized the opportunity to improve Anglo-Chinese bilateral relations at both diplomatic and economic levels. After the exchange of chargés d’affaires in June, Zhou Enlai claimed that Britain and China enjoyed merely ‘semi-diplomatic relations’: the stage of negotiating normal diplomatic relations had not yet ended. At the heart of the problem was Britain’s ‘two Chinas’ policy regarding Taiwan and Hong Kong. In line with Mao Zedong’s united front doctrine, China needed to ‘struggle’ against Britain in order to frustrate its ‘two Chinas’ conspiracy, while cooperating with London over other issues with a view to widening the Anglo-American contradictions. Between 1954 and 1964, China and Britain were involved in the ‘everyday Cold War’, characterized by both struggle and cooperation, both symbolism and pragmatism.

Indochina and Anglo-Chinese rapprochement The Geneva Conference on Indochina took place against the backdrop of a new phase in China’s foreign policy under the Five Principles of Peaceful Coexistence. With the death of Joseph Stalin, the conclusion of the Korean armistice, and the adoption of the First Five Year Plan in 1953, Mao shifted his policy priority from promotion of world revolution to domestic reconstruction and the search for a peaceful international environment. Zhou’s diplomacy of

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peaceful existence centred on forming a broadest possible international united front with Western European and Asian neutral countries against the principal enemy, the American imperialists.2 As far as the Geneva Conference was concerned, the main objective of Zhou, who headed the Chinese delegation, was to achieve the neutralization of Indochina or to extend the ‘zone of peace’ in the immediate vicinity of China by removing the hostile foreign presence in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Zhou sought to build a united front with Britain and France, both of which were anxious to restore peace in Indochina, against the United States, which was unenthusiastic about a diplomatic solution but the formation of a collective security organization in Southeast Asia.3 At Geneva the Chinese delegation strove not only to find a negotiated settlement of Indochina in the formal proceedings, but also to conduct outsideconference diplomacy aimed to improve bilateral relations with individual countries. According to the MFA: ‘Outside the conference, the mutual relations between China and Britain, China and France, and China and Canada will be touched upon, and we should make some preparations in this respect.’4 It proposed a set of principles for dealing with the British delegation: the Chinese representatives should ‘not be impatient’, should ‘not take a big step and yet make no move’, should ‘seek common ground while reserving differences’, and should ‘resolve some minor problems in order to keep the other side engaged’. Trade was deemed an important issue in Sino-British relations. By that time, Britain’s exports to China were subject to an extensive list of embargoed and restricted goods coordinated by the US-led China Committee, established in September 1952 within the framework of the Coordinating Committee for Multilateral Export Controls. As Huan Xiang, a key member of the Chinese delegation, explained: ‘Mao has said that our policy was to close the door and clean the house before inviting the guests. Now that the house is almost cleaned … the door can no longer be shut.’5 Thus, the Chinese delegation included a group of foreign trade officials who, as Zhou instructed, would seize every opportunity to explore China’s foreign trade with Western Europe and thereby make a breakthrough in the US economic containment of China.6 Fearful of escalating into another Korean-type conflict and alienating the Commonwealth and domestic public opinion, the British government under Winston Churchill had in late April rejected Washington’s calls for ‘united action’ to relieve the French forces at Dien Bien Phu, a rejection that contributed to President Dwight Eisenhower’s decision against unilateral US intervention and thus the French military defeat. Instead, it attached importance to the convening of the Geneva Conference on Indochina.7 As the conference co-chair (with

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Soviet foreign minister Vyacheslav Molotov), Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden saw the cessation of hostilities in Indochina as his primary objective.8 By finding a diplomatic solution to the Indochina conflict, Eden hoped to demonstrate his diplomatic skills and leadership. Moreover, Eden believed that any future collective security arrangement in the region as proposed by the Americans should involve the Colombo Powers, particularly India. Such a preference was consistent with the British strategy of defensive containment in Asia, with India assuming a vital role in containing communist expansion through diplomacy.9 While hoping to work with the Chinese to restore peace in Indochina, the British government initially did not anticipate a change in its general China policy. In early 1954, Denis Allen, assistant undersecretary in charge of Far Eastern affairs at the FO, defined the ‘twin objectives’ of Britain’s China policy as ‘containment’ and ‘seeking a modus vivendi’. On the one hand, Britain aimed to ‘prevent the spread of Communism outside its present confines’ and to ‘strengthen our own colonial possessions’. On the other, ‘we strive, so far as circumstances permit, to establish something more like normal relations between China and ourselves and between China and her neighbours in South East Asia and the Pacific.’ ‘The twin objectives inevitably tend sometimes in different directions,’ Allen added, and so ‘our policy should be empirical’. To Allen, ‘the solidarity of the Anglo-American alliance’ was ‘an over-riding consideration’, particularly concerning the questions of Chinese representation in the United Nations and of Western embargo on China. Since June 1951, Britain had been supporting the US proposal for moratorium, or an annual motion to defer discussion of China’s representation in the United Nations. It was believed that the Korean War armistice, signed in July 1953, ‘was not sufficient in itself to bring about the change in the general situation in the Far East which would warrant a change in our policy over Chinese representation and the embargo’.10 In a 14 April memorandum on the Geneva Conference, Allen affirmed that the British delegation should not say anything to the Chinese representatives about diplomatic relations: ‘If the Chinese take the initiative in raising the question with us, we should listen to what they have to propose, with moderate interest and without enthusiasm. We should make no comment and only undertake to consider whatever they may have to say.’ In view of the deteriorating situation in Indochina, a Chinese offer to exchange ambassadors ‘might prove extremely embarrassing’ for Britain. In short, the lifting of the strategic embargo and support for China’s admission to the United Nations belonged to ‘the hypothetical future stage when there has been a general improvement in the situation’.11

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As it turned out, the Geneva Conference not only allowed Eden and Zhou to work together for peace in Indochina, but also provided rare opportunities for the two foreign secretaries (and their subordinates) to discuss a range of bilateral issues. Through personal diplomacy, Eden desired to build bridges with the Chinese,12 while Zhou wanted to exploit British realism against American rigidity. Although the prospect of Anglo-Chinese rapprochement was not deliberately used as a bargaining chip for an Indochina agreement (or vice versa), progress on the former did increase interpersonal trust and create an atmosphere conducive to the resolution of the latter.13 On the occasion of a luncheon given by Molotov on 30 April, Zhou for the first time met with Eden. After the Soviet foreign minister had expressed his personal opinion that China was unfairly treated in international affairs, Eden claimed that despite London’s diplomatic recognition, China did not recognize Britain. ‘It is not China which does not recognize Britain,’ Zhou replied, but ‘it is Britain which does not recognize us in the United Nations’. This prompted Eden to say that ‘Britain is also dissatisfied with China on some [other] things, but I do not want to mention these things when we are dinning together today’. Eden suggested that the question of Sino-British relations should be further discussed between Humphrey Trevelyan, the British chargé d’affaires in Beijing who accompanied him to Geneva, and the Chinese delegation. After Zhou relayed that he had also brought Huan Xiang, director of the MFA’s Department of West European and African Affairs, along, Eden proclaimed: ‘Well, we have some thoughts in common.’14 On 3 May, Trevelyan held what would be the first of a series of meetings at Geneva with Huan about various issues in Sino-British relations. On the treatment of British subjects in China, Trevelyan enquired about the detention of Robert Ford, an ex-RAF wireless operator in the service of the Tibetan government, for more than three years. Huan claimed that Ford was detained in relation to his ‘not very good activities’ during China’s ‘liberation’ of Tibet, his case being dealt with at the moment. Trevelyan then asked why some Britons were denied exit permits, what steps British applicants needed to take in order to secure exit permits and whether consular access to British nationals was permitted. Huan replied that no foreigners would face ‘difficulties’ in departing China, provided they had not committed any civil or criminal crimes or owned any liabilities. He, nonetheless, added that the application of each case also depended on ‘the state of relations between the two countries’ concerned. On the issue of British firms in China, Trevelyan said that what was important were ‘fair treatment’ and ‘closure of business under reasonable conditions’.

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Referring to the British banks, he hoped that the Chinese government would speed up the negotiations over their closure and permit the redundancy of their Chinese staff. In reply, Huan confirmed that Chinese workers could be made redundant but only in accordance with Chinese law, and that foreign staff could be replaced. But he asserted that the so-called ‘unfair treatment’ of the British firms was indeed the result of Britain’s involvement in the US-led embargo on China. Finally, Trevelyan raised the possibility of replacing the acting British consul general in Shanghai, Allan Veitch, who had not taken home leave for four and a half years. Stressing that this was not a question of ‘recognition’ but of ‘overcoming practical difficulties’, Trevelyan proposed that a new staff be added to the Office of the British Chargé in Beijing15 so that an existing officer there could be sent to replace Veith at Shanghai. Huan replied that he needed more time for consideration. In the end, Trevelyan, describing the meeting as ‘valuable’, hoped that these ‘informal, face-to-face discussions’ would continue in order to enhance ‘mutual understanding’. Huan agreed that the meeting was ‘helpful to the improvement of Sino-British relations’.16 At Geneva it took Eden ‘some time to achieve any kind of personal contact’ with Zhou.17 Eden’s educational background and long political career facilitated his personal diplomacy. An Oxford graduate with a first in Persian and Arabic, Eden had had extensive first-hand experiences with the East beyond India, regarding the Orient as his first ‘love’.18 On 14 May, Eden met with Zhou for the second time at the latter’s residence (Villa Montfleuri), which was a ‘very fine villa, on a larger scale and more splendid’ than Eden’s accommodation at Geneva. The room where they met displayed ‘some beautiful pieces of Chinese porcelain’ brought from China, and Eden could not help but say ‘how lovely they were’.19 More importantly, Eden said that he found the Huan-Trevelyan meeting, on 3 May, a ‘very good talk’. Zhou revealed that many of the questions raised by Trevelyan ‘can be resolved’, adding: ‘We should both work to improve SinoBritish relations.’20 The British and the Chinese were eager to explore the prospects for increasing bilateral trade. On the one hand, the FO and the old British China firms (as represented by the Federation of British Industries and the China Association) wanted to regain initiative from the ‘newcomers’ that emerged out of the 1952 Moscow International Economic Conference (like the ‘48 Group’).21 On the other, under Zhou’s direction, the Chinese vice minister for foreign trade, Lei Renmin, saw trade with Britain as a way to break the US embargo on China and thereby widen the Anglo-American contradictions.22 On 6 May, Peter Tennent and Joe Ford of the Federation of British Industries, together with Trevelyan,

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met with Lei and his aide to discuss trade issues. Both sides expressed interest in expanding Sino-British trade covering industry, commerce and banking services. Tennent suggested inviting a Chinese trade mission to Britain, to which Lei responded positively. Tennent and Lei held another round of discussion later in the month.23 In late May, a parliamentary delegation led by Harold Wilson (a Labour MP and former president of the Board of Trade under the Atlee government) and William Robson-Brown (a Conservative MP) came to Geneva to discuss trade and other issues with the Chinese. Having established his reputation as a leftwinger following his resignation from the Cabinet over defence expenditure in 1951, Wilson was granted an interview with Zhou on 30 May. Wilson asked if it was true that China would not improve relations with Britain until after securing the UN seat, adding that had the question of Chinese representation been resolved, ‘many problems in Asia would not have occurred’. Zhou replied that China needed more time to restore its rightful place in the United Nations and thus the improvement of Sino-British relations did ‘not completely depend’ on it. ‘On this question, Britain can make some impact,’ Zhou claimed. Although China did not expect Britain to have a ‘decisive impact’ since the majority of member states in the United Nations were ‘controlled by the United States’, by voting for China, Britain could demonstrate its independent views and thereby ‘influence the United States’. On the issue of trade, Wilson confided to Zhou that, in his opinion, China did not use it as a ‘political weapon’ or for propaganda purposes. Claiming that the development of Sino-British trade would be ‘mutually beneficial’, Wilson proposed setting up a Chinese commercial representative’s office in Britain, a proposal which Zhou agreed to consider.24 Assessing the discussions with the Chinese at Geneva, Colin Crowe, head of the FO’s China and Korea Department, argued that ‘from their point of view the Chinese can claim that they have been very accommodating’ regarding Trevelyan’s ‘long list of grievances’, having agreed to address ‘nearly all of them (except of course for the most important)’. Crowe expected that China ‘should want something from us in return’. It was Trevelyan’s impression that ‘the Chinese would like us to take the initiative to discuss the establishment of full diplomatic relations, which would bring up the question of China’s seat in the United Nations’. To Crowe, nevertheless, ‘the fundamental position remains unchanged and the Chinese have only been putting right a few of the wrongs they have done to British subjects’. Significantly, Britain ‘should see what progress is made towards a peaceful settlement of Korea and Indo-China at Geneva before we can consider any change in our attitude towards the Chinese government’. In other

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words, ‘any wider improvement’ of Anglo-Chinese relations would ‘depend in large measure on what happens at Geneva’.25 The fact of the matter was that during the first two weeks or so of the Geneva Conference, little progress had been made on ending hostilities in Indochina. While the French and communist representatives were making proposals and counterproposals for a ceasefire, the position of the United States was ‘that of an interested nation which, however, is neither a belligerent nor a principal in the negotiation’.26 Seeing American participation mainly as a means to buy time for the French ratification of the European Defence Community Treaty, the Eisenhower administration continued to explore the possibility of internationalizing the conflict through the formation of a collective defence organization in Southeast Asia.27 As Eden reported to Churchill in mid-May, ‘I myself fear that this new talk of intervention will have weakened what chances remain of agreements at this Conference. The Chinese, and to a lesser extent the Russians, have all along suspected that the Americans intend to intervene in Indochina whatever arrangements we try to arrive at here.’28 At this juncture, Zhou attempted to break the deadlock and thus seize the initiative. On 27 May he made a sixpoint proposal on basic principles pertaining to cessation of hostilities,29 which paved the way for the 29 May agreement whereby representatives of the military commands of both sides should meet immediately to study the regrouping of forces in assembly areas for the cessation of hostilities in Vietnam. To the British delegation, the military talks, which began on 2 June, really ‘started the main negotiations’.30 Against the backdrop of steady progress on the Indochina question, Zhou assessed Sino-British relations in a telegram to Mao and other CCP leaders on 1 June. Zhou argued that although Sino-British contact had become ‘more frequent’, on the question of establishing diplomatic relations, which had been dragged on for three years, ‘the British side seems not to be in a hurry to take the initiative to raise [it] at the moment’. Although Eden might have been more eager than his colleagues, Zhou estimated, he was under ‘pressure from the United States and the pro-American faction within the [Conservative] Party’. As Britain presumably expected China to make the first move, Zhou proposed some steps to move Sino-British relations forward. First, the Chinese government could accept Harold Wilson’s proposal for setting up a Chinese commercial representative’s office in London, which Zhou claimed would enjoy ‘full diplomatic rights and status’. Then, it would agree to a visit by Vice Minister for Foreign Trade Lei Renmin to Britain, and, depending on future development, raise the question of sending to Britain a Chinese representative to negotiate the

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The Everyday Cold War

establishment of diplomatic relations. Zhou’s suggestions were endorsed by the Central Committee two days later.31 Just as Zhou deliberated on the steps to improve Sino-British relations, so too Eden pondered how to use personal diplomacy for the same end. On the evening of 1 June, Zhou and other senior members of the Chinese delegation were invited to a dinner banquet hosted by Eden. The two foreign secretaries talked about their experiences and events in the Far East and Europe.32 More importantly, Eden said that the two countries should make efforts to improve Sino-British relations. Although Britain had a chargé (Trevelyan) in Beijing, China did not have any representative in London. Since ‘out relations should not be halfway’, Eden wondered if Zhou could also send a ‘Chinese Trevelyan’ to Britain. The premier expressed a willingness to send one. A delighted Eden mentioned three times that he wanted to visit the People’s Republic to see its latest development, having read many books about China and being the only Briton in attendance (Trevelyan, Ford and three other British representatives) who had never set foot on Chinese soil. Eden mentioned that even Prime Minister Churchill, who might pass through Geneva on his way to visit his ailing wife, hoped to meet the Chinese premier. On the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations, Eden asked rhetorically why the PRC was so interested in joining the international organization, which to him was a ‘place of trouble’. Zhou, however, brushed off any interest: China, having been excluded for more than four years, could live without it.33 By early June, then, the development of Sino-British relations had achieved a major breakthrough. For the first time since London’s diplomatic recognition in 1950, the Chinese leaders had reciprocated by agreeing to send an official representative to Britain. As Huan told Trevelyan on 4 June, with a Chinese representative in London, any issues in Sino-British relations could be simultaneously pursued in both capitals. Huan emphasized that the Chinese representative would come as a ‘charge d’affaires’, enjoying ‘the same status and rights’ as Trevelyan’s in Beijing, and be charged with ‘negotiating certain outstanding problems between the two countries’. Meanwhile, Huan said that the Chinese government had agreed to the replacement of Veith by a British diplomat from Beijing to take charge of the affairs of British nationals in Shanghai. Huan also confirmed the resolution of a number of outstanding cases about British nationals and firms in China.34 But just as the prospects for Sino-British relations looked promising, the Indochina discussions entered a deadlock at Geneva. One of the major differences among the conference powers was the composition of an international

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supervisory committee for the armistice in Indochina. The Soviets proposed the  inclusion of Poland and Czechoslovakia, but the Americans opposed it on the grounds of impartiality. Another bone of contention concerned the Vietnamese troops in Laos and Cambodia: the Western powers demanded their withdrawal, while the Vietminh denied their presence. As the US Embassy in London reported to Washington on 8 June, Eden ‘was now convinced that an agreement at Geneva was now most unlikely’, and that ‘attempt should be made to bring [the] conference to [a] close within the next week or 10 days but in a manner which will consolidate and increase the progress already made in convincing the Asiatic members of the Commonwealth in particular and the rest of the world in general that Communist intransigency was responsible for the failure at Geneva’.35 Amid the possible breakdown of the Geneva Conference, the British harboured second thoughts about the Chinese offer to send a chargé d’affaires to Britain. At the Cabinet meeting on 5 June, Eden, who had returned from Geneva, pointed out that ‘in view of the current state of feeling in the United States about Communist China, this was not a very opportune moment at which to receive a Chinese representative in London’, ‘although it would be both discourteous and illogical to reject this offer entirely’.36 Besides the implications for AngloAmerican relations, the appointment of a Chinese chargé in London raised ‘some legal and protocol difficulties’. According to Trevelyan, the Chinese chargé concerned would be a ‘negotiating representative’ in regard to the outstanding issues in Anglo-Chinese relations, and as such, Beijing ‘did not contemplate an immediate change in the formal relationship between the United Kingdom and China’, which would come after negotiations. The Chinese representative would enjoy personal diplomatic status but would not be included on the statutory diplomatic list, which, according to British diplomatic practice, contained only ambassadors and chargés from states with formal diplomatic relations with the United Kingdom. Thus, Britain would be confronted with ‘a peculiarly Chinese arrangement by which both countries have a diplomatic mission in the capital of the other, headed by a charge d’affaires, without formally admitting it’. Concerning the Chinese agreement to the replacement of Veith in Shanghai by a staff member from the British Chargé Office in Beijing, the Chinese did ‘not give away any question of principle’, for the replacement did not require them to recognize the British Office in Shanghai ‘as a Consulate-General’. Last but not least, the question of what restrictions, if any, should be placed on the movement of the Chinese chargé and his staff needed further consideration in Whitehall. For these reasons, the Cabinet decided that Eden should seek some means of

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deferring the appointment of a Chinese representative in London until after the Geneva Conference.37 On 9 June, Trevelyan informed Huan that the proposed appointment of a Chinese representative to London was ‘without precedent’ in the United Kingdom, involving as it did ‘certain complicated legal questions’ relating to diplomatic status and immunity. As these questions were still under study, Trevelyan said, the British government hoped to delay the public announcement of the Chinese chargé’s appointment. A puzzled Huan reiterated the previous understanding between Zhou and Eden, arguing that he saw no connection between the announcement and the question of diplomatic status.38 The Chinese, in fact, were not unaware of the possible reason behind the British foot-dragging on the appointment of a Chinese representative in London. In his report to Mao, Zhou attributed it to ‘the tensions in Anglo-American relations’, with many key American figures being alienated by the British ‘conciliatory’ posture at Geneva and their attitude towards ‘delaying’ the formation of a Southeast Asian defence organization.39 Eden did not give up his pursuit of Anglo-Chinese rapprochement. In a communication to the FO on 11 June, he stated that Cabinet ministers should be urged to give further consideration to the Chinese offer. Eden outlined three possible choices and the ensuing consequences for Britain. First, London would accept the appointment of the Chinese chargé, which would help protect British interests in China and maintain the momentum of improved relations at Geneva. ‘It is a concession by the Chinese,’ Eden stressed, ‘and not a concession by us’: it would ‘enable us to answer the allegation that while we have sent a Chargé d’Affaires to China, the Chinese have insulted us by not reciprocating’. Second, Britain would maintain the status quo by not appointing the Chinese chargé, with the result that the Chinese ‘would regard a refusal of their offer as a deliberate snub’ and the British chargé in Beijing ‘would revert to his former state of virtual impotence’. Finally, in addition to a refusal to appoint the Chinese chargé, the British Mission would be withdrawn altogether from China, a step which would mean ‘the adoption of the barren United States policy of complete hostility to China’. Eden was strongly in favour of accepting the Chinese offer and of ‘doing it now’. As he explained the importance of timing: ‘We have, during this conference, done something to relieve the strain in our relations with China, but a breakdown here is likely once again to increase tension. It would, therefore, be no bad thing to show that we intend to maintain a working relationship with China.’ While admitting that such a course of action ‘might cause misunderstanding in some circles in America’, Eden did ‘not think that

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any serious damage will be done, provided a proper explanation were given to the United States Government’.40 Eden was right. In a private conversation with the chief US delegate, General Bedell-Smith, Eden ‘was much reassured’ by his comment that ‘there was no other course [Britain] could follow but to accept’ the Chinese chargé’s appointment. Asked ‘whether it would not upset American opinion’, BedellSmith ‘was inclined to brush this off ’, saying that ‘there were some who did not want the Americans to have any relations with Russia’.41 On 15 June, the Cabinet (in Eden’s absence) decided to authorize Eden to accept the Chinese offer and to make a public announcement accordingly. But to avoid further misunderstanding in the United States, the statement should include a reference to the effect that ‘the establishment of formal diplomatic relations would remain a matter of negotiation between the two Governments’.42 Back in Geneva, by mid-June, the Chinese Communists felt compelled to break the impasse, particularly over the presence of the Vietminh troops in Laos and Cambodia, in view of new developments. On 15 June, the Korean session of the Geneva Conference broke down without reaching any political settlement. The same day, the White House announced that Churchill and Eden would travel to Washington for a summit later in the month (25–29 June). The collapse of the Korean talks and the upcoming Eisenhower-Churchill meeting, which raised the spectre of a collective defence pact incorporating Laos, Cambodia and South Vietnam, deeply worried Zhou.43 In France, the collapse of Joseph Laniel’s government on 12 June and, four days later, the election of Pierre Mendés-France as premier, who had pledged to secure a peace settlement of Indochina by 20 July or resign, injected a new factor into the Geneva negotiations. Zhou believed that, by making compromise at this critical juncture, China could exploit French pragmatism to reach an early agreement. On 15 June, Zhou successfully persuaded the Soviet and Vietnamese delegations to admit the presence of Vietnamese ‘volunteers’ in Laos and Cambodia and have them pulled back in the event of a general agreement on the withdrawal of all foreign troops from Indochina.44 On 16 June, Zhou came to see Eden to pursue his peace initiative. Admitting that the situation in the three Indochinese states were different, Zhou claimed that it would ‘not be difficult’ to get the Vietminh to agree to the withdrawal of their forces from Laos and Cambodia. He further stated that China wanted to see Laos and Cambodia to become independent Southeast Asian states ‘in the same manner as India, Burma and Indonesia’, but not ‘the military bases of the United States’.45 Eden got the ‘strong impression that [Zhou] wanted a settlement’,

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although still having some doubt about the degree of control China could exercise over the Vietminh.46 During the restricted session of the Geneva Conference later that afternoon, Zhou formally submitted his proposal, which provided for the beginning of direct military talks in Laos and Cambodia and the withdrawal of all foreign troops from these states.47 (After some redrafting, the Chinese proposal was adopted as the Nine Power Agreement on Laos and Cambodia on 19 June.) It was on the same day, 16 June, that Eden informed Zhou of the British government’s decision to accept the appointment of the Chinese chargé in London. During his conversation with Huan, Trevelyan said that the prime minister would announce the appointment in response to a question in the House of Commons at 3.30 pm on 17 June. Huan replied that the Chinese government would make its own announcement around that time. Trevelyan stressed that the new Chinese chargé would have the same position as that of the British chargé in Beijing.48 Feeling satisfied with the arrangement, Huan said that this was ‘the first step’ towards the improvement of Sino-British relations, and hoped for further advance in the future.49 In a telegram to Beijing, Zhou assessed that the British decision to accept the Chinese chargé’s appointment was related to their unwillingness to antagonize Beijing further in the light of the breakdown of the Korean session and the announcement of Churchill’s visit to Washington. Zhou believed that the appointment would be ‘beneficial’ to both countries. While China had hitherto regarded the British diplomats in Beijing as merely ‘negotiating representatives’, it now agreed to accord Trevelyan the ‘status of charge d’affaires’ and simultaneously appoint a Chinese chargé responsible for negotiating the establishment of diplomatic relations and dealing with Chinese nationals and interests in the United Kingdom. Although the change indicated that China and Britain were on the road to diplomatic normalization, Zhou stressed, their relations were ‘not fully normalized’ pending the exchange of ambassadors. In other words, the two countries had yet to leave ‘the stage of negotiating the establishment of diplomatic relations’.50 If Britain and China had achieved a relationship breakthrough, the Geneva participating powers were far from resolving the Indochina problem. It took another month of discussions and bargaining, and mutual concessions by the communists and the French, before an agreement on Vietnam could be reached. Accordingly, Vietnam would be partitioned along the seventeenth parallel, with the holding of elections on unification not until July 1956. On 21 July the Geneva Conference on Indochina was brought to a successful close. At Geneva Eden and Zhou had formed favourable impressions of each other:51 they became Cold War allies of a kind.

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Everyday life of British diplomats Following the Eden-Zhou agreement at Geneva, the position of the British Mission in Beijing was strengthened. While he had been treated as merely ‘negotiating representative’ without formal diplomatic rank and status, Humphrey Trevelyan was now recognized as ‘chargé d’affaires’ by the MFA and be put on its diplomatic list. The two sides agreed to follow the British protocol for the appointment of chargé d’affaires. On 8 July, Trevelyan presented to Foreign Minister Zhou Enlai a letter of credence signed by the British foreign secretary dated 21 June, appointing and requesting the acceptance of Trevelyan as the British chargé d’affaires in Beijing.52 On 2 September 1954, the appointment of Huan Xiang as the PRC’s chargé d’affaires in London was announced. The FO regarded Huan as a ‘good choice’, given his education at the London School of Economics (between 1933 and 1935) and his ‘knowledge of the day-to-day problems of Anglo-Chinese relations’.53 On 3 November, Huan called on Anthony Eden to present his credentials in the form of a letter from Zhou.54 After repair work, the old Chinese Embassy building at 49 Portland Place became the office of the Chinese Mission.55 (Meanwhile, both the NCNA and the Bank of China set up a branch office in London.) It did not take long for China to place the British Mission below most diplomatic corps in the packing order. The MFA took pains to refer to it as ‘the Office of the British Chargé d’Affaires’ rather than the ‘British Embassy’, and accorded Trevelyan a status below chargés d’affaires of formal embassies. As Mao’s trusted foreign policy implementer, Zhou attached great importance to the ‘form’ of diplomacy. The protocol of treating foreign guests (including diplomats) in China was inextricably linked with politics.56 The status of British diplomats on the mainland was shaped by, and reflected, the state of relations between the United Kingdom and the PRC, which did not go beyond ‘semidiplomatic relations’ or the ‘negotiation phase of establishing diplomatic relations’.57 To Beijing, what remained to be ‘negotiated’ and contested was British policy towards Taiwan. As Zhou told Trevelyan at the height of the First Taiwan Strait Crisis in early January 1955, ‘Britain’s attitude towards Taiwan is wrong, [and] this cannot but affect Sino-British relations.’58 The British diplomats in Beijing became the convenient target for the MFA’s diplomatic ritual on a daily basis or its ‘everyday Cold War’. Symbolically, through the performance of ritual, the Chinese hoped to communicate their displeasure at London’s Taiwan policy and, more generally, the asymmetrical power relationship between China and Britain after the ‘century of humiliation’. From an instrumental perspective,

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hostile rhetoric and symbolic retaliation were employed to prevent Britain from following America’s ‘two Chinas conspiracy’. Proud of the long tradition of British diplomacy, Trevelyan and his successors had different conceptions of diplomatic mission and practice. Many of them were students of Sir Ernest Satow, a British scholar-diplomat with significant postings in the Far East and the author of Guide to Diplomatic Practice, first published in 1917 and reissued (by Sir Nevile Bland) as the fourth edition in 1957. According to Satow, ‘The duty of the diplomatic agent is to watch over the maintenance of good relations, to protect the interests of his countrymen, and to report to his government on all matters of importance, without being always charged with the conduct of a specific negotiation.’59 In 1961 the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, signed by more than eighty states including Britain (but not China) and coming into force three years later, codified and clarified the existing customary international law on diplomacy. The ‘functions of a diplomatic mission’ were defined as ‘representing the sending State in the receiving State’, ‘reporting’ on local developments, ‘negotiating’ with the host government, and ‘promoting friendly relations’ between the two countries. To fulfil those functions, the Vienna Convention stipulated the privileges and immunities of diplomatic agents, such as ‘freedom of movement’, ‘personal inviolability’ and the ‘inviolability of the mission premises’.60 Being isolated by the majority of the international community during the 1950s and 1960s, the PRC did not feel obliged to adhere to the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations. Rather, it sought to restrict the freedom and functions of foreign missions, not least to symbolically demonstrate that the days of foreigners enjoying extraterritoriality had been assigned to the dustbin of history. Since 1949 entry and exit permits had been required for all foreign diplomats and private nationals. Internally, the Chinese authorities placed severe limits on the movement of British diplomats in Beijing, who normally enjoyed freedom of movement within 12 miles from the city centre and could travel to the Great Wall and the Ming Tombs in the capital’s neighbourhood. But as Douglas Hurd, a FO’s Chinese-language trainee in the British Mission and a future foreign secretary, recollected: ‘Travelling in China in the mid-fifties was a game of negotiation with unwritten rules.’61 From 1955 onwards, foreign diplomats were required to make application to the MFA’s Protocol Department for permission (later changed to ‘notification’) to travel inside China fortyeight hours prior to the journey.62 Between October 1956 and August 1957, for example, nine members of the British Mission were permitted to make ten

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journeys to various parts of China, but were refused permission to visit more than twenty places. The then British chargé, Duncan Wilson, assessed that Beijing allowed the British to visit ‘the more civilised parts of China’ and the older cities, but was sensitive about the border areas, coastal areas or ports, and new industrial areas. Strategic considerations undoubtedly weighed heavily in the costal and border areas, Wilson observed, but in other cases, there were no easy explanations as the MFA simply offered the standard excuse that suitable facilities such as accommodation were unavailable for foreign visitors.63 On the other hand, Zhou Enlai was eager to showcase the achievement of Communist China to an international audience through the eyes and mouth of foreign diplomats.64 Between 10 and 27 November 1955, the MFA organized a group tour, accompanied by Vice Foreign Minister Ji Pengfei, for nineteen heads or acting heads (and eleven of their wives) of both Communist and Western missions, covering some 3,500 miles through much of Central China including Xian, Chongqing and Wuhan.65 On a daily basis, the British diplomats were confronted with the MFA’s diplomatic rituals that were not in accord with customary Western protocols. Since June 1954, the Office of the British Chargé had received a number of replies to its notes in writing, but the MFA still did not feel obliged to answer all communications. Besides, there was the inconvenient timing of interview with Chinese officials. ‘The Ministry of Foreign Affairs appeared to be open day and night,’ wrote Trevelyan, who was summoned to hear China’s policy statements and complaints as early as 6.00 am and as late as 3.00 am the following day. Moreover, the British diplomats were rarely given more than one and a half hours’ notice for an interview requested by the Chinese, while they often had to face long delays for Chinese agreement to their request for one. With regard to official functions, the British chargé and his senior staff were invited to, for example, National Day and Army Day receptions, albeit at very short notice. Nevertheless, Chinese official functions were in Trevelyan’s words ‘standardised and monotonous’, often in the form of vast dinner parties where the Chinese leaders propagated their policy, with no opportunity for interactions between hosts and guests and among diplomatic corps.66 Mao intended to isolate the British diplomats (indeed all foreign missions) from ordinary Chinese both socially and geographically. Since the takeover of the British military barracks in April 1950, the Chinese government gradually requisitioned parts of the British Embassy compound at the old Legation Quarter (Dongjiaominxiang) in 1953.67 By the mid-1950s, it was decided that

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all foreign embassies should be moved from Dongjiaominxiang to the east of the city for the sake of central management. In the Jianguomenwai district of Beijing, the authorities were constructing a new diplomatic enclave for the relocated Western and Communist embassies, as well as a huge building of apartments (Waijiaodalou) to accommodate embassy staff.68 To Mao, the relocation of foreign embassies was not simply an administrative matter, but had to do with his political project of affirming the new identity of Communist China. In August 1958, the government announced the construction of the Ten Monumental Buildings, including the Great Hall of the People and the Museums of the Chinese Revolution and of Chinese History, to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the PRC’s founding the following year.69 The Ten Monumental Buildings, together with the expansion of the Tiananmen Square, necessitated demolition of buildings at the city centre. Without exception, the British Embassy at Dongjiaominxiang had to make way for Mao’s Monumental Buildings. On 21 January 1959, the British (and the Soviets) were informed that their embassy compounds needed to be vacated by 31 May. After examining the legal basis on which the compound was held, the FO could not but conclude that there was no alternative to Beijing’s demand, thus beginning a huge clear-out operation and negotiations for premises in the new diplomatic quarter. Not until late September did the British finally give up the embassy compound.70 The Office of the British Chargé d’Affaires was now housed in two buildings at Guanghualu within the Jianguomenwai diplomatic district. ‘Blank, ugly, virtually treeless,’ wrote Percy Cradock who became counsellor of the British Mission in 1966, ‘the new site was a far cry from the pavilions of the English Palace, but it conveyed more accurately the nature of the new relationship with the Communist authorities’.71 Cradock was sensible enough to recognize the limits of British power in a ‘post-imperial’ China. Significantly, 1959 was the year when Mao launched the Great Leap Forward, with the slogan of ‘surpassing Britain [in terms of steel production in fifteen years] and catching up with the United States’. However difficult the working environment might be, Chargé Wilson observed, the British Mission in Beijing ‘differs only in degree from other Iron Curtain posts’, and was not ‘subjected to particularly discriminatory treatment’. On the positive side, Wilson argued that with the gradual tightening of Chinese restrictions on all foreign diplomats, the British Embassy compound had increasingly become a ‘centre of social activities’ for the non-communist missions (even

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some communist diplomats), offering regular films, classes in Scottish dancing, occasional concerts, cricket matches and so forth. Thus, the British Mission had, ‘owing to a curious combination of circumstance, achieved a position of leadership within the non-Communist diplomatic community’, which did not correspond with its formal status.72 In short, the British diplomats in the 1950s participated in, and tried to negotiate the meaning of, the ritual of the ‘everyday Cold War’ performed by the Chinese Communists.

Taiwan and the ‘two Chinas’ conspiracy The principal reason for China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain was the Taiwan question. Not only did Britain maintain a consulate at Tamsui, but it also supported the American policy of excluding the PRC from the United Nations. The outbreak of the First Taiwan Strait Crisis on 3 September, when China started the bombardment of the Nationalist-held offshore islands of Jinmen and Mazu, caused further tension between Britain and China – and between Britain and America. Through ‘tension diplomacy’, Mao’s strategic aim was to focus world attention on China’s sovereignty over Taiwan and America’s encirclement of the PRC through the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (with the Manila Pact being signed on 8 September) and the US-Taiwan defence treaty (whose negotiation was believed to be underway in the summer of 1954). From a tactical viewpoint, Mao aimed to seize the Dachens (an island group to the north of Mazu), but not Jinmen and Mazu, let alone Taiwan. The Eisenhower administration responded to the crisis through a two-pronged strategy. On the one hand, the United States expedited the negotiation over a mutual defence treaty with Taipei, under which Taiwan and the Pescadores would be protected. On the other, Washington sought the support of Britain and the Commonwealth to sponsor a ceasefire resolution (codenamed ORACLE) in the United Nations to cover the offshore islands.73 The British government’s response was shaped by its different views on Taiwan and the offshore islands, its desire to seek a wider settlement of the China question, and Britain’s junior status in the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’.74 Prime Minister Winston Churchill saw a ‘great difference’ between Taiwan and the offshore islands.75 As Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden (who would assume the premiership on 6 April 1955 following Churchill’s resignation due to poor health) told Parliament on 26 January 1955, ‘for half a

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century Formosa [Taiwan] had been part of Japan’ and thus ‘has not been part of China’, while ‘the offshore islands have been beyond dispute a part of China’. Although believing that China should assert its authority over the indefensible offshore islands, Churchill and Eden insisted that this should not be achieved ‘by force’, while sharing the American view that the Taiwan question was ‘a matter of international concern’ (rather than an internal affair as Beijing claimed). In explaining British policy in Parliament in February, Eden remarked that the British government regarded the legal status of Taiwan as ‘uncertain or undetermined’. The Cairo Declaration of November 1943 was a ‘statement of intention’ that Formosa and the Pescadores should be ‘restored to the Republic of China’ after the war, and the Potsdam Declaration of July 1945 confirmed that the terms of the Cairo Declaration should be carried out. According to the San Francisco Peace Treaty of 8 September 1951, Japan ‘renounced all right’ to Taiwan, but this ‘did not operate as a transfer to Chinese sovereignty’, whether to the PRC or to the Nationalist authorities.76 Eden’s approach had won little favour for Britain with either the United States or China.77 On the one hand, Eden was prepared to put the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ at risk by pressing the Eisenhower administration to clarify its ‘private assurances’ to Chiang Kai-shek about the defence of Jinmen and Mazu and to persuade Taipei to withdraw from the islands. On 10 February, Eisenhower wrote to Churchill about the defence or otherwise of the offshore islands, thus setting off a series of rather heated exchanges between the two leaders during that month.78 On the other hand, Eden’s efforts to mediate the crisis through ORACLE and to exert a moderating influence on Washington did not win Beijing’s confidence. In January–February, Zhou Enlai received British Chargé Humphrey Trevelyan three times to express his vehement opposition to a ‘two Chinas conspiracy’. Zhou asserted that after the Chinese government had accepted Japan’s surrender in 1945, Taiwan was already returned to China. To say otherwise not only ‘deeply hurt the feelings of the Chinese people’, but also represented a new way by Britain to justify America’s ‘occupation of Taiwan’.79 Mao, writing to Nikita Khrushchev on 5 March, denounced Eden’s proposal for China’s renunciation of force against Taiwan in return for the Nationalist abandonment of the offshore islands.80 In late April, Mao decided to de-escalate the Taiwan Strait Crisis following Zhou’s peace initiative at the Bandung Conference, which led to the commencement of Sino-American ambassadorial talks. But it soon became clear to Mao that the Sino-American ambassadorial talks since August could not

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resolve the Taiwan question. Worse still, during 1956 and 1957, the United States and Britain were perceived as colluding to create ‘two Chinas’.81 On 10 February 1958, Zhou, reporting on the international situation at the National People’s Congress, lambasted Britain for being ‘the centre of propagating the fallacy that Taiwan’s status was undetermined’.82 Two weeks later, on the 25th, Zhou granted the visiting Harold Wilson, then shadow chancellor of the exchequer, an interview. Zhou regretted that Sino-British relations had not improved since 1954 due to four issues: China’s representation in the United Nations, Taiwan, Hong Kong,83 and trade embargo. At the end of the conversation, however, Zhou told Wilson that ‘the Chinese Government’s attitude towards the British Government is not the same as its attitude towards the United States Government’ in the hope that Britain would ‘exert its influence on the United States in relaxing the international tension’.84 The cooling of relations between China and Britain occurred against the backdrop of Mao’s radicalization of Chinese foreign (and domestic) policy during 1958, culminating in the Second Taiwan Strait Crisis. On 23 August, Mao ordered the bombardment of Jinmin and Mazu with the aims of stopping the Nationalist harassment of the China coast from the offshore islands, demonstrating China’s solidarity with the anti-colonial struggles in the Middle East, and mobilizing the Chinese people for the Great Leap Forward. With Chiang Kai-shek deploying his best troops to the offshore islands since 1956, the Eisenhower administration appreciated their strategic value to the defence of Taiwan itself. The United States responded promptly by reinforcing the Seventh Fleet in the Taiwan Strait and convoying Nationalist supplies to Jinmen.85 During the Second Taiwan Strait Crisis, London viewed the offshore islands in the same manner as before: they were not worth fighting for, particularly if this meant the use of nuclear weapons against China.86 What had changed by 1958 was, however, the importance Prime Minister Harold Macmillan (since 1957) attached to the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’, which he had successfully rebuilt after the Suez debacle in October 1956. Macmillan confided in his diary on 28 August: ‘If we abandon the Americans – morally, I mean; they need no active support – it will be a great blow to the friendship and alliance which I have done so much to rebuild and strengthen. If we support them, the repercussions in Far East, India, and thro’ the Afro-Asian group in the Middle East will be very dangerous.’87 Rather than criticizing the US administration in public (as Eden had done in the first crisis), Macmillan and Foreign Secretary Selwyn Lloyd took a low-profile approach by counselling Eisenhower and Dulles privately to reduce

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tension in the area.88 Mao, worrying that Washington would put pressure on Taipei to withdraw from Jinmen and Mazu (thus removing the last physical link between Taiwan and the mainland), ended the crisis in a matter of two months. On 25 October Mao called for the Taiwanese compatriots to enter into peaceful reunification talks, while continuing the shelling of the offshore islands on a much smaller scale on alternate days.89 When the Second Taiwan Strait Crisis was still underway in late September, Lloyd, writing to the British chargé in Beijing, opined that ‘the Chinese are not fundamentally interested in achieving or maintaining good relations with Her Majesty’s Government’. Nevertheless, Lloyd did ‘not wish relations to be worse than they need be’ and did ‘not want matters to deteriorate into a clash, for example, over Hong Kong’. To him, Anglo-Chinese relations would ‘remain in a state of fairly normal badness’.90 The aim of British policy was to keep the conflict with China limited, or the ‘everyday Cold War’ ‘normal’. The Chinese leaders, too, were content with the ‘normal badness’ of AngloChinese relations. Although feeling dissatisfied with the British attitude towards Taiwan, they were fully cognizant that Britain was different from the United States and did not pose a real threat to China. The 1956 Suez Crisis, for one, had dealt a heavy blow to Britain and France in front of the Third World and sharpened the contradictions within the capitalist camp.91 On 18 November, Huan Xiang, from the Chinese Chargé Office in London, cabled a report to the MFA about the ‘breakdown’ of the Western capitalist bloc, thanks to the failure of Britain to form a European free trade area and the growing contradictions among the imperialist powers over Europe. Commenting on Huan’s report, Mao asserted that the Western world was ‘falling apart’ (sifen wulie), a process that was ‘gradual’ but ‘inevitable’.92 In mid-1959, Zhang Wentian, a senior vice foreign minister, gave a meticulous analysis of Britain’s place in the world. Britain represented a ‘special intermediate zone’ between US imperialism and socialist countries, which was different from the intermediate zone constituted by nationalist countries separating the imperialist camp from the socialist camp. After reading Zhang’s report, Mao added a new paragraph to the effect that, while Britain and America were united on a number of issues, there were also ‘serious contradictions’ between them, for the former was ‘very afraid’ of ‘fighting a third world war’, particularly over Taiwan.93 To Mao, China’s approach towards the ‘special intermediate zone’ should be one of struggle and unity.94 Perceiving the United States as the principal enemy, China adopted a strategy of ‘both fighting and co-opting’ (you da you la) Britain95 in the ‘everyday Cold War’.

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Struggle and cooperation Trade Foreign trade with Western capitalist countries was a ‘question of economic struggle’. According to Zhou Enlai, ‘Economic relations follow political relations’, and ‘economic struggle follows political struggle’.96 Beijing insisted that economic relations should be based on ‘equality’ and ‘mutual benefit’, while the ‘artificial barriers’ created by the US blockade and embargo on China should be completely abolished.97 Because of the trading and industrial interests of the United Kingdom and Hong Kong, the Chinese identified Britain as the convenient and vulnerable target for breaking the United States and United Nations embargoes on the PRC. What they perceived was a ‘strategy of gege jipo’, which aimed to ‘drive a wedge in the multilateral economic sanctions against China by striking at the weakest link, then the next weakest link, one at a time’.98 As mentioned earlier, during the 1954 Geneva Conference on Indochina, the British and Chinese delegates had met to discuss trade issues. In early June, the Sino-British Trade Committee (later Council), with government support, was formed by the five representative bodies of the British industry, including the Association of British Chamber of Commerce and the China Association. Under the committee’s arrangement, on 28 June a delegation from the China National Machinery Import and Export Corporation (a Chinese state agency) arrived in the United Kingdom to explore trading opportunities with British businessmen and trade officials.99 This was reciprocated by a return visit from the Sino-British Trade Committee in November–December.100 The former British prime minister, Clement Attlee, also made it to the People’s Republic in the summer of 1954. As the US secretary of state expressed his concern, Atlee’s trip to Beijing ‘would result in strong pressure not only from Labor Party but from some conservatives to relax restrictions on trade with China’.101 In 1954 the total value of Sino-British trade stood at £15.97 million, a drop of 3.8 per cent over the previous year (when bilateral trade had benefited from the conclusion of the Korean War). China’s imports from Britain (mainly machinery and industrial raw materials) amounted to £8.96 million, and exceeded its exports to Britain (primarily agricultural raw materials and foodstuff ) totalling £6.92 million.102 That year, the COCOM agreed on a gradual and moderate relaxation of trade with the Soviet and Eastern European bloc. Consequently, the gap between strategic controls on Communist China and those relating to the Soviet and Eastern European bloc – known as the ‘China differential’ – had

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widened further. Prime Minister Anthony Eden found it increasingly difficult to justify the ‘China differential’, if some embargoed items could find their way into China through the Soviet and European ‘backdoors’.103 Japan and France, too, were pressing for the abolition of the ‘China differential’. In 1957 Harold Macmillan, who succeeded Eden as prime minister, brought the China trade controls into line with those of the Soviet bloc. At the Bermuda summit in March, John Foster Dulles hinted that if Britain could ‘come closer’ to the US stance on the moratorium procedure to exclude China from the United Nations, it might be ‘easier’ for Washington to meet London’s demands on the issue of the ‘China differential’.104 Dulles’s hint of a bargain was not lost on Macmillan. When, in May, the COCOM discussed but disagreed on the relaxation of China trade controls, Macmillan announced at the end of the month that Britain would unilaterally abolish the ‘China differential’.105 Anglo-Chinese trade flourished in 1958, with its total value doubling that of the previous year. Britain enjoyed a favourable balance of trade with China, and was China’s principal trading partner in Western Europe.106 Their bilateral trade stayed more or less at the same level in the next two years, despite Mao’s launch of the Great Leap Forward and the resultant great famine. Significantly, the intensification of the Sino-Soviet dispute (which originated in 1956), culminating in the withdrawal of Soviet experts from China in 1960, propelled China to reorient its imports and exports towards the Western capitalist and Third World developing countries.107 This was particularly the case for the import of advanced technology from the West. Beijing was interested in purchasing the British-manufactured Viscount aircraft during 1961. Since 1949, China’s aviation industry had been geared to the production of military aircraft and dependent on the Soviet models and assistance. By 1960 the official Civil Aviation Administration of China possessed a fleet of 347 civil aircraft serving seventeen air routes (twelve of which were domestic and five covered the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe).108 In the summer of 1961, the Vickers team arrived in China to commence negotiation with representatives of the China National Machinery Import and Export Corporation about the sale of Viscounts. The Viscount sale was not merely a commercial issue between Britain and China, but also carried political implications for Anglo-American relations.109 Although the Viscount itself was exempt from COCOM embargo, it contained weather radar and communications equipment that were subject to strategic controls. The equipment in question were manufactured by a British subsidiary (Standard Telephones and Cables) of an American company (International

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Telephone and Telegraph), the latter of which was subject to the Foreign Assets Control Regulations. Nevertheless, the British were determined to proceed with the sale, finding ways to get round the controversy over the embargoed equipment. In an interdepartmental meeting at the FO in mid-August, officials from the Ministry of Aviation argued that the sale of possibly forty Viscounts to China (which had not yet indicated how many Viscounts it intended to buy, if at all) would encourage Soviet satellite countries to purchase them too. From a military standpoint, the Viscounts were ‘not suitable as a troop transport’, for they ‘could not be used on short runways’. The FO representatives said that while the Chinese might want to purchase the Viscounts ‘for commercial reasons’, ‘the timing of the enquiry was clearly political’. Although the Viscount sale ‘was not necessarily connected directly with discussion of China’s seat in the United Nations’, it ‘could cause difficulties to Anglo-American relations generally’. In this regard, the Ministry of Aviation representatives suggested that ‘it was equally possible that the Chinese were using this as a means of exerting pressure on the Russians’, or expressing their dissatisfaction with the performance of the Russian-made I.L.18s. At last, it was agreed that Washington would not be informed of the Viscount sale ‘until the status of the Chinese offer became clearer’.110 By October the Kennedy administration got wind of the Viscount negotiations, however. It was estimated that at the COCOM meeting the British would claim an ‘exception’ for the embargoed radar and communications equipment installed in the Viscounts, on the grounds that denial of their request would cause economic and political damage to Britain. Yet the Department of State believed that a ‘COCOM rejection of the British application would not damage the UK’s economic, political or social circumstances so seriously that the security considerations involved would be overridden’. To the Department of Defence, ‘Chinese Communist military capabilities would be enhanced, if the embargoed equipment could be obtained and copied’. On 8 November, Undersecretary of State George Ball decided that the United States should not acquiesce in the British application for an exception in the COCOM.111 When informing the British Embassy in Washington of the US decision the following day, William Burdett, acting deputy assistant secretary of state, said that, given the public and Congressional views on Communist China, the exception request by Britain presented the administration with ‘difficult political problems’, which were ‘likely to be exacerbated by the forthcoming debate [on Chinese representation in the UN] in the General Assembly’. Referring to the embargoed equipment manufactured by a British subsidiary of an American company, Burdett asked

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the British counsellor whether a substitute would be possible, but was told that the Chinese appeared to be ‘making the presently installed radar equipment a condition to their purchase of the planes’.112 On 17 November, Macmillan’s Cabinet authorized the sale of Viscounts to China without obtaining American approval. On 1 December, after four months of tough negotiations, the Vickers representatives and the Chinese signed a contract worth of £4.5 million for the delivery of six Viscounts over a period of eighteen months.113 In assessing the significance of the Viscount deal, Michael Stewart of the British Chargé Office in Beijing argued that this was the first time that Britain had secured a contract which committed China for some years ahead to a ‘degree of technical and financial dependence on the United Kingdom’, and the first time that Beijing had ‘made a discernible switch from Soviet to United Kingdom sources of supply in a vital purchasing sector’. While acknowledging that the four-month-long negotiations had been ‘complicated, frustrating and, in the latter stages, unhappy’ (largely due to differences over the unit price of the aircraft), Stewart noted that at no point in the negotiations did the Chinese ‘seriously suggest that they were having second thoughts about buying Viscount aircraft’. Moreover, ‘the Viscount negotiations proceeded against a background of uncertainty of H.M. Government’s attitude towards Peking’s entry this year into the United Nations’, and the Chinese had always claimed that ‘“friendly” political relations must precede good trade relations’. The completion of the Viscount deal, Stewart highlighted, however suggested that the Chinese were more ready than they had been in the past to ‘go some way towards separating their political and commercial attitudes’.114 Arthur de la Mare, head of the Far Eastern Department, similarly claimed that ‘on the political side the Chinese have so far never attempted to blackmail us to the extent that they blackmail, for instance, the Japanese with the argument that our commercial relations would greatly improve if our political line were more “correct”’.115 Although the Chinese had closed the Viscount deal with no political strings attached, the Macmillan government decided to change its voting policy regarding Chinese representation in the United Nations.

The UN seat Since 1951 successive British governments had been voting annually for the moratorium resolution, whereby the General Assembly agreed not to make any changes or debate China’s representation in the United Nations.116 At the Washington Conference in October 1957, partly as a quid pro quo for the

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American acquiescence in the abolition of the ‘China differential’ in May and partly in response to their agreement to strengthen nuclear cooperation with Britain, Macmillan told Eisenhower that ‘as long as he was Prime Minister he would never agree to anything which might bring the Communists into the United Nations’.117 (But, as Macmillan wrote in his diary, his compromise was ‘very carefully worded, not as an agreement but as a unilateral statement of HMG’s policy’.)118 When meeting with British Foreign Secretary Lord Home in mid-September 1960, Eisenhower asserted that ‘if the Chinese Communists are admitted, the U.S. will leave [the UN]. Opinion is strong on this line and will remain so’.119 (It must be noted that 1960 was a presidential election year.) When the Fifteenth General Assembly voted on the question of Chinese representation on 8 October, the moratorium resolution was adopted by a vote of 42–34, with 22 abstentions. The 1960 vote was a narrow victory for Washington, given the fact that, of the fifteen new African states in the United Nations, twelve had abstained on, and three voted against, the resolution.120 With the inauguration of John F. Kennedy as the thirty-fifth US president in January 1961, ‘revisionist’ officials within the administration, who desired a relaxation of America’s China policy, were exploring alternative options during the Sixteenth General Assembly. One option was a ‘successor State’ formula whereby the ROC preserved its seat and the PRC, as the other state in succession to the original China, was admitted to the United Nations. The other was an ‘important question’ device: the subject of Chinese representation was deemed an ‘important question’ that required a two-thirds majority for adoption. For domestic and diplomatic reasons including Taipei’s opposition to ‘two Chinas’, Kennedy eventually settled for the ‘important question’ strategy.121 In deliberating on British voting policy in 1961, Lord Home argued that the moratorium device had in recent years ‘obtained less and less support’ and a forecast of this year’s voting suggested that the moratorium resolution would be ‘almost certainly defeated’. The objective of Britain, Lord Home proposed in a 31 August memorandum to the Cabinet, should be to ‘improve the Western position at the United Nations and in the eyes of the world as a whole by adopting a more realistic approach to Chinese representation and, if possible, by putting Peking in the wrong’. Lord Home supported the US proposal for declaring Chinese representation an ‘important question’, which should be supplemented by the establishment of a commission to examine the whole question of UN representation. While recognizing that an ‘important question’ resolution might appear to be ‘no more than a device to prolong the moratorium indefinitely’, he discerned some advantages: that a majority of UN member states recognized

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that ‘there is in fact no clear-cut feeling one way or the other as yet’ and thus ‘would not be averse to putting off the decision for a further year’; that no other option was more acceptable; and that the ‘important question’ procedure would buy ‘time for the United States Government to put the necessary pressure on the Chinese Nationalists to accept the idea that their jurisdiction was in fact limited to Formosa’. Furthermore, Lord Home was aware that both sides of the House supported seating the PRC, while estimating that the Chinese reactions to Britain’s support for an ‘important question’ resolution would not go beyond ‘expressing their disappointment forcibly’ or perhaps turning down commercial deals with Britain. On 5 September the Cabinet approved the foreign secretary’s recommendation.122 The month-long visit to China by Field Marshal Montgomery in September allowed the British to gauge Beijing’s attitude towards the UN seat.123 A decorated Second World War hero and a deputy supreme allied commander in Europe until his retirement in 1958, Montgomery had since been promoting his ideas on international issues. In his talks with Foreign Minister Chen Yi, Premier Zhou and Chairman Mao, Montgomery enunciated ‘the three principles’, first proposed in 1960 and put forward ‘as a package’ for the first time. Accordingly, all countries should acknowledge that there was ‘one China’ (the PRC) but ‘two Germanys’, and that ‘all armed forces everywhere should withdraw to their own national territories’.124 When meeting Zhou on 21 September, Montgomery claimed that his views were shared by many governments, including the British government which, however, was ‘afraid of saying it for fear of antagonising the United States’. Zhou agreed with Montgomery’s ‘three principles’, asserting that there could only be ‘one China’ and ‘Taiwan is China’s territory’. Concerning the two draft resolutions on Chinese representation in the United Nations submitted to the Sixteenth General Assembly, Zhou said that the so-called ‘important question’ resolution and the ensuing proposal for a ‘study committee’ were both ‘delaying’ tactics, while the Soviet resolution to restore China’s ‘legitimate right’ in the United Nations and expel the Chiang Kai-shek clique was a ‘procedural question’, not an ‘important question’. To Zhou, the ‘struggle in the UN’ was a ‘test’, a test about how many countries were friendly to China, how many opposed its views and how many ‘vacillated’ between the two positions.125 Commenting on the Montgomery-Zhou talks, the British chargé in Beijing, Michael Stewart, reported to the FO that Zhou had embraced ‘the three principles’, but ‘did so in terms which showed no shift whatsoever in the standard Chinese or Russian Communist positions of Formosa, the United Nations, Germany or disengagement’. Stewart observed that Montgomery had repeatedly asserted in

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conversations with the Chinese leaders that his guiding principles ‘were shared by Mr Macmillan’ and he ‘came to China with Her Majesty’s Government’s approval’.126 To the FO, Montgomery’s remarks ‘represented his own view only’, and the British chargé had made it plain to Chen Yi in this regard. Macmillan was furious: ‘The Field Marshal is really a public danger. I must refuse to see him when he returns.’127 In early December, Macmillan’s Cabinet confirmed the decisions on voting for the Soviet resolution on China’s admission to the United Nations and for the five powers-sponsored ‘important question’ resolution. Nevertheless, taking into account a ‘moral obligation’ to the 8 to 9 million indigenous people of Taiwan and the previous (Churchill) government’s legal position on the island, it was decided that the British representative at the United Nations would make a statement to the effect that the British vote in favour of the Soviet resolution did ‘not prejudice’ the British government’s view that ‘sovereignty over the island of Formosa is undetermined’.128 On 15 December, at the General Assembly the ‘important question’ resolution was adopted by a vote of 61–34, with 7 abstentions, and the Soviet resolution was defeated by a vote of 45–30, with 29 abstentions.129 Having for the first time cast a positive vote on China’s admission to the United Nations (albeit with the defeat of the Soviet resolution), in early 1962 the British found an ‘ideal opportunity’ to ask the Chinese if they would agree to an exchange of ambassadors. The opportunity to upgrade diplomatic relations arose from the announcement about the replacement of Huan Xiang by Xiong Xianghui as Chinese chargé d’affaires in London in March and the scheduled end of British chargé Michael Stewart’s posting to Beijing in the spring. Thus, instead of replacing chargés at each other’s capital, China and Britain might exchange ambassadors. Arthur de la Mare, head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, argued: ‘Provided we do not allow ourselves to be inveigled, as a condition, into questions regarding our recognition of Chinese sovereignty over Formosa or Tibet we have nothing to lose by the approach.’130 After two meetings with Huan Xiang in February–March, however, Harold Caccia, permanent undersecretary of state at the FO, came to realize that the Chinese, citing the ‘rather inconsistent’ British policies towards China and Taiwan, were unenthusiastic about the idea of exchanging ambassadors.131 The holding of the Geneva Conference on Laos between May 1961 and July 1962 allowed the British foreign secretary to probe his Chinese counterpart about an exchange of ambassadors, just as Eden and Zhou had pursued personal diplomacy to upgrade Anglo-Chinese relations to the chargé level in 1954.

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Reconvening the Geneva Conference with the Soviet foreign minister, Lord Home was anxious to end the Laotian civil war (among the neutralists, rightists and communists) and reach an agreement on the international guarantee of Laos’ neutrality. For his part, Chen Yi, who headed the Chinese delegation, aimed to buy time for the Pathet Lao to consolidate its position and to detach Laos from the protection of the US-led SEATO.132 But the negotiations turned out to be protracted and difficult, not least due to the sharp differences among the three Laotian factions. To break the impasse, Lord Home brought in Malcolm MacDonald, the former commissioner general for Southeast Asia and an experienced diplomat. At Geneva Douglas-Home ‘made a useful friend’ in Chen Yi, who ‘had no love for the Russians’133 (due to the Sino-Soviet split). Likewise, Chen believed that the British were ‘wiser’ and ‘more pragmatic’ than the Americans, and thus the Chinese delegation should make frequent contact with the British representatives in order to expedite the negotiations.134 Since his ‘chance meeting’ with Zhou and Chen in Singapore in 1955, MacDonald had started a ‘solid friendship’ with both leaders and been convinced of ‘the importance of building bridges of understanding between the West (particularly Britain) and China’.135 On 19 July 1962, a little over a week after the three Laotian factions had issued a statement on the neutrality of Laos (which would culminate in an international agreement signed by the fourteen participating countries on 23 July), MacDonald had a ‘long and interesting talk’ with Chen, covering Anglo-Chinese relations. Chen said that the Chinese government ‘would like to discuss ways of further improving British-Chinese relations’, which were ‘quite good at present’ but could be ‘steadily bettered’. He believed that ‘Britain and China can co-operate in assisting a general improvement in the international atmosphere’.136 A few days later, on the 23rd, Lord Home met with Chen. Chen said that the Geneva Conference ‘had not only been successful in solving the Laos problem, but had also given opportunities for useful contacts between delegations’. Lord Home asked if Chen had ‘any suggestions for improving Anglo-Chinese relations’, prompting Chen to reply: Last year at the United Nations the United Kingdom had voted half for China and half for America. If the United Kingdom would now vote wholly for China and for driving out Chiang Kai-shek we could then immediately exchange Ambassadors.

In response, Home explained that although Britain had voted for the Soviet resolution, ‘the result of the vote had shown that the Assembly was still not ready

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to come to a decision on the future status of Formosa’. He nonetheless ‘hoped that a solution would eventually come from an improvement in Sino-American relations and that in the meantime China would not press the issue’. Chen, while hoping that in the future Britain would not only vote for the Soviet resolution but also ‘come out wholeheartedly in favour of Chinese admission’, agreed that ‘this process could not be hurried’. Chen stressed that China ‘attached particular importance to relations with the United Kingdom’.137 Chen’s remarks were revealing of China’s attitude towards the United Nations in 1962. Although Britain was urged to vote wholeheartedly (rather than casting a ‘half vote’) for China, Chen ‘indicated understanding’ of the British position, recognizing that the question of China’s admission ‘cannot and will not be settled this year’.138 On 30 October, as in the previous year, Britain voted for both the Soviet resolution (which was defeated) and the ‘important question’ resolution (which was carried) at the General Assembly. In view of this, China did not agree to exchange ambassadors with Britain. But neither was it in a hurry to join the United Nations as long as the Nationalists occupied a seat there.

Regional crises Before the 1962 UN debate on China, Anglo-Chinese relations had been put to the test by a regional crisis. In May–June a war scare developed in the Taiwan Strait. In view of the famine in China as a result of Mao’s disastrous Great Leap Forward139 and the resultant massive influx of Chinese refugees to Hong Kong (where an estimated total of 120,000 arrived in April-May), Chiang Kai-shek, who had been making war preparations since 1961, believed that the time was ripe for his ‘return to the mainland’.140 Although the Kennedy administration had strong reservations about a counter-attack, the United States did agree to provide military aircraft and pilot training for Taiwan’s sabotage operations against China. The Third Taiwan Strait Crisis began in earnest when Mao ordered a massive deployment of Chinese troops and aircraft to Fujian opposite Taiwan as a deterrent warning against Taipei.141 Neither Beijing nor Washington wanted war. The Sino-American ambassadorial talks, which continued, on and off, at Warsaw since 1955, provided a channel for the two sides to defuse tension. On 23 June, on Zhou’s instructions, Wang Bingnan called a meeting with John Cabot at short notice. Wang, claiming that Chiang’s preparations for an attack on China had received Washington’s support, warned that the United States should bear full responsibility for Taiwan’s adventurous actions. In response, Cabot reassured Wang that America did not

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want a world war and would not assist Taiwan in attacking the mainland.142 Besides the Warsaw channel, the Americans requested the British to drive home to the Chinese the message that the United States would not support Chiang’s use of force to change the status quo. As Undersecretary of State George Ball confided to President Kennedy, ‘It would be better to try to use the British Embassy in Peiping, both because the Chicom response could be faster and because the Chicoms might be more willing to talk frankly with the British.’143 US decision makers consulted with the British leaders about Beijing’s intention in the crisis and China policy generally. In a meeting with the British prime minister and foreign secretary during his European trip on 24 June, Secretary of State Dean Rusk opined that ‘the Chicom military build-up opposite Taiwan’ was ‘probably of a defensive nature, responsive to the talk from Taiwan on “return to the mainland”’. Rusk assured the British that ‘Peiping knows that the United States will not allow an attack on the mainland’. Meanwhile, Rusk talked about the possibility of food aid to a starving China,144 but concluded that an American initiative in this regard ‘would play into Peiping’s hands’. A somewhat emotional Macmillan ‘replied vehemently that he simply did not understand United States on China. We did not even admit that China existed.’ Concerned about the upcoming UN debate on Chinese representation, Macmillan said that the ‘United States had “a fellow from Taiwan” sitting in China’s seat in the UN’. Although ‘we had come out of the last session very well’, he continued, it was ‘only because we had “bullied all the South Americans” into voting for us’.145 For all Macmillan’s outbursts, Kennedy and his key advisers were as eager as the British to rein in Chiang during the Taiwan Strait Crisis. For their part, the British were anxious to prevent the Chinese Nationalists or the Americans from exploiting the Hong Kong refugee crisis. The Hong Kong government adopted a low-key approach by working with the Guangdong authorities to stop the outflow of Chinese refugees from the mainland.146 By the end of June, the crisis in the Taiwan Strait ended as dramatically as it had started. As Zhou Enlai and Chen Yi indicated to Malcolm MacDonald, who was visiting China, later in the year, China was ‘grateful to Britain and France for having made it clear that they will not support or approve any attempt by Chiang Kai-shek to invade the mainland’. Likewise, Zhou ‘spoke appreciatively of the Hong Kong Government’s efforts to stop representatives of “the Chiang Kai-shek clique” from using Hong Kong for improper, violent, purposes against China’, which were ‘one expression of the good relations between Britain and China’.147 A bigger test for Anglo-Chinese relations came in October, when China launched a limited war against India for a mix of reasons – border disputes

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(over both the McMahon Line in the North-East Frontier Agency and the Aksai Chin on the western sector), India’s support for the Dalai Lama and his alleged subversive activities in Tibet, and Jawaharlal Nehru’s ‘forward policy’ in the disputed territories. To ‘teach India a lesson’, on 20 October Mao’s forces struck at both sectors of the Sino-Indian border, advancing for a week and then pausing for three weeks before resuming the offensive. On 21 November, having humiliated India, China announced a unilateral ceasefire and restoration of the border line as at November 1959 (with 20 kilometres withdrawal from it on both sides).148 As the head of the Commonwealth and India’s principal supplier of arms and major trading partner, Britain was drawn into the Sino-Indian conflict from the outset. Macmillan and Kennedy were determined to ‘exploit the Sino-Indian War as a mechanism for tilting Jawaharlal Nehru’s government toward the West’.149 On 22 October, Macmillan sent a message to Nehru, expressing sympathy for ‘the difficulties with which [India was] faced by these extraordinary acts of aggression on the Himalayan frontier’.150 At the UN General Assembly, Lord Home stated that the British government ‘profoundly deplore the attacks by China against a fellow member of the Commonwealth’, while recognizing ‘the McMahon Line as the frontier of India’.151 Notwithstanding his demonstration of support for India, Macmillan, unlike Kennedy, believed in the limited nature of China’s aims and operations.152 The divergence of views between Britain and America – and between London and New Delhi – could not be concealed from China. In essence, the Chinese leaders were anxious to exploit the ‘honeymoon’ in Anglo-Chinese relations, cultivated in the course of 1962,153 to shape the outcome of the Himalayan war. On 29 October, five days after Beijing had issued a statement on a three-point proposal (for a ceasefire and negotiations) to India, Malcolm MacDonald, who was visiting China, was granted an interview with Chen Yi. Towards the end of their long conversation, the Chinese foreign minister brought up the topic of India, requesting MacDonald to ‘treat his remarks as official and report them to [Lord Home]’. Chen, after summarizing the Chinese proposal of 24 October, ‘deplored remarks made by yourself (“my old friend Home”) in the United Nations Assembly … about Chinese aggression and British support for India’, which were ‘not in accordance with the facts’. But he added that ‘our relations were otherwise “quite friendly”’. Stressing that the Sino-Indian conflict was ‘localized’, Chen hoped that Britain ‘would recommend the Indians to seek a settlement on basis of Chinese proposals’.154 MacDonald had another lengthy meeting with Zhou and Chen at the end of October. The Chinese leaders said that they ‘fully understood that Britain

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supports India as a fellow member of the Commonwealth’, a ‘relationship which the Chinese can appreciate’. Although regretting that Britain was supplying India with arms, Zhou and Chen ‘understand and do not propose to protest about this’. They did, however, ‘resent [the British] associating [themselves] with Indian charges that the Chinese have committed aggression against India’. Zhou, moreover, reiterated his peace proposal, emphasizing that China ‘did not wish the fighting to be extended’. MacDonald got the impression that China really wanted an agreement, and he duly reported it to the FO after the interview.155 In a Cabinet meeting on 6 November, Lord Home drew the attention of ministers to MacDonald’s conversations with the Chinese leaders, particularly ‘the acceptance by the Chinese Government of a new border some 3 miles to the south of the present McMahon Line in the North-East Frontier district, in exchange for concessions by the Indian Government in Ladakh’, which he thought could be a ‘possible basis for a settlement’.156 After a month of fighting, the FO concluded that on the whole China had ‘a limited objective, at least at this stage’, and was ‘prepared to settle on the basis of the 1959 line’.157 On 21 November China announced a unilateral ceasefire. When meeting with the British chargé in Beijing a few days later, Vice Foreign Minister Zhang Hanfu said that as Britain had ‘close relations’ with India, China hoped that London ‘would encourage Indian Government to respond positively’ to the Chinese three-point proposal.158 Thus, the Sino-Indian border war, ironically, provided an opportunity for Anglo-Chinese cooperation. Even after the Macmillan government, in the wake of the war, had postponed a scheduled visit to Britain by the Chinese vice minister of foreign trade indefinitely, Zhou Enlai opposed taking retaliatory action against the British, as proposed by the Chinese chargé in London.159

Nuclear bombs The Sino-Indian border war coincided with the Cuban Missile Crisis, which brought the two superpowers to the nuclear brink. In the early 1960s, Harold Macmillan was acutely aware of the dangers of nuclear proliferation (and of conventional arms race). He saw the conclusion of a nuclear test ban treaty through summit meetings as a vital symbol of the East-West détente.160 Intelligence and speculations on China’s development of nuclear weapons provided further impetus for negotiation over a partial test ban treaty. In the Commons, Opposition leader Harold Wilson pressed the government for ‘a wider and more comprehensive disarmament agreement’. In the debate on the

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government’s defence white paper on 6 March 1962, Wilson asked: ‘Do we want to see Israel, Egypt, China or Cuba as nuclear Powers? This is a tremendous problem and a tremendous danger to the world.’ In particular, ‘China must be brought into the nuclear disarmament negotiations if we are to have any security for the future.’ In opposition (if not in power), Wilson called for the abandonment of Britain’s ‘own nuclear deterrent’.161 Although Mao Zedong had dubbed nuclear weapons ‘paper tigers’, he decided to build a bomb during the First Taiwan Strait Crisis in 1955 in order to prevent future nuclear blackmail by the United States and to demonstrate China’s great power status. Indeed, the chairman regarded nuclear weapons as both ‘paper’ and ‘real tigers’, to be despised strategically but respected tactically.162 Even after the Soviet Union had reneged on its promise to supply a prototype atomic bomb in 1959, China was determined to join the world’s exclusive nuclear club. On 5 August 1963, after tough negotiations, the United States, the Soviet Union and Britain signed the Partial Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, banning nuclear weapon tests except for those conducted underground. On the 15th, the Chinese government issued a statement criticizing that the treaty had created an ‘illusion of peace’ by ‘completely divorcing the cessation of nuclear tests from the general task of banning nuclear weapons’.163 While advocating worldwide disarmament, China opposed nuclear non-proliferation out of the belief that acquisition of nuclear weapons by developing countries would reduce the possibility of nuclear wars unleashed by the United States and thus contribute to world peace.164 Zhou Enlai said in an interview in May 1964: ‘Nuclear weapons are being monopolised by a few big Powers as the means of menacing other countries.’ Although China had consistently insisted on the ‘total prohibition and thorough abolishment’ of nuclear weapons, as long as they were not prohibited and abolished throughout the world, China should, and would, acquire nuclear weapons.165 By early 1964, Sir Alec Douglas-Home,166 the new Conservative prime minister following Macmillan’s resignation in October of the previous year, regarded the prospects for international disarmament as ‘not good’. It appeared increasingly likely that China would acquire nuclear weapons; so would France and some other countries. Douglas-Home opposed vehemently the Labour Party’s proposal for ‘discard[ing] our British nuclear deterrent’, for there was ‘no evidence that if Britain were to abandon ultimate control over her own deterrent, that would have the slightest effect on the French decision, or the Chinese decision’. In Parliament, Viscount Lambton (Berwick-upon-Tweed), among other Conservative MPs, echoed Douglas-Home’s view by enquiring whether

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the Labour Opposition would see a ‘security risk’ if ‘China is in a position not only to have one [nuclear bomb] but also to give one to Egypt or Indonesia’.167 Despite the difficulty of obtaining concrete intelligence, by late September, Whitehall officials had prepared a draft contingency statement on China’s nuclear test. Similar to the proposed US official statement, the British would play down the significance of the Chinese bomb. (But unlike Kennedy, DouglasHome, or Macmillan before him, had not considered a preemptive strike on China’s nuclear facilities.)168 According to the British statement, China’s capacity to test a nuclear device ‘has been known for some time’, and there was ‘of course a vast difference between the first test of a crude device, and the emergence of a country as a military nuclear power’. ‘The recent test explosion will therefore not affect the military situation in Asia,’ the draft statement highlighted. On 1 October, Douglas-Home approved the text, which would be issued by Downing Street as soon as the news of China’s nuclear test had been confirmed.169 But it was Harold Wilson, not Douglas-Home, who authorized the issuing of a British statement on 16 October when China detonated its first atomic bomb, the same day when the Labour Party returned to power following general election victory.

Conclusion The establishment of diplomatic relations at the chargé level in mid-1954 owed much to the personal diplomacy of Anthony Eden and Zhou Enlai during the Geneva Conference. Both of them were pragmatic leaders, approaching AngloChinese bilateral relations from the wider perspective of the Indochina crisis. Eight years later, in 1962, Lord Home likewise seized the opportunity provided by another international conference at Geneva, focusing on Laos, to secure Chen Yi’s agreement to exchange ambassadors. Lord Home was not as successful as his predecessor, though, largely due to the Taiwan question. Beijing was dissatisfied with Britain’s support for the American-sponsored ‘important question’ resolution in the United Nations and its promotion of the theory of Taiwan’s ‘undetermined’ status. Nevertheless, between 1954 and 1964, China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain was largely symbolic and ‘normal’. It was symbolic in the sense that the MFA found the British diplomats on the ground a convenient target for performing diplomatic ritual that aimed to communicate important messages to London: that the PRC would not agree to establish full diplomatic relations with Britain if the latter continued to pursue a ‘two Chinas’ policy. The ‘everyday Cold War’ was ‘normal’ during this period, in that Mao Zedong never

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saw Britain as a real threat to China and that both sides accepted, in Selwyn Lloyd’s words, the ‘fairly normal badness’ of Anglo-Chinese relations under the circumstances. In essence, Anglo-Chinese interactions embodied both conflict and cooperation. In 1962 there witnessed a ‘honeymoon’ in Anglo-Chinese relations, as a result of the Viscount sale, the British vote on the Soviet resolution in the United Nations, and a meeting of minds over the crises in Laos, Taiwan and India. The ‘normality’ of the ‘everyday Cold War’ was, however, threatened by Mao’s radicalization of Chinese foreign policy from 1965 onwards.

3

Radicalizing the Everyday Cold War, 1965–6

On 16 October 1964, after thirteen years in opposition, the Labour Party under Harold Wilson returned to power with a narrow majority of four seats. (Not until March 1966 did it secure a decisive parliamentary majority.) Wilson would soon find himself preoccupied with a host of domestic and external problems – repeated economic crises culminating in the devaluation of the pound in November 1967; growing sectarian troubles in Northern Ireland; Indonesia’s ‘confrontation’ with Malaysia; debates about Britain’s military presence east of Suez; and the Vietnam War. The Labour government was confronted with the dilemmas between maintaining Britain’s world role and finding defence expenditure cuts, and between preserving the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ and pacifying the Labour left wing. Overall Wilson proved to be a complex and skilful leader, dominating decision-making and successfully keeping Britain out of the Vietnam conflict while holding the Anglo-American alliance together.1 Before entering Downing Street, Wilson had been involved in the formulation of China policy, particularly concerning trade issues.2 In February 1958, Wilson, then shadow chancellor of the exchequer, had been invited to visit China, where Zhou Enlai granted him an interview. When discussing the question of improving Anglo-Chinese relations, Zhou told Wilson that Beijing’s attitude towards the British government was ‘not the same’ as its attitude towards Washington, expressing his hope that Britain would ‘exert its influence on the United States in relaxing the international tension’ and ‘play the role of a bridge’ between America and the socialist countries.3 Although his representation on behalf of the E. D. Sassoon Banking Company Limited about its economic interests in Shanghai had failed to convince Zhou (who insisted on ‘the virtual autonomy of the Shanghai authorities’), Wilson could not but get the impression that the premier was ‘extremely friendly and spoke frankly’.4 Shortly after becoming shadow foreign secretary in late 1961, Wilson spoke favourably of Communist China’s admission

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to the United Nations.5 Given his early encounter with China, Wilson the prime minister told the Labour Party’s annual conference in 1965: ‘I know Chou En-lai. I have always found I can talk with him. We disagree, but there is no reason for not talking, for not negotiating, and for not clearing the air.’6 The Labour Party’s attitude towards China developed within the context of a ‘socialist’ foreign policy, characterized by internationalism, interdependence and disarmament.7 The United Nations was at the heart of this approach. As Foreign Secretary George Brown spoke at the 1966 party conference: ‘We are democratic Socialists. … We are by very definition internationalists.’ This ‘international role’ obliged Britain to accept ‘a world authority’ – ‘a United Nations with an effective authority’. The conference endorsed a statement by the national executive committee to the effect that the continued exclusion of the PRC from the United Nations ‘clearly makes the U.N.’s decisions less effective’, and thus the ‘immediate entry of China to the United Nations and to the Security Council’ was ‘essential’.8 Another important aspect of the Labour’s ‘socialist internationalism’ was disarmament, especially concerning nuclear weapons. On his first day in office, Wilson was given a ‘stormy welcome’ by a nuclear China, which had exploded its first nuclear device the previous day.9 It was the Labour’s belief that ‘the cause of world peace would be immeasurably advanced by the admission of the People’s Republic of China to the Security Council’.10 Nevertheless, the US escalation of war in Vietnam in 1965 complicated the formulation of China policy and Anglo-Chinese relations. Although not a priority at the outset (a more urgent problem was the Indonesia-Malaysia confrontation), the Vietnam War touched upon the vital issues of the Anglo-American alliance, Britain’s defence policy in Southeast Asia, and Commonwealth and domestic political unity,11 with the result that Wilson ‘devoted a disproportionate part of his time and energies to a problem like Vietnam, in which the British interest was no more than peripheral’.12 In the shadow of Vietnam, the Chinese radicalized the ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain.

Vietnam as new obstacle to Anglo-Chinese relations In the course of the ‘long 1964’, President Lyndon Johnson gradually escalated the war in Vietnam. In response to two alleged North Vietnamese attacks on US destroyers in the Gulf of Tonkin in August 1964, Johnson obtained from the US Congress the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, which authorized him to ‘take all necessary measures to repel any armed attack’ against American interests in

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Southeast Asia. After securing his own mandate in the November presidential election, Johnson ordered air strikes on North Vietnamese military installations in retaliation for Viet Cong attacks on the US barracks at Pleiku and Qui Nhon in February 1965, and launched continuous air bombing against North Vietnam (codenamed Operation Rolling Thunder) the next month. Following the dispatch of two divisions to South Vietnam, on 28 July Johnson announced the commitment of an additional 100,000 troops to prop up the Saigon regime.13 The scale of US escalation following the Gulf of Tonkin Incident came as a surprise to China. In April 1965 Beijing and Hanoi entered into a formal agreement on the dispatch of Chinese anti-aircraft and engineering troops (over 320,000 people by 1969), concentrating on the construction and maintenance of airfields, roads and railways and serving as a deterrence to a US ground invasion of North Vietnam.14 China’s support for North Vietnam was motivated by a mix of security and ideological considerations. To Mao, the US escalation of the Vietnam War was part of Washington’s intensified efforts to encircle the PRC.15 Ideologically, Mao identified the North Vietnamese struggle with the global wars of national liberation, centring on the Afro-Asian-Latin American ‘intermediate zone’. Mao, moreover, had an eye on the ‘revisionists’ at home. Concerned about the pragmatic economic policies pursued by Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping following the failure of the Great Leap Forward, which might result in the ‘restoration of capitalism’ in China, Mao intended to mobilize the Chinese population against all revisionists, imperialists and reactionaries by involving China deeply in the Vietnam War.16 During the Vietnam War, Britain had to walk a tightrope between maintaining the Anglo-American alliance and averting a direct Sino-American confrontation. While not uncritical of Johnson’s Vietnam policy, Wilson could not risk jeopardizing the ‘special relationship’. At a time when the fighting escalated in Vietnam, Britain was committing over 50,000 troops to Malaysia in the ‘confrontation’ with Indonesia, a country which the United States wanted to woo in order to prevent Djakarta’s further drift towards Beijing. More importantly, the United Kingdom, facing serious balance of payments deficits, desperately depended on American dollars to defend the sterling against devaluation. Nevertheless, to prevent a third world war, to keep the Commonwealth united, and to pacify the Labour left wing, Wilson could not afford to associate Britain too closely with America, particularly concerning the deployment of British troops to Vietnam. Thus, Wilson was eager to find a diplomatic solution to the Vietnam conflict, which, if successful, would bolster his credentials as an intermediary between the superpowers.17

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The Johnson administration wanted British support at a critical moment of war escalation. Wilson believed that only by demonstrating solidarity with America in public would Britain be in a position to influence Washington in private.18 In the parliamentary debate on Vietnam on 9 March, Wilson mentioned the British approach to the Soviet government on 20 February about the possibility of reconvening the Geneva Conference to seek a peaceful settlement of Vietnam. (After much delay, Moscow gave a negative reply, insisting that the Americans first call off their bombing of North Vietnam.) He then indirectly defended the American bombing of North Vietnam by saying: A year ago, the general supposition was that the fighting in South Vietnam was a spontaneous, so-called nationalist rising on the part of the Viet Cong people. But now there is no attempt at all to deny the responsibility of North Vietnam who have said that they are fighting a war in South Vietnam. That makes a very big difference, I think, in terms of our analysis of the problem.19

Wilson’s remarks were welcomed by the Johnson administration: Rusk telephoned the British Embassy in Washington to say that ‘he greatly appreciated the way in which the Prime Minister handled questions on Viet Nam in the House today’.20 Another chance to show unity with the Americans came on 1 April 1965, when Michael Stewart made his maiden speech as foreign secretary. During the lengthy foreign affairs debate, Stewart said that ‘it would be wrong to argue that the action of the United States is the action of a country engaged in a reckless escalation of the conflict’. He made some detailed remarks on China: ‘We wish to have good relations with China. … We recognise that she is a great Power whose influence is growing and we support her claim to her rightful seat at the United Nations.’ But ‘as long as China’s attitude to world affairs is dominated by hatred of the United States’, Stewart continued, ‘China will not be able to take the place in the world to which its size, industry, the ingenuity of its people and great cultural heritage entitles that country.’ He spoke of ‘the tribulations which China went through in this century’ and ‘the humiliations to which China was often subjected by Western Powers’. Claiming that ‘we cannot build policy on past grievances, however justified’, Stewart expressed his hope that ‘when the bitterness of those memories fades, China will be prepared to co-operate in the solution of problems which at present it seems determined only to exacerbate’. As leader of the Opposition, Alec Douglas-Home stated that on Vietnam the question was ‘not whether the United States wants to establish a foothold in Asia’, whose answer was negative, but ‘whether the Chinese are bent on aggression, using North Vietnam as a tool, or whether the Chinese can

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be brought to underwrite a peace which is real – this is the question – and thus enable the United States to withdraw’. Near the end of the debate, Wilson said that ‘we have made absolutely plain our support of the American stand against the Communist infiltration in South Vietnam’.21 China was incensed by the British public display of support for America. In early 1965, Beijing’s propaganda machine intensified its attacks on Britain. On 25 March, the People’s Daily accused Wilson of defending ‘the American use of gas in Vietnam’, which he claimed was ‘no contravention of the Geneva Protocol of 1925 and other treaties’ because the gas used was ‘not poisonous’. A week later, a People’s Daily commentator article entitled ‘The Visage of the Accomplice’ condemned the Labour government for supporting ‘American aggressive actions and war blackmail all along the line’ in return for ‘United States Imperialism’s support for the tottering colonial rule of Britain in the “Malaysian” region’.22 (Indeed, the ‘confrontation’ between Indonesia, which received China’s moral support, and Malaysia, which was allegedly backed by the Anglo-American forces, was itself a separate topic of Beijing’s everyday propaganda in 1965.)23 The People’s Daily, moreover, criticized London along the lines of public and parliamentary opposition to the Vietnam War.24 In mid-June, the CCP Central Committee issued a notice on propaganda relating to the fifteenth anniversary of the ‘occupation of the Chinese territory of Taiwan by US imperialism’. Among the slogans to be stressed were ‘Oppose US imperialism’s aggression in Vietnam’ and ‘Firm support for the Vietnamese people’s anti-American [and] patriotic just struggle’.25 Beijing found it imperative to respond to Stewart’s remarks on China. On 15 April, Vice Foreign Minister Luo Guibo invited the British chargé d’affaires in Beijing, Terence Garvey (together with Counsellor Michael Wilford and their wives), to farewell dinner. In conversation after dinner, Luo professed that ‘relations [between China and Britain] could be much better than they were in all respects including trade, but there were obstacles’, which were related not only to Taiwan and the UN seat but also to the fact that Stewart ‘had unjustly made three charges against China’ in his parliamentary speech. Concerning the first charge that ‘China was following a policy of hatred’, Luo contended that this was ‘quite untrue’ since ‘China’s policy was peaceful and righteous’. As for Stewart’s claim that ‘China was motivated by her past grievances against the West’, Luo lamented that ‘China had been very unjustly treated, but why should she be condemned for trying to fight injustice’. Finally, Luo countered Stewart’s charge that ‘China’s policies “exacerbated” situation in South East Asia’ by claiming that ‘China’s policies were right and directed to peace’ and the foreign secretary had been

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‘misrepresenting them’. After Garvey had replied that Britain and other powers were trying to seek a negotiated settlement of Vietnam, only to be rejected by China, Luo asserted that Britain ‘had responsibilities as co-chairman but was not discharging them’.26 When the new British chargé, Donald Hopson, presented his letter of appointment on 13 May, Luo used the occasion to assert that since 1954 Anglo-Chinese relations had not ‘developed normally’, and the ‘responsibility for this lay on the British’, which had ‘consistently adopted unfriendly and hostile policies’ towards China.27 Significantly, China snubbed all the peace initiatives pursued by Britain (and the Soviet Union), not least because until 1969 Mao opposed negotiation as a means of ending the hostilities in Indochina and instead strove for a humiliating defeat of America through ‘people’s wars’.28 In late March, Wilson decided to send Patrick Gordon Walker, a former foreign secretary, as his personal emissary to Southeast Asia in a three-week fact-finding tour between mid-April and early May. On 1 and 2 April, the British Chargé Office in Beijing presented notes to the MFA, proposing the dispatch of a British special representative to Beijing to discuss the question of Vietnam and Indochina.29 However, on the 12th, the MFA replied in a note that despite being ‘a Co-Chairman of the 1954 Geneva Conference’, Britain had been ‘supporting each step taken by the United States in expanding its war of aggression, following its lead closely’, and thus ‘abandoned [its] duties’. The Chinese government deemed it ‘not suitable’ for a British representative to come to China to discuss the Indochina problem under the present circumstances.30 The British presented another note requesting China’s reconsideration of their proposal on 13 April, but the MFA rejected it four days later.31 Beijing showed little enthusiasm for the Commonwealth peace mission proposed by Wilson in June either. The timing of the mission coincided with the convening of the week-long Commonwealth Prime Ministers’ Conference in London (beginning on 17 June), and was not far ahead of the Second Afro-Asian Conference at Algiers (scheduled for 29 June to 3 July). At the Commonwealth Prime Ministers’ Conference, it was decided that the Commonwealth peace mission would consist of the leaders of Britain, Ghana, Nigeria and Trinidad.32 On 20 June Wilford came to the MFA to deliver a message about the Commonwealth mission. The deputy director of the West European Department reiterated the familiar argument that ‘the only way to bring peace to Viet Nam was “for America to stop aggressing, withdraw its troops and observe the Geneva Agreement”’.33 Beijing’s propaganda accused Wilson of manipulating the Commonwealth Prime Ministers’ Conference into promoting his Vietnam initiative and, worse

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still, sabotaging the upcoming Second Afro-Asian Conference. (At London the thirteen Commonwealth countries invited to attend the Algiers Conference had decided to demand its postponement in the light of the Algerian coup on 19 June, which overthrew Ben Bella.)34 On 22 June, an article in the People’s Daily lambasted Wilson’s scheme to ‘organize a so-called “Peace-bid Mission” in Vietnam in the name of the Commonwealth’, which was ‘entirely inspired by the United States’.35 On 25 June the MFA officially rejected a Commonwealth mission to China.36 While opposing peace talks, China was anxious to signal to the United States that it wanted to avoid a direct confrontation over Vietnam. At first, Zhou Enlai had asked Pakistani president Ayub Khan to communicate a message to the US government, but the sudden postponement of Khan’s scheduled visit to Washington prompted the Chinese to seek British help. On 31 May Foreign Minister Chen Yi met with Donald Hopson of the British Chargé Office for over an hour. Chen said that Premier Zhou wanted Hopson to pass on a fourpoint message to Washington. First, ‘China will not provoke a war with United States’. Second, ‘If United States bombs China, that would mean war and there would be no limits to the war.’ Third, ‘China is prepared’. And finally, ‘What we say counts’: ‘If war were thrust upon China she would resist and would not adopt Khrushchev’s “opportunist line”.’37 Crucially, Chen linked the Vietnam War with Sino-British bilateral relations. He told Hopson that ‘Sino-British relations should develop further’, stressing that up until now ‘they had not been normal though they had not been bad either – at any rate not as bad as Chinese relations with United States’. The ‘biggest obstacle to improvement of relations’ was the question of Chinese representation in the United Nations, where Britain had voted in favour of Washington’s proposals to ‘deny China’s rightful place’. But Chen professed that there was now a ‘new obstacle’, in that the Labour government was ‘supporting United States policy in Viet Nam even more strongly than former Conservative Government’. In telling Hopson frankly how to improve Sino-British relations, Chen said that China ‘did not pursue “dual tactics”’ – to ‘say one thing and do another’ – and hoped that Britain ‘would exert its influence on United States and ask them to withdraw from Viet Nam’.38 Hopson got a good impression of Chen, who had been ‘courteous throughout and in good humour’ and whose willingness to spend so much time on a presumably busy day apparently showed that ‘the Chinese Government still attach considerable importance to the attitudes adopted by Her Majesty’s Government’.39 In hindsight, the British diplomat’s intermediary role was crucial. Chen’s four-point message on Vietnam eventually found its way to the highest

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level of the US government: Secretary of State Dean Rusk read copies of the interview, and McGeorge Bundy, the president’s special assistant for national security affairs, forwarded them to Johnson.40 As the Vietnam War escalated further since the summer of 1965, the Chinese leaders continued to signal to Washington through various channels about China’s intention and involvement in the war.41 All this helped avoid a Korean-type conflict in Vietnam.42 On 28 July, Johnson announced his approval of the request by General William Westmoreland for the dispatch of an additional 100,000 troops to Vietnam. The Chinese government responded with a statement on 7 August: ‘U.S. imperialism is ferociously speeding up the expansion of its war of aggression against Viet Nam’, while ‘hypocritically talk[ing] about America’s willingness to begin unconditional discussions with any government at any place at any time’. ‘We warn the U.S. aggressors once more: We Chinese people mean what we say,’ it concluded.43 There was no mention of Britain in the Chinese statement. Despite Washington’s repeated requests for British military contribution, Wilson had refused to commit even token British troops to Vietnam. On 1 September, however, the People’s Daily seized on the publication of the British White Paper on Vietnam (which featured sixty-three statements and articles issued by the interested governments concerned) on 26 August by renewing its propaganda attack on Britain. Aimed to ‘further United States imperialism’s peace talks fraud’, according to the People’s Daily, the White Paper had shown all too clearly that Britain ‘closely followed the United States’ in Vietnam.44 The same day, Beijing’s propaganda machine found a seemingly mundane issue to make a fuss about – the visits by US military personnel to Hong Kong. The ‘everyday Cold War’ came to the British colony.

Everyday propaganda about Hong Kong Since the Korean War, British Hong Kong had been used as a liberty port by the US Seventh Fleet due to its deep-water harbour, social stability, and growing manufacturing and tourist industries. With the escalation of the Vietnam conflict, Hong Kong as a ‘Rest and Recreation’ (R&R) centre for US servicemen became more important than ever. In 1964, the year when the Gulf of Tonkin Incident occurred, 315 US naval vessels visited Hong Kong. In 1965 the number increased to 330, with approximately 80,000 US armed forces personnel arriving during the first six months.45

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China could not turn a blind eye to the ever-increasing number of US naval visits to Hong Kong for both practical and symbolic reasons. Just as Chen Yi had signalled to the Americans, via Hopson and other third parties, the possibility of China’s direct intervention in Vietnam under certain circumstances, so too did Beijing need to warn the British against Hong Kong’s possible role in the conflict. In a report on 11 August 1965, Hong Kong Governor David Trench drew the attention of the Colonial Office to the remarks made by two senior Chinese officials. In mid-July Zhou Enlai had told a group of visiting Hong Kong leftists that ‘Hong Kong was an integral part of China’ but ‘it would not be in China’s interest if Hong Kong were taken back now’. Later that month, in Guangzhou Tao Zhu, vice premier and secretary of the CCP Central South Bureau, reportedly told Jin Yaoru of the Hong Kong left-wing paper Wen Wei Po: ‘If the Vietnamese war were expanded the status of Hong Kong would not be affected’, provided that ‘Britain did not engage in aggression against China’ and ‘not “permit Hong Kong to be used as a base by the U.S. for aggression against China”’ and that ‘the Hong Kong Government did not “persecute patriotic workers and organisations in Hong Kong”’. Tao added that ‘these remarks need not be kept a secret and could be conveyed to the British’.46 In assessing Zhou’s and Tao’s ‘reassurances’ about Hong Kong, Trench argued that while their remarks suggested ‘the general reluctance of the Chinese to disturb the status quo in Hong Kong’, it was also clear that ‘they have been undertaking contingency planning at a high level in the light of the developing situation in Vietnam and that they have decided to warn the Hong Kong Government that if things continue to worsen there is a limit to the extent to which China can tolerate the use of Hong Kong to support the U.S. war effort’.47 In other words, the British realized that China would not tolerate the American use of Hong Kong beyond rest and recreation. A plane crash incident in Hong Kong provided Beijing with a rationale, or a pretext, to lodge what would be the first of a series of diplomatic protests with the British government. On 24 August, shortly after taking off for South Vietnam from the Kai Tak Airport, a US Marine Corps transport plane with seventy-one persons on board crashed into water near the industrial area of Kwun Tong in Kowloon, killing fifty-eight of them. This occurred just a day after the United States had bombed the dam and hydroelectric plant southwest of Hanoi in Vietnam. The left-wing Ta Kung Pao and Wen Wei Po in Hong Kong gave ‘extensive coverage’ to the aircraft crash, lamenting that ‘the presence in the Colony of U.S. military aircraft and vessels constitutes a threat to the safety of the Chinese residents’.48

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On 1 September, the director of the MFA’s West European Department, Xie Li, presented a formal diplomatic note to the British chargé in Beijing, strongly protesting that ‘Hong Kong is increasingly being used by the United States aggressor forces as a base of operations for the United States war of aggression against Viet Nam’. Referring to the visit of numerous US warships, planes and military personnel as well as the alleged American acquisition of large quantities of military supplies and provisions in the colony, the protest note stated: ‘The criminal activities of the United States aggressor forces in Hong Kong have not only endangered the peaceful life of the inhabitants of Hong Kong and the safety of their life and property, but also posed an increasingly grave threat to the security of China and of Southeast Asia.’ China thus ‘firmly demands that the British Government immediately adopt effective measures to stop all the activities of the United States aggressor forces in Hong Kong’; otherwise, ‘it must bear full responsibility for all the consequences arising therefrom’.49 Three days later, the People’s Daily published a commentary article warning the British government in similar terms.50 The theme of US naval visits to Hong Kong posing a ‘grave threat to the security of China’ was taken up by Chen Yi. In a press conference on 29 September, Chen talked at great length about China’s foreign policy and the international situation. In response to questions by Hong Kong newspaper journalists about US naval visits to the colony, Chen asserted that the Chinese government regarded the problem as not only ‘using Hong Kong as a base of aggression against Vietnam’, but also ‘preparing to use Hong Kong as a base of aggression against China in the future’. The US expansion of war in Vietnam and the British commitment to Malaysia in the ‘confrontation’ with Indonesia did not merely target the Vietnamese and the Indonesians; rather, ‘their aims were directed against China’. What was at stake were not only ‘a Taiwan question, a Hong Kong question, [and] a Macao question’, Chen stressed, but also ‘the global strategy of US imperialism’.51 Beijing lodged its second diplomatic protest about Hong Kong a day after Johnson had announced the resumption of bombing of North Vietnam (following a forty-day bombing pause and the lack of Hanoi’s response to his peace formula). In an interview with the British chargé on 1 February 1966, Vice Minister Wang Bingnan read the note aloud and handed it to Hopson: ‘At a time when the United States is steadily expanding its war of aggression against Viet Nam, brazenly declaring the resumption of its bombing of the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam …, nuclear-powered and other warships of the United

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States are having constant access to Hong Kong and assembling there.’ Referring to the concentration of as many as nine US warships and the fact that a US commander posted on the visiting USS Enterprise had ‘blatantly received correspondents in Hong Kong, showing off aggressive force and making war clamours and nuclear threats’, the note asserted that the United States was ‘attempting further to use Hong Kong as a springboard for its future attack on China’s mainland’. ‘The situation had changed since last September,’ Wang stressed, and the ‘British Government had failed to take any effective measures to check United States war-like preparations in Hong Kong’.52 To London, there was absolutely no truth in the Chinese allegations: Hong Kong had been used by the United States primarily as an R&R centre, not as a base for war-related procurement and military operations. In assessing China’s second protest note, Hopson opined that the tone was ‘rather more severe’ than that of the first note and its timing might have been related to the concentration of a large number of US warships, including the iconic Enterprise in Hong Kong harbour. (Commissioned in late 1961 and being the most expensive and the largest warship ever built, USS Enterprise had participated in the biggest naval air strikes against North Vietnam to date – Rolling Thunder Two – in December 1965.)53 But Hopson also found another important factor at play: China wanted to symbolically demonstrate solidarity with North Vietnam in the midst of the Sino-Soviet split. ‘The publicity given to the protests may also be designed with an eye to Ho Chi Minh’s recent appeal for increased assistance,’ Hopson reported to the FO, and it was quite possible that ‘the Chinese would not wish to leave themselves open to Russian accusations of standing idly by in the Far East when they have been accusing the Russians of doing just that in Europe’ (concerning the German question, for example).54 According to a FO background note for ministers, China’s main purpose in sending the [Second] Note seems to be to demonstrate publicly their support for Hanoi against the Americans at a time when the latter have resumed full-scale operations in Viet-Nam. This is particularly important for the Chinese when they are under pressure from the North Viet-Namese to increase their support and when they are accusing the Soviet Union of failing in its duty to give all-out support to North Viet-Nam.55

True, the Sino-Soviet dispute had deepened as a result of the Vietnam War. Under Nikita Khrushchev, Indochina had been a periphery issue in Soviet foreign policy, subordinate to the question of Europe. Since Khrushchev’s ouster

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in October 1964, Leonid Brezhnev adopted a more proactive policy by increasing Soviet aid to North Vietnam, such as industrial and telecommunications equipment, medical supplies and heavy armaments.56 On top of their disputes over interpretation of Marxism and leadership in the international communist movement, Moscow and Beijing were now competing for influence in the Third World, with the former advocating urban-based, technology-driven warfare and the latter calling for ‘people’s wars’.57 In the struggle for the hearts and minds of Hanoi, the Soviets and the Chinese disagreed over such issues as Beijing’s obstruction of the delivery of Soviet military materials to Vietnam via mainland China, Moscow’s proposals to station military personnel and to establish bases in China, and the strategy of negotiation with the United States.58 The Sino-Soviet dispute, moreover, had a Hong Kong dimension, which was played out on the propaganda front. Back in December 1962, in countering the Chinese and Albanian charges against his ‘adventurism’ and then ‘capitulationism’ during the Cuban Missile Crisis, at the Supreme Soviet Khrushchev had criticized China’s toleration of British colonial rule in Hong Kong (and of the Portuguese rule in Macao).59 Khrushchev’s taunt was later echoed by the Communist Party of the United States, which accused the Chinese Communists of ‘not following the adventurous policy in Taiwan, Hongkong and Macao’ that they had advocated for others in the Caribbean. In response to the ‘anti-China’ polemical attacks by the American Communist Party and by the five European communist parties allegedly at Moscow’s instigation, the CCP arranged to have the People’s Daily and the Red Flag (Hongqi) published seven articles between December 1962 and March 1963. As a prelude to the ‘Nine Open Letters’ against the Soviets (between September 1963 and July 1964), the ‘Seven Articles’ were drafted by a five-man team of party theoreticians and propaganda experts.60 The last of the seven articles, titled ‘A Comment on the Statement of the Communist Party of the U.S.A.’, provided a thorough enunciation of the Chinese government’s principle of dealing with ‘unequal treaties left over by history’, with its early drafts being revised by top leaders like Mao, Zhou and Deng Xiaoping.61 Published as a People’s Daily editorial on 8 March 1963, the article stated that on ‘the questions of Hongkong, Kowloon and Macao’, ‘when the conditions are ripe’, they ‘should be settled peacefully through negotiations’, and ‘pending a settlement, the status quo should be maintained’. The editorial, indirectly attacking Khrushchev without naming him, argued that the Chinese government knew clearly that ‘you [Khrushchev] are … bringing up the questions of Hongkong and Macao merely as a fig-leaf to hide your disgraceful performance in the Caribbean crisis’ and that, ‘while you ostensibly speak for China, you are actually stabbing her in the back’.62

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Beijing’s clarification did not deter Moscow from making propaganda capital out of the colonial status of Hong Kong in subsequent years. In April 1964, the Soviet journal Izvestiya featured an article on Hong Kong, claiming (quite correctly) that the Chinese leaders saw the British colony ‘as a kind of loophole into the capitalist world’, where they got ‘not less than half of their yearly currency receipts’. In May, an article in Pravda provocatively charged that Hong Kong had become the ‘major foreign centre of slanderous propaganda and subversive activity conducted by Peking against the Soviet Union’.63 While attacking China on anti-colonial grounds, the Soviet Union, ironically, was eager to establish a foothold on capitalist Hong Kong for intelligence gathering, economic activities and illicit operations in the region. Moscow’s meddling in Hong Kong affairs irritated not only the Chinese Communists but also the British, who did not want to turn Hong Kong into a tense Cold War battleground.64 The escalation of the Vietnam War thus intensified the Sino-Soviet dispute, which spilled over into Hong Kong. By lodging (symbolic) diplomatic protests with the British about US naval visits twice, Beijing very likely had an eye on the Soviet Union – to counter Moscow’s charges against the alleged Chinese toleration of colonialism in Hong Kong and to win Hanoi over to China’s side in the struggle for influence in the Third World. The linkage between Hong Kong and the Soviet Union, in the Chinese mind, could be discerned in Chen Yi’s press conference on 29 September 1965 (mentioned earlier). When asked about the issue of US naval visits to Hong Kong, Chen mentioned the Soviet Union out of the blue: ‘Khrushchev said that China did not liberate Hong Kong and Macao itself, but let the Asians and the Africans oppose imperialism and colonialism. … This is hostile smear. Khrushchev wants to direct China’s policy.’65 As a result of successful Sino-American and Sino-British signalling, by early 1966 top Chinese leaders did not really worry about the alleged American use of Hong Kong as a ‘base of aggression’ against China. This was evidenced in Chen Yi’s brunt dismissal of the topic in his long interview with Hopson on 9 June. Referring to the recent SEATO naval exercises in South China Sea involving Britain, Chen said that they were ‘principally against China’, but ‘the Chinese were not afraid’. In response, Hopson argued that the object of SEATO exercises was ‘purely defensive’ and ‘routine training’. At this juncture, the director of the West European Department ‘interrupted to quote the use of Hong Kong as a base for American warships as further evidence of British hostility to China’. But Chen ‘ignored the point, and at no time reverted to it himself ’.66 In assessing the interview, Hopson was of the opinion that Chen ‘was relaxed and personally affable’, and ‘his refusal to take up the question of Hong Kong seems to indicate

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that the Chinese Government are not much exercised by the question of SinoBritish relations at present’.67 To the British, the Chinese protests about Hong Kong were nothing more than routine propaganda exercises. As the Hong Kong governor observed, despite the ‘violent wording’ of the two protest notes, there was ‘no sustained effort [by China] to bring about a change in the Hong Kong Government’s policy’: Beijing’s protests ‘were becoming a matter of routine’.68 In the lead-up to the Great Proletariat Cultural Revolution in mid-1966, Chairman Mao declared that the ‘fundamental duty’ of the CCP Central Committee’s Propaganda Department was to ‘propagate Mao Zedong Thought’.69 It was the British diplomats on the mainland who bore the brunt of Mao’s ideological radicalization.

Everyday diplomatic life in Beijing and Shanghai During 1965 and 1966, the British diplomats in China had to cope with an increasingly difficult work environment. In April 1965, the Communications Department of the FO received an enquiry from the Americans about the possibility of passing messages on behalf of the State Department to the Chinese in an emergency.70 As N. C. C. Trench, counsellor of the British Embassy in Washington, told Crawford Murray MacLehose, head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, ‘There is more to the American enquiry than a piece of technical contingency planning, although of course it is this as well.’ In a talk with Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart at a White House lunch, US defence secretary Robert McNamara said that, ‘with the escalation of the war in Vietnam and the increasing possibility of incidents with the Chinese Communist Air Force arising out of the bombing attacks against the North’, Washington ‘had been giving some thought to the problem of communicating urgently with Peking’.71 The American enquiry begged the question of British access to the MFA. Given the state of ‘semi-diplomatic relations’ between Britain and the PRC, the MFA placed the British Mission below most foreign diplomatic corps in the pecking order and subjected its personnel to diplomatic rituals that were not in line with the 1961 Vienna Convention. To secure an interview at the MFA, the British diplomats had to ring up and disclose at least in general term the subject for discussion, and then wait for a formal Chinese reply. (Another way was to send a junior officer to the MFA without an appointment and to wait until he was received.) The problem was that once the Chinese learnt of the subject, they were ‘quite capable of deliberately delaying an interview for days to cause [the

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British] maximum difficulty’. On the other hand, Beijing did not adhere to the concept of reciprocity when summoning the British chargé or his staff: it would normally not disclose the subject for discussion.72 In the shadow of the Vietnam War, China’s treatment of the British diplomats diverged still further from the conventional diplomatic practice of the international community. But the British diplomats did not stand idly by; rather, they made symbolic protests of their own. On 11 November, Ian Smith’s white colonialist regime in Southern Rhodesia unilaterally declared ‘independence’. Identifying China with the African-Asian-Latin American ‘intermediate zone’, Mao saw the Rhodesian problem as part of the worldwide struggles against old and new colonialism.73 At a huge welcome banquet for the visiting Tanzanian vice-president Rashidi Kawawa and more than three hundred guests including foreign ambassadors on 23 November, Zhou made a lengthy speech: ‘In Africa, the Anglo-American imperialists have connived at and supported the unilateral declaration of independence by the white colonialist authorities in Southern Rhodesia. … [Their aim was to] turn Rhodesia, like South Africa, into a bridgehead for colonialist and neo-colonialist aggression into other parts of Africa.’ Halfway through Zhou’s inflammatory speech, the British diplomats in attendance rose and left the banquet hall.74 The British made a similar symbolic walkout during an official event attended by more than three hundred guests including Politburo members on 11 December.75 The British diplomatic outpost in Shanghai was particularly vulnerable. As a part of the 1954 agreement on the exchange of chargés d’affaires, a British diplomat had been transferred from Beijing to Shanghai to establish an office in the former British Consulate General compound (at 33 Zhongshan Road East). The Shanghai office aimed to take care of the ever-shrinking British community in the city, which by mid-1965 numbered less than forty people, many of whom were ageing wives or widows of Chinese nationals (including some dual nationals). Its main consular functions included providing relief to British nationals through the ‘British Community Interest Fund’, obtaining exit permits for them, assisting visiting British seamen and acting on behalf of other governments such as those of the United States and the Commonwealth.76 On 8 September, Michael Wilford of the British Chargé Office in Beijing was summoned to the MFA by Wang Chongli, deputy director of the Consular Department, who complained that in recent years the British ‘had been violating the agreement reached at Geneva on 4 June, 1954 … for the sending of a British representative to Shanghai’. The main issue was that there had been two British officers in Shanghai ‘when the agreement only provided for one’.

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On numerous occasions, Wang added, the British ‘were acting as if Shanghai were an independent mission and were overstepping the agreed duties of the officer concerned’ by ‘carrying out illegal activities’, such as issuing passports to ‘Chinese nationals’ (presumably dual nationals), acting on behalf of third parties (particularly the United States), and inviting ‘Chinese nationals’ to use the office’s library and watch American films. Wang asserted that Britain should ‘take immediate steps to remedy these breaches of the agreement’, particularly the immediate removal of the second officer from Shanghai. Stressing that the 1954 agreement permitted the British representative to ‘function only as an individual and not as a mission’, Wang demanded that the Briton concerned ‘must call himself “Officer of the Office of the British Charge d’Affaires taking care of British Nationals in Shanghai” and nothing else’, and that he had no right to use the Royal Arms on his paper or to fly the Union flag on his car. Wilford, claiming that he personally was unaware of the 1954 agreement, replied that ‘it was strong language to talk of violations of the agreement by us in the sending of a second officer to Shanghai’. He said that for the last two months, there had been only one officer in Shanghai, O. M. O’Brien (who had been transferred from the commercial section of the Beijing Office), since David Brookfield, the first secretary in charge of the Shanghai office, had gone on leave in July and was not due back until 15 September.77 Two days later, Wang had another interview with Wilford, who felt that ‘in principle, he was repetitive, unyielding and unhelpful’.78 To the FO, Beijing had by and large condoned the British technical ‘breach’ of the 1954 agreement over the years (although the Foreign Affairs Department of the Shanghai authorities did, on a few occasions, complain about the British representative’s activities in the city, which allegedly went beyond consular work and infringed on China’s regulations on nationality).79 Nevertheless, with the deterioration of Sino-British relations in the shadow of Vietnam by the autumn of 1965, the British realized that the leaders in Beijing might see no reason to keep turning a blind eye to the situation in Shanghai. In Wilford’s opinion: ‘Intransigence on our part could result in implementation of Chinese threat to terminate the agreement.’ He was prepared to accept the new title demanded by the Chinese (however inelegant in English translation), but not the implication that Britain had violated the 1954 agreement. He proposed giving up the flying of a consular flag (not the alleged Union flag) on Brookfield’s car, but saw no alternative to withdrawing O’Brien upon Brookfield’s return to Shanghai.80 The FO approved Wilford’s recommendations, but wanted him to subtly press the Chinese on one issue. Owing to the difficulty of managing all consular work in a one-man post, Wilford was instructed to explore with the Chinese the

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possibility of Brookfield being supported by a non-diplomatic officer – for example, by allowing O’Brien to stay on in Shanghai if London agreed to waive his diplomatic status.81 On 18 September, Wilford got an interview with Wang, who remained unyielding.82 The British chargé in Beijing took up the issue with Wang on 6 October. After making a statement on the British government’s concern about Chinese restrictions on the functions of the British Office in Shanghai, Donald Hopson reiterated the request for a functionary to assist Brookfield in Shanghai, while agreeing not to fly a flag on his car but only in the compound on national days. Wang emphasized several times ‘the old formula that the Chinese Government merely wished to return to the strict terms of the 1954 agreement’ rather than taking an ‘abnormal’ or a ‘backward step’ in raising new demands. He approved the English translation of the new title of the British representative, proposed by Hopson, with a small change: ‘Officer of the Office of the British Charge d’Affaires taking care of British nationals’ affairs in Shanghai’. However, Wang confirmed that a second non-diplomatic officer in Shanghai was ‘unnecessary’, while having a ‘long argument’ with Hopson about the use of official notepaper.83 Hopson decided not to pursue the matter further. To him, China had ‘given something away’ in Brookfield’s new title, which did ‘not explicitly exclude nationals in transit’. Thus, it was quite possible that in practice Brookfield would be able to continue to assist and advise British visitors to Shanghai, although acting officially for them would be another matter. Hopson believed that the Chinese ‘may prefer to let matters rest now that they have gained their main points by getting our second resident officer moved from Shanghai and the flag hauled down except on “National Days”’.84 Such was the British everyday strategy of survival in Shanghai. With the onset of the Cultural Revolution in the summer of 1966, the Chinese exerted renewed pressure on the British representative in Shanghai – the city where the literary critic, Yao Wenyuan, launched an attack on a play by Beijing’s Vice Mayor Wu Han, and the city which Mao and his wife Jiang Qing used as a base to ‘seize power’ from the conservative leaders in Beijing. In early July, Brookfield and his family were denied of exit permits to leave on transfer on the 6th on the grounds that he should first pay a fine of seven hundred yuan (about £100) for his alleged smuggling of medicines, through diplomatic channels, for local British subjects. Brookfield had signed a transcript of his interrogation by the customs authorities and later submitted a separate note of apology. As a matter of fact, for humanitarian reasons, the British diplomats had been bringing medicines to Shanghai and to Beijing for some years, although in the

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latter’s case, the medicines were normally not included in the diplomatic bag but were separately declared to the customs as drugs for private use. Hopson, believing that the Chinese treatment of Brookfield had violated the principle of diplomatic immunity, recommended making a protest with the MFA. Although accepting the unfortunate fact that Brookfield had ‘abused the privilege of the diplomatic bag’ by importing and selling medicines to non-diplomats, Edwin Bolland, head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, agreed to the submission of an aide memoire ‘in order to bring home to the Chinese that their action does not accord with accepted international custom and to secure the earliest possible departure of the Brookfields’.85 The MFA in Beijing was outraged by the British protest. On 9 July, the deputy director of the West European Department summoned Hopson to the ministry. Claiming that it had been ‘the original intention of the Shanghai authorities to settle the matter reasonably on the spot’, the deputy director criticized the British for ‘making it a serious one’ by submitting a ‘so-called aide memoire’ that ‘distorted the facts’ of Brookfield’s ‘illegal activities’, including ‘misuse of the diplomatic bag, illicit currency transactions and evasion of customs dues’, all of which were ‘beyond the limits of diplomatic immunity’. Since Brookfield had ‘admitted his guilt’, he ‘should pay a fine’, which was entirely ‘an administrative matter’. Nevertheless, if the British Chargé Office in Beijing was willing to admit the facts of Brookfield’s ‘illegal activities’ and to pay the fine, ‘then the matter can be settled’.86 Assessing the interview, Hopson opined that although the MFA was ‘not happy at the turn which events have taken’, it ‘would like to avoid further escalation’. Although the Chinese were ‘in principle unyielding’, they had ‘in fact opened the door to a possible settlement by agreeing that we may take over responsibility for the matter in Peking’. Believing that the British general position was ‘weak’, Hopson proposed to the FO that Britain should assume full responsibility for settling the matter by paying the fine as soon as the Brookfields had been issued exit visas. Nonetheless, ‘this agreement should not be interpreted as a change in Her Majesty’s Government’s standpoint on the important questions of diplomatic immunity’. Nor did it imply that Britain ‘approved of the manner in which the Chinese authorities had acted in this matter’.87 The FO approved Hopson’s recommendation:88 quiet diplomacy prevailed over overt confrontation with Beijing. The Cultural Revolution entered a new phase in August, when the eleventh plenum of the eighth CCP Central Committee issued the ‘Sixteen Points’, officially launching the movement.89 Mao wrote a big-character poster, ‘Bombard

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the Headquarters’, targeting State President Liu Shaoqi, who would soon be removed from power. The Red Guards, consisting of students and youths from varied backgrounds, were mobilized for ‘smashing the four olds’ (‘old thinking, old culture, old customs and old habits’) across the country. On 18 August, a million Red Guards rallied at Tiananmen Square in Beijing to receive an interview by Chairman Mao, the first of the eight ‘mass receptions’ between August and November that involved approximately 12 million people. In this regard, Mao consciously employed his personality cult as a means of ‘charismatic mobilization’.90 Shortly after the first reception, some radical Red Guards, feeling empowered by the chairman, attempted to ‘smash’ the historic Forbidden City Palace Museum, only to be stopped by the Beijing garrison at Zhou’s request.91 The Red Guards did not give up. On 24 August K. Goodwin, the British diplomat in charge of the Shanghai office pending the arrival of Brookfield’s successor, received a request from the Shanghai Foreign Affairs Department, which in turn was transmitting a demand from the ‘broad revolutionary masses’ that he should immediately remove the two Royal Arms on each side of the gate post of the office, or else they would be forcibly removed.92 The symbolism of the British Crown was under threat. The same day, Percy Cradock, counsellor of the British Chargé Office in Beijing, took the matter up with Xu Huang, director of the MFA’s Consular Department. Cradock requested ‘full protection’ for Goodwin ‘as a Diplomatic Agent’ and for ‘the place where he lived and worked, particularly for national emblems’. Apparently in a revolutionary mood, Xu stated the familiar Chinese position that ‘our man in Shanghai was an individual’ and ‘his premises did not have the character of an office’, its implication being that ‘any other insignia tending to give the status of an organisation was impermissible’. On protection, Xu said that there was no need to worry about Goodwin’s safety, but he was more evasive about the office building. Supporting their ‘just demands’, Xu said frankly of ‘the Ministry’s limited ability to control the revolutionary masses’.93 The FO was not unaware of the revolutionary power of the Red Guards in Shanghai. Permanent Undersecretary of State Paul Gore-Booth saw ‘a real risk of the Shanghai activists removing the Royal Arms if we did not do so quickly ourselves’, the result of which would be ‘a greater insult to Britain than if we took down the insignia’. Bolland felt that in ‘the present violent phase of the so-called “Cultural Revolution” now raging in China’, it was quite possible that ‘the local police might not be able to prevent the Shanghai activists from taking the law into their own hands and removing the Royal Arms’. The unanimous view of the FO was ‘survival by compliance’.94 But at the eleventh hour, George

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Brown, the emotional foreign secretary, raised his objection to removing the Royal Coat-of-Arms. Nonetheless, his ruling came too late, for Goodwin had already taken down the two Royal Arms quietly, before Whitehall was able to give new instructions.95 In Beijing, too, the Red Guards went on a rampage. On 26 August, the Beijing Municipal People’s Congress, acting on behalf of the demands of the ‘Capital Red Guards’ and the ‘broad revolutionary masses’, announced to outlaw the Sacred Heart Convent and its school in order to ‘protect the security of the state and the interests of the people’. Two days later, the Beijing Security Bureau ordered the expulsion of the eight foreign nuns.96 Before their deportation on 31 August, the Red Guards humiliated and harassed ‘the counter-revolutionary foreign nuns’, one of whom, Sister O’Sullivan who was an elderly Irish, died shortly after arriving in Hong Kong. Besides, in early September, some three hundred British graves in the Foreigners’ Cemetery in Beijing were desecrated by the Red Guards: the headstones were removed or destroyed, but the graves themselves were not interfered with.97 The British diplomats were not allowed to visit the cemetery (until 21 September).98 In view of a ‘great deal of interest in the nuns’ in Dublin (due to the death of Sister O’Sullivan) and the ‘personal interest’ taken by Brown,99 on 7 September Parliamentary Undersecretary of State Lord Walston summoned the Chinese chargé in London to make ‘a strong formal protest’. ‘Firmly reject[ing] this so-called protest,’ Xiong Xianghui provocatively said that the ‘so-called Franciscan mission had been established in 1915 in connexion with the imperialist aggression against China’, and that the action taken against the nuns who had ‘committed reactionary acts against People’s China under the cloak of religion’ was ‘entirely within Chinese sovereignty’ and in accordance with ‘Chinese law’. On the other hand, it was ‘a sheer slander and fabrication to speak of alleged maltreatment’ when the foreign nuns upon arrival in Hong Kong had ‘told Hong Kong correspondents that they had been well treated in China’ (which was the case since, in the British estimate, the foreign nuns might have feared of retaliation against the Chinese nuns on the mainland had they said otherwise).100 The nun who died was ‘not in any case a British subject’, Xiong clarified, and her death ‘occurred in Hong Kong not China’. Xiong, meanwhile, mentioned a series of incidents in London in which ‘the property of the Chinese mission had been damaged’ and ‘Chinese residents had been beaten up and in some cases had died later’. And ‘the Prime Minister had himself instigated the British public into demonstrating before the office of the Chinese Charge d’Affaires’.101 Disagreeing, Lord Walston asked Xiong

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for the relevant details of the alleged incidents.102 On 23 September, Lord Walston lodged another protest with Xiong, after having received reports that all the graves in the Foreigners’ Cemetery in Beijing had been desecrated. A defiant Xiong asserted: ‘During the victorious proletarian revolution, the revolutionary masses and the Red Guards had demanded that all traces of imperialism be eliminated,’ a demand that was ‘proper and absolutely justified’. But the cemetery had been reopened (on 20 September) since the ‘imperialist traces had been removed from it’.103 Under the radical atmosphere of the Cultural Revolution, the British diplomats on the ground inevitably suffered at the hands of the Red Guards. In Parliament, questions were asked about the ‘maltreatment of British subjects’ and the ‘damage to British property’.104 Nevertheless, the worst attacks on British personnel and property on the mainland had yet to come.

Reviews of Britain’s China policy It is important to assess how Beijing’s diplomatic protests and the Red Guards’ anti-British activities affected Anglo-Chinese relations as a whole. Since 1964 the Labour government had been reviewing Britain’s China policy in the context of China’s acquisition of a nuclear capability, the defence reviews on Britain’s role east of Suez, and the escalating Vietnam War. A week after China had exploded an atomic bomb, on 22 October Foreign Secretary Patrick Gordon Walker reported to the Cabinet that the recent Chinese test was ‘disturbing’, although it did not imply that China ‘would be able to manufacture nuclear weapons forthwith’ as it had ‘only a limited number of bombers, mostly obsolescent’ and was unlikely to develop a short-range missile delivery system before 1968 or a long-range system before 1975.105 In essence, the Chinese test underscored the problem of nuclear proliferation. On 26 October 1965, when discussing the subject of a nonproliferation treaty, the Cabinet noted that ‘none of the nuclear Powers, except perhaps China, was likely to give nuclear weapons to non-nuclear Powers’.106 The prime minister took a personal interest in the nuclear problem posed by China, not least because of its implications for India. Harold Wilson explored with the Indian leaders several times the possibility of a UK-US nuclear guarantee of India against a Chinese nuclear attack. But the insistence by India, due to its policy of non-alignment, on a joint guarantee by the United States and the Soviet Union, together with the difficulty of producing a form of words acceptable to all sides, ended further soundings about a British guarantee.107

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Nevertheless, the nuclear China appeared to be a troubled diplomatic power. On 22 November 1965, Hopson cabled an assessment of China’s foreign policy to the FO, asking: ‘Is China after all only a paper dragon?’ He noted a number of diplomatic setbacks by Beijing on the Afro-Asian front in the past few months: the indefinite postponement, in the wake of Ben Bella’s overthrow, of the Second Bandung Conference (against China’s wishes); the conclusion of a ceasefire in the Indo-Pakistani War (despite China’s two ‘ultimata’ to New Delhi); and General Sukarno’s downfall and General Suharto’s purge of the Indonesian Communist Party (which was pro-Beijing). In explaining the reverses in China’s foreign relations, Hopson said that some of them might be attributed to ‘bad luck’, but ‘a lot was due to good old-fashioned Chinese arrogance, ignorance, and clumsy diplomacy’. Although China’s ‘ability to control events outside her empire’ was ‘very limited’, ‘she is not a paper dragon; just an underdeveloped one’. ‘Full-size it could be a formidable menace,’ Hopson concluded.108 The Wilson government assessed the China threat in the context of defence reviews on Britain’s role east of Suez.109 On 8 November, the official committee of the Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee produced a report for ministers with the aim of reducing the cost of the defence budget to £2,000 million by 1969–70. The report stated that the ‘primary objective of Western policy in the Far East is the political and military containment of Communist China and the preservation of stability’.110 When considering the draft statement on the defence estimates on 14 February 1966, the Cabinet noted that if Britain announced now its intention to leave Malaysia and Singapore when the Indonesia-Malaysia confrontation ended, ‘there was a risk that others, including the People’s Republic of China, might try to take over our position and this could lead to a complete breakdown of stability which our continued presence could prevent’.111 After the publication of the February Defence White Paper, on 10 May the defence review working party of the official committee of the Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee completed a paper on Indo-Pacific policy, concluding, among other things, that ‘Chinese (or Chinese inspired) subversion is therefore a real threat in South East Asia, even though Chinese military aggression may not be’.112 How to deal with a nuclear, revolutionary China became a subject of debate in Parliament. Back in July 1965, during a two-day debate on foreign affairs, Alec Douglas-Home, then leader of the Opposition, talked of ‘the change in the balance of power in the world that has occurred owing to the growing impact of Communist China on the Far East’. Although being sceptical that China, ‘so weak, and so weak relatively to the United States’, would ‘pursue any policies which will

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challenge the United States power’ at the moment, Douglas-Home had little doubt that ‘as they grow stronger, and this is evident today, they will be willing to use the instrument of subversion, and possibly to back it up by force to try to undermine the constitutions of the independent countries of South-East Asia with a view to later domination’.113 In another debate on British foreign policy on 26 April 1966, Douglas-Home, now shadowing foreign affairs for the new Conservative leader, Edward Heath, claimed that China aimed to ‘asset her domination over all the territory which she considers was historically part of her empire’, such as Tibet and India, and to ‘secure South-East Asia as an undisputed sphere of Chinese influence’. To Douglas-Home, ‘China may have to be contained in the medium and long run, and contained by superior strength’. The ‘eventual answer to an expansive, aggressive China’, he stressed, was ‘an Asian coalition’, in which ‘Indian leadership [was] the key and Japanese participation … would be desirable’.114 Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart, however, felt that ‘containing China was an inadequate approach to a very large problem’. Of course, if China attacked its neighbours, which to Stewart was ‘not an inevitable development’, the Western powers should come to their defence. But any assistance by the West should be combined with ‘efforts to bring China into the comity of nations’.115 Significantly, Stewart drew a distinction between China’s rhetoric and its policy. ‘If we look at China’s actions,’ Stewart replied to Douglas-Home’s calls for the ‘containment’ of China, ‘they are, fortunately for mankind, much less bellicose than her words.’ ‘If we were to take her words at their face value, it would be very alarming indeed,’ he argued. Defence Secretary Denis Healey similarly thought that Britain ‘must look at least as carefully at what the Chinese do as at what they say’. In recent years, the Chinese ‘have been infinitely more cautious in the military field than the Soviet Union’: whereas Moscow had put missiles into Cuba, ‘directly threatening with atomic weapons the American heartland’, as far as Beijing was concerned, there had been no ‘repetition of the attempt to recover Quemoy and Matsu by force’. But Healey did admit that ‘fear of China is real and is growing throughout South Asia’, and ‘a Communist victory, or an American defeat, in Vietnam would bring a surge of anxiety and instability throughout South-East Asia’.116 For all the concerns about the China threat, the Wilson government did not abandon constructive engagement with the PRC in favour of containment. Indeed, China’s nuclear development and its (indirect) role in the Vietnam War made it more important than ever for Britain to try to bring China into the family of nations. For ministers and the majority of MPs with an interest in Chinese affairs, world disarmament and nuclear non-proliferation would not be possible without Beijing’s cooperation.117 As Wilson famously said, ‘Disarmament and

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history cannot wait,’ and in this regard there was ‘the need to accept China into the community of nations’.118 This was also true of the resolution of the Vietnam conflict. In Parliament, MPs on both sides of the political spectrum favoured seating China in the United Nations. Arthur Henderson (Rowley Regis and Tipton) of the Labour Party, for one, described vividly in July 1965 that ‘China is like a rogue elephant [in Africa] – dangerous and irresponsible. … But that is what China will be as long as it is excluded from the comity of nations.’119 Heath of the Conservative Opposition admitted in February 1966 that although its development as an atomic power ‘poses a major problem for us’, the ‘admission of China to the United Nations is all-important in this context in an attempt to secure her signature to the Test Ban Treaty, and, therefore, what becomes even more fundamental is that there should be a balance to contain China’.120 Reviews of China policy were also underway in the United States. The ‘irony’ of the Vietnam War was such that the Johnson administration’s efforts to contain the spread of Chinese communism created pressures for seeking an accommodation of sort with China, not least to avert a direct military confrontation out of miscalculation and to deflect domestic criticism of a rigid China policy. Seeing China as a proud yet humiliated nation and a resurgent yet frustrated power, more and more Americans called for a strategy of ‘containment without isolation’. In late December 1965, the Johnson administration announced the relaxation of travel controls, permitting US doctors and scientists to visit China and to admit Chinese journalists without reciprocity. In March 1966, the highly publicized Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearings on China and Vietnam policy, presided by Senator William Fulbright, took place. China experts like John King Fairbank and A. Doak Barnett testified and advocated reconciliation with China through, for example, ending the embargo on all non-strategic goods. With polling results in the spring and summer of 1966 showing a greater public tolerance for improved relations with the PRC, Johnson declared, in a televised speech on Asian policy on 12 July, that ‘the greatest force for opening closed minds and closed societies is the free flow of ideas and people and goods’.121 A day before Johnson’s speech, a FO paper titled ‘Measures to Break Down China’s Isolation’ was circulated within the Permanent Undersecretary’s Steering Committee for policy planning purposes. The paper made it plain that ‘to keep China isolated accentuates, rather than furthers the solution of, problems posed by China’. It considered various measures to break down China’s isolation, such as trade and cultural contacts.122 In fact, Anglo-Chinese economic relations had not grounded to a halt in the midst of the Vietnam War and the early Cultural Revolution.

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Trade In 1965 China was Britain’s third largest trading partner in the Sino-Soviet bloc, after the Soviet Union and Poland. That year, British exports to China (mainly non-ferrous metals, machinery and textiles) increased by nearly 40 per cent over that of 1964, from £17.7 to £24.7 million, while their imports (overwhelmingly raw materials like wool, vegetable oil and bristles) increased slightly from £24.6 to £29.7 million.123 While being China’s main trading partner in Western Europe, in the mid-1960s Britain faced increasing competition from West Germany and Italy as well as from Japan. According to the assessment of the British chargé in Beijing, it was ‘the straight commercial competition from Japan and from Western Europe’, rather than the fact that ‘we are politically unpopular’ within China, that affected the volume of Sino-British trade.124 China was eager to import advanced technology from the West. In 1966 the COCOM embargoed some 165 ‘strategic’ items, covering several hundred industrial materials, machinery, munitions, atomic energy apparatus and so forth.125 The sale of aircraft to China was vital to the British aviation industry, which employed a total work force of 258,900 people.126 Following the Viscount deal in 1961–3 and the abortive discussions over the sale of Comet IV aircraft in 1963–4, the British were unable to make further inroads into the China market due to a number of factors, such as Beijing’s lack of hard currency and London’s fear of American and Indian criticisms.127 By the end of 1965, the Civil Aviation Administration of China possessed a fleet of 355 civil aircraft, operating fortysix domestic routes and a limited number of international routes (covering the Soviet Union and Southeast Asia). As Zhou Enlai argued, China needed more civil aircraft and more international routes to ‘reach out’ to the world.128 In early 1966 China was interested in buying the Trident 2E (medium-range civil aircraft with three jet engines), and accordingly invited Hawker Siddeley Aviation Ltd. to send a delegation to Beijing for discussion. A concerned Wilson intervened, asking whether, ‘in view of China’s hostility to India’, the aircraft in question ‘would be suitable as troop transports’.129 At the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee meeting on 6 January, ministers were confronted with a ‘direct conflict between the commercial advantages and the political difficulties’ in connection with the sale of Tridents to China. Although the minister of aviation, supported by the president of the Board of Trade, had no doubt about the commercial advantages of the sale, it was believed that the Trident could be ‘used for trooping’ and adapted for ‘carry[ing] nuclear weapons’. While the British government could argue that the sale of the aircraft was ‘permitted under

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the COCOM regulations (although there might be difficulty over certain items of equipment)’, ministers realized that a row with Washington ‘would be particularly unfortunate at this moment, in the context both of the Defence Review and of United States help over Rhodesia’.130 A Joint Intelligence Committee’s report of 1 February suggested that although China had ‘a genuine need for modern civil transport aircraft’, the Tridents ‘would nevertheless increase China’s military aircraft considerably and could be used as troop transports both for operations against India and in support of any Chinese intervention in Vietnam’.131 In February ministers decided not to permit the sale of Tridents to China.132 Nevertheless, Wilson felt that ‘it would be unfortunate if we lost the large potential market in China for civil aircraft’, particularly in view of the pressure from aircraft manufacturers and subcontractors on the government. Thus, he wanted to ‘keep the decision on Tridents constantly under review and alter it as soon as the circumstances allow’.133 Meanwhile, Wilson made a personal appeal to President Johnson to ‘look sympathetically on our efforts to secure sales of British aircraft in the United States’.134

The UN seat To the Wilson government, the UN seat held the key to the breaking down of the PRC’s isolation. In 1965 the British noticed a number of changes since their last vote in 1963 (there was no vote in 1964 due to a funding crisis affecting UN peacekeeping operations): an increased number of newly independent African members in the United Nations, France’s 1964 recognition of the PRC, and growing parliamentary interest in China’s admission. In early August, Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart confirmed that seating China in the United Nations should be ‘the ultimate object of U.K. policy’. As long as the Vietnam War lasted, Britain ‘should not risk our relations with the U.S. by attempting to force the pace over seating the C.P.R’. But ‘should a settlement in Vietnam or other prospect of reduced Sino-U.S. tension present the opportunity’, the government ‘should take urgent soundings and make careful preparation in Washington before committing [themselves] … to resolv[ing] this long outstanding question without significant damage to Anglo-U.S. relations’.135 Harold Wilson, speaking at the Blackpool party conference, expressed the government’s ‘clear determination that China should be in the United Nations’.136 The British were, however, puzzled by China’s bellicose attitude towards the United Nations. In 1965 the People’s Daily ran a series of articles attacking the United Nations as ‘a tool of US imperialism’, and as ‘a place for United States-Soviet

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Union political deals’ rather than ‘a place for Asian-African-Lain American countries to exercise justice’.137 Shortly after Indonesia’s announcement about its withdrawal from the United Nations (partly due to Malaysia), on 24 January Zhou Enlai told the visiting Indonesian vice premier that the Chinese people fully support the Indonesian action, adding that ‘the United Nations under the control of US imperialism was certainly not something that was sacred and inviolable’. Because of its ‘so many mistakes’, Zhou argued, the United Nations ‘needed thorough re-organization’, or else ‘a revolutionary world body could be formed’.138 Chen Yi echoed the premier by lambasting the United Nations at a press conference, reportedly attended by three hundred foreign and local journalists, on 29 September. On the question of ‘restoring China’s legitimate rights’ in the United Nations, Chen asserted that the United Nations should settle three issues: that it should ‘withdraw its resolution branding China and North Korea aggressors [adopted during the Korean War]’ and ‘pass a resolution branding America an aggressor’; that ‘all major and small countries re-examine the UN Charter’; and that ‘all independent countries should be admitted into the United Nations and all puppet states of imperialism be ousted’. The United Nations, in other words, ‘should correct its mistakes and undergo thorough reform and re-organization’. Nevertheless, Chen admitted that under the ‘domination of the United States’, it was ‘impossible’ for the current General Assembly to pass a resolution to expel ‘the Chiang clique’ from the organization.139 In assessing the significance of Chen’s ‘preconditions’ for China’s entry to the United Nations, MacLehose of the Far Eastern Department believed that ‘the idea of a “new, revolutionary” international organisation is more a threat to further their ends than an expression of real intent’.140 In Beijing, Hopson argued that to the Chinese ‘the issue of United Nations membership is not in itself as important as the leverage it gives them to attain their wider goals’, such as recovering Taiwan and discrediting the United Nations in the eyes of the Third World people. He suspected that the ‘Chinese demands will continuously be pitched higher (for tactical reasons) than anything that she is likely to be offered’.141 It is unclear whether Chen’s remarks were genuine ‘preconditions’ or merely propaganda rhetoric. What is clear was that, as a matter of principle, China would not take up its ‘rightful’ seat as long as the Chinese Nationalists remained in the United Nations.142 On 17 November, the Twentieth General Assembly completed its debate and voted on the question of Chinese representation. The American-sponsored ‘important question’ resolution was adopted by a vote of 56–49, with 11 abstentions. The Albanian-sponsored resolution on admitting the PRC and

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expelling the ROC resulted in a 47–47 tie with 20 abstentions, which meant that it failed to reach a two-thirds majority for adoption.143 In Bolland’s assessment, ‘The recent bellicose attitude of Peking, more particularly her abuse of the United Nations and the stringent “pre-conditions”’ laid down by Chen Yi at his press conference, might have contributed to the defeat of China’s admission.144 Beijing reacted promptly to the UN votes. A People’s Daily editorial on 19 November claimed that, for the first time, the US control over the majority in the United Nations had been broken, while reiterating the theme that the United Nations needed ‘thorough reorganization and reform’. Despite the fact that Lord Caradon had spoken more positively of China’s admission before his vote, the editorial made a brief comment on Britain: by voting for the ‘important question’ resolution and advocating the so-called ‘undetermined’ status of Taiwan, the British indeed ‘followed the US policy of creating “two Chinas”’.145 On 24 November, Xiong Xianghui called on Lord Walston to ‘lodge a firm protest’. With Chen Yi’s ‘preconditions’ in his mind, Walston confronted Xiong with the question: ‘how the Chinese Government would have reacted if the vote had gone in their favour: would China in fact have taken her place in the Organisation or not?’ Xiong, evading a specific answer, claimed that there was ‘no time for hypothetical questions’ and that the ‘restoration of China of her rightful place and the expulsion of the Chiang Kai-shek clique were two sides of the same problem’. In assessing the interview, Bolland believed that the protests ‘repeated the routine Chinese line on these questions and may be regarded … as being intended merely to register a protest for the record at our continued refusal to accept the Chinese position’.146 After all, the FO was used to Beijing’s ‘everyday’ protests. During 1966, the Johnson administration was exploring options at the United Nations, realizing that the previous tactic of preventing China’s admission might fail this year. One of them was a ‘two Chinas’ resolution, which would offer the best chance of preserving the Nationalist seat. Rather than going along with the Canadian-proposed ‘two Chinas’ resolution that allotted the Security Council seat to the PRC and left the ROC in the General Assembly, Johnson supported the more cautious option of setting up a study committee to examine the question through a resolution co-sponsored by Italy and a number of countries, generally known as the Italian resolution.147 The British government had serious reservations about both options. The Canadian draft resolution appeared to be ‘a stalling operation disguised under an apparently reasonable approach’.148 During Foreign Secretary George Brown’s visit to Ottawa to discuss the ‘two Chinas’ plan on 16 October, his Canadian counterpart, Paul Martin, said that ‘it was

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high time something was done’ about the impasse over the China seat, especially ‘the very difficult issue of what could be done about Formosan representation if Red China were seated’. A somewhat impatient Brown replied that ‘the problem was not to get Red China in while keeping in Formosa, it was to get Red China in’.149 Similarly, the British poured cold water on the Italian proposal for a study committee. To the FO, ‘because the Italian proposal is known to have American sympathy’, the setting up of a study committee to examine Chinese representation would be ‘regarded very widely and very strongly as a delaying tactic’ by many UN members and by Beijing.150 At the Cabinet meeting on 10 November, Brown confirmed that Britain should vote in the Twenty-first General Assembly for the substantive resolution on China’s admission and the ‘important question’ resolution. But it was agreed that in the following year, ‘we might seek to organise a wider measure of support, not only for the admission of the People’s Republic of China, but also for a vote in favour of regarding this as a procedural issue’ rather than ‘an important question’.151 Besides, the FO decided to make two tactical changes to Britain’s voting policy at the United Nations. One was to make a ‘once-for-all statement’ on Britain’s position on Taiwan at the General Assembly. Up until then, the British representative had recorded a reservation about the status of Taiwan, which was deemed ‘undetermined’, whenever he voted on the substantive resolution. But since the annual statement had led to regular protests from Beijing, Hopson regarded it as ‘a needless irritant in our relations’ with China. The legal advisers in Whitehall, too, argued that, ‘from the strictly legal point of view’, a once-forall statement ‘would not alter our basic position’ on Taiwan.152 Before casting his vote in favour of the substantive resolution, Lord Caradon would say: ‘The position of the British Government on this point [that sovereignty over Taiwan is “undetermined”] is thus so well known now that it appears superfluous to restate it. I wish to place on record, however, the absence of such a statement on any future occasion must not be taken to imply that the views of the British Government on this issue have changed.’153 The other tactical change was to make a rather lengthy explanation of the British votes instead of explaining, on three separate occasions, the British position on the substantive and procedural resolutions and the reservation on Taiwan’s status.154 All this reflected a deeper British appreciation of the growing importance of bringing China out of its isolation. When the General Assembly voted on 29 November, the ‘important question’ resolution was adopted (by a majority of eighteen), but both the substantive resolution and the Italian study-group resolution were defeated (the former

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by a majority of eleven, and the latter of twenty-eight). According to the FO’s post-mortem, China had ‘largely herself to blame for this setback’ due to ‘the excesses of the Red Guards and the harshness and clumsiness of Peking’s foreign policy’.155 On 9 December the Chinese chargé in London called on Lord Walston to make a protest. The British votes, Xiong criticized, ‘demonstrated that [Britain] followed American policy and was hostile towards China’. As David Wilson, who recorded the interview, assessed it, ‘The Chinese Chargé was reasonably pleasant both before and after delivering his protest. He gave the impression that he was protesting for the record and seemed very anxious to rise dramatically from his seat as he made his final protest.’156 The British diplomat knew only too well the routine and symbolic nature of China’s ‘everyday Cold War’.

Conclusion During 1965–6, Anglo-Chinese relations appeared to be in a downward spiral. The US escalation of the Vietnam War, claimed Chen Yi, had created a ‘new obstacle’ to diplomatic normalization. Beijing’s propaganda machine fiercely attacked Britain for defending American ‘aggression’ in Vietnam and ‘abandoning’ its traditional role as co-chair of the Geneva Conference. China linked Vietnam and Hong Kong by protesting against the British toleration of the American use of the colony as a ‘base of aggression’ against North Vietnam. With the radicalization of China’s domestic and foreign policy in the lead-up to the Cultural Revolution, the MFA and particularly the Shanghai authorities subjected the British diplomats on the ground to increased pressure regarding their permissible number and diplomatic privilege. But it was the Red Guards, mobilized by Chairman Mao into ‘smashing the four olds’, who really went on a rampage: they threatened to remove the Royal Arms on the gate of the British Office in Shanghai, while desecrating the Foreigners’ Cemetery and physically harassing the Sacred Heart Convent nuns in Beijing. China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain, nonetheless, carried deep meanings beyond the wording of diplomatic protests and hostile propaganda. True, the Vietnam War made it impossible for Anglo-Chinese political relations to move forward. But the reality was that Britain had not become the real enemy of the PRC that the People’s Daily made it out to be – the American imperialists and the Soviet revisionists were. In the mid-1960s, one of the main themes of China’s international propaganda was ‘firm support for national independence movements’,157 a theme that was in line with Mao’s identification of China with

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the ‘intermediate zone’ in the Third World. Given the legacies of the British Empire, Chinese propagandists had little difficulty in finding and exploiting examples of British ‘old colonialism’ in, for example, Malaysia and Rhodesia. Nevertheless, there was a gulf between China’s everyday propaganda and its pragmatic foreign policy. By making a fuss about US naval visits to Hong Kong, China aimed to demonstrate solidarity with Hanoi in the wake of the Sino-Soviet split. Despite the continuing arrival of US vessels after its protests, Beijing by no means followed up its threat against Hong Kong (from which China benefited economically), and top Chinese leaders did not really worry about the alleged US military use of Hong Kong (due to successful SinoAmerican and Sino-British signalling). In short, China’s diplomatic protests and propaganda attacks regarding Britain and Hong Kong amounted to ‘symbolic communication’, aimed to assert its position on other more important issues or simply make for the record. In a sense, the Red Guards’ harassment of the British diplomats and foreign nuns could be regarded as ritualistic acts against all ‘imperialist’ and ‘feudal’ symbols rather than deliberate actions to make an enemy of the United Kingdom. At a time when Mao was deeply involving China in the Vietnamese war of national liberation and attempting to avert a ‘capitalist restoration’ at home, the stakes were so high that even hitherto ‘mundane’ issues, such as American tourism in Hong Kong and the display of the Royal Arms, took on new significance in Beijing’s eyes. The Wilson government was able to distinguish between rhetoric and policy. To Stewart and Healey, it was imperative for Britain to base its policy on Chinese deeds, not their words. Notwithstanding the Chinese acquisition of a nuclear bomb, Wilson and the Labour Party believed that the problem of nuclear proliferation and the Vietnam conflict made it more important and urgent than ever to bring the PRC into the family of nations. Instead of opting for a policy of containment (even the Johnson administration was moving slowly towards ‘containment without isolation’), the Labour government stuck to constructive engagement with China. On the other hand, engagement or conciliation did not mean ‘appeasing’ China on every issue. Indeed, Britain still regarded Chinese representation in the United Nations as an ‘important question’ to be decided by a two-thirds majority in the organization, and the British diplomats on the ground did symbolically protest against the unreasonable Chinese criticisms and treatment. In a nutshell, the British, through diplomatic skills and patience, negotiated and contested the ritual of China’s ‘everyday Cold War’. But in 1967 the abnormal chaos of the Cultural Revolution was to stretch their patience to the limit.

4

Performing the Ritual of the Cultural Revolution, 1967

During the radical phase of the Cultural Revolution, China’s violation of diplomatic norms reached new heights. Between mid-1966 and 1967, China had disputes with over thirty of the fifty-odd countries with which it had full or semi-diplomatic relations, while recalling all but one (Huang Hua in Egypt) of its overseas ambassadors back home to participate in the revolution. With Chairman Mao’s patronage, the Central Cultural Revolution Group, comprising Jiang Qing, Chen Boda and other radicals, practically replaced the Politburo and the Central Secretariat as the main body of decision-making. The normal functioning of the MFA was disrupted by the ‘seizure of power’ by the revolutionary rebels.1 While the CCRG contributed to the growth of ‘ultra-leftism’ within the ministry, the Red Guards2 – radical rebels and the ‘revolutionary masses’ at home, and lowranking Chinese Embassy staff who remained abroad and progressive Overseas Chinese – physically meddled in foreign affairs by conducting ‘proletarian diplomacy’3 on the streets. The defining events of their ‘proletarian diplomacy’ were the so-called ‘three smashes and one burn’ in 1967 – the attacks on the Indonesian, Indian and Burmese embassies and the burning of the British Chargé Office in Beijing. Performance of ritual was at the heart of Mao’s Cultural Revolution. During 1966 and 1967, tens of millions of fanatical Red Guards participated in ritualized activities, such as attending receptions by Chairman Mao at Tiananmen Square, travelling around the country to exchange revolutionary experiences, and the ‘daily reading’ (tiantian du) of the Quotations from Chairman Mao. Through the worship of the Mao cult, the Red Guards could not only demonstrate their loyalty to the chairman, but also instil in themselves a sense of shared identity vis-à-vis their enemies – ‘capitalist roaders’, ‘revisionists’ and imperialists.4 Besides, the Red Guards performed the ritual of proletarian diplomacy directed at foreigners. Deeply divided into different factions, the Red Guards wanted to prove their

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revolutionary credentials and thereby gain the support of the central leaders in political infighting.5 By staging massive demonstrations against foreign missions on the mainland and indiscriminately distributing Mao’s works abroad, the Red Guards created ugly incidents with foreign diplomats and nationals. At times, the ritualistic attacks on foreign missions were the spontaneous initiatives of the Red Guards, who ‘lacked the chairman’s pragmatism and who were, as a result, often more consistently and inflexibly Maoist than Mao himself ’.6 At other times, the ‘revolutionary masses’ reacted, if overzealously, to anti-Chinese provocations by foreigners in a vicious cycle of assaults and reprisals. Preoccupied with the fierce power struggles with the ‘capitalist roaders’ and ‘revisionists’ at home, Mao, Zhou and the CCRG more often reacted to the proletarian diplomacy of the Red Guards. But once anti-foreign incidents had been provoked, they capitalized on them and gave moral endorsement, claiming that the actions of the ‘revolutionary masses’ could not be resisted.7 This chapter examines how the Chinese Cultural Revolution and its inspired Hong Kong riots affected Anglo-Chinese relations during 1967, focusing on the British government’s response to the ritual and rhetoric of the Red Guards’ ‘everyday Cold War’.

The ‘three smashes’ The Cultural Revolution within the MFA began in June 1966, when Foreign Minister Chen Yi supported the sending of ‘work teams’ to various departments and work units. In early 1967, the ‘Revolutionary Rebels Liaison Station’ (Lianluozhan) and other radical rebel organizations sought to ‘seize power’ at ministerial level. The Liaison Station was entrusted with ‘supervising’ the MFA’s work. Following the ‘February Adverse Current’ in which Chen was condemned by Mao as the main culprit, on 16 April the CCRG issued a formal statement with the slogan ‘Down with Chen Yi’. Subsequently, Chen was forced to attend a number of large and small meetings, presided over by the rebels, to make self-criticism. The vice foreign ministers – Zhang Hanfu, Ji Pengfei and Qiao Guanhua – were propelled to abandon their duties and to reflect on their ‘bourgeois’ thinking and lifestyle.8 Zhou Enlai faced a difficult dilemma. On the one hand, he realized the importance of supporting the Cultural Revolution unleashed by Chairman Mao. On the other hand, Zhou, uncomfortable with the growth of ‘ultra-leftism’, could not afford the complete collapse of the foreign affairs system and of the

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economy.9 Consequently, Zhou sought to perform a delicate balancing act of both encouraging and restraining the Cultural Revolution within the MFA, thereby ensuring his own political survival.10 To Zhou, the Red Guards should focus on ‘civil struggle’, not ‘armed struggle’.11 Even the struggle against the ‘Soviet revisionists’ ought to be ‘reasonable, beneficial and restrained’, separating the leadership from the people. Demonstration against the Soviet Embassy in China, according to Zhou’s instructions, should be organized and conducted in such a manner that the ‘revolutionary masses’ should not storm the compound and assault its personnel.12 Nevertheless, neither Zhou nor Mao was in a position to control the daily behaviour of the Red Guards,13 including the ‘three smashes and one burn’. While the historical and immediate causes of each dispute were different, in all cases the Red Guards behaved as if they were performing the same ritual of the Cultural Revolution, which involved mass rallies, assaults on foreigners and storming foreign embassies. The clash with the Indians, whose relations with China had been strained by the Dalai Lama’s exile in India and border disputes, appeared to be triggered by Beijing’s paranoia about foreign espionage.14 On 12 June, the MFA summoned the Indian chargé in Beijing to lodge a protest about two Indian diplomats, Second Secretary K. Raghunath and Third Secretary P. Vijai, who had allegedly visited and taken photographs of a prohibited military area in the western suburbs of Beijing: their diplomatic status was no longer recognized pending legal proceedings. The following day, the Beijing Municipal Higher People’s Court tried Raghunath in his absence, convicting him of espionage and sentencing him to immediate deportation. Before Raghunath and Vijai (who was expelled too) could board a flight for Guangzhou the next morning, they ‘were pummelled and kicked for some 50 minutes’ by a Chinese mob numbering about 1,000.15 The Indian government responded by expelling a first secretary in the Chinese Embassy in New Delhi, declaring a third secretary persona non grata and imposing restrictions on the movement of the embassy personnel. And on 16 June, an unruly Indian mob burst into the Chinese Embassy compound, smashing windows, burning cars and injuring several Chinese inside. In retaliation the following day, the MFA lodged ‘the strongest protest’ with the Indian chargé and forbade the Indian diplomats from leaving the embassy without permission.16 On 18 June the Red Guards and the rebels demonstrated in front of the Indian Embassy in Beijing, stoning and smashing the embassy’s doors and windows, but made no forced entry into the compound17 due to Zhou’s objection.18 Although China partially lifted the restrictions on the Indian Embassy afterwards, Sino-Indian relations did not improve significantly.

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The trouble with Burma arose from the distribution by the Chinese Embassy of Mao’s works and badges to the Overseas Chinese in Burma. In June the Burmese government banned the wearing of Mao badges in schools, but the Chinese students defied the ban. The Chinese Embassy and state agencies in Rangoon as well as Chinese-owned shops came under attack by the local mobs, during which more than fifty Chinese including an expert from the Chinese government were killed. On 29 June the Chinese government issued a statement protesting against ‘the Burmese Government’s atrocities in opposing China and persecuting overseas Chinese’.19 Mao, replying to his security chief, Kang Sheng, about using the slogan ‘Down with Ne Win’ in propaganda, said that this was no ‘big deal’ if the masses wanted to ‘overthrow this person today, that person tomorrow’.20 The Chinese propaganda machine declared open support for the Burmese Communist Party’s armed struggle against the ‘reactionary’ government of Ne Win.21 From 29 June to 3 July, over 1 million Chinese people demonstrated outside the Burmese Embassy in Beijing. Zhou had agreed to demonstrations, but not any attempts to storm the embassy and assault its staff.22 Yet on 3 July, after a massive rally against Ne Win’s ‘anti-China atrocities’, the Red Guards stoned and broke into the Burmese Embassy, smashing the Burmese national emblem and flag in the process.23 Anti-Chinese protests, meanwhile, erupted in several Burmese cities. By October, Beijing announced the complete withdrawal of Chinese experts and technicians from Burma.24 Sino-Indonesian relations had been bedevilled by General Suharto’s suspicions of Beijing’s continuing support for the Indonesian Communist Party following the 1965 coup and the Indonesian government’s intensified discrimination against the ethnic Chinese community.25 In January, after the MFA had lodged a strong protest on the confiscation of the properties of the Chinese in Indonesia and the forced removal of their residences, the Indonesian and then the Chinese governments expelled each other’s military attaches.26 On 22 April, an angry Indonesian mob demonstrated outside the Chinese Embassy in Djakarta, and the following day the Indonesian army police surrounded and blockaded the embassy compound. Two days later, the Indonesian government declared Chinese Chargé Yao Dengshan and Consul General Xu Ren persona non grata, ordering them to leave the country by the 29th. The MFA retaliated in kind regarding the Indonesian diplomats in China. When Yao and Xu returned to Beijing on 30 April, they were given a hero’s welcome and the title ‘red diplomatic fighters’ by Zhou. On 5 August, in the shadow of a row over the height of the wall of the Chinese Embassy in Djakarta, a group of five hundred Indonesian youths smashed the embassy’s main gate, burnt one of its buildings

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and wounded several Chinese personnel.27 In reprisal the same day, the Red Flag Rebel Regiment of the No. 1 Foreign Languages Institute stormed the Indonesian Embassy in Beijing, but withdrew after finding no diplomat inside.28 In October Indonesia announced the closure of its Beijing Embassy and withdrawal of its staff, and China responded in the same manner.29 Similar to the ‘three smashes’, the ritualistic violence of the Red Guards was directed against the British diplomats in China in response to the anti-colonial riots in Hong Kong.

Hong Kong riots and British diplomats In early May an industrial dispute occurred at the Artificial Flower Works in Kowloon against the backdrop of socio-economic inequality and a ‘communication gap’ between government and society. Inspired by the Cultural Revolution on the mainland, on 16 May the local left wing set up a ‘Committee of All Circles for the Struggle against Persecution by the British Authorities in Hong Kong’, turning the labour dispute into what would become an eightmonth-long anti-colonial struggle characterized by demonstrations, strikes, border clashes and random bombs. Behind the anti-persecution committee was the local NCNA or China’s de facto embassy in the territory. At first, the Hong Kong government adopted firm but non-provocative measures to restore law and order. But as the riots escalated into border skirmishes in early July, it conducted more raids against suspected communist premises, handed over border patrols to the Gurkhas, and arrested the news workers of the NCNA and other left-wing press organizations.30 Similar to his ‘usual dual, contradictory tactics of both encouraging and restraining the unrest’ on the mainland, Zhou reacted to the Hong Kong riots with ‘a series of contradictory and confusing instructions’.31 Under the circumstances of 1967, Zhou was painfully aware that what happened in Hong Kong was not an isolated incident but a nationalist struggle against imperialism, geared to Chairman Mao’s ‘revolutionary diplomatic line’.32 To direct what was expected to be a protracted struggle, Zhou set up a Hong Kong-Macao Office within the West European Department of the MFA, headed by Vice Minister Luo Guibo with Assistant Minister Huan Xiang as his right-hand man and staffed by cadres from the West European Department, the People’s Daily and so forth.33 While supporting the Hong Kong struggle in principle, Zhou repeatedly called for the local Maoists to exercise restraint when it came to tactics. To him,

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the Cultural Revolution-style methods should not be indiscriminately applied to Hong Kong; rather, the local left wing should wage a ‘civil struggle’34 that was ‘reasonable, beneficial and restrained’.35 Above all, in line with Mao’s principle of ‘long-term planning and full utilization’, Zhou objected to China’s military takeover of Hong Kong. On 10 July Zhou told a group of visitors from the local NCNA that it was not in China’s interests to use force against Hong Kong, whose retrocession would be a long-term goal.36 Notwithstanding Mao’s pragmatism regarding Hong Kong’s status, the rhetoric of Beijing’s propaganda machine, dominated by the radical rebels, was confrontational and inflammatory. From the outset, the CCRG had targeted the People’s Daily, with the purge of its leadership (including the paper’s chief and the director of the NCNA, Wu Lengchei) as early as June 1966 and the ‘seizure of power’ within the organization in early 1967.37 Just as he tried to exercise a moderating influence on the excesses of the Red Guards’ proletarian diplomacy, Zhou always stressed that China should not impose its ideology on foreigners through propaganda, and that international propaganda should not imitate the style of domestic propaganda.38 On Hong Kong, Zhou and the Central Committee had instructed propaganda cadres that the ‘tone’ of propaganda should not be ‘too high’, and its content should be based on empirical evidence (i.e. China’s policy of ‘long-term planning and full utilization’). Nevertheless, their instructions were apparently ignored by the likes of Chen Boda, with the result that the People’s Daily featured numerous editorials and articles calling for the local Maoists to ‘vehemently rebuff the provocation by British imperialism’ (3 June), ‘tighten the noose around British imperialism’s neck’ (7 August), and to ‘defend the great Mao Zedong Thought’ (18 October).39 During the radical phase of the Cultural Revolution, the People’s Daily, together with other official publications such as Peking Review and Hongqi, disseminated information and material that were, in retrospect, ‘false, exaggerated [and] hollow’ (jia, da, kong).40 As the Hong Kong riots unfolded, the Red Guards, Beijing’s propaganda machine and the MFA rendered support to the local Maoists in different ways. On the morning of 15 May, the British chargé d’affaires in Beijing, Donald Hopson, was summoned by Vice Minister Luo Guibo to receive ‘the most urgent and strongest protest’ against the ‘Fascist atrocities by the British authorities in Hong Kong’. Luo made a ‘five-point demand’: the Hong Kong authorities should stop ‘all fascist measures’, accept all the Hong Kong workers’ ‘just demands’, release all the arrested persons, apologize and compensate for the victims, and make guarantee against the occurrence of similar incidents.41 For days, according to

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the People’s Daily, a million people demonstrated outside or passed along the road of the chancery compound and residence in Beijing, plastering posters that condemned the British and Hong Kong governments and broadcasting antiBritish slogans with loudspeakers. On 18 May, a big anti-British rally, reportedly attended by 100,000 people including Zhou Enlai, Chen Yi and Chen Boda, took place at the nearby Workers’ Stadium.42 It is worth noting that prior to the demonstrations, Zhou had instructed the MFA to set regulations to the effect that the ‘revolutionary masses’ should not storm the British Office and attack its staff.43 The Red Guards in Shanghai showed less restraint, however. On 16 May, a hostile mob burst into the British office compound and stayed for three hours, during which Peter Hewitt, the first secretary, was frogmarched up and down and asked to ‘apologise’ to a picture of Mao (which he refused) and his house was completely sacked.44 In London, the acting Chinese chargé, Shen Ping,45 was summoned to the FO to receive an ‘urgent communication’ about China’s infringement of diplomatic immunity and damage to British property in Shanghai. Rejecting the protest, Shen refused to transmit the message to his government. Two days later, in Beijing Hopson delivered a note of protest about the recent events, but the deputy director of the MFA’s Western European Department declined to accept it.46 China reacted vigorously to the violent clashes between the Hong Kong police and the leftists outside the Government House on 22 May. Summoning Hopson to lodge a ‘most vehement protest’, Luo Guibo announced that the arrangement made in 1954 about the maintenance of a British representative in Shanghai had ‘now entirely lost its original meaning’, and Hewitt and his family were ordered to leave China within forty-eight hours.47 In London, Foreign Secretary George Brown decided to send an urgent message to his Chinese counterpart that ‘an agreement mutually reached between two parties cannot be unilaterally annulled’. Brown suggested that Britain would withdraw Hewitt from Shanghai at the earliest opportunity, but this action ‘in no way constitutes my acceptance of or acquiescence in’ the unilateral Chinese decision. Brown’s note to Chen Yi was returned opened later, however.48 On the morning of 24 May, when Hewitt and Chinese Secretary Ray Whitney were leaving Shanghai for Beijing, they ‘were subjected to a carefully organised “send-off ” by the Chinese’ outside the compound, being ‘kicked, struck, [and having] glue poured on them and their clothes torn’. They were denied the normal courtesies of food and water on the plane to Beijing, which they had not managed to board until 31 May.49 On a daily basis, the British diplomats on the ground suffered from various kinds of ‘pin pricks’ or minor harassments at the hands of the MFA and their

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own Chinese staff. In violation of the 1961 Vienna Convention regarding freedom of travel, the MFA refused to allow the British diplomats to join the group tour organized for foreign missions, delayed the issue of exit visas to the Hewitt family and made no reply to the British request for entry visas for two diplomatic personnel. The British diplomats were told that no rooms at any hotel in Beijing were available for the Queen’s messenger and his escort. The Chinese staff of the British Office more than once went on strikes lasting from four to ten days, while refusing to translate notes of protest to the MFA.50 In view of China’s gross violation of diplomatic norms, British ministers deliberated on policy responses and yet were acutely aware that Britain was ‘in a weak position to retaliate’.51 Within the FO, Parliamentary Undersecretary of State William Rodgers, Permanent Undersecretary Paul Gore-Booth and Assistant Undersecretary of State Arthur de la Mare all agreed that no further action besides diplomatic protests should be taken for the time being. In the light of Hewitt’s expulsion from Shanghai (but not from China), they had considered, but rejected, expulsion of some or all members of the Chinese Mission in London, for this ‘would set in train a round of expulsions which would in time lead to the extinction of our Mission in Peking’. Instead, the FO was inclined to target the NCNA in London, for example, by refusing extension of residence permits for NCNA personnel whose visas had expired or permission for their replacements. Another option was expulsion of NCNA journalists from London under the Aliens Act. But the Home Office objected strongly to it since the NCNA, while disseminating ‘false and abusive propaganda against H.M.G.’, had ‘not actually violated the law of the land’.52 Home Secretary Roy Jenkins found it difficult to expel NCNA staff ‘for political reasons’ as ‘the press would take a poor view of journalists being ejected rather than diplomats, when the reason was basically a diplomatic one’.53 Eventually, the Foreign and Home Offices settled for the least objectionable option of restricting the movement of Chinese diplomatic and NCNA staff in Britain, a measure that would run parallel to the Chinese government’s requirements of exit visas for all foreigners.54

The burning of the Beijing Embassy The situation the British diplomats faced took a sharp turn for the worse during August, thanks to the latest developments in Hong Kong and within the MFA. On 11 July the Hong Kong government had arrested Xue Ping, a news worker of the local NCNA, for illegal assembly. In response to the sentencing of Xue to two-year

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imprisonment and the arrest of seven other communist journalists, on 21 July Beijing put Anthony Grey, the British correspondent of Reuters in China, under house arrest. In early August, the Hong Kong authorities arrested the five directors and chief editors of three ‘fringe’ communist newspapers (Hong Kong Evening News, Afternoon News and Tin Fung Daily) for publishing ‘seditious’ articles. On the 17th, the publication of the three papers was suspended pending legal proceedings, and two days later, thirty-four of their employees were arrested.55 On the mainland, the MFA appeared to be in a state of paralysis. On 7 August, Wang Li, a senior member of the CCRG, delivered a speech to Yao Dengshan (the ‘red diplomatic soldier’ expelled from Indonesia) and representatives of radical rebel organizations, criticizing that the ‘seizure of power’ in the ministry had not been thorough and complete so far.56 Two meetings on ‘criticizing Chen Yi’ were subsequently held in the Great Hall of the People.57 On 19 August, emboldened by Wang’s talk, the radical rebels of the Liaison Station in cooperation with the Red Guards of Beijing Foreign Languages Institute seized power in the MFA’s Department of Political Affairs. From that day until the 22nd, Ji Pengfei, Qiao Guanhua and other vice foreign ministers were forced to make self-criticism in the basement of the MFA building; big-character posters featuring ‘Yao Dengshan should become Foreign Minister’ appeared inside the MFA and in Tiananmen Square; and the MFA, as Zhou later claimed, was completely out of control for four days. It is unclear whether, and for how long, Yao Dengshan, Wang Li or the CCRG was in charge of the MFA.58 What is clear, and important here, was that under the influence of ‘ultra-leftism’, the Hong Kong and Macao Office in the West European Department made a decision on Hong Kong with serious ramifications for Sino-British relations. In view of the colonial authorities’ hard-line measures against the leftists, on 19 August the Hong Kong and Macao Office, headed by Luo Guibo, suggested the issue of a note – an ‘ultimatum’ indeed – to the British government, demanding the lifting of the suspension of the three communist newspapers and the release of all ‘patriotic journalists’ within forty-eight hours. Although having initial reservations about the idea of an ultimatum, Luo believed that China could expel a second secretary (in charge of the press) in the British Mission if its demands were not met.59 Under the radical atmosphere of the Cultural Revolution, Luo endeavoured to act cautiously and to avoid confronting Mao as far as possible.60 On the late night of 19 August, Zhou approved the proposed course of action.61 At 10.30 pm on 20 August, Hopson was summoned to the MFA; but due to a crowd at the gates of the ministry, he was received at the International Club. The deputy head of the Western European Department read and handed a note to

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Hopson: ‘It is entirely just for the patriotic Chinese press and journalists in Hong Kong and Kowloon to report truthfully and expose [the colonial authorities’] fascist atrocities. It is their sacred duty to do so.’ However, the Hong Kong authorities were ‘carrying out all kinds of brutal political persecution’ against them ‘under various trumped-up charges’, thus ‘thoroughly reveal[ing] the British government’s utterly hideous and ferocious features of fascist imperialism to the people of the world’. The Chinese government once again lodged ‘the most urgent and the strongest protest’, demanding that the British government should, within forty-eight hours, cancel the ban on the three Hong Kong left-wing newspapers, release their thirty-four employees and another nineteen ‘patriotic journalists’, and call off the ‘illegal law-suits’ against the printing companies of the papers, lest Britain would ‘be held responsible for all the consequences arising therefrom’. As the language of the note was ‘even more high flown than usual’, Hopson refused to accept it.62 The note was nonetheless published in full in the People’s Daily the following day, accompanied by a commentary article that condemned George Brown for his ‘counter-revolutionary dual tactics’ of striving to improve Sino-British relations while defending the colonial interests of Hong Kong.63 As Hopson reported to the FO: ‘The 48 hours deadline is the first ultimatum we have received over Hong Kong. Clearly this cannot be met.’64 On 21 August de la Mare summoned Shen Ping to the FO. Referring to the Chinese threat that Britain ‘would be held responsible for all the consequences’ without specification, de la Mare stressed that Britain would hold China accountable to the safety of its diplomatic staff.65 The British diplomats in Beijing, meanwhile, prepared for the worst. Percy Cradock, political counsellor, drafted a rough plan of action in the event of an all-out attack on the British Office, codenamed ‘Armageddon’. The plan, which appeared to be ‘something of a joke’ at the time, outlined how they should retreat gradually behind a series of defence points – from the door behind the security guard’s desk, to the sliding metal grille of the secure zone, and finally to the registry whose emergency door gave access to the courtyard.66 On the morning of 22 August, the day when the ‘ultimatum’ on Hong Kong was due to expire at night-time, Hopson and several of his senior staff were asked by their Chinese employees to come to the terrace of the British Office to receive a protest. (A crowd was already assembled outside.) It descended into ‘a violent meeting with much brandishing of fists’ lasting for nearly three hours. In the afternoon, the crowd outside the British Office grew bigger. The gates were closed, and the Chinese military guard, who had taken up positions a day ago, did not allow any British diplomats to leave. Twenty-three Britons – eighteen

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diplomats, four female secretaries and one wife – were effectively besieged.67 As night fell, the British entertained themselves by playing bridge, watching a film (ironically, entitled ‘The Wrong Arm of the Law’) and, for Cradock, swimming in the pool. Outside the British Office, the ‘Liaison Station of Capital Revolutionary Rebels Against Imperialism and Revisionism’, formed by the rebel organizations of Beijing Foreign Languages Institute, Qinghua University, Beijing Normal University, Beijing No. 1 Machine-tool Factory and so forth, held a denunciation meeting. Zhou had agreed to it, albeit demanding that the demonstrators should not break into the office compound.68 Attended by more than 10,000 Red Guards and the ‘revolutionary masses’, the meeting condemned Britain for ignoring the MFA’s demands about Hong Kong and proclaimed that ‘the sacred right of the Hong Kong compatriots to propagate Mao Zedong Thought is inviolable’. Chanting ‘Down with British imperialism’, ‘US imperialism’ and ‘Soviet revisionism’, the crowd vowed that, with the support of 700 million Chinese people, ‘the anti-British struggle against persecution of the Hong Kong compatriots will surely achieve final victory’.69 Zhou, worrying about an explosive situation, had ordered the Beijing garrison command to dispatch troops and plain-clothes police to keep order. Loudspeakers were installed at the scene to repeatedly broadcast Zhou’s rules of no break-in.70 But the Red Guards could not be restrained for long. At about 10.30 pm, shortly after the expiry of the ‘ultimatum’, the Red Guards ‘pour[ed] through and over the gates [of the British Office] like monkeys’, breaking windows, smashing furniture and burning cars. In accordance with Cradock’s plan, the British diplomats retreated from one defence point to another, taking refuge in the registry at last. But they had to surrender themselves to the mob after the room had been filled with smoke coming from the flames outside. Split up by the Red Guards, the twenty-three Britons were then ‘paraded up and down, forced to their knees and photographed in humiliating postures’. Hopson was ‘hauled by [his] hair, half-strangled with [his] ties, kicked and beaten on the head with bamboo poles’. Performing a Cultural Revolution ritual, the Red Guards forced Cradock to chant ‘Long Live Chairman Mao’, but fortunately they did not press their demand after the British Sinologist had lied that he ‘did not understand and remained silent’. After suffering a lot of beating and kicking, most of the British diplomats were rescued by the army and plain-clothes police officers and put temporarily in police boxes at the gates of the British Office or in the nearby Albanian Embassy. (Four others managed to escape to the Finnish Embassy on their own.) Inside the police boxes, they were offered water and

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told to wait quietly by the Chinese soldiers, who ‘made rather anxious enquires about the number of people’, presumably to ensure that no Briton would be left unaccounted for. Having waited for over an hour, the British diplomats and wives, crouching between ranks of PLA soldiers, were escorted to the diplomatic compound in the eastern suburbs of Beijing. As a result of the four-hour Red Guard rampage, the British Office compound was completely burnt down, and the chargé’s house was ransacked; but miraculously, none of the Britons were seriously injured.71 Who was responsible for the sacking of the British Office? While they might have contributed to the growth of ‘ultra-leftism’ within the MFA, there is no evidence to suggest that Wang Li, Yao Dengshan or the CCRG had played a direct role in the issue of the forty-eight hour ultimatum leading to the Red Guard assault.72 Rather, the note/ultimatum was drafted by the Hong Kong and Macao Office in the West European Department and approved by Zhou. After the sacking, Zhou attributed his sanctioning of the ultimatum to tiredness on the late night of 19 August.73 True, Zhou, diagnosed of coronary heart disease after a 1966 trip to Eastern Europe and Pakistan, was not in good physical condition during August. His personal doctor and body guards were so concerned about his health that they had written a ‘big-character poster’ calling for the industrious premier to change his work style and take longer rest. The meetings on ‘criticizing Chen Yi’ had aggravated Zhou’s chest pain.74 Under tremendous pressure, an exhausted Zhou might have failed to fully comprehend the possible consequences of the ‘ultimatum’ when he approved it.75 It is, moreover, true that Zhou had consistently opposed the storming of foreign embassies by the Red Guards. Upon receiving the news of the burning of the British Office, at 3.00 am on 23 August, Zhou together with Chen Boda called an emergency meeting at the People’s Hall with the representatives of the MFA Liaison Station, the Red Flag Battle Brigade and the Revolutionary Rebel Regiment of Beijing Foreign Languages Institute, Beijing Foreign Languages Institute No. 2 Red Guards, and the Beijing garrison command. Claiming that the ‘seizure of power’ within the MFA by the rebels in the past four days (19–22 August) was ‘illegal’, Zhou asserted that diplomacy was the prerogative of the State Council as authorized by Chairman Mao and the Central Committee. In response to Zhou’s question as to who initiated the actions against the British Office, a rebel from the Beijing Foreign Languages Institute said that ‘they [the Red Guards on the scene] acted spontaneously’. The other rebels revealed that

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the ‘Liaison Station of Capital Revolutionary Rebels Against Imperialism and Revisionism’ organized the denunciation meeting, and that they ‘should not back down whatsoever in front of imperialism’. Equating the sacking of the British Office with ‘anarchism’, a furious Zhou asked whether the rebels had planned to ‘retake Hong Kong today’ even without Mao’s approval.76 It appears that the burning of the British Office was the spontaneous action of some overzealous Red Guards, who made use of the Hong Kong struggle to symbolically demonstrate that they were more ‘Maoist’ than their political rivals. By early 1967, the Red Guards in the capital universities were deeply divided into two main factions – the ‘heaven faction’ (tianpai) and the ‘earth faction’ (dipai). The radical ‘heaven faction’ was led by Qinghua [University] Jinggangshan Corps, and the relatively moderate ‘earth faction’ included Qinghua April Fourteenth Brigade.77 What determined their factional divisions were not merely the social background and official class designations of individual Red Guards, but also the political imperative of survival. Each group was so eager to win support from the central leaders that at times they took extreme actions that might deviate from their political convictions.78 The CCRG, for its part, did not hesitate to exploit the divisions of the two factions for its own political interests.79 On the night of 22 August, it was the April Fourteenth of Qinghua University, together with the Red Guards of Beijing Foreign Languages Institute, that burnt down the British office compound.80 After the Wuhan Incident of 20 July (when the Millions Heroes and the local military commanders detained CCRG members Wang Li and Xie Fuzhi and even threatened Mao’s safety), the competing factions of Qinghua became heavily involved in ‘dragging out a small handful in the army’ in many provinces. With Mao’s calls for ‘arming the left’, the different rebel groups captured armaments from the military and engaged in violent clashes.81 Under the ‘competitive pressure’ from the radical Jinggangshans, the relatively moderate April Fourteen faction, despite harbouring some reservations, aggressively set fire to the British Office, thereby ‘overfulfill[ing] the expectations of the central leaders so as to win their support’.82 Even Zhou expressed his surprise that the April Fourth had been involved in this aggressive act.83 The burning of the British Office together with the ‘three smashes’ brought ‘tremendous damage’ to the PRC’s international prestige.84 Mao, Zhou and Jiang Qing attributed the growth of ‘ultra-leftism’ and ‘anarchism’ within the MFA to the conspiracy of the so-called ‘5 16 clique’, and called for a nationwide investigation to unearth its elements (many of whom, however, turned out to be

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non-existent). They found scapegoats in the likes of Wang Li (his 7 August talk being described by Mao as ‘the big, big, big poisonous weed’), Yao Dengshan (the ‘red diplomatic fighter’) and Luo Guibo (the ‘back-stage boss’ of the ‘5 16 clique’ responsible for the burning of the British Mission).85 The British government took retaliatory action as soon as the news came that the Beijing Embassy had been sacked but its staff were all safe.86 Harold Wilson deemed the incident serious enough that, on the morning of 23 August, he returned, from his holiday in the Isles of Scilly, to London to meet with the foreign secretary, who had himself returned from his Norwegian holiday. (Wilson probably felt that the situation was not so bad that he flew back to the Isles to resume his interrupted holiday later that day.)87 After further discussion with FO officials, George Brown decided to restrict the movement of the Chinese diplomats and the staff of the NCNA and the Bank of China in London, but not to expel any of them from the country. That day, Minister of State George Thomson informed Shen Ping of a number of new measures: all diplomats and officials of the Chinese government would require exit permits before departing the United Kingdom; all Chinese diplomats would be restricted to an area within a radius of 5 (instead of 35) miles from Marble Arch unless the FO gave permission to travel further; the five members of the NCNA should report to the police twice daily and not change their residence; and the Chinese Mission was not allowed to use diplomatic wireless transmitters until the British wireless facilities in Beijing were resumed. To enforce these measures, the London police and the Special Branch placed the Chinese Mission at 49 Portland Place under close surveillance.88 The FO decided to give as little publicity to the details of the Red Guard assault as possible, not least to respect the feelings of the British diplomats’ parents and particularly the women who had been molested. Hopson was concerned that publicity would worsen the already precarious position of his staff.89 Surprisingly, the Chinese leaders (both moderate and radical) similarly kept a low-key profile, while pondering on the next move. The People’s Daily reported on 23 August that the Red Guards in the capital had taken ‘strong actions’ against the British Mission, but without mentioning the burning of the office compound. It featured an article detailing how British imperialism occupied the ‘Chinese territory’ of Hong Kong, Kowloon and the New Territories in the past hundred years.90 Yet Beijing’s propaganda machine published not a single photograph of the British diplomats being humiliated on the night of 22 August91 – perhaps a reflection of Zhou’s displeasure at the Red Guard actions. Significantly, the site of political drama shifted from Beijing to London.

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The Battle of Portland Place Even before the onset of the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese diplomats posted to capitalist Western European countries with ‘semi-diplomatic relations’ with China felt that they were ‘sitting on a cold bench’ in a perceived hostile Cold War environment.92 On 9 September 1966, Mao had called for ‘revolutionizing’ the Chinese embassies abroad.93 With the return, by early 1967, of all but one ambassador to the mainland to participate in the Cultural Revolution, the junior diplomatic staff who stayed behind criticized any ‘privileged and bourgeois lifestyle’ and turned their embassies into ‘outposts’ for disseminating Maoism in the host countries.94 The Chinese diplomats in 49 Portland Place were in a confrontational mood during the summer of 1967. On the evening of 4 July, a group of some thirty demonstrators organized by the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament paraded outside the Chinese Chargé Office, protesting against China’s recent hydrogen bomb explosion and in the process burning a copy of Quotations from Chairman Mao. Having failed to seek an immediate interview that night, on 5 July Shen Ping called at the FO to deliver a ‘most serious and vehement protest’ against the ‘anti-China provocation’ and demanded a guarantee of no similar incidents in the future.95 Refusing to accept the Chinese protest, Assistant Undersecretary Arthur de la Mare asked how China compared this demonstration with those against the British Mission and specifically whether any members of Shen’s staff had been ‘covered with glue, spat on, or had their clothes torn’, adding that ‘the police in this country would certainly be less lenient towards such behaviour than were the Chinese police’. Describing de la Mare’s comments as ‘irrelevant nonsense’, a defiant Shen then ‘launched into an irrelevant tirade about Hong Kong’ before departure.96 The Chinese diplomats continued to lodge ‘everyday’ protests with the British. On 16 August, Counsellor Ma Jiachun (the number two man in the Chinese Mission) called on de la Mare to protest about a series of ‘grave political provocations’ outside the Chinese Office, which allegedly involved British demonstrators chanting insulting slogans about Mao and asking China to leave Hong Kong alone. This was not an ‘isolated incident’, Ma complained, but was connected with the Hong Kong authorities’ ‘bloody suppression’ of the compatriots in Hong Kong. Strongly disagreeing, de la Mare replied that ‘relations between states should be conducted in a civilised manner’, and that China should realize that ‘diplomatic protests were meant to be about serious matters’, not ‘such trivialities as the harmless affair’ in question.97 The increased

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presence of the London police and secret agents in Portland Place after 22 August intensified the ‘siege mentality’ of the Chinese diplomats.98 On 24 August, some ten Yong Liberals led by John Pardoe (MP for North Cornwall) attempted to deliver a protest note about the sacking of the British Office to the Chinese Mission. (The Liberal Party had been supportive of China’s joining the international community.) Watched by the British police and a handful of journalists and curious passers-by, Pardoe, having failed to get any Chinese coming out to receive him, pushed the note beneath the door of the Chinese Office, only to have it pushed back from inside. After Pardoe had tried but failed again, a Chinese diplomat suddenly emerged, picking up the letter and theatrically throwing it on the ground in disgust.99 The beleaguered Chinese diplomats exploded with anger on 29 August. At about a quarter past eleven in the morning, a British progressive came to 49 Portland Place to express his support for Mao, but was questioned by the British police. A group of Chinese diplomats came out from their office compound, chanting anti-British slogans. When a British man among the gathering crowd responded with anti-China slogans, a melee ensued in which the Chinese diplomats attempted to hit him and the British police officers intervened to restore order. The next clash came at about 12.50 pm, when about thirty Chinese diplomats came out and demanded the removal of a Special Branch car parked in the mews behind the Chinese Office. Shouting insults and slogans, some of them jumped on the car, and the British police tried to move the car. At that point, some Chinese diplomats, wielding large axes, baseball bats and iron bars, appeared and engaged in what might be called the ‘Battle of Portland Place’ with the British police officers. Captured by the gathering news journalists, the battle lasted for only a few minutes. But in the end, eight Chinese required minor hospital treatment, and three British policemen and one press photographer were slightly injured.100 Unlike the low-key reportage of the sacking of the British Office, Beijing’s propaganda machine was quick to condemn Britain for provoking the ‘Battle of Portland Place’, with the publication of photos showing the bravery of the Chinese diplomats involved. According to the People’s Daily on 31 August, the clash resulted from ‘large numbers of police and special agents’ ‘cordoning off the Chinese diplomatic mission and other agencies in Britain’ and making ‘repeated outrageous provocations against the Chinese personnel’. Worse still, ‘a plain-clothes special agent deliberately wore a Chairman Mao badge upside down to provoke the Chinese personnel’, who, in the face of ‘the fascist atrocities of the British authorities’, ‘fought back in self-defence’, thus ‘fully

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displaying the courage of Red diplomatic fighters who are armed with Mao Zedong Thought’.101 More importantly, Beijing seized upon the London incidents to retaliate against the British restrictions on the movement of Chinese diplomats.102 At 5.00 am on 30 August, Hopson was summoned to the MFA, where Luo Guibo read from a prepared text. For the past few days, Luo said, large numbers of British policemen and plain-clothes agents had been surrounding and carrying out ‘various provocations’ against the Chinese Mission, resulting in three of its personnel being seriously wounded and more than ten others injured. The Chinese government therefore ‘lodged the most urgent, most serious and strongest protest at this barbarous atrocity’, and ‘demanded effective measures to prevent recurrence, ensure safety of Chinese personnel, medical facilities, compensation, punishment of culprits etc’. The incidents in London were ‘not accidental’, but ‘followed a number of illegal measures taken against Chinese establishments in Britain on 22 August, which in turn were a continuation of Fascist atrocities in Hong Kong’. China asked the British government in all seriousness: ‘Where do you want to push Sino-British relations?’ Luo announced that with immediate effect, no personnel of the British Office might leave China without permission; exit visas already issued were all cancelled; all British personnel should confine themselves to their office and residences and to movement between them; and all other activities required prior notice of fortyeight hours. In response, Hopson expressed his surprise that Luo had not referred to ‘the appalling events of 22 August’ when the British Office building had been burnt down and twenty-three Britons were ‘manhandled’.103 In short, the British diplomats in Beijing now became virtual hostages of their host government.

Reviews of China policy How did the Wilson government respond to the burning of the British Embassy and the ‘Battle of Portland Place’ in the wider context of Anglo-Chinese relations? By the end of August and early September, ministers and officials in London received detailed reports from the British diplomats about their personal ordeal on the night of 22–3 August, giving a fuller picture of the nature and possible motives of the Red Guard assault. As Hopson assessed it, ‘The whole operation was carefully planned by someone, though by whom and at what level we may never discover.’ The signal for the assault, according to the Indian military attaché (who watched from his house), was a red flare being fired

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at 10.30 pm. The assault teams were ‘well-organised, with special equipment to effect entry’, ‘knew exactly where to go’, and some of them even brought their own petrol. Cradock similarly believed that ‘this was not an irrational outburst of mob violence, but a carefully planned and controlled operation’. But while the whole operation had been carefully planned, it appeared that not all the Red Guards followed the script. Hopson estimated that ‘the attack was planned by members of the cultural revolution group with the connivance of the security authorities’, but it was ‘possible that in setting fire to the Office the mob exceeded its instructions’.104 Bolland of the Far Eastern Department agreed that ‘the attack was carefully organised and it was intended from the beginning that the Office and probably Mr Hopson’s house should be rendered unusable’. However, it was ‘not clear whether it was actually intended to burn the Office. This may have been an excess of zeal by the Red Guards.’105 If the burning of the office compound was the initiative of some overzealous Red Guards, the British diplomats could draw comfort from the fact that the PLA soldiers and plain-clothes police had been anxious to protect them during the mob assault. The ‘P.L.A. clearly had orders to ensure our eventual safety after a good deal of roughing-up and humiliation’, Cradock recollected, and ‘the secure zone of the Office was deliberately preserved from fire’. To Hopson, ‘The rescue arrangements, with special police-agents mingling with the mob, had clearly been prepared beforehand.’106 In addition, the British were not unaware that top Chinese leaders, especially the moderate Zhou Enlai, were shocked by the behaviour of the Red Guards. Reports confirmed that on the night of 22 August, Zhou and two members of the CCRG had intervened to prevent the demonstrators from breaking into the British office compound. And Red Guard posters revealed that Zhou, deploring the burning of the British Office, had ‘taken over direct responsibility for the running of foreign affairs from 23 August’.107 To de la Mare, the burning ‘could not have taken place the way it did without the full approval and indeed cooperation of the authorities. But it would seem that it did not have Chou En-lai’s approval.’108 Above all, the British could discern the performative nature of the Red Guards’ behaviour. In other words, the Red Guards were performing a ritual of Cultural Revolution for the benefit of the camera, their intended audience being the Chinese leaders. As Cradock wrote of his harassment at the hands of the Red Guards on 22 August: ‘Cameras were in readiness to record the fun.’109 Not only Cradock but most of the twenty-three diplomats and supporting staff ‘were forced to bow their heads or kneel, and were photographed doing this’.110 No anti-foreign incident was more theatrical than the ‘Battle of Portland Place’ on 29

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August. ‘This curious piece of theatre’, to Cradock, ‘was undoubtedly engineered by the Chinese so that they could claim to match us in terms of outrage and work themselves into the position of moral superiority from which they loved to operate.’111 In Bolland’s assessment, the Chinese diplomats ‘deliberately attacked the police with the clear object of provoking them to retaliate by force’, so much so that China could ‘justify [its] own outrageous actions’ against the British Mission in Beijing.112 As the young Chinese diplomat who was photographed by British newspapers with an axe during the London scuffles revealed, he and his comrades were ‘not fighters’, but were only ‘forced to defend [themselves]’ in view of ‘the illegal restrictions’ placed upon the Chinese Mission by the British government.113 That is to say, the zealous Chinese diplomats ‘staged’ the ‘Battle of Portland Place’, which was intended to communicate their discontent towards London’s restrictions and to regain the moral high ground after the 22 August event. The British public was shocked by the incidents in Beijing and London, particularly the images of angry Chinese diplomats raising axes in front of armless British police officers (who carried batons).114 But accompanying their anger and disbelief was a sense of amusement and understanding towards the behaviour of the embattled Chinese diplomats in Britain. A letter published in the letters to the editor section of The Times read: The average British reaction to the television accounts of the past few days outside the Chinese Embassy and News Agency is probably a mixture of amazement and incredibility at what is felt to be odd and even ridiculous behaviour of Chinese officials. … [But] if we see that the audience the Chinese are playing to is not B.B.C. or Independent Television but to their own people back home in China then we might stop lending ourselves to participation in this farce of martyrdom.115

Press opinion, both left and right, called for a calm response to China’s ‘undiplomacy’. The Guardian reminded its readers that ‘hatred of foreigners has a long history in China’, and that the British were not alone in their suffering at the first hand ‘the incivilities of Maoist hysteria’, but the Russians, the Indians, the Burmese and so forth had suffered too. As for the likely explanation for the clash outside the Chinese Office in London, ‘Maoists here (and elsewhere) subconsciously recognise isolation, loneliness, and powerlessness,’ and ‘an instinctive reaction to frustration is to lash out’.116 The Times mused that ‘cultures clashed’ whenever the Chinese diplomats in London engaged in ‘shouting match’ with the jeering British crowd outside their office.117 Parallels were drawn

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between the ‘violence and barbarity’ of the Red Guards and ‘the Boxer troubles of 1900’. But while the Eight-Power Expedition had been launched to punish the fanatical Boxers more than sixty years ago, British informed opinion did not call for extreme retaliation in 1967. According to the 31 August editorial of The Times: ‘The present Chinese frenzy has to be regarded as a reflection of the growing chaos inside China and the decay of central control. It is more sensible to prepare for what comes after than concentrate solely on an indignant retort to the present lunacies.’118 In deliberating over policy options, the Wilson government drew a subtle distinction between the everyday violence of the Red Guards on the streets and China’s largely cautious foreign policy in the wider world. In early August, Hopson opined that the Cultural Revolution had ‘spilled over into foreign affairs, particularly into Chinese policies in Asia’, which had ‘become less amenable to reason and prudence, less bound by precedent, and therefore less predictable’. Nevertheless, there was ‘no evidence that incidents have been planned ahead and deliberately provoked in order to justify a prepared change of policy’: China had shown no desire ‘to intervene directly with ground forces either in VietNam or Hong Kong’.119 John Denson of the FO similarly noted that ‘the Cultural Revolution in China is not at the moment likely to “spill-over” in a military sense’.120 Bolland agreed: ‘It does not appear that these [xenophobic] incidents occurred as a result of any definite policy decision from Peking although they certainly arose and were exacerbated by the atmosphere of the Cultural Revolution.’121 On the Hong Kong riots, Cradock opined that ‘the [Chinese] rhetoric was extreme, with references to “blood debts” and calls for a fierce struggle against British persecution; but it was unspecific and Peking’s actions, as opposed to its words, remained cautious’.122 The British were not unaware of the factional struggles within the MFA and the shifting political balance on the mainland after the sacking of the British Office. Following the chaos of August, Mao and Zhou were anxious to reassert control over the MFA and to restore a degree of normality to China’s foreign policy. By reading the Red Guard posters displayed in the capital, the British diplomats drew Whitehall’s attention to the fact that Yao Dengshan (the ‘Four Day Foreign Minister’) and Wang Li had been condemned for being responsible for the growth of ‘ultra-leftism’ and the series of attacks on foreign embassies including the burning of the British Office.123 By early November, James Murray, the new head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, took notice of ‘the trend towards a greater degree of control and discipline’ in China since early September as the army had been given strict instructions to suppress disorder.

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Most encouragingly, Zhou’s influence and that of other ‘administrators’ were ‘on the increase’, while ‘the influence of the notorious “Embassy burner,” Yao Tengshan, [was] clearly on the wane’ – and this ‘may well have a salutary effect on the conduct of the Chinese Foreign Ministry’.124 To Brown, the ritualistic actions of the Red Guards did not reflect the totality of China’s foreign policy. Indeed, the temperamental foreign secretary ‘acted with admirable restraint’ in response to the sacking of the British Embassy, ‘sensibly realising that this episode of madness would blow itself out in due course’.125 While he had decided to impose restrictions on the movement of the Chinese diplomats in London in retaliation, on 2 September, Brown sent a personal message to Chen Yi, stating that ‘the present state of Anglo-Chinese relations’ required both governments to ‘discuss these relations frankly and dispassionately’. Hoping to seek Chen’s ‘cooperation to bring the situation back to normal’, Brown suggested that both sides withdrew their mission and personnel from each other’s capital for the time being so as to ‘ensure that no further incidents develop to make a breach inevitable’.126 Brown held to the conviction that Britain’s ‘general policy’ in the world should aim to ‘build the United Nations as a world authority and invest it with real authority’.127 His belief that China, a country of more than 700 million people, ‘should play its legitimate part in world affairs and co-operate in helping to keep the peace’,128 had not been shaken by the August events. Wilson supported constructive engagement with China, a country which, he believed, had an important role to play in the issue of nuclear proliferation. With China’s explosion of a thermonuclear device on 17 June (its sixth nuclear test), Wilson was anxious to make progress towards arms control and disarmament through negotiations in the Eighteen-Nation Disarmament Committee at Geneva. As he told Parliament on 11 July, ‘The first step is to get the nonproliferation agreement settled. … The second matter is to get China into the United Nations, and then the problem can be transferred to the United Nations forum for settlement.’129 A paper on the nuclear weapon policy of China (and of France and other non-nuclear powers) by the Defence Review Working Party of the Defence and Overseas Policy (Official) Committee in early October echoed Wilson’s concerns: ‘In general Chinese developments confirm the urgency of a non-proliferation treaty since if it cannot be negotiated soon the non-nuclear states [particularly India, Israel, Sweden, Germany and Japan] will be less and less inclined to give up the nuclear option.’130 On 4 September, Brown submitted a memorandum on relations with China to the Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee. Approved by the

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committee the following day, the memorandum recommended that Britain should ‘not take the initiative to break diplomatic relations with China’ for economic, colonial and intelligence reasons.131 From an economic perspective, the chaos of the Cultural Revolution affected, but did not devastate, AngloChinese trade. During the first seven months of 1967, British exports to China (principally capital goods and industrial machinery) increased from £16.5 million in the same period of the previous year to £27.3 million, although British imports (mainly foodstuffs and light manufacturers) dropped slightly from £21 to £18.3 million.132 As Brown explained in his memorandum, the volume of trade would ‘depend not so much on anti-British feeling in China, which seems hardly to have affected trade at all, but rather on the internal political state of China’. And ‘the trend over the last year has been for it to increase and for the balance to increase to our advantage’.133 The Board of Trade believed that the effects of the Cultural Revolution on trade might ‘not be too damaging’, although there was bound to be ‘reduction of some sort’.134 John Keswick, president of the Sino-British Trade Council, was cautiously optimistic that China intended to ‘keep their foreign trade going’.135 It is true that Mao and particularly Zhou did not neglect economic development during the Cultural Revolution: the principle was ‘Grasping revolution, Promoting production’.136 They were eager to ensure that the Guangzhou trade fairs in the spring and autumn (a vital source of China’s foreign exchange earnings) would go ahead smoothly.137 Besides, Brown and other minsters were concerned about the small number of British residents in China, including Grey who had been house arrested since July. Now that the British diplomats in Beijing had also become the de facto hostages of the communist authorities, the British government needed to negotiate the release of the different categories of British ‘hostages’. Any decision to break diplomatic relations with China might arouse ‘adverse criticism’ within the United Kingdom that the government was leaving its subjects at the mercy of the Chinese Communists. Brown attached great importance to the presence in Beijing of ‘a fully operative diplomatic mission’ that could observe and ‘exploit without delay’ the latest developments in China. By early September, the Cultural Revolution was far from over. The political future of China remained uncertain, with the prospect of a ‘fragmentation of the country into regional areas, virtually autonomous, under local leaders or warlords as in the 1920’s’. This was also true of Hong Kong’s future. By September, the anti-colonial riots were still underway, with the local Maoists resorting to a random bomb campaign. While the internal security situation was largely under control, Whitehall officials pessimistically assumed that the United

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Kingdom could not expect to remain in Hong Kong on the present terms until the lapse of the ninety-nine year lease of the New Territories in 1997. The British hoped to ‘negotiate the future of Hong Kong in a peaceful, sensible and humane manner’, yet there was no prospect of negotiation with the present Chinese government. Thus, the maintenance of a diplomatic mission in China was highly desirable ‘both to warn us of opportunities as they may arise and to advise us of the Chinese personalities with whom we might be able to do business’.138 Approaching Anglo-Chinese relations from a long-term perspective, Cabinet ministers decided that Britain should continue to vote for the substantive resolution on China’s admission to the UN at the twenty-second session of the General Assembly, while also supporting the ‘important question’ resolution. This decision was based ‘not on the approval of the actions of the Chinese Government but on the existence of China and the need for universal representation in the United Nations’.139 Nevertheless, Brown was keen to avoid creating any impression of Britain’s ‘appeasement’ of China. In the wake of the Red Guard outrages, it was decided that the British representative at the UN ‘should take no other action (e.g. lobbying) to promote Chinese admission’, while his speech ‘should reflect the deterioration in Anglo-Chinese relations brought about by recent Chinese actions’.140 When the General Assembly voted on the China issue on 28 November, the ‘important question’ resolution was adopted by a majority of twenty-one votes (69-48-4), and the Albanian resolution failed by thirteen votes (45-58-17).141 As the British assessed it, the votes reflected a ‘further shift against Peking’, and the ‘lesson’ of this year’s debate was that ‘the main factor in determining the UN’s attitude to the admission of Peking is Peking’s own behaviour’.142 In 1967 the Red Guards’ proletarian diplomacy had outraged the international community.

Conclusion During 1967, the ‘normality’ of the ‘everyday Cold War’ between Britain and China was seriously disrupted by the abnormal chaos of the Cultural Revolution. Nevertheless, British ministers and diplomats managed to draw a subtle distinction between the ‘street-level’ violence of the Red Guards and China’s largely cautious foreign policy at the international level. As Odd Arne Westad shrewdly observes: ‘The PRC’s foreign policy in the mid-1960s was … high on rhetoric but low on action. [With the exception of Vietnam], China’s general direction during the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution was inward and away from engaging foreign revolutions.’143 By staging demonstrations, propagating

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Mao Zedong Thought and storming foreign embassies, the Red Guards by and large performed the rituals of the Cultural Revolution. The burning of the British Office might have been more outrageous than the ‘three smashes’ and other antiforeign assaults insofar as physical destruction was concerned. But in terms of human costs and diplomatic consequences, the ‘performances’ of the Red Guards, in Beijing and London, did not result in the loss of lives (as in Burma’s case), the expulsion of diplomats (like Indian and Indonesian), and further escalation in tensions (as between China and the Soviet Union). Richard Curt Kraus has argued that Cultural Revolutionary China was a political theatre, where Mao communicated his revolutionary messages, and his ‘audiences’, the Red Guards, performed the ritual of the Mao cult. But rather than ‘mere manipulation’ by Mao, ‘many of the most engrossing episodes of the Cultural Revolution spectacle were performed with little or no direction, often contrary to the preferences of Maoist stage managers’.144 The sacking of the British Office was the spontaneous action of some zealous Red Guards, who wanted to demonstrate to the central leaders that they were more ‘Maoist’ than their political rivals. Likewise, the ‘Battle of Portland Place’ was ‘staged’ by the embattled Chinese diplomats in order to symbolically communicate their displeasure at British restrictions on their movement and perhaps to provide Beijing with a pretext for similar retaliatory measures against the British diplomats. While condemning the Red Guards’ actions in Beijing and capitalizing on the London incidents, Mao and Zhou did not fundamentally change China’s general policy towards Britain and Hong Kong. The Wilson government responded to the Red Guard outrages by imposing restrictions on the movement of Chinese diplomats and NCNA journalists in London, while holding firm to a policy of positive engagement with China.145 This was not ‘appeasement’ dictated by the post-war decline of Britain, or Wilson’s final realization that Britain could no longer play a world role (as manifested in his decisions to withdraw all British forces from east of Suez and to apply for the EEC membership).146 Rather, British ministers and officials had considered, and rejected, various policy options, such as the expulsion of Chinese diplomats and a rupture of diplomatic relations, which they believed were counterproductive to the long-term strategic objective of bringing China into the family of nations and the immediate aim of safeguarding Hong Kong and Britons on the mainland. They had made a realistic and reasoned assessment of the August events in the wider context of China’s fierce domestic power struggle and its largely non-interventionist diplomacy. To Wilson, Brown and the British diplomats, engagement or negotiation with China was the best way of restoring a semblance of ‘normality’ in Anglo-Chinese relations.

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Normalizing the Confrontation, 1968–70

Following the sacking of the British Mission and the final suppression of the Hong Kong riots by late 1967, the Wilson government aimed to ‘bring back [Anglo-Chinese] relations to a more normal basis’ or to its pre-Cultural Revolution footing.1 The immediate task was to negotiate the release of British diplomats and Anthony Grey, held hostage by Beijing due to Hong Kong,2 as well as that of a dozen British nationals, detained for various reasons. In the long term, London regarded seating Communist China in the United Nations as indispensable to the resolution of major world problems. Mao Zedong, for his part, hoped to come out of the shadows of the August chaos. Yet he could not completely ignore the fate of hundreds of leftist prisoners as a result of the Hong Kong riots. The continuing power struggles and violent fighting on the mainland during 1968 and early 1969 further complicated Mao’s calculations. In negotiations with the British over Grey and other ‘hostages’, the Chinese vacillated between ideological rhetoric and pragmatic concession. What characterized Anglo-Chinese interactions between 1968 and 1970 was the use of reciprocal gestures by both sides. Believing that the Britons’ loss of freedom in China was first and foremost attributed to the Hong Kong authorities’ hard-line suppression of the local Maoists, the Chinese negotiators, displaying a strong ethical stance, argued that the Hong Kong problem was ‘the crux of SinoBritish relations’, so much so that Britain was ‘responsible’ for its resolution. Unwilling to take the first step in making concessions, the Chinese expected their negotiating partner to demonstrate sincerity by gestures. Likewise, they were prepared to make a goodwill gesture towards the British in order to facilitate the negotiation. Aware of the importance of gesturing in the Chinese way of negotiation, the Sinologists in the British Mission advocated a step-by-step approach to secure the release of the different categories of British ‘hostages’. By resolving the hostage crisis in a piecemeal fashion, the British diplomats aimed to break down mistrust and prompt the Chinese to take reciprocal measures.3

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In 1970 Mao, through the diplomacy of gestures, signalled to the British government his desire for improved relations in the economic and strategic fields. In the wake of the 1969 Sino-Soviet border war, Mao saw an enlarged European Economic Community (which Britain was eager to join) as a possible counterweight to the Soviet Union, which now posed a greater threat to China than did the United States. Slowly but surely, Britain and China were ‘normalizing’ their confrontation in the three years following the burning of the British Office.

Negotiating British ‘hostages’ Diplomats In the immediate aftermath of the 22 August sacking, the main preoccupations of the British diplomats in Beijing were ‘security, administration and morale’. With the office building being completely burnt down (except for the strong room containing classified papers), Donald Hopson, Percy Cradock and their staff at first established a temporary office in Chinese Secretary Ray Whitney’s apartment in Waijiaodalou. After repair work, they moved to the chargé d’affaires’ house, which had been ransacked but not destroyed. As a result of Beijing’s restrictions, the movement of the British diplomats was now confined to their office and residences and the roads between them. They faced renewed demonstrations outside Waijiaodalou, albeit on a small scale and under the watchful eye of Chinese police and soldiers.4 As Ewin Bolland, head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, took stock of the situation in late September, the Chinese restrictions made life ‘extremely hard’ for the British diplomats, but their position did ‘not seem to have worsened appreciably since the end of August’. ‘Our main aim is to restore more normal relations with the Chinese,’ Bolland argued, and the interests of the British Mission were, ‘at the moment, best served by trying to reduce the temperature’.5 The British diplomats were acutely aware that China would not ease its restrictions on their movement until the British government had lifted its similar restrictions on the Chinese Mission in London. In a memorandum to the prime minister in early November, George Brown summarized Hopson’s proposal for ‘a unilateral and substantial relaxation’ by Britain to prompt reciprocal Chinese action. What Hopson had in mind was to relax the restrictions on Chinese movement in London, while retaining the requirement for exit visas as a final

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bargaining counter. Completely disregarding the sacking of the British Chargé Office, Beijing had indicated that ‘since we [Britain] were the first to impose additional restrictions, we must be the first to relax them’. Hopson thus proposed that Britain should make the first move as ‘an act of faith’, or a gesture to the Chinese. November was deemed a ‘good time’ for a unilateral British move since the ‘moderates’ within the Chinese leadership seemed to be gaining control at the expense of the radical rebels. Besides, the relaxation of travel restrictions would relieve the burden of the Metropolitan Police force and Special Branch officers (at least eighty-nine in total) in the surveillance of the Chinese Mission in London, a measure that the home secretary, for financial reasons, was particularly eager to endorse.6 Wilson approved Brown’s memorandum, seeing no need to put it to the Cabinet.7 On 14 November, Hopson informed the MFA that the restrictions on Chinese movement in London would be restored to the normal 35 mile radius of Marble Arch a week later, while saying nothing about exit permits. The British gesture paid off shortly. On 27 November, Hopson was summoned to the MFA and was told that from the 29th all restrictions on the British movement in Beijing would be removed. Asked if this included the normal issue of entry and exit visas, the deputy head of the Western European Department replied that ‘application would be dealt with in normal way’ by the MFA.8 Notwithstanding the relaxation of restrictions on their movement within Beijing, the British diplomats could not be too optimistic about their freedom of departing and entering China, thanks to the latest Hong Kong events. Having received no reply to visa applications for his staff made a few days ago, Hopson got an interview with the deputy director of the Consular Department, Gao Jianzhong, on 2 December. Using the language of the Cultural Revolution, Gao asserted that ‘the basic problem in the normalization of Sino-British relations was Hong Kong’. Referring to the recent closure of a leftist high school (Zhonghua) by the British colonial authorities and other acts of ‘persecution of compatriots in Hong Kong’, Gao complained that ‘now an abnormal situation had been created for which the British bore the responsibility’, and the Chinese government ‘could not but doubt the sincerity of the expressed wishes of the British Government to normalize relations’.9 The British diplomats developed a better understanding of Beijing’s intentions after another interview with Gao on 24 January 1968. During the meeting, Gao said that China had granted exit visas to three British diplomats (plus seven children and wives), but for a long period Britain had not issued entry visas to five NCNA and Bank of China personnel. He therefore demanded the ‘immediate

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removal of discriminatory restrictions’ on the movement of Chinese staff in and out of Britain. After rejecting Gao’s allegation about restrictions on Chinese diplomats, Cradock, responding to the question of NCNA staff visas, pointed out ‘with utmost seriousness that Grey had been in confinement for several months without Consular access’. (Grey had been under house arrest since 21 July 1967.) This prompted Gao to make a point, which in Cradock’s opinion shone a light on China’s attitude towards the whole hostage problem: ‘On the question of Grey, Cradock was well aware that this was not a visa question.’ But if the British government took concrete steps to meet the Chinese demands, Gao continued, the Chinese government ‘would certainly make corresponding gestures’.10 In offering his advice to the FO, Hopson made it plain: ‘We now have a clear opening to settle the visa question for the staff of this Mission on a purely bilateral basis (i.e. not bringing in Hong Kong) and on all our reasonable terms (i.e. a reversion to pre-August arrangements).’ Referring to Gao’s comment that ‘Grey’s was not a visa case’, Hopson explained that Grey was house arrested on 21 July in response to the Hong Kong government’s arrest of three NCNA journalists and five other ‘patriotic newsmen’, but that the ‘visa question’ arose from the sacking of the British Office on 22 August and the subsequent restrictions on each other’s missions. With this sequence of events in mind, Gao thus told Cradock that Grey’s detention had nothing to do with the ‘visa question’. Based on the Chinese logic of argument, Hopson and Cradock believed that ‘Grey’s case turns on prisoners in Hong Kong, not on NCNA in London’: the release of Grey depended on an exchange of one or some of the imprisoned communist journalists in Hong Kong. (By early 1968, two NCNA correspondents and thirteen ‘patriotic journalists’ were detained in Hong Kong.) What Hopson proposed was a stepby-step approach to negotiation by separating the problem of diplomats from that of Grey. To him, Britain should ‘move first’ by suspending the requirement for exit visas for Chinese diplomats on the clear understanding that Beijing would take reciprocal action, and by granting entry visas to members of NCNA and the Bank of China.11 The FO, however, preferred a ‘linkage’ negotiating approach. After learning of Hopson’s step-by-step formula, a reserved Brown commented that ‘we always seem to move first on these matters’. Moreover, there was the question of reciprocity, for the Chinese had been ‘extremely imprecise about their side of the bargain’. But from the FO’s perspective, the main difficulty lay in the granting of entry visas to members of NCNA and other communist journalists, which in turn begged the question of British public opinion. Since July 1967, there

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had been little publicity in the British press about Grey, thanks to London’s advice to Reuters and other media organizations that excessive publicity would only provoke Beijing. In Parliament, questions about Grey had also been kept to a minimum, with Anthony Royle (Conservative MP for Richmond, Surrey) raising the first question on 20 December 1967 and two more by the end of January 1968.12 By allowing NCNA journalists to enter Britain while Grey was still held incommunicado, ministers worried, the government would ‘[run] the risk of serious criticism both in Parliament and the Press’. For these reasons, the FO accepted Hopson’s recommendation for granting exit visas to Chinese diplomats, but decided to withhold entry visas for NCNA journalists not least as a bargaining chip to secure Grey’s release.13 Hopson’s two interviews with the Chinese in early March got Britain nowhere. On 4 March Hopson sent another forceful message to the FO, reiterating his step-by-step negotiating approach. This time, the FO accepted his argument that entry visas for NCNA journalists were ‘valueless as a counter in negotiations’ over Grey’s freedom.14 Nevertheless, at a time when the British government was prepared to separate the question of diplomats from that of Grey/Hong Kong, China suddenly linked them together. On 8 March, Vice Foreign Minister Luo Guibo summoned Hopson to the MFA, where he made an oral statement. Beginning with a vital principle, Luo asserted that the ‘Hong Kong problem was [the] crux of Sino-British relations and there could be no talk of normalisation if [the] question of Hong Kong were left aside’. Apparently distinguishing between ‘principal’ and ‘secondary’ contradictions, he said that although the British government had proposed to abolish visa requirement for Chinese diplomats and officials, the proposals were ‘only secondary matters in [the] whole question of current relations’. Luo, moreover, imposed a sense of guilt on the British: ‘To this day British Government had failed to reply to various demands put forward by Chinese Government in connexion with Hong Kong problem. … [This] raises doubt about whether there was a sincere desire on British side to normalise relations between the two countries.’15 As a matter of fact, the principal ‘Hong Kong problem’ Luo referred to centred on the detention of two NCNA correspondents and other ‘patriotic journalists’ in Hong Kong. In view of the declining morale of the local Maoists after the failure of the 1967 riots, Beijing was anxious to secure the release of communist journalists by using Grey as a bargaining chip. Meanwhile, it demanded that the local NCNA (or the PRC’s de facto embassy in Hong Kong) be allowed to make ‘special visits’ to the two detained NCNA correspondents and other ‘patriotic journalists’ in Hong Kong (on top of normal monthly visits by their relatives

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or friends) in return for British consular access to Grey in China.16 Above all, the hardening of the Chinese attitude towards Britain/Hong Kong occurred against the backdrop of the power struggle between the ‘moderates’ and the ‘radicals’ on the mainland in early 1968. In January a campaign of ‘criticizing ultra-leftism’ had been launched. But after ninety-one departmental chiefs and senior diplomats had published a big-character poster (or the ‘91 poster’) that severely criticized the previous radical policies directed at Chen Yi, in March the radical rebels including Jiang Qing struck back through a campaign against the ‘rightist deviationist wind’. To deflect a possible attack by the radicals and to seize the initiative himself, Zhou Enlai ordered his subordinates in the MFA to undertake self-criticism.17 Luo Guibo, for one, found himself in a vulnerable position. Suspected of being the ‘back-stage boss’ of the so-called ‘5 16 clique’ behind the burning of the British Mission in 1967, Luo, under investigation, needed to ‘stand aside’ (kao bian zhan) politically.18 Amid the latest resurgence of radicalism in China, Luo thus spoke in a defiant tone during his interview with Hopson. In the light of Luo’s statement, Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart asked in a late March meeting ‘whether the proposition was right that we would make no progress on secondary matters [visas for diplomats] unless we said something to the Chinese on the main issue [Hong Kong]’. He was confirmed positively by his colleagues.19 During his first spell as foreign secretary in 1965, Stewart had proven himself to be a tough figure by standing against the left wing of the Labour Party and defending US policy in Vietnam. Unlike the ‘temperamental’ Brown whose tension with the prime minister had culminated in his resignation, Stewart was regarded by Wilson as ‘a wise and authoritative figure’.20 To seek an early resolution of the hostage crisis, Stewart decided to make a statement on Sino-British relations with a reference to Hong Kong, and to inform Beijing of the granting of exit and entry visas to Chinese diplomats and officials in Britain.21 During a long interview with Luo Guibo on 13 April, Hopson read out a statement on Sino-British relations: the British government ‘attach much importance to bringing about an early improvement in Sino-British relations, and recognise the importance of Hong Kong in this context’. Britain did not share the Chinese view that ‘in the absence of a settlement of differences over Hong Kong other problems in Sino-British relations cannot in the meantime be profitably discussed’. Hopson expressed London’s ‘grave concern’ about the detained British subjects in China, while demanding early consular access to Grey in return for NCNA’s special prison visits in Hong Kong. As a friendly

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gesture, Hopson handed over the outstanding entry visas for Chinese diplomats, which had not been collected by the MFA. Unimpressed, Luo ‘expressed profound dissatisfaction with “arrogant language” and lack of substance in [Hopson’s] statement which … evaded the real issue:’ ‘Hong Kong was the crux of the present abnormal relations between Britain and China and until this problem was solved it would be difficult fully to normalise relations.’ On the questions of visas for British diplomats and consular access to Grey, Luo said that, as soon as China had received confirmation from London that visa requirement for Chinese diplomats had been lifted, and from Hong Kong that NCNA’s special visits to leftist prisoners had taken place, it would ‘make its own arrangements in accordance with normal procedure to settle these problems’. ‘But these were minor issues,’ an uncompromising Luo asserted, ‘Hong Kong was the crux.’22 Despite the tone of Luo’s comments, the fact that the Chinese vice foreign minister had spent nearly two hours with him made Hopson feel that China was ‘seriously interested in a settlement’.23 Hopson was not incorrect. On 22 April, Gao Jianzhong of the MFA’s Consular Department gave an assurance that in future visas would be granted to British diplomats according to normal procedure. China made this concession in response to progress on the question of Hong Kong prison visits. After months of negotiations, the Hong Kong government and the local NCNA had finally struck a deal on the latter’s special visits to its two imprisoned staff and other ‘patriotic journalists’ in return for the British consular access to Grey.24 On 23 April, after nine months of isolation, Grey was visited by Hopson and Second Secretary John Weston for twenty minutes.25 In early June, China dragged its feet again, after having issued exit visas to six junior staff in the British Mission, but to none of its senior staff. On the 4th, the MFA informed Cradock that ‘abnormality in movement of personnel was caused by Hong Kong suppression of Chinese people there’. When queried by Cradock if this was in conflict with Gao’s assurance in April, the MFA replied that ‘the movement difficulties had been caused by vicious actions in the period since assurances were given’.26 One of the ‘vicious actions’ was the visit of the US nuclear-powered carrier Enterprise to Hong Kong on 24 May (its third visit since 1966), which provoked Beijing into lodging its third protest with the British government about the use of Hong Kong as ‘a base of aggression against Vietnam’.27 To Hopson, the Chinese ‘have come the nearest yet to admitting that they are holding senior staff deliberately as hostages for our behaviour in Hong Kong’. On 13 June he recommended to the FO that ‘the time has come for us to

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bring diplomatic pressure on the Chinese’ and ‘to arrange for a limited amount of publicity’ about the Chinese behaviour. Accordingly, London would seek the diplomatic support of foreign governments, asking them to express to China their concern about the Chinese detention of British diplomats ‘as a means of political pressure’ that violated ‘any known standards of diplomatic behaviour’. This diplomatic campaign would be accompanied by increased publicity about the predicament of the Mission, for example, by making statements in Parliament and arranging articles in the press.28 On 23 July, with Stewart’s approval, the FO instructed British missions to approach their host governments (twenty-six countries had agreed to cooperate) for the diplomatic campaign.29 Coincidentally, on the same day, Beijing resumed the granting of visas to British diplomats. And before foreign governments had had time to make diplomatic representations, on 27 July the MFA gave Hopson an assurance that if the British submitted an updated list of outstanding exit visas, they would be issued. Two days later, four (out of eighteen) visa applications were approved. On 3 August, Hopson himself applied for an exit visa, which was granted after some delay on the 12th. On 13 August, Hopson ended his China posting by heading for the United Kingdom.30 In assessing the Chinese concessions, Cradock suggested three possible reasons: the lifting of all restrictions on Chinese diplomats in London, which deprived Beijing of an excuse for the continued detention of British diplomats; the threat of a diplomatic campaign (of which Beijing might have got wind) and increased publicity; and the Hong Kong government’s release of four communist detainees around this time. While not disagreeing with Cradock, James Murray, head of the FO’s Far Eastern Department, believed that it was ‘the result of a high-level decision by the more pragmatic members of the leadership that a policy of blackmail was neither benefiting the national reputation of China nor extracting concessions from us in Hong Kong’.31 True, by the summer of 1968, the ‘pragmatic’ elements of the Chinese leadership had reasserted themselves in policymaking after fierce fighting between different Red Guard factions in a number of provinces and especially in Qinghua University in Beijing. In their aftermath, Mao decided to demobilize the Red Guards and to send the PLA to take control of the country. Zhou, meanwhile, supported the sending of army representatives to the Political Department of the MFA to stabilize the situation.32 In short, the twists and turns in the Anglo-Chinese negotiations over the British diplomats’ movement were closely related to the continuing power struggles and the chaos of the Cultural Revolution in 1968.

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Anthony Grey With Hopson’s departure in late 1968, the problem of China’s hostage-taking centred on the fate of Grey. Negotiating with the Chinese over the Reuters correspondent proved to be a delicate task for the British government due to two factors – serious differences between the Hong Kong governor and the British diplomats in China, and parliamentary and press opinion in the United Kingdom. Although London had little doubt that Grey’s house arrest was related to the Hong Kong riots, Beijing was reluctant to ‘formally name a definite price for the release of Mr. Grey’.33 In a statement on 21 July 1967 (published by NCNA the next day), the MFA had linked the restriction on Grey’s freedom of movement with the Hong Kong authorities’ ‘unreasonable persecution’ of the NCNA correspondents and other ‘patriotic newsmen’ (eight in total, including NCNA correspondent Xue Ping). But on 28 December 1968, the NCNA published an official statement to the effect that China was ‘fully justified’ in continuing to restrict Grey’s freedom since the Hong Kong authorities continued to detain thirteen – later eleven – ‘patriotic journalists’ (after the release of the eight Chinese news workers referred to in the 1967 statement).34 On bargaining over the release of Grey and Hong Kong prisoners, the British diplomats in Beijing and the Hong Kong governor held divergent views due to their bureaucratic roles and political constraints. While the former approached the problem from the wider perspective of Anglo-Chinese relations, the latter naturally put Hong Kong’s security as the top priority. To Cradock and Hopson, by late 1968 China ‘wished to return to “normal” (pre-1967) relations’, but it ‘need[ed] a face-saving gesture for ending confrontation’. While recognizing the importance of law and order in Hong Kong, they believed that the colonial authorities should avoid ‘provocative action’ (especially in respect of education and the press) and take measures to ‘assist the détente’ between China and Britain, for example, through the early release of the riot prisoners and detainees. ‘What is proposed is not a negotiated settlement,’ they argued, ‘but a series of acts of de-escalation on each side.’ Governor David Trench, on the other hand, felt strongly that although ‘détente was desirable’, ‘the requirements of firmness and security’ were paramount insofar as Hong Kong was concerned.35 He was not unaware of an October directive from Zhou Enlai, disseminated by a senior NCNA official to the Hong Kong leftists, that emphasized ‘the need to rectify previous mistakes’, ‘the importance of “winning over the masses”’, and above all ‘the long term and peaceful nature of the “struggle”’ in Hong Kong. Yet, according to a Special Branch report in December,

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‘the communists will strive to erode the position of the Hong Kong Government while enjoying the economic benefits of the Colony and that Government will continue to be faced with a long-term and insidious threat to its authority’.36 It was the Hong Kong government’s policy to release the convicted prisoners as their sentences expired, and the detainees as the security position permitted. (By the end of 1968, some 350 leftists remained in prison, including thirteen ‘patriotic journalists’.) The governor was extremely reluctant to interfere with the judicial process, an interference that would erode public confidence in colonial rule and set a dangerous precedent for China’s demand for more concessions.37 What further complicated the British government’s negotiating strategy was growing pressure from the press and Parliament. As late as November 1968, both Gerald Long, the general manager of Reuters, and Grey’s family had ‘exercised commendable restraint’, accepting that the government had been doing everything possible to secure Grey’s release.38 Harold Wilson, speaking at a luncheon given by the Sunday Times, ‘warned his hosts against excessive publicity and whipping up anti Chinese feeling’ since this ‘might be counterproductive’ to Grey’s welfare.39 Nevertheless, Cradock’s publicity about his second visit to Grey on 26 November, intended to bring pressure to bear on Beijing, unintentionally ended the patience of the press world. During that visit, which lasted for twenty-five minutes, Grey revealed for the first time the precise details of his living conditions: solitary confinement in a twelve-foot square room, the ban on books, and his fear of suffering from tuberculosis. With the FCO’s approval, Cradock’s report on his visit was published in full in the newspapers, with the headline – ‘He [Grey] lives in a void.’40 Thereafter, national and international journalists and media groups intensified their clamour for Grey’s release. On 15 January 1969, representatives from the Printing and Kindred Trades Federation called on Lord Shepherd, minister of state at the FCO, expressing their apprehension about the plight of Grey.41 On 6 February, a deputation from the National Union of Journalists, including Reuters, the Daily Express, the Daily Mirror and the Daily Mail, petitioned the prime minister, expressing ‘a feeling in Fleet Street that the Government had not worked so hard for the release of Anthony Grey as they had for “their own men,” D Hobson [sic]’. Having been told that a ‘hard line’ against China would provoke even more severe treatment of Grey, the representatives raised the possibility of a ‘softer line’ – the release of the remaining communist prisoners in Hong Kong in exchange for Grey’s freedom – given that ‘the general security position in Hong Kong was now much improved’.42 As a leading campaigner for Grey’s release, The People, a Sunday

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newspaper, repeatedly urged the government to release the Hong Kong prisoners for the sake of his health. Its campaign resulted in a flood of letters sent to the FCO by the British public.43 China, too, was subjected to intense pressure from the British press world. Some 2,800 journalists signed a petition for Grey’s release, which was presented to the Chinese Mission at Portland Place. The International Federation of Journalists, representing 60,000 journalists in twenty-three countries, cabled a protest from Brussels to Premier Zhou, a copy of which was sent to UN Secretary General U Thant.44 Publicity and agitation for Grey had increased to such an extent that Beijing saw the issue in the context of ‘anti-China propaganda’. On 28 December 1968, the People’s Daily criticized the British government for using the Grey question ‘to whip up an anti-China outcry’, which it claimed ‘will achieve absolutely nothing’.45 During an interview with Lord Shepherd on 9 January 1969, the Chinese chargé, Shen Ping, ‘accused the British Government of conducting a vicious propaganda campaign over the detention of Mr. Grey by distorting the facts’, claiming that Grey ‘was in fact being treated leniently’ in his own house while the Hong Kong ‘patriotic journalists’ were ‘unjustly detained’ in prisons.46 When Cradock made his farewell call on the MFA in early February, the deputy director of the West European Department pointed out that the ‘recent activities of British Government in “creating public opinion” about British subjects in China’ was ‘not a good thing’, and ‘did not create a good atmosphere in which to solve problems’.47 Progressive leftists in the United Kingdom found themselves drawn into the everyday propaganda war regarding the British detainees in China. Launched with the sponsorship of some two hundred people on 15 May 1965 and led by Dr Joseph Needham (a distinguished Cambridge biochemist), the Society for Anglo-Chinese Understanding was one of the main pro-China organizations in Britain.48 In early November 1967, the SACU’s council of management adopted a statement of policy, highlighting that, with the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution, ‘anti-China propaganda has reached a new intensity and new peaks of distortion’. The statement designated three closely related aims for the Society in the period ahead: ‘opposition to [the British] government’s policy of hostility to China which has brought Sino-British relations to their present deplorable state’; a ‘vigorous programme of spreading knowledge, dispelling misconceptions and countering misrepresentations’ among the British people; and a ‘determined effort to make known the phenomental [sic] progress of the Chinese people since 1949’.49 In early 1968, the council of management adopted a programme of action, according to which the SACU would organize public

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meetings, hold study courses and, as a new measure, establish a small team to monitor media reporting on China/Hong Kong and prepare a document featuring the most important news items (titled China in the News) so as to ‘counter press distortions’.50 In countering the ‘anti-China propaganda’ of the British government and the press, the SACU leaders unwittingly sided with some liberal British lawyers in Hong Kong against the colonial authorities. The controversy between the Hong Kong lawyers and the government centred on the rule of law, and was played out in the British press. On 11 November 1968, The Times published a letter submitted by John Rear, a law lecturer at the University of Hong Kong, suggesting ‘pure hypocrisy’ on the part of the British government: Cradock had argued that Grey, house arrested but not charged, ‘has not been treated according to “the normal standards of behaviour”’, at a time when the Hong Kong authorities detained some thirty to forty riot-related leftists without trial. Rear lamented that the emergency regulations empowered the colonial secretary to detain any persons for up to one year without trial, without the need to give any reasons, while permitting further detention at the end of the year.51 The Hong Kong government’s reply was published in The Times on the 14th. It pointed out a ‘few dissimilarities’ between the detention of the Hong Kong rioters and the house arrest of Grey – for example, unlike the hostagetaking of the latter, the cases of the former had all been ‘most carefully examined by the Law Officers before detention orders were issued’, with the ‘chance to appeal to an independent Committee of Review’.52 The secretary of the Hong Kong Bar Association, Henry Litton, hit back with an open letter to the local South China Morning Post two days later, which was published in The Times on 2 December. Referring to the Hong Kong government’s ‘totalitarian powers’ in the form of detention without trial, Litton argued: ‘As long as this state of affairs prevails in Hong Kong, it lies ill for the British Government to complain that British subjects in China have been detained without trial.’53 To inform the British public, the SACU reproduced these letters together with other related material in a special issue of China in the News titled ‘Hong Kong and the Rule of Law’, which stated in its introduction that ‘the British Government must accept responsibility’.54 More importantly, Dr Needham wanted to publicize the SACU’s position on the question of Grey and other detained Britons in China in view of the growing parliamentary and public concerns about their plight.55 During an emergency meeting of the council of management on 10 December, it was decided that a statement should be published in the January issue of the SACU News.56 The

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statement not only echoed the criticisms of the two liberal Hong Kong lawyers about the colonial government’s ‘totalitarian powers’, but also condemned the British government for using ‘the distress of the relatives [of detained Britons] for purposes of propaganda hostile to China’. It concluded that ‘understanding and friendship between [Britain and China] will not be served by SACU being drawn into the present anti-China campaign’. Besides, the SACU News reprinted a letter submitted by Needham and Joan Robinson to The Times (which refused to publish it). Highly critical of the ‘hypocritical policy of the British Government’, including delaying China’s admission to the United Nations, the letter claimed that it was ‘the behaviour of our own Government which is depriving us of our grounds for moral indignation about the detention of British citizens without trial in China’.57 The question of Grey and detained Britons therefore became a burning issue in the United Kingdom, pitting the SACU against the British and Hong Kong governments. It also caused friction within the British government. While generally accepting that local security was a paramount factor, the FCO and the British diplomats in China hoped that the Hong Kong governor would make a contribution to the ‘de-escalation’ of Sino-British tensions through the premature release of communist prisoners in Hong Kong. In May 1969, Harold Wilson suggested that an early initiative should be taken on Grey in view of the Brooke negotiations.58 A British lecturer sentenced to five years’ imprisonment in the Soviet Union for smuggling anti-Moscow propaganda material, Gerald Brooke had been the subject of the FO’s rescue efforts both on compassionate grounds and for the sake of Anglo-Soviet relations. (On 24 July, London announced that an agreement had been reached with Moscow to exchange two convicted Soviet spies for Brooke.)59 It was feared that the impending resolution of the Brooke case would shine a bad light on the British government if the Grey question remained unresolved.60 Governor Trench was under pressure from Whitehall to make a compromise on the riot prisoners. Under the Letters Patent, the governor had discretion to review the cases of prisoners serving sentences of six years and to grant remissions and pardons.61 Of the eleven convicted communist journalists, ten were scheduled to complete their sentences and be released in September 1969, but the last one (Wong Chak) was not due out until 1971. In early May, Trench called upon the Prisons Board of Review to examine the cases of the riot prisoners serving sentences of four years (instead of the usual six years), primarily as a device to engineer the earlier release of Wong. On the 9th, the Hong Kong government announced that Wong’s sentence was reduced from five

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to three years, with the result that he would be released with full remission on 3 October (the other ten journalists being due out at various dates in September). Thus, by the first week in October, all eleven ‘patriotic journalists’ whom Beijing had linked with Grey would be out of prison. To the FCO, their releases would ‘deprive the Chinese of the only justification they themselves have advanced for detaining Grey’.62 Hong Kong’s gesture, it appeared, did not go unnoticed in Beijing. On 19 May, the Chinese chargé in London told British officials: ‘If all patriotic journalists were released, Grey’s freedom of movement would be restored. The Chinese Government means what it says.’63 On 4 October, a day after Wong’s release, Grey finally regained his freedom. Five days later, Grey departed the country which had held him hostage for twenty-six months.64

Detained Britons Shortly after Grey’s release, China released five of the twelve British subjects detained in China since 1967. Although not enjoying the same high-profile ‘hostage’ status as Grey, the cases of other British detainees had also commanded the attention of the British government, Parliament and the press. The British Chargé Office in Beijing made repeated representations to the MFA, requesting information about their arrests and charges and demanding immediate consular access to them.65 In Parliament, as early as March 1968, Anthony Royle had put a question to the foreign secretary about the detention and later imprisonment of George Watt. An adjournment debate was held on 3 June, when Stanley McMaster (Ulster Unionist MP for Belfast, East) raised the case of Watt (a Belfast man in McMaster’s constituent) and other British subjects.66 Even Dr Needham wrote to the Chinese chargé in London, albeit in his private capacity rather than on behalf of the SACU, requesting that the British detainees be allowed to communicate with their relatives in Britain and the Chinese government give ‘some reassurances’ about their welfare.67 It took a while before London could obtain a general picture of the circumstances of each British national detained in China. In the course of the negotiations over the freedom of diplomats and Grey during 1968, the FO came to the conclusion that ‘other British subjects in difficulties in China do not fall into the same category as Mr. Grey, i.e. straight political hostages’.68 Significantly, the FO believed that the arrests and detentions of British subjects reflected ‘the current Chinese spy mania born of the Cultural Revolution’.69 True, xenophobia had reached new heights in Cultural Revolutionary China, where

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all foreigners and anything foreign were viewed with suspicion.70 As  Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart spoke of the importance of travel warnings for Britons who planned to visit China in June 1968, ‘Seemingly harmless activities such as photographing a landscape could run them into considerable difficulty amounting even to conviction for espionage.’71 Stewart obviously had George Watt, a British engineer employed by Vickers-Zimmer for the erection of a polypropylene plant in Lanchow, in his mind. Following the house arrest of Watt in his hotel room in Lanchow since 26 September 1967, the NCNA announced, on 12 March 1968, that he was a ‘British spy’ who ‘stole important intelligence about China’s military, political and economic affairs’ and took ‘many photographs of prohibited areas in China’, thereby ‘seriously endangering the security and undermining the socialist construction of China’.72 Three days later, Watt was reportedly sentenced to three years’ imprisonment.73 The Chinese retaliated against the ‘criminal activities’ of Watt’s company too. On 3 July, the Beijing municipal intermediate people’s court announced a verdict in the absence of Vickers-Zimmer that the contract concerning the Lanchow plant signed in 1964 was annulled, and Vicker-Zimmer should pay an indemnity of £650,000 and ask its personnel to leave China within ten days.74 As the Chinese chargé in London told the Parliamentary Undersecretary of State in early September, ‘British nationals, under the cover of various activities, had carried out espionage in violation of Chinese law,’ thus ‘arous[ing] the indignation of the Chinese people’.75 As a matter of fact, Watt’s arrest and conviction occurred at a time when Mao Zedong and the radicals were launching the campaign to ‘cleanse the class ranks’ – ‘traitors’, ‘spies’ and ‘hidden enemies’ with links to foreign powers in their past.76 Although the Chinese accusations of being a ‘British spy’ was certainly untrue, the FO lamented that Watt ‘may have committed some technical breach of Chinese regulation, e.g. by taking photographs in unauthorised places’. It was believed that Vickers-Zimmer did have ‘difficulties with the Chinese over the execution of their contract’.77 That is to say, the arrest of Watt, however dubious it might be, had nothing to do with Beijing’s deliberate hostage-taking, or the use of Watt as a bargaining chip for the early release of Hong Kong communist prisoners. Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart on 16 October 1969 updated the Cabinet on the remaining (seven) British detainees, including Watt: ‘Except in the case of Mr. Grey, over which they had from the outset adopted a rigid posture, the Chinese had not sought to bargain over the releases so far effected.’78 The British government would continue to secure their releases through quiet diplomacy.

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Unlike Watt, the FO took notice of a distinct group of detained British subjects who had previously been employed by the Chinese authorities. With the majority of them living in the Friendship Hostel in Beijing, these ‘foreign friends’ of China had worked as translators, teachers and writers, while having little (if any) contact with the British Mission before their disappearances. Although lacking concrete information, the FO was inclined to believe that ‘these persons took an excessive interest in the details of the Cultural Revolution’ and ‘committed themselves to the support of some political figure whose star has now waned’.79 A left-wing British journalist contracted to work for the Foreign Languages Press, Eric Gordon together with his wife and son were arrested in early November 1967. On their way back to Britain from China via Hong Kong, they were found smuggling notes about the Cultural Revolution past the Chinese customs. Indeed, Gordon had been ‘planning to write a book enthusing about the cultural revolution’ in order to refute ‘the distortions and fabrications published in the West’; but, as he later recollected, foreigners including himself ‘all owed our captivity to the intense power struggle of the cultural revolution that had produced a violent ultra-Leftism and, inevitably, a chauvinism the like of which China had not experienced for years’.80 More intensely caught up in the factional struggles of the Cultural Revolution were the likes of Michael Shapiro, Mrs Elsie Epstein (formerly, FairfaxCholmeley) and David Crook. Back in September 1966, Mao had allowed the ‘foreign friends’ in Beijing to participate in the Cultural Revolution, with the formation of the ‘Bethune-Yan’an Rebel Group’ consisting of Sidney Rittenberg (an American expert working in the Broadcast Administration), Israel Epstein (a Jewish American and husband of Elsie Fairfax-Cholmeley, both of whom worked for the Foreign Languages Press), and Michael Shapiro (a British Marxist whose British passport had been impounded by London during the Korean War). But by early 1968, after the ‘power seizure’ in the MFA in the previous summer, Wang Li had fallen into disgrace and those foreigners associated with him were purged too.81 In February, Rittenberg was arrested for running ‘a network of foreign spies’, although Beijing’s ‘main target’, as he believed, was Wang Li, who had placed an American ‘in a high position of trust and authority at the party’s Broadcast Administration’.82 In March Shapiro was detained presumably because of his involvement with Rittenberg (and thus Wang Li) and the ‘Bethune-Yan’an Rebel Group’ (which was no longer endorsed by Mao).83 The same month, the Epstein couple were impounded on the grounds of ‘international espionage’.84

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Last but not least, Crook, another British leftist working in the Foreign Languages Institute, got himself entangled into the factional rivalries of his own institute. In October 1967, the poor Crook was kidnapped by the Rebel Corps belonging to the radical ‘earth faction’ (whom he opposed) as a means of attacking the ‘heaven faction’. He was later transferred to the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Public Security.85 In short, the British fellow travellers in Beijing simply became the unfortunate victims of Cultural Revolution politics, with none of them being formally charged. The British government was aware of another category of Britons, who got into trouble in Shanghai for various reasons. On 23 February 1968, when the Polish vessel he was travelling called at Shanghai, Norman Barrymaine, a freelance journalist, was arrested and later accused of taking ‘photographs for espionage purposes’ and ‘working for American Intelligence’.86 Indeed, Barrymaine had taken three photographs from the deck of the ship, but had nothing to do with the alleged connection with American intelligence. (Yet his previous employment with the FO’s Information Research Department, which was involved in Britain’s covert psychological operations, might have aroused Chinese suspicions.)87 Between late February and early April, Peter Crouch, the second officer of the vessel ‘Demodocus’, was held off Shanghai for ‘breach of harbor regulations’. While the ship was finally released by the Shanghai authorities, Crouch was accused of charting the approaches to Shanghai harbour and carrying out intelligence activities on board the ship, including writing down the pennant numbers of Chinese warships (which he admitted), and was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment. In August, David Johnston, the manager of the Shanghai branch of the Chartered Bank, was arrested for spying (such as sending political reports out of China).88 In late October 1969, shortly after Beijing’s release of Grey and five British detainees (including Barrymaine and the Gordon family), the Shanghai security authorities arrested two elderly British residents in Shanghai – Mrs Connie Martin and Mr William McBain. Although disappointed by a setback to the trend towards an improvement of Anglo-Chinese relations, Stewart informed the Cabinet a week later that the arrests might be ‘a local initiative on the part of the Shanghai authorities, since officials in Peking had professed ignorance of the arrests’.89 It is true that during the Cultural Revolution Shanghai was a power centre for the radical rebels, such as Jiang Qing, Zhang Chunqiao and Yao Wenyuan, who did not always see eye to eye with the ‘moderate’ leaders in Beijing as represented

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by Zhou Enlai. After the Ninth Party Congress in April 1969 (where Mao aimed to bring about national unity), the influence of Shanghai leaders in national politics reached its peak, for their representatives on the Central Committee increased from two to ten, including Zhang and Yao who were concurrently members of the Politburo.90 The new Politburo reflected the competition between the so-called ‘civilian Maoists’ led by Jiang and the ‘military Maoists’ under Defence Minister Lin Biao,91 with Zhou leaning somewhat to Lin’s side (not least due to his dislike of Jiang).92 Not surprisingly, there existed a potential conflict of authority between Shanghai and Beijing. To ‘put into practice the militant aims defined by the 9th Congress’, in July the Shanghai authorities (under Zhang’s leadership) launched ‘a revolutionary campaign directed against the remaining counter revolutionaries’, who ‘hide behind the backs of foreigners’, among other ‘criminal activities’.93 The arrest of suspected foreign agents was part of the campaign of ‘cleansing the class ranks’ in Shanghai, where more than 169,000 people were investigated and more than 5,000 ‘spies’, ‘traitors’ and ‘renegades’ lost their lives.94 To the Wilson government, the question of British detainees in China should be separate from Beijing’s deliberate hostage-taking of Grey. However unpleasant their captivity experiences were, Barrymaine and Gordon both revealed, shortly after their releases in October 1969, that they had suffered from neither beating nor brainwashing.95 (Although probably unknown to London at the time, the British fellow travellers like Crook and Shapiro received ‘differential treatment’ in prison, e.g. private cell, better food and reading material.)96 As a matter of fact, China detained not only Britons but also the nationals of other countries, including (as at October 1969) thirteen Japanese and nine Americans.97 As the FO’s Far Eastern Department assessed the fate of the seven British detainees following Grey’s release in October, ‘The Chinese have never suggested a connexion between the remaining British subjects and the Chinese in prison in Hong Kong,’ but had instead revealed to their relatives that ‘they were being held for specific offences against Chinese law and that their cases would be judged on their merits’. Importantly, ‘no attempt has been made to use them as a lever to force concessions over prisoners in Hong Kong’, although Beijing might ‘hang on to some of the remaining prisoners in detention and use them in this way’ in the future.98 The British chargé in Beijing believed that, after the release of the first group of British subjects, London ‘may have to wait a considerable time for any further releases’.99 To the foreign secretary, the government would continue ‘long and patient negotiations with the Chinese, until at last all the captives were set free, unharmed’.100

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Relations beyond the hostage crisis While the question of British ‘hostages’ was the everyday preoccupation of British diplomats and FO/FCO officials, it was by no means the only issue in Anglo-Chinese relations. Nor was Hong Kong ‘the crux of Sino-British relations’, as Beijing repeatedly claimed, in that their interactions had grounded to a halt. In fact, Britain and to a lesser extent China continued to work for improvement on other fronts such as commerce. In 1968 Anglo-Chinese trade was affected by transport disruption caused by the chaos of the Cultural Revolution, China’s foreign exchange shortage and other factors.101 Britain’s exports to China (mainly iron and steel, machinery and scientific equipment) dropped from £38.1 million in 1967 to £28.3 million, but its imports (in all categories except for oil seeds and vegetable oils) increased from £29.6 to £34.3 million. West Germany became China’s biggest trading partner in Western Europe, its exports being twice as large as those of Britain.102 Nevertheless, trade quickly picked up during 1969. The trade figures in the first four months were ‘the best on record’ as a result of China’s increasing demands for Britain’s non-ferrous metals and industrial diamonds. By October, the volume of British exports had jumped to £38 million (albeit due to inflated prices), which topped the total for all of 1967.103 Notwithstanding Mao Zedong’s desire to build a self-sufficient wartime economy during the Cultural Revolution, Zhou Enlai worked to avoid a complete autarkic approach and to keep China’s foreign trade going.104 Economically, Britain and China were both pragmatic powers, which did not allow the hostage crisis to dominate their relationship. During 1968–9, the British government’s attitude towards the PRC was shaped more by significant international developments than by the fate of a dozen British nationals on the mainland. Harold Wilson always approached the China problem from the wider perspective of nuclear proliferation. After China’s successful thermonuclear test in 1967, Wilson saw the urgent need for a non-proliferation treaty, travelling to the United States and the Soviet Union to meet with President Johnson and Premier Kosygin respectively. On 1 July 1968, to Wilson’s delight, some sixty states signed the nuclear non-proliferation treaty. But much to his disappointment, China (and major powers like France and India) was not a signatory. Yet Wilson was of no doubt that the rest of the world should ‘have a duty to make progress’ on disarmament, and that Britain should continue to persuade China to sign the treaty.105 But Britain did not panic about the spectre of an unbounded nuclear China. According to the FO assessment in early 1968, ‘China is and will remain, however,

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a long way behind the Soviet Union and the United States,’ and it was ‘likely to be a very long time before China acquires an assured destruction capability, i.e. the power to retaliate … after surviving a first strike’. Besides, the FO could take comfort from Beijing’s indication of ‘no first use’ of nuclear weapons, while believing that China would be ‘inhibited from risking a military confrontation with the United States’ due to its ‘relative economic and military weakness’.106 One of the Asian hotspots which might provoke a Sino-American confrontation was Vietnam. After the Tet Offensive in January 1968, Johnson had decided to de-escalate the Vietnam War by agreeing to open preliminary peace talks with the North Vietnamese. To London, China would have a key role to play in the peace process. As Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart indicated during the debate on the Queen’s speech on 31 October, Vietnam was ‘not a problem which the United Nations has been able to handle’, one of the reasons being the absence of the PRC from the organization. He thus concluded that the ‘dangers and risks’ of excluding the People’s Republic were ‘greater’ than its inclusion in the United Nations.107 From Mao’s perspective, the most crucial development in 1969 was the SinoSoviet border war.108 To teach the Soviets ‘a bitter lesson’ for the increasing border incidents since late 1968 and to keep the Chinese people on a high state of alert to ‘revisionism’ at home, Mao decided to launch a major, if limited, armed operation. On 2 March, the Chinese border garrisons engaged with the Soviet forces on Zhenbao Island, to be followed by fiercer fighting two weeks later. To Mao’s surprise, in mid-August the Soviets launched a major retaliatory strike on the western side of the border, thus seriously escalating the conflict. Worse still, on 18 August a Soviet Embassy official sounded out a US State Department official about possible American support for a Soviet strike on China’s nuclear facilities – a proposal which Beijing got wind of after Moscow had made similar inquires with its Eastern European allies. Preoccupied with a war scare, Mao intensified preparations for war, focusing on the large-scale relocation of the population and strategic industries from coastal cities and regions to interior provinces. The holding of border talks in October did not lessen Mao’s suspicions of Moscow’s real motives, although the expected Soviet attack did not materialize at last. The British followed the development of the Sino-Soviet border war closely. An early report by the Far East Current Intelligence Group on 11 March, circulated for consideration by the Joint Intelligence Committee, suggested that it was ‘most likely’ that ‘the incident had a local or accidental origin’, and neither

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side intended to ‘extend the conflict’.109 As the border war escalated in August, American intelligence officers revealed to the British that the Soviets were preparing for a ‘surgical strike’ into Xinjiang to take out the nuclear facilities there.110 The British were ‘reliably assured that majority opinion in the CIA thinks this is unlikely’. The FCO realized that there was little Britain could do to influence the Sino-Soviet conflict. Ironically, ‘the continuance of the dispute at its current level short of war’ had been ‘of advantage’ to Britain, according to a FCO paper for consideration by the subcommittee on longer term issues of defence and overseas policy of the Defence and Overseas (Official) Committee. The dispute contributed to the ‘redirection of Chinese trade to the West’, might offer ‘some value in stimulating Soviet/U.S. agreements, e.g. on arms’, and gave the West ‘some limited opportunities to play off one adversary against the other’. When the subcommittee met to consider the FCO paper on 16 December, it was suggested that one additional advantage of the Sino-Soviet dispute for Britain was that ‘the Chinese would be less inclined to take action against Hong Kong’.111 Both the hostage crisis and the Sino-Soviet border war had not weakened the Wilson government’s commitment to China’s admission to the United Nations in the long term. Although describing Grey’s detention as ‘totally unjustified’, Wilson told Parliament in early November 1968 that there was ‘no change at all’ in the government’s position on Chinese representation.112 During the Twenty-third General Assembly debate on 19 November, the British delegation voted in favour of the Albanian resolution on admitting the  PRC and the American-sponsored ‘important question’ resolution. Compared with the 1967 votes, the voting on both the ‘important question’ resolution (which was carried) and the Albanian resolution (which was defeated) ‘moved against Peking’ in 1968 – an outcome that, as the FCO assessed it, ‘the Chinese loss of influence among the Afro-Asian states is largely to blame’.113 In 1969 Britain voted similarly in the United Nations. The Albanian resolution, which was defeated, saw a small swing in China’s favour of four more votes than the previous year. The ‘important question’ resolution was adopted by a majority of twenty-three votes. According to a FCO’s post-mortem, ‘Barring any dramatic change in the situation or American policy, the Chinese will continue to be excluded from the UN for some years to come.’114 It is true that by the close of 1969, China had yet to come out of the Cultural Revolution. But Mao was to intensify his efforts in 1970.

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Mao’s diplomacy of gestures In early 1970, China was engulfed in the purge of the so-called ‘May 16 clique’, or ultra-leftists who conspired to sabotage the Cultural Revolution through extreme behaviour.115 The purge originated in late 1967, when Mao Zedong ordered a thorough investigation of the ‘May 16 clique’ allegedly responsible for the ‘power seizure’ in the MFA and the sacking of the British Mission that summer. In a speech to communist cadres on 24 January 1970, Zhou Enlai, commenting on the ‘May 16 clique’, asserted that the burning of the British Chargé Office in 1967 had ‘violated the diplomatic line of Chairman Mao’.116 Whenever Zhou and Mao condemned the conspiracy of the ‘May 16 clique’ in meetings with party officials and foreign visitors, they mentioned the British case,117 presumably to send a political message to London. Significantly, Mao assumed responsibility for the sacking of the British Mission by ordering Chinese workers to start restoring the burnt-out chancery compound in May. The British were impressed by the ‘rapid progress with the clearing work’ and the ‘excellent co-operation’ of the Chinese.118 China made more goodwill gestures towards Britain in the course of 1970. On the international workers’ day on 1 May, Mao, receiving foreign missions, asked the British chargé to extend his best wishes to the Queen.119 On 12 June, Zhou sent a greeting message to Prime Minister Wilson, congratulating the British people on the occasion of the Queen’s birthday. Zhou wanted to reciprocate Wilson’s message to him on the PRC’s national day in 1969, which was not acknowledged at the time, thus showing China’s eagerness to ‘resume normal diplomatic courtesies’ in 1970.120 On 13 June, Vice Minister Luo Guibo attended the Queen’s birthday party held at the British Chargé Office in Beijing, where toasts were exchanged and the national anthems of the two countries were played.121 As British Chargé John Denson reminded the FCO of the dogmatic and defiant Luo during the ‘hostage’ negotiations back in 1968, Donald Hopson had ‘had some very unpleasant exchanges with [Luo]’, but on the occasion of the Queen’s birthday party Luo ‘was obviously doing his best to be pleasant’.122 In essence, Mao’s diplomacy of gesture towards the British grew out of China’s gradual turn towards Europe in the context of an emerging multipolar world order. In the aftermath of the 1969 Sino-Soviet border war, Mao had decided to ‘play the American card’ against the Soviets by exploring rapprochement with the United States, where President Richard Nixon was also eager to cultivate a new relationship. Nevertheless, by mid-1970 the US ‘incursion’ into Cambodia had damned the prospects for Sino-American rapprochement.123

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With the Soviet Union becoming its principal adversary and the United States still launching ‘wars of aggression’ in Indochina, China increasingly looked to Europe as a strategic and economic partner in the changing Cold War. As early as 1963–4, Mao had identified Western Europe as the ‘second intermediate zone’ between the two superpowers; by the early 1970s, he demonstrated even greater interest in Europe, which could serve as a powerful counterbalance to the Soviet Union.124 In addition to engaging with France and West Germany,125 China attached great importance to Britain in an enlarged EEC. Despite the failure of Britain’s second bid to join the EEC in 1967 (due to President Charles de Gaulle’s veto), by early 1970 Harold Wilson held that the British application remained ‘on the table’. Now that de Gaulle had resigned and the decision on east-of-Suez withdrawal had been made, Wilson realized that Britain’s only hope of playing an international role was Europe. As the leader of the Opposition and the chief negotiator for Britain’s unsuccessful first bid in 1963, Edward Heath passionately supported the EEC project.126 When Heath became prime minister in June, the stage was set for Britain to make the third application to join the Common Market. In short, there was a meeting of minds between the Chinese and British leaders over a strong Europe. Before Britain could join the EEC, Anglo-Chinese economic relations flourished during 1970. An agreement on a direct telephone link between London and Shanghai, which would be able to channel British calls to Beijing and other Chinese cities, was reached.127 A Chinese mission led by the director of the Commanding Department of the Civil Aviation Administration of China attended the Farnborough air show on 3–12 September, during which the Chinese called on the Board of Trade.128 China had lately purchased four secondhand Tridents from Pakistan International Airlines. Following the recent merger of British United Airways and Caledonian, the new British company offered to sell four used Viscount 10s to China, although Beijing finally opted for a similar model from the Soviets instead.129 The British went abroad to search for business opportunities. In October the president of the Sino-British Trade Council, John Keswick, visited China (for the first time since 1967), holding meetings with Chinese officials at the Ministry of Trade, the Bank of China and other trading agencies. He left the country in early November feeling cautiously optimistic about the progress of China’s economy and the prospects for increasing British exports, such as machine tools, ships and aircraft.130 Although the total volumes of trade in 1970 dropped somewhat from a record high in 1969, the British were anxious not to lose out to its European competitors in the China market.131

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The question of Chinese representation in the United Nations held the key to putting Anglo-Chinese relations on a firmer basis. When considering the British voting policy in early September, John Morgan, head of the FCO’s Far Eastern Department, recommended that the British government should not change its vote on the ‘important question’ resolution at the twenty-fifth session of the General Assembly, but should sound out the Americans about their reaction to a change in 1971. The FCO had been encouraged by Nixon’s ‘desire to achieve a more satisfactory relationship with China’, as manifested in, for example, the easing of trade and cultural contacts between the United States and China. (The British had no knowledge of Nixon’s secret pursuit of US-China rapprochement, though.) Nevertheless, Morgan thought that it was ‘too late this year’ to alter the British vote ‘since there would not be time to consult the Americans adequately’.132 When Morgan held preliminary discussion with Alfred Jenkins, director of the State Department’s Asian Communist Affairs, on 22 October, the latter said that a change in US position this year ‘would raise problems’.133 While committed to ending its international isolation in the long term, Foreign Secretary Alec Douglas-Home held that China would ‘probably be quite patient’ about joining the United Nations in 1970. And ‘the unwillingness of a good many countries to vote for [China]’ would be the ‘main stumbling block’ to its entry this year.134 Before the UN debate, the PRC, after long negotiations, had established diplomatic relations with Canada and Italy in October and November, respectively. When the General Assembly voted on the China issue on 20 November, both Canada and Italy shifted from abstention, in the previous year, to support for the Albanian resolution. They, however, stuck to voting in favour of the American-sponsored ‘important question’ resolution. Consequently, the Albanian resolution for the first time reached a simple majority (51-49-25), and China’s admission to the United Nations was only prevented by the adoption of the ‘important question’ resolution (66-52-7). As the FCO assessed the votes, ‘The tide in favour of Peking is gathering momentum and could now be irreversible.’135 Beijing’s propaganda machine lauded that ‘U.S. imperialism’s policy of hostility towards China suffers serious defeat’. The United States, together with ‘a handful of its followers, including the reactionary Sato government of Japan’ (Britain was not mentioned), was criticized for putting up ‘a feeble defence for the draft resolution of an “important question”’.136 Despite their everyday propaganda, the Chinese attitude towards the United Nations had undergone a significant transformation, from condemnation of the United Nations as ‘an instrument of US imperialism’ in the 1950s and 1960s to a strong interest

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in resuming China’s ‘rightful’ seat in the organization (as long as the Chinese Nationalist representative was expelled) by the early 1970s.137 Such a shift was in line with Mao’s reorientation of China’s foreign policy in the changing Cold War. On 25 December 1970, the People’s Daily published on the front page an earlier conversation between Mao and the visiting American journalist, Edgar Snow (Mao’s ‘old friend’ since the Yan’an days), together with a picture of Snow standing side by side with the chairman at the top of the Gate of Heavenly Peace during the national day’s celebration parade. Mao hoped to convey an important message to Nixon: that America and China could become friends just as Snow and himself.138 The process of Sino-American rapprochement in the next two years would have significant ramifications for Anglo-Chinese relations.

Conclusion In the two years or so after the sacking of the British Mission, Britain and China entered into negotiations over the free movement of British nationals on the mainland on the one hand, and the release of Hong Kong riot prisoners on the other. A report by the British chargé in early 1971 best summarized the different categories of British ‘hostages’ and the circumstances under which they were detained. Given Beijing’s ‘extreme sensitivity about the Communist press in Hong Kong’ and the ‘quasi-official status’ of the local NCNA, and the unfortunate fact that Anthony Grey was a journalist, ‘the Chinese pursued a conscious policy of hostage taking in the case of Mr Grey’ in retaliation for the arrests of NCNA and ‘patriotic’ journalists in Hong Kong. But in other cases, ‘British subjects fell foul of the local authorities, particularly in Shanghai, at a disturbed time’, although ‘the Central Government were willing to use the weapon put into their hands to try and force us into concessions in Hong Kong’. Nevertheless, after Grey’s release in October 1969, the Chinese ‘became somewhat disillusioned with the policy and were prepared to make some gestures in the hope we would respond by removing their major problem in Hong Kong’.139 By 1970, it was clear that China wanted to draw a line under the events of 1967, notwithstanding the continued imprisonment of some eighty leftists in Hong Kong. In response to Beijing’s deliberate hostage-taking of Grey (and to a lesser extent of British diplomats), the Wilson government relied on quiet diplomacy and patient negotiation. The primary aim was to restore Anglo-Chinese relations to their pre-1967 footing. Through a step-by-step negotiating approach with minimal publicity and reciprocal gestures, the British diplomats in China sought

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to resolve the hostage problem in a piecemeal fashion. But in Luo Guibo, they found a tough and defiant negotiating partner who claimed that Hong Kong was ‘the crux of the present abnormal relations between Britain and China’. In 1968, when the power struggles and Red Guard fighting intensified in China, Luo (suspected of being the ‘back-stage boss’ of the ‘5 16 clique’) and his MFA colleagues could not afford to be ‘soft’ on Hong Kong during negotiations with the British diplomats. By employing the Cultural Revolution-style rhetoric, the Chinese hoped to exert maximum pressure on the British to release the Hong Kong prisoners. Nevertheless, the Chinese were also pragmatic negotiators, who were willing to make reciprocal gestures towards the British in order to facilitate the negotiations. By the end of 1969, Britain and China had by and large resolved the hostage crisis, thus ‘normalizing’ the confrontation caused by the Hong Kong riots and the sacking of the British Mission. Mao apparently wanted not just a return to pre-1967 relations, but an end to the ‘everyday Cold War’ between China and Britain. In 1970 Mao and Zhou conducted the diplomacy of gestures to signal to Britain their desire for a new relationship. The chairman accepted responsibility for the burning of the British Chargé Office by promising to rebuild it. Significantly, the 1969 SinoSoviet border war had fundamentally transformed Mao’s perceptions of SinoAmerican relations. It also prompted Beijing to reassess Europe’s role in the changing Cold War: a strong and enlarged EEC would help counter the growing Soviet threat to China. The process of Sino-American rapprochement and the determination of Edward Heath, who came to power in June, to take Britain into the EEC provided strong incentives for China to develop full diplomatic relations with Britain.

6

Negotiating Full Diplomatic Relations, 1971–2

Leading the Conservative Party to electoral victory on 18 June 1970, Edward Heath held firm to his belief that Britain’s future lay in Europe, which together with the United States, the Soviet Union, China and Japan constituted one of ‘the five major power centres’ in the world. The ‘most radical development’ in the early 1970s was the emergence of the PRC. Heath was committed to the full normalization of Anglo-Chinese relations for three reasons: to ‘take account of China’s strategic position in the balance of world power’; to pursue ‘Britain’s own economic interests’ in ‘a potential market of major significance’; and to ‘ensure the best possible future for Hong Kong’. At a personal level, Heath, who loved travel and music, found China and its people historically and culturally fascinating. He felt very positive about Mao Zedong, who had ‘the same qualities that [he] had seen in Churchill, Adenauer and Tito’: ‘the ability to go to the heart of the matter’ and ‘to see their policies through to the end’.1 In the long term, Heath would become an ‘old friend’ of China, visiting the PRC numerous times and exchanging views with three generations of Chinese leaders on a wide range of issues.2 The British efforts to establish full diplomatic relations with China3 were complicated by the concurrent process of Sino-American rapprochement under the presidency of Richard Nixon,4 which in turn impacted on AngloAmerican relations. Obsessed with backchannel diplomacy, Nixon and his national security adviser, Henry Kissinger, kept the British in the dark about their China initiative until the delivery of the ‘Nixon shock’ in mid-July 1971. Unsentimental about the Churchillian vision of the ‘special relationship’ forged in the two world wars, Heath preferred to use the term ‘natural relationship’ to characterize the Anglo-American relationship. Determined to take Britain into the EEC, Heath was sensitive to giving France yet another chance to veto the British application on the grounds of preventing America’s ‘Trojan horse’ from entering Europe.5

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Nevertheless, Heath did not regard the EEC membership and the AngloAmerican alliance as mutually exclusive. While believing that an enlarged Europe would allow Britain to continue to play a world role after its military withdrawal from east of Suez, Heath also hoped to utilize the alliance with America to promote British interests.6 What Heath had in mind was to reshape the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ into ‘a US-EC special relationship of equals within the Atlantic Alliance’.7 In the first two years of Heath’s premiership, Anglo-American cooperation continued over a number of areas, such as Britain’s backing of US policy in Vietnam, Nixon’s support for Britain’s application for the EEC, and discussions about the upgrading of Britain’s nuclear deterrent, Polaris, with US assistance. On issues like the US-Soviet détente (where Heath worried about a superpower condominium at the expense of British interests) and Nixon’s new economic policy (the end of the dollar’s convertibility and the imposition of a 10 per cent surcharge on imports), the Anglo-American relationship was strained. On balance, though, the partnership ‘functioned remarkably smoothly’ between 1969 and 1972.8 As far as China was concerned, the (first) ‘Nixon shock’ caused astonishment and resentment within the FCO.9 Yet Heath’s unsentimental attitude towards the ‘special relationship’, indeed, made it easier for him to adjust to Nixon’s secret China initiative: the pragmatic prime minister shared the US president’s strategic objective of normalizing relations with China. Against the backdrop of the changing Cold War in the early 1970s, Britain and China sought to establish full diplomatic relations. This chapter focuses on their long negotiations from 1971 to early 1972,10 and examines how British commercial and colonial interests – the sales of aircraft to China and the future of Hong Kong, respectively – figured in the new Anglo-Chinese relationship.

Negotiating diplomatic relations Two conditions only On 5 February 1971, the Peking Review featured a commentary article on the recent British Commonwealth Prime Ministers’ Conference at Singapore, arguing that although ‘British imperialism has declined’, ‘like a centipede wriggling in the throes of death, it is struggling desperately by relying on U.S. imperialism and the reactionaries of various countries and playing various kinds of tricks and intrigues in an effort to maintain its colonial interests’.11 A little less than a

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month later, the People’s Daily attacked the British Conservative government’s defence and foreign policy as revealed in the ‘1971 White Paper’: Britain ‘openly supported the US imperialists for expanding aggressive war in Indochina’ and announced the retention of ‘a few naval, ground, and air forces in Southeast Asia’, thereby demonstrating that ‘the nature of imperialism’ had ‘not changed’.12 Such was China’s everyday propaganda concerning an ‘old imperialist power’ with which it did not enjoy normal relations. Nevertheless, as Mao justified the continuation of anti-American, anti-imperialist rhetoric despite his search for Sino-American rapprochement, China was merely ‘firing empty cannons’ (fang kongpao).13 By 1971, Mao was of no doubt that improving relations with both the United States and Britain would serve the interests of China in a rapidly changing world. As early as 15 January, the British Parliamentary Undersecretary of State, Anthony Royle, suggested that Britain and China should exchange ambassadors. The new Chinese chargé d’affaires in London, Pei Jianzhang, ‘welcomed the new suggestion to improve and develop relations on the basis of the five principles (of peaceful coexistence)’.14 Indeed, Beijing had made a number of gestures to signal its desire for improved relations, for example, its expressed interest in the Viscount 10 aircraft (although the purchase did not materialize at last)15 and its agreement to a de facto upgrade of diplomatic representation when the title of John Denson was allowed to change from chargé d’affaires ad interim to chargé d’affaires en titre (which, according to diplomatic protocol, ‘signifies that he is the substantive head of mission and not merely acting for someone else who is absent’).16 Most importantly, Zhou Enlai apologized for the burning of the British Chargé Office at the height of the Cultural Revolution. Back in 1970, China had agreed to the rebuilding of the burnt-out compound. After learning that, during the reception to mark the official reopening of the British Chargé Office building on 24 February, none of his diplomatic staff had offered their congratulations or an explanation for the 1967 assault, Zhou requested at short notice to see the British chargé.17 When meeting with Denson on 2 March, Zhou offered his personal apology for the sacking (which was attributable to ‘bad elements’), while agreeing to pay the cost of rebuilding. (With hindsight, Zhou’s apology, made at the ‘pre-negotiation stage’, was intended to create an atmosphere of goodwill and particularly to encourage the British to correct their ‘mistake’ on Taiwan’s status during the upcoming negotiation over diplomatic relations.) On the question of exchanging ambassadors, Zhou said that the ‘main obstacles’ were the British Consulate in Taiwan and London’s voting policy in the United Nations. Referring to the fact that ‘France had gone ahead’ of London

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regarding the establishment of diplomatic relations,18 Zhou asked rhetorically why Britain had no ‘independent foreign policy’ but instead had to ‘follow’ the United States.19 Pei Jianzhang elaborated on the Chinese position in an interview with John Morgan, head of the FCO’s Far Eastern Department, on 17 March. The main obstacles to full diplomatic relations centred on the ‘two questions of principle’ – Britain’s ‘two faced attitude’ to voting in the United Nations and its consulate in Tamsui. If London insisted on its ‘illogical, self-contradictory policy’, the status quo would be maintained. ‘It is not necessary to hold negotiations over the question of ambassadorial upgrade,’ Pei asserted, ‘because the question is already very clear.’20 On 26 March, Pei repeated to Morgan that ‘discussions were not necessary since only 2 obstacles remained to an exchange’.21 The FCO was encouraged by the fact that Zhou and Pei had mentioned only two obstacles, both of which were not difficult to overcome. One of the main functions of the British Consulate in Tamsui was trade promotion. Although the prime minister had indicated that Britain should ‘go ahead with normalising relations with Peking while trying to avoid sacrificing our trade interests in Taiwan’, the Department of Trade and Industry believed that ‘the potential for trade is so great with Peking that this should be over-riding’, while finding ‘no evidence to suggest that the Consulate on Taiwan has facilitated any specific export’. Besides, a naval liaison officer was attached to the Tamsui Consulate, with the aim of gathering intelligence on Chinese communist activities from afar. But while the Ministry of Defence hoped to keep the post so long as the consulate stayed open, it ‘would greatly prefer an opportunity to appoint Service Attachés to Peking with far greater potential’ after the exchange of ambassadors.22 The question of Chinese representation was more complicated, thanks to the necessity of Anglo-American consultation and (despite London’s initial ignorance) the bureaucratic rivalry between the White House and the Department of State. Notwithstanding Heath’s talk of a ‘natural relationship’ between Britain and America, the habit of consultation and cooperation at the bureaucratic level remained undisturbed.23 Foreign Secretary Alec DouglasHome enjoyed a cordial relationship with his American counterpart, William Rogers, while being held in high regard by both Nixon and Kissinger.24 As ‘a great pro-American’, Douglas-Home decided that ‘we had to tell the Americans what we were doing, and not only tell them, but consult them, rather more than simply inform them’.25 However, until mid-July, Nixon and Kissinger kept not only Heath/Douglas-Home but also Rogers in the dark about their secret approaches to Beijing (through the Pakistani channel). In the shadow of

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the domineering Kissinger, Chinese representation was ‘the only piece of the action on China under State Department control’,26 and Rogers was inclined to explore a dual representation formula that would keep the ROC in the General Assembly. Yet Nixon, eager to take into account Beijing’s views, wanted to delay a final decision until the return of Kissinger from his secret visit to China in early July.27 As early as February, the British Embassy in Washington had started consultation with the State Department.28 During the SEATO meeting in London on 27 April, Douglas-Home raised the China issue with Rogers, who said that the administration was examining the US position and would reach a decision within a month. Rogers requested, and Douglas-Home agreed, that Britain delayed an approach to China for a month.29 As the White House had yet to reach a definite decision by early June, the British foreign secretary enquired with his American counterpart during the NATO ministerial meeting in Lisbon. Rogers asked Douglas-Home to delay any action for another two weeks. He hinted that the administration was considering seating the PRC, by majority vote, in the United Nations but requiring a two-thirds vote to secure the expulsion of the ROC, and that the Security Council seat would be discussed separately by concerned members of that council. Douglas-Home replied that, ‘without interfering with approach [America] had in mind’, Britain wanted to inform the Chinese, in about two weeks’ time, that it would not support the Important Question resolution and would close its consulate in Taiwan.30 The Heath government objected to any proposal for dual representation due to Beijing’s adverse reaction.31 On 16 June, the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee approved a memorandum by Douglas-Home, which recommended informing China that Britain no longer intended to support the ‘important question’ resolution or ‘any procedure calculated to delay the seating of Peking in the United Nations’. The emphasis on the latter was ‘now necessary as there has been so much well-informed speculation about Mr Rogers’ thinking … that the Americans are not in any case thinking of proposing the Important Question Resolution this year’.32 On the assumption that Britain would oppose only the ‘important question’ resolution,33 Rogers sent a message to DouglasHome via the US ambassador in London on 17 June to the effect that the United States had no objection to Britain’s proposed action ‘in a way that would not necessarily preclude later support for the kind of resolution that [America] have in mind’.34 The same day, Douglas-Home replied to Rogers that London intended to approach Beijing in five days’ time, and would seek further discussion with Washington.35

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At this juncture, China clarified its position on the upgrade of diplomatic relations with Britain. Accompanied by Morgan, Royle met with Pei about the latest British proposal on 22 June. He read out an aide-memoiré stating that Britain wanted to seek Chinese agreement for John Addis’s appointment as ambassador, and that it would neither support the ‘important question’ resolution nor ‘any procedure calculated to delay the seating of Peking in the United Nations’. In response, Pei enunciated that, when telling Morgan in March that ‘no negotiations were necessary’, he ‘had meant that the questions of principle on both sides were very clear’. He asked – and later repeated his question – whether the phrasing of the aide-memoire meant that ‘the British Government no longer supported or approved any form of 2-Chinas or one China, one Taiwan policy’. Royle ‘confirmed that this was correct’.36 When the State Department learnt of the Royle-Pei conversation via its London Embassy, it was disappointed that the ‘apparent UK statement to PRC that they would not support “a Two China’s proposal” clearly goes beyond’ what Douglas-Home had promised Rogers in his letter of 17 June. Although DouglasHome’s letter ‘had shown UK was strongly inclined not to support our dual representation formula’, its final sentence ‘left further discussion of matter open until after our own decision’. The US Embassy in London was instructed to get the British ‘not to say anything more on this subject’ until the White House had made a final decision. It was feared that in consultation with Commonwealth members such as Canada, the British might have tended to ‘expand’ or shift their position from not supporting ‘any procedure calculated to delay’ China’s seating in the United Nations to not supporting a ‘Two China solution’, thereby ‘influencing at least Canadian position in [a] way disadvantageous to us’.37 In short, Nixon’s secret pursuit of US-China rapprochement had the effect of slowing down a British approach to Beijing.

The first Nixon shock On 9 July, Henry Kissinger, after a cover-up flight from Pakistan, arrived in China and held his first meeting with Zhou Enlai from 4.35 pm up till nearly midnight. Zhou asserted that in normalizing relations with China, the United States ‘must recognize the PRC as the sole legitimate government of China’ and Taiwan as ‘a Chinese province’, and should abrogate the 1954 defence treaty between Washington and Taipei. In response, Kissinger divided the Taiwan question into two parts. Concerning ‘the military situation in Taiwan and the Taiwan Straits’, he stated that the United States would remove two-thirds of its

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armed forces, related to the Vietnam War, from Taiwan after the ending of that conflict, and that the remaining one-third, essential to the defence of Taiwan, would be withdrawn as Sino-American relations improved. As for ‘the political future of Taiwan’, Kissinger opined, ‘we are not advocating a “two Chinas” solution or a “one China, one Taiwan” solution’, and its ‘political evolution’ was ‘likely to be in the direction which Prime Minister Chou En-lai indicated to me’. Zhou said with delight that he was ‘hopeful’ about ‘the prospect for a solution and the establishment of diplomatic relations between our two countries’. Yet the premier was concerned about ‘the so-called Taiwan Independence Movement’, asking Kissinger to clarify the attitude of the US government and particularly the Central Intelligence Agency’s involvement in the escape of Peng Mengmin, a political dissident, from Taiwan to the West. Kissinger replied that the US government ‘would not support’ it, while jokingly saying that the CIA’s abilities had been ‘exaggerated’ by many people who wanted to maintain its ‘bad reputation’.38 Zhou raised the issue because of a series of events relating to the ‘Taiwan Independence Movement’ in 1970: the formation of the World United Formosans for Independence in New York, the granting of a US visa to Peng Meng-min for a teaching position at the University of Michigan, and the assassination attempt, by pro-independence supporters, on Jiang Jingguo during his visit to the United States.39 During their meeting the following day, Zhou asked Kissinger if he could confirm that ‘the Department of State no longer reiterates … that the status of Taiwan is undetermined’. Kissinger replied affirmatively that this ‘was not by accident’. Besides, Kissinger informed Zhou of the US position on Chinese representation: that the admission of China would require only a simple majority but Taiwan’s expulsion would require a two-thirds majority. Zhou said that the Chinese ‘do not consider the matter of reclaiming our seat in the UN as such an urgent matter’, having ‘gone through this for 21 years’.40 The Kissinger-Zhou conversation fundamentally changed the course of Anglo-Chinese negotiations over full diplomatic relations. On the one hand, Kissinger’s ‘private assurances’ over China/Taiwan encouraged the Chinese to demand something similar from Britain. On the other, Zhou and Mao remained sceptical about Kissinger’s ‘private assurances’, given the total secrecy of his visit. During the afternoon session of the talk on 10 July, Zhou proposed to Kissinger that they should ‘record the opinions of each side in a concise way’, although, on Mao’s instructions, he dropped his proposal at the evening session (11.20–11.50 pm) in view of Kissinger’s reservations.41 Taiwan was at the heart of the problem. After hearing from Zhou that the Americans wanted

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to preserve some troops in Taiwan, Mao claimed that they were ‘leaving a tail in the Taiwan question’, adding that the United States was like a ‘monkey’ that ‘has yet to evolve into a human being’ or at least an ‘ape’ with a ‘shorter tail’.42 As far as Britain was concerned, with the concurrent talks with Kissinger in their mind, Mao and Zhou decided that ‘the principles for an exchange of ambassadors should be put into writing in the form of an exchange of notes between the two governments’.43 They entrusted Vice Foreign Minister Qiao Guanhua with the important task of negotiating with the British. Born in 1913 in Yancheng, Jiangsu, Qiao belonged to the generation of quasi-diplomats who had worked closely with Zhou in communist-controlled China during the wartime. Among Chinese diplomats, Qiao was one of the most educated (having studied philosophy at Qinghua University and in Japan and Germany) and talented (especially with regard to his grasp of international issues and his literacy skills), and had been heavily involved in China’s negotiations with foreign powers (from the Korean armistice talks, to the Geneva Conference on Indochina, to the Sino-Soviet border talks in 1969–71).44 As chief negotiator, Qiao could bring his experiences and skills to bear in what would become protracted and difficult talks with the British diplomats in Beijing. At 9.00 pm on July 10 (between the afternoon and evening sessions of the Kissinger-Zhou talks), Qiao summoned the British chargé in Beijing at short notice, submitting a Chinese draft about an exchange of notes between the two governments, the second paragraph of which read: ‘The government of the United Kingdom has decided to remove the official representation of the United Kingdom in China’s Taiwan province on [date of signature].’ The draft also stipulated that the British government recognized Beijing as ‘the sole legal government of China’, supported ‘the restoration of all the rights of the People’s Republic of China in the United Nations, including its right as one of the five permanent members in the Security Council’, opposed ‘any procedure calculated to delay the restoration of the above-mentioned rights’, and called for ‘the expulsion of Chiang’s representation from the United Nations and all its subordinate organisations’.45 In demanding for an exchange of notes, China wanted the British to clarify their ‘ambiguous’ attitude towards Taiwan’s status, lest it would have a ‘negative impact’ on the international community.46 As Pei told Morgan during a tea gathering at the Office of the Chinese Chargé in London on 12 July, he ‘was still not clear about our [British] attitude to Chinese representation in the United Nations and in particular over whether we would support a “2 Chinas” resolution or “1 China/1 Taiwan” resolution’. Neither was he ‘clear about our

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attitude to the status of sovereignty of Taiwan’.47 Being ignorant of Kissinger’s presence in Beijing, Morgan thought that by including the phrase ‘China’s Taiwan province’ in the proposed exchange of notes, the Chinese ‘are in effect posing a third precondition by asking us to change our view that the status of the sovereignty of Taiwan is undetermined’.48 As a matter of fact, the British legal position on Taiwan’s status had been stated publicly at the height of the First Taiwan Strait Crisis in early 1955. The then foreign secretary, Anthony Eden, had told Parliament that the status of Taiwan was ‘undetermined’, for the San Francisco Peace Treaty of 8 September 1951 stipulated that Japan had renounced all rights to Taiwan and the Pescadores, but these territories were not assigned to any other state.49 Totally unaware that Kissinger had conceded the issue of Taiwan’s status to Zhou during their secret conversations, the FCO endeavoured to find a way of getting around the reference to ‘China’s Taiwan province’ in Qiao’s proposed formula. One option was to follow the Canadian precedent in 1970, when Ottawa and Beijing established diplomatic relations.50 The Sino-Canadian Joint Communiqué, signed on October 10 and announced three days later, stated: ‘The Chinese Government reaffirms that Taiwan is an inalienable part of the territory of the People’s Republic of China. The Canadian Government takes note of this position of the Chinese Government (paragraph 2).’51 On 19 July, Denson got an interview with Qiao and handed over the British draft, which stated that the ‘Government of the United Kingdom take note of the position of the Government of the People’s Republic of China that Taiwan is a province of China’.52 Denson (who had a mastery of the Chinese language) said frankly that there was a ‘difficulty over the wording’ of paragraph two of the original Chinese draft since the British government ‘had a public legal position on the status of Taiwan’, which was deemed ‘undetermined’. Burdened by history, Qiao poured cold water on Denson’s ‘take-note’ formula, stressing that ‘relations between the UK and China were of a different nature from those between China and other Western countries eg France, Canada and Italy’. Britain ‘had initiated the theory that the sovereignty of Taiwan was undetermined’, Qiao argued, and had been ‘signatories to the Cairo Declaration and the Potsdam Agreements’. Denson replied that London regarded the Cairo Declaration as ‘a declaration of intent’, and that this declaration, together with the Potsdam Declaration, ‘did not in our view constitute a transfer of sovereignty’ over Taiwan to any state.53 The Chinese, moreover, took pains to emphasize that there was no ‘new’ condition for diplomatic normalization. On 20 July, in London Pei told Royle that ‘the essence of the 2 questions of principle which the Chinese had raised

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[closure of the British Consulate in Taiwan and support for China’s admission to the UN] was the issue of the status of Taiwan’. ‘It could not therefore be argued that the Chinese side had introduced any new elements,’ Pei contended.54 Regardless of Pei’s explanation, by mid-July the British found themselves in an entirely new negotiating environment, thanks to the ‘Nixon shock’. At 7.30 pm (eastern time) on 15 July, in a surprise television broadcast, Nixon announced that Kissinger had visited China, and that he was invited to visit China himself before May 1972 to discuss the normalization of relations.55 A week after the ‘(first) Nixon shock’, Douglas-Home told the Cabinet that the ‘United States authorities had given us no prior warning of this decision’. (The British Embassy in Washington had been informed of Nixon’s announcement about thirty minutes in advance.) His private secretary, John Graham, lamented to Peter Moon in the Downing Street: ‘As far as HMG are concerned, it is legitimate to feel a little hurt that the Americans did not see fit to give us real advance notice of the President’s decision particularly in view of the trouble we have taken to keep the Americans informed of the development in the thinking of our own China policy.’ The only comfort the British could derive from the ‘Nixon shock’ was that ‘the State Department appear to have been unaware of what was afoot, as were we’.56 In a memorandum titled ‘Sino-British relations in the post-Kissinger era’ on 21 July, Morgan made it plain that London was confronted with ‘a clear choice between accepting the 3 words “China’s Province Taiwan” in the exchange of notes or give up our proposal to exchange Ambassadors’. He recommended that for the time being Britain ‘should continue to hold out against this wording although time is not on our side’, a recommendation that was endorsed by his FCO colleagues.57 On 3 August, Douglas-Home informed the Cabinet that the Anglo-Chinese negotiations ‘were making reasonably satisfactory progress’, but they ‘were complicated by the insistence of the Government of the People’s Republic that Taiwan should be described in the relevant Communique as a province of China’.58 The White House finally decided on the US policy regarding Chinese representation in the United Nations. Having ascertained during the KissingerZhou talks that Beijing did not regard the UN seat as an ‘urgent matter’, Nixon gave his formal approval to the dual representation formula proposed by William Rogers. On 22 September, Prime Minister Sato Eisaku announced that Japan would co-sponsor with the United States the ‘complex dual representation resolution’ (with a new recommendation for offering the Security Council seat to the PRC) and the ‘reverse Important Question resolution’ (the expulsion of

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the ROC from the General Assembly was deemed an important question that required a two-thirds majority vote).59 Neither Chiang Kai-shek60 nor Mao looked with favour on any dual representation in the United Nations. Beijing’s propaganda machine lambasted the pro-Taipei Sato for following ‘the conspiracy of US imperialism to create “Two-Chinas”’ and for reviving the ‘ambition of Japanese militarism’ towards ‘China’s Taiwan province’.61 Against the background of the perceived US-Japanese ‘Two Chinas’ conspiracy and the approach of the UN debate on Chinese representation, Beijing made another attempt to break the stalemate of Anglo-Chinese negotiation. On 25 September, Qiao summoned Denson and proposed a Chinese redraft of the exchange of notes. On the controversial paragraph two, Qiao offered two alternatives. The first alternative stated: ‘The Government of the United Kingdom, acknowledging the position of the Chinese Government that Taiwan is a province of the People’s Republic of China, has decided to remove its official representation in Taiwan on (date of signature).’ The second alternative carried the same meaning but with slightly different wording, such as substituting ‘respects’ for ‘acknowledging’. Claiming that ‘neither was consistent with Britain’s position as a signatory of the Cairo and Potsdam Declarations’, Qiao nonetheless suggested that if the British government would agree to give ‘an oral assurance’ that it ‘would no longer promote or support the fallacy that the status of Taiwan was undetermined’, China would accept either of the two alternative drafts. (In this vein, Qiao wanted the British to match Kissinger’s ‘private assurances’ over Taiwan.) On the issue of Chinese representation, Qiao also wanted London to give ‘an oral and private assurance’ that it would vote against ‘the “reverse important question” resolution and any other resolution designed to delay the seating of the Chinese People’s Republic’.62 For the sake of reaching an early agreement, British ministers decided to accept Qiao’s redraft. The contested paragraph two (the first alternative was preferred) was indeed phrased in such a way that Britain could avoid stating its own position on Taiwan by simply ‘acknowledging’ China’s. They saw no objection to giving an oral assurance in private that Britain would not publicly promote the theory that Taiwan’s status was ‘undetermined’. But ministers were adamant about one point: when asked in Parliament, they should be free to say that the long-held British legal position on Taiwan remained unchanged.63 Surely the British took a legalistic approach to the Taiwan question. Nevertheless, they also had political considerations: the wishes of the Taiwanese people. Both Royle and Morgan were open to the idea of recognizing an independent Taiwan: ‘If

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Taiwan were ever to declare itself independent, we might, whether we liked it or not, be obliged to say that the island fulfilled our conditions of recognition.’64 To Douglas-Home, ‘If Formosa was willing to stand for UN membership as Formosa, this would be a different matter.’65 But he was aware that Chiang Kaishek continued to claim that ‘the Government of Taiwan was the legal authority for the whole of China’ and thus ‘had become more and more out of touch with reality’.66 In short, while being sympathetic towards the Taiwan people, the FCO realized that the hypothetical scenario of independence could not possibly be achieved under the circumstances.67 On 5 October, Denson personally assured Qiao that London accepted the Chinese draft of the exchange of notes and would not promote the theory of the ‘undetermined’ status of Taiwan. Denson nonetheless made it clear that the British government should leave itself ‘free to say publicly in answer to questions that there has been no change in our legal position over the status of Taiwan’. In response, Qiao said that ‘the gap between us was much reduced’, and ‘there was now no difference between us on the text of the exchange of notes’.68 (Qiao neither endorsed nor refuted Denson’s last point about the British government’s unchanged legal position on Taiwan.) Qiao asked Denson to put his ‘oral assurance’ (on not promoting Taiwan’s ‘undetermined’ status) into writing, and to send it to the Chinese government.69 The opening of the China debate at the twenty-sixth session of the UN General Assembly created another twist to the Anglo-Chinese negotiation. On the eve of the debate, the UN Headquarters in New York and its environs became a political pilgrimage site for supporters of the ‘Taiwan Independence Movement’ as well as pro-Beijing and pro-Taipei elements. On 18 October, when the debate commenced, in New York City and simultaneously all over the world, ‘groups of Formosans chained themselves together in a dramatic attempt to call the world’s attention to their demand for an independent Formosa free from Chinese control – whether Nationalist or Communist’.70 Beijing was unnerved by any signs of Taiwan’s independence. Both Mao and Zhou attached great importance to personal friendship in negotiation. Between 11.30 pm and 3.15 am on 18–19 October, Zhou granted Malcolm MacDonald, who was making a month-long visit to China, a nearly four-hour interview to communicate an important message to London. (Just two weeks ago, MacDonald’s request to see Zhou had been politely turned down on the grounds of the premier’s busy schedule.) The former British commissioner general for Southeast Asia had visited China several times, becoming ‘one of China’s only 3 friends in the West’ (the other two being American journalist Edgar Snow and Lord Montgomery).71 Zhou wished

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to discuss a certain matter with MacDonald ‘not as a diplomat but a friend’. Significantly, Zhou argued that ‘the Chinese thought that in maintaining that the status of Taiwan was undetermined [Britain] might (a) wish to be free to recognise an “independent” Taiwan which might be set up by the US and Japan after the expulsion of the Nationalists from the UN; (b) [Britain] might fear that if [it] acknowledged China’s sovereignty over Taiwan this would have an effect on the standing of Hong Kong’. But Zhou added immediately that there was ‘no … parallel to be drawn between Taiwan and Hong Kong’. After politely discounting Zhou’s worries on both counts, MacDonald offered ‘his strong personal advice’ to the premier: ‘The Chinese should go ahead on the basis of the [Anglo-Chinese] agreement so far reached,’ for it would have ‘several advantages for China if the announcement were made in the course of the next few days while the UN debate was still in progress’. In response, Zhou, as MacDonald put it, ‘nodded his head in apparent agreement several times as the interpreter translated my arguments’.72 Commenting on MacDonald’s report on his long conversation with Zhou, Denson wrote: ‘The question of independence [of Taiwan] is a matter which is clearly very worrying to the Chinese.’73 In this regard, the Chinese were frustrated with the British. As Zhou revealed to Kissinger during the latter’s second, and public, visit to China on 21 October (which coincided in timing with the UN debate on Chinese representation), ‘The British Government said they themselves would not promote the theory that the status of Taiwan remains undetermined, but would not try to persuade any government.’ ‘But when asked its position,’ Zhou puzzled over, ‘the British Government says its position remains unchanged. So that is very interesting.’ Zhou found it absurd that the British insisted on that ‘reservation’ on the grounds that the Conservative government had stated it in Parliament (in 1955). To Zhou, ‘that is not the only reason because a party is capable of changing its policy’. The real reason, Zhou believed, was that the British ‘think there will certainly be a day when the movement for so-called Taiwan independence will rise up in accordance with the theory that the status remains undetermined’. ‘Of course, first of all Japan advocates that point of view and secondly, they have in mind the United States.’ Zhou asked how Washington saw ‘the theory of the undetermined status of Taiwan’. Kissinger replied that the US government did ‘not maintain that the status in respect is undetermined’, although ‘how this can be expressed is a difficult matter’. He added that the United States was ‘not encouraging any government to maintain the position that the status is undetermined’, and that the ‘British Government’s position is an independent position and not at our encouragement’.74

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The outcome of the UN debate on Chinese representation, if anything, intensified China’s worries about Taiwan’s drift towards de facto independence. On the voting day, 25 October, the reverse ‘important question’ resolution was rejected by a 59–55 vote, with 15 abstentions. As Chiang regarded the Security Council seat and the General Assembly seat as ‘inseparable and indivisible’, the Nationalist representatives walked out of the assembly hall before the final ballot on the Albanian resolution had been cast.75 The Albanian resolution was then passed by an overwhelming majority of forty-one votes (76-35-17): the PRC was admitted to, and the ROC expelled from, the United Nations. (The dual representation resolution was not even put to a vote.) Mao was taken by surprise. Assuming that the dual representation resolution to keep Taiwan in the United Nations would succeed, he had insisted, on the eve of the UN vote, that China would ‘absolutely not board the “two-Chinas pirate ship”’ or ‘not join the United Nations this year’.76 The chairman regarded the restoration of China’s seat in the United Nations and the fall of Lin Biao (who was killed in a plane crash over Mongolia following the exposure of his alleged ‘anti-party plot’) as his ‘two great victories’ in 1971.77 Nevertheless, the expulsion of Taiwan from the United Nations created a new dilemma for Beijing. In a talk with friendly Japanese visitors in early November, Zhou spoke of a ‘counter-current in the world’ which propagated that ‘Taiwan’s status is undetermined’. Zhou warned that at present ‘Chiang Kai-shek cannot use the name of China to join the United Nations’, but independence supporters argued that Taiwan should join the organization by using ‘the name of Taiwan’. This ‘fallacy’, he criticized, had ‘its market in Asia, Africa, Latin America and Europe and around the world’.78 At this critical juncture, on 8 November, Zhou sent a report on the AngloChinese negotiations to Mao, seeking instructions. The report stated that although the British had accepted the Chinese viewpoints about the exchange of notes, on the question of ‘oral assurance’ over Taiwan they ‘still left behind a tail of “Taiwan’s status [as] undetermined”’. It suggested two options for China. The first was that there should be another round of talks, which aimed to force the British to withdraw ‘the tail of Taiwan’s undetermined status’, lest China would ‘delay’ the exchange of ambassadors. The second option, taking into account that the British had already made ‘some concessions’, suggested reaching an agreement with Britain albeit with the ‘reservation’ that China ‘retained the right of response’ to the issue of ‘the tail left behind’ in the future. Zhou was inclined to support the second option. But for Mao, ‘the British [were] unreasonable’, and China should ‘delay [an agreement] for several years’.79 In the chairman’s eyes, the principle of China’s sovereignty over Taiwan was non-negotiable.

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To exert pressure on the Heath government, Zhou made use of another ‘foreign friend’ – British writer Neville Maxwell – to convey a crystal-clear message about Taiwan. On 19 November, they had a long conversation on various subjects, which was allowed to be published in the Sunday Times. By insisting on its so-called legal view on Taiwan in response to Parliamentary questions, Zhou asserted, Britain ‘wants to leave a tail behind, so that it may recognize Taiwan if ever Taiwan should declare “independence”’. ‘I must criticize the traditional British policy,’ Zhou continued, as it ‘always leaves a tail behind wherever it goes’, for example in ‘Kashmir, East and West Bengal, as well as East and West Punjab’. In order to make his arguments more persuasive, Zhou brought up the 1967 sacking of the British Mission. Zhou said that the Chinese ‘dare to admit [their] mistakes’: he had personally apologized for the burning of the British Chargé Office and agreed to rebuild, at China’s costs, the destroyed compound. Without a doubt, the British diplomats got Zhou’s message: ‘If ambassadors are to be exchanged between China and Britain, Britain must chop off that tail (the publicly expressed reservation that the status of Taiwan remains to be determined).’80

Final rounds Concerned about the progress of Anglo-Chinese negotiations, in late November Edward Heath asked Douglas-Home to circulate a paper to the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee, ‘setting out the position reached, with the pros and cons of conceding on the Taiwan point and the possible degrees of concession’.81 Completed on 31 December, Douglas-Home recommended making ‘a further effort to reach agreement with the Chinese on the basis of a compromise formula’. On Taiwan’s status, the formula for the exchange of notes followed the wording suggested by Qiao back in September: ‘The Government of the United Kingdom, acknowledging the position of the Chinese Government that Taiwan is a province of the People’s Republic of China, have decided to remove their official representation from Taiwan on …’ However, the exchange of notes would be supplemented by a British oral statement in the event of queries in Parliament, which read: Both the Government of the People’s Republic of China and the authorities in Taiwan maintain that Taiwan is a part of China. We held the view both at Cairo and at Potsdam that sovereignty over Taiwan should revert to China. That view has not changed but we think that it is for the Chinese people themselves to settle this matter. [emphasis added]

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To Douglas-Home, the ‘supplementary’ formula was ‘legally acceptable’ since it ‘does not commit us on the present status of Taiwan’ and ‘avoids the phrase “sovereignty … is undetermined” to which the Chinese have taken exception’. On the other hand, it was ‘sufficiently clear for us to stand on its terms without further elaboration’.82 On 13 January 1972, Heath gave his general approval to the memorandum, but reminded Cabinet ministers that the timing of a further approach to China should be kept in line with his recent exchanges with Nixon at Bermuda.83 The Bermuda summit of 20–21 December witnessed the efforts by both Nixon and Heath to restore the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ damaged by the two ‘Nixon shocks’. Heath had been saddened by Nixon’s secret policymaking, but his pragmatism eventually got the better of him. Heath and Douglas-Home were cool-headed enough to conclude that what mattered most to Britain was to bring Communist China into the family of nations as soon as possible. Unlike Taiwan or Japan, both of which were deeply concerned about its security implications, Britain shared Nixon’s strategic objective of normalizing relations with China. Unlike Nixon’s obsession with the symbolism of being the first Western leader to visit Communist China, Heath saw Anglo-Chinese normalization as a serious initiative with little fanfare, so much so that he could afford to wait for the dust of the presidential party to settle in China.84 Thus, it ‘was agreed at Bermuda that [Britain] should not settle matters with the Chinese before President Nixon’s visit’ to China.85 On 4 February, John Addis, the newly arrived British chargé d’affaires in Beijing, sounded Qiao out about the texts of the new British formula, stressing that ‘the difference between us had been narrowed down to the text of a supplementary oral statement to be used by the British Government in Parliament and elsewhere in answer to questions about our position on Taiwan and to one phrase in that statement’.86 A ‘most experienced diplomatist’ in Beijing’s eyes,87 Addis had served in China twice (1947 and 1954–7) and was formerly ambassador to Laos and the Philippines. He and the equally experienced Qiao were now involved in the final phase of negotiation. Two weeks later, Qiao summoned Addis at short notice. Claiming that the proposed British oral statement ‘could easily lead to misconceptions’, Qiao proposed a Chinese redraft: We held the view both at Cairo and at Potsdam that Taiwan should be restored to China. That view has not changed. We think that the Taiwan question is China’s internal affair and it is for the Chinese people themselves to settle it. [emphasis added]

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Qiao underscored the need to add the clause that ‘the Taiwan question is China’s internal affair’: if the British ‘said that the question of Taiwan is for the Chinese people to decide’, then ‘it necessarily and logically followed that the question of Taiwan was China’s internal affair’. Yet Qiao emphasized that ‘the Chinese Government had no intention of embarrassing us [the British]’, while believing that ‘the gap between us had been narrowed down’.88 Addis advised the FCO to accept Qiao’s redraft, arguing that ‘it seems significant that they have given us a chance to reach an agreement before the Nixon visit’. However, the FCO found the Chinese formula ‘all acceptable except for the one word “internal”’. From the perspective of its legal advisers, the phrase implied that Britain recognized that sovereignty over Taiwan rested with China.89 On 19 February, on the FCO’s instructions, Addis proposed to Qiao that Britain would accept ‘China’s affair’ without the word ‘internal’, whose meaning ‘would be practically the same as “China’s internal affair” but would avoid the strictly legal implication’. Although unconvinced of Addis’ proposal, Qiao sincerely offered his ‘personal impressions’. In his dealings with ‘British friends’, such as Trevelyan, Denson and MacDonald, Qiao said that ‘he had always been perplexed why it should be that the British Government should insist so hard on a so-called legal position on a question which was so easy to resolve’. As the phrase ‘the Taiwan question was China’s internal affair’ implied that ‘interference of foreign countries would not be permissible’, the British refusal to use it ‘obliged the Chinese to reflect why we were so insistent on this point’. ‘As a student of logic, but never of law’, Qiao asserted that ‘on the basis of stated facts and reason, [the British] stand was untenable’. To Qiao, Sino-British relations ‘should be put on a clear-cut and unambiguous basis’, and the Heath government should not allow ‘the lawyers’ to dictate its policy.90 Being ‘trained as a logician and not a jurist’ himself, Addis had ‘a great deal of sympathy with [Qiao’s] position’: ‘If the Taiwan question is for the Chinese people themselves to settle surely it is also China’s internal affair?’91 To avoid an indefinite postponement of the exchange of ambassadors, Morgan suggested that, instead of ‘translating the Chinese version of the key sentence as 2 propositions’, it ‘can equally well be put as one’ – ‘We think that the Taiwan question is China’s internal affair to be settled by the Chinese people themselves.’ ‘This slight variation’, Morgan believed, ‘makes it easier for us to argue that the significance we attach to the words “China’s internal affair” must be seen in the context of the sentence as a whole as meaning no more than that we regard the question as one to be settled by the Chinese people themselves.’92 Nevertheless, any further move

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had to await the completion of Nixon’s historic trip to China, in accordance with the Nixon-Heath understanding at Bermuda. Arriving in China on 21 February, Nixon and Kissinger spent ‘a week that changed the world’, culminating in the Sino-American rapprochement (if not yet Washington’s diplomatic recognition of the PRC). Eager to develop full diplomatic relations with China, Heath instructed the FCO to ‘settle this matter “directly after” President Nixon’s visit to China’.93 With the dust of Nixon’s visit settled, China did not see any advantage in delaying an agreement with Britain. On 4 March, Addis proposed to Qiao the new British oral statement in the event of Parliamentary questions. Qiao said that he did not think the revised rendering of the last sentence ‘made any difference’ to the Chinese formula. He asked Addis to write him a private letter assuring that the British government would ‘not promote’ the theory of the ‘undetermined’ status of Taiwan.94 Two days later, Qiao came back to Addis, confirming that they could proceed to the signing of a joint communiqué (rather than an exchange of notes) in Beijing.95 At 4.00 pm on 13 March, in Beijing Qiao and Addis signed copies of the joint communiqué in English and Chinese. (Privately, Addis handed over the text of the British assurance over Taiwan’s status, and Qiao gave his letter of acknowledgement.)96 Accordingly, the British and Chinese governments decided to raise their respective diplomatic representatives in each other’s capitals to ambassadorial level as from the 13th. Britain recognized the government of the PRC as ‘the sole legal government of China’ and ‘decided to remove their official representation in Taiwan’ on the same day.97 To capture the crowning moment of Anglo-Chinese normalization, the Chinese waived diplomatic protocol by treating Addis as ambassador straight away and, in the evening, by according him the honour of the customary dinner in the Government Guest House.98 For its part, the FCO asked Addis to forward a message from Heath to Zhou (delivered on 14 March): ‘Your Excellency, The agreement which our two governments have now reached to exchange ambassadors is a source of great pleasure to me. I look forward to the further development of good relations between our two countries.’99 In the House of Commons, Douglas-Home made an announcement about the exchange of ambassadors. Denis Healey (Leeds, East), the former Labour government’s defence secretary, asked what had been the most contested issue in the Anglo-Chinese negotiations: ‘Do the Government maintain the position taken by the British Government at the Cairo conference that Taiwan is part of China?’ Douglas-Home replied in line with the oral statement agreed with the Chinese. Indeed, before the foreign secretary answered his question on Taiwan,

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Healey had also asked whether Douglas-Home planned to visit China in the near future and whether he would ‘consider urgently the possibility of sending an official trade mission to China’. Another Labour MP, Tam Dalyell (West Lothian), asked about the possibility of British Overseas Airways Corporation establishing a direct air route to Beijing. Among the Conservatives, Dennis Walters (Westbury) stressed ‘the need to give maximum support to British industry as soon as possible in its endeavours to enter the Chinese market before the United States, whose foreign policy has been so infinitely more dilatory than ours, moves in’.100 Clearly, British MPs on both sides of the House were more interested in developing economic relations with the PRC than in the political future of Taiwan. It is necessary to examine how economic concerns shaped the evolving Anglo-Chinese relationship in 1971–2.

Negotiating aircraft sales On 29 April 1971, when the negotiation over the exchange of ambassadors had just started, John Denson cabled a detailed review of the prospects of trading with China to the FCO. Although the Chinese economy ‘entered a new period of growth’, Denson noted that British exports to China had fallen from about £54 million in 1969 to £45 million the following year. While acknowledging that the 1969 figures had been inflated by a sudden increase in the Chinese buying of non-ferrous metals and industrial diamonds, he attributed the decrease in British exports to, among other factors, China’s foreign currency shortage and intensifying competition from the Japanese (through ‘friendly trade’ and ‘memorandum trade’ with China), the French, the Canadians and the Italians (all of which had formal diplomatic relations with the PRC), and even the Americans (who were eager to open the China market). To Denson, Britain enjoyed certain advantages over its rivals – the professional expertise of the Sino-British Trade Council and the City’s banking and financial services, for example – but also disadvantages like differences with China over major policy issues. He outlined a number of recommendations for increasing AngloChinese trade, such as more effective presentation by British exporters of their products, an increase in the strength of the British commercial staff in Beijing, and visits to China by a minister from the Department of Trade and Industry.101 The head of the FCO’s Far Eastern Department, John Morgan, was in agreement with the general thesis and recommendations of Denson. Acknowledging ‘the

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undesirability of accepting too gloomy a view of China’s economic prospects’, Morgan noted that ‘there were no signs 18 months ago that the Chinese would be willing to buy Western aircraft’.102 True, the sales of British aircraft and aviation equipment to China were lucrative businesses, which could compensate somewhat for a marked drop in the export of other British goods.103 Nevertheless, aircraft sales involved protracted and complex negotiations for both commercial and strategic reasons. Back in March 1970, the then Labour government had decided to authorize the sale to China of any British civil aircraft, with the exception of the Viscount 10 (VC-10) and the Super Viscount 10, subject to COCOM and US approval where necessary (as some equipment of these aircraft, if not the aircraft themselves, fell under the COCOM strategic embargo). But by November of that year, the British government, now under Heath’s Conservative Party, approved the sale of four used VC-10s, after having taken into account Beijing’s recent purchase of four second-hand Tridents from Pakistan International Airlines (to which the United States did not object) and the Russian offer of the IL-62 aircraft to China (which helped undermine the strategic argument of denying Beijing of advanced aircraft).104 Instead of purchasing the ‘used VC-10’, the Chinese chose the Russian model. As a FCO note for the subcommittee on strategic exports of the Defence and Overseas Policy (Official) Committee stated, ‘It is conceivable that the purpose of the Chinese enquiry about VC-10’s was only to compare details of performance, price and delivery with those of the IL-62, and possibly to help force the Russians’ hand.’105 Having missed out on the VC-10 deal, the British were determined to sell another aircraft type, the Trident, to China. The Chinese had expressed interest in the Trident at the Farnborough Air Show in September 1970. By that time, the CAAC ran a fleet of 423 civil aircraft, many of which were Russian models requiring replacement soon, and operated only regular international routes to Irkutsk (Russian Siberia), Rangoon, Hanoi and Pyongyang.106 On 3 March 1971, a seven-man delegation of Hawker Siddeley/ Rolls Royce headed by J. A. Johnstone (an executive director of Hawker Siddeley) arrived in Beijing to begin what would become a six-month-long negotiation.107 The Chinese negotiating team was led by the deputy managing director of the Machinery Import Department of the China Machinery Import and Export Corporation and consisted of representatives from the CAAC.108 From the outset, the negotiation was conducted in a businesslike manner, focusing on technical detail (such as performance, price and delivery) with few political utterances or intervention of CAAC officialdom.109 On 1 April, the Chinese formally proposed to purchase six Trident 2E aircraft with appropriate spares,

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and hoped to conclude the negotiations as speedy as possible.110 To Johnstone, the successful outcome of the negotiations depended upon three factors – price (the lowest price per aircraft which Hawker Siddeley could offer would be about £3.1 million); credit terms (the Export Credits Guarantee Department had agreed to provide cover for 70 per cent of the contract value, while Hawker Siddeley asked for 100 per cent cover); and the navigational equipment with which the Tridents were fitted (which presented the ‘chief difficulty’ due to possible COCOM and American objection).111 Although the Tridents were not themselves within the COCOM embargo list, they included five items of communications and navigational equipment that were embargoed. Nevertheless, to the FCO, the transponder, radio altimeter, doppler and transmitters in question were all ‘not of the latest design’,112 and thus would not pose as great a strategic risk as Washington might have feared. On 21 June, the British Embassy presented an aide mémoire to the State Department, urgently requesting the withdrawal of US objection to the Trident sale in the COCOM meeting. The aide mémoire highlighted that China intended to use the Tridents ‘for civil air services’. Besides, the embargoed equipment for the six Tridents were all ‘standard items of navigational and communications equipment which are in normal civil use in the West’, and their total value represented about ‘2% of the value of the complete order’. Although Britain did ‘not of course rule out some use of the aircraft for transporting military VIPs’, it had ‘no evidence to suggest that the reported military use of the existing Chinese fleet of four second-hand Tridents [purchased from the Pakistanis] is anything more sinister than VIP passenger-carrying and pilot training’. Thus, the British government was ‘satisfied that the sale involved no strategic risk’. The Departments of State and Commerce accepted the strategic and commercial arguments of the British. Undersecretary of State John N. Irwin II tried to persuade his counterpart in the Department of Defence: ‘Because of the economic and political importance which the British Government attaches to the proposed export, we are convinced that the strategic reservations we may still have are marginal in relation to the potential damage in terms of our overall relations if we continue to block the transaction particularly during this period of difficulty for British industry.’113 On 20 July, having finally got the Pentagon on board, the State Department instructed the US delegation to COCOM to withdraw its objections to the Trident sale.114 By that time, the British and Chinese had agreed on the price of the six Tridents, at £2.86 million each, with no provision for escalation of costs.115 After further negotiations, on 23 August the two sides signed a contract on the delivery to China of six Trident 2Es over the next two years, worth £20

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million (with a further £5 million in the offing for engine spares). To the British chargé in Beijing, the sale represented ‘a major break-through in our trade relations with the Chinese’.116 The head of the FCO’s Far Eastern Department believed that ‘the Tridents were regarded by [the Chinese] as a means of testing our willingness to supply modern technology’.117 It must be pointed out that the Trident deal was struck at a time when the negotiations over the exchange of ambassadors were going nowhere. Meanwhile, the British continued to explore business opportunities with the Chinese. The British Aircraft Corporation and its French partner, Aerospatiale, were anxious to sell Concorde, a supersonic long-range aircraft which was still under development in the early 1970s, to China. Aerospatiale had initiated exploratory discussions with the Chinese during the Paris Air Show in June 1971. Between August and October, representatives of Aerospatiale (who took the lead) and the British Aircraft Corporation held formal negotiations with the Chinese with the aim of reaching an option agreement.118 But the British government’s insistence that any option agreement should be ‘drafted in very general terms’ with ‘no reference to specific equipment’ and be ‘followed by Government approval’119 resulted in the breakdown of the negotiations. The Concorde project was vital to the British aviation industry, but it also presented serious challenges to the Heath government. First of all, the prime minister appeared to link the Concorde with Britain’s bid to join the EEC, for ‘one way of persuading the French that the British had become good Europeans was by espousing international projects which would bind the two countries more closely together’.120 Given the importance the French attached to the project, President Pompidou expected Heath to make ‘a much more active campaign to promote Concorde’.121 Second, Heath was concerned about the ever-increasing development costs of Concorde, from an initial estimate of £150–170 million in 1962 to an estimated £800 million in 1970, and to £970 million by April 1972. There had been talk of withdrawing financially from the joint project, although Heath eventually confirmed the British commitment.122 Finally, as Concorde contained advanced electronic equipment, some of which were of US origin and subject to COCOM control, the strategic aspect of the sale required careful consideration. The assistant secretary responsible for Concorde affairs at the Department of Trade and Industry was acutely aware that ‘we must avoid offending the US Administration unnecessarily since the latter’s co-operation will be critical to getting Concorde accepted in their market’.123 In May–June 1972, the subcommittee on strategic exports of the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee considered, and endorsed, a memorandum by

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the Department of Trade and Industry, which recommended that the British government should take steps to encourage the sale of Concorde to China and to make a joint approach with the French to keep America and other COCOM partners informed of the latest developments. A report by the Joint Intelligence Committee about the strategic, technological and political implications of the Concorde sale had concluded that the addition of three Concordes to China’s probable military transport capability in 1976–7 (the expected delivery dates) ‘would not make a significant difference to their overall airlift potential’. On the other hand, the sale of three Concordes would add some £42 million to Britain’s foreign exchange earnings, and would mean an ‘important breakthrough’ in the marketing of Concorde to other airlines.124 After the third round of COCOM list review between October 1971 and 6 June 1972, there were significant relaxations in the embargo on civil aircraft (under the Industrial List), but not in the case of military aircraft (under the Munitions List).125 The British saw the COCOM relaxations as a green light to the export of Concorde to China. After lengthy negotiations, in July and August the Chinese signed letters of intent for three Concordes – two of which were to be supplied from Aerospatiale’s assembly line in France, and one from the British Aircraft Corporation’s line.126 As China needed more civil aircraft for its domestic and planned international routes, Beijing placed orders for twenty Tridents from Hawker Siddeley.127 Between 29 October and 2 November, Foreign Secretary Alec Douglas-Home made an official visit to China with a view to ‘consolidating and building on the improved Sino-British relations resulting from the exchange of ambassadors’.128 During his meeting with Douglas-Home, Zhou Enlai ‘volunteered considerable interest in the VC 10’.129 Two weeks later, when visiting the United Kingdom, Vice Foreign Minister Qiao Guanhua wondered why the British government had not pursued the VC-10 sale.130 For both Douglas-Home and Michael Heseltine, minister for aerospace, China’s purchase of possibly twenty VC-10s, worth almost £140 million, would allow the reopening of the VC-10 production line. What is more, they were aware that the Chinese had approached Hawker Siddeley about the possibility of buying its military aircraft, the Harrier.131 A December report by the subcommittee on strategic exports for ministerial consideration examined the prospects and problems of selling various aircraft and engines to China: ‘These offer highly significant commercial opportunities but raise basic questions in regard to our attitude to the export to Communist countries of sophisticated and strategically significant technological equipment, our relations with the United States and other allies, and our view of China’s development over the next 10

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years.’ Concerning the sale of Harriers ‘in large numbers’ (perhaps as many as two hundred), the subcommittee’s report noted that despite the ‘commercial and industrial advantages’ involved, there were ‘major political difficulties and certain security objections’. It recommended that the chairman of Hawker Siddeley should be informed in strict confidence that the British government was ‘not in a position to give an early answer on the Harrier proposal’, but that ‘all the implications are being studied with the greatest urgency’ and in consultation with the United States. As for VC-10s, ministers were asked to draw a ‘distinction’ between ‘direct sales’ and ‘local manufacture’. Specifically, they should authorize the ‘direct sales’ to China of VC-10s on the one hand, and, on the other hand, secure the US agreement in principle to assist the Chinese in the ‘local manufacture’ of VC-10s and associated engines.132 Such a distinction highlighted the fact that by 1972 Anglo-Chinese economic relations had gone beyond pure trade to include technological cooperation. In his China review for the year 1972, Ambassador Addis wrote: ‘At present the United Kingdom provides the only alternative for long-distance aircraft, even if at a greater price. This is a major opportunity for British industry which can have important effects over the next one or two decades.’133 The commercial prospects looked very bright for the British aviation industry indeed.134

Negotiating Hong Kong’s future? There was an outstanding issue in the new Anglo-Chinese relationship – Hong Kong. The British acquisition of this once ‘barren rock’ had kicked off China’s ‘century of humiliation’. At a time when the United Kingdom was relinquishing its empire and gradually embracing Europe, Hong Kong’s relations with its sovereign had been undergoing significant changes, resembling ‘decolonization’ of sorts. As a major holder of sterling balances and a regional hub for British trade, Hong Kong was regarded by London as a colony too valuable to be abandoned voluntarily in the 1950s and 1960s. But, on the other hand, Hong Kong was deemed militarily indefensible and constitutionally ‘awkward’. As early as the mid-1950s, the Ministry of Defence had concluded that Hong Kong was ‘indefensible’ in the event of a major Chinese attack. It was mainly due to Hong Kong’s annual defence contribution that the decision to withdraw all British forces east of Suez by the end of 1971 did not apply to this Far Eastern outpost. Constitutionally, Hong Kong, partly ceded in perpetuity to the United Kingdom and partly obtained under a ninety-nine year lease, saw no prospects

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for self-government, let alone independence. By the late 1960s, Hong Kong had achieved enormous financial and administrative autonomy from London, partly due to its growing prosperity (and Britain’s relative economic decline) and partly as a result of its increased frictions with Whitehall over such issues as textile exports, defence contribution and sterling reserves. Against this backdrop, when large-scale leftist riots broke out in 1967, British ministers and officials pessimistically contemplated Hong Kong’s future, and decided to undertake a study of long-term policy towards Hong Kong.135 Completed on 28 March 1969 (when the 1967 riots had long been supressed), the final version of the study recommended that ‘Hong Kong’s future must eventually lie in China’, and that ‘our objective must be to attempt to negotiate its return, at a favourable opportunity, on the best terms obtainable for its people and for our material interests there’.136 In the course of 1970, the FCO produced two more papers on Hong Kong’s future. Although the tone of the papers was less pessimistic than that of the 1969 study, their main thrust remained that Britain should be prepared to raise the Hong Kong question with a suitable Chinese government and under a suitable climate in Anglo-Chinese relations.137 China, however, had no intention of reclaiming Hong Kong prematurely: Mao’s policy of ‘long-term planning and full utilization’ since the 1950s remained unchanged. During the negotiations over diplomatic relations in 1971–2, the Chinese, at no point, brought up the issue of Hong Kong’s political future. Rather, they were eager to signal to the British that Hong Kong’s status quo would be maintained. In the course of a private conversation in mid-October, Zhou Enlai told Malcolm MacDonald that China had ‘no intention of seeking to get Hong Kong back until the expiry of the New Territories lease’.138 Taking into account Zhou’s comment and previous Chinese remarks, on 13 December Alec Douglas-Home prepared a memorandum on Hong Kong for consideration by the Cabinet Defence and Overseas Policy Committee. The memorandum estimated that ‘negotiation with China about Hong Kong will probably be impossible while Mao Tse-tung lives, and may not be possible even after his death’. Rejecting the option of either maintaining the status quo or preparing a voluntary and negotiated withdrawal, Douglas-Home proposed that Britain should ‘maintain the status quo, and take preliminary informal soundings with Peking nearer 1997’ with a view to securing an indication from the Chinese that they would either ‘not interfere with the present arrangements after 1997’ or ‘agree to negotiate new terms for a lease’. If that failed, Britain should focus on ‘negotiating an orderly withdrawal in 1997’.139 In early January

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1972, Edward Heath approved the paper, and demanded an annual review of Hong Kong’s situation.140 While not challenging its colonial status for the time being, Beijing wanted to ensure that Hong Kong would not go down the path of independence at a time when Heath’s Britain had chosen Europe over empire. Following China’s admission to the United Nations, on 8 March Huang Hua, China’s permanent UN representative, wrote to the UN Committee on Decolonization, requesting that Hong Kong and Macao be removed from the category of colonial territories under the committee’s terms of reference. Beijing aimed to put on record in the United Nations its position that Hong Kong’s future lay in ‘reunification with the mainland’, not ‘independence’. (On 8 November, the UN General Assembly overwhelmingly adopted the committee’s resolution endorsing Huang’s request.)141 Shortly afterwards, on 13 March Britain and China reached an agreement on the exchange of ambassadors. During his official visit to China (mentioned earlier), Douglas-Home had ‘a long and interesting talk’ with Zhou on 1 November, touching upon the issue of Hong Kong. Zhou reassured Douglas-Home that ‘the Chinese would not make any sudden move and wanted to deal with the question by negotiation at the right time’. But he said that China ‘attaches great importance to having an official Chinese representative in Hong Kong and matters like improved communications with the colony, possibly an air services agreement of value both to us and the colony are likely to be held up unless we concede this’. Asked what the functions of this official representative would be, Zhou ‘said very firmly that he did not want to set up an alternative source of authority to the governor’. Douglas-Home replied that he would discuss it with the Hong Kong governor (who was sceptical about the Chinese proposal, which had been made on several occasions in the past). Moreover, Zhou raised another outstanding issue in Sino-British relations. He undertook to release the three remaining British subjects detained in China (David Crook, Michael Shapiro and Elsie Epstein), but added that China was ‘awaiting some further move by us over the confrontation prisoners in Hong Kong’142 (seventeen in total, twelve of whom were due for release in the normal way in 1973 and 1974, but five had longer sentences including two life sentences). Douglas-Home promised to review the issue with the Hong Kong governor. Notwithstanding the remaining problems, Hong Kong could not stand in the way of the new Anglo-Chinese relationship. By the end of 1973, the Hong Kong governor finally released the last of the riot prisoners, following the release of the three British detainees on the mainland early in the year. On the question

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of a Chinese representative in Hong Kong, the British refused to yield, and the Chinese would raise it again in subsequent years.143 Nevertheless, Hong Kong ceased to be a contentious issue in Anglo-Chinese interactions until the early 1980s, when the approach of 1997 necessitated discussions of its future.

Conclusion The Anglo-Chinese negotiations over the exchange of ambassadors were protracted and complex, thanks to the concurrent process of Sino-American rapprochement. Yet they were also characterized by cordiality, pragmatism and frankness on both sides. Until the ‘Nixon shock’ in mid-July, the British estimated that there were only two obstacles to an agreement – the closure of the Tamsui Consulate and nonsupport for the ‘important question’ resolution – both of which were not difficult to overcome. After Kissinger had given his ‘private assurances’ on Taiwan during his secret conversations with Zhou, Qiao Guanhua adjusted his negotiating tactic by similarly asking the British to recognize China’s sovereignty over Taiwan in the form of an exchange of notes and to reassure privately that London no longer promoted the theory of Taiwan’s ‘undetermined’ status. Regardless of whether the Chinese had deliberately avoided the contentious issue of Taiwan’s status until after Kissinger’s visit144 or the British had got ‘lost in translation’ during the preliminary exchanges with Pei Jianzhang,145 the FCO regarded Qiao’s demands as a new precondition for diplomatic normalization, contradictory to the long-held British legal position on Taiwan. Nevertheless, the stalemate in the negotiations was gradually overcome by the persistent efforts of both sides. An experienced and most talented diplomat, Qiao Guanhua relied on persuasion, logic reasoning and sincerity in negotiating with the British. (This was in stark contrast to Luo Guibo, famous for his Cultural Revolution rhetoric, during the negotiations over British ‘hostages’ in 1968–9.) Although not being directly involved in face-to-face talks with the British, Mao and Zhou were undoubtedly the chief architects of Qiao’s negotiating approach, given the linkage between the Sino-British and Sino-American talks. The ideologically motivated Mao did not hide his admiration for ‘rightists’, be they Nixon (and the Republicans) or Heath (and the Conservatives).146 At critical junctures, Zhou intervened in the negotiations by communicating important messages to London via his ‘British friends’. Through MacDonald and Maxwell, Zhou hoped to persuade the British government to correct the mistake of

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‘leaving a tail’ in Taiwan, just as he had apologized to Denson for the sacking of the British Mission at the ‘pre-negotiation’ stage. The Heath government adopted a pragmatic, low-key approach to negotiation. Denson, who mastered the Chinese language, and Addis, who was very experienced, were both well-qualified to engage in tough talks with Qiao and other Chinese diplomats. Above all, Heath was committed to improving political and economic relations with the PRC. It was his firm belief that Britain’s future lay not only in Europe, but also in the integration of China in the emerging multipolar world order. Despite the ‘Nixon shock’, Heath and Douglas-Home were cool-headed enough to continue the habit of Anglo-American consultation, as manifested in the Bermuda summit during which Heath agreed to delay an approach to the Chinese until after Nixon’s historic trip to China. Ultimately, it was the long-held British legal position on Taiwan’s status that prevented an early exchange of ambassadors until March 1972. In this regard, the British refusal to yield to, or ‘appease’, China until the end stood in marked contrast to the manner in which Kissinger and Nixon ‘verbally kowtowed’ to Chairman Mao in order to ensure the success of Sino-American rapprochement. For all the controversies over Taiwan’s status, the atmosphere of the meetings between the British and Chinese diplomats had been cordial and businesslike from the outset. Despite the twists and turns in the negotiations over ambassadorial exchange, the British had no problems striking lucrative deals with the Chinese over the sales of civil aircraft. All this showed that China was willing to separate economics from politics in its dealing with Britain. The ‘everyday Cold War’ was no longer necessary in the age of rapprochement and normalization.

Conclusion

Negotiating the ‘everyday Cold War’ In January 1950, the British government accorded diplomatic recognition to the newly founded PRC, seeing it as the first step to establishing diplomatic relations. Mao Zedong, however, insisted on the opening of ‘negotiation’, which, like ‘war’, was regarded as ‘a form of protracted and sharp struggle’.1 From 1950 to 1972, the British and the Chinese were involved in formal, face-toface talks on diplomatic normalization on three occasions. Meanwhile, Britain was contesting and negotiating China’s ‘everyday Cold War’, which manifested itself differently over the two decades. The Anglo-Chinese negotiations over diplomatic relations between February and June 1950 ended fruitlessly, largely due to their different understandings of ‘one China’. From the outset, the Chinese negotiators put forward ‘principles’ to ‘set limits on the policy range within which the negotiations will be conducted and to define basic objectives which China will insist must be achieved’.2 These principles, as developed by Chairman Mao, included ‘making a fresh start’ and ‘cleaning the house before inviting the guests’. In practical terms, the Chinese insisted that the British should support the PRC’s admission to, and the ROC’s expulsion from, the United Nations and its claim to the disputed aircraft in Hong Kong, thereby demonstrating London’s willingness to sever all ties with the Nationalist regime in Taiwan. Failing to grasp Mao’s principle of ‘one China’ and pursuing an incoherent Taiwan policy itself, Britain thus failed to make any breakthrough in the negotiations, which were brought to an abrupt end by the Korean War. The second round of Anglo-Chinese talks on diplomatic relations occurred in the course of the Geneva Conference on Indochina in 1954. If ‘principles’ were an essential aspect of China’s negotiation tactics, so too was the cultivation of ‘personalized relationships’.3 By manipulating feelings of goodwill, obligations and dependence, the Chinese Communists could exploit the contradictions between Britain (which was eager to end hostilities in Indochina) and America (which wanted to internationalize the war). At Geneva, Anthony Eden and Zhou

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Enlai, through personal diplomacy, reached an agreement on the exchange of chargés d’affaires, thus putting Anglo-Chinese diplomatic relations on a formal basis for the first time since 1950. Although the Anglo-Chinese rapprochement was not supposed to be a quip pro quo for a peace agreement on Indochina, the two foreign secretaries were impressed by each other’s pragmatism, and their personal friendship undoubtedly contributed to the success of the Geneva Conference. Owing to Britain’s policy towards Taiwan, including Eden’s 1955 statement in Parliament that Taiwan’s status was ‘undetermined’, China maintained merely ‘semi-diplomatic relations’ with Britain, while subjecting the British diplomats on the ground to diplomatic rituals that reflected their ‘subordinate’ status following the ‘century of humiliation’. Nevertheless, Mao and Britain-watchers like Huan Xiang assessed that the United Kingdom was a declining imperialist power with sharp contradictions with America. As Mao told the visiting field marshal Montgomery in 1960, after the Second World War, ‘The Chinese people got rid of their hatred of Britain and turned the hatred toward the United States.’ ‘We do not feel Britain is a threat to us,’ Mao said.4 In this vein, China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain was quite ‘normal’ and largely symbolic. Mao saw ‘no fundamental differences’ between China and Britain, which would ‘not fight’ against each other.5 Instead, the Anglo-Chinese relationship entered the ‘honeymoon’ phase in 1961–2, when the British sold the Viscounts to China despite Washington’s objection, voted in favour of China’s admission to the United Nations for the first time, and cooperated with Chen Yi over the resolution of the crises in Laos, Hong Kong, the Taiwan Strait and India. From 1965 to 1967, the ‘everyday Cold War’ was radicalized by the Chinese in the shadow of the Vietnam War, the Cultural Revolution and the Hong Kong riots. Anglo-Chinese interactions were influenced by the rhetoric and ritual of the Cultural Revolution. In view of the Wilson government’s public demonstration of support for Johnson’s escalation of the Vietnam War, the Chinese intensified their propaganda attacks on Britain, while claiming that Vietnam posed a new obstacle to Anglo-Chinese relations. Meanwhile, the MFA repeatedly protested with the British government about the American use of Hong Kong as a ‘base of aggression’ against North Vietnam and China. On the mainland, the Chinese harassment of the British diplomats reached new heights with the onset of the Cultural Revolution. The Shanghai authorities exerted intense pressure on the British diplomats in the city regarding their permissible number and diplomatic privilege, while the Red Guards threatened to remove the Royal Arms on the gate of their Shanghai office. Worse still, in Beijing the Red Guards desecrated

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the Foreigners’ Cemetery and physically harassed the Sacred Heart Convent nuns, resulting in the death of one nun. In 1967 the Red Guards’ rituals of harassment and humiliation turned even more violent. Following the ‘three smashes’ (against the Indian, Burmese and Indonesian embassies) and other anti-foreign assaults, the British Chargé Office was burnt down by the Red Guards, outraged by the Hong Kong government’s suppression of the leftist riots, on the late night of 22 August. In view of the British restrictions on their movement in retaliation for the sacking of the British Mission, the Chinese diplomats in London engaged in the ‘Battle of Portland Place’ with the British police officers outside their office. Notwithstanding the radicalization of the ‘everyday Cold War’, the Wilson government calmly and sensibly drew a distinction between the ‘street-level’ violence of the Red Guards and China’s largely cautious foreign policy at the international level. During the radical phase of the Cultural Revolution in 1966–7, China became a giant ‘political theatre’, where the competing Red Guard factions performed different rituals to demonstrate their revolutionary credentials. The burning of the British Chargé Office, condemned by Mao and Zhou, was the spontaneous action of some overzealous Red Guards, who wanted to show that they were more ‘Maoist’ than their political rivals. The ‘Battle of Portland Place’ was ‘staged’ by the embattled Chinese diplomats in order to symbolically communicate their displeasure at British restrictions on their movement, while allowing China to justify similar retaliatory measures against the British diplomats in Beijing. The British were not unfamiliar with the symbolic, routine and performative nature of China’s ‘everyday Cold War’. To them, Beijing’s diplomatic protests and hostile propaganda regarding Britain’s and Hong Kong’s roles in the Vietnam conflict amounted to symbolic communication without action. The ‘performances’ of the Red Guards in Beijing and London, however deplorable, did not change the general direction of Britain’s China policy – the integration of the PRC into the international community, lest the United Nations would not become an effective organization and major world problems like the Vietnam conflict and nuclear proliferation could not be resolved peacefully. In the wake of the hostage crisis, the primary policy aim of the Wilson government was to ‘normalize’ the confrontation with China. Likewise, Mao and Zhou were eager to restore a semblance of normality in Sino-British relations. Between late 1967 and 1969, the British and Chinese diplomats were preoccupied with negotiating the free movement of detained Britons in China and leftist prisoners in Hong Kong. At a time when power struggles and Red Guard fighting continued unabated in 1968, Luo Guibo, who felt politically vulnerable himself,

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could not but display a hard negotiation style by insisting that the detention of Anthony Grey and other Britons was first and foremost attributed to the Hong Kong riots and thus Britain was ‘responsible’ for their plight. Believing that the hostage crisis could only be resolved by a step-by-step negotiating approach, the British diplomats recommended to make a goodwill gesture – a unilateral relaxation of restrictions on the Chinese diplomats in London – as a signal to prompt the Chinese to make reciprocal concession. Reciprocal gestures proved decisive to the success of negotiations over the different categories of British ‘hostages’ between 1968 and 1969. In 1970 Mao himself employed the diplomacy of gestures to signal to London that China wanted normal relations with Britain. No gesture was more symbolic than his offer to rebuild the burntout British Chargé Office compound, thus demonstrating China’s desire to draw a line under the 1967 events. The 1969 Sino-Soviet border war and the coming to power of Richard Nixon had propelled Mao to reassess Sino-American relations and the role of Europe in an emerging multipolar world order. By the end of 1970, China’s ‘everyday Cold War’ against Britain was all but over. Against the backdrop of Mao’s pursuit of Sino-American rapprochement, the British and the Chinese commenced negotiations for the exchange of ambassadors in early 1971. The Anglo-Chinese negotiations, however difficult and protracted, were characterized by sincerity, equality and frankness. Similar to the cordial personal relationship between Zhou and Eden in 1954 (and between Chen Yi and Lord Home in 1962), Qiao Guanhua sought to cultivate personal ties and mutual trust with John Denson/John Addis in order to facilitate the negotiations. While not directly involving himself in the talks, Zhou did intervene at critical junctures by meeting and thus manipulating his personal relationship with Malcom MacDonald. It was hoped that, given his status and influence, MacDonald would be able to persuade the Heath government to correct the mistake of ‘leaving a tail’ in Taiwan, just as Zhou had apologized for the sacking of the British Mission. Ultimately it was the long-held British legal position on Taiwan’s status that prevented the reaching of an agreement on the exchange of ambassadors until 13 March 1972, three weeks after Nixon’s historic visit to China.

The failure of appeasement? It took more than twenty years for Britain to establish normal diplomatic relations with China, thus raising questions about the success or failure of British foreign policy after 1945. ‘The policy of keeping a foot in the door’,

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writes S. R. Ashton, ‘was a failure’ since it ‘did not enable Britain to establish diplomatic relations with Communist China’ and ultimately ‘could not protect British trade and investment in China’.6 In his study, James Tang, after detailing the British policymaking process regarding diplomatic recognition, examines the failure of policy implementation.7 Steve Tsang goes so far as to argue that ‘by 1958 British policy makers could not help but register the failure of their constructive engagement approach’ towards the PRC, and this ‘made the idea of supporting the ROC unobjectionable to the UK’. (The UK’s support was such that, during the 1958 Taiwan Strait Crisis, Harold Macmillan did not publicly criticize Washington’s policy.)8 It is true that the Labour government’s recognition of the PRC was a shortterm failure, in that the Chinese did not immediately reciprocate Britain’s goodwill. Even when Zhou agreed to exchange chargés d’affaires in 1954, China and Britain, he asserted, enjoyed merely ‘semi-diplomatic relations’. After 1949 no foreign state would have succeeded in establishing diplomatic relations with the PRC without recognizing Taiwan as a province of China and cutting all formal ties with the Chinese Nationalists. If, by supporting the various American tactics of keeping the Nationalists in the United Nations, Britain had failed the Chinese test of ‘sincerity’, so too had other countries, such as France (until 1964), Canada (until 1971) and Japan (until 1972). It must be pointed out that Mao’s China was not in a hurry to join the United Nations as long as the Chinese Nationalists maintained their seat in the organization.9 In this regard, a change in the British vote in favour of Beijing would not make or break China’s resumption of its ‘legitimate’ seat in the United Nations before 1971. Although the British policy of constructive engagement with China might have been a ‘failure’ during the 1950s, in the long run the wisdom of their approach would be proven. Unlike the United States, which made a sharp U-turn on its failed China policy under the Nixon presidency (indeed, the Johnson administration had talked of ‘containing without isolating’ China), successive British governments stuck to a conciliatory approach that yielded economic and political benefits for the United Kingdom. While Britain’s ‘informal economic empire’ in China had been destroyed in the first half of the 1950s, its trade with China grew steadily since the abolition of the ‘China differential’ in 1957. The sales to China of six Viscounts in 1961 and of twenty Tridents and other civil aircraft in 1971–2 were lucrative deals for the British. Politically, post-war Hong Kong would not have remained British had it not been for London’s recognition of the PRC. Beyond Hong Kong, Anglo-Chinese relations made it necessary, but also possible, for Britain to play a role in the Asian Cold War. By playing up the importance of

194

The Everyday Cold War

Anglo-Chinese accommodation and the vulnerability of Hong Kong, British decision makers could exert a moderating influence on the United States, for example during the Korean War and the Taiwan Strait crises. It is tempting to say that Britain’s policy towards Communist China was nothing more than ‘appeasement’, given the former’s decline and the latter’s rise in post-war Asia. London appeared to lack both the will and the means to retaliate against, for example, the sacking of the British Mission. As R. Gerald Hughes argues, ‘Appeasement did not disappear from British foreign policy formulation after 1945’ as a result of Britain’s economic weakness, anti-war feelings among the public, and the advent of destructive nuclear weapons. He further writes: ‘In actual fact, the appeasement “tradition” continued throughout the post-war era (often under the banner of “pragmatism”) and its employment was seen by its Foreign Office proponents as something to be proud of.’10 As far as China policy was concerned, the FO’s pragmatism with an emphasis on negotiation should not be equated with ‘appeasement’ in the style of Neville Chamberlain. (Indeed, the revisionist historiography of Chamberlain’s ‘appeasement’ policy in the 1930s has portrayed Chamberlain not as the ‘guilty man’ dictated by Britain’s ‘economic decline’, but as a realistic leader who opted for appeasing the German aggressor after exploring and then rejecting alternative policies as impractical and too risky.)11 It was an irony that if the FO was inclined to ‘appeasement’, Britain needed to ‘appease’ the United States by voting repeatedly (and reluctantly) for the ‘important question’ resolution to deny the PRC of the UN seat. The Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ therefore accounted for Britain’s failure to develop normal relations with China until the early 1970s. As the pragmatic Edward Heath clarifies the British diplomatic approach, ‘negotiation is not appeasement. Appeasement involves a sacrifice of a moral principle in order to avert aggression. Negotiation requires some change on the status quo in order to make progress, without giving up any basic point of principle.’12 In their dealings with China, the British had not abandoned their principle, be it their commitment to China’s admission to the United Nations or their long-standing legal position on Taiwan. During the 1971–2 negotiations over diplomatic relations, the Heath government refused to yield to the Chinese formula for Taiwan’s status until the end, thus speaking volumes about the absence of ‘appeasement’ at whatever cost. Unlike Kissinger and Nixon who were eager to appreciate Mao and Zhou during their China visits, the British negotiators, John Denson and John Addis, did not ‘verbally kowtow’ to the

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Chinese for the sake of an early agreement. In March 1972, Britain finally agreed to ‘acknowledge’ the Chinese position that Taiwan was ‘a province of China’, while giving a ‘private assurance’ on not promoting Taiwan’s ‘undetermined’ status. A former British diplomat at the FCO’s China desk recollected: ‘It was the usual horse trading and fudging. But we succeeded in avoiding actual recognition of China’s claim to Taiwan, while agreeing in a confidential protocol that we would desist from our heinous crime of propagating the theory that the status of Taiwan was undetermined.’13 In a sense, the wording of the AngloChinese communiqué was not significantly different from Canada’s ‘take-note’ formula, and the British ‘private assurance’ did not actually change their existing policy (or non-policy) regarding Taiwan’s independence. Rather than thinking that the FCO was too pragmatic and prone to ‘appeasement’, Qiao Guanhua was perhaps right in his criticism that Heath’s China policy should not be too rigid and dictated by the FCO’s ‘lawyers’. After assessing the nature of Anglo-Chinese interactions from 1950 to 1972, this study concludes that diplomacy or negotiation was not appeasement: it was just another way – and a better way – of waging the ‘everyday Cold War’.

Notes

Introduction 1

2

3

4

5 6 7

8

On the notion of ‘normalization’ as ‘stabilization’ of conflict, I am inspired by Mary Fulbrook’s edited volume on the politics and foreign policy of the German Democratic Republic in the Cold War. Fulbrook, Mary (2013), Power and Society in the GDR, 1961-1979: The ‘Normalisation of Rule’?, New York/Oxford: Berghahn Books. The literature on everyday life is extensive. I find the following most useful: Goffman, Erving (1990), The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, London: Penguin; de Certeau, Michel (1984), The Practice of Everyday Life, Berkeley: University of California Press; Jacobsen, Michael Hviid (ed.) (2009), Encountering the Everyday: An Introduction to the Sociologies of the Unnoticed, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Bell, Catherine (1992), Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, New York: Oxford University Press; idem (1997), Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions, New York: Oxford University Press. Goffman, Erving (1967), Interaction Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behavior (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1967), 31–3 and 44–5; idem (1983), ‘The Interaction Order’, American Sociological Review, 48 (1): 1–17. Edensor, Tim (2002), National Identity, Popular Culture and Everyday Life, Oxford: Berg, 12, 17 and 74. Kertzer, David I. (1998), Ritual, Politics, and Power, New Haven: Yale University Press, 104. Fitzpatrick, Sheila (2000), Everyday Stalinism: Ordinary Life in Extraordinary Times: Soviet Russia in the 1930s, New York: Oxford University Press; Steege, Paul (2008), Black Market, Cold War: Everyday Life in Berlin, 1946–1949, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; Fuller, C. J. and John Harris (2001), ‘For an Anthropology of the Modern Indian State’, in C. J. Fuller and Véronique Bénéï (eds), The Everyday State and Society in Modern India, London: Hurst & Company, 1–30. Scott, James C. (1985), Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance, New Haven: Yale University Press, xvi.

198 9 10 11

12 13

14

15

16 17 18

19 20

Notes de Certeau (1984), xvii. Satow, Sir Ernest (1957), A Guide to Diplomatic Practice, 4th edn, edited by Sir Nevile Bland, London: Longmans, Green and Co Ltd, 1. Unlike ‘covert diplomacy’, in which exchanges are conducted in secrecy, ‘quiet diplomacy’ can be defined as practice that involves ‘developing contacts, ideas and taking formal initiatives in the public domain but without directly seeking high levels of public press attention’. Barston, R. P. (2006), Modern Diplomacy, Harlow: Pearson Education Limited, 91. ‘Diplomacy of New China’, 8 November 1949, ZEWW, 2–3; ZEN, vol. 1, 9–10. Armstrong, J. D. (1977), Revolutionary Diplomacy: Chinese Foreign Policy and the United Front Doctrine, Berkeley: University of California Press; Keith, Ronald C. (1990), The Diplomacy of Zhou Enlai, London: Macmillan. Kreisberg, Paul H. (1995), ‘China’s Negotiating Behaviour’, in Thomas W. Robinson and David Shambaugh (eds), Chinese Foreign Policy: Theory and Practice, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 453–77; Wilhelm, Alfred D., Jr (1994), The Chinese at the Negotiating Table: Style and Characteristics, Washington, DC: National Defence University Press; Yang, shengqing, et al. (2005), Zhongguo gongchandang tanpan shi [A History of Negotiations by the Chinese Communist Party], part 2, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 1–12. ‘On the people’s dictatorship: In commemoration of the twenty-eighth anniversary of the Communist Party of China’, 30 June 1949, Mao, Zedong (1969), Selected Works of Mao Zedong, vol. iv, Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 416–17; ‘Today internationally the main contradiction is the question of war and peace’, 5 June 1953, ZEWW, 59. ‘Talk with the American correspondent Anna Louise Strong’, 6 August 1946, MZD, 45–8. ‘There are two intermediate zones’, September 1963 and January 1964, MZD, 387–8. Gao, Cunming (1994), ‘Xuexi Mao Zedong guanyu Xiou lianhe ziqiang di sixiang’ [Learning Mao Zedong’s Thinking on West European Unity and Selfstrengthening], in Pei Jianzhang, et al., Mao Zedong waijiao sixiang yanjiu [Research on Mao Zedong’s Diplomatic Thinking], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 231–5. ‘The US imperialists are caught in their own noose’, 8 September 1958, MZD, 272. Xiong, Xianghui (1995), Lishi de zhujiao: Huiyi Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai ji si laoshuai [A Footnote to History: Recollecting Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai and the Four Marshals], Beijing: Zhongyang dangxiao chubanshe, 136; Wang, Taiping, et al. (1998), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiaoshi, 1957-1969 [Diplomatic History of the People’s Republic of China, 1957–1969], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 389.

Notes 21

22 23

24 25

26

27 28

29

30

31

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Like China, Britain (or England) was a nation governed by diplomatic and court ceremonials. See Wood, John R. and Jean Serres (1970), Diplomatic Ceremonial and Protocol: Principles, Procedures and Practices, New York: Columbia University Press; Best, Anthony (2008), ‘The Role of Diplomatic Practice and Court Protocol in Anglo-Japanese Relations, 1867-1900’, in Markus Mosslang and Torsten Riotte (eds), The Diplomats’ World: A Cultural History of Diplomacy, 1815-1914, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 231–53. Harrison, Henrietta (2001), China, London: Arnold, 23–5. Hevia, James L. (1995), Cherishing Men from Afar: Qing Guest Ritual and the Macartney Embassy of 1793, Durham: Duke University Press. Also see Bickers, Robert (ed.) (1993), Ritual and Diplomacy: The Macartney Mission to China 1792-1794, London: The Wellsweep Press. Bell (1992), 196 and 218; Bell (1997), 132–3. Dittmer, Lowell and Samuel S. Kim (1993), ‘Wither China’s Quest’, in Lowell Dittmer and Samuel S. Kim (eds), China’s Quest for National Identity, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 269. ‘International situation and diplomatic work after the conclusion of the SinoSoviet Treaty’, 20 March 1950, ZEWW, 16–17; Pei, Monong (1997), Zhou Enlai waijiaoxue [School of Zhou Enlai’s Diplomacy], Beijing: Zhonggong zhongyang dangxiao chubanshe, 222–40. On Mao’s principles of the New China’s diplomacy, see Chen, Jian (2001), Mao’s China and the Cold War, Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 40–2. Gao, Jianzhong (1998), ‘Huiyi Zhou Enlai yu libin gongzuo de yixie wangshi’ [Recollecting a Few Past Events of Zhou Enlai and Protocol Work], in Tian Zengpei and Wang Taiping, et al. (eds), Lao waijiaoguan huiyi Zhou Enlai [Senior Diplomats Recollect Zhou Enlai], Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 123; Ma, Baofeng (2007), ‘Han Xu zai libinsi’ [Han Xu in the Protocol Department], in Zheng Yan (ed.), Waijiao jishi [Diplomatic Episodes], vol. 2, Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 130. Cheek, Timothy (1997), Propaganda and Culture in Mao’s China: Deng Tuo and the Intelligentsia, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 14–15; Chang, Julian (1997), ‘The Mechanics of State Propaganda: The People’s Republic of China and the Soviet Union in the 1950s’, in Timothy Cheek and Tony Saich (eds), New Perspectives on State Socialism in China, Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe, 76–125. Wu, Lengxi (1991), ‘Yanshi di jiaohui – Huiyi Zhou Enlai di pianduan’ [Teaching by Solemn Teacher: Recollecting Episodes of Zhou Enlai], in Xinhuashe xinwen yanjiusuo (ed.), Xinhuashe huiyilu [Memoir of the New China News Agency], vol. 2, Beijing: Xinhuashe chubanshe, 36–60; Pei (1997), 380. Gan, Xianfeng (2004), Zhongguo duiwai xinwen chuanboshi [A History of China’s International News Communication], Fuzhu: Fujian renmin chubanshe,

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34

35

36 37 38 39

Notes 136–95; Zhang, Guizhen (2006), Zhongguo duiwai chuanbo [China’s International Communication], Beijing: Zhongguo chuanmei daxue chubanshe, 229–31. Zhang (2006), 55–8; Gan (2004), 181–93. See, for example, ‘The worsening of the British economic situation’, Shijie Zhishi, vol. 20 (20 October 1955): 13–15; ‘British economy in a dilemma’, People’s Daily, 17 September 1964; ‘British imperialism is paper tiger’, People’s Daily, 22 July 1967; ‘Britain and “European cooperation”’, People’s Daily, 25 June 1957; ‘Contradictions among imperialist countries further sharpen’, Shijie Zhishi, vol. 5 (10 March 1965): 9–12; ‘The breakdown of Britain’s “colonial empire in the Middle East”’, Shijie Zhishi, vol. 18 (20 September 1956): 7–8. Cui, Qi (1988), ‘Gaozhan yuanzhu, wuwei buzhi – Huiyi Zhou Enlai dui Renmin ribao guoji xuanchuan di guanhuai he zhidao’ [Foresight, Carefulness – Remembering Zhou Enlai’s Concerns and Instructions on the People’s Daily’s International Propaganda], in Renmin ribao baoshi bianjizu (ed.), Renmin ribao huiyilu [Memoir of the People’s Daily], Beijing: Renmin ribao chubanshe, 22. As Rana Mitter argues (albeit in the context of domestic propaganda): ‘Propaganda campaigns in Mao’s China usually took some easily identifiable target as their starting point, but they frequently had a hidden agenda involving factional struggles within the Communist leadership.’ Mitter, Rana (2003), ‘China’, in Nicholas J. Cull, David Culbert and David Welch (eds), Propaganda and Mass Persuasion: A Historical Encyclopedia, 1500 to the Present, Santa Barbara, California: ABC-CLIO, Inc., 76. Grantham, Alexander (1965), Via Ports: From Hong Kong to Hong Kong, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 195. O’Neill to Lloyd, 27 February 1956, FO 371/120926 FC1051/2, TNA. Lloyd to Wilson, no. 85, 23 September 1958, CO 1030/595 FED 82/403/01 Part B, TNA. Tang, James Tuck-hong (1992), Britain’s Encounter with Revolutionary China, 1949-54, London: Macmillan; Feng, Zhong-ping (1994), The British Government’s China Policy, 1945-1950, Keele: Ryburn Publishing; Shao, Wenguang (1991), China, Britain and Businessmen: Political and Commercial Relations, 1949-1957, London: Macmillan; Shai, Aron (1996), The Fate of British and French Firms in China, 1949-54, London: Macmillan; Clayton, David (1997), Imperialism Revisited: Political and Economic Relations between Britain and China, 1950-1954, London: Macmillan; Zhai, Qiang (1994), The Dragon, the Lion, and the Eagle: Chinese-British-American Relations, 1949-58, Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press; Lowe, Peter (1997), Containing the Cold War in East Asia: British Policies towards Japan, China and Korea, 1948-53, Manchester: Manchester University Press; Wang, Hao (2014), Lengzhan zhong di liangmianpai: Yingguo de Taiwan Zhengce, 1949-1958 [Two-Faced Party in the Cold War: Britain’s Taiwan Policy,

Notes

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43

44

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1949-1958], Taipei: Youlu wenhua shiye youxian gonsi (The book is a revised form of his doctoral dissertation titled ‘Britain’s Taiwan Policy, 1949-1958’, D. Phil., University of Oxford, 1992); Tsang, Steve (2006), The Cold War’s Odd Couple: The Unintended Partnership between the Republic of China and the UK, 1950-1958, London: I.B. Tauris. Boardman, Robert (1976), Britain and the People’s Republic of China 1949-1974, London: Macmillan. Kaufman, Victor S. (2001), Confronting Communism: U.S. and British Policies toward China, Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Boardman (1976), 172–7; Young, John W. (2008), Twentieth-Century Diplomacy: A Case Study of British Practice 1963-1976, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 19–20. Waijiaobu Dang’anguan (ed.) (2006), Jiemi waijiao wenxian: Zhonghua renmin gongheguo jianjiao dang’an, 1949-1955 [Declassified Diplomatic Documents: Archives of the Establishment of the People’s Republic of China’s Diplomatic Relations, 1949-1955], Beijing: Zhongguo huabao chubanshee; Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiaobu dang’anguan (ed.) (2006), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiao dang’an xuanbian, vol. 1: 1954 nian Rineiwa huiyi [Selected Records of the People’s Republic of China Diplomatic Archives, vol. 1: The 1954 Geneva Conference], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe. Zhonggong zhongyang wenxian yanjiushi (ed.) (2013), Mao Zedong nianpu, 1949-1976 [The Chronicle of Mao Zedong, 1949-1976], 6 volumes, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe.

Chapter 1 1

2

Lovell, Julia (2012), The Opium War: Drugs, Dreams and the Making of China, London: Picador, 330; Wang, Zheng (2012), Never Forget National Humiliation: Historical Memory in Chinese Politics and Foreign Relations, New York: Columbia University Press, 50. See Osterhammel, Jürgen (1999a), ‘Britain and China 1842-1914’, in Andrew Porter (ed.), The Oxford History of the British Empire, vol. 3: The Nineteenth Century, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 146–69; idem (1999b), ‘China’, in Judith Brown and Wm Roger Louis (eds), The Oxford History of the British Empire, vol. 4: The Twentieth Century, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 643–66; Bickers, Robert (2011), The Scramble for China: Foreign Devils in the Qing Empire, 1832-1914, London: Allen Lane; idem (1999), Britain in China: Community, Culture and Colonialism, 1900-49, Manchester: Manchester University Press.

202 3

4 5

6

7 8 9

10 11

12

13

14

15

Notes Benton, Gregor and Edmund Terence Gomez (2008), The Chinese in Britain, 1800-Present: Economy, Transnationalism, Identity, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 288–314; Auerbach, Sascha (2009), Race, Law, and ‘The Chinese Puzzle’ in Imperial Britain, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Fung, Edmund S. K. (1991), The Diplomacy of Imperial Retreat: Britain’s South China Policy, 1924-31, Hong Kong: Oxford University Press. Howlett, Jonathan J. (2016), ‘“Decolonisation” in China, 1949-1959’, in Robert Bickers and Jonathan J. Howlett (eds), Britain and China, 1840-1970: Empire, Finance and War, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 224. Liu, Xiaoyuan (1996), A Partnership for Disorder: China, the United States, and their Policies for the Postwar Disposition of the Japanese Empire, 1941-1945, New York: Cambridge University Press, 126–47; Chen, Jinjin (2013), ‘Jiang Jieshi dui ZhongYing xinyue de taidu’ [Jiang Jieshi’s Attitude towards New Sino-British Treaty], in Chen Liwen, et al., Jiang Zhongzheng yu Minguo waijiao [Jiang Zhongzheng and Diplomacy of the Republic of China], vol. 1, Taipei: Guoli zhongzheng jiniantang guanlichu, 259–93. Bevin memorandum, CP(48)6, 4 January 1948, CAB 129/23, TNA. Kent, John (1990), ‘The British Empire and the Origins of the Cold War, 1944-49’, in Ann Deighton (ed.), Britain and the First Cold War, London: Macmillan, 179–80. Ovendale, Ritchie (1990), ‘William Strange and the Permanent Under-Secretary’s Committee’, in John Zametica (ed.), British Officials and British Foreign Policy 1945-50, Leicester: Leicester University Press, 212–27. Young, John W. (1997), Britain and the World in the Twentieth Century, London: Arnold, 226. Reynolds, David (1994), ‘Great Britain’, in David Reynolds (ed.), The Origins of the Cold War in Europe: International Perspectives, New Haven: Yale University Press, 77–95. Dockrill, Saki (2002), Britain’s Retreat from East of Suez: The Choice between Europe and the World, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 15–16; Ovendale, Ritchie (1998), Anglo-American Relations in the Twentieth Century, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 102–3. See Westad, Odd Arne (1993), Cold War and Revolution: Soviet-American Rivalry and the Origins of the Chinese Civil War, 1944-1946, New York: Columbia Press; idem (2003), Decisive Encounters: The Chinese Civil War, 1946-1950, Stanford: Stanford University Press. Lowe, Peter (1992), ‘Challenge and Readjustment: Anglo-American Exchanges over East Asia, 1949-53’, in T. G. Fraser and Peter Lowe (eds), Conflict and Amity in East Asia: Essays in Honour of Ian Nish, London: Macmillan, 159. See Tang (1992); Feng (1994); Shao (1991), 24–53; Zhai (1994), 28–45; Ashton, S. R. (2004), ‘Keeping a Foot in the Door: Britain’s China Policy, 1945-50’, Diplomacy & Statecraft, 15 (1): 79–94.

Notes 16 17 18 19 20

21 22 23

24 25 26

27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

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Bevin memorandum, CP(49)214, 24 October 1949, CAB 129/37, TNA. Bevin memorandum, CP(49)248, 12 December 1949, CAB 129/37, TNA. Paper on developments in the Chinese Civil War, enclosed in Bevin memorandum, CP(48)299, 9 December 1948, CAB 129/31, TNA. Officials report, 15 August 1949, enclosed in Bevin memorandum, CP(49)180, 23 August 1949, CAB 129/36, TNA. See Mark, Chi-kwan (2004), Hong Kong and the Cold War: Anglo-American Relations, 1949-1957, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 19–22 and 41–9; Louis, Wm. Roger (1997), ‘Hong Kong: The Critical Phase, 1945-1949’, American Historical Review, 102 (4): 1052–84. CM(49)38th Conclusions, 26 May 1949, CAB 128/15, TNA. Memorandum of conversation, 13 September 1949, FRUS, 1949, vol. 9: The Far East: China, doc. 88, 81–5. On Sino-Soviet relations in the late 1940s, see Niu, Jun (1998), ‘The Origins of the Sino-Soviet Alliance’, in Odd Arne Westad (ed.), Brothers in Arms: The Rise and Fall of the Sino-Soviet Alliance, 1945-1963, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 57–64; Goncharov, Sergei N., John W. Lewis and Xue Litai (1993), Uncertain Partners: Stalin, Mao, and the Korean War, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 61–75. Officials report, 15 August 1949, enclosed in Bevin memorandum, CP(49)180, 23 August 1949, CAB 129/36, TNA. Chang, Gordon H. (1990), Friends and Enemies: The United States, China, and the Soviet Union, 1948-1972, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 42–50. Acheson was concerned that since late 1948 Angus Ward, the US consul general in Shenyang, and his staff had been put under house arrest and were eventually expelled on the grounds of espionage. Chen, Jian (1994), China’s Road to the Korean War: The Making of the Sino-American Confrontation, New York: Columbia University Press, 33–44. Department of State (1967), The China White Paper, August 1949, Stanford: Stanford University Press, iii–xvii. Tucker, Nancy B. (1983), Patterns in the Dust: Chinese-American Relations and the Recognition Controversy, 1949-1950, New York: Columbia University Press. Memorandum of conversation, 13 September 1949, FRUS, 1949, vol. 9, doc. 88, 84. Lowe (1997), 267; Tucker (1983), 27. Tang (1992), 58–62. ‘Systematically and completely destroy imperialist domination in China’, 5 March 1949, MZD, 62–3. On this theme, see Chen (2001). Jin, Chongji, et al. (2008), Zhou Enlai zhuan [Biography of Zhou Enlai], vol. 2, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 895 and 907; Pei, Jianzhang, et al. (1994), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiaoshi, 1949-1956 [Diplomatic History

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37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Notes of the People’s Republic of China, 1949-1956], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 294–5. ‘Systematically and completely destroy imperialist domination in China’, 5 March 1949, MZD, 62–3. In Mao’s mind, Burma belonged to the category of newly independent, nonsocialist states where negotiation before establishing diplomatic relations was necessary, but the procedure would normally be less complicated than that of Western imperialist countries. ‘Mao’s telegram on the question of establishing diplomatic relations with Burma’, 19 December 1949, JYMZW, vol. 1, 193; MZN, vol. 1, 61. Note on recognition, Graham to Zhou, 6 January 1950, FO 371/83295 FC1022/518, TNA. Memorandum of conversation, 6 January 1950, JWW, 463–4. Zhai (1994), 91. Wang (2014), 104. Goncharov, Lewis and Xue (1993), 148–52. Zhou to Mao, 6 January 1950, JYZEW, vol. 2, 26. Reply to note on recognition, Zhou to Bevin, 9 January 1950, JWW, 464–5. Zhonggong zhongyang wenxian yanjiushi (ed.) (2005), Jianguo yilai Liu Shaoqi wengao, vol. 1, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 300. Mao to Liu, 26 January 1950, JYZEW, vol. 2, 27–8. ‘Prerequisites to the establishment of diplomatic relations between China and Britain’, 8 February 1950, MZD, 101. On the aircraft dispute, see Tang (1992), 187–90; Zhai (1994), 105–7; Mark (2004), 93–100. Oral communication, Zhang to Hutchison, 2 March 1950, FO 371/83295 FC1022/518, TNA; Report on Sino-British negotiation over diplomatic relations, 2 March 1950, JWW, 468–9. Zhai (1994), 100. Oral communication, Hutchison to Zhang, 17 March 1950, FO 371/83295 FC1022/518, TNA; Huan report, 17 March 1950, JWW, 470–1. Western European and African Department report, 4 April 1950, JWW, 472. Oral communication, Zhang to Hutchison, 8 May 1950, FO 371/83295 FC1022/518, TNA. Huan report, 8 May 1950, JWW, 473–4. Press statement on Sino-British negotiation, 22 May 1950, JWW, 475–6. Chang (1990), 69–74; Zhai (1994), 92. Martin, Edwin W. (1986), Divided Counsel: The Anglo-American Response to Communist Victory in China, Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 139–45.

Notes 58

59 60 61 62

63 64

65 66 67

68

69

70

71 72 73

205

Warner, Geoffrey (ed.) (2005), In the Midst of Events: The Foreign Office Diaries and Papers of Kenneth Younger, February 1950-October 1951, London: Routledge, 15–16. Oral communication, Hutchison to Zhang, 17 June 1950, FO 371/83292 FC1022/408, TNA. Huan report, 17 June 1950, JWW, 477–9. Zhai (1994), 101. Xie, Li (1989), ‘Jianlun Zhou Enlai dui Ouzhou zibenzhuyi didai de waijiao zhanlue sixiang’ [A Brief Survey of Zhou Enlai’s Diplomatic Strategic Thinking on the Capitalist Zone in Europe], in Pei Jianzhang, et al., (ed.), Yanjiu Zhou Enlai: Waijiao sixiang yu shijian [Studying Zhou Enlai: Diplomatic Thought and Practice], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 239. Howlett (2016), 224. Yu, Wuzhen (1994), ‘Jianguo chuqi suqing diguozhuyi zai hua tequan gaishu’ [An Overview of Eliminating Imperialist Prerogatives in China in the Early Stage of the Founding of the PRC], ZDZ, 52: 48–65 (quote from 64). Han, Nianlong, et al. (1990), Diplomacy of Contemporary China, Hong Kong: New Horizon Press, 7–8. Tan, Yixiao (2008), Dongjiaominxiang Beijing, Tianjin: Tianjin daxue chubanshe, 174. In 1928 ‘Peking’, which meant ‘northern capital’ in Chinese, was renamed ‘Beiping’, or ‘northern peace’, by the Chinese Nationalists in order to highlight Nanjing’s status as the capital of the Republic of China. Bickers (2011), 205; Wright, Patrick (2010), Passage to Peking: A Very British Mission to Mao’s China, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 24–9; Li, Yumin (2010), Jindai Zhongguo de tiaoyue zhidu [The Treaty System in Modern China], Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 277–82. Xu, Jingli (1998), Lingqi luzao: Jueqi juren de waijiao fanglue [Building a New Stove: Diplomatic Strategy of the Rising Giant], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 324. Cheng, Yunxing (2001), Fengyun teshi: Lao waijiaojia Wang Bingnan [Winds and Clouds of Special Envoy: Senior Diplomat Wang Bingnan], Beijing: Zhongguo wennian chubanshe, 171–84; Xu, Jingli (2005), Jiemi Zhongguo waijiao dang’an [Declassified Archives of Chinese Diplomacy], Beijing: Zhongguo dang’an chubanshe, 179–93. Xu (2005), 179–80. Beijing to Nanjing, no. 9, 9 January 1950, FO 371/83480 FC1463/40, TNA. Memorandum of conversation, 6 January 1950, JWW, 463. Li, Zhengxiu (2002), ‘Shouhui Beijing waiguo bingying shimo’ [Recovering Beijing’s Foreign Barracks from Beginning to End], in ‘Zongheng’ jingpin

206

74 75 76 77

78 79 80 81 82 83

84 85 86

87 88 89

90

Notes congshu bianweihui (ed.), Gongheguo waijiao shilu [Record of Diplomacy of the Republic], Beijing: Zhongguo wenshi chubanshe, 432; Cheng (2001), 178. On the 1943 Sino-American Treaty, see Fishel, Wesley R. (1952), The End of Extraterritoriality in China, Berkeley: University of California Press, 233–7. Xu (2005), 188–9. Ibid., 189–90. Mao to Liu, 13 January 1950, JYMZW, vol. 1, 235–6. According to distinguished Chinese historian Shen Zhihua, the decision to requisition the US military and consular facilities was also related to Mao’s desire to demonstrate solidarity with the Soviet Union at a time when he was negotiating a new Sino-Soviet treaty and other matters with a suspicious Stalin in Moscow. Shen, Zhihua (2004), Mao Zedong, Si Dalin, yu chaoxian zhanzheng [Mao Zedong, Stalin, and the Korean War], Guangzhou: Guangdong renmin chubanshe, 142. Mao to Liu, 18 January 1950, JYMZW, vol. 1, 241. MZN, vol. 1, 83 and 86–7. After further discussions, the handover of the Soviet barracks took place in July. Xu (2005), 195–6. Shattock memorandum, 27 January 1950, FO 371/83480 FC1463/52; Shattock memorandum, 22 February 1950, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, unnumbered, 19 February 1950, FO 371/83480 FC1463/47, TNA. Shattock memorandum, 22 January 1950, FO 371/83480 FC1463/52; Dening memorandum, 23 February 1950, ibid; FO to Beijing, no. 54, 3 March 1950, FO 371/83480 FC1463/47, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 247, 5 April (delivered 6 April) 1950, FO 371/83481 FC1463/64, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 263, 7 April 1950, FO 371/83481 FC1463/65; Beijing to FO, no. 271, 9 April 1950, FO 371/83481 FC1463/67, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 264, 7 April (delivered 8 April) 1950, FO 371/83481 FC1463/69; Beijing to FO, no. 272, 10 April 1950, FO 371/83481 FC1463/70, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 298, 12 April 1950, FO 371/83481 FC1463/72, TNA. Wang, Junyan (1999a), Kaiguo waijiao [Diplomacy of the Founding of the PRC], Beijing: Shishi chubanshe, 181. On Beijing’s treatment of foreigners in China, see Brady, Anne-Marie (2003), Making the Foreign Serve China: Managing Foreigners in the People’s Republic, Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield; Hooper, Beverley (2016), Foreigners under Mao: Western Lives in China, 1949-1976, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. ‘Systematically and completely destroy imperialist domination in China’, 5 March 1949, MZD, 62–3.

Notes 91

92

93

94 95 96 97 98 99

100 101

102 103

104

105 106

207

Shanghai shi gonganju gongan shizhi bianzuan weiyuanhui (ed.) (1997), Shanghai gongan zhi [Record of Shanghai Public Security], Shanghai: Shehui kexueyuan chubanshe, 282 and 285. Howlett, Jonathan J. (2013), ‘“The British Boss is Gone and will Never Return”: Communist Takeovers of British Companies in Shanghai (1949-1954)’, Modern Asian Studies, 47 (6): 1941–76. Beijing to Nanjing, no. 30, 30 January 1950, FO 371/83507 FC1585/1, TNA; Beijing shi difang zhi bianzuan weiyuanhui (ed.) (2003), Beijing zhi: Zhengfa juan: Gongan zhi [Record of Beijing: Volume on Politics and Law: Record of Public Security], Beijing: Beijing chubanshe, 391, 393 and 397. There were similar travel, and entry and exit regulations for foreign nationals in Shanghai. Shanghai gongan zhi, 283. Shanghai to FO, no. 961, 25 October 1950, FO 371/83509 FC15810/8; Daily Translation Service, 25 October 1950, FO 371/83509 FC15810/10, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 736, 5 June 1950, FO 371/83509 FC15810/1; Tomlinson memorandum, 7 June 1950, ibid., TNA. FO to Beijing, no. 760, 5 June 1950, FO 371/83509 FC15810/1; FO to Beijing, no. 1043, 19 July 1950, FO 371/83509 FC15810/3, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 1195, 8 August 1950, FO 371/83509 FC15810/6, TNA. Chen (1994), 190–4. Yang, Kuisong (2008), ‘Reconsidering the Campaign to Suppress Counterrevolutionaries’, China Quarterly, 193: 102–21; Strauss, Julia (2006), ‘Morality, Coercion and State Building by Campaign in the Early PRC: Regime Consolidation and After, 1949-1956’, China Quarterly, 188: 891–912. Beijing zhi: Zhengfa juan: Gongan zhi, 408–9. Wakeman, Frederic, Jr (2007), ‘“Cleanup”: The New Order in Shanghai’, in Jeremy Brown and P. G. Pickowicz (eds), Dilemmas of Victory: The Early Years of the People’s Republic of China, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 21–58. For a pro-CCP perspective, see Shanghai gongan zhi, 98–116. On British policy in the Korean War, see Lowe (1997), 190–264. Lamb to Scott, 28 September 1951, FO 371/92384 FC1904/27; Beijing to FO, no. 584, 24 March 1951, FO 371/92251 FC1052/12; Lamb to Hooper, 21 December 1951, FO 371/99271 FC1051/3, TNA. On the British consular establishment in China since 1843, see Coates, P. D. (1988), The China Consuls: British Consular Officers, 1843-1943, Hong Kong: Oxford University Press. Hutchison to Bevin, ‘China Annual Review for 1950’, 27 March 1951, FO 371/92189 FC1011/1, TNA. ZEN, vol. 1, 123–4. As early as December 1949, Zhou Enlai asked to pay ‘close attention’ to the British consul general at Urumuqi, who was suspected of secret activities with different ethnic groups in Xinjiang. ‘Telegram on the question of

208

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112

113 114 115 116 117 118 119

120 121 122 123 124 125

Notes dealing with British and American consular relations at Tihwa (Urumuqi)’, 7 December 1949, JYZEW, vol. 1, 637–8. Franklin memorandum, 11 January 1951, FO 371/92383 FC1904/2, TNA. Lamb to Eden, ‘China Annual Report for 1951’, no. 52, 3 March 1952, FO 371/99229 FC1011/1, TNA. Lamb to Eden, ‘China Annual Report for 1952’, no. 72, 18 February 1953, FO 371/105188 FC1011/2, TNA. ZEN, vol. 1, 188–9. Between 1950 and 1952, the total volume of Sino-Soviet trade increased threefold, from around US$338 to US$1,064 million, while China’s trade with Britain, its largest capitalist trading partner, dropped from around US$73 to US$25 million (although China’s trading with British Hong Kong was not significantly affected). See Zhang, Shu Guang (2001), Economic Cold War: America’s Embargo against China and the Sino-Soviet Alliance, 1949-1963, Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Centre Press, 79–112 (trade figures from 282, 289 and 294). Song, Zhongfu (1990), ‘Jianguo chuqi dang he guojia dui waizi zai hua qiye de zhengce’ [Policy of the Party and State towards Foreign Enterprises in China during the Early Republic], Zhonggong dangshi yanjiu [Research on Chinese Communist Party History], 4 (overall 16): 41–2. Shanghai waishi zhi bianji shi (ed.) (1999), Shanghai waishi zhi [Record of Shanghai Foreign Affairs], Shanghai: Shanghai shehui kexueyuan chubanshe, 315. Yu (1994), 55; Han (1990), 26–7. Xu (1998), 289–93. Zhang Hanfu zhuan bianxiezu (ed.) (2003), Zhang Hanfu zhuan [Biography of Zhang Hanfu], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 149; ZEN, vol. 1, 148–9. Xu (1998), 294–9; Shai (1996), 21. On the withdrawal of British firms from China, see Shai (1996); Shao (1991), 114–43; Clayton (1997), 123–60. Morrison memorandum, CP(51), May 1951, FO 371/92251 FC1052/11; Commonwealth Relations Office to British High Commissioners overseas, no. 13, 2 June 1951, FO 371/92251 FC1052/13, TNA. Gilbert, Martin (1990), Never Despair: Winston S. Churchill 1945-1965, London: Minerva, 705–6; Tsang (2006), 52. FO to Beijing, no. 306, 10 April 1952, FO 371/99284 FC1105/82, TNA. Lamb to Zhang, 19 May 1952, FO 371/99290 FC1105/241, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 549, 7 July 1952, FO 371/99290 FC1105/255, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 556, 8 July 1952, FO 371/99290 FC1105/256; FO to Paris, no. 3044, 14 July 1952, FO 371/99290 FC1105/255, TNA. Shao (1991), 128–30 and 148–62.

Notes 126 127 128

129 130 131

132 133

134 135

136 137 138 139

209

Han (1990), 27–8. Scott memorandum, 3 November 1952, FO 371/99296 FC1105/405, TNA; Shai (1996), 73–85 and 105–18. Jardine, Matheson and Co. Ltd., Shanghai to People’s Government of Shanghai, 9 September 1952, enclosed in Beijing to FO, no. 261, 13 November 1952, FO 371/99296 FC1105/419; Beijing to FO, no. 843, 3 November 1952, ibid., TNA. Yu (1994), 58–9. Howlett (2013), 1957. Only Shell was allowed to retain its Shanghai office, under Chinese managers, until 1966. Bickers (1999), 243. Jin, Yaoru (1998), Zhonggong Xianggang zhengce miwen shilu [A Secret Record of the Chinese Communist Party’s Hong Kong Policy], Xianggang: Tianyuan shuwu, 2–3; Liang, Shangyuan (ed.) (1989), Zhonggong zai Xianggang [The CCP in Hong Kong], Hong Kong: Wide Angle Press, 133. Nan, Shan and Nan Zhu (1997), Zhou Enlai shangping [The Life of Zhou Enlai], Changchun: Jilin renmin chubanshe, 812–14; Jin (1998), 4–5. Wong, Man Fong (1997), China’s Resumption of Sovereignty over Hong Kong, Hong Kong: David C. Lam Institute for East-West Studies, Hong Kong Baptist University, 41–3. See Mark (2004), 40–82. See ibid., 177–215; Tsang, Steve (1997), ‘Strategy for Survival: The Cold War and Hong Kong’s Policy towards Kuomintang and Chinese Communist Activities in the 1950s’, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, 25 (2): 294–317. MZN, vol. 1, 82. ‘Diplomatic policy of the People’s Republic of China’, 30 September 1950, ZEWW, 22. Wang (2014). Zhai (1994), 103–4.

Chapter 2 1

2

On the First Indochina War, see Logevall, Frederik (2013), Embers of War: The Fall of an Empire and the Making of America’s Vietnam, New York: Random House. On China’s role, see Zhai, Qiang (2000), China and the Vietnam Wars, 1950-1975, Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press; Chen, Jian (1993), ‘China and the First Indo-China War, 1950-54’, China Quarterly, 133: 85–110. Liu, Xiaohong (2001), Chinese Ambassadors: The Rise of Diplomatic Professionalism since 1949, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 53–4; Keith (1990), 59–60 and 116–17.

210 3 4

5 6

7

8 9

10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Notes Zhai (2000), 49–63. ‘Preliminary opinions on the assessment of and preparation for the Geneva Conference’, MFA paper (excerpt), 2 March 1954, CWIHPB, Issue 16 (Fall 2007/ Winter 2008), 12–13. Quoted in Xu (2005), 281–2. Shi, Zhu (1994), ‘Zhou Enlai chuxi Rineiwa huiyi de shangceng neimu’ [Highlevel Insider Facts on Zhou Enlai at the Geneva Conference], in Han Zhang (ed.), Zhongnanhai waijiao zhenwen lu [A Collection of Rare Diplomatic Events of Zhongnanhai], Taiyuan: Shansi gaoxiao lianhe chubanshe, 47. Warner, Geoffrey (1990), ‘Britain and the Crisis over Dien Bien Phu, April 1954: The Failure of United Action’, in Lawrence S. Kaplan, Denise Artaud and Mark R. Rubin (eds), Dien Bien Phu and the Crisis of Franco-American Relations, 19541955, Wilmington, D.E.: Scholarly Resources Inc., 55–77. Tarling, Nicholas (2005), Britain, Southeast Asia and the Impact of the Korean War, Singapore: Singapore University Press, 344. On this theme, see Singh, Anita Inder (1993), The Limits of British Influence: South Asia and the Anglo-American Relationships, 1947-56, London: Pinter Publishers. Allen to Trevelyan, 24 February 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/1, TNA. Allen memorandum, 14 April 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/10, TNA. Dutton, David (1997), Anthony Eden: A Life and Reputation, London: Arnold, 346. The exiting accounts of Anglo-Chinese negotiations over diplomatic relations in 1954 are relatively brief and have overlooked their interplay with the Indochina negotiations. Tang (1992), 117–24; Shao (1991), 144–8. Zhou’s telegram to Mao, Liu and the Central Committee, 1 May 1954, CWIHPB, Issue 16, 16–17. By that time, China referred to it as the ‘Office of the British Negotiating Representative’. Record of conversation (extracts), 3 May 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 402–8. Eden, Anthony (1960), Full Circle: The Memoirs of Anthony Eden, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 121. Nông, Văn Dân (2010), Churchill, Eden and Indo-China, 1951-1955, London: Anthem Press, 5. Eden (1960), 121–2; Ruan, Hong (2007), The Diplomat from China, Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 90–1. Minutes of conversation, 14 May 1954, CWIHPB, Issue 16, 20–2. Shao (1991), 154–6. Wang, Hongxu (1999), ‘Lei Renmin yu 1954 nian Rineiwa huiyi’ [Lei Renmin and the 1954 Geneva Conference], ZDZ, 70: 63–95.

Notes 23 24 25 26 27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

211

Record of conversation, 6 May 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 408–10. Also see Shao (1991), 154–7. Record of conversation, 30 May 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 412–14. Crowe memorandum, 24 May 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/13, TNA. Dulles to Smith, 12 May 1954, in Sheehan, Neil (ed.) (1971), The Pentagon Papers, New York Times edn, New York: Bantam Books, 43. Immerman, Richard H. (1990), ‘The United States and the Geneva Conference of 1954: A New Look’, Diplomatic History, 14 (1): 43–66; Kaplan, Lawrence S. (1990), ‘The United States, NATO, and French Indochina’, in Kaplan, Artaud and Rubin (eds), Dien Bien Phu and the Crisis of Franco-American Relations, Wilmington, D.E.: Scholarly Resources Inc., 229–50. Eden (1960), 135. Geneva to State Department, 27 May 1954, FRUS, 1952-1954, xvi: The Geneva Conference, doc. 621, 947–8. Cable, James (1986), The Geneva Conference of 1954 on Indochina, London: Macmillan; Warner, 87. Zhou to Mao, Liu and the Central Committee, 1 June 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 414–16; The Central Committee to Zhou, 3 June 1954, ibid., 416. Eden (1960), 123. Record of conversation (extracts), 1 June 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 417–18. Record of conversation, 4 June 1954, morning and afternoon sessions, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 420–3. London to State Department, 8 June 1954, FRUS, 1952-1954, xvi, doc. 697, 1066–7. CC(54)39th Conclusions, 5 June 1954, CAB 128/27, TNA. Geneva to FO, no. 592, 4 June 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/17; Crowe memorandum, 9 June 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/17(B); CC(54)39th Conclusions, 5 June 1954, CAB 128/27, TNA. Record of conversation, 9 June 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 424–5. Zhou to Mao, 17 June 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 428–9. Geneva to FO, no. 658, 11 June 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/22, TNA. Geneva to FO, no. 693, 13 June (delivered 14 June) 1954, FO 371/110245 FC1051/23, TNA. CC(54)40th Conclusions, 15 June 1954, CAB 128/27, TNA. Geneva to State Department, 17 June 1954, FRUS, 1952-1954, xvi, doc. 766, 1170–1. Zhai (2000), 56–7. ZEN, vol. 1, 385; Geneva to State Department, 17 June 1954, FRUS, 1952-1954, xvi, doc. 770, 1173–4. Eden (1960), 145.

212 47 48 49 50 51

52 53 54 55 56

57

58 59 60 61 62

63 64

65

Notes Geneva to State Department, 17 June 1954, FRUS, 1952-1954, xvi, doc. 756, 1162–3. Crowe memorandum, 15 June 1954, FO 371/110385 FC1895/2; FO to Geneva, no. 1145, 15 June 1954, ibid., TNA. Record of conversation, 16 June 1954, JWW, 487–8. Zhou to Mao, Liu and the Central Committee, 16 June and 17 June 1954, ZRGWDX, vol. 1, 428–9. MacFarquhar, Roderick (1986), ‘The China Problem in Anglo-American Relations’, in W. M. Roger Louis and Hedley Bull (eds), The ‘Special Relationship’: Anglo-American Relations since 1945, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 315. Eden to Zhou, 21 June 1954, JWW, 495; Beijing to FO, no. 453, 8 July 1954, FO 371/110385 FC1895/11, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 689, 2 September 1954, FO 371/110385 FC1895/24; Crowe memorandum, 7 September 1954, ibid., TNA. Eden to Trevelyan, no. 213, 3 November 1954, FO 371/110386 FC1895/42, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 846, 21 October 1954, FO 371/110386 FC1895/39, TNA. Cong, Wenzi (2007), ‘Zhou Enlai tichu xuanba, peiyang waishi ganbu di shiliu zi fangzhen’ [The Sixteen-Point Principles of Selecting [and] Training Foreign Affairs Cadres advocated by Zhou Enlai], in Zheng Yan (ed.), Waijiao jishi [Diplomatic Episodes], vol. 1, Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 221–4; Gao (1998), 121–30. Pan, Jin (1994), ‘ZhongYing jianjiao tanpan de changqi fuza lichen’ [The Long Tortuous Road of Sino-British Negotiations over the Establishment of Diplomatic Relations], in Pei Jianzhang, et al. (eds), XZWF, vol. 3, Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 150; Pei (1997), 132. ‘Vehemently opposing the conspiracy of creating “two-Chinas”’, 5 January 1955, ZEWW, 95. Satow (1957), 115. See Denza, Eileen (1998), Diplomatic Law: A Commentary on the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, 2nd edn, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hurd, Douglas (2004), Memoirs, London: Abacus, 128. Beijing to Protocol Department, FO, 10 May 1955, FO 371/115197 FC1921/2; Beijing to FO, no. 155, 15 June 1955, FO 371/115197 FC1921/3; Beijing to FO, no. 1036, 14 November 1955, FO 371/115197 FC1921/4, TNA. Wilson to Dalton, 12 October 1957, FO 371/127403 FC1633/14/G, TNA. Zhou suggested to organize two group tours for foreign missions each year. Gao, Jianzhong (2007), ‘Zhou Enlai libin sixiang chutan’ [A Preliminary Exploration of Zhou Enlai’s Thinking on Protocol], in Zheng Yan (ed.), Waijiao jishi [Diplomatic Episodes], vol. 1, Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 39. O’Neill to Macmillan, no. 312, 8 December 1955, FO 371/115169 FC1635/4, TNA.

Notes 66

67

68

69 70 71 72 73

74

75 76

77 78

79

80

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Trevelyan, Humphrey (1971), Worlds Apart: China 1953-5, Soviet Union 1962-5, London: Macmillan, 108–9; Beijing to FO, no. 119, 11 May 1955, FO 371/114992 FC1018/59, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 11, 5 January 1953, FO 371/105308 FC1462/1; Addis memorandum, 6 January 1953, FO 371/105308 FC1462/2A; Beijing to FO, no. 33, 10 January 1953, FO 371/105308 FC1462/7, TNA. Beijing shi difang zhi bianzuan weiyuanhui (ed.) (2003), Beijing zhi: Jianzhu juan: Jianzhu zhi [Record of Beijing: Volume on Architecture: Record of Architecture], Beijing: Beijing chubanshe, 164–5, 171 and 180–1. Hung, Chang-tai (2011), Mao’s New World: Political Culture in the Early People’s Republic, Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Hoare, J. E. (1994), ‘Building Politics: The British Embassy Peking, 1949-1992’, Pacific Review, 7 (1): 69–71. Cradock, Percy (1994), Experiences of China, London: John Murray, 22–3. Wilson to Lloyd, no. 92‘S’, 11 July 1959, FO 371/141269 FC1051/26, TNA. See, for example, Chang, Gordon H. and He Di (1993), ‘The Absence of War in the U.S.-China Confrontation over Quemoy and Matsu in 1954-1955: Contingency, Luck, Deterrence?’, American Historical Review, 98 (5): 1500–24. Dockrill, Michael (1989), ‘Britain and the First Chinese Offshore Islands Crisis, 1954-5’, in Michael Dockrill and John W. Young (eds), British Foreign Policy, 194556, London: Macmillan, 173–96; Wang (2014), 188–224; Tsang (2006), 121–39. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 537, col. 158W, 23 February 1955. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 536, col. 162–3, 26 January 1955; vol. 536, col. 159–60W, 4 February 1955; vol. 536, col. 1530–2, 7 February 1955. Rothwell, Victor (1992), Anthony Eden: A Political Biography, 1931-57, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 158. Lamb, Richard (1995), The Macmillan Years 1957-1963: The Emerging Truth, London: John Murray, 396–400; Foot, Rosemary (1990), ‘The Search for a Modus Vivendi: Anglo-American Relations and China Policy in the Eisenhower Era’, in Warren Cohen and Akira Iriye (eds), The Great Powers in East Asia, 1953-1960, New York: Columbia University Press, 155–6. ‘Vehemently opposing the conspiracy of creating “two-Chinas”’, 5 January 1955, ZEWW, 94–105; Abstract of conversation between Zhou and Trevelyan, 25 February 1955, The Wilson Centre History and Public Policy Programme Digital Archive, PRC FMA 110-00034-01, 1-13. Obtained by Sulmaan Khan and translated by Anna Beth Keim. http://digitalarchive.wilsoncenter.org/ document/114836. ‘Should not recognize “two Chinas”’, 5 March 1955, JYMZJW, vol. 2, 259–62.

214 81 82

83

84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93

94

95

96

97

98

Notes ‘On restoration to China of her legitimate seat in the United Nations’, 30 September 1956, MZD, 204–12; MZN, vol. 3, 124–5. Zhou report, 10 February 1958, in Shijie zhishi bianji (ed.) (1959), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo duiwai guanxi wenjianji, 1958 [A Collection of Documents of the Foreign Relations of the PRC, 1958], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 22. China alleged that the British had been pursuing a ‘two Chinas’ or a ‘doublefaced’ policy in Hong Kong, as manifested in, for example, the 1955 Kashmir Princess incident and the 1956 riots. See Mark (2004), 119–23. Summary of talk between Zhou and Wilson, 25 February 1958, Papers of Harold Wilson, Special Subject Files, China, MS.Wilsonc.872, BLO. Chen (2001), 163–204. Wang (2014), 226–52; Tsang (2006), 139–48. Catterall, Peter (ed.) (2011), The Macmillan Diaries: Prime Minister and After, 1957-66, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 154. Lamb (1995), 400–6; Williams, Charles (2010), Harold Macmillan, London: Phoenix, 316. ‘The situation in the Taiwan Strait and our policy’, 5 October 1958, ZEWW, 262–7. Lloyd to Wilson, no. 85, 23 September 1958, CO 1030/595, TNA. ‘Report on visits to eleven Asian-African and European countries’, 5 March 1957, ZEWW, 215–19. ‘Comments on “Huan Xiang talk about the breakdown of the Western world”’, 25 November 1958, JYMZW, vol. 7, 581–83; MZN, vol. 3, 530–1. Zhang, Peisen, et al. (2010), Zhang Wentian nianpu, 1942-1976 [The Chronicle of Zhang Wentian, 1942-1976], vol. 3, revised edn, Beijing: Zhonggong dangshi chubanshe, 800–1; JYMZJW, vol. 3, 52. In 1963–4 Mao formally developed the theory of ‘two intermediate zones’, with Britain being placed in the ‘second intermediate zone’. ‘There are two intermediate zones’, September 1963 and January and July 1964, MZD, 387–9. Su, Yang (2012), Zhang Wentian yu Zhongguo waijiao [Zhang Wentian and Chinese Diplomacy], Hong Kong: Hong Kong Open Page Publishing Company Ltd., 194–5. ‘Fourteen principles of foreign trade work’, 11 May 1959, in Zhonggong zhongyang wenxian yanjiushi (ed.) (1993), Zhou Enlai jingji wenxuan [Selected Works of Zhou Enlai on Economics], Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 395–402. Dangdai Zhongguo congshi (ed.) (1992), Dangdai Zhongguo duiwai maoyi [Contemporary China: Foreign Trade], vol. 2, Beijing: Dangdai Zhongguo chubanshe, 21–2 and 291. Zhang, Shu Guang (2014), Beijing’s Economic Statecraft during the Cold War, 1949-1991, Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Centre Press, 46.

Notes 99 100 101 102 103 104

105

106 107 108

109

110 111

112 113

114 115 116 117 118

215

Wang (1999), 84–93. Shao (1991), 159. Dulles to State Department, 8 September 1954, FRUS, 1952-1954, xiv: China and Japan, pt. 1, doc. 287, 580. Shao (1991), 64. Eden (1960), 332, 337 and 364. Memorandum of conversation, 22 March 1957, RG 59, Records of the Executive Secretariat, Conference Files, 1949–63, Box 127, NA; Record of meeting, 22 March 1957, FO 371/127239 F1071/15G, TNA. Qing, Simei (1990), ‘The Eisenhower Administration and Changes in Western Embargo Policy against China, 1954-1958’, in Cohen and Iriye (eds), The Great Powers in East Asia, New York: Columbia University Press, 128–32. Shao (1991), 67. Dangdai Zhongguo duiwai maoyi, 4–5. Dougan, Mark (2002), A Political Economy Analysis of China’s Civil Aviation Industry, New York: Routledge, 42–57; Zhongguo minyong hangkong zongju guihua kejisi (ed.) (no date), Zhongguo minhang tongji ziliao huibian [A Collection of Statistical Information of the Civil Aviation Administration of China], no publisher, 269. Engel, Jeffrey A. (2007), Cold War at 30,000 Feet: The Anglo-American Fight for Aviation Supremacy, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 216–51; Kaufman (2001), 156–9. Record of meeting, 16 August 1961, FO 371/158424 FC1381/12, TNA. Memorandum, Yager to McConaughy and Peterson, 24 October 1961, RG 59, Subject Files of the Office of Asian Communist Affairs, 1961–73, Lot File 72D175, Box 4; Memorandum, Peterson to Ball, 3 November 1961, ibid.; Memorandum, Peterson to McConaughy, 8 November 1961, ibid., NA. Memorandum of conversation, 10 November 1961, RG 59, Subject Files of the Office of Asian Communist Affairs, 1961–73, Lot File 72D175, Box 4, NA. Engel (2007), 235–8. Subsequently, the Macmillan government was engaged in a ‘conspiracy’ to deceive the Americans by exporting the six Viscounts (with the embargoed equipment) to China secretly. See idem, 243–4. Stewart to Lord Home, 18 December 1961, FO 371/158426 FC1381/59, TNA. Memorandum, de la Mare to Peck, 3 January 1962, FO 371/158426 FC1381/59, TNA. Foot, Rosemary (1995), The Practice of Power: U.S. Relations with China since 1945, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 29–35. Memorandum of conversation, 23 October 1957, RG 59, Records of the Executive Secretariat, Conference Files, 1949–63, Box 136, NA. Diary Entry, 25 October 1957, Papers of Harold Macmillan, Manuscript Diaries, 1950–66, Mss. Macmillan dep.d.30, BLO. [emphasis in original]

216 119 120 121 122 123

124 125 126 127 128

129 130 131 132 133 134

135 136 137 138

Notes Editorial note about conversation between Eisenhower and Lord Home, 19 September 1960, FRUS 1958-1960, vol. xix: China, doc. 353, 723–4. Foot (1995), 35–6. Kochavi, Noam (2002), A Conflict Perpetuated: China Policy during the Kennedy Years, Westport, Connecticut: Praeger, 61–9. Douglas-Home memorandum, C(61)131, 31 August 1961, CAB 129/106; CC(61)49th Conclusions, 5 September 1961, CAB 128/35, TNA. This was Montgomery’s second China visit, the first one being in May 1960. See ‘Talk with Marshal Montgomery on the current international situation’, 27 May 1960, MZD, 325–34; MZN, vol. 4, 401–3 and 423–7. On Montgomery’s talks with Mao between 22 and 24 September, see MZN, vol. 5, 22–9. ‘Supporting Field Marshal Montgomery’s three principles about relaxing the tense international situation’, 21 September 1961, ZEWW, 311–13. Beijing to FO, no. 467, 23 September 1961, PREM 11/3522, TNA. Acland to Bligh, 3 October 1961, PREM 11/3522; Bligh to Acland, 5 October 1961, ibid., TNA. Douglas-Home memorandum, C(61)193, 28 November 1961, CAB 129/107; CC(61)67th Conclusions, 5 December 1961, CAB 128/35; CC(61)71st Conclusions, 12 December 1961, ibid., TNA. Kochavi (2002), 69. Memorandum, de la Mare to Peck, 8 February 1962, FO 371/164908 FC1051/5, TNA. FO to Beijing, no. 82, 15 February 1962, FO 371/164908 FC1051/5; FO to Beijing, no. 128 and no. 129, 16 March 1962, FO 371/164908 FC1051/11, TNA. Zhai (2000), 92–111. Home, Lord (1976), The Way the Wind Blows: An Autobiography by Lord Home, London: Collins, 169–70. Li, Yueran (2001), ZhongSu waijiao qingliji: Shouxi eyu fanyi de lishi jianzheng [A Witness Account of Sino-Soviet Diplomacy: History witnessed by the Chief Russian Interpreter], Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 228–9; Li, Qingquan (2007), ‘Chen Yi tongzhi zai guanyu Laowo wenti de Rineiwa huiyi shang’ [Comrade Chen Yi at the Geneva Conference on the Question of Laos], in Zheng Yan (ed.), Waijiao jishi [Diplomatic Episodes], vol. 2, Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 53–63. Sanger, Clyde (1995), Malcolm MacDonald: Bringing an End to Empire, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 420–1. Geneva to FO, no. 27, 20 July 1962, FO 371/164909 FC1051/25, TNA. Record of conversation on 23 July 1962 (Reprinted for FO and Whitehall Distribution, 26 July 1962), FO 371/164909 FC1051/27, TNA. Geneva to FO, no. 31, 25 July 1962, FO 371/164909 FC1051/30, TNA.

Notes 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146

147 148

149

150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160

161

217

Dikötter, Frank (2010), Mao’s Great Famine: The History of China’s Most Devastating Catastrophe, 1958-1962, London: Bloomsbury. Taylor, Jay (2000), The Generalissimo’s Son: Chiang Ching-kuo and the Revolutions in China and Taiwan, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 261–8. Kochavi (2002), 114–16. Xia, Yafeng (2006), Negotiating with the Enemy: US-China Talks during the Cold War, 1949–1972, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 115–16. Memorandum, Ball to Kennedy, 21 June 1962, Papers of John F. Kennedy, National Security Files, Countries: China, Box 23, JFKL. On the Kennedy administration’s debates on food aid to China, see Kochavi (2002), 102–13. Memorandum of conversation, 24 June 1962, Papers of James C. Thomson, Jr, Far East, 1961–6, Communist China, Box 15, JFKL. Mark, Chi-kwan (2007), ‘The “Problem of People”: British Colonials, Cold War Powers, and the Chinese Refugees in Hong Kong, 1949-62’, Modern Asian Studies, 41 (6): 1174–7. Singapore to FO, no. 12, 12 November 1962, FO 371/164909 FC1051/37, TNA. Garver, John W. (2006), ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, in Alastair Iain Johnston and Robert S. Ross (eds), New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 86–130. See McGarr, Paul M. (2013), The Cold War in South Asia: Britain, the United States and the Indian Subcontinent, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 149–82 (quote on 153). CRO to Delhi, no. 2194 and no. 2195, 22 October 1962, PREM 11/3838, TNA. CRO to Delhi, no. 2203, 22 October 1962, PREM 11/3838, TNA. Horne, Alistair (1989), Macmillan 1957-1986: Volume II of the Official Biography, London: Macmillan, 415–17; Kochavi (2002), 145–54. Garvey to Peck, 6 November 1962, FO 371/164909 FC1051/38, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 508, 29 October 1962, PREM 11/3838, TNA. Hong Kong to CO, no. 921, 5 November 1962, PREM 11/3838; Singapore to FO, no. 15, 10 November 1962, ibid., TNA. CC(62)66th Conclusions, 6 November 1962, CAB 128/36, TNA. FO to Washington, no. 8466, 20 November 1962, PREM 11/3839, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 583, 25 November 1962, PREM 11/3839, TNA. Liu (2001), 99–102. White, Brian (1992), Britain, Détente and Changing East-West Relations, Abingdon: Routledge, 105; Ashton, Nigel S. (2002), Kennedy, Macmillan and the Cold War: The Irony of Interdependence, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 193–4. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 655, col. 230–7, 6 March 1962.

218 162

163

164

165 166 167 168

169

Notes Zhang, Shu Guang (1999), ‘Between “Paper” and “Real Tigers”: Mao’s View of Nuclear Weapons’, in John Lewis Gaddis, Ernest May and Jonathan Rosenberg (eds), Cold War Statesmen Confront the Bomb: Nuclear Diplomacy since 1945, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 194–215. Statement by the Chinese government, 15 August 1963, Hinton, Harold C. (ed.) (1982), Government and Politics in Revolutionary China: Selected Documents, 1949-1979, Wilmington, Delaware: Scholarly Resources Inc., 136–43 (quote from 138). Medeiros, Evan S. (2007), Reluctant Restraint: The Evolution of China’s Nonproliferation Policies and Practices, 1980-2004, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 33–5. Excerpt of Zhou’s interview with Kiyoshi Iwamoto, 16 May 1964, FO 371/175941 FC1241/3, TNA. In order to succeed Macmillan as prime minister, Lord Home had renounced his hereditary peerages. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 687, col. 458–9 and 532–3, 16 January 1964. Burr, William and Jeffrey T. Richelson (2000/01), ‘Whether to “Strangle the Baby in the Cradle”: The United States and the Chinese Nuclear Program, 1960-64’, International Security, 25 (3): 54–99. Henderson to Wright, 30 September 1964; Wright to Henderson, 1 October 1964, PREM 11/4672, TNA.

Chapter 3 1

2

3 4

5

For overviews of the Wilson government’s foreign policy, see Young, John W. (2003), The Labour Governments 1964-70, vol. 2: International Policy, Manchester: Manchester University Press; Vickers, Rhiannon (2011), The Labour Party and the World, part 2: Labour Foreign Policy since 1951, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 57–90. Wilson served as president of the Board of Trade in Clement Attlee’s Cabinet between 1947 and 1951 and as shadow chancellor of the exchequer and shadow foreign secretary from 1955 to 14 February 1963, becoming leader of the Labour Party since then. Summary of talk between Zhou and Wilson, 25 February 1958, Papers of Harold Wilson, Special Subject Files, China, MS.Wilsonc.872, BLO. Wilson’s note on Sassoon’s Shanghai interests, 27 February 1958; Wilson to Sluzewski, 22 January 1959, Papers of Harold Wilson, Personal and Assorted Non-official Papers, [Trade Representations], MS.Wilsonc.1733, BLO. ‘Representation of China in UN’, South China Morning Post, 4 December 1961.

Notes 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14 15 16

17

18 19 20 21 22

23

24

219

Report of the sixty-fourth annual conference of the Labour Party, Blackpool, 27 September to 1 October 1965, 200. On this theme, see Vickers (2011). Report of the sixty-fifth annual conference of the Labour Party, Brighton, 3–7 October 1966, 267 and 300. Wilson, Harold (1971), The Labour Government 1964-1970: A Personal Record, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2–3. Report of the sixty-fourth annual conference of the Labour Party, Blackpool, 27 September to 1 October 1965, 72 and 279. Young (2003), 62. Ziegler, Philip (1995), Wilson: The Authorised Life of Lord Wilson of Rievaulx, London: HarperCollins, 219. On Johnson’s escalation of the Vietnam War, see particularly Logevall, Fredrik (1999), Choosing War: The Lost Chance for Peace and the Escalation of War in Vietnam, Berkeley: University of California Press. Zhai (2000), 112–56; Chen (2001), 221–9. ‘We hope the Arab countries will unite’, 23 March 1965, MZD, 429–31. Zhai (2000), 139–52; Li, Jie (2001), ‘Change in China’s Domestic Situation in the 1960s and Sino-U.S. Relations’, in Robert S. Ross and Jiang Changbin (eds), Re-examining the Cold War: U.S.-China Diplomacy, 1954-1973, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 290–9; Chen (2001), 209–12. Ellis, Sylvia (2004), Britain, America, and the Vietnam War, Westport, Connecticut: Praeger, 118–27; Vickers, Rhiannon (2006), ‘Foreign Policy beyond Europe’, in Peter Dorey (ed.), The Labour Governments 1964-1970, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 133–4; Pimlott, Ben (1992), Harold Wilson, London: HarperCollins, 389–91. Dockrill (2002), 107; Young (2003), 63. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 708, col. 238, 9 March 1965. Washington to FO, no. 563, 9 March 1965, PREM 13/693, TNA. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 709, col. 1862, 1869–70, 1882 and 1981, 1 April 1965. ‘What does the British government want to gain from serving as defendant of the United States?’, People’s Daily, 25 March 1965; ‘The Visage of the accomplice’, People’s Daily, 5 April 1965. ‘“Malaysia” in the eyes of US Imperialism’, People’s Daily, 13 January 1965; ‘Towards the disintegration of the instrument of neo-colonialism in “Malaysia”’, People’s Daily, 14 August 1965. ‘Joint resolution proposed by fifty MPs in the House of Commons’, People’s Daily, 13 February 1965; ‘Protest against the British government’s support for US aggression in Vietnam’, People’s Daily, 21 April 1965.

220 25

26 27 28 29 30 31

32 33 34

35

36

37 38 39 40

41

Notes ‘The Central Committee’s notice on the main points and slogans of propaganda in relation to the fifteenth anniversary of US imperialism’s occupation of the Chinese territory of Taiwan’, 20 June 1965, Zhonggong zhongyang xuanchuanbu bangongting (ed.) (1996), Zhongguo gongchandang xuanchuan gongzuo wenjian xuanbian, 1957-1992 [Selected Documents on the Chinese Communist Party’s Propaganda Work, 1957-1992], Beijing: Xuexi chubanshe, 398–9. Beijing to FO, no. 490, 15 April 1965, FO 371/181001 FC1051/12, TNA. Record of conversation, 13 May 1965, FO 371/181001 FC1051/19; Beijing to FO, no. 642, 14 May 1965, ibid., TNA. Zhai (2000), 157–75. FO to Washington, no. 2634, 1 April 1965, PREM 13/693, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 476, 12 April 1965, PREM 13/694, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 506, 18 April 1965, PREM 13/694; Beijing to FO, no. 507, 19 April 1965, ibid., TNA. Despite Beijing’s (and Hanoi’s) refusal to receive him, Gordon Walker went ahead with his fact-finding tour, not least to promote an international conference on Cambodia (which China did not oppose). Zhai (2000), 159. Ellis (2004), 101–6. Beijing to FO, no. 800, 20 June 1965, PREM 13/690, TNA. Xiong, Xianghui (1996), ‘Cong dierci Yafei huiyi geqian kan Zhou Enlai guangming leiluo de waijiao fengge’ [The Total Honesty of Zhou Enlai’s Diplomatic Style seen from the Abortion of the Second Asian-African Conference], in Yu Wuzhen, et al., XZWF, vol. 4, Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 168–84. Beijing to FO, no. 808, 22 June 1965, PREM 13/690, TNA; ‘The British government shields the US policy of aggression in Vietnam,’ People’s Daily, 22 June 1965. ‘The British government launches new “peace talks” conspiracy in the name of the British Commonwealth to serve US aggression in Vietnam’, People’s Daily, 26 June 1965. Nkrumah went ahead with his visit to North Vietnam, which insisted that he came only as the president of Ghana, not as a member of the Commonwealth. Zhai (2000), 161. Beijing to FO, no. 722, 31 May 1965, PREM 13/695, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 721, 31 May 1965, FO 371/180990 FC1022/44, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 720, 31 May 1965, FO 371/180990 FC1022/44; Beijing to FO, no. 723, 31 May (delivered 1 June) 1965, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Bundy to Johnson, 4 June 1965, FRUS, 1964-1968, vol. xxx: China, doc. 88, 173–4; Editorial note, FRUS, 1964-1968, vol. ii: Vietnam JanuaryJune 1965, doc. 321, 700–1. ZEN, vol. 2, 750 and 769; ZEN, vol. 3, 5.

Notes 42

43 44 45

46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

59 60

221

Schulzinger, Robert D. (2001), ‘The Johnson Administration, China, and the Vietnam War’, in Ross and Jiang (eds), Re-examining the Cold War, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 249–51; Hershberg, James G. and Chen Jian (2005), ‘Reading and Warning the Likely Enemy: China’s Signals to the United States about Vietnam in 1965’, International History Review, 27 (1): 47–84. Statement by the Chinese government, 7 August 1965, enclosed in Beijing to FO, no. 996, 8 August 1965, FO 371/180528 DV103110/35, TNA. ‘The Wilson government intensifies its service to US imperialism’s peace talks fraud’, People’s Daily, 1 September 1965. For a detailed analysis, see Mark, Chi-kwan (2010), ‘Vietnam War Tourists: US Naval Visits to Hong Kong and British-American-Chinese Relations, 1965-1968’, Cold War History, 10 (1): 1–28. Hong Kong to CO, no. 964, 11 August 1965, DEFE 11/537, TNA. Hong Kong to CO, no. 965, 11 August 1965, DEFE 11/537, TNA. [emphasis in original] Hong Kong to CO, no. 1073, 25 August 1965, DEFE 11/537, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 1070, 1 September 1965, FCO 40/56, TNA. ‘Warning the British government’, People’s Daily, 4 September 1965. ‘Vice Premier and Foreign Minister Chen Yi gives important talk at the Sinoforeign press conference [on 29 September 1965]’, People’s Daily, 7 October 1965. Beijing to FO, no. 88 and no. 89, 1 February 1966, DEFE 11/537, TNA. Mark (2010), 9. Beijing to FO, no. 89, 1 February 1966, DEFE 11/537; Beijing to FO, no. 76, 29 January 1966, PREM 13/1253, TNA. FO background note, enclosed in Bolland memorandum, 4 February 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/5, TNA. Gaiduk, Ilya V. (1996), The Soviet Union and the Vietnam War, Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 58–9. Friedman, Jeremy (2015), Shadow Cold War: The Sino-Soviet Competition for the Third World, Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 101–47. Lüthi, Lorenz M. (2008), The Sino-Soviet Split: Cold War in the Communist World, Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 302–39; Li, Danhui (2006), ‘The Sino-Soviet Dispute over Assistance for Vietnam’s Anti-American War, 19651972’, in Priscilla Roberts (ed.), Behind the Bamboo Curtain: China, Vietnam, and the World beyond Asia, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 289–318. Fursenko, Aleksandr and Timothy Naftali (2006), Khrushchev’s Cold War: The Inside Story of an American Adversary, London: W. W. Norton, 415; Lüthi (2008), 232. Wu, Lengxi (1999), Shinian lunzhan, 1956-1966: ZhongSu guanxi huiyilu [Ten Years of Polemics, 1956-1966: Memoirs of Sino-Soviet Relations], vol. 2, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 530–1; Ye, Yonglie (1990), Chen Bodai, Xianggang: Wenhua jiaoyu chubanshe, 228–32.

222 61

62 63

64

65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

Notes Cui, Qi (2009), Wo suo qinli de ZhongSu dalunzhan [The Sino-Soviet Great Polemics I Experienced], Beijing: Renmin ribao chubanshe, 145–8; Zhonggong zhongyang wenxian yanjiushi (ed.) (2009), Deng Xiaoping nianpu, 1904-1974 [The Chronicle of Deng Xiaoping, 1904-1974], vol. 2, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 1749. People’s Daily editorial (1963), ‘A comment on the statement of the Communist Party of the U.S.A.’, 8 March 1963, Beijing: Foreign Language Press. ‘Moscow on HK refugees’, Hong Kong Standard, 30 April 1964; ‘Hongkong alleged to be centre of anti-Soviet drive by Peking’, South China Morning Post, 28 May 1964. Hong Kong to State Department, no. A-610, 9 March 1966, RG 59, Central Foreign Policy Files, 1964-1966, Box 2269, NA; Bolland to Elliott, 12 January 1967, FCO 21/66, 4/1/1967, TNA. ‘Vice Premier and Foreign Minister Chen Yi gives important talk at the Sinoforeign press conference [on 29 September 1965]’, People’s Daily, 7 October 1965. Beijing to FO, no. 441, 9 June 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/15, TNA. Beijing to FO, nos. 437 and 438, 9 June 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/15, TNA. Hong Kong to CO, no. 2879, 15 December 1966 (reprinted as FED 150/402/01, February 1967), DEFE 13/534, TNA. MZN, vol. 5, 598. MacLehose to Wilford, 22 April 1965, FO 371/180994 FC103145/15/G, TNA. Trench to MacLehose, 5 May 1965, FO 371/180994 FC103145/15/G, TNA. Wilford to MacLehose, 12 May 1965, FO 371/180994 FC103145/15/G; Hopson to Bolland, 9 December 1965, FO 371/181002 FC1051/43/A, TNA. ‘People of Zimbabwe demand real independence’, People’s Daily, 9 November 1965; ‘Strongly condemn the Southern Rhodesian colonial authorities’ adoption of fascist rule in the name of “independence”’, People’s Daily, 15 November 1965. Hong Kong Standard, 23 November 1965. Sing Tao Daily (Hong Kong), 12 December 1965. FO memorandum, 10 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/7, TNA. Wilford to FO, nos. 1103 and 1104, 8 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/3, TNA. Wilford to FO, no. 1118, 10 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/5, TNA. Shanghai waishi zhi, 367–8. Wilford brief, 27 September 1954, FO 371/181037 FC1891/12; Wilford to FO, no. 1138, 17 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/6, TNA. FO to Beijing, no. 1311, 10 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/5; Bolland memorandum, 20 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/7, TNA. Wilford to FO, nos. 1145 and 1146, 18 September 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/7, TNA.

Notes 83 84 85

86 87 88 89 90 91

92 93 94 95 96 97

98 99

100 101

223

Beijing to FO, no. 1221, 6 October (delivered 7 October) 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/7, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 1302, 27 October 1965, FO 371/181037 FC1891/9; Hopson to FO, no. 1340, 8 November (delivered 9 November) 1965, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Bolland to Gore-Booth, 7 July 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/20/G; Beijing to FO, no. 545, 10 July 1966, ibid.; Beijing to FO, no. 551, 11 July 1966, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 544, 10 July 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/20/G, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 545, 10 July 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/20/G, TNA. Laurence memorandum, 25 August 1966, FO 371/187005 FC1051/20/G; Denson memorandum, 24 August 1966, ibid., TNA. MacFarquhar, Roderick and Michael Schoenhals (2006), Mao’s Last Revolution, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 86–116. Leese, Daniel (2013), Mao Cult: Rhetoric and Ritual in China’s Cultural Revolution, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 128–36. Liu, Wusheng and Du Hongqi, et al. (2000), Zhou Enlai junshi huodong jishi, 1918-1975 [A Chronological Record of Zhou Enlai’s Military Activities, 19181975], part 2, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 632. Beijing to FO, no. 705, 24 August 1966, FO 371/187045 FC1891/8, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 706, 24 August 1966, FO 371/187045 FC1891/8, TNA. Bolland memorandum, 26 August 1966, FO 371/187045 FC1891/8; Memorandum, Gore-Booth to Brown, 26 August 1966, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 713, 27 August 1966, FO 371/187045 FC1891/8, TNA. People’s Daily, 1 September 1966. Under the radical atmosphere of ‘smashing the four olds’, even the tombs of the parents of Song Qingling (Dr Sun Yixian’s widow and vice chairman of the PRC) in the Shanghai International Cemetery could not escape Red Guards’ intervention. Tong, Xiaopeng (2006), Zai Zhou Enlai shenbian sishinian [At the Side of Zhou Enlai for Forty Years], Beijing: Huawen chubanshe, 653. Bolland memorandum, 20 October 1966, FO 371/187006 FC1051/41, TNA. Denson to Cradock, 9 September 1966, FO 371/187006 FC1051/31; Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 6 September 1966, FO 371/187006 FC1051/30, TNA. Denson to Cradock, 9 September 1966, FO 371/187006 FC1051/31, TNA. Xiong probably referred to Harold Wilson’s comments during the parliamentary debate on 8 February 1966. In countering the left-wing MPs’ criticisms of Johnson’s announcement about the resumption of the bombing of North Vietnam after the lack of a Hanoi response to the US bombing pause, Wilson had said that he wanted that ‘the same pressure [for talks] was put on the other side in Hanoi. … I should like to have seen “Peace in Vietnam” outside the Chinese

224

102 103 104

105 106 107

108 109 110

111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121

Notes Embassy. … I should have liked to have seen the peace lobby outside the Chinese Embassy demanding that the Chinese Government should use their influence [on Hanoi] to make peace.’ Wilson (1971), 205–6. Record of conversation, 7 September 1966, FO 371/187006 FC1051/31, TNA. Record of call by Xiong on Walston, 23 September 1966, FO 371/187006 FC1051/35, TNA. See, for example, the questions raised by John Biggs-Davison (Chigwell) and Sir William Teeling (Brighton, Pavilion) on 18, 24 and 31 October 1966, extracts in FO 371/187006 FC1051/40, TNA. CC(64)2nd Conclusions, 22 October 1964, CAB 128/39, TNA. CC(65)54th Conclusions, 26 October 1965, CAB 128/39, TNA. CC(65)24th Conclusions, 8 April 1965, CAB 128/39; Record of conversation, 3 June 1966, PREM 13/971; CC(66)24th Conclusions, 12 May 1966, CAB 128/41, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 31‘S’, 22 November 1965, FO 371/180991 FC1022/100, TNA. Also see Beijing to FO, no. 25, 28 August 1965, FO 371/180991 FC1022/81, TNA. See Dockrill (2002). Report to ministers by OPD(O), 8 November 1965, CAB 130/213, MISC 17/4, in Ashton, S. R. and Wm Roger Louis (eds) (2004), British Documents on the End of Empire, series A, vol. 5: East of Suez and the Commonwealth 1964-1971, part 1: East of Suez, London: The Stationery Office, 12–33. CC(66)8th Conclusions, 14 February 1966, CAB 128/41, TNA. Report to ministers by OPD(O), 10 May 1966, OPD(66)54, CAB 148/28, in British Documents on the End of Empire, vol. 5, part 1, 76–89. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 716, col. 1349–50, 20 July 1965. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 727, col. 544 and 548–50, 26 April 1966. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 724, col. 346, 8 February 1966. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 727, col. 570–3 and 659–65, 26 April 1966. See Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 702, col. 1467–8, 26 November 1964; vol. 735, col. 973–4, 7 November 1966. Wilson (1971), 186. MacLehose memorandum, 18 June 1965, FO 371/181046 FC2251/14, TNA; Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 716, col. 1382, 20 July 1965. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 724, col. 239–40, 8 February 1966. The Johnson administration’s tentative bridge-building efforts did not achieve much, not least due to suspicions of China’s intentions held by key figures like

Notes

122 123 124 125

126

127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134

135 136 137

138 139

225

Dean Rusk and the onset of the chaotic Cultural Revolution in China. See Lumbers, Michael (2008), Piercing the Bamboo Curtain: Tentative Bridge-building to China during the Johnson Years, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 146–7 and 153–60; Goh, Evelyn (2005), Constructing the U.S. Rapprochement with China, 1961-1974: From ‘Red Menace’ to ‘Tacit Ally’, New York: Cambridge University Press, 56–9 and 70–8. Paper for Permanent Under-Secretary Steering Committee, SC(66)35, 11 July 1966, in Goulding note, FO 371/186992 FC1022/31, TNA. Lowry to Gray, 17 March 1966, BT 11/6726 CRE 82/66, TNA. Hopson to Stewart, no. 4E. 1 February 1966, BT 11/6726 CRE 82/66, TNA. Intelligence Memorandum by Directorate of Intelligence, CIA, ‘Economic Benefits to Communist China of a Removal of US Trade Controls’, CIA/RR EM 66–24, June 1966, Papers of Lyndon B. Johnson, President 1963–1969, National Security File, Country File, China vol. IX, Box 241, LBJL. Statement by Minister of Aviation, ‘Future of the Aircraft Industry’, March 1966, enclosed in Jones to Reid, 8 March 1966, The Papers of Harold Wilson, Special Subject Files, Foreign, MS.Wilsonc.888, BLO. Engel (2007), 279–83. Wang, Naitian, et al. (1989), Dangdai Zhongguo de minhang shiye [Contemporary China: Civil Aviation Industry], Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 58–9. Memorandum, Wright to Dowler, 4 January 1966, PREM 13/759, TNA. Memorandum, Trend to Wilson, 6 January 1966, PREM 13/759, TNA. Memorandum, Trend to Wilson, 8 February 1966, PREM 13/759, TNA. Commonwealth Relations Office to New Delhi, no. 685, 18 February 1966, PREM 13/759, TNA. Walston to Snow, 9 May 1966, BT 359/24 iG/A0397 Part A; Henderson to Sumner, 9 June 1966, ibid., TNA. Wilson’s message to Johnson, 16 February 1966, enclosed in Dean to Johnson, 17 February 1966, Papers of Lyndon B. Johnson, President 1963–1969, National Security File, Head of State Correspondence File, Box 9, LBJL. Bolland memorandum, 4 August 1965, FO 371/181046 FC2251/21; du Boulay memorandum, 9 August 1965, ibid., TNA. Report of the sixty-fourth annual conference of the Labour Party, Blackpool, 27 September to 1 October 1965, 195. ‘The United Nations is not the place for Asian-African-Latin American countries to exercise justice’, People’s Daily, 13 January 1965; ‘The United Nations is the place for United States-Soviet Union political deals’, People’s Daily, 27 December 1965. ‘Premier Zhou makes important speech at welcome banquet for First Deputy Prime Minister Subandrio’, People’s Daily, 25 January 1965. ‘Vice Premier and Foreign Minister Chen Yi gives important talk at the Sinoforeign press conference [on 29 September 1965]’, People’s Daily, 7 October 1965.

226 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147

148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157

Notes MacLehose to Garvey, 5 March 1965, FO 371/181049 FC2252/3, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 1341, 9 November 1965, FO 371/181047 FC2251/52, TNA. [emphasis in original] ZEN, vol. 2, 699 and 704. New York to FO, no. 2980, 17 November 1965, FO 371/181048 FC2251/62, TNA. Memorandum, Bolland to Peck, 22 November 1965, FO 371/181048 FC2251/70, TNA. ‘United States’ hostile policy towards China loses people’s support [and] becomes more isolated’, People’s Daily, 19 November 1965. Record of call by Xiong on Walston on 24 November 1965, FO 371/181048 FC2251/75; Memorandum, Bolland to Peck, 25 November 1965, ibid., TNA. Lumbers (2008), 160–5; Foot, Rosemary (2001), ‘Redefinitions: The Domestic Context of America’s China Policy in the 1960s’, in Ross and Jiang (eds), Re-examining the Cold War, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 270–1. Memorandum, Greenhill to Gore-Booth, 4 November 1966, FO 371/187054 FC2251/89, TNA. Extract from record of meeting, 16 October 1966, PREM 13/3533, TNA. Memorandum, Gore-Booth to Brown, 25 November 1966, FO 371/187056 FC2251/127, TNA. CC(66)56th Conclusions, 10 November 1966, CAB 128/41, TNA. Memorandum, Denson to de la Mare, 5 May 1966, FO 371/187053 FC2251/22; Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 12 September 1966, ibid., TNA. Lord Caradon’s explanation of vote on Chinese representation, November 1966, FCO 21/452 FEC2/1 Part C, TNA. Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 11 November 1966, FO 371/187055 FC2251/104; Bolland to Youde, 15 November 1966, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 1 December 1966, FO 371/187056 FC2251/149, TNA. Record of call by Xiong on Walston on 9 December 1966, FO 371/187056 FC2251/137; Memorandum, Bolland to Hopson, 9 December 1966, ibid., TNA. Gan (2004), 145; Zhang (2006), 55.

Chapter 4 1

See Ma, Jisen (2004), Waijiaobu wenhua dageming jishi [The Cultural Revolution in the Foreign Ministry of China], Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press; Barnouin, Barbara and Yu Changgen (1998), Chinese Foreign Policy during the Cultural Revolution, London: Kegan Paul International.

Notes 2

3

4

5

6 7 8 9

10

11 12

13

14 15 16

227

The Red Guards were by no means a homogenous group, but were deeply divided into different factions both within and across organizations, localities and regions. The term ‘Red Guards’ is used here as shorthand for all university and high school students, radical rebels, low-ranking Chinese diplomats who remained in their host countries, and progressive Overseas Chinese, who participated in the rituals of the Cultural Revolution. I borrowed the term from Lüthi, Lorenz M. (2009), ‘The Origins of Proletarian Diplomacy: The Chinese Attack on the American Embassy in the Soviet Union, 4 March 1965’, Cold War History, 9 (3): 411–26. Leese (2013); Lu, Xing (2004), Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution: The Impact on Chinese Thought, Culture, and Communication, Chapel Hill: University of South Carolina Press, 125–51. Jin, Ge (1995), ‘Zai Waijiaobu “duoquan” qianhou’ [The Beginning and End of ‘Seizing Power’ in the Foreign Ministry], in An Jianshe (ed.), Zhou Enlai de zuihou suiyue, 1966-1976 [Zhou Enlai’s Final Years, 1966-1976], Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 251. Van Ness, Peter (1970), Revolution and Chinese Foreign Policy: Peking’s Support for Wars of National Liberation, Berkeley: University of California Press, 237. Li (2001), 308; Van Ness (1970), 236–7; Barnouin and Yu (1998), 62. Barnouin and Yu (1998), 2–23; Ma (2004), 41–65. An, Jianshe (1995), ‘Gaoju pipan jizuo sichao di qizhi’ [Upholding the Banner of Criticizing Ultra-leftism], in An (ed.), Zhou Enlai de zuihou suiyue, Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 175. Barnouin, Barbara and Yu Changgen (2006), Zhou Enlai: A Political Life, Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 261; Wang, Junyan (1999b), Yuanshuai shiren waijiaojia: Chen Yi [Marshal, Poet, Diplomat: Chen Yi], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 427–8. ZEN, vol. 3, 55; ‘Zhou Enlai’s speech at the reception for the staff returning from diplomatic missions stationed abroad’, 25 January 1967, ZWDW. ‘Zhou Enlai’s instructions about demonstration against the Soviet Embassy in China’, January 1967, ZWDW. Also see ‘Zhou Enlai’s speech at the rally to “Angrily Denounce the Savage Act of the Soviet Union”’, 11 February 1967, ibid. Chen, Yangyong (1999), Kucheng weiju: Zhou Enlai zai 1967 [Plainly Sustain the Dangerous Situation: Zhou Enlai in 1967], Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 371; Barnouin and Yu (1998), 62. Brady (2003), 164–5. Hopson to Brown, no. 16, 20 June 1967 (reprinted for FO and Whitehall Distribution, 26 June 1967), FCO 21/72 FC3/5, TNA. Li, Jiasong and Lian Zhengbao, et al. (2002), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiao dashiji [A Record of Diplomatic Events of the People’s Republic of China], vol. 3:

228

17 18

19

20

21 22 23

24

25 26 27 28 29 30

31 32

Notes January 1965-December 1971, Beijing: Shijie zhish chubanshe, 161–2; Beijing to FO, no. 718, 17 June 1967, FCO 21/72 FC3/5, TNA. Beijing to FO, nos. 719 and 720, 17 June 1967, FCO 21/72 FC3/5; Beijing to FO, nos. 722 and 726, 18 June 1967, ibid., TNA. Yang, Rongjia (2011), Gongheguo waijiaobu mixin: Yige waijiaoguan zai wenge de qinshen jingyan [The Secrets of the Republic’s Foreign Ministry: The Personal Experience of a Diplomat in the Cultural Revolution], Xianggang: Dashan wenhua chubanshe, 140–1. ‘Peking protests again to Rangoon’, The New York Times, 30 June 1967; Fan, Hongwei (2012), ‘The 1967 Anti-China Riots in Burma and Sino-Burmese Relations’, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 43 (2): 234–56. But as Wang Li recollected, Mao did not mean that the person in question would in fact be toppled. Wang, Li (1994), ‘Memoir of a Year and Two Months: June 1966 to August 1967’, Chinese Law and Government: A Journal of Translators, 27 (6): 78 and 84. Holmes, Robert A. (1972), ‘Burma’s Foreign Policy Toward China since 1962’, Pacific Affairs, 45 (2): 250–1. Chen (1999), 344. Bu, Weihua (2008), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo shi, vol. 6: ‘Zalan jiushijie’: Wenhua degeming de dongluan yu haojie, 1966-1968 [The History of the People’s Republic of China, vol. 6: ‘Smashing the Old World’: Havoc of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 1966-1968], Xianggang: Xianggang zhongwen daxue dangdai zhongguo wenhua yanjiu zhongxin, 563–4; Ma (2004), 148–9; Yang (2011), 141–2. Home News Library of the Xinhua News Agency (ed.) (1989), China’s Foreign Relations: A Chronology of Events (1949-1988), Beijing: Foreign Language Press, 211–12; ‘Peking protests to Burma again after riots, widening demands’, The New York Times, 5 July 1967. Van der Kroef, Justus M. (1968), ‘The Sino-Indonesian Rupture’, China Quarterly, 33: 17–46. Li and Lian (2002), 142–3. Van der Kroef (1968), 33–4 and 41; Li and Lian (2002), 150–1; ‘Peking protests Jakarta violence’, The New York Times, 6 August 1967. Ma (2004), 146; Yang (2011), 142. Beijing to FO, no. 187, 28 October 1967, FCO 21/31 FC1/12, TNA. Cheung, Gary Ka-wai (2009), Hong Kong’s Watershed: The 1967 Riots, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press; Bickers, Robert and Ray Yep (eds) (2009), May Days in Hong Kong: Riot and Emergency in 1967, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Barnouin and Yu (2006), 261. Tian, Tian (2001), ‘Xianggang “liuqi baodong” yu wenhua degeming’ [Hong Kong ‘’67 Riots’ and the Cultural Revolution], in Ran Longbo and Ma Jisen

Notes

33

34

35 36 37

38

39

40 41 42

43 44

45

46 47 48

229

(eds), Zhou Enlai yu Xianggang ‘liuqi baodong’ neimu [Inside Account of Zhou Enlai and the ‘1967 riot’ of Hong Kong], Xianggang: Mingbao chubanshe, 92–3. Ma (2004), 155–61; Yu, Changgen (2001a), ‘Zhou Enlai yaokong “fanying kangbao” neimu’ [Inside Account of Zhou Enlai’s Control over the ‘Anti-British Revolt’ from Afar] in Ran and Ma (eds), Zhou Enlai yu Xianggang ‘liuqi baodong’ neimu, 26–46. Li, Danan (2003), ‘Wo suo zhidao de Zhou Enlai yu shinian haojiezhong de waijiao’ [What I Know about Zhou Enlai and Diplomacy in the Midst of Ten-year Catastrophe], Bainian chao [A Hundred Year Tide], vol. 1, 40. ZEN, vol. 3, 155. Ibid., 169. Ibid., 34–6, 42–5; Li, Zhuang (1993), Renmin ribao fengyu sishinian [Forty Years of Winds and Rains of the People’s Daily], Beijing: Renmin ribao chubanshe, 279–86. ZEN, vol. 3, 170 and 207; Mu, Xin (1997), ‘“Wenhua dageming” chuqi dui xinwenjie di chongji’ [The Challenge to the News Circle posed by the Early Phase of the ‘Cultural Revolution’], ZDZ, vol. 61, 120–21. Fang, Hanqi, et al. (1999), Zhongguo xinwen shiye tongshi [A General History of China’s News Industry], vol. 3, Beijing: Zhongguo renmin daxue chubanshe, 379; idem, et al. (2004), Dagongbao bainian shi, 17 June 1902 to 17 June 2002 [A Centennial History of Dagongbao, 17 June 1902 to 17 June 2002], Beijing: Zhongguo renmin daxue chubanshe, 421. Cui (1988), 21–2. Beijing to FO, no. 478 and no. 479, 15 May 1967, PREM 13/1458, TNA. ‘Four hundred thousand revolutionary masses in the capital protest in front of the British Chargé Office’, People’s Daily, 17 May 1967; ‘Must ask the British imperialists to pay back the blood debt’, People’s Daily, 18 May 1967; CYN, 1190. Chen (1999), 353. Zhou was unhappy about the events in Shanghai, lamenting that his instructions on demonstration against the British Mission should have been followed through. Chen (1999), 353. Xiong Xianghui had returned to the mainland to participate in the Cultural Revolution in January 1967. Xiong, Xianghui (1999), Wo de qingbao yu waijiao shengya [My Career in Intelligence and Diplomacy], Beijing: Zhonggong dangshi chubanshe, 452. Hopson to Brown, 30 May 1967, enclosing Beijing to FO, no. 9S, 24 May 1967, FCO 21/63 FC3/3 Part A; FO to Beijing, no. 341, 18 May 1967, ibid., TNA. ‘Most vehement protest against British Foreign Secretary’s slanders about China’s revolutionary masses’, People’s Daily, 23 May 1967. FO to Beijing, no. 387, 23 May 1967, FCO 21/63 FC3/3, TNA.

230 49 50

51 52

53

54 55 56

57 58

59 60

61 62 63

64

Notes Hopson to Brown, 12 June 1967, enclosing Beijing to FO, no. 11S, 6 June 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA. Peters to Bolland, 7 June 1967, enclosed in Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 15 June 1967, FCO 21/33 FC1/14 Part A; Peters to Bolland, 21 June 1967, ibid., TNA. CC(67)33rd Conclusions, 30 May 1967, CAB 128/42, TNA. Memorandum, de la Mare to Gore-Booth, 26 May 1967, enclosed in Gore-Booth to Brown, 26 May 1967, FCO 21/63 FC 3/3 Part A; Beijing to FO, no. 570, 24 May 1967, ibid.; Memorandum, de la Mare to Private Secretary, 5 June 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA. Discussion between Rodgers and Jenkins, enclosed in Samuel memorandum, 30 May 1967, FCO 21/79 FC3/20 Part A; Jenkins to Brown, 1 August 1967, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 847, 8 July 1967, FCO 21/79 FC3/20 Part A; FO memorandum, 22 July 1967, ibid., TNA. Cheung (2009), 110–11. In his memoir, Wang Li contends that on the night of 7 August, he gave his ‘speech’, which was merely some remarks on what was going on in the MFA, by chance since all other members of the CCRG were away and he, being immobilized with his broken leg after the Wuhan Incident of 20 July, happened to be the only member staying at Diaoyutai’s Building No. 16. Wang, Li (1993), Xianchang lishi: Wenhua Dageming jishi [On the Scene of History: Chronicle of the Cultural Revolution], Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 56–8. CYN, 1194. Concerning the timing and duration of power seizure in the MFA, there are discrepancies among former Chinese diplomats and historians. See Liu (2001), 114–15; MacFarquhar and Schoenhals (2006), 227–8; Barnouin and Yu (1998), 25–7. Ma (2004), 161; Tian (2001), 95–8; Yang (2011), 144. Song, Zhiguang, Cao Guisheng and Su Dan (2000), ‘Mianhuai laowaijiaojia Lu Guibo tongzhi’ [Recalling Senior Diplomat Comrade Luo Guibo], in Tian Youru (ed.), Luo Guibo jinian wenji [A Commemorative Anthology of Luo Guibo], Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 82. Ma (2004), 161; Yang (2011), 144. Beijing to FO, no. 1116, 20 August 1967, PREM 13/1458; Beijing to FO, no. 1124, 21 August 1967, ibid., TNA. ‘The Chinese Foreign Ministry summons the British government about most vehement protest against fanatical persecution of the Hong Kong patriotic press by the British authorities’, People’s Daily, 21 August 1967; ‘Baring British imperialism’s crafty features’, People’s Daily, 21 August 1967. Beijing to FO, no. 1118, 20 August 1967, PREM 13/1458, TNA.

Notes 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

72

73 74

75 76

77

78

79

231

FO to Beijing, no. 774, 21 August 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA. Cradock (1994), 61–2. Ibid.; ‘British Mission surrounded by troops’, The Times, 22 August 1967. Bu (2008), 567 and 572–3; Chen (1999), 357; Ma (2004), 161. ‘Red Guards in the capital took strong actions against the British Chargé Office’, People’s Daily, 23 August 1967. Ma (2004), 161; Yang (2011), 144. Hopson to Brown, 31 August 1967 (reprinted as FC1/14, 8 September 1967), FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B; Cradock’s personal account, enclosed in Hopson to Denson, 14 September 1967, ibid., TNA. Yu Changgen, who served in the MFA’s West European Department at the time, reveals that the burning of the British Office was not ordered by Jiang Qing’s CCRG, nor was it directed by Wang Li and Yao Dengshan. The rebels in the MFA had a rather ‘moderate attitude’ towards the Hong Kong riots. Yu, Changgen (2001b), ‘Zai tan liu qi baodong’ [Further talk on the ’67 Hong Kong Riot], in Ran and Ma (eds), Zhou Enlai yu Xianggang ‘liu qi baodong’ neimu, 58–61. Wang Li denied responsibility for the 22 August events, claiming that he was not at the scene due to his leg injury following the Wuhan Incident and that Zhou believed that he ‘knew nothing’ about the burning before it happened. Wang (1993), 52–3. Barnouin and Yu (2006), 262; Tian (2001), 87. Zhang, Zuoliang (2008), Zhou Enlai baojian yisheng huiyilu [Memoir of Zhou Enlai’s Heath Doctor], Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 136–9 and 156–7; Li, Qi, et al. (1998), Zai Zhou Enlai shenbian de rizi [The Days Together with Zhou Enlai], Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 671; CYN, 1183. Qi, Benyu (2016), Qi Benyu huiyilu [Memoir of Qi Benyu], vol. 2, Xianggang: Zhongguo wenge lishi chubanshe, 662. ‘Speeches by Zhou Enlai and Chen Boda to representatives of the mass organizations of foreign affairs circles about the incident of the burning of the Office of the British Charge d’Affaires’, 23 August 1967, ZWDW; Jin (1995), 272. Walder, Andrew G. (2009), Fractured Rebellion: The Beijing Red Guard Movement, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 219–21; Bu, Weihua (2000), ‘Guanyu “wen’ge” zhong Beijing de “tianpai” he “dipai”’ [On the ‘Heaven’ and ‘Earth’ Factions in Beijing during the ‘Cultural Revolution’], ZDZ, vol. 73: 100–26. Zheng, Xiaowei (2006), ‘Passion, Reflection, and Survival: Political Choices of Red Guards at Qinghua University, July 1966-July 1968’, in Joseph W. Esherick, Paul G. Pickowicz and Andrew G. Walder (eds), The Chinese Cultural Revolution as History, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 29–63. Bu (2000); Xu, Youyu (1999), Rebels of All Stripes: The Formation and Evolution of Red Guard Mentalities [Xingxing sese de zaofan: Hongweibing jingshen suzhi de xingcheng ji yanbian], Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 164–71.

232 80

81 82 83 84 85 86

87 88

89 90

91

92 93 94 95 96 97 98

Notes Shen, Ruhwai (no date, likely 2003), Qinghua daxue wenge jishi: Yige hongweibing lingdao de zishu [An Account of the Cultural Revolution at Qinghua University: The Personal Account of a Red Guard Leader], Xianggang: Shidai yishu chubanshe, 231–2; Xu, Aijing (2011), Qinghua Kuai Dafu [Kuai Dafu at Qinghua], Xianggang: Zhongguo wenge lishi chubanshe, 299–303; Qi (2016), 662. Walder, Andrew G. (2015), China under Mao: A Revolution Derailed, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 249–52. Zheng (2006), 57. Shen (no date, likely 2003), 231–2. Jin (2008), vol. 2, 1736; MZN, vol. 6, 113. Ma (2004), 231 and 247; ZEN, vol. 3, 182–3; Tian (2001), 95–6. Several hours after the sacking, the FO received a message from the French Embassy in Beijing that all British diplomats were safe. Interview with David Clive Wilson (Lord Wilson of Tillyorn), 2003, The British Diplomatic Oral History Programme, No. 83, 19, Churchill Archive Centre, Cambridge. https:// www.chu.cam.ac.uk/media/uploads/files/Wilson.pdf Wilson (1971), 425; ‘Wilson-Brown meeting at London airport: Holidays interrupted by China crisis’, The Times, 24 August 1967. Memorandum, de la Mare to Thomson, 23 August 1967, FCO 21/80 FC3/20 Part B; Commonwealth Office to Hong Kong, no. 1782, 25 August 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, de la Mare to Chief Clerk, 12 September 1967, FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B; Memorandum, Denson to Murray, 4 October 1967, ibid., TNA. ‘Red Guards in the capital took strong actions against the British Chargé Office’, People’s Daily, 23 August 1967; ‘How British Imperialism annexed China’s Hong Kong, Kowloon and “the New Territories”’, People’s Daily, 23 August 1967. A 600-word account by the NCNA was on sale in London on 24 August, but one ‘without a single word about smoke or flames or diplomatists being beaten’. ‘Double guard at Chinese Office’, The Times, 25 August 1967. Liu (2001), 99. JYMZW, vol. 12, 128–9. ‘Smash to pieces the privileged class of the Foreign Ministry headed by Chen Yi’, 11 August 1967, ZWDW. ‘Protest against anti-China provocation in Britain’, Peking Review, vol. 10, no. 29 (14 July 1967): 40. FO to Peking, no. 575 and no. 576, 5 July 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA. FO to Beijing, no. 754 and no. 756, 17 August 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA. ‘Double guard at Chinese Office’, The Times, 25 August 1967; Denson to Burley, 25 August 1967, FCO 21/80 FC3/20 Part B, TNA.

Notes 99 100

101 102

103

104 105 106

107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117

233

‘Unseen hand rejects Liberals’ protest’, The Times, 24 August 1967; ‘Chinese take no note of visitors’, The Guardian, 24 August 1967. Metropolitan Police Special Branch report, 29 August 1967, enclosed in Note for the record, 30 August 1967, PREM 13/1458; Far Eastern Department note, 29 August 1967, enclosed in Memorandum, de la Mare to Brown, 29 August 1967, FCO 21/86 FC3/25, TNA. ‘Red Diplomats armed with Mao Zedong Thought are dauntless’, People’s Daily, 31 August 1967. Given the lack of Chinese primary sources, it is unclear whether the ‘Battle of Portland Place’ was started spontaneously by some zealous Chinese diplomats or under the order of the MFA. Whatever the case, the Chinese leaders in Beijing saw it as an opportunity to retaliate against the British. Beijing to FO, no. 26, 30 August 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B, TNA; ‘Most vehement protest by the Chinese government against the British government’, People’s Daily, 30 August 1967. Hopson to Brown, 31 August 1967 (reprinted as FC1/14, 8 September 1967), FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B; Cradock to Denson, 29 August 1967, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 11 September 1967, FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B, TNA. Cradock to Denson, 29 August 1967, FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B; Hopson to Brown, 31 August 1967 (reprinted as FC1/14, 8 September 1967), FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, Denson to Bolland, 7 September 1967, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C; Appleyard to Wilson, 4 September 1967, FCO 21/12 FC1/1 Part E, TNA. Memorandum, de la Mare to Private Secretary, 7 September 1967, FCO 21/12 FC1/1 Part E, TNA. Cradock to Denson, 29 August 1967, FCO 21/34 FC1/14 Part B, TNA. ‘Diplomats beaten and photographed’, The Guardian, 24 August 1967. Cradock (1994), 68. Memorandum, Bolland, to de la Mare, 29 August 1967, FCO 21/37 FC1/21 Part A, TNA. Notes of meeting, 14 November 1967, China Association Papers, CHAS/SI/8, Sino-British Trade Council Minutes and Memoranda 1967–9, SOASL. For example, ‘Mao’s London hatchet man’, Daily Mirror, 30 August 1967, in FCO 21/86 FC3/25, TNA. William Brough, ‘Letters to the editor: What Chinese officials want, 29 August’, The Times, 1 September 1967. ‘Keep them in quarantine’, The Guardian, 30 August 1967. Also see ‘Words across the East-West gulf ’, The Guardian, 1 September 1967. ‘Culture clash on China’, The Times, 29 August 1967.

234 118 119 120 121 122 123

124 125 126

127

128 129 130 131

132 133 134 135

136 137 138

Notes ‘The answer to arson’, The Times, 24 August 1967; ‘The Dangerous farce’, The Times, 31 August 1967. Hopson to Brown, no. 22S, 1 August 1967 (reprinted for FO and Whitehall distribution, 8 August 1967), FCO 21/52 FC2/6, TNA. Memorandum, Denson to de la Mare, 15 August 1967, FCO 21/52 FC2/6, TNA. Memorandum, Bolland to Hohler, 24 July 1967, FCO 21/11 FC1/1 Part D, TNA. Cradock (1994), 57. Whitney to Wilson, 2 November 1967, FCO 21/22 FC1/6 Part B; Appleyard to Wilson, 21 October 1967, FCO 21/130 FC13/2 Part B; Appleyard to Wilson, 2 November 1967, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Murray to de la Mare, 3 November 1967, FCO 21/12 FC1/1 Part E, TNA. Paterson, Peter (1993), Tired and Emotional: The Life of Lord George Brown, London: Chatto & Windus, 217. Brown’s message to Chen, 2 September 1967, attached in Memorandum, Bolland to Private Secretary, 6 September 1967, FCO 21/64; Beijing to FO, no. 32, 2 September 1967, ibid., TNA. ‘Speech by George Brown at Labour Party rally at Portsmouth’, News release by The Labour Party Press and Publicity Department, 8 July 1967, The Papers of Lord George-Brown, Correspondence and Papers, fols 74–115, Ms.Eng.c.5025, BLO. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth series, vol. 750, col. 2502, 20 July 1967. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth series, vol. 750, col. 415, 11 July 1967. Secretaries note, OPDO(DR)(67)61, 5 October 1967, CAB 148/60, TNA. Brown memorandum, OPD(67)67, 4 September 1967, CAB 148/33; Memorandum, Bolland to Private Secretary, 6 September 1967, FCO 21/64 FC3/3 Part B; CC(67)54th Conclusion, 7 September 1967, CAB 128/42, TNA. C.R.E. 4, ‘China Trade with the United Kingdom’, 4 September 1967, BT 241/1870 CRE 21018/1G, TNA. Brown memorandum, OPD(67)67, 4 September 1967, CAB 148/33, TNA. Rogora to Hunter, 19 September 1967, BT 241/1870 CRE 21018/1G, TNA. Note on discussions at Board of Trade on 5 September 1967, attached in Webb to Collar, 12 September 1967, China Association Papers, CHAS/C/7, Sino-British Trade Council Correspondence January 1967 to July 1968, Archives and Special Collections, SOASL. Pantsov, Alexander V. with Steven I. Levine (2012), Mao: The Real Story, New York: Simon & Schuster, 531. MZN, vol. 6, 73. Brown memorandum, OPD(67)67, 4 September 1967, CAB 148/33, TNA.

Notes 139 140 141 142 143 144

145 146

235

Annex to OPD(67)67, 4 September 1967, CAB 148/33, TNA. Ibid. New York to FO, no. 3473, 28 November 1967, FCO 21/48 FC2/2 Part A, TNA. Moon to Denson, 6 December 1967, FCO 21/49 FC2/2 Part B, TNA. Westad, Odd Arne (2005), The Global Cold War: Third World Interventions and the Making of Our Times, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 184. Kraus, Richard Curt (2012), The Cultural Revolution: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 28. Also see Deese (2013), 151 and 208; Walder (2015), 200. Also see Wills, Matthew (2012), ‘Commitment from Chaos: Maintaining SinoBritish Relations after the Burning of the Peking Mission’, unpublished paper. Parr, Helen (2006), ‘Britain, America, East of Suez and the EEC: Finding a Role in British Foreign Policy, 1964-67’, in Glen O’Hara and Helen Parr (eds), The Wilson Governments 1964-1970 Reconsidered, London: Routledge, 99–117.

Chapter 5 1 2

3

4

5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Wilson to Roberts, 11 January 1968, Papers of Harold Wilson, MS. Wilson c.815, BLO. For a more detailed account, see Mark, Chi-kwan (2009a), ‘Hostage Diplomacy: Britain, China, and the Politics of Negotiation, 1967-1969’, Diplomacy & Statecraft, 20 (3): 473–93. On the advantages of a step-by-step negotiating approach, see Berridge, G. R. (2005), Diplomacy: Theory and Practice, 3rd edn, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 48. Cradock to Denson, 5 September 1967, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C, TNA; Cradock (1994), 68; Interview with Sir Percy Cradock, 1997, The British Diplomatic Oral History Programme, No. 26, 9–10, Churchill Archive Centre, Cambridge, https:// www.chu.cam.ac.uk/media/uploads/files/Cradock.pdf Memorandum, Bolland to Samuel, 28 September 1967, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C, TNA. Brown to Wilson, 7 November 1967, PREM 13/3180; Memorandum, Bolland to de la Mare, 13 September 1967, FCO 21/80 FC3/20 Part B, TNA. Palliser to Day, 8 November 1967, FCO 21/80 FC3/20 Part B, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 240, 14 November 1967, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C; Beijing to FO, no. 272, 27 November 1967, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 297, 2 December 1967, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 72, 25 January 1968, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 74, 25 January 1968, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C, TNA.

236 12

13 14 15 16

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

28 29 30

Notes Memorandum, Denson to Wilkinson, 18 January 1968, FCO 21/144 FC13/13 Part A; Memorandum, Murray to Samuel, 1 February 1968, ibid.; Memorandum, Murray to Parliamentary Office, 8 October 1968, FCO 21/498 FEC14/1 Part A, TNA. Memorandum, Murray to Wilkinson, 31 January 1968, FCO 21/66 FC3/3 Part D; FO to Beijing, nos. 132 and 133, 6 February 1968, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 159, 4 March 1968, FCO 21/66 FC3/3 Part D; Memorandum, Murray to Crowe, 7 March 1968, ibid. TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 176, 8 March 1968, FCO 21/66 FC3/3 Part D, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 84, 28 January 1968, FCO 21/65 FC3/3 Part C; Memorandum, Murray to Allen, 22 February 1968, FCO 40/64; Beijing to FO, no. 152, 1 March 1968, FCO 21/66 FC3/3 Part D, TNA. Barnouin and Yu (1998), 30; Ma (2004), 205–12. Ma (2004), 231 and 247. Memorandum, Maitland to Far Eastern Department, 26 March 1968, FCO 21/67 FC3/3 Part E, TNA. Hennessy, Peter (2001), The Prime Minister: The Office and its Holders since 1945, London: Penguin, 300–2; Cradock (1994), 80; Wilson (1971), 66. Murray memorandum, 12 March 1968, FCO 21/66 FC3/3 Part D; FO to Beijing, no. 330, 4 April 1968, FCO 21/67 FC3/3 Part E, TNA. FO to Beijing, no. 356, 11 April 1968, FCO 21/198 FD1/3 Part B; Beijing to FO, no. 302, 15 April 1968, FCO 21/67 FC3/3 Part E, TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 316, 15 April 1968, FCO 21/67 FC3/3 Part E, TNA. Hong Kong to CO, no. 528, 26 April 1968, FCO 40/66, TNA. Grey, Anthony (1988), Hostage in Peking, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 234–9. Beijing to FO, no. 526, 5 June 1968, FCO 21/68 FC3/3 Part F, TNA. As I have argued in Chapter 3, the Chinese protest was symbolic in nature, intending to communicate a message on other more important issues. According to the FO’s estimate, the latest protest might be a manifestation of ‘Peking’s disapproval of the Paris talks’ between Washington and Hanoi over Vietnam rather than ‘any consideration of Sino-British relations as such’. Memorandum, Murray to Wilkinson, 20 May 1968, FCO 21/217 FD10/1 Part B; Beijing to FO, nos. 487 and 488, 27 May 1968, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Murray to Wilkinson, 22 June 1968, FCO 21/68 FC3/3 Part F; Beijing to FO, nos. 558, 559 and 560, 13 June 1968, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Murray to Wilkinson, 23 July 1968, FCO 21/68 FC3/3 Part F; FO/ Commonwealth Office to British missions, no. 373, 23 July 1968, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FO, no. 691, 27 July 1968, FCO 21/69 FC3/3 Part G; Beijing to FO, no. 718, 5 August 1968, ibid.; Beijing to FO, nos. 739 and 742, 12 August 1968, ibid., TNA.

Notes 31 32

33 34 35

36

37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

49 50

237

Cradock to Murray, 13 August 1968, FCO 21/69 FC3/3 Part G; Murray to Cradock, 22 August 1968, ibid., TNA. Harding, Harry (1993), ‘The Chinese State in Crisis, 1966-9’, in Roderick MacFarquhar (ed.), The Politics of China 1949-1989, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 218–20; Ma (2004), 215–19. Far Eastern Department note, enclosed in Memorandum, Murray to Hughes, 4 December 1968, PREM 13/2523, TNA. Day to Palliser, 10 December 1968, PREM 13/2523; FCO to Youde, 20 May 1969, ibid., TNA. Colonial Secretariat notes, 16 November 1968, enclosed in Irving to Galsworthy, 21 November 1968, FCO 40/145 HKK1/12 Part A; Hopson to FO, 29 July 1968, FCO 21/465 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Hong Kong to FCO, no. 2147, 4 November 1968, FCO 40/221 HKK13/2; Report by Special Branch, Hong Kong Police, 13 December 1968, FCO 40/222 HKK13/11, TNA. Hong Kong Department note, December 1968, FCO 40/146 HKK1/12 Part B; Memorandum, Murray to Moreton, 12 December 1968, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Maitland to Wilson, 12 November 1968, FCO 40/145 HKK1/12 Part A, TNA. Palliser to Day, 2 December 1968, PREM 13/2523, TNA. Grey (1988), 253–5. Note of meeting, enclosed in Brighty to Dawe, 6 February 1969, PREM 13/2523, TNA. Note of meeting, attached in Dawe to Brighty, 7 February 1969, PREM 13/2523, TNA. Grey (1988), 328. Ibid., 256–7. ‘The British government will gain nothing in using the Grey question to whip up anti-China outcry’, People’s Daily, 28 December 1968. Far Eastern Department note, 10 January 1969, FCO 21/465 FEC 3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 102, 11 February 1969, FCO 21/465 FEC 3/548/1 Part A, TNA. For a comprehensive account of the British left’s engagement with China, see Buchanan, Tom (2012), East Wind: China and the British Left, 1925-1976, Oxford: Oxford University Press. On Needham’s role, see Winchester, Simon (2008), Bomb, Book and Compass: Joseph Needham and the Great Secrets of China, London: Penguin Viking. SACU News, vol. 2, no. 12 (December 1967): 1–3. SACU News, vol. 3, no. 2 (February 1968): 5.

238 51

52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

66 67 68 69

70 71

Notes Rear’s letter to The Times, 11 November 1968, in China in the News, ‘Hong Kong and the Rule of Law’, no. 7 (December 1968), 2–4, Papers of Joseph Needham, NCUACS 54.3.95/K.205, CUL. Hong Kong government’s reply, The Times, 14 November 1968, in ibid., 4–5. Litton’s letter to South China Morning Post, 16 November 1968, republished in The Times, 2 December 1968, in ibid., 5–7. China in the News, ‘Hong Kong and the Rule of Law’, no. 7 (December 1968), Papers of Joseph Needham, NCUACS 54.3.95/K.205, CUL. Needham to members of the council of management, 27 November 1968, Papers of Joseph Needham, NCUACS 54.3.95/K.201, CUL. Minutes of the council of management, 10 December 1968, Papers of Joseph Needham, NCUACS 54.3.95/K.201, CUL. SACU News, vol. 4, no. 1 (January 1969): 1–2. FCO to Youde, 20 May 1969, PREM 13/2523, TNA. Hughes, Geraint (2009), Harold Wilson’s Cold War: The Labour Government and East-West Politics, 1964-1970, Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 128–9. Long to Stewart, 25 July 1969, FCO 21/488 FEC13c/1 Part D; Stewart to Long, 4 August 1969, ibid.; Long to Stewart, 7 August 1969, ibid., TNA. Far Eastern Department note, October 1970, FCO 40/253 HKK1/12 Part B, TNA. FCO to Youde, 20 May 1969, PREM 13/2523, TNA. Memorandum, Murray to Day, 16 July 1969, FCO 21/488 FEC13c/1 Part D, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 582, 4 October 1969, FCO 21/488 FEC13c/1 Part E; Beijing to FCO, no. 609, 9 October 1969, ibid., TNA. Between February and May 1968, the British diplomats presented thirteen formal notes to the MFA about the detained British subjects. Office of the British Chargé d’Affaires note 76, 24 June 1968, FCO 21/83 FC3/21 Part B, TNA. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 761, col. 422–4, 20 March 1968; vol. 766, col. 571–84, 13 June 1968. Needham to Shen, 18 November 1968, Papers of Joseph Needham, NCUACS 54.3.95/K.199; Needham to Shen, 20 January 1969, ibid., CUL. Memorandum, Murray to Day, 28 February 1969, FCO 21/490 FEC13/1 Annex, TNA. Far Eastern Department brief for Prime Minister, 11 September 1968, attached in FO to Palliser, 11 September 1968, PREM 13/1966; Denson to Stewart, 3 June 1969 (reprinted as Denson to Stewart, 11 June 1969), FCO 21/441 FEC1/16, TNA. Brady (2003), 163–9; Westad, Odd Arne (2012), Restless Empire: China and the World since 1750, London: The Bodley Head, 355. Memorandum, Day to Murray, 13 June 1968, FCO 21/83 FC3/21 Part B, TNA.

Notes 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

82 83 84 85 86 87 88

89 90

91 92

239

‘British spy case broken by Public Security Bureau in Lanchow’, People’s Daily, 13 March 1968. ‘People armed with Mao Zedong Thought have high vigilance to revolution’, People’s Daily, 16 March 1968. ‘Verdict on British “Vickers-Zimmer Ltd.” fraud case pronounced in Beijing’, People’s Daily, 5 July 1968. Record of meeting, 12 September 1968, FCO 21/83 FC3/21 Part B, TNA. Dikötter, Frank (2016), The Cultural Revolution: A People’s History, 1962-1976, London: Bloomsbury, 183–6. Memorandum, Murray to Day, 12 June 1968, FCO 21/83 FC3/21 Part B, TNA. CC(69)49th Conclusions, 16 October 1969, CAB 128/44, TNA. Far Eastern Department brief for Prime Minister, 11 September 1968, attached in FO to Palliser, 11 September 1968, PREM 13/1966, TNA. Gordon, Eric (1971), Freedom is a Word, London: Hodder and Stoughton, 25, 333 and 349. He, Shu (1996), ‘Wen’ge zhong de “waiguo zaofanpai”’ [‘Foreign Rebels’ in the Cultural Revolution], in Liu Qingfeng (ed.), Wenhua dageming: Shishi yu yanjiu [The Cultural Revolution: Facts and Analysis], Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 81–93. Rittenberg, Sidney and Amanda Bennett (1993), The Man Who Stayed Behind, New York: Simon & Schuster, 384 and 407. Milton, David and Nancy Dall Milton (1976), The Wind Will Not Subside: Years in Revolutionary China 1964-1969, New York: Pantheon Books, 372. Epstein, Israel (2004), Jianzheng Zhongguo [Witnessing China], Beijing: Xin shijie chubanshe, 320. Milton and Milton (1976), 298–301. Barrymaine, Norman (1971), The Time Bomb: A Veteran Journalist Assesses Today’s China from the Inside, London: Peter Davies, 99 and 108. Annex II to Denson to Douglas-Home, 9 February 1971, FCO 21/850 FEC14/7, TNA. Far Eastern Department memorandum, 12 June 1968, attached in Memorandum, Murray to Day, 12 June 1968, FCO 21/83 FC3/21 Part B; Annex II to Denson to Douglas-Home, 9 February 1971, FCO 21/850 FEC14/7, TNA. CC(69)52nd Conclusions, 30 October 1969, CAB 128/44, TNA. Chang, Parris (1981), ‘Shanghai and Chinese Politics: Before and After the Cultural Revolution’, in Christopher Howe (ed.), Shanghai: Revolution and Development in an Asian Metropolis, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 66–90. MacFarquhar and Schoenhals (2006), 285–98. Gao, Wenqian (2007), Zhou Enlai: The Last Perfect Revolutionary, translated by Peter Rand and Lawrence R. Sullivan, New York: PublicAffairs, 197.

240 93

94 95

96 97 98 99 100 101 102

103

104 105 106

107 108 109 110

Notes Notice published by the Military Control Commission of the public security organs in Shanghai in July (translated), attached in Walden to Boyd, 9 September 1969, FCO 21/441 FEC1/16, TNA. Perry, Elizabeth J. and Li Xun (1997), Proletarian Power: Shanghai in the Cultural Revolution, Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 173. ‘Barrymaine tells of 19 months in a Shanghai jail’, South China Morning Post, 14 October 1969; ‘Gordons’ bid to effect son’s escape’, South China Morning Post, 20 October 1969; ‘Chinese Communists reveal six British subjects in two weeks’, Sing Tao Daily, 17 October 1969. Hooper (2016), 45–6. Background note, attached in Memorandum, Murray to Day, 29 October 1969, FCO 21/499 FEC14/1 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, Wilson to Wilford, 17 October 1969, FCO 21/500 FEC14/1 Part C, TNA. Denson to Stewart, ‘China: Annual Review for 1969’, 1 January 1970, FCO 21/643 FEC1/6, TNA. Stewart, Michael (1980), Life and Labour: An Autobiography, London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 249. Rogora memorandum, 12 September 1968, FCO 21/99 FC1/1 Part D, TNA. Minutes of 30th meeting of the Executive Council of the Sino-British Trade Council, 1 April 1969, China Association Papers, CHAS/SI/8, Sino-British Trade Council Minutes and Memoranda 1967–69, SOASL. Meeting at Board of Trade, 29 May 1969, China Association Papers, CHAS/SI/8, Sino-British Trade Council Minutes and Memoranda 1967–69, SOASL; Webb to Dales, 13 November 1969, FCO 21/475 FEC6/548/1 Part C, TNA. Reardon, Lawrence C. (2002), The Reluctant Dragon: Crisis Cycles in Chinese Foreign Economic Policy, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 143–8. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 760, col. 225–6, 5 March 1968; vol. 768, col. 211–12, 9 July 1968. Notes for speech by Thomson to Commonwealth Parliamentary Association, enclosed in Memorandum, Mackley to Far Eastern Department, 1 April 1968, FCO 21/120 FC10/2, TNA. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 772, col. 195, 31 October 1968. Yang, Kuisong (2000), ‘The Sino-Soviet Border Clash of 1969: From Zhenbao Island to Sino-American Rapprochement’, Cold War History, 1 (1): 21–52. JIC(A)(69)(N)35(Draft), Joint Intelligence Committee (A), 11 March 1969, CAB 163/141 J310/1 Part 2, TNA. Bolland to Stewart, 5 August 1969, CAB 163/141 J310/1 Part 2; Bolland to Stewart, 28 August 1969, ibid., TNA.

Notes 111 112 113 114 115 116

117

118

119 120

121 122 123 124

125 126 127

128 129

241

FCO memorandum, OPDO(LT)(69)2, 4 December 1969, CAB 148/100; Minutes of meeting, OPDO(LT)(69)1st Meeting, 16 December 1969, ibid., TNA. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 774, col. 435, 3 December 1968; vol. 772, col. 1077, 7 November 1968. Memorandum, Wilson to Moreton, 28 November 1968, FCO 21/452 FEC 2/1 Part C; Memorandum, Wilson to Moreton, 10 February 1969, ibid., TNA. New York to FCO, no. 2536, 11 November 1969, FCO 21/454 FEC2/1 Part E; Memorandum, Appleyard to Wilson, 18 November 1969, ibid., TNA. See Ma (2004), 239–62. ‘Speeches by Zhou Enlai, Kang Sheng, and Jiang Qing at the reception for representatives of the PLA Propaganda Team at the Ministry of Culture, Ministry of Education, and the Department of Social Philosophy of the Academy of Sciences directly under the central government’, 24 January 1970, ZWDW. See, for example, ‘Speech by Zhou Enlai about ferreting out the 5.16 Clique (excerpt)’, 18 November 1970, ZWDW; ‘Summary of conversation with [Edgar] Snow’, 18 December 1970, JYMZW, vol. 13, 163; MZN, vol. 6, 342. Denson to Morgan, 13 May 1970, FCO 21/668 FEC 3/548/2 Part A, TNA; Denson to Morgan, 1 June 1970, ibid., TNA; ‘UK Mission in Peking being rebuilt’, Hong Kong Standard, 15 May 1970. Wang, Weimin, et. al. (2006), Bainian ZhongYing guanxi [A Century of ChinaBritain Relations], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 274–5. Zhou to Wilson, 12 June 1970, attached in Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 17 June 1970, FCO 21/668 FEC 3/548/2 Part A, TNA; ‘Mao sends greetings to the Queen’, South China Morning Post, 26 June 1970. Beijing to FCO, no. 449, 15 June 1970, FCO 21/668 FEC 3/548/2 Part A, TNA. Denson to Morgan, 15 June 1970, FCO 21/668 FEC 3/548/2 Part A, TNA. On Mao’s reactions to the Cambodia events, see ‘The people of the whole world unite, defeat the US aggressors and all their lackeys’, 20 May 1970, MZD, 444–5. Wang, Taiping, et al. (1999), Zhonghua renmin gongheguo waijiao shi, 1970-1978 [Diplomatic History of the People’s Republic of China, 1970-1978], Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 286–7. Albers, Martin (2015), ‘All Paths Leading to Beijing? Western Europe and Détente in East Asia, 1969-72’, International History Review, 37 (2): 230–1. Young (2003), 155–60. The direct phone link was opened on 15 April 1971. Beijing to FCO, no. 691, 20 October 1970, FCO 21/679 FEC8/1, TNA; ‘UK-China telephone link reopened’, South China Morning Post, 16 April 1971. ‘China civil aviation mission for U.K.’, Financial Times, 2 September 1970. ‘China may buy U.K. aircraft for longer internal routes’, Financial Times, 5 November 1970; Secretaries note, DOPO(SE)(71)1, 18 February 1971, CAB 148/109, TNA.

242 130 131

132 133 134 135 136 137

138 139

Notes ‘More missions to China’, Financial Times, 4 November 1970; ‘The future for trade with China; interview with John Keswick’, Financial Times, 16 December 1970. Denson to Douglas-Home, ‘China: Annual Review for 1970’, 12 January 1971, FCO 21/802 FEC/7; Webb to Roberts, 14 January 1971, FCO 21/845 FEC6/548/9, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 11 September 1970, FCO 21/668 FEC3/548/2 Part A, TNA. Record of conversation on 22 October 1970, attached in Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 29 October 1970, FCO 21/657 FEC2/4 Part B, TNA. New York to FCO, no. 2072, 25 September 1970, FCO 21/657 FEC2/4 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 10 December 1970, FCO 21/658 FEC2/4 Part C, TNA. ‘U.S. imperialism’s policy of hostility towards China suffers serious defeat’, Peking Review, vol. 13, no. 48 (27 November 1970), 20–2. Zhao, Lei (2007), Jiangou heping: Zhongguo dui Lianheguo waijiao xingwei de yanjin [Constructing Peace: The Evolution of China’s Diplomatic Behaviour towards the United Nations], Beijing: Jiuzhou chubanshe, 20–5. Chen (2001), 254–7. Denson to Douglas-Home, 9 February 1971, FCO 21/850 FEC14/7, TNA.

Chapter 6 1 2

3

4

Heath, Edward (1999), The Course of My Life: My Autobiography, London: Hodder and Stoughton, 468, 494, 641 and 643. Heath, Edward (1977), Travels: People and Places in My Life, London: Sidgwick and Jackson Limited, 202–21; ‘Deng Xiaoping ji waiguo shounao huitan lu’ bianjizu (ed.) (2011), Deng Xiaoping ji waiguo shounao huitan lu [A Record of Deng Xiaoping’s Meetings with Foreign Heads], Beijing: Taihai chubanshe, 93–9. See Pan (1994), 143–55; Tan, Xingju (2011), ‘Manchang di ZhongYing jianjiao tanpan’ [The Lengthy Negotiation over the Establishment of Sino-British Diplomatic Relations], in Liu Xinsheng, et al., XinZhongguo jianjiao tanpan shilu [A Record of New China’s Negotiation over the Establishment of Diplomatic Relations], Shanghai: Shanghai cishu chubanshe, 127–35; Wang (2006), 270–77; Hamilton, K. A. (2004), ‘A “Week that Changed the World”: Britain and Nixon’s China Visit of 21–28 February 1972’, Diplomacy & Statecraft, 15 (1): 117–35; Kaufman (2001), 211–33. Chen (2001), 238–76; Goh (2005); Xia (2006); MacMillan, Margaret (2007), Seize the Hour: When Nixon Met Mao, London: John Murray; Tudda, Chris

Notes

5

6

7 8 9 10

11

12 13 14 15 16

17 18

19

243

(2012), A Cold War Turning Point: Nixon and China, 1969-1972, Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. Dumbrell, John (2006), A Special Relationship: Anglo-American Relations from the Cold War to Iraq, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 88–94; Lundestad, Geir (1998), ‘Empire’ by Integration: The United States and European Integration, 19451997, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 103–4. Robb, Thomas (2013), A Strained Relationship? US-UK Relations in the Era of Détente, 1969-77, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 34; Hill, Christopher and Christopher Lord (1996), ‘The Foreign Policy of the Heath Government’, in Stuart Ball and Anthony Seldon (eds), The Heath Government 1970-1974: A Reappraisal, London: Longman, 310. Rossbach, Niklas H. (2009), Heath, Nixon and the Rebirth of the Special Relationship: Britain, the US and the EC, 1969-74, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2. Robb (2013), 34–55 (quote from 54). Hamilton (2004), 117–35; Scott, Andrew (2011), Allies Apart: Heath, Nixon and the Anglo-American Relationship, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 51–69. For a comprehensive analysis of the interplay between the Anglo-Chinese and Sino-American negotiations, see Mark, Chi-kwan (2015), ‘Waiting for the Dust to Settle: Anglo-Chinese Normalization and Nixon’s Historic Trip to China, 1971-1972’, Diplomatic History, 39 (5): 876–903. In this chapter, I highlight the atmosphere of the meetings and the personalities involved in the negotiations. ‘What does the conference of British Commonwealth prime ministers show?’ by ‘Renmin Ribao’ commentator, 2 February 1971, in Peking Review, no. 6 (5 February 1971): 12–13. ‘The Conservative government publishes the “Defence White Paper” of 1971’, People’s Daily, 3 March 1971. Wei, Shiyan (1994), ‘Kissinger’s Second Visit to China’, in Pei Jianzhang, et al. (eds), XZWF, vol. 3, Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 62. FCO to Beijing, no. 29, 15 January 1971, FCO 21/808 FEC2/2 Part A, TNA. CM(71)1st Conclusions, 5 January 1971, CAB 128/49 Part 1, TNA. Notes for Supplementaries (for parliamentary question for 18 January 1971), enclosed in Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 13 January 1971, FCO 21/838 FEC3/548/5, TNA. Ma (2004), 288. On Sino-French normalization in 1964, see Lüthi, Lorenz M. (2014), ‘Rearranging International Relations? How Mao’s China and de Gaulle’s France Recognized Each Other in 1963-1964’, Journal of Cold War Studies, 16 (1): 111–45. ZEN, vol. 3, 440. According to Pan Jin (a Chinese diplomat posted to the Chinese Chargé Office in London in early 1971), Zhou also asked the British to clarify

244

20 21 22

23

24 25

26 27

28

29 30 31 32

33 34 35 36

Notes their attitude towards Taiwan’s status [Pan (1994), 151–2]. But this was not mentioned in Zhou Enlai nianpu or in the FCO files. Pan (1994), 152; Wang (2006), 276. Far Eastern Department memorandum, 23 June 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford and others, 6 April 1971, FCO 21/833 FEC3/548/3 Part A; Denson to Morgan, 6 April 1971, ibid.; Maddocks to Wilford, 13 April 1971, ibid., TNA. Burk, Kathleen (2007), Old World, New World: The Story of Britain and America, London: Abacus, 622; Reynolds, David (1985), ‘A “Special Relationship”? America, Britain and the International Order since the Second World War’, International Affairs, 62 (1): 10–11. Robb (2013), 30. Interview with Sir Percy Cradock, 1997, The British Diplomatic Oral History Programme, No. 26, 11, Churchill Archive Centre, Cambridge, https://www.chu. cam.ac.uk/media/uploads/files/Cradock.pdf. Kissinger, Henry (1979), White House Years, Boston: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 772. Memorandum for the President’s File by Haig, 21 May 1971, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. v: United Nations, 1969-1972, doc. 354, 864–65; Chang, Jaw-ling Joanne (2005), ‘Taiwan’s Policy Toward the United States, 1969-1978’, in William Kirby, Robert S. Ross and Gong Li (eds), Normalization of U.S.-China Relations: An International History, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 217 and 222. Moberly to Morgan, 19 February 1971, FCO 21/808 FEC2/2 Part A; Moberly to Morgan, 24 February 1971, ibid., TNA; State Department to London, 5 March 1971, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. v, doc. 334, 612–14. FCO to Washington, no. 1232, 30 April 1971, FCO 21/833 FEC3/548/3 Part A, TNA. Rogers to State Department, 5 June 1971, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. v, doc. 363, 709–10. Memorandum, Morgan to Daunt, 8 June 1971, FCO 21/833 FEC3/548/Part A, TNA. Douglas-Home memorandum, DOP(71)32, 14 June 1971, CAB 148/116; Memorandum, Graham to FCO, 16 June 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Action Memorandum, Herz/Green to Rogers, 11 June 1971, FRUS, 1969-76, vol. v, doc. 365, 714–15. Message from Rogers to Douglas-Home, enclosed in Greene to Graham, 17 June 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Message from Douglas-Home to Rogers, enclosed in Millard to Rogers, 17 June 1971, RG 59, Subject Numeric Files, 1970–73, Political & Defense, Box 2656, NA. Record of meeting, 22 June 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA.

Notes 37 38 39 40 41

42 43 44 45

46 47 48 49 50

51 52 53 54 55

56

245

State Department to London, 24 June 1971, RG 59, Subject Numeric Files, 1970–73, Political & Defense, Box 2657, NA. Memcon, 9 July 1971, 4.35–11.20 pm, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. xvii: China, 19691972, doc. 139, 365–72. Mark (2015), 886–7. Memcon, 10 July 1971, 12.10–6 pm, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. xvii, doc. 140, 401 and 412–13. Ibid., 398–99; Wei, Shiyan (1991), ‘Ji Xinge mimi fanghua neimu’ [Inside Stories of Kissinger’s Secret Visit to China], in Pei Jianzhang, et al. (eds), XZWF, vol. 2, Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 43–4; Memcon, 10 July 1971, 11.20–11.50 pm, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. xvii, doc. 141, 431–32. Wei (1991), 41. Beijing to FCO, no. 628, 10 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Liu (2001), 12–15; Ma (2004), 337–9. Beijing to FCO, no. 628, 10 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B; Record of meeting, 10 July 1971, 9.00 pm, ibid.; Beijing to FCO, no. 629, 10 July 1971, ibid., TNA. Pan (1994), 153. FCO to Beijing, no. 424, 12 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 13 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 536, col. 162–3, 26 January 1955; vol. 536, col. 159–60W, 4 February 1955. Pan, Xingming (2007), Ershi shiji ZhongJia guanxi [China-Canada Relations in the Twentieth Century], Shanghai: Xuelin chubanshe, 235–52; Yu, Mengjia (2011), ‘Huiyi Zhongguo yu Jianada jianjiao tanpan’ [Recollecting the Negotiations over the Establishment of Diplomatic Relations between China and Canada], in Liu, et al. (eds), XinZhongguo jianjiao tanpan shilu, 80–7. Ottawa to FCO, no. 1062, 13 October 1970, FCO 21/666 FEC3/331/1, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 13 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B; FCO to Beijing, nos. 442 and 443, 16 July 1971, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 664, 19 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA; Tan (2011), 135. FCO to Beijing, no. 459, 20 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Weekly compilation of presidential documents, 19 July 1971, Nixon Presidential Materials, NSC Files, Henry A. Kissinger Office Files, Country Files–Far East, Box 86, NA. CM(71)40th Conclusions, 22 July 1971, CAB 128/49, Part II; Graham to Moon, 16 July 1971, PREM 15/1988; Washington to FCO, no. 2435, 16 July 1971, FCO 21/826 FEC3/304/4 Part A, TNA.

246 57

58 59 60 61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68 69 70

71

72

73 74

Notes Memorandum, Morgan to Tomlinson, 21 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B; Memorandum, Tomlinson to Private Secretary, 30 July 1971, FCO 21/835 FEC3/548/3 Part C; Memorandum, Logan to Private Secretary, 28 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. CM(71)43rd Conclusions, 3 August 1971, CAB 128/49, Part II, TNA. Tokyo to State Department, 22 September 1971, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. v, doc. 411, 816–17. Chang (2005), 221–32. Xiong (1999), 339–40. Beijing to FCO, nos. 969 and 970, 25 September 1971, FCO 21/835 FEC3/548/3 Part C, TNA; Pan (1994), 154. FCO to New York, no. 692, 28 September 1971, FCO 21/835 FEC3/548/3 Part C; FCO to New York, no. 691, 28 September 1971, ibid.; New York to FCO, no. 1246, 30 September 1971, ibid., TNA. The last two documents are related to the FCO’s deliberations about Qiao’s redraft and its instructions to Denson. Some of the paragraphs in the telegrams have been blacked out, but their content can be discerned from the British documents quoted below. Memorandum, Logan to Private Secretary, 28 July 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. London to State Department, no. 6726, 20 July 1971, RG 59, Office of the Secretary, Executive Secretariat, Conference Files, 1949–72, Box 532, NA. Home (1976), 265. Memorandum, Denson to de la Mare, 5 May 1966, FO 371/1875053 FC2251/22, TNA. Beijing to FCO, nos. 1011 and 1013, 5 October 1971, FCO 21/835 FEC3/548/3 Part C; Grattan to Moon, 7 October 1971, ibid., TNA. Pan (1994), 154. Peng, Ming-min (1972), A Taste of Freedom: Memoirs of a Formosan Independence Leader, New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 258–60; Frank Ching, ‘Chinese groups in confrontation here’, New York Times, 22 September 1971. Morgan to Denson, 3 May 1971, FCO 21/855 FEC22/11; Beijing to FCO, no. 934, 20 September 1971, FCO 21/835 FEC3/548/3 Part C; FCO to Beijing, no. 655, 22 September 1971, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 1075, 19 October 1971, FCO 21/836 FEC3/548/3 Part D; Beijing to FCO, no. 1076, 19 October 1971, FCO 21/855, TNA; ZEN, vol. 3, 489–90. Beijing to FCO, no. 1076, 19 October 1971, FCO 21/855 FEC22/11, TNA. Memcon, 21 October 1971, 10.30 am–1.45 pm, FRUS, 1969-1976, vol. xvii, doc. 162, 498–517; Wei, ‘Ji Xinge dierci fanghua’, 59–70.

Notes 75

76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96

97

247

Tucker, Nancy Bernkopf (2009), Strait Talk: United States-Taiwan Relations and the Crisis with China, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 46–52; Taylor, Jay (2011), The Generalissimo: Chiang Kai-shek and the Struggle for Modern China, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 572. Xiong (1999), 352 and 358. MZN, vol. 6, 413. ZEN, vol. 3, 494. MZN, vol. 6, 416. Beijing to FCO, no. 1214, 30 November 1971, FCO 21/836 FEC3/548/C Part D; Beijing to FCO, no. 1220, 1 December 1971, ibid., TNA. Moon to Barrington, 29 November 1971, FCO 21/836 FEC3/548/C Part D, TNA. Douglas-Home memorandum, DOP(71)93, 31 December 1971, CAB 148/117, TNA. Pelworth to Barrington, 13 January 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. See Mark, ‘Waiting for the Dust to Settle’, 896–8. FCO note for Cabinet, 23 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Both the British and American official records of the Bermuda talks did not mention this point. It was probably an off-the-record verbal agreement between Heath and Nixon. Beijing to FCO, no. 77, 4 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Record of meeting on 22 June 1971, FCO 21/834 FEC3/548/3 Part B, TNA. Beijing to FCO, nos. 116 and 117, 18 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 119, 18 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A; FCO to Beijing, no. 98, 18 February 1972, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 120, 19 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 121, 19 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 24 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. FCO to Washington, no. 484, 28 February 1972, FCO 21/986 FEC3/548/1 Part A, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 168, 4 March 1972, FCO 21/987 FEC3/548/1 Part B, TNA; Pan (1994), 154–5. Beijing to FCO, no. 174, 6 March 1972, FCO 21/987 FEC3/548/1 Part B; Beijing to FCO, no. 189, 9 March 1972, ibid., TNA. Pan (1994), 155; Davies, Hugh CMG (2004), ‘My Experiences of the Region during the Last Century – With Particular Reference to Sino-British Relations’, Diplomacy & Statecraft, 15: 105. Joint Communiqué on the Agreement between the United Kingdom and the PRC on Exchange of Ambassadors, 13 March 1972, FCO 21/988, TNA.

248 98 99 100 101 102 103

104

105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113

114 115 116 117

Notes Beijing to FCO, no. 201, 13 March 1972, FCO 21/987 FEC3/548/1 Part B; Beijing to FCO, no. 203, 14 March 1972, FCO 21/989, TNA. FCO to Beijing, no. 159, 13 March 1972, FCO 21/989 FEC3/548/1 Part C, TNA. Hansard, House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 833, col. 31–5, 13 March 1972. Denson to Douglas-Home, 29 April 1971, FCO 21/845 FEC6/548/9, TNA. Morgan to Denson, 3 June 1971, FCO 21/845 FEC6/548/9; Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 3 June 1971, ibid., TNA. In 1971 the total trade between Britain and China dropped from the 1970 figure of £78.1 to £60 million, with British exports falling sharply from £44.6 to £28.3 million. Brief No. 2A (for Royle’s visit to China, 30 May to 7 June 1972), FCO 21/1001 FEC3/548/9 Part C, TNA. Memorandum by Joint Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, attached in Secretaries note, DOPO(SE)(70)2, 13 November 1979, CAB 148/109; Minutes of meeting of Defence and Overseas Policy (Official) Committee’s Sub-Committee on Strategic Exports on 17 November 1970, DOPO(SE)(70)1st Meeting, 19 November 1970, ibid., TNA. FCO note, 17 February 1971, attached in Secretaries note, DOPO(SE)(71)1, 18 February 1971, CAB 148/109, TNA. Zhongguo minhang tongji ziliao huibian, 269 and 682–3. FCO to Hong Kong, no. 173, 24 February 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A; FCO to Beijing, no. 96, 26 February 1971, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 190, 4 March 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 223, 10 March 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A; Hum to Cochlin, 6 March 1971, ibid.; Hum to Cochlin, 6 April 1971, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 309, 2 April 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A; Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 2 April 1971, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 4 May 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A, TNA. FCO to Washington, no. 1494, 26 May 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A, TNA. Irwin II to Packard, 2 July 1971, attaching Aide Memoire by British Embassy in Washington, 21 June 1971, RG 59 Subject Files of the Office of Asian Communist Affairs, 1961–73, Lot File 74 D400, Box 6, NA. Washington to FCO, no. 2464, 20 July 1971, FCO 21/853 FEC21/7 Part B, TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 577, 24 June 1971, FCO 21/852 FEC21/7 Part A; Memorandum, Hervey to Morgan, 23 June 1971, ibid., TNA. Beijing to FCO, no. 803, 23 August 1971, FCO 21/853 FEC21/7 Part B; Denson to Morgan, 6 September 1971, ibid., TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 17 September 1971, FCO 21/845 FEC6/548/9, TNA.

Notes 118

119 120 121 122 123 124

125 126

127 128

129 130 131 132 133 134

249

Report by Joint Intelligence Committee, attached in Note by Chairman of the Official Sub-Committee on Strategic Exports, DOP(SE)(72)3, 12 June 1972, CAB 148/103; Report on visit by Aerospatiale to China, 20 September to 23 October 1971, attached in Keswick to Morgan, 9 November 1971, FCO 21/853 FEC21/7 Part B, TNA. Memorandum, Morgan to Wilford, 25 August 1971, FCO 21/853 FEC21/7 Part B, TNA. Ziegler, Philip (2011), Edward Heath: The Authorised Biography, London: Harper Press, 276. Memorandum, Graham to Lush, 30 March 1972, PREM 15/737; Heseltine to Heath, 3 May 1972, ibid., TNA. Heseltine to Heath, 14 April 1972, PREM 15/737; Note of meeting on 23 November 1971, PREM 15/736, TNA. Benjamin to Facer, 13 August 1971, FCO 21/853 FEC21/7 Part B, TNA. Note by Chairman of the Official Sub-Committee on Strategic Exports, DOP(SE) (72)3, 12 June 1972, enclosing Department of Trade and Industry memorandum and Joint Intelligence Committee report, CAB 148/103; Secretaries note, DOP(SE)(72)6, 26 June 1972, ibid., TNA. Officials note, attached in Secretaries note, DOP(72)54, 11 December 1972, CAB 148/122, TNA. The letters of intent or preliminary purchase agreements contained a condition in which, within six months of signing, the option holders had to reach a final decision as to whether to convert their options into firm orders. At last, the CAAC cancelled its option to purchase the Concordes; so did many other airlines including Pan American. ‘Concorde History’ http://www.concordesst.com/ history/eh5.html. Secretaries note, DOPO(SE)(72)15, 28 November 1972, CAB 148/128, TNA. FCO to overseas posts, telegram no. guidance 255, 3 November 1972, FCO 21/995 FEC3/548/6 Part D, TNA. Also see Thorpe, D. R. (1997), Alec DouglasHome, London: Sinclair-Stevenson, 431–2. Beijing to FCO, no. 1206, 2 November 1972, FCO 21/995 FEC3/548/6 Part D, TNA. Freedman memorandum, 16 November 1972, FCO 21/1003 FEC3/548/13, TNA. Memorandum, Douglas-Home to Heseltine, 16 November 1972, PREM 15/1949; Memorandum, Heseltine to Douglas-Home, 21 November 1972, ibid., TNA. Officials note, attached in Secretaries note, DOP(72)54, 11 December 1972, CAB 148/122, TNA. Addis to Douglas-Home, 8 January 1973, FCO 21/1087 FEC1/3, TNA. The Americans joined the scramble for China’s aviation market. In July 1972, China initiated an agreement with Boeing for ten long-range planes worth nearly

250

135

136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144

145

146

Notes $150 million, the deal being China’s largest foreign purchase to date. Engels (2007), 294–5. See Mark, Chi-kwan (2009b), ‘Lack of Means or Loss of Will? The United Kingdom and the Decolonization of Hong Kong, 1957-1967’, International History Review, 31 (1): 45–71; idem (2014), ‘Development without Decolonisation? Hong Kong’s Future and Relations with Britain and China, 1967-1972’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 24 (2): 315–35. Stewart memorandum for Ministerial Committee on Hong Kong, K(69)1, 28 March 1969, CAB 134/2945, TNA. Mark (2014), 324–6. Beijing to FCO, no. 1076, 19 October 1971, FCO 21/855, TNA. Douglas-Home memorandum, DOP(71)83, 13 December 1971, CAB 148/117, TNA. Roberts to Barrington, 3 January 1972, PREM 15/1626, TNA. Hua, Huang (2007), Qinli yu jianwen: Huang Hua huiyilu [Experience and Observation: Memoir of Huang Hua], Beijing: Shiji zhishi chubanshe, 193. Beijing to FCO, no. 1206, 2 November 1972, FCO 21/995 FEC3/548/6 Part D, TNA. Addis to Douglas-Home, ‘China: Annual Review for 1973’, 31 December 1973, FCO 21/1226 FEC1/3, TNA. The Chinese negotiating tactic of raising contentious issues at a later stage when their bargaining position had improved was used during the Sino-American normalization talks. See Xia (2006), 168; Ross, Robert (1995), Negotiating Cooperation: The United States and China, 1969-1989, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 255–8. When Pei told the British that the questions of ‘principle’ on both sides were already ‘very clear’ and thus ‘no negotiation was necessary’, he might have meant that the PRC’s position on Taiwan, which was deemed a province of China, should have been so clear to Britain that there was no need to ‘negotiate’ this fundamental principle. MZN, vol. 6, 427.

Conclusion 1 2 3 4 5

MZN, vol. 2, 195. Kreisberg (1995), 461. Wilhelm, Jr (1994), 56–8. ‘Talk with Marshal Montgomery on the current international situation’, 27 May 1960, MZD, 327 and 329. MZN, vol. 2, 271–2.

Notes 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

251

Ashton (2004), 86–7. Tang (1992). Tsang (2006), xviii. MZN, vol. 3, 125; vol. 6, 214. Hughes, R. Gerald (2014), The Postwar Legacy of Appeasement: British Foreign Policy since 1945, London: Bloomsbury Academic, 19 and 183. For a good historiographical overview, see Aster, Sidney (2008), ‘Appeasement: Before and After Revisionism’, Diplomacy & Statecraft, 19 (3): 443–80. Heath (1999), 653. Davies (2004), 105.

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Index Acheson, Dean 17, 18, 20, 25 Addis, John 166, 176–7, 178, 184, 188, 192, 194 Allen, Denis 45 Attlee, Clement 14, 15, 17, 63 Barrymaine, Norman 151, 152 Bevin, Ernest 9, 14, 15–16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 25, 28, 35 Bolland, Edwin 96, 97, 106, 128, 129, 130, 136 Brezhnev, Leonid 90 Britain. See also under entries for individuals appeasement of China 2, 12, 109, 134, 188, 194, 195 assessment of Sino-Soviet relations 17, 154–5 and Cairo Declaration 60, 169, 171, 175, 176 consulate in Taiwan 40, 41, 59, 163, 164, 170, 187 enterprises in China 34–8 informal empire in China 13, 16 keeping a foot in the door 15–16, 18, 40, 192 and Lord Macartney Embassy 6 military barracks in China 24, 27–31, 35, 38, 57 nationals in China 1, 5, 11, 31–2, 35, 46, 50 and Opium War 13 and Potsdam Declaration 60, 169, 171, 175, 176 role east of Suez 79, 100, 134, 157, 162 special relationship with America 5, 14, 15, 59, 60, 61, 79, 81, 161, 162, 176, 194

and Taiwan 20, 35, 40–1, 59–60, 61, 69, 107, 189 Britain-China trade 11, 16, 35, 36–7, 47, 48, 63–4, 103, 132, 153, 157, 179, 193 and China differential 63–4, 67, 193 and COCOM 63, 64, 65, 103, 104, 180–1, 182–3 of Concorde 182–3 of Harrier 183–4 of Trident 103–4, 180–2, 183, 193 of Viscount 64–6, 77, 103, 157, 163, 180, 183, 184, 190, 193 British Chargé d’Affaires, Office of 47, 55, 58, 127, 148 burning of 1, 11, 111, 120–3, 126, 127–8, 130, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 156, 159, 160, 163, 175, 188, 191, 192, 194 British diplomats 1, 5, 7, 10, 11, 32, 33–4, 35, 55, 56–9, 92–3, 117–18 in Shanghai 34, 47, 51, 93–8, 117, 190 British Mission. See British Chargé d’Affaires, Office of Brookfield, David 94, 95–6, 97 Brown, George 80, 97–8, 106–7, 117, 124, 131–3, 134, 136–7, 138, 140 Burma 14, 20, 21, 111, 114, 134, 191 Caccia, Harold 69 Canada 18, 44, 106, 158, 169, 193, 195 Caradon, Lord 106, 107 Chamberlain,Neville 194 Chen Boda 7, 111, 116, 117, 122 Chen Yi 68, 70–1, 72, 73–4, 76, 85, 87, 88, 91, 105, 106, 108, 112, 117, 119, 131, 140, 190, 192 Chiang Kai-shek 13, 14, 16, 20, 21, 26, 60, 61, 71, 72, 171, 172, 174

Index China, Nationalist 14, 16, 27. See also China, Republic of in Taiwan 18, 19 China, People’s Republic of. See also under entries for individuals attitude towards Europe 9, 157, 160 and century of humiliation 2, 6, 14, 19, 31, 40, 55, 184, 190 criticism of two Chinas 5, 7, 43, 56, 60, 61, 106 exchange of chargés d’affaires with Britain 1, 43, 50, 54, 55, 76, 190, 193 and India 11, 72–4, 113 Ministry of Foreign Affairs 5, 6, 10, 27, 33, 34, 44, 55, 57, 76, 84, 92, 96, 108, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 117–18, 119, 122, 123, 130, 150 and North Vietnam 8, 81, 89–90 and nuclear weapons 74–6, 80, 99, 153–4 semi-diplomatic relations with Britain 1, 10, 43, 55, 92, 190, 193 and Soviet Union 8, 11, 17, 25, 29, 64, 70, 89–91, 134, 154 and Taiwan 1, 6 and United States 1, 2, 19, 28, 60–1, 71–2, 156, 163 China, Republic of 29, 41 Chinese civil war 5, 14, 15–16, 38 Chinese Cultural Revolution 1, 2, 7, 11, 92, 96, 111, 132, 133 148, 150, 190, 191 and ‘5 16 clique’ 123, 140, 156, 160 and Central Cultural Revolution Group 111, 116, 119, 122, 123, 128 and Red Guard violence 11, 97–9, 108, 111–12, 117, 121–2, 123, 127–8, 133, 190–1 in Shanghai 95, 117, 151–2 and three smashes and one burn 111, 113, 123, 134, 191 and ultra-leftism 7, 112, 119, 122, 123, 130, 150 Chinese Mission in London 55, 98, 118, 124, 136–7

275

and Battle of Portland Place 126, 127, 128, 129, 134, 191 Chinese representation in United Nations 1, 5, 21–6, 40, 41, 45, 48, 50, 85 and important question 67–9, 71, 76, 105, 107, 133, 155, 158, 165–6, 170–1, 174, 187, 194 and moratorium 41, 45, 66–7 Churchill, Winston 14, 15, 35, 44, 49, 50, 53, 59–60, 161 Cradock, Percy 58, 97, 120–2, 128–9, 130, 136, 138, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146 Crook, David 150–1, 152, 186 Crouch, Peter 151 Crowe, Colin 48 de la Mare, Arthur 66, 69, 118, 120, 125, 128 Deng Xiaoping 81, 90 Denson, John 130, 156, 163, 169, 171, 172, 173, 177, 179, 188, 192, 194 Douglas-Home, Alec as foreign secretary (1960–3) 67–8, 70–1, 73, 74, 76, 192 as foreign secretary (1970–4) 9, 158, 164, 165, 166, 170, 172, 175–6, 178–9, 183, 185, 186, 188 as Opposition leader 82, 100–1 as prime minister 75, 76 Dulles, John Foster 61, 64 Eden, Anthony 9, 45, 49, 51, 52–3, 55, 59–60, 61, 64, 169, 190 and Zhou Enlai 1, 46, 47, 50, 52, 53–4, 69, 76, 189, 192 Eisenhower, Dwight 44, 49, 53, 59, 60, 61, 67 Epstein, Elsie 150, 186 everyday Cold War 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 43, 59, 62, 76, 77, 80, 108, 109, 112, 133, 160, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 195 France

14, 18, 28, 33, 43, 44, 53, 64, 75, 104, 157, 161, 163 169, 182, 193

276

Index

Gao Jianzhong 137, 141 Garvey, Terence 83–4 Geneva Conference (1954) 1, 10, 43–54, 63, 76, 189 Geneva Conference (1962) 69–70, 76 Germany, West 14, 103, 153, 157 Goodwin, K. 97, 98 Gordon, Eric 150, 151, 152 Gore-Booth, Paul 97, 118 Graham, Walter 20, 21, 28, 30 Grey, Anthony 11, 119, 132, 135, 138–41, 143–8, 149, 151, 152, 155, 159, 192 Healey, Denis 101, 109, 178–9 Heath, Edward 9, 160, 162, 164, 176, 182, 186, 187, 194 and China 161, 175–6, 178, 180, 188, 195 as Opposition leader 101, 102, 157 Heseltine, Michael 183 Hewitt, Peter 117, 118 Ho Chi Minh 18, 89 Hong Kong 1, 9, 11, 14, 29, 34, 62, 71, 72, 90, 98, 155, 161, 173, 190, 193, 194 aircraft dispute 21–6, 30, 37, 40, 189 and British hostages 135, 137, 139–41, 143–8, 152, 153, 159, 192 British policy towards 16–17, 39, 132–3, 184–6 Chinese policy towards 5, 10, 38–9, 186 Governor Alexander Grantham 8 Governor David Trench 87, 143, 147 riots in 1967 1, 112, 115, 116, 117, 118–20, 130, 135, 185, 190, 191 and unequal treaties 13, 38 US naval visits to 8, 86–92, 109, 141, 190 Hopson, Donald 84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 91, 95, 96, 100, 105, 107, 116, 117, 119–21, 124, 127, 128, 130, 136–42, 143, 156 Huang Hua 111, 186 Huan Xiang 20, 27 28, 30, 44, 46–7, 50, 52, 54, 55, 62, 69, 115, 190 Hurd, Douglas 56 Hutchinson, John 20, 21, 22–3, 24, 25, 26, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33

India

14, 18, 21, 45, 72–4, 99, 100, 101, 103, 111, 113, 134, 190, 191 Indonesia 79, 80, 81, 83, 88, 100, 105, 111, 114–15, 119, 134, 191 Italy 103, 106–7, 158, 169 Japan

14, 41, 60, 64, 103, 152, 158, 161, 169, 170–1, 173, 176, 193 Jenkins, Roy 118 Jiang Qing 7, 95, 111, 123, 140, 151, 152 Ji Pengfei 57, 112, 119 Johnson, Lyndon 80–1, 82, 86, 88, 102, 104, 106, 109, 154, 190, 193 Johnston, David 151 Kennedy, John F. 65, 67, 71, 72, 73, 76 Khrushchev, Nikita 60, 89, 90, 91 Kissinger, Henry 161, 164, 165, 166–7, 169, 170, 171, 173, 178, 187, 188, 194 Korean War 5, 20, 26, 32, 33, 34, 38, 40, 189, 194 Lamb, Leo 33, 35, 36 Lei Renmin 47–8, 49 Lin Biao 152, 174 Liu Shaoqi 19, 21, 28–9, 81, 97 Lloyd, Selwyn 8, 61, 62, 77 Luo Guibo 83–4, 115 116, 117, 119, 124, 127, 139–41, 156, 160, 187, 191 McBain, William 151 MacDonald, Malcolm 70, 72, 73–4, 172–3, 177, 185, 187, 192 MacLehose, Crawford Murray 92, 105 Macmillan, Harold 61, 64, 66, 67, 69, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 193 Ma Jiachun 125 Malaya 14 Malaysia 79, 80, 81, 83, 88, 100, 109 Mao Zedong 4, 10, 14, 15, 26, 31, 32, 43, 58, 64, 75, 93, 130, 171, 172, 189, 194 and Britain 1, 4–5, 6, 19–20, 21–2, 29, 40, 62, 68, 76–7, 123, 134, 136, 156, 160, 161, 163, 168, 174, 187, 190, 191, 192 and Cultural Revolution 2, 92, 95, 97, 111–13, 114, 123, 125, 132, 134, 142, 149, 150, 152, 153, 155

Index

277

and Hong Kong 5, 38, 90, 116, 134, 135, 185 on intermediate zone 4–5, 62, 108–9, 157 and Soviet Union 17, 90, 136, 154, 156, 192 and Taiwan 20, 41, 59, 60, 61–2, 71, 174 and United States 28, 159, 163, 167, 192 and Vietnam War 81, 84, 109 Martin, Connie 151 Maxwell, Neville 175, 187 Montgomery, Field Marshal 68–9, 172, 190 Morgan, John 158, 164, 166, 168–9, 170, 171, 177, 179–80 Morrison, Herbert 35 Murray, James 130, 142

Rittenberg, Sidney 150 Rodgers, William 118 Rogers, William 164, 165, 166, 170 Royle, Anthony 163, 166, 169, 171 Rusk, Dean 72, 82, 86

Needham, Dr Joseph 145–7, 148 New China News Agency in Hong Kong 115, 116, 118, 139, 141, 143, 159 in London 55, 118, 124, 134, 137–8 New Zealand 18 Nixon, Richard 156, 158, 159, 161, 162, 164, 165, 166, 170, 176, 178, 187, 188, 192, 193, 194 and Nixon shock 161, 162, 170, 176, 187, 188

Taiwan independence 40, 167, 171–2, 173, 174, 175, 195 Strait Crisis (1954–5) 5, 55, 59–60, 75, 169 Strait Crisis (1958) 8, 61–2, 193 Strait Crisis (1962) 71–2 undetermined status 41, 60, 69, 107, 167, 169, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 178, 187, 190, 195 Thomson, George 124 Tomlinson, F.S. 32 Trevelyan, Humphrey 46–7, 48, 50, 51, 52, 54, 55, 56, 57, 60, 177 Truman, Harry 15, 18, 20

O’Brien, O. M. 94, 95 O’Neill, Con 8

Shapiro, Michael 150, 152, 186 Shen Ping 117, 120, 124, 125, 145 Shepherd, Lord 145 Society for Anglo-Chinese Understanding 145–7, 148 Soviet Union 15, 17, 18, 75, 91, 99, 101, 153, 161 Stalin, Joseph 17, 18, 43 Stewart, Michael (British Chargé in Beijing) 66, 68, 69 Stewart, Michael (Foreign Secretary) 82, 83, 92, 101, 104, 109, 140 142, 149, 151, 154

Pakistan 21, 85, 100, 164, 166 Pei Jianzhang 163, 164, 166, 168, 169–70 People’s Daily 7, 88, 104, 106, 108, 124, 126, 145, 159, 163 and Chinese Cultural Revolution 7–8, 116 on Hong Kong 90, 115, 120 on Vietnam War 8, 83, 85, 86

United States 161, 173. See also under entries for individuals and China 1, 2, 34, 71–2, 102, 161, 178, 193 military barracks in China 28, 31 nationals in China 31, 152 policy in Chinese civil war 17–18 and Taiwan 18, 20, 25

Qiao Guanhua 27, 38, 112, 119, 168, 169, 171, 172, 176–7, 178, 183, 187, 188, 192, 195

Veitch Allan 47, 50, 51 Vietnam War 1, 5, 8, 9, 11, 79, 80–6, 89, 108, 154, 190

278

Index

Walker, Patrick Gordon 84, 99 Walston, Lord 98–9, 106, 108 Wang Bingnan 20, 27, 28, 71, 88–9 Wang Chongli 93–5 Wang Li 119, 122, 123, 124, 130, 150 Watt, George 148, 149 Whitney, Ray 117, 136 Wilford, Michael 83, 84, 93–5 Wilson, David 108 Wilson, Duncan 57, 58 Wilson, Harold 9, 76, 79, 103, 104, 137, 140, 157 and China 48, 49, 79–80, 104, 124, 134, 144, 147, 153, 155, 156, 191 and nuclear proliferation 99, 101, 109, 131, 153 as Opposition leader 74–5 and Vietnam War 80, 81–2, 83, 84–5, 86 and Zhou Enlai 61, 79–80 Xie Li 88 Xiong Xianghui Xue Ping 118 Xu Huang 97

69, 98–9, 106, 108

Yao Dengshan 114, 119, 122, 124, 130 Yao Wenyuan 151–2 Younger, Kenneth 25 Zhang Chunqiao 151–2 Zhang Hanfu 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 30, 35, 36, 74, 112 Zhang Wentian 62 Zhou Enlai 6, 7, 10, 19, 20, 26, 44, 53, 57, 75, 85, 93, 103, 105, 114, 174, 194 and Anthony Eden 1, 46, 47, 50, 52, 53–4, 69, 76, 189–90, 192 and Britain 21, 28, 29, 40, 43, 48, 49–50, 54, 55, 60, 61, 68, 70, 72, 73–4, 79–80, 121, 122–3, 124, 128, 134, 156, 160, 163–4, 168, 172–3, 173, 174–5, 178, 183, 187–8, 191, 192, 193 and Cultural Revolution 112–13, 142, 152 and Hong Kong 23, 38–9, 72, 87, 90, 115–16, 119, 134, 143, 185, 186 and Ministry of Foreign Affairs 4, 117, 130, 131, 140 and trade 63, 132, 153 and United States 166–7, 187