[Nanking, China – 2:34PM, 18th of February 1927]
This place was still learning how to behave like a capital.
There were buildings that looked as though they had been intended for government and buildings that had simply been requisitioned because the government needed somewhere to put itself. Soldiers stood outside ministries that had been offices, offices that had been residences, and residences that had been something else entirely.
The entire place also had this very tense and gloomy atmosphere, as if they were expecting an attack any moment.
There was no grandeur to the place yet.
Not the sort of grandeur I associated with capitals like London or Paris.
London had been built by centuries of accumulated wealth. Its streets had been widened, rebuilt, paved and repaved. Its railway stations were cathedrals of iron and glass. Its factories stretched for acres, their chimneys filling the sky with smoke. Even its poverty possessed an infrastructure.
Nanking did not. The historical capital had been hundreds of miles to the north in Beijing (or Peking, as was the anglicised name.) And even then, "China" as a concept had only really existed for less than two decades when the Qing collapsed in 1912…before that, China had no concept of the "state", each empire having simply been built around the ruling family.
I found that strangely compelling.
The Generalissimo's residence was considerably more orderly.
I stood outside the room for several seconds before entering, adjusting the cuff of my shirt. I had been told that Chiang Kai-shek did not like businessmen who talked too much, and it had taken quite a bit of asking (and bribes) to get an invitation.
Chiang was standing beside a large table covered with maps.
He was smaller than I expected, and then again, most people were to me anyway.
He was not physically imposing, at least not in the way some military men were. But there was something remarkably still about him. His expression barely moved as he looked up.
Beside him stood his wife.
Soong Mei-ling turned toward Sullivan with a polite smile and spoke in what surprised me was what sounded like an American accent from somewhere in the south.
"Mr Sullivan," an American
"Madame Chiang."
She offered her hand.
I shook it.
"Generalissimo."
Chiang nodded.
"Wǒ hěn gāoxìng nín ànshí láidào."
Mei-ling translated.
"He says he is pleased that you have come on time."
I smiled.
"I am pleased to have been invited."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang said something else.
Her expression changed slightly.
"He says," she translated, "that British businessmen have been visiting China for a very long time. Usually they want something."
I laughed.
"He's correct."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang looked at him.
Sullivan continued.
"And I do want something."
That earned the faintest movement at the corner of Chiang's mouth. Sullivan looked toward the maps.
"I want China to become rich."
Mei-ling paused.
She looked at Sullivan.
Then she translated.
Chiang's expression did not change. She then said, "That is an ambitious desire."
Sullivan walked toward the table.
"I believe it would be profitable."
That produced a considerably longer silence.
Then Chiang said something. "Zhe shi ta tingguo de waiguo shangren zui chengshi de huida."
"My husband says that is the first honest answer he has heard from a foreign businessman. "Mei-ling translated.
Sullivan grinned.
China was enormous.
The lines on it were sparse.
Railways existed, but they were disconnected and of entirely different guages. Roads existed, but many were little more than paths that had been widened by necessity. Rivers carried enormous quantities of goods, but geography decided where those rivers could take them.
"Nín wèishénme xiǎng yào zài Kūnmíng tóuzī de quánlì?" Chang asked.
She translated, "Why Kunming?"
I looked at the map.
"Because it is almost the perfect place to build an industrial city."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang's eyebrows rose.
"May I…?" I gestured towards the map
"Kunming is high. The climate is comparatively mild. It has agricultural land around it. There are minerals in the province. There is enormous hydropower potential. It is far from the coast, which is presently a disadvantage."
Chiang's eyes narrowed.
"But most importantly, Generalissimo, Kunming is not yet important."
Mei-ling translated that carefully.
Chiang said something sharply. "Zhè shì zài fěngcì ma?"
She turned back.
"He asks whether you mean that as an insult."
"I mean that it has room to become important."
I leaned over the map.
"Shanghai is already enormous. Canton is already enormous. Guangdong is important. Beijing is important. Every foreign power knows that these places matter."
He tapped Kunming.
"However, we are both men who know that the greatest threat to China is Japan. And in any conflict the first thing that is going to happen is every city on your coast is going to get blockaded and bombarded."
Chiang looked down at the map.
"At present," I said, "a man in China who wants a machine must import it."
Mei-ling translated.
"A farmer who wants fertiliser may have difficulty obtaining it. A merchant who wants to move a thousand tonnes of grain must rely upon roads, animals and rivers. A factory that needs steel must bring it in from somewhere else."
He looked at Chiang.
"That is the problem."
Chiang answered. "Nǐ xiǎng zěnme chǔlǐ zhè jiàn shì?"
Mei-ling translated.
"He asks what you propose to do about it."
Sullivan smiled.
"Build the railway."
I reached across the map.
"From Guangdong."
Chiang looked down.
Then across.
Then back at me. I knew the reason I was currently meeting with the most powerful man in China had far more to do with the scale of what I wanted to invest in. The man was incredibly weary of foreign influence after the century of humiliation.
I tapped Guangdong and traced an imaginary line across the map.
"China needs to build China."
Chiang listened.
"The first railway will carry everything we cannot yet make. We import the things necessary to build the things necessary to stop importing them."
Mei-ling translated.
This time Chiang interrupted before she had finished. "Nándào wǒ yīnggāi ràng nǐmen Yīngguó rén yǒngyǒu Zhōngguó ma?"
Mei-ling looked at Sullivan as it appeared she was trying to find a better way to phrase whatever the general had said.
"He asks who will own the railway."
"Chinese companies."
Chiang's expression changed.
"Not British?" Mei asked.
"No."
"Who finances it?"
"British capital. Chinese borrowing. Chinese ownership."
Chiang was silent.
Sullivan continued.
"That distinction is rather important."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang asked another question.
"Who guarantees the debt?"
"The railway itself, the government where necessary, and ultimately the revenue generated by the economic development around it."
Chiang looked unconvinced, which, to be honest, I expected.
"Generalissimo, I am not proposing that you borrow money to build a monument."
He tapped the map.
"I am proposing that China borrow money to build an asset. One that will allow China to flourish."
He turned to Mei-ling.
"Once the railway exists, factories can be built beside it. Once factories exist, they generate revenue. Once electricity exists, factories become cheaper to operate. Once steel exists, the railway can begin purchasing Chinese steel instead of British steel. Kunming already has the perfect climate for cotton and animal rearing, its has good quality iron and coke deposits."
"I want you to understand why British investors are interested in this."
Chiang gestured for me to continue.
"Most men in my position would say that China is a market of four hundred million people."
I shrugged.
"They would talk about consumers. Raw materials. Cheap labour."
His expression hardened.
"I find that argument rather short-sighted."
Mei-ling translated.
I looked directly at Chiang.
"I believe that a prosperous China is good for Britain even if Britain does not receive the same proportion of that growth." Mei-ling stopped.
Chiang listened.
"The world economy is not a pie. If China becomes richer, Britain does not automatically become poorer because China's share of global production has increased."
He gestured toward the world map.
"If China builds ten thousand factories, those factories require machinery. If they require machinery, someone manufactures it. They need insurance. They need banks. They need shipping. They need telecommunications. They need engineers. They need chemicals. They need capital."
I smiled.
"Britain happens to be very good at nearly all of those things. Suppose China's economy doubles." I held up two fingers.
"Perhaps Britain receives only a fraction of that additional economic activity. We are still richer than we were before."
Chiang's eyes remained fixed on him.
"That is the difference between the mercantile thinking of the past and what I believe modern capitalism ought to become. I do not want China to remain poor so that Britain can sell China finished goods. I want China to become wealthy enough that it can buy vastly more of everything."
"From Britain?"
I smiled.
"Among others."
Mei-ling translated.
"China will buy from whoever gives it the best price."
"Exactly. The entire model is that money needs to move."
"So," Chiang said through Mei-ling, "you wish to make my country rich so that your country can sell to it."
"Among other things."
"What other things?"
Sullivan looked back at the map.
"Peace."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang's smile vanished.
Sullivan spoke more quietly.
"A prosperous China is harder to conquer."
The room became still.
"An industrial China can manufacture weapons. A connected China can move armies. A country with railways can move food. A country with electricity can manufacture at scale. And a country with an industrial centre in Yunnan cannot be strangled quite so easily by someone who controls the coast."
Chiang understood immediately.
Sullivan could see it in his eyes.
"This," he said, "is why I want the railway to Dali. Guangdong to Kunming. Then west. Kunming to Dali. Eventually, Dali to Burma. "But I want something else."
Chiang waited.
"I want the railway built to a particular gauge."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang frowned.
"Indian broad gauge".
Sullivan explained.
"Five feet six inches."
Mei-ling translated.
"Why?"
"Because one day I want a train to leave Tokyo and reach London without every waggon having to be unloaded at a different gauge."
Chiang stared at him.
Sullivan knew he was describing something that sounded absurdly ambitious.
He enjoyed that.
"Not tomorrow."
He smiled.
"Perhaps not in our lifetimes."
He tapped the map.
"But infrastructure lasts longer than men."
Chiang looked toward his wife.
Mei-ling looked at the map.
She understood.
A railway from Guangdong to Kunming was ambitious.
A railway from Kunming through Burma to India was something else entirely.
It was a vision.
And visions, Sullivan knew, were often more valuable than plans.
"Generalissimo," he said, "I don't expect China to build an Indian railway tomorrow."
He paused.
"I expect China to build the first hundred miles of one."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang stood and walked toward the window.
For several moments he said nothing.
Outside, Nanking moved.
Soldiers.
Rickshaws.
Merchants.
A government attempting to turn a fractured country into a nation.
Eventually Chiang turned.
"What does Britain receive?"
Sullivan considered the question.
"Interest, dividends, contracts, trade and eventually a China that can afford to buy all four."
Mei-ling translated.
Chiang laughed.
The laugh honestly caught me off guard. In all honesty the hairs on the back of my neck had been standing all day since at any moment I could be executed or something.
"Your proposal is dangerous," she said.
"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Because if it succeeds, you will have created a China capable of saying no to Britain."
"You want sovereignty. Build the machinery that makes sovereignty possible."
"You want an army; build the factories that supply it."
"You want national unity. Build the railways that make the provinces part of the same economy."
"You want China to survive whatever happens on the coast."
I let my hand rest over Yunnan. "Build something that cannot be blockaded by a fleet."
"What do you require from us?"
I smiled.
"Permission."
"Only that?"
"At first."
"Then?"
"Land. Concessions. Government guarantees. Cooperation from provincial authorities. Soldiers to arrest corrupt officials and the right to bring Chinese businessmen into the project as equal partners."
"Mr Sullivan," she said in English, without translating, "I think you may have finally found something my husband wants more than another army."
I looked at her.
"What is that?"
She glanced at the map.
"An army that can feed itself."