Wu Jianmin, former Chinese ambassador to
France, the Netherlands and the United Nations in Geneva, died in a
traffic accident in Wuhan yesterday. Wu was also a translator for Mao Zedong
and Zhou Enlai and later served as President of Foreign Affairs
College--China’s main school for the Foreign Service.
Wu was from Jiangsu, and many official accounts
list his birthplace as Nanjing, though when asked some years ago, he didn’t
refer to himself as a 南京人, and said that he was born in Chongqing. Probably Wu's parents were from Nanjing; apparently they were diplomatic staff members themselves, ultimately relocated to Chongqing as part of the Nationalist government's move there in December 1938; and that was where Wu was born. Nanjing’s South Railway Station, on the other hand, has a continuous video extolling the city’s accomplishments, and claims Wu as one of its favourite sons.
Up to a few years ago, following his retirement from the Foreign Affairs College, Wu served as the
central government’s unofficial liaison and staunch defender to many in the foreign press corps,
sometimes presenting possibilities as forthcoming policy, such as the lifting of the
one-child restriction--years before that actually happened. Under President Hu
Jintao, Wu was eager to defend China’s foreign policies and was often generous
with his time to visiting dignitaries and scholars. While Wu never had the
access to policymaking he clearly hoped to have when he returned to Beijing
full-time (more on that below), many foreign scholars and commentators
nonetheless took him as a conduit to the Hu leadership—which Wu never quite
was.
However, Wu’s stance changed under the
present leadership. He insisted that the
new hardline from Beijing was potentially dangerous to China’s interests,
creating more adversaries than allies. After years of upholding Chinese
policies abroad, Wu became more critical at home, unafraid to debate hawks and
saber-rattlers (especially Hu Xijin, the editor of the nationalist tabloid Global Times)--who are far more numerous now than they had been under Hu—in an
effort to damp down the growing enthusiasm here for a more muscular and
militaristic strategy. As the brilliant Shi Yinhong of Renmin University
rightly noted,
Wu “had moral courage” to speak out in an environment where criticism is not always
warmly welcomed.
Wu’s return to Beijing in 2003 to run the Foreign
Affairs College (the name in Chinese is 外交学院, though the English name is often intentionally
though mistakenly rendered as “China Foreign Affairs University”) was perhaps less
successful than some had hoped. The College was a moribund institution, full of
students from influential families whose interest in a career abroad was often
minimal at best. Faculty at the Foreign Affairs College thought that Wu would
come in and reform the curriculum, encourage more research, and start to clean
up what many saw as uncommitted and possibly even corrupt departments.
Wu apparently saw his mandate differently.
For him, diplomacy was language, posture, and presentation. He encouraged
students to learn how to act in a diplomatic setting, instead of studying to think
like diplomats and strategists. With his extensive contacts in government, Wu
was able to bring in a whole host of high-profile speakers--some of them still
active in foreign affairs, many more retired. Faculty and students who liked
more of a focus on social events than education, on language training instead
of policymaking, were pleased with these changes; others, not so much, and more
than a few, not at all.
Wu also had far less impact on Hu Jintao’s
foreign policy than clearly he had anticipated. Chinese government advisers had
insisted that Beijing would pivot away from US and focus more on Europe; Wu was
expected to be part of the “brain trust” of Hu’s inner circle helping him do
that. But neither happened: “Europe” as a monolithic entity didn’t exist to
start with, and it was the national security establishment and the military
which began to push the Foreign Ministry away from the table and out of the
conference room. As Hu’s term wore on, it became increasingly apparent that both
politicians and the public wanted a harder line abroad.
Interestingly enough, Wu’s impact on Chinese
foreign policy grew in retirement, as his commentary began to be more widely
disseminated on social media and he actively sought to compel hardliners to
defend their positions. Chinese foreign policy was far better for his service
and for his continued presence as he dispensed hard-won wisdom and nuance.
The days when diplomats like Wu could
dominate the foreign policy debates are surely done with. For Wu to hold the line as long as he did
took bravery and a belief in a different sort of greatness for China, one where
power is built not on bluster, but on dialogue and engagement. The tragic death
of Wu Jianmin marks not only a sad end to a complex and good man, but the passing of an
era.
Most interesting. Governments are themselves often "foreign" vis-a-vis their diplomats. Vide the current challenge by US State Department personnel to some of the US' Government's policies. While this may occasionally be a form of creative tension, at others it will be confusing, particularly to third parties.
ReplyDeleteMost interesting. Governments are themselves often "foreign" vis-a-vis their diplomats. Vide the current challenge by US State Department personnel to some of the US' Government's policies. While this may occasionally be a form of creative tension, at others it will be confusing, particularly to third parties.
ReplyDeletehello,
ReplyDeleteI am a commissioning editor for Palgrave on IR, economics, politics, based in Shanghai... would love to discuss any academics in China or about China you have access to, for publishing in Palgrave... email me jacob.dreyer@palgrave.com
Thanks
Jacob