Capitalist showpiece in the shadow of China

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32637, 19 June 1971, Page 11

Capitalist showpiece in the shadow of China

(Bg

N. L. MACBETH.

assistant editor of "The Press," who recently spent two months

in Asia with a party of New Zealand journalists)

From the window of a bus in which I travelled from one end of Quemoy to the other I saw some of the most prosperous peasants, some of the most closely-cultivated land, I have seen anywhere in Asia.

Rice paddies by the roadside were graded dead level, so that not a drop of water was wasted; sugar cane and a dozen varieties of oilbearing or fruit - bearing palms competed for land with vegetables and tropical fruits. Shade trees lined every road, providing welcome shelter frpm the sun.

Neat farmhouses dot the landscape in the outlying areas of the island, but most of the population evidently live in villages and the main town, Kinmen. (“Kinmen” is the local, Fu-kien, version of “Quemoy,” the Cantonese term more widely used to describe both the island and its main centre of population.) Many of the workers in the paddy fields and market gardens paused to wave and smile at our busload of foreigners; buses and foreigners are both rare enough in the outlying areas, apparently, to attract attention. We passed a few pedestrians, a few cyclists, even a few horse-drawn and ox-drawn vehicles. I don’t remember seeing any of the small tractors or mechanical cultivators that are so frequent nowadays in Japan, but the air of material wellbeing, the impression of contentment, was palpable. Neat and tidy The islands’ inhabitants boast it is the “cleanest island in Asia”—a claim likely to be disputed by Singapore, “the only island in Asia where you can drink the water straight from the tap.” Certainly the countryside is as neat and tidy as any I’ve seen in Asia, though a few rough edges were visible round the more distant hamlets. But there were none of the forlorn rubbish tips which offend the visitor to any large centre of population in Asia (or, indeed, anywhere else in the world, including New Zealand); none of the legacies of the scorched earth policies which disfigure the landscape in Vietnam; none of the ragged street urchins who roam the streets of so many other Asian countries.

The children of Quemoy are perhaps the island’s best advertisement We saw hundreds of them, and never a dirty or tearful face among them. At the Kinmen High School, which has a roll of 800, we had the opportunity to meet some of the senior pupils. Although none of them spoke English, they were obviously interested to meet (probably their first) New Zealanders, and competed to have their photographs taken—and to acquire as a souvenir one of the kiwi lapel badges we carried for such occasions. So much for the civilian population—about 60,000 of them—on Quemoy, and the outward smiling face of the island. It is obviously a showplace which, the Taiwan Government likes to display; showplace which, Taiwan feels, cannot be matched in Communist China just across the water. Heavily fortified For the island is only five miles from the mainland, and less than two miles from the nearest Communist territory—an even smaller island, occupied by a military garrison. Despite the outward serenity of the civilian population, Quemoy is also a military garrison—one of the most heavily fortified in the world.

The nub of the island’s defence system is an underground complex of tunnels, ammunition dumps, communications system, living quarters and office accommodation. The headquarters centre on a large hall which is said to be the world’s largest man-made cave. It was set up, when we visited ft, as a picture theatre, with 1000 seats. In an emergency, we were told, it would be converted into a hospital. The last real emergency on Quemoy was in 1948, when an assault was launched from the mainland by two Communist divisions. They were beaten off, after some of the invaders had fought their way right across the island, with heavy casualties. No invader has since set foot on the island, although sporadic bombardments with high-explosive shells and regular bombardments' with propaganda shells have continued ever since.

Every 50 yards or so along the well-built arterial roads across the island is a heap of road metal, so that road damage caused by exploding shells can be rapidly repaired. The shady trees whichline the roads are there primarily for a military purpose: to conceal the roads and their traffic from aerial spotters. Elaborate security precautions were taken for our visit We were told, on arrival in Taipeh, that we would be taken to Quemoy the next day—but that we must not tell anyone beforehand. We flew the 200 miles separating Taiwan from Quemoy in a military aircraft a comfortably - appointed

DC3 wearing lifejackets. The latter part of the flight was made at an altitude of a few hundred feet, to keep under the mainland radar and anti-aircraft guns.

Photographs of certain installations on Quemoy are forbidden; even a relief map of the island in the museum is “classified,” because the roads are marked. Roadblocks are placed at the ready at strategic points on the island, and armed sentries guard the entries to all military installations. We saw squads of soldiers drilling, working on the roads, marching on the roads or in camps—seldom more than a platoon at a time, perhaps a few hundred all told. But, as one member of the party remarked, “it’s like an iceberg: what you see above the surface is about a ninth of the total.” We had several "briefings” from our military hosts, but no-one told us how many troops are stationed on Quemoy, and we knew that this information was classified so that it was no use asking. It would not surprise me if the military population—or

at least, the number of troops who could be stationed and accommodated there at a few hours’ warn-ing-exceeded the civilian population. And we were assured that the island’s military capability would survive a nuclear attack. Military emphasis Kinmen’s “museum” has some interest as a repository of local historical relics, but its emphasis is heavily military. A whole section is devoted to the display of Quemoy’s—and Taiwan’s—psychological warfare exhibits. The “Introduction,” presumably an English translation of the accompanying Chinese text, sets the tone of the display: ’The people on the

mainland are suffering from cold and hunger, groaning in agony, and longing for help and deliverance. All possible efforts have been made by R.O.C. [Republic of China] to provide them with hope and courage and to help them in struggling for freedom. The first-hand evidence will show why the people on Kinmen, MaTsu, Penghu and Taiwan are so sympathetic with the people on the mainland. Mao Tse-tung and his merciless cohorts can never escape from the judgment of time. The original material from the

mainland in this room will show the chaos on the Chinese Communist Mainland the true ugly face of the Communists.” Samples of propaganda leaflets showered on the mainland from Quemoy by artillery shells and balloons were displayed in this room. Two of them were translated into English, one read: “Avenge your relatives and friends. Millions of our fellow countrymen were murdered by Mao Tse-tung. Among them of course were friends and relatives of yours. Mao will die soon but you still help him to kill your fellow countrymen. How can your conscience clear? Rise now and avenge your relatives!”

This pamphlet, and another displayed with it, was illustrated with a dozen “scenes of life” on the mainland. In one scene, two Red Army guards are shown beating up an elderly man; in another, Mao Tse-tung is depicted with a grin on his face—and a sword, dripping blood, held behind his back.

The other pamphlet reads: “Can you live one more day? Liu Shao-chi, Ten Msian-ping and Peng Tu—[illegible in my photograph] were Mao Tsetung’s dear comrades, yet they are Mao’s prisoners right now. Can you believe that you will not be liquidated and purged? Are you sure that you can live one more day? Think over it! What will you do?” Constant provocation

What would he do, the mainland reader of this pamphlet? Nothing, surely. For, if he is old enough to remember the pre-Commun-ist regime, will he not also remember the oppressive landlords, the extortionate money-lenders, the corruption and inefficiency of a cumbersome bureaucracy? And if he is too young to remember those days he will not be so thoroughly indoctrinated that he accepts Peking’s propaganda without Suestion? He may even hope tat Chairman Mao will soon have the chance to show the people of Kinmen, Ma-Tsu, Penghu and Taiwan the error of their capitalist ways. The propaganda bullets made in Taiwan and fired from Quemoy are returned, with interest, to the people of Quemoy. Taiwan's policy of constant provocation contrasts oddly with the behaviour of Hong Kong, that other bastion of democracy in the lee of Communist China; and, despite occasional border incidents and

demonstrations in the streets of Hong Kong, the little colony rubs along well enough "with its monolithic neighbour.

If Taiwan gave up altogether its pathetic attempts to foment trouble on the mainland, one of the constant sources of friction between the two Chinas would be removed. And Quemoy, like Hong Kong, would still be accessible to the trickle of determined refugees who are persuaded —not by any official propaganda, but by their own experiences of life under Communism and by the testimony of relatives—to seek a better life outside the mainland.