In our history textbooks, reforms like the Shang Yang reforms, the reforms of Li Kui, the reforms of Hu Huqi Wang Anshi, and the Wushu reforms are mostly depicted positively. Let’s set aside the failed reforms and focus on those considered successful; they all have significant pitfalls.

Take the Shang Yang reforms, which are fundamental to the rise of the Qin state. Looking back, what was the reason for its success? It can be summarized in eight words: “Strengthen the army, weaken the people, wage war nationwide.” The core purposes of the reforms, whether it was the military merit system, the household registration system, the collective punishment system, or the county system, were twofold. One was to strengthen the centralized power of the monarch, completely abolishing the nobility’s feudal privileges that limited the monarch’s authority. The other was to suppress thought and behavior, weakening and stupefying the populace to the extent that they could not resist in thought or action.

The entire country became a high-speed war machine. The development of the state relied entirely on continuous external expansion.

In the book of Shang Yang’s thoughts, “The Book of Lord Shang,” chapters on destroying merchants and weakening the people are prominently featured. This explains why, for over two thousand years, it was banned, becoming central to the imperial canon. History books teach us how Shang Yang was a sage, but they don’t tell you that to implement the new laws, he executed over 700 opponents in a single day by the Wei River, staining the water red.

His fundamental approach to reform was not rationality but creating terror. This model, when examined closely, looks familiar, doesn’t it? Isn’t it just fascist militarism? Whether it was Mussolini’s Italy, the Emperor’s Japan, or Hitler’s Germany, it was the same template. Using the entire nation’s strength, they initially achieved great success through extreme internal oppression and external warfare.

But when the state’s resources could no longer sustain the war or it faced internal and external crises, it often collapsed spectacularly.

What was the fundamental strength of the Qin state? When a country completely disregards the welfare of its people, cultural development, and historical heritage, using all its strength for the ruler’s domination and waging war to destroy enemies, this rogue mentality is hard to contend with. If every commoner, like the Qin people, could only change their fate by beheading enemies on the battlefield, this barbaric force might win, but it doesn’t represent progress, justice, or civilization.

It’s simply the familiar pattern of the backward defeating the advanced, the barbaric defeating the civilized in the age of cold weapons. So, unequivocally, the Shang Yang reforms were the earliest and most successful example of fascist militarism in China.

It had a twin in the West—Sparta. Its so-called prosperity and military strength benefited only one person and had nothing to do with the common people. This highly centralized, aggressive reform driven by wild expansion might achieve temporary brilliance but was destined to fail because its core was anti-humanity and couldn’t gain widespread support.

The second point I want to make is that the Qin Dynasty’s unification was a major regression in Chinese history. If you know a bit about pre-Qin history, you might wonder: Since the Shang Yang reforms quickly made Qin successful, why didn’t the six states in Shandong copy it? Who would refuse success?

The fundamental reason is that the foundation of Huaxia civilization in the pre-Qin era was the feudal system and Liuyu culture, which were incompatible with Qin’s militaristic system of waging total war. The feudal system underpinned the Zhou Dynasty’s 800 years of rule, based on two core aspects.

The first was the ruling philosophy of cultured people. The Huaxia people expanded their civilization through forceful colonization but also spread their culture over hundreds of years, relying not solely on slaughter but on advanced agricultural civilization and Liuyu culture to conquer surrounding so-called barbarians.

The second was local autonomy and the separation of powers. The nobles’ powers were layered, greatly limiting royal and military authority, forming multiple local power centers that balanced and competed with each other. This local autonomy was the foundation of the competition among feudal lords, talent flow, and ideological flourishing in the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods.

Why were the Chinese of that era so different from later generations? This was closely linked to the feudal system. Thus, in historical records, the six states of Shandong often referred to Qin as a “tiger and wolf nation.”

They inherently looked down on Qin and didn’t agree with its reforms. Even today, idioms related to Qin still reflect the Warring States era’s perception of Qin. These include “Zong Lian Dao Hai” and “Yi Bu Di Qin.”

These idioms come from the “Strategies of the Warring States,” which records the eloquence of Lu Zhonglian of Qi, who, out of righteousness and without any personal gain, went to persuade the feudal lords to send troops to save the besieged Zhao state.

To express his understanding of Qin’s nature, Lu Zhonglian said:

“The Qin, a country that abandons rituals and relies on military power, rules through cunning and treats its people like slaves. If it becomes the emperor and governs the world, I would rather jump into the East Sea than be a subject of such a regime.”

These idioms later became symbols of resisting tyranny and maintaining integrity in the Chinese psyche. The “Strategies of the Warring States” contains numerous references to Qin as a “tiger and wolf nation” and expressions like “the world has suffered from Qin for a long time and doesn’t want to be Qin’s people.”

The most famous battle that changed Chinese history, the Battle of Changping, was fundamentally triggered by the Korean cession of Shangdang County to Qin. The people there preferred to surrender to Zhao rather than Qin, indicating they would rather have Zhao’s passport than Qin’s.

The “Records of the Grand Historian” describes it as follows:

“Qin took Shangdang, but the people of Shangdang were unwilling to be Qin’s subjects and turned to Zhao. The world has long been unwilling to be Qin’s people.”

This sparked the Battle of Changping. If Qin were like today’s United States, would this situation occur? Would the people of Shangdang still refuse?

It is well-known that during the Warring States period, both thought and behavior were very free. People could migrate freely, akin to modern-day immigration. Where the people chose to settle best reflected their preferences. In the “Book of Lord Shang,” there’s a passage where the Qin king laments that despite Qin’s vast territory, it is sparsely populated, while Korea and Zhao, with smaller lands, have dense populations. He asks his ministers why, and they respond:

“The people suffer and abandon Qin.”

People looked down on Qin’s passport and household registration, preferring to crowd in Korea and Zhao because life in Qin was harsh and undignified for both scholars and commoners.

Such historical accounts have been repeatedly confirmed in subsequent archaeological findings. For example, the harsh laws of Qin are documented, and many cases of people fleeing Qin’s tyranny to other states are recorded.

These remarks show that even in the Warring States period, the essence of Shang Yang’s reforms, the militaristic nature of a war machine, was clearly understood by the feudal states of Shandong.

Therefore, despite the Shang Yang reforms making Qin powerful, no one praised them or wanted to emulate them. We often say that for over two thousand years, Chinese people haven’t surpassed the intellectual legacy of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods because the overall environment stifled their creativity.

By rejecting feudalism, establishing prefectures and counties, and completely eliminating the nobility, Qin quickly became strong and unified China with a fascist militaristic system similar to later times. However, this autocratic system extended, making obedience to centralized power the starting point for all actions.

For the nation and the entire people, this was not a blessing but a disaster. The rule of one family not only stifled political vitality but also the vitality of the entire nation.

Without checks and balances on power and internal competition, the world became a place where tyranny prevailed.

We now say that for an industry to prosper, monopolies must be broken, administrative measures should enforce separation, and even legislation should enforce it. Without breaking monopolies, industries fail.

But isn’t it the same for a country? The core of modern human civilization’s political system is, in fact, the division of power, political competition, and local autonomy.

When I say that Qin’s unification of China was a historical regression, some may find it hard to accept. But listen to me further.

Thirdly, unification doesn’t necessarily represent progress. We’ve long been indoctrinated to believe that division means slaughter, chaos, and humiliation, while unification means strength, prosperity, and glory. Is that really the case? Throughout the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, over 100 significant feudal states emerged, warring countless times. But even counting up to the Qin Dynasty’s unification, the total number of war casualties among the feudal states is likely far less than the population loss during one great famine.

The wisdom and cultural heritage of the Huaxia people during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods continue to shine today. Which period in modern Chinese history saw the most cultural prosperity? The Beiyang period, marked by warlord rule. Despite constant warfare among warlords, the hardships pale compared to the widespread suffering after the Chinese Communist Party’s unification.

During the darkest and most declining period of the Five Barbarians’ invasion of China, traditional civilization never truly disappeared. However, after the Mongol Yuan and Manchu Qing unified China, apart from massacres, they severed the national lifeline, caused cultural decline, and plunged the scholar-official class into collective confusion that persists to this day. Not to mention the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) unification, which uses cult-like methods to govern the country, eradicating traditional culture among social elites completely and causing more harm than slaughter.

Thus, it can be clearly stated that the unification under regimes like the Mongol Yuan, Manchu Qing, and CCP is essentially a unification based on despotism, ignorance, and backwardness. It is an example of barbarism triumphing over civilization and poisoning it, and it is undoubtedly detrimental to the nation. Such unification is worse than division.

In other words, is there no benefit to division? Just look at South Korea and North Korea, or currently, the mainland and Taiwan. The vast differences between the same ethnicity already provide clear evidence. For a disaster-prone nation, the choice of system is crucial.

A unified large prison is far worse than being divided into a paradise and a hell. For a nation to achieve long-term peace and stability, it cannot simply indulge in low-level survival notions like preferring peace under autocracy over chaos. It must not be obsessed with superficial unification and apparent strength without the guarantee of a civilized system.

Unification is just an opiate for the wild and a heartbreaker for the common people. Germany and Austria are two different countries but the same principal ethnicity. Hitler once unified them under the banner of the Third Reich’s glory. And what happened then? It brought disaster to both countries.

Looking back, was the breakup of the Soviet Union, that super empire, good or bad? It was undoubtedly a great thing. For the republics forcibly joined by it, for the former Eastern European satellite states, for the Chinese people once threatened by its nuclear arsenal, and even for world peace, it was beneficial.

The unification of such empires constantly exports violent revolution and creates ideological confrontation, plaguing nearly half the globe. Countless lives were lost in their utopian experiments, providing violent support for the spread of despotism, becoming a malignant tumor of human civilization.

Frankly speaking, the rogue human rights of the CCP, and the brutal tyrant Xi Jinping, what they call unification is merely expanding the scale of prisons and the confinement of slaves. How has this ever benefited the common people in the slightest?

Before 1949, Northeast China was built by the Japanese into Asia’s number one industrial area. Under the CCP, it has decayed beyond recognition over the decades, beyond saving. Shanghai in 1949 was the Far East’s largest international city and financial center, with no competition from Hong Kong. But under the CCP, it completely lost its vitality.

Hong Kong and Macau, painstakingly developed by the British and Portuguese over a hundred years, are now also losing their glory. So, should the CCP be allowed to ruin Taiwan as well? If they unify Taiwan, it would only mean 23 million more enslaved people.

For ordinary mainland Chinese people, what benefits do they get other than using their blood, sweat, and lives to support such a false unity? None at all. So now I want to say, certain types of unification are a major step backward in history. Can everyone understand this?

China’s “First Civilian AIDS Fighter”

Gao Yaojie was not the first, nor the only one to know the truth, but she was among the earliest to reveal it to society and the world. For 27 years, she spoke out until the end of her life.

In retrospect, the Henan Provincial Health Department knew the truth but did not disclose the 1993 report from the Zhengzhou CDC, which found 542 HIV-positive cases—double the national total reported that year. The report was unpublished, leading Dr. Wang Shuping from Zhoukou Hospital to report to the central government in Beijing two years later about the burgeoning AIDS epidemic in Henan.

In 1995, Henan began cleaning up blood stations without disclosing the reasons, causing them to go underground and become uncontrollable. Uninformed farmers continued selling blood, and patients remained untreated, making 1995 the worst year for the epidemic.

Dr. Zhang Ke from You’an Hospital reported the issue locally, but an official dismissed it, saying it would resolve once people died. Gao Yaojie, searching for the truth, followed the graves, a method she called “digging black holes.”

In 2000, during the peak of deaths, those who knew the truth were silenced. Wang Shuping was dismissed, local journalist Zhang Jicheng was fired, and Professor Gui Xien, who discovered the epidemic in Wenlou Village, was expelled. Gui advised Gao Yaojie to stop speaking out, but she insisted, knowing she had to speak before it was too late.

In the fall of 2000, Gao Yaojie exposed the epidemic through interviews with China News Weekly and The New York Times. The following August, under international pressure, China’s Ministry of Health disclosed the Wenlou Village epidemic, investing over 2 billion yuan and establishing more than 400 blood stations to control the blood-borne spread.

Five years had passed since Gao Yaojie discovered the first case. By 2002, the number of HIV infections in China was increasing by 30% annually, with 70% of cases transmitted through blood. If unchecked, the country would have 10 million AIDS patients by 2010, endangering the entire nation.

In November 2003, I visited Shuangmiao Village in Henan’s Zhecheng County. Amidst the winter rain and snow, children slept on straw mats without warm clothing. Among them were 52 AIDS orphans. My lead came from Gao Yaojie.

Gao Yaojie single-handedly brought attention to these children. By the end of that year, she was honored as one of CCTV’s “People Who Moved China.” Alongside Dr. Jiang Yanyong, she brought unprecedented public health transparency to China.

In 2023, we lost both Jiang and Gao. Some wondered why Gao Yaojie continued to speak abroad after being recognized domestically. I use my program as an example. In 2003, when we filmed in the village at 4 AM and left before dawn due to safety concerns, my colleagues had previously been detained for seven hours and escorted back to Beijing. The program could only specify a vague location, and we couldn’t provide donation addresses.

After airing, no officials took responsibility. Instead, all donations, including 1 million yuan from CCTV’s 5,000 employees, were confiscated by local governments.

This was my work. Many tasks remained unfinished, but Gao Yaojie persisted. Our documentary, “Central Plains Chronicles,” captured her journey of collecting 100 cases of blood-borne infections to expose the truth after courts refused to accept lawsuits from the infected.

In 2007, as Zhang Jingya’s condition worsened, her mother couldn’t reach Gao Yaojie, whose phone and internet were cut off because an American organization planned to award her. She was under house arrest until international media exposed it, and Hillary Clinton wrote multiple letters, prompting Hu Jintao to allow Gao to accept the award.

That spring, 13-year-old Zhang Jingya passed away. On the award stage, Gao Yaojie wore a black dress with white flowers, made by an AIDS patient. She declared, “I mourn for the millions of deceased.”

Some criticized her for returning to China unscathed after receiving the award, questioning her subsequent departure. Gao Yaojie’s return wasn’t straightforward. She first went to Shanghai to notarize a document outlining her famous “Three No’s” principle: no cash donations, no organizations, and no groups.

She rejected offers from the Henan Red Cross to fundraise abroad and from provincial officials to publish a book glorifying local AIDS efforts. She maintained her independence, understanding its price.

Gao Yaojie never accepted donations, spending her own money, awards, and royalties on her work. Her home was her office, and her husband, who supported her until his death in 2006, was her assistant.

Despite a modest lifestyle, she invested over a million yuan in AIDS patients and education, sending materials nationwide. In 2009, she discovered that books she had mailed were confiscated.

In my twilight years, I had no choice

A month later, her phone and internet were cut off again due to another international award. This time, she left China, stating, “In my twilight years, I had no choice.” She had no platform to speak.

After her death, I discussed with her biographer Lin Shiyu, who told me about Gao’s resolve from a young age. Deprived of education, she attempted suicide, writing, “Better dead than enslaved.”

In 2007, her son, under pressure, knelt and begged her not to accept the international award. Gao Yaojie, in tears, wrote, “I take full responsibility for my actions.”

Her son had endured imprisonment during the Cultural Revolution due to her. Being her child was challenging; her daughter, having lost her job and moved abroad, once wrote, “You walk a path of national disdain, destined for a lonely, miserable death.”

Gao Yaojie’s final years in the US were difficult. She wrote ten books, documenting nearly a century of Chinese history through her eyes.

If you are indifferent to others’ suffering, you do not deserve to be called human

She believed in documenting history for future generations, saying, “If I don’t, I betray history.”

Professor Andrew Nathan told me, “Gao Yaojie had no political interest, only the duty to tell the truth.”

Despite disagreements over her opposition to promoting condoms for AIDS prevention, even her critics respected her. Her moral integrity was unwavering, as illustrated by her sympathy for her aide collecting recyclable bottles for extra income.

Her anti-AIDS newsletters bore the message: “If you are indifferent to others’ suffering, you do not deserve to be called human.”

Gao Yaojie longed to return to China but remained abroad due to health issues. In 2018, her son visited her once, knowing it might be their final farewell.

In her last years, she was confined to her room, only free in her dreams. Despite her condition, she continued writing until her death.

She wished for no ceremonies after death, only to have her and her husband’s ashes scattered in the Yellow River, their homeland.

Today, we remember her with this documentary, reflecting the land and people she cherished.

I gave a talk about the history of the Whampoa Military Academy and Sun Yat-sen. Some audience members felt that my section on the Beiyang government was too brief and had questions about that period of history. The brevity was intentional to keep the program within its time limits and avoid straying off-topic. Today, I’ll use this members-only program to delve deeper into the story of the Beiyang government. First, it’s important to clarify that the term “Beiyang government” is somewhat imprecise. It actually refers to the Republic of China before 1928. The term was used later to distinguish it from the National Government established in Nanjing after Chiang Kai-shek’s Northern Expedition in 1928. During this period, the presidents and prime ministers were mainly Beiyang faction politicians. To justify their rebellion, the Kuomintang derogatorily labeled the previous Republican government as the “Beiyang government.”

The term “Beiyang” comes from when Yuan Shikai trained the Qing Dynasty’s new army at the Xiaozhan in Tianjin, known as the Beiyang Army. Thus, the warlords and politicians associated with Yuan Shikai were called the Beiyang faction.

Although both the Beiyang government and the later Chiang Kai-shek government were officially called the Republic of China, they were fundamentally different. The Beiyang government was established based on the Provisional Constitution of the Republic of China following the Xinhai Revolution, modeled after the American separation of powers system. It adopted a presidential system with both a Senate and House of Representatives. Both the president and the members of parliament were elected regularly. Despite the immature democracy, with incidents of bribery and scandal, elections were still held. Unlike the American system, the Beiyang government had a Premier, a powerful position second only to the president, providing a check on presidential power. Thus, the Beiyang government was a hybrid between a presidential and parliamentary system.

Moreover, provinces during the Beiyang era had their own assemblies, exercising full local autonomy. Technically, the Beiyang government was a federal system under the guise of a republic. In contrast, the Kuomintang era was characterized by authoritarian one-party rule, or what was termed as a party-state.

The Beiyang era flag was the Five-Colored Flag, symbolizing the harmony of five ethnic groups, and its national anthem was “The Song of the Clouds.” The Chiang Kai-shek government adopted the Blue Sky with a White Sun flag and the anthem “The Three Principles of the People,” derived from the Whampoa Military Academy’s anthem. Therefore, although both were called the Republic of China, it was essentially a regime change. Despite being the weakest central government in modern Chinese history, the Beiyang government did not lose any territory. Conversely, the subsequent Kuomintang and Communist parties lost significant lands. Many political figures in the Beiyang period were reformists from the late Qing Dynasty, imbued with traditional scholar-official values and the spirit of constitutional democracy. They maintained high ethical standards in both personal and professional conduct. Although the Beiyang factions often fought among themselves, they rarely resorted to ruthless extermination. Many warlords who lost power lived out their lives in peace. Regardless of who was in power, the Beiyang government did not become dictatorial but continued to function democratically. During its nearly 17-year rule, the Beiyang government convened five national assemblies without significant interruptions. Even after suppressing Sun Yat-sen’s Second Revolution, Yuan Shikai did not dissolve the Kuomintang, allowing it to participate in elections as per the established electoral laws.

In 1923, the Beiyang government enacted China’s first true democratic constitution, the “Constitution of the Republic of China.” Modeled after the U.S. Constitution but modified for Chinese conditions, it was China’s only federal constitution that implemented a true separation of powers and local autonomy. It specified the terms and election methods for the president and legislators, clearly delineating central and local powers. Provincial assemblies and county magistrates were directly elected, which enabled local self-governance in Guangdong as implemented by figures like Chen Jiongming.

The Beiyang era was the most pluralistic period in modern Chinese history. There was no official ideology, allowing a diverse range of thoughts to flourish. Intellectuals enjoyed academic and speech freedom, leading to successive cultural enlightenment movements and a golden era in Chinese cultural and educational history. While many know this period for its scholarly giants like Liang Qichao, Hu Shi, Chen Duxiu, Chen Yinke, Wang Guowei, Zhang Taiyan, and Lu Xun, few realize that China’s technological development was also impressive. For instance, in March 1912, Feng Ru’s Guangdong Aircraft Company produced the first domestically made airplane, a global innovation at the time. In 1918, during World War I, the U.S. contracted Jiangnan Shipyard to build 10,000-ton freighters to transport military supplies to Europe, recognizing China’s shipbuilding capabilities. This partnership was worth a staggering $7.8 million.

The Communist claim that pre-1949 China was a backward society unable to produce even nails or matches is a baseless lie. Despite frequent local conflicts among warlords, China’s economy grew rapidly, making it one of the world’s fastest-growing economies during that time. Economists call this the golden age of Chinese national capitalism.

In my previous talk about Whampoa, I mentioned that the Beiyang government was assertive in foreign affairs, especially against Russia, reclaiming Outer Mongolia, deploying troops to Vladivostok, and evacuating Chinese nationals. However, their tough stance wasn’t limited to Russia. The Beiyang government also stood firm against Britain, an established power.

In 1914, Britain and the Dalai government of Tibet signed a secret treaty. Britain promised support for Tibetan independence in exchange for about 90,000 square kilometers of territory in Southern Tibet, now known as the McMahon Line. Despite its inability to control Tibet, Yuan Shikai’s government refused to recognize the treaty, defying Britain. This stance remains the root of the unresolved Southern Tibet issue. In 1917, the Beiyang government strategically joined the Allies and declared war on Germany and the Central Powers. Though they only sent laborers rather than troops, they leveraged their status as a victorious nation to reclaim German and Austro-Hungarian concessions in Tianjin and Hankou. More importantly, they abolished extraterritorial rights and suspended the Boxer Indemnity payments. Other nations followed suit, and China even received 84 million taels of silver in war reparations from Germany, the largest indemnity China had ever secured voluntarily in modern history.

At the 1921 Washington Conference, the Beiyang government recovered Japanese-occupied Shandong and effectively nullified the Twenty-One Demands. These significant diplomatic achievements have been largely overlooked in later historical accounts. However, many still view the Beiyang government as traitorous, primarily due to its relationship with Japan. From Yuan Shikai onwards, the Beiyang government’s diplomatic approach was criticized for being too pro-Japanese, favoring loans from Japan, and granting Japan many privileges. This dynamic stemmed from the 1904 Russo-Japanese War. After the Boxer Rebellion, Russia occupied Northeast China and seemed unwilling to leave, displaying clear ambitions. Japan, having annexed Korea, clashed with Russian interests. Lacking the strength to reclaim the Northeast, the Qing Dynasty secretly invited Japan to expel the Russians, promising them the transferred Russian interests.

Though inviting another nation to fight on home soil was humiliating, it was a desperate yet pragmatic choice for the Qing, which proved successful. Japan, eager to dominate East Asia, waged a costly war, losing nearly 100,000 troops and depleting its reserves, to defeat Russia and preserve the Northeast for the Qing Dynasty.

At that time, the Qing court and officials had a great admiration for Japan, and it was during this period that the peak of learning from Japan occurred. For the Japanese, fighting on behalf of the Qing was certainly not out of altruism; such significant sacrifices were made with the expectation of some return. This return was the special rights in Northeast China. In this sense, the Beiyang government inherited the Qing policy and had to bear this historical debt from the start. The subsequent troubles were actually influenced by this Qing legacy, leaving the Beiyang government with no choice.

The so-called Twenty-One Demands were later delayed by the Beiyang government with various excuses and were not implemented. Eventually, a few years later, they were abolished at the Washington Conference. From a diplomatic perspective, this was a classic case of the Beiyang era’s diplomatic achievements. However, from the public’s point of view, any unequal treaty signed would tarnish one’s reputation, as ordinary people care more about the outcome than the process. Political figures are often judged in a binary manner of good or evil, with little consideration for the historical context.

The diplomatic failure at the 1919 Paris Peace Conference, particularly the transfer of German rights in Shandong to Japan, is regarded in textbooks as one of the greatest diplomatic failures of the Beiyang government. In reality, the Beiyang government’s diplomacy at the Paris Peace Conference was not a failure. The delegation made several demands, with the return of Shandong’s rights being just one of them.

After negotiations with the major powers, the delegation achieved the abolition of consular jurisdiction, the cancellation of the Boxer Indemnity, tariff autonomy, and compensation for losses, among other things. Foreign Minister Lu Zhengxiang believed that the rights in Shandong were already effectively controlled by Japan and could not be reclaimed without military action in the short term. If they did not sign under the current conditions, the already achieved negotiation results might be lost. This practical consideration was the main reason Lu advocated for signing the agreement at the Paris Peace Conference, which had nothing to do with treason.

As I mentioned, although China was a victor in World War I, it did not send any troops to the battlefield, only laborers. Given this situation, expecting to gain rights equal to those of other major powers was unrealistic in the international order of the time. Diplomatic negotiations often involve compromise, especially for weaker nations. It’s easy for the public to express indignation and chant slogans under nationalist fervor, but the actual implementation is far more challenging.

Lu Zhengxiang, the foreign minister criticized during the May Fourth Movement, was actually one of the few professional diplomats of the Beiyang era. He had served as ambassador to the Netherlands during the Qing Dynasty, held very progressive views, married a Belgian woman, and cut his queue in 1905, even before the Qing fell. During his tenure as Foreign Minister, he abolished the practice of appointing diplomats through high official recommendations and insisted on selecting highly educated and qualified diplomats.

During the Beiyang era, diplomats were required to have foreign language and diplomatic expertise, even causing Yuan Shikai’s own nephew to lose his position for not meeting the requirements. Beiyang-era diplomats were recognized as the best-educated and most qualified in modern Chinese history, incomparable to today’s “wolf warrior” diplomats.

Despite his professionalism, Lu Zhengxiang, burdened with infamy from the Paris Peace Conference, never returned to China and later became a clergyman in Belgium.

The most prominent slogan of the May Fourth Movement was “Fight for sovereignty externally, eradicate national traitors internally.” These “traitors” included Cao Rulin, Minister of Transport, and Zhang Zongxiang, Minister to Japan, who were key figures in Sino-Japanese diplomacy at the time. However, they were not the decision-makers.

The famous burning of Zhao Jia Lou involved setting fire to Cao Rulin’s residence, but he escaped, leaving Zhang Zongxiang to be beaten severely. Zhang Zongxiang later requested the government to release the students who beat him, and those arrested for arson were treated well in custody, with the police chief personally visiting them. Public pressure soon led to the dismissal of these high officials.

After being dismissed, Cao Rulin’s reputation was ruined. Deeply affected, he withdrew from politics and turned to industry, founding the Central Hospital, the predecessor of today’s Peking University People’s Hospital. This hospital, established for charitable purposes, provided free treatment to the poor, funded entirely by Cao Rulin.

During the War of Resistance against Japan, Cao Rulin steadfastly refused the lucrative positions offered by the Japanese, despite being considered an ideal candidate for collaboration. Although the Japanese forced several titles on him, he never accepted them. Ironically, Mei Siping, a student leader in the May Fourth Movement who had labeled Cao a traitor, later served in high positions in the puppet government and was executed for treason after the war. The so-called patriotic youth ended up betraying the country, while the alleged traitor upheld national integrity.

Similarly, Beiyang officials were notably strong in their national integrity. For example, after the September 18 Incident, warlord Wu Peifu, though retired, fiercely denounced Japan’s actions. When Japan occupied Beiping in 1935 and proposed so-called North China autonomy, Wu Peifu, despite being highly respected, adamantly refused their overtures.

Japan’s top envoy in Beiping, Kenji Dohihara, personally invited Wu Peifu to return to power, but Wu firmly refused. Living without an income, Wu relied on financial support from his old subordinate Qi Xieyuan, but he cut ties with Qi upon learning Qi had accepted a position in the puppet government. Wu Peifu declared, “I’d rather be poor than take your money.”

In December 1939, Wu Peifu died of sepsis in Beijing after a tooth extraction by a Japanese dentist, with rumors suggesting he was poisoned for refusing Japan’s offers.

Other Beiyang officials, such as Duan Qirui, Yuan Keding, and Jin Yunpeng, also refused to collaborate with Japan, despite their high social standing and Japan’s attempts to recruit them. Compared to the opportunistic political figures of the KMT and CCP, these Beiyang officials displayed a commendable level of integrity.

Modern Chinese textbooks only retain the May Fourth Movement as the legacy of the Beiyang era, mainly focusing on the cultural heritage of Mr. Democracy and Mr. Science. However, the broader May Fourth Movement, which started with the founding of “New Youth” in 1915 and lasted until the early 1920s, emphasized human rights and science equally. Chen Duxiu, founder of “New Youth,” advocated for personal freedom and individualism, aligning with the social reform declarations of figures like Cai Yuanpei at the founding of the Republic of China, promoting public morality and human rights, and opposing despotism and superstition with a scientific spirit.

Hu Shih, a prominent figure in the May Fourth Movement, emphasized that the core of the New Culture Movement was the liberation of thought and individual rights. This concept was highly advanced, even more significant than democracy and science, highlighting the importance of protecting personal rights and freedom as the foundation of modern civilization. Understanding this helps us better appreciate the true achievements of the May Fourth Movement and the Beiyang era over a century later. （This article is sourced from the YouTube channel: Er Ye Story: https://www.youtube.com/@Tankman2020）