“My fellow Americans . . .” he began. “A little over two hundred fifty years ago, a group of men laid the foundations for a house.”
In Detroit, in Philadelphia, in Baton Rouge, in Santa Fe, in cities and towns and villages, people watched.
In a crowded office in Lafayette Towers, Sam Levy gazed at a screen, mouthing every word an instant before the president spoke it, his hand gripping a champagne glass so hard it threatened to splinter between his fingers.
He spoke for thirteen minutes. Then he drew to the end.
“My fellow Americans, it’s time. Our time. Not a time to take, but a time to give. Not a time to rest, but a time to work. A time to renew the foundations. A time to rebuild the house. To build it strong, to build it sturdy. Come build it with me. And in times to come they will look back and say, in these years, these people built a house to last.”
~ * ~
Saturday, January 22
The President’s villa, Pingfang, outside Beijing, China
Each of them had a translation of the speech in Mandarin together with the original version in English. There was also a summary of editorial from the American media which had been prepared by the foreign ministry, and an opinion from the U.S. desk head of the Guoanbu, the state foreign intelligence service.
President Wen was looking relaxed in polo shirt and slacks. He was a tall, narrow-shouldered man who had gone a little to fat in recent years. The others were more formally dressed, Ding most formal of all. Sharp Armani suits were his trademark, even in the most relaxed surroundings.
They sat on sofas around a low table. The others present were the prime minister, Zhai Ming, Li Wenyuan, one of the rising stars of the next generation and a protégé of Wen, and General Shen Bihua. Zhai had been disconcerted to arrive and find that Foreign Minister Chou wasn’t present. Immediately he felt outflanked.
“It’s a domestic agenda,” said Li, concluding the overview that Wen had asked him to present. “Nothing appears to have changed from what he was saying during the campaign.”
“I’m struck by this sentence,” said Wen. He read it in English. “We are a nation of mighty power. But to those who are listening to me today outside these United States, I say, we will not use this power just because we can, nor without care, but only if we must. Let us sit down, let us solve our problems together. Do not leave the table, that is all I ask.” Wen looked around. “What do we conclude from this?”
“There are numerous ways to interpret this,” said Li. “I think we must look at it in the context of the speech. Only 182 words devoted to foreign affairs, out of a total of 1,644. This is a historically low figure, President Wen. To me this is an important statistic. It couldn’t be a coincidence.”
“I agree with Minister Li,” said Zhai. “I do not take this one sentence to mean so much. His concerns are domestic.”
“Are his domestic problems really so great?” demanded Ding.
“Great,” said Wen. “The domestic problems of America are always great, and yet the consciousness of the people is so low.” He laughed. “How do they do it, Shen? I wish we had the answer.”
General Shen laughed, and there were smiles from the others in the room, except for Ding. He interpreted that as a rebuke from the president. Ding Jiahui had little sense of humor, unlike Wen, who projected an easy, avuncular charm.
“If their domestic troubles are so great,” muttered Ding, “perhaps they will let us get on with solving our own.”
“I believe he is committed to dealing with the domestic issues, and his foreign policy will be minimalist,” said Li. “He will act only when forced.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I watched him very carefully in the campaign, President Wen. I believe he is driven by a kind of historical mission. He believes this moment is the one when he can put right the great problems in America. He has a sense of historical destiny. Many of his speeches refer to the place of this generation in history.”
“Is this some kind of religious faith?”
“No. I conclude that this is a sense of historical mission. In my opinion, the inauguration speech confirms this.” Li glanced over the speech, lifting the pages. “Everything he says here fits with that.”
“A man with a sense of historical destiny is dangerous,” said Zhai.
“Are you saying we have no sense of historical destiny?” Wen paused. “Or are you saying we are dangerous?” Wen roared with laughter. “Ding,” he said. “Ding, can’t you laugh at anything?”
Ding forced a smile.
Wen became serious again. “So this is his vulnerability? His sense of his place in history?”
“I think so,” said Li.
“But Olsen is a pragmatist. Zhai, you know him?”
Zhai nodded. “Olsen is not subtle. His strength is to define his objective, not necessarily in the way he tries to get there.”
“Americans are never subtle,” said Shen.
“But he is forceful? He will play a role?”
“Yes. Why else has Benton appointed him?”
“Benton will focus on his domestic agenda,” insisted Li. “This is what we learn from the speech. And he has a majority in both houses of the Congress, so he has the ability to actually do the things he speaks about.”
“If he can get them to do what he wants,” said Wen. “That’s not always so easy for an American president.”
“Every president says the same thing when he takes office,” muttered Ding. “Always it’s the domestic issues that are on top. Then they get more and more involved outside. Once they have the power, they can’t help it.”
“I think on this occasion Minister Ding is right,” said Zhai. “Every American president comes to power saying he will focus on domestic affairs, and each of them soon becomes embroiled outside.”
Ding was silent, and Zhai, although he had referred to him, didn’t glance in his direction. There was very little on which the two men did agree, and as Ding’s popularity had grown, encouraged and abetted by Wen, Zhai had felt his own authority eroding.
“A new American president always represents an opportunity,” said Shen.
“Or a danger,” said Zhai.
Wen nodded. “The question for us is whether he knows yet.”
“I have thought about that,” said Li.
“Tell us what you think.”
“There is nothing here that deviates from what he said during the campaign. Nothing to suggest he has learned anything new.”
“If he wishes to keep it secret,” interjected Ding, “why would he say it?”
“That may be so, Minister Ding. But I think something would creep in. A hint, at least.”
“What about the sentence President Wen read to us?” Ding searched for it in his copy of the speech and read it in English. “Let us sit down, let us solve our problems together. Do not leave the table, that is all I ask. Is he talking to us? Is he not saying that he knows?”
“Who begs in public?” said Zhai coldly.
“Is it begging?”
“I agree with Premier Zhai,” said Li. “The fact that he says this, in my opinion, shows that he doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t say this.”
“What would he say?” demanded Ding. “Since you seem to know the mind of the American president so well.”
“He wouldn’t say this. What does President Wen think?”
All faces turned to Wen.
Wen shrugged. “Does it matter? If he didn’t know, soon he will. What would be the process? When would they tell him?”
There were blank looks around the table.
“Whenever it is, it’ll get him shitting,” muttered Ding.
Wen smiled. “Let us assume he doesn’t know. Now he has made this big speech about solving America’s problems, and the next day he wakes up and finds out his biggest problem is with us!”
General Shen laughed. “We should give them a tickle. He’d be too scared to respond.”
Wen smiled.
“What is it, Premier Zhai?” said Ding. “Don’t you think that’s funny?”
Zhai was grim-faced. “Make my enemy comfortable. My enemy’s pain is a danger to me.”
“And a danger to me makes me strong again.”
Zhai shook his head. He looked at Wen. “President Wen, you should call him to congratulate him.”
“Ambassador Liu has passed on the congratulations of the government,” said Ding. “And President Wen spoke to him after the election.”
“Now he is president.”
“No need to speak again so soon,” said Wen. “When did I speak with Gartner? Hardly ever.”
“The relationship can be better.”
“Let him come to the president,” said General Shen.
Wen nodded. “Let him find out first. Then watch him flounder. Why should we make the path for him? For six months, he won’t know what to do.”
“President Wen, we should take advantage of his confusion to push him to where we want him to go,” said Ding.
Zhai looked at him sharply. “And where is that?”
~ * ~
Tuesday, January 25
West Wing, The White House
The surprise on Chen Liangming’s face showed for only an instant, but Larry Olsen saw it. That was exactly the effect he wanted. The invitation had led Chen to expect to be meeting the new president’s chief of staff. The extra presence in the room caught him unprepared.
Ben Hoffman shook hands with Chen. “This is Mr. Olsen, the secretary of state,” he said.
Olsen smiled. He spoke in Mandarin. “We know each other, don’t we Mr. Chen?”
Chen nodded. “Good afternoon, Mr. Secretary. He spoke in English, shaking Olsen’s hand. “This is Miss Hu,” he said, gesturing to the young woman who had accompanied him. He smiled at the obvious redundancy of her presence. “She is my interpreter.”
Ben Hoffman indicated chairs. They sat.
“It’s still chaos,” he said, waving his hand around his office. “I apologize.”
Chen nodded. “New job, Mr. Hoffman.”
“Everyone here’s got a new job, Mr. Chen. A whole building full of people with a new job.”
“I add my personal congratulations to President Benton to those of my government.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chen. I’ll pass it on.”
There was silence.
“You happy to do this in English, Mr. Chen?” said Larry Olsen. He chuckled. “My Mandarin’s a little rusty.”
“Certainly, Mr. Secretary.”
“We can call in an interpreter on our side if we need to,” said Hoffman.
“There’s no need, Mr. Hoffman, I assure you.”
“You might want to . . .” Larry Olsen glanced at Miss Hu, and then looked meaningfully again at Chen.
“My assistant will take care of Miss Hu,” said Hoffman.
Chen hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded. “Thank you.”
Hoffman ushered the interpreter out.
“I was surprised to receive this invitation,” said Chen, when Hoffman came back. “I would think you have many urgent calls on your time during this period, Mr. Hoffman. And of course you, Mr. Secretary.”
“Well, we’re busy,” said Olsen. “I don’t think we’d deny that, huh, Ben?”
Hoffman nodded.
“There’s something we want to talk to you about,” said Olsen. “We’re aware that over the six months prior to the last election the previous administration was engaged in a process of negotiation with your government. More particularly, with yourself, Mr. Chen, as your government’s representative.”
Chen’s expression was deadpan. “Our governments negotiate over many things, Mr. Secretary.”
Olsen smiled briefly. “Of course they do, Mr. Chen. I think we both know what negotiations we’re talking about. Carbon emissions, if you want to be explicit. Now, you should know that we’re aware of the scientific evidence that caused these negotiations to start. We’re aware of the implications for our country and for yours.”
Olsen paused. Chen didn’t speak.
“These implications are very grave, Mr. Chen.”
Still Chen didn’t speak.
“Mr. Chen?”
“Are you aware of the proposal your government put to us, Mr. Secretary?”
“At this stage, that’s not a relevant point, Mr. Chen.”
“Your government proposed a joint cut in—”
“I don’t care what the previous administration proposed, Mr. Chen. My understanding is that your government rejected all the proposals made by that administration.”
“The last proposal, Mr. Secretary, is still under discussion in Beijing.”
“Three months after it was made? That’s a lot of discussion.”
“I can only repeat, the last proposal is still under discussion in Beijing.”
Olsen shrugged. “Well, it’s not under discussion in Washington.”
“But the last proposal—”
“The last proposal was not accepted by your government. Mr. Chen, this is a new administration. It will honor any agreement signed by any of its predecessors and duly ratified by the United States Senate. It is not bound by a proposal made by a previous administration to which a response was never even received.”
Chen watched him stonily.
“I’m afraid that proposal’s no longer on the table.”
“Then perhaps you will tell me what is on the table, Mr. Secretary?”
“Nothing. It’s your turn, Mr. Chen. We’re waiting for your government to put something there.”
Chen didn’t reply. He glanced at Ben Hoffman.
“You need to give your government a message, Mr. Chen,” said Olsen. “Last year, you were negotiating with a president in the last year of his term. I’m sure you understand the way politics works in this country, and I’m sure President Wen understands as well. You’re now dealing with a president in his first year of office. A Democratic president with a majority in both houses, which is something that hasn’t happened since the 2012 Congress. I’m sure you understand the implications of that, Mr Chen. I’d like to be sure that President Wen understands as well.”
“President Wen is fully aware of the political processes in your country, Mr. Secretary.”
“Good. Then he’ll know he’s not dealing with a Mike Gartner now.”
Chen allowed himself a slight smile.
Olsen adopted a more familiar tone. “Chen, I don’t know why we’re arguing here. We know as well as you what’s going to happen to your country if nothing’s done about this. The Guangxi coast, Hainan island, large parts of the Guangdong coast all the way to Hong Kong are going to be severely compromised if not uninhabitable. Those are some pretty important areas. Chen, you’re from Guangdong yourself. What’s going to happen to your home village? The relocation plans your government’s got in place are woefully inadequate to the scale of what’s going to happen if we don’t sort this out.”
“Mr. Secretary, this is because the United States has been a constant and consistent carbon emitter far in excess of its proportional rights.”
“Mr. Chen, isn’t it time we stopped playing the poor cousin? Your country surpassed us in carbon emissions back in 2007. That’s a full quarter century ago. You’re now more than double our size in emissions.”
“But with a population four and a half times as large as yours.”
“And with an average economic growth rate three times greater than ours.”
“And with an average per capita income four times smaller, even now. With respect, Mr. Secretary, don’t talk to me about playing the poor cousin.”
“All right, I’m not here to negotiate with you.”
“These are the facts, Mr. Secretary. I’m sorry if they’re inconvenient. These are the facts successive governments of your country have refused to accept.”
“I said I’m not here to negotiate.”
Chen nodded. “Very well. See? When the fact
s are inconvenient, it’s easier to ignore them.”
Olsen raised his hand. “There’s something President Wen should understand. A lot of people misunderstand Joe Benton. They assume that just because he talks about domestic issues, he has no interest in foreign affairs. Wrong. President Benton has a keen interest in foreign affairs and an acute understanding of them. If President Wen thinks he’s going to sit around and watch while President Benton finds his feet in foreign affairs, I’ve got a message for President Wen. President Benton has already found his feet. You’re looking at them.” Olsen paused. “President Benton will act, Mr. Chen. He’s not afraid. When it’s in this country’s interests, he will act. You are going to see this very shortly. Note what I say. In the next few days, sir.”
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