In the early days after the announcement of the state of emergency the Security Council had managed to get unanimous agreement on a non-binding resolution ‘expressing the hope’ that South Africa would ‘speedily’ resume its normal constitutional path and that free and fair elections would be held on the scheduled date. That had about as much effect as most Security Council resolutions. Continuing to remain silent now would be tantamount to a tacit acceptance of the status quo and a virtual imprimatur from the international community for the transition of South Africa to one-party autocracy. The British government was pushing the case for a new, hard-hitting resolution demanding the immediate restoration of constitutional rule and holding of free, internationally monitored elections within three months, proposed under Chapter VII of the Security Council, which would open the path to sanctions if the ANC refused to agree. The US and France were backing it. Whether such a resolution would pass without a veto from Russia or China was extremely doubtful. Both countries had invoked constitutionally sanctioned states of emergency in various parts of their countries in recent years. And China, of course, was a one-party autocracy, which was what the ANC was in the process of creating. Russia was just about one, hidden behind a thin veil of spasmodic democracy.
The British push for a resolution was intensifying. Sir Antony Seale, their UN ambassador, had been on the phone to Marion three times in the past week, and had twice cornered her after meetings. Ellman was aware that there was domestic pressure in the UK, which had been active in leading the anti-apartheid movement thirty years earlier, to see concrete steps taken. The British labor prime minister was coming under attack from within his own party. He had to be seen to be acting.
Marion wanted action as well. What was happening in South Africa broke her heart. At sixteen years old, a schoolgirl in Philadelphia, she had watched pictures of Mandela walking free and would never forget the emotion of that day. Four years later, in her junior year at Georgetown, she had watched pictures of the queues of people lining up to vote in the first free election in South Africa’s history and her heart had filled with emotion once more. Now she didn’t know whether she’d ever see such pictures from South Africa again.
And yet the resolution the Brits had drafted had about as much chance of success as had her attempts to build a coalition for Uganda. They had circulated the draft to all the members of the Security Council. Nothing had come back from the Russians or the Chinese. The French ambassador had told her that his government believed they should push ahead anyway, despite the certainty of defeat, if nothing else at least to preserve the moral authority of the Council, or at least of themselves. But the moral authority of a few members of the Security Council, however well preserved, wasn’t going to bring democracy back to South Africa.
It put her in despair. The longer the state of emergency went on, Marion knew, the more fixed it would become. Reversal would be increasingly difficult. She could see the dark path ahead unless something could be done to prevent it, years of rhetoric and sporadic pressure from outside the country, violence and suppression within it. It made her wonder what she was doing here at the UN, what any of them were doing here, if they couldn’t stop it.
Liu cleared his throat.
‘This is a difficult situation in South Africa,’ he said. ‘China does not feel that it should impose a political system on any other country. You know our principle of non-interference. That has always been our position. We ourselves ask to be left alone, and therefore how can we say that others should not be left alone? I think that is maybe a difference between us.’
‘But South Africa already has a system,’ said Ellman. ‘We’re not trying to impose it. What you’ve got is a group within that country who are subverting it.’
‘That’s true.’
‘All we’re saying to them is, respect your system. Put your system back in place.’
‘The old revolutionaries would say, systems sometimes must change.’ Liu smiled his mischievous smile and took a bite out of his fajita.
Marion smiled as well. That line would get a laugh even in China. Then she was serious again. ‘We have to do something. This isn’t like … with respect, Simon, this isn’t the same as China. By doing something about this we’re not saying anything about China.’
Liu frowned. But she could see he was listening as he ate.
‘There’s no comparison with China. The South African government isn’t one that has done a great job for its country and has boosted its living standards and has developed its potential as a power on the world stage. Or even as a regional power. Speaking completely personally, if it was the Singapore of Africa you might say, okay, maybe the one-party thing might work. For a time. But it isn’t like that. The ANC is a corrupt party, it’s increasingly brutal, and it’s taken all the huge potential of South Africa and turned it into a basket case. And that’s when it had, theoretically, the risk of being kicked out in democratic elections. How much worse is it going to be when it doesn’t face that risk?’
‘So you’re saying there’s none of your American ideology behind what you’re suggesting.’
Marion shrugged. ‘Sure there is. Of course there is. I think personally, and all of America thinks everyone has the right to democracy. But I’m saying, in this case, we can make an argument on pragmatic grounds even without that. And I’m saying if we all stick to the pragmatic argument, if we say, this is not a party that has served South Africa well, this is not a party that should govern unquestioned, then I think we can all come together with a demand that this party should face the people and the people should have a right to find someone to do things better. We can make this a pragmatic argument, Simon, not an ideological one, and by doing that, if we stick strictly to that and stay away from the ideology, we can all work together to restore South Africa to its own constitution.’
Marion took a bite of a taco as she waited for Liu to respond.
‘Pragmatics have ideological implications,’ he said eventually.
‘But it is a pragmatic argument, isn’t it? They’re a terrible government. South Africa deserves better.’
Liu smiled. ‘That’s true. They are a terrible government.’
‘So let’s help put that poor country out of its misery. We stood by for years while Zimbabwe was almost done to death by a one-party dictator. Surely we’re not going to do it again.’
Liu was silent for a moment. ‘We don’t want this either. That’s why we supported the first resolution. We don’t think this is good for South Africa. We don’t think it’s good for China.’
‘So you would support the kind of resolution Britain is proposing?’
Liu grimaced a little.
‘Have you looked at the British text?’
‘Marion, the text is ridiculous.’
‘Then work with us on an alternative. Join us in a resolution that mandates sanctions. Let’s do it ourselves. Forget the British. We could word it so it’s not ideological. Simon, I don’t think the Council can be silent on this. I don’t think the United States can do nothing, or at least not try to do something.’
‘China does not think a resolution is the best way.’
‘Then what is?’
‘Give us some time to work with the government of South Africa.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘We have influence there.’
Marion watched him. China’s penetration of the South African economy was extensive. It had funded widespread mineral exploration through partnerships with South African businesses, many connected with corrupt officials high in the ANC. According to intelligence reports that Marion had seen, the Chinese government was now trying to broker the political crisis in South Africa by persuading the ANC to bring a token opposition presence into a national unity government that in effect would keep the ANC in power. Then there would be some kind of rigged election that would return the ANC and they would be able to say the constitution had been reinstated. The Chinese saw it as their chan
ce to establish themselves as the ANC’s protector, which would guarantee them preferred access to the country’s mineral resources. Liu’s plea for time sounded as if it was designed to allow them to finish the job.
‘The British are nothing but an old colonial power,’ said Liu. ‘What they say carries no weight. In fact, it has the opposite effect. By associating yourselves with the British, you lose credibility in South Africa. Only economic clout carries weight. Give us some time to work with the South Africa government. Talk to the British and tell them to slow down. Put some pressure on them.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to work,’ said Marion.
Liu nodded. He smiled for a moment. ‘What is happening in Uganda?’ he asked.
Marion looked at him carefully. Was he trying to draw a connection between the two issues? What was he suggesting? That China would trade one for the other? Or was he just being polite, changing the subject when it seemed they were at an impasse that threatened the congenial spirit in which they had sat down together?
‘It’s going fine, to the best of my knowledge.’
‘Good.’
There was silence.
‘Why don’t you join us?’ said Marion suddenly.
Liu looked at her uncomprehendingly.
‘In Uganda. Why don’t you come be part of the operation?’
Liu smiled. ‘This is not your government speaking. This, I’m sure, is you speaking personally, Marion.’
‘Why don’t you? Put some of your guys in with ours. Let’s make it a joint mission. Why don’t we talk about it? What can be controversial about getting rid of the LRA?’
Liu laughed.
‘You think it’s a crazy idea?’
‘Personally, I think it’s wonderful. If you and I could agree it in this room, Marion …’ he clicked his fingers, ‘I would do it now.’
‘Just think about what the effect would be. Just think what a statement it would make.’
‘I think it’s too big a statement for your government.’
‘I don’t know. Sound some people out. Unofficially. I’m serious, Simon. Sound some people out in Beijing.’
‘I think also in Beijing we would have opposition.’ Liu laughed again. ‘I think you should sound some people out in Washington.’
‘There’d be opposition there, I grant you.’
‘I would like to see what Dr Rose would say.’
‘There’d be some support as well. You might be surprised.’
‘Not enough. There would not be enough people who would want us to be involved. I think your president is very happy to do it by himself. You had your chance to do it with others. You would not do this now.’
‘Then make us.’ Ellman paused. She hadn’t even thought about this before blurting it out. The idea had just occurred to her. And she had gone way beyond what she should say, even in a personal capacity. But what the hell! She had said it now. May as well take it all the way. ‘Make us an offer we can’t refuse. In public. It wouldn’t be that hard.’
Liu looked at her, then he shook his head, smiling.
Marion sat back. It was depressing when an idea like that couldn’t even make it out of the room. She liked it. Instead of allowing Uganda to divide them, why not use it to unite them? She imagined what it would be like to hear President Knowles and President Zhang announcing that Chinese forces would join American troops in Uganda. It would have a huge impact, coming out of the blue. Like Sadat going to Jerusalem. Like Mandela walking free from Robben Island. A game-changer. It had come to her impulsively, almost as a joke, but it seemed to be the smartest thing she had thought of since the day she started at the UN.
But Liu was right. The way things were, it was in no one’s interest, not in Washington nor in Beijing.
‘How is it going in the jungle?’ said Liu.
‘It’s going according to plan.’
‘It seems slow.’
‘There’s a lot of improvement in the humanitarian situation.’
‘I look forward to hearing about that when you make your report back to the Security Council.’
‘You can bet on it.’
‘I thought your president would like to have a big result to help with the elections,’ said Liu with a twinkle in his eye.
Ellman shook her head, smiling. ‘Nice try.’
‘You know we won’t be able to stand by if anything happens in Sudan.’
‘You know we have no intention of doing anything in Sudan. I told you that weeks ago.’
‘Good. Marion, I agree with you, the LRA is an evil thing. Personally, I hope you can get rid of it without any complications between us.’
‘The best way to make sure of that is to do it together.’
Liu politely ignored the invitation to reconsider Marion’s suggestion.
There was a lull. Marion thought about going back to the subject of South Africa but she didn’t think they were going to get any further on that score.
‘What do you think of what’s happening in your markets?’ said Liu.
Marion looked at him.
‘Your stock market. There’s some uncertainty. I’m surprised. I can’t see what has happened.’
‘I can’t either. I guess markets get jittery sometimes.’
‘So you don’t think we need to worry that the mighty United States markets are going to collapse again.’
Marion smiled. ‘I’m not a financial expert, but I don’t think so.’
‘That would be a problem. Last time we had so much of our reserves tied up in your bonds and stocks.’
‘I know.’
‘Now we have even more.’
16
THE CHINESE AMBASSADOR in Washington, Zhu Hongwei, had direct access to President Zhang. It was up to him to decide when to use it. Consequently his report of the meeting with Bob Livingstone and the SEC commissioner, which might have spent a week circulating in the foreign ministry and gone no higher than the foreign minister, was on Zhang’s desk the morning after it happened.
Zhang Yong was a sixty-four-year-old lifelong party bureaucrat who had been minister for internal security when the Chinese recession of 2014 hit the country. Suddenly China’s enormous unresolved tensions – the chronic financial insecurity and alienation of hundreds of millions of urban migrants, the grievances of the countryside – which were previously held in check by economic growth, ignited in flame. Unemployment and bankruptcy fed civil unrest, which spread in some places until it amounted to insurrection and the rule of the party itself was threatened. Tibetans, Uighurs and other repressed minorities, always looking for the opportunity to assert themselves, seized the moment to rise in revolt. As internal security minister, Zhang had cracked down hard, using the internal security forces and bringing in the army ruthlessly to reimpose control. In some central and western areas of the country cities had had to be retaken as if in a war. For a number of months over the summer and fall of 2014 China teetered on the brink of anarchy. The party itself fractured and fought. Out of this turmoil Zhang had risen to power as president while two other men, defense minister Xu Changjiang and head of the army General Fan Keming, emerged in positions of strength with the backing of various parts of the armed forces. Zhang had been unable to dislodge either of them in the years that followed.
In power, Zhang had proved more sophisticated than foreign observers anticipated. Despite his background in the security services, he quickly grasped that it was not military strength that would keep the party in control in the long term, but economic prosperity. He understood that rebuilding the areas that had suffered most in the disturbances could provide a great stimulus to growth, and that recapturing business lost to competitor countries was key to recovery. Parts of China’s gigantic manufacturing capacity in the south and east of the country had been shut down by the disturbances, while other parts were functioning as normal. Brutally repressing any hint of dissent, Zhang moved rapidly to bring all of it back into operation, loosening residency laws to entice
rural workers to return to the cities, forcing banks to lend for reconstruction, and offering huge state subsidies – illegal under international law – to attract foreign customers that had taken their business elsewhere. The west wanted to believe – needed to believe – that China was back in business, and didn’t question its methods. The effect was swifter than anyone could have imagined. Within a year Chinese output was back to where it had been before the disturbances. Two years later it was eight per cent higher.
Every decision Zhang made was calculated to strengthen China’s economy. No economist himself, he relied on a group of fiercely loyal technocrats whom he quickly promoted through the finance ministry. The most senior member of this group was the finance minister, Bai Shaochun. Under Zhang’s tutelage he was developing political skills and the president was grooming him as his successor.
Zhang was well aware of the fact that US banks were suffering a fall and was receiving daily reports on the impact on Chinese markets, which so far had been small in scale. But he had no knowledge of individual companies listed in New York. He passed the report from the ambassador in Washington to his closest personal advisor on US affairs, an ex-Shanghainese banker called Qin Jiwei who had spent a number of years working in New York. Qin made some inquiries. That afternoon, in his day villa in the Zhongnanhai, Zhang and Qin met with Foreign Minister Yang, Finance Minister Bai, and Hu Liren, a senior vice-minister of finance who was head of the People’s Investment Corporation, the fund that held twenty-six per cent of Fidelian stock.
As Bob Livingstone anticipated, the note of the meeting that had been sent by Ambassador Zhu interpreted the encounter as an accusation that China was manipulating stock prices in order to influence the outcome of the US midterm elections. Zhang had ordered no such action to be taken. The first thing he wanted to know was whether someone else had done so.
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