George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 328

< 327 >

While the United States, under President Bush, dedicated significant diplomatic efforts to secure and co-opt the three Sudans for stability, time continued its flow in China.

Ironically, Bush’s objectives saw little progress, and instead, the death toll rose. The conflict devolved into a war of attrition, exacerbated by the inability of either side to effectively sever the other’s supply lines.

Though the front lines shifted repeatedly, the fighting remained concentrated in Jinan. Even within Jinan, significant changes were unfolding.

The Communist Party had executed a ‘perfect’ retreat. It’s a simple truth, but even with overwhelming force, occupying a territory is impossible without local cooperation. If control cannot be maintained, occupation is pointless.

Therefore, incurring only losses without gains, they chose to withdraw. While relentless suppression might eventually force compliance, frequent changes in leadership render such efforts futile. Moreover, those who initially resisted in each city had evolved into well-organized guerrilla units, led by former high-ranking officers from the now-defunct Jinan warlord factions.

There’s a vast difference between citizens rebelling out of resentment and trained, well-armed citizens. These individuals were commonly referred to as guerrillas, and their actions as guerrilla warfare. Success wasn’t guaranteed, but the combination of the chaotic environment and external support proved remarkably effective.

In reality, the Communist Party wasn’t executing a strategic retreat. Instead, they were being driven out of what they considered their home, witnessing the surreal spectacle of their house’s structure and furniture being rearranged arbitrarily even as it burned.

However, this guerrilla warfare in Jinan and the chaotic battles weren’t the sole reason the Communist Party, seemingly committed to ‘Reunification or death!’ even at the cost of self-destruction, was forced to withdraw.

The primary reason stemmed from internal divisions within the Communist Party, which can be summarized as follows:

First, there were the unofficial factions: the Communist Youth League, the Princelings [children of high-ranking officials], and the Shanghai Gang, all divided over their support for the current Chairman, Li Keqiang. These factions would likely realign if Li Keqiang were to lose his position, but this possibility itself was the core issue within the Communist Party, creating a kind of factional imperative.

It had moved beyond being semi-official. While the infighting had been an open secret, the party was now teetering on the brink of splitting in two.

In peacetime, these factions would have continued their squabbling even if their families had committed suicide calling for harmony. Now, they were placing all blame on Li Keqiang for the current crisis and harboring ambitions to form their own parties.

Even someone unfamiliar with politics could see that the Communist Party’s ship was sinking. How could seasoned politicians not recognize it? Even if they won the war, it would be Li Keqiang’s Communist Party, not the one they knew.

Conversely, those diligently trying to bail water from the sinking ship were the pro-Li Keqiang faction, supporting him out of personal loyalty or a deep-seated commitment to the Communist Party itself.

Weighing the pros and cons, the cons outweighed the pros. Among the cons was a double-dealing opportunist named Xi Jinping.

At the same time, Xi Jinping, while leading the opposition, maintained a secret understanding with Li Keqiang. It was a relationship of mutual checks and balances based on political judgment, preventing either from collapsing entirely. Even Li Keqiang, who had agreed to this coexistence, didn’t fully trust Xi Jinping, but the situation left him no choice.

The Communist Party was a sandcastle, seemingly on the verge of collapse with every sound of defeat. Without this agreement, either Li Keqiang would have purged all opposition factions, or he would have been forced to step down; one of the two was inevitable.

Li Keqiang wasn’t capable of such ruthless action. Therefore, had the situation continued, he would have been forced to resign, and the Communist Party, deprived of a strong leader, would have either fragmented and been absorbed by other warlords or collapsed due to internal conflict.

It would have been different if Li Keqiang hadn’t seized power and had stepped down earlier, but now, having fought tooth and nail to gain control, he couldn’t simply step aside gracefully. For the sake of the Communist Party and for his own sake, the arrangement between Li Keqiang and Xi Jinping was the best possible outcome.

Behind Xi Jinping’s agreement was Li Keqiang’s near-perfect control over the military and public security forces, achieved through any means necessary, even while teetering on the edge of sanity.

It wasn’t a purge reminiscent of the old, true communist era, where blood washed away blood, but anyone who disobeyed Li Keqiang was invariably replaced by someone more amenable to his will under the guise of an emergency.

The speed of these changes was so rapid that it was impossible to mount an effective response, leading to the formation of an opposition faction.

So, what were the controlled public security forces doing? Only vague answers could be given. In reality, the public security forces were fragmented and ineffective.

Of course, the public security forces still existed, but the problem was their division among the various military regions. In a country as vast as China, where the adage ‘might makes right’ prevailed, the Communist Party’s control was tenuous at best.

In short, the public security forces were no longer the forces the Chinese people had known before the war.

The public security forces were now armed with military-grade assault rifles instead of the small arms or pistols used for suppression, and their temperament was more aggressive than ever. In effect, they had become semi-garrison forces, actively cooperating with most warlords.

No matter how capable the public security forces were, they were no match for tanks and fighter planes. Of course, some still held to their principles. They refused to fire on citizens, regardless of the situation, or execute innocent people simply because they disliked them. Such righteous individuals were detached from politics and held firm beliefs. Their fate can be summarized in a single line.

Such true humans of the era were all dead.

What remained in the public security forces were opportunists determined to survive in the new order. The righteous individuals, already dwindling since Tiananmen [referring to the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989], had all perished in this new era of opportunity.

Ironically, only the tools of the public security forces had changed. Their function remained largely the same: to suppress impure groups with impure ideologies that opposed the regime and to maintain order in the name of the law.

Still, some public security forces operated exactly as they had before the war. These were the public security forces under the direct control of the Communist Party, specifically ‘Li Keqiang’s public security forces.’

And among these forces, one individual was particularly restless: ‘Public Security Minister Wang Lijun,’ who had lost much of his former power and was completely cornered. As a former confidant of Bo Xilai, Wang Lijun looked grim because he realized Li Keqiang was preparing to take down Bo Xilai.

When the master is in trouble, what happens to the confidant? History suggests a predictable end.

There was no way to resist Li Keqiang now. While innocent people might be caught up in the downfall of powerful figures, it was unlikely that any of those figures were truly innocent. And Bo Xilai was certainly not innocent.

He was a remarkably corrupt figure, like something out of a novel.

“Bo Xilai, that bastard. He’s been very arrogant lately.”

Indeed, he had been arrogant. However, Li Keqiang wasn’t one to criticize someone so harshly simply for being ‘arrogant.’ Even after the recent turmoil, he still possessed a sense of respect for others.

Therefore, his supporters saw him as a leader with both gentleness and strength, while his opponents viewed him as an indecisive fool. Even within the opposition, opinions were divided, but that was the prevailing view.

But now was a time for strength, not gentleness. Li Keqiang tended to overlook the widespread corruption within the Communist Party, whether he liked it or not. Therefore, if Li Keqiang called someone arrogant, it meant that even a notorious scoundrel had crossed a line.

And no good words could be said about a politician who had made a career out of corruption. Li Keqiang reviewed the report and revised his assessment of arrogance.

“What *is* this bastard?”

He was well aware of Bo Xilai’s misdeeds during his time in the Ministry of Commerce, but he hadn’t realized the extent of his corruption. But that wasn’t the main issue. Frankly, it was difficult to find a Communist Party member who *didn’t* engage in such activities.

Li Keqiang’s concern wasn’t the corruption itself. It was that this extraordinary idiot named Bo Xilai was plotting what appeared to be a rebellion. It was *presumed* to be a rebellion because he was secretly gathering supporters but hadn’t officially provided weapons or made any concrete promises.

Typically, a rebellion involves gathering forces, and to attract those forces, wouldn’t you promise them rewards?

As he pondered what to do, another ‘report’ arrived. This report was a nuclear bomb that completely obliterated the cause of Li Keqiang’s anxiety.

The problem was that the person who delivered this report was none other than the current ‘Public Security Minister Wang Lijun.’ Before the war, Wang Lijun had been a loyal confidant of Bo Xilai, but after the war, he had become a more complex figure. Li Keqiang had appointed Wang Lijun, formerly the ‘Director of the Public Security Bureau in Jinzhou City, Liaoning Province,’ to the vacant position of Public Security Minister.

In short, Wang Lijun had abandoned a burning rope and grabbed onto a new, secure one.

“Bring Bo Xilai here immediately! I don’t care if you bring a tank and blow his head off or trample him into jerky, just bring him before me immediately!”

Since the ends of such confidants were always the same, there was also a way to avoid being discarded like a hunting dog after the hunt, as history had shown.