Beijing Newspeak

A couple of weeks ago, the Foreign Affairs department requested my company at the Military Museum for a private viewing of the exhibition “Our Troops March Towards The Sun” to mark the 80th anniversary of the PLA. Memories of a disastrous weekend spent in Langfang, a new development zone in Hebei, courtesy of Beijing’s Foreign Expert Department were still fresh. A group of us had been invited to attend the Northeast Asia & Bohai-Rim International Business Festival for which the official reason was the chance for foreigners to experience sustainable urban development first hand. The real reason was a “face job” - look foreign enough to give off the impression that the festival - a confusing collection of automobile and printing press products - was international. It wouldn’t have been so enjoyable if it hadn’t be so tedious.

Standing at the steps of the museum entrance, it was immediately apparent that our small party, made up of a Russian, an Iraqi - part of the team in Baghdad who ensured Xinhua News Agency was the first to break the news of the 2003 invasion of Iraq would you believe -, a Brazilian, a New Zealander and a Brit, was going to look out of place. Streaming up the red carpet were naval officers in white uniform, African generals in army fatigues and berets, whom I was desperately trying not to link unfairly with the Last King of Scotland, and what appeared to be the entire Pakistani armed forces. I later learned, thanks to a story with the headline “PLA show impresses foreigners” in China Daily, which I thought I had given up reading, that military attaches from more than 100 countries were present.

A corridor had been formed in the entrance hall by two rows of female Air Force officers with blue uniforms, dental-advert smiles and enough layers of cosmetics to make a Ryanair employee blush brighter than her or his blusher. I was assured they were genuine members of the Air Force despite the fact that every one of them could have opted for the Vogue career path.  I was directed to one of six leather-bound guestbooks which officers of varying ranks had graced with their autographs. Harmonious Society (pseudonym), Captain, Angola. I obliged with enthusiasm. Christopher O’Brien, polisher, Stansted Mountfichet. A place in PLA history.

Walking into the first section of the exhibition, my leaflet told me I was embarking on “Part One: Strategic Decisions, Brilliant Course”. Small huddles of potentially some of the best “Risk” teams in the world were being given tours. An Air (Force) Stewardess carried a provocative black cane to point at each exhibit. Her smile looked like it hurt. Her well-rehearsed explanations were translated by university students into words that were easy to stop listening to. “To establish a modernized army and to realize the transformation from the single infantry …” I decided to tag on the end of one group as I was attracted to a burly Zimbabwean general who possessed more medals than Carl Lewis and Mark Spitz combined. Unfortunately, his facial expression would barely twitch out of glum for the entire two-hour tour, not once opening up his chops to speak.

My first piece of shameless eavesdropping picked up a morsel of cynicism from a member of the Pakistani Air Force. Greeting a late arrival - an aimable looking Dutch naval officer well above six foot -, with a handshake he said, “Nine years down, only another 71 to go.” Shame on him. The officers were led along the wall of glass cases, their images being subjected to a merciless molestation by a fashion photographer. He was about 60, sported slicked back, thinning hair and wore a pink short-sleeved shirt, white linen trousers and sandals. He looked like a cross between a Beijing cabbie and a retired Peking Opera performer who hadn’t quite managed to remove all his make-up. He squealed when I strayed into his line of fire. Suddenly, the years had flown by and we were standing in front of a picture of Mao with a rifle. Behind the glass, underneath the picture, was a piece of cloth with a picture of what was supposed to be Chiang Kai-shek’s face. It was the target Mao had aimed at when he visited the firing range of a PLA regiment. In the bottom left hand corner, 30 centimetres away from the adam’s apple, was a bullet hole. A valiant effort.

Next up, a truly cringe-worthy moment in front of the Korean War section. The smiling stewardess gestured to a captured U.S. military crest and a list of debatable figures detailing how many people from each country had died during the conflict. The American naval officer present showed remarkable impassivity when the clumsy translation came lumbering out, “Here, the Chinese army annihilated hundreds of thousands of Americans”. Perhaps the U.S. officer didn’t hear, too busy trying to recall the Department of Defense’s figure of 54,246. It was the kind of classic case of forgetting your audience I see at Xinhua sometimes.

Part Two: Being Competent Militarily, Being the Steely Great Wall. To be honest, I didn’t notice … (sorry I just have to break off to pass on a text message from my polishing comrade currently toiling through the night shift: “Just got a great cover sheet headline: ‘Potato may help China’. Don’t want to open it and destroy the effect.”) … entering part two. I was distracted by a remote control tank that was pulling a few stunts much to the excitement of a giggling Nigerian army officer. I had previously polished a Xinhua story that promised visitors could experience manning a warship. Having to gather in front of a wide screen with 20 others as the front of a ship’s image rocked from left to right was a minor letdown but the novelty was there. The Chinese navyman hogged the controls and we headed towards a distant island, eventually blowing up a piece of rock at the third attempt. A British naval officer filled me with confidence as we walked back into the main room. “That made me feel a bit funny actually.” Nearby, a Pakistani officer was explaining to a Chinese camera crew, at length, why the satellite imagery tool the PLA had designed produced inadequate detail when the zoom function was used. I couldn’t pick up the translator’s response to the camera but it was over ten times quicker than the officer’s critique.

All I remember from Part Three: Consolidating the Army’s Soul, Maintaining the Nature was a picture of Lei Feng. Part Four: To Build the Army with Diligence and Thrift, To Guarantee Adequate Logistical Support was beginning to test the resolve of the Dutch naval officer. The left side of his face was beginning to adopt a “Why are you telling me that?” kind of look. Even the stewardess’ smile was narrowing ever so slightly as she reeled off some stats. “This machine can make five thousand loaves of bread a day”.

Part Five: Independent Innovation, Leapfrog Development. The highlight was a Top Gun style video featuring missiles blasting off various warships and quickly out of shot. Fantastic stuff. The “peaceful rise” PR officers must have had a fit when they went to the premiere. Nearly finished but still time to admire the new “07-style” PLA uniforms up close. There was a touching moment when a Pakistani officer went up to the army jacket and fondled it enviously. It was probably Captain Shahid Baig of China Daily fame.

Captain Shahid Baig, of Pakistani air force, was interested in the PLA’s new uniforms. “I think the new uniforms are very fashionable, modern and special, very different from many other countries’.”

Part Six: To Keep the Aim firmly in Mind, To Build the Country and Part Seven: To Stand Facing The World, To Safeguard the Peace faded into insignificance with the arrival of a raucous bunch of African officers of varying nationalities. The commotion nudged up a notch when they spied a globe dotted with red lights, showing the extent of the PLA’s international influence. My French is rusty but, from what I could work out, a red light that was supposed to be flashing in the Democratic Republic of Congo had gone walkies over the border to the Republic of Congo. Much mockery of the former’s soldiers ensued until they were distracted by the possibility of a photo shoot with a whole brigade of air stewardesses. The ladies adopted suspiciously model-like poses and each soldier took it in turns to recreate the Charlie’s Angels advert.

All that was left to be done was to sign another guestbook, the farewell edition. The Dutch naval officer was asked to convey his feelings in writing. “I don’t think so,” he grinned affably as he strode into the night. The messages were right out of the diplomatic top drawer. “An absolute pleasure to see China’s outstanding development in the military field. Best of luck for the future.” I wrote something about the air stewardess’ nice smiles but was trumped by my colleague. “LOOK OUT TAIWAN!” he scrawled across the middle of the page. We left in a hurry, which was regrettable as I didn’t get to see the reaction of our foreign expert chaperone who was wondering what the immature sniggering was all about. The exhibition runs for another two weeks or so and is well worth a visit, particularly, as a friend pointed out, since it provides an opportunity to buy a genuine PLA 80th anniversary watch which could be worth a bob or two in the future.