Yanwen’s blog

Last Friday, we visited the United Nations again.

Inside the United Nations Headquarters, I couldn’t help but feel a profound irony as I stood in front of the bust of Count Folke Bernadotte, the Swedish nobleman and diplomat. 

In 1945, Bernadotte was credited with rescuing 15,000 people from Nazi concentration camps. Later, he was appointed as the UN Security Council's mediator in the Arab-Israeli conflict of 1947-1948. Tragically, he was assassinated in Jerusalem in 1948 by the paramilitary Zionist group, Lehi. The bust, gifted by the Swiss government to the United Nations in 1998, marks the 50th anniversary of his assassination, honoring his dedication to peace.

The irony lies in the fact that the United Nations was established during World War II with the mission to prevent wars, promote peace, and uphold human rights. Yet, since its inception, the UN has often been unable to prevent major conflicts, from the Korean War and Vietnam War to the Gulf War, and more recently, the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and today’s conflict in the Middle East.

The Security Council, tasked with maintaining international peace and security, includes five permanent members— the U.S., Russia, China, France, and the UK— each wielding veto power. This has often led to gridlock when these powers' interests clash, as seen in Gaza, where vetoes have repeatedly blocked resolutions for peace.

Competing national interests make it difficult for the UN to prioritize global peace over the agendas of its most powerful member states. Countries often use the organization as a tool to further their own political, economic, or strategic objectives. For example, in 2003, the UN did not authorize the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, but it occurred regardless, undermining the UN’s authority.

One of the UN’s greatest limitations is its lack of enforcement mechanisms. Even when resolutions are passed or ceasefires are called for, the UN often lacks the means to enforce them. It relies on the military and financial support of its member states, and without full backing, it struggles to intervene effectively.

However, there is a brighter side to the UN’s work. Despite its failures in preventing all wars, the UN has achieved significant successes in peacekeeping and conflict resolution in certain regions. It has also played a crucial role in providing humanitarian aid in conflict zones, including in Gaza today, helping to alleviate the human suffering caused by war.

A Chinese saying best describes the United Nations, particularly in light of its aspirations and limitations, “心有余而力不足” (xīn yǒu yú ér lì bù zú) "One wants to do it but lacks the energy or resource to do it."

Despite the UN's noble intentions and efforts to promote peace and prevent conflict, it often lacks the necessary power or resources to fully achieve its goals. There is a gap between the UN's desire to fulfill its mission and the practical challenges that hinder its effectiveness.

Standing before Folke Bernadotte's bust, I reflected on the United Nations' enduring struggle. While it has often fallen short in preventing conflict, the UN remains a vital platform for diplomacy and humanitarian aid. The sacrifices of its peacekeepers remind us that the pursuit of peace, though fraught with challenges, is a noble endeavor worth pursuing. Perhaps this is the very purpose of the UN's openness to the public: to inspire collective cooperation and dialogue, holding the promise of a brighter future for all.

A few days ago, I made an offhand comment to my youngest sister: “The three of us all take after Mom with our quick tempers. How come none of us inherited Dad's side?” My youngest brother-in-law chimed in thoughtfully, “Well, Dad was always calm and smiling when he spoke to us. Maybe it’s because of his position—he was always in charge, always thinking about setting an example. That’s different from Mom’s role, which was more hands-on and immediate.”

I’m not entirely convinced. Was his even temper a result of his leadership position, or did his natural temperament lead him to that role? Curious, I asked my 93-year-old mother, “Did Dad have a quick temper before he got promoted?” She shook her head. “No, he was always mellow. We never quarreled before.”

Her answer left me wondering. Was my father’s calmness innate, or was it shaped by his responsibilities over time? It’s still something I try to understand—and something I aspire to emulate. It looks like I didn’t inherit my father’s innate calmness.

A Chinese saying 静水流深 (Jìng shuǐ liú shēn) means "Still waters run deep." It suggests that people who are calm and composed often have deeper inner strength and wisdom beneath the surface.  

Reflecting on it now, I realize that perhaps it’s no coincidence that people with my father’s calm demeanor often end up in leadership roles. Still waters run deep. The ability to remain composed, even in difficult situations, might be precisely what elevates someone to a position of authority. It’s a quality I continue to work on, even though it sometimes feels just out of reach.

The diplomatic “honeymoon” between China and the U.S. continued after the establishment of formal relations. On January 31, 1979, just 30 days after diplomatic ties were established, U.S. President Jimmy Carter and Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping signed the U.S.-China Science and Technology Cooperation Agreement (STA), the first major accord between the two nations.

At the time, one of the U.S.'s key objectives was to counter Soviet influence during the Cold War and later to help integrate China into the global system.

Now, 45 years later, the fate of the agreement is uncertain. With the Soviet Union’s collapse and the end of the Cold War, one of the STA's original purposes has faded. The Biden administration has delayed its decision on the renewal until after Election Day on November 5. On the positive side, both countries are continuing discussions on the agreement.

Looking at the broader picture, renewing the STA would enhance cooperation on global challenges. During the Obama years, science and technology (S&T) collaboration played a key role in addressing pressing issues like climate change, health crises, pandemic preparedness, and clean energy innovation—areas where joint efforts could greatly benefit the world.

Moreover, in an era of increasing U.S.-China tensions, maintaining scientific exchanges could act as a stabilizing force, providing a channel for communication and fostering trust between scientific communities.

Historically, joint research under the STA has led to significant advancements, spurring innovation through collaboration. Continued cooperation in fields like medical research, clean energy, and artificial intelligence could accelerate progress in ways individual country alone might take longer time to achieve.

Additionally, renewing the STA could offer American companies, universities, and research institutions access to China’s vast human and financial resources, particularly in key sectors like quantum computing, biotechnology, and renewable energy, bolstering innovation and competitiveness through cross-border collaboration.

As we stand at the crossroads of renewing the U.S.-China Science and Technology Cooperation Agreement, it’s clear that the world has changed dramatically since its inception in 1979. While the Cold War's dynamics may no longer apply, the need for global collaboration has never been more urgent. In the face of common challenges like climate change, pandemics, and technological advancement, maintaining cooperation is vital.

Yesterday, I wrote about a memoir from a staff member at the Chinese Liaison Office in the U.S. in 1973. Some fascinating details from that time offer a glimpse into the challenges they faced.

After purchasing the Windsor Park Hotel, the Liaison Office moved in at the end of 1973. Their first task was to transform the hotel into a functioning office. The Chinese government dispatched a small construction team of about 10 people, with only five skilled workers. Given the scale of the renovation, they were drastically understaffed. Lacking funds to hire local labor, they had no choice but to do the work themselves.

A Chinese saying, "艰苦奋斗，自力更生" (Jiānkǔ fèndòu, zìlì gēngshēng) means "enduring hardship and striving, relying on oneself for survival." In this spirit of enduring hardship, independence and frugality, the Liaison Office decided to mobilize all staff to help. Diplomats and employees alike threw themselves in the manual labor, renovating the lobby, entrance hall, banquet room, and several reception areas. This involved demolishing walls, raising ceilings, and polishing terrazzo floors—all done largely by staff members, including Director Huang Zhen. The female staff, led by Huang's wife, took charge of wallpapering, painting doors and windows, and sewing curtains for the entire building.

The backyard was an overgrown, uneven lot. Over weekends, the staff cleared weeds, leveled the ground, and transformed most of it into a parking lot and sports field, with a small portion turned into a vegetable garden. This was completed in just over a month. A green-thumbed staff member took the initiative to plant vegetables, soon joined by others, creating a thriving garden.

After the renovation, the entire hotel was beyond recognition, earning praise from visitors. One even remarked, "You’ve turned an old hotel’s dining room into a Great Hall of the People-style lobby. That’s very impressive!"

In 1973, the author’s monthly salary was just over $30—essentially one dollar a day. China was still one of the poorest countries globally, with a per capita GDP of around $160-170. Roughly 80% of the population lived in rural areas, mostly engaged in subsistence farming. Industrial output was low, infrastructure underdeveloped, and living standards modest. This scarcity explains why the Liaison Office had to take a self-reliant and frugal approach for the renovation.

Despite these hardships, the early 1970s marked a "honeymoon period" in U.S.-China relations, a rare moment of cooperation and optimism. Perhaps this was due to China’s struggles with extreme poverty at the time. However, just as China will never return to that era of poverty, it seems unlikely that China and the U.S. will ever fully return to their diplomatic honeymoon. The world has changed, and so have the dynamics between these two global powers.

Yesterday, I read a fascinating memoir by a staff member from the Chinese Liaison Office in the U.S., established in 1973. The article, titled "The Bits and Pieces of the Work around the Establishing of the Liaison Office in the U.S." (驻美联络处, Zhù Měi Liánluò Chù, the Liaison Office in the U.S.), recounts the early days of this important diplomatic mission.

The author was part of the first group to arrive in Washington, D.C., on May 28, 1973, alongside Director Huang Zhen, as they set up the Liaison Office.

Several aspects of the memoir stood out as worth exploring further. First, it's important to recall that President Nixon's historic visit to China took place on February 21, 1972. Just a year later, Liaison Offices were established in both the U.S. and China. Premier Zhou Enlai is credited with coining the term "Liaison Office" as a diplomatic workaround. This allowed American and Chinese personnel to work in each other’s capitals and engage diplomatically without the formal recognition that embassies would require. 

The creation of these offices marked a significant step in gradually restoring U.S.-China relations. They became key channels for high-level communication and cooperation, laying the important groundwork for full diplomatic relations, which were eventually formalized in 1979 under President Jimmy Carter. By then, the Liaison Offices in Washington, D.C., and Beijing were upgraded to full embassies.

In her memoir, the author recalled a pivotal moment before Huang Zhen officially took his post as head of the Liaison Office. Chairman Mao personally received Huang and emphasized that the Liaison Office would be "even more important than an embassy." Typically, an embassy has a single ambassador with full authority, but at the Liaison Office, both the director and deputy director held ambassadorial rank, underscoring the high priority the Chinese government placed on this office.

While the establishment of the Liaison Office is central to the memoir, it’s the smaller details that add depth. One such detail is the author’s account of her sudden reassignment. At the time, she was working on Norwegian diplomatic affairs, preparing for the visit of the Norwegian Prime Minister to China. Unexpectedly, shortly after returning to Beijing from Guangzhou on May 18, she was informed she would leave for Washington just 10 days later, on May 28, to help establish the Liaison Office, giving her no time for any personal arrangements.

Reading her memoir reminded me of similar accounts from American staff who served in China during this period --Life in the US Liaison Office in Peking. Many brought their families with them, and photos show children playing and adapting to life in Beijing. It made me wonder—what about the author's family? Did her children join her on this momentous journey to Washington, just as American diplomats' families were part of the experience in Beijing?

The establishment of the Liaison Office in 1973 marked a turning point in U.S.-China relations, symbolizing cautious progress toward mutual understanding and door-opening. Memoirs like this offer a glimpse into the personal sacrifices and rapid changes that accompanied these diplomatic efforts. As we reflect on these initial door-opening moments, let us remember the sacrifices and detailed work of the people who helped build bridges between the two countries.