CHINA: Tying the Sino-American Knot

Fireworks, protests and a solemn call for peace

Peking last week celebrated the advent of Sino-American relations with soda pop, champagne toasts, demands for free speech and freer sex, and a binge of disco dancing—most of which, as the Chinese have been quick to learn, goes better with Coke. Thanks to the time difference between the capitals of the two nations, Peking got a 13-hour head start on normalization over Washington. Vice Premier Teng Hsiao-p'ing launched the New Year's Day occasion with a solemn call for world peace. As fireworks exploded outside the U.S. liaison office in Peking, Teng raised a glass of California champagne to Leonard Woodcock, the chief of the American mission, who is expected to be named the first U.S. Ambassador to the People's Republic. In an elaborate toast, the husky-voiced Vice Premier said, "I feel certain that the far-reaching influence the establishment of diplomatic relations between our two countries exerts upon the defense of world peace will become more and more evident with the passage of time."

In Washington, the ceremony mirroring the activities in Peking took place in China's liaison office on Connecticut Avenue. One eye popper for the 500 guests was an American flag that the Chinese had tacked on the wall—but backward, its stripes pointed to the left. Unruffled by this bizarre display, Vice President Walter Mondale rejoiced over "the dawn of a new and bountiful era" and hailed China as "a key force for global peace." In response, Ch'ai Tse-min, head of the Chinese mission, declared that the new Sino-American ties would serve to "combat the expansion and aggression of hegemonism"—a reference to the Soviet Union. Exhilarated by the festivities, National Security Adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski, who had long urged U.S. recognition of Peking, threw his arms around Ch'ai.

In another part of the capital, a pall of mourning hung over the former embassy of the newly derecognized Republic of China. There, a disconsolate crowd of about 300 people, many actually crying, gathered to watch as the flag of Taiwan was lowered for the last time. Demonstrations for and against recognition of Peking were held in Washington, San Francisco and New York City. Two thousand Chinese Americans marched along the winding streets of Manhattan's Chinatown in support of the Peking government, while 5,000 angry protesters held their own parade, shouting "Long live Taiwan!"

Meanwhile, the Carter Administration was making extensive plans to entertain Teng when he makes his state visit to the U.S. later this month. The proposed program includes a trip to Texas, where Teng can discuss buying oil equipment, a journey to a big Midwestern farm and an extravaganza at Washington's Kennedy Center.

Though Washington officials had cause for their enthusiasm, the personal triumph last week belonged to Teng. For 40 minutes, the diminutive Chinese leader sat perched on a blue silk sofa in Woodcock's living room as guests were served an appropriate, but unsettling, combination of Coca-Cola, Chinese orange soda pop, apple pie and egg rolls. Teng chain-smoked and drank local beer as he listened to Woodcock's plea for more living and working space for U.S. diplomats when the liaison office becomes a full-fledged embassy on March 1.