Sweet & Sour

A little awkwardly, the Chinese people took another step toward popular government. They elected the 768-member Legislative Yuan, which will be China's (heavily Kuomintang) Parliament. It was still a toddler's step, but somewhat more assured than last November's National Assembly* elections. For one thing, the Chinese showed a growing feeling for machine politics.

Miss Li & Miss Liu. Loudspeaker trucks blared through the streets of Nanking and other large cities. Walls were pasted with purple and yellow posters proclaiming the virtues of candidates; across one a skeptic had scrawled "tsui niu" (bull-thrower). "Ward and block bosses," commented Nanking's Hsin Min Pao, "go to so many feasts they have stomachaches every day." But this time the Kuomintang made good its promise that seats guaranteed to minor parties should indeed go to minor parties. To teach party discipline on other matters, Kuomintang leaders cracked the whip.

Miss Li Chien-hung (TIME, Nov. 10) was one candidate who tasted both the sweet and the sour. Slim, husky-voiced Miss Li, 31, a Kuomintang member for only two years, was popular for helping families in her Nanking ward to get relief and jobs. But her rival, Miss Liu Heng-ching, a dignified veteran of 20 years in the Kuomintang, pressed the claims of long and dutiful party service. What to do? Miss Liu proposed a deal: if popular Miss Li withdrew, veteran Miss Liu would serve only half her three-year term, resign in favor of Miss Li. "Never!" cried Miss Li. "This isn't democracy."

Back from Elba. Defiantly, Miss Li campaigned as an independent candidate. But the Kuomintang cracked down: since she was still a party member, she could not run without party approval. Miss Li resigned, but the leaders refused to accept the resignation. "Illegal and undemocratic," squealed Miss Li. But when ward bosses rallied round and offered to start a write-in vote for her, she refused. "Thanks, thanks," she said, "but in the end you must vote for the party's choice."

Such self-sacrifice moved the party to forgive Miss Li. She burst back into the campaign by hiring a plane to drop 50,000 leaflets. Cried one of her fans: "She's like Napoleon come back from Elba." But her opponent, Miss Liu, tearfully pulled a few wires. Result: the day before election, Miss Li's name was scratched from the list of candidates. "I'm so mad!" quivered Miss Li.

Unopposed, veteran Miss Liu won. But as the votes were announced last week, Miss Li remembered what the situation called for, swallowed her wrath, telegraphed: "Dear Miss Liu. . . . In a letter you sent me some time ago you wrote: 'In democratic politics election means competition. How senseless it would be otherwise! In American presidential campaigns . . . no one gives up the competition in fear of defeat. ... He who loses always sends a message of congratulations to the winner.' Now that we are on the path of democratic constitutionalism . . . I send you my respectful congratulations."

*Under the new Chinese Constitution, the principal duty of the National Assembly (3,044 members) is to elect China's President. The Legislative Yuan will be the lawmaking body.

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