At the main museum in Blagoveshchensk, a massive mural greets the visitors. The mural depicts in dramatic fashion Russian and Chinese officials signing off on the Treaty of Aigun, which granted land north of the Amur River to the Russian Empire, and for the first time, made the region, with Blagoveshchensk its capital, formally part of Russia. Three Chinese visitors were standing in front of the mural. One let out a sigh, "this is when we lost Outer Manchuria forever," he noted rather dismayingly.
He went on to note the area of "Outer Manchuria" in squared kilometers, making it seem a huge loss for his country. Suddenly, the phone of his companion rang, interrupting the conversation. The person picked up the phone, and immediately started talking business. "Oh, the stuff is here already? Wait, you are not sure who to hand it off too over here? Alright, let me figure it out and get back to you." After hanging up, she followed up with another three phone calls with her other business associates in Russia, describing the situation and coordinating the pickup.
With business consuming so much energy, the three people simply moved on hurriedly, forgetting the conversation about Outer Manchuria they were just having moments earlier. The scene probably best describes many local Chinese people's feelings toward the Russian Far East. There is no doubt that they are heavily influenced by school teachings of how the land was Chinese territory "lost" by the Qing Dynasty, but they are at the same time highly practical. They have business to do, money to be made, and dwelling on history, for them, is rather worthless.
If anything, the fact that the border exist here at the Amur River, in such a middle of nowhere, probably benefit the local Chinese population quite a bit. If, hypothetically, Russia is much smaller, and it's border with China much closer to Europe, perhaps the demand for European goods would far outstrip demand for Chinese ones, making the vibrant cross-border trade happening today much less lucrative for residents on both sides. It is precisely that there are so may Russians living out in the middle of nowhere far from their European homelands that the Chinese can earning a living selling goods to them.
To a certain degree, the Chinese's pragmatism is also reciprocated. Blagoveshchensk, with only some 200,000 people, is full of gigantic shopping malls, which are in turn full of shops selling luxury products. Cosmetics imported from France, watches imported from Switzerland, coats made from locally trapped fur, and jewelry made from local gold and gemstones are prominently displayed. Obviously, they are displayed not primarily for the city's residents but visitors from China. Local shops and malls have signs and brochures translated in Chinese to cater to the Chinese crowds.
Yet, there is the nagging question on whether all the commerce and consumerism are simply masking the underlying tensions and conflicts, rather than resolving them. Like the Chinese businessmen taking phone calls in front of the museum's mural, the cross-border commerce may just be a distraction to the "real" disagreement on who really "owns" this region. China's education system hasn't allowed its citizens to forget the territorial losses from centuries ago. And looking at the museum' s exhibits, the Russians are quite proud of the "conquest" as the defining identity of the region today.
Thankfully, there are signs that there are more and more stakeholders advertently and inadvertently working to burying the underlying conflict once and for all. The city's well-manicured riverside parks had some biracial children taken care of by their Chinese grandparents. Such children will grow up in both cultures, coming and going frequently across the Amur River, and speaking both languages. While small, they can spearhead true efforts to bridge the two countries in a way that prevent an easy fallback to the default "We vs. Them" attitude.
Moreover, grassroots and municipal efforts on both sides are at the pain of finding historical commonalities rather than differences. Displays at the museum emphasize that indigenous residents on both sides of the River belong to the same tribes and speak the same languages. The hope is that emphasizing the centuries-old ethnic connections can indirectly illustrate just how ludicrous the recent Sion-Russian conflicts have been. For the sake of the biracial children and the indigenous tribes, the conflicts ought not to be repeated.
The ultimate question remains, however. Contemporary relationship between people from both sides is an overwhelmingly economic one, devoid of exchanges in culture or language. And economic relationship can break down, especially if one or both sides suddenly discover themselves to be much poorer and incapable of purchasing foreign products. If that day arrives, can peace across the Amur River remain in place, or will fervent nationalism take over, as witnessed in the Chinese business men's dismayingly sigh?
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