James Zimmerman, a partner in the Beijing office of international law firm Perkins Coie LLP, is regarded as one of Asia’s top business lawyers. In April, Public Affairs, an imprint of the Hachette Book Group, published his first non-legal book, The Peking Express: The Bandits Who Stole A Train, Stunned the West, and Broke the Republic of China. In it, Zimmerman recounts a 1923 hostage crisis in which dozens of Chinese and Western travelers were kidnapped in a daring raid on China’s most luxurious train line and held captive by a bandit army in rural Shandong province. The Lincheng Incident, as it was called, dragged on for over a month, sparking an international crisis. Eventually, Zimmerman argues, the incident led to the downfall of China’s young Republican government and laid the ground for the Chinese Communist Party’s rise. Outside of writing, Zimmerman represents high-profile legal cases in China, primarily for the foreign traditional and social media.

Illustration by Kate Copeland
Q: How did you end up living and working in China?
A: As a graduate student, I wrote my thesis on Deng Xiaoping’s Four Modernizations which, at the time, set a path forward for China’s reform and opening up. I then started practicing law in 1988 and was focused on mostly international-related issues. In the early 1990s, there were many companies moving operations to China: For ten years of practice, in Los Angeles and San Diego, I did mostly international-related work that increasingly involved China. I was working for Morrison & Foerster at the time and going to China around eight times a year. They finally sent me over to be the first foreign lawyer in their Beijing office in 1998. My wife and three kids moved over as well. I’ve been practicing law in China now for over 25 years.
Today, I primarily represent foreign media — including print, broadcast, and social media — with the challenges they face with security issues, press freedoms, and general operational issues in China. I also assist individuals detained and prosecuted under China’s broad and ambiguous national security and state secrecy laws and regulations, including a number of high-profile and politically sensitive cases.
One key theme operating in the background of The Peking Express is this concept of “extraterritoriality”? Can you define that and describe how it applies to your narrative?
BIO AT A GLANCE | |
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CURRENT POSITION | Partner at my law firm |
BIRTHPLACE | Norfolk, Virginia, USA |
AGE | 64 |
For China, extraterritoriality was something that got traction following the Opium Wars wherein the West carved out exceptions for British, Americans, and other foreign nationals so that they would not be subject to China’s laws and court systems. Extraterritoriality did not originate in China. It was something that British and other colonial governments would impose in places like the Middle East and Southeast Asia or wherever they felt that the legal system was not up to their standards. In China, the criminal justice system was perceived as procedurally capricious and with punishments considered severe, if not barbarous. There was a case involving a U.S. vessel the Emily in 1821 where one of their sailors was executed for [causing] an accidental death, for instance. But extraterritoriality was also something that government after government in China viewed as an affront to its sovereignty and right to maintain judicial autonomy, free of foreign influence and interference.
This is part of the “century of humiliation” narrative, right?
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FAVORITE BOOK | The Last Kings of Shanghai by Jonathan Kaufman |
FAVORITE MUSIC | Anything from the 1970s |
FAVORITE FILM | Anything with Robert DeNiro |
Yes, extraterritorial privileges were one aspect of that. After World War One, and with the Treaty of Versailles, the Chinese were like, “Okay, what are we going to do? What’s the plan here?” It was actually brought up at the Washington Armament Conference, in 1921, which was convened to reduce the number of naval vessels in the Pacific Ocean and East Asia. China attended as an observer. Two things it wanted were extraterritoriality revoked and Qingdao back from the Japanese [after the Treaty of Versailles, German possessions were granted to Japan as a reward for its efforts during the war]. Japan returned Qingdao back to China’s sovereignty in 1922, but extraterritoriality remained an open question, and with the plan that a “Commission On Extraterritoriality” would lay the groundwork for the abrogation of extraterritorial privileges in November 1923.
This was an important issue for China. Further delay would be demoralizing for the Peking government, already weakened by the hostage crisis. When the Lincheng Incident happened, foreign governments said, “You can’t govern yourself. You can’t provide security for the railroads or foreign business. Why should we pull back on extraterritoriality?” The foreign governments took the view that China was a battlefield of military factions, incapable of securing the countryside and developing and enforcing a predictable rule of law. It wasn’t until twenty years later, during World War Two and the Japanese invasion, that extraterritoriality was finally absolved.
… hostage diplomacy is alive and well in the world as it was in 1923. The taking of people as bargaining chips remains a viable — yet odious — form of state-to-state interaction and negotiation.
The bandits were not simply after money. What were their political goals?
The bandit chief, Sun Mei-yao, had an ambitious political agenda. He hoped to wrest control of southern Shandong from the provincial warlord, to have his troops be recognized by the Republican government in Peking, and to change the balance of power in his native province. Money was secondary.
The Licheng Incident was a huge media event in China and the world at the time. How did a young Mao Zedong interpret it and how did it influence his political philosophy?
It strengthened Mao. It was raised in one of his first speeches, before the Hunan peasants congress [in 1925]. It was a pitch for the Communist Party. He said the bandits were, in effect, no different from starving peasants and that they needed the right political organization to oppose the warlords, the crooked gentry, the landowners and the imperialists.
Later, under Communist rule, there were questions as to whether Mao had complimented bandit leader Sun Mei-yao. It was China’s Institute of Military Sciences that eventually declared that Sun Mei-yao was not a hero. He was brutal to the people, they said, and he could not control his men. China had been really embarrassed by the whole incident with the global community and Sun Mei-yao was thus punished for his conduct.

Do you see Sun Mei-yao as a sympathetic character?
Yes, very much so. He was both charismatic and sought to improve the lot of his soldiers. Sun Mei-yao and his men and other disbanded soldiers were, in effect, abandoned by the government that they risked their lives for. The government had no workable plan in dealing with disbanded soldiers that included disarming of the troops and providing them with sustainable jobs, provisions, and transport back to their hometowns.
What do you think a modern China watcher visiting China in 1923 would be most surprised by?
Today’s China watchers are well aware of the excesses of the Warlord Era, but to actually witness the brutality of the suppression campaigns inflected against both those considered to be bandits and the villagers caught in the crossfire would be a daunting experience. The chaos of the time period would strike anyone as especially troubling.
Do you see a parallel between today and the treatment of the bandits in 1923?
The definition of banditry had become overbroad and overused, and anyone that opposed the warlords or the government in power was labeled as a bandit. It didn’t have to be somebody that stole something. The label allowed the government to engage in their aggressive suppression campaigns.
In my view, labeling somebody as a bandit oftentimes was no different from labeling somebody as a troublemaker or dissident today. Today, like yesteryear, labeling someone as “picking quarrels and provoking trouble” makes one an easy mark for punishment. Under China’s broad administrative detention rules, there is a list of 120 things you can do to get detained for up to 15 days, without the involvement of the courts or any right to legal counsel. Under this system, an accused person does not need to be formally charged and the police have broad discretion to impose punishment. Administrative detention is the tool the police use to detain protestors, dissidents, and journalists. All of those that were part of the white paper protests [in late 2022] were detained based on these rules. They’re not lopping off heads like they did in 1923, but they’re still being quick to label somebody as a troublemaker without any due process. Although the circumstances are different and more complex, there’s clearly a parallel.
Is that what you mean when you write in the afterword, “Over my career, I was repeatedly reminded that the law serves the politics and that detention is just another tool in the toolbox.”
Yes, it’s a situation where society is “ruled by law” to suit the politics and ensure the legitimacy of the Party, and not a society based upon the “rule of law” where rights and freedoms are protected, including the rights and freedoms enshrined in China’s own constitution. The administrative punishment rules are designed to stop bad behavior but the application is overbroad and subjective and the end result is that detention is a tool that serves the political processes.
What the bandits were doing seems like a clear precursor to today’s so-called “hostage diplomacy.”

Sun Mei-yao took foreign hostages as bargaining chips to get leverage against the Peking government to fulfill his political agenda — namely, to reign in the excesses of the Shandong warlord. By drawing in the foreign governments, he raised awareness of his agenda to a higher level. If all of the passengers were Chinese nationals, the results most likely would not have been the same because the foreign powers would have taken little notice if foreign nationals were not involved.
Overall, the key takeaway from the Peking Express story is that hostage diplomacy is alive and well in the world as it was in 1923. The taking of people as bargaining chips remains a viable — yet odious — form of state-to-state interaction and negotiation.
While reporting this book, you did a lot of physical exploring in the Shandong countryside. What are some memorable moments from all that wandering?
This mountainous region of Southern Shandong is an incredible sight today as it was in 1923. [Hostage and Rockefeller heiress] Lucy Aldrich compared the region to the Dolomite Mountains in the Italian Alps. It’s a region steeped in history and mysticism. Much of the architecture and terrain where the story took place remains in the same condition it was in 1923.
When you go from the Dragon Door Temple, which today is actually called Ganquan temple and walk or drive eastward towards Paotzuku mountain – today the Baodugu National Forest Park – you go through this narrow pass and come up a ridge and then the unique, conical-shaped mountain comes into view — a stunning, breathtaking sight. Many of the hostages wrote in their diaries about how the bandits were pointing and screaming “Paotzuku! Paotzuku!” as if they had just arrived home after a long journey. I’ve been there ten times and that feeling is the same whenever you see that mountain loom on the horizon in front of you. It’s truly an amazing sight.

Of course, the food in Shandong is a delight with its hand-rolled noodle dishes and crepe-like filled pancakes.
How did you travel there?
Zaozhuang (Tsaochuang) is a little over two and a half hours by high-speed train from Beijing. Once there, I walked much of the distance from the derailment site to the locations where the hostages were dragged and holed-up during the hostage crisis. It’s a hike of over 30-something miles. Today, there are roads servicing the region where in the past it was mainly by dirt path.
… the country won’t reach its full potential until it has developed a system that respects both the rule of law and a diversity of opinions, and rejects a cult-like system where it is ruled by one man…
One thing your book gets across nicely is, as you say, the sheer chaos of China back then. This really speaks to the C.C.P.’s narrative today that without the Party, China returns to that chaos. What do you think of that?
The chaos during the Warlord Era was a result of systemic failure of the political system that bred much of the factional and internecine fighting that fractured the country. But I am not sure that without the current party in power that China would return to the chaos of the Warlord Era. Indeed, the Communist Party has its own history of chaos, corruption, and internal strife that has caused serious damage to the country and society. While things have improved for some in China, the country won’t reach its full potential until it has developed a system that respects both the rule of law and a diversity of opinions, and rejects a cult-like system where it is ruled by one man, as we have seen in the days of Mao and today in the Xi Jinping era.

What did the railway represent in China back then and also now?
Today as in 1923, the railroad represents not only a means to drive economic growth and tourism, but also is a symbol of national unity. In 1900, China had no real railroad system while the U.S., in contrast, had over 193,000 miles of track criss-crossing the country. When the Republican government came into power, they made the building of a rail system a national priority, and specifically as a way to unify the fractured nation.
Fast forward to 2023, the railroad continues to reflect a sense of national unity, especially given the high-speed trains going to Tibet, Xinjiang, and other parts of Mainland China.
How does the legacy of warlordism play out today in China?
The pecking order in society, the corruption, and even guanxi in some respects are remnants of the Warlord Era. Those in power, the warlords of today and yesteryear, control both the resources and the opportunities — creating much resentment. It’s not just the economic divide which is the problem. When people see a government official with a fancy house, an imported car, and an expensive European watch, it creates bitterness for those that do not benefit from the system and the corruption that drives the system. That’s really what warlordism is all about. Warlordism and the corruption it breeds, though different in some respects, is still an issue that the Communist Party is trying to get its arms around — although during the Xi Jinping era the campaigns against corruption have been selectively enforced at best and resentment remains.
Do you have any favorite characters in the book?
There are so many characters with very interesting stories to tell, and different personalities and backgrounds. Many heroes —most just ordinary people caught up in an incident having international consequences.
U.S. Army Major Roland Pinger was clearly one of my favorites. He reminded me of being a Boy Scout, where you have to be prepared, plan ahead, and be creative with your surroundings. He built a stove, a cribbage board, and filed a shoehorn into a knife. All these tools he used during his captivity. Very resourceful.

The Rockefeller heiress Lucy Aldrich was another favorite because she was so lackadaisical and carefree during the initial heist and while being dragged across the countryside. The way she described Sun Mei-yao as being a real likable young man and making comments like, “Oh, come to America and you will do really well” and then thinking, “Oh, that’s a dumb thing to say.” I found her aristocratic zaniness really interesting and a comic relief.
On the bandit side, the bandit Russky who fought in the Russian revolution was both worldly and sophisticated, and somebody that the hostages warmed up to. He proudly carried a well-cared-for Russian rifle, as well as a small automatic pistol and a brass-and-bone-handled knife that he had acquired during his sojourns. Stolid and scar-faced, Russky was fluent in Russian and had a penchant for vodka, caviar, and singing Russian ballads. Russky was definitely someone you wanted to go out and have a drink with.
As to your day job, do you see any likelihood that American journalists for major newspapers will be allowed back to work in China in greater numbers?
No, I don’t anticipate foreign journalists in greater numbers will be allowed to return to China in the near or medium term. As a result, several outlets have either shut down their mainland bureaus or are planning to do so if they can’t get visas for foreign journalists to run their operations. Some have moved their China reporting staff to Taipei or other Asian cities. With the ongoing tension in U.S.-China relations (and with Xi Jinping’s emphasis on managing the outward messaging on China), I don’t see a positive change in the environment on the horizon. Unfortunately, this is not good for China as it hopes to gain the respect of the international community. Without foreign reporters to tell China’s story – good or bad – the only story the world will hear is Beijing’s own canned version.
With the ongoing tension in U.S.-China relations (and with Xi Jinping’s emphasis on managing the outward messaging on China), I don’t see a positive change in the environment on the horizon.
What changes have you seen over your career in the environment for foreign journalists in China and is there any reason for hope that things might improve?

In recent years, and specifically starting with the “media war” of 2020 (where both sides expelled journalists and forced the bureaus to file reports as “foreign missions”), there has been a serious increase in harassment of foreign journalists and their local employees. The security officials and propaganda machine in Mainland China is in overdrive, which has led to an environment where journalists and local staff are followed everywhere they go or detained during reporting trips, local staff are frequently called in by the police and security forces for “tea” and just for the chilling effect, local sources are harassed for speaking to foreign journalists or instructed by the police and Party watchdogs to not talk to foreign journalists, and social media – fueled by the propaganda machine – is flooded with diatribe against foreign journalists, especially the ethnically-Chinese female foreign journalists. This indeed is an environment that has created a safety and security issue for the foreign media. I don’t see any positive change on the horizon in today’s tense environment.
What is the new book you are working on? I am working on a story centered around 1906-1907 about the first judge of the United States Court for China sent out to clean up Shanghai, which at the time was overridden by criminal elements that washed up in China from the shores of America. It’s in the true crime genre and, like The Peking Express, about a time period and situations that have not been addressed in detail before.

Brent Crane is a journalist based in San Diego. His work has been featured in The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Economist and elsewhere. @bcamcrane