As long as there has been China, there has been Hunan. In ancient times, Hunan was known as “Man territory”; during the Zhou dynasty it belonged to the state of Chu; under the Han it became the Principality of Changsha; in the Tang era it served as a military governorship; in the Song period it constituted the Southern Hunan Circuit. By the Yuan dynasty, it had been established as a province, a status it retained through the Ming and Qing dynasties and which persists to this day. Over these vast four millennia, human societies have continually evolved. But where, precisely, did Hunan’s own evolution take place?  During the Spring and Autumn period, the state of Chu rose to prominence, nearly challenging the great powers of the Central Plains for hegemony. At that time, however, there was no central government; instead, numerous states coexisted, each pursuing its own path of development. Although driven by rivalry and aggression, the ambitions of heroic rulers and their ministers left little room for ordinary people. Nevertheless, the cultural vibrancy and distinctive achievements of that era far surpassed those of regions subjugated under an authoritarian, repressive overarching regime. Yet the heartland of Chu lay not in Hunan but in Hubei, specifically along the Xiang–Xiao River region. From this perspective, Hunan remained subordinate to Chu, effectively occupying a junior position within the larger political structure. Thus, in the context of China at that time, Hunan hardly figured as a significant entity. The Principality of Changsha, though resilient, was a feeble, dependent polity rather than an independent, self-governing state. Similarly, the military governorships and Southern Hunan Circuit were nothing more than administered territories—mere appendages under external control. Briefly, during the Five Dynasties period, Ma Yin carved out a semi-autonomous fiefdom, yet his rule was weak and hardly worthy of note. As a provincial administrative unit, Hunan was reduced to serving as a subordinate domain under imperial oversight, with successive dynasties—from the Yuan and Ming through the Qing—imposing their authority and exacting a heavy toll. For centuries, Hunan existed under a long, oppressive night, yielding only profound suffering and misery. Seen in this light, throughout four thousand years of history, the people of Hunan never truly stood tall or drew a full breath. Is Hunan’s history merely one of darkness, and its civilization merely gray? Has this been the fate of Hunan over the past four millennia—bound by China’s constraints and denied the opportunity for natural development?

In fact, Hunan was among the earliest regions in China to embrace reform. In the autumn of the Dingyou and Wuxu years, a spirit of renewal swept across Hunan, sparking vigorous scholarly inquiry and educational modernization, led by figures such as Tan Sitong and Xiong Xiling. At that time, no other province could rival Hunan’s dynamism. However, soon after, Xiong Xiling was purged and executed by Tan Sitong, and the Qing government, wielding its official power, cracked down on Hunan, abruptly stifling the nascent movement and bringing it to an end. Once again, this illustrates how Hunan’s inability to pursue autonomous development stemmed from its entanglement with broader Chinese politics.

It was in Hunan that Huang Xing emerged—a revolutionary whose actions gave concrete form to the ideals of the revolution. Following the Ping–Li Uprising in the Jiachen year, Huang Xing went into hiding, while Ma Fuyi was executed. The Qing court meted out brutal repression against the people of Hunan, preventing them from playing a leading role in the Xinhai Revolution and breaking free from their status as subjects. This too underscores how Hunan’s constrained position within China hindered its capacity for genuine progress.

After the establishment of the Republic, factional divisions between federalists and centralists raged, culminating in Yuan Shikai’s usurpation of power. General Tang Hualong was dispatched to Hunan, marking the province’s first conquest. Though the local populace drove Tang out, Northern warlord Duan Qirui subsequently sought to realize his vision of unification through force. Fu Liangzuo, appointed as Hunan’s governor-general with backing from the North, led another campaign to subdue the province, resulting in its second defeat. When Hunan rose up once more to oust Fu, Hunanese forces advanced to Yueyang only to encounter a formidable adversary: Zhang Jingyao, who swiftly captured Changsha and Zhuzhou, effectively bringing Hunan under control for a third time. Today, drawing upon the people of Hunan’s resolve, we can rise up against Zhang, reclaim our sovereignty, and restore our autonomy. Yet having been conquered three times within nine years, repeatedly trampled under the boots of northern forces operating under the guise of “central unity” while in reality perpetrating local oppression—does this not further exemplify how Hunan’s constrained position has prevented its natural development?

Conversely, if Hunan had been free from China’s grip and able to follow its own course of evolution, would it still resemble the Hunan of today? When smaller entities are shackled to a larger whole, required to seek approval for every decision and obey directives from above, the result is invariably disastrous. Had the people of Hunan enjoyed early independence and self-governance—if only starting from the Ding–Wu reforms—leading the nation in charting a new path without central domination, would they not already have forged a new Hunan? Likewise, following the Xinhai Revolution, if Hunan had taken the lead in establishing self-rule, allowing its people to govern themselves for a full year without interference from any central authority, while simultaneously fostering a heightened sense of civic consciousness and creative initiative, might not the calamities of those three defeats have been averted, thereby giving birth to a vibrant, autonomous South Hunan? I have pondered these questions repeatedly. While past failures were indeed attributable to the limitations of the Hunanese people, they were also due to the absence of favorable circumstances. But what about now? The moment has arrived—truly arrived. China is currently devoid of effective governance, engulfed in widespread chaos. I anticipate that this state of affairs will persist for at least another seven or eight years. Subsequently, the country will likely descend into deep fragmentation and decay, with warlords running rampant and political corruption spiraling out of control. Yet amidst all this turmoil, a new phenomenon is bound to emerge: the transition from a system of regional partition and monopolistic control by military-bureaucratic elites to one of provincial self-governance by the people themselves. Having endured the toxic legacy of authoritarian rule and oligopolistic domination, the peoples of various provinces will inevitably rise up in pursuit of freedom. From the people of Hunan exercising their right to self-determination, to those of Guangdong, Sichuan, Zhejiang, and beyond, this shift is both inevitable and imminent. Within ten, perhaps fifteen, years, a radical, comprehensive revolution will surely unfold.

Fellow citizens of Hunan! Our mission is immense, and our opportunity is extraordinary. We must act—with the establishment of a Hunan Republic as our immediate goal—to realize new ideals, create a new way of life, and pioneer a new realm on the land of the Xiang–Xiao Rivers, becoming the vanguard of seventeen miniature “Chinas.” Let us unite and strive together!

“There are countless theories,” someone once remarked, “but no corresponding movements to put them into practice. The purpose of these theories—such as the necessity of Hunan’s autonomy, the assertion that now is the optimal moment for pursuing autonomy, or the claim that Hunan and its people possess the inherent qualities and capabilities for self-governance—is to inspire interest and courage among those Hunanese who remain unaware. Yet without concrete action to follow, talk of autonomy remains merely attractive on paper or pleasing to the ear; it cannot be realized. Moreover, many people have already come to understand this truth intuitively, having suffered the consequences firsthand. What is lacking, then, is actual movement—and it is precisely such action that is most urgently needed at present.

In my view, there are two essential types of activity: one involves direct engagement in concrete efforts to build autonomy, while the other consists of outreach and advocacy aimed at fostering broader support. Both are crucial, but the latter assumes particular importance now and in the future. Indeed, one might say that the success or failure of Hunan’s quest for autonomy hinges almost entirely on this kind of mobilization. Furthermore, I believe that the movement for Hunan’s autonomy should be initiated by the people themselves. If this endeavor were to succeed, yet its origins lay not with the populace but with external forces, I am convinced that such autonomy would prove unsustainable. Even if it appeared legitimate on the surface, a closer examination would reveal corruption, deceit, emptiness, or sheer hollowness. Therefore, the movement for Hunan’s autonomy must be launched without delay. We need not immediately embark on large-scale construction projects, but we must engage in advocacy and outreach. Nor should we allow a small number of participants to deter us; even a modest gathering, so long as it is sincere, can generate meaningful momentum. Success rarely comes all at once. Gaining broad sympathy and assistance requires a gradual, step-by-step approach: starting close by and working outward, beginning with a few and steadily expanding, proceeding from small beginnings to larger undertakings. Some argue that Hunan lacks educated citizens, suffers from poor infrastructure, and thus finds it difficult to achieve self-governance. I urge everyone to reject such misconceptions. ☆().